#writing for film

[filmcourage]

This Mistake Costs Screenwriters Future Work - Collin Watts

Watch the video interview on YouTube here.

[going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi]

I firmly believe that some stories can never be translated into a different medium and that's okay

[lizardsfromspace]

There's this trend of works that start off by establishing that they're set in 2019 so they don't have to figure out how COVID would impact the plot, and movies set in the recent past so they can write around including cell phones, and that seems uniquely modern, but then you watch a silent movie from the 1920s where a soldier character very pointedly notes that the story takes place in 1911 so you don't have to think about WWI and you realize writers wanting to avoid recent events is eternal

[jarsjam]

Guys how do you make your character unawkward pls tell me thankyaww

[magsdoodle]

spideypool but it's a comedy of errors

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[edains]

Rick Riordan constantly trashing the movies for not sticking to his books then releasing a show in which he rewrites everything and loses the spirit of the books entirely

[enyasaints]

In search of a Thanksgiving miracle.

Suffering from moderate nerve damage from diabetes. This is Diabetic Neuropathy. I have been trying to fundraise for a motorized wheelchair to the ease the burden and pain of walking. I have had some luck but not enough to reach my goal. I am out of words and I don’t know how else to beg or plead

https://gofund.me/0159370e

Begging with tears in my eyes for a THANKSGIVING miracle.

Direct Aid:

Venmo: Enyasaint

Cash App: $Enyasaint

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[doesnotloveyou]

i'm actually very okay with "there was no other way this could end" endings. if they gotta die, let them die. if they gotta break up or go the wrong way or lose something important, let'em. so long as it completes the story. only thing i dislike more than a forced happy ending is a forced bad ending

[dancingaliensfics]

Remmick is actually nasty fr. He'd fuck you anywhere for anyone to see he doesn't give a fuck. If you let him, he'd fuck you in the middle of the street. You have to be careful because he has wandering hands and it doesn't take much for him to have them up your skirt, face pressed in your neck, drool running down your shoulder, begging in your ear for you to let him have a taste. And he means it too, he'd kneel down with you legs over his shoulders in the middle of the pub if you let him, it's not like anyone could stop you two or try anything.

He loves it for a lot of different reasons but the big two are this. Firstly, it let's everyone know you're his. He's a greedy man and he loves to own things, loves to posses. He also loves to show you off. He wants to put his mark on you and ward off anyone who covets you. And secondly, it let's everyone know he's yours. Because he's a lonely man, with sorrow in his heart and desperation in every action. He needs to be possessed as much as he wants to possess and he needs you to claim him, it's the only way he can feel whole.

He also doesn't care about getting messy or dirty. To the point that he will try and fuck you on the side of the road, in a field or against a tree. He's constantly ruining your outfits by pulling you down onto a patch of wet grass or dusty soil. He fucks you covered in blood and gets it all over your skin and hair and under your nails. He fucks you in the rain until you're shivering and soaking wet all over not just-

Anyways just so little thoughts about remmick

[texaschainsawmascara]

Wrestling In Dirt Pits - Ethel Cain / The Unified Theory of Ophelia: On Women, Writing, and Mental Illness” - B.N. Harrison x / Twin Peaks / Lake Mungo

[pricetagged]

This is so niche, so so niche, but has anyone ever heard of the 'pedal pump/car stuck girls' kink where men pay for videos of women who have car trouble?

Anyway, that's Price. I will not be taking questions.

I will, however, elaborate. The first time he sees one, it has him clenching his knuckles and sucking in through his teeth. Pretty girl flooding her engine and gazing dolefully at her dash camera, eyebrows pinched and confused. Soon, he falls down the rabbit hole.

Eventually, he settles on one creator. A smaller one, unassuming. Her footage isn't well-produced and edited. She's not made-up and plucked and preened. She looks like any of the women he drives past on the street. She's perfect—

He subscribes. Clicks on the VIP package which offers the opportunity to chat and send requests.

[27.12.24]

>>JP141CE: That blue dress is beautiful on you. Wear it in the next video.

[13.01.25]

>>JP141CE: You need to adjust your seat angle. Gonna give yourself an injury if you make a hard stop.

[24.01.25]

>>JP141CE: Take the camera out of the car, sweetheart. Let us see you pop the hood and try to fix it.

Your camera work is shaky with you clamouring out and edging around the door. But if he pauses at just the right frame—

There. Your license plate.

Got you.

[lttledog]

I Saw the TV Glow (2024), dir. Jane Schoenbrun.

[prispls]