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Topics - Coach Fro

Pages: [1] 2
1
Manga Creations / MR War Arc: Fro: Part I
« on: November 19, 2019, 11:00:20 PM »
WEE WOO! WEE WOO! Got some more War Arc content coming yall way!

A little behind schedule, but better late than never am I right?

As Coryn mentioned in his intermediate story that he posted some time ago, each author of the War Arc will be dropping their own personal stories that will continue the overall narrative of the War Arc. And as you may have guessed already, this is the start of mine.

I do hope you all enjoy this. I'm bit rusty with my writing, so I'll try to shake off the cobwebs and deliver the best story I possibly can.

Chapter I: A little Personal
     If you had asked a newbie living in Mangaraiders how they felt about the place, the first thing they probably would’ve said was that MR is such a ghost town, or there’s barely anybody around. For the most part that was indeed true. MR has never been known to have a constant influx of members on a day to day basis, and it has been that way ever since its birth. And yet, despite MR still holding strong after all these years thanks to a few of its most dedicated members, some of those same newbies would ditch MR and go on to say that MR was either dead or would soon be dead in the near future.

     Funny enough, if you had asked a ex-raider how they felt about MR after the 4kids invasion, they would probably tell you that MR was indeed “dead.”

     And could you blame them?

    It was a destruction of a beloved home that no one could see coming. The Lost Chorus had infiltrated MR seamlessly, defeated and captured their most powerful members effortlessly, and had the entire city under their control in what seemed like mere minutes. It was all too fast. Too unreal. And just downright shocking. Many members were either subdued in concentration camps, or forced into hiding, forever haunted by the twisted image of their city bursting into flames. For many that memory burned into their hearts and minds. And for someone like Fro, who felt the wrath of those flames first hand, it burned into the very soul.

    “Coach!”

     Fro eyes shot open the moment he realized someone had been calling his name. He felt a heavy dullness holding him down, though he quickly found out that it was nothing more than extreme pain. He breathed heavily, feeling the weight of every breath he took. The room he was in was spacious, yet normal. There was a flat screen TV mounted on a wall in front near a door. On the right side of the room was a small sofa near a window. And on the opposite side was a large closet. Above him was a janky looking ceiling fan rotating slowly, so slowly that Fro thought the entire world around was moving in freeze frame. But it wasn’t. His vision had been a blurry mess, and the haziness he felt swirling in his mind wasn’t helping much. However, it all soon cleared, and when it did, a familiar face popped into his line of sight.

    “Can you move at all, Coach?”

    The sound of an echoing ghost had put Fro at ease. He didn’t have to turn his head to know that it was Fortis speaking to him, though he did so anyway. Fro eyes fell on the skeleton and the small blue flames forever burning in his empty eye sockets. Even though Fortis had no actual facial features to go off of, Fro could feel the skeleton's concern just by staring at him. He closed his own eyes and relaxed his shoulders. He opened them again after a moment, and turned his head in the opposite direction to see who else was around him. It was then he came across more familiar faces.

    “Well, can you, ribbit?”

     Greentrap eyes bubbled with worry, which Fro was somewhat surprised by. Out of all his pupils, "Frog Face" definitely gave him the hardest time. She was hard-headed, sometimes disobedient and a downright smartass. There were times where Fro legitimately felt she could care less for him. But the anxiety that gripped her tensed body told Fro to know better. Greentrap cared for Fro just as much as the others did. She just had trouble expressing it in a more obvious manner.

     “Yeah…” Fro uttered coldly. The drowsiness he felt made speaking a bit difficult for him.

     Suddenly a pair of arms rushed the pain-stricken Fro and wrapped themselves snugly over his neck. Fro was somewhat startled, but at ease. The feeling of a sobbing Filia rubbing her face against his chest didn’t bother him in the slightest. If anything, it was comforting. “I’m so glad you’re alive, Mr.Coach!” Filia whimpered. “I thought you would never wake up again!”

     Fro mustered up the strength to return Filia’s heartwarming hug. He rubbed her back slowly, letting the silver strands of her hair twist around his fingers. “Good to see you again too, Filia…”

     After a few more moments of the loving embrace, Filia broke away, wiping away tears as she did so. She stood alongside her companions, and collectively the three stared at their leader with some sort of nagging anticipation. The staring made Fro feel a bit awkward, only because he knew the conversation that would be coming up next. He pushed past the achiness of moving and sat all the way forward. With a dreadful sigh he said, “Alright, break it down to me. How bad we’re talking here?”

     “It’s pretty freaking bad, ribbit.” Greentrap spoke up.

     Fro massaged his now stubby afro slightly annoyed. “Care to elaborate, Fortis?”

     “Well, while we didn’t stick around to verify the outcome, it’s safe to assume that MR is now under the complete control of 4kids.”

     “Never thought I’d hear those words…” Fro muttered to himself. He paused to allow the harsh realization to settle in for a moment before speaking again. “Have you  guys seen or heard anything from the other raiders?

     “Only Mahlua”, said Greentrap.

     “And how she’s doing?”

     “Well she mentioned something about going to Ecchiworld and getting help from the twins, but we haven’t heard anything from her since.”

     Fro placed a hand over his mouth. A look of contemplation fell over him. She got away at least, Fro thought. That was good enough for him. He broke from his trance looked back up at his pupils. “How long was I out?” he asked no one in particular.

     Fortis decided to answer first. “About a week and a half now, Coach.

     “That’s a mighty long time”, Fro thought to himself. By that time 4kids had probably weeded out and captured any survivors in the city. Sure the raiders were tough, but considering the circumstances, he doubted many would put up a fight. His mind began to browse through the faces of raiders that popped up in his head. He thought of the mods and admins, the Tans, and the countless raiders that were probably experiencing the worst kind of hell thanks to 4kids. And above all, he thought of Eukocar, who had been captured during the initial attack. If failing to protect his own home hadn’t stung enough, the failure to protect his own students made him felt sick to his stomach.

     Tired of seeing Fro sulk in his own grief, Greentrap confidently spoke up. “You should be glad ribbit. If we hadn’t rescued you and Filia from that Fire nun lady or whatever, who knows what would have happened to you guys.”

     Fro looked at Greentrap questiongly. “Rescued?”
   
    Greentrap folded her arms and smirked proudly. “Yep! While you were being whisked away against your unconscious will, Fortis and I swooped in snatched you and Filia from that fire troop clutches.” Greentrap pounded her fists into her hips. “We were pretty heroic, weren’t we Fortis?”

     Fortis scratched his skull with a look that contraried Greentrap’s. “Admittedly we were lucky. If Filia hadn’t started her squabble with the soldiers and distracted them like she did, I doubt our surprise attack would have worked.”

     “Oh C’mon ribbit! You gotta give us more credit than that!”

     Fro chuckled a bit. A smile crept out of him, though there was a lot of pain hidden beneath it.

     “You guys did better than I did…” he said under his breath.

     Everyone looked at Fro with wondering eyes. Concerned by the look on his face Filia stepped forward. “Mister Coach?”

     Fro had ignored their looks. His eyes couldn’t help but to trace back to himself. There he was, a beaten and bandaged mess. His afro had been reduced to a stubby shell of it’s former self and he had a deep burn scar running across his face. He was in pain, could barely move, and worst of all he was mentally distraught. And yet…

     “Coach, are you okay?”

     “If you got something on your mind, then tell us, ribbit!”

     The Fighters Division were still right there, caring for him, waiting for their leader to get back on his feet. “Why aren’t they mad at me?” he asked himself in his mind. He couldn’t imagine all the stress and anxiety they had went through due to his own carelessness.  They had every right to be angry with him. After all this was all his fault, or so he thought. From forcing his own teammates to abandon him, to Eukocar getting captured, and even the destruction of the city itself. Fro blamed it all on himself. Maybe, he thought, if he had been smarter, more prepared, he could have made a difference.

     But as he thought those stupid things he clenched his fist tight. Blaming yourself for things out of your control was a foolish way of going about things. Fro was just pissed off, pissed off about everything that happened, pissed off for assigning himself all the blame, and pissed off for getting pissed off in the first place. At this point, he just needed a release.

     He tossed aside the thin blanket that was covering him aside and made his way off the bed. Instinctively, Filia ran up to Fro to help him, but stopped in her tracks when Fro held out a hand as a wall, signaling that he was okay on his own. Fortis and Greentrap were about to rush over themselves, but after seeing Fro stand on his own feet, fighting against the overbearing pain with nothing more than sheer willpower, they couldn’t help but stand in awe as he slowly wobbled his way to the door.

     “Hey you stupid human, just where do you think--”

     “I'm going outside for a bit.” said Fro, cutting Greentrap off mid sentence. I need some air.”
Greentrap stood in disbelief. Her eyes looked like they were about to explode. “But.. why...?”

     Fortis butted in. “Coach, are you sure it’s wise for you to be moving this much? In your current condition, it would be better for you to stay in bed and get some more rest.”

     As Fortis was pleading with Fro, the afro haired warrior summoned hair tendrils around himself. They twisted and danced around him before slapping themselves to his entire body like rags covered in glue. Within seconds they morphed into clothes via hair magic, and Fro was now adorned in a basic shirt, jeans and sneakers combo. Not an ideal clothing choice, but it would have to do for now. He turned to address Fortis. “It’s okay Fortis. I’ll be fine…”

     That was the last thing Greentrap wanted to hear from Fro. She gritted her and snapped. “That’s the problem you idiot! YOU’RE NOT FINE!”

     The rage pouring out of Greentrap’s lungs caught Fro’s attention. He stopped and turned, letting his eyes meet with the frog’s. She continued.


     “You just woke up and now you’re already trying to go off on your own again? Why is that?! Because you’re too prideful to sit around in bed all day and rest? How stupid and selfish can you be, human?!”

     “Now Greentrap,” Fortis began, trying his best to play the mediator. “I’m sure the Coach has his reasons. There’s no need to be so-”

     “Ugh! Why don’t you just shut up already skullface!” Greentrap was practically screaming now. Her violent outrage had Filia on the verge of tears, who could do nothing but watch her friends tear themselves apart. The frog went on. “Stop defending this poor excuse for a leader! No good leader would go off on his own without his comrades. No good leader would bear the burden all by themselves when they have teammates to rely on… and they especially wouldn’t push them away because of their own warped sense of pride.

     “Greentrap, I understand your points but--”

     “It’s cool Fortis. She’s right. I’m a *censored*ty leader.”

     Silence…

     The words uttered by the so called “leader” of the Fighters Division took everyone aback.

     “Everything she said just now is absolutely true. A lot of what we’re going through right now is because I made a bad call…” Fro’s face contorted into a look of shame as he said those words. He looked down for a moment, seemingly reflecting on the entire ordeal. “I guess back then, I was trying to protect you guys. I didn’t wanna see you guys experience something so horrible, and figured I could handle things on my own. And… you see how well that turned out.”

     Fro returned his attention to Greentrap, who was now shaking, fists balled into a fury, ready to unload all of her pent up frustrations on the man she looked to and trusted as her leader. Fro noticed this, and smiled the best he could, despite the nagging shame residing underneath.

     “Greentrap, I know I’m being selfish again and I’m sorry for that. But.. I just need a moment to collect my thoughts… alone. There’s a lot of stress I need to release, and sitting in a bed sulking in my own grief is not how I wanna do it.”

     With that said, Fro again made his way to the door. Before giving the knob a twist, he turned and gave his students one final glance before leaving. As he opened the door, he said, “I’ll be back in a few hours, guys. Promise.” and then exited into a hall, closing the door behind him shut.

     The three raiders stood amongst one another, all carrying a mixed bag of emotions inside of them. Once again, their leader had left them alone, unsure if letting him go freely was a good call. However, what is done is done, and all they could do was sit and wait, and hope for a safe return.

     As long as Fro doesn’t do anything reckless, they thought, they would see him again soon.

     Leaving his students behind, Fro limped down the hall with his hands in his pockets. As he did so, he surveyed the hall. There were multiple doors on both sides. Probably bedrooms, he figured. He had guessed that his students had decided to take refuge at a hotel or inn of some sorts. As he reached the end of the hall, however, Fro would find that assumption to be close, but not exact.

     Having gone down a flight of stairs, Fro found himself to be walking through the middle of someone’s dining room? It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. With so many rooms upstairs, he assumed a hotel reception area would be the more obvious pick. But nope, it was just a standard, small dining room, with a couple of crusty looking couches encircling a wooden table. To his left, Fro took notice of a kitchen. He would then take notice of a short, older woman storming out of that kitchen, swinging around a frying pan.

     From there things got awkward really fast.

     “Hey!” shouted the old woman. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?!”

     “Um, who ar--”

     “Who am I is not important right now! What’s important is that you should be in bed resting! Aren’t you still hurt?”

     Having deduced that he was already on this woman’s bad side, Fro figured speaking calmly while throwing as many “Ma’am’s” as possible was the right way to handle the situation.

     “I’m sorry Ma’am.” he said with a bow. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to stretch my legs for a bit.”

     “Stretch your legs?” the old woman scoffed. “I’m surprised you’re even managing to stand.”

     “Well, I guess you can say I’m far from the ordinary man. But ma’am, I don’t mean to flip the subject so soon, but can you tell me what is this place?”

     The old woman slammed her frying pan against the wall upon hearing the question. The loud smack startled Fro, and it made him wonder if she did that because he somehow pissed her off even more, or because she was just downright mental. Regardless, she gave him what he wanted.

     “This here is an AirBnB. And it’s one of the many AirBnb’s I own across the Net.” The old woman smiled proudly. “You’re lucky that your friends booked my services. After all, I offer the best accomodations the Net has to offer at a very reasonable price!”

     Best accomodations were debatable in Fro’s mind, but still he was rather intrigued by the idea of staying in an AirBnb, since he’s never used one before. Knowing his students, Fro guessed that none of them had any money, and they picked out the cheapest host they could find. While he wished they would’ve picked somewhere less shady, he had to give them credit. They made an optimal decision in a stressful time of crisis. As a leader, that was definitely something to be proud of.

     Still, he didn’t know why a host would stay in their own AirBnb that their guest booked, but that would be a trip to the Googlelith saved for another day. He bowed again. “Well, I appreciate you letting me and my friends stay here Ma’am. I’m guessing the payment side of things hasn’t been handled yet?”

     The old woman waived Fro off with her frying pan. “Oh boy hush! I know you youngins ain’t got no money for me.” The old woman sighed, the wrinkles on her forehead seemed to disappear as she took a breath. “Seeing you and your friends nearly gave me a heart attack. Now I don’t know what this 4Kids nonsense is about, but after hearing what happened to you all and seeing how messed up you looked, I figured the least I could do was cut you guys some slack.”

     Fro eyes lit up, surprised by the woman’s kindness. “Words don’t express how grateful I am ma’am…”

     “Then you should keep that mouth of yours shut!” the woman snapped. “Wouldn’t want ya to start making promises you can’t keep, cause I know you’re gonna end up doing that if you keep talking.”

     The old woman turned around and began making her way back to the kitchen. She kept taking as she did so. “I’m gonna finish up making breakfast for you and your friends. I’m gonna save your plate for later since you look like you’re gonna head out. Just do me a favor and come back safe, ya hear? There’s no need to be causing any more pain for yaself.”

     Fro nodded. “Yes Ma’am!”

     “And be sure to lock that door on ya way out. Wouldn’t want any bugs flying in here.”

     And with that, Fro watched the woman vanish into the kitchen. She was certainly an interesting character to say the least, but not one without a good heart. As he walked to the front door to let himself out, he vowed that he would pay her back after this 4Kids ordeal was over with.

     Now outside, took in refreshing morning breeze that gently brushed past him. Compared to the interior of the AirBnb, the exterior of the building looked surprisingly decent. As for the neighborhood itself, the main street was filled with numerous small stores, gas stations, and apartment buildings. However, despite the appearance of a busy street, the area seemed to be lowkey to Fro in a weird way. Not too many people were out, and not a lot of cars were flying by.

     “They probably wouldn’t think to search for any us here.” Fro mumbled to himself. He wasn’t sure what part of the Net he ended up in, but he doubted the Lost Chorus would go out of their way to scour the net for surviving raiders, especially in places like the one he was currently at. And even if they did, it would take months to make any reasonable progress, but that would be time Fro wasn’t willing to give them. MR would be back in the hands of the raiders, and come hell or high water, Fro was determined to make that happen.
But first, there was something he himself had to take care. Something rather personal.

     “I’ve gotten soft…”

There was nagging aggression that bothered Fro, aggression that would turn into malice quickly if he didn’t tend to it in time. A malicious purplish aura began to seethe out of his body as it twitched. He had kept this side of him under wraps for so long, but he could never tame his demons forever. Eventually they would have to come out and play, and there was only one playground Fro knew of.

     He walked down the street until he came across an alley, and from there he made his way through it until he felt like the coast was clear. A second later hair tendril coated in an unusual shade of dark purple lashed from out his back. It slashed through the air, leaving a visible tear, and from that tear a portal appeared. Fro slowly limped into this strange portal, vanishing onto the other side.

2
General Manga writer discussions / Weird Writing Habits?
« on: July 16, 2018, 02:25:56 PM »
Anybody got any habits you would consider a little odd when you're writing?

In my case, I sometimes like to hover the over shift key and hold it when I pause in the middle of writing a sentence. Also, sometimes when I notice a word is missing from a sentence that I'm writing, instead of  just filling in that missing word, I would just delete the whole sentence and rewrite it again.

3
Video / PC Games / If you were a Persona User...
« on: July 10, 2018, 11:42:28 PM »
Eh, didn't really know where to put this, so I'm leaving this here until one of the mods find a more appropriate place to put it.

So I was wondering as a fan of the persona series (Mainly the games from 3 and on) what it would be like to integrate myself into the universe. And now I'm proposing this question to you all as well.

If you were a character in the Persona universe, what would you be like?

To be more specific, I'll be going off these guidelines for my own character. Feel free to use these when creating your own character, or use your own, but keep in mind that this is all general in concept. You're not limited to just going strictly off one Persona game's themes and gameplay unless you want to. The optimal word here is "universe", so feel free to combine elements from each of the different games.


Spoiler

Personality: Something similar to a Junpei or Ryuji archetype, but less hotheaded and way more chill. If I were in a group with other persona users, I'll probably be the guy whose too laid back for his own good, always cracking a good joke or too, but can display one of hell of a mean streak if lines are crossed. Generally a nice guy who can surprise you with some words of wisdom every now and then. Don't count on me when it's time to study for exams, though.

Tarot Arcana: Strength. It's the one of the few tarot cards whose meaning matches closely with my overall personality, with the other candidates being The Chariot, The Hanged Man, and The Sun. It pretty much means using inner strength to exert self control on one's self, and I feel as though if I had my own character arc in a persona story it would most likely be modeled off of this theme.

Starting Persona/Description: I'll be going the with the japanese ogre demon, Oni. My version of Oni would a bit more refined than it's usual appearance in past persona games. Mine would have the typical red skin and bulging physique and the usual ogre mask. However, it would have long, thick white hair, and dress in Karate gi pants that are cut off at the ankles. Finishing off the look, he would also wear red and gold samurai waist armor and shoulder pads. His weapon would be the prototypical spiked club that most ogre demons are associated with.

Ultimate Persona: I'm gonna go with Hachiman, the japanese god of war. I'm too lazy to come up with my own description of him at the moment. So I'll let this picture do it for me.

Persona Skill Set: My persona would pretty much be a physical war machine with high stats in Strength and Endurance with very low stats in Magic and others. The majority of it's skills will be physical, with some support skills that would boost my offensive capabilities (Tarukaja, Rebellion, Heat Riser, etc).  Having a offensive magic skill would pretty much be useless with my build, but if I had to go with one, it would be the Zio spells (Electric spells).

Dungeon weapon: Long Dual Arm-blades

This is all I got for mine so far. Looking forward to what everyone else comes up with. Also, bonus points to anyone who can actually come with a narrative for their own social link, cause I sure as hell can't.

4
General Manga writer discussions / MRverse: Personal Favorites
« on: June 23, 2018, 10:31:32 PM »
Was thinking about MRverse today and my brain led me to the idea of sharing with everyone my personal favorite MR Canons that I've read and enjoyed over the years of me being active in this community.

Aside from simply naming them, I will also be explaining why I liked these stories so much in particular. There is no set number or order by the way.

Spoiler
"Darling Be Home Soon"

I think this was the very first MR Canon by Coryn that I've read all the way through if memory serves me correctly, and is one of the only few MR Canon I've read all the way through on two separate occasions. One being at the time when Coryn originally posted it, and the other being a revisit to the story a year or two later after it concluded.

Aside from the feeling of a shonen level narrative that I think Coryn did a good job of portraying, the reason why I liked this story so much was the fact that this story in particular featured MRverse's first, and quite honestly only real villainous threat to it's universe in the form of "C-Kret." For those who don't know how savage C-Kret was, just know he molly whopped just about every raider there was at the time, including our beloved admin, Hasith. It's definitely a classic in terms of Canon stories, and one I would recommend to anyone who are looking into dive into MRverse and it's stories for the first time.

http://forums.mangaraiders.com/index.php/topic,4709.0.html

"Dystopic Blades" 1 and 2

As much as I wanna hate on Lego for thinking he has a better afro than me, it would be a crime to leave any of his stories off the list. The Dystopic Blades series is a game story involving community participation, mathematical equations and number crunching on Lego’s end, and a whole lot of swords and bloodshed. That last sentence in particular is why I enjoyed reading this story so much. While Dystopic Blades did have a story to follow, it was the nonstop action between combatining raiders that kept me hooked, and I’m proud to have gotten a chance to participate in its second installment (Although I’m still a little salty that I didn’t get a chance to punch anyone in the face). Definitely check this series out for sure if you’re interested in MRverse.

Dystop 1: http://forums.mangaraiders.com/index.php/topic,4199.0.html
Dystop 2: http://forums.mangaraiders.com/index.php/topic,6308.0.html



“SVK - A Story of Awesome”

This was a unfinished piece written by AnimeDoodler long ago when I was still a newbie on the site. This story made it to the list simply because of one little fun fact: This was the first MR story (from my knowledge) that I made an appearance in, and one of the first canon stories that drew me into the universe. The story revolves around hero members, Coryn, Doodler, Monsterful, Aero, Robs Ugly Artwork,  Lego and Toasty, conducting a training experiment with newbie members, Nyxy, Nyosan and myself, with the goal of the experiment being to skyrocket the newbs into instant hero status. While it’s not officially established canon according to canon rules, it definitely holds a special place in my heart and is still a whole lot of fun to read if you ask me.

http://forums.mangaraiders.com/index.php/topic,4967.msg104771.html#msg104771

LittRL’s origin story

This may come as a surprise to some, but Litt’s origin story is definitely one of the more interesting pieces of canon if you ask me. Detailing Litt’s return to the city after a long hiatus, it is filled with a lot of interesting tidbits of universe info that really expands on the Net’s origins. The real kicker for me however, was that this story may have been a setup for an even grander story that Litt may have been planning to write. And while Litt’s absence may mean that we will never see this story come to life, he definitely did a good job of leaving a lot of doors open for future canon writers to play with.

http://forums.mangaraiders.com/index.php/topic,5074.msg169109.html#msg169109

"Hence Tenderly Returned"

A romance story written by Mahluaaand Milk, and the first ever MR romance canon to date. Based on a real life relationship that Mahlua shared with another member on the site, it is filled with plenty of happy, yet sad moments that will certainly give even the most manliest of men the “feels.” This story was a nice change of pace from the usual stories I’m used to reading from the canon, and I think it does a damn good job of portraying the realness of an actual relationship, and just how much of an emotional roller coaster it can be.

http://forums.mangaraiders.com/index.php/topic,16491.0.html

There’s more I probably want to add, but for now these are the stories that sort of stick out to me. 



5
Starter Gallery / Man Listen...
« on: June 20, 2018, 09:30:00 PM »
In the chit chat topic I mentioned I actually sat down and drew something while using one of my friend's sketches as a reference...

*Deep sigh* Man listen...

I've always wanted to dabble in the realm of art, but figured I'd be better off staying in my own lane of writing. But yesterday something inside of me triggered, and told me "Man DRAW SOMETHING RIGHT NOW!" The voice was aggressive too, almost felt like it was holding a figurative gun to my head, acting all gangsta and ish. Anyways, I listened, picked out an old sketch my friend drew for me years ago, and attempted to draw it just by looking at it, no tracing.

This was the result...

Friend's original sketch


My version

Now let me say this...

I'm actually thinking about committing to this art thing. I know I'm trash, and I know my attempt just now was trash, but i had fun doing it (I was just messing around when I did it) and I might as well test the limits of what I'm capable of, right? I really don't have much to lose. I also been taking a look at learning animation, and quite honestly besides wanting to learn how to draw, I also secretly loved the idea of learning to animate, whether it be 2d or 3d.

I already found and began reading a book on the fundamentals of drawing art, so I guess I'm not giving myself much say in the matter lol. But baby steps are important and trust me when I say I'm not diving straight into this pool. Not sure if I'll post anything else here in this topic, but I guess it'll be nice to have it around in case I do have more trash to drop in here.

6
Other / Favorite Waifu Archetype
« on: May 30, 2018, 09:07:52 PM »
What are your favorite archetypes of female characters in anime?

I'm personally a sucker for the tomboy/female brawler type waifu. As soon as I see a chick with some finger-less combat gloves assuming a boxing stance, I'm hooked. I love a good silent and mysterious ninja girl as well.

7
Anime Talk / Who Really Should've won???
« on: May 09, 2018, 12:21:29 AM »
Alright guys, this topic is for us anime fans to discuss and rant over our favorite anime fights or just popular fights in general. In this topic, we're going to name a fight and discuss who actually should've won that fight, while providing facts to support our claims, regardless of the actual victor of said fight. Feel free to rant as you do so. You're bound to do it sooner or later.

I'll start this off with a fight from Bleach that will forever bug me to my core.

Who Really Should've Won: Ichigo Kurosaki vs Kenpachi Zaraki

Look man, I understand Ichigo had unlocked a massive amount of spiritual energy when he dealt the victory blow to Kenpachi, but still everything leading up to that moment was Ichigo basically getting toyed with and smacked around. Kenpachi could've easily won the fight if he had wanted to and that's what bugs me so much about it.

My memory of bleach is pretty shot, so I'm unsure if that fight was ruled as a win for ichigo or a tie, but regardless, I still think that Kenpachi should've utterly demolished Ichigo. If not that, at least to the point where he beats up Ichigo so much that he ends up being impressed by his resiliency and decides to spare him out of respect. Then again, that possibility probably wouldn't even fall in line with Kenpachi's character.   

8
Video / PC Games / Video game series that are must buys
« on: March 08, 2018, 09:15:17 PM »
What series of video games that holds that special place in your heart, to where if a new title in that particular franchise drops, you rush with your wallets to buy or at least get yours hands on, regardless of how you feel about the series overall?

I feel like we all have at least one series like this. Here are mine:

-Any capcom made fighting game (Street Fighter, Marvel vs Capcom, etc)

-The Persona series (Although admittedly I can't really get into the dancing spin-offs)

-Soul Calibur

-The WWE 2k games (Formerly known as the smackdown vs raw series)

-Smash Bros

-Devil May Cry (Really need to get around to playing the old ones)

-Dragonball Z games

Will add more if I can think of any I may be forgetting.

 

9
General Manga writer discussions / Thoughts on Mobile Writing?
« on: January 10, 2018, 07:01:49 PM »
The advancement of mobile technology throughout the years has, without a doubt, benefited writers tremendously. Everything, from reading books to writing our thoughts down in journals, can all be done with our smartphones.

Even this topic I'm starting right now is being written by me on my smartphone, heading my way home from work via bus. A very smelly bus at that.

With all that said, I was wondering if any of you guys use your phones as an added tool for your writing? Have you used them for any of your story writing? Do you journal on them during a lunch break at work? If so, what mobile software do you often fancy yourself with? I myself dabble between the Google docs app and another app called "Writer."

Of course, nothing will ever beat a good ol' sit down at the computer in your home. But you gotta admit, writing on the go via smartphone is both practical and very convenient in my opinion.

10
Manga Creations / MRverse: The Return of the Drifter
« on: January 09, 2018, 08:12:12 PM »
Torn by painful memories that tortured his soul...
He drifted about, with nowhere to go....
Oh troubled Drifter, just how long will you roam...
In search of a place that you may call home...


Killing Demons

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1D3G2VGQ_8

An ominous chill crawled down Fronomenal’s spine as he wandered amidst a field of darkness. He hated this
feeling, the feeling of resented shadows creeping up on him. He was accustomed to this presence of errieness, and he hated himself much for it. Visiting the past knowing the mental anguish it caused him had always been his own doing of course.

Why did I come back here…?

The question nagged at him as he peered at the fog covered pitch blackness ahead of him. The fog’s mist was a veil for this realm, but Fronomenal could see right through it’s jagged form. He shifted his attention to the sky above him. It was a darkened red, much like the color of old blood. A sullen look of dread escaped him as he gazed upon it with his dreary brown eyes. He hated how the sky looked. It made him feel sick.

Then again, where else can I go…?

Footprints of his black boots marked a trail on the crusty ground of brown behind him. His short curly afro itched from the murkiness of the chilling air. He scratched at it in an attempt to resolve the issue, but it only led to more bothersome itching that was now nagging at his entire upper body. He unzipped his black, silk jacket and began tugging on his shirt repeatedly, combating the itch with every tug. When the itching had finally subsided, he groaned. He had won a battle, but it wasn’t the one that mattered. A more troublesome battle still raged on- a battle with himself.

Why am I even alive…

Fro’s left hand balled into a fist, trembling with a rage that ate at his very soul. He closed his eyes. The dark world of the physical had vanished in his mind’s eye, and yet he couldn’t escape the darkness that enveloped his own inner world. He stood idle in this self imagined blackness, a faint light outlining his form. As he stood frozen, flashes of black and white imagery scattered around him. The images were a blur, but faces could be seen, smiling faces, and Fro’s face was among them. It was a moment of happiness. A happiness long lost. It was a memory from a past that he wished he could return to, but he knew that reality was now only a foolish fantasy. Those smiles no longer comforted him. They only served to mock him.

I’m never getting that back… Maybe I should just…

“It- its’s y-you!”

Fro snapped back to reality upon hearing the sound of a frightened voice coming from behind him. He turned to see a man trembling a few feet away from him. He was dripping with sweat and his eyes bulged to the point of almost of falling out. However, the most important thing to note was the silver handgun twitching in his right hand. Fro’s attention was set solely on the gun.

“Who are y-”

“Haha!” The terrified man bursted into a nervous laugh that cut off Fro mid sentence. “I-I thought it was just rumors, but it’s true! I can’t believe it… you’re really here!”

Fro shot the man a look of confusion. “Do we know each other?”

“You don’t know me,” The man began, stuttering. “But I sure know a hell of alot about you!”

Fro’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure of how to respond to the man’s suspicious claims.

“You’re him aren’t you?” The Terror of the Dark Net. You’re Frosiah! AREN'T YOU!?”

Fro eyes quickly widened upon hearing that cursed name. He averted his eyes away from the man with a look of shame on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Don’t you bull*censored* me! You look a little different now, but I can tell that you’re him. That afro and those killer brown eyes…” The man raised his hand pointing a finger at Fro with a maniacal grin. “YOU’RE REALLY HIM! HAHA! AIN’T NO WAY AROUND IT! YOU’RE FROSIAH!!!”

Fro’s ignored the man’s claims and turned his back on him. “That name is retired homie… That isn’t me anymore.”

Fro slowly walked away from the crazy bastard. Suddenly…

BANG!

The harsh sound halted him. He turned back around and saw the smoking barrel of a pistol aimed at him. His face darkened with annoyance as he glared back at the man who had a sudden look of determination about him.

“Don’t you walk away from me you bastard! I’ve waited years for this moment and I won’t let you ruin this chance!”

“What do you want from me?”

“REVENGE!”

Bang! The man fired off another shot. The bullet flew quickly past Fro, narrowly missing him, but that was on purpose. Fro, however, wasn’t fazed.

“Revenge? For what? I haven't done anything to you. “

“Oh, but you have!” The man screamed with a disturbing raspiness in his voice. He was laughing even harder now, as if he had now lost his mind. “This face doesn’t look familiar to you does it?” Well take it a good look at it! Tell me… WHO DO I LOOK LIKE!?”

Fro scrunched his face as he took a good look at the man. He was an ugly individual with a long face and a blonde bowl cut. Stand out features for sure, but none of them were ringing any bells for Fro.

“C’mon now, think hard on it.” The man pressed. “You know this face. I know you do!”

Fro shook his head in disagreement. “Sorry, I don’t.”

“Playing dumb eh? I see how it is then… Does the name ‘Warhammer Jimmy’ ring any bells for ya?”

“Warhammer…” The name echoes in Fro’s mind. Another image flashed in his head. Again, it was blur, but the bleary image of a towering giant slowly focused into a clear view. It was holding a massive hammer, grinning with murderous intentions. A mess of shaggy blond hair draped over his crimson colored eyes. A monster one would assume, but it was indeed human. When the image faded and the realization finally settled in, Fro’s face lit up with an alarming look of utter shock.

“Oh it’s finally hitting ya now isn’t it?” The man chuckled. “That look on your face says it all.”

“How do you know him?”

“How do I know him? I KNOW HIM BECAUSE HE WAS MY LITTLE BROTHER YOU *censored*HEAD!!!”

“Brother…” Fro whispered. The fact caught him off guard. A sudden feeling of guilt welled up inside of him. He was at a loss for words.

“That’s right! Warhammer Jimmy, once the most feared individual on the Dark Net, was my little brother. He was a monstrous killer, who murdered every and any person who crossed his path. No could stop him. And then you showed up.. And murdered him!”

Fro felt a swelling squeezing at his throat. “I didn’t mean to…”

“BULL*censored*!” The man shouted, firing off another round into the air randomly. “You killed him with no remorse! You didn’t have a single ounce mercy when you did it. I know this because you were exactly him!”

“...What…”

“Oh don’t think I don’t know about your past. Everybody in the Dark Net knows about you. The infamous Dark Frosiah who killed approximately thirty two inhabitants of the Dark Net, who all of which were killers in their own right. You were talk of the town at one point ya know? Everyone was afraid of you, yet so many admired you..And then, one day you vanished. Never to be seen or heard of again.”

Fro wanted to deny the man’s claims, but he couldn’t. The look of disheartment on his face was confirmation of the horrible truth.

“So tell me… How did it feel killing all those people? How did it feel killing my brother? Did you enjoy it? Did you get some sick, twisted pleasure from it?” HUH!? TELL ME!”

“He attacked me… I didn’t want to-”

“My brother was a good kid in real life ya know?” The man’s tone shifted into sadness, as if he was about burst into tears. “He was always wanted to be liked by others, but everyone hated him. He was a loser in real life. No one cared for him and he hated that. He hated that he was different from everyone else, that he was ugly and everyone else wasn’t. He didn’t fit in with the cool kids, and he almost took his own life because of it.”

Tears were now trickling down the man’s cheek as he spoke. Fro watched on in silence, unable to speak.

“And then that’s when he found it. The dark side of the internet. It was all scary to him at first, but he soon realized that it was the perfect place for someone like him. There, he could be someone other than himself. He could be someone new, someone different. Someone that could be feared and respected. He can pay everyone back for how they treated him. He could kill with no consequences, no shame, no regrets. He could be the person he always wanted to be.”


The man was now slowly inching towards Fro, pointing his gun at him, arms shaking with a festering rage.

“And so I watched him enter that portal into this realm that we’re standing in right now. I followed him, hoping I could stop him, but it was too late. He was gone. I wanted to help him, to tell him he didn’t have go down the dark path he was traveling, but I couldn’t reach him. I was the total opposite of my brother and I’ve always hated myself for it! And now that he’s gone I can’t forgive myself. And I won’t forgive you either!”

“Just because your brother was a punk ass who was treated unfairly doesn’t give him the right to kill innocent people!” Fro finally retorted.

“SHUT UP! What gives you right to say something like that!? A heartless murderer like you has no business to speak on right and wrong!”

“Dawg, I’m telling you I didn’t mea-

“You couldn’t possibly understand what my brother went through! What I went through! My brother was the only family I ever had and you took that away from me! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE!? TO LOSE THE ONLY FAMILY YOU EVER HAD!? DO YA PUNK!? DO YA!?”

Fro’s eyes dilated. Everything around him had frozen. His face went blank and his vision blacked out for just a second.

In the next moment, he snapped.

Fro whipped his right hand forward and shot out a single tendril of hair from his palm that lashed at the man. The man readied his gun to shoot, but soon found it slipping from his grasp as the tendril had now wrapped itself tightly around his neck, strangling him. He clawed at the rope of hair with whatever strength he had, but it was to no avail.

“You think I don’t know what’s it’s like to lose a family…” Fro muttered in a cold voice.

The hair tendril slowly raised itself higher into the air, suspending the man as it did so. With every inch it ascended he could feel all of his strength leaving him. He stared with struggling eyes at the individual getting ready to take his life. “Those eyes…” The man echoed in his head. “Those goddamn eyes!”

“YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO'S LOST A FAMILY!?”

With a hard clench, Fro swung the the tendril downwards, slamming the man on the ground with a loud crash. The man spat out blood upon impact.

“I WAS BETRAYED, MY ENTIRE FAMILY KILLED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE!?”

A purplish dark energy began to ooze out of Fro’s body. It circled around him, enveloping him in a glowing outline of dark purple.

He swung the tendril upwards only to slam it back down on the ground a second later. Even as he collided with the ground, the man still continued to struggle to free himself from Fro’s grip.

“YOUR BROTHER ATTACKED ME! I DIDN’T WANT TO KILL HIM! I HAD TO DEFEND MYSELF!”

Another slam and another. Fro’s assault was relentless. His eyes beaded with a fiery rage. His veins looked as if going to pop out of his skin. The man could only choke and gasp for air. He was helpless. He was at the mercy of his attacker, who seemed to show no sign of sparing him.

After yet another slam, Fro launched the man way into the air with a forceful thrust. During mid flight, he stops the tendrils momentum, and kept the man suspended in the air. He could see the victim’s arms dangling helplessly at his sides. The man’s face was nearly lifeless, his gasps for breath had been subdued into silent grunts. His end was immediate.

“I didn’t want to kill any of ‘em. I…”

I didn’t know what to do…

Fro’s hand trembled.

“That wasn’t me…”

His grip was slowly loosening. The dark energy emanating from him began to recede. He closed his eyes shut, refusing to accept what had become of him.

I was scared…

“DAMMIT!”

The tendril whipped itself from around the man’s neck counterclockwise, unwrapping and recoiling back into Fro’s palm. The man dropped onto ground as this happened, pressing his hands against his neck, taking deep, exasperated breaths.

Fro was breathing rather heavily himself, trying his best to calm his rage. Opening his eyes, he turned towards his victim, casting him a cold and murderous looking glare.

“Let that be a warning…”

The man sat up and saw the hate burning in his assailant eyes. He pushed himself back with his feet, sliding backwards while whimpering in terror.

“Getcho ass out of here before you’ll end up like yo brother… NOW!”

And with that warning, the man hurled himself up and scurried away, his figure slowly vanishing into the confides of the searing mist.

Fro sighed, once again returning his gaze to the sickening red sky above. He stomach churned at the sight, but he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to it, much like his mind was glued to his past. The pain ate at his soul, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness he long wished to fill. But he had grown numb to the pain. That void couldn’t be filled. He knew that. And yet…

“Family, huh…”  The word rang silently in his mind. A faint smile had almost won over him, but his dreary demeanor persisted on.

“Will I ever find that again?”

He wandered.


Fro The Edgelord??? (Killing Demons: Edited)
An ominous chill crawled down Fronomenal’s spine as he wandered amidst a field of darkness. He hated this feeling, the feeling of resented shadows creeping up on him. He was accustomed to this presence of errieness, and he hated himself much for it. Visiting the past knowing the mental anguish it caused him had always been his own doing of course.

Why did I come back here…?

The question nagged at him as he peered at the fog covered pitch blackness ahead of him. The fog’s mist was a veil for this realm, but Fronomenal could see right through it’s jagged form. He shifted his attention to the sky above him. It was a darkened red, much like the color of old blood. A sullen look of dread escaped him as he gazed upon it with his dreary brown eyes. He hated how the sky looked. It made him feel sick.

Then again, where else can I go…?

Footprints of his black boots marked a trail on the crusty ground of brown behind him. His short curly afro itched from the murkiness of the chilling air. He scratched at it in an attempt to resolve the issue, but it only led to more bothersome itching that was now nagging at his entire upper body. He unzipped his black, silk jacket and began tugging on his shirt repeatedly, combating the itch with every tug. When the itching had finally subsided, he groaned. He had won a battle, but it wasn’t the one that mattered. A more troublesome battle still raged on- a battle with himself.

Why am I even alive…

Fro’s left hand balled into a fist, trembling with a rage that ate at his very soul. He closed his eyes. The dark world of the physical had vanished in his mind’s eye, and yet he couldn’t escape the darkness that enveloped his own inner world. He stood idle in this self imagined blackness, a faint light outlining his form. As he stood frozen, flashes of black and white imagery scattered around him. The images were a blur, but faces could be seen, smiling faces, and Fro’s face was among them. It was a moment of happiness. A happiness long lost. It was a memory from a past that he wished he could return to, but he knew that reality was now only a foolish fantasy. Those smiles no longer comforted him. They only served to mock him.

I’m never getting that back… Maybe I should just…

“It- its’s y-you!”

Fro snapped back to reality upon hearing the sound of a frightened voice coming from behind him. He turned to see a man trembling a few feet away from him. He was dripping with sweat and his eyes bulged to the point of almost of falling out. However, the most important thing to note was the silver handgun twitching in his right hand. Fro’s attention was set solely on the gun.

“Who are y-”

“Haha!” The terrified man bursted into a nervous laugh that cut off Fro mid sentence. “I-I thought it was just rumors, but it’s true! I can’t believe it… you’re really here!”
Fro shot the man a look of confusion. “Do we know each other?”
“You don’t know me,” The man began, stuttering. “But I sure know a hell of alot about you!”

Fro’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure of how to respond to the man’s suspicious claims.

“You’re him aren’t you?” The Terror of the Dark Net. You’re Frosiah! AREN'T YOU!?”

Fro eyes quickly widened upon hearing that cursed name. He averted his eyes away from the man with a look of shame on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Don’t you bull*censored* me! You look a little different now, but I can tell that you’re him. That afro and those killer brown eyes…” The man raised his hand pointing a finger at Fro with a maniacal grin. “YOU’RE REALLY HIM! HAHA! AIN’T NO WAY AROUND IT! YOU’RE FROSIAH!!!”

Fro’s ignored the man’s claims and turned his back on him. “That name is retired homie… That isn’t me anymore.”

Fro slowly walked away from the crazy bastard. Suddenly…

BANG!

The harsh sound halted him. He turned back around and saw the smoking barrel of a pistol aimed at him. His face darkened with annoyance as he glared back at the man who had a sudden look of determination about him.

“Don’t you walk away from me you bastard! I’ve waited years for this moment and I won’t let you ruin this chance!”

“What do you want from me?”

“REVENGE!”

Bang! The man fired off another shot. The bullet flew quickly past Fro, narrowly missing him, but that was on purpose. Fro, however, wasn’t fazed.

“Revenge? For what? I haven't done anything to you. “

“Oh, but you have!” The man screamed with a disturbing raspiness in his voice. He was laughing even harder now, as if he had now lost his mind. “This face doesn’t look familiar to you does it?” Well take it a good look at it! Tell me… WHO DO I LOOK LIKE!?”

Fro scrunched his face as analyzed the man. He was an ugly individual with a long face and a blonde bowl cut. Stand out features for sure, but none of them were ringing any bells for Fro.

“C’mon now, think hard on it.” The man pressed. “You know this face. I know you do!”
Fro shook his head in disagreement. “Sorry, I don’t.”

“Playing dumb eh? I see how it is then… Does the name ‘Warhammer Jimmy’ ring any bells for ya?”

“Warhammer…” The name echoes in Fro’s mind. Another image flashed in his head. Again, it was blur, but the bleary image of a towering giant slowly focused into a clear view. It was holding a massive hammer, grinning with murderous intentions. A mess of shaggy blond hair draped over his crimson colored eyes. A monster one would assume, but it was indeed human. When the image faded and the realization finally settled in, Fro’s face lit up with an alarming look of utter shock.

“Oh it’s finally hitting ya now isn’t it?” The man chuckled. “That look on your face says it all.”

“How do you know him?”

“How do I know him? I KNOW HIM BECAUSE HE WAS MY LITTLE BROTHER YOU *censored*HEAD!!!”
“Brother…” Fro whispered. The fact caught him off guard. A sudden feeling of guilt welled up inside of him. He was at a loss for words.

“That’s right! Warhammer Jimmy, once the most feared individual on the Dark Net, was my little brother. He was a monstrous killer, who murdered every and any person who crossed his path. No could stop him. And then you showed up.. And murdered him!”

Fro felt a swelling squeezing at his throat. “I didn’t mean to…”

“BULL*censored*!” The man shouted, firing off another round into the air randomly. “You're nothing but a heartless vigilante who killed not only my brother, but countless other murderers on the Dark Net!

Fro wanted to deny the man’s claims, but he couldn’t. The look of disheartment on his face was confirmation of the horrible truth.

“My brother was a good kid on The Net ya know?” The man’s tone shifted into sadness, as if he was about burst into tears. “He was always wanted to be liked by others, but everyone hated him. He was a loser who everyone trolled and bullied. No one cared for him and he hated that. He hated that he was different from everyone else, that he had a good heart and everyone else didn't. He didn’t fit in at all and he almost took his own life because of it.”

Tears were now trickling down the man’s cheek as he spoke. Fro watched on in silence, unable to speak.

“And then that’s when he found it. The dark side of The Net. It was all scary to him at first, but he soon realized that it was the perfect place for someone like him. There, he could be someone other than himself. He could be someone new, someone different. Someone that could be feared and respected. He can pay everyone back for how they treated him. He could kill with no consequences, no shame, no regrets. He could be the person he always wanted to be. Right here... in this bat *censored* world!”

The man was now slowly inching towards Fro, pointing his gun at him, arms shaking with a festering rage.

“I wanted to help him ya know? I wanted to tell that everything was going to get better and that he didn't have to sink so low. But I was too late. He was already long gone. I hated myself for being unable to stop him, but that's okay now. ‘Cause now I can make it up to him by killing you!”

As the man narrowed the gap between two of them, Fro’s sight fell to the ground, reflecting on the sins he had been accused of. The crazy bastard was right. Fro was a murdering vigilante in his past, and his past was something he could never run from. The Warhammer Jimmy incident was the start of it all, and if that had never happened, he possibly would’ve never strayed down such a dark path.

But doesn’t mean that this psychotic person with no sense of morals had a right to judge him. Or did he? Fro clenched his fist at thought of this, angered by his own mixed emotions.

“I get that your pissed about what I did to your brother,” Fro began, sounding as if he was trying to calm himself.

“But if you honestly think that your brother had a right to kill people because he was some punk ass who couldn’t
handle being bullied, then you’re more insane than he was.”

“SHUT UP! What gives you right to say something like that!? The man aggressively swung his arm to the left.” You couldn’t possibly understand what my brother went through! What I went through! My brother was the only family I ever had and you took that away from me! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE!? TO LOSE A FAMILY THAT YOU LOVED SO DEARLY? DO YA PUNK!? DO YA!?”

Fro’s eyes dilated. Everything around him had frozen. His face went blank and his vision blacked out for just a second. Those smiles were flashing in his head again.

And in the next moment, he snapped.

Fro whipped his right hand forward and shot out a single tendril of hair from his palm that lashed at the man. The man readied his gun to shoot, but soon found it slipping from his grasp as the tendril had now wrapped itself tightly around his neck, strangling him. He clawed at the rope of hair with whatever strength he had, but it was to no avail.

“You think I don’t know what’s it’s like to lose a family…” Fro muttered in a cold voice.

The hair tendril slowly raised itself higher into the air, suspending the man as it did so. With every inch it ascended he could feel all of his strength leaving him. He stared with struggling eyes at the individual getting ready to take his life. “Those eyes…” The man echoed in his head. “Those goddamn eyes!”

“YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO'S LOST A FAMILY!?”


With a hard clench, Fro swung the the tendril downwards, slamming the man on the ground with a loud crash. The man spat out blood upon impact.

“I WAS BETRAYED, MY ENTIRE FAMILY KILLED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE!?”

A purplish dark energy began to ooze out of Fro’s body. It circled around him, enveloping him in a glowing outline of dark purple.

He swung the tendril upwards only to slam it back down on the ground a second later. Even as he collided with the ground, the man still struggled to free himself from Fro’s grip.

“YOUR BROTHER ATTACKED ME! I DIDN’T WANT TO KILL HIM! I HAD TO DEFEND MYSELF!”

Another slam and another. Fro’s assault was relentless. His eyes beaded with a fiery rage. His veins looked as if going to pop out of his skin. The man could only choke and gasp for air. He was helpless. He was at the mercy of his attacker, who seemed to show no sign of sparing him.

After yet another slam, Fro launched the man way into the air with a forceful thrust. During mid flight, he stops the tendrils momentum, and kept the man suspended in the air. He could see the victim’s arms dangling helplessly at his sides. The man’s face was nearly lifeless, his gasps for breath had been subdued into silent grunts. His end was immediate.

I was scared…

Fro’s hand trembled.

“That wasn’t me…”

His grip was slowly loosening. The dark energy emanating slowly receded. He closed his eyes shut, refusing to accept what had become of him.

I didn’t know what to do…

“DAMMIT!”

The tendril whipped itself from around the man’s neck counterclockwise, unwrapping and recoiling back into Fro’s palm. The man dropped onto ground as this happened, pressing his hands against his neck, taking deep, exasperated breaths.

Fro was breathing rather heavily himself, trying his best to calm his rage. Opening his eyes, he turned towards his victim, casting him a cold and murderous looking glare.

“Let that be a waring…”

The man sat up and saw the hate burning in his assailant eyes. He pushed himself back with his feet, sliding backwards, whimpering in terror.

“Getcho ass out of here before you end up like yo brother… NOW!”

And with that warning, the man hurled himself up and scurried away, his figure slowly vanishing into the confides of the searing mist.

Fro sighed, once again returning his gaze to the sickening red sky above. He stomach churned at the sight, but he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to it, much like his mind was glued to his past. The pain ate at his soul, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness he long wished to fill. But he had grown numb to the pain. That void couldn’t be filled. He knew that. And yet…

“Family, huh…”  The word rang silently in his mind. A faint smile had almost won over him, but his dreary demeanor persisted on.

“Will I ever find that again?”

He wandered.
 
 
 

11
I was snooping around Reddit and saw a link to an article about a writer explaining his writing process. He mentions that he doesn't always write fiction, but he tries to write something everyday. It inspired me to start this topic. Here's the link: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/aug/26/my-writing-day-bernard-maclaverty

I learned something this past year that I already knew, but made much more sense to me when I actually applied it. And it was that no matter what it is, I just should write something. Seriously. Anything. I could care less what it is. Just write it down. I'll flesh it out later with edits.

Some context on my writing history that elaborates why this philosophy means so much to me...

I use to suffer from serious writer's block. Not because I never had the inspiration to write from. I always have fresh ideas to write down. The writer's block I suffered through was being in love with the idea of writing and finishing a story, but hated the process of pushing through the mental hurdles to reach the finish line.

I was dreaming of being a good writer with amazing stories, but I wasn't actually writing. And I hated myself for that.

I hated myself for a lot of things regarding my own writing. Every time I tried to sit down and push a story chapter or scene out of my head and onto paper or a computer screen, I stop midway. "Man something is missing." I used to tell myself. My inner editor was something OP. It really had me feeling that whatever I was writing was just complete garbage and that I shouldn't even finish it. And I didn't. I never finished my projects. "Damn Mike, you call yourself a writer and you can't even finish a scene, or a chapter for that matter?" The guilt and shame I placed on myself killed me inside.

I remember one time in college I had to rewrite a short story that literally had my grade on the line. Since I slacked off so much early in the semester, my professor told me that if I didn't wow her with my rewrite, I was  more than likely going to fail her class. Determined to prove to myself and to her that my writing skills were good enough to pull off miracles, I sat down in front of the family desktop and cracked my knuckles, psyching to myself to write the greatest short story of all time.

I gave up after the first paragraph. My heart sank and my eyes were heavy with shame. I cried. Not because of the fact that I was really going to fail a class for the first time of my life. But because for the first time of my life I truly felt that I was a joke of a writer, and that the only talent I had wasn't worth the time to invest in.

But I still kept writing. Even though I felt my writing was still trash sometimes I still wrote on. My passion for writing wouldn't let me stop. However, instead of focusing on fiction I transitioned into writing journals and funny enough, I found myself feeling more comfortable with my writing, which was something I usually never felt. It was just me talking on the page and for some reason it came much easier to me than writing prose.

Fast forward and I started expressing my writing on a more public space via Facebook. I made up random characters in my head and wrote them down having funny conversations while involved in wacky situations. It was completely dialogue, with little to no exposition given. I gotten some likes, people told me they enjoyed what I wrote. I had fun knowing I can get people to laugh with my writing, so I kept doing it. And eventually, interestingly enough, I adopted the random scenarios I wrote into a idea for a screenplay.

And then something I clicked. I realized that me writing these facebook post every other day had me writing more. Even though it wasn't story ideas I should be focusing on, the act of just writing became a habit. And that was the important part. I started writing more out of habit and as a result I was getting more writing done on my fiction stories as well. Every word I wrote down, regardless of intention, had value to them. And once I started placing value on my writing, finishing stories and fleshing out ideas became easier over time. Simply by removing the stress I placed on myself, I was able to enjoy the act of writing, and that was enough to keep me going.

So when I realized this, I told myself: As long as I just write something down, the stories will eventually finish themselves. Even if I don't finish a piece in one sitting, at least I worked on it. I don't have to follow some strict writing regimen to get work done. It's okay to write a couple a words down a day. Those couple words will turn into a couple hundred, and those couple hundred will turn into a couple thousand.

I'm not perfect of course. I still to this day don't have a complete project under my belt. I have at least 40 google docs worth of journals and unfinished stories. But I'm proud to say compared to my earlier self, I am much more happy with myself as a writer this past year than I have ever been in my entire life. And that in itself is a huge step for me.

This isn't some success story or an attempt to give inspirational advice based on personal experience to inspiring writers on this forum. To be honest, I'm not the guy to provide such enlightenment. This is more of a plea aimed at anyone who is feeling the same way I did when I was a younger writer. And with this being a plea- writers of all skill levels, I beg of you:

Just Write... I don't care what it is... Just write it.

12
MR Pub / A Mangaraiders App
« on: December 05, 2017, 05:27:47 PM »
I'm pretty sure this has been discussed lightly on another discussion board somewhere, and I'm one hundred percent sure that someone had a thought like this bubbling in their heads for awhile now. But I figured a discussion board concerning this topic would be a great one to have.

With that said, this is purely is a topic for throwing out ideas. I'm not very tech savvy, and I absolutely have zero idea on how to create a mobile app, so I wouldn't spearhead a project like this. But hypothetically speaking, if a mangaraiders app was in the works, what would you guys like to see from it? What features would you include? What kind of layout and UI would appeal to you visually?

Also, if this is already a thing, please let me know. Lord knows how out of touch I've been with this place lately.

13
Manga Creations / "The Strand of Truth" An MR Short
« on: December 04, 2017, 01:08:50 PM »
This was an idea I was working on before I disappeared. It was originally intended to be a wacky series involving Lego and myself, but I scrapped the idea and went the short story route instead. Shout out to Lego for assisting me with this one. I figured the least I could do to pay him back was actually finishing this project. Didn't want his efforts going to waste.

This will be spit into parts. The second part is currently being worked on and it will be finished soon. I'll try to have this completed within a reasonable time frame. But for now, without further ado, here is part one The Strand of Truth everybody.

Spoiler
The Strand of Truth Part One
 
    There was once a legend that was seldom spread across the internet. A legend so unusually pointless that even those who specialized in scouring the web for meaningless internet trivia did not care for it.
    
Although most things on the internet were voided of meaning, this particular legend was so disinteresting that when it’s tale was first told, it was immediately brushed off as a terrible joke, and diminished as quickly as an ant thrown into the burning sun.
    
To be more precise, the number of google searches related to this legend was approximately fifty-two. Yes, it was that bad.
    
However, as boring as this legend was perceived it was still undoubtedly true…
    
Far away in a land that nobody never bothered looking for, was a giant cathedral isolated in the middle of desolate wasteland.
    
It was an odd sight to behold, mainly due to the fact that it was really a cathedral in the middle of nowhere. It was black with a shade of rusted grey. The center tower, which was extremely tall, stood firm despite of cracks in its crumbling structure, and adjacent on both sides were smaller towers that were still just as tall. The cathedral had an eerie presence about it— scary almost. Still, it was more random than anything.
    
So was this old, broken-down cathedral the legend that no one cared for? Of course not! Who cares about a stupid cathedral anyway!? Like an overused rpg cliché, the real legend was inside, and it was just as random as the cathedral itself.
    
Inside, at the very end of unnecessarily long hallway, resting in the hands of a old, giant maiden statue that looked looked like it would crumble at any given moment, was a item that radiated a glow of pure uselessness.
    
It was known as “The Strand of Truth…”
    
Yes, that’s right. Inside of a pointless, black cathedral, was a strand of golden hair that shone a circular outline of glowing white. While it was very appealing to look at for a few seconds, it really didn’t have nothing else interesting going for it.
    
Still, even though it seemed void of any practical purposes what’s so ever, there was still a rumor that, while seemingly absurd, was interesting enough to cause someone to care for just a couple of seconds.
    
It has been said that whoever possessed the “Strand of Truth” would gain the power of absolute hair immortality. In less absurd terms, it meant that whoever cared enough to acquire it would be blessed with long lasting, forever rejuvenating hair. There have been other mysteries that the Strand of Truth contained, but no one cared long enough to speculate.
    
For years the Strand of Truth went unexplored. Overshadowed by legends that were more worthy of one’s time, the Strand of Truth remained in the halls of the abandoned cathedral, collecting more dust than an attic full of old newspaper.
    
That is, until one day, a man who could never find anything more constructive to do with his life, decided to search for the forgotten legend.
    
That man’s name was Fronomenal. And he was a mangaraider.
    
Fronomenal treaded through the wasteland on his white sneakers, wiping away the sweat that poured down on his brown forehead from the exhausting heat. Despite the burning temperature, Fro was fully clothed— Rocking a black T shirt under a black and white leather jacket that he really needed to take off soon, and torturing his lower body with a pair of white jeans. The real victim in all of this, however, was his incredibly large afro, which had absorbed more heat waves than Fro had hoped for. Even his hair pick, which rested in the center of his hair, had developed a sizzling sting during the course of the journey.
    
Fro peered ahead with his squinting brown eyes, covering his forehead with his right arm in an attempt to block the mischievous rays of the sun. Since he had traveling the barren land for what seemed hours, he had hoped that the cathedral would be close by now. But with the combination of the burning sun and his own dehydration clouding his good sense of judgement, he wasn’t really sure where he was anymore.
    
Still, he didn’t lose focus. His face was relaxed and his demeanor was calm. He was only concerned with one thing and one thing only— “The Strand of Truth.”
    
Being a member of Mangaraiders, a community where aspiring manga artist and writers come together to share their work with one another, you would think a guy like Fro would have more constructive things to do such as: working on a new story or participating in a community workshop. But no. Instead of spending his time productively in a place often called his second home, Fro would rather waste his time scouring the globe for pointless things to do— like the adventure he’s on right now.
    
Besides, Fro kind of sucks at writing anyway…
    
“Jesus, it’s hot!” he sighed, trying to maintain his composure.
    
Unzipping his Jacket, he reached for a water bottle from his left inside pocket. He leaned his head back, opened his mouth wide and held the bottle over his lips, expecting a surge of refreshing water to slide down his dry throat.
    
“Eh?”

Unfortunately, not a drop was spilt. He had already drunk all of it.

“Gawddammit!”

Fro kicked the bottle viciously in frustration and watched as it flew off into the distance. For a second, he almost regretted doing so, considering that he had a lot more ground to cover, and he may have gotten lucky and ran into a random puddle of muddy water. But, it no longer mattered— for he saw something ahead that possibly looked like his destination.

“Is that…”

It was. With his blurry vision suddenly becoming clear, he saw it— the figure of a black tower looming in the distance. While it was hard to see at first, there was no mistaking it. The black cathedral that Fro had been searching for was just up ahead.

Excited and relieved, Fro burst out into a excited run, completely ignoring the grogginess he had been feeling throughout his journey. The cathedral was quite a ways away, and it would’ve took a normal person at least another twenty minutes to reach it. Fro on the other hand, was beyond normal. Dashing at an incredible speed, he arrived on the front steps of the cathedral before a minute had passed.

“So this is it, huh?”

He had already seen pictures of it through images he browsed on the internet, but seeing it up close was completely dumbfounding.

His eyes slowly widened as he examined the magnificent structure. While the random factor was still apparent, it was regardless, a beautiful piece of architecture. However, he didn’t spend too much time marveling at it. Turning his attention toward the ornate patterned doors in front of him, he pressed his hands on the firm, black wood, slowly pushed the creaky doors open and made his way inside.

As he walked inside, Fro whistled, impressed by the cathedral’s interior design. Black marble floors with a squared pattern. Rows of thick, old, yet sturdy black columns aligned on both sides. And the grey maiden statue, which was at the very end, complimented even more so with its simple aesthetic. The only thing missing, however, was the typical assortment of benches found in normal cathedrals. While the hallway was already uncomfortably long and spacious, the absence of the benches made it even more so.

But all this quickly became irrelevant to Fro the moment he fixed his sight on the glowing light at the end of the hall.

“There it is!”

Despite being unable to make it out clearly, Fro could tell that the brilliant white light at the end of the hall was indeed the Strand of Truth. The light it shone excited him.  Not wasting another second, he began to make a dash for the golden strand, but quickly halted his advance when a felt a presence lurking behind him.

“Hm!?”

Turning his head to the right, he spotted in his peripheral what appeared to be a bolt of lightning rapidly approaching him. He managed to sidestep to his left, barely dodging the strike. In the next instant the ground shook as the bolt of lightning struck the ground with a loud smack, turning the area of smooth marble into a miniature crater.

“Damn that was a close!” Fro said slightly relieved. A second later and he would have been a melted puddle of hair strands.

“Now who the hell-”

Before he could finish asking himself the question of just who in the world would attack him, the sight of the his attacker suddenly appearing before him cut off him by surprise. He pulled on his afro, both confused and frustrated.

“Dawg, you gotta be kidding me…”

Gracefully descending from the air above before him was a dark skinned man adorned in a black pea coat with a white trim, that overlapped the white collared shirt and black trousers he was wearing underneath. Upon landing, the familiar faced individual adjusted his orange colored spectacles and greeted Fro with a smirk that Fro wasn’t very happy to see. His arch rival Legomaestro had just appeared before him and knowing their historic past, he knew a massive headache was going to nag at him soon.

“Sup Baldy.” Lego snickered.

“Lego, why dawg? Why are you here?

“Don’t play dumb with me Frono! You know why I am here.”

“I really don’t, homie…”

Lego stomped the ground. “Yes you do!

Fro shook his head, genuinely confused. “Yeah, I really don’t…”

Lego groaned. He felt as if Fro was just trolling him at this point. Like a child throwing a tantrum he pointed towards the strand of truth and motioned Fro to look at it.

“That!” Lego shouted. “That’s what I’m here for! You’re here for the same reason are you not?”

“I mean yeah, but like… I still don’t exactly get WHY you’re here for the Strand of truth.”

“What? Are you kidding me, Frono?” Lego pointed his finger at his shiny bald head that gleamed as if on cue. “Look at me, Fro. I’m freaking bald for crying out loud! I have every reason to be here right now.”

A bubble of laughter was beginning to swell up and burst out inside Fro, and he was trying his best to hold it back. The Legomaestero he once knew was not standing before him. The Lego he once knew had an afro that was just as enormous as his. Hell, they often debated on who had the better afro. And now that Lego was a shell of his former self, Fro kind of felt bad for his former afro compadre. Still it was funny though, so he couldn’t help laughing at him.

“Aye Lego, I’m not gonna lie, ever since you went bald you’ve been kinda trash.” He said laughing hysterically.

“How dare you laugh at my pain!” Lego growled. “You don’t know what it’s like to be bald, Fro!”

“I’ve been bald before….”

“Huh? For real dude? Do you have the pictures?”

“Yeah, but I’m not showing you.”

“What!? Hmph whatever. I could care less.”

 Lego materialized a black femto katana in his right hand and swung it to his right. The force of the swing generated a wave of wind that decimated a nearby column. Lego’s expression seemed almost murderous.

“Ever since I went bald I’ve been made into a running joke. Baldomaestro they called me. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I took pride in my afro, and now that’s it’s gone I’m a shell of my former self. That’s why I’m here, Fro. I’m here to reclaim the glory of my former self. To show the world that I, Legomaestro, am not a joke and that I have the greatest afro in the universe!

Fronomenal yawned, not very touched by Lego’s speech.

“That’s it?”

“Well yeah…” Lego said sounding a little insecure. “I spent a lot of time preparing that speech you know…”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Well, why are you here then? You certainly don’t need long lasting hair rejuvenation.”

“Well, I’m only here because I had nothing better to do. And to be perfectly honest, I feel a little inclined to let you have the strand of truth after hearing your little sob story. However…”

Fro doffed his leather jacket and tossed it to the side. He readied a kung fu like stance.

“You’d be a fool if you thought I’ll just let you just take the strand of truth without me beating your face in.”

Lego smiled and readied his own stance in response.

“Heh. I didn’t expect you to.”

A intense silence filled the room. A silence only understood by warriors who were ready to do battle. The aura of power that emanated from the two rivals generated a breeze of energy inside the room. Sparks of electricity circled around Lego’s sword. Fro cracked his knuckles, ready to throw down.

The stage was set. A battle of epic pointless proportions was about to commence. 

 


 




14
General Manga writer discussions / Complex plots vs Simple ones
« on: January 04, 2014, 11:16:52 AM »
So, I dont think this needs a super long explanation so lets get straight to it. As a writer which do you perfer? Do you like creating a story where the plot is complex and has your readers playing guessing games all the time. Or do you like a more simple and straightfoward plot. Me personally, I like a little of both. I like to keep my stories straightfoward, but I also like to throw in a few curveballs every once in a while as well

15
Manga Creations / A Short Story By Yours Truly
« on: December 02, 2013, 10:39:40 AM »
So in one of my Writing Classes We had to write our own short stories. First, the professor had us write within a 300 word range. Then he told us to bump it up to  800 words. Once we did that, he told us to bump it back down to 750 and then he gave us feedback. The final draft is due this week and I thought I'll let guys see what I came up with. Hopefully, you guys will like it. I personally didn't feel it like that. Still, I thought I did decent enough.
[h]

Fro's Short Story

         The night air was cold and suffocating. Sheets of Ice covered the ground and ice sickles dangled from the edges of houses and frozen tree branches. Roosevelt Street was nearly consumed in total darkness. Every lamppost on the block had been shut off. Felicia, a light skinned trick with a curvy figure stood right under one of the dead lamppost. Her sweat pierced through the cold like spear through stone and trickled down from the third eye tattoo on her forehead onto the deep knife scar on her right cheek. Her body shook rapidly. Her knees were slightly bent, seeming as if she was getting ready to collapse on the ground.
   
       The cold touch of the metallic, black handgun froze her hands stiff. She stared into her best friend Angie’s eyes, a small petite Latina who was lying on the ground in a fetal position. She was trembling as much as Felicia was. Felicia didn’t want to do it. She tried to her lift up her arm, but the pressure overwhelmed her so much that her arm fell back to her side and swayed uncontrollably from left to right.
   
       The other members of the Trap Lords were glaring at Felicia. They had all their arms folded and their faces were stone cold. Some were tapping their feet repeatedly on the concrete while others were chewing hard on gum that had already dried out. She knew what had to be done. Angie double-crossed the gang, so now she had to suffer the consequences. And if Felicia had a problem with that, then she would be killed for being disobedient
   
       Pedro, the Head Lord of the gang, was the one orchestrating the dilemma. He was a tall, bald and muscular guy with a faded goatee and snake tattoos that intertwined from the back of his head all the way to the front. He was Felicia’s lover and Angie’s older brother.
   
      Pedro became impatient and stormed up to Felicia. He placed his hand on her shoulder. The warm touch of his large hand sent a flurry of mixed emotions running through her mind.

       Felicia always had a thing for guys tougher than her. Even though she likes to be the one in charge, she couldn’t help but get turned on whenever a man is able to take control of her. That’s probably why she liked Pedro so much. Out of all the boys she fooled around with, Pedro was the one guy she always came back to, even though he often mistreated her. That’s probably why she hated Pedro as much as she liked him.

        “Hey”, he whispered in her ear, getting closer to her, wrapping his hands around her waist. “So is you gonna shoot this bitch or what?”

        Her mind went blank for a moment. Her body began to move on its own as if Pedro’s words had hypnotized her. Like a mindless Zombie, she raised her arm and pointed the gun at Angie. But as she did that she saw the tears in Angie’s eyes. Her tears reminded her of all the times she had to save Angie’s ass whenever she got herself into trouble. That’s how their friendship started. She couldn’t bear the idea of not being able to save Angie, let alone killing her. That’s when she snapped. Turning around, she held the gun point blank in Pedro’s face. Pedro’s eyes widened, shocked by Felicia’s sudden transformation.

      “NO!”

       Bang!


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