#I will actually write this
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PLSASE REBLOG WITH SUGGESTIONS
SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK OR IM GONNA MAKE A MINECRAFT MOVIE SCRIPT WITH ALL THE IDEAS PEOPLE HAD ON HOW THE ACTUAL MOVIE COULD IMPROVE
im doing it
Like. Actually at this point. Every time I see the trailer I just see more I don't like. I'm making a list so I can reference it.
Before any of the actual story, the crafting recipe The guy did. That's not a recipe. What The Fuck did he make. Why. Just makes bucket. It's so easy.
also the lighting. The night time is weird and the daytime is not daytime it's "Under a bright light" time. It looks not real. Like, not even Minecraft not real. Just actually fake.
The teen girl is set up to be "The Badass Girl" with little to no personality aside from it. Give my girl some flaws and weird niece obsessions. She's like. 15. She deserves it.
The guy with the bad wig just looks so awful as a character. Like unless he turns out to be actually awesome I won't like him. He looks big bravado and I want him to be maybe still bravado but like. Healthily. He's bravado in a "No, I'm holding your hand to protect YOU" way
More black rep actually. This is three white people (as far as I can tell) and the black woman. I wanna add in a muslim character actually.
Small curly haired child will likely be the one to figure out how the world works first: they're gonna try to appeal to the Kid Is Smart trope. I want him to make mistakes. I want them all to learn.
No more Jumanji. I want them to poof into existence in somewhere treacherous and have to survive. Proper Minecraft existence
Steve is too Known for me. I want him to appear as more of a cryptid. Also he's white and that is NOT Steve. (Respect to Jack Black obviously)
Alex should appear as like. A cryptic but helpful. They see her and she leaves them a couple stacks of cobble and wood. Meanwhile they just occasionally see Steve in the nearby woods
Farlands should be included. Maybe at the end there's a scene of Steve visiting Herobrine there and saying smth like "They're ready for the truth of the dream." And Herobrine nods (maybe they recite the End Poem)
PIGLINS. They deserve better. They're being set up as villains. PIGLINS ARE NEUTRAL UNLESS YOU ATTACK THEM. I want a different story.
Maybe it's Character vs World? That feels very Minecrafty
STORYLINE: Progresses to Dragon fight which is set up as this unwinnable battle and they DO win and it ends and they get the egg. (They enter the portal back and we get the barest hint of the End Poem and it fades out before we hear it all) And they get back and are like "Well what happens next" and the ending is hopeful with them holding the Dragon egg and looking out on a new day with hope in their hearts and a project in their minds and the end screens is just them doing Minecraft things with specialties that have been set up throughout the movie.
One of them is a builder, creating incredible structures that inspire awe upon all who see it
One of them is a speedrunner, racing to beat the new world before it beats them
One of them thrives in PVP, flashing swords as the best fighter in all the universe
Another finds their place adventuring, discovering all the new things and bringing back little pieces for their friends
The last one is someone of simple pleasures, mining and farming and taking care of animals
And the final scene is one of them at a table together, eating, changed but still the same, still a family. They are wildly different but this world has opened itself to them. They are Dreamers, and all they need is within them.
#minecraft#minecraft movie#writing#stories#Look I'm rambling but the trailer inspires such great hate in me I need to do this#I will actually write this#This is my solemn oath#I want it to be a story of survival and discovery.#NOT THE FUCKING JUMANJI MOVIE 2.0#anyways#Please send me your thoughts#I will add to the list of things people need to be changed#Anyways#sleep now
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i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.
#sorry im bored of the same tags on this lmao#sometimes i think the confessional style loses impact because everything has to be excavated from the depths of the soul#and somehow. confessional writing seems to be going with the most disaffected bland sound possible. odd.#i love deeply personal songs! i love when songs sound like they mean something to the artist!#something something wider issue of mining trauma and being performatively vulnerable for quote unquote content#idk i don’t have the actual knowledge to write about this well there’s just something not landing for me recently#mine
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My biggest tip for fanfic writers is this: if you get a character's mannerisms and speech pattern down, you can make them do pretty much whatever you want and it'll feel in character.
Logic: Characters, just like real people, are mallable. There is typically very little that's so truly, heinously out of character that you absolutely cannot make it work under any circumstance. In addition, most fans are also willing to accept characterization stretches if it makes the fic work. Yeah, we all know the villain and the hero wouldn't cuddle for warmth in canon. But if they did do that, how would they do it?
What counts is often not so much 'would the character do this?' and more 'if the character did do this, how would they do it?' If you get 'how' part right, your readers will probably be willing to buy the rest, because it will still feel like their favourite character. But if it doesn't feel like the character anymore, why are they even reading the fic?
Worry less about whether a character would do something, and more about how they'd sound while doing it.
#I have a bit of a problem with giving everyone the same speech patterns but on god I try#Bc genuinely. This is the no. 1 most important thing while writing fanfic#If you can make a character sound like they would say that it doesn't matter if they actually would#My posts#Writing wise
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i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.
adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.
right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.
it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.
still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.
i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.
i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.
so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.
coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."
and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.
still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.
i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.
so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went
...oh.
and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.
so i did.
i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.
i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.
it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:
*ptooie.* "that all you got?"
i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!
but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.
my coach did not.
i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.
"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"
and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said
"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."
which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.
and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.
fine.
but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.
and then he left.
and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."
but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.
and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.
he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.
and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.
#whew boy this make me anxious just typing it#wrestling#middle school#the dread#i feel like i have to write some stories about my grandpa not being a dick#because he was actually an amazing grandpa#he just had a few goofs are very comedic moments#and you know if you're gonna have a goof making it comedic is a virtue in itself#he was there for me more than a lot of my classmates dads were#and i dont want that undervalued#yeah#babylon-lore
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Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her
#I was curious so I looked it up 1038 fics on ao3 tagged Taylor Swift and f/f#like I’m not necessarily encouraging people to go out and write rpf#but it’s wild that arguably the biggest musical artist right now who has a huge community speculating about her sexuality has so little fic#like this isn’t a good or bad thing I just think it’s interesting#idk I’m not actually a swiftie like that#like I listen to her music and keep up generally with what she’s doing but I’m not really in the fandom#so there might be something I’m missing
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When I was young my dad offhandedly told me he thought people treated fish with so much casual cruelty because fish can’t scream.
The words branded themselves across my soul.
As an adult I think he may have been joking. He payed no especial attention to any indignities fish suffered in our household but I could never forget. I saw fish in a different light after that.
Fish kept in tiny bowls, breathing their own poisons, dying by inches. Fish kept in cold tanks, casually disposed of. Fish touted as being short lived when they could outlive the better loved family dog if only they could breathe. Fish casually won and discarded in cheap plastic bags, thrown away a week later.
How they would scream, if they could.
#fish#poetry#I suppose? I dunno#animal cruelty#I’d actually love to keep fish but I’m terrified of trying to meet the needs of a creature that can’t bother me#they’re so beautiful and mistreated#writing
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applying for jobs seems to mostly consist of lying and submitting to indignities, which is whatever. but it is very difficult for me to override my innate instinct that anyone demanding i write a cover letter has insulted me so greatly that the only way to retain my honor is violence
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not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram
the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis
#this sounds like a 'argh kids these days doing [insert exaggerated story they don't actually do in reality]' kind of thing#except that I've gotten soooo many emails like this#there's a reason that I don't have my DMs open on any socmed and it's bc they attract people getting way too casual/parasocial immediately#and forcing people to write out an email both filters out 90% of weird impulse messages and also throws them out of that casual headspace#except that I can actively tell when this fails and someone is treating emails as if they're the same thing as DMs
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If you saw me agreeing with being annoyed about wasted helium in a fictional context and were like "I bet she has some more helium based anger in her life" good news LAPD fucked up a raid on a medical facility they thought was a pot farm and flat out ruined thousands of gallons of the stuff.
#Back in the day the lab I worked in went through the stuff at a hell of a rate#But that was to actually do something at least#It's also fucking humiliating that a SF paper gets to write up our cops being dipshits#I am so fucking mad about both these aspects the wasted helium and that SF gets to laugh at us#I wrote a very very angry email to my city councilor but I do that like twice a week and I don't think he reads them or anything#So I suspect this one will also not move much
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this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.
good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.
sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.
so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.
one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.
#warm up#writeblr#actually this is because again i don't go here#i don't read/write fanfic but i have nothing but respect for my troops#but i also have never played minecraft. im sorry. please ask me any question about pokemon tho i love that shit#anyway#out of some banal and thoughtless curiosity i watched the minecraft movie trailer#and again i know nothing about minecraft. i am aware im in an endangered population#but im watching this going: this is so fucking.... BAD#there is NO LOVE in it!#like if someone who has NO history in minecraft watches that and is like - ohhh this is soulless#WHO IS THE AUDIENCE????#ppl who love minecraft are gonna hate it!!!#at some point it's the ''mean girls musical movie'' problem --#some people will always hate the premise of what you're doing and some people will love it#make it for the ppl who love it#and usually that somewhat convinces the haters to like. chill enough to TRY it . bc it IS good#but when you try to make it for the haters..... nobody likes it. it doesn't have passion. energy. footwork#which is a small way of saying a big thing: if you love something. fucking make it and assume someone will love it too.#i love u . be brave . be bold. be in boston and come to my reading#where i wrote a really weird fucked up little book.#love u love u love u etc
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Headcanon where after so many arguments between the batkids and Bruce over his paranoia and complete disregard for his kids privacy, the entire family had compromised with (in the healthiest way possible) downloading life360 on their phones and that's how they all keep track of each other.
Now Bruce knew that this is mostly for his benefit and is supposed to be a healthy alternative for his unhealthy paranoia and helicopter parenting, but what he wasn't expecting was for his kids to start keeping track of him.
He's putting gas in his car and Dick calls him because apparently Dick has been watching him drive around on the app? And Bruce is currently at a gas station thats right around the corner from a Taco Bell and now Dick wants him to get food for everyone since he's already there.
He's driving home from a meeting and Steph calls him because her and Duke were shopping in the area and wants to know if he can pick them up, when he asks how she knew he was on the same street, he gets a "Oh I just like to stalk everyone on the app for funsies." as an answer.
Jason calls him and he can barely get out a hello before Jason cuts him off, "Bruce why the fuck is your phone battery on 5%, charge your damn phone" which completely stuns him because why does he know that. He clears his throat before answering. "Jason, what?"
"Everyone can see each others phone batteries on '360, now charge your phone." Is all he gets before Jason hangs up on him.
#I have more ideas in my head#but I didn't want to make the post too long#might repost later#might write a small fanfic off of this#I actually don't have life360 but my friend does and I'm basing this off of how she interacts with her mom#batfamily#batfam#headcanon#dick grayson#nightwing#bruce wayne#batman#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#red robin#cardinal tim drake#stephanie brown#spoiler#dc
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18+ mdni; gn!reader
toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?
fuck no.
those are not the only reasons.
if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.
when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.
and then... your eyes.
eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.
the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.
"f-fuck..."
toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.
the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.
you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.
he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.
but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.
you want more.
taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.
"toji?"
your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.
"look at me."
he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.
"please..."
his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.
"look at me, baby."
it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.
his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.
you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.
you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.
you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.
curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.
taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.
"fuck, come here."
his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.
he needs to give you his all.
#I LOVE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKK#toji#wtf mickey can write#toji x reader#toji x you#toji smut#toji drabble#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro drabble#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk drabble#jujutsu kaisen#jjk
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#original comic#webcomic#we go together#artists on tumblr#greek legend#damon & pythias#slightly different this time in that Dionysius I of Syracuse was an Actual person 😂#but i heard about this in breadsword's video essay on the legend of sinbad and it was so good I had to write smth with it#also i thought the plot of the legend of sinbad was the smartest shit when I was a kid lol#indie comics
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Female characters who are the sole voice of reason <<<<<<< Female characters who think of themselves as the sole voice of reason but who are actually just as insane as those around them
#meryl stryfe#trigun meryl#trigun#trigun (1998)#I haven’t actually seen tristamp#but based on the gif sets and clips I’ve seen I think it’s still accurate#weiss schnee#yeah I’m a rwby fan so what#there are probably more examples but modern media is sooo bad at writing female characters that I can’t think of any#also old time media#all media is bad at writing female characters#anywho if anyone reblogs this can they put their fav insane lady blorbo in the tags
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Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets
#writing memes#writing community#writing#lol#writer#it's so hard#it's actually easier than you think#Somehow I find ways to make it obvious which character I'm referring to
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This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.
Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.
Idk, I love this man so much...
#dungeon meshi#chilchuck#chilchuck tims#if someone wants to write a fic on this#@ me#PLEASE I WANT TO SEEEE#or dm me so i actually see it#please#if someone makes something of this post...#swnd me an ask with a link#this post exploded i cant with all the notifs#i wouldnt know if someone @'d me#i did a tags recap down on the notes and wrote a bit of#chilchuck angst#for the simps out there#my shit
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