#my childhood nostalgia draws series

[cutejk123]

Fifi 🩵🌼

My Childhood Nostalgia Draws Series Part 2: Fifi from Fifi and the Flowertots.

Fifi and the Flowertots was one of my top 3 early childhood shows and I couldn’t resist drawing her, she’s adorable 🥰

I even owned the DS game of Fifi and the Flowertots, hehe fun memories 😃😃

[imthebadguyyy]

i can fix him, no really i can.

Pairing : charles leclerc x reader

Fandom : formula 1

Series : the tortured poets department

Synopsis : they tell say God help her when I tell em he's my man...

warnings : angst.

the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud...

The Monaco Grand Prix had been spectacular. Charles Leclerc, the golden boy of Formula 1, had won in his home country, and the celebrations were grand. The streets of Monte Carlo were alive with excitement, and the night was still young when you found yourself at a cozy bar with Charles and your friends, including Alex and Lily.

Charles was in high spirits, the euphoria of his victory coursing through him. You couldn't help but feel proud of him, but a knot of anxiety had formed in your stomach. You brushed it off, attributing it to the intensity of the day. The bar was crowded, the laughter loud, and the drinks flowing.

You sat beside Charles, trying to engage in the celebratory mood, but the jokes he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. You could see the discomfort in Lily’s eyes, and Alex’s attempt to diffuse the tension with his own humor only partially succeeded.

“And then there was my ex, remember her?” Charles roared with laughter, slapping the table. “She was always so organized, never made a fuss about anything. I swear, sometimes I think she had everything more together than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

The laughter that followed was forced, a thin veneer over the awkwardness. Your heart sank. Charles had a few too many drinks, and his filter was gone. The way he talked about his exes, and sometimes even you, made you feel small and insignificant. Tonight, it stung more than usual.

Lily gave you a sympathetic look, and you tried to muster a smile. Alex changed the subject to racing, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. But Charles was on a roll.

“And you, love, you’ve got your quirks too,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. His voice was louder than necessary, drawing the attention of those around you. “Remember that time you tried to cook us dinner and nearly burned the kitchen down? Classic.”

The laughter was scattered, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You wanted to disappear, but you stayed, for Charles. The night dragged on, each joke more painful than the last, until finally, it was time to leave.

Back at the hotel, the atmosphere was heavy with the unspoken words that lingered in the air. Charles, still basking in his victory, seemed oblivious to your discomfort. He collapsed onto the bed, eyes half-closed, a contented smile on his face.

You changed into your pajamas quietly, the tension building within you. Charles didn’t notice. He didn’t kiss you goodnight or tell you he loved you. He just lay there, lost in his own world.

As you slipped into bed beside him, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The silence was deafening. You turned away, facing the wall, the weight of your doubts pressing down on you. Was this what love felt like? Was this the future you had envisioned with him?

Sleep was elusive, your mind racing with questions and insecurities. You felt a chasm growing between you, one that his victory and the night’s revelry couldn’t bridge. Charles had won a race, but you felt like you had lost something precious.

In the quiet darkness of the hotel room, you lay awake, wondering if Charles would ever see the pain behind your forced smiles, the hurt beneath your laughter. The night that had started with joy ended in silent despair, leaving you unsure about the road ahead.

they shake their heads, saying god help her, when i, tell em he's my man...

The living room buzzed with nostalgia and laughter as you mingled with Charles' childhood friends. Marta, Riccardo, and a few others caught up animatedly near the fireplace, while Lily and your closest girlfriends gathered near the kitchen, sharing stories and memories.

Charles slipped his arm around your waist, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Hey everyone," you announced, your voice trembling slightly. "There's something we want to share."

The room quieted, and curious eyes turned towards you. You felt Charles' supportive presence beside you, which gave you a measure of reassurance.

"We're dating," Charles declared with a bright smile, his eyes searching for signs of approval or happiness.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, Marta and Riccardo exchanged concerned glances. Lily's expression softened with worry, but she quickly composed herself.

Without saying a word, Lily motioned for the other girls to follow her. You gathered in a nearby room, and they enveloped you in a supportive hug.

"We just want you to be careful," Lily whispered, her voice filled with concern. "You know how Charles can be sometimes."

The other girls nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and caution. "We're here for you no matter what," one of them added, squeezing your hand gently.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt their unconditional support. These were the friends who had always been by your side, through thick and thin. Their concern was palpable, a reflection of your deep bond and shared history.

"I appreciate your concern," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I really care about Charles. I hope you can see that."

They nodded understandingly, their embrace tightening around you. "Just promise us you'll look out for yourself," Lily said softly.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. Despite the doubts lingering in the back of your mind, you knew you had their support. With them standing beside you, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright.

Back in the living room, Charles was chatting animatedly with his friends, oblivious to the heartfelt conversation happening just a few rooms away. You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. Whatever happened next, you knew you weren't alone.

his hand so calloused from his pistol, softly traces hearts on my face...

The day had been a disaster. Charles had been so sure of his win, so confident in his abilities. But the race had ended in bitter disappointment. You could see the frustration radiating off him as he stormed out of the pit, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

You followed him quietly, giving him space as he retreated to the trailer. He slammed the door behind him, and you hesitated before opening it slowly and stepping inside. The tension in the small space was palpable.

"Charles," you said softly, hoping to calm him down. "It's just one race. There will be more."

He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "You don’t get it!" he shouted, the force of his anger making you flinch. "I needed this win. Everything was riding on this."

You took a step back, feeling a mix of fear and sorrow. "I'm sorry," you whispered, unsure of what else to say.

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, and then turned away from you. "Just...leave me alone," he muttered, his voice still edged with anger.

Your heart ached at the distance between you. You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but his fury made you hesitant. You stood there, torn between giving him the space he demanded and wanting to bridge the gap his disappointment had created.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Eventually, his shoulders sagged, and he turned back to you, the anger in his eyes replaced by regret. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, though it still carried the weight of his frustration.

You nodded, but the hurt lingered. "I know," you replied quietly, not sure if you believed it yet.

He stepped closer, his calloused hands reaching for you. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his words earlier. He softly traced hearts on your face, the roughness of his fingers a reminder of the man he was — strong, yet capable of such tenderness.

You closed your eyes, trying to reconcile the conflicting emotions swirling within you. His anger had scared you, but his apology and the softness of his touch made you question your feelings. Could you forgive him so easily? Did his regret outweigh the sting of his outburst?

He continued to caress your face, his fingers moving in soothing patterns. "I hate that I took it out on you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was genuine remorse there, but also a desperation for your forgiveness. You wanted to trust him, to believe that this was just a moment of weakness, not a glimpse into a darker side of him.

"I don't know what to feel," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You scared me, Charles."

His face crumpled with guilt, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. Please, just give me a chance to make it right."

You stayed in his arms, your heart heavy with uncertainty. His touch was soothing, but the memory of his anger lingered. You wanted to forgive him, to move past this moment, but a part of you wondered if this was a sign of things to come.

As he traced another heart on your cheek, you closed your eyes again, trying to find clarity in the midst of the chaos. You loved him, but love alone couldn't erase the hurt. Only time would tell if his actions matched his words, if his tenderness could outweigh his anger.

For now, you held onto the hope that he could change, that the man who traced hearts on your face was the real Charles, not the one who lashed out in anger. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you silently prayed that your hope wasn't misplaced.

i can fix him, no really i can..

The evening had started off so well. Charles had invited you to a family dinner at his mother's house. Pascale, Arthur, Lorenzo, their girlfriends, and a few of the drivers were all there. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and warmth. You felt a sense of belonging, surrounded by the people Charles loved most.

But as the night wore on, a seemingly innocuous comment about a minor mistake Charles made during a recent race triggered something in him. What began as light-hearted teasing quickly escalated into a heated argument. Charles' temper flared, his frustration from the season bubbling to the surface.

"You don't understand the pressure I'm under!" Charles shouted, his face flushed with anger. "It's not just a game to me!"

You tried to calm him down, to remind him that everyone was just joking, but he was too far gone. "Charles, it's just a silly mistake. Everyone makes them," you said gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

But your words only seemed to fuel his rage. "You always take their side!" he snapped. "You never support me!"

The room fell silent. Pascale and the others exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the evening had taken. Arthur stepped forward, trying to intervene. "Come on, Charles, she’s just trying to help."

Charles whirled around to face his brother, his eyes blazing. "Stay out of it, Arthur. This is between me and her."

You felt a pang of hurt at his words, but also a rising determination to stand your ground. "I'm on your side, Charles. I always am," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. "No, you're not. You never are."

With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. Pascale sighed deeply, her face etched with worry. "Let him go, dear. He needs time to cool down."

Arthur put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "He’s being unreasonable. It's not your fault."

But you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can fix him. No, really, I can," you insisted, your voice breaking. "He’s just under so much pressure. He doesn't mean it."

Lorenzo's girlfriend, Charlotte, gave you a sympathetic look. "We know he doesn't mean it, but you can't keep taking the brunt of his frustration. It's not fair to you."

You looked around the room, seeing the concern in everyone's eyes. They cared for you, and they cared for Charles, but they didn't understand. They didn't see the Charles you saw — the one who was vulnerable and scared, hiding behind his anger.

"I love him," you said quietly, more to yourself than anyone else. "And I know he loves me. I just have to be patient."

Pascale walked over and took your hands in hers, her eyes filled with motherly compassion. "Love is important, but it shouldn't hurt this much. Sometimes, it's okay to step back and let him come to terms with his own issues."

You nodded, but your heart was heavy with resolve. You knew they were right, but you couldn't give up on him. You had seen glimpses of the man he could be, the man he was when he wasn't weighed down by his own demons.

"I have to try," you whispered, more determined than ever. "I have to."

You slipped away from the group and found Charles outside, pacing back and forth, his hands clenched into fists. He looked up as you approached, his expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw with regret. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "I know you're under a lot of pressure, Charles. But you can't keep taking it out on me. We need to find a way to handle this together."

He nodded, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I know. I’m sorry," he repeated, his voice breaking. "I just...I feel like I'm drowning sometimes."

You held him close, your heart aching for him. "We'll figure it out," you promised. "But you have to let me in. You have to trust that I'm on your side."

He nodded against your shoulder, his grip tightening. "I do. I will."

As you stood there in the darkness, holding each other, you knew the road ahead would be difficult. But you were determined to help him, to fix what was broken. Because despite everything, you loved him. And you believed that love was worth fighting for, even when it hurt

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man..

The car ride home was supposed to be peaceful. The two of you had spent a pleasant evening with friends, but as you drove back, a comment about his racing performance earlier in the week had sparked an argument. The tension between you and Charles had been simmering for days, and now it was boiling over.

"You're always criticizing me," Charles snapped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "You think it's easy out there? You have no idea what it's like!"

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm not criticizing you, Charles. I'm just saying you need to be more careful. It's not just about you—there are other drivers, the team, and me."

His jaw clenched, and he pressed harder on the gas pedal. The car surged forward, the speedometer climbing rapidly. "You don't get to tell me how to drive," he growled.

Your heart started pounding, but you kept your voice steady. "Charles, slow down. This isn't the track."

He ignored you, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his knuckles white against the wheel. The car continued to pick up speed, the scenery outside blurring into a streak of lights and shadows. Fear tightened your chest, but you refused to let it show.

"Charles, this is dangerous," you said firmly. "You're not thinking straight."

He shot you a fierce glare. "Stop trying to control me!"

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep us safe. You're being reckless."

He let out a bitter laugh, his anger palpable. "You think you can handle everything, don't you? That you know better than me?"

Your patience snapped. "I can handle a dangerous man," you shot back, your voice rising. "But I'm not going to sit here and let you put our lives at risk because you're too stubborn to listen!"

Charles flinched as if you'd struck him. For a moment, the car seemed to hover on the edge of something catastrophic. Then, slowly, he eased off the gas, the car's speed gradually decreasing until you were traveling at a more reasonable pace. The silence that followed was thick with unresolved tension and unspoken words.

You both stared ahead, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint whir of the tires against the asphalt. The anger and fear churned inside you, but you kept your composure, refusing to give in to the chaos.

Finally, you reached home. Charles parked the car and turned off the engine, but neither of you moved to get out. The weight of the argument hung heavy in the air.

"I don't want to fight," he said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

You turned to look at him, your expression softening just a fraction. "Neither do I. But you need to understand that your actions have consequences. It's not just about you anymore."

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away. "We need to communicate better, Charles. We can't keep having these explosive arguments."

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative. "I'll try," he promised. "I don't want to lose you."

You squeezed his hand, offering a small, tentative smile. "I don't want to lose you either. But we have to work on this together."

With that, you both stepped out of the car and walked into the house in silence, the echoes of your argument lingering in the night air. The road ahead would be challenging, but you were determined to face it together, one step at a time.

Come close I'll show you heaven, if you'll be an angel all night.. 

The argument had been intense, but now the storm had seemingly passed. You and Charles found yourselves in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere heavy with unresolved tension. He reached for you, his touch tentative at first, but quickly growing more insistent as he pulled you closer.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with regret. "I don't want to fight anymore."

You responded to his kiss, your anger melting away into a fervent need to reconnect. Your hands roamed over each other, the intensity of the make-out session escalating quickly. Lips met with a desperate passion, tongues intertwined, and the world outside ceased to exist.

"Come close," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night."

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, really?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

His lips trailed to your neck, kissing the delicate skin there, taking it between his teeth and sucking it to leave a mark, making you gasp and moan at the sting, letting your head roll back.

You nodded, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Yes, but you have to promise not to bring up the argument again. Let's just enjoy the night."

He chuckled, the sound dark and sardonic. "And if I don't behave? What happens then?"

You pulled back slightly, studying his face. "Then the deal's off. No more fighting, Charles. I mean it."

His expression hardened, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a familiar edge of defiance. "You think you can control everything, don't you?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Always trying to manage me, like I'm some child."

Your heart sank, the heat of the moment dissipating in an instant. "That's not what I meant," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I just want us to have a good night together."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever you say. As long as I'm your perfect little angel, right?"

The insult stung, cutting through the fragile peace you'd managed to build. Without another word, you pushed away from him, the anger and hurt flooding back. "You know what, Charles? Forget it. I thought we could move past this, but clearly, you're not interested."

You turned on your heel, heading for the door. Behind you, Charles called out, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. "Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that."

But you didn't stop. You couldnt. The promise of a passionate night had been shattered by his careless words, and you needed space to cool down and collect your thoughts.

As you walked away, you heard him sigh deeply, the sound filled with the weight of unspoken apologies and missed opportunities. The night that could have been spent in each other's arms was now tainted by lingering resentment and unresolved tension.

In the quiet of your room, you let the tears fall, mourning not just the lost night, but the growing distance between you. It would take more than apologies and promises to mend the rift, but for now, you needed to be alone.

The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you couldn't keep going on like this. Something had to change, and it had to start with him.

but your, good lord didn't need to lift a finger, i can fix him, no really i can....

The vacation had been a welcome escape from the relentless pressure of the racing season. You and Charles had joined a few of the drivers, including Lewis and Pierre, at a luxurious beachfront villa. The days were spent basking in the sun, enjoying the ocean, and indulging in rare moments of relaxation.

But even here, away from the track, the shadow of Charles' recent bad streak loomed large. It was a warm evening, the group gathered around a bonfire, laughter and conversation filling the air. Charles, however, seemed distant, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames.

"I feel like I need to pray," Charles said suddenly, breaking the jovial mood. "I need something to break this bad streak."

You squeezed his hand, trying to offer some comfort. "You know, you've always said I'm your good luck charm," you joked lightly. "You’ve got pole, fastest lap, and wins when I’m around. Maybe I’m the one you should be praying to."

There was a moment of silence. You expected a laugh, or at least a smile, but instead, Charles' expression darkened. He pulled his hand away, his eyes narrowing. "You think you're like God? That’s incredibly arrogant."

The words hit you like a slap. The laughter around the fire died instantly, replaced by stunned silence. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift. "Charles, I was just joking," you said quietly, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden deck. "You don't get it," he snapped. "You think everything revolves around you."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back. "I was just trying to lighten the mood," you said, your voice trembling. "I’m always here for you, trying to support you."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I don’t need your kind of support."

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Lewis and Pierre exchanged concerned glances, clearly uncomfortable with the unfolding drama.

"Charles, that’s enough," Lewis said gently, stepping in to diffuse the situation. "We’re all friends here."

But Charles ignored him, turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness. You stood there, feeling the sting of his words, the hurt cutting deep.

Pierre got up and walked over to you, his expression filled with empathy. "Hey," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but the tears finally spilled over. "I can fix him," you insisted, your voice breaking. "No, really, I can."

Pierre sighed, his eyes sad. "You can't fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed."

Lewis stepped closer, his gaze steady and compassionate. "You're better off without him if he keeps treating you like this. You deserve someone who appreciates you, not someone who lashes out."

You shook your head, the conviction in your voice wavering. "He’s just under so much pressure. He doesn’t mean it."

Lewis and Pierre exchanged another look. "Pressure or not, there’s no excuse for treating you this way," Lewis said firmly. "You need to think about yourself, too."

You wiped your tears, the reality of their words sinking in. But despite everything, you still loved Charles, still believed in the man you knew he could be. "I just need to talk to him," you said, more to yourself than to them.

Pierre gave you a small, sad smile. "Just be careful, okay? We’re here for you."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The night that had started with so much promise was now marred by tension and hurt. As you walked away from the fire, your heart heavy, you knew you needed to find Charles, to try and reach him one more time.

You found him by the shoreline, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand echoing your turbulent emotions. He stood with his back to you, his posture rigid.

"Charles," you called softly, stepping closer.

He turned, his face illuminated by the moonlight, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his anger. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice raw. "I didn’t mean to snap at you."

You reached out, taking his hand. "I know," you whispered. "But we can’t keep going on like this. We need to find a way to deal with this pressure without hurting each other."

He nodded, pulling you into an embrace. "I don’t want to lose you," he murmured into your hair.

You held him tightly, hoping that this time, things would be different. But a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that this cycle would continue, that the man you loved would keep lashing out in his moments of weakness.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the waves crashing at your feet, you silently prayed for strength—for both of you. Because love was worth fighting for, but you couldn’t do it alone. Charles needed to fight too, for himself and for you.

WOAH- maybe, i can't... 

The villa was supposed to be a retreat, a place where you and Charles could escape the relentless pressure of the racing season and find some peace. But the calm had been shattered by yet another argument. The drivers who had joined you—Lewis, Pierre, and a few others—had made themselves scarce, sensing the brewing storm.

You were in the kitchen, the words flying between you and Charles like daggers. "You’re always on my back, always criticizing me," he shouted, his face red with anger. "Do you think I don’t feel the pressure already?"

"I’m not criticizing you, Charles," you replied, your voice shaking with frustration. "I’m trying to help you, to support you. But you keep pushing me away."

He scoffed, turning away from you. "Support me? By constantly nagging? That’s not support, that’s control."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "I’m not trying to control you. I just want you to be your best, and that means sometimes you need to listen."

He whirled back around, his eyes blazing. "Listen to you? You think you know better than me? That you can fix all my problems?"

The words hit you hard. You had spent so much time believing that you could help him, that your love and support could make a difference. But now, standing there, the reality crashed down on you. He didn’t want to be fixed, didn’t want to change. He wanted to wallow in his frustration and drag you down with him.

"I thought I could fix you," you said, your voice breaking. "No, really, I did. I thought if I loved you enough, supported you enough, you’d see that you don’t have to go through this alone."

He rolled his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "That’s your problem. You think you’re some sort of savior."

The anger flared inside you, hot and fierce. "And you think you can treat me like this and I’ll just keep coming back? You’re the one with the problem, Charles. You’re so caught up in your own misery that you can’t see what’s right in front of you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, your voice rising. "You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that I can fix you when you’re not willing to fix yourself. I’m done."

Charles looked taken aback, his bravado faltering. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I’m leaving," you said, the words steady and resolute. "I deserve better than this. Better than you."

You saw the shock in his eyes, the realization that you were serious. "You’re not serious," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"I am," you replied, turning to grab your bag. "I’m done being your punching bag. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved."

You walked past him, heading for the door. As you reached for the handle, you felt a sense of clarity, of strength. "I can fix him, no, really, I can," you muttered to yourself, then shook your head. "Woah, maybe I can’t."

You opened the door and stepped outside, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. As you walked down the path, away from the villa and from Charles, you heard the door slam behind you. He didn’t follow, didn’t call out to you.

The drivers who had been waiting outside looked up, concern in their eyes. Pierre stepped forward, his expression gentle. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I will be."

Lewis came over, his hand resting on your shoulder. "You did the right thing. You deserve someone who values you."

You felt the tears well up, but they were tears of relief, of release. "Thank you," you said, your voice steady. "I needed to hear that."

As you walked away with your friends, leaving Charles and his toxicity behind, you felt a newfound sense of freedom. You had tried to fix him, but in the end, you had fixed yourself by walking away. And that was the greatest victory of all.

a/n : it appears I've given allll the angsty ttpd songs to charles 🥲 this one was painful to write. as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

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[mercykatze]

rereading my childhood fav book series out of nostalgia and felt compelled to draw them the way ive always pictured them

[quinton-reviews]

have you ever thought about doing a Game Shakers video? or is the show too boring to really justify such a thing?

So when it comes to doing Henry Danger and Game Shakers videos, there are really a few things I think people need to keep in mind...

The mini-series so far is really heavily about me revisiting my nostalgia and kind of answering my curiosity about where these shows went. So reviewing iCarly and Victorious worked because they were of "my era." Sam & Cat worked on that level of "What happened after I stopped watching?" I think that if I don't have a specific goal or pitch, just flippantly watching kid shows from faaaar past my childhood works less as a concept.

One of the great things about iCarly and Victorious is that both shows are barely, and I mean BARELY, in the copyright system on YouTube. Once or twice per season, I'd get one clip or one episode that I had trouble with. But it was shocking how much I could get away with. Sam & Cat was hell because it was clear that by 2013 Nick was uploading stuff to the YouTube copyright library as it was made. So no matter what I did, I would get a copyright claim. This is honestly why those final two videos were much more indulgent than my usual style. I kind of went, "if I have to fight copyright anyway, might as well show more clips..." I regret this somewhat, as now my new video still has 20+ days until I'll have full ads AND I now have a reputation for only recapping plotlines. But that's what you get I guess.

This is much more a thing for Henry Danger than Game Shakers, but another issue is just how much content there is with these shows. Henry Danger has a decade of content, recapping all of it would be both unsurmountable journey and... Well, not fun to watch. So if I ever did these shows, I would have to really focus more on season-by-season analysis rather than actual episodes.

I think my videos on iCarly, Victorious and Sam & Cat are all connected by certain themes and points that I am now drawing closure to. The gags about "the creator," the cognitive dissonance, the attachment to childhood, etc. So if I do reviews on other shows, I have to find new angles and themes to establish. Drake & Josh and Zoey 101 are topics I like because instead of focusing on the creator, I can focus on the lives of the stars and how fame affected them. When it comes to Game Shakers and Henry Danger, the only possible throughline I can think of is how the shows were effective by the collapse of their creator and production studio. Henry Danger continued and improved while Game Shakers was effectively canceled early and fell on its face. But we've already covered all that. Game Shakers just doesn't have that pull to me, and because of that, I can't imagine finding an excuse to review it.

[arkus-rhapsode]

Are We Returning To 2000s Era Shonen Anime/Manga (A Discussion)

So this is going to be way more of a thinkpiece than I usually do for this blog, but recent trends in the space and niche that I devote a lot of time to, Anime/Manga, have been showing themselves that got me thinking. This is not meant to be a serious sociology case study taken as fact, it's going to be more a theory based on observations of the community that I, like many others, devote a lot of time into than a full on claim, but I do want to ask, is the anime and manga community is experiencing a resurgence in 2000s era shonen manga?

Background

Now let me get this out of the way, there is bias in these observations as I am a western anime fan, but also a North American anime fan. Meaning my gateway and gauges of pop culture are mostly determined by the history of my area of the world’s relationship with anime. From the OVAs of 80s hyper violent and hyper sexual sci fi that you had to purchase from the backs of video rental stores, to the Toonami era of 90s and early 00s programming block the centred around action anime and cartoons, the 4kids era of mass market japanese animated kids shows that were really just giant commercials with some of the earliest memetics in western sphere, and the explosion of shonen battle series in the western sphere in the mid to late 2000s marked by the rise of the colloquially named “Big 3” of shonen jump. I understand that continents like South America or Europe may have undergone a different exposure to the Japanese medium, but as I am going in with some bias in this observation, I would like to make it clear on where the formula is coming from. I also would like to lay down a certain clarification before making this, when discussing the topic of nostalgia I think a lot of people have forgotten what it actually means. If we go by the Cambridge dictionary definition, Nostalgia is “a feeling of pleasure and also slight sadness when you think about things that happened in the past.” This is often invoked when talking about pop culture because people from say 20 years ago don’t seem to enjoy or relate to the interests of today. The belief is that nostalgia is generational ergo if you grew up in the 80s you’re likely wishing to recapture the feelings of childhood that you associate with those trends from 20 years ago. In fact, most revaluation in media has often been catalyzed by a difference of those who grew up in an era rebuffing the opinions of those who didn’t. 

There is the well known “20 Year Rule” regarding pop culture nostalgia. That every decade it longs for what was popular 20 years ago. Probably no better example than “That 70s show” being popular in the late 90s, the return of many beloved 80s-90s franchises like “Ghostbusters” returning in the 2010s as well as series like “Stranger Things” that wrapped itself up in 80s aesthetics. DC's New 52 relaunch that seemed to bring back trends from 90s era comics.

Now it goes without saying that the 20 year rule isn’t a “real” rule, rather an observation that certain trends make a return to popularity because the ones who grew up with a certain media will be the ones who add to the discourse when they come of age and will be the ones having a chance to create consumable art for the masses and that may just be revivals of once popular IP. This isn’t necessarily wrong in regards to nostalgia, but I do believe that one doesn’t need to have been born in a certain era to be nostalgic for something when we discuss pop culture. Pop culture is really just trends and preferences that become en vogue and people can acquire a taste at any given time. Sometimes it can be due to those who grew up with something now having the chance to create and drawing upon their own childhoods, sometimes it's just due to not being exposed, other times it can be a certain feeling of disillusionment of the now, and seeking something that peaks your interest, and even sometimes it can be major corporations or networks looking for things with existing audiences to draw upon that actually expand the audience. In fact one of the most prominent Netflix adaptations of the 2020s has been live Action Avatar the Last Airbender and One Piece, both shows that got their start on American televisions in 2004 and 2005. One of the biggest animated shows right now is Invincible, based on a comic book from 2003

So I want to stress this is not necessarily about how if you grew up with the original Mobile Suit Gundam show you are being replaced by the kids who were watching GetBackers. And or if you are a fan of shows that came out in the 2000s you yourself were born in the 2000s.

But what was the landscape of the English speaking anime community like back in the 2000s? Well let me paint a portrait for you.

What was the 2000s like for anime fans?

The term I used, “shonen boom period”, is somewhat mythologized in the western anime sphere. There was a glut of high profile shonen anime running around the same time that most people identified with this time period and was arguably when we saw the most influx of people getting into the hobby. One Piece, Naruto, and Bleach served as big series known for their massively large casts, MCs with a level of attitude, some of the most hype centric power supernatural/extraordinary power systems, and certain brand of “Japanese-y” humor. We can’t deny that it wasn’t just these series however, as series like Fullmetal Alchemist became many people’s introduction to more narratively intricate series interspersed with a somewhat gothic action style. The gothic and somewhat edgy Death Note became many fans' first ever “battle series that’s not a battle series” that also incorporated many biblical and gothic horror elements into its presentation. And things like Code Geass also incorporated this combination of hyper stylized cat and mouse with ornate and gothic aesthetics and fighting robots. 

Series like Ouran Highschool Host Club and and Haruhi Suzumiya were basically gateways to the more hyper extraordinary slice of life series that didn’t shy away from fanservice and loud comedy. With ecchi like Rosario + Vampire taking it to an even greater extreme. For people willing to go even deeper, series like Fairy Tail began to pop up and share a distinct similar flavor to series like One Piece and Naruto which arguably started the popular conception of it coming from the same magazine as the latter. That’s not also discounting the amount of holdovers from the 90s like Dragon Ball z, Trigun, and Yu Yu Hakusho, which also had an edge towards fantastical combat and comedic oriented series.

All of this is to generally illustrate the media diet of what an average anime fan was expected to have some level of access to. As this was far before the eras of Funimation or Hulu having online services. Not a homogenized spread by any means, and im certain plenty of readers could name more underground or smaller series like Mushishi or Elphen Lied, but generally the popular mainstream you could tell that there was a consistent theme of long form media with a very loud, very flashy, and very action oriented type of series. Which I think is fair to say had skewed some people’s perception. And while I cannot claim with utter certainty that Japan was the same in this regard, you can look at magazines like Shonen Jump and notice a somewhat synchronistic trend. With series like Hitman Reborn, Gintama, D. Gray Man, Eyeshield 21, Bobobobo, etc.making a clear marcation of what was commercially successful at the time. Even series not inside the magazine but had smaller nicher, Tokyo-pop-esque series like Rave Master, Flame of Recca, Air Gear, History’s Strongest Disciple Kenichi, Soul Eater, etc all had a similarity to the shonen jump magazine. To the point it was not uncommon to see so many jump characters in a collage and one from shonen sunday or shonen magazine in there as if this was all coming from the same place.

Changing Landscape

Now with the advantages of the modern internet, we have the ability to actually keep up with the jump magazine in real time as opposed to the common practice of relying on scanlation site and fansubs that were often devoted to the most popular works. But with simultaneous publication and services like Crunchyroll, being able to access a wider variety of shows and series that we may or may not have access to. I believe that the 2010s in the english speaking fanbase was the decade we saw a somewhat expansionism of what people perceived as anime. Anime could be One Piece and Naruto, but it could also be Erased, it could be the Promised Neverland, Attack on Titan, K-On, Haikuu, and Durarara. With the representatives of the 90s no longer being holdovers in syndication like dragon ball but rather full on revivals of the likes of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Hunter x Hunter. 

All of these could be "shonen" but also other genres like Seinin, Josei, and Shojo all had their own varying layers of what they could be in their demographic

The mood of what was popular was also changing, not just in the fact that more flavors of anime and manga were becoming mainstream, but new works from shonen jump showed a rise in almost subversive series like My Hero Academia and Demon Slayer that seemed to consciously deviate or place new spins from traditional tropes of the 2000s characters, and we saw works that were derivative of previous serious like Black Clover drawing upon Naruto the same way it was known that Naruto had drawn upon Dragon Ball before them. Series like The Promised Neverland and Doctor Stone offered up more dramatic series that still infused a certain energy of the shonen genre. 

And of course the series like Attack Titan whose much more darker and gorey storytelling seemed to have become one of if not the biggest hit of the generation with a well regarded adaptation, but something that had felt so removed from what were once contemporaries like the then ending Bleach or Naruto. We can also note that the late 2010s saw the rise of series like Chainsaw Man and Jujutsu Kaisen that began a trend of popular urban fantasy stories. Where fantastical concepts were now in contemporary Japan and the stories that focused on concepts like self identity and the harshness of maturing were juxtaposed to the real world inhabited by monsters. 

It seemed many tropes of the previous decade were still alive in the rise of Isekai anime. Which was particularly the only popular outlet for fantasy stories with an action orientation. But these almost felt disconnected from the wider world of manga as things like heavy harem action series had actually decreased in mags like shonen jump. There was also new tropes being established in this subgenre that became unique popularizations of tropes all on their own, such as the overpowered protagonist whose power everyone believes is weak. But many of these were based on light novels, a form of media that only in the last few years western readers are having official access to and not simply scans found on the internet.

We in North America truly have gone from anime being a niche that was primarily accessible through dedicated TV blocks like Toonami, to a full blown cultural relevance shift.

We also need to talk about this era in its perception of the past also shifted. The 90s and the early 00s often blend together as classics of the anime community. Somewhat encased in amber. However, there is no denying that “feels like a 2000s series” had become a bit of a shorthand for very goofy, Very horny, very action heavy series. Series like Fire Force and and Undead Unluck had their show what more problematic elements be equated to the problematic trends of the past that people just accepted as “a part of the medium.” But lets keep in mind, this is not really describing a time, more a trend. Superficial elements that invoke similar feelings of the past. 

Speaking of anime fans…

Fan Culture

So while I wanted to paint a picture of creatively the landscape has changed, there’s no denying that in the age of internet accessibility, the anime fan community has also changed. It is much much easier now to get in contact with people who are anime fans now than it was to rely on word of mouth like it was back in the day. I can still distinctly remember my anime club which wasn’t even really a club devoted to anime but rather other geek stuff like D&D and TCGs. Our hobbies just happened to have similar overlap.

Now though, anime fan culture is much more relevant and thriving. Going from just posting weekly reviews, to long retrospectives, comedy videos, abridged series, clickbait articles, fan theories, and podcasts. However, I think a defining feature of fans of the 2000s era of anime that were at their most prominent was hype culture. 

Due to many of the biggest anime series at the time being released weekly and focusing on action, many many many discussion boards and videos were often about staying in this cycle of wanting to see what happens next and the action made people very excited to see just how characters were going to win fights or even if they’d have fights at all. 

I want to make it clear that this type of activity doesn’t belong to a certain era, but you can see it shaped by the 2000s era. Especially when discussing “what is the next big 3.” As if it were a true position and title, rather than a moment in time where there were just three very distinct shonen series in the fanbase.This doesn’t necessarily have a “negative” effect on the discussion of anime/manga but you can see that certain genres lend themselves to hyping fans up more and more. 

Someone isn’t reading the most recent chapter of a romance like Blue Box with the same level of anticipation of who will face who like it was One Piece. But there have certainly been series that try.

The Present

Now we reach the 2020s and this decade is still young, so it is hard to say what the future will hold for certainty, but we can look at the last four years and notice some significant waves being made recently in Shonen Jump alone. I already spoke of Undead Unluck, a series that almost wears it would now be considered retro inspirations on its sleeve. With an opening chapter that establishes an MC that seems motivated by a sexual joke, A power system follows a verbal naming gimmick, and a loose enough world that allows for characters of varying aesthetics and to be incorporated into groups. With groups of these powerful characters splitting up to face each other and use their ridiculous power to the extreme. Even in the series' own meta arc about creating manga, the in-universe analogy for Undead Unluck’s manga is commented on as feeling retro. There is no doubt the biggest viral hit of the decade so far has gone to Kagurabachi, a manga about sword fighting and magical crime lords that seems almost indulgent in its stylistic slicing and or dicing of baddies. Its memetic success was primarily due to a somewhat sincere and somewhat ironic belief that it would be the “next big thing” as it promised to be a stylized action series. Another surprise viral success has been the manga Nue’s Exorcist which sees another supernatural swordfighter boy harness the powers of his sexy spirit lady while getting into harem shenanigans that echo a particular form of ecchi of anime’s past that had actually been somewhat absent in the past decade in jump. Both of these series have a somewhat noticeable similarities to Bleach, a long running shonen action series that has seen its own revival in the last few years of writing this with the long awaited adaptation of the final arc of the bleach anime. 

While the other members of the “big 3” never truly went away and became almost inter-generational, Bleach truly did feel like a “come back” as it was absent for so long. And unlike Hunter x Hunter and Jojo which were never really popular in the west and even their older anime are more regarded as anime deep lore. Bleach was one of the most popular series in the west at the time to never receive a conclusion animated. 

Speaking of anime of the 2000s Trigun Stampede was a reimagining of the original late 90s show. This errs a bit similar to Hunter x Hunter’s style of revival, but also seems uniquely its own in actually trying to find a balance between the original series but adding in things cut from its original late 90s early 2000s counterpart. 

And now we must examine other shonen magazines. Series like Gachiakuta created by a former assistant of Okubo, the creator of Soul Eater, carries with it much of the similar energies of that series. Its also noticeable as being a truly dark fantasy series. Not an urban fantasy, but rather a completely new world that had a very grunge and dirty world building. And then there is Daemons of the Shadow Realm, a series by Fullmetal Alchemist creator Hiromu Arakawa. This series is also set in modern day japan with supernatural elements, however Arakawa’s style of writing is practically unchanged from her time on FMA. With an emphasis on action, intricate mysteries, and character building comedy with her trademark over exaggerated blocky style. There is of course Hiro Mashima who has started another new series, Dead Rock, and his style has also not changed that much. Then there is just flat out sequels to 2000s series like Gamaran Shura.

This to me shows that we are  seeing a bit of a combination of people who are now entering the workforce inspired by creators of the past, but also that creators of the past still exist 20 years later and are still making content that hasn’t really undergone significant change. 

Of course, we can’t also forget the implementation of the Manga Plus/J plus service which has opened up a very interesting ground for creators to have some of the most creatively out there series than what you may have expected from the shonen jump brand. I genuinely don’t think series like Make the Exorcist Fall in Love or Fire Punch would’ve ever been acceptable in the pages of a weekly shonen series. However one series in particular does feel like it could've and boy its been quite the success. Kaiju no 8.

Kaiju no 8 almost feels as though it is the AoT of a new generation with the amount of anticipation this one series has as well as the similarities between the series superficial elements. However, I'd say the key distinction between the two has been the tone. AoT took a dark and practically dour tone on its titan infested world. With an MC declaring war on all of his enemies. The pain was realistic, with human bodies being brittle and vulnerable. And the belief that just because you were a good person you weren't going to make it out alive. Kaiju no 8 instead opts for a more action oriented tone. Down playing the bleak realism for more "Hell yeah!" moments. With super science weapons that feel more akin to a tokusatsu show and fights and battles between humans an kanji the feel like the Dragon Ball style wrestling matches of old.

And of course, that’s not to say Jump hasn’t continued with series that feel more modern like the realistic and mellow romance of Blue Box or the dramatic coming of age story of Akane-Banashi. 

But the presence of these series has caused somewhat of a friction with the popular conception of the magazine. Its safe to say that while “shonen” tends to think of action male oriented series, it can really just mean works aimed more at adolescents. But I think many tend to associate this familiar feeling of “what is shonen” with their popular introduction of the magazine. With a saturation of action and brash comedy series. This is further complicated by the fact many action series in jump are actually ending over the last decade. With new ones not popping up to replace them as frequently and series like One Piece and MHA and Black Clover basically stretching out across an entire decade or longer. In fact, I don’t think it's unreasonable to believe that the hype for something like Kagurabachi was in part a belief that it signaled a return of a type of familiar series and genre that had been missing. Or at the very least, looked to fill an inevitable gap the magazine was obviously going to be facing. Followed by the other commercial success of Nue’s Exorcist, we are likely to see these series last for a long time. At the time of this writing, Tokyo Revenger’s author Ken Wakui has released Astro Royale, a series that feels very similar to his previous work yet infused with this almost GetBackers flavor.

So that leaves us with the question at the start, are we seeing a rise in 2000s nostalgia in anime and manga?

Conclusion

So I'm sorry if I disappoint, but the best I can say is, I’m not certain. I do believe that from my observation I think it is reasonable to say that we are seeing a rise in creators in the shonen space being ones inspired by series from 20 years ago. However, I think we are also seeing creators who are from that time period also returning to write how they have always written. 

On the consumer side, I think we can see that fans of anime and manga have changed in the sense their tastes can now be shaped by a much larger catalog of series at their disposal. But in the case of shonen, I think we are simply seeing those who likely got their start in anime at around the 2000s resonating with newer series drawing upon those series, but also with younger fans now likely to grow up with the tail end of what was popular in the 2010s now being influenced by the 2020s. I also believe that one of the defining features of the anime community in the last decade is hype culture. And currently we are seeing a rise in series that actually feel more catered to hype, be it a revival of a series they liked or predicting what will be the next success. 

All and all, this piece was trying to tunnel on the shonen demographic in general, which is more likely than not going to have similar traits relative to itself. I do see us as a community endorsing trends of the past and there’s an excitement for these things to “come back” even if they may or may not have left. If you liked this please drop a like or reblog because I may do more of these think pieces in the future.

[raymantogether]

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #1 - Rayman Collectibles & Merchandise

This exciting new series hopes to introduce you to Rayman Fans across the World on a more personal level and make you the reader feel more connected to the community. I look forward in the months ahead to showing you the many faces of the Rayman community and some of the exciting projects and accounts they are working behind. If you are interested in becoming a part of the Rayman Together Community Spotlight in the future please feel free to reach out through Twitter. 

Rayman was published by French video game publisher Ubisoft in 1995. Since Rayman debuted on PlayStation and Sega Saturn, the series flourished after receiving outstanding reviews from critics and multiple publications. Rayman went onto spanning decades of videogame releases. Rayman was a Ubisoft Mascot until later years, when its various franchises such as Assassin's Creed, Far Cry, Tom Clancy, and the Rabbids stole the spotlight.

After almost a decade, Rayman has slowly begun to creep back into the spotlight thanks to his return in Rayman in the Phantom Show. Ubisoft has begun to drip feed the loyal and patient Rayman community with various releases with collaborations from its multiple partners, such as Flyos, YouTooz, and Netflix. Rayman has made a major appearance in the Ubisoft Netflix series Captain Laser Hawk: A Blood Dragon Remix, Flyos is publishing the eagerly anticipated Rayman: The Board Game, and Youtooz has created Rayman figures and pin sets. YouTooz are even working on more figures, including an upcoming plush toy, collaborating with someone within the Rayman community. 

Although it may seem Ubisoft never supported the franchise outside of digital releases until now, a lot of you may be unaware that during the "Golden Era" of Rayman, Ubisoft released often rather obscure and bizarre merchandise that was exclusive in Europe or often released without public knowledge. 

I recently discovered the TikTok page RaymanCollectibles&Merch, which is managed by the extremely passionate Rayman fan Natasha Quinn from the United Kingdom. Natasha has collected various collectibles and merchandise throughout Rayman's history. I am delighted today to take an opportunity to showcase the Rayman Collectibles & Merchandise account as part of the very first Rayman Together Community Spotlight.

Please Introduce Yourself: "Hi I'm Natasha Quinn I live in Hertfordshire Stevenage in the United Kingdom."

Tell us something fun or interesting about yourself? "I have been collecting Rayman merch since 2016 but sadly lost most of it due to moving so restarting again in April 2023 where i have acquired a lot more then my childhood collection."

What do you enjoy doing in your spare time? "I have two small dogs called dexter and Bailey which compete in fun dog shows. I also love to spend time drawing and making crafts in my spare time."

4. What are three things that make you smile? "The three things that make me smile are anything animal-related, cute videos, etc. I'm a huge animal lover. 2 Rayman (of course) 3 playing retro games from my childhood, reliving the memories mostly the PS1, PS2, and Game Boy handhold"

5. How did you get into the Rayman series? "I first got into Rayman when my dad got me an atomic purple GBC, which he called the game Rayman to go aside. I fell in love with the adventure and the colorful levels as well as the character Rayman himself, which I thought the fist throwing was a cool design! I remember getting excited about completing a level I would show my dad."

6. What is your favorite Rayman game and who is your favorite Rayman character? "Choosing a favorite Rayman game is hard, but I would have to say for memories and nostalgia alone, it would be the GBC version, although I realize it isn't a popular opinion, but closely following would be Rayman 2 & 3, as they are great games too! My favorite Rayman character is Rayman himself or Ly the fairy."

7. What is your favorite piece of Rayman merchandise you own, and why? "I think my favorite piece I own the last plush. I was lucky and won it in an auction, and weirdly enough, the smaller version went up for sale the same week, so I was lucky to own the pair!"

8. What is the rarest piece of Rayman merchandise you own? "The rarest piece I own is the Rayman Grimace mushroom figure given to staff members working on the Rayman 3 game, and only 100 were made. It's a beautiful statue, and I had to get it shipped from another country. I feel very lucky to have one."

9. Is there something in your Rayman collection that you don’t own? "I would love to own the 25th anniversary coin. I have been searching each day, and I still have hope."

Thank you, Natasha, for participating in the very first Rayman Together community spotlight. It has been a pleasure getting to know you. I am a huge fan of your account. I look forward in the future to seeing what else you can collect. Hopefully, in the future, Ubisoft will help you get a Rayman 25th Anniversary Medallion. Who knows, maybe next year there will be a 30th Anniversary Medallion. If you enjoyed this spotlight and would like to follow and support Rayman Collectibles & merchandise, I have included links to her social media platform below. 

Thank you for reading everyone and I look forward to seeing you in future Rayman Together Community Spotlights.

[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. 

[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 :)

[xxbritishrosexx]

Day 5: Best Leo

How dare I choose only one?! I just had to draw my two fave ones (not that Rise and 2007 etc are so close behind these two)

It's just, 03!Leo has the nostalgia feeling to it and him being the first Leo's I remember from childhood. (And I can relate to him.. I have three younger sisters and boy it's tough to be the oldest sometimes)

12!Leo grew on me slowly as I watched the series (I'm even re-watching it) he is a cute boy who tries his best.

Anyways have "two" pics instead of one as it's upside down work so you can see the other one too

@tmaynt

[artsymeeshee]

Been re-listening to the MD soundtracks and been hit by nostalgia so I needed to draw something for my fave childhood series.

[uraberika]

AreOri and nostalgia

I read a hot take the other day on Twitter that said something along the lines of "AreOri isn't worse than all the other series, y'all all just blinded by nostalgia", and after a lot of pondering, I have to agree. I have not seen the later part of Ares, nor Orion but I think the way they utilised nostalgia was what made it kinda flop. Objectively speaking Ares does a decent job at being a soccer anime, but by so heavily bringing in elements that aim to make fans nostalgic and then fails to handle this nostalgia well is what makes the series lag behind all the others in the franchise.

Ares wanted to do too much all at once by making it into an alternate universe with the og cast included. While at first I was very excited about the reappearance of some of my faves, they did a poor job at handling characterisations. The og characters became bland and uninteresting because obviously the plot had to favour the development of the new main characters. This also ruined many Ares characters since it immediately invited the viewers to compare and contrast Asuto's gang with the og guys; and not only Asuto's team had more personality (which made fans who were hoping to see the og characters disappointed) but they seemed to have eerily similar traits to guys in the og series. Asuto, the sunshine boy, Haizaki with his anger issues and sick-loved-one-in-the-hospital problems, Nosaka the genius, emotionless tactician etc. In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with using a formula that seemed to work in previous installments, but the development of Ares characters 1) came at the detriment of the og character's development who just seemed to be background actors standing around without any real advancement of their own character or of the general plot and 2) was impossible not to compare and contrast the two groups of characters and find way too many similarities which makes the viewer (i am myself included xd) unable to appreciate the Ares characters as their own.

While this was going on, Ares also tried to use some tropes and themes that were already familiar to the audience. Yet again, a great move if executed correctly. My biggest issue with the execution here is that these tropes never fully made use of the full potential of Ares being in an alternate universe. We learn of Akane pretty early on in the series, Akane and Haizaki basically being the equivalent of Gouenji and Yuuka (or Gouenji and Yuuka with a different sort of relationship). Making a slight change in the trope of having a loved one in the hospital (like Haizaki and Akane being childhood friends) should have been enough, had Ares been a series on its own. The audience would have acknowledged that "haha this is a nod to the og series, how clever". But when Gouenji is right there, having gone through the same thing (especially if we considered how similar Akane is to Yuuka and Haizaki to Gouenji) the opportunity for these to bond (or hate, or whatnot, just to interact in any way) over this fact offers itself on a silver a platter, yet the series does not do anything with it, depriving both Haizaki and Gouenji from a potential character development.

The anime decided to create an alternative universe yet it was hesitant to harness the full potential of its alternative universe-ness. They could have used og characters to help them build the main character's personalities through interaction which they seemed to be doing, but at the same time, the og characters only seemed to be hollowed out shells of themselves, only there for a three minute appearance to draw in fans who started watching only to see this one character.

I think that's why I like Victory Road's premise so much. It seems to handle nostalgia much better than Ares did: the characters seemed to be very distinctly unique so far, no og characters to compare them to and a change in the protagonist's general attitude will also serve the game well, in my opinion. It alludes to previous series just enough for it to make fans want to pick it up while also introducing new, unique characters and a plot that replicates but also goes against the established story arc of Inazuma series. (I am aware that the fact that all the charas of previous series will be playable is also a big drawing force and that is the main reason that ppl are excited about this game haha).

So, in my opinion, the main reason people find AreOri the worst series in the franchise is because it establishes that it is going to rely on nostalgia and then does an abysmal job at making use of this nostalgia of the audience. It relies solely on the fans' dedication to their og characters - putting in og characters in the series as dummies with no real purpose, just so fans can say that their fave is in it - and completely forgets about the potential that fans can grow fond of new characters, can appreciate a storyline that is different from what they are used to.

I have to make it clear that I don't hate Ares, I just think that it was not well executed, due to in part in the way it relies on nostalgia, but I myself had enjoyed some parts of it when I was watching. And at the end of the day, it is a soccer anime which is mainly concerned with fancy hissatsus and high-stake matches and not the intricate details of their characters' personalities. I am also grateful for Ares because it was successful in making me nostalgic and indeed pulled me back to the franchise. Despite all the issues I think it has, a lot of characters turned out decent and I was very invested in the story when it first came out. What I also love about Ares is how it revived the fandom here on tumblr: the sakka fridays of watching the new ep without understanding anything, the long analysis posts, the fanarts and fanfics, I will always be thankful for its community-building.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. xd

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Echoes of the Past (1) - Whispers of Darkness

Summary: When a night of drinking with friends unearths a dusty book long forgotten about Y/N's friends decide to try their hands at demon summoning. Disappointed it seems to not have worked they all go home leaving Y/N alone with someone lurking in the shadows. What will happen when a childhood friend, who's also an incubus, turns up looking for answers. Slight slow burn with smut to be added in future chapters.

Demon Bang Chan x Witch Female Reader.

This is my own work not a reblog! Please do not repost or translate.

Series Masterlist Navigation

Content Warnings- cursing, demonic rituals, mentions of consuming alcohol

Word Count: 1,733

As Halloween night nears and the spooky season is in full swing Y/N and her friends decide to get together for a night of drinks and fun. Y/N goes into her kitchen to root around for more alcohol, she's sure she has some hidden somewhere around her, her beautiful friend Lisa shouts to get her attention asking her to come back into the living room.

Giving up momentarily on her quest for alcohol she shrugs and rejoins her friends, stopping mid step as Jennie holds up a book you'd thought was lost when you moved house a few years ago "what are you doing with that old thing?" She asks with her nose scrunched up in mock disgust "does this shit work?" Jennie asks excitedly almost vibrating in her spot on the floor "fuck no" she laughs as she shakes her head "got given it as a birthday present one year when I was young, it's a load of shit" Y/N goes to reach for the book feeling a sudden need to protect it but stumbles having to catch herself mid air, a feat considering how buzzed she was, when Lisa snatches the book away unexpectedly "what the hell?" Y/N groans throwing herself onto her sofa "sorry honey but I need to look through this thing" she laughs as her nimble fingers flick through the dusty and brittle pages.

As the night continued Y/N had almost drifted off to sleep when a shriek made her jolt upright "who died?" She mumbles making the girls laugh, "nobody, Jennie found some hottie in that book of yours apparently" Alexa giggles as she points to the two girls drooling over what looks like a sketch of a young looking man with striking blonde locks. Y/N's eyes blink a few times as a sense of foreboding and nostalgia settle in her tummy when she looks at the ink "who is this Y/N you gotta tell me!" Jennie giggles drunkenly making her laugh "uhh a lust demon or something if I'm remembering right, haven't read that thing in a long ass time" an excited gasp shoots out of the girls perfectly glossed lips "if he's a demon that means we can summon him right?" She smirks as she wiggles the book in the grasp, the notion of doing something so spiritual in mid October makes all the other girls in the room scream happily.

That dark sense of foreboding returns to her tummy and squeezes at her chest "I… don't think that's a good idea guys'' the girls in the room start moving furniture to make space for the summoning circle they need to draw "why not?" Lisa asks as the two other girls grab supplies such as candles and chalk from around the house "you said yourself the books a load of shit" Y/N's eyebrows crease as she watches the hurried movements suddenly feeling herself start to sober up "worst case scenario nothing happens and it's a bust, best case scenario we get to order around a hot demon" she wiggles her eyebrows at the uneasy girl "who says he'll listen to we say?" Y/N asks "no duh it says so in your book" Jennie nods while pointing to the book in Lisa's hands.

Once everything is ready the girls each sit at a point around the circle and Lisa holds the book out to Y/N "what? I have to read the spell?" She asks with a frown "I don't even wanna do this" she whines "it's your book honey so you get the honours" Alexa smiles as the girls join hands "lucky me" she grumbles but places the book in her lap and holds the hands of the girls to her sides, she recites the spell as best she can from the book and they all wait with baited breath. A few moments roll by but seemingly nothing is happening "what a bust" Lisa moans as the girls all share looks of disappointment "don't look at me, I tried to warn you guys" Y/N shrugs as a long yawn escapes her body, she rolls her shoulders and stands "I think that's me done for the night sorry girls" she smiles sheepishly, they all give her a hug and thank her hosting them.

Once everyone has gone Y/N flops herself down onto her sofa in exhaustion and groans when her eyes fall onto the book abandoned on the floor. Deciding to place the book back on her bookcase where it belongs she turns to get up off the soft surface and picks up the book gently, she rubs her thumbs over the cover and smiles thinking back to her childhood and all the times she thought she was a witch who would summon demons to be her friend when she was lonely. One of the demons she remembers being especially drawn to, he even conjured her a sparkling blue rose once after she'd been bullied at the playground. She tries to remember the names she'd made up for her demonic friends but her thoughts are fuzzy like she's trying to remember a dream of a memory rather than her own actual memories.

The sound of a man clearing his throat suddenly breaks the silence making her physically jump into the air almost dropping the book when she recovers from the shock she looks to find where the noise came from and her eyes almost fall out of the sockets as she can't believe what she's looking at "Been a long time since I was last summoned by you, what a nice surprise" the voice greets her making the blood in her veins run cold "w-what do you mean since I last summoned you? I've never summoned anything in my life" she squeaks in fear "you don't remember me?" he asks, looking almost offended as he makes a move to walk towards her "I know it's been a long time Y/N but-" he's cut off when she points to him with a shaky finger making his eyebrow raise "h-how do you know my name? what's going on?" She steps back from him which makes the demon stop in his tracks as he holds his hands up looking completely confused "you truly don't remember me? at all?" he asks slowly with a look of pain painted across his beautiful face.

She shakes her head "no… the spell worked? How did the spell work?" he takes a deep breath before speaking again "yes...it did work..." he says trying to diffuse the tension in the room "it worked the same way it always has, because you're a witch" he looks deep into her eyes as he waits for his words to sink in "a… a witch? I can't be- I don't u-understand" she tries to slow her breathing as her eyes flit to the summoning circle "why didn't you appear when the girls were here?" She asks confused as he walks towards her making him sigh deeply "how could you have forgotten" he whispers looking so hurt it makes her heart clench.

He clears his throat before continuing "you used to summon me all the time when we were children, we'd play together in this very house, you even summoned my younger brothers a few times" he gestures to the room around him as if to make his point "you were able to summon me then and still can now because you have witches blood coursing through your veins, all the woman of your maternal family line have been practising witches except your mother. She turned her back on the craft a long time ago" his words are making her head spin as she tries to take in everything he's telling her "and finally, I didn't appear before because you were with other humans, of course I heard you call and felt your magic and I wanted to race up to you as soon as I could but once I sensed you weren't alone I waited in the shadows until they left" he sighs trying to help fill the gaps in her memory.

She picks up the spell book as she flicks through the pages hoping it'll help her remember something… anything "I don't remember anything you've said" she frown as his eyes drop to the floor dejectedly "I do remember playing with this book and pretending I could conjure up magical children to play with when I felt lonely but that's all it was right? Just my overactive imagination" he simply looks at her with a small smirk on his face "maybe my presence is helping you remember, that boy you remember playing with… was me. You didn't make it all up, I was real… I AM real Y/N" he thinks for a moment before holding out his hand, a small blue spark shoots from his palm and a beautiful blue rose suddenly appears in its place.

As soon as she sees the rose she gasps, holding her hand over her mouth as she looks up "Chan…? You were real all this time?" A single stray tear rolls down her cheek as he smiles widely and suddenly wraps his arms around her pulling her into a tight hug. They stay like that for a few moments before she pulls back with a confused look on her face "how could I have forgotten you? It's not everyday you just forget you can summon demons out of a magical book" the demon standing before her hums as he thinks while pacing around the room "it's possible that because this all happened when you were a child your mother told you it was all in your head and it's as simple as that or your mother could have used her magical connection to get a warlock to tamper with your memories" a sound of shock leaves her throat "warlocks exist too?" He simply nods his head "how would we know which version happened?" Bang Chan bites his lip as he weighs up his options "I could use my magic to look through your memories but it's an uncomfortable process and it requires immense trust on both parties" Y/N's brow creases as the room becomes eerily silent, the air around them filling with unspoken tension "I'll do it" she resolves as she looks up at his enchanting eyes.

[just-honey-dewd]

Alvin and the Chipmunks redesigns! I wanted to adapt their designs loosely from the original puppets, and also incoorporate the live action movies’ two toned fur. I have such childhood nostalgia for them, but their main 2d designs are a lil too humanoid for me. Don’t get me started on the nickelodeon series.

I gotta ramble about their outfits and implied characterisations in their original christmas song performance. It’s so fascinating to me. The cute straw hats Simon and Theo wear!!! And the bowties!!! It gives off professionalism and preparedness, contrasted with Alvin, who doesn’t seem to wanna abide by dress code, so he’s sporting a breton cap and striped sweater with a defiant capital A on it.

He also showed resistance towards being made to perform the song, to the point of almost hitting a guy with a mallet. So, not unlike future portrayals, he’s very against adhering to authority. But this Alvin deviates, by being more driven my impulse than ego — modern Alvin wouldn’t have tried to stop their performance. Also, Simon and Theodore were rather indistinguishable, but driven by the same childlike flightiness as Alvin, that they all ended up beating up David Seville to let them sing the song again.

Anyways!!!! Gonna do a group watch of the halloween movies and Chipmunk adventure tomorrow, so if I draw these guys again, 50/50 they might change.

[yarameijer]

Hey! So I know I’ve written once before but I’m really interested to know: what is your literary background? When did you start writing, and do you see yourself having a career in writing anytime soon?

Also… is the IE love coming from childhood nostalgia, or is it just me 🤓

Hello hello! I started writing in 2015, I'd just turned fifteen at the time, I think? I'd only recently started reading fanfiction and was pretty obsessed with Inazuma Eleven GO, and honestly I was kinda disappointed in the stories I found on FFN (basically 75% of it was romance one-shots, and barely anything on my favorite characters or anything that was longer than 5K) so my solution to that was to, uh, start writing things myself?

Mind you, I had zero writing experience, I was very bad at English, and I knew next to nothing about writing in general, so my first story was pretty bad. Very quickly abandoned it and started on Stand, which was probably where I first really discovered my love of writing. Ended up getting advice from a few other writers on FFN and through, I guess sheer stubbornness, I improved? Especially in Stand you can see how much I improve throughout the chapters. At that point I'd read quite a lot of fanfiction in other fandoms, discovered a love for time travel stories, and found myself heavily disappointed that there were no Inazuma Eleven time travel stories.

So I, once again, decided that the obvious solution was to write one myself, and that's how Accidental Reverse was born.

So yeah, that's about it! No literary background beyond fanfiction writing whatsoever. If it comes to stories, though, it's a bit different - I've always had a very active imagination and apparently could spend hours by myself playing with my toys and making up whole stories as a kid (in hindsight, I realize they were quite dramatic so that at least hasn't changed). I also have suffered from motion sickness my entire life, and we went on vacation every year by car, so ever since I was small (think 6-7) whenever I had to spend a whole day in the car I couldn't read or draw and instead started fantasizing about cartoons or movies I watched and making up stories for said cartoons. Sound familiar? XD

As for a career in writing, no clue. I'm kinda bad at writing original stories, don't have the patience for introducing a setup for a world or unknown characters, but I've got some ideas for a book series that I'd like to write but probably won't for the next decade. Who knows, maybe someday I will.

This turned out a whole lot longer than I expected, whoops. As always, I can't keep things short. Sorry for the info dump XD

Also yes, IE love is nostalgia but also just because the show is so ridiculous and fun. The plot, no other sports anime has such ridiculous plot lines and I love it. It's so chaotic and fun.

[aracelighda]

Shortaki Week Day/Día 8: Hey Creator's Choice! "Teenage Kiss"

Hello everyone and well the final day of shortaki Week has arrived, I didn't want it to end so soon But it was a great week, I had a lot of fun drawing the beloved childhood couple that I still love and I decided to return to them again. The theme of the creator's choice in this case I chose the teenage kiss a good way to close my contributions with the shortaki kiss in adolescence, In my Au/ possibly since the last time I wrote my fanfic I had planned for Arnold and Helga to look like this when they grow up, They left that kiss After they went out with their friends on the way home, a sweet kiss from your Beloved Angel Arnold...

Thank you for receiving and supporting my drawings until the next Shortaki Week! probably otherwise I will continue drawing of them or the series out of nostalgia I really missed them

🏈🎀💖💛💋😉

[cutejk123]

My version of The Bob the Builder Crew

I will upload their aus very soon 😊😊

I think this would be part of ‘’My Childhood Nostalgia Draws Series’’ where I draw characters from the shows I watch when I was very little but it’s the ones that I’m not part of their fandoms and I’m happy to start this series with Bob the Builder. I grew up with this show along many others and their songs are great especially ‘’Big Fish, Little Fish, Cardboard box’’.

So stay tuned on more drawings of ‘’My Childhood Nostalgia Draws Series’’ 😊🌸