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keyboard-squared · 1 year

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Fixing the Story: The Nutcracker and the Four Realms

In this new series, I’m doing something a little different than my usual reviews. Rather than just talking about the good and bad in a story, I’ll be going a step further to present possible ways to fix a story that’s lacking. My goal? To help us practise how to pinpoint issues in a story and problem-solve them, a skill that we can use with our own stories! Synopsis Young Clara needs a magical,…

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#christmas #disney #fixing the story #holidays #movie review #movies #Reviews #stories #the nutcracker #the nutcracker and the four realms

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nerdpoe · 5 months

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Danny, upon realizing that ecto can be used to shape his body per how he perceives it, is very quick to invent a small handheld device that can manipulate that and turn it on others.

Then he opens up shop on the internet.

If someone puts in their info and name, and a place to meet them, he'll use his powers and tour the world to visit them.

And then use modified ecto to help them shapeshift their body to their desired gender.

That's right.

For the small price of like, whatever is in someone's pocket (gum, a weird penny, maybe a fastfood run on the way to the meet location), the hero Phantom is offering free transition shapeshifting. No surgery, no pain, no drugs.

Possible side effects include levitation, seeing the dead, hiccup(ing fire), speaking Ghostspeak, possible claws and fangs, glowing eyes, super strength, super speed, sonic blasts from mouth, pointed ears, electronic interference, and being hunted by a government entity.

All side effects except the claws, fangs, pointed ears, glowing eyes, and being hunted by a government entity will disappear after two weeks.

Everyone but Danny is surprised by how many Trans people find this a steal of a deal.

Hunted by the government? Pffffff. Just a fuckin Tuesday then.

Tim Drake-Wayne, Alysia Yeoh, and Cullen Row agree to meet up with this guy to see if he's legitimate. No other reason. No sir. Not at all.

(They all get their gender affirming Shapeshift and are very fucking pleased that there will be no more shots in the future for any of them)

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timote-shalome · 17 days

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Me: *watching Stranger Things S5 Ep 1*

“Like, what do you mean Steve isn’t a bisexual hurt bbygirl with meanie parents and doesn’t have game nights with the kids in his big empty house and doesn’t have sleepovers with Robin and he isn’t in love with Eddie who came back from the dead as part monster with a split personality that’s also in love with Steve?!?!?!?!”

Me: *turns off TV*

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #if it ain’t gay I don’t want it #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writes it better #fanfic #OonionChiver #I forget the original plot of the story at this point #all said in one breath #it’s meant to be a run on sentence #it’s ok ao3 will fix it #you’re divine

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raepliica · 1 year

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(content warning: blood)

Sewed Up Heart

[ID: A Trigun comic done in grayscale with red accents. First, an anatomical heart gushes blood, forming a puddle which shifts into Vash's coat. Vash's gloved hands can be seen sewing up a tear at the hem.

Vash raises his hands, which are now bare and covered in blood. He looks sweaty and distressed, and he raises his coat to his face and cries into it. His clenched hands rip the sewed portion apart, and the red thread leads to a heart whose own stitches are tearing apart. The background gets darker and darker, and the red looks brighter and starker against it.

Then the background returns to white, and brown-skinned hands using embroidery scissors snip a red thread. Wolfwood holds up Vash's repaired coat, grinning proudly, and does a happy thumbs-up in Vash's direction. Vash lifts his head, seeming distant.

Wolfwood holds out the coat. As Vash puts out his hand to take it, the cloth is replaced so Wolfwood is dropping a sewed-up heart in Vash's hand. Vash rubs the coat against his face with a teary smile. End ID] ID CREDITS

#trigun #trimax #cw blood #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #vashwood #my art #his coat as an external representation of his emotional wounds🤌#a coat riddled with bullet holes tells so many stories #also wolfwood hc of him being good at sewing bc he probably had to patch up many clothes when he was at the orphanage #and now his hands are bloodied but he still has this one thing -this one skill- that helps him make things a little better for once #and it doesnt fix everything but at least he's giving back a bit of the kindness he's being shown #ww actions over words love language *explodes*#i cant stop rotating these thoughts in my head i need to make a comic focused on his pov #image described #thank you for the id!!#raepliica_art

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extinctionstories · 1 year

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Two hundred years ago, the wetlands of Japan rustled with pink-tinged feathers. Tall, pale birds stepped carefully through reeds and iris, hunting small fish, crabs, and frogs.

Nipponia nippon, it would be dubbed by the national ornithological society, a bird emblematic of its country. The Crested Ibis. The Toki. The Peach Flower Bird.

Marshes slowly changed to rice fields, with farmers who resented the toki for ruining crops; to kill the birds was outlawed, so children chased them from the fields, singing warnings.

The doors of the country were pried open. Laws changed. Farmers bought their first guns, their sights set on birds who were no longer protected. The toki, the red-crowned crane, and many others began to suffer. But the worst was yet to come.

Pesticides are indiscriminate killers. The poison sprayed to kill a beetle can travel up the foodchain, toppling a cascade of larger animals, or affecting their ability to reproduce. It was reckless pesticide use that nearly wiped out the Bald Eagle. In the rice fields, the peach-flower-bird had little chance.

In 1981, Japan’s last five living toki were removed from a wild that had become too dangerous for them.

I tell a lot of sad stories here, about mistakes we’ve made and animals we’ve lost. This isn’t one of those. This is a story about one of those precious times when we were able to fix the things we’d broken.

A joint effort between Japan & China, and the discovery of seven more birds in that country, led to a successful breeding program, which in 2008 saw the first ibises fly free again in Japan. Today, at least 5000 toki exist in the world.

The last wild-born toki, one of those captured in 1981, lived almost long enough to see her species’ return. Reaching the equivalent age of a centenarian human, she died in 2003—not of old age, but injury after throwing herself against her cage door.

Her name was ‘Kin’. ‘Gold’.

Mended things can never be as whole as they once were. There will always be cracks that show, weak spots that remain vulnerable. Yet, like the shining seams of a kintsugi piece, these scars speak an important truth: here is a thing that someone chose to save; handle with care.

The title of this painting is ‘Restoration’. It is gouache on 22x30 inch watercolor paper

#bird art #endangered species #extinct in the wild #toki #crested ibis #extinction stories #series: we try to fix what we’ve broken

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steddiehyperfixation · 7 months

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don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand.

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar.

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken.

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-”

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him.

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement.

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?”

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?”

Yet again, he receives no answers.

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?”

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest.

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.”

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears.

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher.

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-”

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.”

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore.

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington.

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…”

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?”

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-”

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?”

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue.

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…”

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.”

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.”

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.”

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here.

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room.

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat.

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?”

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.”

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.”

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?”

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.”

(part two is here!)

#i have plans to fix it don't worry. eventually. maybe #i'm really really bad at writing longer multi-part fics but i've got a lot of ideas spinning around my head for this one so #hopefully i will continue it if any of y'all are interested in more of this #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ficlet #fanfic #mine #1k #dyfamsteddiefic #<- tag to follow for this story

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harmonysanreads · 27 days

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Firm believer that Aventurine takes off his glasses each time you're within the vicinity, even if you have no clue of his existence, he always reaches out to take them off. It's his own way of letting everyone know who has his attention.

#also how he's immediately fixing his looks but that's a whole different story #eye contact is his weapon and he needs to remove any obstacles that falter him #aventurine #aventurine brainrot #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader

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fixing-bad-posts · 3 months

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there are alot of stories. Far more than you think. an echo of people who are themselves the truth

#fixingbadposts #fixing-bad-posts #blackout poetry #self identity #inspirational message #miscellaneous #stories #storytelling

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somethingaboutmint · 2 months

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My biggest plothole hangup with fallout 4 is kellog and how shitty he was done so the theory i propose: they should have just made kellog a synth lol? Like think about it:

1.) Eliminates the factor of "how the fuck did kellog live so long and not age?". Ingame shaun basically goes "institute technology we retired cuz (bullshit reason)" which is so dumb cuz its technology THAT STOPS YOU FROM AGING. But if it wasnt a real kellog but a synth recreation it would be like a cool "ooooh shit" twist moment as soon as you pick up the synth piece. Like thats not the real kellog they just made him again. Cloned him if you will.

2.) Good way to introduce the synths into the story. Theres so many places you'll see them beforehand but having kellog be the big "oh shit" moment for those who just speed through the plot would have rocked.

3.) The inherent tragedy of it. Idk i cant relate to kellog ingame cuz the memories quest utterly fails for me. Oh wow he lost his wife and child hes just like me fr- like fuck OFFFFF that happened to me too and i didnt go around killing innocent people. BOZO. But if he was a synth its a realization of like. This guy didnt do that. This is someone who fully believed he did and shared those memories but its like he didnt do it. Hes a victim of the institute just as much as you are. He legit doesnt know better. The implication of "if he found out he was a synth of a person long dead and his memories weren't real could he have gotten better" will always hang over your head.

4.) Paints institute in a more evil fucked up light . Asking shaun "what do you MEAN you recreated the guy that kidnapped you and brutally killed your other parent." And shaun just goes "well he was a good agent idk i admire the usefulness." Its like that collateral damage line but goes hard. Even better if he truly doesnt get why you're mad about it and at some point you see kellog again im the institute and are like WTF and shauns like oh we just made him again. If it makes you feel better you could kill him again too. We can make as many as you want. Like would that not be metal but also kinda horrifying

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 kellog #like its such a simple story fix imo but it works so good. am i just insane or do we fuck with this

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nerdpoe · 4 months

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Not all of Vlad's cloning attempts failed aside from Dani. There was one more, but since it was already dissolving, he gifted it to an old friend so they could study it. Lex had apparently been working with Cadmus to make a clone and was...having a bit of a hard time.

Unbeknownst to Vlad, Lex managed to save the clone and stabilize it by introducing Kryptonian DNA. He also successfully aged up the clone to sixteen.

Kon has no idea.

Until he does.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #Kon's weird age thing was actually halfa related #because the dead don't age #and he hadn't been stabilized PROPERLY lex just did the equivalent of slapping duct tape on the problem #so his biology switched his aging to his ghost form and his non-aging to his physical body #when the age thing got fixed it just forced his ghost form to stop aging and his human-ish one to age

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dyssonant-skyline · 4 months

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"because its hell" doesn't hold up.

When you create a setting from scratch, you have total control over it. You get to make the rules. You can't excuse a flaw in writing or presentation with "it is hell, it has to be this way!"

Here is one paraphrased example from Hazbin Hotel I've heard recently in response to a critique of calling the main characters too reliant on pinks/reds:

"All the characters have red in their color schemes because they are from the Pride ring and the rings are color coordinated."

While this gives an in-character/in-lore explanation for the color schemes, what it doesn't do is change the fact Hazbin Hotel's characters having a hard time standing out from the background. An in-character/in-lore justification should NOT be prioritized over the overall quality of a project.

As a writer, you have control over the constraints of your story. If you write yourself into a corner, you can't just throw up your hands and give up. You have to be willing to rework your lore and stories to make them stronger.

If excessive cursing is grating and making certain moments within your story less impactful, you should reel it in because it makes the presentation stronger. If your color based lore is causing the visuals of your project to suffer, it is time to reassess the lore.

Just because something is logically consistent within a world, doesn't make it a good writing/art choice.

A setting's rules should serve stories and characters, not the other way around.

#please... stop using that as an excuse. it is an admission that the writers could have fixed the issue by thinking through the-#worldbuilding/lore more... but they didnt. Anyway #that's my personal take/rant on how stories should be written.#hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel redesign #helluva boss redesign #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #Dys rants

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