#so it’s fun to figure out what will look best as a cross stitch

[siegecraft]

lost count but i think i made close to thirty notebooks with cross stitch embedded this year! faves pt 1.

[elaho]

This is an MBTI needlepoint I designed and created based on this pattern from Etsy. Pixel art skills come in clutch when designing cross-stitch patterns :)

Since this was the first pattern I've made from scratch, it took a while to figure out what DMC thread colours would look best together [lots of trial and error and redoing big parts over again ^^"].

Even though I am an INFP female, I thought it would be fun to design an INFP male x ENFJ female pair design alternative, just because I love this pairing so much <3 <3

I'm unsure if I'll design any other MBTI cross-stitch pairing patterns, but completing it was very satisfying.

Music: Dandelions by Ruth B.

[bookworm-center]

Kaz Brekker x gender neutral!Reader (oneshot)

Coat Buddies

In which Kaz and Y/n go back and forth sharing a coat and little messages. (Fluff)

Author's Note: yes, I'm well aware there are plenty of these, but I figured I'd try my hand at it. It's also a hold over until I work on "Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender". Enjoy! 🧡 Not related to DatB at all, just a little oneshot I wanted to write. I've also decided that all oneshot author's notes will now be in orange, just because I think it looks cool.

Kaz Brekker has an incredibly nice coat. Warm wool lining, pockets galore, even a secret section where a dagger could perfectly fit. So, naturally, like the thief they are, Y/n decided to steal it. They planned on returning it, of course, so one could consider it merely borrowing. It's not as though they did a job with it on and got his coat torn to bits in the process. There were only a few scratches and maybe one or two tears, if you were really looking.

The next time Kaz wears his coat, (noting how it looked worse for wear right away) he'd found a little crumpled note in his pocket. The words were written in slanted, hurried cursive, ink smudged along the parchment. "Your coat is nice. Unlike you." His lips quirk at the message. It's not untrue, and it's phrased as more of a random observation than an insult. After all, who really expects the bastard of the Barrel to be nice?

Y/n slips on the coat, fingers fumbling over the buttons. Black stitches close the damaged parts of the coat, nearly invisible in the soft cloth. The bloodstains have been washed, like the coat had never been worn in the first place. They shove their hands into their pockets, winding their way through the crowds in the streets. Snow comes down in sheets, the ground two steps away covered with white. Their gloved fingers close over a square of paper. Y/n pulls it out, squinting at the note. It's not their own; the paper is too smooth, the handwriting too neat. "Oh? I'm not the one stealing coats."

"I can't help it. For someone called Dirtyhands, you keep your coat surprisingly clean," reads the next note, tucked between a small tin of jurda and a bar of dark chocolate.

The next note is written on the paper wrapping of a new chocolate bar. "I keep it clean so I can find things. Unlike you, who keeps shoving things into my pockets."

"What can I say? I'm a talented lockpick and thief. I need somewhere to put my stuff. If you don't want me to steal from pigeons, you should have never recruit me to the Dregs." A little smile is scrawled next to the words. Kaz can't help but grin as he carefully pens out his response.

Y/n finds the next note in the special knife pocket, beside the double edged dagger they'd stashed there earlier. "I don't care if you steal things, love. Maybe your next target should be someone with a nice coat, hm?"

"Well that's no fun. After all, these exchanges are the best part of my day."

The back and forth exchange goes on for months. The snowy months give way, melting over the cobblestones, the days becoming as sunny as possible in Ketterdam. This time, when Y/n goes to pull Kaz's coat off the hook, eagerly awaiting a note, it's not there. Kaz is, hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Hey boss." Y/n sheepishly waves. They have no real reason to be nervous. It's not like Kaz knows their the one taking his coat.

"You've been taking my coat." Kaz says with a deadpan expression. Of course he knew.

"Is there a problem with that?" They cross their arms. It's always dangerous to stand up to Kaz Brekker, but Y/n's never been one to stay on safety's side. Kaz shrugs, pulling out a package from behind his desk. It's wrapped in black paper, tied with silver ribbon. "What's this?"

Kaz doesn't respond, only tossing the package to Y/n, who catches it after fumbling. They rip into it with a bit of effort. In the midst of the torn paper, folded and still new, rests a coat. It's identical to Kaz's, only in their size, and orange thread on the cuffs of the sleeves the bright color of jurda. "So you don't keep stealing my coat."

"Thanks." Both teens stand in the silent. Even though both of them are deadly, both broken and torn, they're at peace. Y/n turns to leave when Kaz calls after them.

"Y/n. If you wanted to keep borrowing my coat, I wouldn't be against it." Y/n grins, before nodding and leaving Kaz's office.

[amethystina]

🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as your posts make them smile. Please list five things that make you unique, four things you are super passionate about and why, OR three of your favorite memories. Feel free to send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile🦉

Thank you so much! I've been trying to compile five things that make me unique because I think that a) most of us need practice on that (as well as complimenting ourselves), b) it sounds like fun, and c) the other two were somehow even harder 🤣

So yeah! Five things that make me unique:

1. Despite being fairly tall (176 cm or 5'9) I have small and dainty feet. Like, disorientingly dainty. It looks ridiculous.

2. I burp when I'm hungry, not when I'm full (I also burp from carbonated drinks, but that's pretty normal, I'd say). And, usually, it's only when I'm really hungry. This means that sometimes when I hang out with people who know me, I burp and they go: "Oh shit, right. We need to eat something." In other words, my burps have become the universal — and urgent — signal of "drop everything, it's time to eat!" to many of my friends.

3. I'm really good at reading people and figuring out why they behave the way that they do. And then replicate it in my fanfics, if I feel so inclined 😆 I try my best not to do it with people in real life, though, since I feel that's kind of invasive. I don't want to assume that I know what they're thinking or who they are as people. Fictional characters are fair game, though, and, as most people who have read my fanfics know, I can write pretty much every character I've run across at least passably well. So yeah.

4. I'm good with my hands and any activity that requires the use of them I can usually perform really well within my first five attempts (often fewer). Which is why I have so many goddamn hobbies, and why I use so many mediums when I draw, and why I sculpt, and why I cross-stitch, and weave rugs, and can build furniture, and cut hair, and... you get the point. It even works with video games, where I'm surprisingly good at them from the moment you put the controller in my hands. Hilariously, one thing I do not excel at is having nice handwriting. I can write prettily with some practice, sure, but my regular handwriting is honestly pretty mid.

5. When I grew up, I spent a lot of time on the island where my dad's family has lived since the late 1800's. I'm related to the majority of the people there and so, when we were children, me, my cousins, and any kid our age, were let loose like little wildlings. We climbed trees, walked to one end of the island to the other, explored the ruins of old cottages, went bathing in the lake unsupervised (that none of us drowned is a miracle), went fishing, played in the nearby church etc. We were running free in a way few kids get to. And, since we were all related or knew each other, it wasn't uncommon to just wander into whatever house you were closest to when you were thirsty or needed to go to the bathroom. Or when you wanted a cookie or sweet treat (my dad's Aunt Rut always gave me raisins and I got to sit underneath her kitchen counter munching on them while listening to her bake). I think that has impacted not just my sense of independence and courage, but also how I view a community and how I treat other people. Especially now, when my cousins's kids are the newest generation of little wildlings, running through our house, asking for water and treats on their way to their next big adventure, and I get to continue the tradition. There's something very special about being in a community like that, where you feel safe and taken care of, and can offer the same in return. And the fact that it has been going on for generations and, hopefully, will continue to do so.

So there! Those were five things! Not all of them were compliments, as such, but at least things that, in some way, make me unique.

Thank you so much, positivity owl! 💜

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Thirteen

Father Figure! Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Thirteen: We’re the Best People to Find Out What’s Happening

Summary: Prom can be great or it can be terrible.

Mouse Note: :)

            “Hello, Mr. Morningstar!” said Olive as she, Noa, Marcel, and Leon walked into the Penthouse.

            “Please, call me ‘Lucifer,’ ” said Lucifer, waving a hand. “I don’t need that sort of formality.”

            “Okay, Lucifer,” said Noa, nodding.

            “Are you doing well? (Y/N) has said you recently started a relationship and had a few issues,” said Leon.

            “Ah, good to know all of my worst moments are shared with the group…” said Lucifer, pouting.

            “Nothing too bad,” said Marcel, looping his arm around Leon’s and smiling. “They really love you. When they went and signed the papers with you, they facetimed us afterwards and were screaming because they were so happy.”

            “Yeah, they just keep us up-to-date since they get roped into things, so we want to help keep an eye on them,” said Noa. “They of all people need it.”

            Lucifer sighed. “They are quite headstrong. At least they have a group of people looking out for them.” He smiled.

            “Of course. We’re their friends,” said Leon.

            “Duh, we have their back,” said Olive.

            “Even when they run into danger like an idiot,” snickered Marcel.

            “Who are you calling an idiot?”

            (Y/N) stood with Emeranne at the door of the hall to their rooms. They had finished getting ready for Prom and now had their arms crossed with an annoyed look on their face.

            “You, Birdie,” joked Emeranne.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes. “Am I seriously getting made fun of? After everything I do for all of you?”

            “You made fun of me,” reminded Lucifer with a smile.

            “Yeah, but that’s because I clean up your messes,” pointed out (Y/N) with a smirk.

            “I suppose that is fair…” Lucifer trailed off. He really wished (Y/N) didn’t have to get involved with Celestial problems (or his) so often. He wanted to take care of them. It shouldn’t happen the other way around.

            “Before you get all grouchy, it was all in good fun,” laughed Olive. “And we are eternally thankful for all that you do for us.”

            “Like making us prom outfits,” said Noa. “They are amazing, as usual.” Noa wore a white button down with stitched flowers. They had on simple white slacks to offset the drama of the top, and a sheer, long blazer on overtop—also stitched with a few flowers. They had also gotten their hair braided with white and added beads to match their suit.

            (Y/N) straightened, almost preening, at the praise. “I worked hard on them. I’m glad you guys like them.”

            “Of course we do! We’re going to be the coolest people at prom,” said Olive proudly. She wore a long, fluffy white dress. It had a pattern of flowers on the sleeves and skirts to match with Noa—sickeningly sweet partners who dress together stay together—but with it being the ends and sleeves, it went with Noa in a lovely manner.

            “The coolest gay people, at least,” said Marcel. “I think our fashion only makes sense to queer people.” He had on combat boots with a grey suit that was bejeweled on the legs and sleeves. Underneath the suit, he wore a navy-blue shirt.

            “I think we have more style than the average people,” said Leon matter-of-factly. He had on a navy-blue suit with a short cape (bejeweled) overtop. It had a high collar, and they paired it with makeup to work with the golden shine (which looked beautiful around their dark eyes).

            “You do indeed,” agreed Lucifer. He looked at (Y/N). “Did you really make all of these?”

            “I mean, not every piece, but most of the hand-stitching, alterations, and jeweling, yeah,” said (Y/N), almost sheepish now that they had to speak about how much work they put into it.

            “You never cease to amaze me,” said Lucifer, smiling. (Y/N) was incredibly creative and skilled. Their creations were always beautiful and flattering for everyone they dressed.

            “They really are an amazing creator,” said Em, wrapping their arm around (Y/N)’s waste fondly. She wore a long red dress with a black, translucent layer overtop. It had slight gold and black jeweled flowers on it overtop—again carefully crafted by (Y/N).

            “Don’t call me a creator, I’m not God,” said (Y/N), rolling their eyes with heated cheeks.

            “Fine, you’re an artist, then,” said Em, kissing (Y/N)’s cheek.

            (Y/N) smiled and ducked their head. They wore black slacks, a red binder, and a black blazer. The blazer had an open back stitched with black thread into an intricate design like crawling shadows. “Okay, okay, enough compliments, I’m glad you guys like your clothes. Let’s go.”

            “Not until I get photos!” said Lucifer, grabbing his phone. “Everyone onto the terrace for a perfect backdrop!” If there was one thing Lucifer was very good at when it came to being a parent, it was taking photos in the most awkward way possible (that being said, the results were always great).

            Lucifer smiled as (Y/N) and their friends stood in front of the LA skyline and took their photos. (Y/N) was his child, and they were home. They were happy. Lucifer didn’t want anything else. This was all he needed: (Y/N)’s joy.

l

            “Brazil, Morocco, London to Ibiza, straight to LA, New York, Vegas to Africa!”

            The LGBTQ+ Breakfast Club jumped up and down and screamed the lyrics to “On the Floor” by Jennifer Lopez. Dinner had been delicious, and now the music at the rented-out venue was pounding through their bodies. Prom was in full swing.

            Leon wasn’t as big on dancing as Marcel, but they wore a large smile as Marcel jumped and held his hand. Olive and Noa held one another’s hands and swung each other around crazily to the music. (Y/N) held Em’s hand and spun her around, grinning the whole time.

            “La la la la la la la la la la la la la la, tonight we gon' be it on the floor!” they sang until the song ended.

            As the music died down, the crowd cheered and whooped since that was a legitimately good song (and hadn’t been remixed to hell).

            “I love dancing,” sighed Olive, grinning. “I wonder what they’ll play next.”

            “Maybe a slow song? I wouldn’t mind partner dancing,” said Em, squeezing (Y/N)’s hand.

            “I don’t either,” said (Y/N).

            “Yes, that would be nice,” agreed Leon.

            “As long as we can keep dancing,” said Marcel.

            “And as long as it’s not ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran that’s what they always play,” said Noa, sighing.

            “Hey, listen, the next song is starting,” said Marcel.

            “Oh! I recognize it!” said Olive, grinning. “It’s Frank Sinatra! ‘Strangers in the Night.’ ” She pulled Noa close as the music started up. Noa put their hand on Olive’s waist while holding the other, and the pair began to sway to the music.

            “Would you like to dance?” said Leon, offering his hand to Marcel.

            He smiled. “You’re leading, you’re better at dancing,” he joked, letting Leon put their hand on his waist and lead them in a simple dance across the dancefloor.

            “Birdie?” said Em, raising their hand and kissing the back. They winked as (Y/N) rolled their eyes and fought back a smile.

            “Cheesy demon,” said (Y/N).

            “For you,” said Em, smiling.

            “I’d hope so,” said (Y/N). They pulled Em closer and put their hand on her waist. “But I’m leading.”

            “Go ahead,” said Em, chuckling. “You’re the bossy one.” Her words held nothing but fondness.

            (Y/N) and Em danced, swaying to the music contentedly. Playfully, (Y/N) spun Em around before pulling her in and resting their head on her shoulder, close together. Em responded by squeezing (Y/N)’s hand and kissed their cheek fondly. Loud music and crazy dancing was fun, but this calmness, this quietness, was just as nice.

            Indeed, (Y/N) was incredible joyful to just be existing in that moment. They had their friends around them. They had their girlfriend. They had their father. Everyone was going well. They had the family and friends and love they always longed for.

            It was almost too much.

            As the music died down, (Y/N) stepped back from Em and smiled. “Do you want to step outside for a moment? Take a quick break? Talk?”

            “Kiss?” teased Em.

            “Em,” hissed (Y/N), and Em just laughed.

            “Relax, I know you need breaks from lots of energy,” said Em, waving a hand and winking. They knew how long (Y/N) could do with the stimulation of bass, music, and crowds. “Let’s go take a break. And you know I love talking to you. Any moment with you is a good one.”

            (Y/N) groaned as heat rushed to their cheeks again. “I miss when you just looked at me and stammered when you tried to be sweet. Go back to that.”

            “Nope!” chirped Em as they walked out of the main room to the darker corridors around the venue. “Now that I know you like me, I’m getting revenge for all the times I was nervous.”

            “You’re evil,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Hellishly so,” said Em, pecking (Y/N) on the lips.

            (Y/N) smiled and leaned in to kiss Em again before pausing. “What’s that?”

            Em turned around, hand still clasped around (Y/N)’s, and frowned. “What?”

            “That, on the ground,” said (Y/N), stepping forward and crouching. “It looks like some liquid.”

            Em moved forward with (Y/N) and looked at what they had spotted carefully. It was a red stain on the ground, and her blood ran cold as she considered what it could be.

            “I think it’s blood,” breathed (Y/N), eyes widening.

            “Birdie, we should go back and get an adult,” said Em, trying to pull (Y/N) with them.

            “What if someone’s hurt?” said (Y/N). “We should help them.”

            “Yes, Birdie, but we should get an adult,” said Em. “What if it’s something dangerous?”

            “Then we’re the best people to find out what’s happening. Other people can get hurt more easily than we can,” said (Y/N) stubbornly.

            “Please, let’s not play hero,” said Em, holding (Y/N)’s hand tightly. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

            “Em, if someone’s in danger, I can’t leave them there,” said (Y/N) quietly.

            Em stared at (Y/N), but her shoulders sagged. They knew (Y/N) would go forward and help someone whether or not Em went with them, so she would follow.

            “Okay. Okay, fine. But as soon as we see danger, we turn around. Okay, Birdie?” said Em. They stared at (Y/N) with caring intensity. They didn’t want them in danger.

            “Got it,” said (Y/N), standing and looking ahead for another drop of blood. “It goes this way.”

            Apprehensively, Em followed (Y/N) as they moved further through the halls until they found a closed door.

            “Birdie—”

            (Y/N) opened it and stepped into the room. They looked around and froze. Instantly, Em ran in in case there was danger. Her eyes widened.

            The body of a dance chaperone—a teacher—lay on the ground. Dried blood stained the carpet beneath them, and the wound in their stomach made it clear this was murder.

            “Birdie, we’re going,” said Em, snapping into body-guard mode. They grabbed (Y/N)’s arm and pulled them back.

            Bam!

            The door slammed closed, and Em and (Y/N) whirled in shock. Two people, a man and woman, stood in the now-closed doorway, one holding a demon blade and the other holding a gun.

            (Y/N)’s lungs clenched as they recognized the faces. It was (M/N) and (F/N), their biological parents. Panic flooded through them, and they stepped back. Em held them tightly.

            “Hello, dear,” said (M/N) with a sickening smile.

            “Did you expect to never see us again?” said (F/N).

            “H-How—you—jail—” Words failed (Y/N) as their lungs constricted and anxiety collected in their throat.

            “We got a little help,” said (F/N), grinning.

            “Michael,” hissed Em, knowing who it had to be.

            “Divine intervention to get revenge—righteous revenge—on the devil’s bitch of a child,” said (M/N). “Our kid. The one who ruined our lives like the ungrateful brat they are.”

            (Y/N) opened their mouth to reply with something scathing, but nothing came out as they heaved for breath.

            “Now, time to do what we came here for,” said (F/N), brandishing his knife.

            “I won’t let you touch them,” said Em, pushing (Y/N) behind them.

            “Em—” (Y/N) managed to get the word out in a panic.

            “You don’t have to let us,” said (M/N).

            Bang!

            She fired the gun, and the bullet—crafted from a demon blade oh-so-carefully by Michael—hit Em in the stomach. (Y/N) let out a scream and caught Em as they stumbled. Their vision swam as they pulled Em to them, and the shadows around the room crawled up the walls. (M/N) stepped forward and raised the gun again.

            “Don’t touch her!” shouted (Y/N), rage surging through their veins.

            Bang!

            The gun went off, and shadows crashed like a wave through the room. (Y/N)’s entire vision went black, and they felt the fury of hell—world-ending rage—course through them.

Taglist:

@sammyscreencaps-13

@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

@scarlettqueen190

@ziro-the-null-god

@sammy-13

@zeros-rot

@ceridwyn3

@technikerin23

@poetoflawed

@slytherinroyalty16

@ilse235

@theurbannoodle

@lookitseddie

@amberforest08

[camelcasebestcase]

crafting asks: 5, 6, 11!

5. anything you have made that you hated?

I once knitted a sleeveless cardigan out of leftover yarn of several colours with large seed stitch diamonds that just turned out super disappointing. It took forever, was boring to knit, and when finished was a little bit too small for me. I ended up donating it.

6. anything you made that you loved?

I love most of the things I've made, so I took a picture of some hightlights.

The first thing I knit (apart from some practice squares that are lost to time), at age 16-17 (it took that long lol), was a 3 meter 4th doctor scarf. I would even work on it between classes at school. You can see where I started, because there's a bunch of dropped stitches there, and one botched colour change, and on the other end my knitting had become so much more even. I couldn't get all the colours from the same brand, so I went to different shops and bought all kinds of different yarns - that's why the edge is so wobbly, there's a lot of different weights!

It looks decent and it taught me so much, I'll always cherish it for that reason, though I rarely wear it anymore because it's impractical.

The sweater is from 2021. Kind of a 10 years of knitting anniversary! It's pure wool (A sheep and alpaca blend if I recall correctly) and very warm. I don't love the cold, but I love that I can wear this sweater when it's cold! It's part of why I often have to turn up the heat a bit for guests in winter... I used a standard drops sweater pattern for the shape of the sweater, and came up with the colour pattern myself. The collar is kinda improvised, but I like how it turned out. I love working with colours, thought recently I have been branching out into doing more with cables too. I calculate how many stitches I have, figure out whether I can divide that by something like 16 or 20, and then draw out patterns until I find something I like on 5 mm paper.

I carved the symbol into the prayer bench when I volunteered in Taizé, a religious community in France which organizes retreats for particularly young people. It's my rendition of the orange origami boat, the symbol of the German pro-refugee movement (I don't think it's used as much anymore). Before I was in Taizé, I volunteered in a women's center for refugees in Greece for half a year. Nowadays my pro-refugee activities mostly consists of donating. If you want to help, considering donating to action for women, offene arme, equal rights beyond borders if you want to support the small organizations whom I have personally seen doing amazing work, or doctors without borders if you prefer an org with a wider scope who also does great work there.

The potholders are the first and so far only thing I quilted- they are completely hand-quilted from thrifted fabrics, and I love how they turned out. I now have a sewing machine, and yesterday a friend got it to work, so there's gonna be a lot of quilting in my future I hope!

The shirt is bought, but I embroidered the flowers with perl cotton. I had done some cross-stitch before, but this was the firs time I did this kind of embroidery. I based the flowers on the drawings of the herbs in pathologic 2, and used some instructional videos on youtube to figure out how to stitch them.

11. best thing about [your craft] is?

I mostly knit, but what I like in any craft is to make things that are are both pretty and can be used. And I can make exactly what I want! Of course, with literally *all* of these, there are things that could be improved. With everything I make, I reflect on what I made before, and change how I do it. But while everything I make is flawed, it's already great for just existing. It's fun to make things, and it's fun to use things I have made. The options are endless.

[accidental-hero]

7, 8, 30? (for the art ask game)

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate Honestly, sculpture and ceramics. Back in college, I took a couple of sculpture classes but it was a lot of 3D printing and not very fun woodworking projects. I wish we could've gotten to experiment a bit more but that wasn't the prof's style but, I'm always so fascinated by people who create sculptures. Never took a ceramics class but I really want to.

8. What’s an old project idea that you’ve lost interest in

Not sure if this fits the parameters of this game, but tons of craft projects. I'm the dumbass that sees a fun craft video and is like "yeah I could do that" and I buy all the supplies to try it for a little while and then move on to something else. (ie embroidery/knitting/cross stitch) I should really pick those up again.

BUT for the sake of this game I'll say I was in the process of trying to figure out potential OC tarot cards (made my own deck for my senior thesis in college) and lost steam somewhere along the way.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

I don't end up posting most of my art online and I may go back and amend this answer later when I actually have a chance to look through all my files but maybe this loshweek pic I did last year? It's definitely not my best but also I drew like 10 people AND a background so that's gotta count for something.

[callmeghoulshit]

For the 101 questions!

It’s so many imsorryimsorryimsorry but ily

4, 10, 13, 23, 31, 33, 44, 75, 88, 97

SHAKEY I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER TO ANSWERRRRRR.

Made the mistake of opening it during work so I lost the notification and forgot :(

Everything under the cut cuz this was an essay.

ANYWAYS:

4. What's the one thing you feel like everyone knows how to do except you?

Oho. Literally everything. Life as a whole. Everyone makes everything look so damn easy and it leaves me wondering what went wrong with me (I know damn well what's wrong with me lmao but I don't wanna change it)

Oh but to be specific it's hard to explain so I hope I make sense but appearances. I know even the prettiest people have their insecurities but it seems like everyone else knows what to do with themselves. Whether it be hair, clothes, makeup. I have to ask my bestie all the time because it's the one thing I don't get is how people are like "imma do this! I think it'll look cool!" Like how are you SURE? How do you just know what looks good in you and what doesn't?

It took me five years to nail my eyeliner. Fucking eyeliner. And it'll probably take me another five to figure out if I can even wear eyeshadow.

10. What's your boring hobby (that you still enjoy anyway)?

This is another hard one cuz I do quite a bit of hobby hopping now. In the span of a year I went from jewellery making, cross stitch, painting, clothes making, and clay. I didn't have any hobbies prior to that, let alone "boring" ones so I don't really have an answer haha.

13. Tell a secret.

See my initial answer was to say my maladaptive daydreaming, except I slapped that in my intro post haha. And anything else that comes to mind is actually unwarranted trauma dumping I think. So we're gonna stick with the MADD but make it dramatic:

I've had seven (there's way more but they're the core ones) imaginary friends since I was 14. I'm currently twenty, and hoping they don't go away, there have been a couple times I've "lost" my ability to daydream and I felt so broken because they stem from a time I was so lonely I only had myself and I love them so dearly. So if you ever see me talking about my OCs (original characters), I mean them. I'm so unbelievably attached and can talk about them forever haha. Maybe if I see an ask game about OCs I'll answer about them hehe.

23. Do you believe in an afterlife?

Nope. No belief in any kind of higher power. My only fear is that you're still somehow conscious after death, just experiencing nothingness. It's mainly because I can't imagine everything just switching off.

31. What are you looking forward to right now?

Hmm maybe getting round to my project where I wanted to make a dress. Maybe it's my delusions of grandeur because I keep hoping it'll turn out perfect haha.

Being able to see my best friend for a proper hangout again too. I miss being able to see her whenever we wanted to <3

33. What's your favorite color in context?

Red. I just really like red. When I used to get up really early and the sun was rising it'd look so pretty and red and pink.

44. What's the earliest dream you can remember having?

I can't remember anything mate haha. It would have to be a weird lil nightmare I had three years ago I think, enjoy

75. What's that movie you know is bad but enjoy anyways?

Fast and Furious franchise. Admittedly I need to catch up with a few movies. And I know it's far fetched and everything BUT I DONT CARE. DAYDREAM INSPO. ITS FUN. GIMME MY STUPID UNREALISTIC DRIVING MOVIE.

88. What kinds of things confuse you?

Fucking LIFE. Money. Bills. My mum's council tax makes me wanna rip my hair out. I wanna figure out if I can live independently BUT I DONT KNOW HOW MUCH BILLS Are this is so fucking stressful.

Oh and attraction lmao I don't get that shit. I have an ace flagged pinned to my wall but it feels like a lie cuz I'd feel so bad if I realise down the line I'm not ace. Seriously what the fuck is romantic attraction. Tf is sexual attraction. The fuck is arousal. Anyways moving swiftly on

97. What's your favorite word?

Swear words. I can't think right now. Maybe shit, fuck, bitch, cunt or dickhead.

[bamgyuuuri]

⤷ perfectly strange ┈ cyj.

sypnosis. your boyfriend, yeonjun, was weird—not in a joking way, no, the man was genuinely strange. even so, you wouldn’t want him any other way.

pairings and tags. boyfriend!choi yeonjun x fond!reader (f/m) . established relationship . fluff . yeonjun is straight up weird but in an adorable way . domestic fluff. humor (i tried)

word count. 1.1k

short note … based off of that one trend from twt hehe,, also okay maybe it's not exactly a Drabble drabble but still ^_^ just an appreciation fic for this man because i genuinely love him and his little quirks so much sigh yeonjun please never ever change your ways

your boyfriend, yeonjun, was weird. no, not the kind of weird you’d casually call quirky or charming, but genuinely strange in a way that made you both laugh and wonder how on earth he ended up in your life. it wasn’t just his random acts or the way he would suddenly burst into song at the most unexpected times; it was his whole vibe. 

yeonjun had a knack for making even the most mundane moments feel like an adventure, turning every day into something full of surprises. his oddball antics made life with him feel like a never-ending comedy show, and somehow, you found yourself completely in love and utterly smitten with his unpredictability.

it wasn’t unusual to find him in the middle of the living room, wiggling his body like a noodle to some beat only he could hear. the music was in his head, but you could see it in the way his shoulders jerked in a rhythmic dance, the way his legs would shuffle like he was about to break into a full-on jig. you couldn’t help but stare, your mouth slightly agape as you tried to figure out whether he was serious or not. but yeonjun? he was dead serious, as if this impromptu performance was the most natural thing in the world.

“jjunie,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “what on earth are you doing?”

without missing a beat, he’d stop mid-dance, flash you a goofy grin, and respond with utter confidence, “oh, you know, just... feeling the beat.” then, he’d continue his weird little dance, making it seem as if the world around him didn’t exist. but despite how odd his little dance was, he still somehow made it look good.

the fun didn’t stop there, though. yeonjun’s talents extended to something as simple as charades. while most people would act out words with subtle gestures or nods, yeonjun’s version of charades was nothing short of a one-man theater performance; his facial expressions were exaggerated, his body movements outlandish, and the absurdity of it all was contagious. you would watch as he pretended to be a flamingo trying to fly or an octopus attempting to play basketball—his face contorting in the silliest of ways.

“you’re an absolute menace,” you’d tease him, struggling to hold back your laughter. and he’d just grin like he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked, yet not minding one bit as long as he sees you break into a smile.

there was a time, though, when he completely outdid himself. 

the time he decided to “spice up” your evening by transforming the living room into a “romantic candlelit dinner.” it wasn’t that he lacked the intention; he’d thoughtfully placed a dozen candles around the room, but it was the way he did it that had you in stitches. 

instead of lighting them properly, he’d taken the easy route and used a lighter, resulting in one candle that was slightly lopsided, another that had wax dripping down in bizarre angles, and a third that was already flickering out. the best part? yeonjun was sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiling and watching in complete seriousness as if he’d just planned the most sophisticated, luxurious dinner.

“you know,” you said, fighting a smile, “i’m surprised the place hasn’t burnt down yet.”

yeonjun’s face lit up with his trademark smile. “hey, it looks good! and that’s the charm of it! i thought it was… avant-garde.”

you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, giggling fondly as you sat next to him. “don’t worry. i think it looks amazing.”

it was in moments like these, when you were sitting on the floor with him, laughing about his latest dinner date experiment, that you realized just how much you absolutely adored him; his quirks, his goofy nature, and his ability to make even the simplest things feel special—all of it was what made him, him.

yet, as goofy and strange as yeonjun was, there was so much more to him. beneath his ridiculous exterior was a person full of warmth, kindness, and tenderness. yeonjun had this rare ability to balance his silliness with the kind of love that made you feel completely seen and heard.

when you were feeling down or exhausted, he would always know exactly how to cheer you up—whether it was by making you laugh with one of his absurd antics or by simply sitting beside you, holding your hand, and letting you know that everything would be okay.

whenever you had a bad day, yeonjun would show up with your favorite snack, a cup of tea, or even just a comforting smile. he’d sit next to you, ask what was bothering you, and listen intently without judgment. he had this incredible way of making you feel understood, of making you feel like you mattered in ways that few others could. there was no need for grand gestures. sometimes, just the way he looked at you was enough to make you feel loved.

and when you didn’t feel your best, yeonjun would never rush you or make you feel like a burden. he’d quietly wrap you in his arms, letting you know that he was there for you no matter what. he was patient, always willing to listen, and never pressured you to talk if you weren’t ready. but when you did talk, he always listened with the utmost attention, validating your feelings and offering support in the gentlest way possible.

you’d often find him surprising you with little things—making you a cup of hot chocolate on a cold evening, sending you a playlist of songs that reminded him of you and your time together, or even tidying up the apartment just because he knew it would make your day easier.

it was in those moments, when you least expected it, that you saw how deeply he loves you and cares for you. yeonjun was constantly thinking of ways to make your life a little brighter, and it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“do you need anything?” he’d ask, his voice soft but full of concern. and you’d smile, knowing that you didn’t just have a boyfriend in him—you had someone who loved you wholeheartedly, someone who made your happiness his priority.

even though he could be so ridiculously strange, in the most endearing way possible, there was never any doubt in your mind that yeonjun was the person you wanted by your side. his kindness, his humor, and his ability to make you laugh through the toughest times were gifts you cherished deeply. he made the ordinary extraordinary, and his love made every day a little brighter.

you would chuckle, the sound warm and full of affection. “you really are a weird one.”

he’d smile so brightly that your heart would swell with love for him. “i’m your weird one,” he’d say, as if that was the best thing he could be.

and he was. he truly was your weird one. your sweet, goofy, thoughtful, and incredibly loving yeonjun. 

[not-available-for-comment]

Stuff I’ll add:

There are communities of crafters and artists on YouTube that provide free tutorials and introductory how-tos for their crafts. If you have the dexterity to operate a keyboard (which I realize not everyone does) you probably have enough to learn one of these crafts.

I’m a big proponent of learning to make a thing with your hands, even if it’s just making your own birthday cards with some card stock, rubber stamps, and nice ink pads. Being able to look at a tangible, touchable object and say “that didn’t exist and then I made it and it did” can imho be just as fulfilling as touching grass. Bonus points if you can engage with local and online communities that way too.

I got inspired to try tablet weaving Weave Along With Elewys tutorials online. I joined my local weaver’s guild and someone LENT ME an inkle loom that I’ve been using to work through the projects. A bunch of our winter meetings are hybrid so I don’t even have to figure out how to get across town to the meeting location every month.

And of course if computer-based creativity is how your brain works best, there’s free tutorials on lots of low-cost or free tools for that as well, particularly as Adobe has been steadily alienating its users.

“I’m not creative!” you say, “this is great for other people but it won’t work for me!”

What do you mean you’re not creative? I’m asking this genuinely because I’ve seen that phrase used as shorthand for a lot of things.

If you mean, “I don’t even understand where that kind of creativity comes from, people who can just do that with their brains are like aliens to me.” Fair enough! Is there something that does bring you satisfaction then? Math? Organizing things? Fishing? Think about how you could engage in those things in ways that you find satisfying and not frustrating. If you ever get curious though, I will point out that beginners tutorials pretty much always have you make preset projects where most of the creativity has been done for you, because they’re about teaching you techniques. So that could be an interesting way to try something out if you find yourself envious of others’ projects or abilities.

If you mean, “I’ve tried some crafty or artsy stuff before and I fucked it up and it was ruined/looked stupid. I’m just too dumb to be creative.” My dear one. I want to give you a hug. And possibly punch one of your parents/teachers. We all fuck up our art, particularly when we’re learning. I have a fucked up weaving project hanging out in my living room right this second. My weaving guild has a listserv where members can ask for help with mistakes and other issues. If the possibility of failure is too upsetting to let creativity be fun, I understand and I’m sorry it worked out that way. If there’s ever a time when you think you want to be brave and try it, just know that there are people out there who are kind and can help. In the meantime, maybe look at some of the suggestions under point 2 above and see if any of them sound like more fun?

If you mean, “I don’t ever deviate from patterns or come up with original projects, I just copy stuff from Pinterest/make prepackaged projects with no extra flourishes” I am going to PERSONALLY come to your house and make faces at you. So you only do cross stitch from pre-packaged kits! You only paint by numbers! DO YOU ENJOY IT? DOES IT MAKE YOU HAPPY? Then it FUCKING COUNTS! Turn off the outrage/fear machine, treat yourself to that unpainted miniature, and DO IT! I can make some PRETTY SCARY FACES so this is in your best interest!

If you mean, “I’m creative in ways that don’t tend to come up in these conversations, like writing, DM-ing, makeup/hair/cosmetology, or performing arts,” then get on with your bad self! You probably already know more about the networking outlets available to you than I do, but think about how you can leverage your time on the internet into a community rather than a loose affiliation of rivals. My DM put together a campaign from an open call on Reddit (I’m the only person they knew beforehand and I’m pinch-hitting for someone who had to drop last minute) and the group already has incredible chemistry and we’re all SO EXCITED for our first session. You don’t have to be restricted to people you know irl!

Creativity! The other “touch grass”! Try it today! (Or don’t, I’m not your mom.)

I feel the whole "touch grass" sentiment seldom really comes with any practical advice as to how to disengage with Internet discourse and to stop falling into the pit of doing Internet controversy so that social media companies can sell advertising at our petty gladiatorial battles. I cannot emphasize enough though how much logging off and interacting face-to-face with individuals in my community improves my mental well-being and is more useful praxis than having a virtual slap fight with some stranger whose life is far removed from mine. At the same time, I also recognize that not everyone has safe/receptive communities, grass to touch, and the ability to get out.

What I can say though is that there is still an abundance of virtual grass to touch, even if it isn't tailored to give you the same dopamine rush as fighting with WrongBad People online. We can still do things that are meaningful, that are locally-oriented, and/or that are generally good for us. If we can engage in the labor necessary to do shitty discourse (typing, composing, contemplating), we can probably work through our thoughts in a journal or a private blog. We can possibly YouTube/Zoom your way through City Council Meetings. We can learn to build old school websites. We can find volunteer opportunities (Transcribe museum texts! Donate Gutenberg books! Watch/catalog cute animals!). We can surf the archaic web and enjoy all manner of cool and enriching public domain media.

We can still use the Internet in ways that make us better.

[lulupen2023]

My very first BellDom Fic 10/23

Summary:

Do you want to meet a Matthew who sees conspiracy everywhere (oh wait, this is not big news!) and is so fond of his trolley that he treat it like a sort of puppy? Do you want to meet a Dominic in love with… himself (and with Matt, too, of course!)? And do you want to meet a Chris who wants to prove to the world he's the most masculine guy ever… but is unavoidably attracted by every… female hobby? This is what you'll find in this story, among lots of BellDom and… craziness!

Summary of the chapter: Matthew gets the wrong idea. Chris gets the wrong idea. Dominic always listens to Matt, so he gets the wrong idea, too..

Before Reading : This is an extremely absurd chapter, from the first word to the last one. I just wanted to warn you.

Anyway, the most worrying thing is that I'm strangely proud of that. It took me a while, but it turned out just like I wanted it to be, so... I guess I'm pretty satisfied with that.

No, thanks, don't bother. I can find a madhouse on my own! ;)

Chapter X: I have a terrible presentiment

~It's not easy to figure out who is the most bizarre dude: Chris, who seems to embody all the 'Perfect housewife' columns in the whole world, or the receptionist who is listening to him with extreme interest, almost hanging on every of his words.

Truth is that, after staring at the clock at least fifty times in a minute, sick of all the waiting, Chris has got up from the sofa and taken a walk around the hall until he has ended up chatting lively with the receptionist on duty.

So, in the last twenty minutes (the ones Matthew supposed would be just *a couple*), he has enjoyed himself suggesting the man a couple of his successful recipes, advising him about how to get rid of even the most persistent stains, how to care about the plants in the best way ever and he has even filled him in on the most popular centre-pieces at the moment.

And now he's also giving him some advices in order to improve the hotel corporate image.

Due to all this information, it's easy to figure out that Chris is not only keen about fashion magazines, but he doesn't disdain either the ones about house, furniture, kitchen, sewing, cross-stitching , paper-folding, gardening and do-it-yourself... and he also has a thing for the gossip ones.

Basically, Chris happens to like whatever comes from a news kiosk!

"Gee, not even my wife knows so many things!" the receptionist comments enthused.

"Let's say that during our journeys I have plenty of time to read." Chris explains. "By the way, there's still a thing I need to tell you. Bearing in mind that while I really like the vases you have picked up, their disposition is awfully wrong, it doesn't highlight the room. Plus, I don't think that the colours you have chosen for the flower arrangement are good enough. If I were you I'd head to warmer colours, such as red, orange with just a glimpse of..." Chris goes on, but he cuts himself off, as soon as he hears the elevator open up and some voices come from it, two very familiar voices.

And when he foresees the figures of Matt and Dom reflected by a mirror, his doubts become certainty.

"Just a glimpse of what?" the receptionist exhorts him to speak, as he's trustfully taking notes, just like he has done with all the previous topics, almost as if that detail was a matter of life or death.

"Of course, I know that tonight there's the football match, buddy, like hell I'm going to miss it! As soon as our show is done, I'm going to enjoy it, lying on a sofa and gulping down beer, a lot of beer!" Chris exclaims out loud, on purpose, in order to make Dom and Matt hear him.

And to improve the effect, he also gives a playful but also manly pat on the receptionist's shoulder as he looks at him kind of puzzled, although he tries his best to disguise it.

Truth is that Matt and Dom utterly ignore their friend cares also about that kind of stuff. Since they have made fun of him for ages the very first time they caught him while he was flipping through a fashion magazine with a bewitched face, now the guy is trying his best to hide the rest from them, in order to defend his reputation of 'macho' that he's more than proud of.

In the meantime, Dom and Matt look at each other in disbelief, very doubtful.

"Don't you have the strange feeling that he made us hear him on purpose?" Matt exclaims.

"I was about to tell you the same. It's so damn obvious that he was talking about something else, before we got here. Something he wants to hide from us" Dominic realizes.

"Uhmm... yeah. Plus, there's something that doesn't convince me at all. Who is that receptionist? Why is he talking with him? But mostly, is he a receptionist for real? I'm not so sure about it, maybe he's a member of another band, a band that Chris aims to..."Matt suspects.

"Wow, Bells, what a brilliant deduction! After this, you can even wear a horrible raincoat, match it with an even more horrible hat, smoke a pipe and talk to me saying 'Elementary, Howard' !" Dom comments, looking at him with sincere admiration.

"Yes, I could... but that raincoat and that hat are anything but horrible!" the other protests.

"Don't tell me you're planning to wear that stuff! I hope you won't do it for real!" the blonde starts getting worried.

"Why not? You often dress up as Spiderman, so I can dress up as Sherlock Holmes!" the brunet strikes back, but Dom can't talk anymore, because Chris is about to reach them.

"Hey, you two, it's about time! I was almost considering the option of playing all alone tonight!" Chris exclaims, sitting on a sofa with them.

It's more than obvious that he has said that playfully, but not for Matthew, because his mind elaborates that information in a drastically wrong way.

"Nice plan, no doubt about that. Anyway, if you really did such a thing, then, at the next show, just in order to get even, Matt and I should play all alone!" Dominic strikes back.

Although he has also said that very playfully, this time it's Chris' mind that achieves that answer... and jumps to terrifying conclusions.

It seems that the drummer is the only carefree member of the band and he's also the one who breaks the awkward silence that has fallen, talking about anything.

As they all are busy chatting, Chris can't help noticing the way the receptionist is looking at him, a mixture of eagerness and trust.

Chris knows very well the detail he's yearning for.

"Sorry, guys, I have to deliver the keys of my room, be right back." he walks away with an excuse.

"But... he had already delivered them, hadn't he?" Dom points out, with a confused expression.

"I've already realized everything, but now I don't have time enough to explain that to you. Anyway, do you remember that speech about reverse psychology?" Matt asks him.

"Of course I do, how could I forget it? You overloaded my head with that!" the other rolls his eyes.

"Good. Now it's time to use it. Listen to what I'll say and then try to play my game!" the brunet warns him.

"Ok. Hey, wait a moment. You're not already using it on me, are you?" the blond gets suspicious.

"Damn you, Dom! It's not that you must always mean the contrary of what I say! We're gonna use it as soon as Chris comes back. I already know what topic we must appeal to, trust me." the other winks at him.

"I always trust you, you should know that." the blond smiles.

If they weren't in the middle of a hall, surrounded by people, that conversation would turn into something else.

In the meantime, Chris has reached the receptionist.

"Just a glimpse of what?" he repeats, as a broken record.

"Wisteria. End of the speech. And don't you dare tell those two about that!" Chris threatens him in a whisper, pointing quickly at his friends who are just too busy chatting, or rather plotting and making moony eyes to each other, to notice that.

The receptionist gives him his word and Chris leaves relieved.

Seeing him come back, Matt and Dom quit talking.

Dom observes Matt, curious to know what his plan is.

"You know, buddy, Dom and I were making a kind of survey..." Matt pursues.

< Uh? Were we really doing such a thing? > Dom wonders puzzled, but he doesn't dare cut him off.

"Really? About what?" Chris wonders, sitting back with them.

"About our instruments: which is the easiest one to play? No offence, mate, but the winner is just the bass!"

Chris stares at him as if he had stabbed him in the back.

"Matt is right. Think about it, when you came in our band you didn't even play the bass, and yet it took you just a while to learn how to play it very well." Dom adds, realizing finally where Matt is leading that speech up to.

"Well, it's just because I'm very good in that and I also learn things quickly. Plus, the bass is my life, I just had still to find that out back to those days..." Chris states.

"No, it's just because it's a very easy instrument to play, anyone else would manage to do that in a short time." Matt insists, cold and impassive.

"But..." Chris mumbles almost shocked.

"So, in case that you became sick..." Dominic goes on.

"Or in case that, for strange reasons why, * you felt like dumping us *..." Matthew adds, lingering on the last words on purpose.

"It wouldn't change much for us. Beyond the very deep friendship that bounds us, as we have found you, Chris, we would find many others in a heartbeat to replace you!" Dom goes on, with the same coldness that Matthew is showing to him, even with a shrug, almost as if what he's talking about wasn't that important.

< Beyond the very deep friendship that bounds us?! Why? Should I still consider those two as 'friends' of mine? > Chris asks himself, more and more devastated.

"It was just a survey, of course!" Matthew reaffirms.

"Yeah, a purely hypothetic speech. C'mon, do you really think that such a thing could happen for real?" Dominic adds, patting his shoulder.

< And they even dare ask me that?! If it's how things are, well... I dread it will happen soon, very soon... > Chris thinks and then he gets up.

"Excuse me now, I have to make my daily phone-call." he informs them, drawing his mobile out and leaving the room.

"Did you notice the way he looked at us? It's working so well, we're making him change his mind for sure!" Matthew rejoices.

"And you were just marvellous when you reminded him of the beginning... that was such a ingenious move, I hadn't thought of it!" he congratulates with Dominic.

"I guessed it was appropriate. And judging by his face, it seems it worked well." the blond smiles, overjoyed due to his compliments.

"Now you must explain to me what you think you realized!" he questions him.

"Ok, but, please, remember, I don't think. I have absolute certainty!" the other points out.

"Let's listen to it, then!"

"Ok. What did Chris say when he went back to the reception?"

"He said that he had to deliver his keys... but why is that so important?" Dom frowns.

"Elementary, Howard. It's important, because when he came back to us, he still had the keys in his pocket!"

"Damn, I didn't notice that. So, it was just an excuse..."

"Exactly. And do you remember how he pretended to talk about something else when he saw us coming?"

"Yeah, but... why did he do that?"

"Elementary, Howard. He has got a very detailed plan. We were wrong; he doesn't want to be part of another band. Just think about it. He said that he was ready to get on the stage all alone. On a musical level, he's the most complete of the trio, because he can play both the bass and the drums, and the guitar, too. Plus, he can sing too, sometimes I make fun of him, but truth is that he can sing very, very well." Matt comments.

"Oh, my God! So, he wants a new career as a soloist!" Dom figures out, frightened.

"Elementary, Howard. And I bet that that man is a fake receptionist who actually is his new manager, in disguise. And maybe he was already suggesting him some tour dates for his debut. That's why he was talking with him and acted so furtively." Matt explains.

"I'm speechless Matt, this is such a brilliant deduction..." Dominic congratulates with him. "But if you dare say 'Elementary, Howard' once again, I swear I'll punch your face!" he threatens him the second after.

"But it's you who gave me the idea!" the brunette justifies.

"Yeah, and I still repent for that. Anyway, damn you, Bells, it's not that you must take everything I say literally!" the blond rolls his eyes.

"You always do the contrary of what I say, so we are even!" the other strikes back.

"You are so exaggerated! It happened just a couple of times." the blond corrects him and then he changes his expression from bothered to irresistible.

"Hey, Matt... Can we pretend that Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson fall desperately in love with each other? After all, they're best friends, too..." he suggests.

"Dammit, Dom! Do I have to remind you of how we have already messed up with 'Romeo and Juliet' ? For today I guess we twisted badly enough master pieces of Literature!" Matthew strikes back.

"Yeah, right, we'd better not to exaggerate..." he agrees, although a little bit upset.

"Anyways, I was talking just about the true Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Sherlock Bells and Doctor Howard can do whatever they please!" Matt winks at him with a smile, happy to see him cheerful again.

"Ok, it's only that Sherlock Bells and Doctor Howard can't fall head over heels for each other.." the blond dissents.

"Why not?" Matt gets concerned as he dreads that Dom has already changed his mind.

"Because they already did!" Dom winks at him and the other smiles with immediate relief.

They would like to do much more, but they must confine themselves just to hold their hands and look at each other, but in a very fleeting way, not to arouse suspicion.

"Hey, Matt, are you really sure that we'll manage to make Chris change his mind?" the blond asks him seriously, wavering.

"Yes, if our plan works..."

"And what will happen... if it doesn't work?" the other wonders, wavering again.

"Well, I guess it will be the end of Muse, then." Matthew states, grieving.

***************************** (In the meantime)

From the other side of the ocean, in a little bit of Paradise, bathing in the sun, on a beach identical to the ones you can see in the brochures of the best travel agencies, a certain guy who happens to be named Tom Kirk jolts out of the blue, shivering and gasping.

"Hey, Tommy, honey, what's wrong?" a very nice blonde girl asks him, as she's busy bathing and relaxing with him as well, wearing a very colourful and scanty bikini.

The girl gets closer to him and massages his shoulders, in order to relax him.

In the meantime she manages to keep an eye on her mobile, too, since she can't allow herself to turn it off, especially when there are thousands of kilometres between her and her band.

"I don't know why, dear, but... I have a terrible presentiment..." Tom gets worried.

******************************* (In the meantime)

Without any need to cross the ocean, but simply leaving the Hall, another certain guy he's busy talking on the phone.

"Kelly, it's going from bad to worse!" Chris exclaims.

"Tell me, what happened this time?" his wife wonders bored as she rolls her eyes.

"They clearly said to me that I'm easy to replace! NO, wait, it's worse, maybe they don't even need another bassist, since they already planned a show where they're the only ones to perform..." he informs her, embittered.

"I can't believe it, I'm sure they were just kidding..."

"After all, Dom said that kinda playfully... but maybe they think about it for real. Plus, they keep isolating, almost as if they tried to avoid me."

"Oh, c'mon, you're exaggerating. There must be a logical reason why they are acting like that."

"Oh, yeah, there is. And the message is more than clear: I was the last one who joined the band, so I must be the first one to leave it!" her husband sighs melodramatically.

"Oh, please, shut up! It's just your imagination that's playing tricks on you. You all are a band and you'll always be." she assures him.

"No, Kelly, you don't understand. They are so mean to me!" Chris whimpers.

"Oh, my God! Chris, now you're reminding me of Alfie during his first days at school, when he didn't want to go there because he didn't get along with his buddies! What? Do you want me to have a little talk with your buddies too, in order to make them treat you better?" his wife wonders sarcastically.

"Would you really do that for me?" Chris asks her hopefully.

"Gee, I was kidding!"

"But you did that for Alfie!" her husband protests.

"Damn you! Christopher Tony Wolstenholme, you're beefy and can handle these stupid things on your own!" Kelly snaps.

"Here we go, you said that: I'm fat!" Chris gets desperate. "Maybe I should try the Pineapple diet. I heard it can burns the 10% of fat!" he ponders out loud.

"No, no Pineapple diet. No diet at all! I've just said that you're beefy, not fat, and I like the way you are, honey, I really do." she murmurs, pleasing him.

"Now let's talk about more important things. Have you already seen the new cover of Vogue?" Kelly changes topic.

"Hell yeah, I've seen it, my love. And, you know, there are at least three wrong things in the model's hairstyle..."

TBC

Do you still remember Matt's war against senility? Whatever the answer is, you'll see about that in next chapter, I just can say that... I'll make him perform a very crazy and terrible awful song, yeah... I'm getting more and more insane!!

Hope you had fun reading that. But please, whatever you think about it, just tell me! ;) Please, really, I'd like to know what you think about it so far... even criticism is welcome!!

[happyandticklish]

Tickletober Day Eight - Death Spot

Notes: For the anon request! Inspired/based on this comic by @vqler because I have an unhealthy obsession with it lol; credit to them for some of the lines in this! I went a little off prompt as it’s only really lee!Bakugo at the end, but I’ve already written two fics where he’s gotten wrecked, so I’m gonna say I’m allowed~

Summary: Deku’s rest is interrupted after Bakugo decides to make him the entertainment for the afternoon.

Deku was on the couch when Bakugo found him. Sprawled out, one arm thrown lazily over his face, one of his legs dangling off the edge of the cushion. He looked exhausted. It was rare to find him in such a state, as usually the nerd managed to keep a fairly upbeat commentary going no matter what the situation. However, on that particular day it was hot out, the sun beating down mercilessly upon the poor students of UA. Training had been hell that day, and even Bakugo had to admit that he hadn’t performed his best under the circumstances.

Still, the sight of him in such a vulnerable position, all his defenses down as he nodded off, irritated the other for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Bakugo made his way over to the couch, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the other’s sorry state. “Lounging around, are we?”

Deku didn’t even have the decency to react to his sudden presence, merely shifting a little. “Leave me alone, Kacchan. I’m tired and not in the mood to deal with you right now.”

Bakugo bristled. He had received many things from Deku—admiration, respect, fear, terror—but never dismissal. He narrowed his eyes. That was not going to stand. 

Without a word to the other, he clambered on top of his lap, quickly straddling him. 

Deku yelped weakly, his arms coming up defensively. “K-Kacchan! What are you doing?”

“I’ve decided if you’re gonna be boring and sit around all day, it’ll just make it easier for me to have fun,” Bakugo decided, his lips curling into a smirk, “By tickling you.”

Familiar dread overtook Deku’s expression, and he crossed his arms quickly over his torso in a sad attempt to protect himself. “W-Wait, can’t we talk about this?”

“Nah,” Bakugo decided, grabbing at Deku’s arms and attempting to pull them above his head. “Don’t feel like it.”

“A-Ah, wait, Kacchan!” Deku tugged his arms down, weakly wrestling for control. “C’mon, this isn’t fair! I’m too tired to fight you off right now, just let me get some rest okay? I’ll do whatever you want later.”

The words, frantic and helpless, cut through to Bakugo like an arrow. It was rare that Deku ever conceded defeat so early. For him to give up so easily, he must have been truly exhausted.

It was the perfect opportunity.

Bakugo smirked, releasing his wrists and sliding off of him. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone, since I’m feeling generous today.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, swaggering towards the doorway. Deku watched him for a moment, confused by the easy win, but eventually he decided he was too tired to try to figure it out. He curled one arm under his head, sighing contentedly as he snuggled back into the couch.

“Ha! Naïve sucker!”

Deku yelped as Bakugo switched gears suddenly, whirling back around and charging after him. He scrambled back on the couch, throwing one leg over the edge in a wild attempt to get away. He just barely made it over before Bakugo was leaping over the obstacle with one hand, securing him around the waist and pulling him to the ground. Deku squawked, flailing around as he attempted to push him off. It was too late, however, and Bakugo had his wrists once more, pulled and pinned above his  head before he could catch his breath.

“Kacchan, w-wait, c’mohohon!” He was already giggling, squirming nervously underneath him. “I—”

“What? You can’t take it?” Bakugo poked up his sides, grinning in victory as he ascended the moving path. “I think we both know you can take a lot more than this.”

Deku was in stitches already, kicking his legs out in protest as that bright laughter spilled out of him once more. “Kahahahacchan!”

“You are so dead, nerd.” Poke. “The rest of us have been training too, you know.” Poke. “What’s so special about you that you get to take a break, huh?”

Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke. To the outside perspective, the pokes were aimless, directed randomly along his torso, but Deku knew better. The crevice in-between his middle ribs, the dip of his hipbone, the center of his armpit—each one perfectly calculated to make him shriek. Which he did, throwing his head back and babbling out useless pleas.

“NAHAHA, NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” The tickling almost seemed worse with his exhaustion. His muscles were strained from earlier, and for all his struggling, Bakugo’s hands might as well have been concrete. “IHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES!”

“Stop being ticklish then.”

“IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T!”

“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to take it. That’s not my problem.”

Bakugo had to admit, there was something addicting about seeing Deku like this, giggling and squirming with his face all scrunched up and pink. He didn’t really have an excuse this time, not like any of the other times he had tickled him. There was no getting around the fact that he was doing this because he wanted to.

“EHEHEHEHEHE NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!”

In his distracted state, Bakugo hadn’t been paying attention to his hands or how they had been vibrating in the same spot on Deku’s ribs for a while now. Deku writhed underneath him, legs kicking out frantically at the ground as he lost himself in laughter.

Bakugo raised a brow, trying the method out experimentally on his right side. He was rewarded with a squeak and a round of wild cackling. 

Interesting. 

“Oh? Have you been hiding this spot from me? That’s not very smart you know.”

Deku shook his head quickly, and found that it was almost the truth. He really hadn’t been hiding the spot, and it was a wonder it had taken Bakugo so long to find it. In fact, if he was being honest, he was always kind of disappointed before whenever Bakugo would skip over it so quickly to go under his arms or down to squeeze his hips. Sometimes he would get perilously close and Deku’s nerves soared with hope and panic all at once, but then he would simply move past it like he did every time.

Half of Deku was tempted to stay there and let him wreck him, but he decided his victorious classmate needed to be taught a lesson first.

Bakugo’s eyes widened when Deku arched up suddenly, wrapping his legs around Bakugo’s waist and tugging him down so that he lost his balance. In his distraction, Deku managed to tug his arms free, jerking right and rolling them over so that their positions were flipped. Channeling some of One For All into his hand, he quickly secured the Bakugo’s wrists, pulling them above his head.

Deku grinned, still panting a little as he recovered from the sudden laughing fit. “I think you need to learn something about good sportsmanship. It’s not nice to attack your opponent when they’re vulnerable, you know.”

Bakugo blinked up at him, disorientated as he took in the unfortunate position change. A moment later, however, he recovered with a snarl, twisting and jerking at the surprisingly strong grip; since when was Deku so damn strong? “You little shit, get off of me!”

“Not until you apologize,” Deku said, unbothered by the ferocious glare the other was aiming at him. In all honesty he wasn’t really that mad about the earlier tickling, but this served as a nice opportunity to get Bakugo back for all the times he’d wrecked him. Besides, he had a feeling something like this would tire Bakugo out enough that maybe he could return to his nap. “Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“Fuck you!”

Deku clucked his tongue with a sigh. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t have time to wait for you to stop with the stubborn act. So we might as well finish this up fast.”

Bakugo furrowed his brows in confusion but before he could inquire him on what the hell that meant, Deku’s remaining hand shot down to his hip, fingers sliding into just the correct position through some kind of annoying muscle memory. Bakugo yelped, bucking instinctively against his hold—not that it did him much good with how tightly Deku was holding onto him.

And then Deku started digging his fingers in, squeezing and massaging that one spot, that one horrendously ticklish spot. That was all it took for Bakugo to crumble, pitchy yelps and cackles slipping out as he frantically kicked his legs out, trying to upend the other. All his thoughts were diverted to how much that tickled, and how much he needed it to stop right now if he were to retain any of his sanity.

He almost felt sympathy for the treatment he had given Deku earlier.

Almost.

“I thought that would get to you,” Deku said, a hint of pride slipping into his voice. “I wasn’t sure if you would still be as ticklish here as you were when we were younger.”

Bakugo wanted to tell him to fuck off, that it didn’t tickle and that he was going to be sending him to a quick and early death, but it was impossible to form coherent speech under such conditions. He was giggling, shrieking, babbling sounds that he hated and wished he could snatch out of the air and shove back down in his throat. All of his nerve endings seemed to be concentrated in that one spot on his hips. Deku was relentless, pinching the same area over and over until Bakugo wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

It was unbearable.

It was exhilarating.

Bakugo was going to kill him.

“Feel like apologizing yet?” Another squeeze, another bubble of laughter slipping out of his throat. “All it takes is two words and this can all be over.”

There was a brief moment where Bakugo considered it, if only to give himself a reprieve from the torture, before quickly dismissing the idea. He tried to tell himself it was due to pride, that he wouldn’t allow Deku of all people to get the upper hand on him. He refused to listened to the voice in the back of his head, the one that insisted that wasn’t the only reason, that insisted there might have been a seperate motive as to why he had been so quick to jump on Deku this morning.

Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, flipping Deku off as he writhed on the ground. “F-FuhuhUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!”

“Mmm,” Deku hummed, switching to a lighter approach and gently scratching his nails against his shirt. Bakugo would later deny the whine that slipped out of his throat at that. “Clearly it’s not that bad then. Maybe I should kick it up a notch.”

Bakugo screeched as Deku held true to his word, practically arching off the carpet.

They both had a feeling they were gonna be here for a while.

[awkward-and-indecisive]

The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT IT?!

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE!!!

Tags - @agirlwithdemonblood | @eevvvaa | @msmarvelouswinchester | @waynes-multiverse | @deanwithscissors | @jay-and-dean | @stitchintimefan

[lady-sci]

this is a pit I'm trying to haul myself out of as well. One of the things that I'm trying is going for walks and trying to take interesting pictures. Just with my phone, sometimes listening to an audiobook/podfic/podcast. Maybe I'll share it with the friends in my phone, maybe I won't. But the goal is to look around me and do something interesting with what I see.

if a word document is too much, try changing where you try writing (notes app, longhand, whatever's at hand). Or try chatficcing with a friend, telling them a story. That can always get copy-pasted into a doc and fleshed out later.

I personally think it helps to make the act of ~creativity~ less formal. But it also helps to start with baby steps. Little snippets of dialogue, a goofy sketch of a weird little guy, low quality photos with interesting composition. The more I focused on getting my ✨creativity✨ back, the harder it was. So I made myself stop thinking about it as ✨creativity✨ and start thinking about it as goofing around in a medium. Sometimes you have to start back from scratch and finger paints and just let your inner 5 year old have fun.

Also an option: making physical things. Gets the same I Made A Thing feeling, makes it hard to scroll while you're supposed to be Making A Thing, and doesn't put too much pressure on you to be doing the thing you used to do and making that stressful. And you have A Thing at the end. (Thing can be: bread or other baking/cooking, knitting/crochet, embroidery/cross-stitch, whittling, sewing, pipe cleaner figures, air dry clay, etc etc etc.)

Best of luck to us all trying to haul our brains out of the endless scroll. (fyi you can turn off endless scroll on tumblr, giving you previous/next buttons at the end of an amount (10?) of posts)

how did you guys like. relearn doing creativity. i feel like my automatic response to creative vibes is to just return to endless scrolling rather than writing/art/doing the thing, and if i DO try, it’s just the endless stare into an open word doc

[marauderundercover]

Day 6: Party

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE 

Continuation of days two and three

Marinette grins at her reflection in the mirror. The costume was perfect- close enough to the original that you could tell who she was, but also with her own touch so that she didn’t hate looking at the costume. She’d even curled her hair slightly. The knock at the front door makes her squeal in excitement, knowing exactly who it is. 

“Cass!” She cheers, opening the door and grinning widely at her best friend. Sure, Cass didn’t talk a lot (she was like Luka in that way), but she always seemed to know when Marinette needed help out of her own head. And she was eternally grateful for that. She was even more grateful that Cass had agreed to do a duo costume with her since Jason apparently didn’t want to dress up. He was ‘too old’ or something. Well, Marinette wanted to have fun and wear a damn costume. 

“The suit is amazing! I’m not sure the cowl I made will be good enough for it.” Marinette says worriedly, examining the stitches on Cass’ costume. “Where’d you say you got this?” She asks, frowning. It was definitely higher quality than the Halloween store downtown. Cass just smiles, the one that basically says ‘not telling’. Mari just grins, used to it by now. She passes the cowl to Cass and grabs her own domino mask, sliding it on. Posing next to Cass in the full length mirror, Marinette takes a picture and sends it to the group chat that Jason had recently added her to. Dropping her phone into her purse and grabbing her keys, she turns to Cass. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

“Ready.” Cass says. Marinette grins. Look out, Gotham, Batman and Robin are out on the town. 

---

Dick squeals as the picture comes through on the groupchat. He was beyond relieved that Jagged had scheduled his Halloween party two weeks before the actual holiday. It meant that he, and the rest of his brothers, could actually go instead of being on the extra patrols they always had to schedule around the holiday. Grinning, he opens twitter. 

@flyingrayson

Look at my little sisters! Aren’t they the cutest?! #halloween #Waynefam #jaggedstone

[image description: One girl stands with a hand on her hip, dressed in what is obviously a spin on a Robin costume, including: a domino mask, black tights, dark red tunic with a Robin logo, gold belt, knee high emerald boots, and a dual sided cape black on the outside and gold on the inside. Another girl stands next to her with her arms crossed over her chest, dressed in what is obviously a Batman costume, including: black catsuit, yellow utility belt, black cape, and a redesigned black cowl.]

---

Marinette pecks Jason’s cheek and grins. 

“What, not a Robin fan?” She asks teasingly at his frown. He huffs. 

“Not really. More of a...Red Hood guy.” He says, and she snorts. 

“Of course you’d like the one with guns.” She says, shaking her head with a smile. “His costume is actually probably one of my favorites. Well, besides the whole helmet thing.” Jason grins, pulling her in and giving her a sweet kiss before he glances behind her and groans. 

“My brothers just walked in.” He says and she smiles. 

“Go say hi, I’ve gotta go ask Uncle Jagged a question really quick. I’ll be right back and Cass and I can show your brothers our awesome costumes in person.” She says, pecking his cheek before walking away. She looks around for Jagged, but frowns when she doesn’t see him in the main room. Pulling out her phone, she sends him a quick text asking where he is. 

In the garden with Fang!!!!!!!

She shakes her head fondly. Of course he skipped out on his own party to spend time with his crocodile. Smiling, she heads out to the garden to try and get to him. She’d wanted to see if the man planned on being in the US around Thanksgiving. Bruce had already invited her (probably to get Jason to show up) and said she could invite any of her family as well. Since her parents and superhero partner were both dead and her grandparents didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, she decided she’d really love Jagged and Penny to come instead. As she walks outside, she’s shocked that Fang doesn’t immediately run up to her. 

“Uncle Jagged?” She calls, frowning. Where was he? And why was it so dark out here? Fang was scared of the dark. Jagged never would have brought him outside without more lights on, he was too protective of him. She tenses when she notices a slumped figure next to the bench Jagged had put in the gardens for when she visits. It was one of her favorite places to sit and design. 

“Hello?” She calls, watching the figure for any movement. Seeing none, she steps closer and her stomach drops. Immediately she runs over and checks her Uncle for a pulse. She sighs in relief when she feels it, but the gash on his head is worrisome. How-

“Hello, Birdie!” An amused voice rings behind her, making her blood run cold. She whirls around and manages to catch a glimpse of the man’s pale face before a thick piece of metal flies at her head and the world goes black. 

---

“Jaybird! Where’s Mari and Cass? They’re blowing up on twitter, even MDC liked my tweet!” Dick says happily, making Jason scowl. 

“Did you seriously post my girlfriend all over your twitter?” He asks grumpily. Dick nods. 

“Oh yeah. Her and Cass looked too cute to keep it to ourselves. Where are they anyway?” Dick asks, scanning the room. 

“M said she needed to go talk to her Uncle about something. Personally, I think she was just avoiding you guys. You all crowd her every time you see her.” Jason reprimands, crossing his arms. Replacement rolls his eyes. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s so much cooler than you. And she’s not an asshole like you are.” He says. 

“Something’s wrong.” Cass says, suddenly appearing at Jason’s side. He jumps slightly, but then frowns at her. 

“What?” He asks, surprised to see the deep scowl form on her face. 

“Don’t know.” She huffs. 

“Well if Cassandra believes that something is wrong, we should investigate.” Damian says, looking relieved that he wouldn’t be asked to socialize with anyone. A startled scream from outside makes the five vigilantes tense before running towards the noise. Jason curses when he realizes it’s Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone’s….something. She’s kneeling by a slumped figure, shaking it until a groan escapes it. Jason feels his blood run cold when the figure’s hair catches the light. It’s Jagged. Then where-

“Where’s she? Where’s she at?” Jagged slurs out, blinking wildly. 

“Who?” Penny asks, gently holding the man’s face. Jason frowns at the gash. 

“M. He wanted ‘er.” He says, and though the man is looking around crazily and slurring his words, Jason can tell he’s completely serious. And M-

“Do you mean Marinette?” Jason asks, stepping forward. Jagged frowns, but nods. 

“Crazy clown.” He adds before turning and throwing up in the grass. Jason growls and turns on his heel, ready to go hunt the damned clown down. Out of everyone in this damned city that he could’ve targeted, why did he choose her?

“Jason, wait.” Dick says, grabbing his wrist. “We need to have a plan. Come on. You can’t just go out like this.” He reminds him lowly, Jason’s eyes narrow but he follows anyway. Might as well use the good tools. That fucking clown won’t make it to morning. 

---

Ice cold water falls over her and Marinette sits up, gasping in shock at the sudden temperature change. 

“Little cold, Birdie?” A voice asks before walking around and standing in front of her- a huge smile on his face and a thick piece of metal in his hands.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Marinette says, trying not to let her voice shake. This was the villain. The one she never wanted to meet. The one that gave her boyfriend nightmares that he couldn’t explain to her. And now she was alone with him. 

“If you’re sure, we could have some...fun before Batsy arrives.” He laughs. 

“Why would Batman show up?” She asks. “You do realize this is just a Halloween costume, right?” She flinches as the piece of metal- a crowbar, she thinks shakily- stops inches in front of her face.

“How stupid do you think I am? Of course it’s a costume. A costume posted by one Dick Grayson. You’re a Wayne, somehow. And Batsy always shows up when a Wayne is involved.” Joker says, his twisted grin making her sick to her stomach. 

“I’m not a Wayne! Batman isn’t going to come for me.” She argues, cursing her decision to not wear her earrings today. Some days were harder than others, especially leaving in a mask. Even if the mask was a costume. Every time she tried to put on her earrings today, she shook and started to panic. Granted, it was probably for the best. Because she would definitely be tempted to transform and she did not want to give Joker that kind of knowledge. 

“Wayne or not, one of the bats will come. You have friends in very high places, Birdie.” Joker tuts, twirling the crowbar in his hand. She flinches as it nears her face, making Joker laugh. “If I wanted to hit you, I would.” He says. She doesn’t even have time to figure out what he means because her shoulder explodes in pain. The pain is blinding and she wants to scream but no sound will come out of her mouth as she gasps for breath. 

“That’s no good. A silent bird is a dead bird. So sing, Birdie.” Joker demands, and he aims slightly lower this time, shattering her left arm. And she screams. The pain tearing at her throat nothing compared to the pain in her arm, her shoulder. She sobs, the shaking making the pain worse, but she was unable to stop. It hurt. 

“S-stop!” She manages to yell, nearly biting her tongue when Joker grabs her chin and forces her to look up at him. 

“Hmm. You’re right! The internet should definitely see this.” He laughs, pulling a phone out. She shakes her head, flinching as he whacks the crowbar against the floor near her chair. He points the phone at her, and she knows he’s recording. The bastard. 

“Hello Gotham! Look at this little Birdie. I’m afraid she flew too far, and now we have to clip her wings.” He says, sighing as if he’s actually apologetic. He sets his phone up on the table and stalks over to her before turning and waving at the camera. She watches him move the crowbar around warily, her breathing shaky. God, she hoped Jason wasn’t watching this. Hoped he was somewhere safe, not trying to go do something stupid. She winces as Joker acts like he’s about to hit her, only to stop before the crowbar actually connects with her good arm.

“I told you, I’d only hit you if I wanted to.” He chuckles. 

“Go to hell.” She spits out, ignoring the voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like Tikki) telling her to shut up. To not antagonize the crazy man with the crowbar. 

“Gladly.” He says with a grin, rearing back and swinging the crowbar out to hit her in the ribs. Her scream echoes around the room and she has no time to catch her breath before he’s attacking her ribs again. Tears stream down her face, but she can’t scream, she can’t even catch her breath. I’m going to die, she thinks, and the thought is terrifying. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. 

---

“Do we have a fucking location or am I about to go shoot up every goddamned warehouse in this city?” Jason growls as he zips through the streets on his bike. He knew Babs and Alfred were back at the cave, watching the livestream and working to locate Marinette. And even though he couldn’t see the video, the audio playing through the comms was enough to make his stomach churn. 

He didn’t give one singular fuck what Bruce said. He was going to kill that goddamned clown the minute he saw him. 

---

Marinette glares at the Joker, barely able to keep her head up. For some unknown reason, he’d decided to use his fists on her face instead of the crowbar. Not that she was complaining. She wouldn’t have survived multiple hits to the head. Not with the force he had. She watches him, and she knows he’s saying something, but she can’t tell what it is. She’s too tired, too hurt, to care what he’s saying anyway. Unless it’s some magical cure to stop her from feeling like she’s broken into a million pieces, she doesn’t want to hear it. 

Eyes wandering behind him, she’s relieved when she notices the costumed figure. The cowl, the cape- Batman did come. How strange. Though, she had assumed that Joker was live streaming. So that could definitely explain that one. Deciding she was out of immediate danger, she lets her eyes droop shut, reveling in the darkness that surrounds her. She let’s it stay, and she can feel things slipping away, some of the pain lessening. It’s nice, until someone is poking her and talking much too close to her. She lets out a whine as the person forces her eyes open. 

“‘m tired.” She mumbles, wincing at the pain that comes with breathing, with talking. 

“I know, kid, god I know. Just keep your eyes open.” A voice says. She blinks, the blue marks on the suit in front of her helping her to identify the vigilante. 

“Couldn’t fight.” She spits out, tears springing to her eyes as her attempt at conversation makes her chest ache. 

“But you’re fighting now, you’re staying awake. You’re doing such a good job, I’m proud of you. Stay awake kiddo.” Nightwing says quietly. She vaguely feels the ropes slide off her wrists and ankles. Fighting to stay sitting up, because slumping will hurt more than she’s willing to allow, she sighs. 

“Jason’s gonna worry.” She mumbles, and Nightwing hums. 

“Ambulance is almost here, kid, just stay awake.” He says instead of asking about Jason. She hopes Jason is okay. Hopes he isn’t mad at himself for letting her go talk to Jagged alone. Suddenly, sirens are close and she lets the world finally slip away.

---

The pain is the first thing that clues her in. She isn’t dead. Which is a relief. But the way her entire body aches, is not a relief. Forcing her eyes open, she sighs at Jason’s slumped form in a chair next to her bed. She wished she knew how long she’d been in the hospital so she could scold him. Because he was still wearing the outfit he had on at the party. Which meant he hadn’t given himself a break. Just as she’s trying to decide how to ask the nurses for pain medicine, Jason’s eyes open. 

“Marinette!” He gasps, starting to lunge forward, then stopping himself. “I thought, god, M, I thought-”

“‘m okay.” She says softly, and he frowns. 

“Okay? You were nearly beaten to death with a goddamned crowbar. You’re not okay.” He argues. She sighs. 

“I’m alive, and I’m with you. I’m okay.” She insists, wincing. He looks like he still wants to argue, but stops himself. He scoots closer and holds her hand, kissing the back of it softly. 

“I’ll never leave you.” He promises. She smiles softly, before falling back asleep, finally safe.

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess 

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Ten

Father Figure! Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Teen! Reader

Chapter Ten: You screwed up My Chance to Kiss My Crush

Summary: (Y/N) and their friends go to (sneak into) a party, and it goes wrong in multiple ways.

            “Did you hear?” asked Em, leaning over the back of (Y/N)’s chair as they stitched fabric together.

            “What?” said (Y/N), not bothering to look up.

            “The LUX is hosting a rave tonight,” said Em.

            “That’s weird, I didn’t think my dad was a fan of that theme,” said (Y/N).

            “He isn’t going to be there,” said Em.

            “Okay?” (Y/N) focused on their work.

            “That means we can sneak in.”

            (Y/N) paused and actually looked up at Em. “ ‘Sneak in?’ ”

            “Yeah,” said Em, grinning. “We’ve discussed it a few times with our friends, and now’s the perfect time.”

            “I remember saying it’s a terrible idea,” said (Y/N), rolling their eyes.

            “What if I said I already invited the others?” said Em.

            “…I’d be annoyed.”

            “No, you wouldn’t be, you’d be happy to see them,” said Em, winking.

            (Y/N) glared.

            “Okay, maybe a bit annoyed,” amended Em. “But you know you’d have a good time.”

            “Yeah, I don’t mind parties, but I think Dad would kill me if I snuck into one of his,” said (Y/N).

            “He is literally incapable of saying no to you,” said Em.

            “He’d be really disappointed in me,” said (Y/N).

            “He’d be proud of you for trying to rebel, if anything,” pointed out Em. “It would be on brand.”

            “…You’re not wrong,” admitted (Y/N), sighing. “But I just, I don’t know if I’m interested in going out tonight. I’m not a giant partier. And this will be with adults, not other classmates.”

            “I think the rave could be a lot of fun,” said Em. “And our friends will be there, so who needs more?”

            (Y/N) looked away.

            “You know you love breaking rules, and you haven’t in a while,” said Em.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms.

            “Pleeeeeease?” said Em. She gave (Y/N) puppy-dog eyes. “For me?”

            Letting out a long sigh, (Y/N) gave up. “I’m going to regret this.”

l

            “This was such a good idea, Em!” cheered Olive, spinning around in her sparkling pink skirt and t-shirt. Faux jeweled dotted around her eyes, and she wore a giant grin.

            “Listen, this is a better theme than any other I’ve heard of,” said Em. “So I had to suggest sneaking in.” They wore ripped jeans and a sparkling top to match the silver eyeliner she wore.

            “I think we snuck in just because Lucifer’s not here,” said Noa, wearing their binder and a blue mesh top overtop.

            “We are being fairly responsible, though,” said Leon. They just had a more relaxed version of his usual outfit—plain pants and a silk shirt.

            “Right! No drinking, just dancing,” said Marcel, hanging off his partner’s shoulder and wearing a blue crop top and purple pants.

            “I told you it would be good,” said Em, nudging (Y/N).

            They rolled their eyes. They just had red pants, a black crop-top, and dramatic rainbow makeup on.

            (All makeup was courtesy of Olive and Leon when it came to anything more than basic eyeshadow and eyeliner. They were very good at makeup and the artistic side of things while the rest could do their basics and were happy to be models for the rest of it).

            “Okay, fine, it’s not bad,” begrudged (Y/N).

            “That’s hilarious, you’re still pretending to be grouchy,” said Em, laughing.

            “That’s just who they are,” grinned Olive.

            “But they’re a softie underneath,” said Marcel, winking teasingly and swinging Leon around.

            “You guys know me so well,” said (Y/N), cracking a smile.

            “Duh,” said Noa.

            “We’re your best friends,” said Em, squeezing (Y/N)’s arm. They smiled at Em, feeling the warmth of her hand happily.

            Over the speakers, “I Kissed a Girl” began to play, and Macel gasped.

            “Oh my god, I love this song, come on, Leon, we’re dancing!” said Marcel, dragging Leon farther into the crowd.

            “Noa, want to dance?” said Olive, smiling eagerly at Noa.

            “Obviously,” said Noa, staring with a dumb smile at Olive’s grin. They couldn’t say no to her, so as Olive began to scream the lyrics, Noa was right alongside her.

            “Listen, I’m not a girl, but I’m always up for this song,” said (Y/N), smiling and began to move to the beat.

            “Oh, absolutely,” agreed Em. “But you want to kiss a girl.” She grinned.

            “Guilty,” said (Y/N), laughing. “And I’d like it.” They ended their words with the song, singing along.

            Em chuckled and opened their mouth to continue before pausing and frowned. “What the—is that the Detective?”

            (Y/N) turned around. “What?”

            “That’s Chloe,” said Em, gesturing towards a booth at the side of the dancefloor. “With Ella?”

            “And Dr. Martin. And Mazikeen.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Shiiiit, if they spot us, we’re in trouble.”

            “Hide in the crowd?” said Em.

            “Hide in the crowd,” confirmed (Y/N), grabbing her arm and pulled them into the crowd.

            “What about our friends?” asked Em.

            “They’ve already dragged each other away to dance,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly.

            “Fair enough,” said Em. That was their friend group—ready to hang out and separate in a single moment. They’d come back together when they needed to.

            (Y/N) and Em arrived at the other edge of the crowd and peeked out from the stairs to see if Chloe or any of the other adults had noticed them.

            “I don’t think they saw us,” said (Y/N). They smiled and began to laugh. “Sneaking around a party we weren’t supposed to be at. Wow.”

            “You did warn me,” chuckled Em sheepishly.

            “I guess it is fun, and I do like breaking rules, so it’s not really a big deal,” said (Y/N), nudging Em with a laugh.

            Em smiled, and the pair looked back out over the crowd, taking a moment to just people-watch.

            “Is that…Noa and Olive kissing?” said Em, eyes widening as she spotted their friends.

            (Y/N) peered over with them. “Oh, yeah, definitely.” They grinned. “The song got to them.”

            “It was about time,” laughed Em. “Now they’re together like Marcel and Leon. Just us left.”

            “Then I guess I’m here so you’re not fifth-wheeling,” teased (Y/N).

            “I mean, sure,” said Em, shrugging and smiling. “But it’s also just that I wanted you to be here.”

            “Really?” said (Y/N). “Even after I’m so grumpy sometimes?”

            “It’s like Marcel said, you’re really a softie,” said Em, smiling. “But seriously, I’m glad I convinced you to come.” Around them, the music continued to play, and she smiled at (Y/N). The rainbow lights flashed over their face, and Em couldn’t bring themself to look away. “I love our friends, but I really like doing things with you. I really like being with you.”

            (Y/N) paused and looked at Em, smiling. “I really like being with you, too. If I really didn’t want to do something, I wouldn’t. But I have fun with you.”

            “I’m glad you do,” said Em, grinning.

            The music kept playing, and the whirlwind of lights seemed to transport them into their own little dimension with just them—Em and (Y/N)—happily together. Em glanced down at (Y/N)’s lick, and (Y/N) subconsciously swallowed as they noticed Em’s look. They both leaned in slightly, and as the music swelled, their eyes fluttered shut and—

            “What’s up, everybody!”

            You’ve got to be kidding me.

            (Y/N) and Em jumped back as the DJ suddenly addressed the crowd over the music.

            “This song goes out to a special lady! Cherry Jane, this one’s for you!” The man looked at Chloe and smiled. Music began playing again.

            (Y/N) cleared their throat, and Em looked away from them awkwardly. Neither was sure what to say, not after that.

            “Well, uh, should we find the others? We’ve been here a while…” said (Y/N), trailing off.

            “Yeah, sounds good,” said Em, clearing her throat. “And we should clear out before we get caught by Chloe or Dr. Martin.” (Mazikeen and Ella would probably let them go).

            “Right,” said (Y/N), and they moved back into the crowd with Em.

            As they started walking, a man approached the DJ, keeping his hand in his jacket. Abruptly, he pulled it out and pointed a gun at the DJ. Screams went up in the crowd, and Em grabbed (Y/N) protectively as people pulled back.

            “Where are the others?” said (Y/N) worriedly, looking around and only relaxing when they saw Olive pushing Noa back and Leon holding onto Marcel.

            “They’re here for a sting,” cursed Em, still holding onto (Y/N).

            “We should’ve realized,” groaned (Y/N). Chloe wouldn’t just be out at a rave without a reason. It wasn’t really her thing. But where’s my dad?!

            “Yo, man, what…” the DJ trailed off nervously as he held up his hands. “We can work this out. Just calm down.”

            “Tell them!” shouted the man. “Tell them what you did!”

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know who you are,” said the DJ.

            “But you know who she is,” said Chloe, stepping out with her own gun and looking at a woman Mazikeen was holding back. “LAPD. Put down the gun.”

            “No!” shouted the man. “They need to know. He’s a homewrecker.”

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow and concentrated on the shadows at his feet.

            “Birdie…” said Em worriedly, holding onto them tighter.

            “It was just one night,” defended the DJ.

            “One magical night!” cried the woman.

            Oh, hell, relationship issues, groaned (Y/N).

            “I didn’t even know she was married. She didn’t say anything,” defended the DJ.

            “You don’t need to do this, Ron,” said Chloe.

            “Yes, I do,” said Ron. “She broke my heart. I messed up with the other DJ and then with the explosion. I’m not gonna screw up this time.”

            Yes, you are because you screwed up my chance to kiss my crush.

            (Y/N) curled their fingers, and the shadows around Ron’s leg tightened. He stumbled—seemingly over his own feet—and fell. Chloe ran forward and pulled his gun away to pin him to the ground. People cried out at the sudden movement, and (Y/N)’s friends all looked at them, knowing they had acted to protect LUX and everyone in it.

            “Good job, Birdie,” whispered Em.

            (Y/N) smiled at them, and if there wasn’t a murderer in front of them and the risk of being caught underage in the club, (Y/N) probably would have kissed Em.

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