#questions for your self

[bennyokelly]

I asked these questions about me and now I'm having a bit of an identity crisis. So, that's fun...

50 Questions For Your Characters

What motivates your character?

How does the public view them? (Doesn't have to be anything major, it could be classmates, friends, strangers in the park, etc.)

Is your character an optimist or pessimist?

Does your character care about their reputation and/or how others perceive them?

Is your character more of a family or friends person?

What, if anything, sticks out about their appearance?

Is your character good with kids?

What are some internal obstacles that your character has to overcome?

What emotion does your character feel most frequently?

If your character is an antagonist or something of the like, do they self-justify their actions? If so, how?

What events in their past helped shape and influence them into who they are today?

What are some of your character's pet peeves?

Who is the closest person to your character?

How did they become so close?

What habits does your character have?

What is your character's relationship with their family?

Overall, is there anything special or peculiar about your character compared to others in your story?

Who/what comforts your character?

Summarize your character's goals in one sentence.

Who's in the way of those goals?

What is your character's relationship with their emotions?

What regrets do they have, if any? (From any part of the story, not just exposition.)

If your character is at a loud, people-filled party, how would they act?

From childhood to their current age, how has your character changed?

What is the main setting of your story and how does it impact your character?

What are the top three most distinguishable personality traits of your character?

How does your character view themselves? (Expectations, intelligence, confidence, self-belief, etc.)

What emotion is the most unfamiliar to your character and how do they deal with it?

What are the three things that your character values most?

Is your character hiding something from other people, if so, what?

What genre of music does/would your character love?

How does your character view their past?

What are three positive traits that your character has?

What are three negative traits that your character has?

Imagine the ideal home for your character. Where would it be located? What type of housing would it be? Who/what would be there?

What are the things that make your character enter a full rage/cold mode? (Depends on their character.)

What does your character want to change about themselves?

Someone your character dislikes goes up to them and confesses. How does your character react? (Doesn't have to be a rejection.)

What does your character have yet to realize about themselves?

Is your character good at time-management and responsible?

What kind of clothes does your character wear?

What is one thing that your character dislikes/wants to change about themselves? ("Nothing" is also a valid answer.)

What does your character see as the greatest injustice?

What does your character fear?

On a scale from 1-10, how intelligent is your character? (1 being incredibly stupid with almost no knowledge of the world, and 10 literally being Light Yagami. If you don't get it, that's on you lol; but it's basically having over 200 IQ.)

Does your character specialize or have remarkable talent in anything? If so, what is it?

In a group setting, what role would your character have? Leader, co-leader, follower, or outsider?

What event in your story altered your character the most?

In the end, what is your character grateful for?

Why did you choose to use this character to answer these questions?

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[teratomatica]

you always land on all fours

[reality-detective]

1150Hz Rife Frequency: This sound can kill PARASITES.

Royal Rife discovered that this frequency could destroy parasites on a cellular level. 🤔

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[vbrosclips]

s5e8 - The Devil's Grip

[maevaniila]

Originally, I was gonna ask if you'd love Peter if he was a worm.. But now I'm curious to know if you'd love Peter even if he had hair–

¯\_(´꒳`)_/¯

[losver07]

sirius "would you still love me if i was a worm?" black and remus "you kinda already are" lupin

[chocokeyboard]

Considering if adding Galactadad to Falce and Meta... Have my concepts

[lunar-years]

Propaganda in SOTR

An interesting facet of the way propaganda is used in SOTR is that the Capitol/Plutarch's manipulation of the footage happens gradually over the course of the Games in real time, which means people see multiple versions of the same events. Things are aired and then scrubbed, or else aired and then re-aired, slightly altered, until we get the edited cut that emerges during the Victory Ceremony recap. That 'final' edit succeeds in replacing the nation's collective memory of the Games, but it's important to note that plenty of citizens have, to varying degrees, witnessed parts of the truth!

For example, the footage from when the Games is airing "live" across Panem during mandatory viewing is not tampered with to nearly the same extent as the post-Games recap, both because:

1) the overarching 'narrative' of the Games inherently cannot be determined until the Games are finished and a Victor is named. Even the Gamemakers don't know exactly how the story's going to end. Things that might've seemed like normal gameplay (such as Haymitch and Ampert's initial meetup/alliance) likely air to the public before it becomes clear that what those two are actually up to is rebellious. When they begin to carry out their plot, certainly the cameras cut over to the other players, meaning none of the tank explosion gets shown, but only later would the Ampert & Haymitch alliance have been cut out completely.

2) The five or so minute delay is not long enough to make the kind of changes Haymitch describes watching during his Victor's Ceremony, and it is more likely that it only gives the Gamemakers/broadcasting crews enough lead time to determine which tributes they should be following at any given point of the Games (and when to cut away when someone is involved in something questionable). When the Careers and Haymitch and Maysilee encounter Gamemakers in the arena, for example, you can bet the footage airing across Panem shifts to Wellie in her tree. But later, when Haymitch tracks down Wellie and helps her, that's something that probably is shown at first, only to be erased later.

I'm thinking about this because I read a review where someone was saying this book opens up new plot holes for the original trilogy, because if they changed up Haymitch's games so much they could've just edited out Katniss and Peeta's suicide attempt and the berries altogether. I think it's a lot more complicated than that!

In her SOTR B&N edition interview, Suzanne even discusses how many versions of Haymitch's reaping exist and air to different people at different times. On the one hand you have what actually happens and is first filmed: The peacekeeper's shooting Woodbine, Lenore Dove helping Woodbine's mother, Haymitch's rigged 'reaping.' All of District 12 witnesses this, but the wider nation doesn't. Then you have the version that is aired to the rest of Panem after the 5 minute delay: Haymitch's name is called. No one reacts. Then you have the version Plutarch tweaks for the nightly recap: Sid and Ma are shown reacting to Haymitch's name being called. You then have the version shown during the Victor's Ceremony, post-games: Sid and Ma are scrubbed from the footage. And even then, finally, you get the version Katniss and Peeta watch on the train in Catching Fire, which Suzanne states could very well have been further tweaked over the years to fit an evolving narrative.

One can imagine this is true of many other elements of these Games. Capitol citizens directly witness both the Chariot Parade and the Interviews. Since the Interviews are also mandatory "live" viewing, nationwide, presumably the rest of Panem get much more extended footage of each tribute (with maybe just a couple of their answers cut by the 5 minute delay) than what is ultimately preserved on the tape Katniss & Peeta see. It's only after the games that the Newcomer alliance is all but erased.

The tributes' families are interviewed when there are eight kids remaining. Sid and Ma must've been interviewed back in Twelve, and surely that was shown. It's cut out, after, to make people forget about Haymitch's family. Similarly, the footage of Haymitch receiving the milk in the arena probably airs, because Snow's plan there is to force Haymitch to look like a terrible person (by dumping it when Wellie needed it), or force him to kill his ally (by giving Wellie the milk), or force him to kill himself (by drinking it), all of which needs to be seen to be effective. That entire plot line is cut from the recap footage because it goes nowhere, and no one who did see it probably thinks anything of it because it ends up not being important to Wellie's or Haymitch's death, but this doesn't erase that people did see it.

Ultimately, the point Suzanne's making re: propaganda isn't as simple as the nation being fed one (1) false version of events and believing it because it's the only thing they've ever been shown. It's that many citizens WITNESSED (to various degrees, depending on where and who they are) other versions of these Games, with more, though still not entirely truthful, elements from reality. Yet even though there are plenty of discrepancies for people to question, no one does. Haymitch even comments on this as he's watching the recap. The Capitol's gone so far as to have even changed up the order of the deaths (which wouldn't have been altered in the "live" footage for obvious reasons), and the Capitol audience is eating it up even though they MUST remember it didn't happen like that!! The propaganda, the final narrative, is so effective that it makes people forget even the truths they have seen with their own eyes. Reality gets buried under several layers of falsehood, not just the one. And no one asks any questions.

To bring it back around to Peeta and Katniss, their games and rebellion are harder to alter for several reasons. Some things do get cut, including what Katniss' does for Rue, in the recap. But The Finale is the one point of the games that to some degree needs to be shown in all versions. There's no one else left to cut away to, for one, and there also needs to be some sort of narrative ending to close the Games. It's harder to edit actual deaths, and harder still when it's down to the last two tributes remaining. (I'll point out here that the Capitol doesn't alter the force field trick in Haymitch's games, either, even though some people might have read rebellion even in that [Katniss and Peeta certainly do!] They really couldn't. This is why I think Haymitch's side plot to blow up the cornucopia and kill off Silka and likely himself in the process might have actually worked to cause a visible stark for the rebellion more than anything else that he does. To at least some degree, that would've had to have been shown. They would need it to explain the ending.)

Now, in a best case scenario, the Gamemakers certainly could've sent in a targeted mutt or something to take out Katniss or Peeta, and thus handpicked their singular Victor. But this idea is immediately foiled by the both of them very imminently killing themselves. This time, the Capitol does not have the benefit of time on their side, and the 5 minute delay in the footage makes not one ounce of difference.

Secondly, Katniss & Peeta have the added protection their personal narratives afford them. It's harder to erase Prim from all footage than it was Sid and Ma, because Katniss volunteering for Prim is The Fact about her everyone latches onto pre-Games. The desperate star-crossed lovers storyline, meanwhile, effectively makes the berry trick ambiguous, instead of inherently rebellious. Some might see it as an attack against the Capitol, but plenty more buy into the romance, and even Snow is forced to admit that this narrative can be useful in shifting the public sentiment. By that point in the books, the time for killing them has passed and it makes more sense for the Capitol to use Katniss & Peeta, just as by the end of SOTR, it makes more sense for the Capitol to use Haymitch to solidify their propaganda. Thus, Haymitch's story enhances Katniss and Peeta's, rather than tarnishes its believability. When propaganda works, it will have people believing what they are told above even their own memories. Katniss' ~luck~ comes from what Haymitch never had... a series of other events and people directly aligning with her actions to allow them to break through the Capitol's narrative.

[palatinewolfsblog]

9 Tips in times of trouble and turmoil.

Seek out and connect with people who:

Contribute positively to your mental emotional and physical health.

Do not make you feel constantly guilty.

Encourage self-confidence and do not make you question your worth.

Allow you to be yourself.

Make you feel safe and secure.

Respect your values and needs.

Support your personal growth.

Want to see you succeed.

Celebrate your achievements.

[meanderingstream]

The Gaothmai flesh dreadnoughts are so horrific and I love it. Abomination-type creatures, but which are also troop carriers containing sorcerers and soldiers and other flesh-craft creatures inside them, who can come out to attack you from the orifice in the middle of the tentacles extending from the dreadnought’s otherwise featureless face.

Like just a sublimely terrifying exploration of what horrors can we extrapolate from the existence of flesh-craft sorcerers and their participation in a forever-war fueled arms-race with wizards. Troop carriers made of conjured flesh the size of skyscrapers whose only facial features are the uncountable 50-foot tentacles surrounding an orifice from whence more flesh abominations emerge.

[taddymason]

DRS3P2 LEAKS

Congratulations, Jay Walker, you are not only one of the most mischaracterized characters in the fandom, but also by your own family!

[reality-detective]

Colds, Coughs and the Flu?

4 Ingredients: 👇

1️⃣ ½ cup - Raw organic honey 🍯

2️⃣ 1 tsp - Turmeric 🌿 (powder or fresh shredded)

3️⃣ ½ tsp. - Ginger 🫚(powder or fresh)

4️⃣ 1 tsp. - Vanilla

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

Some doodles from the Kim roksoo angel au taking over my brain

[maevaniila]

Uh.. Hii !! So uh- how- PLEASE TEACH ME HOW TO DRAW PETER- (i love him so much grggrgrg-)

- Venus anon

Oh uh- well- TUTORIAL TIME 🗣🔥🔥

Just kidding 😭🤣 But he's really easy to draw, just look at some official artworks and you'll be fine 😎🔥

[arson-artist]

random selfship question time!

do you ever play childish games with your f/os?

stuff like hide and seek, tag, dress-up, playing pretend, or something with toys or stuffed animals?

obviously this would make sense if you and your f/o are still kids, but what if you’re adults?

is one of you an age-regressor, or do you just like taking a break from your responsibilities and having fun?

or maybe you’re a lot younger than your f/o, and are constantly dragging them to play games and show them your stuffed animal collection? (or vice versa)

what’s your favorite game to play together? are you very competitive or are you just having fun and messing around?

do you ever go to playgrounds together, or draw pictures to hang on the fridge, or blow bubbles, or draw with sidewalk chalk?

just imagine being a kid (literally or figuratively) with your f/o <3