#parody recipe

[neodafloof555]

The simplest tasks (cleaning day)

Lets take a moment to appreciate what day it is

That day of week is here again

Unless the week is quite eventful or it is spring 

In which case we are spring cleanin

I'm pretty sure that all of these are things i need to do

but i don't want to when procrastination on the move 

Its just a build up list of all my chores and little jobs

By noon i should have nothing more

Than just mopping up the living room floor

No longer cleaning out the cabinet shelves 

Just the pantry and some dishes and flasks

I had some things upon my list but i am crossing out the simplest tasks

Dont need a break just clean

Dont ne- (do you need a minute?)

Dont need a break just clean and scrub until the bathroom shines

And maybe we can shine as well

I need a shower

I need a shower 

I am more aware of the dirt in my house than anywhere else

And yeah

I am so busy when it does come up, this cleaning day

But it never leaves my mind 

Cause the list of chores are building up every day

it grows until there's so much more 

Than just mopping up the living room floor

No longer cleaning out the cabinet shelves 

Just the pantry and some dishes and flasks

I had some things upon my list but i

I am not sure where i should start

The laundry, dishes, pantry, shelf, or garage 

As far as im aware, its gonna fill my day

Gonna fill my day

I think its all i'm gonna do today, alright

This dryer is filled with the laundry of

All the pieces i have ever washed

Wise men clean on days no one else is 

While the rest of us settle for what we got 

This dryer is filled with the laundry of

All the pieces i have ever washed

Wise men clean on days no one else is 

While the rest of us settle for what we got 

Oh, This dryer is filled with the laundry of

All the pieces i have ever washed

Wise men clean on days no one else is 

(While the rest of us settle for what we got)

The rest of us settle for what we got

[thebluescarf]

Pucca and Garu "sign" chat

I've been binge watching Pucca: Love Recipe before it left Netflix US at the end of June, after that, I watched Adventure Time, then I got the idea of a scene from the episode "Shh!".

Here's the clip from that episode

[exponentialb-zukas]

u look like a guy who can make good bbq ribs. drop the recipe

Beef ribs Recipe

-20g Salt -20g Whole Black pepper -20g Onion Powder -Ribs, 300g for single portion Grind Salt and Black pepper together, mix in onion powder, Rub it on the ribs Warp your ribs in aluminium foil, put in the Oven for 2 hours at around 130-150C Take the ribs out and let it rest for an hour

If you got a smoker then I'd personally use Oak for better smokey flavor. You'd want to smoke it for 3 hours while flipping every 30 minutes or so before putting it in the oven. Happy?

[whorejolras]

hey don't cry. two grams of ground weed, rolling papers and a little cardboard tip. roll it up. now you have a joint. should be a big fatty too. smoke it. you'll be okay :)

[russell-crowe]

one day i might actually write an essay on russells relationship with masculinity and (over-)performing masculinity in his search for his own identity during the 90s till about the mid zeroes

[beaver-springs-broadcast]

garlic sandwhich recipe

hear me out

hey beaver truthers, your pal bb here. so recently i found myself in a very odd situation, one which im sure you read about in my previous post. now upon a lot of other things that i detailed earlier, im sure yall remember my odd sudden appearance in the beaver dam diner, and the bizarre concoction that i recalled eating. now, i know a garlic sandwhich SOUNDS like a disgusting wet dream of wario’s, but surprisingly, i found out that the thing was actually pretty damn tasty. when I went back for dinner, i asked the chef how they managed to make my innane request both edible and delicious. here is the recipe for those who asked:

ingredience:

garlic confit:

-1.5 cups or more of olive or grapeseed oil 

-3 heads of garlic 

-salt and pepper

-fresh basil leaves 

-bay leaves 

-tyme 

-any other spices or seasonings you want (optional)

sandwhich:

-two pieces of bread, toasted 

-cream cheese

-basil leaves 

-salt

ok so what youre gonna wanna do for the garlic thing is get a big deep saucepan, and fill that bad boy up with the oil. then put in all of your garlic, out of the skin and whatnot, and the herbs and the spices you want. then comes the long part, put the whole saucepan in the oven for like roughly 200 hundred degrees for 2 hours or more. you’re looking for a golden brown. when you take it out you would be able to smush it easily with a fork, that’s how you’ll know you have the right consistency. this part obviously takes a while, so it’s easy to just prep this ahead of time if need be. that’s what they do in the kitchen, anyways. it can last up to 2 weeks in the fridge.

last and best part is this is the sandwhich itself. put a generous amount of cream cheese onto your toast slices, and then sprinkle it with dried basil leaves (or fresh, if you have it) and salt. crush about 3-5 cloves of garlic onto on of the pieces. you can add more to the sandwhich if ya want, i bet a slice of tomato or something would do nicely, but don’t overdue it because the garlic is a very strong undertone. put the pieces of toast together, cut down the middle, and boom! garlic sandwich! i highly recommend this recipe despite how it sounds. you’re gonna have to do what you do a lot in this blog and just trust my word for it. seriously a 10/10 savoury sandwich, very rich. give it a go sometime 

anyway, that’s all for today, expect regular posts sometime soon. have a good one, and stay skeptic out there

-bb

[random-jot]

Italy. Naples. 1974.

The summer had been hotter than any I remembered, with a heavy helping of tropical storms, more’n usual. And the weather wasn’t the only thing that was turbulent that year.

Tensions had been running high for a while between the Morettis and the Carusos. The area had its fair sure of law enforcemen and whatnot to be sure, but everyone knew it was those two families who ran the show. Their mob affiliations were the worst kept secret around town.

Most of the local police were either too used to it, too corrupt, or too apathetic to do anything about it. Each faction conducted their business, the police stayed in their lane and everyone tried not to get in anybody else’s way. I guess there was some sort of equilibrium that had been struck, a peace of a kind. But that peace, boy was it fragile, and soon enough the chips in that glass turned to cracks.

It all to came to a head on August 5th of that year, one of those tropical storms I mentioned tearing up the joint, and hell, it wasn’t the only one. That night the two families opened fire at each other, out in the street and plain to see for anyone. Members on both sides died, not to mention the innocents who got caught in the crossfire. A massacre. No other word for it, a massacre, that’s what it was.

I was a young cop at the time, a rookie through and through. Up until then my most impressive collars had been shoplifters, loitering teens and the odd mugger here and there, if I was lucky. I was torn in a way; sure, I wanted bigger cases to prove my worth but this was the mob for Pete’s sake. I hadn’t tangled with anything remotely like this before. Still, I figured they’d brought me in for a reason. Maybe someone high up saw potential in me. Didn’t want to let ‘em down.

I remember it like yesterday. I was sat in a small café, overlooking the harbour, going over the notes for the case, the intricate complexities, the inter-family politics, wrapping my head around what had happened and what we could do about it. I don’t usually order desert at those kinda places, but hell, there were a lot of files to look at so I thought I may as well, give myself some more time to mull it all over.

That’s when it all clicked. That first mouthful of tiramisu. Not only was it a much needed moment of levity in a time of darkness and death, but it also reawakened a childhood passion of mine. A passion that burned far brighter than my love of detective work, a passion for honest baking. From that moment on I knew I was in the wrong line of work. I switched careers, traded in the badge for the apron, and lived happily and peacefully ever since.

All thanks to that one bite of tiramisu.

For this recipe you will need:

400ml double cream

250f mascarpone

75ml marsala

5 tbsp golden caster sugar

300ml coffee…

[haus-mom]

i inmediately thought "soup" because i've been burdened by a similar cross myself

wh. wha t was the gangnam style baby an ad for

I went to the trouble of downloading this so you wouldnt get spoiled by the youtube video title

[histhoughtslately]

Dinner’s at 8: 😉

#foodporn

[kugelbombed]

small psa : the marble hornets cheesecake joke was never about fat shaming Tim.

for those who don't know, the joke originally came from a youtube video called "cooking with totheark", a parody video where all the codes in the video translated to a recipe for a key lime pie. somewhere along the way it got mistranslated to cheesecake, and somehow the fandom came up with the idea that it was to fat shame Tim.

it was infact not! btw watch "cooking with totheark" I laughed annoyingly loud at it.

[levshany]

keep developing Blindos concept

more info and thoughts under the cut

1 pic. hands are obviously the most important instrument of interaction of Belos with the outside world. Hunter had watched his uncle long enough to realize that even without eyesight, Belos could still function properly. he knows all the basic recipes for the potions he needs by heart, and if he needs to subtract something from the book, then he asks Hunter or the Collector. Belos knows where what thing he has, measures the right amount of raw materials with medical accuracy, and he has no problems even with drawing glyphs, because he prepared stencils for himself in advance and developed kind of his own Braille alphabet

2,3 pics. every self-respecting artist should at least once in their life make a parody of art from the Vocaloid song "ECHO"

4 pic. if in the original series Belos allowed himself to fool around during the battle with Luz, then in this AU the chances between them are about the same, and the fight is more tense because of that. Belos would use hearing and magic to figure out Luz’s location and Luz would have to do everything possible to prevent Belos from hearing her.

5. oof

also hey you found a sketch

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hi!! I love your writing!!!!! Could I request some totally self indulgent headcanons or a small Drabble/fic? Ford x reader on their birthday! It’s my birthday in a few weeks and I just really want my fictional man there 😭😂 but I thought I’d ask early in case your inbox was full! Thank you! ❤️

when the scientist loves you | Ford Pines x reader

hii angel, happy birthday!! ♡ i hope your day is as lovely as you are, may this year bring you endless inspiration, happy moments and everything your heart desires! ♡ ♡ ♡

tags: birthday, fluff, sfw, established relationship

Ford's voice carries softly from the kitchen, muttering as he reads measurements off an old recipe card. You sit at the table, watching the back of his head tilt toward the stovetop. The apron Mabel gave him, the one with "may the fork be with you" scribbled across the front in obnoxious block letters, look ridiculously cute tied over his sweater.

“You look very dignified in that, professor,” you tease, propping your chin on your hand.

Ford turns his head to shoot you a dry look, though there’s a tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Sweetheart, you know, my culinary doctorate doesn’t let me cook in anything else.” he teases you back.

You laugh and Ford straightens a little, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his wrist.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you look at the table where a neatly folded napkin waits beside a single glass of wine. “it’s just a birthday.”

He glances over his shoulder, his face expression changes into serious one. “Just a birthday?” he repeats incredulously. “this is the day the universe decided to grace existence with you. The fact that you think it’s ‘just’ anything is absurd.”

You're staring at him in silence right now because, to be honest, you can't find the right words to respond to such a compliment. And as if satisfied with your surprised cute face, Ford turns back to the stovetop, missing the way your lips press together to suppress a smile.

“Besides,” he adds, stirring whatever’s in the pan, “i’ve run calculations. The probability of me burning this is well below fifteen percent.”

“Comforting.” your answer makes Stanford smirk, but he keeps his focus on his work.

Minutes later, he places the plate in front of you with both satisfaction and concern on his face. “honesty, no pressure, but if it’s terrible, i might die of shame. . .”

You roll your eyes at your husband because how does a man that smart always doubt and criticize himself?

Taking a bite, your lips turn into smile, the taste becomes warm and pleasant, pulling a hum of approval from your chest. “Ford, this is amazing?”

He exhales with relief and pulls out the chair beside you. “Good, i wasn’t sure if the seasoning would—”

“You’re incredible,” you interrupt and Ford stops mid-sentence as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Believe me, my love, you deserve nothing less.”

You eat together and at one point, he picks up the fork himself, offering you another bite. Once the plates are cleared, he stands abruptly, holding out his hand. “Lets go, sweetheart.”

“Where?” you ask, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You’ll see.” you barely have time to grab your coat before he’s leading you toward the door. His six fingered hand feels so warm in yours as you step outside into the cool air. “Close your eyes,” he says, and when you hesitate, he squeezes your hand. “trust me.”

You huff but obey, curling your fingers against his. Ford proudly guides you through the woods as he starts talking enthusiastically. “You know, if we were walking blindfolded through the quantum multiverse instead of this forest, you’d have a thirty-five percent chance of stepping into a dimension where time runs backward.”

You grin, keeping your eyes closed. “Fascinating.” you're parodying his catchphrase. “should i be worried about that here?”

“Unlikely,” he deadpans, though you can hear the smirk in his tone. “but if you hear an oscillating sound, let me know immediately.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously well-prepared.” some minutes later the ground beneath your feet changes texture, the soft crunch of dirt giving way to grass, and Ford’s pace slows.

“Are we there yet?” you ask impatiently.

“Almost, darling. Okay, stop. You can open your eyes.” you hesitate, preparing yourself before letting your eyelids flutter open. The sight in front of you makes you gasp.

Ahead of you, nestled in the clearing, is a flower that glows, it's long and translucent petals, curved outward, are made of the thinnest glass. Luminous veins, similar in color to silver, pulsate through them. The center shimmers with different colors, like the aurora borealis trapped in a single bloom.

“Ford. . .” you take a step forward, the damp grass pressing under your shoes, but you can’t look away. You turn your head slightly, glancing at him. Ford is staring at the flower too, the bright light from the flower is reflected in his glasses, but his expression isn’t the detached curiosity he usually wears while talking about his discoveries. It’s different now, gentler.

“A luminaria eximia,” Ford explains, predicting your question. “it’s rare, very rare, it only blooms under specific conditions.”

“You brought me here to see this?”

“Of course,” he replies with intonation as if the question confuses him. “you deserve extraordinary things.”

Your chest tightens and the tears you’ve been holding back sting at the edges of your vision. You don’t want him to see, don’t want to ruin the moment with your sudden wave of overwhelming emotion, so you turn away and close the space between you and him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest.

Ford stiffens, caught off guard by your reaction. Did he do something wrong? That's his first reaction, worry and concern for you, but then he relaxes, settling his hands settling your back, hugging you too. The time he spent with you made him know exactly what to do without you needing to ask and explain.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, leaning down. “now what’s this?”

You shake your head, tightening your arms around him. “You—” you hate how your voice trembles, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

Ford chuckles. “sweetheart, of course i did, i wanted to.”

You lift your head slightly, still not letting him see your face, and his hand moves to your chin, tilting it upward until you have no choice but to meet his attentive gaze.

“You deserve this,” his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek. “you deserve everything.” his words unravel you completely and he must see it because his brows knit together with concern before softening again. His six-fingered hands cup your face gently, treating you like his precious artifact he’s vowed to protect. “you mean so much to me, i don’t know how else to say it except—”

But you don’t let him finish. You lean up, standing on your toes to close the small distance between you, and kiss him. The first reason is just because you want to, and the second is because that smartass needs to shut up with his touching speeches before you flood the whole field with your tears. Ford freezes for a moment, startled, but then his hands find your face and he deepens it carefully, afraid of breaking the moment.

You don’t know how long you stay like that because you're ready to spend eternity with his lips on yours, kissing you slowly, so sensually, softly, so damn tenderly, trying to memorize the shape of your mouth while his thumbs moving in slow arcs over your cheeks.

When you finally pull back, his hair ruffled from your hands, Ford looks at you as though you’ve just rewritten the laws of the universe. “oh, you really do have a way of surprising me.” he raises his eyebrows.

“Takes one to know one,” the corner of your mouth lifting as you run your finger over his jawline.

He laughs at that and after one last lingering glance at the luminous flower, he takes your hand again. “come on,” his voice changes into more teasing. “i haven’t even given you your present yet.”

“This wasn’t it?” you ask, gesturing back toward the flower as he starts to lead you out of the clearing.

“No, this was. . . an extra. A bonus, if you will.”

“Ah, an extra,” you repeat teasingly. “you’re ridiculous, Stanford Pines.”

“You already said that.”

By the time you step inside the Mystery Shack, the lingering chill of the evening has melted away. The warm glow of the lamps greets you and Ford’s hand lingers on yours before he releases it. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. You follow suit, watching as he rubs his hands together nervously, before giving you a soft lopsided smile.

“Wait here for a moment!” and though you’re still glowing from the earlier surprises, his tone piques your curiosity again. He disappears, leaving you standing there, before you can ask any questions.

When your husband returns, he’s holding a small wooden box, polished as though he carved it himself. Its edges are rounded and there’s a mark burned into the top: his initials, alongside yours.

“This,” and for all his brilliance, his voice sounds so nervous as he holds it out to you. “this is for. . . you.”

You take the box carefully and lift the lid. Inside, on a piece of dark fabric, is a necklace. No, calling it a necklace doesn’t do it justice. It’s far more otherworldly, the pendant a swirling prism of beautiful colors that change, reminding you of the starlight caught in a bottle.

You stare at it, not daring to find the words.

“It’s called a crystallite shard,” Ford explains again. “i found it on one of my expeditions. It only exists in one dimension and it’s said to reflect the thoughts of the person wearing it. Not their memories exactly, but their essence, in a way.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “Ford. . .”

“I thought,” he continues, “that if anyone deserved to have something so unique and unrepeatable, it would be you.”

You’re speechless, brushing your finger over the pendant as it gleams under the light of the Mystery Shack.

And before you can say something, ”b-but that’s not all,” Ford gestures to the box. You tilt it slightly and see another layer beneath the fabric: a small, intricately detailed wooden charm, shaped like a constellation. More simple compared to the necklace, but so beautiful in its own way.

“I carved that,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s. . . it’s the constellation we saw the first time we stargazed together. I wanted you to have something from me, personally.”

Your heart swells and before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around his neck, clutching him tightly. “Ford, you didn’t have to. This is. . . this is so perfect.”

Stanford smiles softly, wrapping his arms around you. “you deserve perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you deserve more than I could ever give, darling.”

“This is more than enough,” you pull back to look into his eyes.

Ford akes the necklace from the box. “May i?” what a damn gentleman, you think and nod, turning around as he drapes it carefully around your neck. When he’s finished, you touch the pendant lightly, marveling at the way it seems to shift with your movements. “It suits you, matches your beautiful eyes.” he just stands there and can't stop admiring you.

You both end up on the couch not long after, wrapped in the softest blanket he could find. Ford's arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you against him. But some time later, blanket is forgotten as his hands desperately, but gently explore every part of you they can reach, your back, your arms, the curve of your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ford brushes his lips against your hair. “i hope you know that.”

You laugh. “well, you tell me often enough.”

“Not often enough,” he says firmly, cupping your cheek. “i don’t think i could ever say it enough or show you enough. You're everything i don’t deserve but can’t let go of.”

“Ford—” you start, but he doesn’t let you speak, kissing you, stealing the words from your mouth. Ford tilts your head gently, threading his long fingers into your hair as the kiss grows with aching intensity, damn, he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, clutching at him.

“Every time i touch you, i can’t believe you’re real.” he breathes out between kisses, trailing his lips down to your jaw, then your neck. He pauses there, pressing another kiss just below your ear. “your skin,” his hands trace the line of your shoulders. “so warm, i could stay like this forever.”

You can’t even reply, not when he’s kissing you like this, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

Then he leans back only to take your hands in his, bringing them to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “these hands, they’ve done so much. They’ve built a life for us, cared for me in ways i never thought i’d experience again. They’re precious to me.” you bite your lower lip when his mouth finds the delicate skin of your wrists. “and this heart,” he presses his lips where your pulse beats steadily. “so full of love, so generous, i’m in awe of it every single day.”

“So beautiful, every part of you. I could spend a lifetime just looking at you, touching you, loving you. I just love you, love you so much it terrifies me sometimes.”

You can’t find the words to respond, so you just lean into him, burying your face in his neck as he holds you. His hands never stop moving, caressing and holding you, trying to reassure himself that you’re here, that you’re his. Because you damn deserve to be cherished, every inch of you deserves to be kissed, to be loved. And Ford Pines will spend the rest of his life making sure you know that.

“Come here, darling, closer, need you closer,” he pulls you deeper into his embrace, his lips are on you again, kissing your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. You giggle when he presses another kiss to your temple, then to your ear. “do you know how long i’ve waited to hold you like this? to touch you, to love you? it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but he doesn’t stop, cradling your face in both hands. “youre extraordinary, every part of you. your mind, your heart, your body. I don’t know how i got so lucky, but i’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you. You're everything to me and i’ll spend every day reminding you of that. Happy birthday, darling, thank you for letting me love you.” Ford kisses you until you’re dizzy, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to keep up.

[creekwritersblood]

Today I would like to talk about the various kind of Authors that fits the category Writers.

Feature Writer: Usually is the one who write articles on magazines or newspapers.

Novelist: The one who writes Novels of any genre from Horror, to Romantic.

Poet: The one who writes poems about any topic in its mind.

Blogger: The one who writes Blogs.

Screenwriter: The one who writes the Screenplay for movies, TV Series, video games including acting instructions and scene directions.

Stage writer: The one who writes a Theatre play.

FanFiction writer: The one who writes about Fandoms.

Short Stories writer: The one who mainly write short stories.

Copywriter: The one who writes texts for advertisements or Publicity material.

Starting from this definitions, actually all of those can be considered Writers because to write each and every kind of thing like that Imagination, Knowledge, Studies and Research are needed. In whatever field you will write, you will always find those common elements and here’s why:

Imagination: Is needed because whatever you will write about, a True Crime or a Review of a certain book, you need to visualize the facts happened in a certain situation; if you cannot visualize those yourself, how your reader is suppose to? So this is fundamental, at least to me, I mean, if I read a True Crime article I need to know what happened and if I can see it in my head it can sort out a better reaction.

Knowledge: Know the topic you will write about. To start, write about things you know to have a better come-out.

Studies and Research: Glossaries will be your bestfriends on your travel in the topic you will talk about in your article/book. It doesn’t matter what you will write about, is always adviced to research a bit of words for the specific topic to be more precise and have a better know-how to explain certain things to your reader.

The sub-categories:

Feature Writer:

True Crime: disappearance, murder, or sexual assault, or the collective acts of a single criminal, such as a serial killer.

The first rule to apply to write about True Crime stories for Articles or Books is Do Not Lie on facts. True Crime Stories are something Serious and they MUST be Respected from head to toe. If you want to write about a True crime story, is it an article or an entire Novel, never forget to pay respect for the victims and respect the story itself without changing it. You must be the storyteller, the one who tells facts and keep the reader with you in the travel from the first letter to the last closing dot.

Lighter Topics: There are a lot of things you can write about.

You can write articles on food, writing, design, products to buy, products to NOT buy, everything you can think about, can be written down.

Specific Topics: You can write about specific topics like Medical issues, College issues, Hair styles, As for lighter topics, Everything you can think about can be written down.

Novelist:

Fiction: The one who writes about a non-real fact, or at least, takes inspiration on something really happen, but not related to reality.

Action and adventure, Fantasy: as the words say, they can be set in an unexisting World completely created from the Writer himself, or can take place in real places with fictional Creatures and Characters.

Comedy: Usually is a fiction full of fun, meant to entertain the reader itself and cause him a luaghter as the lines goes on. It can be part of other genres too like Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Parody and many others.

Crime and mystery: Usually Crimes and Mysteries created by the Writer himself.

Horror: Stories intended to pass a shiver to the reader, transporting him into a world, real or fictional, filled with monsters and Creatures that usually are the antagonists.

Sci-Fi: Stories placed into fictional worlds populated by extraterrestrial creatures and spieces.

Recipes: They can be created taking inspiration from the real world, creating fictional stories around those

Non Finction: The one who writes about real facts, existing things related to the real world.

True Crime: As for the Articles, a True Crime story is a tale where is told a real fact happened without changing the facts, with real people.

Recipes: Yes, Recipes, infact, also those kind of books can be novels, the writer can talk about plates and write about the creators of those.

Autobiography: Is a tale of the life the Writer himslef lived.

Poet:

Haiku: This kind of Poetry comes from the Western part of the world, Japan. Is usually very short (three lines) and the first and the third lines have five syllables, while the second has seven. They can be written to recall a mood or a moment.

Free verse: It is considered modern poetry, they do not follow a metrical rule and they do not have to rhyme necessarly.

Sonnet: This is a classic form of poetry, made famous mostly by William Shakespeare. Their origin is in Italy, created by Petrarch. Sonnets are typically following the scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.

Acrostic: This kind of Poem is different, because Each capital Letter of Each Line, in the end forms a Message.

Villanelle: Originated in France, it has to be composed by 19 lines, following the scheme; ABA ABA ABA ABA ABA ABAA, this type of poem only has two rhyming sounds. Plus, there is a lot of repetition throughout the villanelle. Line one will be repeated in lines six, 12 and 18; and line three will be repeated in lines nine, 15 and 19. So although this takes out the extra work of having to write 19 individual lines, the real challenge is to make meaning out of those repeated lines!

Limerick: Funy and sometimes also rude, were made popular by Edward Lear in the 19th century. They have a set rhyme scheme of AABBA, with lines one, two and five all being longer in length than lines three and four.

Ode: The ode is one of the oldest forms of poetry and believed to be born in ancient Greece. The Word ode comes from the greek word aedein wich means to sing or chant, originally were performed with musical instruments. It is written to praise a person or a Divinity, an event or a thing.

Elegy: It doesn’t have rules and have as a subject Death. Usually they are used to remember loved ones that has passed away.

Ballad: They are usually formed by four lines and follow the rhyme scheme ABAB or ABCB.

Blogger: A Blog can talk about everything you like and there is no genre to follow, let your fantasy go wild!

Screen writer and Stage writer: A play - written by the Stage Writer - is a performance while a film is a visual art.

Their main focus is Dialogue, but they differs when we start to talk about the mediums used for a play and a Screenplay; the first rely only on characters lines and is a bit more contained using only few sets, while the second use visuals and camera angles to deepen the story itself and is a bit more opened because of the use of Special effects and various sets.

FanFiction writer: FanFiction does not have rules of themselves, they give you the possibility to pull in an original Character and create a little story based on a yet affirmed fandom. Is a great exercise, because you can test your fantasy, pulling all the characters, or just one of your choice in a different AU that can be the real world, or another fandom, you can adjust those as you prefer.

This is the start of many writers and I must say is a great one.

We all have a dream in life and mine has always been become a writer, so I started writing fanfictions first and I still do at times not gonna lie -lol- I personally would advice those to initate, there are a lot of places to publish them and they can be a great opportunity to start making a name of your own.

Short Stories Writer: As the name itself, they can be written from a minimum of two pages on a maximum of ten, in my opinion, others consider a short story from a minimum of two pages to a maximum of fifty, Think each one has his own objective look on it. As for Novels they can be on everything you want Fictional or not.

Copywriter: This is something a bit different from the others, because, Copywriters usually write based on products they must sell and advertize, so there is no other genre apart the Non fiction one.

Whatever kind of Writer you want to be, don’t hold back and be it!

[swapmeetsimming]

New recipe and Cookbook Enabler up for EA! I was able to figure out the recipes, and can make them again! I didn't even cry this time! ^^; Ahem, this is Carne Asada Fries! It comes with single plate and party-size servings, custom plate, and a mini-matching clutter set! All the pictures can be found HERE in the preview post! The cookbook recipe enabler has been remade, remeshed, completely retextured. It comes with 4 swatches, each one a simlish parody of a vintage cookbook.

It is needed for any recipe of ours to be usable in-game. Please download it and read about the changes HERE.

As always all our text was made with the awesome fonts from Franzillasims!

Patreon

Kofi

[israfilskoemaslo]

A parody of the Cake recipe poster, had a lot of fun with textured brushes :3 Yeah, it's meant to be a Curly cookie. He even has hair made out of icing gelatin

Jimmy took responsibility for making cookies for his crew. Well, this doesn't seems right...

Anyway!

[skykittenpuppy]

he's having a rough time, lets hope he can figure out that recipe soon [two 3D renders of minecraft based on yogscast parodies]