#-is such a fun way to mark her progress as a character

[hylianane]

And when OPLA calls back to Zeff telling the crew to read stories to Zoro so he can hear their voices and recover faster, by having Sanji sit by his bedside on Thriller Bark and read him a book about the All Blue. What will you do then?

#literally the scene of Nami reading Zoro Noland’s book at the Baratie is my favorite addition #cause East Blue Nami is so damn prideful so seeing her do something that seems silly- #(reading to someone who isn’t listening) #-is such a fun way to mark her progress as a character #I can see her being the one to remind Sanji of Zeff’s advice and the act of reading to Zoro being a way to process the sort of. #hit to his pride and even self-perception that is Zoro’s interference in Thriller Bark. #why did Zoro stop him? Why would Zoro want to die in his place? Choose his dream instead of his own? #(maybe because he knew that sitting by your friend still body- helpless- is the worst feeling in the world) #Aside from this though I can specifically see the book being about the All Blue working #cause its a reminder about what a wonderful dream Sanji has. It’s a way to regain vigor and the willingness to fight for it #after having just tried to discard it in the face of Kuma moments prior #matt owens are you out there. please #opla #one piece #roronoa zoro #blackleg sanji #opla spoilers #for like future seasons that may or may not even happen #my post #zosan

[prof-ramses]

Hollow Sorrows Trailer Breakdown LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

Obviously, if you don't want spoilers, scroll away. If you've already seen the trailer, LET'S GO!!!

So when we first see possessed Patty, she looks mostly normal, you can't even see her demon teeth through the mask yet. John and Jack probably only came in since they heard a scream and/or struggle coming from the morgue.

So we get a shot of the boys being too chaotic, something Gregor points out and what will likely cause the "bad character development" Pelo ahs mentioned.

Also, since it's 100% what Pelo would do, Costume Bob is the guy in the HF suit. Mark my words.

The scene with the hatz is really interesting to me, since Skid and Pump just annoys Roy for a moment and leave. I think this might be all we get of the hatzgang this time, similar to how Frank only had a brief Appearance in Tender Treats. If my theory that episode 7 will focus on Roy is true, this little scene will be very interesting to dissect when the full episode drops.

We actually get out first proper glimpse at a new character and I think this old man is the very last character in the line up teaser

And there's also a pretty good chance he Roy's grandfather and given the way he reacts to the boys antics here, I can definitely see him being a another reasons Roy's the way he is.

If he actually is Roy's grandpa, then @crossover-enthusiast and I's Roy discussions are going to get really fun pretty soon.

Here, Skid is clearly holding a framed photo, meaning this will almost certainly be the first time his father is brought up directly.

Also, yeah, with Pump's line about "hangover spooky month", it seems my theory about Lila in this episode was at least half right.

Yet more proof that the boys' absent parents will be more of a focus. The trailer as a whole gives me some ideas regarding the Wonder parents, but I feel they're best saved for another time.

The boys get into trouble with the cops and I have 2 theories regarding when, either Gregor tries to get them sent home before going to the hospital, but they talk their way out of it, or they actually do get sent home at the end of the episode.

John's expression here immediately makes we think that something Skid or Pump said reminded him of his daughter. Another plot thread that has yet to be directly acknowledged.

Ignacio watches Gregor lead the boys away, maybe he lives down the street from Skid and Lila to keep an eye on them for the cult?

Either way, I'm surprised his appearance won't take place in the hospital as I previously predicted.

"I will be your guide. And I know your parents would be proud of you."

There's something undeniably sinister about this line, but how sinister hinges on whether Gregor is a cultist or ex-cultist. Whatever the case may be, he definitely knows more about or sees more in the boys than he lets on.

A great title card, and thought the blood everywhere is definitely concerning, I don't think there's anything to really say here, just wanted to get a screenshot of it.

And it would appear the character I've referred to as the cat lady will have the unenviable role of a hapless victim to the episode's villain. But honestly, I'm more surprised by her being at the hospital in the first place and why that never occurred to me before.

The actual progression of Patty's possession confirms to she's possessed by something other than Moloch. And what seals it for me is, fittingly, the eyes. The white of her eyes becomes a more vivid yellow, yet her pupil snot only don't form Moloch's typical spirals, but they're a more vivid shade of baby blue, a color that has never had any significance in the series before. Moloch will mostly be trapped in Dexter before eventually possessing Gregor, I will die on this hill.

AND THE FUGGIN' RELEASE DATE!!!

Alright, that's all, only a month now. We're so back!

#spooky month #spooky month 6 #spooky month theory #spooky month prediction #sm Patty #sm Skid #sm Pump #sm Gregor #sm Father Gregor #sm Costume Bob #sm Happy Fella #sm hatzgang #hatzgang #sm Roy #sm Ross #sm Robert #sm Mayor Evermore #sm Lila #sm Mr. Wonder #sm Skid'dad #sm Skidad #sm Pump's dad #sm Pump's mom #sm John #sm Jack #sm Ignacio #sm Moloch #sm theory #sm prediction

[lupinmoonlight]

Submission Part 3: Obedience

Masterlist AO3 Submission Part 1 Submission Part 2: Establishing Rules

Summary - Your fantasies to be dominated finally become true. Professor Lupin leaves a mark of ownership on your skin and tests your willingness to submit to him. You also lose your BJ v-card on your knees in his quarters. (4,062 words)

Warnings - smut, teacher/student relationship, heavy D/s undertones, professor/sir kink, rules, mention of pushing limits, mention of safeword, self-degradation, LOTS of "good girl" and "Yes, Sir", oral sex (reader giving), swallowing, mentions of bruises, spanking, being tied up, very light innocence kink if you squint, marking, my grammar.

Notes - This is not proof-read. Almost just pure smut. I had a lot of fun writing this one. This is also my longest piece. Still not sure where I am going with this, I just want it to be kinky. I know how out of character this is for Lupin, but I still try to keep some of his traits in this.

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror, meticulously pulling your hair into a neat bun like he had instructed. Every strand felt significant, every lock a piece of the puzzle you were stepping into or rather, diving into. The collar of your uniform felt tighter than usual, your exposed neck, just for him, sending a chill down your spine. This was real. And there was no going back.

You attended your morning classes in a daze, barely aware of your surroundings, the voices of your professors sounding distant and muffled. You tired to focus, but your mind was elsewhere, the memory of you standing between his legs as he gave you commands taking up all the space in your head.

When it was finally time for your DADA class, your heart pounded in your chest. You suddenly regretted having all those fantasies and acting on them. You were dumb. A dumb, horny teenager desperate to be dominated by her professor. Desperate to give in, to submit, to be used. You took your usual seat, consciously trying to keep your breathing steady. You were filled with a weird mix of nervousness and excitement as Professor Lupin entered the classroom, his gaze momentarily meeting yours before he began the lesson.

As the class progressed, you noticed his gaze lingering on you more often than usual. Every time he looked at you, his eyes would drop to your neck, observing the exposed skin there. The heat that spread through your body was both exhilarating and terrifying, like you were going to combust, leaving you feeling breathless and flustered.

His voice, usually so soothing and calming, felt different today. Every word he spoke seemed to be laced with an undercurrent of something more, something only the two of you were privy to. Each time he said your name, it felt like a secret shared, a promise made. However, he gave no indication of any change in your relationship, but those lingering glances, the slight change in his tone when addressing you, were enough to make you want to kneel right then and there. Pathetic.

Dinner felt like a strange dream, the food tasteless in your mouth as your mind raced with possibilities of what the event might hold. Would he bend you over and fuck you senseless? Would he slowly tease you and make you beg for his touch? Was he even going to touch you? You didn't even care at that point. You would take anything he gave you. You wanted him, needed him.

You finally left the Great Hall, your heart pounding in your chest, barely able to breathe, and made your way to Professor Lupin's quarters. The hallways, usually so familiar and comforting, felt alien tonight. You cursed yourself for being so nervous. You had willingly put yourself in this situation, yet at that moment, it was like you wanted to run away from it, the anxiety consuming you entirely.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before knocking softly. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing him standing there, his expression calm and composed.

"Come in," he said simply, stepping aside to let you enter. As you crossed the threshold, you felt like you were going to combust. His quarters were warm and inviting, a reflection of the man consuming your thoughts. A roaring fire cast flickering shadows across the room, bathing everything in a soft, golden light. It smelled of tea, fresh parchment, and something uniquely him. You were dizzy, nauseous, aroused, absolutely intoxicated.

"Sit," he gestured towards a chair near the fireplace. You did as you were told, your hands nervously clutching at the edge of your skirt. He took a seat opposite you, his gaze steady and serious.

"Before we continue," he began, his voice firm yet gentle, "we need to discuss the possible consequences and punishments if you fail to follow my instructions. It's important that you understand what is expected of you, and that you agree to these terms."

He paused, letting his words sink in, before continuing. "Are you ready to hear them?"

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to maintain eye contact with him. "Yes," you finally let out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He arched an eyebrow, a clear sign that you'd made a mistake. "Yes, what?" he corrected, his tone stern.

You blinked, realizing your error. "Yes, Sir," you corrected yourself, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Good. Firstly, if you fail to maintain eye contact or address me properly during our sessions, you will lose privileges. This could mean that our sessions are shortened or certain activities are taken off the table."

You nodded, feeling the heat pool between your legs. The simple act of him giving you a mundane instruction was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat, and you hated yourself for it. He was your weakness and you could not deny it.

"Secondly," he continued, "if you fail to follow my instructions, either inside or outside our sessions, you will be given a chance to explain yourself. However, if I find your explanation unsatisfactory or if it happens repeatedly, you may be subjected to physical punishments. These may include, but are not limited to, spankings, or standing in the corner for a predetermined amount of time. Do you understand?"

You felt your heart race at the thought of such punishments. Were they even punishments for you? You were ready to beg to be spanked by him, to be manhandled, humiliated, but you managed to reply, "Yes, Sir."

"Very good," he continued, satisfied. "Lastly, I must remind you that if you ever feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or overwhelmed, you must tell me immediately. Failing to do so will be considered a breach of our agreement and may lead to the termination of our arrangement. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," you said, feeling a strange mix of relief and apprehension. You went into this thinking you wouldn't have any limits, but how far would he be pushing you? And how much were you able to let go entirely?

He nodded, satisfied with your response, and leaned back in his chair, studying you with a focused gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and it was oddly thrilling.

"Are you ready to proceed to the next part of our session?" he asked, his voice steady and calm.

"Yes, Sir," you replied again, feeling as if you were going to pass out.

"Good," he said, nodding in approval. "Stand up."

You quickly rose to your feet, your legs slightly shaky beneath you. His gaze never left you, taking in your every move, every reaction. It was dark, intense, almost predatory. A stark contrast to the kind and soft professor you were used to see in the classroom.

He stood up from his chair, moving to stand in front of you. "Kneel," he commanded. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing, but eventually obeyed. Sinking to your knees on the plush rug in front of him.

He looked down at you, his gaze softening. "I can see you're nervous," he said, his voice gentle. "It's okay. I want you to relax and let me take over completely. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes Sir," you managed to whisper, your gaze flickering up to meet his.

He watched you, his gaze steady and patient. "Good girl," he praised, the words sending a jolt of electricity between your legs. You felt a rush of warmth at his words, a sense of pride that made you eager to please him further.

"Now," he said, his voice taking a more serious tone, "I want you to take off your shirt. Slowly."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as you were told, slowly unbuttoning your shirt and sliding off your shoulders, leaving yourself exposed to him, your eyes locked with his.

He walked around you, his gaze taking in your bare upper body, burning into your skin, the anticipation making you shiver. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but there was something exhilarating about it, too. You were baring yourself to him, not just physically, but emotionally as well.

"Stay still," he instructed, his voice low and soft. You felt the tip of his wand touch your back, and you braced yourself for what was to come.

With slow, deliberate movements, he traced a pattern on your skin. It felt like a soft burn, not painful but intense. You bit your lip to keep from making a sound, your body tense.

The mark he left was intricate and beautiful. It resembled the moon in its various phases, starting from a full moon at the top of your spine, gradually waning to a crescent at the small of your back, only to wax back into a full moon. The lines were smooth and seamless, glowing faintly against your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured, tracing the mark with his fingers. His touch was feather-light, but it was enough to make you shiver. "You've done well, taking the marking so bravely. Good girl."

Another rush of warmth spread through your chest at his words, at the pride in his voice. Your heart was racing, your skin tingling under his touch, but you felt more alive than you had in a long time.

"Remember," he said, his voice serious, "this mark is a symbol of our bond, of the trust between us. It's a reminder of the rules, the consequences, and the promise we've made to each other."

"Yes, Sir," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face. "Now, it's important for you to be able to express your desires openly and honestly," he said, his voice firm. "I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. Use your words, and keep your eyes on me."

You felt your cheeks burn, your heart race. It was one thing to think about your fantasies, to imagine them in the privacy of your own mind, but to say them out loud, to admit them to him…was terrifying.

You tried to look at him, to meet his gaze, but your eyes kept darting away, unable to hold his steady stare. "Eyes on me," he reminded you, and you forced yourself to look back at him.

It took a few moments to find your voice, to gather the courage to say the words out loud. "I… I want you to… to take control, to… to make me submit to you."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Go on," he urged, his voice soft but insistent.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to continue. "I want you to… to touch me, Sir. To push me to my limits, to make me… beg for your touch. To spank me until I can't speak anymore."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes locked with yours. "What else?" he asked.

You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I want you to… to tie me up, Sir. To bind me, to keep me helpless under your control."

He took a moment, studying your face, your eyes, looking for any signs of hesitation, fear, or uncertainty. Finding none, he nodded, his expression serious yet gentle.

"Stand up," he instructed firmly. "I want you to trust me. Let me guide you."

You stood, your legs a little shaky but your resolve strong.

"Good," he murmured, a note of approval in his voice. "Now, I want you to put your hands behind your back."

As you did as he instructed, he conjured a piece of silk rope, long and soft. Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached you, the rope in his hands.

He saw the look in your eyes and gave you a reassuring smile. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Sir," you managed to whisper, your throat dry.

"Good," he said softly, before he started to tie your hands behind your back. His touch was gentle, the knots firm but not too tight, allowing enough room for your skin to breathe.

"Now, let's see about that spanking you asked for," he said as he sat back in his chair, guiding you over his lap, your hands still bound behind your back. His touch was firm yet gentle, making sure you were comfortable. He lifted up your skirt, making it pool around your waist, and slowly pulled down your panties, revealing your bare skin.

The first smack landed on your backside without warning, a sting that made you gasp. It wasn't painful, just surprising.

"Good girl," he praised. "You're doing well."

He continued, each smack making your body jolt, your skin tingle. You could feel the heat spreading between your legs. You were wet, the mix of pain and pleasure that was so intense, so arousing. You bit your lip and breathed deeply. It was all you could do to keep yourself from squirming. You could feel a bulge insistently pressing against your lower abdomen, a sign you were not the only one finding this arousing.

He would pause every now and then, his hand gently rubbing your ass, soothing the sting. His touch was comforting, grounding, a reminder that he was there, that he was in control, but that he was also taking care of you.

When he finally stopped, you were panting, your skin hot, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl," he murmured, helping you sit in his lap. His eyes were soft, his voice full of praise. He placed his hands on your bare thighs, his hard length now pressing against your abused ass through his trousers.

He untied your hands, his touch gentle as he rubbed your wrists, soothing the slight sting from the ropes. He scanned your body for any signs of discomfort. Finding none, he stood from his chair, guiding you up to your feet. "On your knees," he ordered in a calm, steady voice.

You did as you were told, slowly sinking to the floor until your knees hit the soft rug beneath you, your eyes perfectly levelled with the evident arousal straining against the fabric of his trousers. Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached you, his steps slow and measured. His hand found its way into your hair, threading through the strands and closing into a firm grip. He tugged lightly, tilting your head upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were serious, dark with desire.

Your cheeks heated up as he tightened his grip on your hair, pulling your head closer to him, a silent command that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as a knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. "Sir… I… I've never…" you started, your voice shaky.

He paused at your confession, his gaze softening. "It's alright," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I will guide you. But I will not ask you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Are you willing to proceed?"

"Yes, Sir," you replied, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly at his words.

His free hand reached down, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down just enough to free his hard length. He glanced down at you, his eyes locking with yours. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

You nodded, whispering, "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," he murmured. He positioned you properly, your hands resting on his thighs as he guided you forward. "I want you to start by kissing and licking the length of me, getting a feel for it."

Tentatively, you followed his instructions, placing soft, hesitant kisses along his length before using your tongue to explore his contours. He continued to hold your hair, guiding your movements as needed.

"Good girl," he praised again. "Now, take the head into your mouth, and slowly work your way down."

You did as he instructed, the intimacy of the act causing your heart to race. He guided your head with gentle pressure, his fingers still tangled in your hair. "Relax your throat and breathe through your nose," he advised, his voice never faltering.

As you continued, you found yourself getting lost in the sensation of him filling your mouth. You tried to be careful, to keep your teeth out of the way, to pleasure him. He was big, making your jaw hurt in a delightful way.

After giving you time to adjust to the new sensation, he took more control over the movements, his hand in your hair holding you in place as he slowly thrusted in and out of your mouth. "Keep your eyes on me," he commanded when you momentarily looked away, and you quickly refocused your gaze on his. "Take your time," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You're doing well. Just breathe."

You tried your best to follow his advice, to relax and just breathe, but you couldn't help but tense up as he pushed further, the unfamiliar sensation making you choke slightly. He paused immediately, pulling back a bit and giving you time to adjust.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yes, Sir," you managed to say, your voice muffled around his cock stuffing your mouth.

He began to move again, his eyes never leaving yours as he thrusted slowly and deliberately, hitting the back of your throat every time, making you gag.

"Relax your throat for me," he instructed, ensuring that you pleasured him as he desired. "That's it…just like that," he commanded, his voice low and gruff, thick with desire.

His breath hitched as you took him deeper, causing him to let out a low growl of approval. The sight of you on your knees, teary eyed, with your swollen lips stretched around him drove him closer to the edge. He could feel his release building, the familiar coil in his lower abdomen tightening with every passing second. But he didn't want this to end, not just yet. He wanted to savor this moment, to draw out this sweet torture for as long as he could.

"Good girl…you're doing so well," he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. The praise made you feel warm, a sense of accomplishment washing over you.

You focused on your breathing, on his voice, on the sensation of him in your mouth. The taste of him on your tongue, his hand tightly gripping your hair, the sound of his growl every time he hit the back of your throat…it was intoxicating, it was enough to make you come right then and there. But this was not about you, it was about his pleasure, about him dominating you in the most intimate way. You couldn't help but close your eyes at the thought, your hands gripping his thighs in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening. "Don't look away." And as you complied, your gaze locking with his, he felt a sense of possessiveness wash over him.

His thrusts became more urgent and forceful, and you struggled to keep up, your jaw growing tired and your eyes watering. But you were determined not to disappoint him, so you pushed through the discomfort.

His grip on your hair tightened, his breaths becoming ragged. "I'm close," he warned, his voice strained.

His words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, your heart pounding in your chest. He was trusting you with this, with his pleasure, his release.

He looked down at you, his gaze intense. "Swallow for me," he commanded, his voice low and hoarse.

The command was a shock and made your heart pound in your chest, a flush creeping up your cheeks. But you nodded, ready to obey, ready to please him.

In one final deep thrust, he groaned, his release washing over him as he spilled himself in your mouth. "Swallow," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You could feel his cock pulse on your tongue, the warm salty liquid filling your mouth. You struggled, the sensation and taste overwhelming. But his grip on your hair remained firm, holding you there as he watched you swallow down his seed, some of it dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulled away, there was a moment of silence, a pause filled with heavy breaths and the pounding of your heart. He looked down at you with a gentle but intense gaze, his thumb wiping away the salty remnants of his release. He brought it up to your lips, and without hesitation, you opened your mouth to suck it clean, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. The sight was sinful enough to make his cock twitch once more.

After a moment, he helped you to your feet. His touch was soft, caring as he helped you put your shirt back on. The fabric was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat still emanating from the mark he had left on your back.

He stepped back, studying you for a moment. Then, he reached out, his hand coming up to cup your chin. "I have a new rule for you," he said, his voice low and serious.

You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

"You are not to touch yourself without my explicit permission," he stated, his gaze never leaving yours. "Do you understand?"

You nodded, a rush of excitement coursing through you, although you couldn't deny the disappointment. You weren't sure how you would be able to hold out once you were on your own with your filthy mind, replaying tonight's encounter. "Yes, Sir."

"Good," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Then, he moved to your neck, his lips pressing against the soft skin. You could feel the pressure build, a sharp sting as he sucked a deep red mark onto your skin. The sensation was both pleasurable and painful, a reminder of your submission to him.

His voice was a whisper against your skin as he spoke next. "Tomorrow," he began, pulling away to look at you, "I want you to wear no panties for our next session."

You swallowed hard, nodding in understanding. "Yes, Sir."

He smiled at you, his expression soft. "Now, off you go. I expect you to complete your homework and go to bed early. Rest up; you'll need your energy for our next session."

You looked into his eyes, feeling a mix of excitement, anticipation, and gratitude. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

With a final, lingering touch to your cheek, he sent you on your way, his gaze following you as you left his quarters. The night air was cool against your heated skin as you made your way back to your dormitory, your mind racing with thoughts of what had transpired, and what was to come.

As you lay in bed that night, the red mark on your neck throbbing gently, your skin tingling with an afterglow that made your knees weak. You couldn't shake off the memory of his touch, his voice, his gaze - it was all too much, too overwhelming, and you were desperate to touch yourself.

Every nerve in your body was screaming for his touch, his command. You wanted to feel his hand threading through your hair again, his fingers gripping firmly. You wanted to hear his low, firm voice, instructing you, guiding you, praising you. You craved the sense of surrender, the thrill of obedience, the intoxicating rush of relinquishing control.

Another part of you hated feeling so submissive, so weak, so desperate. You hated the fact that you needed him, that you wanted him. It was confusing, conflicting. And yet, there was something about him – something that drew you in, something that made you want to submit, to surrender. His gentle yet firm demeanor, his patient understanding, his stern but caring guidance – it all made you feel seen, heard, valued.

Your fingers traced the red mark on your neck - a constant reminder of your submission, of your surrender. Your throat was sore from being used. Your scalp was sensitive from having your hair pulled. You could still feel his hand on your backside. He was everywhere. On your skin, in your mouth, in your stomach. And it was perfect. And you wanted more, needed more, craved more.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #dom!remus lupin #smut #remus lupin x student #d/s

[a-certain-romance]

Characters/Ships: Arlecchino, Ei, Miko, & Ningguang x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, strap ons (Arlecchino), cockwarming (Arlecchino), crying (Miko), Face-sitting (Ei), Dom reader (Ei), mention of toys (Ningguang)

A/N: Oh sweetie, my dignity died at my first post. I had a lot of fun with this one, I tilted the scale between fluff and smut with these 4. Ik one or two might be a bit overused so I tried to add a little something extra to ones I considered to be obvious to their character

- Sometimes she’ll open that big, fluffy coat of her’s and embrace your body against hers for more warmth. She normally does this when no one is around. But if someone stumbles upon this, her glare will scare off any unnecessary gossip

- Speaking of, Arlecchino is very protective of you. Being in this relationship is not only dangerous for her but for you as well. If you aren’t experienced already, she might teach you a few basic maneuvers to protect yourself. She knows it wouldn’t be enough to ensure your safety, but it helps put her mind at ease. No one would ever dare to cross you and get away with it. Arlecchino is well equipped with the resources to make someone “mysteriously disappear” if needed.

- Many of your dates might involve the arts in some way or another. Seeing an opera, walking through an art gallery, maybe you can convince her to stand still for a caricature.

- Arlecchino likes having you on her lap. She’d tell you to stop squirming when you’re cockwarming her strap as she’s looking over documents. It’s the perfect position for it, no one will ever notice how deep she’s buried into your cute cunt. Just make sure to keep you voice down.

- Ei is extremely touch starved. Please hold her when you can! She loves having her hands on you whenever you allow it. Praise her while you’re at it too. Tell her how much you love the way she trembles when she’s grinding on your face, whimpering how “it’s too much” for her to handle.

- Ei’s dominant side starts to show up more as the relationship progresses. But when you’re first exploring each other, she’s pure putty in your hands. She loves it when you take the lead. It’s so cute how obedient Ei is for you: spreading her legs without a second thought, offering up her body for you to tease, moaning near your ear all the dirty things she wants you to do to her.

- I can imagine Ei prefers slow and sensual sex over the fast and rough kind. Ei’s divinity shapes her perspective of time; when she’s with you, she truly believes she has all the time in the world. Nothing will have to feel rushed or forced (unless you’re into that, to which case she might accommodate). That being said, she isn’t the biggest fan of quickies.

- She enjoys cuddling with you in her fox form more than she lets on. If you scratch or rub Miko in her favorite spots, she’ll reward you with content purring. Care for her gently though. Being too rough will make her squirm around and move to a different spot. She’d nip at your fingers any time you would try to get them close to her fur and would refuse to lay anywhere near you out of pettiness. Worse case scenario, Miko would transform out of her form. So try to avoid putting her in a grumpy state.

- She always wears a perfume she thinks you would like. She experiments with different kinds and uses it as an excuse to be closer to you. Miko tends to spray it on her neck so you have no choice but to lean in real close to her.

- You know this picture? :

- Miko would do that. Always putting waterproof mascara/eyeliner on you so it doesn’t run down your cheeks when you cry from her sweet torment. She’d use you as a test subject. Miko’s stuck between to lipstick shades? Let her mark up your neck to see what will leave the better impression. You’ll sit still for her, won’t you?

- You are a breath of fresh air. When Ningguang’s with you, she’s no longer the Tianquen buried under a thousand responsibilities. You’re her favorite stress relief. Your presence alone makes Ningguang unclench her jaw and relax her posture. Whether it’s a quiet night in, or a loud one, you are enough to keep her sane.

- Ningguang loves doing mundane things with you. Yeah, she has 3 secretaries who have her covered in almost all aspects of life. But whenever she can, she loves carving out time to cook a meal with you. She loves taking walks around nearby mountain ranges where it’s more secluded. Simply cuddling with you after a weary day makes her heart melt.

- Ningguang likes sending you gifts. As the Tianquen of Liyue, she won’t always be present. But that doesn’t mean you’ve ever left her mind. Every time she feels that same ache from your absence, she’ll send flowers with a heartfelt card written with the finest stationary. All the pieces of jewelry she sends for you is not only hand crafted, but the jewels specifically hold different types of meanings.

- She seems like the experimental type. With all that money, why not invest in pleasure? She’ll try anything once. That includes buying you anything you’re interested in. But if you prefer the more vanilla route, she’s happy to oblige and leave the kinky stuff behind for you. Anything to keep you moaning her name.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #ei x reader #yae miko x reader #ei x y/n #ei x you #yae miko imagines #yae miko smut #yae miko x y/n #ningguang x y/n #ningguang fluff #ningguang smut #ningguang x you #ningguang x reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x you #fatui arlecchino #🧠 #💋 #🫀 #v anon

[cirusthecitrus]

People of the Galactic Horde (the OGs)

Since I'm working on a Horde Prime origin story, it was inevitable that one day I would have to come up with designs for his species aka the original spacebats. And well, it was a fun challenge!

(click/tap to have a better look!) My first attempt at drawing other bats was with the High Priests of the Four Temples - the most influential and powerful people on the planet, also known as Anillis'/Prime's teachers :)

See that last guy? That's the emperor of the original Galactic Horde! Though after his unexpected early death his wife had to become the new Prime. Gladly, Horde World was not left without a future heir to the throne^^

Fun thing is, I never planned on making designs for Anillis' parents, since they never appear in the actual story + even the twins don't remember what they looked like. But idc making fanparents is fun! (In my vision Horde Prime inherited the death stare from his mother and the sly misleading smile from his father >:} )

(I talk more about the characters and worldbuliding in my fic "Violent Youth". U can find the link in my pinned post)

I also had to design tons, and I mean tons of episodic characters of all ages, genders and backgrounds. Now after all this training I'm ready to fill the backgrounds with bats :3

Some general notes on the people of the Horde under the cut

Every spacebat is born with a white face. Any deviations were rare and considered a type of skin condition

Facial markings slowly appear once baby bats hit puberty. When spacebats' white faces were seen as blank canvases, the facial markings were their life journey drawn on said canvases. The markings were seen as the real window to the soul. Having no marks as an adult was simply outlandish, people of Krytis even had a belief that such bats "had nothing behind their soul" and thus could not be trustworthy

Facial markings (as well as ears) came in many forms. In ancient times one could tell in which of the four original provinces a person was born by simply looking at their faces. Nowadays it became nearly impossible to guess someone's homeland this way (mostly everyone are people of mixed descent), but to those curious this is how bats used to distinguish one another by their markings:

North - straight lines across/all over the face (e.g. the emperor)

South - wavy lines across/all over the face e.g. (the High Priestess of the Southern temple)

West - straight minimalistic lines (e.g. horde clones)

East - wavy minimalistic lines (e.g. the empress)

Hair never held much cultural significance on Krytis, so the styling was only a question of one's personal preference and fashion trends. Some bats (mainly from the south) saw no point in having hair whatsoever - those would choose to go bald or shave parts of the head to better show off their markings

Everyone had one set of eyes. Only local deities were sometimes depicted having 3 and more eyes. And yes, their eyes and teeth do glow in the dark

I wanted to make colorful bats to futher emphasise their whimsical and peaceful nature :) Well, if u think about it many poisonous creatures are colorful too...

I wouldn't be myself if I didn't say anything about local fashion. I don't have my own concepts at hand sadly, just references, but my main inspiration for the fashion of Krytis are late 90s-early 00s futurism and cyber aesthetic. Here and there u will also see smth similar to mall goth or streetwear style, but it's mostly something what young blood were into

Some bats like the royal family and council members would wear more classy and regal clothes but still more or less modern looking. Such choice of attire was espeically important to the empress, who, unlike her late husband, stayed far away from religion and magic and made it the main goal of her campaign to weaken the influence of the religious community and push for scientific and socio-cultural progress

If you have any questions about the people of the Horde/Krytis, feel free to ask! I'm always happy to talk more about this AU!

#spop #horde prime #spacebats #kur twins tag #horde clones #the galactic horde #shera #spop au #spop oc #my art #cirus doodles things #sketch #sketch dump #character design #long post #haven't posted anything for this au in a while so why not share some concepts?

[cilil]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧

AN: These are coming up a bit slower, but I'm making progress :) @feast-of-horns @lvsifer here's the Manwë x Varda piece I promised!

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Manwë x Varda 𓄌 Synopsis: The queen hunts her king at the first Feast of Horns, and a decree is issued. 𓄌 Warnings: Some violence, blood, feral!Varda (she's a space monster after all), predator/prey, smut, dirty talk 𓄌 Oneshot (~1.7k words) | AO3

"Fly freely today and run fast, beloved. I wish to claim a hard-won prize, not be placated with an easy catch."

These had been Varda's words to Manwë before Oromë's feast, the first of its kind. The king and queen were in attendance as well, though out of curiosity and for their own enjoyment rather than duty. 

"Your wish is my command," he had said to her before joining the Hunted. 

It seemed as though he had truly taken her words to heart, Varda thought now, racing across the fields of Arda and through mighty forests in hot pursuit of her majestic prey. Manwë, that much was clear, would not be caught by anyone else, regardless of whether another Hunter had the courage to interfere with the queen or not. Too swift was he who was air and wind itself and gracefully flew around, evading any who were lucky enough to even see him come and go as he pleased. 

Yet Varda knew where he was at all times, even when he disappeared from her field of vision. Her hearing was sharp and keen, and she knew Manwë too well, easily recognizing the sounds he made among thousands of others. The way his wind rushed through hair and feathers and brushed over skin, his steady breath, the beating of his wings and heart alike. 

With the speed of starlight, she followed him. He knew she was there as well, had long since seen and sensed her. Knowing how fast his wife could catch up, Manwë was wise enough to change directions frequently, even flying into mountains and forests where he could vanish from her sight. 

Laughing to herself, Varda skipped between patches of light filtering through the leafage of Yavanna's trees to hide herself as well. It was a fun game, though challenging for the Lady of Light who already had trouble keeping her fána dim enough to be gazed upon safely. 

They were alone now, far away from the others. It suited her well enough; she much desired to catch and enjoy her elusive prey in peace. 

It was time to complete her hunt. 

On her back rested the mighty bow of winds, belonging to none other than Manwë himself, though Varda had taken it before the feast since he wasn't going to need it. He was currently flitting between leaves and branches, skillfully dodging any and all obstacles, and thought himself safe; and he would be, if not for his wife's infallible senses and deadly precision. 

Focusing all of her attention on him to become one and mirror his movements, Varda readied a single arrow of light, one of her famed star-shots. What would be a devastating, if not lethal projectile for lesser beings would not permanently injure her husband, she knew, yet something stronger than a normal arrow would be needed to throw the Elder King down from his throne of winds. 

Once she was certain where his path would lead, she rushed in, bringing herself close enough and in line to aim and shoot. As much as Varda loved him and would bring down the very firmament onto any and all who would hurt her beloved, her mien nevertheless lit up with a smile of satisfaction when a flash of light, an inhuman, bird-like shriek and a soft thud confirmed that her star-shot had found its mark. 

There he was, the King of Arda, lying on the forest ground in a heap of miraculously pristine robes and white feathers. Manwë managed to unfurl his crumpled wings and spread them out before rolling on his back in defeat, blue eyes still dazed from his fall, and revealing a glittering arrow stuck in his shoulder. 

Varda approached him slowly and with leisurely grace, savouring her moment of triumph. Tiny stars twinkled where she went and were soon joined by the bow as she dropped it next to her husband. 

"I have come to claim my catch," she announced. 

Manwë exhaled, and his mien relaxed as if the pain had already left him. And perhaps it had indeed, for it was said that the Elder King was gifted with the ability to heal, as would be the other rightful kings among Ilúvatar's Children in the future. 

"I yield, my lady, and shall be all yours henceforth," he said.

"Indeed, you are."

Unable to resist any longer, Varda was on him within a split second and tore his robes to shreds like a wild beast from the outer regions of Arda until her nails and teeth dug into soft, sweet-smelling skin instead. 

"Such delicious prey," she purred, "however shall I devour you?" 

"In body and spirit," Manwë replied, demure but fearless. 

He spread his legs for her, knowing what was expected of him, and Varda was pleased. Her beloved was always so good and obedient. She might yet consider letting him be inside her, but as always, he would have to earn such a boon from his queen first. 

Manwë appeared to have eagerly anticipated his capture, Varda noted with a content smile. The heady smell of his arousal had permeated the air even before she saw the wetness glistening on the insides of his thighs, leaking out of his fána as it impatiently yearned to be completed by its other half. 

She focused on her own and willed her flesh to form a phallus worthy of a king. It rose proudly between her legs, ready to penetrate her beloved's body like her arrow had, and Varda wasted no time doing just that. 

There was no cry of pain, only muted Valarin mumbling and melodious moans. Manwë had prepared himself well and knew to yield to his queen. Brows furrowed, eyelids fluttering, he was perfect in her eyes. 

Inevitably, Varda's gaze was drawn to the arrow again. A rivulet of blood, fresh and so wonderfully red, contrasting pale skin and white feathers, had trickled down Manwë's arm and torso, and her thrusts slowly but surely coaxed more out of him. 

Yes. Varda placed a hand on his chest. She wanted to hold him down and possess him, willing gravity to seize his fána and keep it in place. Mine.

Her fingers, splayed wide as if she wished to grasp his entire rib cage in one hand, dipped into the idly flowing red rivulet. Oh, how she had longed for this — to see her loyal, loving husband bleed for her. And of course Manwë hadn't disappointed her. He took what she gave him and loved it. 

For a brief moment, Varda envisioned her fist closing around the arrow's shaft to yank it out and watch more blood flow, but she admonished herself not to be cruel to one who didn't deserve it; she felt that, if faced with such delicious earthly delights, she might make good on her word and devour him after all. 

Inside her beloved the arrow would stay, as did she. 

Yet her primal instincts could not fully be constrained, especially not when pure desire coursed through her veins and lust dissolved her self-control. Varda placed her free hand on Manwë's throat and tightened her grip, futile though it was — the Lord of the Breath of Arda would never find himself lacking his own element. Even so, the sensation of soft flesh constrained in her grasp and the lovely view of lips parting to gasp for air was delightful. 

More arms broke out of her shoulders, summoned by impulse rather than conscious choice, and she scratched and clawed at every bit of flesh and skin she could reach, bringing their fánar closer and closer together. Thus the Elder King himself became her willing, helpless prey, and Varda's delight caused the veins beneath her skin to glow and her very fána to nearly break apart, held together by the gravity of her single-minded purpose. 

Finally, mercifully, she brought their lips together in a searing kiss and felt Manwë arching underneath her as he found his release. His passion made her grin, showing a row of sharp teeth, but no less loving; it touched her that out of all the things she was doing to him, a kiss was what pushed him over the edge. 

Her heart filled with love and fondness in tandem with her light filling him, a reward for his loyalty and bravery. One by one her many arms released him and retreated back into her flesh, and Varda gracefully rose to her knees and withdrew from her beloved. 

Manwë was a mess, his robes torn to shreds that barely clung to his form, his fána covered in patterns of red, the arrow still sticking out of him. The smaller scratches she had left were already healing, and his expression was serene, showing no signs of pain. 

"You will forgive me for carrying you home like this," Varda said, her voice quiet and even now that she was satisfied. 

"If you worry that I am ashamed, I assure you that I feel no such thing," Manwë responded with a content sigh. "There is no shame in being caught by my queen and bearing the marks of her desire." 

"You should be careful with being such a sweet little bird, or I might eat you after all," Varda teased gently and lifted him up with both arms. As usual, Manwë was pleasantly light and tucked his head under her chin in complete disregard of his current shoulder injury. 

And so the King and Queen of Arda returned to Almaren, sparking many whispers and countless rumours among the other Ainur, though they cared little about that and enjoyed the feast once Estë had seen to removing the arrow. 

Yet as great as their enjoyment had been, both Manwë and Varda bowed their heads in agreement when the Lady of Healing came before them and Oromë and Varda after the festivities to suggest limiting the use of force and weapons. 

"Mighty you are indeed, and I worry not that you shall heal swiftly from this hunt," Estë said, "but let us not forget that in time the Children shall walk upon Arda alongside us, and their bodies will be more susceptible to injury. I would prefer not to find out what a star-shot or any of our other weapons and powers could do to them."

She inclined her head towards Varda and Oromë. "Not that I doubt your aim, but I am certain you understand." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

#feastofhorns #manwe #varda #manwe x varda #valar #ainur #oneshot #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #tw blood #minors dni #heed the warnings

[honeyhotteoks]

i'm just...... going to rant under the cut for a minute because people have been on my last nerve today BUT for all of you lovely readers of TNT who are kind and wonderful, i want you to know i wrote basically all day today and i'm making progress on more!!

anyways ranting under the cut...

tw - discussion about homophobia/rude comments etc.

so i received a pretty aggressive anon message earlier about the sanhwa scene in TNT... and i already deleted it because honestly i found it fairly offensive, but to that anon if you're reading this.... not cool. i understand that not all people are into m/m fic... but telling me it was ruining the fic and that i should have been clearer about tagging and warnings? it's genuinely been bothering me all day and kind of offending me. i write m/m pairings as part of my work all the time - you can see it in aurora, and definitely in my husbands series (fucking obviously).... and it's going to keep happening.

while i would never assume the real members sexualities (it's obviously none of our business), these are fictional characters and representations. they can be whatever i want them to be IN FICTION. if that offends you or troubles you or isn't sending the plot in the way you want, go find something else to read.

i also should not have to mark an m/m relationship in a fic with the same severity as a trigger warning. it isn't triggering, it's a relationship pairing. if you prefer other pairings, go elsewhere, but don't expect me to bend over backwards in my work on my blog to make queerness palatable for you.

this combined with some frankly rude messages on ao3 are just doing me in today. i understand that not everyone wanted to go down the woosanhwa road, but i wrote this fic for me and that's what i wanted. their relationship is meant as an intentional foil for yungi, the heats are supposed to be starkly different to help the MC understand herself and her feelings. y/n isn't perfect nor are any of the other characters and that's the fun of it. if you just want smut, find one-shots to read.

i just want to remind people that if you're writing comments on ao3, putting comments in your tumblr reblogs, etc., the author is going to read them!! be kind. if you don't like something, stop reading. your constructive criticism / helpful suggestions aren't necessary, they're rude. i'm not a published author, i'm a random on the internet posting fic for free, i don't want or need your negativity or your supposed help. you need to get a hobby or try writing something yourself.

anyways that's it. i'm kind of shocked at how negative a few of y'all have been given how overwhelmingly kind and positive everyone else has been. but i'm beyond shocked at the thinly veiled homophobia in my ask box earlier. what you said you said to a queer person and it hurt, and very quietly i'd like to ask you to do better and to not message me like that ever again.

i'm going to go back to writing now. and if there's a wild gay makeout session later in this fic, it's fucking dedicated to you.

[spotlightlowlife]

ep 5 Hazbin the best so far

It moved the story along quick, which was needed.

We meet Lucifer and he is exactly what is to be expected of a character who is here to be powerful but liked. He's he's awkward, silly, cute, depressed, defeated, not responsible for a major issue because it's someone else's fault but come on, he is so. He also validates the 'Chalie follows in her parents footsteps bad turn' by being so much like Charlie only seasoned, competent and fed up.

Still, he's likeable non the less.

Charlie was outclassed, no surprise there but I actually forgot what it was she wanted until her dad chose to give her exactly what it was. Charlie's 'daddy issues' were weak and I'm grearful for that, there relationship going from not really existing to great all hinged on 'daddy gimme what I want, you love me don't cha?' which quite frankly fits at this point, she's rather silly.

Charlie referring to the sinners as 'her people' fits too, she comes across as a pampered rich kid, specifically a celebrity's child, who wants others with much less to know they're cool and down for everyone, their angst is generally their boredom, guilt and fear of being judged unfairly, they assimilate their frustration into the frustration of those they watch who tend to have a lot to worry about. This felt like a bit of progress for her character, looks like we just need to meet Lilith next for Charlie to truly blossom.

Mimzy was fun, she told us a little about herself and her life back when she lived, she let us know of her history with Alastor along with a bit of his backstory. She bought trouble for Alastor to flex on, still she held her own very well, pity she was just passing by and is no longer welcome.

Alastor showed that he isn't composed all the time and can be needlessly reactive and does enjoy getting his hands dirty. He also quickly inserted himself between Lucifer and Charlie to mark some territory and showcase just how ambitious, ruthless and competitive he is.

It is a shame that two women were used to contribute to mens stories, especially when the woman with the least charisma happens to be the leading character who barely has a story of her own, but even so, as much as Alastor 'missing 7 years like Lilith, Charlie's new daddy and Lucifer's have a go rival' shoehorned his way to spotlight, it was interfering troublemaker Mimzy who stole the show for me, and Lucifer who revealed that he still works with angels and told us a little about heaven, which he has access to.

There are some pacing issues, all that happens in ep 5 could have happend earlier imo (maybe prior to the board meeting featuring all those characters we didn't know), giving us some Charlie content and progress, an explanation for a lot of her absence because heaven has to be a big place? A number of the subplots could have took place in the same meantime.

Still, best of the series, things atleast picked up, went somewhere and remembered the source material. No thanks to any lead character.

This post has been in the backburner for a whole day and wow there are still no gifs for this episode, I thought this show was popular?

#hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel mimzy #hazbin hotel alastor #helluva boss critique #hazbin hotel review #hazbin hotel critical

[writingcold]

Welcome to Chapter Five and Six of Best Laid Plans

A/N: Last two parts were hard.  These two parts are also difficult as we progress in the story, through tough relationships and hardships.  There is some good, too.  Little glimmers at least.  Well, one big glimmer of good to go with the little ones.  I do have a mature label on this because of the content, although it's very limited, and not... it's not smut and I'll leave it at that.    

This is a complete fiction - totally made up.  I do not, nor will I ever know Jake or any member of GVF.  That said, this story is mine.  Please respect that.

I’m sure I tortured her tons with this part.  Thank you for hanging in there with me and the overly dramatic brain that leaked out onto the page, @takenbythemadness.  💚you so much, my friend.

Content warnings: Angst.  Alcohol. Alcoholism.  Misogynistic character.  Power dynamic issues in marriage.  Talk of rehab.  Talk of relapse. M/F Sex, but not fun.  Sex used as a diversion to arguing. Unhealthy relationship.  Poor coping.     

Word count: approx. 9500

Chapter 5: December, 1984: Amanda POV

     I retreated my ass home for the holidays.  My senior year was beyond brutal.  I was licking my wounds with over-saturated spiced eggnog spiked brandy when Jenni waltzed in with her new boyfriend - Mark.  It was ridiculous how tall, dark, and handsome he was and she had him so looped around every one of her fingers.  I was happy for her.  I don’t think I ever considered my sister old enough to have such a relationship until I was forced to tiptoe past them making out on the bench swing when I was on a mission to toss the trash.  I was half tempted to inform Dad of the occurrences that were happening under his nose just to see if he would be giving Mark the same one way discussion that he had given Jake.  Why should I be the only one to experience that embarrassment?  Such fun.

      I was running on fumes and everyone could see it.  I had applied to numerous jobs and had heard back from none of them.  My advisor assured me that it was typical until after the fall term that businesses started looking at pending graduates and to just be patient.  I felt like I was running around with my hair on fire - how could I be expected to be patient.  One paid internship in particular, I had all my fingers and toes crossed for luck.  Franklin was one of the premiere firms in publications.  I knew I nailed the interviews.  I had been called back three times already.  To say that I was distracted by this was an understatement.

      Two days after the holidays, my mom had taken a call, to which she very unprofessionally called me to the phone using the alias of ‘Pookie Beans’ just to see me squirm.  I was mortified when I discovered Franklin's hiring manager was waiting patiently for me to finish bantering around with her.  Listening to the woman explain the situation and the offer, I was locked to the floor in absolute shock.  Mom knew the air had shifted and had rounded up those close to listen in.

       “Yes, thank you,”  I said into the receiver like a totally normal person.  “I appreciate your call.  I look forward to meeting you in March.”

       March.  Spring Break to be exact was going to find me in Des Moines.  My family waited with held breaths as I told them the nature of the job and screamed and hollered and cheered with joy that indeed all my ass busting in school was coming to fruition.  I don’t know if it was relief that poured through me, or apprehension.  Jenni and Mel demanded that we needed to celebrate and proceeded to round up friends to meet at Miller’s downtown.  Mark was kind enough to offer to be our driver for the night allowing us three to be complete idiots.  Marni, of course, along with Terry and Robbie showed up when we were already three drinks in.  We lit the pool table on fire with play and stories and celebrations.  And it was not just me that needed to be celebrated.  Marni and Robbie (yeah, that Robbie who gave me my first kiss) were engaged with a fall wedding in the plans.

      I would be lying if my eyes did not search to see if Jake would wander in.  At midnight, I was being dragged out the door and tossed into Mom’s car for a ride down to the river and a long assed night of ‘this is how it used to be’.  I realized that my friends, who were dearer to me than anyone, were different.  That was not completely true.  It was me.  I was different.  I had shifted from the small town to something that I realized may not fit well if I were to return.  

      It made me wonder if I still wanted to move forward with plans that I had made what seemed to be a lifetime ago.  A lifetime that was meant to be with Jake.  It would be easy to close that idea off and just not acknowledge that my dream of owning a bookstore in my hometown was very distant to me at that point.  I found myself being reflective as my friends and sisters danced around like idiots.  I should have felt that free - after all it was my big break that was about to slingshot me into a place where I was going to be …  I was going to be…  

      I stood at a crossroads.  Did I want to follow what had been etched in my spirit since I was little, or should I grow up and become someone that I thought I would never be?  Could never be?  My plans seemed tainted suddenly.  Just like how I realized how small my world had been at home, I was beginning to realize that what I had hoped for was perhaps too small.  There was a stab in my belly at the notion.  Had what I wanted with Jake small, too?  A curse flew out of my mouth as I withdrew into the moment.  It couldn’t have been possible.  At the time - when these plans were being laid down - it was the world to me.  Was Frankenmuth no longer good enough for what I needed?  

       I returned to school and finished the term strong.  The epiphany that I had had during the holidays rolled around my guts for months.  How I could still be clinging to any ideas that belonged in a book that had been closed years before, baffled me.  I had not seen Jake in over a year.  Our last interaction was soothing, despite all the pain that he was in.  That I was still in.  Instead of focusing on what could be, what should have been, I needed to move on.  I was nearly twenty-two holding onto a relationship that I had only held for six months when I was eighteen.  Perhaps I needed to grow up.  It was time.  I had four months of school then out the door.  My home was shifting and changing.  It was about time I did, too.

Jake POV

      Things were good some of the time.  Things were mostly not good too much of the time.  It wasn’t Martin’s.  The shop was great.  Henry was on board with a huge renovation of the main space which was going to start during January of 1985 after the rush of holiday concerts.  We were pulling in production dollars as well as nearly doubled our scheduled lessons.  Business was good.  I just wish my personal life was so good.

       Georgia and I were on rocky terms.  When she lost the job at the doctor’s office, she tried to work in a city job.  When the city job didn’t work out, she tried working in the bank.  When the bank didn’t work…  The woman’s demons were dragging her to a place I lacked the skills to assist her.  But I was there in the house, every night.  I held her hand.  I listened to her frustrations.  At least I did in the beginning.  

      When I discovered her drinking started before noon after she lost the job in the city register office, I voiced my concern.  I had come to love her.  It was not bright.  It sure as shit was not fireworks.  But the love I did develop for her was steady and present.  I believed it was returned.  We had found our footing in how to grow together.  I cannot recall when she started to slip.  Her struggles were deep seeded in her time long before I was ever a part of her life.  The remorse was more bitter than the actual arguments that she flung at me.  I was by no means a passive presence in these fights.  I was by no means innocent.  It was like my spirit would rear up in primal frustration whenever she would wipe out.

      Gig and studio work was steady, so at least we weren’t struggling from hand to mouth most weeks.  Money was tight.  Another something that Georgia focused on.  Any time there was a bump, she would retreat to something about her mother and not having basic needs met.  Those rages sent me running.  They could last for days.  The venom that would drip from her being would tear away my flesh and send my mind reeling into places that made me question everything.  There were times I had to escape to my parents’ home, only to be sent back in after a good old fashioned pep talk about responsibilities.  I was about to punch my father in the face at those times.  I was ill equipped to deal with the likes of what was in my wife’s troubles.  She drank, so I drank.  In the end it was no different. She was running from some unseen monster from the depths of her life, and I was running from the monster that she was in my own home.

      I had gone to Miller’s a few days after Christmas after one such torrent.  It was my ritual.  Take my hard slap of whiskey, followed by a few beers to take the edge off so I wouldn’t become that ugly person that Georgia was inclined to become in such times.  I stopped that night as I looked through the glass of the bar as a round of loudness reverberated through my ears.  There she was.  Amanda Fischer was leaning over the pool table to take a shot that she totally missed, but she cheered with her friends anyway.

       She had chopped her hair and her face looked thin under her hard girl style makeup of the evening.  And she was beautiful.  All the sunshine that resided in her radiated out like the ocean.  I willed her to look outside and see me.  It was a vain attempt to see if the gravity of her still longed to touch mine.  I watched for maybe a few moments.  The way she sang loudly, the way she danced with her friends.  The way she had changed but not changed at all at the same time.  And then it clicked.

       I turned around and went home.  Georgia was passed out on the couch.  Fine.  I took the six pack of beer from the fridge and sat out in my backyard looking to the heavens with a prayer.  I wanted my life to be what it needed to be and if this was how I was, with my wife, with my tiny little house, so be it.  The beauty that was Amanda Fischer was mine for moments only.  I could still treasure those moments.

       “The fuck are you doing here,”  Georgia remarked from behind me, through the window.  

       It was a statement.  It was outside my routine.  I took the last chug of beer before opening another.  “Didn’t much feel like Miller’s tonight,”  I said, turning my eyes up to the sky.

     The soured sound that struck my ears made me tuck my chin to my chest.  Anger colored my thoughts.  I had no desire to interact with her.  I took another deep swallow of beer with a hope that she would just go and sleep it off.  Instead, I jolted from my rickey assed lawn chair at the sound of glass shattering.  I tripped over my feet in my effort to get to her, hitting my head against the doorframe.  I could hear my own curses slipping across my tongue as I found her sprawled across the kitchen floor, glass all around her as she was trying to crawl away.  Her hands were bleeding as she whimpered out in her grief.  Our son’s name lingered on her lips as she bawled.  Somehow, I paused for a moment and collected what wits I had as the sudden sober mind slammed into my body.  I straddled her middle and pushed the larger pieces of glass away.

       “He would still be here if his daddy was a better man,”  she whispered, her lips thick with liquor.  “My baby would still be alive if his daddy would have stayed…”

       It was not the first time she had uttered the words.  I pushed my fingers beneath her and started to lift.  She swatted at my hands.  It hurt, but not enough to make me drop her.  She whined and struggled against me.  

       “If his daddy would have just stayed…”

       I replayed the words as I dragged her up to her feet and pressed against the kitchen sink.  I turned the water on to hold her wounds beneath the stream.  “I stayed, Georgia.  I stayed and he’s still gone,”  I said, my voice shredded.

       “His heart was so broke,”  she cried, her fingers flinching with pain.  “If his daddy - his real daddy…”

       I stopped.  “What do you mean?”

       “I don’t know,”  she let out through her teeth.  “I don’t fucking know.  Why is he gone?  He was so perfect.  He was my beautiful…”

       I went back to cleaning her wounds as she cried.  She needed help beyond my means.  I wrapped towels around her palms before wrapping around her frame and moving her into the bedroom.  Her sobs were heaving her entire body as I lay her down.  Her words replayed in my brain as I pushed her hair from her face and tried to soothe.  All the while, my gut was raging.  Real daddy.  I admit the words festered in my center while I pulled her in and held her close.  

      I was leery of leaving her home, alone, for fear of what Georgia would do to herself.  However, I had little option.  I had to work.  One of us did.  My tattered self had trudged out of the house, knowing that I was going to find a mess when I returned.  I just hoped that I would find her breathing.  

      I am unsure how I landed in my parent’s living room three days later, sobbing.  Georgia literally was black out drunk for two of those days.  Mom, ever the school teacher, decided to look into help and came back with a place that perhaps could help the woman through her out of control struggles.  I had no idea how I was going to pay for it.  This time it was Dad that stepped in, offering to help with a loan to get my wife back onto her feet once more.  It was not, after all, her fault that she was unable to get through this loss.

      “I’ve got to ask you to do this,”  I had said, calmly ladling soup into a bowl for her.  “Georgia, you got so low this time.  You are scaring me.  Honestly scaring me.”

      She was bent over the dining table, her forehead pressed to the laminated surface like a pillow.  “And if I say I don’t want to go?”

      “I don’t think it’s an option here,”  I said without looking back at her.  “You’re in a place where I can’t reach you anymore.  Perhaps these people can.”

      “This whole fucking thing was a mistake,”  she breathed out as I moved towards her.  “I should have just ended…”

       I swallowed my words.  I was not going to buy into the start of yet another argument.  Setting the soup down with a spoon, I retreated to my own bowl to stand at the counter.  “Georgia.  Please.  It’s time for help with this.  You are not surviving like this.  I cannot survive like this.”

      “The other night, when you came home,”  she started, her voice hushed,  “she was at Miller’s, wasn’t she?  That’s why you came home.”

      The stab in my chest was not as sharp as it once was, but it was there nonetheless.  I treaded forward with care, unsure if she was going to spin it into a fight.  “Amanda was there, yes.”

      “If I go, will you be here when I get back?”  

      She sounded young, afraid in the moment.  I was nodding.  “I’ll be here.”

     “Eight weeks,”  she sighed as she pushed herself up enough to tug the bowl closer to her.  “I don’t know if I can stand eight weeks of people telling me I’m wrong.”

      “You’re not wrong, Georgia,”  I found myself saying, and meaning it.  “It’s just you’ve gotten into a place where you need someone other than me to help you through this.  I’ll be here.  I’ll visit if you want me to.”

      She let out a sound of hurt.  “Better question would be, would you even want to visit me, Jake.  I’ve been such a bitch to you.”

      “I will visit.”

      There must have been something in my tone that soothed her.  We did not fight.  We did not drink.  We lay together in our bed and I tried to hold onto her the best I could.  Our love was not soft.  It was not born out of kindness and grace.  I kept reminding myself that it was there - no matter what.

Chapter 6: June, 1985: Jake POV

      Georgia had been home from treatment for months.  She had gotten a job at the grocery in the office and was once again making strides in social circles.  She seemed to have found a better footing.  We were doing better.  The shop was amazing.  My days were full, even during the long, touristy days of summer since I had convinced Henry to expand the display space to include albums, memorabilia, and trinkets of all kinds.  No longer were we just an instrument rental and repair shop.  Our old summer lull was a thing of the past.  

      It was not lost on me when Jenni and Mel Fischer bounded into the shop that their eldest sister was not with them.  I was busy with a customer, but could hear Henry just beaming at the pair about the renovation and questions about their family.  I honed in when they said that Mandy had graduated and was already in Des Moines working for Franklin.  I noticed that Jen had waved at me and I smiled back when Henry asked if the recent graduate was going to make it home anytime soon.  The answer was lost to distance when I refocused on the task at hand.  It was enough to know that she was doing very well as was evidenced by her sisters.  She was on her way.  I was filled with a happiness that I wish I could have shared with her.

      The summer was filled with work, friends, family and a new gig - I had taken up the summer league for kids soccer.  It gave me an excuse to run around on my Saturday mornings with a game Saturday and Tuesday nights.  Me being out with the kids let Georgia have time to be with friends and have the time she needed without me.  I encouraged her to take distance learning classes from the community college when she expressed an interest.  It was like seeing her have a reset of sorts.

      Autumn brought a busyness of school schedules, and the fall color show.  Georgia and I took a drive to the UP and spent a long weekend lost on hot chocolate and pumpkins.  The holidays were ratcheting it up with concerts and kids and lessons.  To have money in our savings account was a rarity, but we were becoming comfortable.  

      The holidays were crazy.  I had brought in stereo equipment for sale, mostly cabinet style setups that were popular for Christmas, as well as a new medium called compact discs.  Of course, CD players were pricey, but our orders could not come in fast enough.  The first day back after the holidays, Henry and I were already busy with the next wave of plans - one where I would be assuming full control of Martin’s Music.  It was towards the end of the busy shopping day, and I was getting ready to close the doors when the chime buzzed in the air.  Henry had already left for the day - demanded by Mrs. Ada who needed her man home to run interference between family members.  I came out from the office to find Amanda standing with her eyes all lit with emotions that I could not identify.  When those sparkly green glass eyes met mine, I could see the connection she was making with our past.  Our moments.

       “Hey,”  I said, my breath catching in my throat.

       She was stunning, standing there as she took in how we had changed and grown the shop.  Her hair was short against her neck, and her body was wrapped in an expensive lined trench.  

       “This is amazing,”  she gasped as she was just taking it all in.  “You’ve made it everything that you thought you could, Jake.”

       For a moment, it was like the years of distance had fallen away.  I was not married and she was still mine.  I felt the tendrils of her gravity mingle with mine as I moved closer.  I could smell her change in perfume, but it was perfect against her skin.  When she touched my shoulder, it was like an electric current between us. 

      “Hey, babe,”  a masculine voice called as the buzz of the door cut through us.

      Our moment was ruptured, dropping me instantly back to reality.  I watched as a man moved in where I used to reside, his hand wrapping around her waist to mark her as his own.  Mandy smiled at the dark haired man, patting his chest with a wide grin.

      “Uh, Roger, this is an old friend,”  she started introductions quickly.  

      I shook his hand before moving back to what would be safer.  I listened while she explained that they had met through friends down south.  She had a whole life in Des Moines.  A life with a man.  She had found love.  I smiled and laughed where I was supposed to.  I listened as I discovered that Roger was a sales manager.  And then that’s when I saw it, a huge assed engagement ring on her finger.  I had no right feeling like I was being flayed alive right before them, but I cannot deny that I was quietly bleeding out at her feet.   

      “Hey, we were going to go grab a drink at Miller’s,”  Roger said as he was shifting her tighter against him.  “You should come with us.  It’d be nice to get some dirt on this one.”

      Mandy’s eyes flicked up to her fiance’s face.  I pushed my hands into my back pockets as I shuffled a bit.  I had not heard the back door open.  Instead, I felt Georgia’s hand on my back as she approached.  I looked into her face, into her smile as she was taking in the couple before me.

      “Oh, hey,”  I said quietly as she leaned in for a quick kiss.  After I made introductions, I slipped my hand into my wife’s, holding tight.  “Uh, we were actually going to be going to Capri’s for dinner.  You’re more than welcomed to join us.  It’d be fun.”

      Everything in my gut was screaming at me like I was insane.  The sensible thing would be to just decline and move on.  Roger’s expression was what it did not need to be as he accepted.

      “Just to have less feminine company would be great,”  he joked as Mandy nodded slowly with a cringe smile.

      It was a mistake.  I know.  I know it was probably the biggest mistake I had made in years.  Mandy picked up quick that Georgia and I ordered ice teas, following suit with one for herself.  Roger, on the other hand, ordered a beer and voiced why I should have a beer with him.  Georgia patted my thigh to just relent after I tried repeatedly to sidestep the man’s demands.  We then sat there and listened to how Roger traveled all over the country and Canada for his company and how successful he was.  The fucker was a bragger the likes I had never come across.  And Mandy ate it up.  He laughed too loudly and drank too much and criticized rudely after eating most of his meal too quickly.  And then we arrived to it…

      “So, how do you two know each other - I mean I get it, these tiny little towns.  Everyone is related or whatever,”  he rambled as he was taking down his fourth beer.

      Georgia had had enough of the back and forth between Mandy and myself and Roger’s arrogant ignorance.  I could feel it brewing beside me as the waitress was taking away our plates.

      “Oh, Amanda didn’t tell you they used to fuck,”  Georgia remarked as she reached for her tea with a curled lip.  “And not just fuck.  They had their whole lives planned out, didn’t you sweetie?”       My stomach soured instantly.  Mandy’s eyes flashed as Roger straightened up his back, eyes hard with shock.  I ran my tongue across my teeth with a nod.  It was effective in the way it shut everything the fuck down.  I cleared my throat as I turned my attention back to Amanda.

      “It’s been nice catching up,”  I said as I tapped Georgia’s leg to slide out of the booth.  I dug out my wallet and tossed a twenty dollar bill out to leave on the table.  I was sure my cheeks were reddened, but I didn’t care.  I followed my wife out of the restaurant in complete silence.  I was sure that whatever I faced at home, Mandy was facing instantly.

      We didn’t talk at all.  Not in the car.  Not at home.  Georgia merely got ready for bed and left me to watch TV in peace.  I had crawled into bed and slept hard despite the torrent of thoughts in my brain.  

      “He’s everything opposite of you,”  Georgia said, her words slightly slurred.

      I woke to her voice.  A quick glance at the clock made me realize that it was still before 5am.  I rubbed at my eyes and asked what she had said, the smell of liquor was heavy on her breath.

      “Roger - he’s everything opposite of you.  That’s why your perfect Amanda is with him,”  she stated with a nod.  “She can’t have you, so she doesn’t want someone that will only remind her of you.”

       “Georgia,”  I said, trying to hide the disappointment from my eyes, my voice.  “I highly doubt I have any place in Amanda’s thoughts.  At least not in that capacity.”

      “Oh but she lingers in yours, doesn’t she Jake?”  she asked, stumbling backwards.  “It’s been almost five goddamn years and you still carry a fucking torch for that bitch.”

       My brain was rummaging through the house as to the possible whereabouts of her hidden stash of booze.  The gross laugh that she hissed bruised my skin as I slid from the bed and moved around her.

      “You’re drunk,”  I seethed, reaching for my sweatpants.  

      “Yup.  As a skunk,”  she laughed at her own joke.  “It’s the only way that I can have you see me, Jake, and take me seriously.  My counselor told me that.  Told me that you needed me to depend on you to make you feel special.”

      “Goddamn, that is not what was said,”  I ground out as I marched out of the bedroom.  “I’m not doing this again, Georgia.  I can’t see you, be with you when you’re like this.”

      “Where the hell do you think you can go?”

      “I’ll be back when you’re sober,”  was all I could say as I reached for my keys.

      I was out the door just as she started in with a louder voice.  I was to the shop in sweatpants and a t-shirt, decidedly not work clothes.  Hell, hair and teeth were unbrushed.  I didn’t care.  I sat at the desk, coffee in hand with thoughts absolutely wild over Georgia’s slip.  I knew to expect those moments of weakness.  I just wasn’t ready for how hard it was going to come at me.  I called Henry and he said he’s cover the shop for the day and to just go to Mom and Dad’s.  Why I decided that was a good idea, I have no clue.  At least there was an extra toothbrush with my name on it.

      Sam and his girlfriend were lounging in the kitchen while Josh and Ronnie were full of spit and vinegar.  I sat quietly, ignoring their revelry while I licked my wounds.  Georgia was not right, but she sure as shit was not totally incorrect.  The look in Amanda’s eyes over the crassness of my wife was jarring.   If my family realized that I was hiding, none of them let on.  I buried myself for the day, then passed out during a movie and they let me sleep.  When I woke before six to find myself on the cruddy basement couch like I was sixteen again, my body groaned like it had been ten years down the road.  Stumbling up the stairs to find Josh in the kitchen with coffee brewing felt familiar and just the medicine that I needed.   

      “Not going well,”  he started as I wiped my bleary eyes.

      I shook my head as the only explanation that I could give.

     He pursed his lips.  “She relapsed?”

     “Yeah. I put her into a situation she was not ready for.”  I shivered as I brought my mug to my lips.  “Mandy was in the store with her fiance and he invited us to drinks.”

     “Yeah, no,”  Josh sighed.

     “So, Georgia comes in so we can go have supper - Wednesday night date night and all,”  I explained, seeing how stupid it was.  I mean it was just a courtesy and I didn’t think that Mandy would ever want to join.  “I kinda did the ‘hey instead of drinks how about dinner?”

      “Fuck no, Jake...”

      “I know.  It was out of my mouth before I could stop myself.”  I took another long swig of coffee feeling the heat infiltrate my stomach.  “And it was horrible.  I mean, not at first.  Conversation was fine for the most part.  Roger is a real piece of work though.  What a dick.”

      “Did you even give him a chance, Jacob?  You’re a little biased.”  I watched as Josh started pulling stuff out of the fridge for breakfast.  

      “Biased?  I mean this guy literally talked over her the whole night.  Any time she would start, he would just walk over her and correct her.  It was awful.”

      Josh flashed me a look as he started cracking eggs.  He didn’t say anything other than give me a raised eyebrow.

      “I guess Georgia had had enough.  But it was odd, like we were at the end of dinner, getting ready to pay the check and he asked how we knew each other.  Georgia just blurted out that we fucked.”

      “Oh my,”  he sighed as if knowing what I was going to say.  “And you left Georgia drunk?”

      “I had to.  It was part of our agreement before she left rehab.  We had to put into place boundaries.  I made mine if she was drunk and insulting me, then I had to leave to keep things from going into an argument.”  I stood to get a refill.  Josh waved me off and reached for the pot.  “She was throwing Mandy back at me.  I thought we could move on and be the friends that we’ve always been.”

      “But did you talk to Georgia about that at all?”  Josh asked before turning his back on me to work on the stove.

      He had me there.  No.  We had never talked about Amanda because it was a closed subject.  She felt threatened whenever there was a term break, typically drunkenly asking or fighting about it.  She feared that I would divorce her so that I could resume my life - the life I wanted before our baby.  

      “I would almost think that she would feel better now that Mandy is going to be married,”  I said quietly.  It was stupid to say but it felt good coming out.  I ignored Josh’s glare.  “I am hoping that my absence forced her to call her sponsor.  At least that was what was agreed on when she came home.”

      “Do you love her?”  Josh asked, his words hushed.

      I stayed quiet, unable to really discern who he was talking about.  When he turned to look at me, I knew I had just told him everything he needed to know.  The question was dual purpose and I failed.  I believe I would’ve failed no matter what answer I gave.

      “I love Georgia in a fashion.”

      “Jesus, Jake.”

      I shrugged.  “What do you want me to say?”

     “It’s been five years with her and you can’t honestly say you even love her.  What kind of a life is that?”  He turned and scraped eggs onto two plates just as toast popped up from the toaster.  

     “I know.  Believe me.  It seems like any time I think it might be time to walk away, she bottoms out and it would just be shitty to abandon her like that,”  I say quietly.  

      “But you’re thinking about it?”

      I nod.  Divorce was not something I ever entertained.  Ever.  It was not a thing to do in my family.  And yet, here I was knowing that I was in a marriage that there was no way in hell that I could remain in if I wanted to have any kind of happiness.  Josh shoved a forkfull into his mouth just as Dad walked into the kitchen in search of black juice.  We watched as he poured a cup before scooping up a plate of eggs.

      “Nice timing, Pops,”  Josh said, slapping him on the back.

      “I gotta get home and get ready for work,”  I said, quickly pushing the rest of my eggs down my throat.  

      I pretended not to see Dad’s questioning look.  Instead, I left with a wave and a knot in my gut for what I was to find at home.  The house was quiet when I walked in.  I saw an empty bottle of Jameson on the counter with a note.  I debated while I showered and got dressed if I wanted to see what was on that paper.  Puffing out my cheeks, I looked to find: 

Jake, I dumped it out and called Yvonne.  I’m sorry.  I went to work.  Please come home tonight.

     There was no real way to tell if she had actually dumped it and not had actually just drank it down.  I didn’t touch anything.  Instead, I walked back out, heading for the shop.  Talking with Josh was the first time that I had uttered the notion of leaving Georgia.  Of divorce.  It did not destroy me like I had thought it would.  Somehow, I was going to have to realize that in this case, it was not giving up or a failure, but preservation.

Amanda POV

     December of 1985 was the last time I was home to Frankenmuth for nearly four years.  I married Roger.  Yeah.  He came in and swept me up off my feet after meeting him at a dinner party and three months later, he proposed.  It was crazy.  It was so out of my realm to be so spontaneous, but such as it was, I was in love once more.  His home office was in Des Moines and so, living there was fine.  The job with Franklin was amazing and they held onto me like I was a ball of glue.  I was being swept along to management levels and I soaked up every bit of knowledge that I could along the way.  

     Having dinner during the holidays with Jake and Georgia was …  interesting.  I knew that Roger was a lot to take in at first.  But once you got to know him, he wasn’t so in your face and loud.  I had not realized that Georgia was so blunt.  I mean, I knew nothing about her until that night.  I’m not sure if it was the absolute possession that she held over Jake, or the fact that she edged into the conversation when she had no clue what she was talking about in the slightest.  It was fine until she just put our history out there.  I half expected her to continue on and explain that she was the reason why Jake and I were not together.  I watched as Jake left, and his little backwards glance to see if I was all right.  I would be a liar if I didn’t pity him.  His embarrassment was etched all across his lips.

      So, four years is a long time.  I saved every cent I could in the meantime.  Roger was gone.  A lot.  Work had him on the road six days a week.  In most instances, it made no sense to come home since it took longer to get to Iowa than it did to move on to his next destination.  He wanted to slow down.  He was sure that his company was looking to make him a regional sales manager, so his area would be concentrated to one area, versus all over the country and Canada.  While working for my company was great, the longer I worked for them, the more I wanted to work for myself.  The idea of my bookshop tickled my dreams.  Roger was not against the idea.  He just didn’t understand the notion of settling such deep roots in one place.  

      Close to our first year wedding anniversary, he surprised me with a trip to Greece.  He was like that - he would surprise me with these huge gestures that just blew me away.  It was a few weeks after that trip that I fell ill.  I spent a whole day in bed when he was actually home for a stint.  He tried to get me to go out with him - supper, drinks, friends, the whole bit.  But I actually had a fever.  Needless to say he went out and left me to convalesce.  By morning, my fever was high and I was throwing up something fierce.  He got me to the hospital only to find that my appendix was on the verge of rupture.  I was whisked into surgery, to which I was half expecting Roger to not be there as he was having to catch a flight to Texas.  To my surprise, he was there.  To my further surprise, he made a decision for me I wasn’t prepared for when the doctor broached the subject.

      “Mrs. Hastings, it’ll be important that you take it easy the next few weeks.  The nurse will go over any wound care and when to get in to have the stitches removed.  Also, you will have a little extra pain with the tubal ligation.  But that’s to be expected.”

      I had to have the doctor repeat what had been done.  Roger, all smiles and soothing touches, had explained that with our singular conversation where he said he did not want children, meant that I did not want children.  I was so out of it from the meds I had been given that I was sure that I had not heard the two men correctly.  Roger decided to stay the day, make sure that I was resting before he left for San Antonio.  He left me in this confusion.  He had requested for my tubes to be tied since they were already in there.  It was so flippant.  It was so… violating.  I had no say in the matter.  I was so shocked that I could not respond or process it for a long time.  

      I was alone for most of my recovery.  I was so embarrassed about what had happened that I could not talk to anyone about it.  Jenni came for a visit and I acted like nothing had happened, despite her asking me if all was well - multiple times.  It would not be the only time that I realized that my choice in husband may not have been the best choice.

      Four years.  I had not been home.  Roger liked to point out that my family visited Des Moines just fine.  But when I broached the subject of maybe giving up my position at Franklin and the sixty hour work weeks for opening my own shop, he thought I was cute, but was against the notion.  He wanted nothing to do with middle Michigan.  He wanted nothing to do with my family.  It became a sore point that I would bring up only to drop over and over again over the course of a few of those years.  I was lonely.  I wanted my family and friends and what was familiar.  

      September of 1988 Roger finally relented and we traveled back home to spend time with my family.  I thought if I pitched my idea while we were there, along with the facts of my business plan, he would not say no.  The autumn was bringing thunderstorms every evening.  I stood at the window of my Mom’s kitchen with a steaming cup of tea in hand while she was cooking her heart out.  We were relishing our time together.  It was something that I was desperate for and she seemed to know it.

      I left Roger in our hotel at one end of Main Street to make an appointment at the opposite end a few days before it was time for us to leave.  My building - or at least the one that I had hoped would be available when I was ready, was coming to market.  I stood on the sidewalk, eyes turned onto the building with its old brick and mortar and lovely red lacquered door.  I couldn’t help but smile.  I dreamed of my sign above the door - Sparrow Books.  I would carry the image of a sparrow throughout.  There was a little cafe bookstore that I fell in love with in Des Moines.  I knew that a little coffee and treat bar within the store would bring in all the more patrons.  

     “Mandy?”

      I knew that soft raspy voice anywhere.  I turned to find Jake standing at the door of Martin’s as he was just opening up the shop.  I smiled with a wave.

      “Hi there,”  I said as he walked towards me.  

      “It’s been forever,”  he said, his smile wide with warmth.  

      “Yeah.  Des Moines has kept me busier than I thought it would,”  I remarked as a woman walked up to the building’s door.  “Are you Mrs. Wruff?”

      “Yes, ma’am.  Are you Mrs. Hastings?”

      “That’s me.  Jake, I’ve got to go.”

      “Are you looking at your building?”  he asked as I started forwards.

      I smiled over my shoulder at him with a nod.  From the moment I entered, I knew it was my Sparrow.  I wanted it.  I was going to make it happen.  The space was perfect just like I always thought it would be.

      “No one has been in residence here for a few years.  The current owner will include all displays inside here and all the furniture in the apartment upstairs,”  Mrs. Wruff said as she snapped lights on for better viewing.  “The last renter left a bit of a mess, I’m afraid.  The owner says that the building will be as it is currently.”

      “Are there any others interested right now?”  I chanced the ask, sure that I would not get an answer.  

      Mrs. Wruff shrugged as I wandered deeper into the space.  Yeah.  It was mine.  It was in my blood.  I couldn’t leave her empty.  My eyes skated over the hand turned moldings from the forties and the well loved planks of the original floor from the late thirties.  My heart thrummed for the first time in years over the prospect.  This would be mine.  Not Roger’s.  Not my bosses at work.  I blew a breath from my lungs and shook Mrs. Wruff’s hand with a promise of a written offer before the end of the week.

      I stood outside staring at the building.  I must’ve looked like an idiot but I didn’t care.  I was picturing bringing the building back to what it once was - beautiful and unique and filled with life.  I would start with the apartment above so that Roger and I would have a place to live.  This was right.  This is what I was supposed to be doing.

      I was not going to, but I decided to step into Martin’s to find Jake sitting in one of the glassed practice rooms alone.  His eyes were closed and his amp loud as he played.  I smiled as he wailed along.  He had progressed so far in his own playing from the last time that I had listened that I was shocked.  

      “Oh, hi,”  a young voice caught me off guard.  “That’s Jake.  He’s the owner of the store.”

      I had so been caught staring.  I cleared my throat with a smile.  “Yeah.  Jake and I go way back.  Thought I would stop in to say hello.”

      “Uh, I don’t like interrupting him.  He doesn’t get his own practice time too often,”  the girl remarked as she was straightening merchandise.  “But…”

      He shifted into something that was dark, almost sinister sounding.  I watched as he stretched his neck up, progressing through his notes so deftly.  His lips were speaking ghostly words that were probably lyrics to a song I didn’t know.  He dug back in just as the girl started to move around me.  I reached out and stopped her.

     “It’s all right.  I can wait,”  I said quietly, looking into her face for the first time.  Her eyes sparkled as I looked back at him.  “I don’t want to interrupt.  I know this is…”

     The void of sound made me turn my attention back to him.  He was waving at me while putting his guitar onto a stand.  The girl shrugged and continued on with her work as the boss came out to join me.

      “How’d it go?”  he asked as he straightened himself out.

      I was nodding, the flutters of what I was about to do danced through my veins.  “God, I forgot how much I loved that place.”

      The huge smile he flashed me as he pushed his hand through his now shoulder length hair back.  He was truly small town golden blended with rock and roll.  I had never forgotten how handsome he was, but in that moment, he stirred me in places that had not been touched since it was by his own hand.  

      The air shifted as Joy Division started coming through the speakers.  He rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he groaned.

      “Meg, what did I tell you about what you can put on the sound system?”  he called out with a grimace.

      “You said that I can have anything on I want when you are practicing,”  she said with a sassy tone.  “You’re supposed to be practicing.”

      “I don’t mean to intrude, Jake, really,”  I said but he held up a hand.

      “But I’m not practicing, am I?”  he asked, returning the sass.

      “Don’t make me put on Roxy Music,”  she snapped, her head popping up from behind the counter.  “Get your ass back to practicing.”

      He laughed with a shake of his head.  “How about a cup of coffee, catch me up on you?”

      I swallowed, knowing that Roger was probably getting pissed off.  Something in the bottom of my stomach told me not to care.  Before I knew it, I was walking down the sidewalk with Jake towards Blaine’s.  He held the door open while I passed and led the way to what once was our table before I even realized it.  The diner was busy with the brunch crew, so we waited patiently while The Cars swooned out of the radio from behind the counter.  The chorus to “Drive” flooded my brain as I sat there.  My gaze turned to his, and it was just like way back before I started college.  The corners of his eyes creased, revealing a few more little crinkles of life that had been lived.  He seemed to be struck with the same wave of nostalgia that I was in the moment.  He let out a soft laugh as his body leaned forward to press against the table.  

      There it was.  That shy love that he filled me with all those years ago.  It filled my chest and my spirit to the point of bursting.  His gravity wrapped around me like the biggest bear hug and gave a little squeeze.  Our words were coming fast and friendly.  It was like there was no barrier between us and we could share everything.  He caught me up about the shop and Henry’s retirement.  I admitted to being exhausted over the long hours at Franklin in the buyers’ department.  

      The familiarity of Joe Cocker’s growl made us both pause as “She Came In Through The Bathroom Window” cut through the conversation.  

      “Remember how we stupid danced in Miller’s to this?”  I cracked, laughing with a hand over my heart.  “I thought for sure they were going to toss us both that night.”

      His eyes lit with the memory.  Jake ran his fingers along the edge of the table, drawing my eyes down for a brief moment.  It was long enough to see that there was no wedding band on his finger.  The indentation of the heavy ornament was still present, but the bond he had was gone.  He saw where my gaze had gone and he pulled his hand down into his lap.

      “When did that happen?”  I asked, taking a sip of coffee.

      “Six weeks ago,”  he said quietly.  “Not my brightest moments.”

      “I’m sorry,”  I said, making his tone.  He leaned back against the back of the booth, face turned towards the window.  “It must have been hard.”

       “You have no idea.  But it was broken from the start,”  he replied, his voice thick in his throat.  “You know that, though.”

       Just like that, it was done.  Our softness had roughened up with age and experience.  I glanced at my watch and panicked over the fact that we had been in the diner for more than two hours.  Jake walked me out, parting with me with a smile that I knew was my own.  It was enough to remind me of what could have been.  Should have been.  In his own shattered state, Jake could still reach me - reach me in the deepest parts that were still me.

       I found Roger angry as hell in the room.  I did not tell him of my appointment.  I did not tell him about coffee with Jake.  I let him yell at me without giving him any real reaction until he was blustered out.  I put on my biggest doe eyes and proceeded to have sex with him to make it up to him.  In the middle of him pounding me in the most unromantic way possible, a thought drifted across my memory.  It was a night not too long after the first of August during my summer with Jake.  We had driven down to the river and were just hanging out.  I remember watching my toe make ripples in the water as he played his guitar.  He was fudging the lyrics to songs on purpose to get a laugh out of me, to which he did each and every time.  I remember looking back at him and finding his eyes all full of life and shine.  It started to sprinkle and then rain, despite our need to just exist in that spot for a little while longer.  We had retreated to the bus and before long, we were tangled up in the back.  The way he would look at me as he touched me would set me ablaze each and every time.  I pictured him.  I pictured him from how he made love to me when I was young.  I imagined how he would make love to me as a man now.  Those strong fingers pressing into my flesh as his mouth sucked each and every inch of my skin.  The way his hair would tickle and make me sigh as I dug my fingers in.  The way his voice would get thick and choppy as he whispered through the air.  How he would relish every piece of me - mental, physical, emotional - and make each one feel beautiful and whole.   How he encouraged me to explore his body and love on him in all my awkward glory until I was flustered and embarrassed and laughing.  I wondered what he would do, what his reactions would be as I feasted on his body as the woman that I had become, with the knowledge I had gained. 

       I was so lost in my thoughts of Jake, that I suddenly felt my body reach orgasm.  I had not reached that level of pleasure in some time with Roger.  He stared down at me surprised at first.

      “Damn.  That’s rare,”  he grunted above me.  “Guess you needed me to really…”

      I tuned him out as he finished.  My brain went back to Jake; the way we were just able to sit and laugh with each other despite the distance that had been between us.  The way his lip would curl into a smile, the way his cheeks would blush a bit before he would allow himself to let loose and laugh was just like always.  The way he was still, watching me talk, listening – hearing my words.  It had been a long time since anyone had actually taken the time to hear me.  

      A loneliness pierced me that I had gotten used to pretty quickly after my wedding day.  Roger rolled off the bed, complaining how there was nothing to do in town.  Asking what we did for fun other than drink and eat ourselves silly.  My eyes trained to the window and the deep woods beyond.  My soul cried for me to slow down.  To take in the sweetness of the air.  To enjoy the feel of just touching the ground below and looking at the sky above.  Life did not need to have something happening every second of the day.  Did it?

       I called my lawyer the next day from my parents’ house.  Roger decided to leave early, citing a problem out east that he needed to take care of right away.  I called work and asked for a few more days to settle accounts at home.  It wasn’t like they could say no - I had not taken so much as a handful of sick days since starting with the company.  By Friday morning, my offer had been faxed over to the real estate office on the lot.  I stayed in the hotel, despite my Mom asking if I wanted to stay in the house.  It was nice to actually be close to what could be my future place.  I had supper with them every night and walked the stretch of downtown every night with plans swirling around my thoughts of what could be.

       Monday I received a call at the hotel with the news that my offer was accepted.  I could claim the keys at closing four weeks from the day.  I tried to track down Roger in the evening - he promised that he would be in his room for a call.  He broke that little promise.  I celebrated with my family that night and ignored his call when it came in sometime around midnight.  I knew I was poking the bear, but was it so hard to stay in one place for longer than an hour?

      Jake caught me standing outside the building Tuesday morning.  It was like he knew without even asking.  I had not even realized that I was crying when he captured my attention.  He wrapped me into his arms and held tight.  I was laughing and crying and a jumble of emotions that my dream of long ago - something I was convinced that I did not want any more - was happening.  This was mine - this beautiful building was solely mine.  

       “I can’t believe it,”  I sighed as the smell of his hair and cologne invaded my senses in the best of ways.  “I can’t believe I’ve done it.”

        He loosened his hold to look at me.  He gulped a breath before he stepped away, his hand still on my elbow.  “It’ll be good to have you home.”

       Home.  The way it left his mouth struck my chest and rooted me to the spot.  It was home.  My plans for a bookshop might have been a piece of a shattered, long abandoned plan, but it was real.  It was tangible. 

I’ll see you next Wednesday.  💚  

I have a tag list if you would like to join, or you can just reply to this or message me.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows @livkiszka @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gracev0609 @gretavangroupie @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @joniizzle-blog

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fan fic #greta van fleet au #gvf au #greta van fleet fan fic #jake kiszka au #best laid plans

[prism-forgone]

So how long till you drop the Deltarune Classpect expansion featuring the secret bosses? Haha just kidding. Unless... But anyway having not thought about classpects in like half a decade that post was a fun read.

i'm so glad you enjoyed it! ^^ it's nice to know there's a demographic for stuff like that still sksjsjk

the post in question for those out of loop here : x

and now.....

It appears my work is not yet done.

Jevil // Bard of Breath

So this is a bit irregular.

Since classpects are not only an allegory for a place in the narrative but also for character growth and progression, it can sometimes be hard to pin down a title of a character who had already gone through their arc. Jevil is someone like that - he's just hanging out. He fights you because it's fun and he's bored and won't you come outside? Let yourself be free?

Jevil screams Bard from miles away and his theme of freedom couldn't be more blatant but the problem I encountered was pinning down which aspect he was ghosting and which was his own. Bards usually experience a psychic break of sorts - we call it a crisis of aspect - that causes them to stop acting aggressively like they're bound to the opposite aspect. But the problem is - I would describe his encounter with 'a strange someone' as something exactly like that. So is he a Bard of Blood that is still in a way ghosting his opposite aspect, destroying the concept of imprisonment by calling being locked up as being truly free? Or is he a Bard of Breath that destroys through Breath by getting himself imprisoned and twisting the definition of freedom?

I decided to go with the latter because not only do I see his encounter with that strange someone being his aspect crisis as non-negotiable, this is not the only clue we have (even if it's the most crucial one). The way Bards operate before their aspect crisis is destroying their aspect through embracing the opposite one. Being a court jester is a very social role that I would say fits someone who is Bloodbound or ghosting the hell out of Blood well. Blood heroes are leaders, confidants and advisors and I think this fits well pre-crisis of Breath. He realized he's not truly free and never will be so he simply smashed his definition of freedom and remade it.

Spamton G. Spamton // Mage of Life (Kind of.)

So, hear me out. I promise it adds up.

Spamton has clear marks of someone Lifebound. This clingy attitude towards success, recognition and money is a very clear mark of that. Another one is how Life heroes are laughably susceptible to contact or persuasion by some kind of dark forces. His separation from other Addisons to become a big deal on his own has connections to a theme of rebellion, and his subsequent rise to the top of the social ladder is emblematic of the theme of authority, both of which being something that very up Life's alley. ...Also, he can literally heal. There's that.

Mages, as I've discussed in Noelle's case, experience the good and the bad of their aspect and can even experience harm because of it. And the cycle of Life says what rises up must fall down. In fact, I believe that what we're dealing with is Spamton's experience with the one who stopped calling him pulling him to the bottom and straight through, leading to him inverting to being the opposite of his title.

Spamton G. Spamton // ↺ Heir of Doom

Sometimes characters can experience a switch to the opposite title. That is called an inversion. It won't make sense for those who are reading this just for character deconstruction and have no knowledge of HS but think of how Rose acted like a Witch of Void, the inverse or her Seer of Light title, when she went grimdark. This isn't ghosting - it happens when a character actively rejects not only their aspect but their whole title.

This leaves Spamton acting in a way that is contrary to his nature - something isn't quite right. We get a feeling this isn't how he should operate but something happened and left him like this. For all intents and purposes, the narrative treats him like an Heir of Doom now, bringing about all things that have to do with being Doombound - this means he attracts the worst parts of the narrative, acts bitter and resentful, even fatalistic, is prone to visions of an awful end or unfortunate fate (this one I'm bringing up specifically because of his phone) and has a connection with nihilism and fatalism.

The inverse of his class being an Heir is also significant. Heirs inherit and embody their aspect, and Spamton does this two-fold - he serves as a cautionary tale of what happens when you hit rock bottom after trying to climb too high up, and, after the fight in the basement, becomes an omen to Kris that leaves a significant impact on them.

#thank you for the question!! i enjoyed writing this response out a lot :> #deltarune #deltarune theory #character analysis #classpect #dr #utdr #my meta #deltarune meta #mage of life #heir of doom #bard of breath #homestuck #hs #jevil #jevil deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #spamton deltarune #chatter #cosmic soundwaves #anon ask #classpect analysis

[fixing-bad-posts]

From your tags: "if anyone wants to ask me about rings of power please do because i have thoughts™" This is me asking. (Also love your blog!)

i love you for asking, thank you 💛💛💛 this will be part three: parting thoughts & the funniest details from rings of power (part one; part two).

some parting thoughts:

i absolutely hate that all critics of the show are labelled as racists, misogynists, and anti-progressives, especially when the show’s treatment of women is tokenizing and pitiful, and it does nothing revolutionary nor makes a meaningful statement on issues of marginalized race. they don’t get to position themselves as champions of diversity just by doing the bare minimum and casting poc in side-roles, and having one original-character black elf whose plotline is tragically underwritten. they’re already taking vast liberties with the source material—why not a black galadriel? why not an asian elrond?

with that out of the way, some of my favourite* parts from rings of power:

* when i say "favourite" i mean i'm about to make fun of the show.

i love the part in the show where galadriel spends years of her life tracking down the ‘mark of sauron’—which looks like a little stylized pitchfork—only to discover it’s actually not a sigil. it’s a map, turned sideways, and sketched in modern minimalist style with the least helpful, least detailed, least interpretable shapes because apparently morgoth was really really bad at drawing mountains. and sauron, for some reason, is so forgetful that he carves this “map” into dead bodies and his tables and weapons and gloves so that he? won’t forget which mountain range he’s trying to conquer? wants to give his enemies fun clues about his favourite piece of real estate? unclear.

i love that one scene where galadriel and halbrand are on a raft and the set designers/director did not give morfydd clark enough stage business so she spends the whole scene pulling the same piece of rope tight, and then loosening it, and then pulling it tight again, on a random piece of wood.

in the same vein, i love the part where a conversation between nori and her mom happens except the stage business they were given for the scene was apparently… rub a rock on a piece of wood. and they just have to do that for the entire scene as if it’s normal.

i love the part where the writers seemingly forgot to actually go in and edit their placeholder dialogue and they have gandalf yell, “i’m good!” when he’s mistaken for sauron in the finale.

i love the part where galadriel discovers who sauron is and then goes inside and does not tell anyone what she learned for some reason. and elrond asks her what’s up and she’s just like, there’s no time to explain. and then never explains ever.

i think it’s really funny that the writers want sauron to be “like walter white, tony soprano and the joker,” when these characters have nothing in common except being well-written characters. i like to imagine they sit around the writers’ room examining every single piece of well-written television, marvelling over the very idea of multifaceted characters—a concept completely foreign to them.

and, for posterity—i have fun criticizing rings of power. i like to think i gave rop a fair shot—when i started watching it, i was fully hoping it would be well-done. when i heard the show was coming out, it gave me an excuse to re-read the silmarillion for the first time in years, and has connected me with the tolkien fandom on tumblr. i’m also a script writer irl and, so it’s been a fun exercise to pick apart why the show didn’t work for me both from a fan’s perspective and a writer’s perspective. a lot of tolkien fans are deeply hurt by this show and hate its existence and its fans—that’s not me. i would not be engaging with this material if i wasn’t having a good time doing it.

that's all for me, folks—thanks for tuning in; i'll shut up about this now haha.

#ask fbp #anon ask #fandom posting #rop critical #anti rop #anti amazon lotr #anti rings of power #amazon rings of power #rings of power #rings of power negative #anti trop #rings of power critical #rings of power analysis #rings of power meta

[tangledbea]

I was just thinking about Wish and all the blatant references in it. I remember watching it in theaters and at first I thought "Okay cute, the friends are the dwarves, that citizen wants long hair, funny homage, Asha's looking at the stars like Tiana, that's nice..." then it all went downhill to "Just. Stop." by the climax. Especially the Asha/Fairy Godmother theory: as a POC I find that very offensive. Then I realized... Tangled was the 50th DAC movie, and it also had lots of references. (1)

There were all the hidden items in the tower, Pinocchio in the Snuggly Duckling, and the books in the library referencing other Disney movie covers. Not to mention the New Dream scenes that were similar to other DP couples, like the boat (Ariel/Eric), the dying love confession (Belle/Adam) and the whole princess + thief premise (Aladdin/Jasmine). And yet, those easter eggs didn't stop Tangled from being its own unique film. Same goes for Encanto, the 60th movie, and it referenced others, too (2) I think both Encanto and Tangled can still hold up as classic, rewatchable movies despite the anniversary celebrationz because the writers/directors/general crew put the references in the background. They were fun to find out about, but you don't need to know about them to still enjoy it. Wish, on the other hand... I feel like you would have to literally watch all the DAC movies and then some (Mary Poppins) before it even begins to hold up to the standards of the previous 'celebration' films (3) And even then, the story relies on the callbacks to get you to enjoy it. If I stripped Wish of every single Easter egg it had, I'd be left with barely a shell. Meanwhile, if I did the same to Tangled, the result would be pretty much the exact same movie. TLDR: Tangled is a much better anniversary movie than Wish, and that's a fact. So those are my thoughts, thanks so much for reading all this, I appreciate it! :D (4)

The thing is, the other movies you mentioned (Tangled and Encanto) were markers of "how many animated movies they've released" milestones, while Wish was 100 years of the Disney company. It's not the same kind of milestone at all, because it was marking time rather than progress. Not that this is excusing Wish of its disappointing story, but expressing the difference between the movies and the studio's approach to them. Tangled and Encanto (which, by the way, is my second favorite Disney movie from recent years) weren't written to be the 50th movie and the 60th movie. They were written to be their own things and happened to fall in line with the 50th and 60th release. In fact, some numbers had to be fudged a little in order to make Tangled line up with the 50th release, and Encanto was the tenth one after Tangled. Disney didn't even expect Encanto to do well, and were blown out of the water with surprise when it became a smash hit. Where as Wish was "crafted" (I use the word loosely) to be the 100 year celebration of the company.

Every time I find out more about earlier concepts of the film that they opted not to use (the Star being a prince, the king and queen being a power couple villain duo) I get very frustrated and angry about what we could have had. They had some really solid, interesting concepts in there, and they threw it all out the window in order to cram as many references as they could into it. Asha has seven friends (for example), to be the seven dwarfs, but their characters aren't developed at all. They had to tell us what the deal was with color coordination, alliterative names and gimmicks that lined them up with the dwarfs instead of focusing on them at all and making it clear through that who they were supposed to be. Just, "Get it? There's seven of them and this one wears glasses and Asha calls her 'doc' and this one's always sleepy and this one's always sneezing and this one's kind of dopey and this one's grumpy, get it?!?!?!"

I like Alan "I went to Julliard" Tudyk, but not only does he not need to be in every single Disney movie these days, they really didn't have to make Valentino, you know, a thing. "Get it? This is the origin of talking Disney animals, get it?!?!?!?!?!" And they really gave him way too much screen time. I'm often not a fan of the comedy relief animal sidekick as it is (there are some exceptions - some I really like and some I'm neutral to), but boy howdy did they overplay Valentino and make me actively dislike him.

The interesting thing is, I'm not a fan of Raya and the Last Dragon. I don't hate it, but I'm not a fan. I gave it a shot, I watched it, but it left no impression on me. It felt very... Millennial check-listed. POCs, found family, no overt romance but if it's there it's LGBTQ, dragons (cause who doesn't like dragons?), etc. Raya is fine. But for me, it's forgettable. I've only watched it the one time, I barely remember what happens in it, and I have a lot of trouble remembering the characters' names.

But Wish? Wish, I think about often. I have never been so disappointed in a Disney movie as I am with Wish, because Wish has the bare bones potential to be something great. And instead, it's that. What Disney should have done for its 100 year anniversary was make a movie that was finely crafted to show everything they've learned about animation in the past 100 years. I made an observation on a different blog that, when to you take a step back, King Magnifico is a stand-in for corporate Disney, and the whole movie is the crew railing against the corporation stripping the creativity from its workers and not valuing art, even though it’s in the art business. They just want everyone to love them, because everyone always has. Magnifico wants to hoard the wishes the way that corporate Disney wants to hoard talent, and the citizens willingly give up their talent and work because they believe something good will eventually be done with it. It feels to me like the climax of the movie is the artists and animators fighting the good fight against their corporate overlords the same way that actors and writers were striking for so much of 2023. It felt like a battle for the soul of the movie. But although the heroes of the movie win in the end, it was actually corporate who won, because the movie was stripped of all of its heart and soul in order to cram in more references. The artists did what they could, but they still had to follow orders if they wanted the movie to get made.

Oh, and as a side note, you can't just make a mortal human be a literal fairy by giving her a magic stick. That's not how that works.

Anyway, for my money, Once Upon a Studio is a much better homage to 100 years of Disney than Wish ever will be. Anyway, sorry for this incredibly long-winded rant.

#Tangled #Answered

[niqosblog]

Why Do People Distrust Reboots of Cartoons?

An Analysis

Root of The Trust Issues

I feel like ever since Teen Titans Go, people have lost faith in reboots of classic shows. Especially since their only basis is "this is a show for little kids", and they expect it to be immature and plotless.

You can't just announce that you're making a TV show reboot of a classic with a more simplistic art style without expecting backlash.

Just saying "I like the [insert media] reboot!" Everyone is gonna be on your back and say that it's a bad lifeless reboot. But I believe that some are actually good. They have kept up similar themes and still progress with the modern world.

The Exception

If we're really getting into this topic, may I say that Voltron: Legendary Defender is a reboot that people loved to pieces. Even with its awful ending, people still loved it. Yet no one asked for it.

No one looked at the old Voltron and said "I wish there was a reboot".

Was the show good? YES!

It performed amazing during its run. It had a strong fan following to it as well.

Was it bar for bar, character for character accurate? NO!

Keith was supposed to end up with Allura, going so far as to marry her. Pidge was actually a clumsy dwarf boy that had a crush on Allura. Hunk was some buff white guy rather than a chubby Samoan dude.

Yet, did people complain? ALSO NO. And the only reason why, was the art style.

Simplistic Art Style

Then we get to things like the My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake Reboot. These are objectively good reboots as a stand alone, without a nostalgia bias.

They have representation, life lessons, friendship themes, basically everything that the original was. But the fact it's a 'reboot' is what throws people into hysteria.

Strawberry Shortcake was always a spunky girl who would always problem solve in a kind and caring way. Always true to her friends, loved making friends.

She is such a stereotypical good girl that the show even pokes fun at it. Making jokes that she's too trustworthy and friendly. And they keep this trend in the reboot. Yet people didn't watch it.

And you want to know why?

"it looks lifeless" "it lost its spark" "the designs are ugly"

Why This Argument Sucks

This isn't a real argument. Exhibit A would be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT).

We can agree that TMNT has kept a consistent art style. Mostly consisting of the big eyes, similar body shapes, wide mouths... The only two thing differentiating them being the eye covers and weapons.

Now in the reboot, there are several differences.

Raphael - Stocky, beefy, wider, taller, snaggle tooth

Leonardo - skinner waist, broad shoulders, long head, slightly muscular arms, eye markings

Donatello - basically the same as Leo but he has skinner arms, and goggles

Michaelangelo - rounder, shorter, bigger eyes, more colors

Unlike the other adaptations, where they look like the same copy and paste character with a slight hue shift, they actually look different. But before it came out, there was a lot of backlash of the characters looking ugly.

That soon changed when clips started circling around that people gave it a shot. And guess what. They liked it! They called the characters charming and unique, and even got a huge fandom from shares on Tiktok and advertisements from the program airing the show.

Sure, people did complain about the simplicity. But they eventually came to enjoy it. So why can't people keep the same energy for other reboots?

Nostalgia

The biggest factor of all is nostalgia. I loved Strawberry Shortcake: Berry Bitty Adventures. And I dabbled in watching the 2003 version because I loved it when I was a kid. Yet, I still love the reboot.

Berry in the Big City isn't a bad reboot, people just don't want to give it a chance because of the nostalgia factor. They grew up with the 2003-2009 version and expect no changes, and when things did change they threw a fit.

I don't know how to tell you this, but this show was made for KIDS. Not teenagers looking for a fun watch, not adults looking for a taste of classic TV, but children.

Sure, there are some teens and adults who love this show because they might be a babysitter or an older sibling. Or maybe just someone who heard it was good and wanted to give it a watch.

But if your only reason for disliking a show is that "it's not my [insert character]" is showing that you're just scared of change. If I'm really being honest, BITBC shows more personality in their characters.

Back in Berry Bitty Adventures, they all felt like the same girl just with a different goal. Here, Strawberry is more hyperactive and passionate, Blueberry is going with the flow and airhead-ish, Orange is a competitive athlete, Lemon is an emotionally closed off inventor, Lime is a nerdy fashionista.

And they all look different.

I have confused Raspberry Torte and Strawberry in 2009 more times than I can count. Even characters like Cherry Jam and Blueberry who have a different color scheme, look similar when desaturated.

And if you feel hurt by the fact that I'm saying cons about a series you loved as a kid, then you're part of the problem.

I don't expect you to say that "oh, yeah, I can see that." but instead, admit that not everything you grew up with was perfect.

And if Strawberry Shortcake isn't enough proof that people glorify the original too much, may I remind you people continuously hate the Monster High reboot.

The original had racial stereotypes, outdated jokes, sexist characters, toxic relationships (that for some reason stayed together), misrepresentation of disorders, and way more.

The reboot actually tries to be sensitive to who might be watching their show. They made Asian coded characters not yellow, they properly represent disabilities, they don't make Abbey's foreign accent a joke, they have body diversity. And g1 is apparently still superior.

Another reminder is that when g1 tried to make progress with their first gay character, they back tracked it and made it subtext. There will always be a problem with g1 Monster High, the only people who ignore it are people who are scared of change.

Conclusion

Are you supposed to watch all reboots from now and forever into eternity. No. This is just a thing I noticed when goons glaze on a cartoon that they (probably) didn't even watch getting a reboot.

There are bad reboots out there, (I'm looking at you Velma..), but I feel like if you just watched a couple episodes you'd find them more enjoyable. The original doesn't disappear when you watch a reboot. In fact, most of the examples I've mentioned are free on YouTube.

#strawberry shortcake 2021 #strawberry shortcake #berry in the big city #berry bitty adventures #voltron #voltron: legendary defender #vld #keith kogane #pidge holt #katie holt #pidge gunderson #lemon meringue #orange blossom #blueberry muffin #lime chiffon #cherry jam #raspberry torte #raspberry tart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rotmnt #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #monster high #monster high 2022 #reboots #cartoons #long reads

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

wrote some notes on questions I had while reading! You’ve mentioned Juleka gouging marks into a table with her “claws” does she actually have retractable claws of some sort or are her nails naturally more robust and sharper after becoming Panthera? 

does Juleka have cats eyes at times? You speak of Pantheras eyes thinning as a cats would in bright light or when scared but you’ve also said it was Juleka who’s eyes thinned… 

I suppose this leads onto me (likely again, sorry!) asking about the miraculous side effects on the animal side of things opposed to the magical power stuff 

Though, just to quickly bring up Alix on the magical power side of things, obviously Fluffs power is time travel, is Alix already affected by the miraculous even though she hasn’t used it yet because of time is wobbly or do you just throw in her saying “I’m good with time stuff” - or something along those lines - for fun? 

Augh the nightmare akuma one was so fire, but I kind of forgot that Juleka almost told her she was Panthera… I still absolutely need to see the reveal between them fr 

I fucking love the dichotomy of Juleka not wanting to hurt people but help but the only way for her to help them when they are akumatised is to beat the shit out of them. It’s. Like I genuinely think a real person would worry about that shit and I’m obsessed with it

I realise I have been sending you many an ask… the notes / reactions on the newest chapters are in progress as I’ve finally caught up but I’ll calm down on the raving about PN if it’s irritating! 

PLS KEEP SENDING ME ASKS LIKE THESE ARE MY LIFE AND SOUL and what keep me wanting to write!!! i adore seeing you in my inbox!

now, lemme answer your questions!

Unfortunately, She doesn't have retractable claws! Juleka's mind sorts to a 'Panthera' view/instinct where her narration is sorta twisted into thinking she's more catlike or beastlike than she really is. Which is why her narration says claws instead of nails. They have gotten longer and sharper though.

In fact, a lot of these sorta things when Juleka's narration describes her own body very inhuman is solely her slightly fucked POV. Like- The same sorta goes for Juleka's eyes. They aren't slits as Juleka- But do imagine her pupils are shrinking and dilating like a cat, regardless.

So like, not all of it is genuinely magic affecting her body, but it's not entirely null and void there too.

Alix is very timey wimey as a person even without using the rabbit. It's because of three things;

she time traveled before as timebreaker so even though she wasn't conscious as timebreaker that sorta experience still sticks to her instincts,

she carries the rabbit watch everywhere so the sorta magic cooties are stuck on her even without opening it,

and three- she's just built like that.

(secret four: those lines are also for fun)

AUGHHH the sandboy chapter was lots of fun, juleka really wanted to tell rose in that moment! but it was already a lot that night. she still thinks about it though. a lot. and rose is very curious about what juleka was gonna say.

juleka's confliction between her desires and the way she's forced to act is a very important part of the story to me. i hope i nail it well. it's hard to write a character doing things they don't want to do and having them commit to it anyhow with lasting consequences, but its also fun to write their guilt and concerns over it as they have to continue every day.

thanks for the ask!!!

#sneak a cat #panthera noire au

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: Wake Me Most Wickedly by Felicia Grossman

4/5. 4/9/2024.

Vibes: older woman/younger man, Snow White retelling, Jewish historical romance

Heat Index: 6.5/10.

Sol Weiss is looking to live up to the example (and expectations) set by the half-brother who raised him--and that means marrying the right woman. The right woman is NOT Hannah, with a shady past and a shadier lineage. But after she rescues Sol from an attack, he can't get her out of his head. And the more she tries to stay away, the more he wants her...

If you're looking for something light and fun--though not at all silly--with a good dose of interclass conflict and a rough around the edges heroine, this is for you. It's not often that we see heroines who are a) older than their heroes, which Hannah is and b) the more "dangerous" one (in theory) in the couple. At the same time--though Sol is funny and sweet, he's not a milquetoast. Seriously, how could he be with Hannah if he was?

It's like... a feel-good book, but not without stakes. Which is what I think Felicia Grossman is starting to specialize in. With, of course, a strong focus on the 19th century Jewish community in England, which--how often do you see that in romance, despite it being a huge part of the era.

Quick Takes:

--You often do see heroines who have a bit of an edge, but it's less often that you see them actually do things that make them seem more worldly and, dare I say, competent than the hero. Hannah is introduced here as someone who has a lot of responsibilities, doesn't shy away from her sexuality (but also, you get the sense, has never really had someone truly care about her needs), and isn't above committing crimes.

And then... she saves Sol. It's not that Sol isn't competent--more that he doesn't have as much life experience as Hannah. Which tracks, as he's literally younger than her and also comes from a more sheltered background. But I wouldn't say he's spoiled. He's willing to learn. He's eager to learn, really (in every way... yay, a hero who's less experienced in bed than the heroine!).

Sol is a good dude, but as I said before, he's not a boring dude. He wants to do the right thing, but Hannah quickly becomes his priority. Also, he does crochet at one point, and I did find that delightful.

--To be clear, I am not Jewish, and my understanding of Jewish customs and history is superficial at best. But it's clear that Grossman has done her research regarding the era, and I really appreciate that her characters' identities are woven in to the fabric of their beings. Like, there isn't a Very Special Episode Where We're Reminded That The Characters Are Jewish (which I've seen happen when writers who aren't Jewish write characters that are). It's just always there.

--One thing I really liked as Sol and Hannah's relationship progressed was the way that he clearly started to take care of her. I love an independent heroine who takes care of people (Hannah does not have a kid, phew, but she does have a sister she's trying to set up for a better life) and resists the hero trying to care for her. That's done really well here. Sol is like, mildly outraged that this woman doesn't have people looking out for her, and it's very sweet.

--This is a Snow White retelling! There are nods to elements like the Seven Dwarves. I don't know that I would call this a particularly heavy retelling, and I'm not sure that the retelling element was super necessary? But it was cute.

The Sex:

There are several sex scenes in this one, all of which are good, and they usually revolve around Hannah's pleasure. Sol is not super experienced, but he's READY to jump in, and it's really great. In fact, their entire sexual relationship (which begins before the halfway mark, thank God) begins with him basically going "let me help you RELAX" which. Gold. He's a GOOD boy.

For the fans of a face-sitting scene.... There is a great one in this book wherein she is shocked! Shocked I say! And he basically goes "hold on to the bed frame I'm working here".

Anyway, this is a super fun, fluffy-but-not-TOO-fluffy read that gives you something beyond the typical hero/heroine dynamic (which I still love) along with a solid dose of heat. It's for the girlies (and not-girlies) who just want to go home after a long day's work and have our shoulders massaged, and also perhaps other things too. We love to see it.

Thanks to NetGalley and Forever for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

Preorder here:

Amazon

B&N

Bookshop.org

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs #arc reviews #netgalley #book reviews #books

[queenlucythevaliant]

Have I pitched my Acts sitcom to you guys yet? I don’t think so.

Basically, I want a sitcom made based on the book of Acts with a combination of Christian and secular writers and creatives. Preferably a few of the Christians will have served as committee members in some capacity in their local churches. The goal, essentially, is to riff on the human messiness and frequent absurdity of the early church with good humor and some irreverence, but never with God or the Gospel as the butt of the joke.

Characters:

Peter is the young, energetic guy who suddenly has Administrative Responsibilities. He’s energized by his evangelism/discipleship work, but he’s always Tired and Unwell while trying to manage the leadership of the church.  

John is overly affectionate. He’s always hugging people he barely knows, giving people really enthusiastic compliments, that sort of thing.

Luke is quiet and nerdy, maybe even a little nebbish. When he speaks, it’s usually to ask people vaguely uncomfortable questions “for his book.” If you want to go mocumentary style with the show, Luke’s interviews can be the framing device.

Paul is generally a pretty chill guy, but he’s super gung-ho about suffering for the Gospel. People are a little weirded out his wannabe martyr energy.

John Mark is really, really annoying in some way. Like maybe he’s always playing his original music on the lyre and he’s really bad at it. Maybe he’s really flakey and irresponsible and sort of has Jean-Ralphio energy. Paul, in particular, finds him really annoying and always looks absolutely miserable when they’re in a scene together. When Barnabas eventually suggests bringing John Mark on a missionary journey, the “sharp disagreement” is just Paul going “oh hell no” and walking straight out of the room.

Lots of women and people of different races represented, particularly as church members. Lydia should be a major character, although I don’t quite know what her personality should be. Rhoda (the servant who slammed the door in Peter’s face) would be a fun inclusion too. Racial diversity should at least reflect the actual ancient Mediterranean, although I don’t think I’d be super picky about which specific characters are which races.

Ongoing plots:

The organizational nightmares of running a church is a running theme. Basically just crib from the funniest parts of church government and organization. Things are poorly run and disorganized and people have different opinions and everything somehow still gets done. This stuff can have Parks and Rec energy.

Lots of conflict of personality issues, but also an increasing closeness between the Apostles and members of the church  

Lots of missionaries getting run out of town in increasingly comedic ways. Like, I want Paul and Barnabas running out of Random Roman City #52 while getting pelted with eggs.

Lots of what I can only describe as late night theology. Like when you’re sleep deprived and discussing the deep questions of Scripture with your friends in the car, often arriving at weird conclusions. Lots of that kind of stuff. Also, in general, the characters talk about God the way Christians actually do-- casually, often humorously, sometimes irreverently, as an important part of life and not just a serious subject for Important Conversations

Paul’s Roman Citizenship is milked for all it’s worth. Yes, it gets him out of imprisonment and torture, but it also gets him out of like, minor municipal violations.

Episode plots:

Philip finds himself teleported to/from Ethiopia to convert the eunuch and, upon returning to Jerusalem, spends an episode getting startled by sudden movement (knocking things over, accidentally slapping people) because he thinks he’s gonna get teleported again. There’s a long scene where Philip tries to interrogate Peter and find out if teleportation is just like a standard Holy Spirit powerup or if it was a one-time deal. Peter’s just getting progressively more and more confused.

Saul’s conversion from Ananias’s perspective. He’s woken up in the middle of the night and told to go pick Saul the Murder up and take him home. He’s sleep-deprived and low-key freaking out and he hasn’t gone grocery shopping so he’s running around trying to find some food for Saul at 2am. Episode ends with Ananias collapsed sideways on his bed and Paul coming and pulling a blanket over him.

Extended physical comedy scene where they’re lowering Paul over the wall in the basket, but the ropes are uneven and he’s getting tossed from side to side and the guy at the bottom isn’t in place yet and they’re all trying really hard to be inconspicuous.

There’s a whole road episode where it’s just everyone cooped up on a ship or in the middle of the desert or something while they’re on their way to spread the gospel in a new city.  They all get on each others nerves. Somebody goes a little bit stir-crazy and loses it.

The show shouldn’t be ashamed that it’s about people spreading the Gospel, but I don’t want lots of scenes that try to evangelize the viewer. We’re not trying to proselytize, we’re trying to make light of the human messiness that is life in the church. Embrace anachronism (I’d love to see some modern church potlucks, for example), but also lots of nerdy historical and Biblical/theological jokes.

There’s such a dearth of genuinely funny Christian entertainment, particularly that which (a) is entertaining to seculars as well and (b) actually embraces the Bible and not just some form of cultural Christianity. And Acts is right there! It’s hilarious! Top tier sitcom material! Somebody fund me.

@citrussunrises other friends, anything to add?

#make it happen #i could go on #for pages and pages #genuinely wish i were funnier i would totally crank out a treatment if i had the requisite skills #Jesus laughed #pontifications and creations #please feel free to add your own ideas! #Bible humans