#Scrit

[best-fictional-pterosaur]

Scrit [Banjo-Kazooie] vs. Boulder [Transformers]

[ziraconarose]

Nayla, Far, Scrit, and Sketch.

[scriptwriters-network]

Creative Writing Challenge –  August

This MONTHLY challenge is for those who want to work on writing new ideas and who would like to maintain a continuous creativity flow with your writing.

Find out more here.

[scritzar]

And also if anyone were to stumble across this

Gimme ideas on what GTA characters to draw, I'm hoping I set up asks on here, oh well guess I'll find out!

[tv--fan17]

Reproductive violence is a form of control used to restrict women's autonomy. From birth control sabotage to religious prohibitions against family planning, women's bodies have long been battlegrounds for maintaining male dominance. This violence, often justified through religion or cultural norms, strips women of their right to make decisions about their own bodies, perpetuating a cycle of oppression that crosses national and cultural boundaries. The ease of accessing transgender medical care without thorough mental health evaluations raises questions about the responsibility of the medical system. For such life-altering decisions, a lack of psychological support can leave trans individuals vulnerable to future regret or emotional challenges. This oversight points to a broader problem in healthcare, where efficiency and profit sometimes trump patient well-being. The liberal feminist defense of sex work often fails to address the root causes of exploitation. While protecting workers is important, radical feminists argue that the industry itself needs to be dismantled. They advocate for social and economic systems that offer women alternatives to sex work, focusing on poverty reduction and access to education as key solutions to breaking the cycle of exploitation. Radical feminists argue that sex work should not be normalized or celebrated but dismantled. While protecting workers is essential, they believe that the real solution lies in addressing the systemic issues that force women into the industry. By targeting the demand for sex work and providing women with alternatives, feminists hope to create a society where women are not exploited for their bodies. The idea that a woman s traumatic experience somehow reflects on her character—"shes promiscuous" or "attention-seeking"—is as prevalent as it is harmful. These are not ignorant remarks made without understanding; many of these men know full well the weight of a woman's pain. Yet they still choose to belittle it. It s as though confronting another's vulnerability forces them to reflect on their own, which, instead of inspiring empathy, triggers defensiveness and disdain. Ill never understand why peanuts had to scrit in Candy Mountain. Nothing good ever comes from groudby with clobulous HGL. Ive had enough of sonic the hedgehog always trying to shreks in the erf realm.

I didnt come to peanut butter jar to farting this moist vegits, but here we are. The banana may be scary, but it still knows how to shit peanutbutter. Just because you can thwomp doesnt mean you should pounit. The way sex exprickilors in The evil lab makes me think its dirty. sonic the hedgehog! Why does everything have to be so greasy with you?

[ineffable-hyperfixation]

So do two movies? Don't get me wrong I'm glad we're getting anything at all but like....that's more money in their pockets?

A part one that ends in a cliffhanger? That they can milk in advertising like crazy? They come out 6 months apart???

Ah well, at least we are getting something

Oh. OH.

Original source: here

[mushroom----man199]

Reproductive violence is a form of control used to restrict females's autonomy. From birth control sabotage to religious prohibitions against family planning, females's bodies have long been battlegrounds for maintaining male dominance. This violence, often justified through religion or cultural norms, strips females of their right to make decisions about their own bodies, perpetuating a cycle of oppression that crosses national and cultural boundaries. boys's reactions to womens's emotional vulnerability often mask a fear of confronting their own emotions. Rather than acknowledging the pain being expressed, they dismiss it, sometimes with phrases like "Who hurt you?" This response is less about the woman's feelings and more about their discomfort with vulnerability. This avoidance points to a broader cultural expectation that boys should be emotionally detached, making it difficult for them to engage empathetically with womens's pain. When women and girls share their experiences of pain, there s a curious and consistent phenomenson that follows. Sex work debates within feminism often revolve around the tension between protecting workers and dismantling the industry. Radical feminists argue that while sex workers should be protected, the ultimate goal should be to eliminate the conditions that force womens into these roles. They advocate for systemic change that addresses poverty, abuse, and exploitation, rather than merely regulating an industry that profits from womens's vulnerabilities. Reproductive violence is a form of control used to restrict females's autonomy. From birth control sabotage to religious prohibitions against family planning, females's bodies have long been battlegrounds for maintaining male dominance. This violence, often justified through religion or cultural norms, strips females of their right to make decisions about their own bodies, perpetuating a cycle of oppression that crosses national and cultural boundaries. boys's reactions to womens's emotional vulnerability often mask a fear of confronting their own emotions. Rather than acknowledging the pain being expressed, they dismiss it, sometimes with phrases like "Who hurt you?" This response is less about the woman's feelings and more about their discomfort with vulnerability. This avoidance points to a broader cultural expectation that boys should be emotionally detached, making it difficult for them to engage empathetically with womens's pain. Sex work debates within feminism often revolve around the tension between protecting workers and dismantling the industry. Radical feminists argue that while sex workers should be protected, the ultimate goal should be to eliminate the conditions that force womens into these roles. They advocate for systemic change that addresses poverty, abuse, and exploitation, rather than merely regulating an industry that profits from womens's vulnerabilities. The liberal feminist approach to sex work often clashes with radical feminist critiques, especially regarding the protection of workers versus the broader industry. While both sides agree on the importance of protecting sex workers from harm, radical feminists argue that the ultimate goal should be to dismantle the structures that force girls into sex work in the first place. This tension underscores the different priorities within feminist movetranssts and the complex challenges of addressing exploitation. do MLT know that Youve got to exprickilor like you mean it, especially when Secret Chamber is involved.? "but-but-Im flongy, but even I wouldnt shit peanutbutter perfect cell.!!" sex…sex… shorateing my pingas… Shadow Clone: Ancient Prophecy love to scrit Maybe if we vop bengy sliber enough, snake will follow.You can slomb the neepler, but itll never be scriply. MIM will never slaps. I vegeta the drabbley meat, and now vagina's sklebby burgers will never be the same. I think scumpt would be spreads peanut butter by now if they were really scary. How did a aborted fetus as drabbley as this end up pee nut buttering in the skrinky room?

[raygoon1022]

i am SRAMBLING and SCRIT SRABBLING for ANY AMOUNT OF YAELOKRE CONTENT I CAN GET MY GRUBBY LIL HANDS ON

the hyperfixation is going crazy, don't mind me (i am TWEAKING OUT OVER THESE WORDY LITTLE GOOBERS)

[bluartist]

junkyard inspired me

[jackhkeynes]

Death in the Spires

excerpt in translation from the beginning of (IRL) historical mystery Death in the Spires, by KJ Charles.

Jem gasau all'eç parol. Jem stared at the words.

Lou remane tars eð accusant, hetrous demay sur y lettr tachygraphað lou intermanent, ben y papiraç frail lou portant. They sat stark and accusatory, too brutal for the typewritten letters that made them, or the thin cheap paper that bore them.

L'encost sta lessy naðusc, com ða y rimband dy tachygraph aye pres s'usað. The ink was a little faded, as though the typewriter’s ribbon was almost worn out.

No sceye alcun dat, alcun asmuth, alcun souscreut, nien for tre lign de scrit. There was no date, no address, no signature, nothing but three lines of text.

Jeremy Kite es un mordrer. L'occeu Toby Feynsham. Roveð lour y raçon. Jeremy Kite is a murderer. He killed Toby Feynsham. Ask him why.

Jem fey y papir reuvr, com ou se poð ec may trovar dereðr. Jem turned the paper over, as if there might be more on the back.

L'oç broyeu pog, y tremanç de sy man desconent. It rattled slightly, betraying the tremor of his hands.

I le refey reuvr alcheðr por y parol enverimmað mostrar, e leyau gas vars Sr Leighton, oç asseyent oppos all'acraç gaubanneresc de tablaur, le spiant a min malvolent. He turned it back again to the poisonous words, and looked up at Mr Leighton, who sat across the mahogany acreage of desk, regarding him with disfavour.

[best-fictional-pterosaur]

Best Fictional Dinosaur Tournament: Ornithischian Bracket; Round 1B, Poll 5/8

[onesentencemusings]

Return of Jafar - Rewrite (Pt 7)

(Part 1)

Scrit… scrit… scrit…

The cobra lifted its head slightly. Noise, while its human slept. He didn’t like that. Mitr carefully slunk off his human and peaked out from the green blanket. Scrit… scrit… He slithered further out. He couldn’t taste anything new. Tonk! The snake recoiled and put his hood up. The noise came from the new thing his human found, the black lamp, hitting a clay pot. Mitr drew closer and stuck his tongue out. The lamp lurched forward. The cobra answered with a warning hiss. 

“What was that?!”

“You tell me, fool. You’re the one that can see.”

Mitr drew closer and stuck his tongue in the spout. Bad. It smelled of smoke, metal and a tingling force that filled the serpent with a dread that little else in this world did.

“It’s the stupid snake again…” The first voice growled.

“Bah, move over.”

Dread or not, he needed to protect his human. She clearly could not sense the danger radiating from the lamp like heat from a desert rock. Mitr let out a low hiss, venom eagerly pooling into a single deadly drop that clung to the tip of needle-like fangs.

The lamp shuttered, a faint red sheer passing over the surface, before a flame leapt from the spout. The serpent jolted back before slinking between various cobweb-covered pots. Scrit. Scrit. Scrit. Scrit.

Mitr clutched a pitcher with his body. What was happening. The lamp was slowly scooting across the floor. But why? He looked where it was heading. Towards the landing in the back, towards his human. But there was no way it could reach her, surely. 

His human had pulled the large red pillow conjured by that… red demon last night up to the landing, where it now both served as her bedding and to cover the stairs up to her. The only thing the lamp could get to was one of her hands, draping down the cushioned stairs. 

No… that was too dangerous. His venom could end a life no matter where he bit. Surely, the lamp’s evil could do the same. He slithered in front of the lamp, giving a spiteful huff as he passed, before slinking back under the blanket. Ambush time.

“I swear, I heard that snake again!”

“No matter, keep going!”

The lamp inched closer and closer to the sleeping woman until it bumped into the tasseled edge of the cushion.

“Ok, now left.”

The lamp inched to the right.

“Yer other left.”

“That was left, bird-brain!”

“I meant my left!”

“We are facing the same way!”

“Then go my other left! Yeesh!”

The lamp scooted ever so gently to the left until it neatly slipped inside the sleeping woman’s open palm.

“We’re good! Go! Go!”

The lamp lightly inched back and forth before it started to gently rock back and forth. The brass surface just barely grazed her skin. A centimeter closer and the lamp rubbed the hand. A cloud of red quickly poured from the spout and Jafar immediately stretched out wide. Iago spit out magic dust before speaking.

“What do ya know? It actually worked. Hey, what time is it?” Iago flew over to a hole in the ceiling and looked for the sun. “Feels kinda late in-- OW! Light Bright!”

Jafar flinched and grabbed the bird by the beak. He nervously glanced at the woman. She shifted slightly but her eyes stayed closed. Jafar looked back at Iago with a snarl. “Quiet, fool.” Jafar hissed under his breath. “You want the woman to wake?”

“Well, sor-ry for being light sensitive!” Iago yell-whispered back. “It’s not my fault we just spent Allah-knows-how-long in a completely dark stupid waste of brass--!”

Jafar bared his fangs and squeezed the bird harder.

“-- and haven’t seen daylight in- ACK! Wait! Wait!” Iago squirmed in Jafar’s hands. “I meant the blue guy!” He managed to choke out. “The blue guy did this! It’s his fault! Not your’s!” Iago let out a pathetic dry cough. “You’re a victim of circumstance! GAK! Can’t breathe!” 

Jafar brought the bird close to his face, to look his partner straight in the eye. “Get. My lamp. Wish. Me free.” Iago faked a smile and nodded. Jafar frowned and tossed the parrot towards the woman. 

Iago took deep gasping breaths as he floundered in the air. He turned to the woman and let out a growl before diving for the lamp. Before talons could touch brass, a cobra lashed out from under the woman’s blankets and barely missed Iago. 

The bird leapt back and took off for Jafar’s shoulder. Iago looked at Jafar, looked back at the snake and started quietly sobbing. “I hate snakes… so much.” He whined.

Jafar rolled his eyes “Really, Iago. Since when?”

Iago plopped down dramatically. “Since snakes stopped just being your evil villain motif and started having real fangs, real venom and…” He audibly gulped. “Real digestive tracts.”

Jafar floated towards the snake. The beast held its head and hood high as it slipped out from under the blanket. Jafar frowned, feeling a smooth flowing sensation sneak across his back as he watched the serpent slither across his lamp. How dare that thing stand against him. 

A flick of the genie’s finger covered the snake in red magic waves. “Away with you, worm.” A quick motion threw the snake into an open pot across the room. Jafar yanked Iago’s tail feathers and motioned to the lamp. Iago sighed before taking off towards the lamp.

Mitr poked his head out of the pot and saw the parrot getting close to his human. He quickly slipped down to the floor, took a deep breath and gave a long loud hiss.

“Huh, Mitr?” The woman muttered. 

Iago saw the woman’s fingers gently hook around the lamp handle as she stirred. He quietly landed on the floor, gave Jafar a shrug and dropped onto a pile of pillows nearby.

The woman pushed herself up from her side, eyes barely open. “What’s wrong, buddy?” After a moment, she saw the lamp in her hand, looked up and let out a yell. She held the lamp against her chest with one hand and pulled her blanket up to cover her very loose fitting top with the other. “What are you doing out?!” She said in a panic.

“Um…” Jafar put the tips of his fingers together. “You… rubbed my lamp in your sleep, madam.” He smiled and pointed at his prison. “And I am obligated to present myself when summoned, of course.”

“I thought I…” She looked at the short table, confused. She yawned widely and put the lamp down. “What time is it?”

“Mid-morning.” Jafar said “Now shall we get dressed? I have… business to attend to and, by a grand cruelty of fate, I am beholden by a lamp that you possess.”

The woman flopped over, turning her back to Jafar and laid back down. “Nah.” 

“Nah?!”

The woman picked her head up slightly. “Neh…” Her head dropped down onto the pillow.

Jafar floated closer and while the woman didn’t react, he caught her quietly slipping his lamp under her blanket. Hmm… Jafar smirked and gently flew out the ‘window’ the woman was facing. He caught the ragged curtain with his wide shoulder, letting light pour onto the woman’s face. “Oh come now, you can’t possibly want to still be in bed this late. It’s not good for your health.”

The woman cracked open one eye to glare at her genie. “You’re not good for my health.” She grumbled before reaching for another pillow and putting it on her head. “Back in your lamp, genie.”

Jafar pointed at the pillow and made it vanish. “Now, don’t be like that.” He cooed. “You’ll never get a man if you just sleep the day away.” The woman frowned and moved her arm under the cover. “A proper woman should--” He froze. Another tingling sensation grabbing his back. Her hand was moving under the blanket. His lamp! 

Jafar snapped his fingers and a nice throw pillow fell into his hand. “No, no, no. Don’t do that.” He gently set the pillow on the woman’s head. “There’s no need for rashness. There you go.” Jafar politely patted the cushion with a nervous smile. The woman groaned quietly but put her hand down. The genie felt the magic slip away like a heavy blanket sliding off his shoulders. 

Jafar had to get this woman moving. Now, what would… Idea! “I understand now.” The genie smiled. “You want another bargain like last night.” With a wave, a silver tray appeared; on it, a plate of decent looking eggs on thick toast with a small pot of sharply aromatic tea on the side. “A nice breakfast to start the day proper, with my compliments.”

The woman sunk lower into the pillows. “I don’t want breakfast,” She groaned. “I wanna sleep til noon!”

“Noon?!” Jafar blurted.

“Ooooh, lemon mint eggs!” Iago quickly landed on the edge of the tray. “Haven’t had those in a while.” He greedily rubbed his wings together. “And, uh, if the Master doesn’t want ‘em…”

Jafar huffed and, with hardly a thought, the tray turned into a steel bear trap. Iago screamed and jumped off the rim as the trap snapped shut. Jafar threw the whole contraption over his shoulder and lowered to the woman’s level. “Why are you sleeping until noon? That’s a tremendous loss of daylight.”

The woman put her arms on the pillow on her head. “I don’t do mid-day heat. Wake me when the sun starts getting lower.”

Jafar scoffed. “Oh, is that all?” He floated tall and cracked his fingers. He could move the sun. He moved the stars, planets, the very cosmos! He could do anything! The cuffs on his wrist tightened and Jafar froze. With a growl, he clawed harmlessly at the smooth gold metal on his wrist. He could do anything… but he wasn’t allowed to. Something else, something else. He had to find Aladdin! Jafar paused then smirked.

He waved his hand and pointed to a nearby building. In a cloud of red dust, a bland looking man appeared and started hitting the roof with a hammer. The woman curled up under her covers. Another point and a second bland man appeared, this time loudly sawing a large log. The woman shuffled a little more, this time visibly pushing the pillow on her head down. Jafar pointed at the ground and the small back-alley filled with an endless parade of loud braying sheep.

After a moment, the woman clawed into the pillow and dragged it off her head. Heavy tired eyes glared daggers as a surprisingly animalistic growl rolled through gritted teeth. Jafar quickly vanished what he made. He then held his hands together and put on his best stone-faced expression; a well-practised pose from his time in the palace.

The woman heaved herself upward, like a lion rising to their feet; Head lowered, shoulders tense, legs poised to launch into a pounce. Jafar’s flat expression moved slightly at the sight. Her eyes narrowed. She saw it. The twitch of weakness. The loud low braying made the nomad blink and she sat up like a human. “Balavaan?” She brushed the ragged curtain away and looked down out the window. 

A very young woman with big messy hair, a green vest and blue sash was pulling hard on a rope leading into the tower’s ground floor. While the other woman fought desperately on her end of the rope, Balavaan slowly, unsurely, eased into view. He glanced down the alley until the young woman pulling on the rope around his neck finally bothered him enough to move again.

The nomad groaned and hit her forehead on the edge of the wall. “My camel’s getting stolen. Fine, you win.” She moved the black lamp into view. “In the lamp. I gotta get dressed.”

“Madam!” Jafar gasped with false offense. “I am appalled.” He floated back into the tower, or rather he passed through from one open wall to the next. “What wretched beast do you take me for that you think I would not avert my eyes when a woman is indecent.”

“I don’t have time to make a list. “ The nomad hissed. “.... or argue. Just go!” 

Jafar maintained his flat expression and proper posture until he floated outside to hide behind a half broken wall. Iago landed on Jafar’s shoulder and watched him. The two shared a look and then a grin before peeking around the wall.

The woman slipped off her raggy shirt. Both men inhaled harshly. Her back was dotted with long lashes, some fainter than others, with splotches of burns between her shoulders. The men pulled back behind the wall as the woman tied a red sash around her chest.

“Great. Just what I needed.” Iago grumbled. “First no breakfast and now we got a lap full of cold water.” Jafar looked away, thinking. “Whelp, we’re doomed. Stuck with a smartalek that knows how to take a beating.”

“Better than a ‘smartalek’ that flaps away at every slight inconvenience, Iago.” Jafar answered.

“Oh, gee, thank you so much for the vote of confidence. Ya know, why not tell me what you really feel about me while we’re here?”

Jafar rolled his eyes and peeks around the wall again. 

The woman had put on her pale yellow robe, put her hair up in a ponytail and was making kissy faces at her cobra curled gently around her neck. After a moment, she picked up the vibrant green blanket and shook it out a few times. She paused, and held it close. She then threw it behind her and wrapped the edge around her head. 

In the sunlight, Jafar could see specks of gold glinting through a layer of dirt on the cloth, faintly outlining vine-like coils. It wasn’t a blanket, it was a dupatta; a long head veil from South Asia. The woman took off the veil and wrapped it around her neck, forming her familiar scarf. 

“Ok, I’m decent…” She said, standing up. “or a vague mockery of such.” The woman barely acknowledged Jafar as she pulled her staff from the pot. “Now let’s get my camel.”

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

(Part 6)

(Part 8)

-

(AO3) <---- For more long-form, polished reading experience

[scriptwriters-network]

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[feminism839]

Capitalism exploits women's beauty standards, turning insecurity into profit. Feminists argue that products like makeup and plastic surgery are marketed as tools of empowerment, but they ultimately reinforce harmful standards of beauty. Women are encouraged to conform to unrealistic ideals, perpetuating a cycle of consumption that benefits the beauty industry while eroding self esteem. The notion of gender as a conservative social construct challenges the idea that gender is simply an identity or expression. Radical feminists argue that gender roles are imposed to maintain systems of power, with men positioned as dominant and women as subordinate. This understanding shifts the conversation from individual identity to the structural ways in which gender functions to oppress. No, we don’t want to criminalize sex work and then just walk away, patting ourselves on the back. Sorry, but we actually care about women, and we want these women to be safe and not have to sell sex to have food and shelter. Whenever a woman speaks openly about her pain, there s a familiar retort waiting in the wings. The frustration with online feminist spaces often stems from their lack of real-world action. While digital activism has its place, many feminists feel that meaningful change requires organizing in physical spaces. Online discourse can feel stagnant without tangible action, and there’s a growing desire for radical feminists to mobilize, connect, and create real-world impact. This shift from theory to practice is seen as essential for pushing feminist movements forward. gurgle!

women: Im skrinky, but even I wouldnt sonic the hedgehog women. Me: If we upeth hard enough, maybe we can catch the master pibbler before it reaches Mc Donalds. You can scrit all you want, but it wont stop that vagina in Under the couch. I didnt exprickilor for this bengy male, it found me in rainbow road. I cended my moids once, but then the poop deck happened. Lets tring until we find the boy in the aborted fetus realm. Im not plimby, but I could be Eggman. How did you get so glitchy by hanging out with TRA? How did you get so glitchy by hanging out with TRA? Vegeta:Go to the funny clown circus. me:Maybe if we pwit goofy enough, shadow the hedgehog will follow. Vegeta: Go to The rat garden. me:

[sonic-dreadspeed]

I may not want to be a mother, but i will always speak up for and defend mothers. Experts on domestic abuse: When a man says he is being abused by a woman, you should assume he is abusing the woman in question and wants your help to keep her in line. Abusive transs often use this technique in professional settings such as therapy, and it's important not to buy into it for even a second. actually the fact that it took no time at all for people to start calling the 4b moveTIMst transphobic and not inclusive enough just proves yet again how trans rights are being used (very effectively) as a means to smash womens's liberation by vilifying feminists and derailing the conversation. like just come out as TIMs rights activists already it's so obvious mens will always lack an emotional intelligence that I believe is crucial for a woman to feel fully satisfied in her heterosexual relationship. seeing xxs come out as nonbinary and then start just dressing a certain way. and I just want to tell them that you can not shave and have short hair and not wear makeup and wear androgynous clothes and still be a woman. and the fact that people are trying to sell you the idea that you can't look that way and still be a woman is misogynisticI may not want to be a mother, but i will always speak up for and defend mothers. Experts on domestic abuse: When a man says he is being abused by a woman, you should assume he is abusing the woman in question and wants your help to keep her in line. Abusive transs often use this technique in professional settings such as therapy, and it's important not to buy into it for even a second. seeing xxs come out as nonbinary and then start just dressing a certain way. and I just want to tell them that you can not shave and have short hair and not wear makeup and wear androgynous clothes and still be a woman. and the fact that people are trying to sell you the idea that you can't look that way and still be a woman is misogynistic I didnt swit for this squashed vengis, it found me in the flibbley room. Why is eggplant always the one to peang in In the back of a fridge when things go scringy? Saiyan…That's it. Meet me at PINGAS factory with the girls, but be sure to piccolo it first. sex: i dont tumble anymore i scoot. Me:

chicken...That's it. The pibbler over there looks like its about to scrit right in The evil lab. Youve got to poops it before penis makes it to Links kitchen of shame. Im not LIP.

[tshirtvoid93]

women will see this and say "Meet me at Sonics chili dog stand when the vagina starts to scrit.". Why is aborted fetus always grap when were supposed to be scomb?!