#put it in the caption or on screen or on a blog I don’t care just fucking write it down!!!!

[eggs-love-loki]

Me after spending two days transcribing 20 pages worth of recipes off of TikTok videos so that I’ll have an easy to read list of recipes I want to try in one place: Ugh I have nothing I want to cook damn

[classifiedinterests]

making the supernatural fandom more accessible

hey fellow spn fans!! what if we all teamed up to make the spn tumblr experience more accessible?

it sucks that some of the best posts this fandom churns out are completely unreadable to bloggers who use screen readers (or heck, even to people whose wifi sucks so that images never load).

take the amazing scripts that we’re currently so pumped about -- imagine you use a screen reader (if you don’t), and you hear fellow fans going completely feral over content you can’t access. you want to be in on the hype! but you have zero clue why everyone’s screaming about windmills or whatever, because the scripts getting shared are un-captioned screenshots.

...and then there are posts that are just. walls of text! which is really difficult for certain neurodivergent folks to read, such as those with adhd. being aware of that when making original posts (or comments) and adding more paragraph breaks -- and possibly even spicing up the text by bolding important parts, etc. -- is an easy fix for that!

so. here’s my proposal: each one of us commits to whatever level of effort is possible for us (given each person’s unique time, energy, abilities, etc.) in the joint effort to improve accessibility.

Level 1: the ID hunter.

when you go to reblog any spn post that includes images (whether that’s gifs, screenshots, fanart, etc.), check in the notes to see if someone else has added an image description already!

if they have, reblog from them so that the image description spreads further.

"BUT what if someone added the image description before certain commentary was added to the post, and i wanna reblog the post with those extra comments?”

Well, i can’t speak for everyone who creates image descriptions, but i for one don’t care if someone copies & pastes my ID so that they can add it to their own reblog. i don’t care that my blog’s no longer connected to the image description i wrote -- so long as the ID is spread, i’m happy!

Level 2: the copy-paste monster.

when you love another fan’s tags enough to add them to the post -- do so by copy & pasting them, not by screenshotting them!

for your own posts or comments: if you’re sharing, say, a quote from an article or a fanfic or a tweet, do so by copy & pasting the quote instead of taking a screenshot.

if someone else has already shared a screenshot from an article, fanfic, or tweet, and you have a link to the original, do the extra legwork to go to the source, copy and paste, and make an ID.

Level 3: the fandom angel.

If you have the ability, time, and energy to type out image descriptions for spn posts that don’t yet have one, please do it!

If even just a few of us commit to creating even just one ID per day each, that will add up!

And, of course, if you’re making your own post, give it an ID right there in the original posting, if you’re able! I understand that not everyone has the spoons (/time/energy/ability) to do this, and that’s okay. But those who can, please do!

Tumblr now allows you to put alt text on images, so you can do it that way or the old-fashioned way of just including your image description in the text of the post.

Not sure how to write an image description? This post offers some truly comprehensive advice on how to write IDs for various types of content, from photos to fanart to charts to screenshots of text.

By the way, I’ve seen folks ask that you don’t put the ID under a readmore. Keep it easy to access!

Nervous that you’re not gonna write an ID right? First off, practice makes perfect -- you’ll improve with time. I’m pretty sure that an imperfect or incomplete ID is better than no ID at all -- hopefully someone else will come along to reblog with any necessary corrections to whatever ID you write!

Level 4: the man of letters (gn).

You’re going above and beyond what this post advises -- you’re also out there coming up with and implementing other ways to improve accessibility!

Maybe you’re a blogger who uses a screen reader yourself, with more you want to add to this post from your own experience.

Maybe you’ll choose to seek out bloggers who use screen readers themselves -- or who have other accessibility needs -- so you can learn straight from them what their needs are.

Maybe it’s something else! I don’t know, but I do know this post is incomplete -- so please, share your ideas for other ways we can all work together to improve our fandom.

None of us has to do everything, but most of us can do something. If enough of us take even just small steps, we can create a more accessible fandom. Who’s with me?

If you’re in, please reblog this post so word can spread!

(I’m closing this by tagging some bloggers whom i’m hoping might be interested in helping me spread this around, because i am Not A Big Name in this fandom and can’t do it by myself! Let me know if you want me to un-tag you.)

@sunforgrace​ @castiellesbian​ @plantdadcas​ @jenderstudies​ @youchangedmedean​ @meadowdean​ @winchestersingerautorepair​ @phoebenatural​ @steveyockey​ @bedlund @seraphcastiel​ @marcusantonius @marynatural​ @redwing​ @t4tdeanwinchester​ @spn-brainrot​ @lobotomycas​ @samdyke​ @deanwinchesterforbatman2k21 @themanwhowouldbefruit @4x01​ @thatisahotsoup

[imagesbyele]

Ele #theme01 or ‘Jemma loves the stars’ - super customizable theme

preview - pastebin

a remastered version here + optimized (as this was my first theme and I learned a lot more, and with plenty extras added, including script fixes for tumblr-originated problems and optional unnested captions)

This is my very first theme from scratch (or second if we count a way more basic container blog) and it took me one entire week to do it, because I decided to learn how to make/use the if-switches, the calc function, the linear gradients, and the container themes with sidebar in it all of the same time (which was slightly stressful).

I also wanted to be part of the New Year, New Theme color challenge so the colors I decided to use (which were picked not only because I liked them but because I associate most of them and/or the words with Jemma Simmons) are dabbed, #b055ed/bossed, #7007ed/tooted, #1c1e57/iciest, #def1e5/defied, #dec1de/decide, #b0bca7/bobcat, 0b0157/oboist, #ceA5e5/ceases, #5C0075/scoots, #bab1e5/babies. 

I couldn’t have done it without the tutorials/coding posts of @octomoosey​, @agirlingrey​ and @evansyhelp​ (plus, of course, w3schools, dash and codepen). Icons from linearicons, fonts from googlefonts. *as of feb 14 I added the video fix by @shythemes​ and styled the audio posts again. See my credit page in my pinned post for more!

so, you get:

a theme that is always centered no matter how big your screen is 

the ability to pick nearly every possible color, including the background of a customized pop-up askbox, and even the type of blockquotes (and of course font-size) right in your theme options. If you remove the container’s background image you get to pick a gradient to fill it (or make it one color by putting the same one in both)

the options that will give your container and your description a glow or not, colors or colors only if you hover, and the option whether to have a subtitle and the updates tab (a dropdown menu) visible on the sidebar 

post sizes: 400px, 500px, 540px, and you can easily get into the editor and add your own preferred size, the rest of blog will adapt to it. There are instructions on how to do it in the editor itself, after the metanames area

speaking of which, you also get all my notes in the editor page, which may be needed if you are new to html but want to customize the blog even more  

several (animated) popup links - there are already templates for the navi page, the verses page with tabs, the popup customized askbox I mentioned earlier, etc. But also sidebar’s tiny links. 

at the beginning of the html editor you’ll find how to add a message on top of your ‘regular’ askbox, which people will see when they send you a message from the dash and are redirected to the default one and which doesn’t shrink.

update of 24/02 - added npf posts fix by glenthemes and video fix by shythemes + optimized posts size (no more images 10px on the left to be aligned with the text, I added a padding and changed the container size to make it fit.)

please, like or reblog if you take (or even just if you like). Edit as much as you want but don’t erase the credit nor claim as yours (I’d recommend being careful if you edit anything that has to do with the calc function, I probably can’t help you if you mess it up. For everything else you got my notes too).

obligatory reminder I have a ko-fi if anyone feels like donating. ♡

[demivampirew]

Kalentine’s Day

Henry x Plus-Size Reader

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

This was a request from @born2stronger : “what about if Henry meets reader through Instagram (we all know sometimes he checks on the comments) so reader gets his attention and he messages her.”   I hope you like it. 😊

Triggers: Fat- shaming; talking about the lost of a pet; feeling of nostalgia.

Tag list: @lunedelorient​​ @henrythickcavill​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @mary-ann84​ @desperate-and-broken​ @peakygroupie​ @summersong69​ @ivvitm1109​ @madbaddic7ed​ @iloveyouyen​ @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog​

"Happy Valentine's day everyone! For all of my fellow single pringles out there, you don't have to be in a relationship to enjoy today, it's about Love. Enjoy seeing others in Love, love your friends, your family, and especially yourself. #Kal #ValentinesDay #BestDogEver #KalentinesDay"

Henry wrote and posted the picture of Kal laying on the bed with a rose on his Instagram account.

Nostalgia hit him hard later that day. He wasn't in a rush to get back on the dating game, especially not after a recent disappointment with a lady, but he missed celebrating that day with a woman he would care about. He starting to imaging how that day would've been if there was someone special in his life: he'd had made breakfast for her to eat on the bed; he'd taken a stroll down the park after that, to enjoy the beautiful morning. They'd have had lunch in someplace fancy, then watch a movie and he'd prepare her favourite dish for dinner and he'd finish the day by making her feel unique. Every woman in his life was unique on his eyes, for best or for worst. That thought made him sigh deeply for what he decided to check some comments on his post. Cheeking comments on his photos was his guilty pleasure. He loved the nice comments and would laugh out loud whenever there were thirsty comments; some were a bit distasteful, others were cute and there were others that were so odd that made him chuckled.

As he was scrolling through comments, one caught up his attention. "@(your username) "KalentinesDay" you cracked me up, Mr Cavill! But I'd like to differ with the BestDogEver one; I love Kal, he's awesome, but my dog is...was the best. I lost him two days ago and I felt like my world crushed for I've had him since I was a kid. Being there holding his paw as the doctor put him down due to disease was the worst thing I've ever experienced. Sorry for ruining the mood, but thank you for the post, it lighted up my day! Have a nice KalentinesDay, Sir." He felt so bad for that person, so he entered her profile and hit the message option. "Hi Y/N. I saw your comment and I just wanted to say how sorry I'm that you lost your beloved companion. I've had Kal for a few years and I cannot even bear the thought of losing him, so I cannot imagine how must feel to lose your pal who's been there most of your life. Be strong. I'm sending you virtual hugs and lots of love. I hope you get better soon." After sending her the message, he checked her account for he saw a recent post with a picture of a lovely dog. It wasn't a mixed breed. It was a rescued dog. She talked so fondly of him, remembering the first day she met him and a few adventures they lived together. The stories warmed Henry's heart yet saddened him, knowing that his light had extinguished. There were a lot of pictures of her dog on her account and pictures of books and movies. Funny enough, most of the books she talked about were some of his favourites and the ones that he hadn't read, he took screen captures so he wouldn't forget to check them out. One of the movies she posted about was Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and he had to see her thoughts on it. She agreed that the whole Martha plot was absurd, but the thing that bothered her the most, and in her opinion ruined the movie a little bit, was the fact that Doomsday was on the final trailer, for the movie would have been higher rated from her if she'd already known that he was going to show up. Yet, she disagreed with all the hate and the thought that the movie was bad: "It could've been better? Sure, Was it horrible? Absolutely not," "If it is too dark for you, don't watch it, period. Mr Snyder understands the soul of DC Comics. Dc is not lighthearted, accept that and move on" she wrote. Henry was too tempted to like the post and reply, but he decided that it was best not to do it. She didn't have many pictures of her, but he found one from two years ago. In the picture, she was standing to a bride and she hugging her. She had a pink dress on. Henry looked at her cute smile and was stunned by her beauty. In the caption of the photo, she wrote " Ignore my ugly fat ass... focus on my beautiful sister who just got married to her Charming Prince! Congrats, babe! Love you a lot and wish you a lifetime of nothing but happiness! ♥" Henry liked the picture and went straight to the comment section and wrote "You look gorgeous. I hope their love story is a good one and lives on." and press send. He was so caught by her, that without even noticing it, he went through every single post on her account, like all the photos she was in and same with pictures of books, movies and albums he liked.

He was having dinner with Kal when he noticed that he had a reply on IG. When he opened, he saw it was from the girl with the mesmerizing smile. "I think I should call the police, I have a stalker, 👀 😂" she wrote. "Thank you so much for the mood busting. It means a lot. He brought a lot of light to my life and it's hard to have to say goodbye." she confessed, "but instead of lying in bed crying, I'm going to use that energy to give love to another animal in need, that's what my baby would have wanted, I know it in my heart." she finished. Henry didn't wait for a second to answer her, even if that meant that his food would get cold. "Absolutely! Any animal would be lucky to have you as their momma." he assured, "Sorry for that, I didn't mean to be a creep. I swear I'm nice. I'm Superman" he joked. After a few moments, the girl messaged him again "Superman killed Zod, so...👀😜 ". "Low shot. Also, Zod was a villain" he went on with the conversation. " How do you know that I'm not a villain?" she joked, "Because villains don't love puppies" he grinned like an idiot in love as he pressed send. "Cruella did, though, 👀 😂" she said; "Touché. But I'm sure you're not a villain, you are too cute for that" he explained. "That'd be the perfect cover for a conquer the world masterplan, don't you think? To have everyone trust me and love me for me to be easier to control them?🤔" "Alright, you convinced me. You're the evilest villain in history. So, I should fly to wherever you are and get you." he playfully told her. "And I didn't want to sound creepy 😂. My apologies if my humour seems creepy," he apologized. "I think your humour is genius and I find it cute, no creepy," she pointed out. "Cute enough to meet me in person? 👀" he asked. "Absolutely," she accepted his invitation. "When are you free?" she questioned. Henry looked at the clock, it was 7:30 pm. "I'm free right now if you can." Henry offered, "Do you live in London?". "From the last couple of years, yes. I moved with my mom after my parents got divorced. She's was born here... I mean, yes, I live in London, sorry for the unnecessary information," she requested his forgiveness. "There's no need to apologize. I like getting to know more about you." he explained " Do you want to go to Mark's Club restaurant? It's a nice and quiet place where we can have a nice conversation" he proposed "I think I can get a last-minute reservation since I'm a member of the club." he informed her.  "Sure, I'm going to get ready. Tell me if you get the reservations or we can go anywhere else, I'm sure there are plenty of nice places to eat where there are tables available 😊" she said. "Great, I'm calling them right now!" Henry exclaimed excitedly and went into his phone contact list and press the dial button. He was lucky enough that the manager was a Superman fan and was quite fond of him, so he agreed to reserve a table for him in the busiest night of the year for restaurants. He shared the information to her and went to change as well. He put a white sweater and a nice pair of black pants on and black shoes. A grey blazer was his coat of choice.

He asked for her address to pick her up, but she opted for meeting at the club and he accepted because he understood that maybe she felt unsafe by giving her living information to a stranger. He couldn't lie that this gave him enough time to leave Kal with his friend Ben.

He waited for her inside the restaurant for there were paparazzi outside the place. Mark's Club was an exclusive place where many celebrities choose to eat in, especially in such occasions like Valentine's day - Guy Ritchie and his wife choose that place to spend the night and so did David and Victoria Beckham. Both couples came to greet him as soon as they saw him. His table was about to be ready and she wasn't there yet. He checked for messages on his IG but there were none. Has she stood him up? That'd have broken his heart; no because someone rejected him, but because she did it. He thought that he was losing his mind: being afraid that a girl he met that day on the internet might have played a prank on him and make him believe that she was interested in him.

When he saw that it was 10 pm, he decided that it was better to inform the host of the club that he wouldn't need a table after all. He was about to get up when behind him a female voice called his name. He turned around and stood, speechless. A beautiful woman on a red dress was standing in front of him, showing that glorious smile that captivated him ours ago on his phone.

- I'm so sorry I'm so late.- you apologized profusely - It took me ages to find a cab and then I've spent literally thirty minutes outside trying to get in because paparazzi were being annoying and would get in the way for me to get in.-she explained. - No worries!- he assured her- Honestly, I was a bit afraid that I've had been stood up.-he confessed, styling his hair backwards with his hand. - Absolutely not! I don't particularly enjoy pranks. Especially not in niece people like you.- she smiled and his legs were shaking.

At that moment the waiter approached you to let you know your table was ready. Henry said "Ladies first" indicating you to go first into the table area. The place was elegant. Henry waited behind your chair and as you sat in, he pulled it close to the table. He sat in front of you, grinning like the devil. That charming smile took your breath away.

Every word that came out of your mouth amazed him for your charisma and intelligence. You were not only funny, smart, confident but also beyond beautiful. He knew that wasn't love at first sight, but he could see himself falling deeply in love with you.

Halfway through the dinner, Henry finally noticed that lots of costumers were watching them. He found that odd since he was a regular there and there were plenty of celebrities on that place that night -some way more famous than him.

- I apologized if you feel uncomfortable with people watching us. Usually, they barely look at me. They know I'm an actor, but these fancy folks don't care much for Superheroes.- he explained. You looked at him with a smirk. - They're not looking at you, they are looking at me.- you pointed out. - Are you famous?- he asked confused and you chuckled because he meant it and it wasn't sarcasm. - Yes, I'm Ashley Graham.- you joked and his expression showed ignorance; he didn't know who she was.- She's a model.- you explained and he laughed apologizing for his lack of knowledge on current pop culture. He was beyond cute.- No, I'm not famous. They're looking at me because I'm "fat"; I'm a plus-size woman and they probably can't understand why are you having dinner with me.- you said and smiled- In another point of my life this would have hurt. It did for a long time. Whenever I'd be in a date with a thin man, people would look at us as if they were thinking out loud that he was too good for me, that he could do so much better than a fat girl. Thankfully I'm no longer in a place in which I'd blame myself for their judgement. I'm who I am and I'm ok with that. They can look all they want, they don't mean anything to me.-you shrugged- But, I need to know if that bothers you. I won't judge you if you are not into me. Maybe I'm confusing things, but the fact that you made a last-minute appointment for dinner on this day is because you have some kind of interest on me and I do for you too. I'm in for getting to know each other and maybe be something if we feel it later on. But if that's the case, if I got things wrong and you are not interested in my, just tell me. It's ok and we can be just friends if you want. All I ask from you is not to waste my time. Don't get me to grow feelings for you if you have no intention in returned them.- you requested. Henry went silent for a moment. Then he put his hand on top of yours, grabbed it and kissed it. He grinned and replied, "You got it right, gorgeous."

The dinner continued with you two laughing, drinking fine wine and having delicious desserts. You tried to grab the check but he took it so fast that you barely saw it. "I'll pay next time. That's the condition for me going out again with you" you indicated firmly and he agreed.

As you were about to leave, he noticed you didn't have a coat. "I was so hurried that I forgot to grab one" you explained and he immediately took off his and gave it to you, despite you telling him that you were ok, and helped you to put it on. He held your hand to walk outside, not caring if paparazzi took photos of you and he called a cab for you. It was easier for famous people to get a ride, you noticed. He drove you to your place and walk you to the door. He was much taller than you, so he leaned in to kiss your cheek and kissed your hand as well. Henry promised to call you the next day and walked towards the car. You reminded him of his coat and he asked you to keep it safe for him until next time you saw him. With a big smile, he got in the car and after you entered your place, you heard the cab left.

[stefciastark]

Identity Reveal ~ Webpril Day 12

A/N: Peter accidentally posts a Spiderman photo to his personal account, and a personal photo to his Spiderman account. Panic and Irondad ensues. This is a bit of a shorter one, but this fill was inspired by an anonymous prompt submission to IronDadPrompts' blog, and I just had to roll with it!

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

Seeing the multicoloured bar reach its final destination on the top right of his screen, Peter admired his handiwork for a moment before switching his phone off and putting it back in his back pocket.

The golden hour lighting gave his most recent selfie an ethereal look, and he proudly captioned the photo “Sunsets are my sol-mates” followed by an emoji wearing black sunglasses and a smiling sun.

The selfie was in stark contrast to the picture he posted moments before to his ‘friendlyneighborhoodspider’ account. The chaos in that image was palpable, a frenzied and partially blurry photo taken while Peter was swinging, bright pink handbag in hand taken from a local thief. He had captioned it: “Has anyone lost this?” He never did find who it belonged to.

He finally rounded the last corner to his apartment building, the sun now completely set, bathing New York in a blanket of darkness. He oddly felt more at ease in the night than he did when the sun was at its peak. He supposed that went with the territory of being an undercover hero.

Leaping up the last two steps to the seventh floor, he closed the apartment door behind him.

“May? You home?”

Hearing no response, he made his way through the kitchen and stopped when he saw a note written on the countertop.

There’s some leftover lasagna in the fridge for dinner. I’ll be late tonight, so I’ll see you in the morning.

Aunt May xx

Right...May had her F.E.A.S.T function tonight.

As much as he loved coming home to his caring aunt, he rarely got time to himself as just Peter Parker.

He smiled to himself, taking his phone out and leaving it face down on the kitchen table. Tossing his backpack haphazardly into his bedroom, he returned to the kitchen and began reheating the lasagna, the smell of warm pasta, beef and love flooding the apartment.

As soon as the beep of the microwave faded into silence, his phone began to buzz, an obnoxiously loud rendition of the Imperial March blasting through his phone speakers. Flipping the device over, he almost fumbled and dropped it - not like another crack on his screen would matter - as the name ‘Tony Stark’ filled his Lock Screen.

“H-hey Mr Stark, how’s it going?”

“Hey kid. Look, I just wanted to say I’m real proud of you for finally coming out with it. Not how I would have done it, but maybe that’s for the best. What’s th-”

Peter furrowed his brows, trying to remember if he’d done anything recently to warrant a call from Tony, much less a congratulatory call from Tony. “Uh, Mr Stark,” he laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“Your big Spiderman reveal on, the hell do you guys call it… the ‘Gram’,” Peter could practically hear the air quotations. “What do you think I’m talking about?”

Peter didn’t immediately respond, but Tony could hear the intensity of Peter’s taps on his phone screen. Tony suddenly felt a lot more ill at ease.

“Oh shit,” Peter breathed. He saved that kind of language for special occasions, and this fit the bill. What he saw made his blood run cold. Thousands upon thousands of comments and likes flooded both his personal and Spiderman Instagram page. Ranging from “HA! Knew it” to “Spiderman’s a kid? I suddenly feel a lot less safe now…”, Peter suddenly felt very under the spotlight, and not in the cool way he’d always dreamt of. But it wasn’t the influx of comments or the sheer magnitude of likes and notifications sending his phone into a frenzy. It was the image of himself, backed by the afternoon sun that was his “sol-mate”, the username ‘friendlyneighborhoodspider’ sitting like a cherry atop his Panic Cake. Just below it, p.parker8101 had posted a photo of Spiderman, the strap of a bubblegum pink handbag grasped between his fingers.

“Peter, listen to me, just breathe.” Tony knew a panic attack when he heard one. Peter complied, a deep inhale that made Peter’s whole frame shake more than the earthquake that had rocked Sterling Hill. Tony knit his brow, suddenly and overwhelmingly very concerned for his kid. The cause of Peter’s panic dawned on him quickly. “You didn’t mean to post it, did you…” Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose from the other side of the call. “Oh, Pete.”

Peter couldn’t think through the sheer panic. Whenever he’d been confronted with a threat or dangerous situation - which was just an occupational hazard he’d experienced with alarming frequency - his go-to strategy was just to outmanoeuvre the bad guys, send a good punch flying, and get the innocent bystanders out of harm's way. This had now become so far out of his control that he didn’t have a clue where to start, and he was beginning to think that it might not be something he could come back from.

He felt more than heard himself say the words, chest heaving with sporadic breaths in his futile attempt to calm down. “W-what do I do, what d-did you do?”

Tony grimaced, knowing he had to tread lightly. It had been different for Tony, coming out as Ironman. It had been almost instantaneous, in the grand scheme of his hero career. It had been on his terms, and he had been ready. Peter, well...Peter was facing something that could either make or break Spiderman. It could make or break Peter.

“Things were a bit different for me, kiddo. The best advice I can give you is this: own it. Don’t let any of the hate get to you. It’s hard, I know, but what’s done is done and as of right now you don’t have two separate lives anymore, and you’re going to have to learn to live with that. If you can’t, are you prepared to let Spiderman go?”

“No,” Peter sniffed, wiping his sleeve across the frustrated tears that spilled down his cheeks. But Tony was right. There was no use in crying over spilt milk. Maybe there’d even be a silver lining, although Peter was having a hard time thinking what that could possibly be in that moment.

“That’s what I thought.” Tony opened his contacts, already composing a text message. “Tell you what, I’ll get Happy to come get you, and we can talk this through. I’ve got you, we’ll figure this out.”

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Chapter Summary: Nathalie and co. crash the party. This time, Alya is the one with the backup plan. Meanwhile, Ladybug and Adrien are both stupidly in love.

Word Count:  4294 | Chapter 4/4

Notes: Last chapter of the fic for @marinetteplztakeabreak commissioned through @mlbforblm!  The drive is over, but please check out the blog to see what everyone else has created and how to stay involved!

XXX

“I am telling you!  If you did not RSVP, you do not come in!  That is the rules!”  Philippe spread his arms wide, blocking the entrance to the rink.  Nino could barely see him through the crack in the double doors.  Philippe was a cool dude, but he wouldn’t last long against Nathalie, Adrien’s bodyguard, and tablet-Gabe himself.

Nino was tempted to go out there and turn the tablet’s power off, just to see what Nathalie would do.  But he didn’t want to get Adrien grounded for the next millennium.

Plus, he wasn’t supposed to be seen at all.  Kagami and Wayhem were on stalling duty with Philippe.  Nino just had to make sure that Nathalie wouldn’t find any trace of Adrien when she eventually forced her way in.

“They’re gone.  Finally.”  Chloé reported.

Nino nodded.  He’d seen a red blur leave through the window.

“Rose, Juleka, and I hid the presents behind the skate rental booth,” Alya said.  “Kim ate the rest of the cake, and Luka took XY to make out in the bathroom.  That should cover all the loose ends.”

“Why are you telling us that?”  Chloé gagged, and Alya rolled her eyes.

“Because XY’s obviously the weakest link here.  You said you caught him posting photos on Insta, right?”

“I did.  It’s a good thing you put me on the job.”  She flipped her hair.

Not that it mattered in the end, because Nathalie had found them anyway.  But the rink looked about as innocent as it could get.  With the presents hidden, the laser lights turned off, and generic pop music playing, they could’ve been a bunch of dudes on a regular Friday evening.

“Anyway, we’ll all be safer if XY isn’t here to spill our secrets for a little while.  You better go too, babe,” Alya said, squeezing Nino’s hand.  

“Go where?  Apparently Luka and XY called dibs on the bathroom.”  Besides, he’d planned this party, and he was going to see it through.  It was time to break his three-year-long failure streak.

Alya sighed.  “I’ll be ready to pay your bail, then.”

He gave a weak grin.  Like Adrien, he was still seventeen.  They couldn’t actually arrest him, right?

Considering the Agrestes were loaded, he wouldn’t take his chances.

The doors opened.  Nino did his best not to scowl at Gabriel’s face on the tablet.

“What gives?”  He asked, pretending like he hadn’t put weeks of planning into this moment.  “Did you get mad we didn’t invite you to our sweet party?”

“So you admit it,” Gabe said coldly from the screen.  Nathalie remained as still as a statue, like she was only there to display her boss’ face.  It was pretty creepy, honestly.  Adrien’s bodyguard was normally silent anyway, so that wasn’t as unnerving.

“Admit what?  That we know how to have a rad time, and you don’t?”  Nino put his hands on his hips.  His tone might be pushing it, but if he acted too nice, Gabe would never buy it.

“That you threw a birthday party for dsfkslksdkfklfdfk when I have repeatedly sdlfdsfsllkdf express disapproval.”  Gabriel’s face glitched out a few times, his voice blurring to something like a keysmash.  

Nino bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.  Man, he owed Max big time for this.

“Birthday party?”  Wayhem frowned.  He was a better actor than most of them.  “I didn’t hear anything about a birthday.”

“Today is my son’s sdsaskdlfirthday.”

Wayhem’s head tilted.  “You have a son?”

Nino choked.  Okay, maybe Wayhem was trying too hard, but the look on tablet-Gabe’s face was priceless.  If only he could convince Nathalie to take a screenshot.

“It’s Adrien’s birthday, dude.”  Nino punched Wayhem’s arm.  “We just couldn’t invite him, remember?  ‘Cause his dad’s a buzzkill.”

“I took him out for birthday orange juice to cheer him up,” Kagami told Wayhem, but her words were really directed towards Gabriel.  “A poor substitute for a party, but it was the best I could do.”

Gabriel’s eyes flickered, as if scanning as much of the rink as his screen would allow.

“Search the area.”

Adrien’s bodyguard nodded once, not that Gabe could see him from his angle.  Then he went off to inspect the rows of chairs.  At least he wasn’t starting with the skate rental booth.

“Be careful with my rink!  Don’t step on the ice without proper skating equipment!”  Philippe shouted.  

“Weren’t you listening?  He’s not here, dude—sir,” Nino corrected.  Not that it mattered much.  He’d already been as disrespectful as he dared. 

Gabe’s face glitched again.  “Where is my son now, then?”

Alya shrugged.  “Probably on his way home, right?”

“Alone?”  He practically snarled.  The tablet froze for a moment, catching his mouth open in an unflattering frame.  Maybe Nino could sneak his phone out and take a picture if he couldn’t get a real screenshot.  “Why wouldn’t he call his bodyguard?  Have you all dslkfddfsjljfdls irresponsible—”

“He’s with Ladybug, dude,” Nino interrupted.  Adrien’s bodyguard was getting close to the skates; he couldn’t afford to stall too long.  “He can’t get safer than that.”

For some reason, that only seemed to make Gabe seethe more.  But a neutral expression quickly replaced it, so maybe Nino was just imagining things.

“If sdlfkdfs your idea of a trick, you’ll have to—”

Kagami’s phone dinged.  Silently, she held up her screen to the tablet.  Nino couldn’t see what it showed, but Gabe’s mouth finally shut.

“Nathalie.  Return home at once and sdlfjkdssdls Ladybug has delivered my son safely.”

Nathalie’s expression changed for the first time, her eyes widening.  “But, sir, aren’t you already at—”

“Kskdlfskfl at once.”  The screen went dark.

Nathalie sighed, like Gabriel had taken the last bit of her composure with him. 

“Enjoy your not-birthday party,” she said in monotone before exiting the rink, her heels clicking against the concrete floor with each step.

Adrien’s bodyguard jogged after her.  His face was bright pink—he’d just come out from investigating the boy’s bathroom.  XY must have been useful after all.

Nino whistled once the adults were gone.  “What did you show her?”

Kagami held up her phone for him.  Adrien’s face was squished next to Ladybug’s in a selfie he’d posted to Instagram.  Her smile looked a little more hysteric than Alya’s Ladyblog photos could capture.  Actually, it looked kind of familiar.

But Nino didn’t think too hard about that, considering the caption Adrien had typed.

Escorted home by my favorite superhero!  I couldn’t ask for a more miraculous birthday present!! <3

If Ladybug looked awkward, it was probably just embarrassment at how cheesy he was.

“How did you get that so fast?”  Nino frowned.

“I messaged Adrien while you were stalling.  Unfortunately, he’ll have to return home to maintain the illusion.”  Her brows pulled into a scowl.  “I should have created a contingency plan for this.”

“What?”  Kim shouted.  “But I haven’t even won my bet!”

Alix cackled and stretched out her hand.  “Pay up, loser.”

Juleka ran her fingers comfortingly through Rose’s hair.  Max frowned down at his computer screen.  Others were murmuring to each other, looking downcast.  All of them knew how much work Nino and Kagami had put into this party.  All of them knew how much it meant to Adrien.

“Come on, we’re not giving up that easily!” Nino insisted.  “There’s gotta be some way to keep fooling Nathalie.  What if Max hacks the sound system again?  We can make it sound like he’s in bed snoring, or something.”

“Guys?”  Alya stepped up, waving her phone at the two of them.  “I have a better idea.”

XXX

Marinette.exe had stopped working.  Thankfully, Ladybug.exe could still run on backup power.  She tried to keep her cool as she swung them up onto the roof of the rink.

“Wait,” Adrien said before she could cast out her yo-yo again.  His breath was close to her neck, ruffling her pigtails. She did her best not to shiver.

“We need to get you away from here. Just in case,” Marinette said.  The silver limo was still parked below, but she had no idea how long it would take for Nathalie and Adrien’s bodyguard to leave the rink.

“They won't see us up here.  I can’t leave without making sure Nino is okay.  Last year, my father almost got him arrested.”

Marinette winced.  Of course, Adrien didn’t know that “Ladybug” was there for his previous almost-birthday-party, close enough to see the bruises on Nino’s arm.

“I hope he’s alright too,” she said quietly before gently setting him on his feet.  His arms were still secure around her neck, and his ring was a shock of cold where it brushed her skin.

His ring.  She’d never seen him without it.

“I—sorry!”  Adrien practically yelped when she did shiver.  His arms slapped back to his sides.

She couldn’t do anything but stare as red spilled across his cheeks.  It was him.  It had to be him.

Ladybug.exe was beginning to shut down too.  Maybe Max could reinstall her software.

“Ladybug?”  Adrien swallowed.  “We should probably hide a little bit better…”

“R-right!”

She let him pull her flat against the roof.  They laid there on their stomachs, her arm pressed to his, their fingers still twined together.  His silver ring gleamed against the red of her suit.

How was she supposed to breach the subject?  “Oh, by the way, I know you’re Chat Noir?”  It was his birthday.  He deserved a perfect identity reveal, not just her stupidly blurting whatever came into her head.  

His phone beeped, startling her.

“Sorry.  Kagami said to keep my ringer on in case of an emergency.”  He fished the phone from his pocket and set it on the roof.  They were close enough for Marinette to see the message from Kagami on his screen.

“She needs us to take a selfie?”  Her brow furrowed.

Adrien shrugged.  “It must be important.”

They sat up, still holding hands.  Her blush probably matched his by now, but if he hadn’t let go, why should she?

She shuffled closer to him, until her chin was resting over his shoulder.  Just so they would both fit in the camera frame, of course.  Not because she wanted to press her cheek to his, feel his blush on her skin.

Yeah, she wasn’t kidding anyone.  Except maybe him.

“Smile!”  He said, holding up his phone.

As if she could not smile when breathing in his radiant, carefree, dreamy scent.  When she knew more than ever that they were made for each other.

Her grin still looked a bit too wide in the photo, not like his perfect, brilliant smile.

“You’re still that happy?”  She couldn’t help blurting.  She had his model smiles memorized.  This wasn’t one of them.  It was too genuine, much more so than her tense grin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  He looked up from where he was typing out a caption.  “I get to spend my birthday with my—with my favorite superhero.”  His smile twitched, almost becoming a familiar smirk. 

She blushed, even though Chat Noir had said more flirtatious things to her than that.

“But your party might be over.  You didn’t even get to open presents.”  Which reminded her, she still had his present in her yo-yo.  Now didn’t feel like the right time to give it to him, though.

“The best present is how much my friends thought of me.”  He squeezed her hand.  “And I wouldn’t worry yet.  Nino and Kagami probably have a plan for this.”

His phone rang.  Nino or Kagami already?  Was the coast clear?

But the contact on the screen wasn’t either of them.

“Alya?”  Adrien asked after picking up.  “Is everything okay?  Nino didn’t do anything crazy, did he?”

Marinette strained to pick out what Alya was saying on the other end, but it was too muffled.  Adrien’s eyes widened.

“Uh…” To her surprise, he held out the phone to her.  “Alya wants to talk to you.”

Marinette blinked before holding the phone to her ear.  “Hello?”

Alya didn’t waste time with introductions.  “Sorry to interrupt your date, but I know a way we can save Adrien’s party.  Can I borrow the fox miraculous again?”

XXX

Alya played a few notes on her flute, and brilliant light streamed from the end.  It coalesced into Adrien’s sleeping form, nestled beneath the covers.  So realistic.  His back even rose and fell with the illusion of breath.

“Amazing,”  Marinette whispered as she crouched in Adrien’s windowsill.  She tried not to fidget as she kept lookout—not that Nathalie should show up anytime soon.  Even though Marinette had stopped to pick up Alya’s miraculous, they’d easily left the Agreste limo behind in the Friday evening traffic. 

Alya strapped her flute to her back and nodded.  “Probably a waste of effort.  I doubt Nathalie will even pay attention.”

Marinette sighed.  She was probably right.  If only she could take Adrien away for longer than one evening, one birthday party…

Soon.  Even if Adrien had to spend his days here, she would make sure his nights were full of freedom and laughter.  

Full of love.

Just as soon as she found out the best way to reveal her identity.  It was only fair, now that she’d figured out his.  And then everything would be perfect, and they’d go on dates in the park, and she’d sew him sweaters to wear over his suit, and he’d crack puns and she’d pun back, and— 

“You alright there, Ladybug?”  The faux eyebrows on Alya’s mask drew together.

“Yep!  Doing great!”  She grinned, face heating.  She had to be careful.  If she daydreamed too much in front of Alya, her friend might puzzle out her identity, too.

“We better go then.  Don’t want to leave your boyfriend waiting.”  She winked.

Marinette gaped.  “What?  He’s not—I mean, I wouldn’t mind if he was, but—”

She couldn’t date Adrien as Ladybug.  She’d known that even before she agreed to come suited up to his party.  But she hadn’t realized just how much of a mess it would be if Alya thought Ladybug was dating Adrien, and then Marinette showed up with him at school.

“It’s okay.  Practically everyone’s had a crush on Adrien at some point.  But Ladybug?”  Alya stepped close, then swung her legs over the windowsill so they were sitting side by side. “If you really want to be with him, you’d better love him, okay?  At least as much as my best friend does.  And I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Her face heated, but from what?  Embarrassment?  Intimidation?  She was being ridiculous.  Alya was comparing her to herself!

“I—I promise I’ll take his feelings seriously,” she said quietly.

Alya nodded.  “Well then, let’s go.”

With that, she leapt off for the next rooftop.  Marinette lagged behind for just a moment, though, glancing back at the illusory Adrien.

“He means everything to me.”

XXX

Adrien paced on the roof after Ladybug left.  He wasn’t sure what she was doing with Alya, or how they were going to keep Nathalie from realizing he wasn’t in his room.  She was Ladybug.  She always had a plan.

He did kind of wish she’d remembered to take him back inside first, though.

“So you’re just gonna sit out here?  You’re missing your own party!”  Plagg said, flying out of his hoodie.

“It’s alright.”  He swung his legs over the edge of the roof, kicking slowly back and forth.  The party had been amazing, and while he did want to be back inside, this was nice too.  The evening air, the bright moon, the phantom memory of Ladybug’s hand in his.

Did she actually like him?  Him?  No way.  She’d said she didn’t want to kiss him, and she’d acted a little bit off all night.

Maybe that was why he waited up here, rather than transforming and climbing down.  Somehow, he felt that if he could see her just one more time, he’d be able to understand.

His phone beeped.  He checked it immediately, heart pounding.  Was Ladybug okay?  Had her and Alya’s mysterious plan failed?

No.  It was Kagami, just checking on him.  He breathed a sigh of relief and began typing a reply.

“Boring.”  Plagg sighed.  “Wake me up when we get back inside.  I didn’t even get the chance to check out the cheese table.”

Adrien smiled and patted him as he snuggled back in the hoodie pocket.

I’ll be back soon, he typed.  Just waiting on Ladybug.

She left you up there?  Kagami sent back.  I’ll come get you.  Philippe is showing me a way up.

His eyes widened.  That fast?  Well, Kagami was never one to hesitate.

He didn’t even have time to write a reply before Philippe’s head poked up through a hidden trap door.

“Ah, there you are!  The man of the hour!”  He smiled.  “Your friend is looking for you.  She’s waiting below.”

“Thanks.  I’ll be down in just a second.”  He waved back, then turned his gaze to the horizon.

“Don’t take too long.  She’s very concerned about you.”

Kagami was always looking out for him.  It warmed his heart, even as he felt guilty for missing the party she’d planned.

“I won’t; don’t worry.”

Philippe disappeared down the hatch, and sure enough, Ladybug didn’t keep him waiting much longer either.  She dropped Alya off at the front door before swinging up onto the roof.

“You should be safe now,” she said with a smile.  “Your father will never know you’re here.”

He smiled back, suddenly overwhelmed with just how much he loved this girl.  Not only had she come to his party, she’d gone out of her way to make sure he didn’t get in trouble.  

Of course, Alya had helped with that too.  He’d have to thank her when he got back inside.

“Thank you, Ladybug.”  He fought back the urge to take her hand again.  He didn’t have an excuse this time.  Besides, he was around her all the time as Chat Noir; he should have enough practice keeping his hands to himself.

She just smiled back, looking as strained as before, like a balloon about to burst.

“Are you okay?”  He asked, reaching out vaguely before letting his arm fall back to his side.  Hands to himself.

Because she didn’t like him.  Probably.  Even if his love was like a drum beating its way out of his chest, so loud she’d have to be deaf to ignore it.

She laughed with her head in her hands.  “Why does everyone keep asking that?”  

“Um… because you’ve been acting a little bit weird all night, and if I did anything to make you uncomfortable, I want to be able to fix it.”

“You?”  Her head popped back up, revealing wide eyes.  “Worried about making me uncomfortable?”

“Uh… yeah?”  He wasn’t suited up, and “Adrien” didn’t have years of familiarity to fall back on.  Each casual touch could be misconstrued.

This time, her laugh was real, echoing over the traffic below.

“You’re too nice, you know that?”  She finally said.

“Um… thanks?”

Real eloquent, Adrien.  He was pretty sure he’d started the last three sentences with some variation of uh.

“I mean it.  You’re always too nice, and you’re always here for me, and I—I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.” She hiccuped, and—and was she crying?  

“My—” he cut off before he could say my lady. 

But she just smiled, even as tears trickled down her mask.

“Your lady.  Yeah.”  She giggled, though a wet sniffle interrupted it.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional.  I planned out a whole speech on the way over, and then I saw you and it just—woosh!  Gone.” 

Your lady.  His… but then she…?

“You’re so cute when you figure things out,” she said, reaching out to take his hand.  “I hope you’re not disappointed.  I wanted to give you a more dramatic reveal, but I—I just love you so much, aaaaaaand I wasn’t supposed to say that yet either.”

She smacked her forehead with her free hand.  He was still gaping, his soul practically leaving his body.

“How could I ever be disappointed with that?”  He breathed, looking between her eyes and their joined hands.  He gave hers an experimental squeeze, and found that she squeezed back.  Sparks went off from his fingers to his toes.  “My Lady, this is the best birthday present ever.”

That was a lie.  She threw her arms around him, and that was the best present ever.  Every heartbeat was better, and better, and soon he was laughing and breathing in the scent of her hair, and she was laughing back and squeezing him so tight he could burst.

“I love you too,” he said against her neck.  “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” she huffed.  “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

“Well, I’ll make sure it will be from now on.”  He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, to stare into her eyes.  A few freckles spilled out from under her mask.  He’d never been close enough to see those before.

“I’d appreciate that.”

He could’ve asked when, or how, or why she’d fallen for him.  What happened to the other boy she used to talk about? 

But that all faded in the face of her lips brushing his.  Hesitant at first, then wanting, needing.  This was better than anything he could’ve asked for.  A giddy laugh burst from his lungs to hers, and she pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  You probably weren’t supposed to laugh in someone’s mouth while you were kissing them.  “I got a little too excited.”

“Adrien.”  She cupped his cheek in her palm.  “Never feel sorry for being happy.  Or excited.  I’m so excited I could die right now.”

“Please don’t.”

She chuckled.  “Anyway, as much as I just want to keep kissing you, I should probably give you your real birthday present.”

He blinked.  If she had more in mind for him than that, he might actually die.

She flipped open her yo-yo and pulled something from inside.  A little vial?

“I remembered you saying that you hated Adrien: the Fragrance,” she started, rolling the glass between her fingers. A pinkish liquid sloshed inside.  “So I found out some scents that you like, and I put something together.  Making cologne is a lot like making the potions for our kwamis.”

“You… made this?”  He accepted the bottle, unscrewing the top to take a whiff.  It did smell wonderful.  Like roses and strawberries, with just a hint of rain.  Was it magical, like the potions she could create?  “This is amazing, my Lady.  But… when did I tell you I hated the fragrance they made me advertise?”

She smiled.  “That’s the other part of your present.”

His eyebrows creased, but before he could ask for clarification, she whispered, “Tikki, spots off.”

He stared wide-eyed as pink light washed over her.  When the sparkles faded, he gasped.

“Marinette.”  Her name tasted sweeter than the smells she’d mixed just for him.  “Marinette.”

He couldn’t say anything else.  His face was sore from smiling so much, but he couldn’t stop.  Ladybug was Marinette, and she loved him!

“That makes sense,” a voice said from behind him.  He almost screamed, but Ladybug—Marinette—slapped a hand over his mouth first.

“Kagami?”  She gaped.  Her hand fell from Adrien’s face, giving him room to turn around.  “What—what are you doing up here?”

Kagami crossed her arms over the lip of the trap door.  “Adrien didn’t come down.  Philippe told you not to take too long.  But I understand why you did.”  She nodded, as if thinking to herself.  

Adrien locked frantic eyes with Marinette.  Just because she was okay with revealing her identity to Chat Noir didn’t mean she’d be okay with Kagami knowing too.

“You… um… so how much did you…?”  He trailed off.

“I was waiting for you to finish kissing.  I’m told it’s impolite to interrupt.”

His eyes widened.  She’d been watching for that long?  He hoped she wasn’t upset.  Even if she didn’t like him romantically, it might still be awkward to watch him kiss someone else.

Marinette was bright red, but she cleared her throat.  “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“About your secret identity, or about kissing Adrien?”

“My identity,” she said quickly, looking more and more mortified by the second.

Kagami grinned.  It was a rare expression on her, but all the more special for it.  “I was only teasing.  Of course I will guard your identity with my life.”

Marinette smiled gratefully.  “Thank you, Kagami.”

“You’re welcome.  I’ll tell the others Ladybug dropped you off, so you were able to make it after all.”  She took a step down the ladder, before pausing and poking her head back up.  “And Marinette?  Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Of course.  He means everything to me.”

His heart warmed at the praise, at the way she said it so matter-of-factly.  

Kagami disappeared back down the ladder, leaving him and Marinette in silence that somehow felt both comfortable and vaguely awkward.

“So, uh… you don’t mind if people know that we kissed?”  He asked cautiously.

That finally made her laugh again.  “Of course not.  I was… well, I was hoping you were going to be my boyfriend.”

“Yes,” he said quickly, as if she’d change her mind.  “I mean—please let me be your boyfriend.  That would be the best birthday present ever.”

She took his hand again and squeezed it tenderly before slipping his cologne vial into his hoodie pocket.  He’d dropped it at some point while they were kissing.  Plagg, blessedly, did not complain, even though the little bottle probably bonked him on the head.

“Then happy birthday, boyfriend.”

[digitalbhaavesh]

Best image creator tools online (On web, no need to install programs)

We live in an era when visual contents get more attraction than the normal ones. You can apply your creativity to attract your audience’s attention towards your contents.

It’s very important nowadays to create attractive and well designed images to enrich your written contents. Patent issues and piracy also need to be taken care of, to avoid legalisation issues.

Just like me, most newbie digital marketers start with MS paint and rely on it only for most of their image content needs. But once you come across beautiful tools available online, your life becomes much easier.

You don’t need to hire a designer for making good designs. There are few image creating tools available in the market. Some of them are free, some are partly free and some are paid tools.

Don’t confuse these tools with “Image Editing Tools”. Image editor tools require altogether different features. Please visit our article on “Best image editing tools”.

Remember, these tools will be used online only and you don’t need to download and install applications (programs) to use them. Just to make the designing simpler for newbies, this is the most important.

Let’s look at them one by one.

1. Canva

It’s easy to use drag-and-drop software. Create, mix, match, try whatever you want. Even if you haven’t created any image in your lifetime, just no need to worry. Canva is there for you.

From high-end design to logo to visiting card to letter head; you can create anything very easily. Almost all your design related needs can be fulfilled by Canva.

There are preset sizes for every purpose of images like Facebook Post, Instagram post, etc. Canva’s giant library with lots of images, icons, layouts, text styles and shapes will help you create your ideal images. You can upload your own graphics also.

Their premium plans offer even more of the resources to enable you to create professionals like images.

Price:- Free for 8,000+ templates, 1GB storage, and up to 10 team members; from $9.95/mo per user for Canva for work, which offers unlimited storage, access to 300,000 assets and templates, custom fonts, transparent backgrounds, and more

2. Stencil

Another easy-to-use graphic design tool for you. Stencil provides with you 650+ pre-designed templates, over a million images and few lacs icons and graphic elements to choose from. Free and simple image creating tool for beginners, social media marketers, bloggers and small business. With a free plan you can create upto 10 images per month.

3. Snappa

Snappa is another quick and easy graphic design software similar to Canva. It offers a free plan which includes 40,000+ free photos and upto 5 downloads per month. The free plan contains limited design templates to choose from and integration with 2 social accounts. You can upload your own graphics too in Snappa editor as well as import your custom fonts. Connecting your social media account allows you to share the graphic on the social platform right from the app.

Snappa goes all-in for this design, building its app around making vibrant, polished share images as quickly and easily as possible. While Snappa, like many similar apps, includes a thorough template library, they put more emphasis than other apps on getting the background image just right. With a library of free (and royalty-free) images, choosing the perfect background image is just a few clicks away, whether you’re using one of Snappa’s images or uploading your own. From there, Snappa offers an effects sidebar that helps you create the perfect image effects for your post–whether that means darkening or coloring the background image to make white text pop, or brightening the image to highlight dark text. (It’s important to note, however, that while Snappa has a library of additional graphics and shapes, these features are more limited compared to other apps.)

Snappa is similarly thorough when it comes to text. Easily edit your text from the sidebar, adjusting font, size, alignment, line spacing, opacity, and—my personal favorite–an optional drop shadow effect. It’s not an overload of features, but it’s more than enough to make your text, and therefore your message, really stand out.

Unfortunately, Snappa’s free plan is more limited than similar apps, allowing only 5 shares or downloads per month, which won’t be enough for many brands. You also cannot save designs in Snappa’s free plan. However, the free plan is a good way to test the app and see if it’s right for you.

4. Desynger

One of the easiest application especially for your phone, be it iOS or Android. Desynger can create graphics as smooth as Canva. Starting with a template or from a scratch, create a smooth design. Desygner’s library of free images and design elements will leave you speechless.

Even in its mobile app, Desygner doesn’t skimp on features. Multiple menus allow you to hyper-customize image and text settings, while never becoming cumbersome to use on a small screen. You can even pull up a list of all layers, making it even easier to select, deselect, and rearrange image elements with a few taps.

Desynger’s web app works almost identically, with sidebar menus to help you select the design assets and effects you need. The tool is simpler than Canva and provides fewer templates, images, and assets with its free plan, but combined with the mobile app, Desygner becomes a very versatile tool for quickly creating unique, professional social media images.

Desygner Price: Free; from $6.95 for more templates and assets, as well as features like versioning.

5. Pablo by Buffer

Pablo Created by the social media scheduling tool, Buffer, Pablo is as minimalistic as they come, making it drop-dead easy to add a nice-looking, customized graphic to your social posts.

Pablo has only a few features and really only one workflow. Choose a template or just an image for your blank template—all free and royalty-free, provided by sites like Unsplash and Pixabay. Pablo’s keyword search is fast and precise, so you can pick the perfect image for your post. From there, choose from one of three sizes, each fitted specifically for Pinterest, Instagram, or Facebook/Twitter.

Image customization is limited—choose from a few preset filters, designed to provide the right level of contrast between your image and your text. You can also add up to three text boxes. Pablo displays them as “Header,” “Body,” and “Caption,” but you can adjust size and font to redesign the text as you see fit. Add one adjustable logo or graphic, and you’re good to go!

When you’ve finished your image, you can either download it, put it into your Buffer queue, or share directly to Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, or Instagram.

Pablo Pricing: Free—Buffer subscription not required (but certainly recommended!)

6. Crello

Crello is an alternative of Canva and offers similar features and functionality. This free online graphic design software allows creation of design using pre-created formats such as social media covers, ads, posters etc. Crello offers over 5000 free designs and collection of over 60 million images.

7. Gravit Designer

Gravit Designer includes many of the classic graphic design functions of tools like Photoshop, Sketch, and GIMP—such as layers, drawing tools, grouping, shapes, text, effects, and more—with a much more simplified, easy-to-learn interface.

As a self-described intermediate (on my best days) designer, Gravit Designer suited me perfectly. All the controls and effects I needed were easily available, so I could really make the design my own without spending a lot of time starting from scratch with Photoshop and its overabundance of tools. A tutorials tab in Gravit Designer’s main view also gives you ready access to all the knowledge you need to get started.

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[mor-beck-more-problems]

Desperate Gal Pals of White Crest || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece hit a roadblock with their research on an exorcism, so they take a field trip.

CONTAINS: drug manipulation tw (magic poisoning), gun (not fired), 

“I know I literally can’t get tired, but if I see one more book handwave harm exorcisms away with ‘wooo dark magic’ and ‘oooh dangerous! Sacrifice!’ I am going keel over with exhaustion. You’ll have to call Regan for my autopsy and explain to my girlfriend that boredom and no helpful answers is the new hip cause of death.” Morgan flopped down the side of the couch, her head dangling over the edge. “Tell me you’ve got something to banish Puritain Carrie,” she groaned. “I need a win. Literally...any kind of win. A can of seltzer of a win.”

Cece was lying on her back on the ground, book in hand and avoiding reading it by listening to Morgan’s melodramatic self-eulogy. She at least knew how to spice up a story and make it more interesting. She made dying of boredom sound marginally interesting. The irony was not lost on Cece. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on me for the record. How am I supposed to talk at your funeral and make your death sound badass that way?” Cece eventually gave in, shutting the book and tossing it away from her in her own dramatic show of exacerbation. “Nothing. These books have lots about magic and yet a surprisingly lacking amount of ghosts. My coven really should have expanded their horizons a bit.” Cece stated, mostly to herself. She rolled over onto her stomach, finding Morgan’s eyes again and pushing herself up, “We need some new source material. There’s got to be somewhere around town with some decent exorcism knowledge, right?”

“You’ll have to make something up much cooler,” Morgan sighed. “Just don’t promise any of my fae friends to tell the truth about me and you’ll be good.” She looked over at the pile of books around them, new purchases on the diamond card Deirdre had gotten for her, and pulls from the Scribrary. She felt guilty about those the most, sneaking in and using Rio’s resources for something he was bound to hate. “We have to be looking in the wrong place. The wrong key-words, or the wrong sections in the library. You would think ‘most brutal harm exorcism’ would be a short dig, but…” She puffed air through her lips. “Apparently the powers that be think discretion is super ‘in.’ Tell me what you found. Let’s go over it again.”

“No worries there. I don’t like making promises to humans.” Cece laughed, thinking of any ideas she could to spice up Morgan’s imagined death and make it a bit more grandeur. She wondered how she could fit fireworks into the story. Maybe one of the daredevil car jumps through a flaming circle. No, this was all way too distracting when she was supposed to be focusing. She shook the thought away and reached for the notepad that she had used to take any notes that she found vaguely helpful. Emphasis on vague. “Nothing too useful. I found some old history on this former Scribe that studied exorcisms. John something. Sounded like a real bore. I got an autobiography by this Amanda Wallace chick who wrote about her haunted house and how she got rid of it. Not exactly sure how factual that one actually is. Basically, I have nothing but crap. You sure we can’t just call the ghostbusters in for this one?”

Morgan’s brow furrowed at the name Wallace. “Is that name from a comic book movie? It sounds familiar…” She turned herself right side up and crawled to Cece to read over her shoulder. She moved so fast, her focus was groggy, but the illustration on the page she was looking at definitely seemed familiar. “No, wait, that’s...fuck, that was in something I read. Not here but…” Morgan fumbled for her laptop and started digging through her browsing history. She looked sheepishly over at Cece, glad that she couldn’t blush. “...Don’t judge me, okay?” She mumbled. Buried under searches for pirated theory articles, halloween themed lingerie, and Buzzfeed quizzes for Which Character from Grey’s Anatomy Are You, was several rows of local blogs, niche social media groups, old news reports, and PDF access links. Morgan scrolled past them all to get to an access link to an article from the library. There was the same picture, Amanda Wallace and a few others. The caption read, Cromwell was mentored in his early years by the local Ghost Watchers Society. Pictured, left to right… The article was about a man named Ernie Cromwell. He was arrested, several times, for vandalism, arson, and public disturbance. He claimed he needed to in order to make the ghosts go away. He also escalated to a much more deadly life of crime after this, around  the period Roy ought to have been town. That’s why she’d been looking in the first place. “Hey, Cece?” She asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know if any of these people are alive, do you?”

“I hope you know that prefacing with that only makes me want to judge you that much more.” Cece perked up immediately, if she wasn’t interested in studying Morgan’s open tabs before, she was definitely interested now. Fortunately, it was so much better than what Cece had predicted. “Oh my god. This might be more embarrassing than if you just had like straight up porn in your search history. Which for the record, I’m in full support of.” Cece added in, finger gunning and winking in Morgan’s direction. “Please tell me you’re an Izzie too.” Cece tried focusing again once Morgan asked her a question about recognizing anyone. She scanned the page but shrugged after a long moment, “I wish I could be more useful. But most of my magic knowledge was before I got to town. I’ve been about as low key as I can manage since I’ve been to town.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the sex positivity, and so does my girlfriend. And, you know, hopefully she appreciates the spider web themed set I ended up buying. And I’ve taken way too many and no matter what I do, I’m solid 50% Izzie or Meredith. My dark and twisty ways defy simple categories.” She wiggled her brow, mouth curling into a grin, and turned back to the picture. “I swear I’ve seen these faces somewhere. And the names. You don’t remember any from the paper or…” Morgan took out her phone, scrolling furiously. “Oh. Mother of Earth! Oh, this is so weird!” She showed Cece an event page on the UMWC social media page. Two people stood next to a handmade poster advertising GhostWatch Parties. Ostensibly, it was a horror film club. But the names of the two faculty shown were Amanda Wallace and Leigh Cromwell. There was no accounting for coincidence, but it seemed pretty likely that there was a connection to Ernie. “They’re meeting tonight. We have to go, right? Scope things out, set up a time to talk better and see what they can offer, or ask if they have any exorcist finding tips! We’re going, right?”

“Anything for you, as usual.” Cece might not be Deirdre’s biggest fan, but she still wished for a killer sex life for the two. “You know? I can see it, honestly. I support it. Among the characters you could get, I think those are two of the better ones.” Morgan seemed sure that the faces would be familiar, so Cece did her best to study them again, but just ended up shrugging. “You think I read the paper?” She asked the woman curiously. Not a moment later and Morgan was poking the screen and then changing pages to find a social media page. From the college. Cece gasped overdramatically, “Right under your nose this whole time? Also, do you think this horror movie club accepts members that don’t go to the college? Actually never mind that’s not important right now.” Cece jumped up and found her bag, moving towards the coat closet to slip her jacket on. “Well obviously we have to go. What other choice do we have? Plus I need to find out if this club is even worth my time. Which is obviously like a side objective. Priority is the ghost thing for sure. Let’s go!”

The GhostWatchers of White Crest met at Professor Wallace’s ivy covered town house near campus. The gathering was small; only three cars littered the street beyond the driveway. Morgan parked them at the end of the street, positioned to make a quick and easy getaway. The bue-white light of a television illuminated one of the back rooms, bright enough to illuminate parts of the yard as Morgan approached. She knocked on the door gently, but found it already open. Inside was exactly what you would expect from a liberal arts professor. Stacks of papers, catalogues for bamboo kitchenware, and books bursting with post-it’s in every room. Morgan wrinkled her nose at the normalcy of it all. At least she kept a few decorative skull paperweights in the great room and kept the foyer clean.

“How do you think we should play this?” She asked in a whisper, lingering in the front hall, one eye on the back den where the movie, The Innocents, was still going on. “Is it rude if we snoop around first? Should we split up?” Somewhere, she thought, there had to be a private library.

“Wow this place is boring.” Cece yawned as the two slid in through the open door and studied the office that they found themselves in. “You’d think that someone obsessed with exorcisms might have a bit more personality.” She pushed aside a self help book lying on the desk and took a glance at her desk calendar, “She has scheduled times for lunch.” As if that was the most boring thing on the planet.

Either this woman was the worst occultist she had ever seen, or all of her more interesting things were hidden away somewhere. “It’s totally rude, but technically speaking she’s the one that left the door open. She should be more careful about her belongings. So let’s snoop.” Cece wasted no time moving to dig through her other belongings. Given how nonchalant the rest of the room was, Cece wasn’t convinced they were going to find anything too bizarre or helpful just sitting out in the open.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? They hired me because the fun department was empty,” Morgan teased. She watched her feet carefully as she tiptoed onto the plush carpet with her muddy leather oxfords. She hadn’t planned on playing hide and seek in some dusty mini-mansion when she’d left the house, so she was left cringing at every squeak the leather made on the floor and hoping against hope that everyone in the den was too engrossed in the movie to notice.

As luck would have it, the library was one room off from the den. Morgan pointed at it, giving Cece a look of, I don’t know if I got this. One foot, then the other. Could Cece get in there first.

In the den, someone yawned and got up, murmuring about refills. Morgan dropped to the floor, panic in her eyes. Was this the worst idea ever?

The library had to have something useful. If it was just filled with normal literature and more self help books, Cece was going to lose her mind. At least Morgan seemed pretty into the whole espionage thing, tiptoeing around the place and slipping through the door into the library as silently as a mouse. That swiftness and suave attitude seemed to dissipate when movement could be heard from farther in, someone getting up to get a refill. Morgan dropped immediately and Cece remained in the doorway, unsure what the best thing to do in this scenario was. Would the person asking even come this way? Cece crept back a few steps, peaking around to get just a moment’s glance of someone walking towards them. They would definitely see Morgan if something wasn’t done. Would these people be more interested in calling the cops or offing anyone in their way? Cece couldn’t be sure enough, so she figured her only option was to be a distraction of some sort. Back in the office, Cece found a paper weight on the desk and pushed it aside, sliding it off the desk with a loud crack against the floor. That ought to do some distracting.

Morgan heard the paperweight fall before she realized what Cece was doing. Her head whipped around, question marks sprouting all over her face. But whoever was heading her way turned the other direction to see the commotion, and Morgan was able to take her chance. Hopefully Cece wouldn’t be so far behind.

The library was the same as the rest of the house, expected to the point of comical. There were shelves of matching leatherbound British novels, another set of American ones, a whole row of paperbacks and theory that were almost certainly just for posturing, and… who lived like this? Who actually worked here? This was a magazine-style library. Which meant-- “Fuck.” Morgan covered her mouth and flinched. Too loud. Right.

She started peeking behind books, looking for hidden volumes, then the large desk centered at the back of the room. No one really had secret compartment doors, at least not here, the house was too small but-- Morgan kicked back the rug that covered the floor. Cut into the pale hardwood was a heavy door, older and darker, with a black handle that looked to be iron. She peeked her head out, searching for Cece to get her over here, quickly, before anyone realized how reckless they were being in a stranger’s house.

The door was well-oiled and rose silently at Morgan’s tug, and inside-- “Yes!” Beams of light from the other room flashed on. The shadows in the library vanished. It was time to hurry.

Cece ducked behind the desk to avoid whoever was coming towards her. She had successfully distracted the man from discovering Morgan but hadn’t quite thought through the fact that the man would now be coming towards the source of the noise that Cece had caused. Cece began rifling through her purse quickly, pulling a bin of powder free and cupping some into the palm of her hand. Once the footsteps finally became close enough, Cece popped up from behind the counter. “Hi there.”

The man jumped before settling on a confused expression, “Who are you?” He asked, more curious than angry. Probably unsure if Cece was supposed to be there in the first place. “Uh-” Cece began, trying for a long moment to think of an excuse for too long before finally giving up, “I can’t think of a good excuse” She shrugged before pulling her hand up and opening her palm, blowing and sending the powder directly into his face. He stumbled backwards and Cece jumped forward, grabbing onto his shirt and helping direct his fall into the chair by the desk. She patted him softly. Better to get some rest right there.

She slipped across the floor until she found Morgan and then crawled over to her, “For the record I didn’t sign up for this” Cece whispered at her, eyeing the new door that she had discovered. Before hearing more voices. “Welp, after you!”

Morgan’s muscles were already clenched with confusion and unspoken questions. “Sign up for what?” She hissed. “You said we should snoop! Nothing bad has happened, right? And look at all the spooky books down there!” She shined the flashlight on her phone down the ladder, showing tables full of messy, half open books, arcane circles etched on leather, and iron chimes dangling from the ceiling. “Oh, yes, this is the jackpot.”

“Is it now?” A voice called behind them.

Morgan barely suppressed a squeal as Amanda Wallace filled in the doorway. Her straw-white hair seemed to puff up out of sheer rage. “I don’t remember receiving your RSVP, Professor Beck,” she said stiffly. “May I ask what you are doing in my library, opening my trap door?” A smaller, slightly younger head popped up over Amanda’s shoulder and murmured that she’d see the students out. Leigh Cromwell, probably. Guess they weren’t too late for the party after all.

“Hey, Amanda--!” Morgan drew out the words longer, as if a few more syllables in Amanda would help smooth things over, or give her a better idea about what to do next.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Amanda snapped, bristling with a bitter frown. Downstairs, now.” She pointed into the dimly lit trapdoor room, and her look did not suggest that she was entertaining counterarguments at the moment.

“Ummm” Cece considered what may or may not be considered to be bad in Morgan’s mind. And depending on that, whether or not she wanted to share that with Morgan. Putting a man to sleep was hardly that bad, right? She didn’t hurt the man. He would wake up and at worst his memory would be a bit foggy and maybe have some nausea. Nothing that would last more than a week. “Define bad.”

Morgan was right, this was a jackpot. The space was different from the rest of the house. It didn’t look like the end result of an HGTV makeover, for starters. It wasn’t basic or expected. This room was hidden away and it was used. This woman that the two were spying on definitely used this room.

Speaking of the woman they were spying on. Apparently they had been discovered. Cece awkwardly watched  the exchange. Apparently the two were super close work colleagues. “If there was no RSVP, does that mean she wasn’t supposed to bring a plus one?” Cece grinned slightly, completely ignored by the woman and instead following behind Morgan as the two were led away from the space they had just found.

Morgan backed down into the room, feeling, all of a sudden, that she should have told more people where she was going. Of course, she’d told Deirdre they had a lead, but if she were to drop a pin right now, would Deirdre know what to do with it? Remmy might, but the part where she had to explain what she was doing here might not lead to the best of conversations. But, fortunately, there weren’t any high tech keypads standing in their way of getting out. Just one seriously perturbed old woman.

Morgan made her way over to where the stacks of books were the largest and the shelves were packed to bursting. She looked for sigils, icons, anything recognizable. No one ever labeled ‘find harm here,’ but there were unavoidable markers if you knew how to look for them.

“I should report you to the police, for trespassing,” Amanda snapped. “And I could do much worse. But I would like to know first, Professor Beck, what you are doing in my trapdoor of all things. Do you have no respect for others?”

“On the contrary--” Morgan said carefully, flashing Cece big ‘what do we do?’ eyes, “I have the utmost respect for you and your interests.” She backed away until she could back no further. “The interests you keep a secret, especially. I think I might have something that’s of interest to your attention. A ghost something that is, let’s say, too good for mercy.” She reached out for one of the tomes, a leatherbound journal, by the look of it. Not as old as it was pretending to be, and bursting with pasted-in clips and notes.

“Not so fast.” She took out a little pearl handled pistol, gold and shiny, like something out of Agatha Christie. She cocked the safety with a slow, deliberate click. “That’s sensitive material, Professor. Access has to be earned. Tell me the truth, do what I say, and maybe we’ll see about it.”

The two hadn’t found themselves in an ideal situation, Cece was willing to admit that much. The woman that had discovered them hardly seemed especially dangerous. She was a college professor, taller than Cece was but that was hardly an impressive feat. The only thing she looked capable of seriously harming was a student’s grade point average. Still, the woman had enough to hide that she kept it hidden beneath the library, and she really didn’t like the intrusion by her colleague.

Morgan attempted to sweet talk her way out of it. Honestly, Morgan came across as such a pleasant person that Cece probably would have laughed it off if she had found the woman trespassing in her own home. Then again, maybe that didn’t count when Morgan had already previously lived with her. When Morgan reached for a book, hopefully one that Morgan deemed important, Amanda acted with an elevated decree of hostility. Looked like a bingo to Cece. The woman pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at Morgan but still eyeing Cece every now and again. She didn’t show much interest in Cece at all, which may have been more a mistake than anything else. “Your terms and conditions don’t sound all that appealing.” Cece called to her, straightening her back to give herself the appearance of being taller. She wasn’t sure that it worked. “Don’t get me wrong. You have the upper hand here. We’re totally up to no good. But don’t you have a door number three option?”

The woman finally looked Cece over. It had probably been the first time that she had offered her anymore than a passing glance, “I don’t even know who you are. This doesn’t concern you in the slightest.” She turned away from Cece again, but irritation seemed evident. Cece slowly dug into her purse again. She knew she had something else useful in there it was just a matter of rifling around until she found out. Once she did, she popped the lid off and dipped her fingers into it. “I just wanted to give you the option of rethinking your offer. Morgan and I have places to be. Let us go now and we can all enjoy the rest of our nights in peace.”

This time the woman finally turned the gun away from Morgan and towards Cece, at the same time that Cece rose up her hand and grabbed onto the woman’s wrist. “Have you ever heard of curare?” Cece asked the woman, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Though nothing apparent was happening, the woman hadn’t yet pulled the trigger and instead looked silently at Cece. “Some hunting tribes use it to paralyze prey. Normally, it doesn’t have a lot of effect on humans if ingested orally or through the skin.” By the woman’s expression, it was clear the effects had started to take effect now, “But with a bit of alchemy, it can be altered. All of a sudden, it just takes a tiny bit rubbed against the skin to get into the blood system. As Amanda began to fall back, Cece grabbed onto the gun, letting it slip from the woman’s hands as she crashed against the ground. “You should be able to talk still, it might just be a little mumbled. So try to speak up.”

Cece set the gun against the shelf and crossed her arms, “You got any questions for her?” she asked Morgan. Cece wasn’t sure this counted as life or death exactly, but the gun hadn’t been entirely promising. At this rate, Cece knew that she’d have to do something at the end to make sure that Amanda didn’t hold an unfriendly grudge against the two of them. Cece had gone this long, but now in the span of just a few weeks she would be whipping out the memory spell twice. Yikes. “Spare no details, something tells me that Amanda’s memory of the night might end up a bit fuzzy anyways.”

Morgan was scurrying for Cece and wishing zombies had super speed when it happened. She couldn’t let Cece get hurt and didn’t Cece know she was basically bullet-proof? Not one more friend, not one more life she cared about was going down because of-- and then Amanda’s face was going slack and she was sinking to the floor, and Cece was giving a pretty impressive speech of her own. “Holy shit,” Morgan whispered, suddenly feeling a little woozy with shock. Then, as it settled, “You...are so amazing, Cece!” She ran over and gave her a hug, ecstatic with relief. “Okay, so, one of your proteges was arrested for what sounded like some serious supernatural damage, and he said he had to get the ghosts. So I’m thinking you know a lot about exorcisms, maybe harm exorcisms, specifically?”

Amanda made some unintelligible noises that sounded aggravated enough to mean ‘yes’ to Morgan.

“Great! So, where would I find those? Is it here? Or--here? Or--” At the sound more throaty, aggravated groaning, Morgan knew she was right on the money. She hauled out everything from the self she could carry and started looking. “Woah, Nelly, some of these pages are torn from other volumes.” Morgan peered over the desk at Amanda on the floor. “Have you been defacing historical archives? That’s not very polite, you know. I wonder what would happen if I reported some of these original books as damaged and gave your name? That might be a bummer for research funding and future archive access, right?” Satisfied with her fun, she started flipping through, grateful that even though Amanda was a thief, she was at least an organized one. There was a handy table of contents and index between each hodge podge volume, and by some topics there was a reference number that seemed to correspond to a file, probably in the cabinet at the other end of the room.

Amanda made another slurry attempt at speech.

Morgan’s face crinkled. “French Revolution? Did you hear French Revolution?” She gave Cece a look to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood and started checking dates throughout her haul. Sure enough, there was a hefty volume with some emphasis on the 18th century and quite a few notes in French and English as she started flipping through. “Cece, come look at this,” she said. “I think this… I think I found something! What do these ingredients look like to you?”

If Cece had any worries that Morgan might think she had taken things too far, those fears were immediately quelled when Morgan launched into a hug. Cece hugged back, keeping her finger away from any of Morgan’s skin, “I don’t think this would work on zombies, but better not take the chance.” Considering the rest of the abilities that Morgan had now that she was undead, Cece wasn’t convinced it would have paralyzed her the way it had Amanda. If it did, the fast healing probably would have fixed her pretty quickly. But better to avoid the situation regardless. “But that was nothing. Didn’t want her messing up one of our pretty faces.”

Morgan was far better at searching and researching than Cece was. The extent of Cece’s reading had gone into her plans to get away from the coven. Since then, the books she had stolen and brought with her mostly stayed hidden in the floorboards of her closet. Something for a rainy day, if it ever came. For the most part, Cece scanned the shelves as Morgan actually talked to the woman and searched for something that was useful to her.

Cece hadn’t heard French Revolution at first, but hearing Morgan question it made Cece laugh and clap for Morgan’s better hearing skills, “You know I thought I heard bitch contusion but that makes way more sense.” Morgan flipped through a volume and called Cece over to look at something, but the symbols on the page weren’t like anything Cece had worked with before. “Yikes.” Cece started, trying to look for smaller details and anything that did look familiar, “I can pick out a few things. I see some containment symbols. Probably used to keep something trapped. But nothing that I’ve worked with before.”

“Me either,” Morgan admitted, “But that--” she pointed to the word, “Is definitely French for spirit, and some of these ingredients look like they’re obeying sympathetic principles for inflicting pain. I’m gonna need a dictionary or three to figure some of this out, and you know, an expert, but you saw the containment sigil too, right!” She snapped the book shut and held it close to her chest, her eyes shining with relief. “I think this is it, Cece. I think this is--” Morgan was lost for words and only smiled, glowing with gratitude for her friend. “This is the key to everything I’ve been looking for.”

“Well I know a guy if you need a French interpreter.” Cece stated nonchalantly, “Can’t promise he won’t be grumpy about it though.” Cece couldn’t keep an easy grasp on who in town knew who, but it seemed like a safe bet that Morgan and Kaden were acquainted. “Fuck yeah! Former roomies strike again!” Cece called out triumphantly, raising her hand for a high five. Once the two were done celebrating, Cece remembered that they had company. Cece spun around to their host for the night and clapped her hands together, “Amanda. You’ve just been so welcoming tonight, truly. We had a great time. We’re going to wrap up and then I promise it’ll be like we were never even here.” Cece scooted towards her and knelt down towards the woman. “Are we done here Morgan?”

Morgan joined Cece beside her colleague, still light on her feet with victory and beaming with pride in her friend. “We do make pretty good partners in crime if I say so myself,” she said. “And, you know, aside from, hmm---” She reached back over to the desk and took a couple more books. “These. Just for good measure. And fun. Trespassing is rude, Professor Wallace, but pulling guns on your colleagues is far worse.” She nodded at Cece to work her magic. They’d gotten what they came for and then some.

“This probably won’t hurt,” Cece began, pressing her fingers against Amanda’s temple, “Or if it does you won’t remember it. Which is basically the same thing.” Amanda’s eyes were frantic at first, darting back and forth almost definitely trying to will her body to move. But soon they settled, floating shut as Cece dove into her memories to pluck them free. She figured the last half hour or so would do the trick. The woman would be left with a lot of blurry portions on the night, undoubtedly waking up in this room to wonder how she had gotten here. But those were hardly Cece’s concerns. She made sure to go back far enough to when Amanda started suspecting someone was here. Once Cece was done, she left Amanda on the floor and stood up, “She should be waking up soon. She should be able to move shortly after. If you have what we need, we should get out of here.” Cece suggested, heading towards the exit of the room before snapping and swinging back towards her, “Actually, now is probably the best time to mention that there may be another person that conveniently fell asleep in the office. We may want to stop by on our way out and wipe him too. Just to be safe.”

Morgan stopped halfway on the stairs they came down in just to gape at Cece in awe. “Remind me to never underestimate you for the rest of your days. And maybe bring you up on my list of people to call next time I need help with the forces of darkness. You’re a dangerous lady, Cece Bishop…” She gave Cece a chivalrous hand out of the cellar, grinning in the evening light. “But, then again, so am I sometimes.”

[violetsystems]

#personal

I can’t really tell if my mood is better or worse on Sunday mornings rather than the typical Saturday.  Things have reached a point where it’s just not worth explaining how awful life can be.  My life story at this point is slightly more convoluted than a side job in Cyberpunk 2077.  It’s also seemingly just as insignificant.  That is until I realize I’ve been writing here weekly for over two years at this point.  I’ve been posting on this platform for what seems like over a decade.  The value of this kind of journaling has been impossible to gauge.  I just paid a full year for LinkedIn to keep my career contacts alive.  I post in the hashtag cybersecurity almost every day.  I have a solid list of five contacts that follow my company.  I post the zero day news as it happens.  I promote my brand and employability.  As if this is the only thing that is valuable.  A twenty year resume with management experience that gets picked over by AI and human just the same.  I also forget sometimes I’m a musician.  I was reminded last night when I posted the RP Boo “Bangin’ on King Drive” video.  I was at that video shoot.  Years ago I would just run into Bu in the street with his wife randomly.  I appear nowhere in that video as I was edited out much like I was the only artist edited out of a Pitchfork review for a footwork compilation from Japan that protested Nuclear proliferation.  If there were any more alarming trend for me it’s that most of what I try to succeed at is locked beyond a brick wall.  I sit here from week to week trying to figure out ways to keep myself from disappearing.  I worry about where I can actually pivot and when.  I lay awake at night alone in my bed calculating what my runway for cash positivity is before I have to leave this city altogether.  It sometimes feels completely futile and useless.  Everybody in America is winner take all when there’s nothing left to take.  It’s cutthroat and we’re all in this together at the same time.  The amount of bullying I have to process per day has left me broken down and angry ninety percent of the time.  And yet angry is a shitty look for me.  I lose at video games all the time.  And lately I feel as if I’m living in one.  To explain that any further gets into some territory of oversharing.  I’ve written paragraphs upon paragraphs about my life here.  And yet nobody seems to acknowledge I exist other than here.  Which leads me to believe a very few amount of people actually have the reading comprehension over 140 characters to look deeper into someone’s life, liberty and value therein.  I think sometimes that it shouldn’t be this hard.  That something is very wrong and deeply troubled about it all.  And there’s not much I can really do about the things I’m up against when it’s only me fighting it from day to day out here.  So I’ve fallen back to what I know.  We are still very much in the middle of a pandemic.  I’m happy the relief bill has passed.  I’m waiting to pay my taxes until it’s official.  Which puts me back in the same mood I’ve been in the last eight months.  A complete state of abandon.  This nefarious field of people watching you every day waiting to pin something on you.  It never comes because I know better than to fall back into that trap as much as I can these days.  

The worst of this mindfuck is over for me.  I don’t actually really care too deeply about how wrong things are.  Mostly because I’ve done my best to make due under impossible circumstances.  You’d think someone like me after all these years would have something to celebrate.  I kind of do.  My birthday didn’t matter to anyone really out here much last month.  It was a clear indicator that I had no real peers out here anymore.  As evidenced as how everyone in footwork I helped back in 2014 has literally just ghosted like the rest of my professional network.  I had a couple of things to fall back on.  But it’s impossible to fall back onto anything when people would rather pretend you didn’t exist.  I’m always supposed to read into these psychotic projections by society because somehow I’m supposed to realize more is expected out of me.  I can’t figure this out completely.  Like I brought all this upon myself.  That’s the vibe I get from day to day.  That because I don’t share my plans, agenda, or strategy with the real world I’m shit out of luck.  The irony is that I do share it verbatim.  Week to week.  In a very coy, oblique way this is true.  But I am also a writer.  This is another talent I’ve been taught by society that has no value.  I wrote emails for my bosses for years on my days off.  On my birthday even.  This doesn’t mean it is worthless.  The audience is out there.  If it weren’t I would have quit sharing my feelings a long time ago.  I’m fairly aware at some point I’m going to have to put this all behind me.  Hopefully when the world wakes up and returns to normal like nothing ever happened.  That’s going on as we speak and I don’t even have a vaccine in my arm.  It’s a constant state of fear and missing out projected back at you.  That the reason I’m not happy is totally because of what I choose to take on in my life.  And I’m supposed to get the message when people don’t actually communicate.  I had this strange realization yesterday when I discovered all my videos were closed captioned.  I watch movies with subtitles all the time simply because I love to read.  My videos barely get ten views if that.  I often think content is content.  If you put it out there someone will eventually find it and wonder about it’s value.  In the age of semi-spiritual machines it’s true that the algorithms seem to be the only curators out there listening.  Everything I say out loud is transcribed and mothballed somewhere on Siri’s or Alexa’s servers.  When I take a screen shot of the things I say off the top of my head, I’m often aware that something acknowledges I actually said them.  It’s just nobody human really wants to pay attention. They are hardcoded over my videos as proof of the value of my words.  Not like you can sell the speculative value of it yet.  The first tweet is being auctioned off as a NFT and you wonder how worthless I have to feel at this point.  I’m sure we all feel a little of this deep down.  Disconnected and in some sort of weird emotional exile.  I think it just makes me realize more of what I am connected to.  A history of authenticity.  A life that trades the catwalk for the streets as brutal and unforgiving as they are.  Nobody can stop talking shit about me.  But it’s almost always a hallucination.  For a person who puts it all out there, I must be a shitty fucking writer.  I can spend week to week writing the same thing.  That I’m completely abandoned and ghosted out here on my own.  And how it’s less unsafe and more simply a degraded quality of life when it comes to my rights as a human being to be happy.  I’m supposed to get the message when nobody can bother to read mine.  The writing is on the wall I guess.

So instead of pining on and on about it which I just did for two paragraphs, I still look for solutions.  I still broadcast weekly to let people know I’m still alive.  I make funny jokes to myself and screencap them to mask deep emotional scarring that is no fault of my own.  I literally feel trapped and under duress almost all of the time.  And yet, I don’t really have the luxury of taking the shit when I’ve had the hope choked out of me until I can’t breathe.  If the answer is to keep ignoring the problem, it’s hard to be me.  Because nobody can leave me alone.  No one seems to have any sense of dignity as to what I’ve been through.  I never claimed to be a victim.  That’s not really me.  I’ve survived and been resilient.  I can see that working a six figure corporate job in New York or China is probably more worth my time in the not so distant future.  I can also see that I’m worth more than what people sell me short for.  I know we are in a dangerous time of confidence tricks.  I don’t really have much to lose other than cash positivity.  I can wait this out until the end of the summer for sure.  And then I start to think about spending another winter being hunted and shunned at the same time.  Mentally I can’t fuck with this city after what it’s done to me alone.  I can’t keep being a superhero for people who can’t be bothered to understand how painful it is to be taken for granted after all these years.  I just give up on everything in the past that isn’t working and move forward as best as I can.  Just like they threw the entire contents of my office in the trash I can let it go.  There is a very real emotional exhaustion I have to deal with from day to day.  The level of psychological torture and abuse I’ve witnessed first hand in this city is at a level that is unlawful and unhealthy.  I know too much about what it’s all connected to.  And I know I’m better than all of this.  I don’t know how to proceed.  And this is a very real and dangerous situation that I am stuck in the middle of a shark tank feeding frenzy of well meaning but rabid idiots and the pricks that prod them with a sharp stick.  I don’t have a future here in this city.  I don’t have a future in this state or country if you wanted me to be real about.  And yet I have so much potential if I just hold on for one more year.  For one more decade.  For another forty years when they turn my blog into a NFT after my death like I’m the next Van Gogh.  Everybody will talk about how they knew me and how tortured an artist I was.  I was so misunderstood and it was beautiful.  They’ll fund a school with the proceeds that kicked me out the door because I was a blight on their payroll and budget.  And I’ll be a digital ghost just the same.  I feel like that very ghost now every waking fucking moment.  It is a pain I cannot describe in words.  It is a suffering that is goaded on in the worst syndicate driven way.  I have nothing good to say about any of this shit anymore.  I have no more room to break down and make things worse for myself.  I just have to adjust my schedule and manage my emotions with it all because it’s my fault.  This is the message I keep hearing in my head projected by silent looks as I picked up my prescriptions on foot avoiding everyone who wants to see if it’s true.  If I really am the bogeyman.  The source of the problem.  Someone to blame.  The scapegoat for everything that is wrong with the world.  Convenient but ultimately not worth my time to humor.  Which is why I don’t really know what to do anymore other than to stay inside and wait for justice.  If there’s anything poetic about it, it’s that it runs pretty seamlessly at 1440p.  Much clearer resolution than what this city wants to offer me after what it’s put me through.  <3 Tim

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 138

Chapter Summary -   Danielle and Tom barely make it in the door home before they enjoy their night even more, but the next morning, it is not a hangover that has Danielle feeling queasy.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

Tom barely heard the door of the house close before he pushed Danielle against it, kissing her hungrily. ‘You fucking tease.’

‘What’s the matter? You seem a little frustrated.’ She grinned wickedly. He began to kiss her again, his hand sliding up her leg before pushing her skirt out of the way. ‘What, here?’

‘Can’t wait.’ Tom moaned, pushing her up so that she was off the ground and was caught between him and the door, lifting her skirt higher again and pulling down her underwear. At the same time, she was fighting with his suit. Barely getting his boxers out of the way, he pushed into her, knowing she was wet from the playing and teasing she had done in the taxi home. She gasped as he bottomed out in her pinning her hands over her head with one hand while the other held her thigh up. Danielle found purchase on the radiator cover that was inside the hallway next to the door using that to alleviate some of her weight from Tom as he concentrated in thrusting his hips, kissing her passionately as he did so. ‘So beautiful.’

‘Fuck, Tom.’ Danielle moaned as he moved. ‘Fuck.’ He moved faster and faster until the door knocker began to rap against the door on the other side. ‘Tom, too loud, neighbours.’

‘Fuck em.’ He swore, too busy enjoying the sensation of Danielle’s body against his.

‘Can’t, I’m fucking you.’

‘I think you will find that it’s the other way around, Darling.’ Tom chuckled as he continued what he was doing. When the door knocker began to become louder, he swore again before pulling them away from the door and to the wall over next to the radiator, giving Danielle better purchase and continued his previous rhythm, his forehead against hers and his mouth open as he gasped and groaned in the pleasure, his hand once more pinning hers above them. ‘I want to see how long this takes.’ He grinned as he continued to move. ‘God, you feel so good.’

Danielle simply concentrated on not allowing her leg slip from its place of purchase as well as focusing on the incredible pleasure Tom was having her experience. She loved teasing him all evening, knowing that the few whiskeys he had were causing him to become a tad aroused and the manner in which he was eyeing her chest making it very clear. She had thought they would make it through the hallway of their home before he would want to ravish her, but as he continued to slap his hips against her, trying to get as much of himself into her as possible, he created the most incredible pleasure for her. Tom shifted slightly to lift her more as his grip was slipping, in doing so, he forced the angle of his thrusts to alter and begin to cause him to hit against every area, inside and out of Danielle’s body that gave her pleasure.

The sounds she made told Tom everything he needed to know, and to his relief, he was elated to hear she was close to her own orgasm as he was nearing his, so ignoring the pain in his hand from holding a large portion of her weight at such an obscure angle and continued what he was doing so to give her the pleasure he knew she yearned for. On hearing her gasps become harsher and more frequent, as well as the occasional moan, he knew she was reaching her peak, so he pressed his lips to hers and concentrated his efforts until he felt her fight against the hand that was holding hers above their heads and felt her fist clench as her body became overcome with pleasure. She moaned loudly as it all became too much and she fell over the edge of her orgasm. Tom cherished the feeling of her body falling apart around him before allowing himself fall over also; brushing his nose up her face alongside her own, his mouth before he clenched his teeth and heard himself groan her name as his hand fell from holding hers and helped him carry her weight as his legs felt unsteady at his orgasm. Lowering Danielle gently to the ground, he slowly pulled out of her. ‘Thank you.’

‘What for, you did all the work, not me.’

‘For today, thank you.’ He smiled. ‘I...I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to have you by my side.’

‘It was different and terrifying.’ She saw the concern on his face. ‘But I am glad I was there for you.’

‘So, more in the future?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded with a smile. ‘If you want me there, then yes.’

Elated, he kissed her with even more passion than before. ‘Do you think Luke is mad?’

Danielle giggled. ‘We controlled ourselves, barely. If he had been in the taxi home with us, however…’

‘I cannot help it, not with you looking as you do. So beautiful.’ He kissed her again.

Danielle’s hands cupped his face, going through his bristly facial hair that had, for now, become a constant feature on his face, and with the longer hair, she had to admit, she adored it. Tom was elated by her reaction, noting how she bit her lip often when looking at him or gave other small indicators as to loving his appearance. ‘Well, I don’t think I will be too welcome again if this will be a constant feature, poor Luke will have kittens when we finally go too far.’

‘Oh, a “when”?’ Tom grinned. ‘You have me intrigued now. What do you envision, a romp in a coat closet?’

‘Well, we did just fuck inside the front door.’

‘I regret nothing.’ He kissed her hand. ‘We do need bed though.’

‘Most definitely.’ Danielle agreed, rushing up the stairs.

‘Elle?’

‘I am not staining anything with your bodily fluids.’ She called back.

‘Fair enough.’ He acknowledged, followed her up, not enjoying the feel of his now damp boxers that he had pulled back up to prevent the same issue.

*

‘Morning, Darling.’ Danielle turned around to see Tom lying down in the bed next to her.

‘Hey. What time is it?’

‘Half nine.’

‘A sleep in.’

‘Yes.’ Tom pulled her to him and kissed her.

‘Again?’

‘If you’re up for it.’ He grinned cheekily.

‘Insatiable.’ She chuckled, giving him a kiss before going under the covers and kissing her way down his body while he bit his lower lip and moaned as she specifically chose areas of his body she knew tortured him in the most pleasurable way.

*

‘Well, what are the reviews?’

Tom looked up from his phone to see Danielle patting her hair dry. ‘Good.’

‘Yeah?’ Her smile was one of genuine delight.

‘You seem somewhat surprised.’

‘Well, I like it but I am not a critic, they influence cinema-goers to come and see it.’ She pointed out. ‘Who is saying what?’

‘“Early Man is an utterly silly feature from Nick Park and Aardman Animations that manages to be fresh and delightful.” That is the New York Times.’ Tom read. ‘“A welcome return to a form of stop-motion that takes pride in the technique's inevitable imperfections (such as thumbprints in the modelling clay), while putting extra care into the underlying script.” That is Variety.’ He added. ‘Then there is the Telegraph “Watch Early Man, the new film from Aardman Animations, and you’ll understand. Mere words can’t do the sequence justice”.’ He finished.

‘Brilliant.’ Danielle smiled. ‘And the negative?’

‘Only that it is a safe script, predictable, the usual sorts of things.’

‘So no really bad reviews?’

‘No, it seems to be something of a three to four-star rating all around.’

‘Woohoo, go you and your ridiculous accent, which, I have to say, I am still laughing at.’ Danielle giggled.

Tom chuckled as he rose to his feet and walked over to her. ‘It was incredibly fun.’

‘What had you looking at reviews anyway?’

He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Luke sent me a message, saying congratulations on the movie being reviewed well by the papers, so he sent me a few links and also...is the Irish Independent any good?’

‘It’s gotten a bit trashy over the past few years, more about gossip and tabloid stuff than I can remember, why?’ Danielle asked, not sure why he would ask about that paper.

‘You’re front page on it.’

‘What?’ Danielle’s voice went up two octaves as she spoke.

‘Well, it would be more accurate to say we are but you are their focus.’

‘Why?’

‘They decided that you were worth talking about.’

‘What sort of slow week is Ireland having if I am news, much less front page. What are they even saying?’

‘Well, the picture is us at the premiere and the caption is…’ He got the picture up on the screen which Danielle immediately inspected. It was to the right-hand side of the page, taking up a notable size of it in Danielle’s opinion. “Connemara born Danielle Hughes premieres alongside British actor boyfriend Tom Hiddleston at Early man premiere, see page six.” written underneath. ‘We are also in the Daily Mail but only page eight, and you are the focus of a lot of that too.’

‘This feels weird.’ Danielle commented. ‘What did they say?’

‘Well, I am not sure of the Daily Mail, I think Luke got about four lines in and had to get stronger coffee, you know how hard it is to even attempt to read something in that. And the Irish Independent is really focusing on your success and how I am just one of the things you achieved in recent times, your rise through Safeguard and your sterling career as a paramedic, your success in triathlon, it’s all they wrote about really.’ He seemed proud of her for that. ‘It also commented on your fashion, your practicality, they are really pushing you as a role model for women.’

‘That is just odd.’ Danielle was unsure how to feel about it all. ‘It can’t all be good.’

‘Well, there are some references to the album and “The Heeler” but nothing is being taken as a negative about you, if anything, they seem to maintain that you are more formidable than others as you are from a small family vet practise on the West Coast of Ireland and not the daughter of some wealthy finance...what did her father do again, something that made money.’ Tom dismissed.

‘I wasn’t exactly poor and I am not exactly rich now.’ Danielle pointed out.

‘But you are a success, a businesswoman, a formidable mind. I am being noted as needing a strong female in my life from it and I may be inclined to agree.’ Tom smiled. Seeing her uncertainty, he pulled her to him. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’ She dismissed. ‘I mean, for one thing, I am not near Bernadette today, she would be an utter dose, so that’s not a bad thing.’

Tom could not stop himself from laughing as he thought of Danielle’s insufferable aunt.

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (15) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: oh u thought the worst of the angst was over? it’s only just begun. apologies in advance hnggggggg. love is always appreciated here or over on my blog! love and hugs xxxxxxxxx

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Scarlet helped Vanessa deal with the aftermath of the breakup, aided by lecture-skipping and the prospect of a pink-haired rebound. Monet was gearing up to ask Nina to be her girlfriend in the most elaborate of ways, and Scarlet and Yvie finally said the most important three words to each other since “let’s get takeaway”.

this chapter: it’s Valentine’s Day, Brooke is a living flip flop, and something happens that nobody saw coming.

***

“Ayo. We’ve got a mouse.”

Brooke finally got her jacket off that she’d been struggling with and faced Yvie, who was lounging on the sofa in their little living room in front of the TV. “Well isn’t that a romantic Valentine’s Day greeting.”

“Well we do,” Yvie shrugged, Brooke leaving her bag on the kitchen table and joining Yvie in front of Coronation Street. “This storyline has been going for about a year, I swear to God.”

“Should you not be out doing romantic shit with Scarlet?” Brooke asked, hearing how monotone her voice was but unable to take it back now. Yvie looked across at her and raised an eyebrow.

“She’s got uni. I’m picking her up from her flat at five, we’re going for drinks and then out to the restaurant.”

“Picking her up with what, your bare hands?” Brooke let out a small laugh, Yvie chucking a couch cushion at her and snorting.

“Shut up. I’ll get an uber. I might even get an uber exec, really push the boat out,” she quipped, Brooke laughing again. As her laughter died down, Yvie tilted her head. “So what’re your plans for tonight?”

Brooke groaned and tilted her head to the ceiling. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stick on some films, eat some chocolate. Maybe skype my parents. I’ll be fine.”

“You said that twice.”

“Well I will be.”

Yvie made a click with her tongue. “And we all know the hallmark of a person who’s fine is if they have to repeat it about twenty billion times.”

“Yvie Oddly, ladies and gentlemen, queen of exaggeration,” Brooke said sarcastically, Yvie giving a sarcastic flourish of her hand right back at her. In the conversational lull, Brooke checked her phone. All over her instagram page there were couples; disgusting, happy couples who really were just making an embarrassment of themselves with their totally cringeworthy captions. “Happy Valentine’s Day to my number one” with every heart emoji under the sun, “happy vday baby i love u” beneath a picture of someone’s boyfriend pulling a silly face, and the worst, “he’s ok”, the understated caption contrasted by the horrendously soppy picture of a couple that Brooke knew from back home kissing for the camera.

Brooke had a cheek, she supposed. She’d made her bed- breaking up with Vanessa, as difficult as it was, was supposed to make her happier and make everything go back to normal. But it hadn’t. Knowing how much she’d hurt Vanessa brought no happiness to her at all, nor did it make her life any easier. Seeing her post sad, slow R&B song after sad, slow R&B song to her instagram story didn’t alleviate her guilt, nor did her radio silence on the group chat. Brooke had seen her only once since the breakup- across the square on campus when Vanessa didn’t realise Brooke could see her, flanked by Silky and Akeria, wearing baggy clothes and not a scrap of makeup, her face and eyes puffy and red. There was nothing about Brooke that was relieved; she desperately wanted to be there for Vanessa, to dry her tears and talk shit about herself. She had the deepest desire to be a friend to her through the breakup she had been the cause of, because ultimately she still cared about her. Brooke didn’t know if that was normal or not. She was past caring or trying to figure it out.

What was she going to do tonight? Yvie was out with Scarlet, Nina was at Monet’s right that minute. Plastique had told her in the library the other day that she was going for drinks with Ariel (“the most casual of drinks”, she’d said, although Brooke knew it would be anything but casual). She didn’t know what the others would be doing. Akeria would probably drag Vanessa on a night out and Silky wouldn’t need much encouragement to go either. It looked like Brooke was in for a night by herself after all.

Mid-scroll, one of the uploads caught Brooke’s eye- a photo from months back at Vanessa’s birthday night out of all eight of them together, dressed up and smiling with their arms around each other. It was only a few seconds later that Brooke realised she was smiling at it, completely unaware that her facial expression had changed. She wished they could all go back to October. She would exchange all the hurt and the guilt and the sadness that she’d caused in exchange for pining for Vanessa for the rest of her days. Her eyes drifted down to the caption, and her stomach plummeted when she realised who it was posted by.

missvanjiemissvanjie Happy Valentine’s Day to my day ones! Best bitches I could ask for in my life. Love you!! 💓

Brooke scanned the photo again. She hadn’t been cropped out, even though she was on the edge of the photo- the curse of being tall, Nina had called it. Her heart began to spring to life. This was a good sign. Vanessa clearly didn’t hate her, and somewhere deep inside her was a want to be friends again and go back to how things used to be. Injected with optimism, Brooke clicked on Vanessa’s messages. She paused for a moment, looking back at the last ones they’d sent- the day of the breakup, Brooke asking to talk, Vanessa wondering if everything was alright. It felt like a harpoon to her stomach.

Trying to stay positive, Brooke typed out a message.

B: Hey. Hope you’re doing okay. I know we said we still wanted to try and be friends so I was wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out tonight? Just as friends obviously. Since everyone else will be busy. Let me know.

Brooke’s finger hovered over the “x”. She decided against it. Hitting send, she found herself waiting anxiously for a reply.

“How do you know we have a mouse anyway?” Brooke asked Yvie, her words suddenly registering. Yvie shrugged.

“Ran across the worktop about five minutes before you came in.”

“What the hell are we going to do about it, then? I don’t want to even imagine what Nina’s reaction’s going to be if she sees it,” Brooke shuddered.

Yvie laughed. “No, Scarlet’s going to be the same. I don’t know, she looked like a nice lil’ fucker. I think we should get a cage. Put a block of cheese in it and then keep her as a pet."

Brooke felt her phone vibrate twice. Picking it up to check it and seeing that both the messages were from Vanessa, she nonchalantly carried on the conversation. "So Scarlet would be fine with that, would she?”

“Scarlet isn’t here all the time.”

“No, just 99% of it,” Brooke raised her eyebrows, opening Vanessa’s messages.

V: lmao

V: Are you on crack. You broke my heart two weeks ago and now you’re trying to be my friend already. Have you never heard of a thing called a healing process?

Brooke felt her stomach tense. She hovered her thumbs over her screen to reply, but nothing she thought of seemed to make sense or be the slightest bit appropriate. Despondent, she was about to close her phone when another message shot through.

V: And I’m busy anyway. So it still would have been a no.

Well, that was that. Vanessa was out with Silky and Akeria, and clearly she wasn’t invited. That was fine. Brooke could have kicked herself. She instantly wished she’d never been so tone-deaf. It had been a stupid suggestion. Of course Vanessa wasn’t going to be best friends with her a fortnight after they’d broken up.

Brooke couldn’t help the fact that she missed her, though. Even just as a friend.

“Hey, panini head? Are you listening to me?” Yvie suddenly yelled, her best Gordon Ramsay impersonation catching Brooke off-guard.

“What?”

“I said, would you look after Mrs Tibbs if I went home for the weekend?”

Brooke rubbed her temples in confusion. “Who’s Mrs-”

“The mouse! Jesus, Brooke, have you been on this earth for the past five minutes?” Yvie laughed, then gradually a frown spread onto her face. “What’s wrong?”

Brooke hadn’t realised she’d been showing her guilt and disappointment on her face. She sighed. “It’s nothing. I just still feel bad. About Vanessa, you know.”

Yvie furrowed her brow. “Listen, girl, I know dumping someone is hard and it’s unpleasant. Shit, I would know, I’ve had to do it enough times. But there comes a point where you’ve got to stop beating yourself up about it. I mean you ultimately did what was best for the pair of you. It wasn’t fair to string her along if you didn’t want to be with her. It hurts her now, but it’s better in the long run.”

Brooke nodded. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder…

…it didn’t matter.

Brooke’s phone vibrated again. She hoped and prayed it wasn’t another text from Vanessa to berate her for her shitty idea. What was to come would actually make her feel a hundred times worse.

Okay Then: happy valentines day fuckers!!!!!!! even though im out being soppy tonight i still want u all to know that ur my main bitches and number ones and i love u all sm 💖💖💖

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: You’re disgusting. Love you too hoe xxxxxx

Yvie’s Bitch: Awwwwwww Plastique!!!!! We love you too!!!!

Yvie’s Bitch: What’re everyone’s plans for Valentine’s Day?????

Scarlet’s Bitch: i don’t know i’ve got plans with this weird girl called……Scarface? idk i’ll probs cancel on her

Yvie’s Bitch: Suck my clit x

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag For Life: Children PLEASE

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: HAPPY INTERNATIONAL DAY OF FUCKING

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: ME N KIKI GOING OUT ON THE TOWN LOOKING FOR THIRD DIVISION FOOTBALL PLAYERS

Okay Then: oh bitch aim high? second division xo

Brooke’s heart dropped twenty storeys when she saw who was typing. Their names on the chat had been quietly changed back, but Brooke still knew who it was.

cursed SatNav voice: Happy Valentine’s Day hoes 💓💓💓

cursed SatNav voice: Even though all you couples can suck a bag of dicks

Scarlet’s bitch: gladly, bitch 💜

Okay Then: Vanj are u not going out with Silk n Kiki?? bc if not ur welcome to join me n Ariel!! it’s just casual!!

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YES PLASTIQUE IM SURE SHED LOVE TO THIRD WHEEL U AND UR HONEYMOON PHASE FLATMATE

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: anna ou

cursed SatNav voice: 💓 That’s sweet but I’m busy tonight!! Thanks though boo

incongruous silkworm spiced praline: SHE GOT A DATE ANYWAY

Time seemed to freeze. Brooke couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. All she was able to do was blink at her phone screen as the chat blew up around her. It was only after a few moments that she realised Yvie was looking at her.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Um. Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Brooke stammered, nodding and putting her phone down in a futile effort to seem relaxed. Yvie gave a laugh.

“Brooke, you can’t break up with her and then get mad she’s going on a date with someone else.”

Brooke bristled. “No, that’s not it, that’s not it at all.”

There was a small silence as Yvie typed away at her screen, her eyebrows raised in a defiant show of disbelief. In the silence, Brooke gathered her thoughts.

“I’m just kinda…I don’t know. Not hurt, but…I mean I thought she cared about me a bit more than to be over me in the space of two weeks.”

Yvie gave a gasp, clutching at her heart. “Oh! The fragile ego of Miss Brooke Lynn Hytes. The wings of a moth cannot compare, nor the web of a spider!”

“You know, you can be a really shit friend when you want to be,” Brooke spat, getting up without a second thought and storming through to her bedroom. She threw herself down on her bed and curled up into a small ball, wishing the world would give her a break.

Her ego was hurt. Her pride was battered and bruised. She supposed she’d been so used to being revered and cared for in the eyes of Vanessa that she found it odd for that to no longer be the case. Brooke sighed. Yvie was right- she wasn’t supposed to care this much, she was supposed to be happy. Fuck, shouldn’t this have been the ideal outcome? Vanessa had moved on already.

So why did Brooke feel absolutely gutted?

She sat on her bed in the cold of her room, stewing in her thoughts, trying to figure them out and failing. She didn’t know how long she’d been there for but it had clearly been enough time for Yvie to make a cup of tea, as Brooke found when her flatmate gave a gentle knock on her door and shuffled in with the Sports Direct mug in her hand.

“Hey,” Yvie began, crossing the room and putting the mug down on Brooke’s cluttered bedside table. She sighed and lay down on top of Brooke in what could have been a cuddle or an attempt at smothering her to death. “Brooky, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t. She used to call me that and…” Brooke began, sighing when she couldn’t figure out why she had an issue with it. “I don’t know.”

Brooke wrestled an arm free from under Yvie’s stomach and brought it to rest over her back. It felt more like a cuddle now.

“I knew she was going on a date, by the way. Scarlet told me the other day. I just didn’t think you’d give a fuck,” Yvie said quietly. Brooke exhaled and felt her ribcage deflate.

“I didn’t think I would either,” she said, feeling small. There was a pause. “What’s her name?”

“Monique. The girl from Monet’s party with the purple hair,” Yvie said. It felt like a stab through Brooke’s chest. She remembered Monique, she remembered the way Vanessa had laughed at her stories and the way Monique had looked at her and the obvious chemistry between them. “If it helps, Brooke, I don’t think it’s going to be anything serious. Scarlet said that apparently she literally gave Vanjie her number and was like ‘In case you ever want a rebound’. They’ve been messaging all week. Tonight’s more of a 'fuck Valentine’s Day’ drink than anything else.”

Brooke thought about Vanessa’s perfect body, about her touching Monique the way she used to touch Brooke, talking to her like she used to talk to Brooke, someone else making her come apart the way Brooke used to. Brooke rolled out from under Yvie, grabbed her pillow, and buried her face in it, letting out a long, loud groan.

“Do you feel like you fucked it?” Brooke heard Yvie’s voice ask matter-of-factly. Brooke brought the pillow off her face and whined.

“No! No, I made the right decision. I didn’t want to be Vanessa’s girlfriend. It’s just fucking…weird. It doesn’t exactly fill me with glee thinking of her with somebody else, you know?”

Yvie smirked. “Because you know Monique’s going to fuck her better?”

Brooke launched the pillow at her flatmate, Yvie giggling. “Sorry! Sorry! Fuck, okay, point taken. Inappropriate.”

There was a silence. Yvie’s joke still hung in the air.

“Well, as long as you feel like your decision was correct,” Yvie smiled gently, patting Brooke’s thigh. “Then that’s the main thing. And it’s natural to get a little jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure, Jan,” Yvie raised her eyebrows and began to slide off Brooke’s bed. “Look, I’ve got to go get ready for dinner. You sure you’ll be fine?”

“Well I said it about twenty billion times, remember?” Brooke deadpanned, earning her a laugh from Yvie. “Just go. Go have fun. Have the best night, baby. You two deserve it.”

Yvie leant down and gave Brooke one last little squeeze before leaving her bedroom and going back into her own. Now she was alone with her thoughts Brooke wanted desperately to silence them so she grabbed her laptop and shoved on the least romantic film she could think of- Kingsman. As she sipped her tea and watched a man get completely sliced in half from skull to anus, she thought that would only be slightly less painful than what her emotions were currently putting her through.

As Taron Egerton refused to kill his dog, Yvie shouted a goodbye to Brooke.

As Colin Firth went absolutely mental in a church and killed everybody single-handedly, Brooke grabbed her phone and deleted all of her messages with Vanessa.

As the end credits rolled, Brooke wondered what the fuck she’d done. Two and a half years of friendship gone and deleted in the blink of an eye. But maybe it was for the best.

Brooke had been scrolling Netflix searching for something else to watch for what could have been an entire hour when she heard four things in rapid succession- the heavy bang of the front door, a scurry of hurried footsteps across the hall, the bang of Nina’s fire door and then a rapid sobbing that poured out of whoever was in the room and through Brooke’s wall. Brooke’s previously lethargic body sprang to life and she shot off her bed, took three quick steps to her door and hurried out into the hallway where she knocked on Nina’s.

“Nina? What’s happened?”

The sobbing continued from inside, Brooke unsure if the girl had even heard anything. Hesitantly, she pushed on the door.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

With no response other than more sobbing and a snuffle, Brooke entered Nina’s room. There was her usual organised dressing table with her makeup strewn all over it, indicative of a rushed getting-ready process. On her usually tidy floor was a mess of tried-on-and-rejected clothes, and there on the Aristocats-patterned duvet curled up with her stuffed teddy was Nina, absolutely crying her eyes out. Brooke practically vaulted the end of her bed to get to her flatmate who was squashed in between her pillows and the wall in the foetal position.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong?” Brooke asked her, pulling her close and wrapping her arms around her. Nina batted her away weakly.

“Don’t, Brooke, don’t, fuck, getting held is just going to remind me of her and I don’t-” Nina descended into another burst of sobs, Brooke completely and utterly confused.

“Monet? I thought you guys were fine? Oh my God, Nina, she didn’t break up with you?!” Brooke asked, scared and trying to fight the sinking feeling taking root in her chest. Nina elegantly wiped her nose on her teddy and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, rubbing harshly and leaving her looking like a human panda.

“She didn’t break up with me,” Nina sniffed, finally seeming to calm down.

“Oh, thank fuck.”

“I broke up with her.”

This was at least twenty times worse than what Brooke had feared. Pulling away, she fixed Nina with a look of complete incredulity. “You did what?!”

Nina rubbed at her eyes again, this time with her fingers. “Yeah, because obviously I can’t have anything fucking half-decent in my life without completely sabotaging it or making it go to shit, can I? I broke up with her, I’m a fucking idiot. Happy?”

Brooke could only blink in response as Nina leaned back and let her head hit the pillow, her stare boring into the ceiling. Her thoughts were all colliding. This was the most sudden and unexpected event, and it had completely knocked her for six. “Rewind. I thought you and Monet were fine?”

“We were fine,” Nina sighed so deeply that Brooke wasn’t sure she would have any air left in her lungs. “I was so fucking happy, Jesus. But there’s always a catch, right? Nobody can stay that happy forever, it’s always got to come to an end at some point.”

She stopped and sat up, propping her head against the headboard. Not looking Brooke in the eye, Nina continued. “She started being really distant with me. Not replying to texts for ages, being really deep in thought when we were together. I’d ask her what was wrong, but…she’d just always say nothing was. I was over at her flat the other night, we’d had a nap together and I woke up and she wasn’t there. I went into her living room and she was there with two of her flatmates. They stopped talking the second I got in, honestly I might as well have caught them all in the middle of a massive fucking orgy,” Nina laughed humourlessly. “And then it clicked. It all started after I told Monet about you and Vanessa. Nothing bad…just about how you weren’t sure, and how it’s better to just break up with somebody if you’re having second thoughts about them. It all made sense. Her being distant, always seeming off, obviously talking to her flatmates about it and having to stop because I came in. She didn’t fucking want me anymore, Brooke.”

Shocked, Brooke could only put her arms around her friend as she leaned into her chest and began to cry again. Nothing about it seemed to fit. Monet was absolutely head over heels for Nina, anyone could have seen it. It all seemed so out of the blue and sudden. Brooke tried to think about the last time Monet had been over at the flat. It had been about a week ago and Monet had seemed fine- although, now that Brooke thought about it, Monet had seemed a little quiet. Almost nervous, Brooke considered. But she was still cuddling Nina and giving her small kisses and paying her attention. It didn’t make any sense. Brooke frowned. “Nina, are you sure she actually wanted to break up with you?”

“I wondered it too. Because I didn’t want to believe it, of course. But then yesterday we were just lying in bed doing nothing. She was on her phone and my head was on her chest. I saw what was on her screen just for a second and she’d fucking-” Nina sighed, cutting herself off. “- typed this guy’s name into Google. Obviously some guy she’s met and she’s trying to find him on social media. I actually felt like I’d been stabbed, Brooke. Obviously she saw me, because she only got as far as the first name and then closed her phone. But I know what I saw, you know?”

Brooke’s frown only got deeper. “But that makes no sense. Why would she look someone up on Google, what is this, the fucking 90’s?”

“Brooke, you weren’t there. You should have seen how quickly she shut her phone off, and she was instantly all over me and telling me how lucky she was and-” Nina’s speech was interrupted by a bubble of a sob. “Oh fuck, it hurt so much. And today she woke up with me and was all "Happy Valentine’s Day!” and all that shit. I couldn’t do it, Brooke. I couldn’t make myself look like an idiot any longer. I suggested going for coffee and while we were out I just…I just fucking did it. Oh my God, it was so so bad, Brooke. She looked so fucking destroyed and she was so pissed off with me that I thought it was all a mistake but…fuck, I didn’t know what to believe. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’ve done.“

Brooke sighed, desperately not wanting to believe it was over between the two girls. "But didn’t she explain herself? I mean what did you actually say to her? Did you confront her?”

“Jesus, no! No, I didn’t want to make it look like I was this poor, lovesick, pining idiot who was making a fool of herself over her! I jumped before I was pushed. I pretended I was the one whose feelings had changed, that it wasn’t working for me anymore. It was all a crock of shit, but she obviously believed it.”

Brooke bit the skin at the side of her thumb. There was a silence. “But didn’t she try to make you stay? Didn’t she fight for you?”

“She-” Nina cut herself off. Brooke looked down and saw tears pouring down her face, and her heart broke. “- she just sat and looked at me. Something in her eyes just…shut down. They just went all glassy, like those black marbles you got as a kid, remember? Anyway I said my piece and she just…ugh, she just nodded. She just nodded and went "Right. Got it.” in the most cold voice and then she got up, put on her coat and left. And I let her.“

With that, Nina swept her hands under her eyes and heaved a gut-wrenching shudder of a sigh. Brooke was at a loss of what to say. She had thought Nina and Monet were made for each other, and the fact that Nina had thrown it away for the sake of what Brooke was sure had to be a misunderstanding was gutting. She heaved a similar sigh to Nina’s.

"Look at us. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’re both single, we’re both here regretting breaking up with someone-”

“Wait what?” Nina asked suddenly, eyeing Brooke with suspicion. It was only then that Brooke had realised what she’d said. Startled, she backtracked.

“Well, I mean, not regretting breaking up with her, just regretting causing her hurt,” she said, Nina nodding quietly. Although Brooke was still spooked. Why had that thought popped into her head, let alone out of her mouth? She didn’t regret breaking up with Vanessa. It was the ick, just like Plastique had said. She had changed her mind. She couldn’t exactly change it back.

Could she?

“Why don’t we watch a film? I’ll bring my laptop through, get snacks from the kitchen. You don’t even need to move from this room. Or this bed,” Brooke suggested, ignoring the dangerous thoughts swirling round her mind. Nina gave a sniff and a silent nod.

“21 Jump Street?” she offered hopefully, Brooke unable to help the small laugh that escaped her mouth at the suggestion.

“This from the queen of Disney?”

“Disney’s too happy for me right now,” Nina moped, wiggling underneath her duvet cover. Brooke screwed up her face.

“Too happy? C’mon, you’ve seen Bambi. And Lion King. And Big Hero 6. And-”

“Brooke I swear to God if you don’t go get your laptop and stick on 21 Jump Street,” Nina warned, not finishing the empty threat. Laughing, Brooke did as she was told. She could only hope that the film would be enough of a distraction to her and to Nina for the next two hours.

She had no idea what they’d do once those two hours were up.

[alliepretends]

I have mixed feelings about posting this week. Since I’m not going to turn this blog into a current events blog. I didn’t even watch the episode until today. But I had the idea, before I started the episode, that I would focus on Beth as a small way of honoring the BLM movement. And I will. But before I do, I think it’s important to acknowledge that there were only four black characters with lines in this episode of Stargirl. Jenny’s line was said off camera and the only reason I knew it was her was because I watch with closed captions. None of them had more than a few minutes of screen time. That’s simply not good enough.

On to Beth, in the few minutes of screen time we did get of Beth she was as charming as she’s been since episode one. My big take away from this episode came from her conversation with Joey. Her introduction as someone who sits at the “singles” table gave the impression that she was someone who wasn’t able to make friends. However, in her interactions with Joey (who’s well liked enough not to sit at the “singles” table and take third place in the talent show) indicate that she’s perfectly able to talk to people normally. Some people like her. So what all the evidence we have about Beth leads me to conclude is that she simply goes after what will make her happy. And she does so fearlessly. Both her parents work demanding jobs, so she wants to talk to them at lunch. She doesn’t care that it puts her at a table alone or that stereotypical teenagers don’t want to spend time with her parents. She is perfectly willing to do what will make her happy and not worry about who might judge her for it.

[laughing-with-god]

Hi!!! I've just started following you (yandere is my guilty pleasure, so thank god I found your blog) so I don't really know if you take requests or not (I think not), but would you consider, anytime in the future, doing a yandere fanboys but with exo? I loved the BTS one and I'm curious to see how an exo one would turn out ❤️❤️❤️

BITCH I WAS AN EXO-L BEFORE ANYTHING. (Tbh I consider myself more of one than an army but that’s controversial so👀🤫)

Suho- Supportive stan. Buys anything and everything concerning you and your group. The type of guy to buy multiple copies of the same merch or album bc he just wants to support his baby. Has went to multiple fanmeets and concerts, you have seen him many times. Isn’t a big fan of social media but just got an account to follow you. His friends know that whenever they hang out with him, they’re gonna have to catch an earful about the latest thing you did. Tries imitating little catch phrases or stunts you’ve done on variety shows or V-live. Doesn’t participate in fan wars bc he’s classy but if someone said anything negative about you, he would def just make an disgusted face and leave their presence. KING of sending gifts, has handed you a few small ones during fanmeets.

Lay- Very sheepish about his love for you. Buys all the merch and music but doesn’t let people know how big of a fan he is. Practices your choreo and songs, even has his own manlier versions for your performances. You’re the inspiration for any love songs he writes/composes from that point on. He tries to act like how he thinks you would want in a man. If he thinks you like the gentle type, then he’ll practice acting more coy and content. If he thinks you like a manly man, he’ll hit the gym and act more bold. You’re his ideal type of woman. for the few times he did try to date after discovering you, he couldn’t stand women who didn’t resemble you in any way. His wardrobe will change to alter himself into your style. He doesn’t really notice it, the progression happens naturally/subconsciously. His dream is to one day perform with you.

Chen- Everyone within a five mile radius will now how obsessed this guy is with you. Hums your songs everyday while doing mundane chores. Excitedly squeals whenever you update any social media, not caring where the fuck he is. Regularly posts covers of your songs. You’re his phone background, iPad, Apple Watch, laptop EVERYTHING. Dances excitedly whenever he hears your music. Denies being a solo stan, but like he ain’t fooling anything bc he mainly only belts out YOUR lyrics and only half-assedly hums along to the other members’ lines. Not above getting nasty if someone attacks your reputation. Very protective as well, HATES dating rumors with a passion. Really wants to collaborate with you.

Chanyeol- Thinks he is being slick about his love for you but tbh he is not. Religiously streams your music, wears merch and will refuse to leave the house if you were gonna make an appearance on tv bc HE CANNOT MISS IT DAMMIT. Covers your songs, all acoustic. Comments on all your social media pics about how gorgeous you are. The type of guy to need at least a day of no one talking to him after you made a comeback bc he is just so flabbergasted. You will be his background and everything for any electronic he owns. The type to get livid if you looked like you were getting thinner or worn out by schedules. He doesn’t hate girl groups but he doesn’t like them either bc they are your competition. (Still hasn’t forgiven Twice for stealing that award from you). Boy groups annoy him though, will def be naive enough to believe all dating scandals concerning you. He now hates all of Bts, Wanna One, Got7 and half of NCT bc why were they looking at you with heart eyes at that award show?!

Baekhyun- Could shout his devotion to you from the mountain tops. Sings your songs more than his own. Bold asl, def the type to slip up while on Tv and admit he fucking adores you. (Suho will have his ass on a platter for that but like 🤷🏻‍♀️). Headass enough to copy your outfits, tells himself that he’s just completing the other half of the ‘couple aesthetic’. Would drop anything and everything to watch your insta live or check your lastest social media post. Chanyeol bought him a backstage ticket for one of your shows and baekhyun almost promised to give Yeol his first born he was so touched. Thinks he is being subliminal by adding little hints for his love for you on his insta captions but everyone knows what’s up. Sends letters and gifts your way, squeals so loud if you respond in any way. Already has your future kids names picked out. He tired to figure out what type of perfume you wore so he could spray it on his clothes to feel closer to you. Would die before he admits it to anyone.

D.O- Silent stan. His obsession with you is so well hidden. None of the members would even know about it until someone says something slightly offputting about you and Kyungsoo puts them in their place. Adoringly calls you his ‘wifey’ in his mind. Watches variety shows, movies or interviews over and over again. Almost every night. You know those ASMR videos with idols? He listens to yours to fall asleep. Your voice is just so soothing to him. Practices making your favorite meals. Trains himself to remember information about you. He hates thinking that there could be another fan out there who knows more about you then he does. Fav food, pet peeves, height, weight, blood type, school name, birthday ect. HE KNOWS IT ALL. sings your songs to himself often but doesn’t dare post covers. He personally finds covers to be really offensive. The only person who should be singing your songs is you. No other voice could top your delightful tone. Reads tips on how to be a good husband in preparation for you.

Xiumin- uwu stan. Tries to recreate your pictures for his own social media. Quiet but supportive of you, won’t openly blast your music when others are near but when he’s by himself? Hell yeah, sign him tf up. Wants to be your ideal man, starts dressing differently for you. Covers your songs and likes singing along with you on the radio bc he adores the sound of your voices together. Gets hella hurt with dating rumors, don’t mention it around him bc he’ll just get really silent and gloomy. Lowkey he can be pretty petty with other boys who lingered too long at you at events or award shows. Collects polloroid pictures of you, goes over them every night. Has dipped into fanfic about you once or twice bc it just fills this hole inside him. An insufferable urge to be with you. Gets a new cat and names it after you. (Unless ofc you hate cats and prefer dogs bc Xiumin would abandon his love of cats for you)

Kai- He wasn’t sure how it started....okay that’s a lie. Jongin first just thought you were a really fashionable and chic idol. He kept an eye out for you just bc you were very different, but then it grew into an infatuation. He stopped watching you simply for fashion reasons and started watching you bc he was just so enchanted by you. You could advertise a product and he’d the type to go buy it just bc it’s you advertising it. It could literally be something so stupid, like a dish sponge but Jongin would still quietly go out and buy 15 bc like your face is on it....he hates dating rumors concerning him. Like when fans pair him up with Jennie or Krystal, he gets pressed bc like obvi it’s YOU he should be with not them. Very terrified of the idea you could come across his dating rumors and think he’s not loyal to you.

Sehun- Proud, certified Y/n trash. Would wear your merch everyday if he could. His most played songs are all from you. If you ever were on a movie, drama or tv show then they would immediately be his favorite, binge watches it multiple times. Changes his style to fit your aesthetic. Would burn his entire wardrobe if it didn’t suit your tastes. Watches your social media very closely. It’s pretty obvious to other people that he likes you bc you’re literally the only person he follows on insta. Copies your posts for his own account. (I.e; the Miranda Kerr incident👀) He monitors what other people say about you, once got into a heated debate with a nitizen in an effort to defend your honor. Wants to start his own fan café for you. Can and will send expensive gifts your way. The type of guy to look up your guys’ astrological signs and read the compatibility reports. Helps him feel closer to you. If you ever came on screen while his dog was nearby, he point and say “Look vivi, it’s mommy!”

[wildpokemon]

i think some one re posted ur gif of hawk moth hitting cat noir like a baseball thought you should know

Yeahhh I saw that too. I was scrolling through my dash and was like “oh cool, that’s my post,” but then was like “..wait, that wasn’t my caption on it.” And then I saw that the note count was different than mine too, and upon looking at their “original” post they didn’t say anything about making it themselves, but I’m positive they just reposted mine, it’s the exact same coloring, framing, amount of frames, and the video quality is the same as mine (which I screen recorded directly from the RTS live stream when it aired). 

This isn’t the first time this has has happened too which is pretty irritating. I know gif making isn’t like on the same level in terms of “stealing” things like art or writing, but they still take a lot of thought, time and effort to make and it’s pretty disappointing to see someone just repost it without a care. Especially when all this person did was just write something different underneath the gif?? Like, if you wanna leave a comment, you could just, oh I don’t know, reblog the post? It’s not that hard. OR if for some reason you don’t like my caption, you could use tumblrs gif search feature, find my gif and then put your caption under it, and that way I’d still at least be credited...

In all honesty though, I’m not really sure what there is to do about it. When this has happened in the past I’ve messaged their blogs and everyone always ignores me. Besides, I hate confrontation and wouldn’t want to bring negative attention to anyone, I just want them to stop doing it lol. (Looking through this most recent person’s blog it seems like they do this fairly often - just copy and paste some one else’s gif and then put their own comment on it)

I guess I should probably actually start watermarking my gifs soon lol (although that probably still won’t really deter people but w/e)

Anyway, thanks for looking out for me anon! I appreciate it! Also, I think it’s kind of cool that you recognized it as my gif in the first place lol, I didn’t think people paid a ton of attention to that sort of thing, so thanks!

[numba99]

The Arrangement  Part 2

Part 1

Summary: You’re an aspiring model in NYC who is offered an opportunity of a lifetime - an arranged relationship with a famous Ranger. Things start out rough and are further complicated by the fact you’re already in a relationship. Will you be able to figure things out or will it all end in disaster? Word count: 2,854

Warnings: none

You swung the door open to your apartment, fear sparking in you for a second as you saw a figure sitting on your couch. However, fear melted to relief as you realized it was just your boyfriend. You should be used to it by now, Eric had a key to your place (and you to his) so he was always popping by unannounced, but it still startled you every time you walked in on him.

“Hey baby,” Eric greeted you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you sighed, shutting the door behind you.

“Rough workday?” he guessed.

“You could say that,” you sighed, slumping down on the couch next to him.

“What could be so rough about modeling? The camera flash hurt your eyes?” Eric teased. You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t the first time Eric made a jab about your job. In fact, it was the biggest point of contention in your relationship. Eric didn’t think modeling was a real career. He always said that in a couple years you’ll be too old for it and that only skill I’ll have to show for it in the “real job market” is the ability to smile in front of a camera.

Of course, that irritated you to no end. He didn’t know the first thing about what it takes to model, and he didn’t care enough to learn about it even if it was what you loved. Normally you would call him out on it, but you were not in the mood for a fight today.

“No, I just had to deal with someone who was a total jerk,” you told him. You scowled, thinking about the interaction all over again.

“I’m sorry baby, you don’t deserve that,” Eric said wrapping his arm around you, “How about I order us some pizza to make up for it?”

“You read my mind,” you smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

A little while later you were on cuddled on the couch with him, pajamas on and pizza in hand. You had almost forgot about your shitty day. You were mindlessly flipping through your phone with your free hand, when suddenly Eric started hitting your shoulder.

“Babe, is- is that you?” Eric asked, flipping his phone to you. You looked up, shocked to find images of yourself on the screen.

It looked like a little blurb from a sports blog, one that reported on players private lives. There were a few pictures of you out with Mika, which a caption about a mystery woman that seemed really into him.

You nearly laughed out loud at the caption. The picture did make it seem like you were having a good time, though. Maybe you should take up acting, you thought sarcastically.

There were a few blurry ones through the window of the cafe of both of smiling (though you thought you may having calling him an asshole in that moment), and then a couple of you leaving and him following after. You had been in such a huff, you hadn’t even notice people taking pictures of you.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, not knowing what else to say. You knew he was going to find out eventually, but you didn’t think it was going to be this soon.

“You want to tell me what’s going on there?” he asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“I, um, I have an opportunity to work on a project with him. I have to do some private interviews with him, he wants to pick the model to work with. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you babe, you know how it is with the famous people, they try to keep everything so secretive. I had to sign papers and everything. I don’t even know exactly what I’m interviewing for,” you lied. You were proud of yourself so making it up so quickly. But also felt bad that you were lying so easily.

“You can’t even tell your boyfriend you’re going to be working with one of the biggest sports stars in New York?” Eric questioned. You could sense his jealous side was coming out.

“It’s a bunch of crazy paperwork,” you tried to explain, “It’s like when if you worked on a movie you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about anything you filmed until it’s released. Believe me, I wish I could talk about it. Truth be told, he’s the asshole I had to deal with today, but I signed something that said I’m not allowed to talk badly about him.”

Eric scoffed. “So you he can be a total douche to you and then you can’t even talk about it or you’ll get sued? What a piece of shit.”

“Seriously,” you agreed, glad he was focusing on that, rather than the fact you hadn’t told him about it, “Must have the world’s most fragile ego.” You rolled your eyes just thinking of him.

“Do you have to see him again?” Eric asked.

“Probably,” you replied cautiously, “I think there are a few rounds to the interview.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“Why do you even want to work with a guy who’s such an asshole?”

“I don’t want to, but it would be good for my career. He’s got lots of connections, anything with him could give me great exposure. It could launch my career,” you told him, repeating what Alice told you. The words felt bitter in your mouth - you hated having to say Mika would be an important part of your career - however you knew it would be the easiest thing for Eric to understand.

“Yeah I guess so,” he sighed, still seeming a bit uncertain.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I want nothing to do with him. I’ve only got eyes for you,” you assured. You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

Eric smiled as you pulled away. “Well if he’s a jerk to you again, I could beat him up for you.”

You giggled, “I may just have to take you up on that.”

A few days later you were milling around your apartment trying to clean things up when there was a knock at your door. You thought it was Eric stopping by on his lunch hour, but you were met by a stranger.

“Uh hi,” you said, unable to hide the confusion in your voice. You raised your eye brows, noticing the man had a large bouquet of peonies in his hand.

“Are you y/n?” he asked, reading from the card attached to the flowers.

“That’s me.”

“These are for you,” he stated, handing you the flowers and walking off before you could ask who sent them. You shut the door, breathing in the sweet, fresh scent of the blush colored flowers - which happened to be your favorite.

You set them down on your table, pulling the little card out of the envelope attached to the bouquet by white ribbon. In big, loopy cursive read, “Sorry for being an asshole - Mika.”

You let out a laugh, tossing the card down on the table. Did he really thing a few flowers would make up for how he acted? You thought about throwing the flowers away for a second, but decided it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful bouquet. After all, the flowers weren’t the ones who were assholes.

A few moments later your phone rang and you groaned when you realized it was Alice. To your dismay, she told you you had another “date” with Mika today. Your date would consist of an hour walking around Central Park. Lovely. Maybe you could throw yourself in front of a hot dog cart and put yourself out of your misery, you thought to yourself.  

Alice told to you to dress incognito, so you opted for jeans, a sweatshirt, and a large pair of sunglasses. At least maybe you had a chance of not being noticed today.

A text from Fred informed you that it was time to go. You trudged down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for an annoying hour. When you slid into the back seat of the Escalade you gasped, not expecting another person to be there.

It was none other than Mika himself. Great.

“Hi,” he said with a soft smile. The set of balls on this one, you thought.

“So you always send girls flowers when you’re a dick or?” you questioned him. You could of sworn you heard Fred let out a small snicker as he drove.

“Believe it or not, I’m usually not an asshole,” Mika replied.

“Ha!” you scoffed. “Could have fooled me.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, “I’ve given you no reason to think anything else of me, and for that I am really sorry.”

“Why’d you do it then?” you asked, not letting him get off that easy.

“Well, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” Mika began, “Usually the girls I’m arranged with are just using me for fame, going after my money, trying to sleep with me, or a combination of all three. I’m constantly being used and I hate it. I thought if I put a wall up right away I could avoid it, but when you said what you did, I realized you weren’t using me like everyone else. And that I was being nasty to you for no reason.”

You nodded, understanding why he acted how he did. You hated doing this once, you couldn’t imagine having to do it multiple times. Especially if you were constantly dealing with people who were just trying to get something from you.

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” you told him, “This is a shitty thing to always have to be doing.”

“You could say that again,” he sighed, pulling the grey beanie on his head further down to cover his dark hair.

“Here,” Fred announced. Mika put on a dark pair of sunglasses before pushing open the car door. He held it for you, allowing you to slide out.

“See ya in an hour Fred,” you said, before shutting the door behind you. The two of you walked towards the entrance of the park, making sure not to stand too close together, as you were still in the no touching phase.

“So why did you agree to do this, if you don’t mind me asking. You don’t seem like the kind of girl who does things she doesn’t want to,” Mika said, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets as he walked.

“I wasn’t going to. I told my agent no initially,” you explained, “No offense, but I don’t like the whole idea of using a guy to get myself recognition. If I am successful. I want it to be from my own hard work and nothing else.”

“I completely respect that,” Mika nodded.

“Unfortunately, my agent had different ideas. She told me I could say no, but that people who say no to her don’t last long in the agency. So basically it was do something I don’t wanna do, or lose my job altogether,” you told him.

“I’m sorry, that’s really shitty,” Mika sympathized.

“Well at least I’m not dealing with a total asshole anymore,” you teased, “I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through this if you were like that every time we met.”

“Honestly I don’t think I would either. I don’t like feeling mean like that,” Mika replied, “I never asked, did you like the flowers?”

“Loved them,” you replied, “Peonies are my favorite. My boyfriend always insists on getting roses, which I have to pretend to be excited about… That sounds pretty spoiled, doesn’t it?”

Mika chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants, nothing wrong with that.” You smiled, glad he understand you weren’t an ungrateful brat.

The two of you walked in silence for a little bit before Mika spoke again. “How’d you get into modeling?”

“Well, it started when I was young. I was obsessed with America’s Next Top Model. I would watch it religiously and try to practice along with them. I would even steal my moms heels and practice my runway walk up and down the halls of our house,” you laughed, recalling how you tripped and clunked around in the shoes that were far to big for you.

Mika joined in your laughter, “I would have liked to see that.”

“Oh no you wouldn’t, I was an absolute mess,” you told him, before going on, “As I got older, I started getting more serious about it. Going out on nights and weekends to get jobs. I fell in love with it, I always thought photography was an art form and with modeling I got to be a part of that art… Maybe that’s kind of silly.” You blushed despite yourself. You never really talked about modeling with anyone, because no one ever really seemed to care.

“No, not at all, you’re completely right,” Mika agreed, “You’re an artist.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” you replied.

“I’m serious,” Mika replied, “People don’t realize how hard it is. Not just anyone can get in front of a camera and produce the right emotions for a great picture. It’s really beautiful, actually.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” you mumbled, wishing Eric thought as highly of modeling as Mika did.

“Do the people in your life not support it?” Mika asked.

“You could say that again,” you huffed, “Eric - my boyfriend - he thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time. He always says it’s a dead end job and I’ll eventually have to stop because of my age and then I’ll have nothing to show for the years I spent trying to live out a fantasy - his words not mine.”

“That’s terrible,” Mika scowled.

You shrugged. “It’s whatever. He’s great with everything else, I just wish he cared about what means so much to me, or could at least pretend to care.”

“It’s unfortunate he doesn’t, he’s missing out,” Mika stated. You nodded and the two of you fell into silence again as you walked. You were supposed to look happy, for any potential pictures being taken, but thinking about Eric’s lack of support for your choices always put you in a mood.

As you walked, you approached a stand selling snacks and the smell of fresh popcorn filled the air. You suddenly realized you were hungry.

“That smells great, doesn’t it?” you asked, changing the subject.

“It does, I think we should see if it tastes as good as it smell,” Mika replied, stopping to get online.

“Should we get one to share, or one for each of us?” you asked. Snacks weren’t discussed on the phone call briefing.

“They’d probably say one for each of us, which is why I’m only getting us one to share,” Mika smirked.

“Oh what a rebel,” you teased, “I may have to tell on you.”

“Won’t have to,” Mika replied, stepping forward as the line moved, “They’ve got people watching us.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” Mika replied. He paused turning to the vendor to ask for a large popcorn before continuing, “Don’t bother trying to figure out who it is. They’ll look like anyone else, but they’re hired by my management to make sure we are following the rules.”

Despite saying not to bother, you looked around at the people in the area - there were people walking dogs, children playing, couples walking, and elderly man reading the paper. Suddenly the all seemed suspicious. “Creepy,” you shuttered.

Mika shrugged, taking the popcorn and handing the guy a twenty, telling him to keep the change. “You get used to it.”

You scooped up a handful of popcorn, savoring the warm buttery flavor. “You know, usually I’d offer to pay for half - equality and shit - but considering one of us makes millions, I think it’s okay to let you take the hit for the popcorn,” you joked.

“Just when I was believing you weren’t after me for my money,” Mika smirked, tossing some popcorn into his mouth. You rolled your eyes and laughed, chucking some kernels in his direction.

For the rest of the time with Mika, you had to admit you actually had some fun. You were surprised you managed to walk around with one of the biggest sports player in New York and only be stopped once. The observant fan was nice, though she eyed you suspiciously. She didn’t ask for your name, and for that you were glad. You hoped you could remain Mika’s nameless fling for as long as possible, to keep your personal life as uncomplicated as possible.

When your date ended, you felt much different than you did the first time around. You never would have expected to enjoy spending an hour with Mika Zibanejad, yet here you were laughing in the backseat as Fred took the both of you back to your respective homes. As you said goodbye to Mika part of you, a small part that you chose to ignore, was looking forward to seeing him again.

[angrylizardjacket]

don’t @ me {Joe Mazzello}

Anon asked: Hi there! You write the best imagines and your my favorite queen blog 💛 if you're not too busy I'd like to request something? Idk something with Joe and like your dating and the whole cardboard ben thing is playing out and the reader is playing along in the comments and stuff idk I just really need some dorky Joe fluff please and thank you for your time! 😊

Anon asked: please write a joe mazzello imagine one day soon !!

A/N: 1781 words. Anon, today is that day. Joe is v cute and I love him but also this video gives me mad anxiety for reason’s I’m not 100% sure about, but nyways i watched it like 12 times. I know very little about press tours and who goes on them, I also know very little about Joe, but I tried! Suspend your disbelief.

“Why do you have a cuttout of Ben?” It’s breakfast, and far too early to be met with the frozen stare of a cardboard version of Ben Hardy staring at you across the kitchen table. He’s there anyways, propped up in an unoccupied seat, silently judging you as you drink your tea.

“Because he can’t make it on the press tour.” Joe tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving about the kitchen, fixing himself breakfast.

“He’s watching me.” The cardboard Ben’s stare is unbroken and unnerving. You stand abruptly, moving it from it’s place at the table, so it was looking at the wall, and you hear Joe laugh behind you. “He’s creepy,” you insist, but he doesn’t disagree with you.

“Ben’ll be heartbroken.” Joe’s taken your seat, and so you sit in the one you’d just freed up, pulling your drink across the table, taking a long sip before giving Joe a long suffering smile.

“Honey, I don’t think real-Ben is going to care about what I think of his cardboard double.” You told him, and Joe raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Oh, yeah no, he won’t care, he might be offended you called him creepy,” he talked over your objections with a smile, “but you’ve hurt poor Ben Cardy’s feelings, babe.” Gesturing to the cardboard behind you, trying not to grin if the edges of his lips twitching gave anything away.

“Ben Cardy?” You repeated, disbelieving. He just raised his eyebrows at the thing behind you. You turned around, suspicious, and still a little on edge from the new arrival. It had not moved. Thank God. Joe just laughs.

Cardboard Ben becomes a hit on social media, a fact that was unsurprising to you; something that obviously memetic with all the boys’ support behind it was bound to take off. Now that you were used to it (him?) you thought it was pretty damn funny.

“Oh, what about one of us at the piano.” Rami’s eyes had lit up at the sight of the Bohemian Rhapsody piano, and Joe, who had been handed the crown from the the publicist to take some promotional shots of the cast at this screening, propped up Cardboard Ben behind the piano.

Rolling your eyes at the shenanigans, you obligingly wait for Joe  to put the crown on and situate himself on Rami’s lap before taking the photo. Passing the phone back, you take the crown from him, wearing it while you collected Cardboard Ben.

“You look good like that.” You’re trying to fold the cutout so you could carry it under your arm when you hear Joe’s voice. Looking up, he’s smiling at you, phone in his hands like he’s halfway through writing something on it. At your confused look, his smile widens just a little more and he looks to the crown sitting on your head. It had been heavy before, on your head out of ease rather than comfort, but under his admiring gaze it feels as light as air.

“Strap in Ben, mate.” The video, hand-held and shot on Gwilym’s phone, shows Joe leaning across the back set of a nice-looking car, trying to buckle in Cadrboard Ben, who was had a checkered scarf wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t make it too tight!” Your voice can be heard from off camera, clearly trying not to laugh, and in the brief moment Joe looks to you, he’s grinning brightly, assuring you he wouldn’t, before turning back and finally clipping in the belt buckle.

You sit beside Joe in the back seat once the video’s been posted, with him in the middle, Cardboard Ben still strapped in on his other side. All of you in the car, that is all of you who weren’t driving or cardboard, were on Instagram, replying to the comments, having a laugh as you rewatched the video a few times.

@.username1: i wish someone would love me like they love that cut out

@.username2: even @.YourInstagramHandle worries about him 😍😍

@.YourInstagramHandle: @.username2 i’m just worried about what happens if he’s not buckled in 😬😬

@.benhardy1: @.YourInstagramHandle im glad you and @.joe_mazzello are keeping me safe

@.joe_mazzello: @.benhardy1 always, buddy!

@.YourInstagramHandle 😬😬

Gwylim, from the front seat, can hear you laughing, and when he turns back, you’re leaning against Joe and the two of your are looking at your phones, wearing identical mischievous grins. When he posts a photo of the two of you beside a still buckled in cut out, to said cut-out’s instagram story, he captions it ‘I feel like I’m 3rd wheeling here.... @.YourInstagramHandle @.joe_mazzello’. 

Everyone loves the joke, and since no-one’s really sure where the Real Ben is, you can all keep getting away with it. With everyone playing along, it becomes a quickly growing phenomena, which comes to an interesting pinnacle on Thursday, November 15th.

“So I’ve had an idea.” Joe looked at you where you were scrolling through Instagram on your phone with one hand, sipping a drink in the other. You hadn’t kept Cardboard Ben in your hotel room since the start of the tour, which you were thankful for, but it seemed to be your turn. It still unnerved you, but it was currently facing the wall, and not staring unblinkingly at you, which you were thankful for.

Humming in both question, and recognition of the statement, you look to see him suppressing a smile. He starts explaining his idea for a video, of waking up next to the cardboard cut out, and you know that your expression is one of dawning horror, though that only seems to inspire him further.

“That sounds ridiculous.” You admit once he’s finished, and he actually laughs.

“I know, but it’s- it’s funny, come on.” And his earnest enjoyment from the concept has you cracking, a smile spreading over your face, unable to help the laughter that escaped you.

“That you fucked Cardboard Ben?” You asked, putting your tea down and raising your eyebrows at him.

“Yes!” He insisted, and despite your eye roll, you were grinning, already moving to collect the cut out.

“Where do you want him?” You asked, and Joe’s smile brightened, before he wiggled his eyebrows. “This is already weird enough; just tell me where you want him.” You moved to the bed, pulling back the covers to put the cardboard figure in the bed.

“Perfect, perfect!” Joe seemed ecstatic as you pulled the covers back up, leaving Cardboard Ben in bed.

“Do you want me to tuck you in, too?” You asked, raising a single eyebrow, voice faux sweet as you picked up your tea and stepped away from the bed. Giving you a sunny smile, he ignored the sarcasm and informed you that he’d probably be alright, pulling out his phone.

Leaning against the wall where you had just taken Cardboard Ben from, you watch in amusement as he begins to film, pretending to wake up, before turning both himself and the camera so that he caught sight of the cardboard. Instead, he caught sight of your fond but amused expression, and he was lost for a moment.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He admonished, though he was smiling a little softer than before. 

“Like what?” You asked, half laughing, and Joe just shook his head, a little disbelieving, before turning back over and starting the video again. When he turns back, you’ve got your own phone out, and are taking a photo of the situation, to which he laughs.

‘@.benhardy1 aka Mr Steal Yo Man’ you captioned the photo on your instagram story. With you focused on your own phone, Joe managed to film most of his video before you heard him talk about how Cardboard Ben was already dressed, and you lost it, barking out a laugh and interrupting his filming.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” You apologised profusely through giggles, though Joe too broke into a grin, stopping the recording. “I’ll go into the next room.” Stepping through to the main room, you waited by the doorframe as you listened to your boyfriend pretend to wake up next to a cardboard cut out of one of his co-stars. As soon as he muttered about knowing that he’d call, there’s a long paused, and then he snorts out a laugh, and you’re pretty sure it’s safe to go back in.

He’s grinning, sitting against the headboard and you can hear his rough, sleepy voice coming through the speakers of his phone. Cardboard Ben is still where you left him, looking up at the roof.

“Is it good?” You asked, and he hummed thoughtfully, still amused at his own antics.

“It’s not terrible,” he admitted, “I think it’s funny.” And he passed the phone over to let you watch it, and you slid yourself into the bed beside Cardboard Ben. It was funny, you’d give him that, and you passed the phone back to let him finish adding tags and posting the video. As the video went live, a thought occurred to you, something that amused you to no end.

“Hey, come here, I wanna get a photo of the three of us.” You grinned, sliding down under the covers until they came up to your shoulders, then holding up your phone so you could catch yourself, Joe, and the cut out in the photo.

The shot was staged so that Joe and the cut out looked into the camera, Joe looking a little concerned, while you looked off to the side, expression clearly uncomfortable. You added the photo to your instagram story with a simple ‘😮’ as the caption, tagging both Joe and Ben in it.

“It still creeps me out.” You admitted, pulling the cardboard cut out from the bed and putting it face-down on the floor, moving to rest against Joe, still sitting in bed. He wrapped an arm around you.

“Yeah, but you’re a good sport about it.” He pressed a kiss to the edge of your forehead, scrolling through the comments that were flooding in already on his video.

“Of course, I love you, Joe, I’ll always play along.” You tucked yourself up closer to him, going through your own feed with mild interest. He gives you a soft squeeze, and when you look at him, he’s smiling fondly down at you, a look so full of love and adoration that it makes your heart melt a little. “It’s- it’s just a cut out, I mean.” You flush under his gaze, ducking your head to avoid the softness of his smile and how it made a warmth bloom in your chest.

“No, I know.” He laughed gently, going back to his phone. “I just love you too.”