#i used to many of the same word

[constantwarriorblogs-blog]

Sonic Movie writing practice

This isn't the first writing practice that I posted but I took down the first one because I wasn't happy with it and I will rewrite it completely when (if) I have the motivation to do so. For now, please enjoy this incomplete writing practice I did out of boredom

_____

Stone looked at the cobalt speedster, glowering at the sight of his enemy. "Now I'd love to stay and chat" said Sonic with his familiar snark "But I have to make sure my family is okay." The hedgehog began to turn, quills raised in a clear defensive manner which didn't appear to match such a confident demeanor.

"And if they aren't?"

Sonic froze, for a moment, Stone wondered if Sonic thought the worst. And soon, their eyes met. There was an emotion, a burning rage, Robotnik had definitely seen before, and one Stone saw often in his love's eyes when that rodent was brought up, though Stone hadn't gotten close enough to any of the Wachowski family to witness it himself.

Sonic's mouth opened. Stone expected a snarky comment or some kind of sarcastic retort.

"If they aren't okay..." the tone wasn't like that. Nothing of the sort, venom dripping down with each word spoken. Even Sonic's demeanor no longer held that confidence and attitude he became known for, leaving only an uncharacteristically still stance as he stared directly into Stone's eyes. Was his fur always that dark? "Then, you better hope you can run faster than me"

[butcharium]

I often do think it is important to call myself a woman. In past I've had kids ask me "are you a man or a girl" and in hindsight I think these kids were quite perceptive of the world. Especially when you're in your 20s it's men and girls, I've seen students write pieces describing themselves as men, but their female peers of the same age they call girls, but I have also heard bisexual women say they like both men and girls. In past I've fallen into that myself and said that yeah I'm a lesbian I like girls, but do I? No I am in my twenties and I am actually only attracted to my fellow adults - women. It does feel more serious, less trivial, both to be and be attracted to women as opposed to girls, and that can be a bit uncomfortable to be faced with. It is also important to me as a butch. I am no longer a tomboy I am a butch I am no longer a girl I am a woman. I am a woman and women can be like me. I don't feel like I've succeeded enough at adulting to call myself a woman, but that doesn't matter. I am 25, and if the word bears other connotations so be it, that's not my problem.

[ricky-mortis]

Redrew my Owen in The Jacket™ drawing from about eight months ago.

(Original here)

[leroibobo]

some of the architecture of zinder, niger. zinder rose from a small hausa village into an important center of trans-saharan trade during the 18th century, culmunating in it becoming the capital of the sultanate of damagaram in 1736.

[choccy-milky]

hello!!! i just recently began to play Hogwarts Legacy myself and then saw your art and was like WOW💕 really love Clora/Seb dynamic! here's a small gift, he-he. genderbend version of my favorite art of yours. (if anything isn't okay, just let me know! sorry in advance.)

OMG THIS IS SO COOL??? IM SO IN LOVE WITH CLORA AS A BOY HOLY AAAAAA 😩😩seb, girl, id be jealous and protective if i managed to lock that down too🤺🤺 the OG is also one of my fav drawings of seb and clora ive ever done and omg, seeing it redrawn genderbent is such a treat i didnt even realize i wanted...also your painting/rendering is beautiful?? im so happy you like my art, esp enough to do something like this, this is so awesome😭😭THANK YOU🙏🙏💖💖💖

[izzyspussy]

the fact that they made it illegal to make ads louder than programs on tv in 2010 but haven't updated it to apply the same regulation to streaming. who do i have to call.

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[daily-xisuma]

[047] Applied my version of Doom's partial invisibility fuzz effect and an accidental offshoot I created in the process, heehee :-)

[leqclerc]

I think everything that could be said has already been said regarding Charles’s Monaco win. But I’m just… Wow. It’s so surreal.

Having followed him for several years now, witnessing the hope and subsequent disappointment as yet another chance to win his home race slips away… The heartbreak and helplessness of 2021 and the anger and frustration of 2022… It’s Charles’s dream fulfilled and Charles’s accomplishment but I feel like it’s personal for so many of us who’ve endured all of those emotional rollercoasters and setbacks along with him, invested in his quest to reach for something he yearned for so deeply. We’re all sharing in it now, Charles’s emotions a reflection of our own; disappointments into delights.

The funny thing is, I was completely calm once he secured pole on Saturday, in a way I rarely am, especially when it comes to racing. It’s hard to describe but it was just this serenity, this gut feeling that today is the day, and that there won’t be any more upsetting surprises. That this is the weekend where that chapter of the “curse” ends, where history is made, that this is where the path was leading all along.

It wasn’t really until Charles crossed the finish line, until that team radio, that inflection in his voice, the way he evidently teared up, the way he ran into his team’s waiting embrace and the way he spoke about his father that it hit me, the emotions, the sheer magnitude of the feat – so straightforward at first glance but heavy with the weight of expectation, longing, past disappointment. The palpable relief on the podium, the way he could finally close his eyes and just drink it all in. Maybe it played out exactly the way he had imagined all that time, maybe it was different, maybe it was better. But it was, in some way, fated.

[mugwot]

inventory management starstuck au of 👉@wonder-of-the-stars

[blueskittlesart]

i love going on genius after taylor drops new music and looking at all the unreviewed annotations from the stupidest people alive

[galacticlamps]

I don't want to get too caught up on semantics but I have to say I really feel like it's an unfair reading of the situation to call what Charles does in the Staircase Scene a "rejection."

I've already talked about how I think that scene's strength lies in the act of telling itself and Edwin's confession as the conclusion of his self-discovery arc. And I understand how the fact that that arc involved things like sexuality & attraction left it open to being viewed under a sort of romance-plot-specific lens, but evaluating the whole thing on that criteria still feels like a misrepresentation.

I don't think Edwin is saying "Love me" in that scene. Maybe he would've been asking for that, if this had all happened under different circumstances - and sure, generally, he'd presumably like that to happen - but it'd still be a kind of insane request for him to make right as he's being literally rescued from hell. (Especially since, even though the audience & Charles can both see the rescue as so in-character we might take it for granted, Edwin clearly didn't, if his consistently surprised confused & appalled reactions to Charles being there are anything to go by). I think he's feeling very loved already at that point, and I have a hard time believing desperation to simply have that reiterated is what drove him to speak up at such an inopportune moment.

I think what he's really saying there is "Hear me" - and as a listener and a confidant, Charles does anything but reject him. Maybe it's splitting hairs a bit, but if the distinction between "please don't turn me down" and "please understand the person in front of you" matters anywhere, it's in relation to Charles' response because he is so accepting of the confession as a confession. Not only does he take what Edwin tells him well, despite it being the sort of thing that might rock the foundation of the most important relationship in his existence, he also accepts the fact that Edwin is in such a vulnerable and worked up state that he has to do it right now despite it endangering them both. Charles would, truthfully, be totally justified in mostly ignoring it or passing over it quickly and inconclusively, insisting that this wasn't the time or place - but instead everything he says and does in that scene is geared toward giving Edwin's announcement the attention & understanding he needs so badly - and that includes responding with honesty about his own feelings, even if they might not otherwise be exactly what you'd want to hear after declaring your love for someone. Charles takes his time (perhaps foolishly, but certainly necessarily) and gives Edwin a response that is warm and familiar, while also being kind, affectionate, open, serious, and above all correspondingly worthy of the weight of the thing Edwin has just entrusted him with. That seems an awful lot to pass over simply because he doesn't also happen to be in love with him too.

Edwin's confession is so not a come-on that whether or not Charles reciprocates the romantic element is, at best, secondary to his overall reaction, and using that piece of it to call the whole thing a rejection feels like a very inaccurate shorthand to get in the habit of using as a summary of his role in the scene.

[mercymaker]

brother in christ, if you're gonna apologize to a group of people maybe uh.. unblock them beforehand so they can read it like.. what is this