#*winks at my desktop wallpaper*

[muslimintp-1999-girl]

Shooting stars ep 16 was so good. It was such a wholesome drama. And can I just give this kdrama a hundred kisses for not inserting the obligatory kdrama breakup trope on ep 13/14/15. Like it was so good to see Gong and Han Byeol not breakup just coz.

Han Byeol was so cute and mature and is such an optimistic lover, like her "we didn't came for sightseeing but for making memories" eventhough she was visiting Jeju the 1st time really got my heart. And I loved that Gong had always been the one who wanted to go public with their relationship from the start (coz usually you would have an actor telling the other person to hide their relationship coz they can't lose their job) and I was so happy my boy got what he wanted when Han Byeol finally decided to go public. And the desktop wallpaper on Han Byeol's computer at work was so cute.

OK I love love love how Gong manages to be both sweet and hot and I really loved Kim Young Dae. I really came into the drama coz of Sung Kyung and stayed for every other actor including and esp Young Dae.

I had a mini heart attack when I thought Gong's cutie manager was dating the other girl who winked coz I really shipped him and Han Bo In.

I love how the director handled Yuna and Jae Hyun's announcement with support, happiness and a humorous statement instead of kicking him out of the agency.

The outtakes/behind the scenes at the end were so cute too esp the one where the actor playing Yu Sung said this is the last scene you will shoot of shooting stars.

[smells-like-mettaton]

69 (nice) alphys and sans

Rating: G Word Count: 933 Prompt: "trying to fall asleep in a too-warm room" Read on AO3: here Notes: sort-of Salphys, prequel fic to Queen-Sized Bed but can be read on its own.

---

“Al,” Sans groaned from his spot sprawled on top of the sheets. “This whole sleepover thing was a great idea and all, but you gotta throw me a bone here. My marrow’s gonna dry out if I sweat much more.”

Alphys rolled over, mumbling something he couldn’t hear. She was buried in the blankets, despite the Hotland-like heat of her room. Her snout and the tips of her spikes just barely peeked out from under the covers.

It was pretty adorable, honestly.

“C’mon, you’re not asleep already, are you? I thought we were gonna binge bad TV til your eyes shrivel up. Which they definitely will if it stays this hot in here.”

This time she let out a small snore. Under other circumstances, he might have woken her up. But she’d been pushing herself too hard with all this Queen stuff. Tightening infrastructure, building machines to do the jobs there weren’t enough monsters for, projecting hope and confidence when he knew she just wanted to scream into the abyss. He’d thought a night of bad cartoons would cheer her up, but maybe she just needed a good nap. He could respect that.

Didn’t mean he could sleep in this furnace, though.

He sat up and fumbled for the laptop that had been abandoned at the foot of the bed. Maybe some hilariously awful show could knock him out.

He tapped out Alphys’s password (“MMKC2sux”) and was greeted with her bubbly anime wallpaper. Where did she keep her TV shows? Her desktop was cluttered with folders that had no consistent naming scheme. Most of them seemed to be Alphys talking to herself: “oh my gosh im such a loser,” “this is so embarrasing,” “im going to hell for this,” “spaghetti recipes”...

“Huh.”

Tempting as it was, he wouldn’t pry into her personal files. They weren’t at that stage of… whatever this was between them yet.

Recipes, though? He didn’t think Alphys knew how to cook anything but ramen and miso soup. Spaghetti was… someone else’s forte.

He double clicked the folder and was greeted with files that were definitely not recipes. It was several dozen text documents, labelled with what looked like bad fanfic titles. Maybe “Spaghetti Recipes” was the name of a series?

The first document was titled Cooking With a Killer Robot. Well, a bad MTT-TV fanfic would put him to sleep just as well as a bad human show.

He opened the file, and his eyesockets widened.

It was a warm and sunny day at Papyrus’s house. Light shone through the open windows, which let the savory smell of cooking spaghetti sauce waft into the neighborhood.

Mettaton didn’t have to smell it through the window, though. He was at his boyfriend’s side, following his instructions to blend the tomatoes into a smooth paste.

The laptop slid from off of Sans’s legs. He barely caught it with blue magic before it could crash to the floor.

His eyelights flickered over to Alphys. To his surprise, her eyes were wide open, staring at him in horror over the hem of the blanket.

“Uh.” Sans grinned tightly.

“Whatever you read no you didn’t,” she said quickly.

“It’s not bad,” he said, then winced at how backhanded that compliment sounded. “You, uh. Know how to write good. I mean. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still kind of weird that you were shipping my brother and your robot, but—”

“You read that one?” She bolted upright.

“Would you believe me if I said I thought it was a spaghetti recipe?”

She groaned and pulled the gray comforter up over her head.

“This is a nightmare. I’m going to wake up any minute and this will have never happened.”

“Yep. Definitely. Could you do me a favor and turn off the heater when you do?”

She peeked out just long enough to shoot him a squinting glare.

“So that’s a no on the heater. Cool. Not literally.” He winked.

“Nightmare,” she muttered again before disappearing beneath the blankets.

Oh well. It was worth a shot.

He shifted the computer back on his lap. Alphys’s fanfic still glowed on the screen.

His brother and Mettaton… had they ever met somehow? He knew that Papyrus followed Alphys on UnderNet, but Sans had never been much for networking online. All he did was send his brother bad memes every once in a while.

(Sometimes he still did, even though he knew he’d never get a response.)

Papyrus was definitely a fan of Mettaton’s. If Alphys’s shipping knowledge was to be trusted—which it probably wasn’t—Mettaton could’ve liked Papyrus too.

If they’d ever met. If they hadn’t been dusted and destroyed before they’d had the chance.

“That sauce is looking amazing, Mettaton! Pretty soon you’ll be a master chef just like me and Undyne!”

Mettaton’s robotic face blushed. “You are too sweet, darling. Of course, I could never hope to compare to Undyne’s talent and prestige.”

“Yeah, me neither! She’s the coolest, isn’t she?”

Sans snorted at Alphys’s personal bias seeping through. He had no illusions about her preferences. If Undyne had survived, she would be the one sweating in Alphys’s bed instead of him.

Heh. Wasn’t he lucky?

He distracted himself from the pathetic thoughts by losing himself in the cheesy fanfic. It didn’t matter that Papyrus had never made an edible plate of spaghetti in his life. It didn’t matter that he and Mettaton had probably never met. In those words on the screen, his brother was happy.

The laptop remained open on Sans’s chest when he finally fell asleep.

For once, he didn’t have nightmares.

[night-fallz]

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

It was raining and it was just the perfect atmosphere for me to write in. I hope you guys like this chapter. And like I have previously stated in the previous chapters, any criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/28/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 3

Marinette was sitting on a bench waiting for XY to arrive. She was nervous. Their conversation last night would not leave her head.

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up. 

He called me princess.

When Chat Noir called her that she just felt annoyed. But with XY, it only made her heart beat faster.

"Marinette!" she heard a familiar voice yell. Marinette turned around and noticed XY running up to her. When he finally reached her, he was out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you." He managed to say between gasps.

Marinette looked at him up and down with a bit of disgust. "What kind of disguise is this!" she yelled at him.

XY was wearing a sage-green crewneck that says 'NIKE' in the middle with baggy jeans and black converse. His outfit wasn't the worst. In fact, Marinette liked it. But what she didn't like were the accessories she chose. He was wearing an obnoxious cowboy hat with huge sunglasses that almost covered the upper part of his face. To make it worse, XY was also wearing an obnoxiously fake mustache.

XY winced at her reaction and meekly said, "A disguise?"

Marinette let out a huff. "I can not believe I am being seen next to you right now. The fashion gods must've cursed me or something."

XY let out a laugh and Marinette had a feeling that he was rolling his eyes at her. Of course, she couldn't be sure because of those hideous sunglasses. XY tugged her arm, "Come on." he smirked. "The faster we get to your house, the faster you won't be seen with a so-called fashion disaster like me."

Marinette scrunched her nose and started walking towards the bakery. "Hurry up." She exclaimed, letting out a small laugh. "I already know that you can't come up with a subtle disguise, but I hope that you aren't slow as well."

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XY was out of breath, yet again, when they arrived at the front door of the bakery. "You're fast." He let out a breath. “That wasn’t fair. I literally ran to the park so I could hang out with you, then you make me run even more.”

Marinette pulled the door open and winked at him. "I know." She gave her parents a quick hug and turned back to XY. "Do you want anything?"

XY looked at the baked goods and scrunched his eyebrows. "Can I have a croissant and a strawberry macaroon, please?"

He was about to reach for his wallet when Marinette quickly stopped him. "It's on the house." She said reassuringly. XY opened his mouth to protest and Marinette narrowed her eyes and gave him the items he wanted. "It's on the house," she repeated, this time glaring at him..

XY looked at Mrs. Dupain-Cheng for help but she only gave him a smile. "Don't argue with her, dear. She does this for all her friends. She won't take no for an answer."

"My mom's right." Marinette agreed. "Now come on” Marinette tugged his sleeve. “We have plans to make."

Before he could reply, Marinette led him upstairs to her bedroom.

"Woah," XY exclaimed in surprise.

Whatever he was expecting Marinette’s room to look like, it was not this.  

"Why are you so sho-" Marinette stopped talking right when she turned so she could face her room and her face went bright red. She let out a scream of embarrassment. "I swear I thought I put all of this away! I can't believe I forg- UGH!" she let out a huff of frustration. "You think I'm creepy now, don't you." she said, her eyes on the ground.

XY gave her room another quick glance before facing her. She had Adrien Agreste's face everywhere. There were posters with Adrien's face all over her wall. The wallpaper on her desktop was Adrien. Her room was basically an Adrien Agreste shrine.

Yet, XY had seen worse. Seeing her room, it was obvious that she has a crush on Adrien Agreste. He held in a scoff. Of course, she does. He thought. Why would she ever like me anyways. I’m a nobody when compared to the so-called sunshine boy of Paris.

XY could feel Marinette's eyes staring at him. He's been silent for a while.

Marinette probably assumed that he hated her and thought she was a creep. "Nope," XY said, a bit louder than necessary. He winced before he added, "I don't think you're a creep." his voice a bit softer this time.

"Yes, you do," Marinette stated, her hands hiding her face. "You took way too long to respond."

"I was taking in the scenery."

"What scenery?" Marinette asked. Though, XY could hear a teasing tone behind it. "My embarrassed face or my even more embarrassing room." Marinette plopped down on her bed. "I thought I took down all the posters and got rid of his face on my desktop." She faced him and smiled sheepishly, "I guess I was so excited to meet up with you that I forgot to take all this-" she gestured around her room "off."

"If it helps," XY tried to say. "This really isn't that bad." When Marinette stared at him as if he grew a tail, he added. "Trust me, I've seen way worse."

And just like that, the tense and awkward atmosphere was gone.

It was silent for a few seconds when Marinette spoke. "Me and my friend Alya” Marinette wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “We were supposed to take down all my posters and burn them." It was XY's turn to stare at Marinette as she was the one who grew a tail, but Marinette didn’t notice it or she just ignored him. "I'm over him. I actually can't believe I ever liked him in the first place."

"What changed?"

Marinette waved the question off. "I'll tell you later. Now, let's start planning the photo shoot."

XY stared at her for a few seconds, trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. "Okay.” He surrendered. “But you're telling me everything later."

"Maybe Marinette teased. "Now come on XY-"

"Xavier." he interrupted. Marinette scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "Call me Xavier."

"Oh." Marinette looked at him with a cute smile on her face. "Well come on Xavier," she said his name in a teasing tone. "Let's get planning."

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Planning her 'I'm back cause I didn't realize that I somehow have over 200,000 followers on insta' photoshoot took a lot faster than Marinette thought it would.

XY, no, Xavier was a natural at it. She guessed it was because he was used to this kind of thing.

Marinette looked at her pink notebook. It was where she wrote down all the plans they made and the suggestions he gave her. "Thank you so much for helping me!" she exclaimed in excitement. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Xavier took a bite out of his macaroon, "You're welcome. It wasn't that hard anyways, so it's all good."

Marinette studied him. Technically, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, but same thing.

He took off that horrible disguise of his so she could actually see his face.

Like Marinette said before, Xavier was hot. He had a sharp jawline, which brought out his ocean blue eyes and his golden blonde hair was shining in the sun.

If Xavier ever asked Marinette who she believed his godly parent was, she would definitely say Apollo. Apollo was often described by Percy as hot. Someone with blonde hair and blue eyes. It also helps that Xavier was a musician.

Marinette let out a dreamy sigh before quickly widening her eyes. She tried to make it look like she wasn't staring at him but it was too late.

Xavier caught her. He gave her a smirk that practically made Marinette melt and raised an eyebrow. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Marinette wanted to take him up on that offer. Instead, she forced out a laugh and threw a pillow at him. "Wow. How original."

Xavier rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

Could this guy get any hotter?

"So." Xavier said.

"So?" Marinette replied with confusion.

"What's up with you burning down all the pictures of-" he gestured at her posters.

"Oh," Marinette couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. "That."

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft.

Marinette looked at him in surprise.

Should she lie?

Marinette couldn’t bring himself to lie to him. He asked her that question with such sincerity. As if he actually wanted to know if she was okay

Instead, Marinette scoffs. "Did you know that you’re the second person who ever asked me that question?"

He didn’t reply.

Stupid. Marinette scolded herself. Why did she say that to him? Now he was going to hate her and think she’s just looking for attention.

Marinette stiffened. Xavier’s arms were around her.

He was giving her a hug.

Usually, Marinette would be freaking out about someone like him hugging her.

But right now, all she could do was hug him tighter and finally let go of all the tears that she's been holding in.  

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Note: I suck at writing sad scenes. So don't end up being surprised if my attempted angsty chapters end up being cringy.

Also, how do you guys want me to address XY? Do you want me to keep addressing him as XY or Xavier outside of Marinette's dialogue? I tried to address him with his actual name, Xavier, in this chapter. But I don't really know if I like it or not, so please give me your feedback on that.

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previous II next

1,528 words.

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6 @ladiiwhisper @thezestywalru @mica-aa @runestarchild @theymakeupfairies @para-dox-normal @futursworld 

[irisofpurple]

Hi Dina!

Here are this week's questions for the lovebirds <3

Note: Once again, this week’s round focuses on photos! Dialogue is entirely optional, though for some of these, it’d be fun to know the story behind the pictures ;) Tumblr mobile only allows 10 picture uploads (there are 10 questions), so collages are highly encouraged! Otherwise, the non-beta version of Tumblr desktop will allow more than ten.

Have fun!

For MC

Favorite childhood photo of Ethan

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Contact name and photo for Ethan

Top three photo results when you Google Ethan

First picture of or with him that you uploaded to social media

For Ethan

Favorite childhood photo of your spouse

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Contact name and photo for your spouse

Top three photo results when you Google your spouse

First picture you ever took of or with your spouse

*Credit to the anon who sent me the first three questions!

Alright, here we go again!

For Lana

Favorite childhood photo of Ethan

Lana: He loved reading books, especially those with pictures of dinosaurs and beautiful places, and eventually anything related to the human body. Alan said he’d always steal his glasses so he got him powerless ones so they wouldn’t damage his eyes.

Ethan: *blushes* You don’t like me with glasses.

Lana: You’re actually pretty hot with glasses but I love seeing your eyes more.

Ethan: *blushes even more* Good thing I need them only for reading!

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Lana: This one’s from the weekend he proposed and it forever holds a very special place in my heart! Just him, me and the nature. I could’ve stayed forever!

Ethan: I already promised to take you again soon, didn’t I?

Lana: *pouts* Doesn’t mean I can’t still gush over how much I loved it, does it?

Ethan: *kisses the back of her hand* Sure love. Anything you want.

Contact name and photo for Ethan

Lana: *whispers* It’s also what I call him in bed. *winks*

Ethan: *looks horrified* You didn’t changed that! I thought we agreed-

Lana: *giggles* Don’t be such a killjoy, chief.

Ethan: *looks at her sternly* We’ll settle this once we get back home.

Lana: *smirks* I’ll hold you to it.

Top three photo results when you Google Ethan

Ethan: I can’t believe that beach photo is still in the top result after all these years!

Lana: *laughs* I don’t know what else you were expecting.

First picture of or with him that you uploaded to social media

Lana: We were still dating secretly back then, before Dr. Subtlety here, gave us away, making quite a spectacle of it too.

Ethan: *smirks* Don’t act like you didn’t love it.

Lana: *rolls her eyes* I did. The secret dating phase was definitely more thrilling though. This was our third date I think and I’d gotten quite bold by that time. Bold enough to post on social media.

Ethan: Drunk enough to post on social media.

Lana: *waves it off* Ethan was so mad about it when he found out. I think that was our first fight as a couple. *smiles devilishly at him* Totally worth it though.

Ethan: *blushes* Cannot disagree there.

For Ethan

Favorite childhood photo of your spouse

Ethan: She was clearly always a fun-loving girl who liked to get into trouble.

Lana: How did you gather the latter from this picture?

Ethan: That smile, my love, as beautiful as it is, is not one of innocence.

Lana: *fake gasps* What do you mean?

Ethan: It is the same smile you give now when you’ve thought of some mischief. But then that’s what I love the most about this picture. About you. *smiles affectionately*

Lana: *kisses him on the cheek*

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Ethan: That smile adorning her lips is everything and instantly lifts my mood. She’s the happiest when amongst nature. 

Lana: And in your arms.

Ethan: Lucky for me! *entwines fingers together*

Contact name and photo for your spouse

Ethan: She dragged me into playing truth and dare with her friends once. The next mistake was choosing dare in my turn.

Lana: *cackling* He refused to do the first dare he was given, this was a compromise offered by Bryce.

Ethan: I wasn’t about to take off my shirt and kiss a stranger!

Lana: *still laughing uncontrollably* We knew! We simply bait-and-switched you honey.

Ethan: *shakes his head*

Lana: Come on! I know you love it now!

Ethan: *fails to conceal a smile* Absolutely not!

Top three photo results when you Google your spouse

Ethan: She looks radiant in every picture and I am so proud of her accomplishments.

Lana: Aww. Thanks babe.

Ethan: We agreed you won’t be calling me that in public!

Lana: No we didn’t.

First picture you ever took of or with your spouse

Lana: Wow! I forgot about this picture!

Ethan: This is from the first time we went to Miami. She had very politely asked me to take her photos in front of that mirror. I had no idea she was going to pose like that.

Lana: Oh! Now I remember! You took one picture and then took off abruptly. I never got the pic either.

Ethan: *looking slightly guilty* I am sorry. You can have it now.

Lana: *laughs* It’s okay. I have you now. What else can I ever need?

Ethan: I love you.

Lana: I love you too. *kisses him*

Hope you enjoyed going through this as much as I did putting it together! 

Thanks for the ask Beautiful Bree.❤ These are so much fun! 💕

[rgbcn]

Announcing bonus sticker for December! 🌟 patreon.com/rgbcn I recently announced to my patrons that I will include a bonus sticker to the mailing sendings! Aaaaand, this month Print club will have 2 prints instead of 1!!! You can join until 31st of December to get these! This pack is only available during this month! 2021 DECEMBER pack includes all my works from April to November 2021. Includes 123 files and 6 videos + physical sendings, depending on the tier you choose to be. Final JPG, HQ versions, desktop and phone wallpapers, linearts to color, sketches and video timelapses. Spicy drawings I don’t post anywhere else are also included! *wink wink* Feel free to ask me about Patreon, my DM is open 😘 If you like my work, consider joining me on Patreon so I can dedicate all my time to create what I love! It's just 1$/month!!! Every little help counts!   Thanks for your support and love! My patrons are the best. THANKS! #rgbcn #rewards #patreon #bigbangtheory #characterdesign #sketch #art #mayimbialik #jimparsons #sheldoncooper #amyfarrahfowler #shamy #manga #anime #fanart #digitalart #kiss #smallcreator #smallartist #oc #comic #illustration #stickers #prints  #sketcheveryday #sketchbook #timelapse #illustrator #patreoncreator #comicart https://www.instagram.com/p/CX_qPB1MRQM/?utm_medium=tumblr

[crazy-loca-blog]

Hola preciosa! Here are this week's questions for Ethan and Casey!

Note: Once again, this week’s round focuses on photos! Dialogue is entirely optional, though for some of these, it’d be fun to know the story behind the pictures ;) Tumblr mobile only allows 10 picture uploads (there are 10 questions), so collages are highly encouraged! Otherwise, the non-beta version of Tumblr desktop will allow more than ten.

Have fun!

For MC

Favorite childhood photo of Ethan

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Contact name and photo for Ethan

Top three photo results when you Google Ethan

First picture of or with him that you uploaded to social media

For Ethan

Favorite childhood photo of your spouse

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Contact name and photo for your spouse

Top three photo results when you Google your spouse

First picture you ever took of or with your spouse

*Credit to the anon who sent me the first three questions!

Masterlist

Casey: Babe, Bree sent us some new questions! Hurry up, we've been so busy that it's now or never, now we have time to answer them all!

Ethan: Oh, it's that time of the week again... should I be prepared for you to embarrass me again?

Casey: Maaaaybe... let's see...

Ethan: Just remember to choose your words wisely, honey... I may always strike back...

For Casey:

Favorite childhood photo of Ethan

Ethan: Casey...

Casey: *with a mischievous smile* What?

Ethan: Don't you dare...

Casey: *with a mischievous smile* What?

Ethan: You know what...

Casey: Nah... don't worry... I won't embarrass you by showing our audience a picture where you're making out with a teddy bear...

Ethan: *blushing* 30 seconds and you did it... how embarrasing... for the record, I was playing doctors and decided to practice CPR on my teddy bear, I don't know why Casey and my dad insist on that making out thing...

Casey: Sure, sweetie... well, Alan sent me this one a while ago and it's definitely one of my favorites. It reminds me of that time when I heard Ethan talking to Mrs. Martinez about how he was "a lovable scoundrel who got away with everything"... that's exactly how I imagine his face after being caught making mischieves...

Ethan: *smiling* I won't even try to rebate you... you're so right this time...

Casey: What do you mean with "this time"? You should know by now that your wife is always right...

Ethan: That's debatable, but whatever you say, dear...

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Casey: I could have a hundred different pictures of my hot husband... but then I remember that I work at a hospital and my phone can be seen by a lot of people... so I have no choice but to keep things PG...

Ethan: I'm also your boss... it would definitely be a problem...

Casey: Don't worry, I have my ways to show off my husband...

Ethan: Now I'm scared to ask... but tell me...

Casey: It's easy... every time a person sees my phone and they ask me if you're my boyfriend, I show them my ring and then tell them "he's actually my husband"... 💅

Ethan: *laughing* Why do I find this so embarrassing but at the same time I feel that have to see it?

Contact name and photo for Ethan

Casey: Again... we really have to keep things professional because of the job... but that doesn't mean that we can't play with our ringtones... *wink*

Ethan: I have to admit that it was a smart idea... when did you take that picture?

Casey: It was one of those days where you weren't on a "photo mood", which, for the record, is almost every day. For some reason, it worked and I liked it...

Top three photo results when you Google Ethan

Casey: OK, there's no way that I'm winning this round...

Ethan: Why?

Casey: Are you serious? Ethan, you have a picture with prince Charles! How am I supposed to top that? All of my pictures in Google are taken from the Edenbrook site!

Ethan: Wait... do you google yourself?

Casey: Of course I do! Don't you?

Ethan: No, why would I do that? You know I think the Internet is a scary place

Casey: I don't know... curiosity...

Ethan: Then why did you never google me before being accepted at Edenbrook or during medical school?

Casey: I already told you, I wanted the knowledge to do all the talking... and OMG you're just so handsome that I don't know if I could have been able to focus on the medicine... so apparently my original plan worked...

Ethan: *smiling* I think it did...

Casey: Anyway, what surprises me about the picture in black and white is not the fact that they wanted to use you as a model for the Edenbrook site because just look at yourself babe, but the fact that you actually agreed to do it!

Ethan: I had no choice... they said something about representing the hospital...

Casey: *smiling* That's what I thought... and the third one is from Harvard, you went there to talk to the students and you asked me to go with you "to represent the diagnostics team"... back then you had some funny ways to ask me to go on a date with you...

Ethan: But this wasn't a date, it was a professional activity... but I might have wanted you to be there with me because I wanted to spend time with you...

Casey: *feeling victorious* Yes! You finally admitted it! Is this being recorded?

First picture of or with him that you uploaded to social media

Casey: Let's say that this picture is... "complicated"... look at it, even the text is so awkward! I wish I had a better first picture...

Ethan: Agreed... we weren't at our best there...

Casey: Yeah... it was taken at the Harvard activity, during the time that someone *looks at Ethan* decided that we needed to "reset" our relationship because my professional developement was more important...

Ethan: I don't know what was I thinking...

Casey: Oh, I know... I'm in peace with that decision though, after seeing things in retrospective I think I was able to understand why you did it...

Ethan: *surprised* You did?

Casey: Yeah... you did it because you cared about me... the only problem is that it didn't work... *smiling*... I ended up falling more for you... no regrets, though...

Ethan: *kissing her cheek* No regrets from me either...

Casey: If you ask me, I prefer the one where I made our relationship Pictagram official, but I don't want to cheat... even though the fact that no one was actually surprised made me wonder how subtle we really were before making our relationship public...

Ethan: Agreed...

~~*~~*~~

For Ethan:

Favorite childhood photo of Casey

Ethan: Now I need you to explain me a few things here...

Casey: *surprised* OMG, how did you get this picture?

Ethan: I happen to have a very good relationship with your brother... he said he found it in one of your grandmother's photo albums, but he didn't tell me the story behind it... what were you doing here?

Casey: *smiling* It was some Halloween, I don't remember if we were 4 or 5 years old, but I remember we didn't have money to buy new customes, so we told mom and dad not to worry about it and dressed up with whatever we found at home...

Ethan: *smiling* And that included some panties in your head?

Casey: *smiling* Hey! I thought they were a cool hat!

Ethan: By the way, when were you going to tell me that your hair was curly... and... were you blonde?

Casey: My hair changed a lot over the years, and I just lost both, the curls and the lighter tone... why is that even important?

Ethan: *smiling* I don't want to think that they gave us the wrong baby at the hospital if they happen to be blonde...

Casey: *choking on her water* Wait, why are we talking about babies now? I thought they weren't in the cards for us...

Ethan: *smiling* We both have changed our minds so many times throughout our relationship... I might have changed my mind about this...

Casey: *surprised* Now we do need to have some serious talk after this...

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Ethan: My gorgeous wife in our honeymoon...

Casey: You're a fan of my photos with little to no makeup...

Ethan: I am... I don't even know why you buy makeup, you don't need it...

Casey: The bags under my eyes say otherwise... I appreciate the compliments, though... *winks*

Contact name and photo for Casey

Ethan: She's the one who added the hearts... and the one who changed her name from "Casey" to "Wifey"...

Casey: Of course I did! Do you know that in case of an emergency these emojis are super useful, because they make your name to appear at the very beginning of your contact list?

Ethan: Of course I know it... but if that's your excuse for adding the hearts, then you should have kept your name, they won't know who they are calling to...

Casey: Of course they'll know! They'll be calling your wifey! 💅

Top three photo results when you Google Casey

Casey: See? Boring...

Ethan: What are you talking about? I remember each and every one of these pictures and they all make me feel incredibly proud, both as your mentor and as your husband...

Casey: *blushing* You're making me blush!

Ethan: It's the truth, they only show accomplishments... the first picture, the one where you're in black, is your official picture as an attending and head of the diagnostics team at the Edenbrook site... the second one, the one where you're wearing a blouse, is from your first day as head of the team... you look so happy and empowered, so ready to take the world by storm... and in the last one you are giving a speech to nurses in London as part of the collaboration between some American hospitals and the British NHS...

Casey: True, that trip explains your picture with the prince, too. Care to elaborate why there was only the two of us there? I don't want our audience to think that we were on some type of paid honeymoon before getting married...

Ethan: They won't think that...

Casey: Trust me, they will...

Ethan: *laughing* They didn't even know it was just the two of us there until you mentioned it!

First picture you ever took of or with Casey

Ethan: That's easy... this one...

Casey: *surprised* I remember this one! I can't believe you kept it!

Ethan: Why would I delete it? You look beautiful!

Casey: I don't know... maybe because I asked you to take me this picture as a favor... back then we didn't even know we had feelings for each other! I was just an intern and you were my mentor!

Ethan: I remember it... we were at Donahue's discussing some things on Naveen's case, and while we were waiting for Reggie to bring us our drinks, you said you liked the light and wanted me to take you a picture for your Pictagram... but your battery was dead...

Casey: Don't lie, babe... I wanted to have a picture with you for my Pictagram, but you refused because we were in the middle of the competition for the spot in the team... but you agreed to take me a picture... wait... did you have feelings for me back then?

Ethan: I don't know, I think I was developing some feelings but I was very confused...

Casey: Wow, I can relate because I most probably felt the same way about you, but I'm surprised!

Ethan: Well, that's it for this week... we had a very good time...

Casey: You've surprised me this time, Ramsey... especially with the first and the last pictures, I swear I had no idea that you had them... it was a rollercoster of emotions... thank you, Bree!!!

---

Gracias guapísima!!! I have so much work this week that this was a very much needed break... loved it!!!

[amindofstone]

A update about the current state of your authors work... please read. It´s kinda important I guess...

Not me being done with life, college, family, humanity! And the never ending pandemic! Like seriously I and every other person that wears their masks would really, really appreciate it if some other people would wear their damn mask too! PLEASE! For the safety of every nations people! Please wear your damn masks or else I´ll send Trafalgar Law and Roronoa Zoro to come and cut off your heads! Thank you. I appreciate. <3

Like if you don´t want to wear them then just stay home. What is so hard about that?! GOD DAMN!

Anyways. *internally screaming because of 99 problems in her life *I need a shoulder to cry on but my mother’s is occupied by my tiny cousin crying on it because we told him that the tooth fairy doesn´t exist. My aunt and my mother send me death glares *help

But lemme get to the point.

I just wanted my dear followers know that I did not forget you or any other person that requested a match up until yesterday (15/06/2021), right before I closed the requests. In fact, every request that got send in so far is accepted and worked on or at least got marked with a character I´d ship yall with.

BUT PLEASE just know that I NEED TIME to actually work on them properly. Those who read my already published match ups will know that I put a lot of time and work on them. SO please be so kind and have patience and mercy with me.

Currently, there are ca. 25 accepted requests for match ups and about 5 + imagines I am working on. I try to do my best and get as much match ups done as I can. Until then please bear with me. College is having the best of me and not being able to go to the library is not helping at all. I can´t even see any other students or friends because my father is close to a heart attack whenever I tell him or my mother that I want to go out because of the fear of me getting the corona virus again (and yes, it sadly is possible to get infected by covid twice.).

Other than that, take care of yourselves my dear mask wearing people and those who actually stay home and enjoy eating and staying in bed all day long just like me. (It´s an actual wonder that I did not gain much of a weight. Just a tiny bit of fat on my tummy that will leave as soon as I start doing my little workout routine. LMAO!) Drink lots of water. Eat healthy food. Work out a bit or go for walks in bit or none crowded places. Love yourselves and rewatch Naruto and Jujutsu Kaisen because yall never know what the future will do to Itadori Yuuji and Uzumaki Naruto.

(You see what I did there? Exactly I only wish my mask wearing humans the best because I am sick of having to hear the sentence “Ma´am/Sir please put on a mask.” I .Am. DONE!)

BYEEEEEEEE! I Love every single person that likes and reads my stuff! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! THERE ARE PEOPLE READING AND EVEN LIKING MY STUFF!! *crys in trilingual 😭💙🥺

Okay Alright I leave and enjoy the rest of the night by finishing “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier” and then switching to Boruto because ya girl is a hoe for Hatake Kakashi and my friend is one for Uchia Sasuke, that mf. I´ll never get over the fact that he gets to have a family with Sakura. She deserves better but let’s put that aside for some other time…. (But if anyone likes to talk about Boruto I´m on episode 96. *winks)

Ok. Love you! Byeeee! 💙

P.S.: The list of stuff I am working on is getting longer and longer but don’t hesitate to send me ideas for imagines/oneshots. Because I can assure you that when it really inspires me I will be working on it instantly while not even sparing a glimpse at my long ass list of imagines and match ups or my studies. My hands truly have their own will.

Oh and yes I'm crying because of the picture at the top. You see how my man Luffy, the future pirate King, is giving my other man Naruto, the actual hokage, a high five?! Y'ALL SEE THAT! I'M IN TEARS! 😭 That's my desktop wallpaper. 🥺

Sorry. I'll leave now for sure....

Update (26.06.2021) : Please don't make any requests for match ups. I'm sorry to say that but I would like to finish the ones that were send in before I choose to close the requests for it. I kinda feel bad that I'm making y'all wait for so long but I'm at the end of my semester and I have to focus on the upcoming exams so please have a bit more patience with me. Thank you in advance. ♡

[ketsuyuki-hibana-typed]

Greetings I really liked ur modern rengoku domestic au Felt like I was actually there living the life I’ll never have May I ask the same thing for the giyu fuckers out there?

Yes! 💃💃Giyuu fuckers really out there, thirsty for some normal life AU

That's fine, I'm the oasis *winks*

Giyuu x Reader (Modern Domestic AU)

Giyuu was already a P. E. Teacher when you're undergraduate student and still doing your thesis

Giyuu will wake you up in time in the morning. Never late, never early. You sweared there is o'clock ticking inside his head

Your sleepy ass will slip most of the time, so he escorted you to the bathroom

In rare occasion, he brushed your teeth while you're still dreaming

"Say aaah." "Aaah."

Your consciousness came back to you when he washed your face

"What do you want, Giyuu?" You cooked breakfast while he making coffees

"The usual will do. Wait, I want sunny-side." "Mkay."

His favourite mug is black thermal mug. When he poured hot coffee into it, it will show "One mug of caffeine a day, will keep your sadness away." sign

"You still use that mug? Come on, where is your positive vibes?"

"Died."

Giyuu didn't really like going out for lunch because he said that he's lazy, so you made lunch for him in the morning

"Eat your tomato." "I ate it." "Don't lie to me, Rengoku told me you threw away the tomato."

He'll kill Rengoku after this

Since he went to school and you went to uni, he drove his car and dropped you in front of uni

Before get off, you tidied up his training uniform. You touched his forehead with yours and said "See you later, Hot Stuff." on teasing purpose

He blushed a little and said. "Take care. When will you finish?"

"Around 5 p.m."

"I'll pick you up."

Your friends love to gossip your boyfriend, like how could you ended up together, how handsome he is, or he probably has abs

Oh, he has abs but wait until you see his lazy-ass lying on the floor while rambling about how stupid his students are.

The students wondering how can "That Giyuu." got a girlfriend for himself

Zenitsu jokingly said, "Sensei, you'll stay single if you still act like this."

"I have a girlfriend, I even already considered her as my wife."

His students went >:O

"WHO."

On day-off or weekend, you and Giyuu have small dating. Giyuu will go with your place choice

Or when both of you just stayed at home, he will put his head on your thigh while reading the book. He glanced at your white thigh.

"That hickey is still the- Ouch." You hit him with your book while trying to hiding your red face

When you walked together, you have to hold his hand or else he'll hit a pole or even worse, cross when it's red light for pedestrian

He doesn't have much to talk, but he will listen to your talks even your gibberish.

Giyuu probably looked like he didn't care but he actually remembered everything about your birthday, anniversary, your behavior, even 'inhumane' one

And he just randomly talked about it

"Oh, I saw your bra hanging in the bathroom, so I washed it."

"GIYUU WE ARE IN PUBLIC."

Giyuu didn't really look affectionate in public, but he actually likes to kiss you anywhere in your face or blow your ear

You like to take his photo when he's daydreaming and set them as desktop wallpaper

You finally realize he kept your printed photo everywhere. In his wallet, dashboard, as a bookmark, and even-

"Giyuu, is that my photo on the bedroom ceiling?"

"Yes."

He's the one who cooked dinner, while you bathing. Or sometimes, the role reversed

Bathing together is really rare, but when you do, he just lay down in the bathtub, feeling relaxed when your bare back skin touched his chest

When he still correcting his students' exam until midnight, you'll accompany him while reading a book

He already said that you could go sleep first but you insisted until you actually fall asleep on his shoulder.

If he could sleep early, he will cuddle you, like kissed your finger tip or cheek, bring you closer to his face.

You probably don't realize, but when Giyuu slowly caressed your face, he felt like he is the luckiest person who got your patient self as his partner, and not giving up on him despite of his stoicness

"Good night."

[barachiki]

How to Photoshop some nonsense, by Barachiki

I said I’d do a walk-through, and here it is.  I did this off the top of my head as I went along, so you’re reading this as a play-by-play as I designed it.

I always start off from this wonderful website:  http://kissthemgoodbye.net/sherlock/

It has screengrabs of basically everything in the show. It is a great starting point.  

Second, I grab a random number generator.  There are 14 files that I take screenshots from (each episode, the mini episode and the special), so I make the random number out of 14. 

This means I get to draw my inspiration from a scene in Many Happy Returns.

I rolled a few more random numbers to get to this page, and I picked one of the screenshots in this section.  Since I had already used the picture of Sherlock winking in a different image ages ago, I chose the one of Lestrade.

Enter: Photoshop!  I’m running Photoshop CC, which is awesome.  

Lestrade is pasted into Photoshop.  Now all I need is an idea.  The first thing I think of is holding something in that hand.  So I crop around the hand.

For small cut jobs I just use the lasso tool, specifically the polygon lasso tool.  If the edges are too sharp, I add a feather, or smooth the edges. 

By the time I have it cut out, I decided what to put in it.  A quick Google image search finds me a lightsaber.

I was lucky because this one already had a transparency on it, so it was cropped ahead of time.  Now let’s make this Lestrade into a Jedi!

I use the Pen tool here because there are lots of fiddly bits to crop around. To make it easier to see, I use an adjustment layer of Brightness and Contrast.  This means all the layers in my document can be brightened temporarily so I can do my crop. 

Next, I take a texture to give Lestrade a cloak of a more natural material.

Pasted in, it looks stupid.  But with a little bit of blending mode action, I can make it look right.

Okay, not 100% happy with this, but i will work on it as I go.

Now, he needs a Jedi outfit.  There’s a lot I can do here, but the best thing is to search for a halloween costume.  It is a good trick to find people in neutral poses.  

So this image isn’t perfect, but I can make it work.  I paste it into my document.

Flip the image and manipulate the shape a little.  

Then I get rid of the hands and tuck it under the coat.  Some shading using Levels and Hue and Saturation tools gives it a bit more appropriate colouring.

Now he’s looking like he wants to be somewhere else.  I do a quick crop around Lestrade, then I search for a Star Wars Desktop Wallpaper.  Another good trick if you want a decent resolution background.

Okay, looking pretty bad. Everything is unbalanced.  I put Lestrade’s layers in a Group and then get out a few more adjustment layers.

The adjustment layers are there to only affect the colour on the parts I want affected.  

A few tweaks later, and here he is.  Lestraddy-Wan Kenobi.

If anyone can think of a good speech bubble or caption for this, let me know!  I’ll credit you in the tags.  

This whole process took me about an hour and a half. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

[chimpukampu]

Bonheur

Happy Valentines day @galaxyofconstellations! I’m so happy when I got your name, and more when I read your prompts! You have no idea how I love Marichat and Adrinette, and I hope this oneshot met your expectations

Huge thanks to @tog84 for beta-ing this!

Summary: It was a night before her wedding when a certain cat dropped by not only to say hi but also to ask about her future. 

It’s been years since Marinette slept in her old bedroom.

She was surprised that her parents didn’t replace the pink wallpapers, or even dared to remove the old Jagged Stone poster that was plastered near her old study table. Her outdated desktop computer was still there covered in a thick, white cloth, as well as her sewing machine that had pricked her fingers multiple times.

It was worth the pain, she thought fondly as she rubbed her calloused fingers, bumping the silver band of her engagement ring with a nostalgic sigh.

Aside from her old items like her mannequins, self-made teenage clothes, and textbooks that were boxed and stacked neatly to the corner, she also found some baking equipment and matching ceramic wares from China, which prompted her that her room has been transformed as some sort of storage. Yet despite it, her room was comfy and dust-free.

Glancing around, she noticed the faded squares that marred the walls. It reminded her of the photographs and drawings she used to tack there when she was in collège, and even though she removed all of it as soon as she moved out for université, the discolorations caused by the lack of light exposures were barely muted.

She might be in the mood of reminiscing the past, but she didn’t have the energy to take out her old belongings and poke on them one by one. Her Maman might scold her if she cluttered up the floor, and besides, she has an early appointment with the Mayor in the morning, and a garden wedding in the afternoon, so she couldn’t pull out an all-nighter and be a living zombie afterward.

After all, tomorrow is her big day.

But sleep was rather difficult for the young designer. It might be from the nerves, or the fact that she was sleeping on her bed alone, she wasn’t sure anymore. She didn’t want to disturb Tikki, her adorable kwami who was sleeping soundly on her pillow, for a midnight stroll, and the herbal tea that she was coddling wasn’t effective enough to lure her to bed.

After giving her blanket a second look, Marinette decided to climb to her balcony for some air.

The summer wind immediately kissed her exposed skin as she opened her skylight, then smiled adoringly how her flowery plants and ornamentals thrived under her father’s care. She also spotted her foldable chair under the still-functioning fairy lights, and her wooden centerpiece table minus the teapot set she often uses after a tiresome patrol.

It was a new moon, and the stars twinkling behind the cloudy Parisian sky were blending well with the bustling city lights from afar. She could barely see the bricked walls and the flying buttresses of Notre Dame from her spot, same with the ever-serene Seine and the empty alleyways near Rue Gotlib.

Such peaceful scenery wasn’t new to her, but the sight gave her a jab of memories that made her wonder the things she must’ve done in her past life to end up so lucky.

“Bonsoir, ma Purr-incesse.”

Marinette almost spilled her hot drink and hurled the cup towards the intruder’s face when a pair of strong hands caught her on time. Her bluebell eyes immediately trailed off from the curves of a familiar dark catsuit to the emerald hues of a blond man that were twinkling with mischief and euphoria.

“C - Chat!” she sputtered with a blush. “Y-You scared me, you idiot!”

“A-paw-logies fur that,” the superhero responded unabashed “But this cat was simply curious why a pretty lady like you was so lonesome tonight.”

She rolled her eyes indignantly “Still flirty as ever.”

“Just fur mew.”

“I’m taken, you know?” she raised her left hand to show him the ring “You can’t flirt with a promised woman anymore, Chaton.”

“Woe is me!” the superhero gasped, clutching his heart theatrically while balancing himself to the rails “And to think that you confessed your undying love to me!”

She couldn’t help but snort at that “You rejected me, remember?”

“But still!”

“Dream on, mon Minou,” she chuckled much to his chagrin. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”

“Says the person who hasn’t been here for years.”

“What can I say,” the dark-haired woman shrugged, leaning her back to the balcony rails “I’m an independent girl who wants to live her life to the fullest.”

“Oh really,” he drawled with a narrowed look. “Then pray do tell why an independent girl like you is back to her parent’s house?”

“Because,” she scowled, mustering all of her strength not to push the blond and let him plummet to the ground. “We want to stick to the tradition that the groom must not see the bride a day before their wedding.”

“By kicking you out of your house?”

“Okay, first of all, this is also my house. My home,” she emphasized without giving him the pleasure of seeing her irritated face. “And my future husband has to stay there and maybe, I dunno, enjoying his bachelor’s party - which I believe, his best man is now plotting his murder - or having a beauty sleep?”

“Hmm. Your future husband sounds like a handful.”

“You have no idea.”

“So tell me, Purr-incess,” he asked with his back touching hers. “What made you decide to accept his proposal and spend the rest of your life with him?”

“That’s a very tough question, Chaton,” she admitted. “Aside from being a handful, he has a very bad sense of humor.”

“Ouch.”

“He puns a lot too, and there’s this pick-up line he always uses to piss me off. Oh, and he didn’t know some adulting stuff like cooking and doing the laundry. I even had to teach him how to use the microwave!” she chuckled as she narrated the disasters that happened in her relationship. “He has a horrible sweet tooth and cries like a baby at stupid rom-com movies. He’s a neat freak. He spends too much time in the shower, and he hoards the blankets during winter. He’s literally a child in an adult body.”

“Yet despite his imperfections,” she went on, tilting her head towards the sky with a smile. “He makes me happy.”

“I’m sure you make him happy too,” the feline hero muttered, and even though Marinette couldn’t see his expression, she could sense the endearment on his tone.

The two remained in companionable silence as they looked at the night sky until Marinette yawned.

“Your bed is calling you now, Purr-incess,” Chat Noir chuckled, nudging her shoulders gently as he walked her to the trap door. “Why don’t you get your beauty sleep so you can sweep your Prince off his feet tomorrow?”

“You’re leaving now?”

“Oh my, is that an invitation, Marinette?” he wiggled his brows suggestively much to her annoyance. “As much as the offer is tempting - “

“Chat!”

“But I can’t risk my status and tarnish my name by such scandalous act. Don’t get me wrong - you’re an amazing girl, and I’m an awesome man. I mean, you know, I would marry myself if I could.”

The designer flashed him a deadpan look “We’re not talking about that shit.”

He pouted “You’re no fun, Purr-incess.”

After downing her almost cold tea, Marinette slipped inside the room as Chat Noir took the cup and opened the trap door for her.

“Make sure to check your bedding for a pea.” the feline hero reminded her cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah…” she grumbled, then patted her bed sheets with a scowl when the superhero shot her a look. “Happy now?”

“Very.” he flashed her a toothy grin, and with a saucy wink, he lowered the door. “Bonne Nuit, ma minette.”

Before he could shut it closed, she called out to him “Chaton?”

He poked his head inside “What is it, Purr-incess?”

“Thank you,” she smiled earnestly. “Thank you for being there with me all the time. For the hardships and trials. For joy and devotion.”

His green eyes were unreadable as she continued “Thank you for the patience and understanding, and I know that sometimes - no, most of the time - my stubbornness drives you crazy, but you still remained by my side. Through thick or thin, I must say, even though I don’t deserve it at all.”

“You are worth fighting for,” he assured her. “You deserve everything, you deserve the world.”

“You deserve everything, too.” she said as she yawned again. “I think that’s it for tonight. Bonne Nuit, Chat Noir.”

“Erm, Marinette?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened in my life,” he confessed in a somber tone. “My first for everything - in love, in relationship...and now that we’ll be facing a new chapter in our life, I would like you to know that...that I am blessed that you chose me to be your partner.”

She bit her lips to control her emotions. “Sounds like your vows, you’re supposed to say those to your soon-to-be wife.”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck cutely with flustered cheeks. “I’m afraid I might stutter and blank out during the ceremony, and I don’t think flash cards are allowed at the altar, so I’d rather recite my wedding vows before I forget everything.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“You mean ‘your ridiculous’?”

Chat Noir barked out a laugh when he dodged a pillow thrown to his way. “Hey, that’s domestic violence!”

“I hate you, Adrien!”

“Love you too, My Lady!”

Their teasing banter went on until dawn, and by the time Sabine walked upstairs to wake her daughter up, she screamed bloody murder at the sight of the two love birds cuddling in each other’s arms, and soon the two would realize how late they were for their civil wedding, and how absurd they would look on their photos as they sported a matching eyebags and dopey smiles.

[seromreven]

title: dance of the jubjub birds.

anonymous requested: “ooo, Could you maybe do a f!readerxJohn, sort of like you’re last one where she’s super innocent and sorta clueless about how to not be a square and John takes her virginity? Thank you for indulging us, you are truly a gift.”

warnings: uh, what the request implies. (why do i have this section-). 

author’s note: a long one shot for once, y’all! (i had fun!). i entertained the thought of the title being something from the backstreet boys song ‘if you want it to be good girl (get yourself a bad boy)’ but, lmao, the song title is fucking long and the lyrics themselves is repetitive and too long for a title too. so i just went with something barely related to the story and bad (as per usual).

---

1958,

He was following you home. John Lennon… was following you home. Even as he walked faithfully beside you, you still had trouble believing it. He was the cool guy. He was in a band and skipped classes to smoke and was in a band and yet; here he was, making sure you got home safe from a ballet class that had drawn out late into the evening. 

The circumstances of your meeting was… peculiar. You had bumped into each other on your way home. Literally. You thought you had heard something behind so you looked over your shoulder while walking and went straight into the square chest that belonged to the teddy boy. He had first reacted in anger but when he finally saw what hit him, his eyes softened and he apologised. He apologised! You never thought of him as one to apologise. You had never imagined him to have a soft side, with his tough exterior and all, but then again; you never really knew him before tonight.

He had taken notice of your jittery persona as you slowly walked towards your home and when you were called out on it; you were quick to reply. You hated being out alone at this hour. Especially in the delicate fabrics of your leotard and thin stockings. And you swore to him that you had seen the silhouette of a man following you. He peeked over your shoulder for a few silent seconds, eyes narrowed close, before offering his arm and protection. You didn’t show it but you were so ecstatic! So happy! You had always been scared witless about going home alone but your parents were never home to pick you up and they didn’t let you have a dog to protect you. 

You soon reached your house. A big three-story one in one of the ‘nicer’ areas of Liverpool. John whistled lowly as he looked upon its looming facade and around the neighbourhood. It was dead quiet; the only sounds you could hear were the winds going through the trees and the sound of barking in the distance. “Can I,” you swallowed spit and nerves, “Can I invite your for some tea?” You fidgeted with the ends of your jacket as you asked him. His eyes focused on you suddenly; making you heart beat hard and loudly. He nodded and followed you inside. You went straight through the dark and quiet house to the kitchen. “Your parent's home?” he asked you as he sat down at the dining table, watching you start heating the water.

“No,” you answered not looking at him, too focused on getting the cups and tea bags ready. “So… you’re inviting a strange man into your home. Alone... dressed in a tutu.”

You spluttered and turned around red faced; only to see him there with a grin on his face. You had an idea of what he was hinting at but could do nothing in response but stutter while thinking of an answer. You weren’t even wearing the tutu right now! “Relax,” he said with an easy laugh and a wink, “I’m just messing with you.”

You nodded, fighting away the fierce blush that had reached your ears as you turned back around to the steaming pot, feeling too much like it at the moment. The thoughts lingered. The thoughts that had entered your mind as he joked and winked at you. He was so attractive! But so out of your league. You were a square. You danced ballet only because your parents wanted to. You read too much and stayed alone most of the day doing homework. He flirted with every girl but you. And were in a band! He was just being nice to be it and then at the end of the day; leave and forget all about you and how he helped you as he moved on with his life and band.

“It’s Earl Grey,” you muttered as you placed the steaming cups on the white and polished table, together with a small plate of assorted biscuit. He nodded before eagerly grabbing a biscuit that was quickly lost behind his thin lips. You fumbled as you sat down and got even redder as you heard him give a low chuckle. “You doing okay?” 

You furiously nodded; “yep!” 

It came out as a yelp and you winced at yourself and your anxious antics. You were better than this! You could do this whole social thing with a handsome boy! Totally! You just had to take deep breaths and relax; which made John looked at you… strangely. Oh, shoot. The breaths had been too deep.

“I’m sorry,” a nervous giggle accompanied the apology, “I don’t… really have people over… much.”

He stood up, “no need to tell me twice,” and you blinked, “I weren’t… about to?”

He came to stand by your side; looking down at you with his slender brown eyes and you turned in your seat to get a better look at him. He carefully moved stray, rebellious, hair that had moved to be in front of your eyes that were now nervously scanning his face; anxious to find out what he had in mind to do, standing so close to you. “You’re pretty, y’know,” he said in a low voice as he leaned closer towards you. You stammered as you tried to thank him but was interrupted by a kiss so soft. Soft in a way you never could imagine a boy like him would be able to give. You had never been kissed before so you nervously kissed him back; thoroughly inexperienced in your effort.  And though you had doubts in your skills; it was wonderful! You desperately wanted more, but he pulled away; a hand on your hip and a look in his eyes you couldn’t describe but it sent excited shivers down your spine.

“Did I do all right?”

You asked, desperate for his approval. He answered in gentle chucking; his arm creeping tighter around you, “you did more than all right,” before dragging you in for another kiss. It lasted longer this time around and grew more heated. Once again, he pulled away to this time look around the room; “when will your parents be home?”

You shrugged with a sigh; “I don’t know, really. The day after tomorrow, maybe. They didn’t tell me, but not tonight.” He nodded; still looking towards the door. You felt brave. Suddenly so, like a lightning shooting through you and you bounced off your chair; almost knocking into him. Standing chest to chest, you carefully asked him a question, “want to go to my room?”

You desperately hoped that the kissing wouldn’t end. That the question hadn’t been too forward, and that you hadn’t just made a right fool of yourself. But it seemed all your worrying were for nought as he stepped to the side with the flourish of an arm, leading you lead the way which you quickly set into doing with a bounce in your step. The two of you descended the stairs in silence; not an uncomfortable one but one all the same. The door leading to your room stood partially open from when you had rushed out of it earlier that day, in a hurry to get to ballet class in time. You glanced warily over your shoulder; your nerves all in a rage about what John would think. What John was thinking.

He noticed your staring with a raised brow as he shut the door behind him as you had entered the small room. He noticed its bright colours immediately, it was hard not to, and the scattering of books throughout the room. It didn’t look the room of one nearing eighteen and it was a frustration of yours. Your parents refused to change any part of it; fearful of your aging and growing up, still wishing for you to be their little girl.

You bounced slightly on the bed as you watched him look around the room; studying and watching the little details of everything. The homework still open and splayed out over the desk. The desk that was surrounded by shelves on which stood books by authors such as Beatrix Potter and Lewis Carroll. He took down a copy of Jabberwocky and carefully looked through the pages with a small humming of a song you didn’t recognise. He released a chortle as he looked down on an illustration on a well-worn page. Putting it aside on the desktop, he finally looked at you and the flowery patterned wallpaper that made a stunning background. “You have a good taste in literature,” he mumbled and came to stand in front of your legs, crossed at the ankles. You thanked him with a beaming smile; happy and surprised that he had such an interest in books. Placing a hand on your knee, he sat down beside you on the soft bed and sparks of arousal shot through you like never before as the hand travelled slowly up your leg. You could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of your stockings. No-one had ever touched you like so and it made you go through a flurry of excitement and anxiety. You hardly knew him but you felt uncommonly daring, and you wanted more.

You turned around in your seat and leaned in; silently inviting him for another kiss that he dutifully accepted. During your increasingly passionate kissing, you felt him slowly press himself against you, leaning you back onto the bed, dragging your legs in between his own as he rested above you. You parted, both breathing heavily for air, staring into each other's eyes as you proceeded what seemed to be about to happen. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered as you moved a hand to feel the burning warmth of your cheek. “Do you-” he interrupted himself and leaned slightly away from you, “do you want to stop then? It’ll be all right with me.”

You blinked at the sudden drawback and quickly shook your head as you followed him up from the laid back position of before. You felt admiration at the show of respect for your perceived limits but you took a hold of his hands as you assured him; “I want this.” And to show how much, and following the daring streak that had made tonight, you pulled down the straps of your leotard; exposing your soft, warm breasts to the boy in front of you. He grinned and returned to the eager actions of before; kissing you excitedly as he cupped your breasts, earning him a strangled moan in response.

The hands disappeared from your heaving chest for too soon but it was quickly discovered as to why; one lifted you deftly up by the tailbone as he dragged down the leotard further. You quickly joined in on helping; imagining yourself as not the lithest being in the world. It was a hassle getting it all off; the stockings being no easy feat, but soon you laid in all your naked glory under a still fully dressed John. He was even wearing his leather jacket still. But, in the honest truth, you didn’t mind. The sight and smell comforted you in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You watched him squirm and move uncomfortably in his drain pipes and quickly noticed why; a hard snake like form had appeared and pressed hard against the fabric of his trousers. You blinked; so this was what a clothed erection looked like. You had read the description of it in… adult novels your mom hadn’t thought you’d notice hiding in various corners of her clothes drawers. Places you both knew your dad would never look into.

And you watched him attentively as he released himself from the tight leather and saw as the unclothed manhood sprang out from it confinements. You didn’t know how you had imagined… it to look like but it wasn't far off base from what you had imagined, really. Furthermore, you watched John touch it gently as he looked in silence at your studying expression. He rubbed it in such a way, after having spit in his hand (much to your surprise), that it grew harder and stiffer and you resisted the innate urge to reach out and touch; unsure if that would have been disruptive to the… process. 

It didn’t take long after the little show he had given you before he leaned back down and met you in a wet kiss. A kiss more fierce and involved than before. One during which you felt a hand creep down between your legs; you shivered at it soft touches at your most sensitive areas and soon you felt him… inside you, opening you up with his adept fingers. It was unlike what you had ever felt and it was magnificent. So it was only expected that you whimpered when the touch vanished. John reacted with a chuckle and low tutting; “patience, love.”

You quickly found out the reasons for his words for he drew back and guided his cock in between your spread legs and, to both of your audible reactions, went the way his fingers had moments prior. Your breath hitched as he started moving at a carefully and excruciating pace. You weren’t sure of how long it was something before he hit… something within you. Something… extraordinary. Time seemed to pass by at an incredible speed as stars appeared before you. You clung to him as you reached a high. A climax of pleasure you had never thought imaginable. And not too long after; he seemed to repeat the statement, the sensation, as he filled you up with a warm liquid, only to pull out and fall down beside you in an exhausted huff. 

You heard him shuffle off his jacket and, presumably, the rest of his clothing. But you didn’t heed any attention to the noise as you spaced out staying at the bare and open ceiling of your bedroom, slowly drifting off to dreams of you and John.

[nothingofvaluewaslost]

STORY: For the Guy Who Has Everything

A creepy supernatural story, written to a concept by ChockaBlock. Nicholas, a young man just out of university, receives a box containing “nothing” from his family. After experimenting, he realises that he can put whatever he wants inside it.

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For the Guy Who Has Everything, by Christina Nordlander

The electronic signature pad turned his name to a stubby spatter of ink. The postman turned back and continued down the cul-de-sac between doll house-sized terraced flats in rain-dark red brick – home, now. Nicholas ended up standing there for a moment, feeling the early winter air stir his hair. It wasn’t freezing yet, just raw. The smell of wet soil and grass was the one you’d feel in spring. The package under his arm didn’t weigh more than its cardboard.

The address was in dad’s rounded handwriting on a label with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY.”

He went up to his bedroom and pushed the keyboard to the side to have room to tear off the wrapping. Inside was a gift box – glossy black with a glued grey bow, classy – and a birthday card with colourful balloons:

To our favourite son:

What can you give the guy who has everything? NOTHING.

With hugs from mum, dad and Joanna!

It wasn’t like them: sure, dad had told some cringe jokes, but would he spend money on postage just for a laugh? Not that he would have demanded presents, for his twenty-third birthday. He leant closer to the twisted-open wrapping, in case he was going to feel some of the scent of home.

He still remembered sitting in the primary school classroom and counted down, literally counted the seconds, until he got to go home through a kitchen where mum had hung up glittery balloons and sit down with his new video game – Twilight Princess, now he showed his age. It was his memory, still so crisp you could cut yourself on it, and yet it was a different guy.

He lifted the lightweight box, then opened it anyway. In case they’d put something weightless in there, perhaps just a bill – that he could imagine.

In the box was darkness.

At first he thought his eyes were tricking him. He stretched to light the angle-poise lamp. Yellow light streamed down, making the window a bit greyer, but didn’t banish what was in the box. The light might have made the blackness denser.

He looked around the room, at the old-fashioned beige-and-gold striped wallpaper that he’d stopped seeing, at the saccharine faded rose pattern on the sheet. Nothing had changed. He slapped the desktop, hard enough to hurt his fingers. He touched the fabric in his dressing-gown, then the outside of the box. All sensations were as they should have been. If this was a dream it was concentrated to the box.

Had it been an optical illusion? He pulled it to him again. The tuft of blackness was still there. He tilted the box, but the tuft didn’t slide. A memory from Sunday school: one of the plagues of Egypt, a darkness so dense you could touch it. He held the box upside down, but nothing fell out. He could have imagined that something had been lying underneath the darkness that he wouldn’t have seen.

That was an idea. He took a pen and put it in.

The pen winked away. The next moment his fingers pinched a cylindrical strip of air. He could still see the after-image when he closed his eyes.

He shook the box again, he put his head down beneath the desk as if the pen might have fallen there, a pathetic magic trick. Of course there was nothing there other than a plane of grey carpet. He looked around for a moment, but the box was still up there. He straightened back up. The box was requiring his attention. It slipped into the foreground of everything, like a rearing snake.

Wasn’t this the solution to some scientific question – antimatter? He couldn’t tell whether it would be possible to extract some energy from it, but in any case it would be possible to use it to get rid of waste, including things that were a slow danger.

He still didn’t know how well it worked. He didn’t even know that it wasn’t a dream. He looked around again – he didn’t have anything he wanted to get rid of. Finally he pulled out a textbook from the bookshelf, a history book from secondary school. It wasn’t too big to fit in the box.

He still wasn’t dressed. Before doing anything else he got changed and pulled socks on his feet. The history book lay on the clear plastic desk protector, a snack for a captured predator.

He slid it down, and the same thing happened. Not even a flash of light, like a film would have needed to make it obvious. Yet the light level shifted a little when the grey and white cover blinked out of reality.

What if he’d stuck his hand in it? Would it have snipped off his arm, or would it have taken him whole? He made himself chuckle at the thought, but he saw his reflection in the window, a narrow boyish face with stringy greyish-blond hair. His grin was terrible.

The rest of the day was a haze, he didn’t even know whether he ate. (He must have eaten, he didn’t feel weak.) He’d been meaning to spend the day looking for work, but how would he be able to focus on anything mundane after this? He went outside, roaming along the terraced housing and into Manchester. The box was in the desk drawer. He didn’t think Ciarán would rummage through his room, he seemed as uninterested in it as Nicholas was in his, but what if today was the exception? His path took him past campus. Maybe that was natural; at the dawn of a new stage of your life, you wanted to look back at an older one. A middle-aged man meeting him on the pavement glared at him. His face must have been blank, set to somewhere else. He wasn’t good at controlling his expression, and why should he care? He’d caught a glimpse of another world than the people around him.

His brain swung between vapid euphoria and something darker, in cycles of maybe fifteen minutes. He’d found something supernatural, the way he’d dreamt of doing when he was a teen and had almost forgotten. Yet, it was an object that could only destroy. It was literally something negative, a minus sign on reality.

He thought about physics experiments again. What could he do, take it to Rutherford Building and ask if any of the staff wanted to look at it? He might. Then came doubt: he ought to at least test it again, rather than get laughed out of the house. And what if his reason had taken a break, only in front of the box – how could you tell? He glanced up towards the office building where he’d been seeing the counsellor when he was a student. The façade was glassy blue against the sky. He didn’t go closer.

And if it wasn’t a hallucination? What if his room-mate had gone into his bedroom and taken the box out, touched the inside, the way he might have done. It wasn’t until now he thought of that possibility. His original anxiety had just been that Ciarán would see it.

Ciarán wasn’t coming home until tomorrow, but Nicholas still went straight home, as fast as he could without running. The front door was locked, his room was unlit and silent. He pulled out the drawer and looked down at the lid. Like this, it was just an empty box; there was no sound when he shook it. He didn’t have any drawers that locked.

That night he went to bed early. He made it into a ritual, put a cup of steam hot tea on the night-table, warmed his pyjamas on the radiator and lay down to watch videos on his tablet, as if he weren’t here to watch the box. When he slept, his dreams were full of chaos. One of them he remembered, where someone told him that he had to guard a little animal that ate everything it could get. He woke up convinced that the box not only obliterated things, but stopped them from having existed. There was no way of knowing.

*

He’d rarely had suicidal thoughts. Maybe a bit in his teens, when it’d felt like it was required to be angsty and mature. After that? Perhaps the times when it had been tough.

Now he thought about it every day, maybe every hour. He looked for jobs, played computer games, lifted, but the box was a noose hung in his room. He didn’t need to feel the impulse today; it was the awareness that if he did in the future, he would have the option, and it would be as easy as letting his elbow relax.

After a couple of weeks he started staying out: at the central library during daytime, at bars and clubs in the evenings. It didn’t help; the box was most real in his brain when he couldn’t see it. He’d spent money on a brushed-steel strongbox and kept the key in his coat pocket, but what if someone broke in and took the strongbox with them? To keep the thoughts at bay he needed to drink until he got a toxic taste in his mouth, for money he’d learnt to be economical with. It wasn’t good. When he sobered up it was worse.

It took a long while before he thought about getting rid of it. Could he? He couldn’t leave it as it was, it was a weapon. If he destroyed it, what might come out?

Perhaps it wasn’t so much the self-destructive impulse as curiosity, the curiosity that made the protagonist of all fairy tales open the forbidden door or look over their shoulder. It was the fact that he didn’t know. The box attracted him with a destruction too quick to feel any pain or anything else. It was almost guaranteed to be a better death than any other, and he was going to die of something. When those thoughts came and he was alone in the house, he sat looking for a long time at the strongbox, or unlocked it. Then came the opposite impulse: the fact that he didn’t know anything about how the darkness worked. That moment might contain decades of pain or powerlessness.

The worst part: sometimes it felt like he’d already made his decision and this was only the period before the realisation.

He woke. It was dark outside, and when his phone came on, it showed twenty to six. He’d been drinking again. His body was too tired to do anything, his brain too awake. The thought of the box was like a scritching of insects, somewhere inside where he couldn’t reach them.

He was forced to pull the heavy strongbox to him and unlock it. The giftbox was visible in the shadow inside, so normal in appearance that someone might have switched it for a regular one. He had to pull it out and take off the lid. The dark lurked in there, a bit different in quality from the shadows around the corners of the room. It didn’t move, it didn’t have a mind. He sat dangling one hand above it – the light reflected in his fingernails – in order to remind himself that he didn’t need to touch it, that he was the one in control. And he wasn’t in control, because he was going to put the box back, and it would continue controlling his thoughts until the next time.

If the impulse had been something physical, then he could have cut it out.

He must have blinked, maybe nodded off with his hand over the box, because something new had appeared. A large drop of light, hard and colourless, dangled from his hand, from his fingertips. He moved his hand and felt it; nothing wet, but a touch. He just sat there looking at it. Anything was possible now.

If it had been a fluid, it wouldn’t have been able to grow so big without falling. He waved his hand back and forth. The drop trembled behind the movement, but still didn’t fall. Something inside him had changed. It was too early to say whether it was good or bad.

He lowered his hand towards the box. It felt like the only possible way.

The drop glinted as it was sucked into the blackness, then it was gone, like everything else.

He tilted the box again, the way he had done the first day. There was no sound, but he fancied the darkness moved across the bottom.

He’d got that kind of shaky euphoria that came when pain was past. He went to bed quickly and turned off the light, because if the thoughts were going to come back, he wanted to at least fall asleep like this.

When he woke in the grey morning it felt like it might have been a dream, but the thoughts weren’t there. A couple of days went by, and he could still think about the box – take it out – without feeling the temptation.

Did that mean that he could do it with something else? At first he couldn’t believe it, despite everything else that had happened. The doubt only lasted a moment. Maybe it only worked during a certain time of night, or in a particular waking state where he would only remember it as a dream afterwards – but it wouldn’t hurt to test it, would it?

It was afternoon and his head was as clear as it would get. He sat down in his office chair – it felt like he only sat there now to use the box – and reached for the first book he could find, a science fiction novel called 1Q84 that he hadn’t read for years. He held it over the box, not close enough to touch the dark, and tried to focus on the text. The text, packed page after pressed page, and it would dissolve and slide out between dry pages like a single drop of ink.

He closed his eyes, like when you were a kid and wanted something magical to happen, but when he looked, the book was still dangling from his fingers, no different than before. Instead he opened it, resting safely, memorising a sentence on the first page. It was quick. He sat with his hand above the box, concentrating on the sentence. Nothing happened, his fingers felt nothing new.

Thinking about it wasn’t enough. What he had done with the old impulse: I have to get it out of me, I can’t keep going like this.

He opened his eyes. Something was moving below his index finger. A clear drop, as if he’d just dipped his hand in water, but there was no water in here. He needed to let it go. His brain had no commands for letting it go. He had to lower his hand towards the dark. That was what he’d done last time, but the drop had been large then, inches across.

He must have blacked out, one of those millisecond losses of consciousness that weren’t enough to make you fall. His finger vanished into the tuft of darkness. It didn’t hurt.

He yanked his hand away as if he’d touched a hot iron. The movement sent the box sliding across the desk, and he called out. He looked at his hand: all his fingers were intact, he saw no changes in the nails or the hairs. As he studied it, he breathed in deep jolts until his pulse could slow down. He was alone in the house; Ciarán was at work. If he’d been home he would have heard.

The sentence was just a blank space in his memory. He didn’t open the book again. He didn’t know whether he would be able to read that sentence now.

The box was still lying in front of him. He positioned his hand over it.

“And getting rid of the fear wouldn’t be too bad, either,” he said out loud.

A new bubble came out of his hand. He watched it wax for a moment, as if everything needed to drain out of him, and maybe that was natural. The drop was a garish pale red, like blood diluted in saliva. His feelings had different colours. The realisation made him shriek laughing. He dipped his hand, and the drop was gone when he raised it.

And if he was going to regret it now? He hunched over the box trying to see the bottom, the bottom that he couldn’t touch, as if he might still have been able to see everything he’d relinquished.

We need fear, and pain. Otherwise we would have learnt to turn them off by now. It was too late to be afraid. He looked down at his skinny body, at the khaki jumper hanging baggy around him, and if anything felt more whole than before.

He leant back, making the backrest creak. What should he do now? He could download a horror film, but he couldn’t remember any that had frightened him, or that he was interested in watching.

It ended with him going outside. He walked more carefully than usual, paradoxically; keeping an eye on his trainers as if he were drunk. He walked up an overpass across Oxford Road, stopping by the railing of pale steel and looking down at the rushing traffic below. He’d used to have acrophobia; his palms had got that fuzzy sensation of sweat, and people would have seen if he’d wiped them on his jeans. The guy in the memory was another Nicholas. Perhaps the bridge wasn’t high enough to have given him the sting of adrenaline, even before he got rid of the fear.

Perhaps he would come back after nightfall and cling on the outside of the railing.

If you could have any superpowers you wanted, what would you choose?

He was sat in front of the box again. The lid lay next to it at an angle. It wasn’t Frodo’s One Ring that had its own mind and could speak in his. Not even the thought of putting his hand in it frightened him any more. He kept his hands below the desktop.

He must have had plans for what to do if anyone gave him that choice, he and most people. The box was something else. It forced him to think in negatives.

He’d had issues exercising. He tried to jog along the rainy footpaths and lift at the gym, but he always dreaded it: the phlegm that laced his throat up, the staggering. If you never exerted yourself, you’d feel whole and superior, stronger than those who wore themselves out. Now he could get rid of that lack of confidence.

Or would he be able to cut out the middleman and make himself muscular – strong, what mattered was potential. Was that possible? He hadn’t tried to get rid of any physical attributes. If he got rid of his slenderness, what guarantee did he have that the box would fill the vacuum with muscles, not just let him balloon with fat? He made himself laugh at that. He was more careful when it came to his body than his brain, as if it were more fragile.

If he did change anything, what said that he wouldn’t be able to switch back?

He leant back in the chair, like some dapper young executive in an office full of shiny surfaces. Perhaps he should get rid of some more insignificant attribute first, to see whether it could be done and undone. After a moment he dangled his finger over the box, focusing on his right eyebrow.

A drop rolled off his finger, no bigger than a tear and dull as if it were full of little hairs. Nicholas straightened up. When he touched his face he only felt hairless skin, but that wasn’t enough to be certain. He looked around for something reflective, and saw his uneven reflection in a glazed photograph from his graduation. His smile was large and white.

Good God. He put his hand back, focusing on that hairless crescent where his eyebrow should have been – take it from me – and waiting. The next time he looked in the glass, the eyebrow was where it was supposed to be –

It wasn’t the same eyebrow. It had grown back wide and irregular, as if he were about to turn into a werewolf just there. The hairs had the same pale colour as the other one.

He shook his head. Maybe he could shave it to the right shape. Then it wouldn’t make a difference.

His hair? He didn’t hate his hair, he couldn’t think of any body part he hated, but if he’d got to choose, it would have been shining silver like on some anime hero, with a dry and clean scalp. Could he do that through the box? Perhaps he would only make himself bald. (He would be able to let it grow back, if that still worked.)

He still tried. He dangled his hand over the box, thinking about his bony form, until he felt the drop roll from his fingers, so light he might have perceived it through some other sense.

The change came with pain. That was the first thing he registered: it hurt, and he didn’t know whether he was getting enough air, and he didn’t know whether the pain was going to fade. He looked down at himself, and all he saw was someone else’s body, broad and square beneath the beige jumper and the jeans, thick, deep. All this solid matter pressed on his lungs, they couldn’t widen properly, and perhaps it was in the process of strangling the shafts of his bones as well.

Relax. Breathe. He didn’t feel anything give around his lungs, but perhaps that would come once his body got used to it. He must be getting enough oxygen. He felt dizzy, but that might have been the shock.

Now he needed to get to the bathroom. That was the natural impulse in a change like this, as if he would need to throw up or flush away some fluid, but there was a wardrobe door with a full-length mirror in Ciarán’s bedroom. He made his way there. He could walk, but sometimes he had to grab on to shelves or doors. This body wasn’t him; he hadn’t grown up with it. It was just something for him to manoeuvre. Now and then as he stretched out an arm, he saw pale skin where the seams in his sleeves had ripped. He pushed open Ciarán’s door and took a few steps to the mirror.

It wasn’t him. His body looked wrong. He’d have to strip down to see properly, but it had a broad, caricatured form, not the toned muscles of a bodybuilder or the natural rounded bulk of a weightlifter. He pulled off his jumper. All seams had unstitched in his clothes, he could feel the frayed elastic of his boxers against his hip; perhaps part of the pain was how things were tightening around him. He reeled closer to the mirror to take a look. He could barely see any muscle definition. The stereotypically masculine shape in the mirror might have been his old body, just inflated, spread out. It might have been some other substance than muscle. Up between his shoulders sat his thin head with the uncut hair. It wasn’t changed, except for the expression.

Was it strong, then, or was whatever was in it worth no more than Styrofoam? Ciarán’s bed was closest at hand, an unadorned bed in varnished pine that he might have had since he was a kid, a textured white bedspread. Nicholas lifted it; moving still hurt, but it must have felt heavier for his old body. Not even his hands were the right shape any more.

At that moment he heard someone in the door. He hurried back to his room, with careful steps so he wouldn’t fall. He was past the stairway, and Ciarán hadn’t seen him.

He could have sat down by the box, but he didn’t know if he would be able to focus on what he needed to get rid of, in this state. He crawled into bed and pulled up the quilt over the remnants of his clothes. If Ciarán yelled for him, he might say he was ill.

The bed had just been a refuge, but the pain or all the shocks must have worn him out, because he dreamt. He was in the bathroom, it was recognisably the bathroom in the house he and Ciarán rented, but it was full of mirrors, not just the metal-framed tilt mirror on the window-sill. They lay on the floor or hung on different walls, some just shards. In the dream he was the one who’d brought them in and hung them, because he was going to lose his face if he couldn’t see it all the time.

He was awake. There was orange street-light outside the window, but it wasn’t even 7 PM. He lay still for a few breaths, so as not to feel his body, but he could feel the change when he breathed. The pain had sunk away, at least for as long as he lay like this. He got his hand up from under the quilt and touched his face. It was a bit silky with beard growth; the features felt the way they should. The index finger nail had grown a bit long. He stuck it in his mouth and felt it crumpling between two molars, felt a long strip coming off.

That was a memory.

He couldn’t remember when he’d started biting. He couldn’t remember liking it. Mum and dad, and grandma Dorothy when they came to see her in Dartmouth in the summers, had tried to get him to stop. Every time he failed it was the shame and the thought of mum’s kind face, leaning over him, that made him try again, and every time, something said “just this little corner, just get the edge smooth.”

When he got older, he went into the bathroom after biting and smoothed the nail edge with a set of clippers, and the metal edges got to the quick, to the blood. The pain made him stop. You couldn’t bite when there was nothing there.

He’d almost forgotten that urge.

He needed to eat, but he could still hear Ciarán clattering with something in the kitchen. The hunger was a slight nauseous weakness that he could cope with. (Maybe this body needed more protein.)

He got up, without turning on the light, and sat down by the box and the unlocked strongbox. The nail-biting left him. It was just another drop, but he imagined that it struggled as it fell into the invisible void, as if he had squeezed out a little sentient parasite.

He didn’t get the urge again. He tried not to focus on those memories.

For a few days he was able to avoid Ciarán: just odd looks in the shadowy hallway. He could go shopping; cashiers and customers didn’t recognise him. If they saw him, they just saw an anonymous, broad-shouldered guy. They wouldn’t see the strange homogeneity under his clothes. He had to buy new clothes, a new wardrobe. None of the old ones fit.

Maybe he would get rid of the vanity next. It was what had got him here.

One morning Ciarán was sat at the table having breakfast when he came into the kitchen. He didn’t care about hiding it any more. Ciarán looked up at him, an uncomfortable look. Nicholas got out bread and butter and waited for the question.

“What the hell did you do?”

Nicholas turned his head, smiling. It ended up mechanical, just a tensing of a few muscles.

“I’ve undergone a treatment,” he said. “Not steroids. This thing has no side effects, no serious ones.”

Ciarán made a little noise that might have meant anything.

“Like an operation,” Nicholas went on.

He dared talk about it: Ciarán was skinny, with hand-weights in his room, but hardly the type to insist on learning more.

After a moment, Ciarán nodded, as if he just didn’t want to think more about it.

“What the hell,” he said. “I’m not your dad... you do what you want.”

That was where he got the prickle of an impulse, that he wanted to see his parents again. Just as quickly came the thought: I don’t want to see them now, I don’t know whether I have all my memories.

That morning he sat down at his usual spot. He’d thought about looking for work – but first he could shape his mind for whatever he was searching for.

What was he after? He’d applied for a job at a call-centre that was looking for French speakers, and even been called to an interview, but he’d chickened out. He’d studied French in school; he couldn’t speak it like a native. The box couldn’t make his French better, but it might remove the blockages that had stopped him from studying harder. The panic was already gone.

Why would he pick a telemarketing job? Now he had the ability to change everything; the inverted monkey’s paw. He needed to find his dream job, see what he needed to get it, then cut away everything preventing him from reaching that goal.

He couldn’t remember what had been his dream job. Maybe it was just the shocks he’d gone through, not that the box had started making him a different person.

“How’s the jobseeking going?”

“I haven’t done a whole lot of that.”

“What do you say to coming home for a weekend? We miss you, little fella.”

He hesitated, and didn’t know why he was hesitating. It took a few moments – longer, a few breaths – to decide what he wanted.

“That would be very nice.”

It was true, but mum might not be able to hear that he meant it.

“Let’s say so. I’ll get your old bedroom in order.”

The phone clicked. Nicholas stood with it in his hand, looking at it. Where his voice echoed in his ears it sounded disguised – changed.

He had to get rid of the new straight-lined musculature. That in itself wasn’t hard: the darkness ate everything. The change hurt again, so much he had to lie on his side listening to his breathing until the pain started to subside, and he hadn’t expected that. It had been understandable when he increased his strength; he was putting on mass.

He could move more unhindered and wear the clothes that had been left to lie wrinkled at the bottom of the wardrobe. As soon as he was out in the bathroom he took his shirt off and took a look at his torso.

It was slender again, but it wasn’t the same Nicholas. The box didn’t know what his old body had looked like, it had created something new.

It’s okay. He tottered a bit, supporting his shoulder on the chill of the tiled wall. It wasn’t as if anything in his body were diseased or twisted, not like the musculature during those weeks. (Not like the wirier eyebrow.) It was just a different body. Maybe he would get used to it. His breathing calmed down a little.

Now he needed to avoid Ciarán. What would he say, that his muscles had turned to water and he had pissed them out? It was just three days till the weekend. Once he got home he might convince them to let him stay longer. He wasn’t well.

His dreams had turned to chaos, without even that connection to the waking world that dreams usually had.

Sometimes he lay half-sleeping afterwards, wondering whether he’d absorbed shards of someone else’s mind. So much in him was wiped out; something had to start filling the void.

He sat in the train carriage, almost alone. It was a damp February day with dull light, and getting home would take almost an hour, with changes. He looked at his hands: fair-skinned, a little chapped, the edges of the nails trimmed. They were something material that wasn’t going to change. They weren’t his hands, either.

That night he’d looked for familiar moles and scars when he got changed. He hadn’t been able to find anything that didn’t fit with his memory, but could he trust the memory?

Every time he tried turning his focus inwards, he found shiny sections where his mind slipped. Not amnesia; he thought he had all his memories, all that mattered. (How could you be sure?) He didn’t have many motivations any more.

Get home, that’s what you need to do. Don’t think about why. Maybe it will get better there.

He’d left the box behind in Manchester. It was locked up, it was no danger for anyone, but his fingers squeezed the moquette of the seat as mile was added to mile. The box was the only thing in his mind that was fully real.

He found his way to his parents’ house through the suburb, rolling the suitcase behind him. Flat grey sky, empty drives, empty windows.

Mum and dad hugged him and he hugged back. He didn’t look at their faces, because as long as he didn’t, he could convince himself that he recognised them.

Joanna was home from uni. He’d been angry at her for something she’d done when they were kids, but there was nothing where the memory should have been. He looked at her dark curls and the thought came: if we’re siblings, shouldn’t my hair be darker? He pulled a strand in front of his eyes and could no longer tell whether the colour was right. But bodies changed all the time; it wasn’t the hair colour he’d been born with, either. The thought glinted and vanished.

He’d gone home thinking it might cure something.

He had supper with his family and went to bed while they still had the light and the TV on downstairs, and in the bedroom he wrapped the quilt around himself, as if it might stop more parts of him from slipping away.

For a few days he was able to pretend. He could talk to the parents and simulate goals he didn’t have. Once, maybe on Sunday, he went out and came to the wooded edge of a meadow. It stood deserted. He’d never been here before. It was uncharted territory.

A stream ran at the bottom of the ditch, almost hidden by leaves. He stopped there. It felt like the little tuneless sound of water healed something in him, as if everything would heal if he stood here long enough.

An old couple walking their dogs found him, his nose pink and fingers a bloodless white from the cold. When he said his address they drove him home. Dad questioned him, first angrily, then anxiously, then he got in the kitchen and made a call. Joanna went outside, without a word. Mum couldn’t hide that the whites of her eyes were an even pink as they walked to the car in the cold. It ought to have hurt him.

“You’ll see it’ll be all right, little fella,” she said, the way you speak to children who are too young to understand.

The click of car doors, the smell of fuzzy upholstery and wiper fluid. She walked around to open the door on the other side. If he was going to run he could have done it.

“You’re not the only one who’s had to go to a psychiatric clinic, Nicky honey, I had to, too, before I had you. A lot of people do. It’s going to pass. You know we’ll be there waiting for you.”

She buckled the seatbelt on his side. The darkening landscape started moving like a strip of film outside the windows. The box lay in the terraced flat, many miles away. It was the one thing he needed, and the one thing he couldn’t reach.

He wondered if everything he’d let go of still existed somewhere.

THE END

[duckie-comics]

I'm back with another #dtiys! I love desktop art and @cloudy.comics gave me the perfect excuse to make my own 😍 😍 😍 What's the cutest thing on your desktop?⁣⠀ ⁣⠀ Mine is an upcoming wallpaper *wink wink*⁣⠀

[heroesofcrash]

2/15/19 - Superhero Superlatives and Contest Announcement

http://TheHeroesOfCRASH.com

Now presenting MaroonDrops' wallpaper request from last year: A C.R.A.S.H. Yearbook Page! Once again, it's taken me months to get a desktop wallpaper prize done, but as always, I hope it was worth the wait! If you go to my Downloads page, there's two versions of this wallpaper: one with signatures and one without.

I wanted to make sure this yearbook page captured all my characters' personalities through their poses, their superlatives, and their signatures. If I ever get my comic published, I might reuse this image as a cast page at the front of the book.

Belt Boy, as usual, overdoes things, with his signature "using a fan to make his cape blow in the wind" pose and writing/drawing WAY too much around his photo. B.O.N.N.I.E. snuck her way into the photo, too, not that BB minds.

Cannon's using his classic finger guns, minus the wink. This pose shows off his bravado and womanizing, while subtly hinting at his "power" (or more accurately, his namesake weapon). Whoever owns this yearbook seems to have scribbled Cannon's phone number out.

Dino-Mo's next, rather than Titanium Maiden; this IS a yearbook, after all, so it's alphabetical order. Dino-Mo's showing off her power (and how she got the second of her two superlatives), but she plays it cool better than Belt Boy or Cannon.

Dodge tends to be outgoing without being aggressive (whenever he's not playing dodgeball, at least), so I gave him a simple pose where he's subtly showing off his biceps, but not being a stereotypical, showboating jock.

Enticia's a major flirt, so rather than use a pen, I figure she'd sign her yearbooks with a kiss. Even her lips in the picture are pouting just a little bit - usually, I draw my characters' mouths off to the side a bit (a la 1990's Sonic the Hedgehog), rather than centered.

Gelatin Boy embarrasses himself a lot, so I decided to draw him mid-sneeze - at the "ah-" before the "-choo!" His shadow has a slight orange tinge, since he's translucent gelatin. His larger shadow shows he's a bit closer to the camera than everyone else (Making up for the fact that I drew him bigger than everyone by mistake).

Jackknife, of course, is holding the sneeze powder he used on Gelatin Boy, and also flexing to show his muscles and his arm blade. Of course, seeing as several other heroes drew on his face, and the yearbook's owner didn't ask for his signature, no one's impressed. Also, I drew him smaller so I had room for his arm, and moved his shadow to show that he's close to the wall behind him.

If I knew how to use a blur tool more effectively, I'd have used it for Sugar Rush's photo, so I'll chalk it up to superheroes having invented cameras built to photograph speedsters. The heart for her and Dodge seems appropriate for Valentine's weekend (a happy coincidence).

I love when Titanium Maiden pulls off that heart pose (Based on Spanish Olympic weightlifter Valentin), so I just had to put that in here. The adorable amazon signed her name and colored her heart with a pink pen - in hindsight, I regret not making it a glitter pen.

Finally, Unk, as the most chill person in the comic, has the most "normal" pose out of everyone. If it weren't for his ripped shirt, you'd think it was just a normal school photo.

I'm particularly proud of the backgrounds in this photo; I wanted everyone to have their picture in front of one of those traditional blue-gray, slate-looking backgrounds that EVERYONE uses for school pictures.

Of course, since it's almost 3 months until my birthday, I'm holding my annual birthday contest! ALL valid entries get some art from me, and you might even get to decide what my next desktop wallpaper would be! I've attached a quick rundown picture to this post; full rules are on my site!

[rgbcn]

Rewards are out! And here are March stickers!!! 🌟 Get them on patreon.com/rgbcn You can join until last day of MARCH to get these! This pack is only available during this month! 2022 MARCH pack includes all my works from February 2022. Includes 71 files and 6 videos + physical sendings, depending on the tier you choose to be. Final JPG, HQ versions, desktop and phone wallpapers, linearts to color, sketches and video timelapses. Spicy drawings I don’t post anywhere else are also included! *wink wink* Feel free to ask me about Patreon, my DM is open 😘 If you like my work, consider joining me on Patreon so I can dedicate all my time to create what I love! It's just 1$/month!!! Every little help counts! Thanks for your support and love! My patrons are the best. THANKS! #rgbcn #rewards #patreon #bigbangtheory #characterdesign #sketch #art #mayimbialik #jimparsons #sheldoncooper #amyfarrahfowler #shamy #manga #anime #fanart #digitalart #kiss #smallcreator #smallartist #oc #comic #illustration #stickers #prints #sketcheveryday #sketchbook #timelapse #illustrator #patreoncreator #comic https://www.instagram.com/p/Cap0y4LMIqi/?utm_medium=tumblr

[scavengerridley]

Les nombres impairs du Get to know me et les multiples de 5 du distract me Merci bisous :)))))

1) What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers? My desktop wallpaper is an edit of FitzSimmons a friend made me years ago and i never changed it i can’t find it but it’s a great one

3) What was your last text message? My mom telling me she just got to the repair shop5) If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be? Nowhere i’m good here for now7) What was your favorite 90s show? Malcolm in the middle, does that count?9) Have you ever been stood up? Nah11) Have you been to Las Vegas? Nope13) Honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other? I’d need a significant other for that, but not, i won’t cheat15) Have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? If possible? huuuum no i don’t think so?17) Do you smoke? If so, what? ...............nooooo. Haven’t smoked in like, 2 months? 3 maybe19) Do you believe in God? nah21) Favorite position? Lying down in a pool of my own tears23) Your fears? I have some, like, ending up with no friends and shit, sometimes heights, sometimes butterflies cause they’re freaking weird25) What never fails to turn you on? politeness, humor27) What is something most people don't know about you? The color of my underwear29) What store do you shop at most often? Leclerc rpz31) Do you believe in karma? yeh kinda33) Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize? I’s a good start35) Coffee or Tea? Neither

37) Would you rather be older or younger than your current age? idk older i guess? but like, not much, like maybe one or two years idk39) Are you a competitive person? not at first but once you get me started yeh maybe41) Do you like dancing? alone, yes

43) What is your favorite cartoon character? Wendy Corduroy45) Eat at home or eat out? at home, but take out.47) What was the last thing you bought for yourself? clothes probably49) How many hours do you sleep at night? 7ish, maybe 8 on a school night51) If you had a friend that spoke to you the same way you speak to yourself, how long would you be friends? Forever i’m fucking amazing53) What do you wish you didn't know? idk55) If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be? The Cullens’ house cause it’s big and lost in the woods and great57) What's the habit you're proudest of breaking? i don’t know??59) What's the best bargain you've ever found at a garage sale or thrift store? I don’t go to any of those :///61) If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be? WYOMING WINK WINK63) Favorite kind of chips? paprika, or the normal salted ones65) Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus? The thesaurus 67) What's your favorite form of exercise? sleeping

69) What's the most memorable class you've ever taken? On of my civilisation class where the teacher is so lame i don’t even go to his class anymoreBut like, english in high school was the shit, the teacher was amazing and super funny and shit71) Do you like guacamole?never tasted it i think  

73) What/who are you thinking about right now? the episode of twd i just watched

75) Are you holding onto something you need to let go of? Probably lmao77) Favorite city you've been to? In France, Rennes is probably on top79) Talk about an embarrassing moment? ahahahahah no.81) What's the worst injury you've ever had? I fell of my bike literally right in front of my house, hurt half of my face and other parts of my body like wrist, shoulder, hip and shit. Also once i fell of my bike (again) (not in front of my house this time) and fell in pebbles and one of them stayed in my elbow for like a week, fun times.

83) Do you consider yourself sexually open minded? yeh i guess

85) Which living celebrity would you like to know? Any french basketball player like, i’m not picky. OH OR LIKE CHYLER LEIGH I MEAN come on87) Do you want/have kids? yeh why not89) Do you get easily distracted? Absolutely, i’m the worst91) What is your favorite word? ÉPITAPHE93) Do you have any pets? yeh 3 cats95) How old are you? 19 on the outside, 12 on the inside97) Is there anything you're really passionate about? Women’s Basketball i guess lately 99) Do you believe in love at first sight? Yeh why not

5: Are you afraid of falling in love?Nah?10: Do you like your phone?I love it15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?Art museum, i hate the zoo20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?idk good couple of months i’d say?25: What’s on your mind?food30: Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?nah35: Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?good for them40: Have you ever cried over a text?proooooobably yeh45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes?yes 50: Top 3 web-pages?betaseries, netflix, and like, ao355: How is your hair?Fine i just washed them today, they were super happy60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug?idk probably next week when i go back to uni65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked?I don’t think i liked anyone?? OH no yes, i do.70: How many windows are open on your computer?475: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?Cause they were dating someone else i guess? I mean it wasn’t love but i liked them so :///80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?nah, but, story time, in 3rd grade, we were on a big school trip and we went to this “amusement park” in France and there was a night show so we went there and i was so tired i put my head on my teacher’s shoulder and fell asleep.85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care?Depends what kind of drugs i guess?90: Have you ever trusted someone too much?idk, i don’t think so?95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?nah it’ll be fun100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise?

myself

i hate you