#this just happened during tonights art stream

[bruneburg]

afungus

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 3: Taming the Beast

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! Mentions of smut, eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

.......

series inspired by the art below!

You were more than lucky that no one caught you going down to konig's quarters last week on the night of the autumn harvest ball. You made sure to keep your interactions with him the following days very brief, if you even saw him at all. this was all for his sake, so that he wouldn't be thrown out of the castle - or worse - on accusations that he seduced the Austrian royal family's princess. not that it wouldn't be the truth, but you were the one who pursued him first, after all.

you found that you could hardly concentrate during your routine literature or violin courses. your eyes would always wander out the window, scouring the fields or training area for the hooded giant. but just like his living quarters, he must train in secret, for he was rarely seen outside of the castle during daylight hours. some nights, you'd spot him from your bedroom window, washing his clothes in the moonlit stream. you wanted to call out to him, but surely others would hear, and it wasn't safe. you wished you could be like Rapunzel, to just let down your hair for him to climb to your room like a storybook prince. but you were no Rapunzel, and he was certainly no prince.

it was too risky for you to sneak down to his quarters now that things had settled down after the ball. you thought endlessly on how to get more time alone with him, to just even speak to him, even if you would be the one doing most of the speaking.

crime in your country actually seemed to almost stop now that konig was the royal family's executioner. everyone was scared of him, and of his axe. to be killed by konig was a death like no other, even though he made it swift and painless. needless to say, castle life was getting a little boring. you had enough of the routine, enough of the shy, virgin-like smiles you sent his way on the rare occasion you saw him. he was the most interesting person you've ever met.

and konig couldn't get it out of his head how you said that fire just needed to be handled properly. he replayed that night over and over again in his mind, pondering your words with every free moment he got. he couldn't admit to himself that he missed you: from your kindness and smile to your plump hips and squeezable breasts. that cloth you gave him didn't make it three days before it was soiled with his essence as he jerked off to unholy thoughts of you. he pretended to not notice the way you would owlishly stare at him from your bedroom window when he was trying to wash his clothing.

but you couldn't think of a way to see him alone again, until tonight. you watched as konig cleaned his clothes under the light of a crescent moon, but he seemed to forget a piece of clothing as he left. no one else would've been able to see the black cloth if they hadn't already known it was there. you jumped up from your daybed by the window and smiled as a plan formed in your head. much like the night of the banquet the week prior, you slipped on a cloak and some loose boots before sneaking out of the castle. it wasn't uncommon for you to take walks at night, even before konig arrived, so that alone wouldn't arouse any suspicion. the silence of the night and the cold glimmer of the moon were often your only companions.

you pretended to follow the streambank lazily, as if you weren't making a bee line for the cloth, as if it wasn't the only reason you came out tonight. the knights each had their area that they guarded every night, and you had long ago memorized each of their paths and schedules. they were no threat to your plan. when you finally approached the black cloth lying on the ground, you sat down and gently pulled it under your dress with your foot. you carefully folded the garment under your cloak and tucked it under your arm before you sat down and admired the stream for a little while, like you usually did. the easy part was over. now, you had to figure out how to get to konig's quarters without being seen.

there was no way you could march right past the knights like you did last time. there were too many servants about, and your sisters often stayed up later than they should've, just like you. you aimlessly wandered the castle grounds as you thought, and remembered that there were secret passages throughout the castle that were only supposed to be used in times of an emergency. surely returning the executioner's forgotten clothing to him was an emergency?

you walked back to your room, to trick the servants and knights into thinking you were going to bed, before you entered one of the secret passages to the basement. it was hidden behind a painting that rested on the floor rather than hung. only you knew about it, somehow. maybe no one else ever bothered to wonder why one painting wasn't hung out of the thousands that already adorned the castle.

you could risk bringing no torch with you, so you braced the cold darkness of the passages and followed them down. in your younger years, you would often hide in these passages from your sisters, or when someone made you upset and you couldn't get away. but you had never been past the main level. but down you went, until you reached the trapdoor exit and were right in the middle of the basement servant's quarters. they all seemed to be asleep, so you quietly climbed onto the floor and descended down konig's staircase. you were slightly more confident this time since you've visited him before, but it was still like knocking on death's door.

you gently knocked and whispered his name. you heard the bed creak, and he opened the door a moment later. he didn't look all that surprised to see you, like he did last time. he wordlessly looked down at you.

right as you were about to hand his discarded garment to him, you realized that he might find it creepy how you knew he left a piece of black clothing, outside, at night, while you were supposed to be asleep. you blushed, and pursed your lips shut. he tilted his hooded head to show he was confused. but he already knew you watched him, so would it really be that weird? you couldn't think of an easy excuse as to why else you would be down here, knocking on his door in the dead of night. so, you timidly handed him his folded garment that he left by the stream.

"you...left this," you said quietly without meeting his eyes. he gently reached and took the garment from your hands. you lowered your head in shame as you realized you had become a stalker. you were about to turn to leave when his voice pierced the air, even though he spoke very quietly.

"can you handle fire?"

you looked up at him with wide eyes, and you must've looked like a spooked animal. you chewed the inside of your cheek.

"i'd like to think that I can," you responded breathlessly.

his silence gave you the idea that he was satisfied with your answer. but his gaze was so heavy that you could barely control your mouth before you blurted,

"i'm sorry i'm not stalking you i just think you're really interesting."

his eyes widened at that, and you blushed as you realized what you had just said. you turned to run up the stairs, needing to get away from his all-knowing gaze, before his strong hand grabbed your arm and pulled you into his room. he shut the door with his other hand and pushed you somewhat roughly against his hard, wooden door. his body caged you in as he leaned an elbow above your head and curved his back down so that your eyes were level while his other hand hung at his side. giving you an escape if you wanted. but you couldn't will your body to move. you had awoken a beast.

"you should not talk to me," he warned through gritted teeth.

you could barely breathe. "why?"

his eyes went up and down your frame before he gulped and answered.

"bad idea," he rasped.

you were truly a lamb caught within the wolf's jaws. your breath grew labored.

"I don't think so," you whispered.

"i am an executioner. you are a princess," he said, almost angrily.

you looked him in his eyes, and he truly had the look of a predator. his pupils were pinpricks swimming within a sea of grey-blue. "i don't care."

it seemed he tried to restrain himself with some hidden leash, with the way his body trembled as he caged you in. was he aroused? angry? scared? you couldn't tell.

"i will ruin you," he stated.

your body went on autopilot. you smirked.

"i'd like to see you try."

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful

very filthy smut next chapter!!!!!

[ladybugsimblr]

Rolling Stone - Fall Bailey Kay, One of One

-

Shoutout to @soulsimmin for the other musical artists noted on the cover and general Team BK shenanigans. Somebody cut the check.

Article Below

Category: Baaad Bitch

10.59pm The initials BK pop on the screen indicating Bailey Kay has joined the Soom call. The camera flashes on and my heart skips a beat. I hear her soft but firm voice say “Kiss” and another face appears in the view. Bailey’s husband Quinton leans in for a kiss as requested. The two quickly exchange “Love you’s” and adoring looks and then he’s gone as fast as he appeared. Bailey Kay turns to me and I now have her undivided attention. She flashes that gorgeous smile and my heart skips a beat again.

“Sorry. Hi! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me this late. I hope you’re a night owl too.” Absolutely not. I’m normally in bed by 10pm, but who says no to the Queen B when she agrees at the last possible second to her first interview in ages. I awkwardly reply “I am tonight!” and she laughs, exclaiming “I like you!” Phew! Any remaining tension and nerves are gone. Let’s get into this.

Channeling my glitteriest of kitties I jump right in and ask “Where are the visuals? We the butterflies are begging for the music videos and performances.” Honestly I expected a glare or an eye roll in return, but I get a sly smirk instead. “You are the visual”

I instinctively look at the small image of myself on the screen thinking I did too much with my look for this call. Bailey must have sensed my confusion and continues: “Butterfly is about celebrating life, love, and freedom, overcoming struggles and transforming into your best, highest self. I didn’t want to dictate how anyone experienced those things with the typical visuals. But I did want to get the party started so I gave you the first step- the music.”

“So you dropped the album and bounced to let us party and figure it out for ourselves?”

“You are funny! But yes, kinda. And look what happened! You all started your own challenge and created the visuals, and all I had to do was sit back and watch. Also I really didn’t leave y’all empty handed. I thought we killed it with the pics in the Butterfly Box. But I can’t forget the hive is the hardest to please and I love that. Keeps me on my toes.”

“Ok, I see the vision, but why literally leave the country and go on vacation during an album rollout? That’s unheard of!”

“Ok two reasons. The first is that was what I needed to do. That was my way of celebrating. I told my baby girl that putting out an album was like graduating. I fought hard to overcome my own issues and dark places and now that the project was out to the world, I needed to release and just be with my family, my babies.”

“And the second?”

“Because I can. I’m THAT girl! Deadass!” Again with a smile and a laugh. BK might be the nicest bad bitch I’ve ever met.

“What do you say to the critics who say the album is going to fail? There are rules to the game if you want to succeed.”

“I say check the streaming numbers and sales.” That eye twinkle and smile return one more time. “Rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes. Note to self: Redact that line before my terrors read this. But seriously if we did the same thing, the same way, every time, art, music, life would all be extremely boring. Tackling the unheard of and never been done before is my shit. I live for that. As far as succeeding… I’ve been lucky enough to have more success in my entertainment career than I ever dreamed of. Whatever I do from here on is the extra sauce and will not be measured by industry standards.”

“Speaking of the future, what more can we expect for Butterfly? Please say tour.”

“Ha! Ummm performances are coming. It’s time for me to party with the butterflies.”

“Ok, will they be on multiple stages in cities near all of us?”

“I can't with you! But I can say I’ll perform songs from Butterfly and the rest of the catalogue, on stage, soon. Stay ready.”

And ready we will stay. Ready for the Queen BK. One of One. Number One. The Only One.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by: @corvosattano @solstheimtxt @kyber-infinitygems @nightbloodbix @adelaidedrubman and @simplegenius042 this week thank you all so much!!

Tagging: @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt @eclecticwildflowers @poetikat @florbelles @direwombat @v0idbuggy @josephseedismyfather @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @josephslittledeputy @peppertheferalraccoon @neverthesameneveranother @strafethesesinners @clicheantagonist @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @roofgeese @confidentandgood @derelictheretic @trench-rot (no pressure) and anyone else with something to share :)

So now that I've spoiled the plot point of the scar on Jacob's chest via art work, guess I might as well share the scene where it happens (warnings for knifeplay and a scene where cutting someone sounds more like smut...if this ain't your jam, i'm sorry, feel free to ignore)

Saint Francis was utterly silent, so quiet only the sounds of the boughs of the trees rustling with the wind and the few calls of nocturnal animals outside could be heard. Deep in the darkness of the night there was only one light left on in the entirety of the building (as it was on most nights) and while Kit and Jacob would normally be busy at work, planning and preparing as any good soldier was known to do, tonight that was not the case.

Jacob lay sprawled out on the too small cot in the corner of the room, his arms folded behind his head, and eyes gently shut as Kit lay curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Whatever formal agreement had been made between them had just been consummated for what would certainly not be the last time that evening. 

Her fingers trailed through the red hair on his chest, caressing gently over the scars and raised skin that tracked over and marred his flesh, her warm breath fanning against him until  she sat up on her elbow, his dog tags jingling together against her chest as she moved and brushed flowing waves of copper hair over to one shoulder.

“I was thinking, I still need to give you something too.”

He cocked his brow but didn’t open his eyes. “Oh yeah, like what?” he asked, voice thick with the heady fog that came as he relaxed during his refractory period. 

The bed creaked and her weight shifted from the cot, the springs relaxing back into shape only to squeak once more as she returned and straddled herself over his thighs, her weight pressing down upon him like an iron anvil of muscle.  

Opening his eyes he was met by her smirk and the blade of her hunting knife twisting between her fingers. “Just what d’you think you’re doing with that, kitten?” He asked with a cock of his brow and a too smug grin on his face.

Bringing the knife down against his skin, she dragged the point of it down from his throat to the breast bone, a long red scratch left in its wake and it was sure to welt. Scoring the skin across his peck, Kit rested the tip of the knife just above where his heart beat below. With a coy grin, her lower lip pulling between her teeth, she husked, “Marking what’s mine.”

Jacob shifted, sitting up on his forearms, his eyes widening as she pressed down with the sharpened edge of her knife, cutting through layers of skin. Hissing as his blood bubbled up to the surface, he bared his teeth as she slit through old scar tissue to carve her initials into his chest. 

Kit’s pale eyes stayed focused on him and the reactions he gave more than on her penmanship, her stare tracking every flinch and curling of his lip, every tightening of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils like she was trying to commit it all to memory. 

Looking down at his chest, between the streams of scarlet that flowed from him, he could make out the letters KC cut into him. There was no going back now, she already had his number and knew exactly who his heart belonged to. 

With a toss of the knife to the floor, she leaned down and kept her eyes on him as she braced her hands on his shoulders, licking up the blood that had spilled down the curves of his peck.  The way the light hit her, making shadows around her eyes, her icy stare peering out from the dark made her look more animalistic than human as her tongue lapped at him, collecting the warmth from within his veins upon it and then devouring it like a lioness at a watering hole. She had that same bestial quality to her that she had after tearing out a man’s throat and consuming him in her cage, that moment when he knew she was just like him.

Swallowing heavily, his throat bobbing at the intensity of the way she scrutinized him, he was captivated entirely by her and the way her tongue dragged across her lips staining them with reddened saliva until they were the same shade they became when she was under his thumb. His hand quickly flew to the back of her head, and collecting a handful of her hair in his grip, pulled her towards his mouth to kiss her. The salty, metal tang mixed in their mouths as he drove his tongue in past her lips and nearly lost his mind, willing to suffocate himself to taste more of her. 

Prying herself free of him, she smiled against his mouth and peppered his lips with gentle kisses. “You’re mine,” she whispered.

“Goes both ways, Kitty.”

“I know.” 

[mirrorballtales]

Dear Reader,

“You paint me a blue sky and turn it to rain. I lived in your chess game but you changed the rules everyday. Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone tonight. Well I stopped picking up, and this song is to let you know why.”

I remember vividly walking the track of my school my senior year. It was November. There was a gray sky. It was one of the lowest points of my life. Alone. Scared. Angry. Sad. When Taylor released Speak Now, it’s like she had read my diary, ripped the words out of it, and sung them to me. One of my best friends and I walked the mile we were supposed to run during Cheer practice. She impatiently implored, “listen to track 5.” Who knew a decade later, Taylor’s “track five songs” would become the soundtrack of my life. All Too Well, Dear John, You’re On Your Own Kid, The Archer, Delicate, my tears ricochet.

Dear John came on. My heart stopped. I heard “Long were the nights when my days once revolved around you.” I cried. I cried like I had never cried for a song before. I had never had such a profound connection to art until that moment. I turned to my friend and she knew. She knew what was happening. It is like someone had started to pick up pieces of my heart and gluing them back together. A mosaic-broken heart.

At this point in my life, I wanted to die. I wanted to just disappear from whatever hell I was in. And I would swear to the world I was fine while losing my mind. I wanted to go anywhere just not home.

Then came the lyric, “Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with. The girl in the dress cried the whole way home. I should have known. Well maybe it’s me and my blind optimism to blame. Or maybe it’s you and your sick need to give love and take it away.”

What I had felt the past four years hauntingly and beautifully were captured by her in those lines. I had worked hard to grow up so fast to protect myself that I forgot I was just a young girl. A young girl who was used once, twice, three times, endlessly. And no one came to my rescue. No one saw what was happening. Not even me. Until that moment. For the first time, that night, I felt like I could be saved. I sat in the dark and wondered if it was time to fight back. Like I was not the one to blame. Not completely at least. What happened at 13 was something I could not change. What happened at 14 was something I could have never suspected. What happened after until that day was not my doing. They should have known. He should have known how young I was.

The salt stream that fell from my eyes into my ears were the first filled with a hope that maybe I did not deserve any of this. Dear John is essentially a song about grooming and at the time I thought it was just a mistake after another, not truly thinking that at 13, that is what actually happened. I trusted someone who only wanted to play with me. He was the sick and twisted one. I should have never cried all the way home on my birthday. My blind optimism should never have been the reason he touched me. He should have never given a fatherly love to only take it away. Dear John is the reason he never touched me again. Dear John is the reason I ran as fast I could.

It has taken over 15 years to begin to understand how this could have happened to me. But even in these moments of ultimate vulnerability, of me coming undone, I realize he was the expert of keeping lines blurry when I was 13. I never could win his game. All the girls he stole life from. I would not be one.

I am the one who took the matches from him before any fire could catch me. I will not look back. At 30 I am realizing I will be the fireworks that will shine over his sad empty town. He will not escape me. I will not remain some victim or allow him to dictate where my life goes. I cried all the way home that night. I was too young to be messed with. So I will write about this not for him but for me. I was too young. He should have known.

I heard Dear John live in 2011. Almost a year later after listening to it for the first time. I needed it the most then. It was cathartic. It began to heal me in a way that allowed me to not just survive but to live. For myself. For others. The journey has not been straight. There are dark days. Days where he comes back to haunt me at night. And I fight with him in my sleep. But there are others filled with light, a newfound state of grace.

I was losing the war and the tide turned. I was drowning in rain but for the first time I could take a deep breath. All trace of him leaving in the rain. And every morning I feel clean.

I will be thirteen years sober of his abuse. I will never risk it. Even if there are days I believe I can take him. I owe myself peace. Even if there are days I believe in nothing. I want to believe in the good left in the world. The good left in me.

She played Dear John tonight. My heart is a little gashed. But I want to believe someone tonight, needed to hear it, the way I needed to hear it at 18. And I hope that tonight is the night they know the world needs them. On their good days and their worst. The world is so much better because of them. The night they know they were too young to be messed with and they should have known. Tonight was the night someone reached for their hand not to save them but to runaway with them into a labyrinth of love and light.

I hope they scream from the top of their lungs, “give me back my girlhood. It was mine first.”

Xoxo 🫶🏼💜

[onenettvchannel]

THIS JUST IN: Hinobi Couple of Glitch Techs will soon to be Engaged [#OneNETnewsEXCLUSIVE]

IMPORTANT HONEST WARNING: The following sensitive news report may contains a disturbingly graphic l*wd images that may be offensive for some news readers. Our news organization of OneNETnews will not condone any of its wrongdoing in journalism industry, as well as her story's consent of approval. Read our disclaimer first below the article. Readers discretion is STRONGLY advised!

BAILLEY, TEXAS -- Two employees in one Hinobi gamer couple of Glitch Techs have now secured a loving marriage in Bailley City, Texas, United States of America (U.S.A.), in connection by making out with our Stringer Nickelodeon Correspondent (Hector "Hi-5" Nieves).

An exclusive report from SeniorG, who was an amateur Carribean-American illustrative artist in South America that leads a follow-up episode of "Be My Player Two" in late-February 2020 with an unrated lock-in taping s*x scene episode.

OneNETnews can exclusively learn the scoop, with a total respect of Netflix and Nickelodeon Animation Studio (NAS) -- which is now shelved before Season 3 in production and was not to be aired in kids and teenage programming due to broadcast standards and practices issue.

Radyo Patrol #4 news reporter and a newly-Station Manager per Internet TV station of OneNETtv Channel (ONC) named Miko Kubota with permission for an exclusive interview Thursday night (August 25th, 2022 - Texas local time) right before a love-making session starts at 10pm as she quoted, "I met with Hi-5, as I worked here with Hinobi Technologies, things I have changed ever since after the post-Pandemic happened and other gaming missions with our boss (Phil Altiere). So, you know... I am officially planning to get married, getting enough time for my honeymoon in local cities, and my boyfriend (Hi-5) will have a date with him".

Kubota told exclusively to our news team, she will not retire both of its roles for now. Both of them will continue working on our news affiliates as well as the gaming company branch. Her marriage contract and a legal documents is on its way in a coming weeks: "We can legally process everything with my boyfriend with my own trust. My next chapter tonight is lovemaking, followed by the government requirements for a marriage later this weekend, and NO. Both of us will not retire. Trust me on this... I'm still working with you (during my dating session), really".

According to Texas Attorney General website in marriage requirement guidelines... Marriage license and contracts must be complied for the residents of Texas. Which means, Kubota and Nieves are now fully legal to have a good time for a s*x session up until Friday early morning tomorrow (August 26th, 2022). Most of her session is repetitive as needed, much anywhere across the said city.

Marriage mass is set to be scheduled later this year in Fall 2022, with a local Texan Catholic Priest and it will be televised LIVE and streamed online to our sister station in all regional stations of Discovery Family networks in Visayas and Mindanao. ONC will not cover a LIVE simulcast for now in original cooperatively produced programming (which requires a fully animated episode with a fanmade voice actors) as of this writing.

A big congratulations for a gamer couple of Hinobi, per fictional characters of Glitch Techs as the love shipping sets sail for life with a seductive touch.

This news report is brought to you by: XTend Food Supplement for Men (Laban pamatagalan) & Drivemax Adult Herbal Capsule (Tatagal ka ba? A Brigada product)

ART PHOTO COURTESY and REPRESENTATION: SeniorG34 via Twitter and Nickelodeon Animation Studio for Netflix BACKGROUND PROVIDED BY: Tegna

SOURCE: *https://twitter.com/SeniorG34/status/1563209671388803072 [Photo Reference Art by SeniorG - 18+ Only] and *https://www2.texasattorneygeneral.gov/files/cs/8marriage.pdf [Marriage Guidelines from the TAG]

SEVERE HONEST DISCLAIMER: The views and opinions expressed from this exclusive news report are not necessarily those of Nickelodeon & Netflix Animation. This fictional scene of Glitch Techs approves for this unreleased episode of "Be My Player Two". Furthermore, the assumptions for this E.N.R. will NOT state, intervene or reflect those of our affiliated news reporters. The station, the management, interwebs and the network. Thanks for reading and stay safe, mga ka-Bandera. Later!

-- OneNETnews Team

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (534): Sat 2nd Sep 2023

Rewatched the brilliant Ghostwatch tonight. This was an incredibly well written, perfectly cast production that I'm sure would have been fine on it's own merit (i.e if everyone watched it knowing it was fake) but the fact that so many people tuned in after it started and paniced thinking it was real is what secured it it's place in TV history. Even though in hindsight it's easy to say that Michael Parkinson, Sarah Greene, Craig Charles and Mike Smith are clearly acting they are so convincing and play it as if they were presenting a live show that at times you forget that this is a scripted performance. There's only one element that doesn't hold up in my opinion. For years the show has been commended for a part in the film where a caller rings in to tell them that in the piece of film from the children's bedroom they played earlier they were sure they saw the image of a man standing next to the curtains. They play the footage back and there clearly is a ghostly image there but the presenters act like they can't see anything. They then rewind the footage and play it again but this time the ghostly figure is gone but again, the presenters just act like there's nothing there just like the first time. This is the thing that comes closest to breaking the film because it would have made more sense to have the shadowy figure visible during the initial showing of the footage early in the film and then when the woman calls in telling Parky about the image she saw the should have played the footage without the ghost in it to make the real audience at home who saw the ghost the first time make them think they were seeing things. Every time I rewatch Ghostwatch this one moment is the thing that niggles me the most because if they'd have fixed it then it would have been a perfect movie but even with this major fuckup it's still a milestone achievement in TV history.

Speaking of TV history today was also the final Day of CITV. After 40 fucking years ITV has decided to just put all of its kids shows on an app rather than having any of them airing on a channel anymore. This is inevitably going to happen to all the channels eventually and that makes me a bit sad because watching programmes as they went out gave you a sense of comradery and community that has been lost in the era of streaming. Normally if an episode of Prison Break was airing on a Monday you'd watch it then talk to your friend at work about it the next day. Then on Tuesday you'd watch an episode of Mad Men and talk to your mates about that the next day. Now TV has changed to the point where you could spend all day Monday watching an entire season of Prison Break on the Monday and then the next day your friend would go "Don't tell me, I'm still on episode 3". Knowing CITV was gone did make me a little sad as I like many kids used to stick CITV on as soon as I got home from school when I was in primary school (and for a few of my college years because I was quite a heavy afternoon drinker). I still remember the fun I had watching Art Attack, Kipper, Funhouse, Finders Keepers, ZZZap! and many more. I even have an almost photographic recollection of an ident featuring an animated clock singing a song reminding kids to tune in at half past three. It's weird what sticks with you but that has burrowed into my brain for some reason. Not to get too sentimental here but the thing you realize more as you get older is the stuff that you remember from your childhood now only exists in your head. Although ITV still has access to all of those shows the specific memories that you associate with those shows are yours alone and it's impossible to convey them to others. I was at work today so I couldn't tune in to watch the final day of CITV ever but evidentially I didn't miss much. The channel just treated it like another day at the office airing the same programmes they would normally air in that timeslot. There were no classic shows, no interviews with the stars / creators of those iconic shows, no farewell documentary looking at the history of the station. Hell, there wasn't even anything aired the whole day indicating that this was the final day in this channels 40 year history and that's just ridiculous. Although I'm sure this was ITV's choice and if CITV had their way they would have included all those things I mentioned. There are probably people working there who have been there if not from the start then for years and you can bet that they wanted to go out with a bang. Maybe ITV didn't want to risk giving complete free reign of the final day over to ITV because they were scared of them pulling a Blake's 7 / Brookside and making the final day a giant fuck you to the people cancelling them culminating in an episode of Scooby Doo where Scooby gets possessed by a real ghost and joins the gang together Human Centipede-style. Either way thanks to everyone who ever worked at CITV for all the great memories. You were a big part of my childhood and it's a shame you won't be a part of any more.

[sinceileftyoublog]

King Tuff Live Preview: 3/31, Empty Bottle, Chicago

Photo by Wyndham Garnett

BY JORDAN MAINZER

For his fifth full-length album and first in 5 years, amidst the uncertainty of a just-starting global pandemic, L.A.-via-Vermont fuzz rocker King Tuff decided to make a record to remind himself “that life is magical.” The result, January’s Smalltown Stardust (Sub Pop), is a far cry from the drawn-out, languid psychedelia of 2018′s The Other, Kyle Thomas opting for more specific references to nature, places, and objects that mean something to him. It’s his best record yet.

Of course, it helps when making an album during a global pandemic, if your housemate is Sasami Ashworth (aka SASAMI), who served the role of co-pilot, producing, writing, and singing along Thomas. Her airy voice is the perfect foil to Thomas’ deadpan sneer-cum-croon, immediately apparent on songs like “Tell Me” and “How I Love”. More important, her presence and curatorial ear seems to have refined Thomas’ singing and songwriting. “How I Love”, a song Thomas admits was tough for someone normally “lost in nothing but noise for so many years,” obscured by guitars, is an immediate Beatles-esque standout. “The Bandits of Blue Sky” starts with lo-fi drum fills and turns into a 70s AM radio piano rocker rife with orchestral synths, Thomas cinematically delivering a tall tale about a ghost roaming the streets. And the layers of saxophone, vocals, and clattering percussion propel “Always Find Me”, a heady tune where Thomas describes himself as “a loser lost in my headphones,” as are we in witnessing the expanse of the music.

Even if you’re not a spiritual person, it’s easy to dive right into Thomas’ joyous expressions of his own spirituality. On “Portrait Of God”, he asks, “Have you ever tried to imagine the shape of God?”, his jubilant singing and Steely Dan guitar leads paying tribute to our ability to find meaning in the natural world, art, and love. “Stars align, the planets dance, life happens in between,” he declares on the gentle “Pebbles In A Stream”, a mystical ode to love both romantic and platonic. Best, everyone can relate to the concept of the title track, album title, and album as a whole: Whether you’re remembering Route 91 in your small town or the sounds of the city you grew up in, “smalltown stardust” is that intangible feeling you get from nostalgia, a little melancholic, mostly wistful. This retro rocker captures it well.

King Tuff plays tonight at Empty Bottle. NYC rock band Tchotchke, who released an equally retro, supremely catchy self-titled album last year, goes on at 10 PM. Sorry, Jamie Lee Curtis.

[tocinephile]

If it's not EEAAO night at the Oscars I'm going to riot...

It's Oscar Sunday and while I've found this entire Award Show season rather boring, one can't help but feel a little bit of pride the way Asians have dominated in wins. A year ago who would have thought a multiverse immigrant action comedy drama written by the Daniels with an Southeast Asian led cast would be the favoured film to take Best Picture?? Everything Everywhere All At Once has been a runaway favourite and Best Picture is just one of the many categories where it is a heavy contender tonight.

Let me get off this EEAAO rah-rah train for a second though because as much gushing as there is for the film, I've also heard the honest opinions of some that they don't love this movie. On one hand, it's a multiverse film staring one of the world's greatest (and most underrated) action stars - Michelle Yeoh, a beloved scream queen (and so much more) Jamie Lee Curtis, and Short Round - Ke Huy Quan - all grown up. That just screams entertainment value. However if you've ever had to explain the multiverse to a parent or grandparent you might see where the story falters in universal appeal. But wait! It's also an immigrant story about generational friction, one of its main characters is LGBTQ+, and it's in three languages (English and two dialects of Chinese). It's truly a movie with universal appeal!

That said, I will admit of the Best Picture nominees EEAAO is perhaps only somewhere in my top 4. I've seen 8 of the 10 nominated films (opting to skip Avatar and Women Talking in theatres, I would have watched the latter if I could have streamed it). While not overly enamored by any of the selections, The Fablemans would be my favourite followed by a three-way tie between EEAAO, Top Gun: Maverick, and All Quiet on the Western Front (which I enjoyed a lot more than I expected I would)

Before I get into my picks and general thoughts about the films I have seen, I want to thank Alex from the Dufferin Film Society who is leading the charge on the Oscar Pool that I've participated in for tonight. I've typically been part of a pool headed up by a very enthusiastic colleague at the office but that pool is sadly no more. Thankfully I've been invited to join in this new one even though I'm not sure I could point to Dufferin County on a map. (Sorry Alex)

I would also like to take a moment to mention a big movie enthusiast from Toronto whose absence is felt this year: Harvey Lalonde. Harvey was a mainstay at virtually every Toronto film festival, along with many other arts & cultural events, he's also been a part of Sundance, and Fantasia in Montreal. If you've ever attended a film festival in Toronto, Harvey has likely directed you to your theatre, ripped your tickets, or played some part in your moviegoing experience. He was most often at Bloor Hot Docs, the TIFF Midnight Madness venues most notably Ryerson Theatre, and TIFF Bell Lightbox amongst many other venues. I've volunteered at TIFF and other film festivals since 1999 and Harvey was already a regular when I started. A very sociable man who loved to talk about the festivals happening in the city and the films he'd seen or was excited to see, Harvey always took every opportunity to say hello and chat. Harvey had a stroke in February and passed away shortly after.

I mention Harvey here because our second last conversation was on Facebook messenger during the Golden Globes back in January. As you might be aware, I often tweet during award shows and converse via SMS and IM with friends. While I choose to watch in my home as opposed to gathering with friends (as I did in my 20's) I actually find I do a lot of socializing albeit via my phone, and I cherish all the award show chats I have with my friends. Harvey and I discussed our dislike of the host, which awards we had predicted, and the ceremony in general. I'm going to miss these conversations with him. I'd love to know what he thinks of my 2023 Oscar picks.

As usual I'm going to break it down between who I think "will win", "should win", and "my overall pick"...

BEST PICTURE

All Quiet on the Western Front Avatar: The Way of Water The Banshees of Inisherin Elvis Everything Everywhere All at Once The Fabelmans Tár Top Gun: Maverick Triangle of Sadness Women Talking

Will win: Everything Everywhere All at Once

Should win: Everything Everywhere All at Once

My pick: Everything Everywhere All at Once

As I mentioned The Fabelmans is my favourite amongst the list but it feels old-fashion stodgy Hollywood to give this one to The Fabelmans. A million films like it have won before and Spielberg probably doesn't have any more space left in his home for more awards.

In terms of what I thought of the films themselves, All Quiet on the Western Front surpassed my expectations, The Banshees of Inisherin was interesting but I failed to see its brilliance, Elvis was probably my least favourite Baz Luhrmann film (I never saw Australia), Tar was a feat of filmmaking (that I will likely never sit through again), Top Gun was one of the most enjoyable films I saw in 2022, Triangle of Sadness did not appeal to me (and I've once and for all decided to stop watching Ostlund's films despite everyone's urging).

DIRECTOR

Todd Field, Tár Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert, Everything Everywhere All at Once Martin McDonagh, The Banshees of Inisherin Ruben Östlund, Triangle of Sadness Steven Spielberg, The Fabelmans

Will win: Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert, EEAAO

Should win: Todd Field, Tar

My pick: Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert, EEAAO

Not that I will be the slightest bit upset when the Daniels win! They deserve it but Tar would be nothing without Todd Field's direction (and Cate Blanchett's performance). A part of me also thinks it would be nice to see Spielberg win for the film based on his own life. (I feel like there's in a joke in there about "if you can't direct your own life, what can you direct??"...)

ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE

Austin Butler, Elvis Colin Farrell, The Banshees of Inisherin Brendan Fraser, The Whale Paul Mescal, Aftersun Bill Nighy, Living

Will win: Could be either Austin Butler or Brendan Fraser

Should win: Brendan Fraser, The Whale

My pick: Austin Butler, Elvis

I had a friend tell me that he doesn't believe in rewarding an actor for putting on a prosthetic. I mean, he has a point but I actually think that Brendan Fraser could have pulled this one off even without a fat suit. I didn't even like Elvis all that much but I guess Austin Butler's performance was one of the strongest aspects of the film. The category has been divided throughout all the awards, so this could go either way.

Bill Nighy was very good in Living, a film that's worth checking out. It once again reminded me the similarities in attitudes and behaviours between the Japanese and British that just make these adaptations of Japanese source material into Brit production so seamless.

Colin Farrell (and Brendan Gleeson) are also great in their roles, my thoughts on their film aside.

Paul Mescal was fine but Aftersun as a film eluded me, I failed to see what was so special about it. (I will note that I have no relationship with my own father so maybe that's why I don't understand the appeal of the film)

ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE

Cate Blanchett, Tár Ana de Armas, Blonde Andrea Riseborough, To Leslie Michelle Williams, The Fabelmans Michelle Yeoh, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Will win: Michelle Yeoh

Should win: Michelle Yeoh (I guess I wouldn't be sad if Cate Blanchett won either)

My pick: Michelle Yeoh

I've made no secret over the years of my love for Michelle Yeoh, she's a martial arts legend who's demonstrated her skills alongside the best, staring opposite Jacky Chan, Donnie Yen, Jet Li, etc.

Tar had a long running time and was carried by its main character and for that alone Cate Blanchett deserves recognition, but I guess she's had plenty of recognition in the past.

Michelle Williams seems to have a tendency of choosing certain roles, frequently fragile and inwardly troubled, so naturally she's perfect in The Fabelmans.

I made a decision that I wasn't going to watch Blonde because I just don't like Marilyn Munroe, so I won't be weighing in on Ana de Armas thought I typically like her.

I am going to watch To Leslie after I finish up this post.

ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE

Brendan Gleeson, The Banshees of Inisherin Brian Tyree Henry, Causeway Judd Hirsch, The Fabelmans Barry Keoghan, The Banshees of Inisherin Ke Huy Quan, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Will win: Ke Huy Quan

Should win: Ke Huy Quan

My pick: Ke Huy Quan

I'm really looking forward to seeing Ke Huy Quan become an Oscar winner after so many decades of struggle to just get roles in Hollywood. 100% I'm going to cry when it happens.

(I guess I will also note here that I've not had an opportunity to see Causeway, I missed it at TIFF 2022)

ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE

Angela Bassett, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Hong Chau, The Whale Kerry Condon, The Banshees of Inisherin Jamie Lee Curtis, Everything Everywhere All at Once Stephanie Hsu, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Will win: Angela Bassett or Jamie Lee Curtis

Should win: Hong Chau

My pick: Angela Bassett

This was a hard one for me to pick. While I liked Jamie Lee Curtis' performance, Angela Bassett did have a much meatier role in Wakanda Forever. But let's take a moment to recognize that there is not one but TWO Asians nominated in this category (plus a black woman, making the category POC dominated!), which is amazing to me. Hong Chau's performance was the best in my opinion.

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

The Banshees of Inisherin Everything Everywhere All at Once The Fabelmans Tár Triangle of Sadness

Will win: Everything Everywhere All at Once

Should win: Everything Everywhere All at Once

My pick: Everything Everywhere All at Once

I will hand it to the nominees this year, every screenplay here except for The Fabelmans was indeed original! None of these were conventional stories, that's for sure!

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

All Quiet on the Western Front Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery Living Top Gun: Maverick Women Talking

Will win: Women Talking

Should Win: not sure, probably Women Talking

My pick: Women Talking

I chose Women Talking without having seen it, based on the belief that it's a powerful story to put on screen and my faith in Sarah Polley's writing. This was reinforced by a bit of web scouring. But I'm still talking out of my ass :)

I'm also not entirely sure I understand what Top Gun: Maverick was adapted from...?

INTERNATIONAL FEATURE

All Quiet on the Western Front Argentina, 1985 Close EO The Quiet Girl

Will win: All Quiet on the Western Front

Should win: All Quiet on the Western Front

My pick: All Quiet on the Western Front

Argentina, 1985 also picked up some awards, I almost put that as my pick but then, quite honestly, I watched the film and changed my mind.

This is one of the rare times when I've seen every foreign film nominee and I didn't connect with Argentina, 1985 nor the Quiet Girl, though I would pick the latter if I had to choose.

All Quiet on the Western Front and Close are my picks, the latter has a very genuine portrayal of youth dealing with grief, I found it particularly moving. As for EO, it has a donkey for a main character, how can that not be endearing? Between EO and the Banshees of Inisherin, it's the year of donkeys in films and I'm all for it.

ANIMATED FEATURE

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio Marcel the Shell With Shoes On Puss in Boots: The Last Wish The Sea Beast Turning Red

Will win: Pinocchio

Should win: not sure... but Turning Red might be nice

My pick: Pinocchio

Look, I liked Pinocchio, it's got del Toro's stamp of slightly darker storytelling and his fantastical imagery, what's not to like? However I only saw it and Turning Red so I'm hardly in a position to judge. I really did like Turning Red though.

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

All That Breathes All the Beauty and the Bloodshed Fire of Love A House Made of Splinters Navalny

Will win: maybe Navalny?

Should win: Fire of Love

My pick: Fire of Love

Again, I've seen more than usual within this category this year, having watched every film except All That Breathes. Fire of Love was my favourite but I'm reading that Navalny got the most attention (not surprisingly so given the topic, plus it was a good film)

ORIGINAL SCORE

All Quiet on the Western Front Babylon The Banshees of Inisherin Everything Everywhere All at Once The Fabelmans

Will win: Babylon?

Should win: Babylon

My pick: Babylon

Sadly I didn't love Babylon by a long shot, but Justin Hurwitz can do no wrong!

ORIGINAL SONG

“Applause,” Tell It Like a Woman “Hold My Hand,” Top Gun: Maverick “Lift Me Up,” Black Panther: Wakanda Forever “Naatu Naatu,” RRR “This Is a Life,” Everything Everywhere All at Once

Will win: “Naatu Naatu,” RRR

Should win: “Naatu Naatu,” RRR

My pick: “Naatu Naatu,” RRR

This is another fine example of Asians receiving recognition. I'm loving that Naatu Naatu, which I've only heard snippets of but sounds great in my opinion, is dominating in this category over a bunch of famous singers whose songs are frankly all terrible. I really hope they're not going to perform the ceremony, but at least I'll get a lot of laundry and dishes done during the show if they do.

CINEMATOGRAPHY

All Quiet on the Western Front Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths Elvis Empire of Light Tár

Will win: All Quiet on the Western Front

Should win: All Quiet on the Western Front or Bardo

My pick: All Quiet on the Western Front

I tried very hard to find some redeeming factors in Bardo, I wanted the story to loop around brilliantly somehow and being struck by genius, but overall I was there for the visuals. I missed my chance to see this in theatres and part of me is glad, but also there is regret because seeing it on the big screen would have likely been the most enjoyment I could get out of it.

Empire of Light is also underrated and understated, it's actually a beautiful tale with a elegant nostalgic setting and every bit a love letter to cinema as The Fabelmans was. More people should be seeing this film.

COSTUME DESIGN

Babylon Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Elvis Everything Everywhere All at Once Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris

Will win: Elvis

Should win: Babylon or Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

My pick: Elvis

I know next to nothing about Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris, my bad. Whereas I didn't find the first third of Black Panther that interesting and so would often be looking at the production design and costumes on screen. I have huge issues with Babylon and historical accuracy (no matter what articles have said, there's nothing historically accurate about the wardrobe) but that's not exactly a requirement when it comes to outstanding designs. Just from personal tastes, I prefer Babylon and Wakanda forever over Elvis for costumes, but most web predictions favour it to win Best Costume.

EDITING

The Banshees of Inisherin Elvis Everything Everywhere All at Once Tár Top Gun: Maverick

Will win: Everything Everywhere All at Once

Should win: Everything Everywhere All at Once

My pick: Everything Everywhere All at Once

I guess the point of Bardo is that there are no edits...? Because the decision to not make edits or to purposely make them look seemless seems like an editing decision in itself... but that's fine if no one agrees. EEAAO does have excellent editing, and I guess Baz Luhrmann never makes a badly edited film (him and David Fincher I feel...)

MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING

All Quiet on the Western Front The Batman Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Elvis The Whale

Will win: Elvis

Should win: probably Elvis

My pick: Elvis

Make up stands out when it's dramatic, or transformative, or recreates something with great historical accuracy... and I guess Elvis does all of the above.

PRODUCTION DESIGN

All Quiet on the Western Front Avatar: The Way of Water Babylon Elvis The Fabelmans

Will win: Elvis? Babylon? All Quiet on the Western Front?

Should win: Babylon... or Elvis

My pick: Babylon

Again my pick of Babylon over Elvis is a matter of personal preference. I'd be rather irritated if Avatar (which should receive a visual effects award for sure but green screen alone isn't production design) or the Fabelmans win.

SOUND

All Quiet on the Western Front Avatar: The Way of Water The Batman Elvis Top Gun: Maverick

Will win: All Quiet on the Western Front

Should win: All Quiet on the Western Front

My pick: All Quiet on the Western Front

I actually heard All Quiet on the Western Front before I ever saw it. True story! I was volunteering at TIFF 2023 during a screening and while situated in the underbelly of the theatre there are speakers which broadcast the sound being heard inside the theatre and so we listened in on a lot of intricate gunfire and explosions and it left an impression!

VISUAL EFFECTS

All Quiet on the Western Front Avatar: The Way of Water The Batman Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Top Gun: Maverick

Will win: Avatar

Should win: Avatar

My Pick: Avatar

I mean, who can actually compete with Avatar here..?

SHORT FILM CATEGORIES

I didn't see a single one of the nominated shorts this year so I guessed (likely very poorly), here's what's on my ballot:

ANIMATED SHORT My Year of Dicks

LIVE-ACTION SHORT Le Pupille DOCUMENTARY SHORT Stranger at the Gate

I will be back with after tonight's ceremonies! Happy Oscar Night!

[dzpenumbra]

11/18/22

Ugh, searching for some good vibes tonight, but watching Twitch left a bad taste in my mouth. I might as well get that out. But first... I really just need to stop watching Twitch. I just... I fucking hate YouTube ads. And I really really don't want to spend like 25 bucks a month on YouTube Premium. It's just a bit excessive. I really like long-form media - something I know I'm going to stick with for a few hours while I'm doing a project or something. Livestreams can scratch that itch. But the vibes today were just... really upsetting, honestly.

I had been watching an RPer who plays a hippie chick, and most of it is exaggerated and parody, but a lot of it is relatable. I don't know, I guess my empathy is just cranked wide open lately. By that I mean... when difficult topics come up, I just immediately go into "what if" mode, or flash back to when I went through stuff like it. And that's really emotionally difficult on a regular basis, to be honest. It's not enjoyable. I really need to work on it. I think my anxiety problems are very internal and not like "oh I'm nervous to stream because some asshole might show up and be rude".

I guess I feel compelled to do this work urgently because of how often it affects me, how profoundly it affects me, and how difficult it is to manage and recover from it. It's very counterintuitive for me to see such a big issue causing ripples and inhibitions in my life and just... not put all my resources towards fixing it. Instead, to like... write music, or make jewelry, or draw shit. It feels like I'm literally not working on my problems, the things that hold me back. But, and I really do need to be reminded of this regularly, I have plenty of time to do that work. And I can't do that work when I'm overstressed, or else I burn out. So... the self-care, the therapeutic work, that needs to happen first.

I've written about this recently, it's just a hard one to hold on to. Baby steps, I guess.

So... I should really find some good documentaries or something. I used to watch these long documentaries on ancient civilizations, and ancient mythology, and videos of archeological digs and shit. I should get back into that. The skate vids are great, but I end up just watching the whole time. They're not great background noise. And I kinda want something a bit more intellect-occupying than music. I feel bad saying that but it's kinda true. I want a full-on story. A narrative. I want to learn and go on an adventure while I'm working. It's a substitute for social interaction. Music had been a thing I saved for social art gatherings, sharing that during group art stuff. But... it's been quite some time since anyone wanted to do that...

I really don't want to go depress-o mode before bed, so... I'm just gonna try to stick to the highlights of the day. It snowed early in the day, it was cool to watch that! And then I sanded down a few mineral pieces, adding bevels to them. Oh shit, and I finished two more wood beads too! So, that was good!

I did some more Tarot study. The Wheel of Fortune and The Hanged One came up today. Both pretty big cards, more so the Wheel honestly. But yeah. That was a bit intense, but cool to get to know the cards, and good to get even more familiar with how to read them. It's a really weird thing to learn, honestly. It's like learning dream interpretation. Like... these are kinda universal symbols that show up in myths all over the world, all throughout history. Stuff that just shows up in our stories. Archetypes, I guess. I never really studied enough academia to be able to get all the lingo and all this, I prefer exploring and playing. Sorry. Academia can often be so fucking bland and boring, just in like... the energy of how information is conveyed. Very monotone and precise and emotionless. So... interpreting these symbols based on the life experiences of people who you don't know has got to be like... I don't know, like how do you relate these things to people? Like I get that The Hanged One is about a moment in life where you kinda need to submit yourself to a change in perspective in order to make profound growth, and make great sacrifices to do so. But the benefit is well worth the sacrifice. And I can relate a moment where I had to make that kind of choice. But I'm not really confident in whether I could help someone really find that moment in themselves? I don't know, maybe I'm just doing that whole anxiety thing. How would I even know, I've literally never read anyone else's Tarot. Like... ever. What the fuck, wow, that's a fun realization. XD

Okay... so I had two friends reconnect with me over the summer. I'm kinda using the term loosely now because they're both off working on themselves, and not on the best terms. Both of them were very into Tarot. Both of them helped introduced me to Tarot. I showed them my deck and all. But they never wanted me to read for them. And one of them read for me. So...

See, I think I kinda got a little too used to that. I kinda got a little too used to people just expecting me to do free tattoo designs for them, and give them free gallery-level, professional-grade art that I found sitting on the floor in a closet space when I visited. I got a little too used to the whole "well you should have just asked me to pay you, this is really on you". Maybe I didn't know better treatment was an option? Ugh.

No, I don't want to go down this path tonight. I have therapy tomorrow, I can explore that there or some shit. I'm just... aware that my deprivation from appreciation and support and... I guess participation (?) in my life has resulted in a sort of programming in my head. Pavlovian training, is a pretty good term I use a lot. So after years and years and years of putting a painting in front of my community and having them go "wow, that's cool, you're talented"... and that's it. That's the crescendo. I guess I just don't really believe that I'm ever going to actually sell art. Or jewelry. Or music. Or custom artified clothing. Like... I believe in it. I believe it's possible. I have faith. But I don't have reference material in my head to compare it to for the concept to really concretize.

This is the method I'm using to learn the Tarot. Using personal experiences, memories, Past, as a reference point to associate with cards - concepts. And I guess a lot of the issues I have with my anxieties is that I have a mountain of memories of that shit going wrong, or at most just being like "oh, that's cool... next... Like. Scroll." And because that's pretty much the totality of my feedback from my work, it's really hard to conjure up a mental image of someone coming up and being like "Do you have more?" "Can I commission a piece from you?" "How much does that one cost?" "Is that for sale? I have to have it!" Like... I really struggle to actually picture in my head someone saying that to me. And I'm trying to not beat myself up over that, it's just the thing I struggle with, and it's really not my fault. I just had bad teachers.

With the lack of support, interest and enthusiasm I have gotten around my work. All of my work, all genres, all mediums. I am legitimately shocked I haven't given up yet. It would be so. fucking. goddamn. easy. to. give. up. I mean, I would be soulless and start getting physically ill all the time... not even exaggerating, that's what happened last time I quit art. But I have many opportunities and tons of available encouragement every day to stop pursuing art as a primary career. I've even been in meetings with people whose roles were to advise the shaping of my immediate future who were trying to coerce me into getting into other related lines of work. Not kidding. I remember one woman, bless her heart she meant so well, saying "well my daughter really wanted to be an artistic photographer, but you know... she had to be a wedding photographer." Kinda like "Look, I know you want to be an entertainer, but like... sell GFuel (totally not a drug /s) to your teenage audience. Sell plastic-wrapped meal substitution bars. Push this shitty mobile game." Like... why the fuck would we discourage people who have spent years and years cultivating a unique creative vision of something very catered to their individual skills? I mean, how the fuck can you discourage someone from following their passions, and call yourself a support system?!

See? See how quick I just go right back to stress mode. Okay... I think I've made my point, so I'm gonna just vent one last thing real quick. I'm just grumpy because I made a point to get to bed early tonight. I was prepped to start journaling at 2. That's a big jump from 5. And I stupidly watched Twitch to catch this interaction between two characters I've been watching a lot. And after like half an hour, it just left the worst taste in my mouth. And I was just like... I wish I just hadn't. I wish I had just played with my cat, journaled and gone to bed. So I think I'm going to work on that.

Positive note to end on. I finished a second bracelet. This one has my first hand-carved wooden bead in it. It's actually pretty cool and I'm proud of it. I put in a bead to use as a... I don't know the term... a stopper? Like it goes in a loop and the bead catches and holds it on as like a clasp or whatever. I don't know terms. But yeah, I tried that and it works really well. I'd like to explore making adjustable bracelets/necklaces, but I'm not quite there yet. So that was cool, because it was like a week in the making and I kinda abandoned it around when the fights happened. But today I committed to finishing it and it's very clean. I'm happy with it. Its big enough to wear, but a bit too tight for me. So it's inspiring me to make another one, a bigger one, for myself. And then... I'll have my first jewelry piece that isn't for me. That is available for others. :D That's a cool feeling!

No music today, I'll see if it calls me tomorrow, not gonna kick my ass any harder than I need to. I'd also like to see if I can find cool ways to wire-wrap these beveled quartz pieces. That could open some cool doors.

[hrina]

Be Sweet, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M (minors dni!) WORD COUNT: 6k

hey everyone! here's part one of my new enemies-to-lovers series :) this fic will be five parts in total, but i'm only posting the first part on tumblr. you'll be able to read the rest of it on patreon if you wanna sign up!

as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts! enjoy.

~*~

August 27th, 2021

“Who’s opening tomorrow?”

Ella scrubs a wet rag across the table closest to the door. You cast a furtive glance up at her, flipping absentmindedly through the jumble of papers on the counter in front of you. Nick’s messy scrawl catches your eye, and you pause, reading the haphazard comment written at the bottom of the page.

Customer requested a very specific shade of pink trim. See back for details.

You flip the order, scoffing at the Pantone strip taped to the other side. The square labelled Quartz Pink has been singled out, encircled in bright red. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alice and Olly, I think,” you say, shoving the form to the bottom of the pile.

“That’s good,” Ella grunts, returning the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser back to their spots on the table. “And you’ll swing by sometime during the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you say, drumming your fingers over the papers. “I’m gonna help Olly in the back. You know how much he hates dealing with fondant.”

“How could I forget?” Ella rolls her eyes, smiling to herself. You grimace when she tosses the damp cloth in your direction. It lands on the counter with a loud splat! You nudge it away with your elbow, shaking your head.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Ella says.

“I’m lovely,” you reply. She grins.

“Where’s Alex taking you tonight?” you ask, changing the subject. Her eyes light up instantly, and she clasps her hands together against her chest.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, giggling girlishly.

You groan. “I hate surprises.”

“It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend, then, isn’t it?” she retorts. You snicker, and she continues: “He told me we should stop off at home to change, though, so I’m guessing that wherever it is, there’s a dress code.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” She twists her wrist, peeking at her watch. “He should have been here by now. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

“The hospital is just down the street,” you remind her, organising the mountain of orders into a neat stack. “Give him another five minutes.”

She nods. You spin on your heel and push through the door leading to the backroom of the bakery. The large space is split into two sections: on your right, there’s a wall of ovens, and a cluster of metal racks filled with pale, unprocessed dough. On your left, tables and counters lined with all sorts of decorating necessities—piping bags, spatulas, scrapers, turntables. You make your way toward the small cabinet perched against the nearest wall and pull out the top drawer, sliding the orders inside. Olly should have no trouble locating them tomorrow morning.

When you return to the front of the shop, Ella is locked in a passionate embrace with a gangly, dark-haired man. You recognise him immediately.

“Doctor Dao,” you call out, resting your elbows on the counter. “Did you at least wash your hands before putting them all over my best friend?”

Alex and Ella break apart swiftly, but he keeps one arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey, cookie,” he says, flashing you an apologetic grin. “Didn’t see you there.”

You arch one brow, lips curling into an amused smirk. “I’ll say.”

Only then do you catch sight of the other man lingering by the door, and your smile quickly morphs into an irritated frown. Harry is watching you with twinkling eyes, like he knows the effect his presence has on you. How could he not? You don’t try to hide your disdain, especially when it comes to him.

“Harry,” you say curtly, lifting your chin in stubborn acknowledgement.

He brings two fingers to his temple—a mock-salute. “Sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw. God, he makes your blood boil. Rather than responding, you turn back to Alex, who is now smoothing his palms over Ella’s silky brown hair. “You’re late,” you tell him. “You were supposed to be here when we closed.”

“Sorry, cookie,” Alex says, and he sounds like he means it. “My last surgery of the day had a few…complications.”

You purse your lips as the annoyance melts away. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blowing out a heavy breath. He looks tired. “We figured it out.”

“That’s good.”

Alex directs his attention back to Ella, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Cool,” he says. “You don’t mind if we drop Harry off at his place, right? His car is fucked, apparently.”

Ella’s grey eyes widen. She peers over her boyfriend’s shoulder at Harry. “What happened?”

Harry waves away her concerns, chuckling quietly. He tugs on the collar of his blue scrubs, and you can’t stop your gaze from trailing across the plethora of tattoos inked into his arm. Your nose wrinkles at the sight. He looks ridiculous. What kind of doctor would agree to don such outrageous body art?

“He’s being dramatic,” Harry says, shooting Alex a pointed glare. “My car’s at the shop right now, but I’ll have it back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Oh.” Ella relaxes. “Okay, that’s great. Babe—” She turns to Alex. “—when are our reservations?”

“Eight-thirty,” Alex says. “Plenty of time.”

“Awesome,” she chirps. She scurries around the counter and playfully bumps her hip against yours. “My purse is in the back. Give me one second.”

And then she’s gone.

You stare at Alex, fighting a clever smile. “Tonight’s the night, huh?” you murmur, quiet enough so that there’s no chance of Ella overhearing.

He beams, shouldering his knapsack and dragging his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. His scrubs are a light purple, you note. The shade compliments his dark skin.

“Yeah,” he replies, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip. “She’ll say yes, right?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Of course she will.”

Just then, Ella bursts through the door, her leather purse swinging wildly against her waist. “Alright!” She claps once, striding over to you and planting a wet, sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I’m off.”

“Bye,” you say, wiping her saliva from your face with the back of your hand. “Have fun.”

Alex waves at you as she tugs him out of the bakery. “See you later, cookie.”

You wink. “See you.”

Harry is the last one to leave. He glances at you momentarily, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smug smile. The look makes you bristle. He’s absolutely infuriating.

“Got any leftover almond croissants?” he asks. Silent laughter taints every word.

You point to the exit. “Get out.”

He bows his chin in farewell, approaching the door. “Sweetheart.”

“Asshole,” you reply flatly. Now that your friends are out of earshot, you’re under no obligation to tolerate him. Sometimes, you find yourself actually craving his company, just so you can drop the pretence and really give him a piece of your mind. You’re a mature adult, and you won’t ruin a social gathering because of one presumptuous dickhead, but everyone has their limits. You don’t owe him shit.

Harry chuckles to himself, and you clench your fists at your sides. He shoots you one last maddening smirk before disappearing out the door. You rush forward, latching it swiftly and ensuring that the sign against the glass reads ‘CLOSED’. Once you’ve successfully locked up, you march into the back of the shop, plucking your own purse off one of the metal counters and tugging it over your shoulder. You shut the light and return to the front, scanning the clean tables, the empty display cases, the shades drawn over the windows. Shards of the sunset stream through the cracks in the blinds, casting orange stripes along the floor.

All clear, a voice in your head whispers, and you sigh.

Finally—you can go home.

August 28th, 2021

Quick, frantic knocking rouses you from your sleep. Blearily, you sit up on the mattress, knuckling at your puffy eyes. The hardwood floor is cold against the soles of your feet when you climb out of bed. You shiver.

The insistent clamour continues as you pad down the hallway. You tug at the hem of your worn, baggy t-shirt, concealing your midriff. Ella wastes no time after you open the front door, surging past the threshold and vaulting herself into your arms.

“He proposed!” she squeals as the two of you stagger backward. You freeze, remembering Alex’s plans from the day before. His apprehension, too—the way he wiped his clammy palms against his scrubs and anxiously dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Shock ebbs and flows through your veins for a fraction of a second, but then you’re sweeping Ella into a tight hug, rocking your bodies from side to side.

“Oh my God,” you say. Excitement festers beneath the murky exhaustion clouding your mind. “He did it.”

Ella steps back, brows knitting together in bewilderment. “You knew?” When you nod, she scoffs, aiming a half-hearted swat at your bicep. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” you retort, rolling your eyes at the demand. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

A bright grin stretches across her lips, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers keenly. You spy the ring resting on the fourth digit: a simple platinum band topped with a large, clear diamond. Grey morning light bounces off the gemstone, and it winks at you as if it knows something that you don’t.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, gripping Ella’s wrist to bring her hand closer. You scrutinize the ring carefully, smiling to yourself. “He’s got good taste.”

“Doesn’t he?” she gushes, beaming like an idiot. You beckon her into the kitchen, and she collapses onto one of the tall stools positioned in front of the marble island. A quick glance at the digital clock on the stove reveals that it’s only eight in the morning. You groan, rubbing gentle circles against your temples.

“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in today,” you say, lips curling into a wry smirk.

Ella shoots you a sheepish, apologetic smile, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. “I’m sorry, cookie. I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m just kidding,” you tell her, floating around the room to prepare a pot of coffee. “So…how did he do it?”

She launches into a frenzied retelling of the night before. Alex brought her to the same restaurant they’d visited four years ago on their first date. They ordered their food and made conversation. Things proceeded as usual until the end of the meal, at which point Alex set his napkin down on the table and excused himself to the restroom. Two minutes later, the waiter arrived with the bill. Ella accepted it graciously, scanning the thin paper and pausing at the question scrawled at the very bottom of the slip. When she snapped her head up, searching for her boyfriend in the crowded dining area, she found him kneeling a few feet away from her chair, a small velvet box nestled securely in his steady hands.

“I started crying immediately,” she tells you, groaning at the memory. “I couldn’t keep it together. It was so embarrassing.”

You toss your head back and laugh. Despite the crimson blush staining her cheeks, she joins in. The coffeemaker beeps, signalling that the pot is ready. You fetch two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with dark liquid. Ella accepts her drink eagerly, blowing cool air across its surface. You grimace as she takes a tentative sip—you’ve never understood her penchant for unsweetened black coffee. Sugar and cream are a must.

“I’m so happy for you, El,” you tell her, stirring a small spoon around your mug. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Her eyes grow damp. You snicker quietly, reaching across the island and swiping your thumb beneath her bottom lashes. She catches your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, clearing her throat.

“Will you—?” She releases a shuddering breath. “Will you be my maid of honour?”

You stiffen at her request. Her gaze rakes over your face, like she’s searching for any clue as to how you might respond. At last, your shoulders sag in relief, and an ecstatic smile splits across your cheeks.

“Of course,” you say, voice thick. Tears gather in your own eyes, but you blink them back furiously. “I would love nothing more.”

She sets her coffee down and skirts around the counter, yanking you into another bone-crushing hug. You grin as she presses a handful of sloppy kisses to the side of your head. Her elbow knocks against your abandoned mug, and a few drops of coffee spill down the side of the cup. You laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling back and sweeping your hands over her silky hair.

“It’s probably way too soon, but have you guys started discussing anything?” you ask, arching one eyebrow.

Ella flushes pink, averting her gaze. “Um…when we got home, there wasn’t really much of a discussion going on.”

You cackle, poking at her ribs. “Oh, he gave it to you good, didn’t he? It’s a miracle that you’re not limping right now.”

“Be quiet,” she yelps, stamping her eyes shut.

You lift your hands and shoot her a teasing smirk. “I’m not judging, okay? If anything, I’m living vicariously through your various sexual conquests. It’s been months since I last got any action.”

“Maybe that should change,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest. “You and Harry could probably fuck out your frustrations. His dick is huge, apparently.”

You balk. “Ella!”

She shrugs, grey eyes widening comically. “What? Alex told me!”

You snort, but say nothing. She watches you cautiously, examining your features for any signs of acquiescence. Any indication that you might actually be considering her lewd suggestion. You almost gag.

“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” Ella asks, flicking an invisible speck of lint off her shoulder. “You’re not still hung up on that fiasco with the almond croissant, are you?”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you say, and she sighs.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But can you at least try to be civil while we plan the wedding? For my sake.”

After mulling over her words, you slouch in defeat. “Fine. But only for you,” you say, throwing a stern finger in her face.

She beams. “Thank you.” Something dirty flashes behind her pale eyes. “And if you do end up sleeping with him, I want all the details.”

You shove her gently and scoff. She laughs.

“Honestly,” you start, shaking your head, “it doesn’t matter how huge his dick is. I’d rather walk across hot coals than let somebody like him climb into my bed.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?” Ella snickers. You glare at her, but she just steps back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m expecting you to find someone in time for the big day. Don’t let your plus-one go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. “Noted.”

September 2nd, 2021

“Olly!” you call, sticking your head into the backroom. “Ella and I are going on our lunch break, but Leyla will be here in, like, twenty minutes. You going to be okay by yourself until then?”

Olly doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder, too busy piping little flowers along the sides of the rectangular cake laid out in front of him. He lifts one hand, waving away your concerns before running his palm over his short blue hair. He buzzed and dyed it just last week after claiming that he couldn’t stand how the long brown curls stuck to the nape of his neck. It took a few days to get used to the change, but now that the initial shock has faded, you have to admit that he looks great.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Olly says, putting the finishing touches on the cake. He sets his piping bag down and turns toward you, wiping his palms against his red apron. His left ear bears a swirl of shiny silver piercings. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Thanks,” you say, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and then you’re spinning on your heel and letting the door swing shut behind you.

You find Ella waiting outside the bakery. She urges you along, and you squawk at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” you ask, falling into step with her as you both amble down the sidewalk. “We have forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t want Alex’s sandwich to get cold,” she explains, holding up the small paper bag clutched in her right hand. You snort.

The two of you make it to Ridgefield Hospital in record time, mostly because Ella grips your arm and gives it a forceful tug whenever you start lagging behind. You walk through the automatic doors, ignoring the row of ambulances parked outside. The secretaries sitting at the front desk shoot you a few distracted smiles—they’ve all grown accustomed to your frequent visits by now.

Ella babbles endlessly as you enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor and waiting as the metal doors slide shut.

“I want to ask Alice and Leyla to be part of the bridal party, but I’m scared the guys will feel bad if Alex doesn’t choose them as his groomsmen. Like, I think they’d understand, considering I work with the girls and we’re all pretty close, but I don’t know.” She nudges you with her elbow. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever the fuck you want,” you tell her, shrugging. “It’s your wedding. And I don’t think Olly, Marcus, or Nick will mind if they’re not part of the bridal party. Olly doesn’t care about that stuff, and Marcus and Nick already have their hands full with their jobs at the bakery. Plus, they know Alex has his own friends—not just the ones he’s met through you.”

Ella nibbles on her bottom lip, her head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lay a placid hand on her shoulder. “You’re already overthinking this. You’ve only been engaged for a week. Enjoy it.”

She shoots you a grateful smile just as the elevator dings and the doors glide open, and the two of you step out onto the hospital’s paediatric floor. It’s a stark contrast to the other sections of the building. Instead of barren white walls, these ones are painted with all sorts of pretty, colourful decorations—flowers, rainbows, sunsets, animals. A massive sign in front of you denotes the different divisions on the floor and where to find them: the ICU, the operating rooms, the palliative unit, the psychiatry wing, and the oncology department. You and Ella turn right, making the familiar trek to Alex’s office.

“He should be on his lunch break, too,” she says. “Unless they paged him for another emergency surgery.”

You hum in response.

Sure enough, you find Alex at his desk, twirling a blue pen between his fingers as he pores over the stack of papers in front of him. Ella knocks gently against the open door, and his face lights up when he spies her standing in the threshold. He moves quickly, crossing the room in five long strides, and plants a searing kiss onto her lips. You look away, rocking awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs after he and Ella break apart. That’s when he notices you behind her. “Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” you reply. You toss your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to—you know, the usual.”

He nods.

The last thing you see before you turn around is Ella holding up the brown paper bag, and Alex’s face splitting into a bright, easy smile.

You meander through the halls, trailing your fingers over the rich artwork covering the walls. The end of the corridor cleaves in two; you turn left and enter a large atrium. The ceiling is high and peppered with skylights. A small cafeteria sits off to the side, clusters of families chatting and laughing together as they eat. Children sprint around the space, their arms outstretched. Some of them are dressed in normal clothes—others don pale hospital gowns, their skinny legs bared for all to see. You wrench your attention away from them, fixing it instead on the far wall.

Slowly, you cross the room, surveying the vibrant handprints stamped against the plaster. There has to be hundreds of them, you think. They vary in size—some are so tiny you could cry. Colour becomes scarcer the higher you go—the youngest children are too short to reach those levels, obviously—but still. The sight takes your breath away. You visit this mural every time you find yourself at the hospital, and every time, you unearth a new detail that you hadn’t noticed before.

You walk along the length of the wall, dragging your fingertips across the dry, smooth paint. Purples and pinks and oranges and blues. Reds, greens, yellows, browns. Each handprint is a person—a pair of little feet that scuffled over this very floor, a blank story that had yet to unfold. Briefly, you wonder how many survived whatever illnesses plagued them, and how many succumbed to their conditions. The thought makes your throat grow tight with emotion, so you quickly shove it aside.

Ten minutes pass before you’re leaving the mural behind and heading back the way you came. You’ve just rounded the corner when a strong, solid body barrels into you. You grunt at the impact, smacking one palm against the wall to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, lifting your head to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I wasn’t paying—oh.”

Harry smirks, his green eyes glittering with mirth once he recognises you. You purse your lips, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Harry,” you say, nodding stiffly.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart.”

His brown hair is tousled, and his biceps strain against the white button-up adorning his torso. Black slacks cover his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of pristine leather shoes, ones that look like they might’ve cost a month’s worth of rent. Your teeth grate together noisily. The sound echoes in your ears.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, as though the two of you are old friends. You want to scoff—you’d rather stick your hand in an oven than make idle conversation with him.

“Visiting Alex,” you say tightly, stepping back. “Ella brought him lunch.”

At that, Harry straightens. “Ella’s here?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I’d run into her,” he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You throw him a scowl. “Asshole.”

Harry cocks one eyebrow, tilting his chin haughtily. “Forgive me if I prefer her company to yours. At least she doesn’t treat me like I’m some insufferable bastard.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable bastard, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” you shoot back, planting your hands on your hips. You tense as Harry’s gaze rakes down your body—head to toe, like he’s sizing up an opponent. His nose wrinkles in disdain, and you fight the urge to deliver a sharp, backhanded slap across that pretty, perfect face.

Harry opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for whatever retort he has prepared. What comes out is nothing overtly nasty, but it is enough to make you want to shrink away and curl into yourself until you wink out of existence.

“You smell like yeast,” he says, and tosses in a derisive sniff just for the added effect.

You recoil as the words slam into you, blinking in shock.

Asshole. Rude, arrogant, condescending asshole.

“I own a bakery,” you grit out. Harry shrugs, but says nothing else. Your lips flap wordlessly as he pushes past you, his shoulder bumping against yours. You watch him go, massaging the tender spot on your arm with shaky fingers. Your eyes fall to his ass for only a moment before skittering away, and a hollow laugh catches in your throat.

What a fucking prick.

September 17th, 2021

“Attention, everyone!” Ella stands at the head of the table, clinking her fork delicately against her glass. “I wanted to make a little toast.”

The conversation around you tapers off into silence. You sit back in your chair, focussing on your best friend. She looks splendid in her pretty blue dress, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She peers around the room, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. When her gaze locks with yours, you grant her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She beams, her next words imbued with renewed enthusiasm. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement with us.” She holds out her hand, and Alex presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We’re so grateful to be sharing this milestone with such a wonderful group of people.”

You inspect the other guests gathered around the table. To your right sit Alice and Leyla, the first employees you hired when you were trying to get your business up off the ground. It’s odd seeing them like this—poised and elegant, looking nothing at all like they do during the long, arduous shifts at the bakery. Alice’s blond hair has been fashioned into an intricate braid, and Leyla’s brown eyes are lined with dark kohl and smoky eyeshadow. They clean up nice, you must admit.

Next to Leyla: Ella’s older sister, Hillary. They have the same piercing grey eyes, though Hillary’s hair is a shade lighter. You didn’t miss the sour expression that trundled across her face when you waltzed into Alex and Ella’s condo. She’s jealous, you think. Jealous that Ella chose you as her maid of honour instead of her. You’ve been ignoring her resentful glares for the better half of the night, letting her bitterness pass over you like a cloud. Whatever her problem is, it’s clear that the issue lies between her and her sister. You’re not getting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t help that she’s been fawning over Harry all evening. Upon witnessing her coquettish behaviour, you glanced at Ella, brows raised, but your best friend just rolled her eyes and yielded a helpless shrug of her shoulders. At least the attraction didn’t appear to be one-sided—that would have been humiliating, you think—because Harry gave as good as he got, chuckling sincerely and flirting right back. You had to suppress the urge to retch, and sent out a quiet prayer of gratitude when Ella and Alex sat them as far away from each other as possible at the beginning of the meal.

On the opposite side of the table: Alex’s groomsmen—Milo, Sasha, and Connor. You’ve been in their company a few times, mainly on birthdays and other special occasions. According to Alex, they all met when Milo accidentally vomited during their very first anatomy lesson at medical school. Milo insists that the putrid smell of the cadavers was simply too awful to bear, but everyone else claims that he just couldn’t stand the idea of being so close to a dead body. No matter the truth, the story always makes you giggle. The four of them have been good friends ever since.

The five of them, you remind yourself as your gaze settles on Harry, who is lounging in the chair directly across from you.

Harry—Alex’s best friend. Harry—Alex’s best man.

You wanted to rip your hair from your scalp when Ella broke the news. Several images flashed through your head all at once. You and Harry inching rigidly down the aisle, arms linked. You and Harry donning the same colours, your gown complimenting the spry flower pinned to the lapel of his suit. You and Harry flanking Ella and Alex while they recite their vows, glaring daggers at each other behind your friends’ backs. Even now, the mere thought of it has you biting down on an exasperated groan.

You don’t realise that you’ve zoned out until the faint quirk of Harry’s mouth catches your eye. You blink once to yank yourself from your daze, and clench your jaw when you find him staring at you with an amused look on his face. He places his elbows against the arms of the chair and clasps his hands together. Unmistakable smugness emanates from him, as if he somehow managed to crawl inside your mind and saw exactly what you were envisioning. Your nostrils flare, and you fix your attention back on Ella, who has reached the end of her speech.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass. The champagne inside sloshes and fizzles temptingly. Would she allow you to chug the entire bottle, if you asked?

Everyone around the table mirrors her movements, raising their own drinks and touching them together lightly. Quiet, delicate clanking fills the room, and the friendly chatter resumes. You nudge Ella with your elbow, shooting her a proud smile. “That was great, El.”

She beams. “Thanks, cookie.” She then picks up her fork and motions to the plate in front of her, piled high with seasoned chicken and steaming, roasted vegetables. “Let’s eat.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alex asks Sasha, gesturing to the very inebriated Connor wobbling at his side.

Sasha wraps one arm around their friend, letting Connor rest his full weight against him. He bares two rows of perfect ivory teeth, flashing a wicked grin. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to pay him back for the shit he pulled at the barbecue last month. There’s a Sharpie in my car.”

“You’re going to draw a dick on his face, aren’t you?” Alex muses.

“Obviously.”

With that, Alex bids them both farewell, shutting the door and heaving a dramatic sigh. Ella approaches him after a moment, hooking her chin over his shoulder and murmuring something indiscernible into his ear. He chuckles softly.

“Didn’t peg you as the voyeur type, sweetheart,” a low voice says from behind you.

You jump, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Harry. He’s got a green washcloth slung over his left shoulder—the shade brings out his eyes, a traitorous voice in your head whispers—and his arms are folded neatly across his chest. Your gaze falls to the collar of his black button-up, where he’s undone the first two discs, leaving his sternum exposed. Tendrils of ink peek out from beneath the dark material.

You frown and take a step back, putting distance between your bodies. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” His lips twitch, and he rolls up his sleeves. “Now, if you’re done ogling them like a lovestruck puppy, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

You grit your teeth, but follow him into the other room. Harry grabs the rag hanging over his shoulder and holds it out for you. You snatch it from his fingers without a word, and the two of you take up residence in front of the sink. Harry plunges his hands into the soapy water, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before passing them to you. You stand as far away from him as possible while you dry each plate, your movements stiff and choppy. This is not how you wanted to finish off the night, but Alex and Ella spent the entire day preparing the food, and it was delicious. The least you can do is spare them the hassle of tidying up.

The tense silence eats at you, until you feel like you might explode. Unable to bear it any longer, you hastily blurt, “Saw you getting pretty cozy with Hillary before dinner.”

Immediately, you want to kick yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Harry snorts, shrugging coolly. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but it’s nothing serious.” He shoots you a mischievous grin. “You jealous?”

“Of Hillary?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Please. The woman’s standards are practically underground. Why else would she be interested in someone like you?”

Harry scowls, and hot satisfaction surges through your veins. Yes, the taunt was mean, but no, you don’t care. “You’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” he says.

You flash him a petty, insincere smile. “Only to you.”

He squeezes the yellow sponge nestled in his right hand, scrubbing it forcefully across a dirty plate. “Maybe you should find someone to hook up with. It might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“I have better things to do,” you sneer, narrowing your eyes.

“Better than sex?” He chokes on a derisive laugh.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like…things!” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists. “I run my own business, for God’s sake. And I’m going to make Ella’s wedding cake.” You announce the last part proudly, hauling your chin into the air.

Harry, however, looks unimpressed. He shakes his head, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Uh-oh.”

You pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again, but you detect a hint of malice behind the action. “It’s just…I’ve seen the way you decorate cakes. Ella might be better off going elsewhere—you know, to an actual professional.”

Son of a—

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you say, motioning to the mismatched tattoos littered across his arm. “What would you know about professionalism? It looks like you let a preschooler doodle all over you.”

Harry bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Deflection. I’m not surprised.”

You bristle at his words. “Asshole.”

“You’ll need to get a bit more creative with the insults, sweetheart. I’m growing bored.”

“Is that so?” you say. “I think ‘asshole’ suits you just fine. Maybe you should have become a proctologist instead of a paediatrician.”

“At least I pursued something I was good at. I’m not sure if you can say the same.”

“You fucking—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ella asks, floating into the kitchen. You spin around to conceal your anger, placing your hands against the counter and inhaling deeply. You roll your shoulders back and slap an artificial smile onto your face before turning once more.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, and fake a yawn, covering your mouth with your palm. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

Ella’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. Her red lipstick has faded, leaving only a stain of scarlet in its wake. On cue, Alex walks into the kitchen behind her, setting a steady hand on her hip and cocking his head to the side. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

You nearly snort. Fucking soulmates.

“All good,” you tell him, nodding brusquely. “I’m just going to finish up with the dishes and head home.”

“Okay.” Alex presses a soft kiss to Ella’s temple, murmuring something about needing to get out of his stuffy clothes. You whirl, drying the last of the plates with frantic, shaky fingers. In your peripheral vision, you spy Harry watching you, but the stupid bastard must possess some scrap of self-preservation, because he keeps his mouth shut. You say nothing else as you whack the rag down onto the counter and stride out of the room.

You don’t miss Alex and Ella’s hushed whispers at the other end of the hall, but a little voice in your head tells you not to interrupt them. You halt at the front door, snatching your purse off one of the metal hooks mounted on the wall. You’re in the middle of putting on your shoes when you hear it:

“I was hoping we could arrange a truce, you know.”

You twist around, palm flying to your chest. Harry is standing a few feet away, his hands still wet with the water from the sink. He clasps them together and ducks his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was ashamed.

Something vile bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You gnaw on the flesh of your cheek, trying to reel your emotions back in. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another outburst.

“Keep your fucking truce,” you spit, and wrench open the door. You shoot him one last withering look before stepping out of the condo and slamming it shut.

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 2: Playing with Fire

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! Mentions of smut, eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 3

.......

series inspired by the art below!

It's only been a week since konig carried out his first execution at your castle, but you've seen him more times in those few days than you saw your old executioner in 10 years. You found any excuse at all to even just glimpse at him. He was sharpening his axe outside the blacksmith's hut? Suddenly, you remembered you left something outside that just so happened to be right by the blacksmith. He was scrubbing his clothes in the nearby stream? You were planning on dipping your feet in the cool water anyway.

his eyes would linger on you whenever you were in his proximity, but he was always silent. even when you politely wished him "good morning" when you went out of your way to see him, or sent a kind smile his way, all you were met with was a pair of unblinking eyes concealed by a hood as dark as the void. was he playing hard to get? you almost forgot yourself. you are a fucking princess, after all. and he's the new executioner with so much blood on his hands that he'll never be able to scrub off, who has cut off more heads than days he's spent on this earth. he had no business even looking or breathing in your direction.

and yet he still did.

his eyes always found you, even during the rare times you didn't notice him in your proximity. he'd watch the way your dress perfectly hugged your hips, or how perfect your feet looked under the cool water of the stream. on the rare occasions he was able to make direct eye contact with you, his gaze was unwavering. unblinking. he simply couldn't miss a second of anything with you.

your sisters giggled about him, making fun of how tall he was. you defended him each time, but that only led them to teasing you. they wondered why you were sticking up for the troll who lived in the basement of the castle in the most untouchable servants' quarters, where even the light of the torches couldn't reach. you covered your motivations simply by stating your morality, that all people deserve to be treated equally. your sisters got a rise out of that.

you had to be more careful moving forward. if you sisters saw you around the untouchable behemoth you defended, what would they say if they saw you looking at him, smiling at him? You didn't care about your own status or image. It was him you were worried about. so you kept your interactions with him contained within curious glances and smiles when no one was looking. and he drank it all like you were the fountain of youth. but you wouldn't know it, the way his face was always perfectly veiled. a wall.

the autumn harvest ball was finally here. everyone in the castle was preoccupied with something: your parents with looking as perfect as they could, your sisters securing love interests, the servants bustling around the castle, the knights on guard. every living being in the castle tonight was alive and buzzing.

except him. except the untouchable ones who lurked in the castle basement. an unspoken blight on the royal family, yet a necessity for the peace. as you sat in your chair at the family table that overlooked the banquet hall, you wondered what konig was doing right now. had he even eaten? with all the food that needed to be prepared for the banquet, it was likely that his own meal had been overlooked. could he cook his own food? surely he could, but did he even have food to cook, or pots and a fire to cook with? you'd never been down to the lowest servants' quarters, where it smells cold and damp and whispers echo in dark corners. yet your worry for the brooding giant below could not be quelled.

"mother," you leaned over as you whispered. "i am feeling unwell. I might be catching a cold. I think I'm going to lie down for a while."

your mother looked concerned and began to wave some servants over. "they'll tend to you. please come back as soon as you are well again."

your sisters were too busy buttering up whatever sorry chap they each managed to enchant to see you being escorted to your room by some servants. you formulated a plan as they walked you to your room.

"i'm still a bit hungry, would you mind bringing me a plate of food?" you asked one servant. she quickly ran off with a bow. the other servant helped you out of your formal gown and into a much more comfortable and loose dress, but one that still showed your figure. your mother insisted that you always look comely, even in the privacy of your own room. the other servant came back with some food, while the other began to dap your forehead with a cloth.

"you two are dismissed. I've got it from here. thank you," you said with a smile as you took the cloth from the girl. They bowed silently and left you in your room. you leaned against your wooden door and listened until their footsteps could no longer be heard.

You wrapped the plate of food - which had the finest chicken, the best quality of cheeses and fruits - with a spare clean cloth from your drawer. you put on a slight cloak and pulled it over your head, tucked the wrapped plate under your arm precariously, and quietly shut your door as you left your room.

the only issue was, you didn't exactly know how to get down to the basement. there was never any need for you to be there. but luck was on your side, since all servants were in the banquet hall, so no one could see how you snuck around the castle, opening side doors and going down staircases only to get to a dead end. the food was growing cold, and you became worried. finally, you found the passageway down to the basement. but it was guarded by two knights.

you shook your head to yourself. they're technically you're knights, who are they to say where you can and cannot go in your own castle? you walked right by them with a bowed head, as if you frequented the bowels of the castle, and carefully looked around for anything that could pass as an executioner's quarters. it took a while for your eyes to adjust to the low light - you were always used to the well-lit, stained-glass hallways of the main areas. you quietly creeped down a stone hallway, shivering in the cold. you passed by small rooms with no doors and hay beds on the floor, and felt disgusted. how could your parents treat their own servants like this? you kept going, and the hallway ended at a staircase, spiraling down into the earth. this must be the way to konig's quarters, you thought. so, you braced yourself and carefully descended down the stairs.

you reached a point where there was almost no light, and began to be afraid, when you finally saw a single torch at the bottom of the staircase. there was a single door at the bottom, and it was shut. you collected your breath, straightened your back, and knocked a lot more timidly than you had meant.

you heard a wooden chair squeak as he got up and walked towards the door. you heard shuffling of cloth - had his mask been off? and you looked up at him nervously when he slowly opened the door. even in the low light, you could see how wide his eyes were to see you there. he thought you looked perfect, all doe-eyed looking up at him. vulnerable. he could drag you in his room and take you right now if he wanted. but he instead stared at you with his eyes almost popping out of his head.

you cleared your throat and brought the covered plate out from its hiding place underneath your arm. you held it up to him with both hands, saying nothing. your shaking hands told him all he needed to know.

"you shouldn't be here," were the first words he ever spoke to you. your heart dropped.

you blushed and spoke quietly, staring at his chest rather than his eyes that seemed to burn right through you. "i...i didn't know if you had eaten...since all the food in the castle is for the harvest...please...i want you to have this." you held up the plate again and closed your eyes, prepared for him to slam the door your face, when you felt the weight of the plate being lifted from your hands.

he took the plate and stared down at you. "thank you," he barely whispered. you perked back up and looked at him, the fear in your face now morphed into a mixture of happiness and concern. you were practically serving yourself on that plate for him. after a moment of staring at each other, you realized he wasn't going to speak again.

"i hope you like the food," you said timidly as you stared down what almost seemed to be the devil himself. this man was so dark and brooding, like a horrible thunderstorm that was standing at a respectable distance from you, just waiting for the right gust of wind to blow him your way.

konig wordlessly turned around and made a bee line for the crude wooden table in his living quarters. he left the door open. an invitation? you looked at him, spooked, but his back was to you as he sat down and removed the cloth from the plate. you tiptoed your way inside his room and looked around. there was a modest bed in one corner, the table he sat at with two splintered wooden chairs, and a rotted chest at the foot of the bed. you approached the table cautiously, afraid he might turn and sink his teeth into you, before you sat down at the other chair across from him.

he ate the food with his hands, which you found oddly endearing. if you saw any other person doing that, you would've been disgusted. but the way he carefully pulled apart the chicken and reached up into his mask to eat, almost like how an elephant eats, tugged on your heartstrings. you noticed, however, that he was eating very fast. almost like he was starved. looking around, you didn't notice any other plates in the room.

"i trust you're being fed well?" you asked, not bothering to hide the concern dripping from your voice. he glanced up at you before returning to his meal. "please tell me if you're not being fed enough -"

"i am," he roughly uttered as he swallowed a large piece of chicken.

"the way you're eating, it looks like you haven't eaten in days," you observe with a slightly teasing tone to your voice. he finally finished eating and wiped his hands on his pants.

"not your concern," he said as he gently threw the cloth you wrapped the plate with across the table. despite his rough words, you knew his intentions. there was no bite, no malice, in his tone. as a princess, you weren't supposed to be worried about him. you weren't even supposed to look at him. and here you were, in the executioner's room, making sure he's being fed and cared for.

"keep it," you say as you shake your hand. "you might need it for something. and I know it's not my concern, but I do want to make sure that you..." you cleared your throat and blushed "and everyone else in this castle is well taken care of."

konig stared at you so intently that you felt glued to your chair. your heart stopped in your chest.

"you play with fire, princess."

your breathing got deeper, which did not go unnoticed by him. princess was literally your title. it wasn't supposed to make your panties soaked or your nipples hard when you were called that. especially not when you were called that by the executioner. in his room. in the lowest part of the castle. he could have you screaming his name, and no one would be any wiser.

"there's nothing wrong with fire," you clumsily tried to flirt, or ease the tension. you weren't sure. "it's warm. it keeps us safe from beasts. brings us together."

"it burns. destroys." he said deeply.

you gulped. "yes, it can do that as well. you just have to handle it properly."

konig was near speechless at your effortless banter, the way you tried to convince him that he wasn't whatever beast he thought he was. he fell silent and stood up abruptly from his chair. he looked at you, almost confused, before walking towards the door.

"you should go," he said as he stood by the door with his hand holding it open.

part of you wanted to tease him, wanted to tell him that you wanted to stay. but he was probably right. if your sisters or mother found out you were away from your room for too long, things could get bad. you stood up and walked towards the door. you were about to wish him goodnight as you passed the entryway when he spoke again from behind you.

"you always stare at me," he stated plainly.

You turned and blushed as you looked past his muscular frame and at the wooden table. "does it bother you?"

"no."

feeling a surge of confidence, you smiled up at him. "goodnight, konig. i'm glad you enjoyed the food."

you nodded your head at him in respect before sneaking back up to your room. when he shut the door behind you and threw off his hood, he couldn't admit to himself how red his face was, or how his cock strained in his pants. he didn't tell you how he had never had food of such high quality before, or that a girl has never shown him kindness like you did. he didn't tell you the things he wanted to do to you as you sat timidly in that chair. how he would have rather been feasting on your core than the chicken you so kindly brought him.

and you let him keep the cloth. you were so innocent, he almost felt bad.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome

[withcolebrock]

I Drew That

Corpse Husband x fem!reader

Summary: Corpse finds out that Y/N has a drawing of him as her background

Warnings: swearing :)

Word Count: 1,818

Author’s Note: I’ve spent weeks trying to write this piece :/ I just couldn’t find a way to make it how I wanted it if that makes sense but I tried my best. This idea was very cute because I can totally see this happening lol. Especially with like the whole flirty voice thing Corpse has been doing with like Brentman and like James and stuff haha. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

~~~

Tonight was one of the many nights that she was playing Among Us. It had taken over her life, a flood of success followed her once she had played with Sean and Felix. She had gained over two hundred thousand subscribers on her YouTube channel. It had changed her life for the better, in many ways.

For the last three rounds, it had been strict imposter wins. Felix won two of those. Everyone was shocked when it was him the second time, Felix was getting great at the game. The group then decided to switch lobbies because Felix was throwing a fit about getting imposter too much. It was the usual group of Felix, Sean, Poki, Rae, Sykkuno, Leslie, Toast, Dave, Corpse, and Y/N.

Over the last few months everyone in the group had gotten a lot closer. Especially Corpse and Y/N. After the first time they played together, a lobby Sean had created, they had talked for hours after the first game they played. This had continued almost every time they had played  Most of the time, Corpse would be editing his videos while talking with her. It calmed him as he worked. She would be working on her art or scrolling through Pinterest or Tumblr.

They had even FaceTimed several times, where Corpse revealed his face to her. He made a big deal out of it, saying a whole monologue before he turned the camera to his face. She followed in pursuit being very dramatic as well. Whenever they would talk he would play her his music, waiting to see if she liked it. She loved any song he put out, despite it not being her usual music taste.

One night she was scrolling through Tumblr and found an artist who was drawing Among Us players with their little characters. One particular character made her smile and her heart flutter slightly. It was an amazing drawing of Corpse and his little character sitting on his shoulder. It was an art style she was familiar with, she loved supporting smaller artists. It was the cutest thing she has ever seen. Weirdly, it perfectly described him. She loved it so much, she decided to keep it as her phone Wallpaper.

The round started on Mira, where Y/N was a crewmate again. Throughout the whole night, she still hasn’t gotten imposter. “Dammit,” she groaned at the screen. She stood still at the start of the map, waiting to see if anyone would fake tasks at the start. Everyone ran off, not doing them. She quickly followed.

After a long thirty seconds lights get shut off. She ignores the emergency and continues doing her tasks, she stood by the vending machine when Felix killed her. “It’s fucking Felix again!” she leaned back in her chair groaning. She covered her face with her hands. “He’s gotta stop killing me first,” she shook her head. She tried to hide how annoyed she was.

Her body was called by Poki, she was the only dead one. “Oh my god,” Poki said once the screen popped up.

“Y/N no!” Rae yelled, “You guys, she’s died first the last three rounds,”

“Wait really? Oh Jesus, sorry Y/N,” Sykkuo said, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

“I’ll protect you next round, Y/N, I promise,” Corpse said. Y/N tried to hide her smile and the heat rushing to her cheeks.

“We’ll avenge you, Y/N!” Sean yelled. Soon after everyone grieved her death they began asking each other where they were. Everyone had a solid alibi making it impossible for them to figure out who did it.

“Guys, guys, Y/N died first the last three rounds right?” Toast started, everyone hummed, “Who was imposter these past few rounds?” he explained. Everyone gasped.

“You really think I would kill her first three rounds in a row?” Felix tried to defend himself as the voting time clock turned red.

“You’ve done it twice already!” Sean yelled, voting Felix. Felix was saved since half of the group skipped. She floated around the map trying to get her tasks done quickly so she could talk to her chat without holding back the rest of the group.

She glanced towards her chat, reading a few questions, she shifted her gaze to the game and thought about the questions. “I’ve been working on a cute little animation for you guys, I might do another art stream with you guys. Only if you guys want it, of course.” she read through a few more questions while answering them, while she waited for the meetings to end.

Once all of her tasks were done, she began to talk about her art and fanart. “Yeah, there’s an artist on Tumblr, they are amazing, they deserve so much more recognition,”  she explained as she showed them her lock screen with the drawing of Corpse; without thinking about her chat being curious as to why it was him. Turning her phone back towards her, her eyes widened as realization dawned on her.

The chat began to flood in with questions, begging Y/N to tell them why she had Corpse’s drawing as her background. She chose to ignore the question and continue talking about her own art and showing fan art. Despite trying to change the subject, she sighed dramatically. “Chat, there’s no reason why Corpse’s character is my background, the artist is just good, stop talking about it,” she giggled as the victory screen popped up on her screen.

“Felix what the fuck!” she unmuted in discord. He began laughing as he began to defend his actions. “No, no it doesn’t matter if I know your liar voice, Felix-” After about five minutes of everyone talking the next round started. She was a crewmate again, “I feel like I’m bugged,” she groaned as she started running around doing her tasks. Corpse’s little black character was following her.

“Looks like I got myself a little body guard,” she smiled as she spoke. They walked passed the medbay room, as Corpse moved his character dramatically. She rolled her eyes as they both walked into the medbay room. She didn’t have medbay, but she sat waiting for Corpse to finish. They continued doing tasks together until a body was called. It was Sean’s.

“Y/N’s cleared I was with her the entire time,” Corpse said confidently into his mic. She said the same about him. Poki was acting a little weird during the call, which made Y/N a little suspicious of her.

~~~

When the lights were shut off Corpse was killed by Poki, and he groaned as his body was killed immediately. Poki called out Y/N right away, saying that she was with Corpse the whole time. Corpse glanced towards his chat, finally able to try and read everything everyone was saying. His eyes lit up as he saw her name flash the screen several times.

One person kept spamming the chat saying, Y/N’s has your Among Us character as her background, he smiled as he read it. He knew exactly what the picture was, “Oh really?” he hummed as he continued reading. Everyone was saying how nervous she got when they kept asking her about it. He pressed his lips together nervously. He decided to drop it for now, but he was curious. He looked back up to the screen and began to listen to what was happening during the meeting.

“...You really think I would spend this whole game marinating Corpse for me to kill him in front of Poki? What about that double kill that happened, there was no way I would’ve done that if I was with him.” Y/N explained, over Poki trying to defend herself.

“I think she’s got it guys,” It was down to Toast, Y/N, Sykkuno, and Poki. Everyone quickly voted for Poki. The Victory screen popped up. “I knew you had it, Y/N,” Corpse said as everyone started shouting into the discord.

After a few minutes of them discussing the round, they decided to switch over to Polius. “Hey, Y/N, can I ask you something?” Corpse asked, the group quickly went quiet.

“Sure,” she giggled.

“My chat keeps saying you have my character as your phone background, is that true?” he asked, teasingly. He smiled widely. The entire group started cheering while teasing Y/N and Corpse.

Her mouth dropped open as she tried to find a way to explain it, “Well, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I do actually, it was great art, what was I supposed to do?” she laughed.

“Oooo, someone has a little crush,” Sean teased, Felix quickly joined. The rest of the group was simply laughing along. Corpse stayed silent while the group was teasing Y/N, and Corpse for that matter.

He pulled up Y/N’s Twitter and began to scroll through her feed to find the perfect drawing. He took the drawing that Y/N did of her own Among Us character. It was a drawing of Y/N holding her little character in her hand. It was his favorite piece of art she has done. Mainly because she drew it while on FaceTime with him. He quickly changed it to his iphone background, he glanced back towards the screen, seeing if the game started. He took a screenshot of it and immediately texted it to Y/N.

“Y/N, look at our messages,” he said simply into his mic. The group slowly stopped talking as they waited for Y/N to open the message.

“Corpse, I’m scared,” she whispered, everyone started laughing.

“Just open the message,” he giggled.

She sighed dramatically while she pulled up the messages with Corpse, seeing the screenshot. Her lips fell into a pout as she saw it. “I drew that,” she mumbled into the mic.

“You did,” he whispered, as he felt heat rise in his cheeks. He loved hearing her voice. “It’s my favorite,” he continued.

“Corpse,” she whined as her eyes began to tear up. She didn’t know why, but her heart felt so full. “You didn’t have to do that,” she mumbled, readjusting herself in her chair. She shifted her gaze towards the contact name, Corpseyyy.

“Of course I did, It was beautiful art,” he muttered while he looked back towards his phone, admiring his new phone background.

“Is this..a possible.. New relationship starting?” Sean whispered dramatically into his mic.

“It sounds like it,” Rae interjected. Corpse rolled his eyes dramatically, but he didn’t oppose the idea; neither did Y/N. Rae quickly started the game, letting the tension ease between everyone. Corpse and Y/N got imposter together.

“Oh my god finally,” Y/N said into the mic as she started faking tasks, “Chat, please stop saying I’m blushing, you aren’t helping,” she giggled as she continued the game. She raised her hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth.

[suddenlysackler]

Limelight

Adam Sackler x Reader

TW: N/A (maybe a lil smidge of angst but nothing major)

A/N: This has been on the back burner for quite a bit and it’s a tad messy but I wanted to put it out for you all because I miss you and I miss my goblin bf and, ya know, Cannes 2021. Thank you for reading, I’m hopeful that I’ll be back more frequently in the coming weeks!

...

Adam Sackler had ascertained very quickly that he did not care for red carpets in the slightest. 

Given what he had found himself struggling through his late teens and seemingly all of his twenties, the relief of finally, finally, finally achieving some sort of steady stream of work and establishing himself as a serious actor provided relief that he could not be more grateful for. 

He liked being able to turn down the $800 a month from his grandmother and moving out of his apartment for good this time, trading up for some swanky new town house in upper Manhattan. He liked being able to afford to be choosy about what jobs he took and he liked that he was able to split his time between stage and screen. Hell, he’d even tried his hand at directing some dumb indie film that landed him right smack dab in the middle of Sundance.

Which is when he found out he hated red carpets.

He absolutely hated the insincerity of all of it — the rushed interviews, the posing for what seemed like hours on end for photographs that he’d probably never even see and he wasn’t allowed to smile for exactly like he’d want to. He hated answering the same questions over and over again and rubbing elbows with reporters from tabloids asking about off screen romances and making it blatantly clear to him that they weren’t interested in the art he had just helped create.

Along the way, maybe five red carpet events into his career, he met you. To his surprise, he didn’t meet you through a mutual friend or at a party or by yelling at you to stop taking food from open containers in the store he was working in. He met you because he accidentally took your coffee on a Wednesday morning before you could grab it and you promptly chased him down 45th street and cussed him out by using every single insult you could manage.

And that’s when things just clicked for him.

Everything fell into place after you came into his life and suddenly he felt even more fulfilled than he originally figured was even possible. He liked coming home to you after long days on set or at the theater. He liked bringing you to see different projects he was working on during production or bringing you to advanced screenings or dress rehearsals. Whenever he got a script, you were the first one he talked to about whether or not to even try for the role. He never wanted to object you to the horror that was a red carpet.

Not until now, anyway.

It was the first time that you had happened to be available for one and, yeah, he had invited you to all of the ones he had been to since you had been together but he didn’t necessarily want to take you. Of all of the things in his world that he wanted to show you, premiere events were the one thing he wanted to shelter you from. You knew about the drinking, the philandering of his early to mid twenties, the string of psycho ex girlfriends who he swore might show up at your shared doorstep at any given time to rip him a new one. Despite all of that shit, you’d some how managed to still like him, love him even. He didn’t want to chase you away with the bullshit that came with his career.

Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back?

You’d said yes without hesitation and his stomach dropped. He knew you never turned down an excuse to dress up, to impress him and make him feel proud of the fact that you were his girl, just his. So, on the night of the Tony Awards, he sat in the hotel room his manager had reserved for the two of you to get ready with the help of a team of aestheticians and hair dressers and tailors watching you twirl in what was probably the most expensive ball gown you would ever wear in childlike delight. Music of your choice played softly on someone’s phone and you could hardly stay still enough for the finishing touches that were being pushed into your face. You looked and felt like a million bucks and Adam knew that, but how was he supposed to enjoy it? He was too preoccupied with figuring out what he would do if you freaked out on him, threatened to leave him or some shit, after the circus act you were about to parade through in order to get to your final destination of the night.

“You look handsome.” You called from the chair you had been forced into, eyes opened wide for quick swipes of mascara.

Adam was so far gone, lost in his thoughts and strapped with worry. He didn’t hear you compliment him. He didn’t see you get up and he felt as though the force of you slotting yourself between his slightly parted legs was a ghost of a touch. “Hey, doll.” He mumbled when he finally did notice you.

One of your eyebrows quirked up. “You good, Adam?” 

He sensed some wavering in your voices, maybe some concern. Maybe some doubt? “I’m okay, just hate this shit.”

The other eyebrow followed the first. “What do you mean you hate this shit?” You ask as his publicist swept into the room and began to shoo the two of you out the door and down to stand for pictures and questions. 

He held your hand tightly as you weaved down the hall and into the elevator. “I just don’t like this part.” He shrugged and you squeeze his hand as you listen. “Worried it’ll bug you as much as it bugs me.”

“I mean, I’d walk over hot coals to see you in a tux.” You teased, eyes bright. When he doesn’t shoot back with a response characteristic of his normally playful bravado, some of that brightness leaves your expression. “You know I’m just happy to be with you, right? I’m proud of you.”

Adam hummed in response and squeezed your hand back. “I know.”

You weren’t having his clipped answers. “I don’t care that there are going to be pictures or tons of people watching. You know that shit won’t make me think differently of you.”

He remained quiet after giving you another shrug, still completely scared out of his mind that your words were just that, words. That you’d hit the ground running and never look back as soon as you realized just what supporting him at these things entailed.

The silence lasted for the rest of the elevator ride, through the lobby, and in the limousine and in the little holding room they put you in that is riddled with all of the snacks he would tease you for indulging in had the circumstances been different. He was tense, his muscles tight, tight, tight from his jaw to his calves, knee bouncing and free hand clenching and unclenching right until the moment his name was called. 

The moment wasn’t awful to begin with. It’s mostly pausing and stopping a lot of times for Adam to take pictures while you watch from the sidelines and, every so often, he pulls you in for a few. He doesn’t tell you that, in the moments he doesn’t have his arm around you, that isn’t kissing your cheek chastely and holding your hand, that he feels like he’s drowning. 

It didn’t phase you as you listened to reporters hound him about his female costar and whether or not they were seeing each other. It really didn’t even phase you when one man asked you to “step aside” and referred to you as Adam’s friend, despite his tight grip on your waist and the tender glances his stole every twenty seconds or so. And honestly, you didn’t really care that you might have gotten jostled up a little bit by photographers and other reporters as you stepped aside, more than happy to speed up the process for Adam.

But Adam would not have that, not at all.

“We’re fuckin’ done.” Adam growled, his eyes locking on your face as soon as he noticed you stumble a bit. He left without another word to any of the reporters and looked for his publicist, who was beyond livid at the fact that Adam was blowing off his responsibilities without much of an explanation. Before he went up to him, he grabbed your hand and dragged you along with him, not saying another word.

After a hushed but tense back and forth between the two men, the three of you stepped out of the view of the public and quickly found one of the many green rooms for invited guests to cool down and touch up hair and make up before heading into the venue. 

He paced and paced and paced for a long moment, leaving you to sit on the couch and watch with bated breath, praying that his older destructive tendencies didn’t suddenly find their way back to the surface of his psyche. 

After a long while, you finally spoke. “Can you come here?” You whispered, eyes round and, to be frank, a bit desperate. 

Adam came to you without a moment’s hesitation and knelt in front of you, placing his head in your lap and putting your hands in his hair. “Are you going to leave me tonight?” He mumbled into the tulle of your dress.

A soft smile crossed your lips and you shook your head, then moved to cup his cheeks and lift his face up to look at your own. “Now why would I even consider doing that?” You hummed. 

“After that shit show? Any sane person would leave.”

“Whoever said I was sane? Isn’t that why you like me?” 

He chuckled at that and nodded, biting back a comment about how anyone would have to be insane to want to stay with him for as long as you had. “That was just some totally bullshit and you know it, doll.”

You shrugged and shook your head once more. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’ve had my fair share of total bullshit with old haunts showing up on our doorstep, huh?” You made sure to keep your tone teasing, not wanting him to feel as though he needed to shoulder any of the blame for the situation.

Adam laughed again and relaxed visibly for the first time all night. “Do you want to even stay?” He asked, his own voice a bit more reassured. 

“Of course I want to stay, you’re up for an award, dummy.” You giggle, letting your head fall back as he moved up to pepper your exposed neck with kisses and playful bites. “And there’s the after party — I heard there’s going to be some damn good desserts and music.”

He flashed you a smirk when he pulled back and stood, then offered his hand to you. “What is it you always say when I ask to eat out on the way home from shit?” He proposed.

You stood and took his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing before walking toward the door. “What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Adam’s smirk only widened as he held the door open for you and smacked your ass before letting you go. “We have dessert at home.”

[rosyfingereddawnn]

no place like home

pairing: jimmy page x reader

warnings: none, it's just so fluffy

words: 1.2k

summary: movie nights with jimmy have become a regular occurence, and tonight, you're whisked away to the wonderful land of oz.

author’s note: this is purely because the wizard of oz is a comfort movie of mine, and jimmy name-dropped judy garland in an interview. he has seen the movie, mark my words. also i love yardbean jimmy so much :’) enjoy! <3

“What are we watching tonight, love?”

Being part of the world-famous Yardbirds, Jimmy’s schedule was hectic, to put it lightly. On the road as often as he was, there wasn’t much time to catch up on the recent trends in pop culture, including any films he might have missed or neglected. When he told you that he hadn’t seen Alice in Wonderland, the gasp that left your lips could be heard for miles.

As a result, you and Jimmy resolved to watch a movie every weekend that you were together, alternating every week who got to choose. The quality time spent together was but a hidden perk, of course.

“Isn’t it your week, Jim?” you reply, smiling warmly at him as he walks into the quaint living room with two steaming mugs of tea. Taking the warm mug from his hand with a “thank you” whispered into the air between you, you take a sip. Comforting hints of bergamot and vanilla dance on your tongue, the sigh leaving your lips full of contentment. Sweet honey softens the rich, striking spices, and it feels like coming home after a long day. “Earl Gray, with a teaspoon of honey. You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered,” Jimmy sips from his own mug, his hands cradling it carefully, aiming to absorb every ounce of warmth that seeps into his palms. Glancing over at you as you melt into his embrace, he smiles, cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “Nothing about you is exactly easy to forget, love.”

“Sap.” A playful slap to his chest follows, a sound of protest courtesy of Jimmy echoing through the room. He frowns, green eyes sparkling with amusement, and leans over to press his lips to yours tenderly.

“You love me.”

“ I do. Sure hope that’s okay with you.”

“You know it is, Y/N,” he chuckles, music to your ears as you gaze up at him, enraptured by his bright, careless smile. It seems he’s always stressed, lately, and these movie nights are a lifeline, allowing him to be unguarded and vulnerable. Pure, and completely in love. “You’re right, I believe it is my turn. After all, I did sit through the entirety of Psycho for you last week.”

“What was wrong with it? I thought it was entertaining!”

“The pacing was all wrong, love. Though, I did appreciate you hiding your face in my chest the entire time.”

“What can I say? You were comfy.”

“Forgive me, I was under the impression that it had scared you,” Jimmy chuckles, his arm winding around you to pull you closer. You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile blooming across your features. “I’ll protect you from the big, bad Norman Bates. Don’t you worry.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you drawl, smiling up at him with nothing but love in your eyes. Pecking him on the cheek before he could react, you unwind your arms from around his waist. He grumbles at the lack of contact, and you giggle, twining your fingers in his hair to push a loose strand behind his ear. He needed a haircut soon, you realize. “Go pick your movie, Sir Page.”

He rises from the homely couch with a huff and moves towards the black milk crate sat in the corner of the room. Jimmy, a firm lover of every conceivable form of art, had always been quite interested in film. Around you, he often quoted the movies he had seen, sometimes taking on a comical voice to sell it. Now left with more money than he knew what to do with, Jimmy invested in a rather expensive projector, frequenting the local library to survey the films in stock. As he rifles through the selection of hard-shelled reel cases he had picked up for the week, you can’t help but appreciate the view of his bum from his crouched position. Your lover has fine assets, after all.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a noise of surprise, as Jimmy turns to face you, his eyes twinkling with excitement in the warm light of the living room. In his hand sits a film case,  meticulously labelled, as all things are in his house, in black sharpie. He’s nothing if not organized, you think. The slip of paper, in his own writing, reads, ‘The Wizard of Oz’, hastily drawn stars surrounding the title. This definitely wasn’t a copy from the library...

“Why don’t we watch this? I… just happened to find it at the bottom of the crate, and it seems as good a time as any to revisit it.”

“It’s okay, Jimmy. You can come out and say you like musicals.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimmy replies, scratching the back of his neck, a smirk creeping onto his face as he looks back at you. Setting up the tape, he reclines back on the couch as the opening music swells. Dragging the blanket resting on the arm of the couch around the two of you, your head settles on his shoulder. Warmth fills you as his arms encircle you once more, and the pressure of soft lips landing in your hair sends your heart aflutter. The two of you, content in the other’s embrace, lose yourselves in the bittersweet story.

Dorothy’s smooth voice, clear like a crystalline stream, filters through the dimly-lit room, bringing a smile to your face. Looking up at Jimmy, you take in the way his eyes never leave the screen, colours swirling in the shining surface like a mirror. Faintly, you can hear the sound of humming. When you delicately press your head to his chest, you feel the rumbling of his low voice as he sings along under his breath.

Sound seems to fade away not long after, as you fight to keep your eyes open. You’ve never felt as safe as you do right now, cocooned in his warmth. Moving your head to rest in the junction of his jaw and neck, your palm lands over his heart. The guitarist’s steady pulse against your hand pulls you ever-closer to sleep. Blinking tiredly, you tilt your head to look back up at him. Weary eyes threaten to close, opening only to see long, dark eyelashes fluttering against alabaster skin.

There were marks, dark purple in colour, painted under his eyes. He was exhausted, wearing himself thin over the last month. The one time he wasn’t stressed out, anxiety thrumming through his body, was during these nights with you. Jimmy could finally relax, content in the knowledge that you were in his arms. That you would be there when he woke up.

Gently carding a hand through his curls, you settle against him, head returning to it’s comfortable spot on his shoulder. Soon enough, you feel the weight of his head settle against yours, his arms curled protectively around you even in slumber, and you let your eyes flutter closed.

The Scarecrow gets his brains, while the Tinman receives his coveted heart; The Lion gains his courage, and Dorothy finally finds her way back to Kansas, though both of you are none the wiser.

Dorothy had said that there’s no place like home. Curled up, sheltered by Jimmy’s body wrapped around you like a safety blanket, you’re sure that it’s the truth after all.

Jimmy is your home, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything the world could offer.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages (let me know if you want to be added!)

[eutxrpe]

painting a picture

—there is no color combination that could ever paint a picture like you. izuku (with the help of his students) still tries to capture your essence on a canvas though.—

pairing: elementary schoolteacher!izuku x gender neutral!reader word count: 2.1k words warnings: fluff, izuku being a simp for you, a bit of second-hand embarrassment the art in the banner belongs to @/hanabiy_chan on twitter!

song inspiration: picture perfect (freestyle) - jhene aiko

a/n: this is both dedicated to and caused by @whipped-cream-writings​. you know what happened for this to be a thing. thank you for being you and inspiring this.

if there was ever a time to be embarrassed about something that deku’s students have said to him, it would be now.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“mr. deku? are you dating someone?” izuku’s head snaps up to see hina, one of his most extroverted students. many other students come over to his desk, intrigued by the question that hina had asked. their little heads surround the table, and eyes peer at him over the height of his desk. 

“yea, are you?”

“tell us! tell us!” tiny voices chant in unison before izuku shushes them all gently. he internally reminds himself that they are innocent six-year olds that were not trying to purposefully embarrass him before answering.

“y-yes, i am dating someone,” the class erupts into cheers before quieting down again. they don’t disperse and head back to their tables like izuku had hoped, because hina looks at him with bright, brown eyes and continues the conversation.

“what are they like? do you love them? do youuuu?” her hair bounces as she drawls out the last syllable of her statement.

“hina, isn’t it time to go back to your seat?” deku asked, cheeks flushing a deep pink at the questioning. shaking her head, she only giggles.

“it’s free time, isn’t it?” she pouts. “also you didn’t answer my question. i...i could always make you, though!” and izuku watches as the brown of her eyes turns a deep black to the point the iris matches her pupils. one of the oldest in her class, hina had already manifested her quirk: the ability to make anyone do what they she wants when they make eye contact with her but only when her eyes were fully black.

“hina.” he makes his tone more strict, catching her attention and making her gaze drift down to the floor. “no quirk usage in the classroom, okay? it’s not fair to your other classmates who don’t have theirs yet.”

“yea, i know it’s a power imbalance or somethin’… but please? tell me?” and when izuku sees her eyes again, they’re back to the umber they usually are and hold only truth in them. he sighs. 

“after this, you’ll go back to your seat?” with an enthusiastic nod, deku catches his lip in between his thumb and pointer finger, trying to figure out how to describe you: the love of his life.

“they’re… amazing. i don’t know any words that could describe the way that i love them. but they’re that feeling when you have your favorite drink for the first time in forever! or-”

“you’re gonna ramble, mr. deku.” hina’s straight-forwardness could be taken as rudeness eventually... he’d have to take her over to bakugo’s or todoroki’s class one day to see what she does in other people. “i know that if i were in love, i’d show them what i couldn’t tell them!”

hina’s reply sparks an idea for a long-term project for his students… and for the both of you. izuku stands up, clapping his hands to get their attention. brushing his hair away from his face, the students see the glee in his emerald eyes and know that it’ll be an interesting project.

“what do you guys think of doing some painting over the next few weeks?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“izu, you’re home!” at the sound of his footsteps, izuku sees you turn around and smile at him and his heart flutters. you’re wearing one of his oversized sweaters and mismatched socks that soften the noise of your feet padding down the hallway to kiss him.

“hi, angel.”

your hands cup his freckled cheeks, and he hopes that you don’t feel the amount of heat that crosses them. from your laugh, he knows that the opposite is true. your expression suddenly changes from content to focused, and midoriya feels your thumb rub away some pink paint.

“paint?” you step back and arch your eyebrow at him, walking away to the kitchen to wash your hands. taking off his blazer and folding it over his arms, izuku follows you, the baritone of his voice floating over to you across the island that separates the two of you. 

“i started a new art project with them,” izuku explains while he plays with his fingers, a habit he’s never really gotten over since his high school days. “their assignment is to supposed to paint something, someone —anything really— that brings them happiness. and then they asked me to do it with them.”

“and you just couldn’t say no?” after drying your hands, you turn around to face him, eyebrow arched and mouth curved into an amused smile. he feels heat race across his cheeks as he nods bashfully. “then i assume you’re painting all might.”

“well… you’ll see.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“you’re so forgetful when it comes to your health, you know that?” your unforgettable voice can be heard from across the room to deku, holding the lunch that you reminded him to take three times in total. the students, including one excitable hina, turn their heads up at the noise and gasp.

“mr. deku, is this (y/n)?” after shy confirmation from him, the class cheers and deku raises both of his hands to turn the shouts to hushed whispers.

“p-please go back to what you were doing! you guys wouldn’t want to wake up kacchan, would you?” the bunny that sat on the counter was taking a short nap, his expression relaxed which was the opposite of his hostile behavior. at the mention of the angry bunny, the students went back to work, dipping their fingers in the paint as they continued to talk about you. you shyly smiled and rolled your eyes at the excitement that your arrival caused.

“do you want me to go over to you? or…” your sentence causes deku to blush and stand up quickly, striding over to where you were at the door.

“no, it’s fine… i know that it was hard to take this time out of your schedule. thank you, sweetheart.” he murmurs, trying not to take the children’s attention off of their project. izuku takes the lunch from your hands, giving you a smile and squeezing your hand softly.

“of course! i’ll see you at home later?” he enthusiastically nods, and you kiss as a farewell, lips slotting against each other lovingly. it seemed like you were about to deepen it, but hina’s voice causes you two to part.

“ewwwww!” 

and deku has never felt so embarrassed about showing his love for you. heat streams across his cheeks and down his neck while you laugh innocently. slinging your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, you whisper your goodbyes into his ear, knowing that he would be mumbling about this into your lap at home tonight. in a sort of apology, izuku presses kisses into your neck. (knowing that his back was to hina, of course.) and like the angel you are, you giggle lightly at the sensation, and midoriya knows he’s been forgiven, even if there was nothing to forgive.

afterwards, you turn away, and midoriya sighs at the sound of your shoes against the hallway flooring. clutching the bento you brought him in his hands, he walks back to his desk and back to what he was trying to encapture in his painting. that was until he heard what hina mumbles —or tried to mumble— in the relatively quiet room.

“so that’s what love looks like…”

for once, deku lets out a sigh of relief at work. it was peaceful, and seeing all of the proud smiles on his (they were his at this point; he cared for them that deeply) children’s faces made him proud as well.

all was calm, and so before kacchan woke up from his nap, deku clapped his hands together and stood up, attracting the students’ attention.

“guys… i’m going to need your help with this plan i have, okay?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

you had been surprised when izuku called you while he was at work one day. he was almost religious with the amount of dedication and attention into his students and put his phone on silent everyday. so when he asked you to come to his classroom, you were shocked but quickly rushed over.

your heart skipped a beat with every step you took forward to the door, mind conjuring the worst scenarios every time you thought of izuku’s nervous, high-pitched tone.

“just c-come over as soon as possible please, angel!” you loved this man, but sometimes you just didn’t know what was in his mind. 

and with bated breath, you opened the door to his classroom and gasped.

the room formerly had circular tables on top of an area rug with all might memorabilia on the walls and children running havoc around it. 

but this room had fairy lights around it, giving it this safe haven aura, and there was a pathway to the other side of the room by separating the tables. someone squeezed your hand, so you tore yourself away from the look of the new room and made your eyes look downward. by the excited look in her eyes and proud smirk on her face, you assumed that this was hina, the same girl who had squealed in disgust during your kiss with izuku. 

“follow me, (y/n)!” and although it was a very small distance, you took her smaller hand within yours and let her lead you to the other side of the room where you saw izuku, who was beside an easel. before walking away to another room, hina narrowed her eyes at your boyfriend, telling him to “man up and do it or i’ll do it for you!”

“what’s happening, izuku? is something wrong?” you let him take your hands and he immediately told you everything was okay.

“i just… n-needed to tell you something before i lost the courage to do so. you know that project i told you about earlier?” you nod, trying not to say anything as you saw him fight for the right words. “well… for someone who brings me happiness, i chose you.”

izuku walks behind you to envelop you within his arms from behind, hiding his face in your neck. you tear the paper hiding his work from you away and gasp at what you see.

“i’m not a very good painter! the sketch was much better…” and you know that he wasn’t being modest.

your features were there, but blobs of paint were astray in different places. your eyes were too far apart and your hair was just a touch different than it usually is. but you let yourself fall into the colors that he chose.

the background was pink and you remember that one morning, izuku had told you that you reminded him of the color of a carefree love: baby pink.

you were wearing the same outfit that you were on your first date, and you can’t help but tear up slightly at the amount of detail that he put into this painting.

“izuku… it’s bad but good at the same time, you dork. i love it. i love y-” you turn around to find him on one knee and his own eyes watering. “-ou.”

“i- um, bare with me, here.” you run your hands through his soft locks of hair and sniffle, and he just knows that you’re always going to listen to him. 

“i could never put into words just how much you mean to me. which is probably why i put off this for so long. hah, i- you’re perfect, angel. perfect for me. i’ve always been in love with you even before we started to date… and just seeing you take care of me because i’m so forgetful when it comes to my health and always being there for me in the mornings has made me fall for you again and again everyday. i call these kids my world, but you’re my universe, my love. a picture so perfect that i tried and failed to encompass you.”

you sniffle again, and he presses soft kisses to the top of your hand, trying to compose himself to ask the damn question once and for all. he looks up and into your eyes, and finally… he’s determined to make you his.

“it would make me the happiest man in the world if you could marry me, (y/n).” he lets go of your hand to crack open the velvet ring box to reveal the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen. although you sometimes don’t know what goes through izuku’s head, it’s like he was in yours picking out this beautiful moonstone. 

you get down on the ground too, resting your forehead against his as you whisper out a yes.

“yes… yes, i’ll marry you, ‘zuku. any day, any time, because it’s you. i love you.” you kiss his lips over and over again, making him giggle and pull you even closer on this kindergarten class floor.

and you’re not sure if the moment is ruined or made better by bakugo opening the door to his class and letting hina & the other students loudly rush into the room.

fin.