#anything. slice of life or epic battles

[loaficus]

My favorite boissssss<33333

GIMME YOUR TOH DOODLE PROMPTS. HAND THEM OVER. NOW.

[hughmanbean]

Another World

Dick had found a new indie game that had just come out, and it was pretty good. He had even gotten Tim sold on it, though that hadn't helped his sleep schedule.

It was one of those visual novels, but had really good fighting mechanics and great backgrounds and settings. The setting was really well done, with even one off characters feeling fully fleshed out.

It was a mix between romance, mystery, slice of life, and psychological horror, since you could take the romance routes or the mystery routes in any interactions, which would drastically change the rest of the gameplay.

There were many routes, and at the end you would encounter the one of or the entire Royal Family.

The High Queen, Avaricious Duke, Erratic Prince, Wandering Princess, Autumn Knight, and Advisor Time.

Depending on your choices, it could anything from a heartfelt confession, an epic battle, or the reveal of a horrid secret.

The reason why this is relevant is because they're now stuck in this game.

Not just Dick and Tim, but the rest of the family too.

[emrowene]

Webserials and Why You Should Read Them

Welcome to a short primer on webserials! The concept behind them is pretty simple: webserials, also called webnovels or webfiction, are serialized online novels. If you read long fanfics OR webcomics, you're probably already familiar with the concept. Authors release new chapters on a fixed basis, usually one chapter a week (but sometimes more, sometimes less).

You can find webserials in several places: on big platforms like tapas and royalroad, on individual authors' websites or patreons, or on newsletter platforms like substack.

So now we know what webserials are, but why should we support them?

Because webserials are fun. Because webserial authors are sharing amazing works online for free! Because the publishing industry is disproportionately hard to get into for queer and marginalized folks, and those are the people writing webserials.

To climb a little higher onto my soapbox, I believe webserials are the future of accessible and diverse publishing. There's been more and more discussion about the problems with traditional publishing: how publishers are turning it into a "fast fashion" industry, spitting out books while overall book quality decreases. Regardless of whether you believe that, it's true that the industry prioritizes "marketability" over anything else. Experimental books, passion projects, books that have a lot of heart but no pithy "tropes" -- they stand little chance in the world of traditional publishing, and self-publishing is incredibly inaccessible for most of us. It's expensive, but more than that, it takes an incredible amount of time and effort. It's a business, and at the end of the day, some of just want to share the stories we love with people we hope will love them too. And that's the beauty of webserials!

One complaint I've seen about webserials is that "you never know what the quality will be like" - and I've seen this from people who regularly read fanfiction! Like fanfiction writers, we have our beta readers, we have our editors, we pour our hearts into developing our stories. So give us a try!!

Some recs and places to get started under the cut:

My webserials:

Fractured Magic - A queer epic fantasy series about a broken hero’s hunt for redemption and an elven prince’s quest to rescue his kidnapped king. The two estranged friends are racing against time - and dead gods - to achieve their goals. Will they make up and work together before it’s too late? (This story is currently ongoing)

The Case Files of Sheridan Bell - An old-school detective mystery set in Tamarley, a fantastical city with magical murders and doors to other worlds. Basically (queer, autistic) Sherlock Holmes but with more faeries. The first mystery is complete; the second will be published soon!

Some other webserials I follow/followed from start to finish:

What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling - a queer gothic romance novel about a priest and a vampire.

The Warthog Report by @warthogreporter- this substack contains a selection of nonfiction writing, misc. fiction writings, and Battles Beneath The Stars, a serialized story about a tournament in a fantasy world, styled like a fighting game script/walkthrough.

Kiss it Better by DogshitJay - A (definitely 18+) queer adult romance about the messy endings and messier beginnings of love.

Warrior of Hearts by Beau Van Dalen - a queer slice of life romance following an online friendship that blossoms into something more. (Beau has lots of other great webserials as well!)

More places to look:

Tapas (Community novels page)

Royalroad (mostly known for its litrpg scene, but you can find other novels and genres here as well!)

The ao3 "Original Works" tag!

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Cooking Catastrophe

2003!Michelangelo x reader

A little short, but we can work with that🧡

You decide to surprise the turtles by cooking dinner, but your culinary endeavor takes an unexpected turn. Laughter ensues as Michelangelo attempts to salvage the meal🧡

Warnings: Spelling, Mikey being sweet.

—-----------------------------------------

The lair was often filled with the comforting scent of pizza, a familiar aroma that usually meant dinner was on its way. However, tonight was different. Tonight, you had decided to take on the challenge of cooking a homemade meal for your favorite turtles friends, wanting to surprise them with a taste of something different, as a thanks for all the nice things they had done for you.

Michelangelo, ever the playful and curious one, eagerly volunteered to assist. Anything to spend time with the things he loved the most. You and food.

"Dude, this is gonna be epic! I can already taste the deliciousness!" he exclaimed, rolling up his imaginary sleeves with enthusiasm.

“No”, you told the youngest of the turtles, trying to push him towards the door of the kitchen. “This is a thanks from me to you and your brothers, so you shouldn’t be doing anything”.

“Okay, okay”, Mikey said, holding his hands up, smiling at how cute you were when you were this determined. “But if you need anything, I’ll be watching TV”. And with that Mikey left the kitchen for the common area.

Little did you know that this culinary adventure would take an unexpected turn.

You had chosen a recipe that seemed manageable on paper, but as the two of you navigated the kitchen, chaos ensued. Pots clattered, ingredients flew, and laughter echoed through the lair. Batter was everywhere. On the floor, the walls and over your head on the ceiling.

You sighed loudly at the sight, only to be shocked by a certain someone in the doorway.

“You still don’t want any help?”, Mikey asked, smiling smugly, finding the scene in front of him hilarious.

"Maybe I should stick to ordering pizza," you sighed as flour dusted the air like a powdery snowstorm. How the flour got into the air, you had no idea. You swear, the lair’s kitchen had its own life.

"Nah, dude! We got this!" Michelangelo replied, strutting into the kitchen, like he was a king of the kitchen kingdom.

Time went on as the two of you battled against runaway ingredients and mischievous pots. Yet Mikey found a way to turn the chaos around you into something fun. With music playing on his speaker, Mikey would every once in a while pull you close into a dance, still covered in batter and condiments, cousin the two of you to laugh and giggle loud, almost sounding crazy. Well, that was at least what Mikey’s brothers thought, as they came out of their rooms, all to the sound of you screaming a laugh as Mikey spun you around. The three turtles therefore peeked into the kitchen, their eyes widening at the scene before them. You and their youngest brother dancing around together, and even poking each other just to tease. Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael exchanged amused glances, wondering if they should intervene, but decided to stay out of it.

In the midst of the chaos, Michelangelo's attempts to salvage the meal became increasingly comical. He juggled vegetables, danced with a spatula, and even tried to perform a daring flip with the food-filled frying pan - all with a grin that never left his face.

But after several tries and fails, the two of you finally admitted defeat.

You sighed. "Maybe we should just order pizza. What do you think, Mikey?"

Michelangelo paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, if that's what the kitchen gods want, who are we to refuse?"

And so, you and Mikey decided to order pizza instead, accepting the defeat in the kitchen with good humor.

As you and the turtles sat around the table, enjoying the familiar taste of their favorite takeout, Michelangelo's trademark cheerfulness filled the lair.

"Hey, at least we tried, right?" he grinned, holding up a slice of pizza triumphantly.

The night concluded with laughter, camaraderie, and the realization that sometimes the best memories are made in the midst of a cooking catastrophe. The turtles and you shared stories, jokes, and, of course, plenty of pizza, turning what could have been a disaster into a memorable and enjoyable experience. That was one of the many reasons you loved these boys. Especially Mikey, and his talent of turning the most frustrating moments into dance and laughter.

[innsyn]

Writers and Dreamers needed.

Have you ever heard the term parallel collaboration?

It’s where teams, or individuals, working towards a larger goal, tackle tasks independently.

How could that work in creative writing?

Think of writers telling different stories set in the same world with overlapping characters.

Each writer has independent control of their own story, but needs to collaborate on consistency and continuity between stories.

Why are you telling me this?

Because I would love some of tumblrs many wonderful writers to join me in a parallel collaboration project of epic proportions!

I knew this was a trap! You never wanted to be my friend, you’re just trying to recruit me. Go on then, tell me more.

Okay - so it’s a totally non-profit, Creative Commons Share-A-Like endeavour. Anything anyone contributes can be taken, reworked, reimagined and recombined by everyone - as long as it’s all properly attributed, and distributed under the same licence.

It’s a sandbox which is open to everyone - the idea is to operate like fan fiction in reverse. Anyone can come and write a story using any of the characters that have been developed, and the best will be adopted into canon.

I would love to have stories of all types exist within one original story world - action, romance, horror, smut, slice of life, coming of age, hero’s quest - I want them all and more!

Why should I contribute towards your project instead of working on my own?

I would never ask anyone to bench their WIPs. I promise, I understand how personal that connection is. If you are feeling good and working well on your WIP then I am super proud of you and will cheer you on. But working on your own WIP can be hard precisely because it’s so personal, because it’s your baby.

I don’t subscribe to the archetype of the solo writer, tapping away in isolation. It helps to have people to bounce ideas off, it helps to know that other people are working towards the same goal as you, and it helps to know that you’re not shouldering all the responsibility.

I want this to be your favourite side project. Somewhere you can go and share a big dumb idea and write without pressure, whenever your WIP is kicking your ass.

But what’s it actually about?

I’ve tried to design an overarching scenario with inherent conflict, but scope to be interpreted in many directions…

Here's the idea:

An alien with godlike technology finds an Earthlike planet and its human people.

It designs a game to select a human to be given access to its technology and decide the fate of the planet.

The alien enlists its friends to select 5 human ‘team captains’, spread around the world. They each receive access to a different technology, giving them a unique superpower.

These captains then recruit a further twenty four ‘players’ each, taking it to 125 contestants, each with their own different power.

Once the teams are fully recruited - the humans still unaware where these powers are coming from, or what their purpose is - the alien talks to them. It explains they are part of a game, and what the prize is.

The game is a deathmatch. Any player who kills another player will gain their tech access/superpowers. They cannot kill their own teammates until only one team remains.

A global superpowered battle royale. 5 teams. 125 candidates. 124 of them must die.

And you want, what? Different writers to adopt the different players and tell their stories?

Exactly! I want someone to adopt the teleporter, and someone else to adopt the earthbender, or the emotion manipulator, or the one who can bring nightmares to life. I’ve outlined 125 possible characters, each with a different superpower, but I have no idea what’s going to happen or who is going to win.

Battle Royale. Hunger Games. Squid Games. Haven’t we had enough deathmatch games?

Quick answer: no!

The important differences for this idea are twofold. Normally deathmatch stories happen inside a fixed ‘arena’ - but our stories are loose in the world.

This means most of our players have to travel around the world, trying to hunt or escape from each other - giving them much more opportunity to engage in other adventures aside from trying to kill each other - or to hide from the game and try and live a normal life.

Secondly, by making the project open ended and collaborative we make the writers part of the game. Don’t want your character to get killed off? Write stories better than the ones where they get killed. The deathmatch is part of the project process just as much as it’s part of the plot.

You’re insane. This will never work.

The only way it will definitely never happen is if we never try.

Damn. You got me. Sign me up.

Alright… let’s figure out which character you want to start with…

I've still got a loads of questions though.

Come at me, let's do this!

So what are you calling this big dumb project?

Powerclash

Nice.

So... who can I tag in who might get a kick out of this?

@advashaviv @prokopetz @huttslut @whats-on-your-mind-then @fearofthefourthdimension @caxycreations @time-to-write-and-suffer @wip-nook @blind-the-winds @autism-georg @ryns-ramblings @writeblrfantasy @writeblrsupport @harleywriteshit @unmellowyellowfellow @leebrontide @melonsap @jgmartin @tananaphone @pluttskutt @careful-fear @scribbling-stardust @irlactualwizard @cryptid-s-wips @squarebracket-trick @at-thezenith @slowboz @writinglittlebeasts @lividdreamz @all-write @sergeantnarwhalwrites @tabswrites @authoralexharvey @quantumlandbooks @stanrendipity @manuscriptsatmidnight @memento-morri-writes @magic-is-something-we-create @lukascritical @liv-is @garthcelyn @fearofahumanplanet @antique-symbolism@poetinprose @thedeerwight @inflarescent @viva-la-topknot @theblackbookofarkera @nikoschrissis @sfhoe @soiledcat

[laneynoir]

@legoriel-fan this is the one inspired by that link you tagged me in, so I blame you.

Legolas x reader: Not All Come Back.

Word count: 1279 (pretty short, oops)

He understands.

Finally he understands. What causes his fathers protective nature, the reason for his closing the borders of his kingdom. Why King Thranduil keeps those he cares for so close, so protected.

It has taken this. No arrows fire from Legolas' bow, as foes and friend alike make a barrier between himself and you, you who are locked in combat with a troll that is at least six times the size of yourself.

You take it down, but not without a sickening crack from your leg, broken by a final sweep from the horrid creature's mace.

Legolas cries you name, but despite his elven strength he cannot clear a path to your side. He is forced to pull his daggers free, slaying many, but not enough. Never enough.

You are unbable to stand, and glancing at your leg provides a hopeless sight. Not bothering to stiffle the sound of pain that escapes, you drag yourself against the troll and pull free your belt of knives.

Each throw finds a target, but there are only so many of the weapons, and the enemies are endless. Legolas fights against the tide as you loose the last knife. An orc steps close, jagged dagger in hand and malicious smirk on it's face.

Legolas is pressed in from all sides, silver in his hands flashing on auto pilot, he cannit move.

He can only watch.

The orc stomps on the already shattered leg and your body wrenches in pain. You lash out with a half spear from the ground, the orc dodges to the side, but to late and his side is slashed open.

Ripping the weapon from your grasp, it mimicks the movement, cutting your stomach open. It's other hand still holds the knife, which he applies to your face; slicing from right below your hairline, through your brow and down to your chin.

Back. He's been pushed further away, the tide of battle will not allow him closer, but he needs to, he needs to get to you. The accursed orc kicks you, hitting the wound. You roll a few feet before landing, absolutly still.

The Eagles have come, but Legolas does not notice. The majestic birds however, do notice the sound that next escapes the fair prince's body; it is the sound of a shattered heart, breaking the body.

And Legolas understands.

Suddenly by his side is a red haired windmill of fury and determination. Axe hewing oponents with a will, Gimli shouting in Khuzdul.

When a small area is cleared, the dwarf kneels, Legolas taking only a moment to see the idea. Once he does, he feels enough love for the dwarven race to orchestrating an epic balled in their honor, maybe thirteen of them.

"You are mad," Legolas says placing a foot into the double hold of Gimli's hands. "But bright stars I am as well. Away!"

And on his shout, he is launched into the air. The weight of elves is very little, and coupled with the strength of a dwarf the effort is more than sufficient to send Legolas tweanty feet into the air.

Drawing the bow of Lothlórien the orc falls dead before it can touch you again, the next two orcs follow their fellow to deaths door before Legolas touches the ground, a third joins quickly.

You lie still as a corpse, and for a time he thinks that is all he protects. That is all he can see, your face mangled and bloodied so that he cannt even discern your features, but at last his quick eyes catch the shallow choke of breath. 

Hope renewed -though still shallow- he stand by your body until the ground shakes and the forces of Mordor retreat. Until the Eagles collect the hobbits. Until Aragorn is running to Legolas, and a short while later you also are in the sky.

Though there is little chance that you will live, he sees the dispare in Aragorn's eyes.

He cannot leave.

Four weeks you have laid in the bed in comatose state, no recogniton for anything, the only sighn of life is your now steady heartbeat, and steady rise and fall of your chest.

The wound on your side misty healed, and all cuts and bruises have now faded, but your face...

Wraped in bandage, skin reknit by nothing less than magic and the work of a wizard, an elven lord, and, to Legolas relief, an Elvenking. At the three week mark, Legolas asks if there is a way to wake you preemptively.

"Not that I see. And indeed the pain of healing would be... Highly unfortunate. Unconsciousness is, in this case, a blessing." Legolas nodds wairaly at Elrond's words, but does not look away from you. Elrond sighs and leaves the room.

Elves can go long without sleep, but this is far to long, and though Elrond worries after the moral stansing of such a plan, Thranduil is not above drugging his own son.

"Four weeks Elrond,"

"Yes Thranduil I know, however-"

The king waves a gracefully impatient hand. "Four weeks my son has gone without proper nourishment, and no rest to think of. I will not tolerate my son's ill health because of your stubbornness."

Elrond rubbs his temples, Thranduil's voice carries still the tone of a King, but there is such worry beneath the surface that the effect is somewhat lessened. "Alright, I concede, " at the last Elvenking's smug look Elrond scowls. "I still remember exactly how to do so. After all I've had practice. Your famil2u is rather self destructive under mourning, Mellon"

A tilt of the head. "Your administering the tonic after my Maereth passed is exactly what gives me this idea. Legolas is far to muvh like me for anyone's comfort, and I cannot loose him," the piercing blue eyes make contact with Elrond's, they glisten. "Not to the loss of his love, and especially if there still is hope still."

A short while later, when a caring Sam apears with a cup of tea, Legolas has not the heart to turn him away. Elrond smirks despite himself when Thranduil moves his son over to the cot in the corner, covering him gently.

Though Legolas is decidedly displeased when he wakes, he is eventually convinced to take at least a two-hour rest each day, or the threat of removing him from your side will be carried through.

As fate -and the author- would have it, when Legolas has finally layed his head down to sleep (on his own, no more druging thank you father) he hears a movement from the the bed on which you lay.

He's never moved so quickly as this moment, kneeling beside you he grasps your hand, staring anxiously.

"Legolas?"

He moves his head in a movement of affirmation. "Yes Meleth, it is me."

You sit up, and Legolas startled as you rub your eyes vigorously. "Y/n, don't, you are unjured still!" Your breath has vecome eratic, and worried he calls for the guard outsude the door to fetch Elrond.

He snatches your hands away from your face befire you can open the healing wounds. Whispering your name brings yoyr attention back to him.

"Legolas, I cannot see. I cannot see anything."

His heart stops for a moment, before, "Worry not, it is dark still I'm sure your eyesight will be fine my love. It us only temporary."

Elrond arives, immediately checking over your person. When he places a hand in your forehead, tilting your head back, his face is grave. It is not much larer when he leaves, unable to do anything.

You are permenantly blind.

[cookies-over-yonder]

you've got yourself a heart of gold (but you look awfully tired)

The catbus is quiet and calm when the weight of it all comes crashing down on Taylor Swift. And god, he misses his mom.

[title from Colorless by Oubliare]

ao3

☆

The catbus is quiet and calm when the weight of it all comes crashing down on Taylor Swift.

He's been riding the high of anime protagonist antics and battles and epic swordsmanship.

But as he presses against Link's side with his legs swinging back and forth, it hits him like a ton of bricks.

He's seen people die.

Like, people that he knows .

He saw his dad get sliced in half.

He has friends as backup now, but, all his life it's been him and his mom, and she isn't here.

He hasn't seen her in days .

He hasn't been home in days.

His body is aching.

Every day, a hug and kiss from his mom would make it feel like all the pain drifted away, even if only for a second.

And now there's a lump in his throat and stinging in his eyes.

He wants that hug so badly.

He wants his mom.

A sob breaks through him, and he shudders.

Taylor thinks he might feel Link shifting in his seat, but he can't acknowledge anything because once the sobbing starts, it doesn't stop.

And now he's curled in on himself with his face in his hands and the wet and warm tears staining his palms.

And he whines, he whines because he just wants his mom. This is too much.

"Taylor—"

"Taylor, hey, what's wrong?"

Voices are crowding him now. People are crowding him now.

The sobs are loud and shake his whole body, he couldn't quiet them if he wanted to, and he doesn't really want to.

When he tries to speak, he can only cry. But the questions repeat, a cacophany of concern crowding him and suffocating him and he just—

"I—"

Another sob. Breathe in. Breathe in. Breathe in.

"I miss my mom… "

Saying it out loud only makes him cry harder.

They're saying more things now around him but it's all so blurry. Can sounds even be blurry? Muffled. It's muffled. He's being pulled away from his hands and his vision is blurry and he doesn't know what he's looking at.

All that he knows is that his mom isn't here.

There's a hand on his arm. There's a hand on his face. He doesn't know. He sobs, and then he's breathing fast, and he sobs again.

They keep saying his name but he can't respond.

Someone says that it's okay, and it's not, and Taylor whines and shakes his head.

It's like everything is being pulled out of him at once. Every tear, every scream, every wail, every whine, every sob.

His mind is fuzzy and all he can think about is how his mom would make him feel better, and she isn't here, and she's so far away, and he misses her so much, and he wants to go home.

Someone's telling him to slow down. There is no slowing down. He can't do anything.

He's not sure if he says anything. Maybe. It's all unclear.

His vision, his mind, the future, when he'll get to go home and get hugged and kissed. It's all unclear.

And it freaks him out.

Living a shounen anime dream is cool, but not when he's away from her.

He needs her.

His face is pressed against something soft.

There's pressure on his back now, it's strong. It's protective.

Link.

Taylor's mind is immensely foggy, but he's certain that's Link. And he's still crying, but Link's saying something, and Taylor doesn't know what it is, but the sound of his voice is enough.

So Taylor presses his face further against Link's chest and cries into his shirt, until the fuzziness of his mind overtakes him… and everything slowly fades away…

♤

Nick Close was a kid who smoked, gamed, and felt nothing. With his dad.

Nicholas Foster was a kid who listened, obeyed, and enforced rules. For his dad.

Nicky Freeman is an amalgamation of two childhoods. Not necessarily two lives, but two sets of memories, two sets of experiences, two sets of feelings.

The catbus is calm and quiet while Nicky stares ahead at the backs of the seats in front of him.

The catbus is calm and quiet, until Nicky hears a sob.

And he hopes it isn't the voice it sounds like, but when he hears it again…

"Taylor—"

"Taylor, hey, what's wrong?"

Nicky's stomach drops.

It's his son.

He can't see much, but he can see Taylor, diagonal to his own seat but far ahead, and it looks like he's buried his face in his hands.

Now Sparrow's—Lark's?—Sparrow's kid, Normal, leaves his seat and moves across the aisle.

"Taylor, are you okay?"

"Taylor, what's going on?" Link asks.

When Taylor doesn't respond to them, just continuing to sob and gasp, Nicky fights every urge in his body to get up and rush to him. He has to keep the other dads at bay with his sword.

(And he's not sure what he would even do.)

"What's wrong?" they keep asking him. 

The next words Nicky hears feel like a stab to the chest.

"I—I miss my mom!" he practically screams, and the sobs get louder and he's wailing and whatever Normal and Link are saying is barely audible from the sheer volume of Taylor's breakdown.

And when he stops sobbing for a second and whines and gasps, Nicky can make out the frantic repetition of "Taylor" and "it's okay. "

It doesn't seem to be helping at all.

Taylor won't stop crying.

Nicky has never cried like that.

Nick Close… never cried like that. Not when he found out. Not at the funeral. Not once in the five years after.

And then she was back… so he didn't… he didn't need to…

She's alive.

Cassandra is also alive, but here Taylor is crying over missing her.

Nicky isn't a stranger to grief. He felt it. He feels it. It feels almost like… like there's a knife stuck in him that he can't pull out because it was never actually there in the first place no matter how real it might feel. The process will never be completed because it never really happened.

Not in this timeline.

Nick Close didn't let himself feel.

And having seen Taylor stay upbeat throughout everything since he'd met him, and now this…

It's unnerving to say the least.

Nicky is snapped out of his thoughts when Taylor's sobbing is replaced by hyperventilating.

Then there's three voices:

"Shit."

"Taylor, slow down."

"Can you breathe in with me?"

Nicky Freeman isn't a crier, but he feels like he might start when he hears how small Taylor sounds.

"No, no, no no no, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't —" another sob cuts him off, but it's strained and he's breathing so fast and so shallowly and shakily and Nicky turns to the three dads held behind the blade of his sword for comfort in him not being the only one that's scared.

Sparrow's eyes are wide and frightened.

Grant has tears falling from his.

Lark is glaring at him.

"Okay, okay, it's okay, come here," Link says, and the sound of the sobs and gasps become muffled.

Link is talking a lot quieter now, but one phrase Nicky can make out is "it's gonna be alright."

Taylor keeps crying for a while, but it eventually dies down.

"He's asleep," Link whispers.

No one responds.

Silence falls over them once more, but this time it's eerie.

• • •

When Taylor wakes up, there are a few small "are you okay"s and long pauses followed by uncertain yeses and Nicky's stomach churns because he feels it so deeply in his heart—that feeling of trying and failing to be okay.

It's still rather quiet.

• • •

The chatter resumes, and they've arrived, and they're getting off, and Taylor looks a little tired but aside from that, he looks fine.

Still, as soon as he's off the bus, he walks up to Taylor and wraps his arm around him.

Taylor seems confused at first, but then he returns the embrace.

Nick Close didn't talk about his feelings with his dad because he felt like he couldn't. Nicky Freeman doesn't know how to talk about feelings with his son, but hopefully this is enough for now.

☆

Taylor isn't sure why his dad randomly hugged him, and it's nothing like his mom's hugs, but it's warm, and it's safe, and he feels a little bit more okay.

♡

[silverwarewolf]

Answering questions from @davycoquette ‘s wonderful writerly questionnaire that you can find here!

About You

    When did you start writing? If i must answer this truthfully, then… about thirteen or fourteen years ago! I was quite young when I started, and have since watched my style and themes and everything transform a number of times.

    Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write? I am a varied writer, so this is a complex question. I suppose there’s space sci-fi (which I love dearly and would love to write, but my skills are better suited elsewhere) and those mm, slice of life is a way I might describe them? Very realistic works, I suppose – they’re the sort that are entertaining either in a hallmark movie kind of way or a “damn, that was hauntingly real” kind of way.

    Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared? Not that I know of? I know what I like and what I want so I write it, there’s no specific emulations I seek. And not many people really tell me a lot about my writing either (although admittedly it has been a while since I’ve posted anything).

    Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.) Sure! I tend to write… anywhere I can. Ideas don’t wait, so I jot them down whenever the mood strikes. Rarely outdoors though, because I’m not quite outdoorsy.

    What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse? Put on some playlist on youtube depending on the mood of the scene that I want – romantic, battle, horror, epic, you name it.

    Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about? Uhhh I suppose in terms of describing birdsong, greenery, and cuisine then I can draw some inspiration, yes. I wouldn’t say I write [insert traditional food staple from country here] into the stories, but for example, the usage of different fruits and vegetables, sedes and spices, pastries, all that.

    Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all? I suppose there are, yes, but it’s not my place to spoil my stories, haha! And no, it doesn’t surprise me – it may be frequent that I think “ohh, here comes another plotline of this kind” but it’s never really shocking to me.

Your Characters

    Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.) Ah, but how would I ever be able to choose between my children? In truth, I guess I have and do still rotate the many of them into that spot as though an “employee of the month” type deal. Currently… I suppose I’m back to Taylor, the Goose King! Still one of my more daring characters in terms of how plainly absurdly they came into existence, but it may lead to how I can do whatever I wish with him and use him as worldbuilding explanations as needed. Also, who doesn’t like a bird ruling a country?

    Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life? Hoooo boy. That is a loaded question, as I think the characters I would be most inclined to befriend (Emilia, Alexandro, Andrea) might not like to befriend me. Perhaps Fran? They’re quite chill…

    Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them? Hm… I’ll have to think on this one. The people pleaser side of me isn’t allowing me to answer.

    Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters. Oh well, I just think they’re neat. “Wouldn’t it be fucked up it…” and all that.

    Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters? Same as above – you’ll have to forgive my cheekiness, and still find out for yourself, mwah.

    How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.) I have very little visual concepts of any of the characters past the Vibes and Colors of things. If you held me accountable to draw my characters I would produce something between that shapey geometrical modern art and a stained glass church window.

Your Writing

    What’s your reason for writing? To make more of what I would’ve loved to have available for reading when I was younger, to explore fucked up plots, to design cool characters, there are many (no, not benefits to being a marine biologist) reasons for me to write, really.

    Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers? I… haven’t gotten many comments on my main WIPs because of my nature as a writer. How do I tell you that I simply fucking lost one of my most prized documents - names, descriptions, outlines, it just vanished! So yes, I post rarely enough never to get comments. As far as fanfic goes though, I love that people like my writing. I… don’t remember any particular comment that has made me emotional, but I would absolutely love some once I actually post again.

    How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.). A worldbuilder, first and foremost, but nearly on par my description for the joys and despairs of characters. But yes, worldbuilding and hardworker – just you wait, I shall dethrone everyone and rise to unexplored heights.

    What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? That I can write a poem out of a speck of dust, and find many beauties in the unnoticed. Give me a droplet of water and I will give you a most wonderful plot that will haunt you until this very galaxy ceases to exist.

    What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others? Uh…

    How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.) I love my own writing, I love the process of it, I love what it means to be a writer from a perspective of arts, of evolution, of existence. But it sure would help if i didn’t lose my damn documents out of nowhere and if I actually posted things.

    If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write? …Yes. I have many, and by which I truly do mean many, thoughts on this matter. But in the spirit of not getting overly existential on a questionnaire, then I shall leave it as that – yes, I would give my creativity the gift of material existence, no matter what.

    When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence? Depends on the WIP! Mostly for me, but I know some stories rely heavily on how it would read for others. That being said, I will never apologize nor change any of my plots once they have begun running.

[skullythefriendlyskullface]

How Not to Bake a Pizza

This is my first entry for @tmnt-write-fight. Big shout out to @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles, who provided the following writing prompt:

The gang tries to cook/bake something complicated.

Now, granted, pizza isn't that complicated of a dish, but as someone who grew up with multiple siblings and witnessed all of their epic cooking fails, I would argue that any dish can be complicated if you cook it wrong enough. So, enjoy! I look forward to battling my peers during write fight this month. Glory to the Foot Clan!

Words: 3415

Rating: Gen

Tags: Fluff, Fluff Without Plot, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Slice of Life, No Plot/Plotless

Iteration: Mutant Mayhem

You can also check out the fic here on AO3!

//

“Thanks again for letting us use your oven, Mrs. O’Neil,” Donnie said.

“And, well, your whole kitchen for that matter,” Mikey added.

Carol stared, bewildered, at the four teenage boys that waltzed into her apartment. Four teenage turtle boys. Her daughter, April, glanced at her nervously in between exchanging hi-fives (hi-threes?) and handshakes with them. “Hey, guys, what’s up?” she said. “This is my mom. Momma, this is Leo, Raph, Donnie -”

“- Donnie, and Mikey,” she finished. “The new friends you’ve been talking about, right?”

Leo extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Neil,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind us dropping in. We’re just here to make a pizza. If it turns out decent, we’d love to share it with you.”

Oh, she did mind. Having unexpected guests was bad enough – the apartment wasn’t clean, and she hadn’t stocked the fridge with anything to eat. But four boys at once? And all of them her daughter’s age? Nonetheless, she hid her chagrin behind a charming smile and shook Leo’s hand.

As the turtles filed into the kitchen, chattering among themselves, she made her way to her daughter. “I take it you think it’s better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission?” she whispered as she placed her hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just for one, maybe two hours,” April said sheepishly. “You see, they don’t have an oven and they’ve never made a homemade pizza before and…”

Her daughter went on, insisting that they would stay out of trouble and clean up after themselves. One thing was for sure: Carol had never seen her this excited about having friends over. Ever since she entered high school, she had struggled to make friends. There weren’t many kids who shared her interests, and she tended to be on the shy side. Maybe this would be good for April, as inconvenient as it was.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to not be strict. “You, me, and your daddy are gonna have a talk later,” she warned, cutting her off.

April paled slightly. “Oh. Okay. So, we cool for now, or…?”

Carol looked up at the turtles, who had already found the mixing bowls and were pulling them out of their cabinets. “You four make yourselves at home, okay? I’ll just be in the living room if you boys need anything,” she called out.

“We won’t,” Raph called out. “We got this.”

“Thanks anyway!” Mikey said.

She stepped into the living room, pulled a book from one of the shelves, then sat down on the couch, thumbed it open and pretended to read. To be honest, she couldn’t help but be a little nosy. If April was right, and these four teenagers had never baked a pizza before, then this Saturday afternoon was going to be an entertaining one.

Two minutes in, and they were already running into problems. “Donnie, what are you doing?” Raph asked.

“I’m just heating up the water, why?” The microwave door closed and Carol heard a few beeps in quick succession.

“We don’t need hot water for the recipe. We’re making dough, not tea.”

“Yeah, but we need to activate the yeast so that the dough rises properly. It’s a living organism and it needs a warm environment. Didn’t you pay attention to Ms. Morrison’s class?”

“No. Who’s Ms. Morrison?”

“I think he’s talking about his biology teacher,” Leo said. “And Donnie, you’re the only person taking AP biology, so why would we know this?”

“You’re learning how to cook in biology?” Mikey said. “Man, I should have taken biology instead of chemistry this year. Chemistry stinks.”

“No, we’re just learning about microorganisms,” Donnie said, answering his question. “Speaking of which, did you wash your hands before scooping out the flour?”

“No. Was I supposed to?”

Leo made a noise that sounded like he was going to throw up. “That’s it. We’re starting over,” he said, earning protests from his brothers.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re not just throwing away the flour, are you?” April said. “That bag costs like, seven bucks.”

“It’s only two cups of flour,” Donnie said. “So really, it’s only a few cents worth.”

“Yeah, and besides, we don’t know where Michael’s hands have been,” Leo said.

“Hey! I’m standing. Right. Here,” he said emphatically.

“You did touch the handrails when we went through the subways today,” Raph said. “But I don’t want to start over, so can we just get on with it and make the dough already?”

“You make it sound like we’ve already made half a pizza,” Leo said. “All we’ve done was put flour in the bowl!”

Carol peeked over the edge of the book and watched apprehensively as Leo stood by the trash can with the bowl of flour in his hands, ready to dump it. Although part of her was disgusted by the thought of these kids cooking with unwashed hands, it was going to hurt to see the flour go to waste. She had bought that flour at the local farmer’s market, and it was organic, too. But hey, that’s what she got for buying nice things in this economy.

The microwave beeped, signaling that the water had been heated. Donnie opened the microwave and reached inside, only to let out a high-pitched squeal as he quickly recoiled his arms.

“What happened?” Raph asked.

“The cup is hot! It burned my fingers,” he said.

“Don, are you -” Leo started. He absently dropped the bowl of flour and was cut off when the ceramic shattered against the tile. “Oh crap.”

“Leo!” said April exasperatedly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Oh my God, I am so cooked.”

“Chill, April, it’ll be fine,” Mikey said. “Your dad’s not here and your mom isn’t paying attention.”

“Ow, ow!” Raph said. “I think I stepped on one of the fragments.”

“How’d it get all the way over there?” April said.

“Nobody move,” Leo quickly said. “Donnie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, are you alright?” Delila said. “You’re practically standing on all the shards.”

“Everyone just shut up,” Raph said, holding his head between his hands. “Just stop yelling.”

“Bro, you’re the only one yelling,” Mikey said.

The urge to step in was growing by the second and Carol had to bite her lip to keep herself from saying something. She didn’t care about the bowl as much as April probably thought she did – she was more concerned about poor Donnie. She should have warned them that the wattage on the microwave was overpowered before they tried using it. To be fair, though, she didn’t think they would, much less burn their fingers trying to warm up a cup of water. And now there were several pieces of ceramic scattered across the kitchen and five stressed-out teenagers scrambling to figure out what to do next.

What was it she had read in that new parenting book? Something about letting kids make mistakes so that they could learn from them? Besides, they were all teenagers, not five year olds. If they really needed help from her, they’d ask, right? Carol shoved her nose deeper in the book she was pretending to read, as if the motion would help calm her nerves. April was a good kid, but she would be lying if she said that raising her was easy. She couldn’t imagine raising four children at once.

Leo inhaled deeply through his nose. “Okay. Okay, this is fine, we can fix this,” he said. “April, do you have a broom or vacuum or something? I can help you clean this up. Raph, Donnie, do any of you need band aids?”

“I could use some,” Donnie said.

“Same,” Raph said gruffly. “If anyone needs me, I’m gonna be outside.” He walked to the back of the kitchen to where the sliding doors led to the balcony, and roughly shut them behind him. The sound of muffled screams came through the walls a few seconds later.

Mikey helped Donnie place some band aids on his fingers, then went outside to give some to Raph. Meanwhile, Leo and April carefully picked up the pieces of the broken bowl, talking about their classes as they threw away the fragments. Leo often stumbled over his sentences, as if being near April made him nervous. Carol peeked over her book again. Whenever April wasn’t paying attention, Leo was stealing glances her way and smiling softly to himself.

This boy couldn’t be more obvious if he glued a sign to his forehead that said, “I’m in love with you.” Carol returned her gaze to her book. She was going to have to keep an eye on him.

Eventually, Leo and April vacuumed up all the fine slivers of ceramic and the thin layer of flour that coated the kitchen floor. Raph returned, still sullen, but calmed down. The kids then started over with making the dough – after making sure that they had each washed their hands. Within a few minutes, they had mixed all the ingredients together and were letting the dough rest. As they bickered over the toppings they wanted on the pizza, they ran into another problem.

“I can’t find the shredded cheese,” Mikey said. He stood in front of the open fridge door, letting all of the cool air out.

“It should be in the back, next to the cream cheese,” April said.

“I see the cream cheese. No shredded cheese, though.”

“Here, move out of the way.” April stuck her head into the fridge and rummaged through the various items on the shelves. “I could’ve sworn…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We don’t have cheese?” Raph said.

“Hold on, it’s gotta be in here somewhere,” April said.

“If you can’t find it, then maybe we can, I dunno, substitute it with the cream cheese?” Leo said.

“Dude, what?” Raph said incredulously. “What makes you think we can put cream cheese on a pizza?”

“Hey, don’t give me that! It’s called cream cheese for a reason, right?”

“Momma, can you help us find the shredded cheese?” April called out.

Carol slammed her book shut. Seriously? Now they asked for help? Without a word, she got up from the couch and walked over to the fridge. She found the cream cheese, some leftover food, and a few old vegetables that she would have to throw out later – but no cheese to put on a pizza. “I don’t think we have any, baby,” she said, shutting the fridge. “We used it all up when your daddy made lasagna last week, remember?”

“Well, chat, we tried,” Donnie said to no one in particular. “A for effort. F for execution.”

“Relax, guys, there’s a bodega two blocks down from here,” April said. “One or two of us can just go and buy some mozzarella real quick.”

“I’ll go if someone spots me the cash,” Raph said.

“I got some, bro,” said Donnie. “And I’ll go with.”

April quickly gave them directions to the bodega, then the two of them left without fanfare. Carol returned to the living room and began tidying it. Now that the kids were done making the dough, they weren’t going to have much trouble with making the rest of the pizza.

She was wrong.

She was so engrossed in doing chores that she wasn’t paying attention to whatever Mikey, Leo, and April were doing in the kitchen. Everything was relatively quiet until a loud slapping noise came from the kitchen and April yelled, “What?”

Thinking someone had gotten hurt, Carol rushed into the kitchen. “What is it, what happened?” she asked.

The three of them stared at the ceiling, mouths agape. Finally, she craned her neck upwards. Apparently, they had already tried shaping the dough into a pizza crust, because a flat, circle-shaped piece of dough now clung to the ceiling.

“Dang it, April,” Carol said, barely remembering not to curse in front of them. “I thought someone died.”

April had broken out into laughter. “Nah, we’re fine, Mom,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eyes.

“We’ll clean this up, ma’am,” Mikey said. “Don’t worry about us.”

Leo took out he phone and snapped a picture. “Note to self, never let Mike toss pizza dough again,” he said as he texted someone.

“Yeah? Well, I’m gonna blame Donnie for this,” Mikey said, wiping his hands clean. “He didn’t put enough olive oil or flour or something.”

“Well, I guess we need to get the pizza crust down now,” April said. “Do we have any chairs that are tall enough for us to reach that?”

Carol looked around. The ceilings weren’t that high, but none of them were particularly tall. Between the four of them, the tallest person was probably Leo, and he was only an inch taller than April. Even if they stood on a chair, it would be a reach to get the dough down. If her husband were there, or maybe even Raph…

“Don’t worry, we got this,” Mikey said. Suddenly, he jumped onto Leo’s shoulders.

“Be careful -!” Carol said, her instincts kicking in as she held up her hands to catch him if he fell.

“Momma, it’s okay,” April said, putting down her arms. “They do this kind of stuff all the time.”

Judging by how expertly Leo and Mikey kept their balance, she wasn’t kidding. Leo complained about how heavy Mikey was, but he didn’t even appear to break a sweat as he carefully walked to the spot where the pizza dough was stuck. “Do you guys have a spatula?” Mikey asked.

April fetched one from the kitchen and tossed it up to Mikey. He then slid the spatula between the dough and the ceiling.

“Wait a minute, Mikey, I think we should -” Leo began. He was cut off by the dough falling right onto his face.

“Oh, whoops. Sorry Leo. Maybe we should’ve planned for how we were gonna catch the dough, huh?” Mikey said. “Anyway, you were about to say?”

Leo peeled the dough from his face in pieces. “Never mind,” he mumbled.

“Aw, man, do we have to start over again?” April said.

Mikey hopped down from Leo’s shoulders with a graceful flip. “Looks like it,” he said.

“Ugh, baking a pizza shouldn’t be this hard!” Leo said. “How are we so bad at this?”

At that very moment, the door to the apartment swung open, and Raph and Donnie burst in. The rank smells of New York followed them inside. “We got some mozzarella, guys!” Donnie said, taking a bow. He tossed the shredded cheese to Mikey.

“Alright, guys! Coming in clutch with the cheese,” Mikey said.

Leo frowned. “Raph, is it you that smells bad? What happened, did you fall in a dumpster?”

Raph angrily swatted at the flies that buzzed around him. “Long story,” he said. “What about you, how come you got pizza dough on your face?”

“Long story.”

Carol offered to let Raph use their bathroom to wash himself off – and thankfully, he accepted. The other four immediately started on the pizza dough for a third time, working quicker than before now that they knew what to do. As they mixed the ingredients, Leo and Mikey caught Donnie up to speed on what had happened while they were running their errand.

Donnie then explained the trouble that he and Raph had gotten into. Apparently, they decided that running across the rooftops was quicker than running in the street, and on their way to the bodega, they had accidentally startled a flock of pigeons. These birds were unusually aggressive and decided to take their wrath out on Raph. During his futile fight them, he slipped off the edge of the roof and fell into a dumpster, just like Leo had guessed. Carol couldn’t figure out what was the most concerning part of the story, the fact that Raph had supposedly fallen about one hundred feet, or the fact that the boys considered parkouring over buildings a normal activity.

By the time Raph was done with his shower, his brothers had already shaped the dough and were fighting over the toppings to put on in. Eventually, they all settled for pepperoni. After placing the pizza in the over, the four of them hung around the living room and separately scrolled on their phones. It seemed that despite the turtles’ saving New York and their abilities to perform death-defying stunts, they were just like every other teenager at the end of the day. “So, April tells me that you all have never been to school before this year,” Carol said. “Were you all homeschooled before?”

“If you consider training extensively in martial arts homeschooling, then sure,” Raph said.

“After our dad figured out how to read, he taught us,” Donnie said. “Then we got our hands on some phones and a Wi-Fi router, and we taught ourselves a lot of stuff through the internet. So, I wouldn’t exactly say we’re homeschooled, per se. Self-taught would be more accurate.”

After their dad had figured out how to read? April had told Carol a lot about her four friends, but very little about their father. “Sounds like your dad is really something,” she said, careful not to make it obvious that she was prying for more information. “I mean, raising four boys couldn’t have been easy.”

“Probably not, but we do our best to stay out of trouble,” Leo said.

“I would love to meet him one day.”

The four turtles froze up and exchanged unreadable glances with each other. “Uh, sure, maybe we can arrange for that to happen,” Mikey said. “Sometime… in the distant future… maybe…”

Before Carol could continue the conversation, Leo stiffened. “Wait a minute, you guys,” he said. “How long has the pizza been in the oven?”

“I dunno, like, twenty minutes maybe?” Raph said.

“That seems a little long,” he said nervously. “Didn’t the recipe say we needed to bake it for only fifteen minutes?”

“Relax, ‘Nardo,” Mikey said. “I got a timer going, remember? We just need to wait for…” he looked down at his phone screen and the smile on his face dropped. Then he hid his face in his hands in shame. “Oh my God…” he muttered.

“What is it?” Donnie asked.

Mikey dropped his hands and looked up at his brothers. “First, I need everyone to be chill, okay? Everyone needs to be chill.”

Raph rolled his eyes. “What do we need to be chill for? Just tell us what happened.”

Mikey pressed his hands together and held them against his lips, as if thinking of the best way to deliver bad news. “I forgot to set the timer,” he said at last.

“You what?” Donnie squealed.

Leo and April scrambled to their feet and rushed into the kitchen. April hastily put on a pair of oven mitts while Leo opened the oven door. The other three turtles followed them and looked anxiously over their shoulders. Confusion settled on their faces as April pulled the pizza out of the oven. “Wait a minute, it’s still raw,” she said.

“How is that possible?” Donnie said. “It should be burnt by now.”

Frowning, Carol walked into the kitchen. If the oven had suddenly stopped working, then she was going to have to phone their landlord. She took one glance at the appliance and scoffed. “I know what the problem is here,” she said.

“You do?” April asked.

Carol reached up and pressed the button on the oven labeled “bake.” It immediately whirred to life and gave off warmth.

“Oh. Thanks, Mrs. O’Neil,” Leo said awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it,” she said. She couldn’t believe these kids were smart enough to teach themselves various things from the internet, but too dumb to remember to turn on the oven before putting the pizza in.

In a few minutes, the savory smell of a hot pepperoni pizza filled the apartment. The turtles eagerly took it out of the oven, and before it even had the chance to cool down, they had cut it and each took a slice in their hands. They took a bite of pizza and chewed in silence.

“Hm. I thought this would taste better than it turned out,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, isn’t everything supposed to taste better when it’s homemade?” Donnie said.

April whistled. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not even bad, it’s just aggressively mid,” Raph said.

Leo put down his slice. “Well, I think we all learned something from this, and it’s that we’re never doing this again.” His brothers mumbled their agreements and finished the rest of their slices. “Okay, how ‘bout it, boys?” he said, wiping his hands clean. “I’ve got ten bucks on me. Want to order some pizza?"

[rui-drawsbox]

I've seem your Magical girl Arashi posts and I wanted to contribute an idea? (obviously ignore if you don't like it)

What if Nazuna used to also work for Shu but then betrayed him prior to the main plot and is now just being a normal student and Shu can't rlly do anything to him. I'm imagining him showing up to a really tough battle with Shu with support for the Knights and maybe helping with redemption arcs? But idk really haha.

Also whoever came up with this magical girl au idea is a genius

Ngl i completely forgot about Nazuna's existence. I have one track mind and that track is Arashi in skirts haha

But i love your idea! I can already smell the angst when Nazuna leaves Shu, he would feel so bad leaving Mika alone with Shu but in that situation i would leave too tbh

I feel like he deserves being a secondary character after all his trauma, should stay working part time in a 24h store, taking care of his own group of friends, having a slice-of-life dynamic, going to a different school than the main cast. Of course he will have his arc with Mika after he also leaves Shu, he would take care like the big bro he is, feeling responsability for leaving them but also not wanting to get involved due to his trauma(?)

Idk i dont want him to have ansgty moments he's too wholesome.

Anywoosies my design for valkyrie Nazuna! And also Mika's henchmen uniform lol

And thanks Anon, I know I'm a genius *epically fails 7 subjects at school*

[marcmedia27]

"Eddie and Gary's poolside escapade: gaming, snacks, and unexpected Love"

Chapter 1 - The Poolside Hideout:

Once upon a summer night, Eddie found himself in his mom's pool house, where the air was always buzzing with the hum of video game consoles and the sweet splash of water outside. It was his chill spot, where he could chill with video games and all the pizza and all the chips and pizza he could eat. And it didn't hurt that his buddy Gary started showing up, drawn in by the promise of gaming and Eddie's laid-back vibes. As they kicked back together, they grew stronger together, turning the pool house into their sanctuary where they could be themselves, no judgment allowed, especially from their moms.

Chapter 2 - The Daily Dose of Fun:

As Gary's visits became a regular thing, Eddie couldn't help but get stoked every time he rolled in. The pool house buzzed with laughter and the smell of snacks as they settled into their daily routine of gaming marathons and spontaneous cannonballs into the water. With each passing day, their bond deepened, and time seemed to stand still in their little slice of paradise. It was like they were on a permanent vacation, soaking up the sun and the good vibes while they could.

Chapter 3 - Let's Make It Official:

One afternoon, while lounging by the pool, Eddie threw out the idea of making their hangouts a regular thing. And how Gary's eyes lit up with excitement at the thought! They high-fived and grinned like a couple of goofballs, sealing the deal on turning their weekly hangs into a full-blown ritual. With plans in place, their friendship started to blossom even more under the summer sky, and life at the pool house got even cooler.

Chapter 4 - Relationship Goals:

Their days were jam-packed with diving into video games, snacks, and inside jokes. Whether they were lounging on inflatable chairs or battling it out in the latest game, Eddie and Gary were unstoppable. And between all the fun, they opened up about their dreams and fears, forging a bond that was as strong as steel. It was like they had a little place where nothing could tear them apart.

Chapter 5 - Confessions Under the Sunset:

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Eddie felt a rush of emotions he couldn't ignore. With a nervous grin, he spilled his guts on Gary, confessing that his thoughts and feelings towards him had shifted into something more than just friendship. And surprisingly, Gary felt the same way about Eddie! Under the fading light of the setting sun, they realized they were meant to be more than just fireworks, and it was like sparks went off in their hearts.

Chapter 6 - Like a Sweet Beat:

With their feelings out in the open, Eddie and Gary dived headfirst into this new chapter in their relationship. They explored the world around them, paw in hoof, with hearts full of love and excitement. And let's not forget all the sweet moments they shared in the pool house, stealing kisses and making new memories that would last a lifetime. Their love was like a summer breeze, warm and inviting, and nothing could dim its shine.

Chapter 7 - Together Forever:

As the seasons changed and the days grew shorter, Eddie and Gary stood strong, their relationship unbreakable. With their hearts locked together, they faced whatever the future threw their way, knowing they could conquer anything as long as they were together. In the cozy embrace of the pool house, they found comfort and joy, their love story unfolding in the most epic way possible. And they stayed best buds, still playing video games, and eating snacks.

[lilisouless]

Grishaverse characters as movie makers

Part 1 (to not make it a long post)

Alina: Her movies barely have a story, it´s mostly slice of life situations where nothing really happens. So many food porn, close ups of pretty women´s faces and hair (there is one about a lesbian couple that look suspiciously similar to Zoya and Genya) and takes of the scenery. Also uses a sunny filter.

David: Makes stop motion animated movies. Flexible on themes but is more fond of robots & non human characters.

Tolya: Adaptations of epic poems. So acurate to the imagery, to the dialogs and the battles and always has a voice over narrating the original poem

Tamar & Nadia : Women lead action movies. Tamar puts the sounds, the coreography and the script (which is mostly badass one liners) and Nadia comes with ideas to make it appealing, such as close ups to the heroine´s arms, functional but good looking costumes and makes sure all of their movies has at least one scene of the heroine riding a horse

Adrik & Leoni: Unlike the previous two, their styles doesn't match up as nicely. Their stories are cute family friendly tales, but with a cold and dull color palette and many scenes of grey rain on happy momments. They still refuse to make a movie without the other. Also , for some reason, half of their cast are puppets and no one makes a single comment about it.

Harshaw: Is just a recopilations of Oncat´s videos with him pretending to do the talking to have anything to resembles a plot. The only time he tried to make something diferent was footage of him ligthing diferent things on fire.

Nikolai: He makes a franchise of Sturmhond as an iconic hero that goes on adventures on diferent scenarios that everytime are crazier (what do you mean a pirate can't be on space?) , excelent production team but his movies a lot of times get critized by lack of diversity given that all the characters are played by Nikolai in diferent costumes.

[festivalsofmargot]

Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and I think you're really good at it. I can always picture things clearly while reading your fics, and your dialogue and descriptions never come off as clunky, they're just very natural and flow-well together. So, I was wondering if I could ask for a few writing tips? I want to contribute to the fandom a bit more, but I'm worried my writing is terrible. "is this too much dialogue? Is this slice-of-life conversation too boring? Why am I switching between past and current tense multiple times in the same sentence? Should I write in first, second, or third person", etc. Do you also think things like that when you write, and if so, how do you overcome them? I don't have anyone to share my writing with, so it's difficult to get another perspective on if something is worth posting or if I should re-write it altogether. I'd appreciate any tips you might have, but please don't feel pressured to answer or anything :)

😭😭😭 namiusedbubble... absolutely I'm down to geek out about writing with you! (And thank you so much for taking the time to tell me you enjoy my writing. ❤)

Now buckle up, because when I geek out, I geek out bruh. I've definitely put down too much, but I'm glad I'll have a post to remind myself why I love writing at least. 🥰

If you don't have the time or desire to read all this, I don't blame you lol. Main thing I want to say is I've creeped on your page and read your 'When they have a crush on you' post and by all means... please keep contributing to the fandom!!!

"You took your time getting there; you are on the solid ground of the other shore and we did the crawl along with you. We're willing to listen to anything you have to say. Now go ahead, get wild." - Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

Also, excuse my potty mouth 😗

Believe me, I have the exact same worries as you. The EXACT same. It happens with each one of my fics, it really does. Every time I'm nearly finished and proofread it for the hundreth time, I'm always hit with "This is boring as shit, who the fuck's gonna want to sit through this? I'm such a moron, this sentence makes no goddamn sense. The fuck was I even trying to say here? How did I miss that?? My writing is getting worse every day? Epic." and so on and so forth with me swearing at and berating myself lmfao.

I'll tell you why we keep switching between past and present tense multiple times in one sentence. Because our brains are lil assholes that's why. But getting the idea down is the main battle. Let every draft before your final one be awful, don't be afraid to get more of your ideas down. Our sentences can be pretty horrendous getting them written out for the first time. I think I proofread my stuff at least ten times. And just when I think I'm good, I sleep on it and look it over one more time the next day. And I still have typos and present tense sentences in my past tense story.

Some people are prodigies and can get these beautiful stories out like it's nothin'. I've accepted I'm not one of 'em. I don't have talent, but I do have tenacity!

When it comes to first, second, or third person, go for the one that flows best for you rather than the one you think you should do. I'm usually able to tell which one is best when I get a good writing momentum going. Say I was aiming for first person, but when the ideas are pouring out I find myself writing in third person instead, I'll drop first person and go third person. Anything that'll let me get my stuff down. Even if you do write in two different persons without thinking, you can always go back and fix it. There's no rush, you have all the time in the world. 🙂

I like second and third person the best because I can describe what all the characters are feeling rather than just one person's point of view. First person will have a lot more mystery. I've been digging second person because I feel like it really connects the reader to the fic. Plus I like hyping you guys up lol. 😊

When it comes to worrying about the content of your writing, believe me when I say, it will itch someone's scratch. There's an audience for everything. Some people want the slowest of slow burns, some people want hot and heavy and dirty, some people want aimless slice of life bits, and some people want quick, nice, and fluffy. Our writing won't be for everyone, and that's perfectly fine. I'll say it again, THAT IS FINE. We're still worthy!

Sure, sometimes your content will get in front of the wrong people. And they might even feel the need to say something shitty to you. Fuck 'em. Whenever I get attacked, I watch those reacting to hate comments videos on youtube. You're never alone when it comes to putting up with shitheads online.

I love writing because I have a scenario stuck in my head and I need to get it down. I'm not satisfied with it only living in my head. Once I'm done, putting it out there for anyone else to stop by for 5 minutes and check out is just a bonus. If people don't like my style or structure, oh well. I like it, and let's face it. I'm the only person that my writing and little fandom posts will be with years and years down the line. If you've made something you personally want to keep coming back to, you've won.

-

Here's where I get technical if you're still interested haha. When it comes to how I personally like to write, this is what I think about. You do not have to vibe with any of this! This is just a lil peak into my mind teehee:

Actions and mannerisms are everything, no matter how small, maybe the smaller the better.

I realized I really like reading about the little actions people do when I first read The Wolfman by Nicholas Pekearo (RIP). If there's a writing style I want to capture, it's this guy's. Combining cutesy, romantic content with his gruff prose is my biggest writing goal in life. I have no idea why this sentence is stuck in the back of my head whenever I write, but it has been for years now. "I palmed the quarter, stuffed it into the pocket of the shorts I wore to bed, and moved the ashtray with my foot." Like why... why tf is that sentence stuck in my head???? I just really liked the way he wrote it. He kept it simple, I could picture it clearly, and I felt like I could see a bit of the character's personality in it. Just from how he mentioned he moved the ashtray on the floor with his foot, I felt like it told me a bit about him and how he moved through the world.

Keep dialogue short and sweet. Did it feel natural when I said it out loud?

I'm not one for huge monologues or super eloquent Pride and Prejudice love confessions. The less that's said, the sexier. Probably my all time favorite, most haunting dialogue line comes from Dragon Age: Origins, when our Warden is talking to Zevran before the final battle: "Whatever happens... I love you." "Cruel to the end." 😦 aight, DA writers. I see you, and I'll be seeing you in my dreams for the rest of my life gah dayum.

Give the reader more credit

If you don't know how to write something, don't worry! People can put things together on their own. Just from reading "they kissed", we can easily picture a bunch of different ways it's going down: what their hands are doing, how their mouths are moving, the sounds that they would be making... we're smart, imaginative cookies. Don't fret if we don't picture it exactly how you do 😉

K.I.S.S. - Keep It Simple Stupid

The writing advice everyone has heard a million times. No need to find the prettiest words or metaphors. The basics can get the job done. (Especially with romance, in the end I just wanna read about people kissin' and touchin' and stuff.)

Don't be afraid to start over

Let's say you wrote the most beautiful sentence of your life, but it makes no sense with your story. Get rid of that shit. I know it's scary and you want to find a way to have it fit because you're super proud of it. Nope. Put it aside and save it for another story. Even if you've spent hours, days, months, years on something, you're allowed to get rid of it and start over like it never happened. It's all a part of the process.

Just write, pussy

I say this to myself all the time. Writing is one of those things that I can't get better at unless I do it. You don't have to post a thing. Just write. I cringe so hard looking back at my first fanfics from my Haikyu!! fandom days. But dammit! I had a blast writing those in high school lmfao. And that's really what matters, that you enjoy yourself.

[bumbleboarhd]

Witch On The Holy Night (Remaster) (2022) - Crumby Reviews #2

Yahoo!!! After 1,000 character arcs and 2,000 training arcs, I’ve returned to curse you with another review! This one compliments the season quite beautifully, I guess my slow reading worked to my benefit. 

In 2020 I like everyone else was trapped in my house with nothing to help me escape the endless void of anxiety except the joy of throwing myself down countless internet rabbit holes. It was in one such hole that I found the Nasuverse. For those out of the loop, the Nasuverse is the name of the shared fictional universe of works made by Kinoko Nasu. Most of these works aren’t directly related or even in the same timeline but they share the same power system and general cosmology. 

My first real taste of the Nasuverse was Melty Blood AACC which I understood nothing about but one of the characters I thought looked coolest was Aoko Aozaki. Her extremely basic out fit matched with her Kamehameha shooting abilities had me floored. At first, I only thought she was from the prologue to Tsukihime but then I learned of its prequel Witch On The Holy Night.

I’m not gonna sugarcoat it on every level possible Witch On The Holy Night is insane. It’s almost hard to suggest to my friends because if you start here you won’t truly be able to understand how much of a step up this VN is. The prose is next level, Nasu paints portraits within portraits with every chapter. The most mundane conversations can go from realistically benign to esoteric and profound within one press of a button. The premise here is simple. Aoko Aozaki and Alice Kuonji are two mages living on a mountain next to a city that is trying hard to industrialize and stay relevant with the times. Between cramming for exams and searching for a rogue mage trying to encroach on their territory Aoko must also look out for Shizuki Soujuurou the new resident himbo who’s lived all of his life in a mountain village completely secluded from modern society and all of its conveniences. Obviously, hijinks ensue! 

Though the plot seems cliche or basic at first glance I argue it’s in familiar setups like this that Nasu does his best work. Atmosphere oozes out of every pixel of this VN. The music, Art, and text combine together to elevate everything higher than any individual piece to create a scene unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Every location feels like a character in its own right and every character feels like a world operating on their own laws. The archaic and the modern clash in a coming-of-age epic. Every battle felt larger than life, every conversation felt like you got to see a new side of the characters. 

The characters always steal the show when Nasu has the pen but this cast really took me by surprise. Going in, I only really cared about Alice and Aoko because their designs are cool as fuck. I felt like the others were kinda generic and I was kind of bemoaning dealing with Shizuki as he was super generic-looking. Boy was I wrong! Shizuki isn’t only one of my favorite VN characters now but he is the absolute heart and soul of this story. His plain look only amplifies the point of his character, Never judge a book by its cover (especially if the cover has type-moon slapped on it). Shizuki is the agitator to the rest of the cast and it’s through their interactions with him that we truly understand them. Some of the characters only get so much as 2-3 real scenes and it works because of how deeply they’re explored and how much those scenes bring out of them. There are characters I absolutely hated from my first impression but all it took was one slice-of-life chapter to completely turn me around on them. It’s not about giving everybody a super sad backstory that they immediately tell us about after 2 interactions. It’s about what they say, when they say it, and how they say it. Like real life, it’s the most simple conversations about things that sometimes barely involve a character where you really learn to appreciate them. 

This point doesn’t just stand for the characters but the VN as a whole. It’s about the small moments that strengthen the massive fights. Witch On The Holy Night is slow. It’s not in a hurry to unravel its many mysteries and neither are the characters. It deals in subtlety and small notes that build together to elicit stronger emotional responses than I could've ever foreseen. I suggest you really let the novel sink in. I think you should look at it more like a TV show than a novel or video game. Don’t feel like you have to skim-read or blitz past the characters bonding. Those moments are THE POINT. Also, keep in mind that this is supposed to be the beginning of a trilogy that hasn’t yet finished.

Witch On The Holy Night is a slow walk home. At first, it seems like it’ll be the same as every other day. But something about today is different, you notice every detail around you. You feel the first winds of fall and a nostalgic veil blankets you. Suddenly every stone you step on carries a history, every store you pass holds a dear story, and every person you pass seems like a part of a larger beautiful interconnected whole. You realize you too are part of that whole. You think back to older friends and the conversations you’d have. Usually, you’d remember the heavier discussions but today you just think of silly ones. Arguments over a movie you just watched, sharing opinions on the new song that the radio won't stop playing. A disruption during lunch that would eventually become a legend to everyone at the school. It all creates a gorgeous collage in your head. You never realized how much it all meant to you until now. 

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this review. Let me know if there’s anything that can be improved. This time I truly plan to make more. Though, Idk if they’ll stay on Tumblr or even in written form. Expect reviews for Fiona and Cake, Sonic Frontiers, Tears of The Kingdom, and any visual novels I read! Stay safe and see you next time!!!

[maybuds]

2, 4, & 7 <3

2. what outfit would you wear if you knew you were going to meet the love of your life on that day?

i would literally just wear anything comfortable, or whatever i had planned on wearing that day. i don’t really dress up a lot, and i also mostly just dress for myself :3

4. if you could magically get a brilliant and skilled anonymous writer to write the book of your dreams in a perfectly executed way, what kind of book would you want from them?

a poetic book (not necessarily a poetry book) about ‘ordinary’ things—the only things that matter—with a lot of subtlety and nuance and even some choice dissonance in parts. but at the same time, a simple, casually sincere, intimate one. one that compels you, and makes you experience it without you knowing it’s happening. one that continues on even as you finish reading it, and changes you forever. one that doesn’t simply stick to tropes or obsessions with identity, doesn’t reinforce dichotomies, isn’t morally narcisisstic and simplistic. one that seems like it’s been written about before but is done so in such a refreshing way, so that you re-cognize the way you look at life. that’s a lot, but basically yeah… 😉

7. which of these would you want to star in—an epic fantasy multibook narrative featuring magic, sword battles, and princesses; a witty romcom set in a bustling cool city featuring no serious problems; a slice of life episodic tale for all ages with a serene and whimsical and profound direction; or a thrilling tale of adventure and adrenaline and travel?

the slice of life one! i like the idea of a serene, whimsical, profound direction to it. i think that’s how i’m really trying to live my life anyway.

[soul-dwelling]

Would soul eater worked as a low stakes, kinda episodic, kinda slice of life (not sike SEN) thing? Like a higschool drama-comedy, with the twist being not only the halloween world but also that the students are soldiers in an ancient war while its treated casually, think like My life as a teenage robot or something.

Even as a lower-stakes story, I imagine, at some point, it would climax into a _big_ stakes story, not dissimilar to how Soul Eater NOT wrapped up with a big finish despite mostly everyday stories. 

I mean, Ouran High School Host Club--the anime, that is--was slice of life but had a higher stakes finish. 

Maybe you could say the same about Dragon Ball and One Piece being seemingly, not slice of life, but lower-stakes--before Dragon Ball went hard into the battle storylines rather than the exploration storylines, and when One Piece was probably always high stakes but just not as noticeable given the slow buildup and worldbuilding so that, once you get to those big reveals, they have crept up onto you. 

(And this isn’t dissimilar to a topic I saw discussed about whether My Hero Academia would have been better with lower stakes…which, yeah, I think that series really needed more lower stakes and academia-focused stories before, “Boom, fight against the PLF…and then another fight with the PLF.”) 

Maybe the lower stakes would have helped the plot points and story arcs get some focus--but that also would be a long time for the story to spin its wheels on episodic tales rather than any overarching story, and while I think there would be enough readers and a good enough story there, I am not optimistic that a publisher and a set of editors would have liked that approach or thought it was enough to keep up sales and get any interest from animation studios and merchandisers. 

I think there is too much in the DNA of Soul Eater that “low stakes” quite works, not unless you really ramp up the comedy. For example, you have the literal grim reaper as the headmaster. I can’t see that kind of story approach working unless you treated your story like Cromartie High or Nichijou. Then again, Full Metal Panic and Mashle have high stakes stories…but a lot of slice of life and goofier components that can be simultaneously hilarious and epic (...Full Metal Panic less so since its creator decided to be a fucking shithead). 

I mean, maybe in the vein of My Life as a Teenage Robot could work--but, again, that show at least has a visual style and storytelling conceit that feels like it can toe the line between high stakes and low stakes (mecha as a visual style, mecha as questions about what it means to be human and potentially as representative of assimilation culture and marginalization). Soul Eater is “here are really cartoonish designs and shenanigans like something from Henry Selick or Jamie Hewlett.” I get that The Nightmare Before Christmas and Gorillaz are dark. But unlike those two, Soul Eater feels like a more cartoonish version of those stories and their tone: that cartoonishness doesn’t quite work as anything but low stakes--unless you keep reinforcing the grimness, which it did via what Lord Death has done, and thereby disrupts most attempts for low stakes storytelling. 

…Maybe that’s why Soul Eater NOT didn’t take off as well. It’s not like you can’t have low stakes stories in this setting: enough fan creations prove that. But I feel like NOT tried so hard to avoid tackling anything too grim already within Soul Eater, namely, Lord Death himself (who has, what, one major appearance throughout the entire manga and only mentions elsewhere?) and decided to make anything grim entirely original (Eternal Feather’s possession, Shaula, what happens to Meme). Then fucking Fire Force comes along to make things even more grim as if to swing the pendulum the other way: “NOT was too sweet, and I want to set up how Soul Eater is so fucked up, so here’s a grim, depressing, uniformed story whose only legacy is going to be that it was a prequel to a better story--and in the process makes that better story now less interesting.”