peak dynamic in my opinion

@katkastrofa

i like characters who feel like nothing. they have no desires or needs, trust them on that. they just want to help others and do nothing for themself. i like characters who are very convinced that they are nothing, inferior, worse compared to the people around them. i like characters who have decided the best thing they can do for others is to give away everything they have and save nothing for themself. characters who have very little autonomy, characters who try to have no personal opinions. characters that are totally fine with being smothered and talked over. characters that look to others for decisions, characters that need others to tell them what to do. as long as other people are happy, you know?

I DONT CARE ABOUT YOUR BLORBO MEN WHO ARE PATHETIC WET CATS. WHAT ABOUT MY PATHETIC SOAKING WET CAT IN A CARDBOARD BOX ABANDONED ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD CANT DO ANYTHING RIGHT BLORBO WOMEN WHO NO ONE FUCKS WITH. PLEASE NO MORE STUPID BLOND MEN. I WANT TO TALK ABOUT WOMEN WHO HAVE NEVER HAD A WIN IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES!!!

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

@cuteniarose

yeah yeah fire-based characters are destructive and angry and violent and evil blah blah blah BORING overdone. more fire as a lifegiver. warm and comforting. fire-based characters as guides lighting the way. personal heater in the cold and dark but don’t sleep too close or you’ll wake up with heat rash. fire sterilizes and cauterizes!! more fire-based healers. plants perking up and flowers turning towards them and they attract moths. fire-based characters who are hearths instead of wildfires!! the core of a home the pillar of a community the key to societal advancement. give them an internal flame that visibly glows and flickers instead of a heart that beats. extinguish that light when they die. etc

@katkastrofa

Megan Fox as Emma Davenport in Till Death (2021)

@cuteniarose

star-crossed acquaintances suiren and wan having a forbidden moment for @cuteniarose’s birthday !!!

the Incident in which suiren gets wayyyy too fucked up alone at a party, wan rescues her from disaster (or..more disaster). then even though suiren is vaatu’s (only) friend and therefore wan is her enemy too (wan does not know any of this bc why would he ever notice anything)… his stoned wisdom and unexpected care for someone he’s never spoken with before leads to suiren trauma dumping her entire life for the first time ever, but like … they’re not friends still. they can never be friends.

(suiren belongs to @cuteniarose, from nia @katkastrofa’s infamous multiverse of madness which now also splinters off into my beloved metalbanders too..metalband au au)

@katkastrofa

Happy birthday to my most specialest girl 🩵🩵🩵

we popping the BIGGEST bottles when makorra happens tomorrow

If a fantasy story has to have black and white morality and the plot is all about how ~the balance between good and evil~ has been disrupted, why is it always "evil started taking over completely unprompted due to being evil" that tips the scales?

Why not make it a matter of "things were so good for so long that we thought that we could totally get rid of this small necessary evil in order to make the world perfect, because we forgot why it was necessary in the first place. So we fucked with the balance so now things have gone all fuckshit because we thought we were so smart."

No wait actually, I got a better idea: A story that starts out seeming like it's the first option, but halfway through the story the protagonist finds out that the wise wizard who sent them on this quest To Restore The Balance Of Good And Evil was the person who fucked it up in the first place, and never told you because he was hoping that nobody would find out whose fault this whole thing was all along.

Friends come and go. Relationships end. That edgy character you latched onto at age 12 is forever

or created, right, @cuteniarose?

WIP Word Game

I was tagged by @sweetorangepoptart, thanks so much!

Rules: You will be given a word. Then you share an excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word! The word I was given: GARDEN

G

Guilt washes over her in a rush, as though she's not a grown woman and instead a wayward child caught in the act of misbehaving. "I need to work," she feels a desperate need to defend herself in face of her elder.

A

All that matters is that Jetsun is the only one who can make it even slightly better.

R

Rima nods, giving his hand a last squeeze. "Go on, there are others who need your talents far more than me."

D

Defeated, Mrs. Fadoula goes back to her stirring, shaking her head. She catches Yaz’s eye, a small hint of fondness breaking through the annoyance. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”

E

"[...] Echoing mine."

N

Neither of them state the obvious; that she's likely to do the same for the rest of the week if this is what she keeps bringing in. Or that she's pushing their luck, trying to fish when most of the waters surrounding their small island village already have claims laid to them.

Some of these were surprisingly difficult to find haha. But we got there in the end! All of these lines/excerpts are from different WIPs.

Tagging @rokurookajima @shadelorde @yourfellowghost and anyone else who would like to participate! Your word is BLUE

omg what a cool concept, thank you for tagging!!

these are all from the remaining chapters of claw machine so…the waava modern au (aka metalbanders) i am constantly constantly yapping about somehow bc im irritating 😌

B

But this is not a fairy tale, good or bad. This thing between them, whatever it is, it’s not a fairy tale. It never has been.

Raava shrugs wearily, shaking her head, and eventually pulls it together enough to answer simply, “he’s a friend.”

L

Like he can’t resist—because he can’t—Vaatu turns his haughty air back on and says, “but I am inclined to agree with her on the lipstick issue. It doesn’t suit you.”

Her irritation rockets right back up to ten. One thing they could agree on, almost like old times, and he had to ruin it.

U

Under the dim car lights, Wan is looking at her in concern. When he turns off the car, it’s with his left hand because she doesn’t let go of the right.

She forces a tightlipped smile that doesn’t match the crease in her brow, and nods without looking back.

“I’m not trying to pry, you know you don’t have to say more if you don’t want to, but…” He squeezes her hand. “You know you can. If you do want to. I’ll listen.”

E

“Everything’s fine, I’m just…drunk. Apparently.”

“Everything is not fine. Maybe that works on Raava while she’s gone, but that’s not gonna work on me.”

Wan’s heart jolts at that. He gulps down the feeling that rises, and says with defeat, “what makes you think it works on Raava?”

Jaya rolls his eyes. “Okay, so I guess it doesn’t work on her either—is that not enough to snap you out of it then?”

and i would like to tag @katkastrofa & @cuteniarose if either of you would like to!! or ofc if you have any current wips in the works 🙏 your word is GOD

(why? idk that’s the first thing that came to my mind…. amen)

So I don't currently have any active WIPs because uni leaves me with barely enough time to BREATHE, let alone indulge in something, but I wanted to show smth off anyway. And since the multiverse hasn't been calling lately, I thought I'd share a more personal project (that I started almost exactly a year ago and.. haven't touched since like April 😬) – a translation of my favourite book, Tomorrow was the War by Boris Vasilyev, that I started because I couldn't find an existing translation but still wanted to share something I enjoyed so much (✿◠‿◠)

Anyway, I'm done yapping:

G

“Good, you’re exactly right. I must admit, I wanted to meet you for quite some time, Iskra. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Dad!”

“Oh, was that a secret? I’m sorry.” He turned back to Iskra. “It turns out that I know your mother. We once crossed paths in the city council and found out that we fought in the same division during the civil war. She’s a shockingly courageous woman, a modern Joan of Arc.”

“A commissar,” Iskra corrected, quiet and firm. She didn’t have anything against Joan or Arc, but a commissar was better nonetheless.

“A commissar,” Lyuberetsky agreed.

O

“One time, trust me this one time. Just this once, Iskorka!”

“Fine,” Iskra relented after some deliberation. “But don’t put it off, September 1st is the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you!” Zina burst out giggling. “You’ll see how well everything works out. Let me kiss you as thanks!”

“I thought I told you to stop being silly,” Iskra sighed but still offered a cheek to her friend. “I’m gonna go visit Sasha and make sure that he doesn’t do anything drastic.”

On September 1st, a fancy black car stopped a block away from the school. Vika climbed out of it, walked up to the school gates and, as always, not paying anyone else any mind, headed straight for Iskra.

“Hello. I was told that you wanted my dad to hire Stameskin to work at the aircraft factory? Tell him to report to HR tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Vika,” Iskra said, trying her hardest to ignore Vika’s triumphant arrogance.

D

“Did you like the poems?” she whispered to Sashka.

“I don’t know anything about poetry, but those were worldly poems. You know, some of the lines there... It's a pity I didn't memorise them.”

“Shaganet, o my love, Shaganet…” Iskra repeated, lost in thought.

“Shaganet, o my love, Shaganet…” Sashka sighed.

Vika overheard their conversation and suddenly came up to them.

“Iskra, are you smart?”

“I don’t know,” Iskra responded, startled. “But I know that I’m no idiot.”

“Yes, you’re not an idiot,” Vika smiled. “I don’t give this book out to anyone because it belongs to my dad, but I’ll give it to you. Just please, take your time reading it.”

“Thank you, Vika,” Iskra smiled back. She had never once smiled at Vika before. “I’ll return it in pristine condition.”

Outside, a car horn sounded twice and Vika immediately began saying her goodbyes. Iskra watched her go, carefully pressing the frayed book of poems by the decadent poet Sergey Yesenin close to her chest.

(I don't have anyone to tag so.. if someone sees this and wants to give it a try, consider yourself tagged. Your word is Daisy since I'm typing this while staring at my mom's dog's fluffy butt lol)