hello!!! i'm minnie - welcome to my blog!! it's a little bit of a smorgasbord of things, but i'm currently obsessed with stardew valley!!
I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature
ABOUT
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“roommate’s cat” is the ideal pet. This creature is not my responsibility in any way and I spend zero dollars of my income keeping her alive and she lives in my house and is obsessed with sitting on my lap. Perfect arrangement
You’re not creating real people, you’re creating the illusion of real people. You don’t have to mention their favorite food if it doesn’t come up, you don’t even have to know it, though if they were actual people they’d have one. You can throw plot events at your characters to force them to take certain actions, or you could just rewrite the characters to be the kind of characters who would take those actions anyway. Your characters have a life of their own in their own little world, but don’t be afraid to play god to get what you want out of them.
In the vast majority of cases, a character’s strengths and flaws should be the same thing. There are exceptions (you can have a character be clumsy for the lols without needing to find some way that it’s an advantage), but for most character traits, the difference between a flaw and a strength is the situation at hand and learning when to indulge it.
Always know what your character wants most and what they fear most.
Make your characters super hot and completely fuckable
The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you’re almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.
Suddenly all the people with prosthetics, wheelchairs, implants, and the like are getting the accommodations and help they need without having to be poor or locked away in a care center. This is an apocalypse I can get behind!
The other survivors left us behind.
They said it was nothing personal—the bus could only fit so many people, after all, and escape would be hard enough without “dead weight” dragging them down.
We understood. The world was ending, not changing.
“Shouldn’t we be looking for shelter or something?” Samantha asked as we sat around a garbage-can fire. (Tao was experienced in making them, from what we gathered, and the flames had grown in no time. We tried to ask him how he knew what to do. He responded, but none of us knew sign language.)
Hank snorted. “What’s the point? Not like we’ll make it long, anyway.” He rubbed the spot beneath his shirt where we knew his insulin pump to be. “Least, I won’t. You folks are welcome to try.”
No one spoke for quite a while. No one got up, either.
Maria garbled something that I couldn’t make out. Antonio, one of the only able-bodied to stay behind, smiled and patted the armrest of her wheelchair. “It is kind of like camping,” he said. “All we need is some marshmallows.”
“I’ve never been camping,” Dwayne said quietly.
Samantha grinned. “Hey, me neither!” She held her prosthetic at arms-length so she could reach past me to give him a high-five. He chuckled and slapped his palm against hers.
“Well,” Monique said, hobbling back to our makeshift camp. She was using what appeared to be a broom as a crutch. “I’m officially on my last leg.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we groaned.
“Anyway, I didn’t find any water,” she continued. “There’s some Mountain Dew cases over at the gas station, but I’ll need help carrying them back. Doesn’t help that this one got stuck under some debris.” She gestured down at her stump, which cut off just below the knee. The plastic of her other leg was scuffed and dented.
“Ya know,” Hank said, “if it was real, ya probably would’ve had ta chew it off or something. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”
Monique laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Real lucky.”
Tao startled us with his sudden chuckling. He bent over, wheezing and slapping his knee. He signed something, and began laughing even harder.
We looked to each other, unsure. Then we joined in. Hesitantly, at first, but soon we were clutching our sides and wiping away tears. And for a moment, we could forget.
All of us heard the familiar whirring of robots as they approached.
Through our laughter, none of us cared.
————
They scanned Hank first. We braced ourselves for the blaster fire that would inevitably follow.
But none came.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, beam stopping on Hank’s abdomen. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Hank glanced at us, then back at the robots who had spotlights and guns trained on each member of the group. Then he shrugged.
“Sure. Why not?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-237. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took place on either side of Hank, urging him towards their transport.
The treatment was a stark contrast to what we’d witnessed from the robots before—gunning down terrified people in the streets, setting charges throughout populated areas. We exchanged confused looks.
Dwayne was next. The scanner stopped on his head, focusing on the lump housing his shunt.
“IMPLANT DETECTED. PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“…yes?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-238. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.”
As they took Dwayne away, realization hit us all at once.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, in reference to the devices curled around Tao’s ears. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Tao signed something. Unlike us, the robot understood.
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-239…”
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Hell yeah,” Monique said with a grin.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Yes,” Samantha said, and I thought I noticed tears in her eyes.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Maria’s limbs flailed spastically, and a strange shrieking sound built in the back of her throat. The bot cocked its head to the side.
“RESPONSE UNCLEAR. PLEASE STAND BY WHILE ALTERNATE COMMUNICATION IS PROVIDED.”
Another robot stepped forward, its torso transforming into a holographic keyboard of sorts. Maria’s clenched fist shot forward, trembling as she attempted to steady it. With labored, deliberate movements, she typed, the letters spoken aloud in an automated tone.
“Y-E-S.”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took their place on either side of her wheelchair, each of them gripping a handlebar. They began to wheel her away.
The bot turned to Antonio, who was standing ramrod-straight. It scanned him.
“NO IMPLANTS DETECTED,” it said. Its blaster hummed to life. Those of us that remained flinched, turning away instinctively, unwilling to watch his execution.
A series of shrieks rang through the night, and the bot paused.
Maria thrashed about, letting out more distressed noises. One of her escorts stepped forward, allowing her to utilize its keyboard.
“A-C-C-O-M-O-D-A-T-I-O-N,” she said. “H-E. I-S. E-X-T-E-N-S-I-O-N.”
The bot seemed to consider for a moment.
Then its gun folded away.
“ACCOMODATION PROTOCAL INITIATED,” it told Antonio. “YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242B. PLEASE ACCOMPANY YOUR PRIMARY UNIT.”
Antonio stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before the wheelchair. He wrapped his sister in a shuddering hug.
Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Maria’s face, and I could swear I saw her smile.
————
My pacemaker was enough to earn me a spot among the bots’ ranks. I was surprised by just how many humans lived in the facility (though in hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have been)—I was even more surprised by our treatment. Not having use of recharging stations, we were provided with bunks and dorms. The cafeteria, while somewhat lacking in options, offered all of the nutrition a carbon-based lifeform could ask for.
And then there were the upgrades.
“Real lucky, huh?” Monique said, taking the seat beside me in the cafeteria. Her robotic legs moved smoothly, fluidly. (“You can’t even notice,” she’d said upon first receiving them, before remembering that there were no longer any stares or judgement to hide from.)
“Damn lucky,” Hank agreed. (If we hadn’t been processed when we were, he would’ve been dead within a week. Here, insulin was never in short supply; as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as expensive to make as we’d been led to believe.)
Samantha twirled a fork between her fingers, smiling at the satisfying click-click-click of metal on metal. “Hey, Dwayne, how’d your checkup go?”
“Great!” he said, beaming. “This new shunt works even better than my last one. Not a single problem since they put it in.”
Congratulations, Tao signed. He was no longer emaciated, as he’d been when we first met—regular meals and a roof over his head really had done wonders for his health. His smile, of course, was infectious as ever.
Antonio approached, carrying his and Maria’s trays. He wore the uniform of a maintenance tech, though it was more of a formality than anything else—being responsible for the upkeep of Maria’s machinery was one of the only ways he could fulfill his Accommodation Protocol, nowadays.
Did you remember the pudding? Maria asked, her automated voice clear and pleasant. (We couldn’t begin to understand the exact mechanics behind the chip in her head, and how it allowed her to speak—albeit through a machine. Nor could we understand the technology that enabled her to operate her wheelchair independently, as well. But we did know we were grateful for it.)
Antonio rolled his eyes. “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”
Thank you. Now gimme.
————
I did wonder, occasionally, how the other survivors were faring. If they had found a place to hide from their robotic overlords. If they felt hopeless and abandoned and alone. Their lives had changed drastically overnight—their world had ended.
But ours? Ours is just beginning. And the ones that left us behind just…don’t have a place in it.
it wasn’t “some reason”, it was 2D animators being unionized and 3D not being unionized. and the simple truth that capitalism kills art.
I remember when 2D faded out, the reason studios kept giving was “it’s because 2D is a lot more expensive to produce”. I was a child back then so I didn’t think too much about it, assuming it was about the process itself, but as I grew up and learned more about art as an artist, and gained friends who were professional 3D artists themselves, I started to question it. Because 3D is very different from 2D, but it’s definitely not easier or faster to make. Also, both European and Asian studios kept producing 2D animated movies
The answer was unions. The answer wasn’t “this kind of art is cheaper because it’s easier to make”, it was “this kind of art is cheaper because these artists can’t force us to pay them correctly”
people are so weird about lae’zel srsly. this woman is so Good i truly do not understand the majority of takes
like shadowheart mentions she’s half-elf once and lae’zel is like ok noted for the next time and doesnt get it wrong again
gale mentions how he’s impressed by her fighting and she immediately offers to teach him
she also answers any and all questions about the celestial realm and mindflayers that EVERYONE in the party asks her
she is the ONLY one with any experience and hands on knowledge about what the party is going thru but will still defer to the leader and help. for all she knows, they will literally be cured immediately if they find the creche but she still sticks around these fucking weirdoes because they ask her to
never speak bad about lae’zel in my presence EVER
Also:
On the nautiloid (which is about to crash and burn), she is extremely patient with us. We can poke around and decide we absolutely need to waste time on a prisoner in the pod, she will grumble, but wouldn’t leave us. Oh, we are done? Finally. Can we go already?
Shadowheart starts arguing with her from the get-go. But what does Lae'zel do when she goes at her with “Who put you in charge?” rant? Rolls her eyes and curses under her breath even though her kin would have probably had a much more lethal response to such insolence. Any other githyanki wouldn’t have settled for anything else than complete obedience - and if they have to slice someone up for a quick demonstration, so be it.
The fact that Shadowheart gets to talk shit unpunished is astounding. Lae'zel doesn’t joke about githyanki doling out cruel punishments for disrespecting their superiors. However, she doesn’t attack Shadowheart even when she accuses her of stealing the artifact of her people. She has every right to do so. But she doesn’t.
All this time, she is freaking out under her stoic demeanor. She is infected. She is at risk of dying the least dignified death imaginable: becoming the very monster, she was trained to destroy. She is stuck in an alien world with a bunch of locals who keep trying to poke their eyes out or derail her journey. She has dreams where a mysterious figure tells her to consume more tadpoles. She is so alone in this mess and yet, she still does right by us as long as we do right by her. Even though the githyanki way would have approved of her killing us all and leaving with an artifact to the creche: what’s more important than obeying Vlaakith, after all? And yet, she doesn’t go there.
Of course, she will respect or disrespect us for certain behaviors. But she goes out of her way to collaborate with us from the very beginning, and it’s incredible. Gaining her trust and respect feels very rewarding, being there as she discovers the truth and goes from worshipping Vlaakith to defying her is amazing.
If you’re an adult and you have comfort items from your childhood or that you bought to comfort yourself such as baby blankets, stuffed animals, (stim) toys, if you like a childish aesthetic or video games meant for children or childrens tv series, there is nothing wrong with that. You’re allowed to be comfortable and relaxed and happy. It doesn’t make you immature. It’s not that deep.
Demons and monsters that torture people because they feed on human suffering are so dumb. People are suffering everywhere my guy go literally any place and take a deep whiff.
Monster that feeds on suffering becomes a professional caretaker for people with chronic pain and terminal illnesses. They can’t change the fact that these people are suffering, but they help a bit and in the meantime they’re fat and happy off that Sweet Sweet ambient pain in the air.
Two towns over there’s a demon lord trying to get their cult to abduct people for torture, but they keep getting stopped by heroes and the like, so they’re barely scraping by. Meanwhile Belogarth the Registered PCA is chowing down on back pain, medication side effects and looming mortality for eight hours a day and has become the most powerful demon on earth without realizing it.
“But don’t their clients feel weird knowing that they’re feeding off their suffering?” No they think it’s hilarious and they’re real shits about it.
Finally a medical professional who believes that they are in pain. Because the fucker is actively chowing down on your agony. Not only am I going to get treated by them I’m going to invite all of my chronically ill friends to come as well.
Turns out if you treat the pain then the humans will bring you more humans who are suffering. It’s like a restaurant where the waiter is so impressed by your ability to eat food they’re giving you more on the house
They say things like “well, it’s a real feast day for Belogarth today!” and “if my meds are held up at customs again I’m gonna put Belogarth in a food coma” and Belogarth is the one feeling weird about it
