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#how 13 will behave
sapphosclown · 5 months
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i feel like i appreciate dan and phil as people so much more now at 20 than i did at 13
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apparitionism · 1 year
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Tabled 3
Hello yet again, @barbarawar ! I swear I’m not dragging this @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange  out on purpose—the thing is, I always think, “This will be the time I make these loons get it together with reasonable speed,” but I’m (almost) always wrong. This third part follows part 1, in which Myka met Helena for that Boone-mentioned coffee and suffered its consequences, and part 2, in which more coffee caused her to suffer more consequences, leading her to decided that the only way to mitigate the suffering was to cut Helena out of her life, choosing to do so on a busy concourse in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Helena for some reason (tragicomedy?) responded to this idea by dousing Myka in coffee.
Anyway, this third part will in turn be followed by at least one more part, because god forbid they work anything out unwordily. (In semi-positive news, I don’t think this will extend to the seven-part opus I inflicted on my poor giftee last year.) (However: I should acknowledge also that, unlike the book Myka consults in this story, I can’t predict the future.)
Tabled 3
Myka’s head tilts down again, involuntarily, to behold her now coffee-stained shirt. Just as involuntarily, she then raises her head, and, yes, Helena’s still looking like she’s proud of herself. Proud and calm and at peace. Myka voices the bafflement in her head: “You... what did you do?”
Helena’s expression doesn’t change. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Obvious? Yes? “You threw your coffee at me?” Obvious but incomprehensible? “You threw your coffee at me... on purpose?”
“Yes,” Helena says, like it’s an accomplishment. “I can do that. I’m not a hologram.”
That’s true, and... good? Important? But... “But you ruined my shirt,” Myka says, which is objectively a fact. Even though the fact makes no sense.
Helena offers a tiny shrug. “So take it off.”
At that, Myka hardens: You don’t get to say things like that to me! she wants to yell. She settles for demanding, “Are you insane?” As the words leave her, she feels their carelessness. But they had come in response to the extremity of the situation, and that was all Helena’s doing. Your fault not mine, Myka thinks, in mulish self-defense.
Instead of objecting, Helena blinks a slow, condescending blink—a blink of I know you know better—and says, “The answer to that question depends entirely upon whom you ask.”
Nobody better ask me. Not right now. Reassembling her outrage, vowing not to fall victim to any impulse to protect Helena (from careless words or herself or anything else), Myka sputters, “I have to get back on a plane!”
Helena gestures, lazily, at the disaster she caused. “In that ruined shirt?” she says, now with a tsk-tsk, as if Myka is the one whose actions are inexplicable, given that they’ve landed her in this unfortunate situation.
“I loved this shirt,” Myka says, and it’s an embarrassingly, tellingly true statement... why did she let it escape? She’s wearing the shirt because of that love, which she feels because it enhances the green of her eyes in a very particular way, a way she has all along admitted to herself she’s hoped Helena would notice: notice and... maybe... regret the loss of.
But choosing to wear it was, she sees, yet another blunder, because of course she’s now the one doing the regretting. Of course she is.
“Did you?” Helena says, with one of those maybe-I’m-just-vain head tosses. It displays her neck. It’s probably intended to display her neck. “More so now.” She follows that with the challenge of a trickster eyebrow-lift.
Myka wants to strangle her, for all the reasons but mostly because she isn’t wrong. Because this shirt, even if the stain washes out, will always now be this shirt. Particularly if the stain washes out: if Myka wears this shirt, or even considers wearing it, on some eventual, otherwise unremarkable day, the this shirt of it will occupy her thoughts.
Hey book, she thinks in the direction of South Dakota. Look at me, predicting a future I didn’t see before today.
Calmly, now, she gazes at that future. She can live with this unspooling, because being reminded of Helena, having to process nostalgia, is something she knows how to handle. So many things in the course of a normal day spark a similar memory walk, and she imagines—no, she sees—that they always will.
That retrieval will always be that retrieval—matteringly large. That aisle will always be that aisle, a place of unfinal goodbye. Quietly, in the kitchen, that tea will always be that tea. Et cetera.
This airport, in fact, will now always be this airport.
This shirt will always be this shirt.
She looks down again; the coffee has fully reached her skin, and the entire scene—the increasing damp chill, combined with the initial splash as well as Helena’s words and face and neck and this familiarly angry need to put hands around that neck—it’s awakened her. And it’s awakened them, or Myka’s sense of them, the two of them together, that perfect entity: Wells and Bering, Bering and Wells...
Myka picks up her (surprisingly) unempty cup from the table and removes its lid. She then lifts her eyes to, and her own eyebrow at, Helena, who smirks. Myka tightens, brightens, and she flings her remaining coffee at the pristine, creamy expanse of sweater, surely cashmere, adorning the perfect body across from her. An uncanny joy floods her as the liquid hits—as a stain blooms, marring what was previously flawless. As, even better, Helena’s smirk enlarges into a smile.
But the moment has no chance to resolve, for they’re interrupted: Myka hears a throat-clear from behind her. Helena widens her eyes, then rolls them like some adolescent book-artifact. Myka, unclear on what that reaction says about who the intruder is, turns herself around... ah. An authority figure. A woman whose badge and uniform identify her as airport security.
“Ladies,” that authority says, tired and resigned, as if that Myka and Helena’s little coffee assaults barely even rank for her as inappropriate behavior but she supposes she’d better intervene before some overvigilant busybody attacks her for not doing what they see as her job.
“I’m sorry,” Myka starts, but that’s a knee-jerk remnant of table-lying. Or, no: hiding. In any case, she’s not sorry. Not at all. She closes her mouth.
“Ladies,” the careworn agent says again. “This is not the way.”
Not what Myka expected to hear. She swallows a laugh at how the words sound like advice from a parallel universe—one in which she and Helena are in couples therapy. The laugh tastes of regret.
Helena shakes her head. She says, with seriousness, as if the agent’s words were what she expected to hear (as if that parallel universe were this one): “I assure you, this is the way.”
And Myka can’t help but confirm, as she suspects she would in that other universe as well, “The only way.”
To that, Helena offers a beautiful, open affirmation: a soft-eyed, beneficent nod.
Wells and Bering. Bering and Wells.
The agent gives them her own eyebrow—pretty effective as chastisement, as far as Myka’s concerned—then makes them show her both their cups, ascertaining their emptiness. She says, again, “Ladies,” cautionary but also long-suffering, like she’s seen this exact scenario play out too many times. Myka finds her jaded view comforting: she and Helena aren’t singular. This isn’t once-in-a-lifetime; it’s over and over in everybody’s lifetimes.
The agent takes her leave, but she stations herself only a gate and a half away, communicating quite clearly that Myka and Helena—Wells and Bering, Bering and Wells—can’t be trusted.
Well. That’s certainly true.
Focused on each other again, they breathe and look for a little. The respite is heavenly. Myka stands in her coffee-spoiled shirt, looking at Helena in her similarly marred sweater. It’s the least complicated span of time she’s enjoyed in months. No: years. She is regarding someone, a non-hologram someone, she wants to regard, at momentary peace, with the next moment (at the very least, the next moment) undetermined.
“I’m so very relieved to have passed inspection,” Helena eventually says, breaking it.
The fracture threatens to let the complications back in, but Myka resists. “You know she’ll be watching to make sure we don’t go back to Starbucks for refills. Or even to a water fountain.”
Helena smiles. Myka feels no need, in that moment, to spare a thought for what the renewed winch of circumstance will bring. Their accord, in that moment, is full. It’s them.
Them, full, beautiful, but it’s not for keeping. This is one last hurrah of their beautiful connection—and it does warm her that Helena would take such drastic, security-attracting action to resurrect the feeling, to call it back into being, as this coda.
That’s all it is, though, for there is Giselle. And there is Pete.
Myka looks, one more time, down at her shirt: ruined. Up at Helena’s sweater: ruined too. Then she says it aloud, what she knows, in the wake of all the destruction: “It’s the end.” Then, because they might as well rule the day, she lists the proximate reasons: “There’s Giselle, and there’s Pete.”
“No there isn’t,” Helena says, enviably serene.
Also obstinate. Myka supposes she should have expected that. “Yes there is. I won’t tell you again.”
Helena’s eyeroll now is no less exaggerated than the one she produced in response to the agent. “Won’t you? Thank god for that. However, my disbelief regarding ‘you and Pete’ aside, my meaning is that there is no Giselle.”
Hope is a muscle, according to cliché. If that’s true, Myka’s will one day blessedly atrophy, for it will no longer be subjected to Helena saying things that make it expand. “You broke up?” she asks, unable to control a traitorous tremor.
Helena purses her lips. It’s distracting. “I should say yes,” she offers.
What does that mean? As Myka wonders, she watches Helena fidget: she has her cup in her hand again, and she’s picking at the label, which refuses to come free. Myka waits out the struggle, until Helena finally abandons the task and says, “I should, but I’m newly committed to pursuing a policy of truth. And the truth is, there is no Giselle. There never was.”
An involuntary “what” escapes Myka’s mouth. It isn’t really a word; rather, it’s her placeholder when she has no coherent response to... anything.
“I made her up,” Helena adds, unhelpfully.
“What,” Myka says again, low and quiet, and this time it’s holding the place of—holding her back from—a scream.
“In that coffeeshop in South Dakota,” Helena says.
Myka registers that she’s touching her wet shirt, wrapping her arms around it, seeking protection from... this. She removes her arms and thinks herself down: What is a rational response? She turns to a nitpick. “That’s... when. When you made her up.”
“Yes,” Helena says.
“But why. Why.” Myka’s arms want to move again, and she doesn’t stop them. They press her shirt cold against her. Cold, so cold.
Helena delivers yet another infuriating shrug as she says, “You wouldn’t connect.”
“I wouldn’t connect.” Nightmare, nightmare. Myka is slogging through a cold, wet nightmare: the dream-logic of it, of Helena saying that Myka did what Helena actually did, makes that so, so obvious. But obvious also is that it isn’t a dream; Myka is awake and confused and if she could just go to sleep maybe everything would be put back where it belongs, but probably not, because her shirt is coffee-sticky and she is tripping, falling, drowning, all these but awake, awake and still stupidly willing to partake of hope, that drug she will never, ever be able to kick.
“I said there was someone else,” Helena says, schoolmarm-severe.
How dare she. “I know. I was there.”
Helena does dare: she dares to look wounded. “Yes, you were. And yet you weren’t, in that you so obviously, so coldly, refused to entertain the possibility that ‘someone else’ might be you. Given that, I had to protect myself.”
Myka had thought it a nightmare only seconds ago—she’d had no idea how much worse it could get. She can’t in any way process that “might be you,” and certainly not followed by the “given that.” The consequences. She can’t. She forces out, irrelevantly, “So you made up your ‘new’ girlfriend right on the spot?”
“Yes. I suppose I took some perverse pride in being able to do so.”
Of course she did. It’s exhausting. “On the spot, you made up someone named Giselle?” Myka is offended by how... believable this is. How if this thing had happened—as apparently it had—this was its necessarily, entirely credible form.
“What?” Helena says, in that familiar there is no reasonable basis for your skepticism tone. “It’s a name.”
“But that’s the name you came up with?” Myka pushes, knowing she’s pushing—seizing on it as exemplifying the absurdity, as if by forcing Helena to make sense of that, she can make everything else fall into place.
Helena’s slight hand-wave isn’t a shrug, but it’s even more infuriating in its dismissiveness. “On the flight to South Dakota I may have read an article about the ballet.”
That’s “making sense,” in a very Helena way, but it sure doesn’t help. “Thanks, ballet,” Myka snarks.
“Does the name matter so much?”
“I told it to people.” And the people she told it to remembered it, because it was memorable. She’d been subjected more than once to Pete “joking” about Helena and her fancy French girlfriend. It had been awful.
“To people at the Warehouse,” Helena guesses. Presses.
Myka isn’t prepared to acknowledge that pain, not here, not now. “To my sister,” she says, because that is true, and, thank god, less painful.
“You told the name of my supposed girlfriend to your sister,” says Helena, not as a question, but with wonder.
Myka had. In a vague “someone I know” sense, in the context of supporting a contention that it was just fine for people to love who they love, and Tracy had been thrilled to connect it to ballet, so obviously everything was a stupid circle. “What does that matter?” she demands, though she has no right to be so defensive; she brought up that telling. Why had she? As a way of pushing the case for Helena’s wrongness in being so misleading... but Myka is now exposed as being overly invested in speaking about Helena... which she is, but... this is all going completely wrong again.
“You spoke of me outside the Warehouse.” Still with that tinge of wonder.
Myka has no way to counter that. Helena’s right about its significance. Myka sometimes finds herself desperate to speak of Helena, simply to savor the saying of her name, and when Steve or Claudia isn’t available or willing to indulge her, she calls Tracy. She tries a shuffle to the side: “I thought it was important. To you, I mean.” That’s a feint. “And I tell my sister about important things.”
“Such as your relationship with Pete?” That’s a taunt. Helena’s the one pushing now.
Myka wishes she could yield.... fall over, soft and easy, and let Helena win. Instead, what emerges from her mouth is an unhelpfully true “Not yet.” Helena smiles, and it’s mean, so Myka follows up with, “At least she’ll believe me when I do. She’s been on that team for a long time.” Now Helena squints. “The ‘men and women can’t be friends’ team,” Myka explains. “You know.”
“I don’t know,” Helena says.
History. Helena has offered a similar deadpan response, with that same dry emphasis on the “don’t,” just about every time Myka has said “you know” like this to her, and Myka used to find it charming. But she doesn’t want to start remembering patterns. Falling back into them. Not when she knows she’ll have to break them again. So she treats Helena’s objection as entirely literal, saying a pedantic, “Men and women can’t be friends without romance getting in the way.”
Helena literally turns up her nose as she says, “The grounds upon which to object to such an asinine generalization are many and varied.” Her upper lip then drifts in the direction of a sneer. “But you know that perfectly well. You know also that it doesn’t apply to you and Pete.”
“It does,” Myka says. It sounds pathetically petulant: an adolescent’s objection to a more-mature figure’s knowing judgment. Great. Now she’s the one aping the artifact-book.
“It does not. You are friends.”
“And then romance—”
“Got in the way? No.”
“Yes.” Myka hears herself say the word, knows it is yet more artifact-book puerility.
“Got in the way? No,” Helena says again, as if repetition is all that’s needed to cancel out Myka’s objection. Myka tries not to concede, even internally, that that might be true. “Occurred at all? No to that as well.”
“Yes it did! Stop making me say it!” Why can’t she just let this be? Myka let her be, back in Boone.
“If it had in fact occurred, you would be delighted to say it!”
That’s so true that Myka desperately wishes she could throw more coffee, or something heavier and more damaging, to get Helena to shut up. “Stop it!” she shouts, knowing that those words have no weight, that they won’t damage.
Surprisingly, Helena does stop it, and the pause rings in Myka’s ears, making her aware of how loud their voices have become. She dares a look around: passersby don’t seem to care, but the agent has turned to look at them disapprovingly again; she’s shifting her weight from foot to foot, most likely preparatory to drifting with intent in their direction.
Helena copies Myka’s gaze, then grimaces. “I don’t wish to be placed under arrest,” she says.
“I don’t think she’d do that. Maybe she can mediate.” The alternate-universe-couples-therapy theory certainly suggests that’s within the realm of possibility.
“I don’t wish to share our discussion with her either.”
Myka knows she shouldn’t ask what seems obvious. Knows, knows, knows. But she asks anyway. “What do you wish?”
Helena inhales and exhales, once and then twice, her shoulders and chest rising and falling, rising and falling—clearly she’s considering, and abandoning, a series of possible responses.
At last, she produces words: “To continue to speak together.”
Myka’s plane doesn’t board for another hour and a half. She can grant this wish. She says, “If we can just keep the noise level down—”
“In private,” Helena says.
“We’re in an airport.” Myka spends so much time in airports. They are so unprivate.
Helena swivels her neck around, as if seeking to confirm Myka’s statement for herself, then focuses on Myka again. She holds that focus, for one beat then two, and this time she obviously already has an answer in mind; she’s trying to pique Myka’s curiosity. Of course it’s working. If Myka could put her hands on that neck and be assured of forcing words from that intentionally withholding mouth, she’d do it.
But she stills her wishing hands, and at last, Helena relents. “An airport, yes,” she says. “But one that houses a hotel.”
Which brings Myka up short. It also opens a chasm. She entertains, for one morally evacuated second, the idea of being in a hotel room with Helena—and, worse, of doing what people do in hotel rooms with Helena. Then she snaps her spine back into place and says, “Absolutely not.”
“For privacy,” Helena says. “Nothing more. I swear it.”
Myka knows what being manipulated by Helena feels like. This... isn’t that. Or at least, it isn’t a “doing what people do in hotel rooms” sort of that. “Privacy,” she echoes.
“Do you dispute the notion that we have more to say to each other?”
In so many parts of the past, Myka’s answer to that would have been an immediate “no.” Now, she pretends she has to think about it—but Helena most likely knows it’s a pointless pretense. Myka gives up and says “no” out loud.
“And would it not be better, in saying that more, to say it freely?”
The answer to that is less clear-cut, despite what Myka would love to believe is sincerity in Helena’s eyes and voice. She would love to believe it. So much... so does that mean she should say no?
As she thinks about it, however, this has all the hallmarks of being another blunder. As foretold by the book. And really, who is she to think she knows better than a predictive artifact?
“Okay,” she says. “Hotel.”
TBC
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tonariofjananda · 1 year
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Happy Birthday Mizuha!!! 4/6
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(I’m a little late to the party sorry 💔)
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scottapez · 1 year
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god radfems are so mad like. all the time.
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blasfehmo · 19 days
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whenever I read through that first Damon / Elena interaction of the first book I get goosebumps usjsjjxjxj like damn
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fuck-me-you-coward · 21 days
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really a pattern of my childhood is me having a problem and mom throwing a tantrum and demanding I stop having it instead of like... helping me... with anything ever
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ssaalexblake · 1 year
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That doctor support group is going to teach Yaz So Much, so much will be clear in the aftermath. 
Yaz may not have had the perspective to be aware just how much effort 13 actually Was putting into treating her well at the time, but she Will learn in the end. And I imagine that in the short term, that might hurt a lot, but in the long term, I think it will help her immensely. 
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punchitmrsulu · 2 years
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Trying to find some good Don’t Worry Darling gifs to reblog but most of the stuff in the tag is people hating on Olivia and complaining about Harry Styles doing sex scenes. Like he isn’t a grown man who can decide whether to do a sex scene or not.
They’re both adults and they’re dating, guys, get over it!
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elipsi · 1 year
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my old middle school classmate who was a vicious little creep is apparently working as a photographer for the town, he's literally at every local event ://
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rubberbandballqueen · 2 years
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you know, i usually look back on my eighth grade self as like, this quirky, Weird Girl(tm) who nonetheless had a network of various accepting friends, but i’m transcribing what i consider to be my most Iconically Eighth Grade diary volume, and i think that “an absolute feral lunatic of a child with a penchance for scraps who miraculously had a group of people who had Bonded with them like a horse girl to a wild mustang” is much closer to the truth
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anatolienne · 7 months
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im honesty glad that i lived away from my family for 4 years bcs of school
#i fully believe that you have to live away from your family at some point during your youth (under management ofc)#to fully develope a healthy character#like ik i couldn't be the person i am today if i didnt take that opportunity i fully believe it#and you also really understand the importance of family that way#by being away from them by missing them#you know how to treat them and like thats the best thing someone can learn at the ages of 13 - 14#and like. people really dont understand how important your teenage and how it affects the rest of your life#its not the age to just have endless fun like thats so superficial and limiting its the age where you start to be conscious of the world#and you need to idolise the right people at that age because it affects literally eveything like the way you think and behave and all#and what also most people fail to acknowledge is that yes they do need an advocate or to 'idolise someone'#i believe we as humans are not meant to live individually and think individually and yk think of ourselves as isolated individuals#who is never affected by others like no girl that has literally never happened#needing the interactions and ideas and inspirations and warmth of others is human behaviour. it has happened since humanity began#denying this and seeing each individual as their own is not always so good because that isoltes us from each other#and it gives the idea that we arent supposed to be affected by others#so yea we as humans feel the need to look up at someone sometimes were just not conscious of it and deny it#but we need it especially at younger ages#its really important for teenagers to be surrounded by older people of various ages to be more conscious and gain a certain perspective#experience matters
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bookished · 6 months
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HOW TO GIVE PERSONALITY TO A CHARACTER
Giving personality to a character is an essential part of character development in storytelling, whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or creating a character for a role-playing game. Here are some steps and considerations to help you give personality to your character:
Understand Their Backstory:
Start by creating a detailed backstory for your character. Where were they born? What were their childhood experiences like? What significant events have shaped their life? Understanding their past can help you determine their motivations, fears, and desires.
2. Define Their Goals and Motivations:
Characters often become more interesting when they have clear goals and motivations. What does your character want? It could be something tangible like a job or a romantic relationship, or it could be an abstract desire like happiness or freedom.
3. Determine Their Strengths and Weaknesses:
No one is perfect, and characters should reflect this. Identify your character's strengths and weaknesses. This can include physical abilities, intellectual skills, and personality traits. Flaws can make characters relatable and three-dimensional.
4. Consider Their Personality Traits:
Think about your character's personality traits. Are they introverted or extroverted? Shy or outgoing? Kind or selfish? Create a list of traits that describe their character. You can use personality frameworks like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator or the Big Five Personality Traits as a starting point.
5. Give Them Quirks and Habits:
Quirks and habits can make a character memorable. Do they have a specific way of speaking, a unique fashion style, or an unusual hobby? These details can help bring your character to life.
6. Explore Their Relationships:
Characters don't exist in isolation. Consider how your character interacts with others. What are their relationships like with family, friends, and enemies? These relationships can reveal a lot about their personality.
7. Show, Don't Tell:
Instead of explicitly telling the audience about your character's personality, show it through their actions, dialogue, and decisions. Let the reader or viewer infer their traits based on their behavior.
8. Create Internal Conflict:
Characters with internal conflicts are often more engaging. What inner struggles does your character face? These can be related to their goals, values, or past experiences.
9. Use Character Arcs:
Consider how your character will change or grow throughout the story. Character development is often about how a character evolves in response to the events and challenges they face.
10. Seek Inspiration:
Draw inspiration from real people, other fictional characters, or even historical figures. Study how people with similar traits and backgrounds behave to inform your character's actions and reactions.
11. Write Dialogue and Inner Monologues:
Writing dialogue and inner monologues from your character's perspective can help you get inside their head and understand their thought processes and emotions.
12. Consider the Setting:
The setting of your story can influence your character's personality. For example, a character who grows up in a war-torn environment may have a different personality than one raised in a peaceful, affluent society.
13. Revise and Refine:
Don't be afraid to revise and refine your character as you write and develop your story. Characters can evolve and change as the narrative unfolds.
Remember that well-developed characters are dynamic and multi-faceted. They should feel like real people with strengths, weaknesses, and complexities. As you write and develop your character, put yourself in their shoes and think about how they would react to various situations. This will help you create a compelling and believable personality for your character.
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pinkieroy · 7 months
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I hate when my mom plays dumb so much, I told her why I was angry with my friends and she was like hmm, then I got all excited about wanting to use pink and blue highlighters on elliot page's book, and she went (very judgy) "you care a lot about this"
I'VE COME OUT TO YOU, YOU KNOW WHY I CARE
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bweirdart · 7 months
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EVENT OVER! THANKS EVERYONE WHO JOINED IN U ALL DID AN AMAZING JOB <3 SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR IN MARCH FOR #mARTch OR NEXT OCTOBER (2024) FOR A NEW SET OF PROMPTS!!!!!
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OC-TOBER 2023 PROMPTS!!
general tag: #oc-tober / my prompts: #bweirdOCtober
F.A.Q:
Do I have to draw EVERY DAY?
NO! I highly encourage skipping as many days as you need to avoid burnout! There are 10 main days in the event (marked with a ⭐ star) that you can focus on if you don't feel up to doing every day, or you can choose your own adventure and just do the prompts you personally like!
Do I have to DRAW?
NO! You can also write fanfiction snippets, repost older art that fits the theme, tweet headcanons/backstory, roleplay in-character as your oc ... genuinely anything that fits the theme is OK!!
Can I start early?
YES! I understand some people work at a slower pace and might need a head start! So long as you wait until October to post it, you can start working as early as you need!
I missed the start of the event .. do I have to catch up?
NO! Please don't stress about days you missed, you're allowed to just skip to the current prompt!
RULES:
1. MAKE FRIENDS! The community is the best part of this event .. please try to follow new people, ask questions about ocs you like, compliment people's styles, ask friends to create with you, etc!
2. TAKE IT EASY! Skip a day if you're tired, busy or just not interested in the prompt. You don't have to catch up on it later. This is supposed to be fun, not work!
3. BE KIND! Please think about the people around you - don't give people unwarranted harsh criticism, content warn for themes/imagery in your work that could trigger someone, don't create anything hateful, etc
MORE:
text version / tips and ideas on bweird.art or below ↓
star = main prompts | no star = optional
INTRO WEEK
1: FAVE OC ⭐
-Which of your characters is your favourite right now?
2: NEW OC
-Who is your newest OC?
-Design a new OC right now
3: OLD OC ⭐
-Do you remember the first OC you ever made?
-Is there an OC you haven't drawn in a long time?
4: RE-DESIGN
-An OC who has changed a lot over the years
-Take an old OC and update their design right now
 
BACKSTORY WEEK
5: RELATIONSHIPS ⭐
-Who is important to your OC?
-Do they have a partner?
-Do they have a best friend?
-Are they close to their family?
6: SYMBOL
-What imagery do you associate with your oc?
-Are there any colours, flowers, animals or concepts that symbolize them?
7: PERSONALITY ⭐
-How does your OC behave?
-What are their positive traits?
-What are their negative traits?
-Are they extroverted or introverted?
8: PAST
-What was your OC like as a child?
-Where did they grow up?
-Are there any significant moments from their past that shaped who they are?
9: FUTURE ⭐
-Does your OC have a goal they're working towards?
-What will your OC look like when they get older
-Do you have a planned ending for their story?
PALETTE WEEK
10: pumpkin patch palette
#251604 #1E3807 #5B5E1A #A2A657 #EBA00F #F3ECCC
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11: hot cocoa palette
#520B13 #BB382E #E27E6D #88392C #AF5D40 #E1AFA4
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12: midnight zone palette
#000007 #000049 #183885 #004D4F #0E8788 #FFF1C0
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13: peachy palette
#DE6450 #DB9171 #FFC1AE #FEE1AD #FFF2E0 #D9D8D8
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14: haunted house palette
#552506 #6E25AA #ED690B #F925A0 #8F8BA7 #A6C1AA
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FUN + GAMES WEEK
15: MEME ⭐
-Post memes that remind you of your OC
-Draw your OC as a meme
-Fill out a character meme (classic deviantart style)
16: FOOD
-What is your OC's favourite food?
-What is their least favourite?
-Can they cook?
17: EYES-CLOSED ⭐
-Draw your OC with your eyes closed! No cheating!
-Write a scene without looking at the keyboard! Keep the typos in!
18: SWAP
-Swap the style or aesthetic of two of your OCs
-Species or gender swap AU
-Invert an OC's colour scheme
19: INSPIRATION ⭐
-Is your OC inspired by any pre-existing characters?
-Are there any particular songs/lyrics that inspired something about one of your OCs
-Do you have a dedicated pinterest moodboard for your character?
20: INVENTORY
-What does your OC carry around with them on a daily basis?
-Are there any objects that have sentimental value for them?
-Loot drop for your DnD OC
 
FRIENDS WEEK
21-25:
There's no specific daily prompts for this week, but here are some ideas you can try ...
-Art trades with friends who are doing the event with you
-Your OC interacting with a friend's OC
-Gift art for someone whose OCs you like
-Work together and collaborate on something with a friend
-Roleplay an OC scene together with someone
 
HALLOWEEN WEEK
26: FEAR ⭐
-What is your OC scared of?
-Draw one of your OCs trying to scare the others
27: MONSTER
-Do you have any monster OCs? (eg: vampires, werewolves, creatures, ghosts...)
-Draw a human OC as a monster
-Design a new monster
28: TRICK
-Play a trick on an OC
-Do you have an OC who would play tricks on people?
29: TREAT
-What is your OC's favourite halloween candy?
-Give an OC a special treat to make up for yesterday's trick
30: MAGIC
-Do any of your characters have magical powers?
-Give an OC a magical or cursed artifact
-Create a magic-using OC like a witch or wizard
27: COSTUME ⭐
-What is your OC dressing as for halloween?
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i-appear-misssing · 1 year
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towards the end of the relationship i’d started rewatching house md with my ex, and all i can remember is how unpleasant and anxiety inducing it felt to be stressed and sad all the time and still in med school having to study while being stressed and sad and angry all the time. we had to stop watching cause it was giving me so much anxiety
I’m rewatching it now and yeah sure, it still kinda gives me anxiety cause there’s SO MANY things i don’t know and it makes me paranoid about every single patient i see with a stomach ache or dizziness but what’s weird is that i have no memory of the episodes from that last rewatch, but i do remember everything from when i used to be obsessed with it as a kid!!!! Like, i remember what i felt watching it when i was 12, nothing from when i was 26.I remember almost every episode’s twist ending from when i was a literal child and not an adult woman studying medicine.
 And it’s so good, being able to revisit those dumb feelings and recontextualise them knowing who i am and what i know now.  And my god, the way i used to be OBSESSED with house and cameron and like...........oh poor baby me. You understand so little about yourself. makes me wanna cry from sheer fondness
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westernsunshine · 1 year
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My sister messaged me
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#this woman reaches out once a year maximum and it literally feels like she’s just filling in a quota to make herself feel better#like because she wished me a happy new year i know i’m not going to hear from her on my birthday lol#and every single time i’m just like. why now#i didn’t know you existed until i was 13 and i didn’t meet you until i was 15. we’ve met Twice and your husband talked to me#more than you did. you never attempted to get to know me. you just showed up in the life of a grieving child and then bounced#there was no need for it. right when i could’ve used support you bounced and now that i’m an adult you send these meaningless platitudes#like you don’t get to ignore me for most of my life and then suddenly try to randomly hit me up when i’m an adult. that’s not how it works#also the absolute diatribe of a message she sent my mom last year.. she sent this fucking essay about how she wanted me to meet her kids#(no mention of whether they wanted to meet me or even asking if i wanted to meet them mind you)#and ended it with ‘sending you this because ellen doesn’t have facebook’ uhhhh yes i do??#she must Know i do because she’s just messaged me on it!! like.#idk if i’m coming off as harsh here but really i just am not inclined to think well of her or give her the benefit of the doubt#she dropped into our dad’s life when she was a teenager; damn near gave him a heart attack because he had no idea she existed#then ghosted him for decades and then showed up four years after he died#visited twice; showed no interest in getting to know me and behaves weirdly#like i know her behaviour hurt my dad. and i just get the vibe that she thought some money might’ve been left to her#like joke’s on her because he died with no life insurance & two months before he was able to collect his pension. so there was bugger all#i also don’t like that she calls me sis. i find it weird and off putting. your kids are both older than me.. i know factually you Are#my half sister but it’s really difficult to see that. and idk. it feels weird to me that she tries to force that connection/nickname#but then makes no effort to BE a sister. it’s like she’s just fixated on the appearance of it#also i want to add that when i lived literally 10 minutes away from her (and she knew) she Never reached out. but now that i’m 3 hours away#it’s back to ‘oh can you meet my kids?’ no! i don’t want to meet your kids. literally what will we say to each other#‘hi i’m your aunt who’s younger than you. yeah your granddad made some odd choices in life’ i don’t need that#i probably am in the wrong here for being annoyed at her for reaching out but the thing is that i already know if i replied she’d go radio#silent on me. so i just don’t see the point of what she’s doing. it really does feel like.. not manipulation#but she only wants a relationship with me when she’s bored and i am not interested in being entertainment#my dad’s side of the family are all like this. they only contact me when they want something and frankly it’s annoying#i do feel like i got ditched as a grieving 11 year old by the people who should’ve helped keep his memory alive tbh. it fucking sucks#personal#rant
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