#the music sounds exactly how the visuals look

[giggle-guru]

I’m like totally super subtle with my hints right? Anyways, here it is lovelies! A little Alastor munching on a sensitive little Vox’s stomach. This was a quick lil fun thing I wanted to do, and some of you requested it soooo…mwah! Hopefully you all enjoy it. I’m going to give you all more food soon too, hehe. The inspo is hiiiiittttiiiiing!

Script is below the cut! :)

[Visual Note: Vox is within his office, watching over his countless screens as usual when Alastor enters. Alastor and Vox currently have a…confusing relationship, to say the least. Though both of them maintain that mask of hatred between one another, they can often be found together behind closed doors.]

[Audio Note: Electronics humming, Alastor’s footsteps echoing]

Vox: [fake irritation] What the- What are you doing here Alastor? Don’t you have some outdated radio show to host?

Alastor: [cheerful] Vox, my dear technicolor friend! I thought I’d drop by and see how the future’s most “advanced” demon spends his time. [mock gasp] Oh, look at all these buttons! I wonder…what would happen if I press this-

Vox: [panic] Don’t touch that! [sigh] Just stay out of the way. I’m busy right now.

Alastor: [chuckling] Busy? With what? Oh, let me guess… updating your software? Recharging your batteries? How utterly riveting.

[Audio Note: Footsteps as Alastor approaches the chair Vox resides in.]

Vox: [suspicious] What are you up to?

Alastor: [grinning] Oh, nothing, nothing. Though, I must say, I am feeling a little…peckish.

Vox: [raised brow] Yeah? Well, sorry but I don’t keep organs lying around for you whenever you stumble in here. Go find some sinner or something.

Alastor: [grinning wider] It appears you have misunderstood my proposal.

Vox: [confusion] Proposal? What are you on about?

Alastor: Vox, Vox, Vox. You are so wonderfully oblivious. You see, I’m not talking about consuming anything physical. As much as I would love to…

Vox: [defensive] Whatever you’re planning, knock it off. I don’t have time for your riddles- Hey! What are you doing?!

[Visual Note: Alastor pounces, forcing Vox off of the chair and causing a tussle between them until Alastor is successfully on top of him.]

[Audio Note: Tussling, grunting]

Alastor: [grinning more maniacally] There we are. I’m afraid you know exactly what I require of you now, hmm? You see, I don’t desire to feed off the skin and screams of another individual. As much as it pains me to admit, I have a desire for…you.

Vox: [flustered, stuttering] M-Me? What are you on about?

Alastor: [humming, continuing and ignoring Vox’s confusion] Alas, I couldn’t fathom the consequences of properly making you my next meal. So instead I have come up with an alternative method to satisfy such desires…

Vox: [flushing] O-Oh yeah? What would that be?

[Visual Note: Alastor begins to ride Vox’s shirt up, licking his lips.]

Alastor: [simple] This.

[Visual Note: Alastor leans down, and begins slowly and gently biting at his stomach.]

Vox: [stammering] Al-! Watch it, I’m-

Alastor: [murmuring against his skin] Ticklish? I came to that conclusion long ago. I figured that indulging in your hysterical laughter would be fulfilling enough. And what better way to appease the hunger than feast upon your laughter instead?

Vox: [forcing back giggles, not actively fighting against it] Alastor! G-Get off me, this is absurd!

Alastor: [practically purring] But isn’t absurdity the spice of our existence, dear Vox? Now then, stop holding back those satisfying giggles of yours. I like it far more when my prey is vocal.

[Visual Note: Alastor continues nibbling on Vox’s exposed stomach.]

Vox: [giggling now] Y-You piece of shit! I should have known you’d come in here to be a pain in my ass!

Alastor: [chuckling softly] Oh, Vox, your laughter is music to my ears. Do you think it’s possible to broadcast this? I’m sure the masses would adore hearing the mighty Vox reduced to such… delightful helplessness.

Vox: [trying to sound threatening through laughter] I swear, Alastor, if you even think about recording this I’ll-

Alastor: [mocking concern] You’ll what, my electrifying friend? Crash like a poorly coded program? I must say this is absolutely delightful! Now then, I’ve been craving some ribs…

[Visual Note: Alastor moves Vox’s shirt higher, nibbling along his ribs.]

Vox: [shrieking laughter] Damn it, Al! Stop! You’re the worst!

Alastor: [grinning wider] The worst? Oh, Vox, you flatter me! Now then, be a good meal and shriek a little louder for me.

Vox: [still laughing] If you don’t stop this nonsense, I’m— [gasps for air between giggles] —I’m going to shut down every single radio frequency in Hell! Let’s see how much you laugh then, you sadistic bastard!

Alastor: [mock horror] My, my, such threats from someone in such a vulnerable position! And yet, despite all your bravado, here you are, helpless beneath me. Quite the amusing juxtaposition, wouldn’t you agree?

[Visual Note: Alastor trails lower once more, lightly nibbling along Vox’s torso and adding his tongue for good measure.]

Vox: [gasping for air between laughs] A-Alastor… I can’t- [laughs uncontrollably] I c-can’t take it!

Alastor: [grinning widely] Oh, but I must insist. You see, this hunger of mine is not easily sated. Your laughter, so infectious and sweet, it feeds me more than any other indulgence could.

Vox: [desperate, laughing] Y-You sick bastard...!

Alastor: [humming in satisfaction] I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. But my dear friend, you truly are a delicious source of entertainment. Don’t stop now! I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!

[Visual Note: Alastor continues to move down Vox’s body, now gently biting along his exposed hips, teasing with his sharp teeth as Vox thrashes beneath him.]

Vox: [panting, laughing through the words] I—can’t do this, Al! I—I swear, I’m going to... I’m going to—[laughs harder] lose it!

Alastor: [laughing with him, savoring each of Vox’s reactions] Lose it? Oh, I think you already have, my dear Vox. You’re completely at my mercy now. I wonder if you’ll ever laugh like this again. [playful] What do you think, hmm?

Vox: [weakly, still laughing] I—I swear I’ll make you regret thist—[gasps] when I finally get my hands on you!

Alastor: [mocking shock] Oh, how threatening! I do hope that one day, you’ll get the chance. But for now, your giggles are far too delicious to stop.

Vox: [voice breaking] Hahaha... A-Alastor, I can’t... I can’t do this anymore… Please...

Alastor: [mock complaining] Oh, Vox, you’ve lasted far longer than I thought. But I guess my hunger has been settled…for the time being.

[Visual Note: Alastor reluctantly stands to leave Vox panting on the floor. He brushes his shoulders, acting as if it was the most casual thing in the world.]

Vox: [residual giggling] You are such a prick.

Alastor: [cheerfully] Well, that was simply delightful! I must say, you’re quite the feast for the ears, dear Vox. Shall we schedule our next session? I would assume such needs will come up once more…

Vox: [groaning, still catching his breath] You’re lucky I’m too tired to kill you right now.

Alastor: [mock bowing] I’ll take that as a yes! Until next time!

[Visual Note: Alastor’s footsteps retreat as Vox attempts to recover.]

[Audio Note: Vox muttered curses, footsteps.]

[oncamelliastreet]

midnights is the best taylor album argue with the wall

[spxfav]

Wedding Night

Summary: After your wedding, you and Spencer head out to your suíte, expecting to have a movie-like wedding night. However, that's not exactly what happens.

Warnings: Reader referred to as a woman. Nothing much, actually, this is just very sweet.

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: This came to me as I was getting ready for bed at 7 A.M. after my graduation ball, and I kept thinking how it would be a realistic wedding night lol. Enjoy <3

Lace underwear, romantic music, candlelit room and loving whispers. Champagne and strawberries, maybe a bubble bath afterwards and falling asleep in each other’s arms. That’s how you pictured your wedding night.

The reality, however, couldn’t be more different.

Spencer’s hand rests on your lower back, huge smiles on both your faces as you stumble with the key card to get into the hotel room.

“I can do it.” You say, smiling ear to ear.

“I can see that.” He mocked, making you giggle as he leaned in, placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

You cheered, cheeks red from the alcohol when the door was finally unlocked, and he laughed and placed a finger over your lips.

“Shhh, it’s three in the morning.” His voice was a hushed whisper as you, once again, giggled against his finger and walked into the room.

It was beautiful, dimly lit with flowers everywhere and a gorgeous view to the vineyard you two got married in. As you admired the room, though, Spencer could only admire the woman in front of him. His wife. He still couldn’t believe he got to call you that.

He had this lovesick smile on his face as he approached, arms encircling your waist as he bent down to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle as his mustache tickles your skin.

“You look so pretty.” He said when you turned around, his hand moving to rest on your face.

“You already said that. A million times.” You smile, eyes shining as you look up at him.

“I’ll say it a million times more.” He murmured, looking at you like you created the Earth itself, and kissed you. It was slow, tender. Like he had no rush at all. And he didn’t. Thankfully, you were his all night, and for the next fifteen days of your honeymoon. This was the first of many, many kisses.

"Have I ever told you how much I like this?" You ask, interrupting the kiss as your finger moves up to trace the dark hair on his upper lip.

"The stash?" He asks with a cocky smile and you laugh at the word, and the way his voice sounded whenever he tried - and failed - to use slangs.

"Yes, the stash." You say, your voice slightly mocking.

"Good thing I forgot to shave." He murmurs with a smile, bending down to capture your lips once more, his smile blending with his as your arms circle around his neck to pull him even closer.

His hand finds its way to the back of your head, tangling in your meticulously styled hair that he had been oh so careful not to ruin all day. The other palm, resting on your waist, slowly pushes you back towards the wall, his lips not leaving yours for one second.

Sliding down, you feel the heat of his hand moving from your waist to your hip, then to your backside, and involuntarily, you let out a giggle against his lips.

“What?” He asks, smiling as his mouth moves against yours.

“Naughty.” Your murmur makes him laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Excuse me?”

“We haven’t been here for five minutes and you’re already trying to get freaky.” The slurring in your words, the way you said it with your brow lifted like that, simply made him laugh more. "I think it's the mustache. There's a reason why they call it a pornstache."

“Mrs. Reid… Are you drunk?” His hands were back on your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin over the dress so tenderly. You smile widely, biting your bottom lip to unsuccessfully try to contain it.

“Just a little bit, Dr. Reid” Your fingers were brought together in a pinching motion as you showed him the visual amount of your “drunkness”.

“More than a little bit.” He smiled, bringing his own fingers up to open yours and make the quantity more appropriate.

“Okay, fair enough” You laughed, but your lips were back on his half a second later, and this time, it was you guiding you both to the bed.

The dress was heavy, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh when you sat on the fluffy mattress, the blankets blending it with the white fabric.

“What?”

“You look like a cupcake.” He says, earning a scoff from you and being attacked by a random pillow that was close enough for you to reach.

“Take it back!” Your voice was as serious as you could manage it to be, but the smile on your lips was a dead giveaway that you weren’t actually upset.

“Alright, I’m sorry. You don’t look like a cupcake.” He smiled in that charming way that makes your knees give out. Good thing you were sitting.

“Thank you.” Your face was already between his hands, and the pillow falls uselessly by the bed when he guides you down onto the mattress, his body weight pushing you down as you allow yourself to drown in his touches.

His tongue explores your mouth in gentle, languid kisses, and you were comfortable in his arms, enveloped by the smell of his cologne, laying on the soft bedding…

“Darling?” You blink, your eyes meeting his and that crushing smile “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“No…” You blink again, and this time, completely against your will, a yawn escapes your lips.

“So, you’re that kind of drunk.” His fingers gently brush some of the curls away from your face.

“Sorry. No, I’m good. I’m not going to fall asleep.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“I believe you.” No, he didn’t.

Spencer knew you well enough by now. You’ve been "happy drunk" for hours at the party, but that wave had long passed. Two more minutes in this bed and you’d be completely out of it.

“Honey” He smiles, caressing your cheek when your eyes start drooping again.

“I’m awake!” His laughter is so angelical, and you smile despite it all.

“Listen, we have fifteen days. We’re both exhausted, and I’m sure you can’t be very comfortable right now, in such a tight dress and with your hair like this. We can just sleep, it’s fine.”

“But it’s our wedding night.” You pout, and the look on his face softens.

“I know, but you’ve been up since six a.m.”

“Still. I can do this. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” He chuckles incredulously and takes your face between his hands again. “My love, you’re not disappointing me, not in the slightest. I just got married to the woman of my dreams, to the love of my life. I’ll have the rest of my life to have sex with you, one night won’t kill me.”

His voice was earnest, and his heart was light. He loved you more than anything, and the last thing he wanted was you feeling like you weren’t enough because you were too tired to give him a wedding night like the ones in movies.

“Let’s get you out of all of this, and then go to bed.” Before you could protest, he was already up, your body in his arms as he carried you bridal-style to the bathroom. Fitting.

Your laugh echoed in the room as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and hold you up.

“I can walk, you know.”

“I didn’t want to take any chances of you refusing.” He left a kiss on the tip of your nose as he placed you back down on the floor.

His fingers worked with expertise as he carefully removed the bobby pins from your hair, the pile growing and growing.

“Jesus, how many do you have in here?” He murmured, and you could only giggle as you looked at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

Next, came the makeup. Well, came off the makeup.

He still remembers how, every night as you wash your face, you use two products, smiling at him and saying “I have to double cleanse.”

The pads of his fingers massaged the oil on your eyes, melting away the mascara and the layers and layers of product that had been on your face since morning, reapplied to look fresh the whole time.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I probably look exhausted. I’m sure it was better with the makeup.” You smile, and his heart absolutely melts. How he loved that smile.

“Um, no. You’re pretty either way. You could be bald and painted in blue, and you’d still be just as pretty.” You giggle, but he was dead serious. In Spencer’s eyes, you were the most gorgeous person in the universe – yes, universe, because he was sure you’d still be a thousand times prettier than whatever other life form there is out there.

The zipper moves down slowly, and soon, the giant dress is on the floor. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, his brain momentarily not working.

“See? I was prepared.” You do a little twirl, joking as you have no idea just how much the sight of the black lingerie affected him.

“I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He murmured, almost to himself as he stepped closer, taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for another kiss, effectively shutting up whatever drunken ramble you were going on about.

This time, his lips were a little more desperate. He was a gentleman through and through, but come on, he was still a man. And with you looking like that in front of him? How could he react any other way?

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist it.” He murmurs, breathless when he finally pulls just the slightest away, the warm palms of his hands still holding your face in place.

“Don’t ever apologise for kissing me.” You murmur back, and you can feel the way the smile comes to his lips.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go to bed.” He picks you up again, and in – very pleasant – seconds, your body sinks on the mattress.

Spencer can feel the warmth of your body against his, the softness of your skin under his hands. He can feel the curve of your backside fitting perfectly against his hips, can smell your perfume and drown in the mess of your post-hairstyle curls.

“Honey?” Your voice was a soft murmur in the dark.

“Yes, darling?” His eyes were half open, his restraint holding him back from doing anything as his lips hover over the curve of your shoulder, so tantalisingly close.

“I’m not sleepy anymore.” The smile that takes over his lips is instant, his hands moving on your skin with a little more purpose once he feels your hips pushing back against his.

“Mm, that’s good.” He whispers and finally allows himself to place hot kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. “But I’ll go slow anyway.”

[yuqiyu]

Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.” 

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive. 

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands. 

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise. 

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?” 

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused. 

“Are you new?” 

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were. 

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression. 

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs. 

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way. 

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.” 

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.” 

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine. 

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under. 

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him. 

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them. 

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more. 

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you. 

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now. 

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.” 

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real. 

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!” 

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over.  “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?” 

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this. 

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness. 

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing. 

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?” 

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed. 

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.” 

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this. 

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point. 

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!” 

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.” 

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that. 

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. 

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?” 

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens. 

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.” 

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree. 

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch. 

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you. 

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?” 

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks. 

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.” 

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks. 

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?” 

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze. 

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky. 

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack. 

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely. 

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly. 

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up. 

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile. 

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.” 

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him. 

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun. 

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging . 

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again. 

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more. 

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up. 

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more. 

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured. 

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine. 

“‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well. 

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ” 

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly. 

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it. 

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone. 

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.” 

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. 

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.” 

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill. 

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt. 

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing. 

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back. 

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now . 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out. 

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already. 

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum. 

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?” 

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question. 

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?” 

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.

[violet-moonstone]

once more defending my love, book!elphaba thropp

reading reviews of wicked and im seeing people say they hate book elphaba because she's "unlikable"

so many people love the feel good vibes of the musical while not seeing that they sound exactly like people who would have shunned elphaba at shiz for not being pleasant enough and making them feel unsettled instead of putting them at ease

I'm saying this because I find that people are often much more charitable towards fictional characters than real people -- and people IRL who have Elphaba's severe, unwavering personality and unwillingness to conform often face the same social stigma she did, no green skin required. Like yes, Elphaba was an outcast because she had green skin, but I don't think the green skin is the point of the novel. I think her being green is a visual manifestation of being so at odds with what you're "supposed" to be that people demonize you for it. Book Elphaba is queer and hinted to be intersex. I read her as neurodivergent, so this all tracks to me, and considering that other forms of oppression and stigmatization are very important themes in the narrative, I think the green-ness simply emphasizes to the other ways in which she's marginalized.

Trying not to go into the Wicked rant that I tend to do every few months but I feel it coming on

I'm all here for critiques of the novel, because it certainly has flaws, and I understand why people don't enjoy it -- but there is something funny to me about people wanting a narrative about looking beneath the surface to find true value but hating the version of that story that requires the most compassion to appreciate. Like the musical is fun and well-made but it does not require any effort to like musical Elphaba because she's conventionally attractive woman who's feisty and kinda quirky...oh and she's also green. And her being green matters more to the other characters than to us. We don't care that she's green (because we already know it would be wrong to judge her based on that) and the musical gives us no other reasons to judge her, so we don't really have to process any complex emotions.

(Sidenote, I think if book Elphaba were still green but more conventionally attractive, bubbly, and less political, she would not have been as much of an outcast -- at least not in her later adolescence. Her green-ness could have been a novelty or spectacle that she used to her advantage if she made up for it by being more palatable in other ways. Of course, she would never do this, because that's simply not Elphaba. She could never twist herself to be anything other than who she is, even out of social self-preservation.)

Book Elphaba is so much more prickly and unpleasant --and hell, so was I at the height of my social ineptitude and feeling like there was something so so wrong with me (because why for the love of God couldn't I just fit in and act the way the cool kids my age did).

Her unpleasantness and seriousness and insistence on talking about important things that make people uncomfortable are her green-ness imo. Those are the things that affect how we as the reader experience her, and we must experience her strangeness as well.

And while I understand that if the moral of the story is essentially "don't judge a book by its cover" then yes, you can tell a thematically sound story about a girl who is actually pretty cool but just happens to be green and talk about how she's ostracized simply because she looks different. That's a perfectly fine story -- but I think it can go much further -- because it's not only wrong to marginalize people who look different, it's also wrong to marginalize those who are internally different. Difference is persecuted whether its visual or behavioural.

Even if Elphaba weren't green, there are inherent aspects of who she is that prevent her from conforming to the ideal, both in her world and ours. And I think valuing her with all of those things in mind is a lot more rewarding than simply liking her despite the fact that she's green.

Anyway I love Elphaba Thropp and I don't think her being more palatable would have made the story better — it simply would have made it more popular, and I think on that at least, fans of both the book and musical should be able to agree is not an inherently better thing.

...

OK one last point, I saw someone saw they prefer the musical because it has more "girl power" meanwhile the book feels "obviously written by a man" and I just...dear god what a surface level take

Yes Gregory Maguire is a man (oh, the horror!), but he wrote the women in Wicked as people, without hand wringing about if they're likeable or pleasant enough. They are flawed and raw and not just there to make the audience feel warm and fuzzy. He writes about sexuality without making women feel like sexual objects -- I suspect because he also writes about the sexuality of his male characters (the women aren't just in the story to turn us on) and he himself is gay, so there may be less male-gaze going on than with a lot of men who write fantasy. Yes, characters are described in sexual ways, but this happens regardless of gender.

[love-byers]

if mlvn is supposed to be the main romance of the show, the no. 1 couple, why would the writers save their big i love you moment for a scene where there is so much distraction

there is so much going on here. el choking, mike shifting around and hesitating, will in the background, light flickering, multiple cuts to jonathan and argyle

and then of course the fact that el is in vecnas mind space which is visually displeasing. it's red, bloody looking, thunder is crashing, the vines are squelching, el is crying, max is dying, and also the depressing music conveniently titled "You're The Heart."

there is SO MUCH HAPPENING!! this moment is supposed to be about el and mike, but it couldn't be farther from that.

and for people saying "well that's just what was happening in the moment!", this isnt real life. the story can be literally whatever the duffers want it to be. they could've written the scene differently so there was more tenderness, intimacy, gentleness, emotion. they could've found time for mike and el to have a sweet moment to themselves where he apologizes, and then when el is choking she simply remembers that moment and all of her memories with mike over the years. but nope, it just had to be the other way.

this scene is an example of exactly how to create intimacy between 2 characters in a scene with multiple other people. they made sure to do it a specific way to build will and mike's relationship.

when joyce is talking to will, jonathan is standing in the background for most of it. they also cut to mike and hopper watching. we are reminded there are others in the shed. they cut to will multiple times as joyce talks.

this next thing may sound insignificant, but it's not. they cut to jonathan BEFORE he starts speaking. he watches will for a second, then starts talking about the day lonnie left. then it immediately cuts to joyce, before cutting back to jonathan kneeling down in front of will. as jonathan talks there are shots of just jonathan, jonathan and joyce, and will listening.

they saved mikes for last. every writer knows whatever comes last will have the most impact.

when mike starts speaking, will is still looking at jonathan. wills head shoots towards mike. only after that do we see mike, and he's already crying.

they don't cut away from mike until he says "you were just swinging by yourself" it cuts to will then. then we're back to mike, and it doesn't cut until he's done talking.

there's no music, no flickering, no one else making noise or talking. there's no noise besides mike speaking, will breathing, and crickets outside. it sounds oxymoronic to say this, but the crickets only emphasize how silent it is in the shed besides mike. it's so silent and calm in there that you can hear the crickets. you can barely see anything behind mike, it's just his face illuminated by the light. mike isn't yelling, he's talking softly. this is gentle. intimate.

then it cuts back to will, and he looks more emotional than he has this whole time they've been trying to break through to him. his eyes are red and glossy, his breaths are shuddering as he looks at mike, like he's about to break and cry.

when it cuts to joyce, it's jarring. it tears wills eyes from mike. because at this point we've completely forgotten that there are other people in the room. it's like mike and will are in their own little bubble, like they're the only two people in the world. go and rewatch the full scene, its striking how different mikes monologue to will is shot compared to the others. it suddenly feels so much more intimate and emotionally intense.

and it doesn't, not for a SECOND, lead you to believe mike is hesitant or struggling to tell the truth. it's like the words are spilling straight out of mikes heart into will's. he does not have to be pushed into this or encouraged. the moment jonathan was done talking mike knew exactly what he wanted to say, and he was already so emotional he was crying.

it's coming from him. from his heart.

looking at joyce

looking at jonathan

looking at mike.

and to any deniers here saying all of this is just because of wills feelings for mike..

that's cruel.

that's actually cruel.

it would be DIABOLICAL for the writers to give byler such a sweet emotional moment like this just for it to end in a character who's already on the struggle bus being completely heartbroken. that is straight up cruel to will.

and it would also be queerbaiting lolz

and before you go, quick question. can you imagine THIS mike avoiding wills hug?

i highly doubt it.

[earthnashes]

SOOOOOOOO. Arcane season 2, huh? Now that a couple of days have passed for me to marinate I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the season. This WILL contain spoilers though so if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching for yourself first!

So! Overall, as a standalone season I feel like there are things Arcane excelled at and things that have lost its way a bit. For starters and easily the best part of the show: it's visuals. I've heard some complaints about how much the show cost but like. Brother. When I think of super expensive shows, THIS is what I think it should look like. At no point did I question the budget because it's made abundantly clear every penny is used to best use it could possibly get. And it resulted in what I've been calling a modern greek statue: a marvel, an incredible tapestry of just about every art medium you can think of woven into something so beyond anything I've seen in animation I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to express exactly how much I'm taken by it. This is a clear example of what art IS man and jesus christ. It's mindblowing. I can't praise the show enough for that, like it's literally the best looking thing I've ever seen in media.

Same with the sound design and music, particularly in the battle scenes. Something about the energy behind the sounds, like the clacking of Vi's gloves as shes revving up for a punch, or the reverb of metal clashing, the sound of how blows connect. Even the little things, like the distinct difference between footsteps, or the glitch-like sound that spiders in the backround before shimmer or the arcane is utilized? Like CHEF'S KISS BRO. God almighty it tickles a part in my head.

Just the visuals and sound design is fuckin tasty bro. A solid 1000000000/10

So now Characters. Season 2 managed to take the existing characters and really built off of what was already there. In my opinion the characters, particularly the main players, received additional depth and evolution in a way that made sense in the long run, and the conclusions they reached in their arcs felt like a correct conclusion. However, it's how they got there and how fast they get there being one of my complaints.

For starters: the love triangle between Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn. I didn't appreciate how, for the most part, it felt like it took a backseat in this season when it was one of the driving forces of season 1. It's not JUST them though: the relationships of every character kinda fell away to the wayside for the sake of getting through as much of the plot as possible, but we're on these three right now so:

-I feel like a PROPER recouncil between Vi and Jinx was sorely needed. There were hints to it, particularly in Act 2, but we were kinda left guessing and having to fill the majority of the gaps ourselves. One of Vi's driving factors as a character is her relationship with Jinx/Powder; her unable to accept that she's changed in her absence. Act 2 opened the door in allowing Vi to learn about Jinx as she is and come to terms that, even if she's changed, she's still her sister and there's a chance to bridge that gap. Vice versa to Jinx, particularly because of Isha's presence; I have to assume by becoming an older sister herself, she begins to get an understanding of Vi she previously lacked and that really could've been a stronger catalyst in her recounciling with her. Had the sisters actually got more on-screen time together and really let the hope between them breath, I feel like the ending would've had a much stronger impact.

-Cait/Vi, as much as I enjoy the pairing, felt a little too disjointed. Act 1 was the strongest showcase of their relationship; a sudden escalation driven by mutual grief and attraction and genuine care only to be torn apart immediately after because of Cait's blind rage. Cinema. Beautiful. But immediately after, we don't really see either character work off that much in my opinion. Vi does have a spiral that was very well shown, though I do wish we saw more of Pit Vi and her descent.

As far as Cait goes I would've preferred seeing her spiraling in her own way; with how the third episode of Act 1 ended, I felt like the show was gearing up to showcase how much she allows her hunt for vengeance cloud her mind and take over her life, to do things her mother would have not approved of. Like bro she was so SURE she wouldn't miss (immediately after missing every shot she took up to that point) that she was willing to potentially kill a child for it. Ain't no way she wasn't constantly frothing at the mouth for some time, wallowing in Vi's apparent "betrayal" and in the grief of her mother's death. I DO like how she is seen questioning her actions but it just feels like a tiny snapshot. Had they continued with showing her questioning what, exactly, the hell she's doing (while continuing to go on with her reign), then seeing not just Vi but also how her actions has widened the rift between Piltover and Zaun, her finally being able to break herself off would've felt more weighty.

"What are you shooting for, young Kiramman?" Grayson once asked. I can't help but feel like that line could have had some very strong carry-through into this season; not only giving a proper callback to Grayson as Cait's mentor(?) but also cement Cait's inner turmoil between blinded by revenge, but growing to dislike what she's turned into to get it.

And the sex scene. Particularly WHERE the sex scene occurred, immediately after Jinx heavily implied offing herself to "break the cycle". Vi isn't stupid. I felt like it was extremely clear what Jinx was alluding to, and it seemed like Vi understood that with how she asked "What are you gonna do?" She sounded terrified and desperate. She has SEEN Jinx be suicidal in this season first hand, was all but directly asked by Jinx to put her out of her misery herself. You're telling me she immediately bones the shit outta Cait right after Jinx scampers off and seems to forget it?? I dunno man. :/ I wouldn't remove the fuckfest, but in my opinion there were better places to put it.

And overall in terms of the characters as a whole, there was just too many gaps and too little time. Vander felt like he was underutilized, particularly his clear fight in trying to get a hold of his humanity; could've really used him to push the running theme of people can change, but they're still the same person at their very core.

Heimerdinger got shafted I feel like. He had such a strong impact in S1, only for his death to be... well. Forgotten.

Mel's storyline was way too fucking short. Love the powers she got but they ultimately felt unearned; I feel like we could've spent way more time on her learning to control it to some extent. Her whole shtick in being cunning and one step ahead of everyone (much like her mother) could've played a stronger part here too, particularly because I don't remember the Black Rose being explained much, so it would've been nice to see Mel put her strengths into play to find out for herself and give her a more active role in her ability to fight back.

Ambessa was anticlimactic and I didn't appreciate how she ultimately perished. I wanted her to die, don't get me wrong, but the war in general felt waaaaay too short and her death too easy. I appreciate they didn't go full evil with her, and made her an embodiment of Singe's quote of "doing horrendous things in the name of love", but it kinda felt like her initial plot of using hextech to fight the Black Rose (I could be wrong here but that is what it felt like she ultimately wanted) kinda got... forgotten?

Victor's progression is the only one that felt mostly natural in it's pacing. But again, with how unstoppable his robot pawns were, I felt like they really robbed the final battle of any significant weight to it; Zaun and Piltover, fighting as one against a common enemy. One of the biggest payoffs in the show... felt underwheming and, again, unearned.

And the new characters didn't really get much chance to do much of anything. Loris felt like an important parallel to Vander given how many times he was shown to look and sorta act like him. I felt like he had a bigger role to fill but just ended up bodied. Maddie, at least, had somethin interesting goin on but I feel like she could've been made more impactful in her betrayal.

Overall, a mid 5/10. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely needed more time to really flesh everything out.

And finally, the plot. I personally really enjoyed the overall plot and it's opposing themes to season 1. Whereas s1 felt like "love is undoing" and veered into tragedy, s2 felt like "love is healing" and veered into hope; the sisters learning to accept one another, Vi and Cait mending the rift between each other, Victor and Jayce finding their way back to one another. Isha giving Jinx purpose and a new perspective on life, Vander returning and, even if briefly, managing to regain his humanity for his daughters, the list goes on. It's such a beautiful contrast to season 1, but that is part of why I strongly feel like Arcane NEEDED one more season.

Season 2 was too focused on getting as much story out as possible that it didn't allow the characters themselves to push it forward, and it was weakened for it. Had there been three seasons, Act 1 and Act 2 could have been the entirety of season 2, and Act 3 could have been the whole of a season 3, where we get to see the total climax of everything that occurred. Given the rumors of there being a strong interest for an animated movie (and I have a theory that it might be to continue the story of Arcane in some way), that might help with some of the contingencies if it's true, but that's only if the movie actually comes to fruition.

As it currently stands, my biggest critique of Season 2 was switching focus on making the plot drive the story, when instead it really should've continued the trend from Season 1 in letting the characters drives the story forward.

_______

My meds is beginning to kick in and I'm getting drowsy from it so I'll leave it here for now! TLDR: Arcane Season 2 was mostly good. I have my fair bit of complaints and thoughts on how I'd personally structure everything, but a a whole, pretty good! It's one of those shows where I would personally recommend everyone watch from start to finish to at least experience it in its entirety yourself.

Season 2 Rating: 7.5/10

[glowettee]

becoming your dream self: part 1 - creating your aesthetic blueprint ♡

hello darlingssss, it's mindy here to start our journey into becoming our most ethereal selves. especially for 2025, i already have a 2025 series, i'll be creating the masterlist for it soon!! but today we're laying the foundation of your dream persona, but not in the way you might expect. forget traditional vision boards - we're creating an aesthetic blueprint that speaks to your soul.

first, let's do something unconventional: spend a week documenting the moments that make your heart flutter.

i keep a tiny notebook in my favorite cardigan (i wear almost everydayyy) pocket and write down everything that causes that magical feeling - the way morning light hits your teacup, the sound of vintage jewelry boxes closing, the rustle of paper when turning pages in old books. the smell of rain, dark academia spotify playlists, etc! you don't need to keep a notebook in your pocket (as most notebooks don't fit) so you can bring a normal-sized one but just bring a bag with you that your notebook fits into. ex: tote bags.

here's my secret technique: create what i call "sensory anchors." choose five specific sensory experiences that embody your dream self:

a signature scent (mine is a mix of rose water and old books, or even victoria secret perfume)

a specific texture (i chose raw silk)

a recurring sound (my antique music box melody)

a taste (earl grey with lavender honey)

a visual motif (pressed flowers between glass)

next, we build these into daily rituals. instead of just planning how you want to look, plan how you want to feel.

my tip: create a "dream self hour" - the first hour after waking where you live exactly as your dream self would. don't check your phone, don't rush. move slowly, deliberately, like you're in a soft-focus film.

note: your dream self isn't just about appearance - it's about creating an atmosphere that follows you everywhere. i keep tiny vials of my signature scent in every bag, pressed flowers in my wallet, and a music box tune for my ring tones on my phone. these little touches help you embody your dream self even in mundane moments. it's really the first step to creating your dream self/persona

homework for this week: identify your five sensory anchors and practice incorporating at least one each day. document how it makes you feel in a dedicated journal.

with love and whispers of possibility, mindy ♡

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Seven - Communication Break

Part Six

———

Radio waves were the first sign that the intergalactic community got that there was intelligent life on Earth, as they traveled infinitely through space, language and music lightly introduced to scientists of several societies. Special equipment was designed to refine the weakened waves and check the sounds that originally traveled over them. It was interesting to learn about a civilization so far away.

Radio waves were a common communication tool across several planets, whether for entertainment or military operations. It was considerably easy to maintain and made communications between groups on the same planet more convenient. Most societies kept track of a certain number of channels to prevent conflict, you’d be stupid to have espionage over radio.

In roughly the area of space that Cybertron sits, the radio waves from Earth were from around twenty or more years ago, and were going though the systems for re-mastering the original audio. Unfortunately those who chose to listen to other worlds radio waves, it was now playing the original hits of the 1980’s, just before the Quintessons attacked.

—

Hound was standing there, staring through a wall in the general direction of the communication while the others lost their shit behind him, “He can’t actually mean Jazz, not like pilot Jazz, right?” Sideswipe stands and starts pacing, looking over to Sunstreaker, “We heard him over the delayed messages, we knew he made it to this planet. But there is no way he’s still alive.” Sunstreaker leans his head back against the wall, “It’s been five years and we’re the first group Mecha has bothered to send to find him, five years. Stuck with a bunch of aliens who have similar tech to our own.” It hung in the air for a moment, “Could they be fighting the same things we are?” To be perfectly honest, none of them had thought of that before.

What if those things were fighting the same thing they were, on this weird planet that was covered in metal and rained acid, fighting the tentacle monsters of nightmares, “Even if they are, our mission is to stop them from attacking Earth. Was to find Jazz and stop them from attacking Earth.” Hound turns to the others, who were all in states of shock, “Our focus needs to be on the mission, if we can actually find Jazz then that’s step one done.” Sideswipe stands, moving over to Hound, “If we get Jazz, we might actually be able to finish this mission.” Breakdown nods slowly, finally letting the hum of his cannon die, “That is if we can get off this planet, with the Odyssey.” “If these things trust Jazz, then I’m sure he can talk them into helping us.” Sunstreaker pops his knuckles lightly which causes his suit to creak painfully, Sideswipe winces and swats at his brother, “Don’t do that.” “Then stop biting your lip.” And they started to bicker as Breakdown got up, moving over to Hound.

“What do you think of this, really?” Breakdown leans towards Hound, they’d stayed off comms since Prowl’s abrupt appearance and disappearance; “I don’t like it, if these things are spread out attacking multiple planets? How are we going to find where their coming from and not where their attacking.” Breakdown hummed and shook his head, his visual feeds starting to pick up the beings heading towards them, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” He sounded unsure of the saying but Hound nods with a smile, resting his hand on Breakdown’s shoulder, “You’re not wrong. But if these things are keeping Jazz hostage or worse, then they are the enemy.” Breakdown nods and keeps watching as the figures drew closer. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe standing, joining them near one of the walls.

—

The transmissions were near and clear, filled with typical battle chatter and sounds of explosions. Even if no one could make out exactly what they were saying, the same strange mechs as Jazz had activated the defense system of a solar farm off the coast of the sea of rust. It typically defended the area if the Quintessons landed in the sea or for the regular vermin that lived out there, it was over kill for the scraplets though.

It had been Blaster who’d picked up the signal and sent it to Prowl, knowing he was able to loosely translate the strange language. At which point Prowl had been in a meeting with Mirage, he’d gone from going over the recent reports to standing stock still, staring at nothing. For a click, Mirage let it slide, when Prowl continued to stare at nothing though, it was time to act. Standing and moving over to his commander, Mirage edges his way in front of him, “Commander, Cybertron to Porwl, sir.” He waved his servos in front of him, “Sir?” Prowl just about jumped out of his plating, “Mirage, I apologize, I was receiving a communication from Blaster.” Nodding slightly, Mirage steps back to give Prowl space. He watches in almost shock as Prowl drags his servos down his faceplates, the only time he looked like that was when it involved Jazz, “Sir, is it Jazz?” Mirage couldn’t help but ask, always finding their relationship so intriguing.

Prowl’s scowl was more typical, making Mirage smirk a bit, “No, it’s not Jazz, but it’s more of his kind.” That made the smirk fall and sent his spark to his peds, “More of them?” Jazz was a unique mech, needing more recharge but able to take more pain than any cybertronian. He was already becoming a mythic legend on the field, more of them could help keep the Quints off Cybertron. The gears were already turning in his processor. For Prowl though, who knew what Jazz really was, he was horrified. One of them, this Hound, had given a pilot number like Jazz did when trying to contact home. More pilots sent on a mission to their demise for the greater good of their planet, more who missed their families and home. Prowl could understand that, he’d have given just about anything to save Praxus, but he’d learned that giving your life for a cause didn’t mean much in the long run.

Raising a hand, Prowl silenced Mirage’s tirade, “Their out at the rust sea and likely are to attack anyone they come upon, since our weapons hit them first.” “Scrap.” Prowl nodded again before starting out of the room, Mirage hot on his peds, “I’ll need to contact Jazz along the way to alert him, their is a potential that he knew these other— mechs.” Biting his glossa, he nearly swore aloud at himself having to reframe from saying pilots. Mirage nods and falls in at Prowl’s side, “Do they know were coming?” Prowl delays for a second, “Not yet.” Nodding again, Mirage falls silent as Prowl contacts the strangers.

Out in the sunshine, they hurried into a transformation sequence, Prowl turning on his siren briefly to clear a bit of the traffic. Iacon was a sizable distance from the edge of the rust sea, the specific solar far that was current being attacked was on the edge of Polyhex, if they got on a high speed transport they could be there within clicks. Mirage stayed tight to Prowl’s bumper as they sped to the transport station, it wasn’t every day you got to meet other mechanicals; meeting Jazz has altered Prowl’s world so much and Mirage wanted a piece of that action.

They arrived at the station in record time and requested the fastest private transport, Prowl was still on comms so Mirage remained quiet, not wanting to be a distraction. Entering the transport, he took a seat away from Prowl and retrieved a datapad from his subspace, deciding to take the short amount of time they had on here to catch up on a report. Prowl glances up briefly before returning to stare towards nothing in particular, clearly deep in conversation with someone. His servo comes up to rub his jaw and Mirage has to hide a smile, he knew Prowl as speaking with Jazz. Jazz was the only mech who could make Prowl flustered, though it looked more exasperated than anything. Mirage sits back with his datapad, pausing only for a moment to read a message, swearing loudly, “The big yellow one took Beachcomber’s arm off.” Prowl looks up, “Fuck.” It was a moniker he’d picked up from Jazz but it often fit the situation.

—

Their sanctuary of the warehouse shook lightly as the approaching figures landed the transport, Hound adjust the grip on his gun lightly, fingers flexing, “Stay on your toes, we don’t know what they are.” It was a reminder that none of them needed. Hound was watching intently, eyes flicking between the displays on his visor, before pulling up an experimental piece of tech from Perceptor, turning the translator on in hopes it would eventually be able to discern their language. It was still a work in progress, the front liners back home all had them in hopes of learning the aliens language.

The twins were each shifting from foot to foot, both still splattered with the very pink fluid which had since dried to their plating. Breakdown kept turning down the command to reactivate his cannon, it clicking menacingly on his back and Hound stood straight with his gun held comfortably to his front. After several minutes, the rolling door in front of them opened and three mechs stood there, though one ran off once it was open.

Both had, odd, attachments to them. One painted reminiscently of older police vehicles and the other a very typical factory blue, but both had their odd features and neither was adorned with a facial shield. Each had a highly expressive and realistic facial unit, something that was often discussed back home to make the suits appear more friendly. Hound lightly raised his hand, lowering his gun, even though the one did not lower his cannon, he honestly couldn’t blame them. Clearing his throat slightly, Hound shifts his weight wanting to step forward but deciding against it, “Uh, hello there. We are Mecha pilots, from Earth.” The black and white mech raised his hand, clearing meaning to hold Hound off from talking further. Sideswipe leaned into his brother, “So, they don’t really know any English, do they?” “I doubt it.” Sunstreaker held his arms slightly up in a defensive position in case either chose to attack.

—

Standing there, Mirage knew they were talking in their strange language, he’d heard Jazz speak it several times but it was stressful to not know what they were talking about, “Any time Prowl, would love a translation.” All their heads whipped to him, visors glowing slightly brighter, “Their creatures must have been weird mecha to give them all visors.” He shifts back a bit, looking across them briefly though eyes landing on the green one, he started at the rifle hanging lightly from one hand, “A moment more Mirage, I am trying to get Jazz on the right signal.” “Jazz, is across the planet in Kaon with Megatron and the others dealing with the Quints there.” Prowl held his hand up again, annoyingly. Sometimes he wished his commander would just ask him to shut up, the green ones held tilted ever so slightly.

—

Static filled their comms, making them all wince and the twins tried to shield their ears, “Oh god, again?” Sideswipe was half bent over from the painful noise before the comm frequency clicked and fell silent, then the monotone voice spoke, “ID’s, now.” Hound sighed, it wasn’t the most friendly way of asking but he understood this man hardly spoke English before nodding slightly, “I’m Pilot 1124, Harold Jackson, call sign Hound.” The one he could only assume was Prowl nodded before turning his gaze to the next of the Arcturus crew, “I’m Pilot 2450, Sonny Salucci, callsign Sunstreaker.” “I’m Pilot 2451, Simon Salucci, ugly’s brother. Callsign Sideswipe.” Breakdown shifted uncomfortably before looking to Hound, who nodded, “I’m Pilot 1457, Oleksknder Kovalenko, callsign Breakdown.” There were several clicks and pops over the line, Hound winced and lightly rubbed one of his ears. The blue and white mech’s eyes widened, starting at the twins, Sideswipe shifted uneasily even as Prowl rested a hand on the other mechs shoulder.

A loud crash of sound filled their ears before the obvious sounds of fighting filled the comm line, “There is no way in hell that Hound would come on a dead end mission, it’s not possible.” Jazz’s voice filled their ears even as the clear sounds of his struggle joined the noise, “No way.” “That’s funny, because as you say, I am looking right at them.” Prowl’s voice joined Jazz’s, sounding much more relaxed than previously. Hound was staring at Prowl, taking a breath before finally speaking, “He would if he was looking for you.” There was a loud crash from the other side of the line, which Hound tried not to smile at, “Hey Hound.” “Hey Jazz.” He took a breath, relieved, stage one done.

“Holy shit, Jazz, hey!” Sideswipe turned away from the weird mechs and throw his hands up, likely smiling, “Fucking five years and all you can say is hey to Hound?” Both their laughter filled the comm line, it was more than a relief, it was more than they could hope for in the mission, “Where you at?” “Ah, you wont know where Kaon is, but we could use the help with the Quints.” Sideswipe stopped, tilting his head slightly and Hound cleared his throat again, “Quints?” There was another loud crash, “Ah, right. The aliens invading Earth have been attacking here too, for a hell of a lot longer. They’re the Quintessons, Quints for short.” Jazz paused, “They really need our help, the cybertronians aren’t quiet like us. Not people in mech suits, just mechs. What you see, is what they are.” He clearly sounded worried, “And they think we’re like them, only one who knows the truth for the moment is Prowler.” The mech across from them had his face plates turn a light shade of pink. Hound stared, in shock, for a while, “Well, we’ll need to move the Odyssey, then find Kaon I guess.” Prowl looked up at him, turning to the other one for a moment to say something in their strange language before motioning them out of the warehouse.

“Do we go with them?” Breakdown kept his voice down and off of comms, “Do we have any other choice?” Together, they followed Prowl out of their sanctuary.

———

A/N

Alright, did I work on this while my family was cooking Thanksgiving? Yes, was I supposed to be studying? Also yes, but they certainly did not need my help in the kitchen and I can study more now that it’s done.

I love seeing all your tags and comments, it’s been so great.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU.

[anemoiashifts]

shifting tips / advice that don’t suck !

♡getting offline.

i know i know it’s hard, but being bombarded with different information about a certain topic can be so overwhelming & create room for overthinking which can effect performance. looking in places outside of shiftok or shiftblur or shift whatever. putting more effort into trying to figure out what something is instead of doing it will drive you insane because there is no answer to what shifting is. hence, “theories” & shared experiences. there is no concrete reasoning to shifting backed by science so don’t try & find them or you’ll be looking forever.

♡music.

did you know you can use music to manipulate memories ? the brain is so so bad at remembering things due to how much information we consume daily. when you visualize & listen to a sound or music, your brain can register that as a memory.

♡smell.

this one also aligns with the one above. smell is heavily tied to memory, also. by watching a show we are shifting to & pairing it with a certain scent like a perfume or candle, we can create a link between the two. then, spraying during shifting attempts can help us visualize & associate that piece of media with where we’re focusing on.

♡shadow work.

find out why you’re shifting. happiness ? you don’t need to shift for that. love ? you don’t need to shift for that. if you want to that’s fine but is shifting a bandaid for something deeper ? discover that. really think & consider where you’re going & if you’re in the right mentality to handle it. you aren’t in a television show episode or an oc, you’ll be a living human being in a very real & interactive world. figure out your intentions.

♡put in effort.

this may be a little obvious but you have to want to shift, to shift. you have to put in work & effort to shift & take another approach if doing the same method 10x over hasn’t worked for you. “we shift every second” sure but you didn’t shift into your desired reality in the past thirty. “im saying an affirmation & rolling over & hoping ill wake up in my dr” & how has that worked out for you ? just because this has maybe worked for other people, doesn’t mean it'll work for you. everyone is different. people require more time & effort to get something right then others just like subjects like art or english come easier to students.

♡perfection.

not everything has to be perfect. script isn’t completed ? so what ? you’ve been saying “im not ready yet” for the five months. don’t put off good things out of fear of them not being exactly how you want it because it will never be perfect because perfection isn’t real. if you don’t have everything figured out — that’s fine. why ? because life will sort itself out. this remains true right here & in your desired life. if it’s any comfort, everything will fall into place.

♡neutrality.

if you’re someone who wakes up after an attempt saying “i’ll never shift, i hate this reality” then you’re kinda sabotaging yourself in a way. your creating the mindset that this is the “bad” place when shifting is “good”. that’s not true. everything is entirely neutral until you define it as such. in addition, you are focusing more on the “haven’t” & giving that more attention to & what you give attention to will only grow until it’s so big you can’t see anything else.

♡listening.

people who want things don’t sit & complain about not having them, they persist & would do anything to get their desires & live in that reality. instead of saying “i didn’t shift” & sulking about it, take it as a learning experience to see what does & doesn’t work for you; your body is showing you what not to do so listen to yourself.

[minecraftorangesheepjpg]

You! Do you want more minecraft shows? Do you like watching beautiful, intriguing murder mysteries for free on youtube? Do you know about Whitepine?

i rewatched all 3 episodes of whitepine, and i wanted to write a somewhat-cohesive opinion on it, because clearly not enough people are talking about it. i mean, episode 3 has been out for 4 days, and it still only has 123k views. which is an atrociously small number for a show this good.

so, whitepine is a kind of series that you will watch without your phone. the visuals are both captivatingly beautiful and important to the narrative. the pacing is unhurried and calm, letting you savor every shot. however, i wouldn't call it slow or boring. i was afraid that it would be too serious or melancholic for me, or that it is a horror story, but that wasn't the case at all. it's a murder mystery set in the early XX century. the story is centered around a household of the wealthy Hemlocke family, where the main character, Ivory, is a newly-hired maid. Ivory is quiet, shy and agreeable - not exactly a typical main character for a minecraft production. Ivory's progression through the story is genuinely interesting to watch, and i find her actions and words very realistic. actually, all dialogue sounds natural, which is.. pretty hard to achieve.

voice acting is surprisingly good. don't get me wrong, i love minecraft roleplay with its amature acting, but it doesn't mean that i don't notice the flaws. whitepine, however, sounds almost professional, which is a result of actors' amazing work and Ivorycello masterfully matching the actors to the roles. speaking of sounds, whitepine has incredible sound design! not only is there music that Ivorycello composed (and played, i think) herself, there are also actual sound effects - rustling of bedsheets, bird songs, clatter of plates - everything! - that help to interpret actions and scenes that are hard to show within minecraft.

speaking of minecraft - this show is not minecrafty at all. game mechanics have no bearings on the story and are not referenced at all. this is neither a praise nor critique from me, just a fact about the show.

i highly recommend turning subtitles on, at least for the scenes with muffled speech or a lot of characters talking. ah, yes, whitepine has great, human made subtitles in english and... wait.. how many languages?

the only con to watching whitepine is that you will want to watch more whitepine, and it is an on-going show. but it is so worth the wait, i promise you.

okay, last part of the post. whitepine = good. whitepine = intriguing. whitepine = beautiful. i love whitepine. you will likely love whitepine too. and i won't even tell you to go search for it, i'll just give you the link right here. here, take it. click that link. ep1 is 30 minutes long. and if you like the piano soundtrack, here it is. you don't even have to look it up.

[writers-potion]

Using Description and Setting Meaningfully

The setting, and a writer's description of it, is an essential part of any story. A good writer would use that setting for more than just a place for things to happen.

Use setting to emphasize other aspects of the story, such as:

Magnify the theme

Convey the general mood

Enlarge conflict

Magnifying Some Theme Through Description

Here's the thing about theme: modern readers aren't looking to be reformed. They wish to be entertained.

So, let description carry the burden of conveying the theme rather than you having to say it!

Side note: Theme is NOT a few haughty ideas you learn in lit class (like pride, beauty, everlasting love) but anything that you are trying to convey in a particular scene (like, trying to get a date). You can have several themes instead of one lofty philiosophical theme. That's fine.

The key here is to pick and choose the kind of details that contributes to the theme. A few examples:

Theme = oppression and manipulation of workers.

Aim = highlight deariness and tension

Setting: a break room in a factory

Details: slow ticking of a clock, raspy gurgling of a coffeemaker, completely utilitarian carpet and walls

Theme = teenager scheming a scam that his father already knows about

Aim = establish stealthy tension

Setting: the breakfast table

Details: toaster loudly launching two slices of bread at exactly the same moment that the teenager realizes his plan is ruined, catlike movements of the "stealthy"teen

Theme = a character's life is about to be transformed

Aim = show that change is imminent

Setting = train platform

Details: the darkness falling, colors of distant hills and the sky changining, the last train rolling in, workers happliy switching from "work mode" to "weekend mood" as the character waits for his train

Conveying Mood and Tone

The mood of a character determines how the story progresses.

If your main character is depressed, the plot will crawl on and take on a brooding, ominous tone. If he is determined, passionate and happy, the plot will speed up into loud, blowing action.

Often, the prevailing mood doesn't come from the character, but from the setting itself.

Again, let's explain by example:

Mood = Gloomy, baleful

Details: Sulphurous smoke, thick fog, horses' hoofs on cobbled streets, vendor's cries, unseen organ creaking out a sinister tune, sounds being muffled

Word choice is important. If you're conveying gloom, using strong verbs like creak, screech and adjectives like sinister and eerie.

Use sensory description: visual, auditory, tactile, olfactory and gustatory.

Another way is to describe simple actions:

Mood = irritation, aggression

Details: mashing the end of a cigarette in his plate, one draught of the coffee in his cup, wiping lips with his napkin - crumpling and dropping in on the table, standing up from the table, staring at the other person.

Mood = Giddiness

Details: flicking water from his glass on a lunch companion, twisting his napkin, playing with food without eating

Once you've established a prevailing mood, you've pretty much set the course of your story. No reader will expect the main character to party all night with loud rock music after a sinister description of his way back home.

Enlarging Conflict

Think of the things or actions that will eventually build up to the main conflict. Then, choose a setting that will naturally bring out such an action/ though from the characters in it.

Conflict = Woman hasn't spoken to her son for a decade and now, she has to confront him

Setting: House where she raised her son, among things that he hasn't seen in all that time, working bits of backstory into objects in the house (tie in a sofa, picture on the wall), mannerisms of the characters as they greet each other at the door.

Allow the setting to provide the little sparks that will blow up eventually. This way, you can effectively cut out that slow middle and jump into action without much effort.

Description is a matter of wordsmithing, of selecting preciosuly the right words to create certain meanings. Make every word and sentence count.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[blakeswritingimagines]

KINK LIST With Benjicot Blackwood

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

As soon as it's over, Benjicot is as sweet as honey to you, constantly trying to give you all the love in the world and make sure you're comfortable and relaxed. He'll give you a lot of attention and try his hardest to hold conversations with you, as hard as it becomes. He's also very protective so, if he notices a small little bruise on you, he's gonna worry about it so much and try to gently caress it to ease your pain. If you want to stay in bed a little bit, he'll stay with you too, holding you closely.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite parts of himself are his eyes, he thinks they look very kind and gentle which reflects his personality well. For his partner, he loves your hands the most. He finds them so soft and delicate, he loves holding them whenever he can and kissing them affectionately.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn’t mind cumming on your stomach, chest, or breasts. It feels good to release there, knowing that you will carry his essence around all day.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

One of his dirty secrets...is that sometimes, when you're alone, he likes to play with himself while watching you. Seeing you go about your day, unaware that he's fantasizing about fucking you senseless, gets him so hard. He's jerked off to thoughts of bending you over the kitchen table, spreading those luscious thighs wide open, and pounding into you until you scream his name.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He isn't exactly inexperienced. He's been with some women before, but none of them have ever meant anything to him. With you, however, it's different. There's something about the way you move, the sound of your moans, the taste of your skin that makes every touch feel new and exciting. He knows how to please a woman, and he takes great pride in making sure you're satisfied.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His favorite position would definitely be doggy style. He loves seeing your ass high in the air, jiggling with each thrust, feeling the clench of your pussy around his cock as he pounds into you. The sight of your tits swaying back and forth, the way your hair falls over your face, it drives him wild.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

In the heat of passion, he's usually quite serious. His focus is entirely on pleasuring you, making sure you're enjoying yourself as much as he is. But afterwards, once the intensity fades away, he might crack a joke or two. He loves seeing that playful side of yours come out, the one that laughs at his silly antics and teases him right back.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps his hair neat and trimmed, usually styled in a simple yet elegant manner. It matches the rest of him – clean-cut, attractive. But underneath those clothes lies another story. He's got plenty of growing muscle hidden beneath his armor, toned from years of training and combat.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When it comes to intimacy, he tries to make it as special as possible. Whether it's lighting candles, playing soft music, or whispering sweet words in your ear, he wants you to feel cherished and adored. He takes his time exploring your body, savoring every curve and crevice, determined to bring you to heights of pleasure you've never known before.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When he masturbates, it's often late at night when everyone else is asleep. He'd lie in bed, hands roaming over his own body as he thinks about you - your smile, your laugh, the way you look when you're caught off guard by desire. He strokes himself slowly at first, imagining those soft lips wrapped around his throbbing member instead of just his own hand.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has a few kinks that he's not necessarily proud of, but can't help indulging in now and then. One of them is voyeurism - getting turned on by watching you undress or touch yourself when you think no one's looking. Another is a bit of light bondage - maybe tying your wrists together with a silk scarf, pinning you down and taking control until you're begging for release. And let's not forget his love of dirty talk - describing in vivid detail exactly what he wants to do to you, how he wants to make you feel.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place to make love to you is probably the four-poster bed in his chambers. The massive wooden frame provides a sense of grandeur, and the plush mattresses ensure a comfortable ride. But he also enjoys taking you outdoors, finding secluded spots amidst the rolling hills and verdant forests surrounding his home. Sometimes he'll lay you down on a blanket spread across the grass, making love to you under the open sky with nothing but the sounds of nature for company.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The sight of you, glowing and panting, is enough to get him hard in seconds flat. But there are certain things that really turn him on - like seeing you dressed up provocatively in lingerie or high heels; hearing you moan his name as he thrusts into you; feeling your nails digging into his back as he claims your mouth with his own. And don't even get him started on the idea of dominating you completely - taking charge, telling you exactly what he wants from you and how he wants it done.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There are a few things that would definitely turn him off. For starters, he hates it when someone tries to use him solely for their own pleasure without reciprocating. He needs to know you're enjoying yourself too, otherwise it feels empty and unsatisfying. He's also not a fan of public displays of affection, preferring to keep his intimate moments private. And finally, he draws the line at anything involving pain or humiliation for its own sake - if it's not consensual or serves some greater purpose, he's not interested.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Benjicot is quite skilled with his tongue, able to bring you to climax with ease. He loves the taste of your arousal, savoring every drop as he laps at your folds before delving deeper to stimulate your clit. He's particularly fond of going down on you after you've come hard on his cock, drinking down your juices as he continues to pleasure you with his mouth and fingers. In return, he adores having your mouth on him, craving the warmth and wetness as you take him deep, your tongue swirling around his shaft and teasing the sensitive underside.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the situation and mood. When you're alone and have all night ahead of you, he tends towards slow and sensual – lingering kisses, gentle touches that tease rather than satisfy immediately. But once he's inside you, his pace quickens considerably – long powerful strokes designed to hit all your sweet spots over and over again until you're writhing beneath him in pleasure. If time is limited or you're caught up in passion, however, he can be quite rough – pounding into you fiercely as he chases his own release.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't mind a quickie now and then, especially if they're caught up in the heat of the moment or pressed for time. But he prefers to take his time with you whenever possible – he finds true satisfaction in exploring every inch of you slowly, savoring each reaction and response. That said, he knows life doesn't always allow for leisurely lovemaking sessions... which is why he's learned to make the most out of whatever time they have together.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Ben is definitely game to experiment and willing to take risks when it comes to your sexual encounters. He loves pushing boundaries – trying new positions, introducing toys or restraints into the playtime, even roleplaying scenarios that might seem far-fetched at first glance. As long as it's something you're both comfortable with and enjoy doing together, he's ready for anything.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has impressive stamina, able to maintain his performance for several rounds without tiring easily. His endurance allows him to prolong the pleasure – whether it's taking you over and over again or keeping you satisfied with oral sex until you're both exhausted. He takes pride in being able to please you for hours on end if necessary.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns a variety of toys, including vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, handcuffs and blindfolds. He enjoys using them on himself occasionally - especially when he wants to experience something different or needs some extra stimulation. He also uses them on you sometimes – either during regular lovemaking sessions or when you're feeling particularly adventurous.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does enjoy teasing you now and then, finding delight in leaving you wanting more before finally granting your desires. This could mean denying you orgasm until he decides you've earned it, or deliberately focusing attention on your erogenous zones just enough to keep you on edge without fully satisfying you. He finds the anticipation and desperation you feel in those moments incredibly arousing.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn't shy about making noise during sex – moans, groans, gasps of pleasure or pain, depending on what feels good to him at the time. Sometimes he'll whisper dirty words in your ear or growl encouragingly against your skin as he thrusts into you. The louder noises tend to come when he's close to climax.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

In addition to his physical prowess, Benjicot also possesses a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor. He's known to crack jokes during intimate moments – whether it's making light-hearted comments about the positions or quipping sarcastically when things get too intense. It helps keep things fun and lighthearted despite the raw passion between you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

His cock is 7 inches long, uncut with a slight curve towards the tip. It's always hard and leaking pre-cum. He always has a thick load of creamy white cum that drips out when he orgasms.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is exceptionally high – he craves intimacy and satisfaction constantly. Even when you aren't actively engaged in lovemaking, he often finds himself thinking about how much he wants you – what he'd do given half a chance to satisfy his urges. It fuels his desire to please you every time they come together physically.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tends to fall asleep fairly quickly after sex – exhaustion setting in from the intensity of their activities combined with the deep relaxation that follows release. His body still tingles with lingering sensations as he drifts off, leaving you alone in bed with thoughts swirling around in your mind about what just happened.

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says it’s my turn on the writing

“So how exactly do your hallucinations work?”

Clyde looked up from the sandwich it was eating. It narrowed its eyes at Alex, cocking its head like a confused dog. “What do you mean?”

“You can create hallucinations that effect a person without even making any contact with them,” Alex said, looking back at Clyde with curiosity “I know of animals who’s venom can cause hallucinations, and some hallucinations are cause by human minds, but your hallucinations seem to work entirely differently.”

Clyde paused, its brow furrowed “I dunno, I’ve just always been able to.” It replied, and Alex’s face fell. This was clearly not the answer they were looking for “it gets easier to control as you get older, but it starts subconsciously”

“What does that mean?” Alex asked. “It means you start projecting things you already think are there.” Clyde replied.

It was looking at Alex with an odd look, like it knew something they didn’t. They tried to brush it off.

“So are your hallucinations purely visual or can you mimic other things?” Alex asked. Clyde curled into a more comfortable position “we can do auditory hallucinations, but i prefer visuals. Audio is my partner’s expertise”

“Wait, partner?” Alex took their legs off the couch “I didn’t know you were dating someone?”. Clyde chuckled “Not in the way you humans do.” It replied, smiling fondly “They’re my hunting partner”

Alex flinched. They don’t really enjoy the reminders of Clyde’s ‘hunts’. Clyde didn’t notice, too enamored with the memory of it’s partner. “So, what their name?” Alex asked, trying to break the ice.

“Winfrey” Clyde replied “their name is Winfey”

Alex paused. That named sounded so familiar, where had they heard it before?

“So, are they here in Eastridge with you?” Alex asked, and Clyde froze. Alex cringed, they had clearly touched a nerve.

“I don’t know” it hissed “I woke up from hibernation and they were gone.” It snarled, inhuman teeth emerging from the shadow. Alex flinched, and then tried to comfort the hurt velidgun.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out, we’ll find them, ok?” Clyde looked up at the human. “We?”

“Well, I’ve been doing some stupider stuff recently.” Alex shrugged “what’s one more bad decision?”

Clyde smiled, before leaning back on the couch.

“So, what were they like?” Alex asked. Clyde’s smile grew wider.

“They love music, got it as a quirk from their first victim, some musician who just came out of treatment for something. Would drag me to some concerts between hunts” Clyde said fondly.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. Something clicked in their head. “Willam Winfrey.” Clyde looked towards Alex. “One of the asylums first patients, that was their first victim.”

A growl built in Clyde’s throat, “yes, what are you saying?” It snarled.

“Willam was diagnosed with schizophrenia, was released from the asylum, but was re-administrated only a couple days later a rambling mess, back when Clyde Lankmann was in charge of the asy-“

Alex looked over at Clyde, and everything clicked into place.

“Oh”

“That’s why he knows so much”

[pocket-watcher]

I really loved the massage fic you did awhile ago! I don't really have another idea but could you do another one like that?

Hiya anon! My ongoing back pain and I can definitely dream something up for you!!

“…Why the hell are you standing like that?”

Aiysha’s disapproving gaze looked over Henry, who was contorting his body to stand in the most unnatural way possible.

“This is the only way I can stand where the pain is tolerable.” He whined.

Aiysha tutted. “You’re a grown man, Henry, I told you that this was going to catch up with you! You can’t sit like a gremlin while you work anymore.”

Henry shifted, whimpering in pain quietly.

Aiysha cared. A lot. More than she’d like to admit, and seeing her friend in pain? Well…

“Ugh. Fine, look.” She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to Henry. It read:

DR. MONTGOMERY

Liscenced masseuse and chiropractor

The address wasn’t too far from his house, Henry thought to himself.

“When I broke my back he worked magic. Maybe he’ll be able to help you.”

Henry thanked her, and she pulled him into a hug, and he felt his back twinge in pain.

Yeah, he’d need to make an appointment. Today, if possible.

—————————

“Henry Williams?” The receptionist called out.

He stood, and allowed himself to be navigated to a room where presumably Dr. Montgomery was waiting for him.

“Ah! Henry! What seems to be the problem?” The man asked, as Henry hopped up onto the massage table.

“So, uh, my posture isn’t great, and my whole back hurts. I don’t think it’s like anything wrong, just all my muscles aching a lot.” He explained.

The doctor scribbled some notes as Henry talked.

“Okay, if you can take off your clothes and lie down on the table then we can start, and if the problems persist I can talk to you about further treatment. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great, thank you!” Henry began unbuttoning his top and the doctor looked away. Henry positioned himself, a towel covering him.

As he put his face through the hole in the massage table he noticed a screen below it.

“Oh, cool! What does this do?”

He could hear the doctor approaching him.

“We use it to play soothing music and visuals to help our clients relax. Here, let me show you.”

The doctor bent down and flipped a switch. The screen came to life, playing a soothing video of the ocean.

Henry felt the cool touch of hands on his back and allowed himself to melt into the table.

Dr. Montgomery’s hands worked expertly, as if the man knew exactly where the pain was coming from.

Henry bit back moans of relief, trying to focus on the screen below and not the glorious feeling of relieved tension.

The screen might have glitched a little. It was like another image was burned on top of the calming beach video.

He didn’t cock his head in confusion. No, it was more that the doctor had moved it to one side to get at a particularly bad knot in Henry’s shoulder.

A few moans escaped.

Henry kept watching the video. He realised they were words. Words burnt into the screen. He tried to make them out as his body sank into the massage table.

S…sub…mit?

That’s weird, he thought to himself.

Another:

Obey.

Giv…e in

Relax

The words became clearer the more he focused on them.

Deeper

Pleasure

Control

Henry’s mind, unfortunately, was too relaxed to panic. The combination of the calming atmosphere, the relief of the massage, and the subliminal messaging being beamed into his brain for the last 10 minutes had carefully moulded him into a puddle, with any resistance leaving his body with every moan and whine.

Dr. Montgomery tutted.

“You’re not taking care of yourself. You need to sit properly. Stand every once in a while. Maybe even a light stretch.”

The words washed over Henry, taking up all the free space that PAIN had previously occupied. He tried to agree, to nod, but all he could do was stare.

“Once this massage is over you’re going to forget all about this little talk we’re having, and you’re going to start being more sensible with how you work and how you sit. Aren’t you?”

Henry murmured in response. Which turned into a heavy breath as the doctor pushed down onto a sore point.

“Atta’ boy.”

Aiysha waited outside for Henry, but something was pulling her inside. Sure, her back was fine now - but a little self pampering never hurt anyone…?

Before she could make an appointment Henry, with a spring in his step, greeted her outside.

“You look better.” She grinned.

“I owe you, like, my whole life. Dinner? On me?”

Aiysha smiled at the building.

“Sounds great.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

When the twisted wonderland anime comes out what are the things you hope they do better then what they could do in the game?

To quickly clarify a few things (so new readers and anyone stumbling across this post doesn't get the wrong idea): firstly, we do not yet have any confirmation on what the Twisted Wonderland anime will be about. Secondly, I have previously expressed that I would prefer the TWST anime to be random slice of life rather than another main story adaptation. If we assume that the anime will be another adaptation of the main story, I don't think the anime staff has a ton of liberty in the alterations they can make to the source material. Book 2 is widely known to be the greatest example of Bad Writing in TWST, and it cannot exactly be swept under the rug since it's in the main story. I doubt anyone would be allowed to make massive rewrites to the script or to the series of events; the biggest changes we get are slightly compacted scenes in the manga and the light novel. For example:

Skipping lines that appear in the game. (Ex: in the Book of Heartslabyul, Ace does not joke about sharing a room with Yuuken.)

Combining scenes to save on time. (Ex: In the light novel, Yuuya and Deuce meet Leona for the first time not in the Botanical Garden, which is the case in the game. Instead, the mob student that broke the eggs meant for Ace's apology chestnut tart is a Savanaclaw kid that Leona shows up to reprimand.)

Adding slight details to fill in logical gaps. (Ex: Yuuya in the light novel is granted a NRC uniform by Crowley; the uniform is described to us, the readers. Yuu getting a uniform is never mentioned in the game.)

Continuing from the last point, new details can also serve to flesh out character motivations, backstories, and lore. (Ex: the Heartslabyul light novel informs us that Riddle faces social repercussions for his OB and almost got expelled from school; the Savanaclaw light novel sheds new light on Leona's motivations, and the same can be said of Riddle.)

So basically, the story (again, if the anime does end up following the plot of the main story) would be the same. What would make the anime different from the manga, game, and light novel is largely the medium in which it is presented. I have talked about this at length in a number of older posts, but here is one example of how the manga, uses visual storytelling (as it is primarily a visual medium). A manga chapter is usually limited in length due to it being physically printed and shared in a magazine alongside other manga; there is therefore a constraint on how long-winded it can be, and its limited pages must be used effectively. We need to think about the strengths and the weaknesses of each individual medium and how those strengths and weaknesses affect how it might slightly change how TWST I presented.

An anime is able to incorporate animation with sound in a 20ish minute time slot to tell a tale. It gets the same benefits of the game, but far more freedom of movement. There is, however, also a time constraint to be considered. One complaint TWST often gets is that despite half of its core gameplay (I'm not going to count reading as gameplay) being rhythm games, the music the game has is NOT memorable. While the anime most likely won't have a ton of original songs, I hope that it can at least creatively incorporate some of TWST's scores as background tracks to fun scenes and make them more enjoyable that way. The anime will also be able to... well, be animated!! We won't get just a static screen where a maximum of three characters are crammed onto the screen at once staring back at you. It's okay to have in the game to save on time and budget, but you have to admit it does get boring to look at after a while. But with an anime production, we can get exciting lighting and camera angles that result in cool animation! I hope that this will really help the TWST characters' stories come to life on the screen ^^ One scene in particular that I hope the anime will adapt well is the VDC/SDC performances of RSA and NRC. The game tells us that RSA's performance is clumsy and amateurish, but it still managed to capture people's hearts. The game also tells us that NRC was not able to perform at their maximum capacity because they were already physically worn down from dealing with OB Vil. I want to see these descriptions actually be realized on screen (the Rhythmic/Twistune alone isn't enough), as it could help us better judge and have an enhanced understanding of the situation. I know a lot of fans who, to this very day, still feel that NRC was cheated of the win and shouldn't have lost to such a lackluster performance from RSA, so I'm hoping that a fully animated version might give us more perspective.