Nighttime Spotlight

The lights are low. The room is silent as the audience waits impatiently for the beginning of the show. Music plays as the author steps out. The audience roars with clapping.

Yes, yes, thank you; you all are too kind. I am glad to announce that this is our first show. You all are in for a treat. Today our interviewee involves one of my favorite characters–

The mic is immediately snatched from the author by a brunnette man.

“Ah, it works. Just had to check.”

The man gives the author back the microphone and sits down on the red couch.

“Shall we begin?”

It seems that our guest has changed. What is your name again?

“Leo Pvinsky at your service.” He tips his hat toward the author.

I’m not sure if you have heard, but this is an interview for my characters. You are not my character. You are just some stupid-ass hobo that just happened to walk on to my stage and–

“Don’t worry. Daymion can’t come today.”

You’re kidding me.

“No. I would not kid with you.”

Tch, fine. Apparently we will be interviewing Leo Pvinsky, the…um…who are you?

“You should really learn about your characters. I am the star of your new romance story which you will post on your blog every week.”

I never said that though.

“I said that. I’m the character. You should listen to me.”

Is that why you barged your way into here and probably poisoned my favorite character in order to get an interview and meet the fabulous me? Isn’t that a bit too much?

“I have already met you. Now you’re just looking for a story, so I came to you..”

I never said I wanted to write a story, especially not with a Soviet Communist like you. I already have two wannabe-Russian friends; I don’t need to deal with another.

“I am not a Soviet. I am part of the Urbem Argentum.”

But you are a Soviet.

“You Americans are rather cute. The Soviet Union has been disbanded for twenty one years, therefore I am not a Soviet.”

But your accent–

“Is interesting, is it not?”

Fine, fine. Your determination has won me over. I’ll interview you instead.

“I knew you would see it my way.”

Mr. Scary Russian guy–

“I’m from Belarus.”

Fine. Mr. Big-N-Scary-Guy-From-a-Country-I’ve-Never-Heard-Of, please tell me what your profession is?

“I work under the Divini in the interrogation squad.”

Do you use torture?

“If I must. Then I am allowed to wipe their minds after.”

How would you torture your…informants I guess?

“I refer to them as terrorists. I typically use water torture. That is the most entertaining, if you know what I mean. Recently I have found playing the ‘good cop’ helps most of these terrorists break down a lot faster than just using strict torture. It is a rather old study on human nature, but we are doing more studies into human nature in order to better interrogate these terrorists.”

Water torture does sound entertaining. I may have to claim you as my character now.

“Thank you.”

So what classifies an individual as a terrorist?

“The definition of a terrorist refers to one who threatens to use force or violence against a government in order to accomplish their means.”

Are terrorists the only ones you deal with?

“I also interrogate those who enter the country, those who are leaving on business, and those who are engaged in suspicious activity.”

Ah! So you know most of the assassins.

“I would not say we are on speaking terms, but yes, I know every assassin.”

This is getting pretty boring now. Tell me something interesting about yourself.

“People are typically afraid of me.”

And I wouldn’t know why…

“Sarcasm is not necessary. Have you finished conducting your interview?”

Not yet! Why are the first character that actually hijacked my mind and made me interview them?

“I am a part of your subconscious. I cannot merely ‘hijack’ your mind.”

That’s what you did though. You completely took over and forced me to watch a chapter of your life, and pretty creepy one while we’re at it.

“I do not think my life is creepy. It is rather pleasant.”

Answer my question! You aren’t a politician so don’t try to act like one.

“Ah, yes. I am one of the first developed characters you have ever created. I have a distinct voice, unlike many of your characters who share a similar voice to your own. My looks are my own and has nothing to do with your fetishes. I do not smoke, unlike some. I am my own complete person.

“And yet you ignore me.”

Wait, wait. How long have you been in there? I never knew that I had a person up there, just waiting around for a story.

“I was created from the ‘Dark Man’ as you named him, so about two years ago if my math is correct. I tried not to let myself be noticed by you since you were focused on the Urbem and the assassins there. I doubt you would have known me even if I showed up.

“Also, I was afraid you might kill me off.”

Why the hell did you show up now?

“Boredom. Mine and yours.”

That explains a little, I guess. So you expect me to give you your own side story and give up on my other main characters?

“Side characters are fun too. The ones to the side are always your favorite.”

That is true. So why can’t you be from the Soviet Union?

“I am from Belarus.”

I know that! But wasn’t Belarus like part of the USSR?

“You used Wikapedia didn’t you?”

Shut up! And why can’t you support my decisions?Rivera and Divna were going to the main characters of the next part!

“But I am more interesting.”

You’re getting ahead of yourself there.

“No, no it’s true.”

Fine. You will be in my next story, with a large part. Deal?

“You are the boss.”

Get out of my head now.

“I can only try.”

Leo steps off stage, does a quick wave, and completely disappears. The audience claps.

I need some coffee. [louder] Thank you to everyone who watched this. Now I’ve got to leave before security finds me! See ya!

[This is what happens when you leave me with only my thoughts to play with.]

A Review: Naruto

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Let it be known that I hate Naruto. There, I said it. I started reading the manga last year, due to the fact that I am an insomniac and was sick of hearing my friends talk about it. I knew all the major plot twists from the beginning, and even could name off all of the characters, including the insignificant ones, by heart. I mean, why did I have to read something like that if I already knew?

Well I did it. I read evey single chapter Masashi Kishimoto has put out there, and I decided that I hate it.

I don’t hate that he killed off some of the more interesting characters. I’m not annoyed that Sai replaced Sasuke. I’m not the least bit sad that Itachi died in the end (spoiler: he’s resurrected bitches) or that Tobi was Madara but really wasn’t in the end. No, none of those seriously irritate me.

The story is told in arcs. That’s what pissed me off. The arcs aren’t nearly related to each other. How the hell does killing Zabuza and Haku have anything to do with Sasuke going on his revenge scheme?

If this thing hadn’t been spread out for almost 700 chapters (that’s 13 years bitches), I might have liked it. It’s obviously not planned out very well, which is kind of needed if you want that deep root message that Kishimoto is trying to put out there. The manga is not centered around Naruto, but his best friend, Sasuke. Naruto tries to save Sasuke, but he’s more of a minor character than anything.

I also see a ton of wasted space. I see tons of characters, interesting characters which I would have loved to see explored. No. Most of them are killed off. He doesn’t even give the thought of keeping them, just in case they are pretty cool characters.

Remember when I said that he doesn’t think anything through? He brought the Akatsuki back to life and the former jinchuurikis, which Tobi forced the Akatsuki to kill for power. Kishimoto, that was an idiotic move. There were whole arcs dedicated to exterminating the Akatsuki and trying to save the jinchuuriki. It fucking pissed me off. I could have done better with that! Yeesh!

Kishimoto, explain your actions. Seriously. Have you planned put the rest of this manga? Have you finished filling in the plot holes (like why the hell Kabuto would call up the Akatsuki even though every reader knows that Orochimaru hated the Akatsuki)? Are we done yet? How many chapters do we have to look forward to?

I think we are finished here. Naruto, I’m glad I’m done reading you. It honestly annoys the hell out of me.

Comments? Do you enjoy Naruto? Hate it? Understand what the hype is about? Any ideas about what I should read next?

How To: Procrastinate

Ah, my dear writing monkeys, procrastination is something a writer must know well. Otherwise, a writer might finish something before the deadline, and that’s just preposterous! Then what would you do? Read? Finish watching Lost and figure out what the fuck is happening? Ha! As if! You’ll be a mindless puddle of jelly, lost in the ways of the normies. You won’t know what to do with yourself once you sell that story and it gets published.

Let’s wait a bit longer…just a bit…and procrastinate a little.

1.) Set your pen, paper, and computer aside.

Don’t write. Don’t do it. Don’t touch it. Don’t want it. Don’t even think about it. Don’t. If you do, then you aren’t procrastinating; you’re working. That defeats the purpose of it all.

2.) Make a pot of coffee, then another, and maybe one more.

You can’t write until you finish eight pots of coffee. Chug them down and then chase it with some vodka. Don’t whine, just do it! And maybe add that bag of sugar to it. Then go out and chug some more sugar down with it. And maybe add two gallons of creamer with it.

3.) Get in the car and drive!

If you’ve listened to everything I said by now, then you should be bouncing off the walls. Good. You are now in the perfect condition to drive. There is no drug test for caffeine! Go and drop yourself off at a gas station. We need to chug some Mountain Dew to feed the muse.

4.) Kidnapping!

By now, you have the jitters. It would appear that you are on some LSD and that’s fine. Great even. Drive by the park now. Ignore the fact that you don’t have a white van (if you do, I give you a thumb up), and find a child. Make sure it’s a cute one, or else you won’t get on the news. (A white, blonde little girl about the age of 3 tend to get on the news more than anyone else.) Tell you’ve got a lot of candy in there and let her stay in there.

5.) Find a doggy.

Tell that little kid to strap up and drive the fuck away. Go at least more than 100 mph and race to the pound. Dogs are always great for crazy people like you, and you hear characters in your head. I think you’re certified to handle a dog. Grab the cutest one and throw it in the back. Don’t forget: paying is for normal people and you are obviously not one of them. You are a god, and by being a god, you should get a dog for free. Simple logic. Ignore the screaming and crying and continue to drive.

6.) Stop by a sex toy shop.

It has the word “toy” in it, so what’s wrong with that? Bring the child in with you for extra points. Don’t worry about the strange looks you will get. Fuck them. By now, you should believe you are a god, so forget about them. Ask if they have a booth in the back and if they do, ask if they could watch the kid while you go there.

7.) Now to the police!

Gods are above the law, so don’t even think that you’ll get in trouble. Drop the child off and tell the cop, “I found this kid rolling around in my backseat. I thought maybe you’d want to keep her.” Then drive away like Hell’s minions are after you. They won’t know what hit them.

8.) To Walmart (or your local convenience store that sells pretty much everything)!

Go on a rampage and let your inner writer rampage out! F. Scott Fitzgerald drank, Arthur Conan Doyle shot up, and you…well you’re ripping out pages out of notebooks and stomping on pens. But that’s okay…at least until security comes.

9.) Run!

Wow, there are a lot of exclamation points here. Anyway, run like hell! Even gods want their lowly puppets to get some excercise! Remember, Red Bull gives you wings, but now’s not the time to chug one.

10.) Hide out in the woods.

Is your heart pounding? Mine is. Seriously, you need to get into shape. You look like you’re ready to collapse. Wait by this tree for the cops to pass by. Is that a doggy? Hi, Mr.– Oh. I think he’s got you by the crotch. Yep, definitely by the crotch. I don’t think you’re supposed to bleed there.

11.) Go to the hospital!

So what, five stitches in the crotch, plus you lost all function of your lower parts? Not a bad deal, since it was a German Shepherd. Those things have the second worst bite in the whole dog world.

We need to work on your whole hiding deal. Seriously. That tree was obviously too small to hide behind. Next time, find a redwood. Geez, it’s like you’ve never watched Cops before.

12.) Go to court!

I am not going to be your lawyer, I promise you that. You got off easy. So what if you got charged with kidnapping, DUI, destruction of property, and evading the police? Some people murder, and you’re going to find out what those people are like. Isn’t that what being a writer is all about?

13.) No excuses!

Now you have 5-10 years of writing ahead of you. See? I made time just for you. Be happy. Some people never get to live out their dreams. Also, have fun being a prison bitch. You can now accurately portray that criminal character you always wanted to write about. See? I’m always helping you out.

I think I should add that if you seriously follow my advice, then please send me an email about how it all goes. And yes, I procrastinated in writing this. Hence, the idea. But seriously, don’t follow my advice. You see where you’ll will end up!

A Review: Boys Next Door

Spoilers: This is graphic, angsty and will most likely make even the most cold hearted person cry. Believe me, I cried at the end of this. So yes, it is a tragedy.

I was originally going to reviewDemon Flowers, but I honestly got bored with it. Writing the review of course, I already read that series. This manga fascinated me though. After all, I’m honestly in love with killers.The iguanas made it better though.

Kaori Yuki is a good artist, and her style is nice. It does remind me of a more 1990′s to early 2000′s style but this was published in 1997, so I have no room to complain. The art is pleasing to the eye and does not throw off the story. I would have preferred it if Lawr (Lawrence) would have looked a bit more manly and less like a Justin Bieber transvestite, but by now I’m used to those things in the yaoi genre.

Did I say yaoi?

Yes, this is a male homosexual manga, and if you have a problem with it, kiss my nonexistent dick. Seriously, kiss it. You know you want to.

Moving on, I’m going to discuss the characters and the plot line, revealing a few spoilers as I go.

Adrian is a killer. Boom, there you go. I ruined the first few pages for you. He kills a male prostitute in the beginning. If I explained why, then a few chapters would be ruined, so I’ll leave you in suspense.

The most interesting thing to me is that Adrian is a teacher, a grade school teacher. He takes care of this brat child named Vicky. She’s cute, but kind of looks like a boy. Kaori needs to work on child drawings. Vicky feeds Adrian’s pet iguana, Wolfy, and I won’t attempt to get on that.

The beginning starts off with Adrian killing some prostitute. He brutally murders them, then blindfolds them for no apparent reason. (I said, you need to read to find out.) He drops Wolfy’s tag (like a dog collar) and leaves it there for Lawr to find.

Ah, Lawrence, the angel in my dreams. Just kidding, but he’s definitely on my list of cute things. He is a male prostitute, no surprise there. He finds the tag and hunts down Adrian, who totally freaks the fuck out when he sees him there.

He’s not the psychopath of my dreams…

Anyway, they strike up an agreement that Adrian will get Lawr the fuck out of the whorehouse he stayed in, and Lawr wouldn’t tell the police about him. That’s all fine and dandy, isn’t it?

It never is.

I was horrified the first time I read it. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I was in love with it, but Adrian repulsed me a bit. I didn’t understand any of it.

So I reread it a few weeks ago. I fell in love again. It was simply wonderful to me. I wanted a story like that. I wanted to thank this author and tell her that she inspired me. It was beautiful.

Now read it. My will has better be done, goddamn it.

Mata ashita!

-Mello

PS: It’s raining outside. Is it like that anywhere else? I’m honestly curious. I was going to skip lunch and walk to the gas station (I’m not supposed to do that), but it started storming and I can’t exactly get sick  before Saturday. So yeah, I’m writing a post script now. It’ll pass the time….slowly.

And this post is super awesome. Just saying~

The Misadventures of the Misfortunate Misfits: Part One

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Once upon a time, like all of the best stories start, there were twelve kingdoms. These twelve kingdoms ruled in peace and harmony. Yes, unicorns traveled between each kingdom as cotton candy clouds floated above. The people, understandably loved it. After all, the international chocolate river was simply to die for. Anybody would want peace for that.

That is, unless you are King Magnus of the Sal Spring Kingdom. But I doubt you are King Magnus because you are reading this and not in the story. Unless this works like a window, which in that case, HELLO KING MAGNUS!

Moving on.

The Kingdom of Sal Springs was the most turbulent of the kingdoms, but that did not say much. There were no murderers on the loose, no executions for the past 500 years, no rapists, and no angry mobs. The most serious crime commited was stealing, and it was usually overlooked. There were still a good amount of beggars around, and no one was willing to deprive them of food. Again, the people enjoyed the peace, especially between the social classes.

All except King Magnus. King Magnus hated the peace. He wanted to lead his kingdom through a war and win it. He wanted to be remembered as the Great Magnus, like his great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, not as the king who really didn’t do anything except hoard money, like his father. He wanted to be the knight in the fairy tales, saving his homelamd from evil dragons and wicked witches from the Western kingdoms. He did not sign up for a marathon of the Brady Bunch. It sickened him.

But he had a plan. It wasn’t particularly devious, but it would ease his boredom. He would finally get to play that hero he’s always wanted to.

Two guards opened the doors of the unused War Room and bowed to their king.

“G’day to you sire. We have captured the Theif of Olven, just as you have requested,” the brunette guard said.

The Scottish accent gave him a headache. He wasn’t even sure where Scotland was, but that repulsive accent made him want to obliterate the entire continent. King Magnus waved his hand and willed the headache to fly away. “Yes, yes, thank you Mark. Luke, release him and bring him inside. After that, go get a cookie from the cook. There’ll be a bonus in your paycheck for this.”

The redhead grinned and led a boy inside the room. He gave a low bow and shut the door behind him.

The boy definitely came from the slums of Olven. His clothes were mismatched and tattered, making the boy look even more like a hobo. The only thing that made him appear otherwise was the electric blue hair.

Why had it taken his guards twelve days to find him? It wasn’f as if he was that unnoticeable! That blue hair would stick out of any crowd!

He really needed to get new guards, preferably ones without Scottish accents.

King Magnus rose and faced this great *snort* theif. “Hello young man, I am your king–”

“Yeah, yeah, cut to the chase, old man.” The boy leaned against the doorway and eyed the king with defiance. “So what, you caught me. Tell me what I’ve gotta do to ‘better myself for society.’ Let’s get this over with, man.”

Ah, teenage defiance. King Magnus once had that too. Now, all he had was a midlife crisis and damn right he was going to put that to some good use.

“What is your name, boy?” he asked.

“Pawk.”

The king clicked his tongue. “I need your full name, boy, not some nonesense you made up on the spot,” he said.

Pawk scowled. “I’m Pawk. Just that. Pawk of Dalten Street if you have to know, but keep that name in your head, Mr. High-n-Mighty.”

That’s my name and don’t wear it out, the king thought. He shook his head and scowled. He must not show himself as a real person. He must seem like…God! “You will report to me in two days time. If you fail, then I will punish you greatly.”

Pawk snorted. “You wouldn’t punish me.”

The king glared. “I would,” he said. He gave him the most menacing glare he could muster, but he just looked constipated.

Which he wasn’t. No, good ole King Magnus went to the restroom too much to be constipated. He ate his fiber daily, thank you very much.

Pawk laughed. “Whatever man. I’ll meet you back. Just try eating a can of prunes once in a while, ‘kay?” The boy walked out the door, fiddling with his eyepatch as he did.

King Magnus was left to feel worse. “Does it really look that way?” he asked himself. He turned to the mirror and gave his best “angry” face. “No, I think I look quite menacing,” he decided with a grin.

And that’s where he stayed for an hour. Not that you need to know. All you need to do is sit there and wait. For what? I’m not quite sure. I’m not in King Magnus’s head all the damn time. Just grab some popcorn for me too while you’re going. Narrators got to eat, you know?

Hello~ How’s the new layout? You like it? Tell me your opinion on the first chapter too! And the picture above is by mwah! Enjoy~

Love Hurts

So I am going to freely say that I am hurt right now. Seriously.

Love hurts.
Love scars
Love wounds and mars
Any heart.

So what? I’m a bit wounded right now. It always hurts when you hear that the love of your very short life fell in love with someone else. Especially if it’s someone you completely made up in order to not seem like a crazy person when you talked to yourself.

Ouch.

So he is character in a book I wrote, but I started trying to act like him. So I told my crush about him and she totally thought he was real. She fell in love with him by what I said, so I set up a fake email for her to talk to him.  So what if she fell in love with him, whom I was pretending to be.

I’m a horrible person. I know that. But cut me some slack will you? I’m in love with this girl and she prefers my fictional character over me.

I can’t wait to enlist in the army now.

Wait, there’s a story?

I’m a rather pathetic writer. Right now I’m forcing myself to finish fifteen pages before the weekend ends and then work on editing another. So pathetic indeed. However, I cannot resist starting up another. Yes, you may shoot me now. I have a wandering eye, but at least I’m more loyal to my stories than to my women.

Wow. That made me sound really bad.

So when are you going to see this supposed story I plan to post every week? Probably on Tuesday, my busiest night of the week. Hey, it might give me some incentive to actually do my homework before it’s due. I hope so anyway.

You will definitely see pictures of the characters for each chapter, since I am a lovely artist and want to work on my mad skills.

You aren’t supposed to laugh, you know?

So yeah. Oh, and I haven’t cussed yet. WHAT NOW MOTHERFUCKERS!

So expect a chapter every week.

Dehna hunu!

-Mello.

Shit My Mother Says: Why Explaining to Your Parents What A Writer Does Is A Really Bad Idea

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My mother is a wonderful person. She is. She understands a lot about what I talk about, even the teenage angst. However there are a few things that are out of her depth and it shows when she talks. Oh, small town living has made her ignorant of a lot of things that are important to me. That’s why I tend to leave her out of many many things.

The other day I got the courage to tell my mother that no, I did not want to be a doctor or whatever she wants me to be. She looked at me as if I were nuts.

“Well, what do you want to be then?”

“Um, I want to, um, be a writer.” Yeah, I’m rather shy around my parents. It’s for a good cause. If I was normal around them, they would probably have a heart attack.

“A writer? But that’s so easy. All you do is write up a story and give it to a publisher. You need something that challenges you.”

“Well that’s not all. I have to edit it and–”

“No you don’t. That’s what editors do.”

Yes, this is what wakes me up at night and slam my head into a wall repeatedly. Don’t even try to argue with my all-knowing mother. I’ve tried and failed many times. Even though I’m the one who wrote three research papers on writers. Yep. I absolutely know nothing.

Well, what do you hear about writers that frustrate you? Any suggestions?

Wir sehen uns später kleine Vogel!

-Mello

Baby Writers

Profile of the Baby Writer

Name: Baby Writers
Age: Between 6 and 18
Address: Still with their parents
Main Characteristics: Too young for any legal contract.
Problems: A whole lot.

To keep it brief, Baby Writers are pretty awesome. They have their whole lives ahead. They can do whatever the hell they want…and yet they chose writing. What a miserable life they will have.

Baby Writers are not Fledglings. Fledglings are the ones who are just starting out right now. Bah to them. There will be a different post for them. So go away little Fledgling. This is for the Baby Writers.

Baby Writers have been writing for a while now. They have built up a bit of experience with writing for people or the web. It’s not as if they are super new to this. They know the editing process, writer’s block, inspiration, all of the above for most writers.

They do not have money problems.

These are teenagers who have been writing their whole lives tend not to have money problems. Duh. Do you remember when you were living with your parents? You had no problems with getting the bills paid or putting food on the table. Your parents did all of that. Your job was to go to school and find a part time job to pay for that car that you absolutely MUST have.

Baby Writers are similar to that. Their problems don’t revolve around money. They have issues with time.

Time is very valuable to a writer. We all have the same 24 hours in a day. Most are able to find a way around it to write for at least one hour a day.

Baby Writers have a problem with that.

Don’t give me any bullshit about having it easy and how we don’t have to work. That is bolshevek I tell you, bolshevek! In the United States, I am required to go to school five days a week for seven and a half hours each day. Never mind that out of those hours, I have at least an assignment in every class each day. Work doesn’t make you bring it home. School does.

Last night I stayed up until 1:00 am working on math homework. Of course, I had to take breaks every now and then, but I didn’t exactly have the time to write for an hour afterwards. Students are required to finish their homework,  unless they want to repeat the grade until they’re eighteen. This is the dilemma most Baby Writers face this every day.

Thank goodness for the weekends, right?

Another thing a Baby Writer must face is the pulling force between their writing and their family. This is something most writers will face when it comes to more controversial subjects. Still, an of-age writer can still publish his shit without anyone’s goddamn permission.

Ha! Good luck to you, Baby Writer!

You have to have parental permission before signing any contract, which can be an issue, especially if your parents discourage writing. So the most you can do there is just sit on the manuscript and wait for it to hatch when you turn 18. Hey, it’ll give you something new to write about.

The final issue with Baby Writers is that, when they shed their Baby-ness for full-time gigs, they have no clue about the business. They are screwed in that department. Why? They had no reason to know. Their parents  took care of it all before, so why should they start now?

To sum it up:

Baby Writers are not Fledglings. That’s another post.

Baby Writers do not have problems with money; it’s time and family for them.

Enjoy the first (official) post of the month. I will definitely try to write more to help people out. Your thoughts and suggestions are always welcome. Leave them down in the comments and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

By the way, this post is endorsed by the team called AWESOME, which you will learn about tomorrow.

~Mello.

April and a new theme!

March is gone and the horror along with it. This month’s theme shall be young writers! Why? Well, why the hell not? I’m a teen writer, so I feel I should take some responsibility for the whole group and help out with some things I have learned. Plus it can be fun!

Sorry for the lack of posts last week, as I was working. If anyone is looking for nursery or bedroom decor, look up Kenna’s Kisses on FaceBook. Those people will get you really cool stuff to put on your walls. My friend, G, sent me pictures of the stuff her cousins make and they are awesome.

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Anyway, moving on. Expect a new post tomorrow, but there shall be no manga reviews this week. I haven’t had time to read any new ones. Hopefully I’ll stay up all night to write my book.

Good bye everyone!

-Mello

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