#but I kinda want to give it a shot

[feeling-asterously-whelmed]

Ok so I’ve been thinking about it and I may have a few ideas on how to go about writing a regency era au for lockwood & co (primarily following show canon since I’m only 10 chapters into book 1). I mostly just want to write about the fittes ball but regency era and therefore dancing and longing stares and pining with locklyle

[flintsilvers]

i need claudia to haunt lestat but not in the overt, in your face way that dreamstat haunted louis. i need claudia to sit quietly just barely in sight. blurred in the background of every shot lestat is in. even if we don't always see her, he does. but if he tries to look at her directly she moves out of sight. she's gone. he has no chance to fix things with her because she's dead so he doesn't get to look her in the eyes anymore

[lion-buddy]

did some screenshot edits for fun :]

ogs r under the cut ^^

[nuclearanomaly]

Post workout cuddle, y/n?

pose ref

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[allmyandroids]

Raymond Reddington

In Season 4 Episode 2 - Mato

[kcuf-ad]

Have I watched the Pokemon Anime lately?

No.

Do I have some ideas for the Sinnoh Region?

Kinda.

[kaiowut99]

Also, always a bit amused when 4K misses a spot while blanking things like this lol

[alaskan-wallflower]

i love one sided parry because i love making paul having to cope with knowing darry’s the one thing he wants but can never have

[written-mishaps]

alright I’m back, what’s ur process behind characterization and concept making? (also thanks for the congratulations for ao3 pfffff)

HOOO BOY IM VERY GLAD YOU ASKED ok, ill talk about characterisation and then lead into concept making. I'll mostly be talking about 'It Was Only A Matter Of Time' cause obviously it's quick fresh on the mind in terms of what I did but if you're looking for advice, this can be applied more generally. Also I ended up rambling A LOT so I've put it under a read more. Hope this answers your question!

SO, in the case of the clones, characterisation is far more mealeable than with other fandoms where you have a lot more evidence and material to build up your understanding of a characters personality. With the clones, particualrly those like Thorn, Thire, Stone and of course Fox, theres very little canon basis, so for bulding up their characters, it was just a case of taking what fanon I liked and also constructing the personalities that would work best for the story I wanted to tell. Quick note, since this story ultimately ended up revolving around Fox, a lot of the characterisation for other characters was heaviliy informed by the questuon of "what personlity would best reveal a specific detail or invoking a specifoc reaction or relaisation in Fox" but of course as the story grew, the characters all grew into their own charactisation beyond that. That's the overview, To give you a lil more a concrete example behind this process, I'll use the Corrie Commanders.

So with the Corrie Commanders (Thorn, Thire, Stone, excluding Fox for now since he's a different story) I knew that, since they would most commonly be encountered as a trio, that they each have to have very disctinct Characterisations so it would be easy to differentiate them. So I started by assigning them a key characteristic. Eg.

Thorn: sarcastic and blunt, Thire: logical and practical, Stone: level headed.

Of course there would be other factors, but anytime i wrote them I would keep this key element in mind whenever i had them do anything. Then, something which was super fun to do, I assigned them very specific and individual 'character quirks' as I like to call them, which are essebtially just a couple other things that differntiate them and makes them unique as characters. Eg.

Thorn: he has a speech quirk which im VERY fond of wherin he doesnt pronounce the 'g' in any '-ing' which in my mind i interpret as a kind of drawl to his voice (you'll notice this in his dialogue, where Thorn will say stuff like "goin' to see" "instead of "going to see" etc) it makes me very happy to write, and ut jelps me figure out his specific 'voice' in my mind

Another example is Stone: His characteristic quirk is that he speaks very infrequently, but when he does, he always says something important. Again this is to refelect his character as someone who only speaks whne he feels like he has something worthwhile to say.

All of these tiny little considerations help build up a 'fully fledged character' so to speak, and it helps (hopefully lmao) them feel like distinct characters.

I've talked a lot but just another thing that helps characterisation (which ive mentioned before) is considering what 'role' they play within the larger story, and I do that ny mentally attaching little epithet to specific characters. For exmaple, Wolffes characater exists specifically to illuminate Fox's repressed violent tendencies, and also exists to wrench out the stuff that Fox refuses to confront or admit to himself. So to that measure, Wolffe himself is a very violent and very blunt character. He needs to be, to function for that purpose. Another example is Cody, who is 'The helpless older brother' Cody throughout the story has always been assocaited with reaching out and protecting Fox and trying to be there, but of course hes severly limited by how much help he can actually give. This ties into his character as a very earnest and protective character.

This is getting long so i might stop there for characterisation lmao, but in short, the process involves a bunch of decisons that cinsider "how does this character function within the story? How have their past experinces effected them? Where and What does this manifest as in their personality?"

OK ONTO CONCEPT.

I have a lot less to say abt this one lmao. Id already read a couple fics which dealt with the "what if Fox killed the Chancellor?" And i thought ut was interesting. Ill admit though, the concept of introducing Fives into it all mostly stemmed from frustration lmaoo. It all really started cause I got kind of frustrated with the fics that either demonised Fox or tried to downplay the significance of Fives' deaths. One of the reasons i decided to centre Fives and Foxs relationship as the focal point of the story was because I wanted to hit a medium that sufficiently acknowledged that Fives death was a tragedy which had a huge impact on those who loved him, but also that Fox's decision to kill him maybe wasn't done with pure malice.

That was the initial thinking, but the funny thing abt writing any story of any kind is that it inevitably develops a mind of its own. I didn't initially think sibling relationships and love was going to be such a core part of the story I was writing but sometimes the concept starts to mould itself into creation without you even being aware it's happening.

SO, in short: fun concepts come from finding something you don't like and going 'Why don't I like this? Can I make a story where I DO like this?'

But yeah! That's some thoughts about characterisation and concepts behind IWOAMOT specifically lmao but of course the stuff mentioned here can easily be applied to anything.

If you have any follow up Questions/unanswered areas of Concept making and characterisation, lemme know! As demonstrated, I can talk for ages.

[jorrated]

literally the only good thing i can say about hellava bust is that they are introducing the seven deadly sins in the same order as dantes divine comedy, like following the order of the 9 layers of hell from shallowest to deepest. only smart reference in the whole show

[upsidedownsmore]

man i've been setting up an artstation portfolio for the past few days and i've gotten an insane number of spam messages and emails about buying art and whatever, i expected it to be a bit bad but this is baaaaaaaaad lol

[rui-drawsbox]

if anyone suggests kny isekai fanfics please share them i beg. ive fallen into the rabbit hole that is kny i fear

SAME HERE i got to taste it once and literally dreamed with it (my bad for staying up until 2am so i could finish it)

anywho this is the fanfic i was referring to

it only has like 22 chapters, 3 extras and it's abandoned but thEY'RE ALL SOOOO GOOD

i dont even like ao3 that much but i should see if there is any other isekai themed fanfic

[the-skooma-den]

Im playing with how I draw Khajiit anatomy and using raz as my test subject

[jils-things]

i went wandering off in my pokespe gallery and had to relieve how wonderful this scene played out. no kidding

please dont read the tags i got emotional there /lh

[legendary-defender-of-fandoms]

My (barely) Coherent Thoughts After Seeing Beetlejuice Live

Yes, I saw the show three times. Yes, I think I bought one of everything at the souvenir stand (and what I didn’t buy I either already owned or will add to my Christmas list). Yes, I know I have a problem. No, I don’t intend to do anything about it.

About five minutes into the show I decided that yes, if they ever stage a production on the West End (basically the Broadway of London, England), I WILL go to see it! And if Alex is invited back & says yes, I’ll book the next flight across the pond!

EVERYONE in the cast was amazing! From the leads to the supporting characters to the ensemble to the swings (a few subbed in for the last show) - they all gave incredible performances, and made every show the best.

Fun details you miss in a boot or just listening to the cast recording - on the backdrop for the opening scene, the hill in the cemetery is heavily based on Jack’s Hill in Nightmare Before Christmas. There are also two headstones with legible writing on the hill. One says “Van Dort” as a reference to Corpse Bride, and the other says Jane with a long name I couldn’t make out because my eyes suck & I got distracted by a group of mourners crossing the stage with an extra pair of feet.

I say this with the utmost respect & affection - every character in Beetlejuice is a certifiable weirdo! Charles LOOKS like the most normal character, but even he’s quirky & bizarre with his matter-of-fact “I’m very good at sex.” He’s awesome because he can play the straight man to the Deans & Otho and be funny with Delia, Lydia, Beetlejuice and the Maitlands. But everyone from the guy whose name is on the marquee to Maxine Dean is a strange & unusual person, and I am HERE FOR IT!

Things Beetlejuice would have to do to make me say “Yes” before he even finishes asking include: sit on my lap with his face inches from mine & his thighs balanced on mine so he can kick his feet in the air like a teenage girl, walk over to me with his silly little jaunty walk, wear either his full wedding attire or his Cowboy attire, just pop into existence when I say his name 3 times, etc.

The show really is part musical, part magic show. There’s a lot of sleight of hand & misdirection. I was starting to wonder how Justin even fits his arms into the sleeves of his costumes with all the crazy stuff they had hidden inside! Most of the tricks had to be modified from the Broadway version, like being stabbed by bad art, but they’re still impressive.

It should be illegal for anyone to look good in a decrepit red suit that looks like it just got Carrie’d, and yet.

It’s insane how folks can be handed nearly-identical scripts & songs for the same character, and yet come up with vastly different interpretations.

I don’t know what else I can say. I laughed, I cried, I stuck around at the stage door partially to get Justin’s autograph (which I did, the guy’s so nice & patient), partially to let traffic die down before getting stuck in a hot sticky parking garage for 20 minutes, mostly because my legs wouldn’t stop trembling after what can only be described as my first religious experience.