#like I did no sketches whatsoever

[maukuja]

painting heat abnormal lyrics because I'm normal and can be trusted with access to the song and a painting program

[castelled-away]

So now that we know the marriage market/schemes of the ton are not Benedict‘s cup of tea & he spends the better part of s3 running away from debutantes who want to marry him… I need Sophie (or whoever is going to be his love interest in his season) to be the incarnation of the word no. I need this lovely lady to be absolutely uninterested in this jokester puppy of a Bridgerton so that he HE has to run after HER. And she’s just like no thanks & completely uninterested & pragmatic/down-to-earth all the time until he like…cries & begs her to marry her I guess?

[proxi-n]

Got some time one my hands whilst the power was out

[staryflowers]

why did nobody warn me a visual novel needed visuals and a novel. what the flip man.

[gouinisme]

last 2 journals + next 1

[munsonsmixtapes]

Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!inexperienced!American!reader

summary: An unfortunate funeral causes you and Benedict come face to face and he is your surprising shoulder to lean on. And after a secret moment in the garden, you become closer than ever before.

word count: 4k

taglist: @syraxnyra @turtle-cant-communicate @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @intothesoul

part one part two part four part five part six part seven

February 13, 1817

There was a knock on your door after you had gotten home from the gallery. You had embarrassed yourself enough when you had insulted Benedict's painting and weren't in the mood to speak to anyone, especially not who you knew was on the other side of the door.

You had already felt like a disappointment to your father and you didn't need to hear him tell you as such. But he entered the room anyway and sat on the edge of your bed next to you. He went to wrap his arm around you, but you pulled away, moving closer to the other side.

"I am afraid that I have not been there for you when you needed me most," he went to reach for your hand, but you pulled it away, fully turning your back to him.

"I am afraid that is true and I do not wish to speak to you at this moment."

"Bunny," he went to use his beloved nickname for you which caused you to stand from the bed, turning to face with a kind of anger you didn't even know was possible.

"You do not deserve to call me that. I understand that you are my father, but you were also my best friend. So where have you been?" You asked, your voice getting louder. "Where have you been when your wife, my mother betrayed me? If you love me as much as you claim to, then why have you never defended me when you saw the two of them treating me so horribly? I know why. It is because you are nothing but a coward and I do not wish to speak to you any longer."

With that, your father left the room, leaving you alone again. All of your anger was getting the best of you, everything that had happened throughout your whole life, weighing on you. You went under your bed where you hid away your art supplies and began to sketch, the pressure of your hand pressing the charcoal to the page, causing it to break, both it and the tears that were falling from your eyes, ruining the picture completely.

It seemed that not even your form of therapy was working. The one thing that made you feel better in fact did not. As your anger reached its peak, you threw everything across the room in a loud clatter and changed into your nightgown, getting into your bed, pulling the covers over you and crying until sleep claimed you.

But your sleep did not bring you any rest whatsoever, the only thing happening behind your eyes was your father. You saw his carriage crashing into a tree, the ship he was on going down, him falling off his horse, all leading to his demise.

The guilt was eating at you for the way you spoke to him. Even though everyone was asleep, you couldn’t sleep any longer without apologize for the way you spoke to your father. Whether he accepted it or not didn’t matter. You just needed him to know that you didn’t mean a single word.

You snuck out of your room with every intention of heading to your parents’ room at the end of the hall only to your mother sobbing in the foyer. She was on her hands and knees while Lilith held onto her, rubbing her back while he cried tears of her own.

You approached them, looking around for your father only to not see him, and you expected the worst. It seemed that all of your nightmares were in fact not that, but premonitions.

You felt lightheaded, your vision going hazy as your sister told you what had happened. Augustus had gone for a late night horse ride and had experienced a heart attack, causing him to fall off and pass away right there because there had been no one had been around to give him the proper care nor get him to a hospital.

It was all your fault. Or at least, that was what you were telling yourself. He did, however, die in one of the ways you had dreamed about, so you supposed that you had spoken it into existence.

The next few days, the house was quiet, neither you nor your mother or sister uttering a single word, nothing feeling quite right to say as far as the loss was concerned. The funeral was the next week and the three of you stood together, weeping over your father’s grave.

You were approached by Kate and Anthony who pulled you into a group hug as your cried into their shoulders and they held you for as long as you liked. When you pulled away, you saw Benedict standing behind them, his eyes already on you. For once, the flirty look in his eyes was replaced with a look of sorrow. 

For a second, all of your dislike for him dissipated as he pulled you into his arms, his hands rubbing up and down your back as he whispered nothing but nice things into your ear as you cried into his shoulder. 

Kate and Anthony turned away to give you a private moment and whispered to each other about what was possibly going on between the two of you. Kate thought it was sweet, but Anthony was ready to nip it right in the bud. There was no way that he was letting his brother anywhere near you, not even in a friendly way as  Benedict was unable to be friends with women. He only bedded them and there was absolutely no way that could happen. 

You pulled away from Benedict and he was quick to wipe your tears. You hadn’t seen him that soft and gentle since you had moved back to England and you were happy to have your old Benedict back, even if it was just for a moment. 

Benedict didn’t know what had come over him. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you so heartbroken broke his own heart. When he saw you sobbing when he got to the graveyard, he swore that he could actually hear his heart crack. Usually, he would only comfort a woman going through a loss for the sole reason of getting her into bed, but this time, that wasn’t even a thought. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay. 

He didn’t leave your side the entire day as everyone followed your family to your house to enjoy a meal together in your father’s honor. He kept his distance out of respect, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and let you stay there as long as you wanted. He knew how close you were to your father and just how much it had crushed you to lose him. 

As day turned to night, you could feel your cold shoulder towards Benedict start to thaw. You were beginning to think that maybe you were being too hard on him when he had genuinely been trying to right his wrongs with what he had done to you almost a decade ago. You didn’t think that you should have let it hurt you for so long and that the grudge you were holding against him was really only hurting you in the end.

February 20, 1817

As a way to see your artwork, Lady Danbury had one of her friends host another gallery. You had told her that it wasn’t at all necessary, but of course, she didn’t listen to you. She assured you that everyone would love whatever you decided to submit and that they would all be lining up to purchase commissions from you.

You, however, thought it was a bold claim. Sure, you wanted people to see your work, but now you were nervous that none of them were going to appreciate it the way that you did. It was all very personal and you weren't sure that you wanted it hung for everyone to see.

Despite that, you still submitted your most personal piece. A painting of your father that was your own way of honoring him. A way to forgive him for all he had done to you and to let go of all of the guilt you felt for what had happened to him. It was the best form of therapy you could have ever asked for and easily your best work to date.

Benedict's piece had been coming along great as well. For once, he wasn't thinking about every single brush stroke and just went along with it, letting the brush guide him. He was going off of memory since he didn't have a proper photo of his subject, but he thought it was turning out rather well considering.

Instead of going to the studio, he decided to work in the garden, the sunlight being the best thing to point out all his imperfections if there were any. He was not going to have a repeat of what had happened last time. It was far too embarrassing.

"Ah, there you are, brother," Eloise spoke as she approached him.

"Here I am," he replied and was quick to stand in front of the painting so she couldn't see it, but it was too late. She had already seen it. She pushed him out of the way and let out a gasp as the painting before her.

"It that-"

"No," Benedict cut her off, trying to block her view of it again, a shade of pink apparent on his cheeks. Eloise just laughed and pushed him out of the way again, careful not to knock over the easel.

"It is!" She gasped. "It's the l/n girl that Kate and Anthony have befriended!"

"It is not." He didn't know why he was denying it. All the proof was right there.

"You cannot deny it. It seems that you have befriended her as well." Eloise could see the way that her brother looked at you and it seemed like he was attracted to you. She hadn't had many interactions with you, but according to Kate, you seemed like someone who keep Benedict humble and ground him.

"She doesn't like me, Eloise," he shook his head as dipped his brush into a shade that was the color of your skin tone and did some shading where he thought it would look nice.

"Why not? Did you hurt her, because Anthony will certainly-" Oh, Benedict knew exactly what Anthony would do.

"I did," Benedict nodded. "Eight years ago. When her family lived down the road, we painted a lot together in the study while Francesca played the piano, but one night-"

"What did you do, Benedict?" Eloise wasn't sure he wasn't going to say, but what she did know was that she wasn't going to like it.

"She told me-she told me that she loved." Her eyes widened at that and she wasn't surprised that she didn't know that fact because you would have been too scared to admit it to anyone and Benedict just felt horrible about the whole thing and didn't want to revisit it.

"And what did you say?" Considering the fact that you were ten and Benedict was twenty-one at the time, she could assume what had happened.

"The only thing I could. She was a child and I was certainly not interested in her and so I told her as much. Maybe a little too harshly and she ran."

"Benedict," Eloise gasped. So that was why you always paid almost attention to him. All of the dots were finally connecting. Now she was thinking that she liked you even more. That you were the first woman to not fall for her brother’s charms even though you were the exact one who should have. He definitely had a type.

"I know, and now she's here and beautiful and I'm afraid I've fucked it all up." Eloise was wondering what had gotten into him that he had such a defeatist attitude. He was never that way towards the women he was interested in even if they weren’t interested. In fact, that usually only motivated him even more.

"Maybe this might seem like a foreign concept to you, brother, but have you ever thought about apologizing like a normal person?" Benedict actually had thought about that, but he didn't think that was good enough, so that was why he had done the painting of you. He hoped that would help you see just how much he cared for you.

"I think it might be too late for that." He decided that his work was done and started to clean his brushes.

"It's never too late for an apology," she rested a hand on his shoulder and gave is a squeeze, leaving Benedict with much to think about.

February 21, 1817

You sat in the study with one of your books in your hand, but you couldn't focus on it. Your letter letting you know whether or not your artwork was accepted into the gallery was going to be there any second and you were terrified. There was a lot of riding on it and you were very afraid that they hadn't accepted it.

Kate and Anthony had insisted on being there when you got the good new and Kate clutched your hand as a servant entered the room with the envelopes on a silver platter and you reached for yours, feeling like time had stopped as you ripped into the envelope.

You read the first few words of the letter and let it drop to the floor, feeling your body go cold, collapsing into one of the chairs as you accepted defeat. They didn't want your piece. You should have known since they wouldn't have since you were a woman. They hadn't said as much, but you were able to read the lines.

Despite your sadness, you told the couple that you would join them at the gallery and felt horrible that Lady Danbury went through all that trouble for nothing. You didn't want to have to look her in the eyes, but the only worse thing was not going an accepting defeat. You were going to show everyone just how strong you were.

February 25, 1817

Practically everyone was already at the gallery when you had arrived and you felt dread come over you as you accepted that you were going to have no part in it. You had been rejected from many things like that before, so you weren't sure why it hurt so much.

Lady Danbury had approached immediately when you arrived and you really didn't feel like speaking with her but you plastered on your brightest smile, faking like you had interest in the conversation even though you would have much rather been in the study with your paints.

"Ah, there's the artist," she greeted. "You left last time before we were able to talk about your critique of the Bridgerton boy." Normally you would have felt guilty for something, but this time you couldn't have cared less. Benedict Bridgerton could have stood to be knocked down a few pegs and you were really enjoying being the one to do it.

"And I apologize for that. I was just letting my own issues take over." You were only apologizing because you felt like it, not because you meant it.

"No apologies necessary, dear. I loved it. I wish you would speak your mind more often. More people could benefit from hearing your thoughts. Especially ones like Mr. Bridgerton." Lady Danbury didn't mind Benedict, but often times she felt he had a big head and let his ego get in the way.

"I appreciate that, but unfortunately, I don't think that I'm up for it tonight."

"But what am I to think about the artwork without a lovely artist to give her opinions?" There was something odd about the interaction and you couldn't figure out what.

"You do flatter me, Lady Danbury. I suppose I wouldn't mind joining you."

So, you led her around the gallery and told her what you thought about the pieces, promising her to not hold back this time, suddenly not afraid to speak your mind. And Lady Danbury was loving every second of it, very entertained by the shy wallflower coming out of her shell.

She quite liked your company, amused by your little quips that you had come with on the spot. And she appreciated how you felt like you were able to be your true self around her, not the shy person she had met a few weeks ago. You were growing on her and easily becomg one of her favorite debutants of the season.

"Lady Danbury, who do you think your favorite artist is?" You asked as she got to the second to last piece. All this time you had been talking about the pieces in front of you, but you were curious as to what kind of art she liked since you thought a person's favorite artist said a lot about them.

"You." You were surprised to hear her say that considering that she hadn't even seen any of your work.

"Oh, that's very nice, but-"

"No, dear, it's you!" She cut you off and forced you to turn to the piece on the wall. You let out a gasp as your face stared back at you, feeling something very strange coming over you.

You stepped closer to the painting and turned this way and that, convinced that you were looking into a mirror, but you weren't. You could very clearly see the paint strokes when you got close enough. Who the artist was was a mystery. You had absolutely no idea who could have done it and wanted to know their identity and why you had been their subject.

You couldn't stop staring, wanting to reach out to touch it, but you knew you weren't allowed, even if it was your face on the canvas. It was amazing how well they were able to paint your features and you wondered what they had used for reference.

"I hope this isn't too amateur for you," a voice whispered in your ear and you felt a chill go down your spin as their hot breath hit the back of your neck.

You turned around only to be face to face with the seconds eldest Bridgerton brother. You eyed him, wondering why he would have done something like that and what he would have gotten out of it. That had to be the reason why he would have done it...right?

So many questions were swirling around your mind, your main one being how he was able to make the painting so accurate that it felt like you were looking into a mirror without having you sit for it.

"What is this, Benedict?" You pointed to the painting and he just chuckled. You didn't like how much you enjoyed making hearing the sound and wondering how you would have been able to hear it.

"It's you." He was smiling brightly and you wished he had done it more often. The look was just too pretty on him to hide away all the time. You wondered why he always seemed to always look so serious. In the many times you had seen him, he had only smiled when he was with Eloise.

"I'm aware of that...but why?"

"I think the better question is why not."

"How were you able to do it without me sitting for you to paint me?"

"I will answer all of your questions, but right now, we must see the final painting."

He offered you his arm and you grabbed onto it, letting him lead you through the rest of the gallery.

"But this was the last one." 

"Not quite,” he winked and stopped at the last piece, causing you to let out a loud gasp as your own painting was staring back at you. But it had been rejected. How did he get a hold of it and why was it there? The man was confusing you even more by the second. You were convinced that he had just been trying to get you to forgive him just so he could feel better about himself, but now you weren’t so sure. 

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him. No one had ever done anything that nice for you before. Something so selfless that they only did because they wanted to and not to make themself look good. Maybe he wasn’t the same Benedict that your remembered. Maybe he was finally turning over a new leaf.

Benedict wiped your tears away and even though it was entirely inappropriate, you threw yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, almost falling backwards because of how much force you had used to push yourself in his direction. You squeezed each other tight, avoiding the gasps of the people around you. Lady Danbury shooed them away to give the two of you some privacy as you both pulled away. 

Without a word, you pulled Benedict away from the gallery and you both discreetly made your way through the crowd to get outside for some much needed fresh air. You looked out into the garden and couldn’t help but feel like home there.There was something that was so comforting about it that made it seem like you belonged there. You could see yourself there with Benedict right by your side, the two of you facing each other with your own easels as you painted your own portraits of each other. 

You hadn’t thought about him in that way in a long time and wondered where that had come from. Maybe you were overcome with gratitude to him, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his pretty lips, wondering what they felt like between yours. And how you could have taken the chance and it would not have been inappropriate.

Without a word, you grabbed him by his coat and pulled him down so that his face was only inches from yours. You pressed your lips to his with so much force that your teeth clinked together and you both were quick to pull away covering your mouths in pain. You couldn’t believe you had done that. That was exactly why you never acted impulsively. It always just ended in embarrassment. 

You just shook your head as you felt your cheeks heat up and turned back to enter the gallery. Benedict wasn’t going to let you get away this time, though. He lost you once and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. And this time, he was actually attracted to you and he was going to let you know just how beautiful he thought you were. 

He grabbed onto your arm just as you were going to open the door and turned you around to face him. His hazel eyes bored into yours as he grabbed onto your chin, lifting it as he bent down. He slotted his lips between yours and you tried to move along with him, mimicking his actions exactly even though you had absolutely not fucking clue what you were doing. 

Your hands moved to his face and pulled him closer to you so you had more access to his mouth, becoming addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. You had only gotten a little taste, but already wanted to do that exact thing for the rest of your life. Benedict pulled away to let the both of you breathe, but quickly dove in for more as he grabbed onto your waist and pushed you against the pillar that was behind you. You let him lead, taking exactly what he wanted from you as you were pliant under his touch. 

He pushed your mouth open as he slid his tongue inside, letting it swirl around your own and a sound escaped your mouth that Benedict definitely needed to hear again. And the fact that what you were doing was considered wrong only made him love it more. He continued to kiss you like his life depended on it as his hand moved up to your breast, massaging it the best he could over your dress as you let out another moan, this one louder. You pulled away as you felt a weird sensation between your legs, a lot of wetness collecting there. You began to panic as you pushed Benedict away, embarrassed about what was happening. 

“I had a lovely time tonight, Mr. Bridgerton, but now I must go.” You curtsied and then rushed inside, gathering your dress in your hands as you did so. 

You made a beeline for the restroom and locked yourself inside it before grabbing the nearest towel-like fabric and pulled up your dress before wiping. You pulled the towel away not to find blood like you were expecting but found that whatever was between your legs was almost clear. You were convinced that there was something wrong with you, having never seen anything like that before. 

While you were panicking in the restroom, Benedict was pacing in the garden, debating running after you even though he was sure that you had already left. Had he made you uncomfortable? That must have been it because you looked so scared. He had taken advantage of you and now he was going to beat himself up over it. Not reciprocating your feelings when you were a child was one thing, but taking advantage of you was another and now he had ruined his chances with you because he was selfish. He didn’t think that another painting was going to fix it either. Perhaps it was time to finally let you go for good and let you find a man who was actually worthy enough. A man that was actually able to keep you.

[riinkun-art-stuff]

Howdy ho! I'm very excited to finally be able to share this illustration I worked on as part of this year's @bumblebybigbang for @tahnex's lovely and super fun fic (with no pain attached whatsoever), "Of Dragons and Panthers," which you can read here! As soon as I read the original notes on it this scene captured me so much I had to do something dramatic for it. It's been such a pleasure watching the whole collab come together, tysm for having me!

First time joining an event like this, and I'd love to again if the opportunity comes around hehe. Still a few postings to go on this one, the pieces before us this year have knocked it out of the park and I'm super excited to see the rest once they come around!

Made a few process cuts just for fun, which I left under the cut!

I did do a few sketches roughly before I started out, especially based on other parts of the chapter, but this particular composition was so fixed in my mind that I ended up just sticking with it. In retrospect, I would've loved to go back and do some more thorough exploration for it. Here are a few of the sketches I managed to fish back up:

I also was thinking of trying a few other doodles/another big piece, but ended up not really having the time between other obligations :')

And the sketch I finally settled on:

Inking was SUCH a fun process on this piece in particular. I'm a huge fan of how dragon!Yang's mane turned out, especially, and all the detailing on the head and around Blake's fur and such. Feel like I'm really satisfied w the particular way the line weight variations came out, and it's where the piece shines the most imo.

Panther!Blake, too. Oh gosh. I feel like it took me a lot of reworking to get her structure to a point where she felt very leopard-like, rather than any other type of big cat- especially around the head.

Colours were such a challenging part. There was a big feeling I had for that glow coming off dragon!Yang in the middle of the heavy rain- I love seeing that sort of effect in real life so that's something I'm really hoping to work to capture better as I practice. Trying to get dragon!Yang's slight iridescence in there and to balance out the lighting on panther!Blake's fur each took a long time, too- I'm only a pinch sad that a good chunk of it is covered by other lighting effects XD

Blake's rosettes were SO fun. Augguhugg.

In terms of backgrounds. HOO boy I was going through a strange patch in life while working on the background and final polish for this piece, which is why (at least I feel like) it looks kinda rushed. I have been practicing natural landscapes and doing some observational studies but still struggling to get those rock shapes quite right, which I think is a big make or break point of something like this. I did really enjoy toying around with inking on the foliage and foreground layers of the ground, though! And in the end, lighting and effects ended up masking a lot of the big weak spots :D

I think natural effects like smoke/steam, and rain, are big things that I got to practice more of in this piece, but also really would like to get better at in future. Esp since I feel like it's been a great opportunity to mess around with different colours and brushes that I use way less, which I'm always grateful for w painting. I think just layering the rain on its own ended up being about 10 odd layers?

I think the only other thing I would have loved to improve is to just help the piece feel more Bumbleby™ in the final look. I think I like the cool colours of the lighting for this particular outcome, but I also would have probably tried to have made things much clearer (ahem at the very least switch to yellow/purple) in the long run in terms of representation and resemblance. Ik that at least for me it is fairly easy to associate the two characters with dragons and panthers since I'm more familiar w the fandom lingo around these two, but esp for outsiders I feel like it's probably not great at conveying who they are, and why they are potentially in this situation.

I'd also love to try and find a shading style that still has a painterly quality but compliments the inking a bit better, rather than overpowering it.

I think that, on the whole, I am pretty satisfied with the piece and had a great time working with Tahnex on the whole collab! And I've also has a fun time reading his work and notes in return, and thank you so much for being so so patient with me even as my updates were slow n rocky at points :'D

That's about all I got, have a great day y'all! Still a few big bang postings to go, so very excited for those once they come around!

[kobrafangs]

i've been compiling a bunch of maze runner headcannons over the past few weeks, and i decided to share what i have so far :) fyi most of these are ivytrio centered heheh ^_^ enjoy!!!

- newt would be a big oatmeal fan. he'd have it every day and put cubed fruits and maple syrup in it too. thomas prefers a plain toast with butter and always teases newt for "being an old coot"

- minho is rlly extra and likes to make these fancy pancakes that frypan taught him how to make

- newt would be addicted peach tea. every morning he goes to the convenience store and he buys a bottle before class

- newt loves bracelets and he made a matching pair for him and thomas :] (minho, newt, & thomas also have separate matching bracelets!)

- newt does poetry & art. he carries around a little sketchbook in his satchel where he jots random thoughts and sketches. his muse is thomas <3

- newt likes musicals & claymation/stop motion movies (his fav is dear evan hanson or kubo and the 2 strings) & thomas likes action movies (his favs are starwars or the spiderman movies)

- their fav movie to watch together is fantastic mr fox or coraline

- thomas and minho are both on their school's track team

- thomas downloaded duolingo as a joke but now he feels guilty if he misses even a single day so he has a daily streak of 479

- thomas almost threw up crying watching end game (he forced newt to watch it with him as well)

- thomas prefers calling/face timing over texting and he will do everything in his power to call

- he's also like the least coherent texter of all time He always has like 90 spelling errors in a 4 word text

- newt doesnt like calls but is also the driest texter of all time

- minho sends those corny Good Morning! gifs with a sunset in the background and glitter and flowers on it

- minho studies hard, passes his classes

- newt barely studies, passes his classes (hes just smart)

- thomas doesnt study whatsoever, passes his classes somehow

- minho has legible, normal-but-a-bit-wonky handwriting

- newt has a slanted cursive scrawl

- everything thomas writes is illegible

- minho has the dirtiest mind known to mankind

- when frustrated, minho gets really sassy, thomas gets snappy and fidgety, and newt just goes silent

- minho would go on 5 am runs and post a picture of him on his instagram story all sweaty and smiling and put the dumbest caption of all time on it

- thomas cannot eat unless he puts on a show

- minho scrolls on his phone and texts people while he eats

- newt raw dogs every meal No stimulation whatsoever. pure silence

- thomas is extremely ticklish. like hellishly ticklish. he will literally scream like hes getting stabbed and kick his feet if he gets tickled

- ivy trio stays up until like 3 am playing horror games. thomas is the one who always screams bloody murder at literally any noise, minho keeps yelling at thomas to shut up, and newt is the only one actually playing the game. they also love roblox

- minho and thomas play dress to impress and they get way too invested in it

- newt & sonya braid daisies in each other's hair

- thomas likes having his hair played with

- thomas likes chewing gum, specifically bubble gum because hes actually 8 years old and likes to blow bubbles

- newt looooovessss libraries he'd literally live in one if he could

- minho unironically says "where my hug at" to thomas and newt

- newt is usually the little spoon but he knows thomas likes it too so sometimes he insists on being the big spoon just so thomas is happy

- sun thomas, moon newt, comet minho

- thomas isn't allowed to play fnaf anymore because the last time he did he got jump-scared so hard he threw his phone against the wall so hard it made a hole

- thomas's favourite pony is pinkie pie, newt's is applejack, minho's is rainbow dash

- newt has a fear of heights so thomas and minho always have to beg for him to go to an amusement park with them

- danny gonzalez thomas, drew gooden newt, kurtis conner minho

- minho always quotes random tiktok audios that nobody gets so at one point he just started making up really specific ones that catered to whatever situation they're in and then proceed to gaslight newt and thomas into believing they're real

- dog thomas, cat newt, otter minho

- THOMAS TMNT FAN RAAAHHH

- newtmas' favourite date was an aquarium date. thomas is absolutely captivated by all the fish and newt is so enamoured

- newt would probably like manga (he really enjoyed saiki k, chainsaw man, and sxf)... its his guilty pleasure

- on minho's aforementioned morning runs, he BLASTS pop music thru his headphones. because of this he's literally almost deaf. he always goes "huh" "what?" "say again?" whenever talking to anybody but it especially makes newt so frustrated

- also. minho would love charli xcx SORRY I DONT MAKE THE RULES!!!! he really likes pop music because it gets him pumped up and energized

- when thomas is focused, his speech gets really curt and he kinda shuts the world out because hes so tunnel visioned. as a result people think hes just really rude and a pain to work with

- only newt can work with him effortlessly because they don't need words to communicate. a slight nose scrunch? thomas knows he made a mistake. quirk of the brow? newt nods his head to show his approval. thomas taps his fingers against the table? newt can tell he's frustrated. their relationship can be tacit but understood by one another which is why they work so well with each other

- thomas LOOOOOVES karaoke he literally will not hesitate to belt his heart out

- when thomas blushes, he blushes HARD. he gets really red in the face and gets super embarrassed and newt likes to tease him for it

- when drunk, thomas gets really chatty, newt becomes clingy, and minho turns into a whole nother person he gets SO rowdy and loud and crazy. life of the party kinda guy

and thats all for now hehe !! ^_^ hope these were entertaining enough :p

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.3

a/n: dont mind me, just posting at work. EDIT: previously titled about time

Word Count: 3.0k Warnings: mention of past injury, hints of past abuse, swearing Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

There was still an ache in your shoulder when you sat down in your phytotoxicology class. It was decently scabbed (which was beyond itchy) but the actual joint was sore. You had hoped it would ease up a bit over the weekend, but to no avail. Hopefully no one had really noticed your stiff movements. But hey, at least you were left handed.

“You look miserable,” Wednesday said as she sat to your left.

“Shut up, Addams,” you mumbled.

Enid sat behind the two of you, her eyes glued to where your hands were resting on the desk. If you just moved your hand a few inches to the left. And if you could talk just a little louder so she could hear, that would be great. She needed to know what you two were talking about. If it wasn’t about a date then she was going to scream. She just wanted you both to get over yourselves.

Class went on as usual; Enid was forced to bear witness to you doodling in Wednesday’s notebook, completely interrupting her notes. In turn, Wednesday would add rather… violent attachments to your initial drawing, and the cycle would continue. She couldn’t see your face, but your shoulders would shake with silent laughter every few doodles. You were both so close.

“Miss Y/N?”

Your head snapped up, turning toward the front where Miss Thornhill was standing with an expectant look.

“Adonis vernalis,” you said proudly without hesitation.

“Not even close,” Miss Thornhill said with a smile while everyone failed to stiffle their giggles. “See me after class.”

“Aw man,” you mumbled as you slumped back into your seat. All that pep in your step had been washed away.

Quite frankly, Enid thought it was hilarious.

She rushed to catch up with Wednesday as you stayed behind to talk to Miss Thornhill. For such a small person, Wednesday could move really fast. It was starting to become an issue because Enid was not dressed for jogging across campus. God, why couldn’t she just slow down?

“It seems it’s impossible to get away from you,” Wednesday said when Enid finally caught up; she slowed her pace anyway.

“Did you-”

“-No, and I’m not going to,” Wednesday interrupted.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Enid pouted.

“You were going to ask if I have asked Y/N on a date, and the answer is no.”

“Then I give up,” Enid said as she threw her hands into the air. “You two are far too stubborn. Enjoy the friendzone.”

She stalked off, trying not to smile to herself when she noticed Wednesday had stopped walking. With any luck, her plan would work splendidly and you would both be together before Parent’s Weekend in a month. It may have taken her a little longer than planned to come up with such a genius idea, but it was going to be worth it.

—---

It was truly a beautiful day to be outside. Overcast skies, a cool breeze, potential for rain. Not the best day to fly, but a wonderful time to walk around. Maybe you could stop by the lake, tease the monsters below the surface. At least you would if you weren’t stuck in the greenhouse.

Miss Thornhill was truly, and you meant this with the utmost respect, a bitch. So maybe you didn’t pay attention in class, and maybe you got a bunch of questions wrong. But that’s what she got for calling on you in class. Had you raised your hand? Had you given any indication whatsoever that you knew the answer? No. So really, this was on her.

And now you were stuck in the stupid greenhouse having to jot down sketches of each plant, their scientific name, and what symptoms they cause if ingested or inhaled. You had only finished maybe a third of the greenhouse and it was already midafternoon. You were never going to be done with this stupid detention.

You didn’t even like plants.

“You look miserable.”

“There’s more than one way to greet a person, you know,” you said without turning around.

Wednesday slid into your peripheral like a wisp of smoke; she always moved smoothly even though she appeared so rigid. Her coat hung off her small frame, and the snood Enid had made her only accentuated that by swallowing what little of her remained. She was reminiscent of the little kids at the park in winter; their parents had bundled them up in the warmest clothing they could find in the house.

“Just let me finish my detention, Addams,” you mumbled as you jotted down another sketch. It wasn’t half bad, actually.

For better or worse, Wednesday stayed silent as you moved around the greenhouse, assigned sketchbook in hand. There was no doubt you were getting 90% of the names wrong, and you were just writing “it’s bad :(“ under the list of symptoms at this point, but you didn’t care. This kind of detention was stupid. Besides, it was a Saturday; you should’ve been out getting coffee or harrassing everyone at Pilgrim World, not sitting in a humid greenhouse practicing your art skills. But no, now you were stuck here and- oh that plant is pretty.

“Don’t touch it,” Wednesday said rather quickly as you reached out to touch the flower.

“Why not?” You asked in indignation, finally turning around to see her. Oh, she’s cute.

“It’s a foxglove,” she answered.

“Wednesday,” you sighed, “if I knew what that meant, I wouldn’t be in here on a Saturday afternoon.”

“It’s toxic to birds.” She rolled her eyes at your incompetence.

“Oh, well thank- wait.” You narrowed your eyes at her and the smallest movement at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not a bird and you know it.”

“You can never be too sure,” she said without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re a prick,” you huffed out. You had to turn back to look at the plants again so she wouldn’t see your poor attempts at not laughing. “Why are you even here?”

“I brought you this.”

She brought me something? You thought. Well know she was just getting desperate if she was going to be bringing you things. You set your sketchpad down on the table, in front of the foxglove that Wednesday claimed to be toxic to birds. What had she brought you-

“-What is that?” You asked once your eyes landed on the small bag in her hands.

“Birdseed,” she said. “It’s a bribe.”

“That better not be for me or I will get offended,” you said, switching your weight to your other foot and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re going birdwatching with me.” She rolled her eyes but held the bag out further for you to take from her.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You asked.

Wednesday Addams did not blush, that was a well known fact. Not a drop of colour would be found on her cheeks, ever. But that didn’t mean she was emotionless; you could tell when the stretch of skin over her cheeks and nose turned a little darker. It was the closest to an uncontrollable show of emotion as she was ever going to get.

And you were absolutely living for it.

“Are you coming or not?” Wednesday asked, completely ignoring your question for clarification.

You wanted her to admit it was a date. Wanted her to swallow her pride and say the word “date” because it’s just what you needed. There was no way in hell you were going to ask first, not when she had always been so clear about her thoughts on what a waste of time relationships were. “Look at my parents,” she had said one night, “limited because they can’t go anywhere alone.”

But you needed her to call it a date. Your hopes were embarrassingly high and you just needed her to say that four letter word. It could only be once and you would be happy. If she called it a date once and then never again until the day you died, you would be content. Just say the word, you thought to yourself as she finally turned her head back around to face you.

“Fine,” Wednesday sighed, “I’ll go on my own.” She turned around and started walking away.

“Wait!” You called after her. She stopped, but didn’t turn around.

You looked around frantically for the rest of your things. What if Miss Thornhill showed up and realised you were gone? And worse yet, what if she realised you sucked at detention? She was going to tell Principle Weems and then you would get another scolding. But pass up on a date with the Wednesday Addams?

Shit.

“You’re a bad influence, Wednesday Addams,” you huffed once you finally caught up to her and you both started walking out of the greenhouse.

You missed the small smile on her face.

—---

For all intents and purposes, Wednesday did not like you. If anyone dared to ask, you were nothing more than a thorn in her side, and not in a good way. No, you weren’t as energetic and colourful as Enid, but you still smiled too much. You cracked too many jokes and made yourself too accomadating. Any normal person would have been embarrassed.

No, Wednesday Addams did not like you.

She did not like the way you had talked the whole way to your preferred spot in the forest. “It’s a bit late for birdwatching,” you had said on the walk over, “but it’s overcast, so it might be fine.” She did not like the way you actually took your harness off and ruffled your feathers. Or the way they puffed up a little, “because it’s cold,” you explained with a shrug and a blush on your neck. Then there was the way you were sat still as a statue, birdseed scattered around, just waiting for some birds to stop by.

No, she didn’t like you.

There were absolutely no feelings in her void of a soul when a bird finally did appear, standing directly in front of your outstretched hand. The gentle smile on your face was completely moronic. You would make an excellent side character in her book; the same character that would get herself killed off in the first chapter. Wednesday could see it now; you would be too focused at the park and would get yourself put on a hit list simply because you were an easy target.

She wouldn’t be caught dead watching your feathers ruffle when more birds appeared, flocking around you. Or listening intently to what you were saying to them, holding full conversations as they hopped around and picked at the birdseed you continuously scattered. No, she would not join you on the ground, she was just fine sitting with her back to the tree. And no she didn’t want to feed the birds, this is an outing for you, she’s just the chaperone.

Her cold, black heart did not stutter when the light caught your skin just right and illuminated the nearly-healed scrapes and bruises from your incident last week. Wednesday had always loved the colours of a bruise. The angry red reminiscent of a wound, or the healing yellow-green that was nearly the same as the colour of a waterlogged corpse. Although they didn’t look quite as stunning on you. For one odd reason or another, seeing the bruises and cuts on your skin, or the apparent stiffness of your joints brought no joy to her.

There is no way in heaven or hell that she would admit she watched you the way her father watched her mother. Watching your every move, from the rise and fall of your chest to the twitch in each individual feather. The way the veins on your forearms stood out when you lifted a bird up or the eyelash that now resided on your cheek that she so desperately wished to wipe off for you. Or that your small, airy little laugh made her feel like an arrow had impaled her heart and mind and soul, painfully tethering her to the tree she was leaning against.

No, she was not her father.

And no, she did not like you.

—---

You looked like a little kid sitting in the chair on the other side of Larissa’s desk. With a bowed head and hands folded tightly in your lap, you reminded her of the young children in normal schools who got sent to the principle’s office for something they hadn’t done. Except you very well had done what you were accused of; maybe that was why you looked so guilty.

“Miss Thornhill told me you’ve been struggling in class,” Larissa started off. “You’re struggling to focus.”

“I’m just not any good at it,” you said with a shrug. You still weren’t looking up.

“She also told me you had been given detention last Saturday,” she continued; you sunk further into the chair. “And you were nowhere to be found when she went to check on you.”

“Wow, that’s wild,” you said with a huff. “She probably needs to check that her perscriptions are up to date,” you said, tapping your finger to the corner of your eye, “might need a better one.”

“Did you skip your detention?” Larissa asked, far softer than she would be with any other student.

“I didn’t “skip” detention,” you started. “I was there until around 3, I think that was punishment enough.”

“What came along that was more important than your detention?” Larissa continued to pry.

“A date,” you said so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear you.

“A date? With whom?” She asked with a small smile and in the gentlest voice she could offer you.

To most, it would be an inappropriate question. No one wanted their principle to know all the juicy details of their personal lives. But Larissa knew you both had a… slightly different relationship. She knew you struggled, you had been a student at Nevermore for nearly eight years; she knew what damage your personal life had inflicted upon you. For eight years she had been able to provide some sort of comfort, a surrogate parent of sorts, and she was doing her best to give you that space to be a normal teenager with a normal parent.

You had talked with her about these things before, it wasn’t like she was implying something out of nowhere. Larissa had been your shoulder to cry on through all of your family woes, your frustrations, your first heartbreak. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise for her to ask, even though you had initially been sent to see her because you had evaded your justly-deserved detention.

But instead of your usual excitement, Larissa noticed a glaze cover your eyes and your arms wrap tightly around yourself. She had seen you like this multiple times; you still refused to see a therapist about it. And as much as she wanted to go to you and comfort you, previous experience had told her you needed to feel it all before coming back to the present.

“Y/N?” She asked quietly, leaning over her desk to get closer to you without invading your space.

You blinked once, slowly, a single tear falling onto your quivering bottom lip. Your tongue darted out to lick your lip before your eyes opened. The haze took its time in fading from your usually sparkly eyes, but you looked up at Larissa as it diminished. One shuddering breath in, a shaky breath out, and your body fell into a relaxed state once again.

“Wednesday Addams,” you choked out around the sobs that you were shoving back down your throat. Your eyes flickered away from her at the admission.

“What did you both go do?” Larissa asked with a smile that you definitely saw this time.

There was a hesitancy on your face; your lips were parted slightly as if you were about to speak, and your eyes shone brightly, but the slight tilt of your head gave you away. You weren’t one to outwardly share your emotions, but your body langauge always gave you away. It brought a joy to Larissa that she had never understood was possible before you had come around.

“Well, she bought some birdseed-,” you started, immediately going off about the entire date.

Larissa leaned forward, completely enthralled with your tale. The way your hands gestured this way and that, the movements eloquent in their own right. Pianist’s fingers, she recalled. The inflection in your voice a mirror of your younger self, back when you had less worries. You’re excited, she thought with a soft sigh. You haven’t been excited in years.

“-and then Miss Thornhill saw me and sent me straight here,” you finished with a huff, clearly out of breath.

“Will you go on another one?” Larissa asked after you had caught your breath slightly.

“Well, I think it’s my turn to ask next,” you shrugged; there was a sparkle in your eye. “So yes.”

“Then you’d better go prepare.” Larissa sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “She set the bar pretty high, don’t you think?”

“Might find an autopsy she can watch,” you mused aloud as you pushed yourself off the chair. The stiffness of your injury had yet to ease, Larissa noticed as you essentially limped over to the doorway.

“Oh, Y/N,” she called out once you were halfway out the door.

“Yes ma’am?” You asked, leaning back into the office.

“You can make up your failed detention on Saturday,” she said with a smile that only got bigger as you groaned.

“This place is a fucking prison,” you grumbled as you walked away. Larissa sat back in her chair and looked over toward the fireplace. Maybe, she thought, Addams won’t be so bad afterall.

[danikamariewrites]

hi there, can you write something fluffy for fenrys??

Book Delivery

Fenrys x reader

A/n: I haven't written for Fen in so long and he's literally one of my favs from ToG. He deserves happiness after everything he's been through

Warnings: none

Fenrys watched from the balcony as Aelin walked you through the castle gates. He lets out a dreamy sigh as you throw your head back from laughing at something the queen said. Fenrys was so lost in his little fantasy land he missed Rowan come to stand next to him.

“You feeling ok?” Fenrys jumps, backing away from the railing and clutching at his heart. “Good gods! Don’t do that Rowan!” The king couldn’t help the shit eating grin that spread across his lips. Rowan looks out at your retreating figure as you leisurely walk back to town. “Aelin thinks you two would make a great match.”

Fenrys lets out an annoyed huff, taking his piercing gaze off of Rowan and watching you again. He was always so charming and smooth when it came to talking to females. For some reason when he tried speaking to you Fenrys always made a fool of himself. He either tripped over air or fumbled with his words before excusing himself. There was no other way to say it, Fenrys is in love with you.

How could he not be? You’re so kind and intelligent and beautiful. Fenrys can’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach when you’re around.

A week later - on the day you usually visit, Fenrys noted - Aelin called him into her office. Striding through the open door Fenrys stopped before her desk, sketching a bow before standing with his hands behind his back. “What can I do for you?” Aelin gave him a smile that told Fenrys she was scheming. Fenrys mentally rolled his eyes, waiting for Aelin to tell her plan.

“I need you to do me a favor.” She said sweetly. “Nothing crazy, just an errand that I can’t get to today.” Fenrys nodded. “What kind of errand?” The queen’s smile became toothy and far too happy looking for his liking. “Can you go to y/n’s store for me and pick up the book she set aside for me?”

Fenrys felt his heart stutter in his chest. He had never been to your store. He had avoided it at all costs after the second time he made a fool of himself in front of you. “Erm…” He had to answer quickly before Aelin turned this into a command and he no choice. Not like he had one anyway. If Aelin already thought you two were a match the whole court must know by now. And Fenrys would never hear the end of it from Lysandra if he never made a move.

“Yes.” He blurts out. “Excellent.” Aelin claps her hands in approval and stands to guide Fenrys from her office. “And no rush whatsoever. Take your time, enjoy a stroll through the city. Get some tea with someone. But don’t come back here without my book.” She said sternly before shutting the door on him.

Upon entering the bustling city Fenrys found himself taking the long way to your shop. Inevitably he found himself standing outside your shop, dreading how he would mess up this conversation with you. Inhaling deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, Fenrys pushed open the door to your shop.

The bell ringing above his head caught your attention immediately. You rushed to the front of the store, your arms full of books. Your eyes widen in surprise at the tall male in the middle of your small book store. “Hi,” you say cheerily, “Fenrys, right?” It took all of his training to keep calm. To keep the butterflies from swarming his insides.

“Y-yes. Yup, that’s me.” Dear gods he hoped Lorcan would show up and stab him.

Then you did something unexpected. You giggled at him. It wasn’t a pity laugh, you genuinely giggled. Fenrys smiled at you. Realizing you looked like you were about to drop the stack of books in your arms Fenrys cleared the space between you, reaching his hands out to help. “Can I take these for you?” “Oh, yes. That would be great, thank you.”

As you handed over half the stack Fenrys noticed your hands were shaking. If it was because of him he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. You cleared your throat before speaking again. “Can you put them on the front counter?” “Of course.” You give him a small nod and lead him to the counter.

After putting the books down you nervously fiddled with your hair, glancing at Fenrys every other second. You felt like you always messed up when you spoke to him. That awkward laugh would always leave your lips and you always forgot where you were going when you bumped into him in the castle.

Clearing your throat you finally look make eye contact. Maybe that’s too much eye contact, you think to yourself. Fenrys isn’t shying away though. If anything he’s looking at you with the same shy, unsure intensity.

An awkward moment of silence passes between the two of you before Fenrys finally remembers why he’s here. “Aelin sent me to pick up her book. She said you had it set aside for her.”

The realization clicked in your eyes and your cheeks redden. It was silly to think he was there for you. Pulling the book from the shelf behind you and turning back to Fenrys you give him a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as sad as you felt. “Here you go.” His fingers brushed against yours. You felt a warmth rush through your body at the soft touch.

Your cheeks heat even more as you bite back your smile. Fenrys takes the book giving you a reassuring smile. “Thanks,” he says softly. “You’re welcome.” He nods and turns to leave. Fenrys cringes at himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

He stopped with his hand on the door, thinking screw it. Marching back up to the counter Fenrys takes a deep breath. You look up at him with bright curiosity in your eyes. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

You nod your head excitedly. “I would love that. Is tomorrow night ok?” “Absolutely.” You give him a bright smile. Taking out a pen and paper you write down your address for him. He takes it happily and practically skips out of your store back to the castle.

[larytello]

I find it funny and sad how Tumblr users are SO CONDITIONED to English language as default they will just NOT interact with posts in other languages whatsoever, no matter how cool the thing is - not even a like and reblog without adding comments or tags to it

Small rant ahead with something that happened this week AND I SHOULD POST IT IN MY OWN LANGUAGE TO PROVE A POINT but I won't and it'll still prove a point.

I have a Paw Patrol sideblog. It's a very active blog where I post, reblog, receive lots of asks constantly, I post my art there, etc. I got more active followers there than here on my personal blog and that's saying something (my personal has over 10x more followers than the Paw Patrol one AND STILL that one is more active lmao). People are always liking the posts/reblogs, always adding a comment, always reblogging with comments and/or nice/funny tags, sending asks. Literally it's very active.

Last week I reblogged there a post I found, it was a video of a mom and her daughter playing together with Paw Patrol toys and a handcrafted Lookout Tower made out of cardboard. THAT TOWER LOOKS SO COOL. It's amazing and the mom made it herself for her daughter and they were playing together so happily. Naturally this reblog should get a lot of likes and some reblogs, right?

It didn't get any. It's the only reblog so far there that didn't get a single bit of interaction.

Do you know why?

The mom and daughter are Brazilians. They speak Brazilian Portuguese. The text in the post is in Brazilian Portuguese. I added a long comment myself ALSO in Brazilian Portuguese (it is my first language as I'm Brazilian too) saying how cool it was, joking about the prices of official Lookout Tower toys (absurdly expensive around here) and that I've been planning myself to also build the Lookout Tower and the Paw Patroller with cardboard as well but I'm still in the first sketching stages, but seeing her project really inspired me to go ahead and continue working on my own.

I even followed her blog and she followed me back too. She posts a bunch of cool stuff and toys and games she creates with her kids, it's really AWESOME. I could spend HOURS looking at their posts.

But as she posted in Brazilian Portuguese and I commented also in Brazilian Portuguese and added tags ALSO in Brazilian Portuguese, it looks like NO ONE BATTED AN EYE AT IT.

What, are y'all afraid of using GOOGLE TRANSLATE???? How the fuck do you think I learned English ON MY OWN to interact with people on the internet in the first place when I was like 13, 14 years old??? I didn't even have English teachers at school and high school, I legit learned on my own because the world wasn't interested in trying to communicate with me, I was the one who had to adapt to communicate with it all.

Also I'd just like to say I love Tumblr community but y'all are SERIOUSLY LOSING INTERACTION POINTS to fucking DEVIANTART LMFAOOOOOO AT LEAST THERE PEOPLE KEEP MAKING AN EFFORT TO TRANSLATE MY OLD POSTS IN PORTUGUESE EVEN NOWADAYS XDDDD

You don't even need to learn another language like I did! YOU HAVE ONLINE TRANSLATORS. Back in my time, Google Translate was ABSURDLY AWFUL when translating anything to Brazilian Portuguese and vice-versa (it still is, but way less awful now over the years it took to better itself about it).

I USED TO TRANSLATE STUFF LITERALLY MANUALLY USING A DICTIONARY. You have the instant translation technology, FUCKING USE IT, YOU COWARDS

[crazylittlejester]

I ended up sleeping for like... most of the weekend, so I didn't really do anything. Which means my to-do list is still very long, BUT I did get another tidbit written down, and I think you'll like it. :)

Mask… didn’t really own anything much more than the clothes he’d arrived with. Sure, he had the masks he was named after, and a few weapons, but the closest thing he had to what a child was supposed to have was his ocarina. Which was, apparently, blessed by the goddess of time herself and thus not appropriate for child’s play whatsoever. The captain had grown up poor, so he knew what it was like to have very little, and based on his observations, it didn’t bother Mask very much, so he must be used to it as well. But that didn’t mean that he had to go without just because his things had been left behind. After some thinking, he decided it would be best to start with something simple. He had fond memories of using wax crayons as a child, and Mask seemed attracted to bright colors, just like any other 9-year-old. It took some asking around (and more of his paycheck than he’d like to admit), but eventually he procured a nice set of 16 in a small paper box. There were just enough to produce a variety of hues without being overwhelming. The coloring book he put together himself, taking an old journal apart and stitching it back together with carefully sketched ink drawings he’d made of various plants and animals.

I got your ask, by the way, and it's fantastic. I'll get around to it when I can.

I’m glad you were able to get some sleep at least aldkddkl

AWWWWWWW HE MADE THE BOOK HIMSELF OH MY GODDDDDD 😭😭😭😭😭

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David and Michael interview with Vanessa Armstrong and Valerie Ettenhofer for SlashFilm, 10.7.2023

Film's Vanessa Armstrong got the answers in an interview with Sheen and Tennant, which it should be noted took place before the ongoing SAG-AFTRA strike began. When asked about how and when Gaiman, who created and showruns the series, pitched the second season, Tennant revealed that "it gradually came into focus over a couple of years, probably." The actor notes that "the initial idea that there might be more story to tell" might have actually "had its genesis way, way back as a sort of fantasy idea, really, where we were shooting [season] 1." Like many a TV show these days, the show was initially marketed as a limited series, but that didn't last; it was officially renewed in 2021, two years after it aired.

While it sounds like Gaiman and the cast perhaps daydreamed about keeping the fun going with another season during production on the first, Tennant says the pieces still didn't come together until after it aired. "Then [season] 1 came out, and I think from that point, there was a slow realization that actually there might be more to come," he told /Film. "Neil was clearly excited at the idea, and I think Amazon were keen to do it." Some limited series clearly have aspirations for a sophomore season, but Tennant insists that he and Sheen "always thought it was a one-off," having signed contracts for one season and only been pitched on one season. When they got the go-ahead for another, though, he explained, "Michael and I were thrilled that we would get to return to [these] characters."

"When we started off on that journey, there was never a sense to go further, but what a treat that it was going to," Tennant explained. It took a long time for the full season 2 picture to come into focus: "I think Neil would drop us little nuggets down the months and years, really," he told /Film. Sheen, meanwhile, says he has "no memory whatsoever' of how Gaiman told him about the plans for Aziraphale in season 2. He did, however, have an inkling based on conversations Gaiman had described having with Pratchett about a continuation of the story before the author's death in 2015. "I know what we wanted to explore," Sheen said, "and I always remember what he was aiming to get to by the end of the second series, because of ideas that he and Terry had talked about with where the story might go."

Sheen says he thinks the first thing Gaiman told him about season 2 involved "the idea of Gabriel coming into their lives again in a very unexpected way, and then that eventually building to the point that they get to at the end of this series." Tennant, meanwhile, remembers being in Romania on a shoot for "Around The World in 80 Days" when Gaiman shared the first scene of season 2 with him and Sheen over Zoom. "Neil read us the first scene, the opening scene, which is, if you've seen it, you'll know we meet a very youthful Crowley and Aziraphale, very much way back at the beginning of time." (fygo: NGK FUCKING NGK!!!) Tennant says Gaiman "then gave us a quick sketch of what the rest of the series was going to be." Though both actors are understandably trying to keep mum about the ending of season 2, they note that Gaiman told them what it would be early on.

"That was all worked out, and it just felt delicious, really," Tennant says after recalling the Zoom meeting. "I mean from that moment on, it just felt like it was always meant to be. It felt like it was such a perfectly formed idea. I think it's fair to say that Michael and I didn't need much persuading." That's great to hear, because we certainly didn't need persuading to sign up for a season 2, either. The new "Good Omens" adventure begins on Prime Video on July 28, 2023.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Something that makes Durge's myriad of possible physical appearances even more confusing to me (as in they can be literally anything):

Bhaal doesn't care at all about physical appearance, insofar as I can tell. He prefers to be perceived only as acts of death and murder - preferably you will never see him at all. You only see the brutal murder scenes and mutilated corpses of your companions left for you to find with the circle of tears painted in their blood on the wall to let you know he was there. Also he seems to have it in for horses because he can't resist killing them. He never manifests in any fashion at all if he can help it; temples at a minimum and out of sight; the religious garb of his followers hides their faces and unique identifying features...

in the Time of Troubles he paid no attention whatsoever to what kind of mortals he hijacked as avatars. He just grabbed them, ran them into the ground, stabbed some people with the broken bones towards the end, then jumped to the next one. I imagine he doesn't actually see mortal bodies as anything but sinewy sacks of fluid: deaths that haven't happened yet.

So imagining Bhaal trying to actually design a creature with an appearance... it was probably an interesting experience considering Bhaal simply does not seem to care about this nonsense. His concept of beauty involves a dead lump of meat that's been severed from life in a creative fashion, his aesthetics are going to be... hmm.

1. So option one: Copy-pasting his original mortal form makes the most sense to me if Bhaal chose their appearance himself, although that would lock Durge into human, which isn't the case... unless Durge actually modified themselves with magic sometime between birth and getting amnesia and they were born an (presumably amab) human. 2. Did he recycle the appearance of one of his previous Bhaalspawn? Except that doesn't work because they can be dragonborn, since none of those were available until well after his death... 3. Maybe Bhaal didn't design them. Did he just send the butlers out to do some surveys and sketch some concept art? Did the Deathstalkers vote on the finalised appearances and traits? Did he just cut off a chunk of his flesh and pass it to his servants: 'Here, make this into a person shape and pass it off to some randos to raise.' Hmm... Was it like a Dawn Summers thing, where Durge is actually just a portion of Bhaal's divine energy retconned into existence by Bhaalist monks and slotted into a family in the shape of their child so they just combined the genetic material of the parents for the physical form? Because I do like the idea of being able to draw on that concept. ('What am I? Am I real? Am I anything??') And it explains why Durge is kind of a walking retcon.

[beemovieerotica]

I will never get over the absolute dumpster fire of when the dsa (democratic socialists of america) streamed their congressional sessions online and the rest of the internet found it

it was like if you asked the most ill-intentioned centrist to write a comedy sketch of the worst problems with the left but this was an actual real life event that occurred and was broadcast to thousands of people and the alt-right fucking loved it

like going beyond the moment when someone was accidentally misgendered and then made a scene on the senate floor screaming at the moderator, there was this whole thing about the same people taking up too much time at the microphone raising points of contention, and so they had to come up with a solution to it

and instead of being like...okay, if you've already spoken a lot of times today, sit down please. they went "so we're going to do this thing where the people who are the most marginalized can cut to the front of the line to speak first."

oh boy.

they instantly had to employ a moderator to stand by the line to break up arguments and order people in the most un-biased way possible which as you can imagine is kind of fucking impossible.

multiple follow-up rules had to be made like "okay so if you have an invisible disability or invisible facet of marginalization then please pull the moderator aside and disclose this so they can order you correctly---" which is a whole additional can of worms and did not end well

what basically happened was that there was a slew of the same-looking white able-bodied cis men and women showing up at the microphone first anyway, which kind of prompted the question...what did any of this do...? but this my friends was instantly answered when the vast majority of these people then announced as soon as they got up to the mic: "I have autism." like, opening line. I Have Autism.

great!!!

and the inevitable follow-up to this from critics was "wow, they all have autism which makes them stupid" instead of considering, hey maybe self-important people will use any reason to claim that they deserve more attention and more of a voice, and autism can definitely exacerbate this when you can't read the room and identify that maybe you should uhhh let the person in the wheelchair who is in line behind you speak up on disability issues when there's limited time? bro?

it was genuinely so astounding and the icing on the cake was every moment they had to tell people to stop applauding or making any noise whatsoever (AT A POLITICAL ACTION MEETING?) because it was "triggering" to some people like. how do i say anything about this without sounding like a dick.

but i mean it very sincerely when i say that this is what happens when people do not engage in real life social spaces, when they base all of their politics on hot takes on tumblr or twitter, and when you let an extremely small vocal minority who assumes the most bad-faith readings of everything that is ever said to them, determine the trajectory of an entire political movement. please tell me this isn't the best alternative we have to the broken two party system.

[mythbustersfacts]

[Opening Scene: The MythBusters workshop. Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman stand in front of a collection of ancient Egyptian artifacts]

Jamie: [skeptical] Adam it looks like you've been on tumblr again, do the fans have another myth for us to test?

Adam: [excitedly] Today, we’re diving into a modern myth that’s taken the internet by storm—the mystery of the White Pharaoh.

Jamie: [nodding] This enigmatic figure is said to be an ancient Egyptian pharaoh with distinctly European features. Some claim he’s from an American textbook, while others say he's a character from a slot machine.

Adam: And there’s a twist! Rumor has it, this character is based on a real person living in Utah, who’s supposedly forcing people to build pyramids. Crazy, right?

Jamie: [raising an eyebrow] We’re going to investigate the origins of this character, let's start by looking into the slot machine story.

[Adam and Jamie walk into a glitzy casino, filled with the sounds of slot machines and the buzz of excitement. They head towards the corner where a Pharaoh’s Fire machine stands prominently.]

Adam: [pointing to the screen] That’s the guy! The White Pharaoh. Notice the European features, quite different from traditional Egyptian depictions!

Jamie: [curious] We’ve arranged to meet with a game designer who worked on Pharaoh’s Fire. Let’s see what he has to say about the design choices.

[The team meets with the game designer, a cheerful professional eager to discuss his work. They gather around a table with a laptop showing design sketches.]

Game Designer: [pointing to the screen] The White Pharaoh was designed to stand out and appeal to a wide audience. We used a mix of features to create a character that was both exotic and familiar.

Jamie: [deadpan] So, no historical basis at all?

Game Designer: [shaking his head] None whatsoever. It’s purely a creative blend. We wanted a character that would be memorable and fit the adventurous theme of the game.

Adam: [raising an eyebrow] Did you expect this character to become an internet sensation and a point of debate about ancient Egyptian history?

Game Designer: [laughing] Not at all! It’s incredible how a piece of gaming art can take on a life of its own. But remember, it’s just a game character, not a depiction of real history.

[The team thanks the designer and leaves the casino, ready for the next phase of their investigation.]

[The camera follows the MythBusters team as they drive through the scenic landscapes of Utah. They discuss their mission to find the real-life White Pharaoh, rumored to be somewhere in the state.]

Adam: [approaching a local] Excuse me, we’re looking for someone known as the White Pharaoh. Do you know where we might find him?

Local: [pointing to a distant hill] He lives up there, in that big house. You can’t miss it. But be careful, folks around here say he’s a bit... eccentric.

Jamie: [turning to the camera] Alright, let’s go meet the man behind the myth.

[The team approaches a large, pyramid-shaped house on the hill. They knock on the door and are greeted by a tall, pale man dressed in an ornate robe. His features strikingly resemble those of the White Pharaoh from the slot machine game.]

White Pharaoh: [smiling warmly] Welcome, travelers. I am the White Pharaoh. What brings you to my domain?

Adam: [extending a hand] We’re the MythBusters. We’re here to learn more about you and your connection to this image that’s been circulating online.

White Pharaoh: [eyes narrowing slightly] Ah, the internet… always spreading tales. Come in, let’s discuss this over some tea.

[The team enters the house, which is filled with eclectic decorations and tapestries, including numerous Egyptian artifacts and pyramid models. They sit down in a cozy living room.]

Jamie: [looking around] This is quite a collection you have here.

White Pharaoh: [smiling mysteriously] I am fascinated by ancient Egypt and have devoted my life to studying it. Some even say I am the reincarnation of an ancient pharaoh.

Adam: [leaning in] And what about the pyramids? We’ve heard rumors you’re involved in building some out here.

White Pharaoh: [chuckling softly] Yes, I have a few projects going on. I believe in bringing a piece of Egypt to the American landscape.

Adam: [nervously] And these people working for you... are they volunteers?

White Pharaoh: [gazing intently] They are devoted followers. They believe in the vision I have for restoring the glory of ancient Egypt.

[As the conversation continues, the atmosphere grows increasingly tense. The team notices several people working outside, surrounding the Mythbusters van and stacking large stones around it in pyramid shapes under the White Pharaoh’s watchful eye.]

Adam: [whispering to Jamie] This is getting weird. We need to wrap this up.

Jamie: [nodding subtly] Agreed. Let’s make our exit.

White Pharaoh: [suddenly standing up] You must see the pyramids we’re building. Come, I insist.

[The team follows the White Pharaoh outside, where they are led to a large, partially constructed pyramid. The workers, looking exhausted, glance at them with a mix of fear and curiosity.]

White Pharaoh: [gesturing grandly] Behold! The future of Egypt in America. Isn’t it magnificent?

Adam: [backing away slightly] It’s... impressive. But we really should be going.

White Pharaoh: [smiling ominously] Oh, but you must stay. We could use your skills to complete our masterpiece.

[The camera captures the tension as Adam and Jamie face the White Pharaoh. The air is thick with unease, and the followers of the White Pharaoh begin to close in on the MythBusters team, their intentions unclear but menacing.]

Jamie: [firmly] We’re leaving. Now.

Adam: [nervously chuckling] Yeah, thanks for the tour, but we have a lot of other myths to bust today.

[The White Pharaoh’s smile fades, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. He raises a hand, and his followers tighten their circle around Adam and Jamie.]

White Pharaoh: [calmly] I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’ve seen too much. You will help us complete the pyramid... or you will never leave.

[Adam and Jamie exchange worried glances, realizing the seriousness of their situation. The followers, looking more desperate than before, begin to push them towards the unfinished pyramid.]

Jamie: [to Adam, quietly] We need to find a way out of here, now.

Adam: [looking around for an escape route] Agreed. Let’s create a distraction.

[Adam notices a pile of construction tools nearby. He subtly picks up a hammer, trying to hide his movements from the encroaching followers.]

Adam: [raising his voice, addressing the White Pharaoh] You know, I’ve always wanted to test the structural integrity of a pyramid like this.

White Pharaoh: [intrigued, momentarily distracted] Oh? And how do you plan to do that?

[Adam suddenly throws the hammer towards a stack of equipment and knocks over a circular saw causing a loud crash and a cloud of dust to rise. The followers instinctively look towards the noise.]

Adam: [shouting] Now, Jamie!

[Taking advantage of the confusion, Adam and Jamie sprint towards their van, dodging followers who are trying to block their path. The scene is chaotic, with followers stumbling and shouting in the dust cloud.]

Jamie: [grabbing the driver’s side door] Get in, Adam!

[Adam dives into the passenger seat as Jamie revs the engine. The van lurches forward, scattering the followers who are still trying to recover from the sudden disruption.]

White Pharaoh: [yelling angrily] Stop them! They must not escape!

[The van speeds down the dirt path, kicking up a trail of dust. The camera captures the frantic followers chasing after them on foot and throwing pyramid-shaped stones but they quickly fall behind.]

Adam: [panting, looking back through the rear window] That was close. Way too close.

Jamie: [focused on the road, accelerating away from the scene] Yeah, but we made it. Let’s just hope we’re not followed.

[The camera follows the van as it navigates the winding roads of Utah, the unfinished pyramid and the White Pharaoh’s house fading into the distance. The mood inside the van is tense but relieved.]

[Musical Sting and Scene Transition: Back at the Workshop]

[Cut to the MythBusters workshop. Adam and Jamie stand in front of the camera, looking slightly shaken but with a hint of excitement in their eyes. The familiar backdrop of tools and experiments gives a sense of safety and normalcy.]

Adam: [seriously] Our investigation into the White Pharaoh took us on a journey we never expected. We set out to explore a modern meme and myth, but what we discovered was far beyond what we imagined.

Jamie: [nodding] The White Pharaoh isn’t just a character from a slot machine. He’s real, and he’s out there in Utah, building his vision of a new Egypt in America. We saw it with our own eyes, and it was both fascinating and a bit terrifying.

Adam: [leaning forward, with intensity] He claims to be a reincarnated pharaoh, surrounded by followers who are completely devoted to his cause. They’re constructing pyramids in the desert, bringing ancient dreams into modern reality.

Jamie: [smirking slightly] So, after meeting him and seeing his projects firsthand, we have to say... myth confirmed. The White Pharaoh is real, and he’s turning his own myth into reality.

Adam: Confirmed!