#drawing her gave me so much nostalgia

[eegnm]

so hard to choose one but here’s my OC, Akshara

A little about her- she’s 16, she loves languages and wants to be an English teacher, loves the colors coral and aqua, likes fish (like looking at them and learning about them, not eating them), loves to wear cute earrings

Showing off her jellyfish earrings

[mad-raptorzzz]

[Image Description: The SixFanarts challenge. The first is Whiteout from WOF, a Night/IceWing hybrid who is a dark grey-blue with a lighter belly. She has ice blue freckles throughout and caribous like horns. The second panel is Cera the triceratops from The Land Before Time. She is a peach color and is making a snarky face. The third panel is the villain The Nowhere King from Centaurworld. The design is a deer skull with glowing neon green eyes sitting in a bunch of dark goo. The fourth panel shows Randall from Monsters Inc. He is clinging to the box and grimacing in disgust. The fifth panel has Kion from the Lion Guard. He has yellow fur and a red mullet-esque mane. His left eye is scared and pale blue, indicating vision loss. The sixth and final panel contains Frostpaw from Warrior cats. She is a pale grey cat with a tipped left ear and human-made scar across her neck. Her eyes are widened in horror./End]

Wooooof, I finally finished this. Thanks to @bi-pan-whiteout for suggesting Whiteout!! I just chose the other 5. It was fun to draw non-dragons for a hot second. But man oh man do I need to practice lion king characters and cats

Whiteout: I tried a more traditional coloring scheme for her. I think I might still like piebald Whiteout. But I have like 15 designs for her in my brain at all times. She's just got so much potential!! Love her obviously.

Cera: Land Before Time is a big nostalgia trip for me. I gave Cera actual triceratops horns because it always bothered me she didn't have the eye horns. She also should have scars on her because my girl is ready to throw hands at all times.

The Nowhere King: Oh man Centaurworld was an absolute blast start to finish. This guy was my personal favorite part. His story is tragic, but they let him continue being evil. Such a wicked design too. Goop with a skull.

Randall: Randall is one of my favorite Disney/Pixar villains. Right up there with Scar and Ursulla and Hades. I just like that he's a conniving little guy. And his colors and design are just perfect.

Kion: So I know some Lion King fans really don't like the Lion Guard show. I don't mind it. The Lion King is my second favorite movie of all time, and Simba's Pride is my favorite direct to video Disney sequel. I enjoyed the show, even though I was waaaay older than the target audience. Especially the third season when they aged things up a bit. I imagine that Kion lost vision in his left eye after the injury. I also love his stupid little hairstyle and I doubled down.

Frostpaw: The horrors persist but so does she! She is one of my favorite characters in WC from the recent books. Such a cute little anxious lass. Trying her best. Interested to see how things go in Star.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5988

Jalsa, Mumbai July 10/July 11, 2024 Wed/Thu 3:51 am

🪔 ,

July 11 .. birthday greetings to Ef Rajesh Srivastava from Jamshedpur .. Ef Nikhil Saraswat .. and EF Mahesh B Solanki from Ratlam - MP .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

.. and the entire Ef family gives their wishes , with love ..

Preparations for the next KBC have begun and the time spent at its prep is motivational .. spent time with the crew and learning all the little changes that have been introduced .. cannot say much here .. it would be unethical .. but suffice to say that the earnestness with which it all begun , I hope there will be a rewarding experience ..

At one of the prep moments a young lay came as a mock contestant and showed me a moment when I had met here earlier .. the book Madhushala was in her hands and she pulled out a letter I had written to here long back .. nostalgia ..

and also gave me a glimpse of the words similar to the words and verses of Madhushala that had been inked on the last cover of the book ..

it is heartening to learn of the respect that Babuji is given even after many many years of his absence ..

and then there were many more moments ..

.. and so the day did end ..

we are a special species this is renowned fact and the specifics of our existence and make is what draws us to the religiosity of any situation ..

we are all made of elements that we can hold in our hands nd discover the World ..

But alas .. by the time that gets oppertional we shall be gone ..

However is is always good to share thoughts and words and deeds of others in our World .. for we never know which planet they have arrived from and what has been their experience .. now that they are with the strength of super powers ..

the World becomes more and more intelligent and worthy .. the problem however is not us , BUT OUR DAMNED COUNTENANCE ..

THE READING AND HEARING OF OUR SCrIPTUrES AND LEGENDS of the PAST, is the most fascinating history of mankind .. and to be in the reckoning of its changes and discoveries is equally fascinating ..

love and wishes for all present here ..

[bellewintersroe]

Charles Leclerc x SchumacherDaughter! Reader

Lila is the youngest of the 3 Schumacher siblings, at 22 shes catching the attention of the public eye. With the new found popularity through Drive to Survive, social media has dubbed her the next ‘it’ girl despite her constant desire for privacy. When her love interest becomes more or less the most sought after man in F1, how will she cope with being the internets fascination? Both Charles and Lila have dealt with immense amounts of loss and trauma, so their mutual understanding for one another fuels their so called ‘friendship’. Part 1 - Just a Disclaimer- this will include no chapters where Lila will be interacting with Michael Schumacher, I don’t know enough about his condition nor do I feel respectful or comfortable writing about that! Everything else is purely fictional and I hope you all do enjoy this fanfic I’m planning on putting together 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

The familiar scent of petrol and rubber filled my nostrils as I followed behind my brother, Mick through the Formula 1 grid. The smell sent a wave of nostalgia through me as I deeply inhaled, reliving some of my best childhood years with just that one smell. The sight of the red Ferrari uniforms gave me the sensation I’d time travelled back to when I was still toddling around, my earliest memories of F1 being of the team.

I almost felt like I was betraying Mercedes by being in Ferrari garages, but I’d purposefully asked my brother to take me around the Monegasque track where we used to spend so much time playing in the garages, and on the sidelines as children. “Oh, Mick, do you remember when we used to draw all over that floor with chalk.” I pointed out to the floor below as my elder brother laughed, strutting past the exact same patch of floor we used to graffiti. “We’d always get in so much trouble!” He responded as I smiled, following after him, too caught up with all the different sights and sounds to realise he’d ventured off a little further and faster for my legs to catch up. “Mick!” I exclaimed, as I did, my body crashed into somebody else’s as I gasped out loud. “Oh! Only me, love!” I was relieved to see it was George Russell, hands on both my shoulders as he guided me to the side, steadying me from my almost fall. “Oh, sorry.” I laughed as he patted me on the upper back. “Don’t be running across here when there’s actual cars moving.” “I’ll try my best.” I breathlessly spoke, face heating intensely, before catching up with Mick who was already chatting away to somebody I couldn’t quite see, hidden behind my taller sibling. “Mick, I almost fell over, I’m embarrassed.” As my brother stepped to the side he revealed a dark haired, Ferrari man. Charles Leclerc. I had to do a double take, he was incredibly beautiful.

“This is Lila.” Mick gestured, as though he’d just been talking about me. I was momentarily lost for both breath and words. My eyes widened, eyeing up both Charles and my brother nervously. “Hello, Lila.” He spoke first as I offered him an uncontrollable smile, seeing him move forwards to welcome me in a hug. “Hi!” I borderline squeaked, inhaling his expensive smelling cologne. He’d kissed one of my cheeks in a greeting as I went to pull back from pure nerves but he went in for the other cheek, of course, we were European.

“Sorry..” I giggled, my hands on his shoulders as he laughed back to me, shaking his head in amusement as I felt momentarily lost in his gaze. Wow. He truly lived up to his reputation. He was breathtakingly beautiful, so cute. “It’s nice to meet you, Charles.” I was quick to speak, both our eyes snapping away at the same time as I fiddled with my bracelets nervously. I never was good at meeting people, no matter how many of them I’d meet on a common occurrence. Being around the public eye wasn’t necessarily my thing, it scared me too much, the attention of it all- I tended to shy away.

“Nice to meet you too, are you English?” His brows furrowed, hands tightening around his water bottle, his question meaning I could hold my gaze on him once more. “English? No, I went to boarding school there for a while, that’s with the accent, but I am German.” Mick let out a roar of laughter at Charles comment. “English? With a Germany brother?!” He slapped Charles’ arm as I couldn’t help but giggle to myself. Poor Charles, he seemed a little nervous.

“I know… stupid question.” He sheepishly spoke as my brother began speaking again, “I was just showing her around the grid and garages- we spent a lot of time here as kids.” Whilst he did, I dared to glance up at Charles again, I was stunned to see him do the same as we both looked away with a smirk. Oh wow…

“Oh yeah, of course, I bet it is strange being back here?” Charles directed the conversation back to me as I felt my cheeks warm further under his attention.

“It is… oddly it’s not changed that much?” I frowned towards Mick who nodded along. “It’s nice though, I have such a soft spot for Ferrari. We used to play in this garage so much.” I gestured, shrugging my shoulders awkwardly.

“Uhhh, a soft spot?” Charles looked back to me, a little confused as he practically giggled. “You know, like a favourite?” Mick spoke. “Ohhh, yes! Good!” Charles grinned as I too, giggled to myself, digging my white converse into the floor below.

“I hope not, what happened to Mercedes?!” Mick then asked as I playfully rolled my eyes. “Mercedes will always be my number 1, sorry Charles.” I teased. “Nooo.” He played along as I chewed down on my bottom lip, pursing my lips, anything to stop grinning like an utter fool. I couldn’t help it, Charles Leclerc was making me fluster like I was a teenager again!

“Good luck today, anyway, and to Carlos, it’ll be nice racing at home, no?” As Mick struck up a conversation with Charles my attention wandered to around the room, everything bustling, preparing for the practice and qualifying races that would be taking place later today. I hope we hadn’t come at a bad time, there was still so many people to see, yet everybody seemed so busy.

“Ah, thank you, hopefully better than last year.” Ah, of course, Ferrari’s infamous strategy failures. They’d been making a lot this season, I couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Charles and Sainz. “I’m sure it will be.” Mick slapped his shoulder again. “We better head to find Jean.” My brother turned to me as I nodded.

“Good luck.” I turned back to Charles whose lips tugged up into a wider smile. “Thank you, it was nice to meet you.” He nodded, accent thick as I held eye contact, purposefully. As nerve wracking as I found it, I couldn’t look away, this time as he looked back I felt my stomach involuntary fill with butterflies. For the rest of the day it kept knotting whenever I thought about Charles. I’d found myself purposefully looking out for him, on the grid, when he was racing, in the garages- I was intrigued by the Ferrari racer, as was the rest of the world…

[safficranger]

Fake Scenarios In My Head #32

Casey gave herself one last look in the mirror, feeling a mix of confidence and nerves as she adjusted her posture and smoothed the perfectly tailored suit. The jacket hugged her shoulders just right, and the crisp white shirt underneath made everything pop more than she’d expected. But the tie—well, that was another story. She had fussed with it endlessly, turning and adjusting it, but somehow it still hung a bit crooked. With a frustrated sigh, she was about to leave it as it was when she felt a gentle touch on her back and the familiar warmth of Alex beside her.

Her gaze lingered on Casey’s reflection for a long moment, and a small smile crept across her lips as she took in the sight of her usually laid-back girlfriend looking slightly—and very charmingly—out of her element.

“You really went all out tonight, didn’t you?” she teased. Her tone was playful, but there was an edge of warmth to it, a look in her eyes that told Casey she liked what she saw.

Casey gave a small, self-conscious smile. “I figured… why not mix it up a bit? Try something new. What do you think?” She met her gaze in the mirror, a hint of nerves in her expression.

“It looks good on you,” she murmured, her voice softer, a note of something deeper threading through her words. “Very… compelling.”

She stepped in close, her hand resting softly on her girlfriend’s shoulder before she moved between her and the mirror. She gently brushed Casey’s fingers away from the tie. “Let me,” Alex murmured, her eyes focused as she undid the knot Casey had tried to make, carefully straightening the fabric. Casey’s heart skipped a beat at the calm assurance of Alex’s hands, the way she adjusted the ends with such precise, practiced movements.

Casey could barely breathe as Alex finished the knot, concentrating in a way that made her cheeks flush. Once the tie was perfectly centered, Alex gave a small tug, then smoothed it down with her hand, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary before she looked up, a sweet smile on her lips.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Casey asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with curiosity and something more.

A hint of nostalgia softened Alex’s features, and she smiled, her fingers still absently tracing the tie’s edges. “I used to watch my mother fix my father’s tie every morning before he left for work,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping to her hands. “She would do this exact thing—adjust it, make sure it was perfect, then give him a little kiss before he went out the door.” She looked up, her eyes meeting Casey’s, a gentle warmth in her gaze. “It’s one of my favorite memories of them together. It always felt like… an unspoken promise.”

“I think I like this tie thing, then,” she murmured, her lips curving into a soft smile.

Alex’s eyes gleamed with something mischievous, her hand tugging gently on the tie, pulling Casey just a bit closer so that their faces were inches apart. “Oh, I think I like it too,” Alex replied, her voice low and teasing. Her gaze trailed down, taking in the way the tie framed Casey’s collar, the slight flush in her cheeks. She let her hand wander slowly down to the end of the tie, fingers curling around the fabric, giving it a playful tug.

Casey raised an eyebrow, catching the glint in Alex’s eyes. “Something on your mind, Counselor?”

“Plenty,” Alex said, her tone both sultry and amused. “And all of them involve this.” She gave the tie another light pull, drawing Casey so close she could feel the warmth of her breath.

Casey’s breath hitched as another shiver ran down her spine. She held Alex’s gaze, and it was clear just how much this new look affected her. “You know,” she murmured, “I think this tie might come in handy later on tonight.”

Alex’s laugh was warm as she gave the tie one last, lingering tug before she finally let it go, stepping back to admire the full effect. The playful glint in her eyes deepened as she flashed Casey a flirtatious smile, her expression a mix of admiration and desire. “And yes,” she replied, her voice laced with promise, “that tie is definitely going to come in handy later.”

[rtfics]

Seeing BJ2 the 3rd time.

LONG & FILLED WITH SPOILERS

SO much to think about, and my memory is shit.

I rapidly scribbled notes during the film. But when I got home and tried to read them:

So here's an overview. I'll post other details if I ever translate my notes.

First, the casting was perfection. I'd never seen Jenny Ortega, Justin Theroux, and Monica Bellucci before, so for me they were the characters.

It was interesting that the film opens with the Warner Brothers Studio lot in black & white. Why B&W? It sort of sets the tone.

Donna Summer singing lines from "MacArthur's Park" was a foreshadowing. This film was made by a guy who was a teen in the 70s, and it's for others his age (he's only 2 years older than me). BJ2 is packed with 70s nostalgia that only those who were alive then would get.

This sequel was also made for die-hard fans of the original Beetlejuice. Burton took special care to give us the Winter River we love, but updated it to show the story and its characters aren't stuck in the past. The covered bridge is there, the church, cemetery, Miss Shannon's, and fire station are there, and so is the Maitland's building, but it's a coffee shop now.

Seeing Lydia as shell-shocked and pill-popping threw me, but the plot gave it sense (I'll go into detail in a separate post).

Rory, OMFG, I've known Rory. Anyone who's had anything to do with the entertainment/media biz, even peripherally, knows Rory. His "enabler" bullshit was so spot-on; faking that he's going to get Lydia off her dependency on drugs while keeping her hooked by making it seem that he's doing it because she's begging him. Classic user methodology. You just know he's the one who got her on "coping" pills in the first place; all the better to manipulate her. I loathed him immediately.

I adore what they did with Delia. It completely fucking made sense, and followed what's happened in the modern NYC Arts scene. I love how she and Lydia now get along, I mean, shit, Lydia's in her 50s and Delia's in her 70s, they're both middle-aged women, and, bless their hearts, the screenwriters and Burton made them act like grown women.

Astrid seemed older than 16 to me, but hey, I'm not around teenagers these days. I appreciated that she wasn't a brat. Her resentment and having her back up were appropriate for her family situation; a beloved father whose body was never found (I think); a mom always working or promoting because of Rory, doped on pills and famous for being a ghost-seeing nutjob, who can't see Astrid's father. That's a lot to deal with.

The way they handled Charles was perfect, especially his claymation demise. His afterlife body was comically gross, and an ingenious way of including Charles in the film without having to recast another actor, except for his voice. Charles being in the Netherworld provides a great thread to Delia's later death. His headstone being the shape of a shark's fin was a humorously grim touch.

The Sylvia Young Theatre School Choir sang at Charles' funeral, and their voices were beautiful.

Arthur Conti was fantastic as Jeremy (70s teens remember his grandfather, Scottish actor Tom Conti). His American accent was flawless. He was the perfect balance of cute and mature, and his niceness made his being evil all the worse; while Astrid says the incantation you can see him slightly out of focus behind her, smiling in a chilling way. I love that there isn't the slightest hint that he's a multiple murderer, and of his own parents! When he's about to get his passport stamped he shows absolutely no remorse toward Astrid, which makes his damnation all the sweeter.

Beetlejuice . . . . What can I say? Michael Keaton created Beetlejuice as we know him, and he fit right back in character as easily as drawing breath. His body language, his weird way of walking, his expressions, everything is just as you'd expect Beej to be. But then we get to see more! I can't express how happy I was to see Beej's origin story, which turned the throw-away line about having a pretty good time during the Black Death into something more substantial. Seeing Keaton as human Beej was a delight.

An important detail was that, even though Beej says his heart had long since withered, he fell for Delores. He says he was "bewitched." Perhaps not love, but lust certainly. It's quite clear that Delores was much higher in social station than Beetlejuice, so he must have thought he'd won the lottery with her choosing him. My god, his ego had no problem with his drunken ass being hauled to bed by his new wife, and his enthusiasm was huge. I love that they gave him the gut in his human form (Keaton doesn't have one).

Richard was the nice guy I hoped he would be. But it was telling that, when he says goodbye to Lydia at the ladder in the mausoleum, they don't hug. They don't even shake hands. It shows the truth of Lydia's previous statement to Astrid that she and Richard's relationship had ended long before his death.

Wolf is every 70s crime drama/movie distilled. Hammy, over the top, constantly spouting his Catch Phrase.

Why are there so many shrunken head guys? And why did Beej hire people who can't talk to answer his phones? It's loony and fits the Netherworld random logic. They're Beej's Minions.

I've seen a lot of people on tumblr, as well as professional movie critics, say there were "too many villains" and that the plot was "too hard to follow."

For those who agree with this, I recommend you never attempt to read anything by Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories, or Agatha Christie. Because your brains would fry.

Look, there are two villains. Just two.

Delores poisoned Beetlejuice, he killed her with an axe in revenge, in the Afterlife she reassembles and hunts him down, killing others in her wake, which sets Wolf Jackson and the Ghoul Squad after her, until she's defeated with a sandworm.

Rory has been manipulating Lydia, keeping her doped, gas-lighting her, until under the Truth Serum injected by Beej he spills the beans and Lydia rejects him, until he's eaten at the same time as Delores by the sandworm.

As for "Delores and Rory weren't given enough story," what more do you want? How Delores joined a soul-sucking cult? How Rory became a user, seeking out vulnerable, grieving women to exploit? We learn as much as we need to. Anything more would have stuffed the film with unnecessary crap.

The only shit I didn't care for was the baby.

The whole Counseling scene was a big gross-out, and I'm sure Tim Burton intended it that way. The original couldn't have been more gross than it was or it would have earned an R Rating, keeping out everyone under the age of 18 (21 in some states; this was the 80s). But now, Burton could be a lot more graphic. I was stunned that he had Lydia go through the "pregnancy," but it obviously didn't hurt her. For me Babyjuice has no point. It doesn't advance the plot, and its reappearance only drives home the weirdness of the ending.

What the ever fuck was the ending??

Especially Astrid giving birth to the Beetlebaby. It would suggest Beetlejuice is its father, which means he and Astrid had sex. Which we can be pretty sure they didn't . . ? In the counseling scene Beej refers to the baby as his "inner child." So its not his literal child? Even so, why would Astrid give birth to it the same way her mother did?

I've read all the theories about the ending, and at this point one's as good as the other. Perhaps that's the point: To keep us all guessing. Because I'm sure, all along, there's been a plan for Beetlejuice 3, IF this movie was a hit. If it wasn't, if it bombed (since 2010 all of Burton's films have bombed), the ending would lead to speculation forever, to people writing fucking dissertations about its symbology and metaphors, etc.

But if it was a hit, which it is, the seeds are there for a third and final film. But so fucking murky no one can guess what it'll be like.

The only part of the ending I liked was Beej shaking awake and saying, as he glances at Lydia, "I just had the weirdest dream." And Lydia looking over. Not terrified. Not screaming or leaping out of bed. Not seeing the indentation in the pillow and yelling in protest. Just staring.

Do I want a third film?

I love Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. I love it more every time I watch it. I accept everything in it as canon, even the baby, resentfully.

But Burton might fuck up the last one. He might do things I never wanted to be canon. When a sequel is made of a hit film, the creators sometimes become self-conscious. BJ2 wasn't, because it'd been 36 years since the original. They had no idea whether this version would fly. Since it has, massively, I'm afraid the screenwriters and Burton may become too aware of the audience and try to cater to it. OR they'll go the opposite direction and try to come up with a plot they think fans would never imagine.

So I'm pretty much stuck in the same place I was before I saw Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Wary, skeptical, and cynical.

[archivequinn]

Closure — Eddie Munson.

warnings: angst, depression, grief, mention of the death of a family member (his mother), nightmares, pain, sad themes, broken heart, smoking, illness, mention of his father's terror at home, grave, longing and tiredness, crying. (Please let me know if I forgot something)

Eddie adjusts leather jacket, takes a drag on cigarette, exhales slowly. The house stands like a skeletal remains of memories past, its once-white walls now faded to a dull grey from years of neglect. The windows are boarded up, the shutters hanging crookedly like broken wings. A thick layer of dust coats every surface, making it hard to distinguish between old furniture and mere shadows.

A sheet drapes over the worn-out couches and chairs like a shroud, as if trying to smother the last remnants of life within those walls. Cobwebs cling to chandeliers and lampshades like macabre decorations. In the corners, shadows writhe and twist like restless spirits trapped between worlds.

The air inside is heavy with stagnation and decay - stale air that's been locked away for decades, now reeking of rot and mildew. The floorboards creak underfoot with each tentative step, their groans echoing through the empty halls like ghostly whispers.

''It's a haunting sight, really…'' takes another drag. ''A testament to love lost, dreams faded, and lives that once echoed through these rooms but now lie silent as the grave."

He pauses, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. He pushes the creaking door of the house and goes in. "Oh man… looks around the room with a mix of nostalgia and pain This place… it's like stepping back into my childhood hell. The memories come flooding back, but they're all bittersweet.

As I walk through the front door, I'm hit with the same stale air that's been trapped inside for years. It smells like decay and forgotten dreams. The once-vibrant colors on the walls have faded to dull hues, just like my mom's smile after she passed away.

I wander into the living room, where we used to spend hours together as a family. My eyes land on the old piano Mom taught me how to play on. It looks dusty and worn out now, just like our relationship with Dad did in those final years. I can almost hear Mom's gentle voice guiding my fingers as I played, but it's drowned out by the echoes of Dad's yelling and belittling.

I move into the kitchen, where we used to have family dinners that always ended in arguments. The same old table is still there, covered in a thick layer of dust. I remember how Dad would sit at the head of the table, his eyes cold and unforgiving, while Mom tried to keep us all together with her warmth and love.

Upstairs, our bedrooms are just as they were when I left this place behind. My childhood bed looks like it hasn't been slept in since then - unmade and dusty. It's hard to believe so much time has passed since those sleepless nights filled with fear and anxiety because of Dad's nightmares.

As I walk through these rooms again after all these years, I'm hit with a mix of emotions - sadness, anger, and nostalgia. It's like reliving the same pain all over again. But maybe this time, I can face it head-on and find some closure."

He pauses, eyes widening in surprise "Whoa… he gets down on his hands and knees to grab the box What's this doing here? I haven't seen this thing since… rummages through the contents of the box.

It's a bunch of old stuff from when I was a kid. There are some drawings I made, some notes from school, and… pulls out a small guitar pick with my name engraved on it. Oh man, Mom gave me this. She said it would bring me good luck with music.

And there's also a letter addressed to me. It's from Mom. He unfolds the letter and begins to read.

''Dear Eddie,

I know things have been tough lately with your dad being so mean all the time. But please remember that you're loved no matter what. You're an amazing kid with a heart full of music and kindness. Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you're not good enough.

I'm so proud of the person you're becoming, even if it's hard to see right now. Keep playing your guitar and singing from your heart. You have a gift that can bring joy to others.

With all my love, Mom''

His hands tremble, feeling a lump form in his throat "Man… clears his throat I had forgotten about this letter. It's like she knew exactly what I needed to hear back then.

As I sit here surrounded by these old memories, I feel a mix of emotions - sadness because things didn't work out between Mom and me before she passed away, but also gratitude for the time we had together and the lessons she taught me.

This box is like a time capsule from my childhood, reminding me of the good times and the struggles I faced. It's a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is always hope and love to be found." smokes his cigarette in silence for a moment before speaking again.

He finds a photo in the box. This photo is like a punch to the gut. I remember this day so clearly. Mom was already sick by then, but she still had that spark in her eyes when we took this picture.

She's sitting on the hospital bed, and I'm hugging her tightly around the waist. Her arms are wrapped around me too, holding me close like she never wanted to let go. We're both smiling for the camera, trying to be brave even though we knew things weren't good.

Mom looks tired and weak in this photo - her skin is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep or medication or whatever it was they were giving her at the time. But despite all that, she's still got that momma bear strength in her arms, holding me close like she's trying to protect me from the world.

I remember how scared I was that day. I didn't understand what was happening to her, and I knew it wasn't good. But Mom always tried to reassure me, telling me everything would be okay even when it didn't feel like it would be.

This photo is a reminder of the last time we were together before… pauses Before she left us. It's hard to believe so much time has passed since then.

Looking at this photo now, all these years later… sighs It feels like a punch in the gut all over again. The pain and sadness come flooding back, but also the memories of our time together as a family are more vivid than ever.

I get up from the bed and make my way downstairs, my heart pounding in my chest. The stairs creak beneath my feet as I descend into the darkness of our old living room.

When I reach the piano, I hesitate for a moment before lifting the dusty lid. The keys are yellowed and worn out, but they still have that familiar feel to them. plays a few tentative notes

The sound is rough and rusty at first, but as I play on, it starts to come alive again. It's like no time has passed at all - like Mom is sitting right there beside me, her fingers dancing over the keys in perfect harmony.

I play some of our old songs together - Chopin's Nocturne and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. They're still as beautiful and haunting as I remember them to be. closes his eyes, letting the music wash over him

As I play, all the emotions come flooding back - the joy we shared when Mom was well, the fear and anxiety during her illness, and finally, that devastating loss when she passed away without ever coming home.

But amidst all that pain… opens his eyes There's also this sense of peace. Like Mom is here with me now through this music we created together. It feels like a way for her to stay close even though she's no longer physically here.

So yeah… smiles softly Playing my childhood piano again after all these years… it's like a homecoming, man. It's like I'm finally coming full circle and finding closure."

written with inspiration and assistance from ai

[rizatouchesthewalls]

Retracing the Footsteps of Those Who Got Lost in The Snow

so desperate for content they got me writing my own material

pjsekai card ass title 💀

stream arctic monkeys

cw: hurt/comfort, gn reader, lots of cuddling damn, implied family issues so true, so self indulgent that it’s insane

Deleting soon

New York always looks different painted in white—it sort of catches you off guard every time. Not in a bad way, but a more or less hopeful way. The world is still spinning and you’re still living. Somehow.

So after months of having little to no tension with your family mid-winter, you were sort of shocked at the sudden conflict that arose. You didn’t want to ruin an otherwise perfect winter—so you did what you always did whenever such things happened. Run into the always open arms of the Morales’.

“I’m sorry for bothering you all again,” You whispered. You were always on the quieter side but whenever fights went down you lost your voice far easier than any other time.

“Nonsense! You know us, we’re always going to be like a second family to you.” Ms. Rio said. She never failed to make you guilty, not because ever purposely did so—but because her kindness was overwhelming. You felt as if you could never repay that.

“Yes, we always have a home for you here,” Mile’s dad gave a rare smile, not that he didn’t smile, it was just more heartfelt than the ones he showed when he was joking or laughing. All these observations you knew over the years because you depended on them often. It had been easier when you were younger though, mostly only coming over because you were playing with Miles. You balled one of your hands up into a fist trying to fight that overwhelming nostalgia.

“(Name)? Are you alright? I’m going to call Miles to come dow—,”

“N-no sir. —Go up there myself… th-a-ank you.” You fought back tears and made your way to Mile’s room, avoiding his parent’s concerned gaze.

A knock on a door. Just a simple and quiet knock that takes you back that far. You can almost see your younger self racing around with glee, being reckless. When you didn’t lie about being loud and extroverted just to please a crowd; it felt so long ago but it was just a few years ago.

“Dad I’m not hungry!”

“A-ah! It’s not—!”

The door swung open before you could finish and you were quickly wrapped into a tight hug. You couldn’t help melt into it. It was so warm and comfortable—you could feel your heart pounding. You did your best to cling on to the wall that was holding back the hot tears that were basically begging to be released, but you kept it in anyway.

“It’s pretty snowy outside, huh? I’m drawing a picture of it—actually.” He always did his best to distract you. And who were you not to give in?

You nodded, signifying that you wanted to see. You entered his room and immediately felt calmed down by the familiar atmosphere. The tranquility of it was dear to you, but so ways a utter messiness of it that made it feel like home. The windows had those same yellow curtains draped over them, but in between the cracks you could see a winter scene outside.

Hopping onto the bed, you wrapped yourself with the blankets. Miles sat next to you, bringing you into his arms. He kissed your forehead and flipped through the pages of the art book, reaching a page with a sketch of Mile’s home from the exterior view. “Alright, now give me those art skills.” He nudged you.

Alright, yeah, you did art every once in a while. You didn’t do it as much though. Not after…

“Dunno… em…phasize the frost in the window. They wouldn’t look that normal.”

“See! You’re good at art without even trying.” He started to add shading to the windows, making sure to leave snowflakes on top of them.

“Th…” You didn’t want to stutter but at this point it felt like at any moment you were going to overflow. So you stayed silent. It engulfed the situation uncomfortably. In between those non-existent lines layers of trauma was stacked in your words. And it was separating you and Miles. You knew it was.

A tune interrupted the silence. It was so soft and quiet that if the two of you had been speaking neither would notice. You gradually made your way to the window and looked out down onto the street. There it was—a double decker bus decked out with Christmas decorations and playing to the tune of Jingle Bell Rock. You stared at it in awe with child-like wonder. Then the feeling of nostalgia hit you like a truck.

You remember begging your parents to take you on one of those busses, so short that you thought the top of those busses might as well be the empire skate building. That if you reached high enough you could touch the stars. Did you ever end up going on one?

You already know the tears are falling down your face. They are just as silent as the room was before. And you can feel the comfort of the Miles’ hands wiping them away, and just for that night, your fears and terrors were wiped away too.

And somehow someone found you in the middle of a blizzard.

[suekreandtheidiots]

Well well well, look who we got here! 👀✨Another wee flashback for #retrOCtober! I can't remember the last time I drew Holly… 2017, if I had to guess? Anyhoo, here she is. I drew her in that sweater several times, so it had to be that one! ❤️

Holly is part of my original gang from 2010. Technically, she's still in the universe, too, but I have moved on to other OCs, her story is long told. There are a few other reasons why I lost interest in her, but I won't go into that now. For a while, she was so much fun to have around and drawing her again gave me this warm and fuzzy feeling of nostalgia… anyone else feels like it's 2010/11, aka tumblr prime time? 😂

[her-power]

The End of All Things (Part Four: e.m. x fem reader)

TRIGGER WARNING & C/W: 18++++ MDNI!!! Sweet! Eddie, hurt/comfort, grief, talk of grief, fluff, heavy drug use, suicidal thoughts, talk of death/dying, lots of crying, lots of swearing, some smut, unprotected p+v, trauma

Part One: Denial Part Two: Anger Part Three: Bargaining

Summary: Relationships are tested, choices are made, words hurt, and you might end up kicking Eddie Munson's ass. Full plot summary is on part one of this series.

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: I also submitted an original sketch in this part. It's been years since I have drawn something so it's not great and I fucking forgot how hard it is to draw hands and draw a person lmao but I wanted to give you guys a little added bonus to this series.

A/N #2: This part was a bit rough for me to write, but also super healing in a way. I felt like I was looking into the eyes of all of my friends as I was writing this and just remembering things after so many years since losing my mom. Part Five will be released after the holidays, I need a bit of a break to be with my family and be prepared for the griefy feels. I love you all, thank you for giving me a platform to be creative and to heal. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eddie was pacing in the break room of the record store; inhaling deeply on his cigarette as he tried to gather his thoughts. The trip back home was uneventful, you had stayed at the Inn in Philadelphia for a night again. He had noticed a change in you after the cemetery. It was subtle changes; you would be unusually quiet, but then you would snap out of it and that big, beautiful smile he loved so much would appear. You were tired a lot; Eddie had noticed the bags under your eyes as the weeks went by. He knew you weren’t sleeping. Even when he would stay in the same bed as you, he knew you only pretended to be asleep. When you thought he was asleep, he would hear you rummage around in the kitchen, or go sit out on the porch, smoking a joint. 

Then it hit the two-month mark, and you were starting to terrify him. Summer was almost over, you had lost interest in things you loved to do, like painting, singing, reading. You would go to work, come home, stay awake, sleep, and then go to work again. 

Eddie would try to get you to talk to him, but you would shut down, blocking out anything and everything around you. 

He plops on the chair, his leg bobbing nervously, cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He stood up and started pacing again, he couldn’t sit. 

Eddie had called the realtor two weeks ago; she had a kind voice and gave him useful information and advice when it came to potentially buying a house. He was also curious why there weren’t any hits on the house, it had been on the market for a while and parts of it had been redone but no one was interested in buying it. She told him it was a mystery to her as well, there was nothing aesthetically wrong with the house, the foundation was perfect, the roof was brand new, but no one seemed to care for it. The owners had lowered their price five thousand dollars under the asking price, and there was still no jump. 

He had been saving money here and there for a couple years; he would call it his emergency fund. But when he had saw how you looked at your childhood home, how your eyes lit up with nostalgia and joy, he knew what he had to do. 

He was doing everything in his power to get enough money for the down payment on the house; he had mentioned the plan to your father. Eddie had thought he would think he was crazy, that neither one of you could afford to live in a house, let alone a mortgage. Instead, he asked Eddie how much he needed. Eddie didn’t want anything, he told him, just support. Your father then said something to him that he will never forget. 

“I have two loves in my life: my wife, and my daughter. Some people aren’t lucky enough to have that happen to them. Some dad’s leave, some do stupid shit and some die. I love my daughter with all my heart, but I don’t want her to feel stuck here. I don’t want her to worry about me or worry about what my future holds. I don’t want her to stop her life because her mother died. I’m gonna be okay. I’m going through it, and I’m always going to, but I’m okay. I’m practically an old man, I lived my life, and it was beautiful. It’s still beautiful, but I’m not gonna fully rest until I know that my daughter will be okay. And if she stays here, she won’t be.” He swallows, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses. “Now, I’m asking you how much you need not as a charity. But as a man, looking at a kid I watched grow up to become a man and fall in love with my daughter, who has been by her side through all of this. Wiped her tears, fed her, laugh with her. My daughter loved that house, and the fact that you didn’t even hesitate to call the realtor speaks volumes just what kind of man you are. You want to see her happy, and you are a big part of her happiness. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to love my daughter. I know her mother would agree. So, you’re gonna tell me a number, and I’m gonna do my best to give it to you. Don’t fight me on this.” 

Eddie had almost sobbed right there; it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him. He told him a number, and your father said to give him two weeks. Part of him still didn’t want to take it, but he knew if he didn’t, your father would give the whole thing to the realtor. 

He had lit up another cigarette and blew his bangs out of his face. He had called you a few hours ago; you had the day off and planned on taking a nap. Eddie had told you he had found this certain type of acrylic paint you had needed and asked if he wanted to pick it up for you. You had thanked him but said no, and the rest of the phone call was uncomfortable silence. 

“Munson!” Sully’s booming voice comes echoing into the break room. 

Eddie sighs. “What?” 

Sully peeks his head in, his large frame would intimidate most people, especially since he had an enormous throat tattoo, but Sully was a big teddy bear. He was a businessman second, and a father to two beautiful little girls first. “You good, kid?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He inhales on his cigarette and puts it out in the ashtray.

“Any word from her?” Sully was asking about you, and Eddie had told him he spoke to you a while ago. “How’s the money saving going?” 

Eddie had told Sully about his plans, and he was more than onboard with it. He said he was close to the owner of the record store on Newbury St in Boston, that he had put in a good word for him, and the owner was more than happy to welcome him into the store when he was ready. The record store in Boston was two floors, both floors had rows of records, and the bottom floor had a little sound stage where locals would perform for a monthly open mic night. 

Eddie had gone back on the floor with a tote of jazz vinyls, he sat in the aisle and organized the records by artist. Robin had come to visit, had sat on the floor with him, passing him each artist he asked for. 

“I’m worried about her.” Robin says suddenly, looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie glances at her and goes back to moving around the vinyls, swallowing hard. 

“Me too.” Eddie says softly. 

“Has she said anything? When I saw her at the Hideout last week, she looked like a walking zombie for Pete’s sake.” Robin looks up at him, he shook his head, staring at his hands, the skull ring on his middle finger. He fingers it gently. “Are you alright, man?” 

“Not really.” He laughs tiredly and looks at her. “She won’t talk to me about how she’s feeling. She’ll talk to me about everything else but that.” 

“What happened at the cemetery?” She asked gently. 

Eddie shakes his head, running his hands over his face. “A breaking point, I think.” 

“Jesus.” She mutters. “What do we do? Intervention? Get a priest? I don’t know how this shit works; I’ve never had someone close to me die before. Is there a rule book? Do we just not say anything and let her be stubborn and just slowly disappear until she’s whittled down to nothing, and we just glue her back together and tell her we love her but what if at that point it’s too late and we can’t—"

Eddie kneels in front of Robin, gently holding her face. “Hey, breathe, dude. Deep breaths.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to her.” Robin tells him quietly, her eyes filling with tears as she looks at her friend. “Why did this have to happen?” 

Eddie caresses her head, gently patting her and pulls her in for a hug. “I don’t know.” He mutters. He was so tired of saying it, tired of saying he didn’t know, because it sounded so fucking simple, but it wasn’t. 

“Why doesn’t she want to talk to us? We’re her friends, she shouldn’t have to suffer alone.” Robin looks up at him and he sighs, gently knocking her chin. 

“I’m going over there after work. I don’t care if she hates me, I need to at least get an idea of what’s going on.” He leans back against the shelves, leaning his arms on his bent knees and Robin wipes her face. 

“How are you holding up?” Eddie looks at her. “With all of this? Losing her too?” 

Eddie gives her a sad smile. “Would you believe if I told you I was fine?” 

“No.” She smirks at him. 

“It’s a surreal feeling honestly.” He realizes he hasn’t spoken about this with anyone, even you. “The only time I ever experienced some sort of loss was when my dad went to prison, but fuck him, he can rot there for all I care. But he’s still alive, she’s not. I’m still trying to process how someone can be here one minute, living, breathing, and then just be…dead.” He shrugs, realizing he’s crying and quickly wipes his tears away, he almost laughs. “See? I don’t even notice I’m crying, it’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not.” Robin says, reaching over to squeeze his knee. “You’re going through it too.” 

“Yeah, but I feel like I shouldn’t.” He sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “She wasn’t my mother.” 

Robin gives him a sweet smile. “No, but she was the next best thing to you.” 

He sighs, shaking his head, another tear falls down his cheek. “There’s just so much pain in her. I can feel it.” 

He points to his heart, “I see how much pain she’s in and I want to take all of it, so she doesn’t have to, I’d rather suffer with it for the rest of my life, then watch someone like her go through that when she didn’t deserve it. Her mother didn’t deserve to die. I guess no one does, even the shitty ones.” 

“Nah, the shitty ones deserve it.” Robin laughs and Eddie chuckles. “You really love her, huh?” 

Eddie nods and he sighs, looking into her eyes. “I have to tell you something.” 

Eddie tells her his entire plan, about the house, about your father helping him with some of the down payment. He told her about going to see your childhood home, how it’s been on the market since June, and no one is interested. He told her that if his plan works, he’s gonna ask you to marry him the first night you sleep in the house, and that was the first time he has said it out loud. Robin cried happy tears, followed by punching him in the arm. 

“You guys are leaving me!” 

“Ow!” Eddie laughs, rubbing his arm. “It’s not even set in stone yet.”

“Dude, you know it’s gonna be!” Robin smiles, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m happy for you, but I’m gonna fucking miss you, man.” 

Eddie kisses the top of her head, rubbing her shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too.” 

“Steve is gonna be devastated.” 

“Nah he’ll be fine.” Eddie jokes. “Yeah, I know. His little boy is growing up.” 

“That sounds so gross when you say it like that.” 

                             ***

Eddie had driven to your house after closing the store; your car was still in the driveway and the outside lights were on. Your father had gone to Jimmy’s for the weekend, and he had called Eddie at the store to make sure he planned on going over there. Your father didn’t say it, but he was worried about you too. 

Eddie walks into the house, hearing the television playing in the living room. He peeks his head into the living and sees your form curled up on the couch, a knitted blanket over you with your hood over your head. It was freezing in the house, Eddie had saw you set the air conditioner to 60 degrees. The only source of light was from the television, it was nick at nite and I Love Lucy was playing. Eddie notices the three empty beer bottles on the coffee table, a half smoked joint, and a bottle of aspirin. He quietly clears the table, dumping out the remaining beer from the bottles in the sink and tossing them in the recycling. He washes his hands and heads back to the living room; he squats on the side of the couch where you were laying, leaning forward to kiss your cheeks softly and caress your head. You stir, opening your eyes, meeting Eddie’s and you smile softly. 

“Hey baby.” Eddie says sweetly to you, rubbing your cheek. 

“Hey.” Your voice is groggy, and you sit up a little, stretching. “What time is it?” You pull your hood down, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“A little after ten. Go back to sleep, I just wanted you to know I was here.” He kisses the top of your hand, and you lean into him to kiss his lips. 

“No, it’s okay, I feel like I haven’t seen you.” You lay back on the couch pillow, reaching out your hand to cup his cheek. Eddie put his hand over yours, and scans your face, he hated how tired you looked. Your hair was in a messy braid over your shoulder, you looked like you had been crying for hours before he got there. 

And your eyes.

Eddie inhales a shaky breath as he looks in your eyes and sees that the light that was once there, was gone. You notice his staring. 

“What?” You ask with a smile. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, getting up and sitting next to you, lifting your legs to drape them over his lap. “I just missed you today.” 

You smile, reaching over to entwine your fingers. Eddie leans his head back on the couch, gently rubbing massaging circles around your thighs as you both stare at the television. 

Eddie feels you shudder under his touch, so he stops. 

Apparently, you didn’t want him to stop, because the next thing that happens is you straddling him, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He holds your waist tightly and groans when you grind yourself against his jeans. You pull off your hoodie, wearing only a lace bra and you deepen the kiss again. 

Talk to her, idiot! Eddie is saying to himself, and he moans in response when your teeth graze his throat. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s avoiding, she knows how she looks, stop kissing her and talk to her! 

Eddie’s conscious screams at him but he continues to kiss you, continues to touch your skin. His skin prickles with goosebumps when your hand touches his stomach above his jeans. Your hand slides down into his pants, grasping his hard length in your hand and Eddie moans loudly.  

You’re a stupid fuck! Snap out of it, dummy! 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Eddie finally says breathlessly against your lips. “Stop, stop.”

You pull away from him, removing your hand as if it burned. You stare at him with confusion and concern that you may have hurt him. Eddie runs his hands over his face, leaning forward on his knees. “We need to talk.” 

“Don’t like that.” You say softly, laughing a little, your heart was racing. 

“No, it’s not that kind of talk.” Eddie gives you a sad smile, taking your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over your skin. “You’re starting to scare me.” 

You pause, staring at his face. “What? What do you mean?” 

Eddie looks at you, really looks at you. “You know what I mean.” 

You pull your hand away from his and he sighs, he can already feel you pulling away, he can see it in your eyes too. “Eddie, I’m fine.” 

Frustration rose in his chest, and he wants to laugh but he doesn’t, he scoffs instead. “Is that a lie you’re telling me or telling yourself? Do you really think you’re fine?” 

She blinks, her eyes already widening with tears. “I’m not lying, Eddie.” 

“When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you did something you actually enjoyed? Because for two months, you have been disappearing in front of my eyes.” His own tears were filling his eyes, and he blinks them away. “You need to talk to me.” 

“And say what? What do you want me to say, Eddie?” You raise your voice. 

“Fucking anything!” He gets up from the couch and paces. You watch him with sad eyes. “Jesus Christ; I know you’re hurting; I know you’re in pain, I can clearly see that but all I’m asking is for you to talk to me. I told you I’m here for you, but instead you’re pushing me away!” 

“Okay. You want me to talk? Let’s talk.” Your bottom lip trembles as you look up at him and toss your hoodie back over your body. “Every single damn day I am praying that I don’t wake up in this life, and I wake up in the next because I am tired. I am so tired, Eddie. When I sleep, I don’t feel this fucking throbbing pain in my chest like I feel right now. When I sleep, I have dreams instead of nightmares now and I see her. I see her and she’s alive and I want to stay there. I physically cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror because of how fucked up I look. I don’t tell you these things because it’s not your fucking job to heal me, it’s no one’s job.” 

Eddie stands there stunned, his fingers clench around his chest, a lump forms in his throat, and a breath escapes him. “You’re telling me, that every day you pray you don’t wake up? How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?!” 

“You wanted to talk!” You snap at him. “You wanted the truth so I’m telling you!”

Tears form in his eyes as he stares at you. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me if I lost you? I mean, fuck, I feel like I’m almost there just by how you’ve been lately. It would destroy me if something happened to you. It would kill me. And you pray for that every day?”

You stand up from the couch, grabbing the joint from the table and lighting it quickly; you inhale and let the smoke billow from your nostrils. “I don’t want to die Eddie.” 

“Then what the fuck are you saying to me?!” He yells, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“I’m saying I don’t want to feel this pain anymore! If I could cut it out of me without bleeding out I would do it! If I could swallow a bunch of pills just to get rid of it and be okay, I would do it! I don’t want to die; I want to kill this part of me that feels all this pain and guilt and fucking grief and just be done with it!” You yell at him, hot tears stream down your face. “So yeah, I pray for it.” 

Eddie runs his hands over his mouth, a small sob escaping him as he stares at you. “Why haven’t you told me this?” His voice is so full of pain, it kills you. 

“Because it’s not your job to heal me.” 

“It is if I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” He cries and your breath hitches. “Fuck! I want it all with you. I want you; I want the marriage, I want those babies with you, I want a fucking house in the suburbs with a damn dog! Hell, maybe even a cat. But I meant it when I said that when I look to the future, you’re in it. And right now; I feel like you’re telling me you don’t want any of that.” 

“Of course, I do.” You say quietly, averting your eyes, wiping away your tears. 

“I don’t think you do.” Eddie’s hand goes over his heart again, feeling it slowly break. 

“You’re not inside my head, okay?” You snap at him and point to your temple. “It’s a fucking mess in here. Why would you want to be with someone for the rest of your life who can’t even take a shower? Who has a devil and angel on her shoulder, one telling her it’s okay to feel all this pain and the other telling her, grab those drugs from a few months ago! You won’t feel a goddamn thing!”

“Hold on a minute, you told me you didn’t have any left.” He was big mad; you could see it in his eyes. 

“I lied.” You meet his eyes, and he lets out a laugh. 

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do and hate to break it to you, sweetheart. It’s not gonna work.” He wipes his eyes and his nose. “Did you do it?” 

“No.” You whisper. 

“Go get it then.” Eddie sneers and you look at him like he slapped you. “If you want to do it, numb your pain that way, fucking doit. I’ll do it with you. It will be a Kodak fucking moment.”

“No. Eddie what the fu—" 

“Why? You want to kill that part of yourself, right? Why don’t you kill it slowly with the drugs? Better yet, I’ll go find the guy that supplied the shit that I had, and I’ll go on a fucking ride.” He heads towards the door, tears still running down his face, his eyes wild. You follow him and grab his arm. 

“Eddie, stop it! That could fucking kill you!” 

“Just a small part of me.” Eddie says, his tone cold. 

You let go of his arm, eyes narrowing. “Oh, fuck you!” 

“Stings, doesn’t it?” 

“What are you doing!? Why are you acting like this?!” You yell through your tears. 

“Because you’re not the only one who lost her!” It’s out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Your eyes are wide, glistening with tears. He stares at you, rubbing his palm over his lips. “I cannot imagine the pain you feel right now. But I look at you and I can feel it radiate it from you, every single day. The light in your eyes is gone. And it’s because you choose to suffer with this grief alone.” 

You step back from him, shaking your head as you stare at him. “You know what? You need to go. Get out.” 

“You think I’m gonna leave after what you just told me? You’re out of your mind.” He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You are a fucking asshole!” Your eyes are wide, wild. You open the front door. “I don’t care if you sleep outside in your van, you need to get away from me!” Tears are pouring down your cheeks as you throw open the front door, you look up at him. “You promised me you wouldn’t push. You promised.” 

“I guess we’re both liars then.” His big brown eyes match your same wild ones, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Please. Just go. Go away.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” Eddie says through his gritted teeth. 

“I want you to! I don’t want to see you! I don’t want to be in the same room as you! Get the fuck out of my house! Get out or I’m calling the fucking cops!” 

He stares at you hard. “You wouldn’t do that.” 

“I wouldn’t? I’ll just say the magic words, town freak, right?” 

His breath hitches and he felt his heart snap in two. Those words have haunted him for five years, and you used it as ammunition, you aimed, and fired. He looks out to his van and then back at you, his face turns from sadness to full on anger. “Fine. Go ahead and suffer alone.” 

He walks away from you, you slam the door shut, and slide down to the floor. Your breathing accelerates and you sob into your hands. You did it, you actually did it. You just took the last ten years, wrapped it up in a ball and threw it in the dumpster. 

Eddie hops into his van, not even bothering to put his seat belt on and peels out of your driveway. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, he just drives. His heart was pounding, behind his eyes stung, he felt like he had his entire body was vibrating. He passes the Leaving Hawkins sign and keeps driving until he’s on a dark stretch of road; he pulls over to the side and turns the car off. He leans his forehead against the steering wheel, his breathing picking up, his hands grip the wheel in a white-knuckle grip. He leans back, punching his dashboard not once, not twice, but three times, and he screams, the sound so guttural, so full of pain, full of anger. “Fuuuuuuck!!!!!!!” 

He sobs, hard. His body trembling as every single emotion that he had bottled up these last few months finally made its way to the surface. He shouldn’t have pushed, he knows that, but he’s glad he did. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have known how bad you were hurting, but it didn’t matter now. You told him to go, so he did.  He takes a cigarette out, lights it and inhales, his breath trembling as the smoke comes out. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, he needed to feel something else other than this pain, and he felt like a goddamn hypocrite when he turns on the van, driving to Indianapolis to a spot where he knew he’d be able to get rid of his pain.  It didn’t matter now, none of it mattered, he was just pulling the strings to his own destruction. 

He completely disassociated on the ride to the city; he doesn’t even remember putting on music. He goes down a side street, trying to remember if he’s in the right spot, and when he sees the neon BEER sign, he knew he reached his destination. He only knew about this place because of his dad, he had brought him here when he was last out of prison. In every corner of the bar, someone was snorting something, drinking something, smoking something. He parks the van and gets out; as soon as he opens the door to the bar he is hit with aromas of weed, cigarette smoke, and stale beer. It wasn’t that crowded, and Eddie was glad. He sits on the stool at the bar, the bartender was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties, with kind eyes and a sweet smile. 

“What can I get you, honey?” She asks sweetly, placing a napkin in front of him. 

“Whiskey, please, straight.” He hands her a twenty-dollar bill, which she hesitates to take, but does anyway. 

She places the glass in front of him, and he brings the rim of the glass to his lips, knocking the whole thing back. He winces at the bitter taste and twirls his finger around asking for another. She refills his glass, and he nurses this one. 

“You look like you’ve been trekking through a war zone there, sweetheart.” She tells him gently, leaning against the bar, shining a glass. 

Eddie meets her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m not gonna pry, I’m just not sure if you’ve come to the wrong place or the right place.” She gently pats his hand and goes down to the other side of the bar to talk to the other patrons. Eddie glances around the bar, and his eyes fix on a booth in the corner. There’s a man speaking to a woman with their heads bowed, she couldn’t have been much younger than Eddie, she was strikingly beautiful, but had very sad eyes, he notices the exchange. The man had put something in her hand, and she walks away from him, leaving the bar. The man notices Eddie staring and nods at him with a smile, Eddie nods back, looking away from him.  He stares at his glass, twirling it in his fingers, the brown liquid moves side to side as he stares at the glass. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, the man was still there, quietly sipping his beer, looking up at the television that had some sort of sports game on. 

Eddie knocks the rest of his second drink back and gets up from the stool. He feels the hair prickle on the back of his neck as he walks towards the man. The man looks at him and smiles, leaning back in his seat. He looked like a washed-up version of Robert DeNiro, a little intimidating, otherwise he seemed nice. 

Eddie takes out his hand and the man takes it. “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

“Leon.” He sounded southern, Eddie thought. “What can I do for you?” 

“I don’t know, what do you got?” Eddie asks, already feeling the effects of the drugs that he didn’t even take yet. That’s how much he loved it the first time he tried it, and that was by accident. Again, it didn’t matter anymore. 

Puppet. 

“Uppers, downers, china white—"

Pulling the strings.

“How much for the China white?” 

Destruction. 

Eddie had driven back to the county line outside of Hawkins and had parked in an abandoned fishing spot. The only source of light was from the moon reflecting off the pond, and he opens the square. Leon had told him that if he wasn’t going to shoot it, he’d have to go slow, a small bump. Eddie hated needles, despite having all his tattoos, he couldn’t understand how someone could willingly stick a needle in their arm. 

You’re about to snort it, you stupid fuck. What’s the difference? It’s still heroin.

Eddie takes a cassette from under his seat, he didn’t even bother to look at who the artist was, he was gonna throw it out anyway. He sprinkles a little bit of powder on it, no bigger than his fingernail and takes a rolled-up dollar bill. With no hesitation, he’s snorting it into his air ways. He grunts, his nostrils stinging, and a wave of nausea hits him. The cassette tape falls out of his hands, and he feels the vomit hit the back of his throat. He pushes his door open with his shoulder, vomiting all over the ground. He leans his body onto the door panel, wiping his mouth, coughing a little and that’s when he feels it. His eyes flutter close, and he feels a smile grace his lips. 

“Oh shit.” He whispers, feeling the euphoria coursing through his blood stream, his nervous system, everywhere. He tries to think of something, think of you, think of her, and he felt nothing. Puppet. Strings. Destruction. He practically drags himself into his driver seat and slams his door. He reaches for the bag of powder, blindly finds the dollar bill and snorts again. He laughs when he lifts his head up, it falls back onto the headrest. Before he knew it, it was all gone and he was smoking a cigarette, his eyes half lidded, his head nodding to the side. He would jump awake, inhale on the cigarette and nod out again. He was just resting his eyes, he told himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s in your driveway. He sits up straighter, seeing that it was still dark outside. How the fuck did I get here? He pushes the front door open and practically falls out. He holds his head, the sudden pressure from getting up too fast making him dizzy as he stumbles onto your front porch, pushing your door open. He calls your name, but you don’t answer. He notices the stillness as he stood there, noticing all the lights were off, there was no sound. He suddenly felt sober, and his feet take him to the center of your living room. The light from the bathroom came through the door that was ajar, and all he hears is the sound of his own breathing and his footfalls. 

He pushes the door open slowly with his palm, the hinges squeaking, and he sees you lying there. You’re on your back, your head tilted to one side, arms splayed out, unmoving. 

A groan escapes him, a sound that started from the very depths of his soul. His body falls against the door, and he falls to his knees. His body felt stiff as he crawled to you, hot, angry tears were pooling from his eyes. 

“Nooo…” He groans, his hand shaking as he turns your face, your eyes in a fixed stare. He inhales deeply, cupping your face. You just have to kiss her, and she’ll wake up. That’s all, like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. 

Eddie kisses your lips gently, his tears falling to your cheeks, and he lifts his head. You still lay there unmoving, no breath from your lips. His mouth falls open in a gasp as he looks at you, and his body shakes with sobs. He stares at your face, he couldn’t understand what was happening, why this was happening. 

“Please come back to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said, please.” He cups your face, smoothing back your hair; you were so cold. “Just wake up now, and we can start over, that’s all. Just wake up…please!!!”  He cries and cradles your limp body to him, trying to figure out something, anything that will get you to wake up. He kisses your cheeks, your hair, your forehead. 

His head falls back, and a loud, guttural wail escapes his lungs. “Nooooooo!!!” 

“Nooooo!” Eddie screams himself awake. The sun was beating down on him in the van as he catches his breath, looking around, panic and fright in his wide brown eyes. He was still parked at the pond. He feels bile rise in his throat and barely gets the door open before he’s violently vomiting on the ground. His vomit from the night before inches from where he stood. He wipes his mouth, his skin sweaty, damp. He squints in the sunlight and holds his stomach. He was still high, but functional, his logical part of his brain working faster than it did last night. 

“Fucking idiot, Munson.” He says to himself, and then he remembers his dream. A breath is caught in his throat, and he scrambles himself back in the van, he starts it up, throwing it into reverse and speeds out of there. He was dry heaving on the way to your house, having to stop only once to pull over and vomit again. 

He almost forgets to put the van into park when he screeches into your driveway. He almost falls out and scrambles up the steps, your door was unlocked. He doesn’t bother closing it when he runs in and shouts your name. His blood ran cold when he didn’t get a response from you, and he screams your name again. He runs into the living room, his breath caught when he sees that the bathroom door is ajar like in his dream. His heart pounded and he felt his hands shake: it was just a dream, it wasn’t real. Just a dream. 

The door squeaks open, and you walk out, towel drying your hair from taking a long hot shower. A whimper escapes his lungs, and he startles you. 

The towel falls from your hands as you stare at him and he stares at you, he’s looking at you like he’s seeing a ghost. You immediately notice his features, his pale face, his eyes wide with panic, almost black. He was sweaty, and your hand goes to your mouth to hold back your cry, you knew immediately what he had done and part of you felt responsible. 

There was desperation on both of your faces, and the two of you crash into each other, sobbing and holding each other. Eddie holds your face in his hands, kissing you over and over, his tears mixing with yours. 

“You’re here.” He kept saying and you weren’t sure why. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He cries holding your face and you shake your head, sputtering, you can feel your face flush as you caress his face, his hair, staring into his eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had you leave. I didn’t do the rest of the drugs, I got rid of them, I flushed them. I didn’t do them, I swear.” Panic is in your voice, and he holds onto your waist tightly as you keep touching him, keeping him upright. 

Eddie feels his heart split in two and feels the guilt bubbling up in his chest as his head falls to your shoulder and he sobs. You hold him there, rubbing the back of his head as you both sobbed. “I fucked up last night, I’m so sorry. But I needed to not feel anything. I thought it didn’t matter, I thought I lost you forever and I couldn’t…couldn’t handle losing another person, I couldn’t handle that pain. There’s so much of it and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

You pull away and hold his face, shaking your head as you give him a small smile. “We have to feel it, I realized that after you left last night. That’s one of the only ways that lets us know that she was real, that the pain is real; that our love is real.” 

“How do you not hate me?” His lip trembles. “After everything I said, after what I did.” 

“Because I love you. No matter what and that’s a hard fucking pill to swallow when you realize how much you love a person, even when you’re so fucking angry at them.”

You run your thumb along his lips, and he smiles softly. “When you left last night, I wanted to die. I was awful to you, I pushed you away because I thought your life would be a lot less chaotic without me in it. And then…” You inhale deeply, your voice shaking. “Then I felt her. I felt this warmth, this blanket of pure comfort and I just let it consume me. Everything poured out, I thought my guts were gonna shut down and I would be stuck in a loop of constant tears forever, but I let her in, and she stayed awhile.” 

Eddie laughs a little as tears continue to fall from his eyes, he caresses your face, your hair and kisses you softly. “I love you.” He whispers to you. 

“I know.” You smirk up at him, wiping away his tears. 

He kisses you again, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief. You hold him tight, rubbing his back and arms. 

He takes a shower soon afterwards; scrubbing the last night away until his skin felt raw, and he swore he rubbed off most of his chest tattoos. He finds you in your room, and he walks in with no shirt, and just his jeans. His wet curly hair stuck to his chest. You’re sitting upright, sketching in what looks like your mother's sketch pad. 

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing down at the book. “You’re sketching?” 

You look up at him and smile; you were just doodling. Some wildflowers, eye shapes, your hands. You didn’t feel ready to paint yet, and you forgot how much you loved to sketch. You couldn’t force yourself to be happy, but you could try to be a bit more human. 

You feel his eyes on you and look up again. He’s smiling that sweet smile, his dimples large. He still looked a little high, but he was less sweaty, less jumpy. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to feel once it was completely out of his system. Would it hurt? He wondered. But he realized he didn’t care if it did, he deserved to feel that pain.

You close the sketch pad and put it on your nightstand, you scoot closer to him, you drape your legs on either side of him while he kneeled. His hand reaches up to caress your face, your lips, and you pull his mouth towards yours in a sweet kiss. You lay back, taking him with you, he cups your face, his other hand going to your leg to hook around his waist, the kiss deepening. His lips travel to your throat, leaving a soft trail of kisses there and to the center of your chest. You sigh lovingly at his touch, and he lifts up your shirt, leaving soft kisses on your tummy, around your navel and ribs. He feels you shudder at his touch, and he pulls you up, peeling your shirt over your head. You were naked underneath, and he kisses you again. The tips of his fingers glide up your arm, leaving goosebumps to prickle on your skin. You grip his forearm, and gently move your fingers up and down as he kisses your neck, slowly moving down, leaving soft kisses around your breasts, and taking your nipple into his mouth, gently sucking. Your back arches and you moan; he goes to your other breast, gently kissing and sucking. His hand travels down your belly while he teases your nipples, and he snaps the button of your jeans. He meets your lips passionately again, grunting softly as his hand slides down over your sex and fingers your clit generously. You arch your hips, and he pulls off your jeans and underwear. He hovers above you after taking off his own jeans and rubs your face. He leans down to kiss you, his lips soft. You let out a moan and he grunts when you feel him push himself inside you, your back arches at the feeling, a loving sigh escaping your lips. His mouth stays hovered above yours as he thrusts, and you look into his eyes. His fingertips dig gently into your thighs and a throaty moan escapes his lips.  He caresses your face, kissing your lips softly, burying his face in your chest, licking around your nipple again. You grip his shoulders, moaning loud, the sensation of his gentleness, the grinding of his hips, was enough to get you to scream. Your orgasm was building in your lower belly, but you didn’t want this feeling to end. You held onto it, and flipped him onto his back, riding him gently, your palms on his chest. Your clit rubs against his pelvis, and your head falls back in a whimper. He holds your hips, his head arching back against the pillow. He sits up, holding him to you in the butterfly position, his arms tightly around your middle, his lips against your breast. The tingles in your belly grow, and you clench around him, your head falls back as you cry out in pleasure, your orgasm causing every part of your body to tremble, and tears spring to your eyes. He groans against you as he orgasms soon after you, he holds you to him, still catching up on your breathing and you look into his eyes. His hand caresses your cheek, and he kisses you gently. You push yourself off him so you’re sitting more in his lap, pressing your forehead against his and he hugs your waist.

Staring into his big brown eyes, you give him a soft smile, gently petting his face. “From now on, we need to be honest with each other. No more secrets.”

He shakes his head, smiling at you. “No more secrets.”

“I’m not okay, Eddie.” You tell him quietly, your eyes filling up with tears, he tightens his hold. “And I won’t be for a long time. When she died…I think, I think a part of me did too. That’s where that pain is.” You press your hand over your heart, and he gently kisses the center of your chest. “They say there’s stages of this grief, but I think they’re full of shit. I think you go through each stage, over and over and over again. It’s constant, like a running stream. And I know you’re not okay, either. You were right when you said that I’m not the only one who lost her—”

“Sweetheart, that was—”

“Let me finish.” You smile at him, kissing his nose and he stares into your eyes. “I’m not the only one that lost her. Yeah, I lost the bond that we formed as soon as I was born, I lost the late-night talks and getting my tears wiped away because she was my mother. You lost someone very special to you, someone who showed you love and comfort and a bond that can be so rare to find. I will never take that away from you. Your grief is your grief, not mine. But we can heal together. It's not gonna be easy, it’s gonna be really fucking hard but I plan on doing this with you for the rest of my life. I plan on feeling every single emotion that God or whoever the fuck throws at me, at us. I plan on you being by my side until we’re old, watching our grandchildren grow up, yelling at each other on how to figure out technology because let’s face it, this world is going to be run by machines soon. You are the best thing, the craziest thing, that has ever happened to me, and I’m gonna hold onto that until I can’t anymore.” 

His eyes are filled with tears, and he smiles large, kissing you passionately. You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek before getting off his lap. He lights up a cigarette, inhaling it deeply and stretches. He looks at you with his arm draped over his shoulder, just watching you. He stands up to get dressed but you stop him.

“Wait.” You tell him, grabbing your sketch book. “Stay like that."

"What? Why?” He laughs.

“Shut up, don’t move.” 

He smiles at you and stays still, and you begin to sketch out his form. Eddie suddenly felt shy as he hears your pencil hit the paper, this was such an intimate moment, and he didn’t want to mess it up. You concentrated so hard on what you were doing, and he felt his heart skip a few beats as he watches you, both nude, just the sounds of the creativity coming out of your brain. 

You smiled when you were finished, and Eddie was able to move his limbs, feeling stiff all over. You wipe off the pencil dust and hand it to him. He smiles large, you had captured him so beautifully and he realizes it was true, you saw him for who he truly was. 

Just Eddie. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Autumn had come out of nowhere, and you wrap your sweater tighter around you as another wave of nausea hits you. You had left work early; it seemed like every twenty minutes you were running to the bathroom to puke your guts out. You tried to think about what you had eaten the night before; was it the chicken? Was it the leftover meatloaf you had made for your father’s birthday? Eddie had been very cryptic lately, and it was starting to piss you off. He would ask you questions about what color paint you’d use to paint a kitchen, hardwood or carpet; you would overhear him talking to your father about stuff that had to do with finances, and your father had a glint in his eyes, and you tried to think of anything that could possibly make sense. The nausea hits you again and you run to the bathroom and vomit hard. You swore there was nothing left in your system to vomit but your body had other plans. You lean against the tub, the coolness of the porcelain an odd comfort against your skin. 

Your eyes land on an unopened box of tampons, and a sudden thought occurred to you. Closing your eyes, you think back to when you last had your period; trying to figure out the math was like trying to figure out a formula with Einstein.  Your eyes snap open; it had been over a month since your last period.

A month. 

Nausea hits you again and you grip the porcelain, preparing for the worst but nothing comes. “There’s no way.” You say to yourself and lift yourself up on shaky legs. 

Grabbing your keys, you rush out the door to your car, and go into a local pharmacy. You take the first test you see, and don’t make eye contact with the cashier as she rings you up.  When you arrived home, you were grateful Eddie was still at work, and your father was finishing up a construction job in Ohio. You rip open the test, reading the directions. 

“Pee on it? How the fuck…” Your eyes squint as you look at the small diagram drawing of how to get coat the test in urine. Groaning, you pull down your pants, and do your business, yelling comedically as you get urine all over your hand trying to match the test up with the stream. The directions said you had to wait three minutes for the results, and you sit on the toilet lid, your leg bopping up and down anxiously as you wait. 

Once the three minutes was up, you don’t look right away. Your arm reaches the sink counter, and you take it, looking down at the tiny window. There were two lines, and you suddenly forgot what that meant. You scramble to dig the directions out of the trash, scanning the black ink until you reach the result section. 

One line meant it was negative. 

Two lines meant…

Your hands shake as you stare at the test in your hand, like it was a rare piece of art, and you were trying desperately to see if the picture would move. 

No matter how you look at it, the result is gonna stay the same. 

A smile creeps up on your lips, tears well in your eyes and you cover your mouth with your hand. 

Something happens to you just now; it felt like the Earth shifted right at your feet. Before there was a constant tilt for so many months, now suddenly it was upright. Everything seemed brighter, you felt a dull ache in your chest, but it wasn’t pain, no, it was something different. 

Something warm. 

There was a human being growing inside you. Yours and Eddie’s baby. Your father’s grandchild, your mother’s grandchild. Yours. A being that had a part of you and a part of the man you loved. Your best friend, your lover, your confidant. 

You were going to be parents. 

You were going to be a mother. 

[fioreofthemarch]

kin

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 1270 [✨this is a companion piece to repast and yearnings]

When at last Zelda was returned to the present, it was all she could do not to dwell on the past.

The memories of her time as a dragon were gone, but the subconscious remained. She felt unsteady on her feet, disliked being cooped up without a view of the sky, and often dreamt of flying, always waking with a lingering sense of loss. 

It was a guilty feeling. She had gotten everything she’d wanted. The Demon King was gone, Hyrule was saved, and Link - Link! - he was alive and they were finally free to go about their lives in long-awaited peace.  

And yet?

“You look as though you’ve forgotten something,” Purah had said to her when they’d last spoken in Lookout Landing. Zelda agreed, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. 

An answer came to her in Hateno, while she and Link were visiting their house by the river. Link had built them a new home in Akkala, and was sure that Zelda would enjoy rearranging it to her liking, if she didn’t mind moving house. So there in Hateno, while Zelda was sorting through her things and trying to decide what to take, something bright and blue caught her eye – a dragon! A spirit of cool, calm wisdom, passing silently overhead. 

At that moment, what was forgotten became clear. She burst from the house, arms waving, crying – “Sister!”

But the dragon never slowed, only kept on as sure as the wind. Then she was rounding north, slipping down towards the horizon, and then she was gone. 

Zelda sank down onto the grass, hands clasped tight and catching tears she didn’t know were falling. Naydra no longer knew her; they’d shared the skies for millenia, and yet! 

“Maybe she just doesn’t recognise you,” Link said upon finding her like this, his voice a steadying presence, as were his sure hands leading her back inside. “You’ve changed since she saw you last.” 

“For the better, right?”

He grinned, “I loved you just as much either way.”

After this Zelda tried, earnestly, to let life go on. The Akkala house was perfect, and only needed some nicer furnishings, maybe a painting or two, or a bigger garden. When not working on that, Zelda found her thoughts returning to the dragons – she charted Dinraal’s path over Akkala, drawing it on a map she kept in her study. Then, when the need arose to travel to Hateno, she did the same for Naydra, and later Farosh too, when she and Link travelled south to visit the Gerudo. Once the map was complete, it occurred to her that the three dragons formed a distinct triangle, each guarding their own corner of Hyrule. And that’s when knew what to do. 

“I was here for longer than I can even say,” she explained to Link, after convincing him to take her to the Great Sky Island. “The three dragons visited me here every day, at the centre of the Kingdom.” 

They stood on the roof of the Temple of Time, where Link had landed the ballooncraft he had made them. The skies were clear, and all of Hyrule could be seen below. He asked Zelda what exactly she planned to do, and she admitted she didn’t really know. She just had to try something. Link gave her an understanding nod, and stepped back to let her proceed. 

Zelda clasped her hands at her chest. She focused, felt all the yearning and regret, all the nostalgia for younger days, and let them flow from her like a lighthouse beacon – a single wish that cascaded from her very soul. Her secret stone, still worn around her neck, began to glow hot against her skin, in concert with the ancient royal mark on her right hand. I am here. Come to me!

How long she stood like that she did not know, but eventually she felt the air grow hot and cold all at once. 

The sight when she opened her eyes was all but beyond words; three great and immortal dragons, servants of the very Goddess herself, gathered together before the Temple. Their bodies flowed like rivers, irridescent scales scattering light, long horns shimmering with diffuse elemental power. Summoned here, the dragons hovered in place; Dinraal to the left, Farosh to the right and Naydra in the middle. 

Zelda bowed. She shook from nerves. Did the dragons hear her call? What was their answer? There was silence, except the wind, until at last Zelda heard a voice.

Sister, the dragon Naydra said, you are changed. 

You have become small and fragile, said the dragon Dinraal. 

You have joined the swordsman as a mortal, said the dragon Farosh. 

“You know me?” Zelda said, barely able to breathe. Behind her, Link stood tall and firm, though his body was tense. It was no small thing to treat with the gods. 

You were not easy to spot, Naydra said. Your light however was very familiar.

A great power summoned us here, sister. We are impressed, Dinraal said. 

As are we curious, Farosh added. Speak your command. 

Still Zelda did not know why exactly she had called them. There had to be something that she had wanted to say…

“Zelda… are you okay?” Link said, with a hint of fear in his voice. It was enough to steel her. She couldn’t tarry here. Immortal though her sisters were, she did not want to waste their time. 

“I am okay,” she answered, and she knew why.

Turning to Naydra, Dinraal and Farosh, Zelda bowed again, long and low. Rising, she said, “I was no one, adrift in an open sky, until I awoke in your company. I had done something terrible and forbidden, but you accepted me as one of your own, and stayed with me until my task was complete. And even now that I have left you, you remember me. This kindness…” she brushed tears from her cheeks, composing herself. “I must thank you. I wish there was a way to repay your generosity.” 

The dragons hovered, eyes bright and piercing. Zelda felt foolish; sentimental words probably meant little to them. But then, together, they bowed their heads in return. After a long moment, they broke formation and began to move through the air once more, silently circling the Temple of Time in a spiral of ice, flame and static.  

“Was that ‘offer accepted’?” Link asked with a nervous laugh. 

Dinraal departed first, heading north for Akkala. Then Farosh followed, turning south for Gerudo. Only Naydra remained. She flew down towards the roof of the temple, and landed on its parapets gentler than a feather. Placing her head down so that her and Zelda’s eyes were level, she blinked slow and calm. 

Beloved sister, she said, things done for kin need never be repaid.  

Then, a single tear falling from her eye, the dragon Naydra ascended from the roof, and flew east. Zelda watched until she disappeared from view, her own tears falling free. Not all memories were lost, she realised, but the past would always be the past, and that was its own kind of loss. 

Still, the future was calling. It came in the form of a warm and gentle hand – Link, threading his fingers into hers. “Home?” he said. Zelda nodded, knowing what he meant, but feeling that she was already there as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Good, I’ve got an apple pie in the oven that you might like.”

With a laugh she returned his radiance, fresh but happy tears falling. “I think I might,” she said. And so they went, leaving the sky behind. 

[sgiandubh]

Far away and long ago

One thing leading to another, I tried to watch A Princess for Christmas yesterday, prompted by my Peleș/Pelișor Anon answer and I have to say I am grinning as I write this post: it is, after all, a Hallmark movie, isn't it?

Maybe if I were drunk and/or in good company, it would have been easier. I was neither, so it was unwatchable. Even with the bits of personal nostalgia, knowing very well all the sets they used: from the two castles in Sinaia, to the Știrbei (princely) House private chapel in Buftea, to the Bragadiru Palace in Bucharest they obviously used for that ball. I finished skimming on fast forward for S and howled at this bit of Imdb trivia, I believe with all my heart to be wishful thinking:

Not only I do not believe ever seeing/hearing such a thing in all the interviews I have read/watched (of which they are a shameless handful), but it would be completely out of character for 'No Ego' 2014 S to declare such a preposterous thing (correct me if I am wrong, for I truly believe I am not).

Anyways. When it looks low budget, it is a low budget (with Eastern European logistics) D-series thing, despite all their efforts. Plot is downright stupid and the painful cheesiness permeating the slightest line uttered makes it unredeemable. Nuh-oh: not even to kill time, not even on a flight from Almaty to Saint Petersburg. No way.

Low budget is particularly apparent when it comes to costumes. This one, for example...

Her dress is ok-ish (heavily insisting on the -ish, here). But his uniform is an operetta reinterpretation of the Romanian Army's dorobanț (infantry) State Protocol uniform. An exact copy of the 1877 Independence War officer outfit (itself a Second Empire French uniform copycat, but that's just the historian in me nitpicking, of course):

The above is a very recent pic (2023 Remembrance Day festivities at a British War Cemetery near Bucharest). I know that place well, spent all my childhood 1 mile away, my grandparents owned a house in that village. It is a small, forlorn plot of infinite melancholy and a striking sight, with its carefully trimmed grass, among what used to be cornfields, circa 1984. 'This is British soil', my grandfather once told me and that made it both absurd and enticing: an alien enclave of sorts, a city of the dead. He was correct, by the way, and that gave our Remembrance Day expeditions a sort of strange, furtive charm. We always brought flowers and he, a former officer and POW, would always salute, bareheaded under heavy rain. But, I digress.

Both that movie and my recollections were far away and long ago. Mercifully so for S, at least. The difference in demeanor, profile and presence is undeniable, no matter what the Disgruntled Tumblrettes would tell you: some pushed the cheapness up to the gratuitous folly of 'he was a much better actor then'. Well, he wasn't: no chemistry with a female co-star who would clearly be more eager to have a dental surgery intervention. And no presence every time a very tired Roger Moore is around, which makes for roughly three-quarters of his part. But unlike many striving wannabes, he managed to pull out of the Prince Ashton (🙄) typecast and give us a very credible JAMMF, when starts aligned and with a surreal bit of luck.

If he could manage to pull out of the JAMMF typecast, I see great things. Until then, I will stand by my words: this is a guy with tremendous, but completely overlooked/untapped potential, who has been repeatedly miscast. And this is why what would immediately happen after OL is of critical importance. Brace yourselves.

On another, completely unrelated note: should I wait for that US copycat, disingenuous McTavish booze circus tour to end, in order to draw a line and my thoughts on his brand? I think I should, but always happy to oblige to public demand :)

[sappharii]

A movie hits so hard when you know you're the audience.

I recently watched the movie, "Look Back," by Tatsuki Fujimoto. It is my favorite movie of the year and a movie that I felt was truly for artists such as myself. I had to hold myself back from sobbing so harshly because my family was sleeping while I was watching it.

I will be putting a long analysis here, so prepare yourselves. (There's no spoilers so feel free to read)

This movie overwhelmed me with nostalgia. Fujimoto knew how to capture the memories of an artist without trying to go with their general audience. He portrayed the loneliness, dedication, happiness, and memories it comes to being an artist. Ayumu and Kyomoto being self-inserts of Tatsuki Fujimoto actually solidified this and was a clear love letter to artists all over.

Ayumu and Kyomoto had different ways to approaching art that I absolutely adored. Ayumu was focused more on storytelling and drawing characters. Her approach to learning about art is similar to how many artists start out by buying to many anatomy books or those "How to draw _____" books. Her drawing tools as she grew is more modern, drawing with a tablet and pen. The way she chose her career is more modern as well by becoming a mangaka and growing a business out of it.

On the other hand, Kyomoto's art is more traditional. She draws backgrounds and takes in the beauty of detail (which is why she draws more slowly but that's another subject for another day). The way she wanted to advance her skill was also traditional by going to art college. We see her only using traditional tools to complete her pieces such as paint brushes or pens and use traditional techniques of drawing.

This movie gave me such nostalgia because of these characters and their approaches to art. I may not have it as my career right now, but I still dedicate myself to it as much as I can.

If this gets enough likes, I'll do another analysis of this or turn this into a video on my Youtube channel.

[salarta]

Comic Book Fandom and "Got Mine Fuck You"

There's a recurring situation I see way too often with X-Men comic book fandom. As I write this, I know what I'm saying doesn't apply to everyone, or to every fandom, or to every platform. It applies to what I've seen. And what I've seen is abysmal.

Back when the 2020 run of X-Factor happened, I saw a LOT of apologism for the way Polaris/Lorna Dane was treated on that book. Paired with trying to spin her being on the book as good for her.

"Oh hey yeah, the X of Swords issue didn't acknowledge Lorna surviving the Genoshan genocide because... uhh... it was all implied! They didn't just didn't say it explicitly."

Then when the Genoshan genocide took center stage in another comic's story arc a couple years later, with Kitty Pryde as the focus, Lorna acting like she has no history with it and just complaining about a lack of coffee gets painted as "Oh but there's only so much panel space! And they already told Lorna's story with Genosha anyway, this time they're focused on Kitty's story with it!"

Let's also not forget that during the X-Men vote, we had so, so many X-Factor fans arguing for her to lose the vote, and not get to be a mainstay on the flagship book, because "X-Factor is her book and she's getting good use there anyway." As if it would've been impossible for her to be on two books at once. Some of those fans were at least more honest about it, where they admitted the real reason they wanted her to lose is cause they thought the book would die without Lorna to exploit for other characters like Rachel.

And now, we have the current X-Factor. Where fans of Havok, Pyro, the name X-Factor, nostalgia for the 90s, etc have all insisted that forcing Lorna back into "Havok's girlfriend who acts stupid so he can be a big strong man about it" is fine actually. Perfectly cool. The sexism is satire so it's fine, everything's fine, shitty treatment of her is fine. Anything to promote Havok, or Pyro, or X-Factor, or whatever else.

Only for those same people to start crying the instant Havok and Pyro look stupid too. Because you see, they can excuse the sexism and making a woman look stupid and completely destroying her character and development to make her fit a sexist mold for their cis straight Aryan male self-insert.

But they draw the line at their woobie self-inserts looking just as dumb. Stupid and character assassination is for the womenfolk you see, not for men.

What I'm getting at is, I keep running into a brick wall called "Got Mine Fuck You" that's pervasive with too many comic book fans. And while I'm emphasizing this behavior on Lorna, it's not just her. They've also done shit like attack and badmouth another writer for daring to suggest their great golden god Writer Of The Moment could have plagiarized their work. Harassing her, changing her Wikipedia page. Because they care more about salvaging the reputation of their favorite things than about what's right.

It annoys the fuck out of me. Because in spite of all the fanfare about comics being progressive (when it's financially convenient), this is one of the big gaping dark sides.

I try not to be that guy. I can't say I don't fail, but I try to be better than these chucklefucks.

When season 1 of Gifted killed Dreamer off, I had no problem calling out how asinine and insulting their handling of her death was. I COULD have been That Asshole that tries to act like it was a genius decision, all because Polaris was being treated amazingly in season 1 and Dreamer's death could've been leveraged for Pain Points for Lorna. I didn't do that.

Secret Wars House of M also gave Quicksilver and to a lesser extent Magneto a raw deal in characterization. Even as AU characters, it hit very wrong for Pietro to be depicted as a mustache twirling traitor type when there were ways to keep him closer to his core without taking that route. Now I will admit, I had a moment of weakness with this because I loved what it was doing with Lorna. But in the end, I still recognized it was a problem.

Even with the X of Swords issue of X-Factor. There were many problems with Lorna's treatment there, but there were problems all around. Rockslide fans were very upset with it, for good reason. And Rockslide had actual people around who knew him and had closer relationships with him. Why did they get shafted, with Lorna used instead?

Fandom should really strive for better. For all characters. Not just their pet favorites. Fandom should not be eager to throw other characters, other fandoms, everything that means so much to them and resonates with them, under the bus just so their own faves can get a little benefit out of it.

Fans should not be eager to make excuses for shitty treatment just cause that shitty treatment makes their fave look good. Fans should not want to see another character's potential undermined and thrown away just cause keeping that character down allows a book they like to prosper. Fans should not be trying to make sexism out to be nothing but satire just cause they think a female character "deserves terrible characterization."

These fans try to say their fandom is great. But then they act in ways that tell the world it's not.

It would be nice if they had some fucking principles for once.

[sweetmariihs2]

🪄My thoughts on Cedric The Sorcerer🌙 (until now)

(not that anyone cares idk i just wanna talk about him, it's a lot of random thoughts and it's messy, but it's fun to read I guess)

Did you like that cute moodboard I did for him? It took me like 10 minutes I loved it. It fits him so well I'm so proud of myself for doing this. The whimsigothic aesthetic matches him so well I wish more people knew it so we would have tons of moodboards and cute stuff of him in this aesthetic it would be so nice. Ok let me start my post

I wanna share some headcanons, talk about my first impressions, it's not really organized I just wrote down whatever I remembered and the result was that. I wanna share my new hyperfocus with more people, that's what I'm doing here today :)

Everything started when I saw this man on Tumblr and though "who's this guy and why is princess Sophia next to him?", when I clicked on the hashtag out of curiosity I understood that it's because he's a character from the cartoon, and I was like "lol another tumblr sexyman again let's move on keep doing my things and interacting with my fandoms" (december 24)

I also mentioned it to my friend on IG bc I saw a reels that was like "you don't have any weird fictional crushes right?" and then proceeds to show us an edit of him with millions of hearts around. I sent it to her and said "omg I saw ppl talking about this on tumblr" and we just laughed a lot because it was something we did not expected (not mean laughs, they were genuine laughs of shock and because that was very unexpected like HOW IN THE WORLD, and she remembered him in the show while I didn't)

Some days later I saw more fanarts of him on tumblr and that made me a little curious, but not enough to search about the subject.

After some days I just couldn't forget him, and that's when I searched his name on youtube purposely trying to find compilations of his funny moments to understand what was happening

And boy I did

At this point was just having fun and laughing thinking "omg another guy who's sassy, has good personality and is another ugly-atractive character that has a fandom on tumblr, I got it, he's very nice" and I went to do other stuff again but this man just DIDN'T CAME OUT OF MY MIND

Just making an interruption here, I loved watching Disney Junior as a kid, maybe when I was six or seven, idk I don't remember, and I was a huge fan of Sofia The First, it was one of my favorite cartoons from Disney Jr alongside Doc McStuffins and Art Attack. AND I JUST DON'T REMEMBER CEDRIC IT'S LIKE I NEVER SAW HIM IN THAT SHOW, EVER. I literally don't remember him being part of the cast i'm sorry Cedric 😭 now he stands out so much to me, he's carrying the whole show on his back. Btw now that I mentioned Disney Junior I would like to say that here in Brazil Sofia First is actually called Little Princess Sofia, and Doc McStuffins is Doctor Toys. Sometimes I call Sofia "Princess Sofia" but I don't even know if that's how they call her in the english version, I watched everything on portuguese 😭 but ok let's move on (I have more things to say related to the brazillian dub, but let me finish my train of thought first)

As I was saying this man just didn't came out of my mind, and I was like "Oh no another hyperfocus where people around me will make fun of me because they will say that he's ugly and that liking kid's shows is something weird 😭 I can't take this anymore" and I tried to deny it but I CAN'T i'm almost making a pinterest board for him, I just accepted my fate (gonna draw fanarts soon and no one can stop me)

I found a list of every chapter he's in and i'm watching every. single. one. of. them. I watched the movie first, and boy this is gave me so much nostalgia because I remember some vague objects and scenes from when I was a kid, I used to love the Disney Princesses, when I got a little older I started watching Descendants, I grew up watching Tangled and Frozen and I swear to god I almost teared up from nostalgia during the episode Rapunzel shows up, and they didn't changed her voice actor, that's what got me. It was like travelling back to a time I didn't even remembered that existed anymore. Because since I haven't seen Sofia The First in about 10 years, I don't even remember anything FROM the show except for some parts, and that this show had so much old Disney energy that I didn't even know made a difference, but it does.

I'm sounding like a granny here but (i'm not even in my 20s yet) it feels like another time, Disney changed so much. Some of the new movies are good, some are bad, I see Disney much more as a company that wants money and makes movies instead of that perfect place where all dreams come true and every girl is a princess (Here in Brazil I never had a dream to go to Disneyland because Disney in the early 2010's invested more in products and blue ray DVDs in Brazil, since the parks were in the United States and we weren't really the target audience for that. So they didn't minded making publicity about it, so I just watched the movies and Disney Junior). Everything felt more magical when I was a kid, I spent my days watching DVDs and sometimes had some Disney princesses themed toys, it was so fun playing pretend that I was a princess and I really felt like one. Rewatching Sofia The First made me feel like this again because they made this show at the time that their public were HUGE fans of the Disney princesses and it has the same characteristics, plots, even styles of the songs and soundtracks, visuals + I watched it when I was younger. It's not just "princesses" it has the whole Disney girly early 2010's magic into it and it made me so bittersweet, even if they tried they could never do nowdays a movie inspired by that time and give me the same feeling as a REAL movie from that time does. Sofia The First: Once Upon a Time was like watching a new movie from that old Disney, one that I didn't saw before, but at the same time I did, and that's the best part. The end of the movie gave me so much nostalgia that I almost cried too. That experience was amazing :")

It gives me the same nostalgia that I feel when I hear that song "a dream is a wish your heart makesss" it makes me cry how I miss to be a little girl again (i'm crying right now btw i'm very intense with my emotions)

(And hell I don't remember Cedric at all, since when he was there the whole time? Now that I know that he's there I'm feeling like really reeeeaaaaalllyy vague memories are trying to come back in my head, but I don't know if my brain is doing this on purpose or i'm just confusing him with an equally vague memory of Cruella. I guess it's the first option, I'm trying so hard that my brain is making up memories. Weird.)

But yeah at first I saw everyone falling to his feet and even though I understood that he was very funny and had a well-writen personality I couldn't really get why people were romantically in love with him. Well um I actually got it, he was a good character and was one more of these strangely atractive characters that people fall in love with, I've been there too. But I just couldn't see what was so atractive that people were simping over him, for me at that moment he was just funny and fits very well the "let's make a fandom" type of character, like for example Preminger from Barbie Princess and The Pauper. But then I thought "idk what i'm talking about i'm demisexual lol let's wait a few days" (That happened before. Many times.)

And I'm like. I don't know what's happening to me I'm so susceptible to weird (in socially non-fandom people's words) crushes and I thought I wouldn't be afected this time. Just so you can have an idea some of my last crushes were: Dr Flug from Villanos, Jackson Jekyll from Monster High, Raggedy Andy, THE Eddie Munson (for a whole year and some months, and I was so bullied after his "trend" ended because people said that his fans were cringe and everything (that's fake lol they are very nice)), 70% of my list are just nerds and sensitive guys with different types of mental illness yay my fav type

and now I think I'm feeling unironically atracted by this man it's just happening really slowly 😭 (DEMISEXUALS ‼️‼️⁉️⁉️💥💥💥💥💥👊👊👊👊)

I'm gonna be honest with you, at the moment I can't decide if I like him or not I'm so confused at the same time that I get it I also don't like how tf am I atracted by this man 😭 and then I'm like hmm he's acually cute let me search for some fanfiction

I'M SO CONFUSED I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE i guess I'll just wait to see what happens

you guys know that tiktok audio "at first I was like 'hmmm feet' as a joke,,,,, but bro....... I don't think that's a joke anymore...." (that's me rn but with Cedric)

Also I would like to take this oportunity that you're listening to me talking about Cedric to say the most important thing that this fandom needs to know:

We need more Cedric representations in Whimsical/Whimsigoth/Whimsigothic aesthetic it's like it was made for him just search that on Pinterest please you won't regret

And I'm here wondering what kind of songs he would listen to. I think he would like dark fantasy music, or witch music. I don't care if he's on medieval era and people didn't had access to a lot of music genres at that time, we are talking about disney nothing is historically correct

I can't help but think about Lana Del Rey but being a huge fan of her songs I don't think that it matches his tastes. I guess he maybe would like Aurora's last album, The Gods We Can Touch. I don't know why, it's the witchy vibes I guess. But I don't know, it's still not something that matches him a lot. EXCEPT FOR THE SONG MIDAS TOUCH FROM AURORA. IT'S PERFECT FOR HIM YOU GUYS SHOULD CHECK IT OUT

The cover isn't giving the aesthetic though, Aurora made this song for a show and then put the show album cover unfortunately. But her aesthetics are usually whimsical and magic, inspired by theatre, greek gods and tarot. This song is so good 😭

And of course there are songs like Everything Matters that fits his vibe but idk it depends on who's listening since it's not about the lyrics. The Innocent has a small part who matches him a little, the whole song has that witchy vibe dancing around the fire, I don't know how to describe it.

Coming back to Cedric I think my favorite scenario is him having an apprendice not too much younger than him. I think it's cute. I've never seen any fics like this (in fact I just read like 5 oneshots which is almost nothing) and if you guys know any let me know. I think it's just nice the idea of living with him and being his apprendice while having like a romantic tension between the two characters. It's cute

Also remember when I said I was going to talk a little more about the brazillian portuguese dub? So, something that I thought was really funny happened to me: In the first season he had his voice actor obviously and I was already used to his voice some time after watching the cartoon. It was very funny to me because the first time I saw a "scene compilation" of him it was in english, so hearing him talk in my language was fun. And btw his voice actor did a really good job voicing him, he (had a similar voice and) was really expressive just like his english VA, so like, really nice 👍

And then at some point in season two, from one episode to another, his voice actor suddently changed????? And obviously I got a little sad because his first VA was really good and I was used to his voice :( but the thing is: The new VA wasn't just a new one, IT'S THE SAME GUY WHO VOICED DR FLUG HERE IN BRAZIL AND I WAS LIKE OMG

THEY ARE SO SIMILAR IN PERSONALITY AND NOW THEY HAVE THE SAME VOICE WITH THE VOICE ACTOR'S MANNEIRISMS AND EVERYTHING (because that VA really has an specific way to talk, he stutter a little, sounds a little ironic but at the time really anxious, make some funny sounds for no reason sometimes like his screams)

I was really upset when they changed all the brazillian voice actors in Villanos, and that Flug didn't had his full-of-personality-and-expressive voice anymore :( the new episodes now have new voices and eveything, and they did their best, but it's not the original voices anymore and it doesn't hit the same yk? And then BAM CELDRIC HAS DOCTOR FLUGS VOICE NOW BITCH TAKE THIS

and the fact that Sofia The First was dubbed even before Villanos came out it's so funny to me

So yeah let me show you guys his amazing work at voicing two of my favorite characters:

After they changed Cedric's voice actor I was a little annoyed by the fact that I couldn't hear Cedric anymore, just Flug 😭 but now I'm slowly getting used to it and it's starting to sound like Cedric again.

Before that happened I could see some similarities between the two but I thought that I was just thinking too much and trying to connect two fandoms that I like, so I just forgot about it. After that happened my mind just blew it all make so much sense right now

And they are so similar in personality that I had to make a list of everything they have in common:

They work for guys that are completely blind to their talents and think that they're just idiots all the time

They have more potential than people think

Their projects/spells always go wrong because people keep disrupting their public moments, and so they are seen and weak and dumb (when they're not)

Science/Magic guys (they keep throwing liquids from one pot to another and saying difficult words, only for someone to stop them halfway and the substance explodes in their face, making them angry because this person once again interrupted their project that was going perfectly)

Self-confidence issues

Anxious mess, are always nervous and scared of something bad happening all the time

Childhood trauma because people never really saw their acomplishments and again and again kept repeating that they are idiots who don't know nothing (when they are geniuses!!)

They say that they're mean and they say that they do mean things when actually they are just really nice. They just choose that path because they think it's the only one that can bring them sucess and recognition in the future, but they were never made for this. They just do that because they want to proof their value to people who can't see it.

At the same time that they are mentally unstable, sometimes their confidence is so high that they start to act arrogant because "they're too smart and their projects are amazing": "I love what I do I'm the best sorcerer/scientist in the world"

But when they need to show that to people something bad always happens (because of other people!) And their plan fails, leaving them with confidence issues

"I'm too smart you guys don't deserve me"

"I can't do anything right omg i'm so stupid"

Their movements and maneirisms are so expressive, they're both skinny and tall and keep making those anxious poses, fidgeting with their hands, always anxious, scared of something, thinking too much and overall being nervous and ankward around their bosses

Boss just treats them as failures and gives them orders, in which they respond in the most submissive and saddest way because they're just miserable and just two little guys who are trying to proof their value in a place where no one even see them as people

But sometimes they are genuinely egoistic and egocentric because duh they're the best sorcerer/scientist out there, hello everybody is gonna know their name when they rule the world bye

They act so stupid and lovesick in their official crushes episodes, it's so funny

And even if we never saw Dr Flug's official face there is a design out there in the fandom where he has black hair with white streaks on his bangs so like 👍👍

Well um I guess that's all I have to say about this subject for now

These are my thoughts 🫶

I feel like I said a lot in a short amout of time but I'm here writing since 04:30 AM and now it's 07:47 AM so like. yikes

[a-m-pyra]

First Burn: Ch9 Crossing Boundaries (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

It seemed to P that Alice was all smiles to the point where P began to worry about her — and just as clumsy. She entered the orphanage smiling, greeted Cormac, who ran to the door as soon as he heard a loud “Good morning”, almost bumped into Nan, who was carrying a jug of cream into the dining room, and kissed Mrs. Seymour's cheek and then his.

Everyone looked at them in confusion, Angela, Ines and Abigail with some interest, as if they suspected something; that P and Alice have something in common. P felt a bit embarrassed and touched his cheek, completely ignoring Otto's suggestive look.

“Where does this great humor come from?” Otto asked and Alice giggled.

P found it endearing — she looked so happy, even ecstatic.

“Alex and P are going to the theater with me today.”

That's where Mrs. Seymour's different outfit comes from. 

P noticed it immediately. Mrs. Seymour usually wore very elegant dresses. They weren't evening wear, but they gave her seriousness and incredible class. She looked like an aristocrat and no one could accuse her otherwise. Today, however — without abandoning the red and black — she came down to the dining room in a very everyday dress, maybe even out of fashion, and yet it fit her so well — with puffy elbow-length sleeves, with numerous bracelets on her wrists, and, as usual, festooned with jewelry; and her hair was loose again.

Although P connected both threads — the theater and Mrs. Seymour's changed appearance — he still did not fully understand what really connected them.

“That's news for me,” he whispered, and after a moment he saw a hint of guilt on Alice's face.

He didn't mean to sound angry or irritated, but it felt like that — he felt guilty as well.

“I thought you might like this surprise.”

P gave her a smile. It was then that he saw her expression and body relax. She realized he wasn't angry.

“You can be sure he likes it,” Gemini said.

There was silence. Alice and P looked at each other for a moment, ignoring the children's quiet grunts and ambiguous looks. 

“Okay, let's finish breakfast and we can go,” Mrs. Seymour said, making Alice and P look down.

Mrs. Sharpe and Mrs. Seymour exchanged some strange glances. They smiled at each other knowingly, then winked at each other.

After breakfast, a carriage arrived and the four of them, together with Gemini, went to the theater. P opened his mouth, completely enchanted by the sight. The theater looked a bit different from the Krat opera house, but it was no less breathtaking, especially once he entered the theater.

He looked at Alice and Mrs. Seymour, who were walking side by side. Mrs. Seymour looked at the theater full of nostalgia, as if dozens of pleasant memories were rushing through her head.

“Did you work here?” P asked, and Mrs. Seymour glanced at him and smiled broadly.

“Oh well. You could say that.”

“Alex played roles in plays.”

P opened his mouth.

“Really?”

She waved her hand, snorting under her breath.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

Alice frowned, then walked over to one of the glazed posters and pointed at it — Gothel from 1868, the platinum plate had the engraving: Most sold-out performances in 1868. The poster showed a drawing of Mrs. Seymour, wearing a burgundy velvet dress, with a tower in the background and a gold braid wrapped around her neck.

“Loose adaptation of Rapunzel, the theater and the director made a fortune on this play, it was the deal of a lifetime, but ‘it's no big deal’.” Alice snorted. “Alex has the director's back so much that she can arrange everything. But There’s more! She was able to get people the jobs they needed. But no…it's nothing.”

“Wow. Indeed, it is impressive,” said Gemini.

P laughed as he saw Mrs. Seymour roll her eyes. She grabbed Alice's hand, not commenting on what she said, and they entered the theater. An elderly man was kneeling on the stage, repairing some mechanism near the stage.

Mrs. Seymour put her finger to her lips, and then they stepped closer. She cleared her throat and smiled.

“Hello, law enforcement!” she exclaimed, and the man flinched and turned around abruptly. He brushed aside his medium-long gray hair and smiled from behind his mustache.

“For God's sake, Coral. Do you want the good old man to have a heart attack?” He got off the stage and started walking towards them.

“Do I fill you with so much fear, Grandpa?” She laughed, and the man hugged her warmly.

“I'm actually shaking with fear.” He pulled away slightly and looked at her. “You haven't changed at all.”

“You too.”

He looked at P and smiled at him, extending his hand.

“Albert Cavil, my pleasure.”

P looked at Mrs. Seymour and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Pinocchio Geppetto,” he replied, feeling strangely cold.

He has never introduced himself by his full name. He felt a terrible pressure when he said his father's name. He hated how much it hurt.

“Just P,” Alice announced with a smile, grabbing his left hand to reassure him.

P shook Mr. Albert's hand and a smile appeared on his face.

“Grandpa, Sir Levis told me to make some minor adjustments to the set.” 

They heard a man's voice. All eyes turned to the entrance where a young man stood, probably Alice's age, maybe not much older. He looked up from behind the papers and smiled when he saw Alice and Mrs. Seymour. P, however, didn't know how to interpret his gaze as soon as he noticed his.

He felt intimidated, ashamed. He wondered if he should tell Mrs. Seymour how he felt.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Come on,” he huffed and reached out for the list, putting on the glasses he wore around his neck.

Meanwhile, as Mr. Albert leaned against the stage, reading about what he needed to improve, the boy greeted Alice, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. Instead, he simply hugged Mrs. Seymour and patted her on the back.

“P, please meet my friend Dorian. Dorian, meet P.”

Who was he to Alice? The thought flew through his head at the speed of a bullet.

“And P is…?”

Alice snorted and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Also my friend. Very close one.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. P felt his heart pounding like a cloud of butterfly wings.

A very close friend.

Dorian did not smile at him. He simply held out his hand and P shook it — they both did it just to get the formalities over with. Only after the grimace on his face, he realized how hard he had done it. Dorian, however, did not comment on this. He clenched and unclenched his hand as he looked at Mrs. Seymour.

“What is mother doing here? You said it was probably the end of your acting career.”

“I'm not your mother. And I never will,” she said, embarrassing Dorian so much that P wondered what he would look like with his tie next to Dorian’s face. “Alice convinced me to play the main character in her musical, that's all. Last role, last performance, I will become a therapist and full-time carer.”

P didn't miss the way Dorian placed his hand on Alice's hip and pulled her closer to him — it seemed to him that there was more to it than just a platonic embrace. Alice, however, seemed unfazed, just smiled slightly and moved away from him. She stood closer to P and he wondered about her reaction.

“Come on, P, I'll show you where I work.” She clasped their hands, clenching her own tightly.

P just nodded and followed her.  

“Everything's all right?” he asked quietly as they entered the empty floor — everyone seemed absorbed in their work.

“Of course, why would there be anything wrong?”

P shrugged.

“I thought you'd like to talk to him.”

“Not today. Today I want to show you around so you know where to find me.”

“And you grabbed his hand terribly hard,” Gemini added.

“It's nothing. Sometimes Dorian just can't sense my boundaries." 

P began to wonder if he was constantly crossing them.

“Anyway, come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the girls. You will see that they will fly all over you.”

P hoped Alice was joking, but when she introduced him to the other seamstresses, they all circled him like puppets in Krat. P liked feeling that he existed — for some reason, he sometimes felt that it was quite the opposite. This time, however, it felt more than enough existing. But Alice pulled him out of the circle of seamstresses, joking them so they wouldn't crush him, and then pulled him towards her workplace. It was behind a patterned screen, just her own place.

“I walled myself off in case I was overstimulated. Then I have some peace and solitude when everyone else is always talking and loud."

P liked this place. It was so different. Full of shiny materials, accessories, patterns and designs — a few of them were even on mannequins.

“And it's all yours?”

Alice nodded.

“I like to express myself artistically on clothes.”

P walked over to the gold and white outfit, shining in the light of the late autumn sun; with a long, patterned cape and puffy, translucent sleeves.

“It's beautiful,” he announced, and Alice walked up to him and put her arm around his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

They looked at each other again. P felt that tension again as they looked into each other's eyes. This time he managed to brush her hair out of her face, returning her wide smile. 

Gemini held back his snark, allowing them this moment. He felt a certain pleasure in silently enjoying it.