#twennywan

!!!!

OHO, HECK YES! I uhm, I did get a little carried away and think it turned out a bit niche, but I had so much fun with it anyway lol! Thanks for the request!  

Madeline Walker’s Journal 

Harriet has been in ill spirits since her restless fits of sleepwalking begun but a fortnight ago, and naught I have done to rest her anxious heart has seemed to make any difference. I worry for her, and though our idle conversations as we tarry along the cliffs offer fleeting distraction, I oft catch her gaze turning out toward the horizon, as though she is searching for something. At these times, I find, etched upon her features, something caught between yearning and fear.  

If I’m to write with complete candor, and why shouldn’t I, for who but I shall ever read the words inked upon these pages, I must confess it disquiets my soul. I fear there is something dark at work, something which my own comprehension cannot yet make sense of. 

Despite how it offends my sensibilities, sending cold threads of unease deep into my very marrow, I find my thoughts returning more and more to that first night when Harriet, within the throes of sleep, did wander out upon the moors. I found her in our favorite seat, where afternoons we passed trading fanciful exchanges; I, with dreamy sighing as I expectantly look toward nuptials with my beloved Jack—from whom I still have not received word—and Harriet, with delighted laughter as she recounted the very many suitors that await her back home. 

But that night, shadows cast upon the silvery moon, there was naught but dread within my chest as I looked down upon her. The gossamer threads of her laughter were nowhere to be found, just her ever-so-reclined posture on our seat upon the pier. It set something so unsettled within me when, at any other time, the sight of her there would have been such a comfort. 

It was then, though brackish, that the light broke through the cloud and revealed what seemed a form—man or beast, I could not be sure—hunched about Harriet’s delicate figure. 

The cry that escaped me could not have been much louder than the distant trill of birdsong, but the form started, turned a glance upward, as though it had heard. I saw, for but a moment, illuminated by the cool, unfeeling touch of moonlight, the perverted vision of a demon, masquerading as a man. His pallor was unnatural, like that of a corpse fished from the quietly lapping waters, his eyes a burning crimson where they seemed to train on me from so very far away. The white of his cloak billowed about Harriet’s vulnerable form, her half-lidded gaze staring up at him, as though in an enchanted rapture. It was this that woke me from my petrified state, the ever-pressing sense of danger suddenly pervasive. 

Just as my lips parted to cry for help, a dark cloud fell over the moon once more, obscuring the grounds in shadow. I could no longer see my dear, sweet Harriet; I could no longer be sure the creature hadn’t set upon her. 

I thought naught of my own safety as my feet carried me toward the pier, stumbling in my haste. But as I neared, a slash of silver lighting my path, I realized that Harriet waited upon our seat in solitude. 

My thoughts were a torrent of confusion, but I gently roused my friend from sleep once I had reached her. She awoke in disorientation, brow knitting while she drew her dressing gown more tightly about her throat, as though she’d caught a chill. Even so, she responded in good humor when I asked after her; she said that her mind had been caught within the most peculiar dream, but elaborated no further.       

I suspect it was a combination of the hour, the twisting shadows upon the pier, and my concern for my friend that painted such a nightmarish vision as I thought I saw. Nevertheless, I am seized with fits of trembling when I consider that perhaps it was not my own ill temper that caused the specter to appear. I cannot bear to think that he might be more than the product of a frightened imagination. I cannot bear to think that he might return, that—no, it is too horrible a thought. I mustn’t commit it to paper. 

And yet. 

hehehehehe I love these two so much (thanks to you!). thank you for the ask!!! :)

16) Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed? Raiden is more seductive. he gets more confident when he's on the tipsy side and can sweep Sindel off her feet with his slurred pickup lines and drunken smiles. Sindel is louder because Raiden knows exactly what he's doing at every given second. it drives her wild in the best way

21) Who cuts the others hair? Sindel's hair hasn't been cut in eons, but Raiden does help her brush it quite often! however, Sindel does help trim Raiden's hair every once in a while. she knows what she's doing, and Raiden trusts her in full. plus Sindel has an excuse to run her fingers through it :)

They actually do that quite a bit in the movie where a melody from a character's song or verse will show up in a different song, whether it be just as a call back or to sort of reconntextualize what the character was saying/feeling.

YES.

I'd love a gag where they're hitting it off until Spectra talks about how fun it is to target children, and we cut to Colin in a confessional saying "Even I think that's fucked up."