K.A.Kallahan @kakallahan - Tumblr Blog

I was getting pretty fed up with links and generators with very general and overused weapons and superpowers and what have you for characters so:

Here is a page for premodern weapons, broken down into a ton of subcategories, with the weapon’s region of origin.

Here is a page of medieval weapons.

Here is a page of just about every conceived superpower.

Here is a page for legendary creatures and their regions of origin.

Here are some gemstones.

Here is a bunch of Greek legends, including monsters, gods, nymphs, heroes, and so on.

Here is a website with a ton of (legally attained, don’t worry) information about the black market.

Here is a website with information about forensic science and cases of death. Discretion advised.

Here is every religion in the world.

Here is every language in the world.

Here are methods of torture. Discretion advised.

Here are descriptions of the various methods used for the death penalty. Discretion advised.

Here are poisonous plants.

Here are plants in general.

Feel free to add more to this!

thejovianmute

An exceedingly useful list of lists for writers.

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Learn To Move

“Hold still, this May hurt”

It did hurt

I held still

In a machine only broken parts stay still

Does that make me a machine or a broken part?

Leaves around me move

Pushed by motivation

Birds above me move too

Pulled by gravity

The people in my life have always moved

They are carried by the wind

How do they do it?

I am still because I am broken

But being Still is what breaks me

So what if I learned to move

Not as a machine or a part

Not as a bird, leaf, or person

What if I learn to move like me

What if I never stopped

#poetry #poem #writing #motivation #kakallahan

A letter From the Moon

Noblest Earth,

I have seen you

My eyes have gazed beyond your curtain of clouds

I have seen your wind that sings

Your mountains that rise to highest hopeful peak

Your Oceans uncertain of which I know I have stirred with my pull

I cannot help my pull just as you cannot help yours on myself

But it is the loveliest feeling is it not?

This mutual pull

It keeps me in your orbit,

This force that dares to try and get our distance smaller

I have pulled many things close dearest Earth

I have the craters to prove

I see yours too

The impact of a meteor that filled your atmosphere with light as it came

So you also know this pull

It is the scariest feeling is it not?

And if this pull causes our surfaces to one day meet

Think of the possible destruction

The impact we could suffer

The impact I could leave on you

Do tell me I’m wrong,

Signed Brightest Moon

#poem #poetry #writing #kakallahan #moon

I told him my story as we sat

His eyes never wavered from mine

He had a nice smirk

I told him of near-every escapade, adventure, and quest in my life

The last thing I told him was my happy ending

His smirk became a smile

Then like a spark I asked of his story, his happy ending

He ignited

“Which one?”

And just like that his joyous light-filled eyes projected his words as he spoke and I saw the colors of his life as his stories slowly replaced the walls

Every achievement a source of brightness

Every mistake a well shaded object

Every bit of him a work of art

Before it was over I was surrounded by a masterpiece yet unfinished and still

I couldn’t bring myself to look away from his smile

#poetry #givemefeedback #kakallahan #stillnew

lacapitaine-deactivated20120131

terriamon

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self-healing

stop believing that you ran out of time to shape yourself into who you want to be! stop believing that its ruined! stop believing you don’t have potential! you are not a fixed being! you have endless opportunities to grow.

01110011-111-deactivated2020083

STUFF IN MARILYN’S FUTURE SHE MIGHT FORGET ABOUT: -all that Cormac shit you already know -Kaleb headlining his first comedy gig outside of RIT auditoriums -Kyle getting a coffee drink named after him (with lots of caffeine) -Rylan getting a legal name change -Braedon getting his first million and giving half of it to all of us for our little apartment -Marilyn getting a pet fish named Pedro -Kaleb getting a girlfriend who we all like -Kyle actually finding someone and committing to someone -Rylan getting his first interpreting gig -Braedon getting a full jedi costume -Marilyn building a fucking awesome robot -Kaleb figuring out what he wants to do with his life -Kyle performing for Broadway for the first time -Rylan helping other trans kids deal with life -Braedon starting some sort of charity -Marilyn dying her hair every color of the rainbow -Kaleb having a mini Kaleb who grows up with the best father ever -Kyle writing a musical that inspires other kids to stand up for themselves -Rylan starting a fundraiser for money for queer kids with less than supportive parents -Braedon using his privilege to help those who can’t always speak for themselves -Marilyn changing the world -All of us in our own little apartment -All of us raising each other’s kids as aunts and uncles -All of us with lots of puppies and kitties -All of us growing plants and not killing them -All of us going on vacations to NYC and Disney and the countryside -All of us making pillow forts -All of us crying -All of us laughing -All of us settling down -All of us at each other’s weddings -All of us at each other’s children’s birth -All of us at each other’s award galas -All of us in Europe -All of us at age 50 -All of us at age 80 -All of us.

@forget-the-binary (via aestheticallyhellish)

wordsnquotes

Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.

Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (via wordsnquotes)

wordsnstuff

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.

Portraying a character with severe depression.

How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.

How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

Playing a character with ADHD.

How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

Portraying a character who is high.

Portraying characters who have secrets.

Portraying a recovering alcoholic.

Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

Illegal Activity

Examining Mob Mentality

How Street Gangs Work

Domestic Abuse

Torture

Assault

Murder

Terrorism

Internet Fraud

Cyberwarfare

Computer Viruses

Corporate Crime

Political Corruption

Drug Trafficking

Human Trafficking

Sex Trafficking

Illegal Immigration

Contemporary Slavery

Black Market Prices & Profits

AK-47 prices on the black market

Bribes

Computer Hackers and Online Fraud

Contract Killing

Exotic Animals

Fake Diplomas

Fake ID Cards, Passports and Other Identity Documents

Human Smuggling Fees

Human Traffickers Prices

Kidney and Organ Trafficking Prices

Prostitution Prices

Cocaine Prices

Ecstasy Pills Prices

Heroin Prices

Marijuana Prices

Meth Prices

Earnings From Illegal Jobs

Countries In Order Of Largest To Smallest Risk

Forensics

arson

Asphyxia

Blood Analysis

Book Review

Cause & Manner of Death

Chemistry/Physics

Computers/Cell Phones/Electronics

Cool & Odd-Mostly Odd

Corpse Identification

Corpse Location

Crime and Science Radio

crime lab

Crime Scene

Cults and Religions

DNA

Document Examination

Fingerprints/Patterned Evidence

Firearms Analysis

Forensic Anthropology

Forensic Art

Forensic Dentistry

Forensic History

Forensic Psychiatry

General Forensics

Guest Blogger

High Tech Forensics

Interesting Cases

Interesting Places

Interviews

Medical History

Medical Issues

Misc

Multiple Murderers

On This Day

Poisons & Drugs

Police Procedure

Q&A

serial killers

Space Program

Stupid Criminals

Theft

Time of Death

Toxicology

Trauma

humanapex

To me, a wicked man who is also eloquent seems the most guilty of them all. He’ll cut your throat as bold as brass, because he can dress up murder in handsome words

Euripides, Medea (via incurabledesireforyou)

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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

Just Some Stuff I did for Practice

My seemingly boundless curiosity lead me to a room I didn't first realize was there. Walking in, I had to wait for my eyes to adjust because this room in particular was more furiously lit than the rest of the library. In the center of the room sat a row of slanted tables resembling podiums. Each had its own book of enormous size and all were atlases. I walked to the closest one, it read “Atlas of California waters”. I opened it, it's pages were laminated which made them stick your fingers. Flipping through the pages I viewed the shapes in amazement. I was not getting information, I was not remembering locations, I wasn't even sure what I was looking at but I was amazed by the magnitude of what I was viewing. Huge areas of land condensed down to single pages, defined and named down to every inch. This stood as more than a book it was some kind of achievement. I moved on to the next one, labeled “Mountains of Virginia”, and once again I was dumbfounded that something so massive was sitting before me presented as information I barely understood. I wanted to go through all of them, to try and wrap my head around the greatness of the world we live in, but my time passed and I couldn't stay, so I closed the books and felt the cold laminated pages against my fingers one last time and walked back out the door.

My white Line

The road stretched far and dark before me, elongating a drive that was not brief to begin with. The winding white lines lead me away as I stared out the windshield and ventured into the depths of thoughts I had long left ignored.

The lines veered to the left, turning with it I veered a few feet closer to the guardrail. I found myself wanting to just let go, to let a divine I didn’t believe in it take hold so I could split through the rails and land 50ft below in a car that could easily be made to resemble an accordion.

The lines veered again, this time to the right leading me to a bit of road cut through solid rock. On either side of the pass were rocky walls that scaled so high the tops wouldn’t be visible, even in the starlight. That however did not stop me from trying to see the tops through the dimly lit air as I drove through.

I thought again about the guardrail from before, and I liked the idea of running through it. Not because I wanted to die, not because it could seem like an accident, not because I was overwhelmed with all the life coming at me but because as morbid as it sounds I like the idea of being able to leave this world and leaving a visible mark. Some people would pass and see and wonder how it got there only to find out that an angsty teenager decided the guardrail was too long and that their car would seem nicer if it got compacted to half its original size.

But guardrails get fixed, roads repaired, and time goes on. That I decided, would not be how I left my mark in this world. Something temporary and petty would only prove to represent my own existence with sad accuracy. Rather I want something bold and immortal. Something that stands when I cannot so that one day I feel like I can die and not be lost to this world.

The white lines diverge and I follow the ones off towards my exit. Time will go on, and that is beautiful but I don’t want to leave it.

My white lines end. I am home, and I’ve never been so happy to see it.

#writing #kakallahan

My Bad Day

I spent the first five minutes and sixteen second of the car ride home bargaining with myself. Bargaining fault, attempting to sell most of it away to others. Bargaining in the hopes i’d come to the conclusion that the way I was treated was unfair because it wasn’t my fault, others were to blame and even though I was upset, I was fine. I did come to this conclusion, and it satisfied me for seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, a new record. The last three minutes and fifty-eight seconds of the car ride reminded me why I failed, and why I was to blame. I stood still between my car and the door to my house for a moment. Forty-two seconds to be specific. I’m not the me I used to be. My head is fogged, things aren’t in straight lines, I need so much time to process the littlest things. I’m not the me in wanted to be either, I have so many friends, but that feels like a hollow victory. A vocal reminder of my flaws, an empty voice that carries no appreciation for all of the effort i'm putting in everyday to still be me. It’s selfish to want appreciation. I am upset, but I am fine. It’s been a hard day, I walk in my home expecting to see my dog at the foot of my bed, waiting to hear about the day I had that I’m so eager to talk about. He is in the living room, sound asleep. Probably has been for an hour and thirty minutes. I am upset, but I may be fine. I need things to be the same, to make me feel better about how I am not. I go to the fridge for a glass of milk, but the shelf is empty. Drank up by a family member desperate enough to finish the last drop. It is selfish of them to have not thought about how I’d feel, isn’t it? My pleasant work day, my dog, and now my milk. Why are the little happinesses I needed so badly torn from my hands like tape off a roll? It’s probably selfish to take this personally. I know what I need now, so I step outside again. Where are my stars? I look to the sky in hopes of seeing it decorated with the jewels and hope I knew so well but, Where are my stars? I am met with an atrocious, shameless, unforgiving, murky blue. Where have you put my stars? I am upset, and I am not okay. I can’t pretend I’m okay, I can’t pretend I’m even me anymore. I drop and I cry. With tears welling on my face “I only wanted stars” I say. Six minutes and thirteen seconds I cried. One minute and twenty-seven seconds I spend recovering and composing myself up. I look back up at the sky and still not a peek of even one little light. I find instead, at my eye level are fireflies. I stop and watch to appreciate them, after all it would be selfish not to. They were beautiful. I’m not quite sure how long I stared.

#kakallahan #writing

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