#how to create crud

[hotheadedhero]

Threshold

AN: Think I still got Rise Raph deep-rooted in the brain, especially his savage mode, soooooo enjoy the result of my obsession :3

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: violence, couple of bad words, kinda angsty (are you surprised?), savage Raph being protective <3

Dark. Pitch black. Quiet.

When did it get so dark?

The last thing Raph remembers is-

Crud. His head is pounding. He pulls himself up from the strangely cold floor and rises lethargically only to cause further incursion against a ceiling. Ow. One hand nurses the top of his head as the other feels around. He’s inside some kind of box, smooth all around and cold - must be a metal. How did he get in here? He was… he was out. Somewhere. That’s it, he was out with… with… with you! Yeah, date night, that was it. Then, something happened. Damn it. He can’t concentrate with this drumming in his skull. Him and you. Out together. Then… then? 

Shit!

His shoulder suddenly barrels into the side, and a second time but no budge. He remembers now: the two of you were making your way back from an anniversary date when a group got the jump on you. They must have knocked him over the head and trapped him in here whilst he was unconscious. That means they have you. No. Not on his watch. Not as long as he’s got breath in his lungs.

Surveying his circumstances, he realises just how serious these guys are about keeping him at bay. No windows, not even a keyhole for light to pass through, nothing but darkness. This box also appears to block out a decent amount of sound. Just him and the crackle of his breathing as it comes in and out in shorter successions. His palms stroke over the cold, metal walls before he punches one. Then, again. He slams his fists in the same place over and over in the hopes of creating a weak spot. 

Nothing.

His annoyance and dread only grow. Just what is this thing made of? No. No time to speculate. It doesn’t matter how sturdy this entrapment is. What matters is finding a way to break it. Whoever has done this is going to pay sorely. Raphael is protective of everyone he cares about but when it comes to you, he feels a bit more passionate; decisively out for blood. A concerning revelation he hadn’t the cause to encounter until now but he won’t worry about that now. He needs to make sure you're not hurt. He needs to get out.

Once again, his hands ball up and he punches every spot he can feel. He's not going to give up. He'll keep going until his knuckles bleed if he has to. Every whack makes the metal ring in his ears. Every jab stings as bruises form on his fists. With every hit, an image of you flashes in his mind, scared of what danger you may be in. The interior lights up with the bright red of his ninpõ and he carries on. He has to protect you. There’s no way of contacting his brothers for their aid. He needs to get out.

Eventually, he comes to a stop. Raph gave it all his might and hasn't even made a scratch. The perpetual darkness and his stunted gasping pushes him closer to the edge. He falls to his knees, head spinning, his mind dizzy and disoriented. Right. That’s right. This cage is a complete seal, which means it's more than likely that there aren't any cracks for even oxygen to pass through. His air is finite and he's wasted it all on this futile attempt to break out. No. He needs to get OUT!

The large snapper cries out in frustration, only for his screams to bounce back at him with an even fiercer roar. You’re alone with the threat out there. He’s alone in here. He can feel himself slipping. The only assurance he has is himself and his self-assaulting shots of paranoia. Why can't he get out of this forsaken box?! No. No. Nonono! He needs to stay. He's not going to be much help if he ends up going berserk. Raphael’s teeth clench and he clasps onto his head desperately. It feels like his brain is splitting in two. Crap! Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it to-

On the outside, some tunnels down, you have your hands tied, held behind your back with little give. The ropes bite into your wrists as you twist and turn, trying to find some leverage to loosen them. Your surroundings are cold and unwelcoming, filled with the faint scent of metal and something else you can’t immediately place. It’s unpleasant but recognisable. The sewers. More specifically, New York sewers. That’s a relief in some respect, knowing that you’re still in familiar territory. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. Raph is out there, and you need to find a way to reach him. Your heart races at the thought of him being in pain or worse. You can't let that happen. You have to find a way to get to him, to tell him you're okay, to let him know that you're fighting too. Think. There must be a way to get out of this before those hoodlums come back. Everything around you is as bare as the ideas in your head, in that you have none. With a huff, you adjust back into a sitting position. Something pokes at you where thigh meets hip bone. Something sharp. A shuriken! You’re glad for your need to be ready for any given situation but wish you had opted to place it in your back pocket instead. The top half of your body swivels one way and you force your legs to turn the opposite. Your fingers twitch and stretch in desperation. With each movement, the ropes dig deeper into your skin, but you push through the pain. You suck in a sharp breath and twist yourself further. A nail scratches against the metal and then the tip of your fingers. You frantically stroke towards yourself until it’s released from the captive pocket and clanks onto the ground. There’s no time to get breath back, however. You quickly stumble on an axis and clasp onto the star, wasting not another second as you delicately rub it back and forth against the ropes. The fibres begin to fray, and you can feel the bindings loosening. Hope surges within you, igniting a fire in your belly. You just need a little more time.

Just as you’re about to free your wrists, two figures, masked and menacing, step inside the concave structure of grey brick and stone, their eyes glinting with malice as they size you up. You do the same, noting the slightly inhuman shapes of them. They must be Yokai of some description if you had to guess. Do the turtles have beef with any Yokai? You don’t recall.

"Well, well, look who decided to wake up," one of them sneers, stepping closer.

You swallow hard, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Where's Raph?" you demand, your voice steadier than you feel. “What do you want with us?”

The other figure kneels down to your level and chuckles darkly, “Our only interest is that big pet of yours. He’s got a pretty price on his head for the battle nexus and we intend to collect.”

The battle nexus: a major blood sport attraction that used to take place in the hidden city back when Big Mama was running shop. An event that you thought to be deceased many years ago. You suppose it’s only natural that someone would eventually want to resurrect it for their own nefarious desires. What better way to do that than with a behemoth turtle who showcases great strength? If their only priority is Raphael then what’s the point in keeping you around? You’re glad they’ve kept you alive but they could have just as easily left you behind. You’re almost afraid to ask but you need to maintain conversation whilst subtly working on your restraints.

“Why keep me around then?”

“Leverage,” the one in front of you states simply and you can feel the smirk in his voice. “Our guess is that he’ll be more agreeable if he doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

The two laugh and you frown. A sense of dread swirls in your stomach. Sickos. Taking advantage of someone’s love and care just to torture the life of another. Each cackle from their hidden lips only feeds into your desperation that much more. It takes another moment and then, finally, your shoulders can relax and you take a calming breath. You join in their laughter, rising in volume as they quieten. When they silence completely, you do the same with a long, melodic sigh.

“You made just one teeny tiny miscalculation.” Suddenly, your arms land at your sides and you fall back, bringing your feet up to kick the first tyrant in the face. “Dating one of the Mad Dogs means picking up a few tricks!”

With one down, you push yourself forward onto your feet, quickly tossing the throwing star in the other guy’s direction. It catches him on the leg and he howls in pain, falling to one of his knees. That works for you. You see your opening and take it, running as fast as you can down the long tunnel. With determination fueling your every step, you run, ready to face whatever awaits you, knowing that the moment you find Raph, you’ll both be able to get out of this.

"Raph!" you shout, desperate for him to hear you. "I’m here! I’m coming!"

The sound of something scraping against metal echoes through the sewer hall, and you can only assume that it has to do with him. Running on that theory, you sprint in the direction the sound came from, bounding past a couple of goons and bringing you to a large junction where four tunnels meet. In the centre of this junction is a large metal cage and it cries from something inside trying to get out. He’s in there. This is it! 

You run past five or six more masked figures to get to the box. Maybe you should have thought this through better. Yet again, they won’t be a problem if you can figure out how to open this thing; a switch, a lever, anything! But there’s nothing. In a last-ditch effort, you pick up the first thing at your disposal - a broken pipe - and whack it against one of the corners. The hit reverberates and sends a shockwave through your bones, making you drop the pipe. How are you supposed to get this blasted cage open?!

You reach for the rusted tube of metal again but a set of arms snake around you and lift you from the ground, tearing a scream from your lungs. Freedom was so sweet, yet so short. You shout hysterically for your Raphael, hoping with all your breath that it’ll reach him, that it’ll give him the strength to breach him of his capture. 

"Sorry to burst your bubble,” one of the crooks from before laughs, although breathless from his run here, “but that box has been infused with mystic energy! It would take a miracle to-"

SCHREEE-EEEECH!!!

A piercing shriek cuts through the open air and everyone halts. Bangs like thunder trail after, followed by another loud, ear-splitting scrape of metal. All eyes slowly glance over to the box where a couple of large, dark-green spikes are poking out from the side, having cut through. They disappear back inside and are soon replaced with two hands that proceed to push the metal away. You smile victoriously. You knew your big lug would find a way to break out. That spiky shell is sharper than he gives himself credit for. You attempt to run forward and reunite with him but this damn bastard won’t let go of you.

Raph erupts from the confines of the metal box, hunched over and huffing with a gravelliness that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. The atmosphere shifts like a storm brewing on the horizon. He stands tall and intimidating, the dim light casts shadows over his hulking figure, muscles coiled like springs ready to unleash chaos. The moment he spots you, a deep growl rumbles from deep within his chest, resonating with an anger that has been building in the darkness.

Still, no one has attempted a move, no one brave enough to do so, but one is eager to see this standstill put to an end. “Don’t just stand there! Attack!”

The crooks scramble, thrusting their weapons in his direction and he responds with a guttural battle cry, lunging at the nearest bandit - a hulking brute who barely has time to raise his weapon before Raph’s fist connects with his jaw. The impact is followed by a nasty crack and the crook is sent sprawling backwards into a wall before slumping to the ground like a ragdoll. This beast - your boyfriend - doesn’t stop there, moving with an agility that almost seems unnatural. He pounces forward with a speed that belies his size, taking out more assailants one by one and without restraint. Each attempt on his life is met with devastating retaliation and another nameless body on the ground.

Heart racing, you stand helplessly caught in the grip of the larger thug who has yet to release you. You can only watch in awe and horror as the dark side of your boyfriend further emerges like some fiery reincarnation. It’s as if he’s become something other than himself, a creature of pure rage, driven by a rudimentary wrath that eclipses the calculated fighter you know. Raph’s movements are fierce, but there’s something primal about them, a wildness that feels almost foreign. It’s as if he’s been overtaken by something deeper, something instinctual that drives him to protect.

When there are none left to fight, you call out, “Raph!” your voice breaking through the chaos.

He stalls, sits on pause for just a moment, and his head cranes to the side to face you. That’s when you see it, that’s when it makes sense; his eyes. They hold no shine, nor do they ignite with relief upon realising your presence. Clouded over, ghost white, they are completely and utterly devoid of your Raphael. You think you’ve grounded him, even slightly, but the sound of your voice and your helpless form only torches his fury further.

Those blank eyes stare just to your left and at the thug still holding you. You feel his entire body stutter, hear the gulp in his throat, and a whimper just before he lets go. He runs off with a trip and gets away as fast as he can, being the only one who has managed to flee the area unscathed. You’re weirdly glad for that. In a morbid kind of way, he can hopefully warn others not to ever mess with you guys again.

You gradually tempt yourself to look back at your hulking goliath of a boyfriend. You’ve heard about Raph’s “savage mode” but you’ve never seen it yourself. There’s never been an instance in which it could happen. From the moment you two have been together, you’ve practically been tied at the hip. You don’t want to fear him of all people but you recount stories of this beastly persona, how even his own family have not been entirely safe in the midst of his presence. There’s no telling if you’re in danger right now.

He makes his way towards you and it’s as though you’ve been turned to stone. Worst-case scenarios flood your better judgment to the point that you can’t bear to look. Remaining dead still, you listen closely to his movements, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your ears. It sounds like he’s right in front of you and then… behind you? Slowly, you take a peak and turn. He stares off where that last thug had run off, seemingly chalking up whether he should chase after or not. If you had to guess. He appears to decide against it and circles you again. There’s been no move to actively acknowledge you, which you hope is a good sign.

“Raph?” With no idea of what’s going on inside his head, all you can think to say is his name.

He huffs and makes a glance at you, only to return his attention to the room. A strong arm is held out in front of you as he breathes gruffly. His head jerks side to side in case there are any more threats to vanquish but it’s clear to you that they’re all beat. You need to find a way to calm him down so that you two can get out of here. Pronto. He backs up closer to you and lowers himself more. Before you can wonder what he’s doing, he suddenly grabs you and pulls you into his chest, holding you there with one arm.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy. It’s okay. You got them all.”

Your efforts to lull his antsy behaviour are for nothing. He huffs from his nostrils down at you again and runs off. His grasp on you is secure, strong, and safe like any other instance you’re wrapped up in green muscle. You thank whatever higher forces that even this feral side won’t hurt you but you still need to get your Raph back before anything goes out of control again. You imagine he must be taking you somewhere safe, where is what you’re concerned about. There’s no telling who you may cross paths with and who could get hurt while he’s like this. Granted, the sewers aren’t regularly populated but it would just be your luck if there were workers down here at this time or something.

You keep trying to usher him to calm down but he continues on his quest, running through the maze of sewers. There’s no getting through to him. He only skids to a stop when something clinks around the corner and gets down on all fours minus the arm holding you. The source of the scuffle is nothing more than a group of mice looking for a good meal. Despite the lack of threat, he’s still on edge, body tense and rigid around you. You try to wiggle free of his arm and reach out for his cheek, softly petting the rough skin.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you calmly usher. “We’re okay.”

He takes in a shuddery breath and shakes his head. There’s a battle in his mind, an instance in which he wavers. Much is clear when his hold loosens. You scramble against the floor and onto your feet, taking a hold of his face before he can straighten himself out or blow up again. There’s a combative roll of his vocals, sounding shot, and his head leans down into your hands. Hunched over like this, he almost looks like a big, wounded dog in need of comfort.

“Raph… keep safe,” he grunts quietly.

Those blank eyes flicker up, a spark of recognition igniting behind them. It’s like watching a storm cloud begin to part, revealing the sun beyond. He’s in there. He’s coming out. Little by little, your soft-hearted giant is trying to return. You smile down at him, hopeful, and softly pull him closer. As you hold him against your chest, you plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. He relaxes into it and gingerly wraps his arms around you.

“I am safe,” you whisper, stroking a hand over his head. “You always keep me safe.”

He hums back lowly. You both stay like this for a moment; the security of his hold around your waist, your fingers delicately caressing his head. You don’t mind how long it takes for him to fully relax. You’ll take all the time in the world if you have to. Though time seems to be on your side when he suddenly gasps loudly. His arms go taut and you hold onto his head, paving a hand over the top of his shell.

“Hey, heyheyhey! It’s okay, I gotcha,” you reassure. “Just breathe.”

His breathing is ragged, each inhale shaky as he processes all of the chaos that unfolded. Raphael can’t piece together what happened. He knows what happened to him to get to where he is right now but he doesn’t know the extent of what he’s done. The echoes of his own growls and the sounds of battle play back in his mind but without any cohesiveness. It’s so terrifyingly frustrating. It’s there and it isn’t. He quickly looks up at you, eyes frantically darting around, then back on you in search of any injuries.

“Where- What happened to- I didn’t-” He swallows hard and trembles against you. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer quickly, “you didn’t. You could never.”

You hold onto his face, grounding him as best as you can. The fear still lingers. His chest is still collapsing under every half-breath and stuttered gasp. He can’t bear the thought of hurting you. Even if it isn’t entirely him, he would never- could never forgive himself for such a thing. As he continues to crumble, you know it’s going to take more than words to calm him down.

“Raph, look at me,” you say softly, urging him to focus on you. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. I promise.” You kiss his forehead and speak into the skin. “Just breathe, okay? In and out. Just like we practised.”

He nods, albeit slowly, and tries to mirror your breathing. His head hangs low whilst he tries to collect himself. You watch as his body rises and falls, your heart aching more with every pained whimper croaking in his throat. His vulnerability is something you’ve rarely witnessed, reserved for the few times that he’s had night terrors. 

Gradually, the frantic energy starts to dissipate. He leans into you, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to regain his composure. You can feel the tension in his muscles begin to ease. His eyes slowly open and he expects to be faced with distress but all he finds is a gentle, sad smile. He only wishes he had the strength to give you one in return. At least he’s gotten a grip on himself now. His nerves are shot but he’s steady again. That’s the main thing.

“There we go. I’m so proud of you.” You softly peck the space between his eyes and smile more assuringly. “Let’s go home now, okay?”

Coming to a slow stand, he breathes out and nods. “Yeah… yeah. Let’s go home.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Be so fr rn, where do you find the time and motivation to write so many fics holy crud. The amount you put out with the same exact care and quality put into each sentence is baffling. And I’m over here scratching my head at how you mega bug brain is so bluetoothed to your fingers just clacking away 😭😭

Totally valid question lol. I actually had someone else ask me something similar, so I'll link that here.

The best way I can put this is that fanfiction is a full-time hobby for me. While I work, do all the adult shit I need to do, spend time with family and friends, I fill all the gaps with fanfic.

When I'm not attached to my desktop or at the library typing away on my laptop, you'll find me on Google Docs on my phone while I'm waiting in line at the grocery store or sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office. In my car, if an idea comes to me, I'll dictate through bluetooth.

Fanfic is just a constant companion in my life because I'm (1) passionate about writing and (2) enjoy the act of creating something. Fanfiction is a valid art form, and regardless of all the shit that's happening to it (plagiarism / AI / censorship, etc.) I will continue to chug along and do what I love because it makes me happy. That keeps me motivated.

~ Poppy

[snoozykazoo]

we're on tumblr again yay✨

Hey everyone! And welcome to Snoozy Kazoo's first ✨TUMBLR DEVPOST!!✨ We'll be releasing these every month from now on as a way to keep everyone updated on Snoozy Kazoo news!

If you're new here, hi! We’re Snoozy Kazoo, a game dev studio of six guys who make dumb, silly, and fun games. You might know us from the games Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion and Turnip Boy Robs a Bank, available HERE and HERE!

Let's get caught up! In this issue we're covering a new mobile release, anniversaries, and... our NEW GAME? 😳😳😳

What's Snoozy been up to?

Ok I know what I said earlier, but let’s be honest: if you’ve stumbled deep into the mines enough to find your way here, you’re surely familiar with our beloved Turnip Boy. We just passed by his anniversary of robbing a bank on January 18th! Aww! They grow up so fast… But it’s a good thing he’s not robbing banks anymore, that’s a crime, you kn-

Aw crud he's doing it on your phone now

Snaps my fingers disappointingly. Aw man. Yerrrrp. Turnip Boy Robs a Bank is now on iOS and Android devices near you. His mindless yet fervent desire to wreck crime upon the world seems insatiable. It’s really unfortunate, except for the fact that it’s honestly really fun watching him go at it.

The game is available TODAY on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store! Re-experience the game or force your friends to — its fun either way!

Ahhh the beloved Turnip Boy. Surely your next game will be about him right?

Heehee nope!

Excitingly, in November, we announced our next game: Hobnobbers! A co-op mall-looter where you rob malls for your goddess!

If you haven’t already wishlisted the game yet, well… go wishlist it! Go make your friends wishlist it! Wishlist wishlist wishlist! It really helps us beat the Algorithm Overlords, so literally every single wishlist counts!

I already know about your little crow-gnome mall-looting game you do not shut up about it. What else is new?

We also released a new devlog over on our YouTube! We’ll be releasing one of these every few months, so make sure to subscribe!

In it, we’ve covered the game’s conception till its early development, which means a lot of concept art. Honestly, let’s toss a little bit more of it over here; it’s always exciting to see behind the curtain!

Now get ready for... 🥁🥁🥁

Woah! What’s this little place? Perhaps the chance to get to meet different members of the team and bombard them with questions to foster a parasocial relationship with them? No way!

Introducing… Alexis! Our Unreal Developer!

What are you most excited for in Hobnobbers?

I’m very excited for a lot of different technical aspects and seeing people’s reaction to the game! I want to see all of the systems come together to create a perfect storm of chaos. The randomly generated map ontop the hexes system, with events like Money Storms, Floods, and Fairy Circles of Doom, is going to make each run completely unique and you’ll never know what kind of madness you’re getting into! On launch day I intend to be hopping into games with people (and fixing any bugs that crop up).

What’s something you’ve worked on in Hobnobbers recently that you’ve found particularly frustrating?

The level generation for the mall has been a particular nightmare, but in a very fun way. The mall is generated from bottom-to-top and each floor tells the floor above it about the different combinations of rooms that it can generate. This allows us to have those iconic vertical levels that overlap eachother with walkways above the floors below! This has required a lot of tuning in both making the parts that generate, and how to place them to get results that are always interesting (without bugs). Not only do we have to generate each floor, we also have to generate each store! Accounting for the size and placement of these is a constant challenge when making segments but I made a blender template that speeds it up quite a lot.

What pitch did you end up bringing to the pitch competition?

My pitch was a game about a vampire who was ousted from their castle by another vampire, and is trying to take it back. You would have to sneak back in through various pathways that challenge you in different ways, some would require parkour skills, others would require puzzle solving. And while you’re doing all of this, the AI learns and adapts to your behavior setting traps or blocking off paths in a constant game of cat and mouse. I am still extremely passionate about this idea, and fully intend to pursue it one day!

Awesome! Thank you for your time! 😊

Okie dokie that’s a wrap for now

In future devposts, we’ll be including questions sent in by the community! Feel free to send them in over here on Tumblr, or join our Discord and ask questions in the “ask-the-devs-❓” channel!

See you soon!

— Kiki

[spnfanficpond]

Weekly Pond Newsletter

The crud that's going around is now in the house. Actual video of Admin Michelle right now:

If something doesn't make sense here, it's probably not you. 🤣

Old Business:

Valentine’s Day Writing Challenge - The deadline for the writing challenge is approaching! Click here to check out the prompts and get all the details on how to participate!

New fic exchange rule enacted - This new rule affects only fic exchanges and similar events where someone else depends on a writer to write. If you sign up for a fic exchange that we host, and you ghost us without posting your fic, then you will be banned from future exchanges with us. It's not fair to those writers who have written their fic to not receive a fic in return. If you stay in contact with us, keeping us updated with your status, or even decide to drop out, that's okay, and we will work with you. If you simply stop responding to messages, you will be banned from future exchanges. If you have any questions, feel free to contact an admin!

Angel Fish Awards for January - See above gif. 🤣 We'll combine the nominations we received in January with everything we get in February!

I would be okay if Cas wanted to check me out like this right now. 🤣

New Business:

Writer's Hangout - At 11am EST today, Manta Ray Laili will be hanging out in our general voice channel to talk with you about writing! If you don't want to turn on your mic, there is chat in that channel, too. No need to be shy!

Fishing For Treasures - Next weekend, we will be celebrating SMUT here at the Pond! Got a favorite hot, smutty fanfic that you want to share with the world? Members can drop links in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in our Discord server, and non-members can send us an ask with a link to the fic they want to share. Then, next weekend, we will reblog all of these fics for everyone to read! (Tumblr links are preferred, but we can create a Tumblr post with any link submitted.)

Manta Ray chat - On Friday, Valentine's Day, at 8pm EST, Admin Marie will be hanging out in the Discord server to chat with you! Come join us and say hi!

Competitive Writing Sprints - On Saturday at 11am EST, Admin MJ will be hosting competitive writing sprints in our Discord server! Add words to your WIP and win fabulous prizes!

SPN Rewatch: FanFic Edition - Saturday at 5pm EST, we'll be discussing the next two episodes in our rewatch: 4.05 Monster Movie and 4.06 Yellow Fever.

Coming Soon - Ummm...the New Member Spotlight still hasn't gone up, has it? Yeah...we're gonna get on that. Promise. 😇

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That’s all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! Click here for a static view in Eastern US/Canada time (desktop only, no mobile app access, sadly), and click here to add our calendar to your own Google calendar! We try to keep it as up-to-date as possible. If there’s something you want to see on the calendar that’s not there (maybe a convention we missed, cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your Admins and Manta Rays, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @heavenssexiestangel, @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes, and @manawhaat!

[evolutionsvoid]

Out there in the endless oceans are some truly strange tides, and the Humor seas are easily the top ones to be found. Impossible quantities of crude Humor, all concentrated into one vast body, creating a sight that many would think only existed in tall tales. Yet, they do exist, much to the misery of any sailor, as Humor seas are infamous for their harsh conditions and terrible beasts. Take the Snaring Seas, for example. Also known as "Black Seas," these fluid bodies are made entirely of Black Bile, creating ebon waves and obsidian currents. Well, sort of. In some areas of a Snaring Sea there is fluid movement similar to the watery ocean, but it is mainly where the bile is diluted a bit. But as it grows more concentrated, or gets fouled up with enough debris and detritus, the Black Bile can thicken and congeal. If one is foolish enough to sail deeper into its heart, you will find that this sea eventually turns into something more akin to a choking swamp or a terrible tar pit. Great globs and clots floating on the fluid, and a surface that becomes so thick and gummy that you would swear you would be able to walk on it. But of course, you should never do such a thing, as it is certain death. But then again, if you reach such conditions on the Black Sea, then you are probably already doomed.

The Snaring Seas are infamous due to these tar patches and places where the fluid is more like mud than water. Thick gunk that slows ships, eventually bringing them to a complete stop. Like a great beast bogged down in tar, boats can become trapped in these mires, with no way to escape. The wind is not strong enough to push you free, and attempts to row will just mean stuck oars. To make matters worse, it appears certain conditions can cause the Black Bile to crystalize erratically, resulting in jagged spires erupting and crumbling within the sea. Bad enough trying to push through the crud, but now you must fear unseen crystal chunks and sudden spikes that may destroy your ship. With how thick it is, there is a high chance a busted vessel won't sink, but that still means you are trapped on the Black Sea, with little hope of getting out. There are plenty of horror stories that sailors will share that tell you how that sort of situation ends...

Due to this, Snaring Seas are rarely traversed, at least not with large vessels that easily get stuck. However, in places where water and Black Bile mix, the dark fluid is thin enough to still be traversable. There, some folks may risk diving into it, seeking out Black Bile globs and crystals to fish out, or special creatures to hunt. Obviously, the sea is rich with Black Bile and infused materials, one just has to be daring (and foolish) enough to go get it.

In and around the Black Seas can be found the Blackshard leviathan, a beast whose home and name tells you everything you need to know about it. It bears a heavy shell that erupts with Black Bile spikes, giving it a powerful defense. From its forehead emerges another dark lance, used for warding off predators and goring prey. Its flippers are clawed and hand-like, carrying impressive strength to help pull itself through the thicker parts of the Snaring Sea. This lets it feed upon anything that gets stuck in the tar, unable to break free before its toothy beak devours them. In thinner fluids, it hunts with its horn and spikes, barreling through schools and pods to wound and cripple prey. What aids in this is the fact that the Black Bile spikes easily shatter into jagged shards when they come in contact with flesh, creating clouds of slicing pieces. The horrid slivers bite into skin and blubber, working themselves in deeper with each movement. The pain immobilizes its food and foes, giving the leviathan the opening it needs. It doesn't take long for these spikes to regrow, pulling from the leviathan's internal bile supply and the surrounding fluids to become deadly once more.

When it comes to hunting the beast, it is a tricky kill. Their backs are armored in thick shell and the jutting spikes keep whalers from getting too close. Blackshards are practically guaranteed to do damage to the whaling ship, as they ram right into the side and embed numerous spines. The spikes breaking can give a brief opening, but it won't be long before they grow back. Forcing the beast into more diluted waters can slow the process, as there is less Black Bile to absorb. Sticky fluids like Amber can gum up these weapons and prevent them from shattering and scattering. With thick armor and heavy weapons, one can smash these spikes and aim to crack the shell. One method calls for snapping off these spikes and then using a Yellow Bile infused spear to stab deep into the stump. If one can reach the regrowth organs underneath and trigger the Black Bile within, a small explosion will follow. These internal blasts can greatly damage the beast and also ruin its ability to create spikes.

Slaying a Blackshard results in great stores of meat, blubber, shell and Black Bile. Their spines are perfect for making into nasty weapons that pierce deep and leave horrible wounds. The crystal in them is of good purity, and is great for replenishing stores, inscribing information or even powering a construct. The Aquanuats believe that crystals like these are what could create aquatic bone-bile constructs, perhaps even an artificial leviathan (though they don't say this out loud too much, as seafolk get a little freaked out about that idea). Their heavy shells create incredible armor, both for man or boat. The bile infused meat has an incredible earthy flavor and seems to bolster the mind. Some whalers will swear that eating enough of it allows you to absorb parts of the beast's memory, giving you information of the world below. Legends like to say that this method is how one is able to successfully cross a Snaring Sea, using the memory of this dead leviathan to know exactly where to sail and how to avoid being bogged down. Of course, that is just a legend, and honestly no one really knows what you would get from such a feat. For some groups like the Scholars, however, there is the idea that the heart of these seas carry unique strains of Black Bile crystal, that could be invaluable in their efforts. Good luck finding anyone to go get them though...

[ramblingandpie]

So last night I finally watched The Substance. It was an adventure just getting the dang movie into my eyeballs (we canceled Prime a while ago and so doing the whole "Oh just add a free trial of another streaming service on top of Prime!" wasn't happening, so I ordered it on Blu-Ray with some birthday money, BUT then Windows 11 apparently hates playing Blu-Ray movies and it wasn't until the fourth program worked to play it and and and... I'm sure someone could come up with a good analogy about planned obsolescence and The Substance!) Warning, here there be spoilers.

SO GOOD. So good. But. One of the downsides of this whole "doing a hard sciences graduate program and working with medical research / bioethics stuff" is like I cannot watch movies like this without trying to figure out HOW it works. Not just on a biology level, like, I'm willing to suspend disbelief about Sue's Athena-like birth (... so I was just trying to come up with a way to describe the birth and then was like "Oh like Athena sprouting from Zeus's head except Sue sprouts from Elisabeth's back" and now I'm like oh shit there's a whole other essay in there somewhere).

But on a level of

-Who created The Substance? Who decided on their weird multi-level marketing distribution (again, another essay is in there about the MLM distribution scheme)?

-How did they figure out tolerances? If there is a hard limit of 7 days, then the instructions should probably say to switch, like, every 5 days so there IS buffer in case of emergency.

-I did love the emphasis on Elisabeth/Sue being One and, like, Elisabeth being fairly selfish and then therefore Sue is also fairly selfish.

-Do they target selfish people? Is the MLM distribution fucking it up? Like, the dude who was Elisabeth/Sue's contact definitely was not super helpful, and is this deliberate? Do they want to harm people? Do they only care about the money/shareholders?

-How does she pay for The Substance? We never see any info about that. What motivates the folks who make it, if not money? All those secrecy measures and then they just. Don't provide support. Which means it's MUCH more likely that someone is going to fuck it up in a widely visible (Monstro Elisasue) kind of way???

-How does Sue get paid without tax info? OH wait I actually think I know this, Elisabeth probably has some kind of shell LLC set up that people pay so that they don't have to do 1099s, and then she is paid through the business. So Sue probably uses the same one. Sadly, the "you need a social security number" thing kind of falls off at the high end of the scale where everyone is doing things under different corporate entities anyway.

-How did Sue get out of the NYE prep, all the way back to her apartment, and then back again? During prep for a huge show?? (Also holy crud the dress getting stuck in doorways was amazing.)

-Demi Moore was robbed of an Oscar like I haven't seen Anora yet but I cannot believe that anything else that came out that year was more deserving holy hell she was amazing.

[vixentrickz]

well crud, here's another!

Reverse AU Rooster Bold design.. meet Basilisk!

(some notes of mine plus au rambles vvv)

(basilisk in a rooster dragon creature way, not in the lizard creature way)

I've had a lot of fun working on the first design, and I decided to actually go on with this project! I'm planning on expanding the world building and I've already got quite a few ideas :)

So, as for this design!

You can't see it in this drawing, but his weapon is still his "quill", which also functions as a throwing knife (he can use sublimation to make it more convenient, like giving himself the power to multiply it etc...)

I wanted his design to kind of contrast the vibe of the one I made of caprikid (he still doesn't have a name, feel free to suggest some lol)

Oh yeah, and I want all of these designs to have an element that ties their designs to their canon akumatizations.

I think that's all my little design notes?

bunnyx is next, although I'm not too sure if she's gonna be necessarily "evil" like the other holders. (Considering how OVERPOWERED the rabbit miraculous is, if she was fully evil and stuff it would likely create plot holes n stuff)

most of the holders are gonna intented to be on the supreme's side from the get-go, but I'm still unsure about a few of them lol

[rjzimmerman]

The U.S. Under Trump: Alone in Its Climate Denial. (Washington Post)

This article reminds me (as if I needed any reminding) that trump is a fucking idiot, but the mafia surrounding him are equal if not superior in idiocy. Will we (i.e., US citizens) "survive" this? Yes, but not without some serious damage to everything that ought to be important to us ("us" as defined as anybody other than the members of the trump cult).

Excerpt from this Washington Post story:

When the Trump administration declared two weeks ago that it would largely disregard the economic cost of climate change as it sets policies and regulations, it was just the latest step in a multipronged effort to erase global warming from the American agenda.

But President Trump is doing more than just turning a blind eye to the fact that the planet is growing hotter. He is weakening the country’s capacity to understand global warming and to prepare for its consequences.

The administration has dismantled climate research, firing some of the nation’s top scientists, and gutted efforts to chart how fast greenhouse gases are building up in the atmosphere and what that means for the economy, employment, agriculture, health and other aspects of American society. The government will no longer track major sources of greenhouse gases, data that has been used to measure the scale and identify sources of the problem for the past 15 years.

“We’re not doing that climate change, you know, crud, anymore,” Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins told Fox Business on May 8.

By getting rid of data, the administration is trying to halt the national discussion about how to deal with global warming, said Daniel Swain, a climate scientist at the University of California, Los Angeles. “The notion of there being any shared factual reality just seems to be completely out the window,” he said.

At the same time, through cuts to the National Weather Service and by denying disaster relief through the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the administration has weakened the country’s ability to prepare for and recover from hurricanes, wildfires, droughts and other extreme weather that is being made worse by climate change.

The president is also moving to loosen restrictions on air pollution, which experts say will lead to more planet warming emissions, and to overturn the government’s legal authority to regulate those gases.

Taken together, these moves are poised to leave the world’s biggest economy less informed, less prepared and, over time, more polluted.

Mr. Trump dismisses the threats posed by climate change, suggesting that rising seas would create more “oceanfront property.” He blames “climate lunatics” for environmental regulations that he says have been a drag on the U.S. economy.

The American retreat from climate action has made the United States a global outlier. Nearly every other government has recognized that a hotter planet poses a profound threat to humans and ecosystems. Not the Trump administration, which made the United States the only nation to formally withdraw from the 2015 Paris Agreement to limit planetary warming.

Around the world, countries are racing to adapt to a rapidly warming planet, reduce pollution and build clean energy. China, the only other superpower, has made a strategic decision to adopt clean energy and then sell it abroad, dominating the global markets for electric vehicles, solar panels and other technologies. Even Saudi Arabia, the second-largest producer of oil after the United States, is spending heavily on wind and solar power.

[ostdrossel]

I love all of your bird baths and the photos you share of the visitors! I was wondering if you could share a bit about setting up a bird bath and how to make it attractive to birds? I am planning to put one out and would love some tips!

Hi, thank you for the kind words. I pretty much winged the whole thing, to be honest. I got myself a solid plastic pond liner that holds 40 gallons (not huge), a pump (medium-sized and with a box to protect it from too much grime), dug a hole, put the liner in, added the pump (with a hose attached to it) and then filled the thing with rocks. A bird bath for song birds needs to be shallow, and since birds come in different sizes, I tried to create areas with different "terrain" and depth. Birds like to perch, so some rocks are sticking out a bit. I like a ground bath because critters need to drink too, and that makes it easier for them. Ideally, the area should have some shrubst and thicket that birds can easily escape to in case of danger. I clean it about every two weeks by dumping some bleach in, covering it for a bit (maybe an hour), and then pumping the old water out and refilling until I don't smell bleach anymore. I have been doing this for a couple of years now, and it is the only thing that gets the crud out. There are frogs and toads that visit and hang out there (never saw frog spawn), so things seem to be safe. I use the rocks to hide what I don't want to be seen on camera, make things pretty and also to get the birds to sit where they are in focus. The hose that is connected to the pump can be used to make a little waterfall or just cause some commotion in the water. Birds get lured in by the sound of water. Try things out, experiment, it is a lot of fun and very rewarding to see them go for it.

[webthreecorp]

Mastering Linked Lists: Beginner's Guide

Hey Tumblr friends 👋

After learning about Arrays, it's time to level up! Today we’re diving into Linked Lists — another fundamental building block of coding! 🧱✨

So... What is a Linked List? 🤔

Imagine a treasure hunt 🗺️:

You find a clue ➡️ it points you to the next clue ➡️ and so on.

That's how a Linked List works!

🔗 Each element (Node) holds data and a pointer to the next Node.

It looks something like this: [data | next] -> [data | next] -> [data | next] -> NULL

Why Use a Linked List? 🌈

✅ Dynamic size (no need to pre-define size like arrays!) ✅ Easy insertions and deletions ✨ ✅ Great for building stacks, queues, and graphs later!

❌ Slower to access elements (you can't jump straight to an item like arrays).

Basic Structure of a Linked List Node 🛠️

data -> stores the actual value

next -> points to the next node

📚 CRUD Operations on Linked Lists

Let’s build simple CRUD functions for a singly linked list in C++! (🚀 CRUD = Create, Read, Update, Delete)

Create (Insert Nodes)

Read (Display the list)

Update (Change a Node’s Value)

Delete (Remove a Node)

🌟 Final Thoughts

🔗 Linked Lists may look tricky at first, but once you master them, you’ll be ready to understand more powerful structures like Stacks, Queues, and even Graphs! 🚀

🌱 Mini Challenge:

Build your own linked list of your favorite songs 🎶

Practice inserting, updating, and deleting songs!

If you loved this explainer, give a follow and let's keep leveling up together! 💬✨ Happy coding, coder fam! 💻🌈 For more resources and help join our discord server

[shion-yu]

Day 3: Campus Crud

Back to genre: angst for @sicktember. Ft sick Elliot in college. 1,733 words. CW: vomit. 

September marked the beginning of junior year for Cliff and Elliot, who moved into their shared dorm room at NYU on the 22nd floor. They had been rooming together since Spring of their freshman year so by now they were old pros at setting up. First they cleaned, then Elliot decorated while Cliff organized. The two twin beds were pushed together to create a large place for them to sleep together. In no time at all the room looked perfectly cozy, as if it had been organized that way for months.

There was a difference from last year though: everything was quieter. Their excitement was toned down thanks to the constant bickering they'd been doing all summer, including this morning. It was mostly little things that didn't really matter - Cliff showered too long, Elliot played music too loudly - but their patience had been worn thin by the underlying real issues they didn't talk about. Specifically, the part where Cliff would not call Elliot his boyfriend by name even though it was glaringly obvious to everybody, nor would he return the words “I love you” regularly. Elliot might say “boyfriend” and Cliff didn't deny it, but from Cliff’s lips Elliot was always “my roommate” or “friend.” For a long time now, Elliot had tried to come to terms with this was simply how Cliff was, but it had worn him thin now and Cliff knew it, too. 

So their relationship was strained, and with it the carefree quality of their early dating days. Cliff saw it as a precursor to the inevitable: Elliot would break up with him. He was desperate for this not to happen though, so he tried to be perfect for Elliot instead. He didn't let Elliot know how anxious he felt all the time, or how his stomach hurt so badly that he’d started vomiting almost daily. He brushed Elliot off when Elliot fussed over his visible weight loss, or the breathless cough that seemed to pop up with very little exertion. He didn't explain that he was afraid that using the word “boyfriend” just seemed too special for someone like him, and saying “I love you” was just too scary for someone who had never been told that before. It wasn't that he wasn't ready to commit, because he was. He desperately wanted to spend the rest of his life with Elliot. He just didn't know how to express it genuinely without sounding as scared as he felt.

“Nobody’s ever told me they love me before,” he told Elliot once. But he didn't think Elliot really understood that he meant no one, not even his parents, had ever uttered the word love. He’d also never heard them say it to each other. How could he, coming from them, deserve to say love, then?

He practiced sometimes when Elliot was with friends. “I love you,” he would say in the mirror, but then he’d look up and the sight of himself disgusted him and he couldn’t do it again. He needed more practice before it felt genuine. Otherwise, Elliot would see right through him. He’d know the words weren’t natural to Cliff, and Cliff thought that Elliot thinking he didn't mean it would be worse than never saying it at all.

He was standing at the mirror working up the nerve to practice again when Elliot came home early from class on the second Tuesday of the semester. Cliff jumped in surprise as if he'd been caught doing something scandalous. “You’re home,” he said nervously. 

“Your face is all red,” Elliot told him. Cliff's face turned redder in response, but Elliot didn't notice. Instead, Cliff watched him toss his bag onto his desk chair and climb into bed, even though it was only noon and Elliot rarely napped.

“Did your class get canceled?” Cliff asked.

“I came home,” Elliot said from under his covers. He realized Elliot’s voice sounded hoarse now. Cliff cautiously moved to Elliot’s bedside, standing there like he wanted to say something but didn't know what. “Cliff, what?” Elliot snapped at being stared at.

“Are you okay?” Cliff asked, innocent and clueless. “You don't usually skip class. Are you sick?” 

Elliot groaned and turned on his side, facing the wall away from Cliff’s hovering figure. “I don't know, I don't feel great. I’m just gonna sleep it off.” He was quiet for a second, then added, “Don't worry.” 

Cliff was already worrying. But he said, “Okay,” and went to sit at his desk. He tried to focus on reading his textbooks, but he found it hard to concentrate. Elliot rarely got sick and Cliff had very little caretaking experience. He decided to hope that Elliot could indeed sleep it off and half an hour later went to his own afternoon classes. 

When he came back, Elliot was still in bed. Cliff had spent most of his lecture trying to remember what Elliot did when Cliff was sick, which unlike Elliot was frequently. He crept forward and pressed one hand to Elliot's forehead, only to find it overly warm. Crap, Cliff thought. Elliot had probably caught whatever beginning of semester cold was going around - half of the lecture hall had been sniffling, coughing or sneezing today. He’d also heard that the stomach bug and the flu were making their rounds already.

He rustled through their drawer where they kept the first aid kit, accidentally knocking a book to the floor in his hurry. Elliot stirred and opened his eyes in confusion. “Cliff?” He asked, before beginning to cough.

“Sorry,” Cliff said guiltily. He found the thermometer he was searching for and approached the bed. “I uh, think you have a fever.” He held out the thermometer awkwardly. 

“You do it,” Elliot said, looking down. Cliff furrowed his brow in confusion. “Hold it for me,” Elliot clarified, looking embarrassed. Then he opened his mouth and waited for Cliff to slide the small instrument under his tongue. Cliff kept his gaze trained on the thermometer only until it beeped and read 100.6. 

“That's high,” Cliff stated, wiping off the metal tip and sliding the thermometer back into its small plastic case. 

Continuing this theme of confusing actions, Elliot said, “I don’t feel good. Hold me.”

Cliff blushed. Elliot wasn’t usually this forward with him, but he did want to help in any way he could, so… Cliff removed the sweater he was wearing and got into bed with Elliot, wrapping his arms around Elliot loosely. Elliot shuffled closer. “Don’t go,” he said. “Stay with me.”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Cliff said, which was the truth. This uncharacteristic clinginess was making him nervous, though. Was Elliot really sick? He didn’t think 100.6 was that high, was it? “Do you want to go to the clinic?” He asked.

“No,” Elliot said, coughing pitifully into Cliff’s chest. “Just you.”

Just you. It was all Elliot ever asked for, and all Cliff wanted too. Yet somehow they constantly ran into problems doing precisely that. 

Cliff brushed his fingers through Elliot’s dark curls, staring at the ceiling and telling himself Elliot probably just needed to sleep it off, it was just a cold. But by evening Elliot’s fever was worse, and at midnight he woke Cliff up shivering violently. Cliff took Elliot’s temperature again and felt his stomach lurch with anxiety when he saw the glowing 102.4 on the screen. Cliff gave Elliot Tylenol and held him, scared.

“What do I do?” Cliff asked him. The only other time Elliot was sick, it hadn’t seemed this sudden. “Elliot?”

“I just need you to stay,” Elliot said through chattering teeth.

“It’s midnight, I’m not going anywhere,” Cliff said in confusion. He held Elliot tighter but let go quickly when he was shocked by a muffled sob from Elliot. Was it really that bad? Cliff wondered if he should call an ambulance, or his dad. “Elliot?”

“You're going to leave me,” Elliot said, beginning to cry. “I don't know what I did that you can't love me.”

Cliff’s chest ached with guilt and regret. “I - I do,” he said, trying to comfort Elliot.

“Then why won't you say it?” Elliot cried. “Why won’t you say you love me?” Cliff couldn't answer. Elliot cried harder and began to cough. Cliff was trying to get himself to explain when Elliot said, “Trash,” before immediately throwing up on their duvet. 

Cliff rubbed his back and shushed him, ignoring the urge to jump out of bed. The dorms had washing machines on each floor and Cliff wanted to run to them. But Elliot needed him and he couldn't leave now. “I’m sorry,” Elliot groaned once he was done vomiting. “The sheets.”

“I’ll wash them,” Cliff said quickly. “Do you want to go to the bathroom and clean up?” Elliot nodded. “I’m going to the laundry room and I’ll be right back,” he reassured Elliot. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Elliot whimpered. Cliff dashed to the laundry room down the hall and threw their duvet inside, hoping the machine could handle vomit. He added a ton of extra detergent and then returned and piled their blankets onto the bed in lieu of a duvet. Elliot came back into their room then, still sniffling but distinctly less hysterical.

Cliff held the blankets up for him to crawl in, which Elliot did. Then Cliff got in behind him and held him again, hoping it wasn't just his imagination that Elliot felt a bit cooler now. “I’m sorry,” Elliot mumbled.

“They're just sheets,” Cliff said.

“Not that,” Elliot said, emotion welling in his voice again. He tucked his hot face into Cliff's collarbone and Cliff felt tears on his skin. “I’m sorry I’m pushing you.”

“You're not,” Cliff said automatically. “It’s just me. I’m... It’s me. Don't work yourself up again,” he said. It was easier than explaining. Something else was always easier than explaining.

“Don't go,” Elliot let out a tiny sob again but then fell quiet. He trembled in Cliff’s arms until his breathing evened out and Cliff knew he'd fallen asleep. Cliff stroked his hair and kissed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into darkness, words pressed against Elliot’s warm skin. “I won't ever leave you. Never in a million years.” He just needed more time to feel comfortable putting it all into words. But by the time he figured these things out, it would be too late.

[fruitycasket]

Carleton Told A Lie (6 of 6)

They did it. Sunday and Carleton got into the shed and saw what they needed to. Now, the next day, they have to face the consequences.

Word Count: 1,717

Notes: This is the final chapter of CTAL! Read from the beginning, or read the previous chapter here. If you want to see my lovely artwork, read on Ao3.

"The cat's just an image your subconscious created."

Carleton didn't come to school the next day.

Half the kids who'd been chased off Marvin's property were absent, too, and of those that still showed up, most of them were so fidgety their professors took notice. Maybe their nerves were simple first-time jitters and none of them had ever done anything more criminal than steal a pencil, or maybe they somehow felt something had gone horribly wrong.

Could they feel the Cat's eyes on them, even from so far away?

Whatever the case was, Sunday didn't blame them for their absence or their nerves. He was only here because he hadn't felt sick enough for his parents to let him stay home.

They'd been pissed he was gone so long, more so when they took his stammering, stuttering attempts to lie about where he'd been as a poor cover-up for him practicing teleportation and getting himself trapped in a patch of park soil. It was easier to let them think that, so he sat there and was yelled for the better part of the night about it. When they were done, they plucked the grass and plant mush out of his flesh, flushed the dirt from his scratches with clean water, bandaged him, and sent him to bed.

They'd left him a bowl of stew beef, but he didn't eat. When he tried, he had to fight to not throw up the single bite he'd taken for the next thirty minutes.

The Cat was trapped in his head, and he was certain it wasn't just numb terror making him feel that way.

He barely slept. When he did nod off, he'd dream of the White Cat and its burning eyes. He would not realize he'd fallen asleep. His bed would disappear from beneath him and he'd fall into the Cat's domain, a vast, vantablack land lit by distant stars. It would look at him with its head cocked to the side, study him.

Sunday was never scared during the dream, but when saliva and blood and black crud filled with stardust dripped from the Cat's dried lips, it'd spatter against his forehead. That would wake him up. Then he'd be scared.

Needless to say, school passed him by in a haze of grey and white.

He only barely snapped out of his stupor to assure his teachers that he was feeling alright, otherwise it was back to circling the drain. Every question he asked himself was another heavy chain hastening his descent.

What was that thing? Why was it in the shed? Was it made of the dead cats? But how? Why?

And why couldn't Carleton just leave it alone?

But it wasn't fair to lay the blame purely on his shoulders. Sunday also had to ask himself: Why couldn't I just leave it alone?

More pressing questions followed that one:

Is Marvin alright? Did I get him killed? What about his mum, what about Ramesses?

Did any of them see me? Carleton?

This was a fuck up of impressive proportions. Possibly the worst ever committed by anyone, by Sunday's estimation. He had no idea if he'd been seen, and if he had, what would happen next. His parents would kill him if Marvin or his mum didn't first and that was almost as terrifying as being tried in court. But it was dark out, it would all be a he-said-she-said, right? Maybe he would only have his own shame to deal with after all.

Time passed and lunch rolled around. The place was abuzz with a different, somber type of chatter. Everyone wondered why Carleton wasn't there.

Some students posited that he'd found a regular shed and was scared Sunday would maul the other half of his body if he turned up empty handed. Others wondered if Marvin had got him. Or the police. Or if he'd just realized how stupid he was being (or been stood up), called the whole thing off, and was now too embarrassed to return to school.

People kept coming up to the students who'd crowded around Carleton the day he'd laid out his idiotic plan to ask about the shed and what had happened. Maybe one of them had gone after all, they reasoned. They'd know what had happened.

Nobody came up to Sunday.

Why would he have been there?

On the second day after the ill-fated caper, Carleton still wasn't back.

Slowly, the school was piecing things together. Or, it thought it was.

The story went that Carleton had gotten caught, not immediately, but in hindsight when Marvin's parents managed to narrow down who the teen rifling through their belongings might've been and gotten the police to investigate. It was unclear what would happen now, but every boy who'd followed Carleton that night now rightfully feared they were next to be caught.

As people continued to pester Carleton's posse for any answers on his success (or lack thereof) and whether he'd been arrested, they became cagey about questions. They started telling lies, but they were sloppy. Uncoordinated. A couple busybodies figured out they were lying, and soon they had to dodge hordes of their peers like Marvin had not so long ago.

Sunday doubted they recognized the irony.

It was the third day. Carleton was still MIA.

Sunday kept his head down, but his penance was due any day now. When they thought he wasn't looking, his professors gave him sidelong glances. Carleton must have told the police when they caught him.

Did he show them the White Cat? What did they say? What would happen to it and Marvin?

As he meandered through his day, his peripheral vision filled with bruised faces and white fur, Sunday wondered what the Magic Circle would think of the creature. Could they contain it, or had Carleton and Sunday unleashed some unknowable thing into the world—forever?

The other boys made themselves scarce. Some of those who'd tried to keep up attendances stopped coming, maybe because they'd been caught, maybe because they thought they could delay the inevitable.

A sense of malaise and macabre curiosity spread far and wide. The professors had to address this.

They started explaining at the beginning of their early morning classes that yes, Carleton was missing, but only because he was in a lot of trouble for trespassing. No elaboration beyond that was necessary. No more rumors, please.

But Sunday wondered if there was more to it. Something not fit to be said in a school or around magicians under a certain station.

When asked again whether Marvin was a cat killer, the teachers said no. He was, however, being kept from school until further notice so he could heal both mentally and physically.

Some students said their instructors hesitated before denying the claim.

Sunday went to lunch that day wishing he could disappear or turn back time. He relived that night and all the stupid steps he'd taken to get there, now able to see every mistake, every moment he could and should have turned back.

He kept to himself until someone—Caoimhe—approached him, but she wasn't there to bother him with more questions. In fact, she looked more anxious than Sunday had ever seen her.

She took a seat beside him and spoke as low as she could get away with, "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" Sunday didn't look at her. He hoped she would speak no further on what Carleton had done, he didn't want to lie to her face.

"Figured as much, I can't believe"—Caoimhe hesitated, then stopped speaking. She studied him for a while before continuing, "Sunday, can I trust you to keep a secret?"

Sunday blinked. He studied Caoimhe in turn, trying to figure her out. "I… Think so…"

"I hope so. Talk to you after school."

She left before Sunday could ask what she meant.

When school let out that afternoon, Caoimhe found Sunday before he could even think to wonder where she'd meet him. Once again, polite conversation was forgone. She launched straight to business, "If I hear a peep about this to anyone else, Sunday, I swear"—

"There'll be no peeps! Promise." Sunday used his best placating grin, but Caoimhe's face remained wrought with stress. She kept looking at him with dark, distrusting eyes, like she thought he might run at or away from her any moment. "I um, still don't know what this is even about."

"Marvin's back," she whispered at last, "Kind of. But… no normal classes, and not in any of the regular parts of school. His new professors have to vet any visitors he gets, but he wanted to see me, so I got called in for a little while yesterday."

Sunday's skin broke into gooseflesh. "How is he?"

"He's… better," Caoimhe wouldn't hold his gaze, "He, uh, wanted me to give you this." She produced a folded, crinkled piece of paper from her pocket. Sunday could see letters written in black marker but not the words they formed. "He wants to talk with you, too."

"He does? Well, where is his"—

"Sunday," Caoimhe seemed shocked she was speaking, "did you really do it?"

Sunday recoiled. He knew what she was referring to but dare not speak it into existence. "Do what?"

"I just, he… I can't believe you. I-I told you it was a bad idea and you… you…" her face rapidly switched from anger to unease to sadness, then settled on disappointment. That was about all she could or would say to him as she thrust the paper into his hand and stormed away. "Bye, Sunday."

Sunday stood there, dumbfounded, clutching the crinkled piece of paper for a few minutes before he dared even think of unfolding it.

Once the thought entered his mind, he decided to go home first. Maybe because being around his parents soothed him. Maybe because he just wanted to put this off as long as possible.

When he was home, and it was dark, and he was sure his house was asleep or not likely to bother him, Sunday finally unfolded the letter in the light of a desk lamp.

It's elaborate handwriting said:

I know you were there.

[dluebirb]

Obituary of Our Own ⛧ Chapter One

So. I made another AU. What are you gonna do!

Huge props to @3mutantsinatrenchcoat, @justletmereadmycomics, and @bigmoneysniffler for being my wonderful beta readers and editors! I literally can't thank you enough askdljsdewfe

---------------------------

In Leo’s humble opinion, the week's villains were getting pretty shelling pathetic.

“Afternoon, boys! Ritual, huh? How’s that working out for you?”

With a grunt, Leo caught the two robed figures he was facing with a kick to the chest, and they fell onto the mostly completed ritual in the shape of a pentagram, with candles adorning the star tips.

Honestly, it was a wonder they could get this organized.

“Sayonara, SUCKERS!”

Across the way, the moron who was the self-appointed leader (as far as Leo could tell) pointed at another duo and shouted, “Finish it, now! Quickly!”

One of the two lit the last candle, and a sizzling portal appeared. Leo had to fight the gut reaction to cover his face against a steel mech's spearing tentacle or sharp hand that would never come.

“Oh, crud!” Mikey exclaimed and held his nunchaku defensively.

“Man, get another gimmick! That’s my thing!” Leo called and launched a sword at the portal, which curved around it in an arc. In the blink of an eye, he was in midair, holding both swords again. Leo created his portal with his other sword, encompassing the red one before they both fizzled out of existence. A small… something tugged at his gut.

“Alright, Mike, say it with me: You’ve been portal-chopped!”

After a moment, he looked at his younger brother. “You didn’t say it.”

“Sorry!”

As Leo called them in his head, one of the Weirdo Wizards healed their hands out and, true to their name, began to presumably cast a spell.

However, they were still a Weirdo Wizard. The “spell” did nothing at all, rather dissappointingly.

“BOO!” Mikey exclaimed. “BAD SHOW!”

Leo’s communicator clicked on, and Donnie’s monotone could be heard over the slight static. “April’s headed your way! She got chucked!”

“Ten-four, good buddy!” Turning up to Mikey, still, at the edge of the small crater Leo was fighting in, Leo cupped a hand around his beak. “MIKE! ANY SIGN OF APRIL?”

Mikey squinted and used his hands to block the light from the streetlamps so he could see better. “YEP! OVER THERE!”

Leo followed Mikey’s pointed finger and spotted April’s tiny frame hurtling through the air.

"Yeesh," He winced. "I got her!" He swung a sword, and a portal nabbed April right out of the sky.

“Done and done,” Leo said into the comm. He thought it odd that she hadn’t reappeared, but who was he to judge his portals? Besides, if Donnie did record everything, they could find her in a pinch.

Someone yelled, and they both turned to the sound. Raph was standing over a robbed figure, their hood down. It was a middle-aged blonde woman with and sharp glasses, the type you’d see in a spy movie.

“DAMN IT! AGENT ONE!” she shouted, and the same guy that had cast the ‘spell’ whipped out a gun, and shot the ground by Raph, who jumped to avoid it with a squeak.

“Diversion!” Leo shouted, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“On it! Bringing the razzmatazz!”

Leo watched with tentative concern as Mikey used his mystic hands as he flipped over ‘Agent One,’ and his orange magic poured into the air.

At least his hands weren’t cracking, Leo reminded himself.

But before he could do much of anything with the aforementioned powers, the blonde sent a sharp kick to Mikey’s shell, and he crumpled forward, his hands going to cover his face on instinct.

A sharp scream reminded Leo with a piercing shock that Mikey’s powers had been activated. He swore, and ran towards his younger brother. He faintly registered Donnie striking the woman down with his staff, and Raph let out a second yell, this one more fearful and angry.

Leo tugged Mikey across the ground, and pried Mikey’s arms away from his face. Yellow-ish orange circles of magic tugged across the right side of his face, where his hands had made contact.

“Okay, this is fine, you’re good! You’re good, you’re fine,” Leo muttered, and dragged his sword through the air as Raph gently lifted Mikey. “We’ll meet you back at the Lair,” he explained, and Raph nodded, giving a reassuring smile as he stepped through the portal and it snapped closed behind him.

Leo turned back to Donnie, and saw his purple brother dodge a blast from a large gun that he would have invented. Leo wondered if he was bitter that these clowns had beaten him to the punch as he dodged a blast of plasma.

“Dude! How come you got to fight the cool guy?”

“You fought him too, if you remember…”

“Yeah, but then he was just waggling his fingers like one of those cosplay wizards April hates!”

“Tch. Skill issue.”

Leo swept under one of them, and used his sword to force the blaster up, and it ricocheted into the air, taking out a street light.

“Would you stay still?!” The man spat, and Leo shrugged.

“Never really been my forte, you know?”

Donnie smacked the gun out of the woman’s hand, and as she pulled out a knife, snarling, the blaster went off, heading straight for a nearby support beam.

“Oh, pecans… LEO!”

“On it!”

Using more effort than he could take comfort in, Leo sliced open two portals: One to catch the blast, and the other to redirect it.

Turning to Donnie, he called: “Time for us to go!”

“See you never!”

As Leo sliced open another portal, Donnie running backwards toward it, the blast touched down, and they were both shot backwards, all four of them letting out a yell.

The last thing Leo saw before the darkness kicked in was the blinding light, and the agents throwing themselves to the side.

A/N: I haven't written fanfic in a hot second, so I'm just getting back into the groove here, I hope it was enjoyed! More chapters are on the way!

[cara-carabowditbowdit]

please tell me more about crowley and aziraphale im Very interested /srs

ok so. this is gonna be a looong post sorry

BASICALLY. aziraphale is an angel, crowley is a demon. theyve known each other for 6,000 years, at the creation of the universe (when crowley was still an angel. he created stars and everything. very nice job) and theyve become great... friends (wink) even though theyre not supposed to be! so theyre not friends! theyre eeeevil enemies. and then they go out for dinner

anyways. idk how to explain it well but theyre just SOOOOO!!

ok so now im going to try and do like. a whole thing explaining everything below so SPOILERS!!!!

okay so. in the beginning aziraphale and crowley were both angels. they met when crowley was making stars and galaxies and all that pretty stuff, and aziraphale came to say that they were going to shut it down after a bit. crowley gets upset and goes whaaaa this is so cool why would they do that (lil thing to note. aziraphale is like. interested in crowley but he doesnt really care) and then they have some really nice scene

d'aww. ok and so THEN! some big war happens i think? i dont know they dont show that part and crowley falls. demon moment!!! and then they go through all these different decades being friends, getting to know each other, and its great. aziraphale sins a little bit (gluttony), crowley saves aziraphales books, and they all have fun. oh btw. crowley can transform into a snake, and apparently hes the one that caused adam and eve to eat the apple? BUT! theres this other great scene where theyre talking, and its revealed that aziraphale gave his flaming sword to adam and eve, showing that he loves humans and has a soft spot for them, and theres this other great shot

THE PARALLELS!!!!!!!!! AUUUGh (^ this one came before. btw) and so this is sort of them showing how ohh, theyre not supposed to hang out because angel good demon evil waaah but they just KEEP ON FINDING EACH OTHER. oh and. speaking of like. showing off different softer sides of them. in season 2, theres a lot of bits where they show that crowley is pretty much putting up this show of being so meaaan and eeevil but hes actually nice and cares about humans (bringing jobs kids back, keeping that girl from dying, etc). ok now onto talking about season one. warning i havent watched this season in a bit so this is just me going off memory.

ok so! the big issue this season is "oh noooo we lost the antichrist!! big bad things gonna happen" and its awesome. OK SO. it starts off with crowley delivering the antichrist to this satanist church? and theres two women having babies that night. ONE is a normal family, who are supposed to have a normal baby. THE OTHER ONE is a rich family who is supposed to have the EEEVIL baby. can u guess what happens. BABY SWITCH!!! they didnt realize it tho so crowley and aziraphale are sent after the wrong baby. (to make him sin/be good) and then they realize on his 11th? birthday "aw crud! wrong baby." and go on some search to find the right antichrist. and that brings us to ADAM!!! hes the antichrist, and one coooooool kid. hes pretty normal tho and just hangs out with his friends. and then one day on his 11th birthday this dog shows up! (hellhound) and then off on the side theres this witch lady named anathema device who has a book that knows the future. crazy stuff. oh and this guy names newt whos kinda a dork and talks to this weird witch hunter guy shadwell and his neighbor madame tracy. oh and the four horseman of the apocalypse are around and free OKAY. into it now. anthma knows something bad is going to happen (book), and she moves to london because thats where its gonna happen!! whaaaat!!! and newt moves to london because uhh. witch finder i think? and he goes to meet shadwell and accidently meets tracy. not important rn. shadwells kinda bonkers and freaks newt out. ok now onto anathema. im pretty sure that aziraphale and crowley were driving around (oh btw. he has a magic bentley) and hit her!! yeoch. and after driving her home she accidentally leaves her book in the bentley and aww they gotta meet up again aw shucks. okay now they go searching for adam (antichrist) and i dont think they find him? anyways i forgot how but then tracy shadwell newt and anathema all meet up with crowley and aziraphale and do a seance. i forgot what about but ohh nooo aziraphale is in madame tracys body!!! ok so i kinda forgot how again but somehow theyre all at some big area and the four horsemen and running around i forgot what theyre doing and BLAM ADAM SHOWS UP hes mad. hes trapped his friends into doing what he wants. hes gonna start the apocalypse. average 11 yr old stuff. BUT!!! crowley and aziraphale manage to calm him down and newt blows something up. idk whats going on anymore. satan comes out, "grrrah im ur father adam". its a nice lovely moment. but oh wait!!! gabriel (heavens big man) and beezelbub (hells high duke) come down/up and r like "yall r in biiiig trouble! cant be doin all this" and they try to kill both of them. aziraphale in hellfire, crowley in holy water. that scene comes and yoo wait theyre both alive??? this is insane!!!! theyre both MILKING it, bein dramatic and then. at the end. WHAOOOAH THEYRE ACTUALLY THE OTHER ONE?????

and thats the end of season one. okay so i know that this is incredibly long but im not even done. im going to reblog this later with me talking about season two and that should be shorter. OH BTW

thats what everyone looks like ^^

OKAY BYE!!!!!!

[66sharkteeth]

Hey there, 66! Hope you're doing great. I have been going through your account for the past few hours (this reminds me of that one time I stayed up till 2 am as I appreciated all the artworks on your Instagram) so I know you've heard this several times, but I wanted to say it myself too: your work is wonderful. Believe me, I absolutely love it!

I found City of Blank years ago, during its first season. I read it all, and was quite impressed with the concept, intrigued by the plot, and in love with the characters. But before the next season started, I dropped out of reading Webtoons completely, as far as I remember. Long story short, I revisited Webtoon recently, read a few episodes of City of Blank, and was hooked. Yep. I binge-read the entire rest of the episodes in... three to five days?

So I want to commend you on your amazing concept, beautiful and eye-catching art, plot that keeps me reading late into the night (and at the dining table, between my studies, every single chance I get), the characters (really, they're very well-written — please don't doubt that — and unique, with different stories and personalities, I just love them), and the themes too (incorporated nicely, and it does make me wonder what it means to be a human). The way you write grey characters is one of the best things in your story, I feel.

(I feel like I should give you specific examples of what I like, but I have a tendency of talking too much, as you can see, so this will get way too long, I think... and sorry about the already huge chunks of text. but I hope this make you feel happy somehow)

Alright, now onto my actual questions. They're actually not related to the webcomic itself, since I really can't think of anything interesting... But your story is really good, so here are some queries I have about writing in general.

Do you have any tips for thinking of ideas? About concepts, plot, whatever; how to really get your brain in that mode, you know.

How do you create such vibrant characters? My characters are so similar... there are at least three pairs of nearly-identical characters. And how do you make them flawed yet still so likable?

They are pretty general questions, my apologies. It's just that, you know, since I'm getting to interact with the creator of one of my current favourite stories, why not learn something from them? You can just answer with your personal processes or whatever, I just wished to know how you do it.

I'm really looking forward to the next episode (but take your time, I'm okay with waiting). Pretty sad that this is the last season though. I'll miss it. Could you maybe tell me the estimated date of return and how many more episodes we'll have? Just a rough idea will do too.

That's all. (At this point it'll come as a relief to you 😂) Have a wonderful week ahead, lots of love, and know that there are lots of people who genuinely enjoy your work, you adorable shark! ❤️

(also, don't know why I'm telling you, but this is my first ever interaction on Tumblr with literally anyone) (cool site, I like the easy formatting)

(If you've read this entire thing, thank you. Did I bother you too much? I hope not.)

Hey there! Gonna do my best to answer this since it's been in my inbox for a while, but apologies if it's not the most coherent as my head's still in a bit of a fog from a cold.

First off, thank you for the kind words. I remember they made my day when I first got this ask, but they made it again as I'm waking up w/ a throbbing head ache and coughing my lungs out from the NYCC 2023 Con Crud™.

Anyway, gonna answer your questions the best I can, especially because I'm not entirely sure what the best way to answer these kinds of questions are-

Do you have any tips for thinking of ideas? About concepts, plot, whatever; how to really get your brain in that mode, you know.

I think one thing I like to shape a lot of my concepts around is making something unordinary ordinary. I've talked about it before, but one of the inspirations behind blanks is shadow people, like the ghosts. They're so horrifying and creepy to me, and I thought it would be neat if I made a world where the most creepy and scary thing to me was just...super ordinary and mundane. Like a world where you go into your living room and you're like "Man, that shadow person is still standing in front of my tv. How obnoxious."

A lot of my upcoming ideas kind of focus around this concept too. What if we lived in a world where demons were just every day citizens that went to work and school with us? What if we lived in a world where nobody feared death and was excited for it? What if we lived in a world where half the population was in prison? I can't say every single story idea I have falls into this, but I'd say a lot of them do and I find it's often a kick off point for a lot of my ideas.

How do you create such vibrant characters? My characters are so similar... there are at least three pairs of nearly-identical characters. And how do you make them flawed yet still so likable?

Do I make them likable? Sometimes I can't tell when I look at characters like Lyss haha. Because I think she's a victim of how I write characters, which is just... I dunno, write them like they're real people. Everybody is mad at the decisions Lyss made but... I'm sorry. I'll forever die on the hill that everyone are hypocrites and 90% of people would have done the same thing in her shoes. Only a flawless, benevolent, and frankly kind of stupid, person would have just...let Rex go in those circumstances, evil other half be damned. He was still a danger who proved he couldn't control himself, and the same way you'd probably report your best friend who was driving raving drunk after he just smashed into someone, she reported a dangerous person. Even if people hate her for it, I wrote what any person would have done in that situation. And that's how I try to write all my characters, for better or for worse. A lot of Rex's stupid decisions are dictated by his anxiety and depression, and I know from firsthand experience how being in that state of mind can influence your decisions and overall outlook on life and the people who love you, despite what you may think. I guess my advice is just to give them human flaws. A lot of people don't like Nia because she's manipulative, but I write her as a character who 100% practices what she preaches. Yeah, she "gas lit" Rex into joining Blan Corp, but she also 1000% believed it was the best thing for him.

Desmond probably comes off as the more "flawless" characters, but his own self-loathing and... catholic blank guilt is a big part of what pushed Rex away. In the time when Rex was questioning and hating himself for being a blank, why would he ever go the one person who hates himself for being a blank more than him? When he could go to the person (Nia) who celebrates him being a blank, and reminds him he can be loved for being one.

Anyway, that's enough rambling for now. Hopefully that gives you some to chew on.

[roguephenon]

Happy GKND Day!

I made up a bunch of fan lore before the teaser got revealed. I’ve changed and modified most of it over the years, but wanted to share some of it!

Aging/getting old being a disease is a controversial claim that has split the GKND into two factions: those who think it’s a real disease and those who think that’s a load of crud.

Currently, most of Galactic Command is made up of those who believe it’s a disease and have had the most power for a long while.

While extremely technologically advanced, their infighting over the “adult virus” has made them largely incompetent.

Recruitment used to be a lot more open, but after the Super Huge Screw up of Earth Year ‘99, they moved to recruiting one veteran planetary operative per Global KND Outpost.

There is no such thing as recommissioning! It was not invented by some kid named Numbuh Zero! That’s a stupid Earth myth!

(They tried to copy Numbuh Zero’s recommissioning device, but only managed to create a few dozen one use devices they keep locked away for emergencies. They’re too stubborn to admit they haven’t figured out how to replicate it properly.)

They think Earth is “weird” and really wish it would just sit in its corner of the galaxy and be quiet. They’re making operatives ask “questions”.

The GKND is currently ran by The Important Ones (yes, they chose the name)

The Important Ones don’t care for that human, Numbuh Infinity or whatever kid. He turned two of their most loyal followers against them with his “ideas” of “peace” and “getting along”.

The Important Ones would really, REALLY love a reason to shut Earth up permanently but of course there are stupid rules.

There are rumors of someone higher up. Some say they are the Most Important One of All…

(The Universal Kids Next Door would really love to course correct the Milky Way Kids Next Door, but they’re kinda occupied fighting The Elderitch Boogeymen from Beyond the Deep Dark.)