#but I did it in the portrait to remind myself for later

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hello! I have an idea but I don't know if you'll see this. I don't know maybe where Geta and Caracallas' wife is pregnant with twins but she doesn't want her children to grow up in a place like Rome, so she flees with the help of General Acacius far from Rome and lives in a cozy and humble house. While Geta and Caracallas are furious about the departure of their wife but they don't know anything about her until two years later when they receive valuable information and send for her to return to Rome. It is until then that they realize what the reader was hiding.

If it is not well translated it is because my language is not English

You will never escape our love

Geta/Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt, dubious consent, kissing, mention of war and death, family problems, mention of injury, it's one of the darker portrayals of the two less sweet more narcissistic and controlling

Summary : If you were the Empress of Rome you were at best the most beautiful thing you could look at. For the people you were beautiful, for the rich you were a short thought and for the two emperors you were property that had to be impregnated and had little to say. But how long can a golden cage last before you break out to escape?

info: thank you dear for the request, sorry that you had to wait a bit i had university to do. Nevertheless I wish you a lot of fun :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A marriage should always be something beautiful, something exciting, something splendid, something that you remember for the rest of your life, at least that's how it seemed to be for everyone, except for Geta and Caracalla when they married the 'Flower of the West' to benefit politically.

Both parties profited from it with trade, money and slaves it was as simple as that and she had to realize how divine her two new husbands were...it was above all the disgrace of the gods that came over her and love seemed to slowly close around her like a cage with no prospect of salvation.

It had started well, Geta had sent her many letters, his words had flattered her and the coins that came with them showed portraits of two young men who both had a certain charm.

Her mosaic which had been sent back with a few letters was also warmly received, ,,You're here at last, look brother the prettiest woman in all the provinces is finally here with us” Geta greeted her, his fingers warm and careful as he took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

It was a sign of respect, something that would be appreciated once they were married, his looks flattered her, he truly had something divine about him and she found herself laughing more often than she thought she would, ,,Your ideas and views are truly inspiring” she had replied as they had taken a short walk through the palace together.

Each of the two wanted to spend some time with her...until the moment they arrived at Caracalla.

She felt Geta's hand tighten around hers, painfully tight as the younger man came over to them, ,,My pretty flower, if you please,” he chuckled, pulling her hand from his brother whose look seemed almost warning.

A first sign of what was happening between the two, what it was that had befallen eid and what “divinity” lay behind them. As she realized after only a few weeks, none at all.

Geta, a self-proclaimed god whose words were like liquid lies, seemed to influence her every move, from her clothes to her hair, what she ate and what she didn't. In his kisses, there was no love, only mockery.

There was no love in his kisses but cobwebs that wrapped around her more and more, ,,Alone in Rome, a world power, my love, you know I could never forgive myself for losing you” he reminded her almost daily why she stayed in the palace.

When she did go out she saw what she was supposed to see, people starving, protesting, murdering and the Colosseum only seemed to amplify all of it This is no place for children she thought fearfully and put her hand on her stomach, she had shared the bed with Geta as often as with his brother.

A bed full of blood and tears and yet she hadn't gotten pregnant, not yet, but how kind could gods be, especially to her.

What Geta had in being a god, his brother had in madness, Caracalla could be the sweetest and most caring man you knew one moment only to cut her with a knife the next, thinking they were at war and he had to kill her and laughing when he saw the blood dripping on the floor.

A maniac whose bites covered her body more than kisses, ,,I need you, you know that, don't you? This madness I don't know what I'd do without you...maybe burn down the world” he always told her when they were in a quiet moment, when he calmed down and she hoped for something better.

But what Geta had in lies, Caracalla had in manipulation and two golden gods moving around her was a hopeless future...a future she knew she only had one way out of, especially when she didn't bleed for the first time and she vomited.

It was the dark eyes of the folk hero who had often watched the empress, seeing the stains and marks under her make-up, hearing the screams and weeping whenever he had an audience with one of the servants and never seeing her wife in such a friendly way.

Acacius and Lucila had already made plans and the Empress would play a role. ,,If the Empress wishes, I will accompany her back, it is not always safe,” he placed himself between her and the Emperor's brothers, who appreciated Acacius.

She cautiously felt the hand on her back as he led her away from her husbands, her breathing unsteady, the fear of finding out she was pregnant ever-present, ,,Why? Why are you doing this?” she asked cautiously as they sat together in a carriage and he sat opposite her.

His warm eyes looked at her with almost fatherly reassurance and his hand pointed to her belly, ,,Rome has been close to death since it was built, the battles are too bloody and peace must come.

Two dead emperors without heirs would be the beginning” he said slowly and the fear that rose in her that they wanted to kill her disappeared immediately when the carriage suddenly took a different direction than the palace.

,,You will be taken care of, a small hut you will stay in until I come for you and the two have fallen" a short explanation, short words and a plan that brought tears to her eyes. The cage seemed open for the first time.

A cage that opened and led to freedom in the countryside, Acacius hadn't lied, it was a small hut with a servant to help her with the work and the sheep, with a small field for self-sufficiency and supplies that would last for some time.

It was a place that was like the other side of a coin, quiet, peaceful, friendly and safe for her children children who were born a few months later in the spring of the new year and twins a boy and a girl saw the light of day.

A light of the world that did not deny them their origins the girl looked like her older father except for her eyes, she was eager to explore and kept her mother on her toes.

The boy, on the other hand, was the image of his younger father except for his hair, always laughing and chasing after his twin until he played with the little figures.

They were children from her time in Rome, children who had reached the age of two and she still loved them, they were her ,,My two beautiful suns" she called them while she held them and listened to her servant who was more friend than servant at the time.

A time that was pervaded by peace that she did not think that the shadow of the past would once again settle over her, a shadow that came in the form of a carriage.

,,My lady, a troop with the military seal is approaching” she heard the voice of her servant who wanted to close the door but was interrupted. It had been two years of harsh fears and discomfort and peace had finally come to an end, Acacius had won.

A victory she didn't know how false it could be, a victory that turned out to be a sword that stabbed her friend and she didn't even realize it when she was on her way back to town.

The city that held so much sorrow seemed quiet, few people on the street, new buildings and she spotted scattered statues for her Time has changed so many things it went through her mind and the two small children each sat next to her holding her hand.

They would be looked upon as a prince and princess, would be a fresh inspiration and she would finally have peace under Lucilla...or so she thought.

A thought that was miserably shattered when, upon entering the throne room, she looked into two faces that almost made her cry out as she realized like a blow that all those who had helped her were dead, that Acacius had given his life again for a dream of Rome that would never exist and that Lucilla, the princess she loved so much, was gone.

,,Information is more promising than letters and empty words and you're finally back” Geta said his eyes kind but his voice was laced with anger as he came up to her and Caracalla looked tearful ,,You left me alone" he said and she saw the dagger flash in one hand.

You can't escape misfortune, not when your human gods own you or love you, her children still whimpered nervously behind her as they sensed their mother's fear, a fear the emperors treated with disdain.

Geta's hand sought hers, ,,We would have given you heirs, as many as it would have taken, but instead you are raising the children of a what, a merchant? Give them to him” Geta demanded and his hand closed around her arm and Caracalla realized what he should do with the dagger and his smile widened.

Her heart was beating so loudly that she could hear it in her ears, memories of former love were long gone and all she saw were the two monsters she would never forget, monsters who did not recognize their own children and she cried out, ,,They are your children!” as Caracalla raised the dagger and Geta tried to pull her away.

Words that made them both pause, the dagger fell to the ground and the clink gave her goose bumps.

Geta let her go and both men looked at each other uncertainly, she let her twins slowly emerge to see their fathers, ,,They're yours...that's why I left,” she said in defeat and she knelt between her children to look up at the emperors with both of them.

Geta and Caracalla both looked at the toddlers in disbelief but the resemblance was unmistakable before Caracalla poked his son on the nose who laughed.

,,Such a waste of time we would have celebrated, instead we had to mourn...but never again, finally we are a family” Geta announced and took his daughter in his arms who immediately played with the gold in fascination while her mother still knelt on the floor not knowing what to do.

Monsters could love, they had once loved her themselves, but in the end it was always just her body, her natural existence, having children that they both wanted from her and when she saw that neither of the two husbands even gave her a glance she could hear the slamming of the cage all the more.

They had given the emperors what they wanted, heirs, and now she was nothing more than a soon to be distant memory for her twins because they now had their heirs and her mother had to rest for a long, long time alone, accessible only to the emperors.

It seemed as if the nightmare was only just beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @userchai

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I kinda hate myself for asking this but can I get more of Your Personal Ghost?? Maybe a part two or just more of him in general??

.⋆｡Your Bandit｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

With the disappearance of all of your panties, some new information comes to light that isn’t as unwelcome as you thought it would be

Warnings: panty stealing, fluff, swearing, writer!reader WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Part 1

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I swear I just did laundry.” You muttered, frustrated as you stared down at your mostly empty underwear drawer. Your panties had been disappearing at quite an alarming rate but they always ended up in your laundry hamper even if you couldn’t quite remember if you ever even wore them.

You sighed and slammed the drawer shut. Dressed only in an oversized t-shirt, you stomped your way down to the laundry room in some deluded idea that maybe the washer had somehow eaten your underwear. 

The small room in the basement of the house echoed with your aggravated curses as you dug through not only the washing machine but also the dryer and the linen closet in the corner. But nope- no panties, dirty or otherwise. 

“I give up!” You threw your hands into the air. “Whatever ghost is in this stupid fucking house, stop taking my fucking underwear! I need that shit!” You received no reply back except the house groaning as it settled. “I hate this place.”

Fishing a pair of leggings from the dryer, you tugged them on angrily as you muttered to yourself under your breath. “I’m gonna blow all my savings on fucking panties and ya know what, they’ll just go missing again. This is such bullshit.” Stomping away from the laundry room, you were dead-set on restoring your supply of undergarments and keeping it that way. No pervy ghost would get the better of you.

The wall by the front door creaked ominously as you stuffed your feet into the worn sneakers you couldn’t seem to part from. You didn’t even bother to address your haunted mansion, only stepping into the brisk morning and slamming the door shut behind you. It would be a long drive to the shops but it would give you time to plan your revenge.

——————

Your anger had dissolved to almost nothing by the time you pulled back into the driveway, getting home a lot later than you expected. It was stupid to think that the house was haunted; it was old, sure and a questionable history, no doubt. But haunted? That was idiotic at best. Yeah, you heard the ghost stories and still couldn’t find it in yourself to take down any of the creepy family portraits scattered around the eerie hallways. You were just lonely and in desperate need of some inspiration for your stagnating writing.

Your sigh was carried off on the breeze as you stepped from your car. The heat still emanating from the engine gave you a brief respite from the cold while you gathered yourself. “I’m losing my fucking mind.” The plastic bag stuffed full of brand new panties crinkled as you pulled it from the back seat, along with a well-deserved (in your opinion) bag of Chinese food from the only takeaway shop in a 50 mile radius. 

Too lost in your own head, you didn’t notice the light on in one of the empty bedrooms and the dark silhouette against the thick glass of the window. Maybe if you had, you would’ve thought better than to call out into the house as you took off your shoes. “Honey! I’m home!” 

You chuckled to yourself at your little joke, completely oblivious to the barely audible footsteps above you. The bag of panties landed with a soft thud at the foot of the stairs as you passed by it, a gentle reminder to bring them upstairs once you had your fill of bland food and plenty of wine. 

The huge shadow that darted behind the wall followed after you, far closer than it normally was though, as usual, you were ignorant to its presence. You hummed under your breath as you laid out your feast on the kitchen table. The food was now only lukewarm though you didn’t mind, the cheap bottle of red sitting in the pantry would warm you up plenty.

You pulled the cork from the bottle stem with a satisfying pop, too occupied by your task to see the large painting of a landscape lift itself from its place on the wall. The squeak of the Styrofoam covered the creak of the floorboards as a heavy weight settled on them. 

Just as you pulled out a kitchen chair, you heard heavy breathing over your shoulder.

“Welcome home.” The voice that rang out through the room was a strange mixture of that of a young boy and a grown man. Your entire body froze as fear shot through your veins. The house settled into silence as your gaze creeped to where the voice had come from.

Standing in front of a man-sized hole in the wall was a veritable giant. He loomed over you, even at a distance, his body wide with sinewy muscle that was barely covered by the large cardigan he wore. Greasy black curls hung down over his face or rather what should have been his face. The orange glow of the kitchen lights bounced off the cracked white porcelain, making his dark brown eyes stand out as they shone with anxiety.

“I’ve been waiting for you, I missed you.” His paw-like hands clasped together in front of him, his fingers nervously intertwining as he waited for you to do something, anything.

Your lips parted and there was only one thing you could think of to say. “You took my underwear.” His whole body curled in on itself as he cringed like a little kid when they would get in trouble. His head bobbed. “How- how long have you been here?”

“My whole life.” He answered. His huge shoulders dropped as he lowered his head, looking at you through his eyelashes. 

“Holy shit, you’re Brahms.” The boy who supposedly died in a fire in this very house almost 20 years ago. Suddenly you knew why you got this house for so fucking cheap. “And you’ve been watching me?” His nod was slow, almost as if he were ashamed. 

“You’re nice.” He simpered.

“Oh fuck,” You whined, “This is a great idea for a book. C’mon get some food, I suppose that neither of us are going anywhere for a while.” He lumbered over, his eyes still wary but the slight pink tint that you could see spreading down his neck told you just how pleased he was with this development.

“Were you the one deleting my writing?” Brahms’s breath hitched and before you could blink, he grabbed a box of fried rice and scurried back into the hole in the wall.

Slashers Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29

[ravenclaws-stuff]

Harry Potter Love Languages Drabbles

Gryffindor Boys

Harry Potter: Acts of Services

I moan quietly as the brush pulls through my hair gently. I pull the blanket closer as Harry leans down,leaving a quick kiss on top of my head. “Feel good?” I hum, my eyes fluttering shut as Harry sections my hair. “Would you like for me to braid your hair as well? That way you don’t have to before bed.” I look up, finding his eager green eyes. “Only if you want to.” Harry scoffs. “Of course I want to. I love doing your hair. Think of it as practice for when we have a daughter.” My face heats up, a shy smile on my face. Harry is going to be the best dad ever. “We have to get married first.” He hums, placing a kiss on top of my head before continuing his task. “Soon.”

Dean Thomas: Acts of Services

“Hurry up. Ron is going to eat all of the good food before we get there.” Ginny whines, pulling me faster to the Great Hall. Yawning, I attempt to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I was too tired to remind her that the house elves would be offended if she thought they didn’t cook enough for everyone. Not that she would appreciate it. I practically collapse onto the seat between Neville and Dean.

“Merlin, shake the whole table, why don't you.” McLaggen scoffs, seated at the end of the table. My head turns slowly, like in one of those muggle films, glaring at the offending wizard. Everyone knew not to mess with me before I have had my coffee. “Ignore him.” Dean whispers, placing my favorite mug in my hand. Dean, the love of my life, always has a cup of coffee waiting for me each morning. “Drink and we’ll deal with him later.” I lean towards him, placing a kiss the side of his jaw. “Thank you, Dean. Oh and good morning.” Dean chuckles, placing a quick kiss to my lips. “Good morning, love.”

Neville Longbottom: Quality Time

The sun shines through the greenhouse, lightning the entire room. I turn the page of the book I was reading, or at least attempting to. I peek over the edge of the pages, cheeks flushing at the sight. My fiance, Neville, pulls the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. My eyes trace the line of sweat running down his stomach. Gulping, I force myself to look back at my book. I cannot let Neville catch me staring. Again. 

“Petal?” I look up, eyes widening at how close Neville is. When did he walk over here? “Y..yes love?” I stutter, forcing my eyes to stay on his face, and not his sweaty, hot body. “Are you hot? Your face is as red as the roses outside.” Neville kneels down, smirking. Oh Merlin, he knows. “Let’s go inside and watch one of those weird telly programs you like.” 

Ron Weasley: Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation

“Please just come with me.” Ron whines as pulls me through the hall. I laugh, shaking my head. “Where are we going?” His hands squeezes mine. “Trust me.” My smile softens at his soft pleas. “I’ll always trust you.”

To my surprise, Ron leads us to the kitchens. “Ron?” His blue eyes shine with excitement and a hint a nervousness. “I have a surprise for you.”

He pushes the portrait open, leading me to an empty chair. I spin around, taking in the busy kitchens. The smell of baked chicken and roasted potatoes fills the kitchen. “Did you have the elves make this?” Ron’s face turns a matching shade to his hair. “Um, no. I made it. For you.” My heart melts as I wrap my arms around Ron’s torso. “You did?” He nods, reaching for a plate, placing it in front of me. “Its your favorite.” He says, not needing to explain any further. I lean up, kissing his cheek. “Thank you Ron.” He nods, scratching the back of his head. “It’s no problem. Just dinner.”

Taking a bite of the kitchen, I moan at the delicious taste. Ron is a god send in the kitchen. “It’s more than just that,but thank you.” Ron smiles before leaning down, stealing the bite off my fork. “Mmhm, that is good.”

Seamus Finnigan: Words of Affirmation

Rummaging through my bag, I search for the letter from my mum. I never got the chance to read it this morning. Poor Lisa. Her boyfriend decided breakfast was the best time to break up with her. Such an arse. Who breaks up with somebody at the start of the day?

My fingers brush against a piece of parchment. I smile as I pull out of my bag. Another note from Seamus.

Good morning gorgeous. I hope your day goes as perfect as you are. Which you are. Perfect that is. I love you. - Seamus

I look around the library, hoping to see my boyfriend. The search was pointless. Seamus Finnegan would never be caught even a toe in the library unless I was dragging him. I pull out a blank piece of parchment. Mum’s letter can wait an extra five minutes.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity; Invisible String

series masterlist

i was going to include this in chapter seventeen to break up the angst a bit...but then i thought i'd just do it as its own separate piece so that they have a chance to explore their love without there being as much (because i couldn't help myself) angst overshadowing this pivotal moment for meadow and matty....there is also an important (not very subtle) easter egg regarding the storyline that will be delved into in a later chapter....anyway this takes place between chapter 16 & 17 xxx

warning: 18+ content, fingering, piv, soft smut, declarations of loooove!!

~∞~

After the Order members had left, with plans of meeting privately to discuss Professor Dumbledore's funeral and what they were supposed to do in the wake of the harrowing battle, Madam Pomfrey had made her way over to you to check on the wounds that littered your abdomen, and with a flick of her wand, they became faint lines of jagged silver as they scarred over. Shortly after that, she'd declared you okay and insisted that you get some rest in a proper bed. It was probably also to make space for the students, part of Dumbledore's Army, who had also been injured in the battle.

You and Mattheo left shortly after that, but not before Ron came up to you and wrapped you in a hug, tears leaking from his dull blue eyes. No words were needed, you knew what his actions meant. You held him tighter, even as his parents beckoned him to his brother's bed.

The castle halls are eerily silent as you walk hand in hand with Mattheo. Even the portraits don't stir at the harsh glow of his lit wand, as if they were grieving for the loss of Dumbledore in their own way. The two of you are the only disturbance in the still atmosphere, your soft breathes and light footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor.

Neither of you had wanted to venture near the Astronomy tower again, afraid that the sight of the now spotless hallways would spark harsh reminders of the bloodshed and carnage that had swept through them like a petulant disease only hours before. So wordlessly, Mattheo had begun leading you towards the dungeons, his body heat sheltering you from the chilly bite in the air.

The Slytherin common room was mysteriously desolate when you entered behind him. Not a soul to be found under the dim glow of the Black Lake's murky waters; only the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth and the gentle ripple of the current against the windows could be heard over your mingling breathes.

"Where is everyone?" You ask, cringing instantly as your voice becomes agonisingly loud in the silence, despite your words being spoken with quiet cadence.

"In bed I assume, or gone." Mattheo responded with a low rasp. "It wouldn't surprise me if news has already spread and parents are collecting their children to return home."

You respond with a soft "oh", as you follow him up the stairs to his dorm.

"Draco's gone." He continued as he unlocked the dark oak door leading to his dorm. "So are Blaise and Pansy. Enzo and Theo are still here, but they'll leave soon too."

"Why didn't you tell me anything before? I deserved to know that my friendships started out as a means to an end." You ask him as you enter his room. He's silent as he observes you from the threshold, brows creased in thought.

"I would've told you eventually. There was never a good enough time though. And it wasn't a means to an end, love." Your about to retort but he continues as if you hadn't opened your mouth to speak. "It felt like the right thing to do, to tell you when I did."

"To gain The Order's trust?" You ask, running a hand through your hair.

"Exactly. Though I doubt it's done much to sway them."

"What happens now?" You ask hesitantly, reaching and squeezing his hand.

Mattheo gently guides you to where his bed sits in the corner of his room, allowing you to find a comfortable position before he finds his own one behind you. He pulls your back to rest snugly against his chest, cradling your body to his own with strong, protecting arms as your heartbeats synced as one.

"I don't know, darling. But we'll face it together." He says as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you rest in stagnant silence, unsure of what tonight's happenings meant for the world as you knew it.

~∞~

A little while later, you turn to face him, restless anxiety clawing at your insides. Mattheo's curly, deep brunette hair has fallen haphazardly across his forehead and his onyx eyes, framed by glorious lashes, shine bright, despite all that they had witnessed in the past few hours. He has a soft smile painting his face as he admires you in tandem, although you can see his poorly hidden concern for you reflecting behind the tenderness. Each breath you take, he mirrors and your racing heart slows to a relaxing lull in your ears. Unhurriedly, you bring a hand up to his face and brush the loose curls away from his eyes, a tender look overtaking your fatigue.

"I meant what I said in the ward." He mumbles, voice betraying how exhausted he was, too.

"Yeah?" You ask, your smile widening imperceptibly. You fingers caress his face with featherlight strokes as you trace the freckles and scars that are scattered across his cheeks. Your eyes are now alight with teasing mischief as if daring him to say the words aloud, all sense of tiredness having left your face in the wake of it.

"Yes, Meadow." He responds with a quiet snicker as he pokes your side. His eyes glow with serene happiness as he watches you squirm and giggle, watches the despondency leave your pretty face. "Did you ever take me for a liar, sweetheart?"

"No." You say breathlessly as he continues to stroke at your trouser covered hips. "Never."

I want to hear you say it. You implore wordlessly. Please.

He kisses you then. It's not hard and rough and passionate like his caresses always are. Instead, it's soft and slow and entirely all consuming, like the very first time, but infinitely better. Every emotion he's ever felt for you coarses through your veins as his tongue clashes against your's.

"I love you." He says breathless and low against your lips. You kiss him with a newfound fervour, pouring your every thought and every emotion, intertwining your soul with his. Your magic practically explodes around you, casting a warm indigo glow about the dorm room, illuminating his features; guiding shadows in a dance across his face.

He looks at you in awe as you both admire the way his own magic seems to tangle seemlessly with it. Whorls of indigo and silver flicker in pretty patterns that seem to pour out around you like a smattering of a million tiny stars.

My incredible, smart girl. He tells you with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you, admiringly. You flush under his intense stare.

You undress each other with practiced fluidity until you are both blissfully nude; no barriers separating you from the other, all vulnerabilities splayed out in the open. He rolls on top of you and presses your hands above your head with one of his as his other trails lightly down your stomach, tracing the new lines of scars which seem to twinkle under the faux starlight. He presses soft kisses to the marred skin, words of love and adoration melting into you as he presses away the new insecurities without even trying.

He eventually works one finger, and then two inside you as his thumb strokes idle patterns against your clit. You mewl at his practiced ministrations as he fingers you, slow and rough, in the way he knows you love, despite never having said it out loud before.

The noises you make bring a delighted smirk to his pretty lips and he speeds up his movements almost unnoticeably to bring you close to release; teasing you through one orgasm before letting a second rush through you, all while drinking in every sound; every expression that you let overcome your flushed face.

It feels like an eternity later that he finally sheathes himself inside you, every ridge of his cock brushing sensually against your most sensitive spots as he sets a leisurely pace – starting slowly before he finds a particular rhythm that has the both of you moaning in unison. His arms are braced at either side of your head, careful not to snag on your hair which is haphazardly fanning out on the pillow beneath your head. The muscles in his biceps flex with every push and pull of his body, his core tense with the exertion of making you feel like you're walking on clouds.

Your own hands are on a journey of their own, travelling along the defined muscles of his abdomen and across his strong hips, until a particularly deep thrust from Mattheo causes you to claw at the soft skin of his back, willing him to come closer to you. The scars that litter his skin are blissfully joined by marks of your making, marks that he wishes could stay there forever in place of the others.

Where he's left love bites on your skin, you eagerly return the favour as best as you're able. Leaving deep purple marks across his chest and clavicle with your kiss-swollen lips that happily migrate from his body to his own lips as much as possible.

"I love you." You whisper against him and he lets out a barely restrained groan as he thrusts even harder into you at your admission. Satisfaction thrummed through his veins at the whiny sound you let out in response.

"Say that again." He says, pressing hard kisses to your chest, leaving more delicious marks in his wake.

"I love you, Mattheo Riddle." You repeat, a moan catching in your throat as you begin to reach your peak for a third time. "You have my whole heart. Break it. Crush it. Decimate it. Do what you must, but please know that it's yours. It will always be yours. I love you."

The both of you are pushed over the edge at that, clinging to eachother's bodies, which are slick with sweat. The euphoria causes your intertwining magic to surge around you again, and you both feel how it sparks at your very souls, the feeling never ceasing, only growing as you allow your love to manifest and flourish like its very own entity.

Neither of you want the intoxicating feeling to end, content in basking in the sensation, if only to prolong the immense amount of love that radiates from your magical cores.

"I love you, darling." He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, exhausted and spent, breathing in the scent of you; the soft floral hint of your perfume that seems to linger despite the raging battle you'd been in and the musky scent of the sweat that clings to your skin.

You press a kiss to his own shoulder as his body flops to land beside your's on top of ruffled emerald sheets. Your interwoven magic still permeates the air, seemingly in no hurry to dissipate any time soon and you can feel it, along with Mattheo's deep in your chest. By the look on his face, he's feeling its affects too.

"That was–" You mumble with a breathless giggle, fingers trailing patterns across his marked skin.

"All consuming." He agrees with a lethargic chuckle of his own before he's pulling your body into his again, magically rearranging the sheets so that the two of you are modestly covered.

"Can you feel something-" You start, but are unable to put this new sensation into words as he gazes down at you with soft eyes. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Different? Like my magic isn't entirely my own anymore?" He wonders aloud and you find that he's voiced your exact feelings.

"Yeah. Precisely like that, actually." You say. "It's like I've unconsciously absorbed your magic again. I'm sorry-"

His lips against your's prevent your apology from fully forming and he's looking at you with such a tender expression that makes you melt.

"I'm not sure it is your siphoning, love. It's different. I can feel your's too." He says with lightly furrowed brows.

"How strange." You mumble, a yawn escaping your lips. Mattheo manoeuvres you so that you're practically chest to chest as he lies on his back, letting your aching nipples brush against his strong pecks as he wraps his arms around you.

You breathe out a content sigh that causes a shudder to rush through him as it ghosts over the sensitive skin of his neck. The impact of your shared love and intertwining cores feels like a supernova swirling inside you.

The fate of the wizarding world, and your own fate, is a haze of unknown territory, but you were entirely certain of one thing; Mattheo held your heart in his hands, and he had no intention of ever letting it go.

~∞~

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff

@babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

@devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj

@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

@prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl

@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf

@rainy-darling @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

@whatsupb18

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "My A-R-T"

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: who would have thought you'd be a centerpiece of someone's world

Tag: @elalfywhore 🫶🏾🩷

Based of the song ART by Tyla..

Morning sunlight filtered through the windows as I walked into our apartment, still buzzing with energy from an early cheer practice. My muscles ached slightly, but it was nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. Tossing my duffel bag onto the couch, I noticed how quiet the place was. Jana must still be out—probably in class or at the gym.

I headed toward the kitchen, but something on the dining table stopped me in my tracks. A large canvas, carefully covered with a cloth, rested against the wall. A note lay next to it, written in Jana’s familiar, neat handwriting:

"For my muse. Come find me after you see it, habibti"

-xoxo

My heart skipped a beat as I reached for the cloth, my fingers trembling slightly. Jana always had a way of surprising me, but this was different. This felt… intimate.

Pulling back the cloth, I gasped softly. The painting beneath was breathtaking—a portrait of me, vibrant and alive, rendered in soft yet striking hues of caramel and gold. My figure was posed delicately, with one arm resting against my hip and my eyes gazing softly at something out of frame. It wasn’t just a painting; it was me through Jana’s eyes—bold, confident, beautiful.

The details were astonishing. The curve of my lips, the arch of my brow, even the faint shimmer in my hair—everything was captured with an artist’s precision. But what stood out the most was how she’d captured my essence, the warmth and softness that only she got to see.

I couldn’t stop staring. My lips parted as I traced the edges with my fingertips, completely in awe of the love and care that had gone into this.

“Do you like it?”

I turned to see Jana standing in the doorway, a shy but proud smile on her face. She was dressed casually in sweatpants and a UConn hoodie, her hair slightly messy from a morning workout.

“Like it?” I asked, shaking my head as I walked toward her. “Jana, this is… it’s incredible. You did this?”

She nodded, her cheeks tinting pink. “I didn’t paint it myself,” she admitted. “But I found an artist who could bring my vision to life. I told them exactly what I wanted—how I wanted you to look, the colors, everything. I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

I threw my arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re amazing, you know that?” I whispered, burying my face against her shoulder.

Jana chuckled, her hands settling on my waist. “I had to do something. You’ve been playing that Tyla song nonstop. I figured it was my turn to make you my ‘A-R-T.’”

I pulled back to look at her, a teasing smile on my lips. “So, you think I’m worthy of being someone’s centerpiece, huh?”

She brushed a strand of hair from my face, her eyes softening. “You’re worthy of being the centerpiece of my world. Always.”

Heat crept up my neck as I bit back a grin. “You’re so corny.”

“And you love it.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Later that morning, after I’d showered and changed into a cozy hoodie and leggings, we sat on the couch together, the painting propped up on the coffee table so we could admire it.

“Why didn’t you wait until my birthday or something?” I asked, leaning against her shoulder.

Jana shrugged, her arm draped over me. “I didn’t want to wait. You’ve been working so hard—between cheer, school, and everything else. I wanted to remind you how amazing you are. You’re my muse, you know.”

I turned to look at her, my chest tightening with emotion. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” she said, cupping my face with her hand. “Every time I look at you, I see something new to love. Something beautiful. I wanted you to see yourself the way I see you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I leaned into her touch. “You’re too good to me.”

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over my cheek.

As the day went on, I found myself unable to stop glancing at the painting. It felt surreal to see myself through someone else’s eyes, especially someone who loved me as much as Jana did.

By evening, we’d hung it up in the living room, right above the couch. Jana insisted on doing the heavy lifting while I stood back and gave her directions.

“Left a little… no, your other left,” I teased, earning an exaggerated eye roll from her.

“Keep talking, and I’ll hang it crooked just to spite you,” she shot back, but there was no bite to her words.

When it was finally in place, we stood back to admire it together.

“It’s perfect,” I said, slipping my hand into hers.

“You’re perfect,” Jana replied, squeezing my hand.

I glanced up at her, my heart swelling with love. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think this is my favorite song now.”

She laughed, pulling me into a hug. “Good. Because it’s ours now.”

As the soft melody of “ART” played from my phone in the background, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. Jana didn’t just see me—she celebrated me, and that was a love I’d treasure forever.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[th3-0bjectivist]

Face # 9: Godspeed into the hereafter, Eva!

So, folks, at the end of 24’ I lost a buddy. An elderly buddy, but a buddy, nonetheless. Last year I started doing a little volunteer work in my community, spending time on random Saturdays in food pantries and soup kitchens. One of those Saturdays I met Eva, an old lady with a medical condition that required frequent cranial surgery. Eva was always extremely conversational with everyone, because she loved life and people. Eva wore shawls to cover up her cosmetically damaged scalp and despite her condition, she chose to be happy, friendly and optimistic with everyone. We became friends after I noticed she had a unique ability to read how you were feeling or what you were thinking just by observing your facial expressions and body language. Eva was a mother of four, grandmother to twelve, and she loved professional wrestling. Although I haven’t watched the product since my late teens, I found myself compelled to occasionally visit her at her assisted living community and watch WWE, TNA and AEW. Her favorite type of wrestler was the chickenshit heels, who she would laugh and boo at. Outside of that, we would talk about each other’s lives and experiences, and when she caught me being melancholy or negative, she’d say something like, “Get your head out of the wreckage, kiddo, good things are a ‘coming for you!”

Come late December, I went by her room to visit with some baked goods for the holidays, and her family was there instead. I asked what happened, and they told me she passed peacefully during a recent surgery. After lightly bawling in the lobby, I went home and drew her face to remember her. I'm not saying it's a good drawing, but it does remind me of her. I wish I would have appreciated our time even more than I did, and I wish I could have spent more time with her. I’ll miss you, Eva. I’ve got one more of these to go and it’ll be a self-portrait… but I’m going to be taking a break from Tumblr soon, so that’ll be much later this year.

Face # 1: Click here

Face # 2: Click here

Face # 3: Click here

Face # 4: Click here

Face # 5: Click here

Face # 6: Click here

Face # 7: Click here

Face # 8: Click here

[bunny-1111]

Theo Nott x Reader Series, Dark Marks and Forbidden Hearts, Chapter One.

Work count: 1.2k words

Warnings: mentions of death, family of death eaters

Chapter One

...

You walk through the cold corridor of your home, and darkness seems to lurk in every corner. The hall is dimly lit, the walls lined with portraits of your family—past and present—each pair of painted eyes watching you. Their expressions are heavy with gloom, and it chills you. You’re competitive, ambitious, and cunning—but not evil. Not yet.

You pause in front of the portrait of your great-grandfather, Alphard Avery Senior. He was known for his ruthlessness. His eyes seem to cut straight through you, reminding you that your bloodline is not easily escaped. The weight of your ancestry feels almost physical, pressing down on your shoulders with every step you take.

There’s a cruel sense of transformation growing with each year. You see it in your reflection, in your posture, in your thoughts. You're becoming more like the solemn, stone-faced ancestors who came before you. The question haunts you—will you be the one to cleanse the deep red stain of your family’s legacy? You ask yourself this often, especially in moments like this when the past feels too close.

The ancient line of pure-blood wizards must be protected—or so you’ve been told your whole life. In the House of Avery, it's not a belief—it’s law. Your parents ingrained it in you from the beginning: your duty is to uphold the family name, a duty echoed by the Sacred Twenty-Eight and all who follow the dark path. You feel it now, heavy and inescapable.

You first felt this pressure back in 1995, when word of Cedric Diggory’s death reached you. That moment never truly leaves you. You remember the chaos at the Quidditch World Cup, the Dark Mark hanging like a threat above the sky. And you remember Harry Potter lunging toward you and your friends behind the stadium seats, his voice breaking with grief. “They are just as guilty! It was their fathers behind those masks! I saw them—I saw them for myself!” he shouted before someone—later revealed to be Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise—pulled him away.

You feel it again in the summer of ’96, walking to the train. Just ahead of you, Harry turns his head slightly and says, “We have something worth fighting for.” The words hit a nerve. Your smile fades. Your gaze drops to the floor. What about you? Do you and your friends have something worth fighting for—or do you still need to find it?

The feeling creeps in again this morning, as you arrive home for summer break. Your mother and father sit you down. Their expressions are too still, too rehearsed. You already suspect what they’re about to say. Voldemort has returned, they confirm it. And with his rise comes war. Two sides. Two beliefs. The second Wizarding War has officially begun.

The conversation isn’t gentle. It’s blunt, a result of timing and inevitability. Your family did not escape the first war unscarred. In their final school year, your mother gave birth to a son. He died within his first year during an Auror attack—five years before you were born. That loss changed them. Your father swore loyalty to the Dark Lord, desperate for safety and power. Your mother followed without hesitation. By the height of the war, your father stood beside Lucius Malfoy as one of the highest-ranking Death Eaters, serving Voldemort with pride.

There was a time when that loyalty felt victorious. But even then, fear never fully left. And after the war fell apart, life became a careful act of survival. The movement was broken—but never gone.

Now, your parents sit across from you, the storm in the air thick and electric. Their expectations hang unspoken but understood. Your heart beats faster.

Your father breaks the silence first. “You must understand the importance of what’s happening. Our family has always been loyal to the Dark Lord. It’s our duty to support him.”

Your mother adds, “This is what we’ve prepared you for. You must be ready to take your place.”

You nod slowly. Inside, you’re a swirl of emotions—duty, fear, confusion. The path is laid before you. You don’t get to choose it. You only get to walk it.

Still, you ask, “What about you? You both fought in the first war. How did you get through it?”

Your parents exchange a glance. Then your father answers. “It wasn’t easy. We made sacrifices. We questioned everything. Especially when the costs started to rise. We were raised in these beliefs, but the war… the war reshaped everything.”

Your mother reaches across the table and takes your hand. Her grip is firm, her expression soft. “We know this is hard for you. Our decisions were born from loyalty—and necessity. We believed in the Dark Lord’s vision, and we still do.”

Your father nods. “Loyalty defines us. But we know how much it can take from you. You’ll face hardship. But you must push through it—for our family, for your brother. When you do, you’re protecting not just a cause, but a legacy.”

You feel a strange flicker of warmth through the cold weight of expectation. It’s rare—your parents letting you see their wounds. You catch your mother flinch when your brother is mentioned. The war scarred them. It left cracks in their armor. But their convictions haven’t wavered.

Before he leaves the room, your father embraces you—brief, almost formal—and whispers, “Puritas Sanguinis et Victoria, Triumphus Aeternus.” Purity of Blood and Success, Eternal Triumph. The family motto. They’ve made sure it’s burned into you.

Later, when the house falls into silence and shadows stretch across the walls, you lie awake. The future feels like a precipice. You're standing right at the edge. The path ahead is dangerous, uncertain. But it’s yours to take—there’s no turning back.

So, once more, you stand in the corridor. You take a deep breath. You square your shoulders. The eyes of your ancestors follow you still, but now you meet their gaze with a strange mix of fear and resolve. The darkness surrounds you. But you are determined to move through it—and find your place inside it.

When you reach your bedroom, you're drawn to the mirror. You study your reflection. Hazel eyes from your grandmother. Your mother has them, too. Dark chestnut hair from your father's side. Your great-aunt’s round chin. Nothing about your face feels uniquely your own.

You climb into bed and turn to your side. Your eyes land on the final portrait of the night—a magical photo, framed in silver. You and Theodore Aeacus Nott, laughing together in a sun-drenched field in the countryside. It makes you smile, the first real one you’ve had all day. You plan to write to him tomorrow.

And as you drift to sleep, his name slips from your lips like a whispered prayer. Theodore. Theo. Teddy.

...

Next chapter

Hope you enjoy, reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated my loves,

XOXO B

[oensible]

Centre Ice (October 2012), pp. 1, 38, 40–43, 62

Cover photoshoot photographer: Justin Van Leeuwen (Flickr/blog)

Game photographer (pg. 42): Mark Holleron

It was a tight schedule, figuring out when to shoot Cody only a few days before deadline… he also had a cold, but he’s a tough hockey player and you really can’t tell. [...] Cody was fun to shoot, he’s a successful good looking kid, signed to the NHL at the tender age of 18. I reminded him that he should pay back his parents for all the years they put him and his siblings through hockey before going out and buying a sports car.

—Van Leeuwen/jvlphoto (2012 Sept 21)

NOTES:

the hillary's ad page originally comes before the article in the magazine. moved it to save space without affecting the spread

omitted pages 8 (contains smaller version of the hallway shot, substituted with the flickr upload by the photographer), 30 (too crunchy, standard guy-standing-during-game shot), and 33 (team portraits page)

omitted original version of the cover image (redundant. also available on flickr) and the portrait against white (low resolution, not cohesive with the rest of this post) from the jvlphoto blog post

Article transcript below the cut.

Full Circle

Cody Ceci's hockey journey

Written by Braedon Clark

The picture has been scanned onto Parri Ceci's phone, rescued from a dusty box by his wife Karen. The Senators wanted some childhood photos of their latest draft pick, Parri and Karen's son Cody, and this one was a no-brainer.

Cody is four years old in the picture, his sister Chelsea six. Their Senators jerseys are littered with signatures. Both smile for the camera, Cody's grin obvious even behind the cage of his mask. The man in the middle of the shot, arms around both kids, is Daniel Alfredsson. All three are standing at centre ice, skates astride the Senators logo at what was then the Corel Centre.

Fourteen years later, Cody Ceci's hockey journey has taken him full circle. In late June, he was drafted 15th overall by the Senators after playing for his hometown 67's for the past three seasons. Less than a month ago, he signed his first NHL contract in the same building where he once skated as a four-year-old, where he once cheered from the stands, where he once posed with childhood heroes-turned-teammates.

"That picture probably makes (Alfredsson) feel pretty old, but it's pretty cool for me," Cody says with a smile. "Just getting to meet him a few times when I was younger was huge for me and now to play on the same team would be pretty crazy."

It may be unlikely still, as the NHL seems poised to plunge into its second lockout in just eight years. Along with every other would-be rookie, Cody might not get a chance to make the big club if the season doesn't start on time.

"I'm just trying to prepare myself as if there is going to be a season," he says. "I'm just going to go hard in the next few weeks trying to get ready for Sens camp and if there is one, great. If not, it'd be pretty unfortunate."

For now, on this flawless Saturday morning, Cody is at the Fred Barrett Arena in Gloucester, where the 67's are holding training camp. He's dressed casually — sunglasses rest atop his head, while shorts and sandals complete the summer ensemble. A recent bout of strep throat has kept him off the ice, forcing him to watch from behind the glass like everyone else.

Despite his made-in-Ottawa pedigree, Cody did move to Peterborough when he was 13 to attend Lakefield College School, a prestigious institution that was attractive because of its high academic standards.

"Another friend of ours whom (Cody) had played spring hockey with suggested it," explains Parri. "Their two sons had gone there for educational reasons because their graduating class averaged 85 per cent. It was a really good opportunity for Cody and he was thrilled to go. He loved the school."

On the ice, Cody stood out as a member of the Peterborough Petes AAA minor midget squad.

"You knew he was going to the NHL," says Wayne Clark, who coached Cody during his OHL draft year.

"He had an absolute hammer of a slapshot from the point."

For Clarke, one moment during a tournament in Belleville especially stands out from that season.

"We had a power play and we started to isolate Cody and another player we had, Turner Evans, on the right side," Clark remembers. "Cody blew one shot over the goalie and a whole bunch of OHL scouts and I said, 'Wow, he is this good. Some of these tools are outstanding."

That slapshot helped Cody get drafted 16th overall in 2009. Only two years removed from leaving his home in Orleans, he was back.

During the ensuing three seasons with the 67's, Cody developed into an elite defenceman with an offensive touch, tallying 60 points in 64 games last season.

That combination of skills made him one of the highest-ranked prospects heading into June's NHL draft in Pittsburgh. According to Parri, Winnipeg and Dallas had expressed interest, but as those picks came and went a nervous tension settled on the Ceci travelling party.

"When they finally stood up at the mike and said my name it was just a great feeling that I was going to stay at home," Cody says.

"We didn't even hear the announcement because there were so many people around us cheering," adds Parri.

Since that night there hasn't been much time for celebration. Cody was on the ice at rookie camp within a couple of weeks and trains almost every day with a group that includes several NHL draftees. He also played in the Canada-Russia Challenge, where his lack of playing time – he only appeared in two of the four games – drew some negative press.

"The main thing is what the Sens are saying to me about it," he explains. "They didn't seem too angry or anything, just more frustrated that I didn't play that much."

As a capper to a whirlwind summer, Cody recently signed a three year, $2.775-million contract with the Senators. But don't expect him to move into a swank bachelor pad anytime soon. Cody says his dad has been counselling him about money management –The Wealthy Barber is on the reading list – and his mom loves having him at home.

With few distractions to speak of, Cody can focus on getting better and making the Senators in the event that a lockout is avoided. Chris Byrne, head coach and general manager of the 67's, knows what adjustments his star defenceman will have to make.

"It's obviously the best league in the world so it's definitely a few rungs up on the ladder," Byrne says. "For him, depending on how well his game adjusts to that higher speed and level will determine how quickly he gets there."

Back at training camp, Cody reflects on what it's like to be famous at 18. He seems especially attuned to the emotions of young autograph-seekers, perhaps because he was one himself not so long ago.

"You know they're just building up courage to talk to you so you don't want to let them down or anything," he says. "It's hard for them to even come up and ask because they feel embarrassed, but at the same time they just really want it and they're kind of nervous to talk to you. It's kind of cool that happens and you just make sure you respect them."

The first on-ice scrimmage comes to an end with the shrill sound of the horn. The hopefuls from the black and white teams skate wearily to the locker room as Cody joins the rush of people trying to escape the chill of the rink for the inviting warmth of the lobby.

Everyone here knows who he is. As he makes his way through the crowd, several people give him a nod or a quick hello. About five feet behind him are two young boys, no more than six or seven. They move a little closer, then fall back, dancing with apprehension and nerves. Finally one of them works up the courage.

"Will you take a picture with us?" he asks with a small voice.

"Sure." Cody says.

He stands in the middle, arms draped over the tiny shoulders to his left and right. The picture is taken and the two little boys thank him before running over to see how it turned out.

Full circle indeed.

CODY'S ICE FLOW

YEAR — TEAM — COACH

1999 — Gators-IP — Denis Sicotte

2000 — Aardvarks-IP — Stephane Drouin

2001 — Barons-Novice B — Mike Funai

2002-Spring — 67's AAA — Guy Bigonesse

2002 — Barons - Minor Atom B — Guy Bigonesse

2003-Spring — 67's AAA — Guy Bigonesse

2003 — Barons-Atom AA — Guy Bigonesse

2004-Spring — 67's AAA — Guy Bigonesse

2004 — Barons-Minor Peewee A — Jeff Akeson

2005-Spring — Riot AAA — Guy Bigonesse

2005 — Barons-Peewee AA — Richard Julien

2006-Spring — Riot AAA — Guy Bigonesse

2006 — Barons-Minor Bantam AA — Richard Legault

2007-Spring — Riot AAA — Martin Dagenais

2007 — Peterborough Petes Bantam AAA — Scott Donato

(2007) — Lakefield College School Varsity — lan Armstrong

2008-Spring — Riot AAA — Martin Dagenais

2008 — Peterborough Petes Minor Midget AAA — Wayne Clark

(2008) — Lakefield College School Varsity — lan Armstrong

(2008) — Peterborough Stars Jr. A — Paul Matucci

2009-Spring — Riot AAA — Martin Dagenais

2009 — Ottawa 67's (OHL) — Chris Byrne

December 2009 — U17 Team Ontario (Timmins) — Jake Grimes

2010 — Ottawa 67's (OHL) — Chris Byrne

2011-Spring — U18 Team Canada (Germany) — Mike Williamson

2011 — Ottawa 67's (OHL) — Chris Byrne

(2011) — OHL vs. Russia — George Burnett

2012-Fall — WJC vs. Russia — Steve Spott

2012 — Ottawa 67's (OHL) — Chris Byrne

[reginalusus]

Retro tutorial?

Disclaimer: Tumblr, for some reason, likes to dullen the colour of the screenshots, just know that they're actually a bit more saturated and brighter than how they appear here.

So, after posting my recent retro drawings on Reddit, and getting some comments that genuinely made me cry (/pos), I noticed I also got quite a few comments asking me how I actually do these drawings.

Er, I'm not the best teacher, really, and honestly, there's probably an easier, faster way to do it. But, this is my way of doing it, lmao. I work on a Gen 2 iPad Pro with a Gen 1 Apple Pencil, just in case you're wondering.

Firstly, here are the four apps I use for this kind of drawing:

From left to right: Sketchbook Pro, Pixlr, Photoleap and CapCut. Sketchbook Pro is what I use to draw everything. You could honestly use any drawing app though. We will talk about the other three when we get to them.

Step 1: draw whatever it is you want to draw.

I'm going to use the first drawing I did in this style to help me explain: my simpy Spamton drawing! Firstly, basically draw whatever your little heart wants. Get your sketch layer down. Here's what my sketch layer looked like:

Looks bad, no? Lol, it always starts that way. Just get your drawing down first. I rely heavy on references for clothing. I found this particular pose on Pinterest. Pinterest is great for finding references.

Notice that I have some spaces filled in with the word 'black'. This is literally just to remind me that the particular space will just be filled with a solid black.

This particular pose and setting is tricky, I'm just using it as an example and because I still have the original files for it. I recommend maybe starting with a portrait or a face first.

Step 2: fill in and clean your lines. This is important, especially for the anime look.

When I do linework, I tend to make the lines thicker wherever they meet one another. For this style, it doesn't really work, and I had to train myself to stop doing that.

As you can see, I made some changes along the way, such as making Spamton's expression softer and making him grin instead of smirking. How do I know when to make something solid black? This is mostly for clothes. If you are following a reference, and you notice that some of the shadows are darker than others on the reference, make those darkest shadows your solid-blacks.

So, here we have the finished lines! Remember: no making the lines thicker where they meet! Keep the lines thin all around. If you're wondering what brush I use in Sketchbook for the finished lines, it's this one:

This is the ONLY brush I use for the retro drawings, besides a pencil for the sketch layer. It provides a nice, solid, thin line.

Step 3: Filling Flat Colours.

The easiest step IMO. Choose your colours, fill those babies in.

Unfortunately, I think I deleted my flats layer (I have no idea why, but I cannot find it, lmao), so I don't have an image to show for this step. But, it's self-explanatory. Just colour it in with your flats.

You can choose saturated colours if you wish, but we'll be editing that sort of stuff later.

Step 4: Shading.

Ooh, the tricky stuff. But this is what will make or break the look of the drawing. Besides lines, shading is important as fuck for this style. I recommend pulling up some screenshots from actual 80s/90s anime. For this Spamton drawing, here's some of the ones I used as a reference:

Remember to make your shading on separate layers! You may want to change their tone and opacity later, as I did.

The shading in old anime is usually done with one colour, which is cooler-toned than the flat it is based off. Remember to keep the shading as simple as you can if you want to actually make it look like a screenshot from an anime or cartoon.

For shadows, I used the multiply tool or the overlay tool. You can mess around with these to see which one suits your drawing best. It mostly depends on the colour.

For 'lights', I used either the soft glow tool or the overlay tool. However, I don't recommend spending too much time 'lighting' your colours. Retro anime tends to focus more on shadows rather than lighting (obviously there are exceptions).

As you can see, the only 'lighting' I used on Spamton was a small section of his hair, and a shine on his suit. The rest is either shadows or flats:

For clothing, follow a reference or follow where your light is coming from. For this, I followed the reference.

Step 5 (Optional): Adding Gradients.

You don't need to do this, but to help with the 'mood' of the drawing, I added a gradient over the top of the layer. I chose a dark purple/blue to give that city vibe, then I used the darken tool and turned the opacity down. So, it looks like this:

The difference isn't much, but it will add a lot to the vibe!

Step 6 (Optional): Backgrounds. *Shudders.*

I'll be real, I can't do backgrounds for shit. Well, I can sort of do them, but I definitely don't enjoy it. If you can do your own backgrounds, this will probably come easier. I have a sneaky, maybe cheaty method, however, to make it look good.

Firstly, make sure any 'windows' or areas in your drawing that you want to add a background to are empty. The windows in Spamton's car here are transparent. You'll want to put your background layer at the very bottom, behind everything else.

Firstly, I choose a solid colour and fill the entire layer. I chose a navy/purple for this one, since it's always dark in Cyber City.

Then, and here's the cheat part, I find a stock image of a city skyline. I deliberately picked one that had sort of 'basic' buildings. Put this on top of your solid colour and use the hard light tool.

The hard light tool tends to focus on the lights and basic outline of the image. I did do some smudging and added some lights to give it that 'retro' feel. The lower quality it looks, the better. So then it looks like this:

But the car needs windows! Easy. I chose a blue colour with the soft glow tool and added them like so (on top of all the background layers):

Step 7: Editing in Pixlr.

Now, this is my favourite part: the editing to really make the image pop! Firstly, we are going to use Pixlr, so save your image and open it up in Pixlr.

So, in Pixlr I only do two things: choose some overlay editors and up the saturation. Firstly, the overlay editors. The ones I choose for the retro look are:

Antonio - this blurs the lines somewhat, and makes it overall darker/softer. I obviously do not use it to its full capacity (there's a slider you can mess around with under each tool to find your desired effect, though I recommend using Antonio only a little.)

Hagrid - this will make it look slightly more saturated and sharper. It also adds a sort of 'burn' effect on each outline of the colours. Again, I use this one only slightly.

Ivan - One of my favourites for Big Shot Spamton. Again, I only use it slightly. This one will add an orange effect and 'fix' some of your shading. Though, it only works to its full potential if you have your shading as best as it can be.

Sara - Another really good one for retro anime. It's sort of like Hagrid, but softer. Depending on your colours, it will also add a soft 'glow' effect. Because of this, I only use it a little, as older anime does not have the intense glow you see in more recent anime, in general.

There are lots of other options. You can play around to see which one will suit the vibe you're going for best!

Then, we go into the general menu and up the saturation if needed!

Step 8: Editing in Photoleap - then back to Sketchbook!

Why the fuck do you use two editors? Simple - Photoleap has some cool options that Pixlr does not, and vice versa. We won't be spending as much time in Photoleap compared to Pixlr.

Now, Photoleap does NOT allow screenshots within the app, so I just have to explain it without any images.

In Photoleap, we're only going to be doing two things, and one of those things are optional. Firstly, using the grain tool. This will really add to that 'old' look. Don't go too hard on it!

The optional thing you can do is add a red chromatic abberation. It's under the 'effects' tab in Photoleap. However, sometimes this will take away from the retro look, so use it carefully. I only used the tiniest amount for this drawing to make the lines look 'cleaner'.

Once I'm done in Photoleap, I save the image and export it back into Sketchbook. This is where I'll add/fix some things, such as adding a shine in Spamton's eyes, a shine on the car window and the smoke coming from his cigarette. I also bring the gradient layer back up and mess with the colour a bit (optional).

Have you noticed the large, black border to the right of the drawing? Yeah, that'll be cropped. I decided to make the overall image smaller and, unfortunately, Sketchbook Pro does not allow you to change the canvas size once you've started a drawing (please add this option, Autodesk!)

Step 9: CapCut Editing.

This will seriously be the cherry-on-top to actually make this thing look like a screenshot. Save your image and open it up in CapCut.

Firstly, you'll want to add an 'effect' to the photo. Under 'retro', I personally choose 'frosted quality', because it adds a moving grain and gives an 'old cartoon' feel, which is what I'm after. There are lots you can choose from, it's up to you to play around with it! You can also adjust the effect as you wish. I tend to turn the blur completely off.

Then, the last step in CapCut: adding a caption, if you want. I make the text yellow and add an italic effect to make it seem like an actual subtitle.

Step 10 (Final): Exporting.

That's us basically finished! I'll export it as a video from CapCut, crop it using my iPad's default editing software in the gallery, then export it as a GIF. Exporting it as a GIF lowers the quality a tad further, which is a bonus for this type of drawing. Viola! You now have a retro-anime-inspired piece!

Final Notes

Again, I'm not a good teacher and this is kind of all over the place, lmao. But, I hope it can guide those who wish to try this style!

If you do try it, maybe tag me and let me see if my tutorial worked for you? Or maybe you were just curious, lmao. There's a LOT of steps here, lol, and I'm not a professional artist by any means, so...

Anyway, that's all from me for now!

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (3/7/2025) Episode: Let's Plan A Wedding

“You’ve been such a close friend to us since we moved in; we’d love for you to be the one to join us in marriage” Skye told xir great-grandfather one morning. The couple had a long list of wedding “to-dos” to complete that day, and getting their chosen officiant on board was their first task.

“I’d be honored” Candor smiled “I promise I won’t let you down, I officiated your great-grandmother Daisy’s wedding centuries ago and did a pretty good job if I do say so myself. While we’re on the subject, I think now is as good a time as any to give you my wedding present.”

Elyse smiled shyly as Skye opened the box to find two flirty potions nestled snugly inside. “These look great – thank you!” the new mage said.

“You’re welcome. I thought you would appreciate a little something to help get you both in the mood on your wedding night.” he told them “good luck today. I can’t believe the chapel where Chance and I got married is still in business! You’ll have to tell me what you thought of the old place.”

“Its perfect, don’t you think?” Skye exclaimed as the pair sat discussing the tiny chapel in Newcrest while xir new personal drone Giggles whirred away in the background catching documentary footage of their wedding preparation journey. “So cozy, it will be such an intimate celebration. Plus, its steeped in family history! Dad said Grandma Violet got married here too.”

Elyse’s furrowed brow told Skye she disagreed about their first potential wedding venue. “I’m sorry, but this is cramped, not cozy. No separation between the wedding and reception space at all, and I don’t think it will even seat all our guests! I’m sure it was perfect for your ancestors, but I really want something a little grander for our big day.”

She gave her fiancé a stern look. “We’re only going to get married once, so let’s look a little harder for a venue that really fits the occasion.”

“Now THIS is more like it!” Elyse gushed at their next stop. “This chapel is gorgeous, and the view from the reception space out back it to DIE for!”

Skye sighed happily “I still say the last place was nice, but this is undeniable prettier. I’m going to be able to get some great shots of our ceremony here, and the view from the terrace outside will be so dramatic for portraits. I think we both agree, this is the one?”

 “No question” she nodded, letting herself be pulled into her fiancée's arms for a celebratory kiss.

“If you want to get some pictures, why don’t you start now?” Skye nodded enthusiastically, setting the timer on xir camera and posing with xir love beside the arch.

“I see why they call this the city of love” Skye sighed happily as the teleporter deposited the couple just outside the village square in Tartosa. “this place is beautiful, and we can get everything we’ll need for the ceremony and the reception right here in town.”

“I can’t wait to find my dress” Elyse agreed “the boutique is famous for its wedding fashions.”

“Thank you for compromising on something with a bit of blue in it” Skye kissed xir future spouse softly on the cheek in gratitude as they exited the shop a couple hours later. “You are going to be a beautiful bride, and this way we’ll match, which is a tradition in my family.”

“You have too many “traditions”! I can’t believe your mom put up with all of them when it was her turn!” Elyse pouted playfully. “I still say brides should wear white, but I guess a little bit of blue embellishment won’t hurt anything.”

“Remind me why I need a bouquet again?” she continued as they made their way to the flower stand.

 “For tossing into the crowd at the reception.�� Skye told her. “They say the sim that catches it will be the next one to get married. After this we’ll head to the bakery. I just hope the cakes are high enough quality for me.”

“You and your “refined palate”” she chuckled “you know, some of us would just call that being needlessly picky!”

“…this one looks nice, but I’d love to see a sample in person. Also, is it made with high quality ingredients?” Skye asked the clerk, handing back the book of options they’d been presented with as they looked around the sweet shop.

“We have a sampler deal” said the other sim, “for those hoping to nail the right taste and not just the right look for their special day.”

“Nope, nope, nope” Skye shuddered a couple minutes later, fighting down a wave of nausea. “I loved their designs, but this tastes awful. I could do a better job myself, or maybe I can get Great Grandpa Candor to summon Grandpa Peachy to help. Dad mentioned that cakes were his specialty.”

Elyse thought the fancy dessert had been delicious, but she knew better than to argue with Skye when it came to food. “Whatever you say” she shrugged “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that the couple headed back home, excited to officially tie the knot in the very near future.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[tommys-little-writing-corner]

One Small Shadow: Chapter I

》 The youngest of Sindel's daughters, (Y/N) was only born after the passing of King Jerrod. Growing up shadowed by her family and their magics, the Third Princess does what she can do best. She stands by and waits... 》 Chapter I: Waiting... 》 General Notes: Fem!Reader, Complicated Family Relationships, Canon Divergence, Angst Train, No Beta We Ball Like Kobe, No Romance, Y/N is described to be feminine with certain features, Bounces between Y/N's POV and third person 》 Chapter Notes: The first few chapters of One Small Shadow take place before the start of the plot of Mortal Kombat 1. 》 Word Count: 600+ ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

(Y/N)'s P.O.V.

I hate looking at this damn mural.

It sits in the main hall where the thrones lay, always alight with candles. Sometimes by the bright flame of the sun or by the pale flame of the moon. It's a mural portrait of my mother, Empress Sandel, and my late father, Emperor Jerrod.

I never knew Jerrod, not in the way my Mother and sisters knew him. My mother was expecting me when he was killed. Nobody spared me any details, only that it was a great tragedy over a thousand years ago. Now his soul resides in the forest, along with all other members of royalty and more.

Many say I do hold some resemblance in him, a trait I share with my sisters. We have his dark eyes-- the way they seem to sparkle with a plan, with a mind game to taunt others. setting down stones to be stepped on. However, it would be my sisters who would have his smile, his dark hair and everything.

I would be the one, the youngest of three of about roughly a thousand years old in age, who would have my mother's white hair. Pale like marble stone, like the colorless stars in the sky. Unlike my family who kept their hair long, I kept mine short, barely touching the corner of my jaw below my ear. It was better to maintain hair that way, easier to hide it whenever I wanted life out of the palace. Another talk for later.

I hate how everyone around me doesn't understand how I feel every time I look at the painted mural.

"You should be mourning-- you have no father, as does your sisters do. As your mother doesn't have her husband anymore."

How was I to mourn someone I never knew?

I only knew his name, the painted faces that decorated this wall along all other walls. The stories of praise and glory from the Umgadi who remember him, who loved him well as does everyone else inside and outside the palace. However, only because I was born three months after his death, I would never know the man personally as did everyone else who once knew him.

Maybe a trip to the Living Forest, where his soul resides, I would get to know him. Maybe he would be willing to talk, to tell me tales of his life before death. No... I would not be able to go beyond the walls of Sun Do. The ones made by my ancestors many lifetimes ago. Mother doesn't like me wondering around, not without armed guards, without Umgadi, or even the likes of Reiko. Since losing Jerrod, she became paranoid about an unfortunate fate falling onto me as well.

Certainly, she truly thought things well. Despite magic running in my veins, in my family blood, I could conjure no magic. To her, I seemed defenseless without a means to defend myself. It was why she insisted me having to be monitored and protected at all times if it could be helped.

I hate looking at this damn mural.

"Princess, you're needed at the entrance. To meet with the Empress and your sisters."

The Umgadi guard reminded me, making me snap out of my reoccurring thoughts about the mural in front of me. My lips curled into a frown as I looked over my outfit one last time. Dark purple ceremonial robes that almost matched colors with red wine, shades darker than the purple Mother wore. A layered skirt-piece that touched my ankles over black tights, black longlseeve under a dark purple top. My hands and arms decorated with golden jewelry with pretty gems-- fitting for a royal princess, but not as flashy as my older sisters. Subtle, quiet, just like me.

"Right..." I responded with a flat tone, turning my head towards her and nodding. "... Let's get going."

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

TO THE KONTINUED...

[vonnart]

XXXIV - Annual Birthday Self Portrait 🎂 Here is this year’s annual birthday self portrait and reflection piece! Below are the previous ones i've drawn throughout the years!

This drawing reflects the last year of my existence and on my previous birthday, I had both the best day of my life and the worst. I had an extremely traumatic psychedelic experience where i was convinced i had died for the first 2 and a half hours. It was intense and surreal, making connections to what the afterlife was and it was like none of the religions or theories had taught us. It was just returning to matter, still conscious but unable to grasp reality or have any say or control. An unnerving feeling of numbness and the inability to function. After collapsing multiple times from the rigor mortis i told myself I was experiencing, I was confused why i could still see and interpret anything. After some processing on the floor, I made a mental shift and thought: “Maybe the afterlife was like a turnable dial and because I was afraid, it unintentionally turned it a bad direction”. I was clearly in a negative plane of existence so I turned this mental dial in a more positive direction. “Maybe the afterlife is whatever you want it to be.” So I entered into what i thought was a projection of my own idea of what heaven was.

Almost instantly, I felt the sensation of unrivaled elation. I wasn’t at the pearly gates, an astral projection amongst the stars, or a foggy cloud representing a soul. I was still in my body and everything around me looked normal, which oddly seemed strange. “But why would i be in my house?" Maybe my mind is still processing being dead so instead it’s projecting what is familiar and comfortable OR OH maybe because heaven is wherever you would want to be the most! And this house is literally my favorite place on earth. And then I saw my bf Josh and wondered “Why would Josh be here when i could make any celebrity or crush I've had in my life to be the projection of a guide in this afterlife?" OH okay, because there truly isn't anyone I would want to help me through the early stages of accepting what’s after death!

This pattern of thoughts and answering them in my strange sense of being keep on a loop for about 5 hours and letting go of each physical attachment to the world was euphoric. No more fear of having to make money, keep up with work, pain or stress, worries about war or the state of the world, and most importantly, never having to fear dying again. I had never felt this light before. I let go of all of it completely and somehow, at the same time, felt incredibly connected to everything in a way that I can’t quite put into words. And the best part is that I kept reminding myself that I get to feel this feeling forever!!

Later that night I wanted to see if you could nap in the afterlife, and when I opened my eyes, I no longer was in that dream state. I was horribly confused and conflicted. I was actually disappointed I was still alive as that projected afterlife was the most beautiful sensation I may ever experience. The weeks that followed became a constant fear of questioning reality and developing pretty bad insomnia. I was afraid of learning that I still might be dead but I couldn’t have any way to prove it. It ended up being rather painful for about 4 months. My friends, family, and parents really helped ground me back to earth and I am so thankful for them. I’ve been reading a lot of books that explore consciousness and it’s been helping immensely.

So now, I feel like I’m seeing the world again for the first time through fresh lens of perspective. Being alive is the greatest sensation that I was taking for granted. I did develop my first actual fear in life, and like many, it’s the fear of dying. And that feeling is so strong because I enjoy being alive SO much, I really, really love it! The ups and downs, the connections and lessons. Everything is so delicate and precious and I’m making sure to handle it better these days. Here’s to 34 and it’s pretty safe to say I’m looking to make it a more calm and peaceful one!

[paintedpolitics]

trump & the changing role of political art

recently, i was discussing differing images of marat with prospective history students. the martrydom of marat in david’s 1793 painting was conveyed through his dedication to the pen even in death, and the almost halo-like lighting in the portrait. 

a week later, images emerged of a bloodied trump defiantly holding up his fist in the aftermath of a shooting at his rally. immediately, the american right responded with commendations of martyrdom. simultaneously, ‘how did he miss’ trended on twitter. the image held incredibly different implications depending on one’s view of trump. i knew i ought to see it as the picture of irony, vindicating the stance of campaigners for gun control: an advocate of gun rights shot down. 

despite this, the image first struck me as rousing. i felt myself viewing it from the perspective that this man was for the people, would lay down his life for the american people. in this regard it reminded me of those portraits of marat. i felt that the caption accompanying the images could shape the interpretation of it in the same way that artists upheld their political opinions in portraiture. 

i made the decision to draw trump in only red, white, blue and varying shades of grey. however, i felt the political implications of creating this image every time i touched (digital) pen to paper. not only would people judge my terrible rendition of a fist, but perhaps my political views too. 

this dilemma, i concluded, revealed little about the politics of this event. what feels interesting to me in political art is not criticism or praise, but what they can reveal about the nature of power in the moment being recorded. david’s portrait of marat revealed his power as a figurehead of the revolution, and the power of l’ami du peuple in catalysing change. the red white and blue in my drawing implies the populist power that trump holds, presenting himself as a representative of the common american. highlighting the blood allowed the event to revealed his power to divide america to the point of violence, regardless of my opinion on him.

in the current media landscape, political artwork has a highly limited role in influencing opinion. i didn’t feel like any image of trump i created could dissuade someone voting for him. perhaps, a more valuable role for political art today is to objectively examine power and political relationships. as polarisation increases globally, allowing political events to be viewed through a different lens may lead to the reevaluation of ideas and more critical thought. i think iconic opinion based pieces of art - like warhol’s portrait of nixon - has immortalised popular opinion of political figures. however, as scared and angry as trump makes me, i feel like i can impact through a more objective artistic approach.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #24 (part one)

previous // next // story index

__________

Victor

The past couple of days have been interesting.

First of all, I grossly underestimated Yuri’s ability to shop. Seriously, set that man loose in a sufficiently large retail area, and there’s no stopping him. He got access to his trust fund when he turned twenty-five, and I guess he figured that since he doesn’t actually need it to support himself, he could go wild with his first monthly allowance from it.

Today we came here to the city and I got dragged all over the place by my very enthusiastic soulmate who evidently knows where every menswear shop, shoe store, accessories retailer and jewelry boutique in Kyoto is located. Mostly, I think my purpose was either to be arm candy or to carry all his shopping bags. That, and I was there to loiter outside every fitting room and answer the question “Do I look too thin in this?” a zillion times.

I’m not really complaining, though. By the time we were done, Yuri was tired but seemed happy and way more relaxed than he’d been over the past week, and I was grateful to see him doing better. Too much stress is bad for his chronic illness, and we’d both prefer that he doesn’t get sick again any time soon, so anything that helps him unwind is good in my opinion.

As for me, I’m not much of a shopper. The only thing I bought other than lunch was a cute surprise present for Yuri, which I’m sure he’ll be pleased to show you later. But this isn’t to say I came away from our shopping excursion with nothing for myself. Yuri bought me a suit because he said I needed one for our wedding photos.

Now, before anybody gets too worked up, let me just say that we’re not actually getting married. With all our joking around about it, we somehow had the idea that it’d be fun to get some couple portraits taken by a professional photographer. We’ve been referring to them as our wedding photos ever since we decided to do it.

But let me get back to my new suit for a minute. It was a fairly significant purchase, considering I haven’t worn one since my high school prom. Yuri took me to this fancy shop where a sales lady literally did all my measurements before she even let me look at anything. Then, she recommended some colours and styles she thought would work for me, and followed me around to help me choose.

Apparently, this is how it’s done in Yuri’s world. Yuri is so unpretentious and normal that sometimes I forget he comes from a wealthy family and that rich people do stuff a lot differently than people like me. Last time I bought a suit, my mom took me to a department store, gave me two hundred dollars and basically told me to pick something that fit, in any colour but grey because grey wouldn’t look good with my hair.

Turns out, I rock grey suits.

Just look at it. I had to put it on before making this video, just so you could see. I mean, would you have been able to picture me in a three-piece suit if I didn't? Yuri picked the vest and shirt for me. He says teal and turquoise compliment my eyes. I don't know about that, but I like it anyway. The colours remind me of Kainani Island. Also, this suit is meant to be worn without a tie, which is another thing I like about it.

Incidentally, Yuri bought himself a suit as well. He wanted us to match, so he got the same style as me. The main difference is that his vest is the colour of red wine, and of course his outfit is in a different size. Mine is an extra-large. His is an extra-small. That should give you some idea.

I probably don’t need to tell you this ensemble cost way more than two hundred Canadian dollars. My mom would have a fit if she saw the receipt. I almost did too, but Yuri was using words like ‘elegant’ and ‘sophisticated’ to describe how I looked in my new suit, and he was gazing at me like he thought the only place it would look better than it did on me would be on the floor of our hotel room, so I stopped worrying too much about the price tag.

Right. Our hotel room. I guess I need to backtrack a bit, to explain what we’re doing here in Kyoto in the first place.

You already know what happened between me and Yuri on the weekend. It was pretty awful, but thankfully we made up on Saturday night.

Yesterday, which was Sunday, we stayed in bed till mid-morning and had a long talk. Then we did some making up of the nonverbal variety, the intensity of which came as a not unpleasant surprise to both of us. Maybe it was because we were both starved for attention, but we got way more excited than usual and ended up trying some things that neither of us had ever done before. It was a little scary, maybe more so for Yuri than for me, but it was exhilarating at the same time. Plus, it was a great distraction from our current problems.

After another nap, we finally got up and had a bath and then Yuri took me to the walk-in medical clinic in town in the afternoon. Luckily, my regular GP works in that clinic a couple of weekends a month and this was one of his weekends. I would’ve been fine with any doctor, but it was nice to see someone who’s already got some idea of the overall state of my health.

I explained to Dr. Sato what had happened, and he examined my shoulder and back. He asked me a bunch of questions about how I was feeling psychologically, and he agreed that I should have a short break from work. He also suggested that I should speak to a counsellor about my experience. I’m still not sure I want to do that, even if it would only be one or two sessions, but Dr. Sato gave me a recommendation anyway, so at least I have the contact information of someone I can make an appointment with if I change my mind.

After leaving the doctor’s office, we went to the fitness centre so I could give Dr. Sato’s note to Tomiko. She works Wednesday to Sunday, so I knew she’d be there.

I was caught off-guard by how nervous I felt as I walked into the place. It’s a good thing Yuri was holding my hand because I think I might’ve turned around and bolted out of there otherwise.

We found Tomiko in the administration office, and when I handed her my sick note, she didn’t seem shocked at all.

“We had a complaint,” she said.

“About me?” I asked.

“Well, not about you specifically, but it certainly had something to do with you,” she said. “it seems we have a very observant custodian. She noticed that you finished your first session on Wednesday morning quite early, and she said it looked like you were limping when you came out. When she went in afterward to clean and disinfect the room, she noticed a crack in the mirror.”

At that, I felt as if my stomach dropped several centimetres. Ren had pushed me against the wall twice, and both had been really forceful shoves, but I hadn’t realized he’d pushed me hard enough to crack the mirrored panel on the wall. For some reason, I had an irrational fear that I was about to get fired or that I was going to be responsible for the damages to the mirror, at the very least.

Yuri must’ve noticed a change in my expression or posture or something because he moved his chair closer to me and put his hand on my leg, under the table and out of Tomiko’s view.

“Have you looked into it?” Yuri asked.

“I asked the custodian to fill out a written incident report, but I only just received it yesterday around lunchtime,” Tomiko said. “I’ve forwarded it to the General Manager, and he says he’s going to contact our security company to review the camera recording from that room from Wednesday morning.”

“That’s good,” was Yuri’s response.

Tomiko fixed me with a serious look. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about, Victor? Anything I should let Mr. Ogawa know before he sees that video?” She flicked her gaze down toward Dr. Sato’s letter. “Since your doctor has written that you need to be off work due to a trauma-induced psychological injury, I’m going to assume there’s a story.”

"If I tell you, what’s going to happen?” I asked.

“That depends on what you tell me,” she said.

I glanced at Yuri, hoping he’d say or do something to help me get out of talking about it, but he gave me an encouraging little smile and said quietly, “It’s okay. I’m here. Go ahead and tell her.”

So, I told Tomiko what she and our manager Mr. Ogawa would see on the video. It took several minutes to explain, and I cried a little bit, but Yuri held my hand through the whole thing. It definitely wasn’t easy to talk about, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined, and by the time I was done I was amazed to realize I felt kind of relieved.

“You should have reported this immediately,” Tomiko said, once I’d finished. “I understand why you didn’t, and I respect that, but this isn’t the sort of situation you should try to handle on your own.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. Am I still going to have a job after this?”

“If everything you’ve told me is true, then I don’t see why you wouldn’t. I’ll speak to Mr. Ogawa tomorrow morning, and once we’ve reviewed the video, then we’ll make a decision.”

“Tomorrow’s your day off,” I said without thinking.

Tomiko smiled. “Doing the right thing means small sacrifices sometimes,” she said. “I know you’ve only been working here for a couple of months, but I want you to know, you’ve made a big impression on me and your other co-workers, and we’ve already gotten some great feedback from a few clients. I’d hate to lose you so soon.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’m going to recommend that we continue to pay you while you’re on your medical leave,” she said. “If everything you’ve told me is accurate, I think Mr. Ogawa will agree that’s the least we can do for you.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“We may want to meet with you once we’ve seen the video.”

“Okay,” I said. “Yuri and I were thinking about going away for a while, though.”

“That’s fine. Just don’t leave the country.” she said. I knew she was making a joke, but it felt kind of weird to hear her say it, considering that leaving the country was exactly what we’d been planning to do.

Of course that meant our hastily-planned trip to Canada would be temporarily on hold. We’re still going, but now we have to wait until I receive confirmation that I’m still employed.

When we got back to the house, we packed some stuff because even though we knew we couldn’t go far, we still intended to escape to the city for a few days. I had to show Yuri how to do it because he’s the sort of person who’d bring five suitcases when one suitcase and a backpack would do. He’s never packed his own luggage for more than an overnight stay before, and since moving out of his parents’ house, he hasn't travelled very much anyway. I learned that when he lived at home and his family went on longer trips, either his mother or the housekeeper packed for him, and nobody cared how much stuff he brought because he didn't have to carry his own bags either.

He whined about having to pack light, but I pointed out that I had a sore shoulder and my own stuff to carry, and he was only allowed to bring as many bags as he could manage by himself.

“If you can’t carry it from the car to our room, you can’t bring it,” I said. “Besides, you know we’re going to leave with way more stuff than we arrive with, and you’re going to have to be responsible for that, too.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “That’s true. I mean, I might want to shop a little.”

“Only a little?”

“I’ll try to behave myself.”

I didn’t entirely believe him about the shopping, with good reason as it happened, but I will give him credit for succeeding in keeping his luggage to one suitcase and one small bag.

Once we’d finished with that, Yuri stayed upstairs and called his mother while I worked on dinner. I don’t know what they talked about, but by the time he joined me in the kitchen for some chicken and vegetables and steamed rice, he was looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

That’s when he informed me where we were going to be staying.

On Saturday night when he first suggested we should stay in a hotel, I was picturing the Japanese equivalent of EconoLodge, like the sort of low-budget place where my mom and I stayed the few times we visited some old friends of hers from veterinary college in Charlottetown. I was not at all expecting the high-class address Yuri programmed into our car’s GPS after we’d concluded our big shopping adventure this afternoon.

When we got there, I thought it was a mistake until he told me, “Drive up to the curb in front of the entrance and wait.”

I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to be waiting for, but it didn’t take long for me to find out. A guy in a uniform that looked like it was straight out of a film set in the fifties came out and waved for me to roll down my window. I did, and he asked me for the keys.

Slightly panicked, I looked over at Yuri in the passenger’s seat. “Why does he want the keys?”

“It’s courtesy parking,” Yuri said. “He’ll bring our luggage in, too.”

“Really?”

“Get out of the car, and let him do his job. We can check in, and by the time that’s done, our stuff will be inside, and we can get someone to take it up to our room.”

“I can carry—“

"Victor, get out,” Yuri said, looking amused. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

I hopped out of the driver’s seat, and gave Uniform Guy a thumbs up. “Try not to scratch the paint,” I said, and grinned at him.

He didn’t seem to find me entertaining.

Yuri came around the front of the car and did his best to hustle me away from it and from Uniform Guy. “Come on. You can at least try to be a gentleman and walk me in.”

“Uh… right,” I said.

I tried to position my arm like I’d seen men do in movies. It must’ve been okay, because Yuri slipped his own arm under mine and rested his hand on the inside of my elbow.

He smiled up at me. “Very nice. You’ve been paying attention to all the historical romances we’ve been enjoying.”

“You’ve been enjoying,” I corrected. “I just sit there and watch them with you as an excuse to cuddle.”

He laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Inside, I had to make a conscious effort not to stand there and gawk at everything like the uncultured idiot I am. If I’d thought the courtesy parking guy looked like he came from a movie, I’d just found his movie set. The place was gorgeous and every centimetre seemed to exude class. I felt awkward and out of place, not to mention underdressed. People who come to places like this probably don’t show up in sneakers and hoodies.

“Yuri, can we afford this?“ I asked, already kind of worried about what the answer would be.

"Us, personally? No, but my parents can. When I explained to Mama that we needed to get away for a few days, she suggested we should stay here, and she said we could put it on the corporate account.”

“Really? Is she going to get in trouble for that?”

“She’s good at circumventing Papa’s ridiculous rules, so I think she'll be fine,” he said. “By the way, she said she’s going to come here and see us before we leave. She wants to talk to us about something.”

"I’m not sure how I feel about that, honestly,” I said.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so afraid of her.”

“Because she’s scary?”

“Why does everyone think my mother is scary? Seiji and Taka have both said that about her, too.”

“I can’t speak for them, but for me it’s how she looks at me, like she’s constantly analyzing me and looking for reasons why she shouldn’t like me.”

“She does that to everyone,” Yuri said. “Don’t worry. She likes you.”

That was news. If all I had was her demeanour to base it on, I wouldn’t have suspected that Rei Okamoto liked me in the least. I said, "She does?"

“Mama isn’t always good at showing how she feels,” Yuri said. “But, she does like you quite a lot. She told me yesterday that she appreciates you for taking care of me. Almost as well as she could, she said, and coming from her, that’s high praise.”

“Wow. That’s… unexpected,” I said, slightly stunned by the revelation.

By that point, the lady at the front desk was finished with the guest ahead of us, and it was our turn to check in. I marvelled at how easily Yuri handled everything, calmly stating that there should be a reservation made under the corporate account of Okamoto Electronics and that there should already be a credit card on file. The lady at the desk told him it’d be “the usual room” and handed him a pair of key cards. She gave him some information about room service, the pool and fitness facilities, and on-site entertainment, all of which sounded awesome to me.

“Enjoy your stay,” she told him.

“Thank you. I’m sure we will.”

“You’re not even impressed by this, are you?” I said, once Yuri came back to where I was waiting with our bags, which had been brought in by Uniform Guy just like he said they would be.

“Maybe not as impressed as you are, but this isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence for me either, you know. Hana and I didn’t always get to travel with our parents like Yuki does. More often than not, we got left behind at home with Jack and the housekeeper."

“But you’ve been here before and you know what to say and do. I didn’t even know about the parking.”

“It’s okay."

"No, it's not. You didn't tell me there'd be somebody to carry our luggage for us either. What other things am I going to find out about the lives of rich people today?"

"I tried to tell you about the luggage service," he said. "But you wouldn't let me get a word in. You kept insisting that I had to pack light, and I didn't want to get into an argument about it, so I just stopped attempting to explain."

"So... it wasn't necessarily that you wanted to bring more stuff. You were just saying you could if you wanted to because somebody else would carry it?"

"Something like that," Yuri said. "Although I would've liked to bring a few more pairs of shoes and my long overcoat. Oh, and my other pair of satin pyjamas because I still haven't decided whether I look better in the pastel pink or the lavender."

"Which one did you bring?"

"Pink."

"You made the right choice," I said. "I still wish I would've known about the parking and the luggage carrying, though."

He smiled at me. “Let’s go to our room, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“I’m kind of nervous about our room,” I confessed. “Like, I’ll probably be scared to touch anything.”

“I know there’ll be one thing in our room you won’t be scared to touch.”

“Is someone trying to tell me that he wants to play?”

“Someone might be doing that, yes,” he said, and offered up a cheeky little grin. “Oh, did I mention our room has a hot tub?”

“An actual hot tub?"

"Yes."

"In our room?”

"Yes, Victor. There's an actual hot tub in our hotel suite, and I think we should take full advantage of it. If we’re going to be hiding out at an expensive hotel, we might as well make the most of it, don't you think?”

“And you want to play in the hot tub first.”

“I do.” He squeezed my arm. "We can revisit all the spots that made it so much fun yesterday morning, and see if it’s just as fun in water.”

"I want to know what you did with Yuri,” I teased him. “My Yuri isn’t usually this forward, so you must be somebody else.”

“It’s definitely me,” he said. “I just never realized we could get that result without doing something neither of us is comfortable with. I liked it.”

“Judging by the fact that you want to try again so soon, I’d say you more than liked it.”

“What can I say? You obviously have a talent for pleasing me.” He tugged me gently toward the stairs. “Now, come on. You’re not allowed to keep me waiting any longer.”

I laughed. “Okay, Mr. Bossy.”

Our suite was every bit as impressive as the lobby, and it did indeed have a hot tub. To me, simply calling it a room felt like an understatement. In my opinion, it was more like an apartment.

The main room was the bedroom which featured a king size bed and bedside tables made of real wood. On on side of the room was a glass door that opened onto a spacious balcony with a small table and two chairs. On the other side of the room was a nook with the hot tub, and the bathroom was next to that. A connecting door from the bedroom led into a space with a kitchenette, another table and two more chairs, and a sitting area with a TV.

Let me say, I was incredibly glad Yuri’s parents were going to be getting the bill because I was convinced that four nights in this place was probably going to cost as much as four months’ rent for our house.

The first thing we did was to change into something more comfortable. I threw on some gym shorts and a t-shirt, while Yuri opted for his fluffy pink robe. However, I changed my mind about my choice of attire when Yuri told me that there were most likely robes in the bathroom that I could wear.

He was right. There were two of them, and the larger one fit me perfectly. It was freshly laundered, soft and comfortable. I strolled out of the bathroom like I was modelling it on a runway.

"What do you think?"

"It's wonderful," Yuri approved. "You look very cuddly in that."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll be happy to let you test that theory, but I gotta do one thing first."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." I made my way over to the bedside table where I'd left my phone, and then struck a pose in front of the enormous bed. "I have to document this so I can prove to my family that I actually stayed in a five-star hotel."

Yuri was laughing at me. “Are you taking a selfie right now?”

“Come here and be in the picture with me,” I said. “I need to show this to my mom.”

“I don't want your mother to see me in my robe. I'm not certain that’d be appropriate.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Weren’t you the one who was talking all naughty to me down in the lobby a few minutes ago? And now you’re worried about my mom seeing you in a robe?”

“I wasn’t being naughty,” he said. “And it’s my choice if I don’t want to show off my chest to just anybody.”

“Pull your robe closed then,” I said. “Once we’re done, you can show off your cute chest to me. How about that?”

He was blushing like mad, but he folded his robe more closely around himself and obliged my request for a photo. I texted the picture to my mom with the caption "Livin’ the good life" and I could hardly wait to tell her all about it the next time I talked with her.

We ordered room service for dinner, or I should say Yuri ordered it, and then we watched TV until our food came. The person who brought it left it on a little wheeled cart outside our door. After we ate, we put all the dishes back on the cart and put it in the hallway again. I felt weird about not washing the dishes, especially because our suite had a kitchen with a sink, but Yuri said someone would come by and collect everything later, and that they'd run the glassware and cutlery through the dishwasher in the hotel's main kitchen.

I’m not even joking, I felt like I was in some kind of reality show or something. It was so surreal. This was the first time in my entire life that I’d ever done anything like this, and it felt strange, but I guess that’s probably because I’m not used to living in luxury.

I’m not sure I could ever get used to this lifestyle. Yuri, though? It was obvious he was in his element. This was the life he’d been born into, and I wondered if he's ever regretted his choice to try to make it on his own, or if he resents having to do regular things for himself like washing dishes and going grocery shopping and packing suitcases.

I’ve never doubted that he’s happy with me, but seeing him fitting into the high-class world so effortlessly, I couldn’t help wishing I could give him a better life. Not for the first time, I found myself feeling amazed that he thinks I’m good enough for him. He deserves so much that I can’t give him and yet somehow he wants me anyway.

“Hey,” he said, slipping his arms around me from behind and resting his head against my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, I didn’t reply. I closed my eyes, letting myself be comforted by the warmth of his small body tucked against my back, and the sweet, calming scent of sandalwood essential oil that always manages to seem simultaneously delicate and masculine, like him.

“I’m okay,” I said at last. I placed one of my hands over his and stroked his thumb with mine. “Don’t worry. I was just thinking.”

“It couldn’t have been about anything good,” he said. “You looked really sad all of a sudden. What were you thinking about?”

“Us,” I said.

“What about us?”

“I was thinking that I want to be able to give you the kind of life you deserve,” I said. “But I can’t, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t deserve anything more than any other person," he said. "Love and respect and kindness. You give me all of those.”

“I know, but I meant this.” I gestured around at the room. “This is the world you belong in, and I’m so far from this, I might as well be from another planet.”

Yuri carefully turned me around, never once breaking contact, but even though he had both hands on me, it was his gaze that held me in place. “Victor, I want you to listen to me, okay? This is important.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Your social class doesn’t matter one bit as far as I’m concerned."

"But—"

"I don’t measure people’s value based on money or class, and you shouldn’t either," he said. "I don’t want you to ever doubt your worth because of the way you grew up.”

“But, I don’t have fancy manners like you, and I don’t know about courtesy parking and room service and which fork you’re supposed to use for salad. I probably couldn’t even afford the salad you’re supposed to use the special fork for.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “You can learn most of those things if you want to, and as for the money, that’s irrelevant.”

“How is it irrelevant?” I asked.

“What’s the point of being wealthy if no one loves you or cares for you?” he countered.

“Yeah, I guess, but—"

"Victor, have you ever wondered why I call you my treasure?”

“Because I’m important to you?” I ventured.

“Yes, you are very important to me, but I call you that because you’re the person I wished for my whole life and never thought I’d find,” he said. “Do you know, I made a thousand paper cranes and wished for someone who’d love me the way you do.”

“You did?”

“It's called senbazuru," he continued. "If you make a thousand of them, they’re supposed to bring you health or prosperity or happiness, whichever is your greatest wish. I finished my thousandth one just before I met you.” He smiled softly. “You’re rare and beautiful, and you’re worth more to me than anyone or anything else in the world. That's why you're my treasure."

“But, I’m just—“

“You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re everything,” he said “Yes, I’d like to live the kind of lifestyle I grew up with, but if I have to choose between that life and the life I have with you, then I’m always going to choose you. You’re my wealth and my happiness.”

“But it’d still be nice to have money, right?”

"It would, but I've learned that it’s possible to have a good life without it. I love you and I know you love me, and no amount of money or social status could ever change that."

[transthatmasc]

Day 5: Portrait

Cas gets his phone stuck in portrait mode and asks Dean for help, leading Dean to see the photo he was trying to look at.

on AO3 or below the cut

“My phone won’t turn sideways.”

Dean raised his eyes from the book he had been staring at for almost an hour now.

“What?” Dean raised his eyebrows at the grumpy angel standing over him.

“Dean, my phone won’t turn sideways.” Cas repeated, glaring at Dean, clearly already frustrated since he had resorted to asking for help.

Dean, partly due to a lack of understanding still, partly in hopes of being a little shit, slowly took the phone from Cas’s hand, turning it to the side so that it now lay horizontal in Cas’s palm.

Cas squinted harder, glaring at Dean like he was considering lethal force. “No, Dean. The screen. The picture on the screen won’t spin so it can be bigger and fill up the screen.”

Dean began to laugh heartily, “Cas, is your phone stuck in portrait mode? Let me see it.”

Shoulders still shaking with laughter, he took the phone from Cas’s hand once more. Turning it on and typing in Cas’s passcode, Dean quickly opened up settings to search for orientation lock. Less than thirty seconds later, Dean had resolved the problem and was about to hand the phone back to Cas when he thought to ask, “Wait, what were you trying to look at?”

Cas reached for his phone without answering, only for it to be snatched away as Dean pulled his hand back. “Nuh uh mister, if you have a tech problem, you gotta show it to the tech solution.”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows and bit his lip in an obnoxious attempt at sexiness. Cas flushed, though clearly not in response to Dean’s stupid antics. “I was trying to look at a picture… it’s quite old, so it’s too grainy when I zoom in so I wanted to see it just a little bigger.”

Dean’s face slipped into curious confusion before he returned his eyes to the phone. Opening up the running apps, he swiped back to photos and found a picture he had not seen in a very long time. It was from the night he took Cas to the strip bar when he thought that his conversation with Raphael might mean certain depth. Dean had taken a quick photo of Cas from across the table while they were waiting for their drinks, partially out of fear that it would be the last time he saw him, and partially because the look on his face had just been so priceless. Dean couldn’t remember sending it to Cas, but angels had their ways.

When Dean thought to look back up at Cas again, wrenching himself from his memories, he found Cas looking sheepish with a blush still lingering on his cheeks. “Didn’t I take this photo?” Was all Dean could get out, though he didn’t think it was what he really wanted to ask.

“Yes,” Cas answered slowly, “it was my last night on earth.”

Dean waited for Cas to continue, but when he didn’t, “Why do you like it so much?” Dean didn’t want it to come out harshly, but he thought it did anyway so he kept going. “I mean, I like it cause I had a great time that night, but I don’t remember you particularly enjoying yourself…”

Cas smiled fondly, seemingly able to see the humor of the situation, even if only in hindsight. “I…” He paused, face contorted as he tried to phrase his thoughts appropriately. “I like seeing myself the way you see me. At the time, I had not yet developed a strong connection to this physical form. I have become more fond of it since then, and being human helped ground me in this shape, but still when I think of myself, it is something more akin to my true form. But I like the reminder that, even then, this is what I looked like to you and this is what you think of when you think of me.”

Cas finished his explanation with a resigned smile, having just laid bare his heart, and waited patiently for Dean’s thoughts to catch up.

After a moment, Dean began, “That’s… That’s not what I think of when I think of you.”

Cas’s face dropped and he quickly started to apologize, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that you—“

“No no no, that’s not— you’re more than that.” Dean stopped for a moment and licked his lips hesitantly before resolving himself. “When I think about you that’s the face I see, yeah. And the trench coat and suit. But you’re… I can feel your energy, Cas. You’re bigger than that. I can’t see it, but I can feel you in the whole room. Sometimes I can almost swear I bump into your wings when I walk past you. It’s… your true form is there, I can sense it, even if I can’t see it. But mostly when I think about you, it’s not even what you look like at all. Like, yeah, your face is good and your hair and……. Yeah, but you’re just a cool guy to be around. I think a lot more about how funny you are and what a pain in my ass you are and how kind you are and how much I care about you….” Dean trailed off, blushing as he realized how much further he had gone than he meant to.

Cas smiled broadly, “I see… thank you, Dean.”

Dean chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah bud, don’t worry about it. I wish I could take a picture that had all of you in it to show you what I see.”

“It’s okay Dean, I often wish that I could show you exactly what I see when I look at you. Your soul is beautiful, even if you can’t see it.”

With that, Cas turned to leave, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trench coat, guiding himself out of the room as Dean gripped the back of the chair next to him and tried not to let his eyes get misty. He wondered how he could be so lucky as to have someone who found him beautiful.

[daggerzine]

Heaven Adores You: An intimate, meditative inquiry into the life & music of Elliott Smith (2014 film re-release- Directed by Nickolas Ross- REVIEW BY DINA HORNREICH)

As the film opens, we hear its subject brutally confessing how he’s just “the wrong kind of person to be really big and famous.” Moments later, the film reveals the extraordinary impact as news of his passing was spreading in communal shockwaves that resonated across collections of the musician's admirers. Moreover, it is particularly compelling to ponder in this portrayal how his career had almost simultaneously been catapulted by the same interest of the interviewing filmmaker, Gus Van Sant; given how its rising impact had offered the crucial momentum for generating such deserving recognition in the first place. (My own reaction at the time was no different as I murmured to myself: “They say he died from two stab wounds to the chest…and now I feel like I did too.”)

Throughout “Heaven Adores You,” we are consistently left pondering how the achievement of this level of attention had fostered a reluctant role as an awkward Oscar award nominee (even though it felt very deserving to most of us from a distance) – since it was also a catalyst for his downward spiraling into another addiction addled artistic abyss? Obviously, like most things, it’s a bittersweet combination of those disparate elements as they seem to “ping-ping” between paradigmatically hypothetical extremes. As Smith’s particular story seems quite invitational of these common dualistic negotiations while grappling with everyday paradoxes such as why moral strife connotes devastating violence – or whether economic success fosters excessive lifestyle choices instead of sensible habit making.

Furthermore, as audiences, we seem to know that these are not new areas of inquiry for aspiring artists given that natural reluctance to embrace any spotlighted kinds of importance even when being considered for inclusion amidst this litany of talented contributors whose narratives comprise our collective lore and rich cultural heritage; and, as such, this is an uncomfortable feeling that is not exclusive to Smith’s heartbreaking output and individual story whatsoever. However, as it is a painstakingly poignant undercurrent that harrowingly confronts us throughout every moment of the film (given the depths of its portrait of Smith’s words, music, and overall aesthetic); we cannot ignore how Smith’s work clearly embodies the raw and humbling forms of authenticity that seemed unique to our particular mid 90s communities of indie/punk rock peers and collaborators.

Sadly, watching the film also makes it apparent that these are the moments that typically “make or break” artists who are forced to grapple between the intersections given the impact of their artistic messages as it mediates their relationships with those recipients -- and otherwise trying to balance the importance of commercial recognition with a need for financial viability. It’s impossible to avoid getting philosophical, political, and otherwise theoretically volatile when we understand the intense pressures of living in a world that still sends poets to jail and otherwise tortures artists until they simply can’t bear that existence anymore. (Wasn’t it Kurt Cobain who asked: “Is it better to burn out or fade away?”) And this film offers those continual reminders for us to simply say “thank you” to Elliot Smith for having lasted long enough to leave us these musical treasures even though they also serve as painful reminders that we will never stop missing him!