#this is why i said maybe you wanted a different movie

[capseycartwright]

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

ao3 link

Buck was driving himself to Eddie’s before he could really even think about it, the autopilot of his brain engaging and getting him behind the wheel, and on the road to his best friend’s house without needing much thought at all. Eddie was who he needed, in that moment – not Maddie, and her sage advice, not Hen, who’d be clever, and logical about it all. No, he needed Eddie. Eddie, who inexplicably opened the front door in his underwear and a pink shirt. Eddie, who let them sit in silence, a playlist churning out eighties rock for a full twenty-three minutes (Buck checked) before Eddie said anything at all. 

“So,” Eddie set his empty drink down, gesturing to Buck for a second. Buck twisted the cap off before he handed it over, adding to the pile on the coffee table. “What happened? You said that you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” 

Buck groaned, the sound loud in the quiet of Eddie’s house. “I was supposed to be,” he slumped back onto the couch. “But then he dumped me.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “He dumped you?”

“He dumped me,” Buck confirmed. “Because I am a deeply unlovable individual who is going to die alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think you might be being dramatic there.”

“I’m not!” Buck protested. “Eddie, everyone I date dumps me – or leaves me. That apparently doesn’t even change when I’m dating a man. It’s not – I thought it would be different, with Tommy.” 

“Because he’s a man?” Eddie’s confusion wasn’t judgemental – no, Eddie never judged him, Buck was sure of that much. It was sincere confusion, his best friend wanting to understand where Buck was coming from.

“Yeah? No? I mean – maybe,” Buck huffed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate himself. “I guess – I guess I just thought that now I know who I am, that I’m like – consciously aware I’m bisexual – it might be different. That maybe it didn’t work out before because there was this part of me that I didn’t know, or understand, and that had affected my relationships because I wasn’t bringing my like, whole self to the table. But if it didn’t work with Tommy, then that’s not why. Right? Then the problem is me.” 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I don’t think the problem is you, Buck.”

“It has to me! I’m the only common denominator here.”

Buck wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down on Eddie’s couch and cry until he had nothing left – and it wasn’t about Tommy, really, because Buck had liked Tommy, but the end of their relationship wasn’t what was making him feel so devastated. It was the idea of Tommy, more than anything else – what Tommy represented. A happily ever after that Buck was falling short of all over again. 

“What did Tommy say, exactly? Maybe – maybe you’re spiralling, and he gave you a good reason that you’re not seeing.” 

“He – I asked him to move in with me.” 

“Buck.”

Eddie sounded long-suffering. Buck had earned that. He knew that much. “I know,” he knew it had been the wrong move. The words were barely out of his mouth, and Buck knew it had been the wrong move – but that was sort of his thing, to cling desperately to relationships that didn’t work because he was so terrified of being alone. “I just – I felt comfortable with him, and the whole Abby thing was weird.”

“Really weird,” Eddie agreed, wincing. 

“But not the kind of weird I couldn’t get past. Right? He came over tonight, and I told him – why be apart when we could be together. Then, he said he couldn’t move in with me, because if he did, I would only break his heart,” Buck sighed. He wouldn’t intend to. That’s what Tommy had said – but who ever planned to break someone’s heart? No one was that cruel. Maybe they were – but Buck wasn’t. He’d never wanted to break anyone’s heart, even if that had been the end result sometimes. 

Eddie was quiet for a second. “Did he say why he thought you’d break his heart?”

Buck’s beer burned his throat as he took another gulp, the sour taste lingering. “He said that he was my first, but he wasn’t my last.” 

read the rest on ao3

[tmntxthings]

一∑From the Start・゜・。

author’s notes: scurries in from the darkness, throws this > 💣 < out into the light, and runs back for cover 💥

warnings: unedited, angst, drabble, unrequited love, pining, daydreams, cliffhanger

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When Leo invited you down to the lair to hang out, you had thought maybe it would be a movie thing. Or perhaps even going to the ramp room, chatting while he practiced skateboarding tricks that almost always ended badly with bruises. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dragged you into the kitchen to whip up something to eat or just snack on whatever the two of you could find.

But no, instead, he led you to his room, with a skip in his step. When you questioned why it had to be just the two of you. Why all of his brothers were rolling their eyes in Leo’s direction. He just shook his head, “I can’t tell anyone else! You’re the only one I can trust!” It was then, that you had a sinking feeling.

This scenario had happened before. Many times actually. You glanced back at the bros, exasperated already and you hadn’t even heard anything yet. But you knew.

Once in his room, Leo let go of you, and jumped face first into his bed. He let out a dramatic screech, kicking to boot before he turned to the ceiling and announced, “I’ve got a crush,”

You held back a sigh as you walked over to the only chair in his room. Pulled it out from under the desk, and sat, getting ready for the long haul. “Who and how?”

He really hadn’t even needed the question. He was off to the races explaining exactly how he had met ~them~ and all the moments after, from whence his heart first skipped a beat, the beauty that they hold, how they laugh at all his jokes. Your eyes clouded over.

This was pure torture. As your eyes unfocused, you let your train of thought wander away from Leo’s babbling fancies. Truly you’d lost count of how many times this had happened before. It was always the same things that made his heart flutter. That made him go crazy, so much so, that he’d tire out his brothers from all the lovesick shenanigans and bring you into the mix.

Which was like listening to chalk squeak against a chalkboard. Shrill and grating. If you didn’t tune it out, you’d go crazy yourself. Because it was despicable to listen to your own crush, talk about how much they wanted someone else.

For a second, you could just blink, look over at him, and pretend he wasn’t saying anything of consequence. “Blah blah blah,” his mouth moved, but you weren’t listening. That was better. It was unfair how pretty he could be. Especially when he was happy, especially when he was falling hard. The way he smiled, how his eyes shined. His hands couldn’t stop moving, he just had to animate with his whole body about how he felt. Your knee started to bounce. He was being cruel and he didn’t even realize it.

It wasn’t fair. But then again, how would he ever know unless you told him? You imagined what it would be like. To interrupt him. To confess your love. He’d probably laugh in your face. Ha what a great joke Y/n, now get real and back to my love crisis. That’s what he’d say. Or something along the lines of it.

But sometimes you could imagine him pausing completely. Getting taken so off guard that he no longer had the words to respond. That maybe he’d look at you with a different light. So maybe that was why you did it. On the off chance that, maybe, Leo had always harbored something for you too. Just deep down! So deep that he felt the need to hide it with all of these other so called crushes.

“Leo!”

He blinked and sat up from where he had been laying, interrupting his tangent.

“What?!”

Straightforward. That would be the best route.

“I like you.” Your eyes were steady, yet your heart raced. It was thundering in your chest as you watched one of his brow bones raise.

“I like you too Y/n” he said so as if it was obvious. Which meant he was misunderstanding.

“No no, not like that. I like you.” You strained with the emphasis as you willed his thick skull to understand. And it must’ve gotten through because his eyes widened just a bit.

“You like me?” He questioned, sitting up even straighter than before. Now you had his attention. And you could feel sweat building up in your palms as you nodded seriously.

“But, we’re best friends..” and you could’ve let that shoot you down. But you continued on. Getting up from your spot, from the single chair, and making your way over to him. Despite how every step made you second guess yourself. Despite thinking maybe it was a better idea to just run out of his room. Or to just settle for the friendship you thought you had wanted.

But you pushed through it all as you sat down next to him. “We are. You’re my best friend Leo. And I, maybe I’m greedy, but I can’t help it. I’ve liked you for so long now. And I don’t think I can just sit idly by anymore.”

You took a breath, palms closing into fists. Eyes closing because if he was going to reject you, it’d be better to not see the pity on his face. You piped up once more before he could say anything, “Every time you talk about your crushes, I can’t help but think, but wish, that it were me! And every time you get over one, I get ahead of myself, I hope that maybe, one day, you’ll look at me differently!”

There was so much you could say. So many different ways to say it. But that was the gist. “That… you’ll like me like that. That you’ll return the feelings I’ve felt for you,” you blew out a breath. Then looked into his eyes.

Leo was rarely ever serious but he was now. “I never knew…” he said softly after a moment of silence. Of taking in all that you had revealed. You nodded not knowing what that meant for your relationship with him now. And the fear of losing him forever leaked onto your face. His eyes softened, a green hand going out to cup your cheek.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” and with that he brushed a finger against your skin. He looked down at your lips as they parted with a shocked breath. He smirked, as only Leo could, and leaned down with a silent question that had you tilting your head to give him better access to your lips.

“Y/n are you even listening to me?”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

You were in the single chair.

“Hello! Earth to Y/n, this is like the biggest moment of my life, I’m telling you I think they may be the one!! Come on focus!!”

Right. You straightened up, crossing a leg over the knee that wouldn’t stop bouncing.

“Sorry, go on,”

And he blinded you with that smile as he retold all of the sickening things that made him so endeared to his crush. If only it wasn’t so endearing to you.

—————————————————————————

This ↓ is why this ↑ came about :D

[feuillesss]

Seunghan Solo Debut Reading

***DISCLAIMER***

I do not know these idols personally! This is just my interpretation of the cards that I pulled, please take this reading with a grain of salt. For entertainment purposes only.

( day/month/year - 15/11/24 )

Seunghan Solo Debut

Did the other Riize members know about this?: (6op/Strev/9oprev)

Unlikely

It's likely that the other Riize members were blindsided by this decision. There was some hope given to them of returning as 7, maybe guaranteed success. 6 of pentacles depicts a man giving food to a beggar, (here for reference), like "Here, have what you want, be quiet.", this is the general attitude of SM with this decision. They intended to pacify people here. I pulled this card earlier this morning, however it's taken on a different meaning now. They're definitely feeling very betrayed about this situation, about SM's deceit. I do believe that the company was giving them false hope, my boycott reading makes a lot more sense now, as I kept getting deceit and lies. Now we know I guess. When I was doing this, I kept thinking about the evil queen and snow white, specifically this scene, this reading had such bad vibes, I don't like it.

How do the other Riize members feel about this?: (kow/judgementrev/aow/moon/kiop)

If I wasn't sure before, I am now, Riize was deceived about this. The moon card represents deceit, secrets, trickery, they were kept in the dark about this decision. I got the general vibe that they're angry, they're mad asf. They're planning something, pushing back. There's a lot of disbelief here, "what?" kept coming to my head. They think that this was a wrong decision, very hasty and poorly judged. They're tired, and frustrated with this situation, it's never-ending for them. I don't know why but the Jo and Laurie scene from little women came into my mind. Movie scenes are important for me in my readings, they capture the general vibe of the feeling I get.

How does Seunghan feel about this?: (4op/7os/9os)

He still wants to be with Riize, he did not want to go solo. He's not doing well, he feels like he was pushed out of the kingdom so to speak, pushed into this decision. he's scared, hopeless. There's betrayal here, a lot of deception going around for all of the Riize members, including Seunghan. Going solo might have been his only option, or SM made it his only option. He feels guilty, anxious, and just really really scared. "Take this and be grateful." But there's still hope for him y'all, this is genuinely gut-wrenching. As I said, Seunghan's will to be in this group is like a candle in the wind, the flame flickers but it never goes out, there will always be that glimmer of hope that he has, like that firefly I talked about. My other reading is making a lot more sense to me now than it did at the time. When I was doing it, just one firefly on a leaf popped into my head, surrounded by darkness. That's his last feeling of hope.

Is there still a chance that he can come back to Riize?: (char/kiow/loversrev/2oc)

This depends on what goes on from here. If people give up now, Seunghan will never return to Riize. SM is expecting a speedy recovery, they're expecting people to give up now, it's making me mad fr. If people continue to boycott and fight for Seunghan, he can come back. Nothing is set in stone with this. But it is crucial that people do not give up or we lose our chance forever, seriously this time. With determination he can come back, there is still a chance for him to return to the group. Don't let SM shut you up like that, don't be a doormat for them because that's what some of y'all are looking like. They're counting on people to forget. I cannot stress this enough, Seunghan can come back if we work hard enough, if we're loud enough. The outcome depends on what we do, so please do not give up, it's not over.

[psychoticallykind]

Clowns

"Respect" - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 814 words

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Regulus was trying really, really hard to keep a straight face as he watched his boyfriend struggle. He was succeeding so far.

James looked slightly horrified by the - admittedly hideous - clown painting Regulus had brought home.

"You told me that I could choose the theme for movie night," Regulus reminded him. "Remember? It's next Sunday, everyone is coming over."

James hadn't looked away from the thing. He sounded almost faint as he replied. "Uh-huh. I remember."

"Don't you like it?" Regulus pushed, forcing himself to keep up the act. "I thought it would be cool to hang up behind the TV, and we can watch It - you know, the Steven King one? And I found like three other clown movies that look interesting."

James nodded. "Right. That's - um. Okay." He squinted at the painting. "And your theme is clowns? That's the decision here?"

Sometimes growing up in a toxic household had its benefits. Given, they were few and far between, but they did exist. And one of these benefits was that Regulus knew how to act.

"You hate it, don't you?" Regulus asked, pushing a little bit of dejection into his tone.

James looked away from the monstrosity for the first time in ten minutes, wincing at Regulus's expression. "No! It's -" James hesitated as his eyes flickered back to the painting, but seemed to find some resolve as he looked back at his (secretly amused) boyfriend. "It's not what I expected. But that's okay. We all have different ideas, and I respect your choice. It's a good choice," James insisted.

Regulus glanced at the painting. "Are you sure? I don't want to force you into anything."

His boyfriend glanced one more time at the clown before walking over to Regulus and pulling him against his chest, wrapping him up and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Of course, I'm sure."

Regulus felt the slightest sting of guilt at how sweet James was being. Especially considering he hated clowns with a passion.

Regulus couldn't see James's expression anymore, but he felt him take a deep breath, and he could hear the sincerity when he spoke next.

"I maybe don't love the clown itself," James admitted quietly. "But I love you, and I love that you made a choice that you'll enjoy. So if having a clown-themed movie night will make you happy, then I'm happy to go along with it, love."

Oh, this was no longer fun. Regulus was regretting the whole thing now.

"We can go hang it up now, if you want?" James offered, and Regulus winced. He'd actually been counting on James rejecting the clown idea immediately.

He really should have known better. James had never refused him anything before.

"Um, Jamie?" Regulus asked quietly.

"Yes, love?"

Regulus bit his lip, hesitating. It felt like a mean trick, in hindsight. "Um. About the clown."

"Yeah?" James asked. When there was no reply, he continued. "I know I probably didn't react very well at first, but I meant what I said. I didn't mean to make you second-guess yourself."

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut. This was so bad. Why had he done this?

It was all Barty's fault, he decided. This was the last time he listened to one of Barty's ideas.

Part of him just wanted to go with it now - the clown was creepy and he actually really hated those movies, but he didn't want to admit he'd been playing a trick on James when James had been so sweet about it.

On the other hand, if James apologized one more time he was going to start crying.

"I don't actually want the theme to be clowns," Regulus said quickly.

He felt more than heard James's confusion. "What?"

With a deep sigh, Regulus turned around and met his boyfriend's eyes. "I didn't actually choose a clown theme. It was just a trick to see how you'd react to the really creepy painting."

Regulus watched James for a reaction. He knew that it wouldn't be anger - James was too well-adjusted for that - but he was worried James might be a little upset.

He did not expect the huge, beaming smile.

"So it's not clowns?" James checked, eyes wide. At Regulus's answering nod, he let out a long breath and pulled Regulus into a tight hug. "Thank God. I was dreading the nightmares that thing was going to cause."

Regulus could've melted in relief. "You're not upset?"

"Upset?" James pulled back with a laugh, shaking his head. "No, love, I am so, so happy right now." He glanced at the painting and then gave Regulus a thoughtful look. "Did you actually buy that?"

"Uh, yeah, but we can throw it out," Regulus suggested.

"Can we burn it?" James asked. He gave Regulus a pleading look. "I would really love to burn it."

"Yeah, James," Regulus laughed. "We can burn it."

[toweroftickles]

Inside Out 2: Riley's Tickle Trouble

Val's basement was not at all what Riley expected. It probably hadn't been touched since the late 90s…solid white walls, low ceiling, scratchy and thick cream carpet that look like it was made out of rope, a neglected Foosball table, and a really squishy toffee-colored leather couch almost thick enough to be a beanbag. It was nice and homey, but the ordinariness is what threw Riley off.

She figured that because Val was the coolest and most popular girl in school and such a successful hockey captain and so inspiring and pretty and (shut up, shut up) the Ortiz family must’ve been, like, uber-rich or something. But nope. Totally normal. It was kind of comforting, actually.

A friendly little spot on the carpet, next to the edge of the couch, invited Riley to sit among the pizza boxes, and she did.

“Okay everyone, just relax and let’s all have some fun!” Joy was peppy as always. Game time. “But wait, why are we worried about this? We’ve hung out with the FireHawks plenty of times…” “BECAUSE, Sadness: this isn’t our first time hanging out with the FireHawks, but it IS our first time hanging out with them as an OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE TEAM,” Anxiety chimed in. “The importance of this event literally cannot be overstated,” explained Disgust with a jab of her finger. With one roll of his sleeve, Anger was ready to go. “I’ve been warmin’ up the swear button all day for this. Oh! Maybe we'll get to watch an R-rated movie!” "Uhhh, do you WANT Mom to kill us?" the green girl grimaced.

“Alright,” Val announced to the team, with an uncharacteristically sly side-eyed smirk on. The game had been going for a while, and it was her turn. “Never have I ever…kissed a boy-band poster on my bedroom wall.”

Everyone’s hands stretched out into the air, all accompanied by varying degrees of smarm or giggliness, but Riley’s shot up to its full height much faster than the others’. Her lower lip curled up beneath her teeth, almost like it was trying to hide, and her eyes drifted around the room unfocused. And if she'd looked to her left, she would've noticed Nour's suspicious smile.

"Riley looks embarrassed," the latter teased. “You sure there isn't something you wanna tell us, Glow Girlie?” Reaching out with her free hand, Nour playfully poked underneath Riley's raised arm.

What happened next, Riley couldn't stop. It was a reflex. She didn't even have time to think before she shrieked loudly, slapped her hand over her armpit, and scurried away on her knees. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets and she was tingling all over.

“Nonowaitpleasedonttickleme!” she begged. It all just blurted out in one breath. By the time she realized what she said, it was too late.

A collective gasp echoed throughout the command center. Every head turned, each with a different expression. They all knew what was coming next. On the desk, the "Panic Button" was lit up, its soft glow blinking through the fingers of a single, orange hand. “....Oh no…was that bad? ...What did I do?!” “Hey…that reminds me…” the visage of Ally chuckled on the big Jumbotron screen, tugging with malice of forethought on the edge of her beanie. All the emotions swiveled to look at her. “We haven’t put Riley through the official FireHawks initiation yet.” Suddenly, five pairs of eyes were staring right in at them. Gulp.

Gulp. Riley yanked her feet behind her and clumsily tried to sit on them. “W-wait, wait,” she stammered. Except for Val, who was just enjoying the show, the rest of her team were all crawling toward her with their hands outstretched, smiling wickedly, their fingers dancing like spider legs. Riley's shyness overcame her, and she felt herself blushing, until old white plaster bumped into her shoulder. She'd backed into the wall...nowhere to run. And her puppy-dog eyes weren't convincing the others.

The eight terrible arms that hovered over her descended in sync like a hungry swarm, and smothered her until all light was blotted out.

“AHHH!!”

Dogpiled on the floor. Enveloped on all sides. Riley quickly hugged herself tight and curled into a defensive armadillo ball, but the wriggly hands of her teammates all fought and shoved and tunneled their way into every nook & cranny between her arms and her torso. They scuttled like crabs at her armpits, and her belly, and her waist, and her neck, until she crumbled into screaming, helpless laughter.

Side thought: I'm guessing that Riley’s tickle laugh probably sounds a lot like her overdone “pretend I get the joke and fit in” laugh.

“Hihih HA-Heh! *heave* HA-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!! AHH!! *gasp* Gai…G-huys, stop!” (So much for ever keeping any secrets from these girls.)

“We all had to do it, Michigan; now it's your turn…” Dani, always the bully among them, did not lie convincingly.

"Andersen, two minutes in the Penalty Booooox!!" Ally's voice dropped several pitches in a goofy pantomime of their Coach. Her pinching claws electrified Riley’s sides and made her jump like a popped corn kernel.

“Oho my g-hahawd, I barely touched you.” Sofia, clearly having the time of her life, tucked her glasses into her pocket and moved down to grab Riley's ankles.

"Ha-HA!!! Dohon't!" Everything went hot. Riley couldn’t breathe or see straight. Her blue hoodie held her snug in its warm cotton folds, but even its extra layer wasn’t thick enough to shield her from the barrage of poking FireHawk fingers. She was used to being wrestled and tummy-tickled to death by Bree and Grace...that was common, sometimes even exciting. But her new teammates were older girls: bigger, stronger, better at holding her down, and definitely meaner.

"NO! Nnnnn-NO!! Thisisnothappening!!!" Disgust was mortified. "Stop fidgeting; I can't tell what kind of looks they're giving us!!" Underneath the table, Embarrassment had his entire body in a death-grip bear hug around the central pedestal, and the fuchsia on its surface rapidly emanated from him like an inky stain. In a fit of panic, Fear followed suit and threw his four limbs around the nearest sturdy object he could find... which just so happened to be Ennui's entire face. "Wait! I-I can fix this!" Anxiety hadn't moved this fast since Camp. Joy, though? She was over the moon. Giddy, buzzing, practically levitating off the floor. "Awww, remember when Dad used to tickle us all the time? Heheheh... Riley's our little monkey!" "No! Stop it! This is not cute!" Anger snapped at her. "Wait a minute; Val! Val will save us! We-have-to-get-a-message-to-her somehow!" The faster Fear talked, the tighter he squeezed Ennui's head, until both of them crashed to the floor. Anxiety gasped. "You're right! She's always stuck up for Riley!" "Guys she's looking! She's looking at us!!" squeaked Envy. It was then, as if in answer to their prayers, that Val pushed herself up off the couch and spoke. She was smiling warmly, like a knight in shining armor. “A’ight, girls..." Time slowed to a crawl. All the emotions held their breaths. "...let me get in on this."

At their leader's command, the four subordinates parted like the Red Sea. Dazed, Riley felt two rough hands clasping her wrists, and two more closing around her ankles, and her head slowly sliding up into someone's lap. Dani's. Carpet burns stung her back. She was breathing hard. Someone had been using her diaphragm as a trampoline. By the time she got her wits about her, her limbs were stretched out like rubber bands.

No. No no no not Val. Please not Val!!

“Uh-oh…awwww, yeah; get ‘er good, Val,” Ally taunted.

Riley desperately squirmed and wiggled to escape, hoping to curl into a fetal position, but the FireHawks’ captain plopped right down on top of her jittery knees. She was pinned.

Say something. What are you doing; SAY SOMETHING!!!

Riley opened her mouth, but all that came out was a squeaky, low-decibel croak. Like a leaking balloon. Crud. And as Val smiled down at her, one eyebrow raised, Riley also noticed something that made her even more nervous: her hoodie had hitched up from all her writhing around, and her bare belly was peeking out.

Oh no. Her earlobes had a heartbeat. Could the others see how red her cheeks were?! Oh no.

"Heheh…What’s this? What’ve we got here?" Val slowly reached her left hand forward, making sure to drag it out as long as possible, and just as the tension reached its agonizing limit…she scratched her fingernail right in the freshman FireHawk's belly button.

The scream that burst out of Riley could've killed a Symbiote.

BANG!! BANG!! BANG!! Embarrassment’s massive forehead pummeled the control panel like a whack-a-mole hammer, engulfed by the machine's belches of sparks and smoke. Sirens blared, red lights strobed. “Fight BACK already!” Anger dove for the keyboard, but a hyperactive orange fist sent him flying into the ceiling. “No! We CAN’T!! Just retreat! Submit! Roll over! O-or something!” Anxiety no longer knew what buttons she was pressing on the neon-pink-and-orange console, or if they even functioned. She just desperately pounded whatever wasn't currently blocked by Embarrassment's flailing body. “She’s right; what if we sock one of them in the face like we did to Bree during the slumber party?!” Fear whimpered. “That was YOUR fault!” Joy, meanwhile, rolled around on the floor in wild hysterics, laughing and snorting and totally oblivious to the surrounding office chaos. Envy bounced beside her. The apocalypse was here.

“HA-HA Ha-Ha Ha-Heh…Ah-HEHH!! *cough* HHA-Haw HA!!” Riley wailed through cracking and creaking pipes. She hated how crooked her braces-wearing grin looked, how wide her nostrils flared. It was too much: Val squeezing her tummy like a marshmallow, Sofia scratching and tickling her foot through her sock, Nour prodding her in the ribs with her big toe…she was going to cry from laughing if they didn’t quit. She wanted to die - to lock herself in her room and never come out again.

“Ok, girls, I think she’s had enough,” Val declared. With one last flourish, she gave Riley’s achy belly a gentle, affectionate little pat, and sweetly pulled her shirt back down again as the torture finally stopped. Aw. How helpful.

It had only been a minute or two, but Riley felt like she’d been tickled for hours. Finally free, and completely exhausted, she groaned and wiped her eyes and conked her head on the floor, still giggling like a little girl. Oh thank god.

“Haha-Ha! You’re fun, Andersen.”

"Nah, Val, I know that look; you think we were too 'mean' to her," Ally mocked her as the five returned to their original seats. Val hopped onto the couch and crossed one leg over her knee.

"Oh, I don’t know; everyone loves tickle fights."

“Uh-uh. No. Not me. I hhhate being tickled,” Dani shuddered.

“It depends; it’s not THAT bad,” Sofia interjected. “Well, except like when I’m getting my nails done, and they start going for my feet…”

“Oh, yeah, I hate that feeling,” laughed Val in agreement, resting her cheek on her hand. “In the mall? Oh my gosh, this is so embarrassing…one time, I legit accidentally kicked this Chinese lady in the face.”

That cracked the rest of them up. "Girl, the criiiiinge," Ally snickered.

“I couldn't help it! Heh-Heh…hey, you ok over there, Ri?”

Clearly upset, the largest and pinkest retreated into his sweater. The control console was still sputtering in pain. "Not ok. Not ok. We were JUST making an impression!" "Ok, let's everybody just cool your jets," Joy smiled. “Wait she called us ‘Ri;’ does that mean something?” queried Envy. “Are we super-friends now?”

“What are we even supposed to say?!” But as usual, whenever the group got stuck filibustering, it was up to Ennui to save the day. "S'cuse moi." BOOP.

Still splayed out on the floor like a snow angel, still sucking in air by the gallon, Riley weakly raised a single thumbs-up high above her head. Do. Not. Make. Eye contact.

“Hiiiiieeee…….yaah….*gasp*...’mokay…*gasp* …neverbetter,” she squeaked.

“Well that couldn’t POSSIBLY have gone any worse. So help me those girls are gonna GET it!” “Oh I messed up…Imessedupsobad…” Anxiety yanked on her wiry hair to the point where she appeared to be wearing suspenders. “I don’t know,” Sadness mused. For the first time all evening, her cheeks raised up in a tiny smile. “I think…I think they like us.”

Riley wheezed and sighed blew a bang out of her reddened face as they others laughed playfully. They were way too happy about this. Deep down, in the pit of her stomach, she had a feeling…this wouldn’t be the last time her new gal-pals punished her for being so unbearably ticklish.

…somehow, she didn’t really mind all that much.

**********

I wasn't originally planning to write an Inside Out 2 fic, but got a lot of positive feedback on my headcanons and my prompt ideas, so this is sort of a reader request. Now, I am not a teenage girl. I have never been one. I don't plan on being one in the future. But I really tried to make this believable all the same. My hope was that this fic would feel authentic and familiar to some of you, and maybe drag up some high school memories (or fantasies) of those warm, squiggly, flustery feelings that come with a tickle attack from your BFFs. ^^ Just something cute and silly. My experience is limited so LMK how it turned out! Also I don't actually know if the Muslim girl's name is Nour. I read on some dubbing wiki that it was, but that was the only reference to her name I could find, anywhere. So if I get different info I'll fix that.

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! Its me again I had another found family troupe in mind if your up for it! I wanted to ask before the Christmas prompts started.

So this time I was thinking Deadpool x Teen!Male!Reader where reader is on top of a building, how he got there is up to you, but he's abt to make a bad decision (if ykw I mean) when dead pool finds him and starts to talk, and basically they end up making a deal, if wade can make the reader see how good life is then he won't do it, but if he fails the reader can go back, and basically its is a bunch of fun stupid shit for the rest and the reader becomes apart of the little odd family created in dead pool 3 (including logan) and decides to stick around. So heavy angst that's solved in a nice fluff, and if your not comfortable with the first part you can change the angst to a different scenario you totally can, and the how and why is up to you.

Readers personality is a sarcastic, cold teen, but he's caring and weird around ppl he's close to, he hides his emotions to keep himself safe

If you can do this I would be so so grateful, if not its totally understandable, I love your work sm its hard not to request things, keep up the amazing writing! Have a good day/night!

OPERATION MAKE YOU NOT HATE THE UNIVERSE

⤷ WADE WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Wade Wilson x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, angst, tiny bit of fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): This story deals with sensitive themes, including mental health struggles and suicide

ᯓ★ I'm happy that you like my works and don't worry, you can make as may requests as you want, I'm so happy when people make requests! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city sprawls below, twinkling and vast, but strangely quiet from this height. You sit on the edge of a skyscraper, your legs dangling into the nothingness, with only the hum of distant cars and neon lights bleeding through the foggy air.

You take a deep breath, the cold biting into your lungs. It makes sense, somehow, for this place to be the last thing you’d see. Who knows how long you’ve been sitting here, trying to drum up the courage or the anger or whatever it’s going to take to finally just let go. But the emptiness is louder than any fear. The world feels like it’s swallowed you whole, and this—you dangling on the edge—feels like the only time you’ve ever been able to look it in the face.

“You know, most people pick roller coasters or a fifth of tequila if they wanna feel a thrill.”

You flinch. Not from surprise—well, okay, a little from surprise—but more from sheer irritation. This is the moment someone decides to intrude? You glance over your shoulder and see him. He’s wearing red and black, looking like a deranged SWAT team dropout, leaning casually against the roof access door, arms crossed like he’s watching a really boring episode of a soap opera.

“And here I thought I had the whole roof to myself,” you say dryly, hiding your unease. “Guess we’re all just having a rooftop party.”

“Lucky for you, kiddo, I’m the life of the party. Deadpool, at your service,” he says with a bow. “But hey, what’s a young guy like you doing up here all alone? Besides reenacting all the worst Lifetime movies?”

You snort, because it’s exactly that bad. “Oh, just figured I’d enjoy the view,” you reply, deadpan. “And maybe gravity. Seems like a good combo.”

“Right, right, makes sense,” he nods, as if he’s in on some cosmic joke only you get. He crouches down, edging a little closer. “Let me guess. Someone pissed you off, the world sucks, you hate your life, blah blah blah, and now you’re about to end it all. Am I close?”

You don’t answer, just roll your eyes and stare back out at the city. But something in the fact that he said it—that he got it so easily—makes you feel strange. Seen.

“Oh, man, nailed it!” Deadpool cheers, like this is some sort of accomplishment. “See, I’m like a therapist, but with 90% more leather and 100% more explosions. And, I make house calls. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah? Where’s the PhD?” You give him a sidelong look, unimpressed. “Bet it’s in the mail.”

He gasps theatrically. “Excuse me, my online course was very thorough, thank you. You’re looking at a fully certified therapist-slash-savior-slash-pizza connoisseur.” He steps even closer, as if he’s trying to get a read on you. “So, what’s it gonna take for you to, I dunno…step back from the edge, champ?”

The question catches you off guard, but you school your expression back into that empty, unreadable mask. “Nothing,” you say. “Don’t need saving.”

“Aw, sure you do. Everybody does,” Deadpool replies, with a smile that’s a little too wide. He’s still in that crouch, head tilted like he’s studying a lab rat. “C’mon, take me up on my deal.”

“I didn’t agree to any deal,” you mutter.

“Well, that’s about to change, Mr. Antisocial.” Deadpool leans in, his voice a dramatic whisper. “I’ll make you a bet. If I can’t show you something worth sticking around for, something that doesn’t totally suck, you win. But if I can—and oh, I will—then you gotta promise not to do anything stupid up here. No ‘jumping’ and no ‘leaping gracefully off into the night’—not on my watch. Deal?”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. But then, you’re not sure this guy even knows what serious means. A smirk slips onto your face, mostly from disbelief. “And if you fail, I get to come back here and do what I want.”

Deadpool slaps his hands together, eyes lighting up like he’s just scored a jackpot. “Deal! Signed, sealed, and delivered. What’s your name, by the way? So I know what to call you when I start ‘Operation Make You Not Hate the Universe.’”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, that’s not gonna work,” he replies breezily. “I’ll call you...” He pauses dramatically, finger tapping his chin. “Shadow Kid. Because of your gloomy vibes. Or Edgy McBroodface. Either one works for me.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Fine. It’s Y/n. Happy?”

He claps his hands like a kid on Christmas. “Delighted! Well, Y/n, pack your bags because you’re about to take the Deadpool Tour de Joy. First stop: that little bakery down the street that makes these empanadas that are just to die for—pun very intended.”

As ridiculous as he sounds, something inside you—against all odds—doesn’t completely hate this idea. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong, but at least he’s distracting you. And it’s better than the silence. So you sigh, push yourself back from the edge, and follow him, if only because he’s made it impossible not to.

“Don’t get too excited,” you warn, hiding a hint of curiosity beneath a mask of sarcasm. “I don’t like pastries.”

“Don’t worry, kid, you will,” he grins, guiding you off the ledge. “Deadpool guarantees it. Or I’ll give you a full refund. You know, after we make sure you don’t end up sidewalk art.”

It’s midnight, and you’re trailing behind a lunatic in red and black spandex as he skips down the street like he’s leading a parade of one. You almost regret stepping away from the edge of that building. Almost. Because, despite everything, Deadpool’s got your attention, even if it’s just so you can see where this trainwreck of a night is headed.

“Now, Y/n,” he says, spinning around to face you while walking backward, “it’s time I introduce you to my squad. My inner circle. The people who either love me or have given up trying to kill me. I figured, what better way to kick off Operation: Don’t Be A Self-Destructive Edgelord than some quality time with family?”

“Your ‘family’?” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Oh, yes. They’re the most dysfunctional group of weirdos you’ll ever meet, which, in our line of work, is high praise.” He turns back around, leading you down a couple of twisting alleyways until you’re standing in front of a building that looks like it was abandoned about a hundred years ago.

“Home, sweet home!” Wade announces proudly, shoving the door open. “Well, it’s not really mine, but Al’s not much of a decorator anyway.”

You’re about to ask who “Al” is when you spot her: a short, older woman with oversized sunglasses, leaning against a sofa, flipping through a Braille magazine. She doesn’t even look up when she addresses Deadpool.

“You brought home another stray, Wade? You’d think you were trying to start an orphanage for misfits,” she mutters.

“This one’s special, Al. Meet Y/n,” Wade says, guiding you inside. “Y/n, this is the one and only Blind Al. She’s my friend, roommate, therapist, probation officer, and part-time parole board.”

Al snorts. “You think I’d live with Wade if I had any other options?”

You almost smirk. “So you’re telling me he’s like this all the time?”

Al nods, and you catch the tiniest hint of a smile on her face. “Constantly. And unfortunately, you’ll get used to it.”

“Come on, Al, don’t ruin the surprise! I’m a blast to be around,” Wade says, slapping you on the back with a little too much enthusiasm. “Anyway, I promised Y/n the Deadpool Experience™, which includes only the finest influences and biggest badasses on the market.”

“Speaking of badasses…” Wade nudges you, gesturing to the kitchen doorway, where a tall, grizzled man in flannel and jeans leans against the frame, arms crossed. His eyes are hard, the kind that say he’s seen more than his fair share of horror, but he’s giving you a look that’s somewhere between curiosity and caution.

“Logan, meet Y/n,” Wade says, pushing you forward. “Y/n, meet Wolverine, aka Logan Howlett, aka the surliest Canadian this side of the Rockies. Logan, Y/n here’s having a tough time deciding if life’s worth sticking around for, so I figured you could help me convince him otherwise. Since you’re all about that whole ‘living through endless suffering’ thing.”

Logan looks you over, clearly unimpressed with Wade’s choice of words. “You tell this kid what he was getting into by sticking with you?” he grumbles, giving Wade a side-eye.

“Why spoil the fun?” Wade chirps. “Besides, I figured I’d ease him into the nightmare that is my lifestyle by introducing him to you first. It’s all part of my master plan.”

You scoff. “Not exactly a plan so far.”

Logan grunts, shooting Wade a look. “Kid, if you’re here, you better be ready to put up with more crap than you signed up for. And if you don’t, well, don’t expect us to sugarcoat it.”

“Gee, thanks, Logan. Great pep talk,” Wade says, clapping his hands together. “You’re practically the Canadian Dr. Phil.”

“Whatever,” Logan mutters, giving you a short nod of acknowledgment. “Stay out of trouble, kid.”

“Thanks,” you reply dryly. “I’ll make a note of it.”

Wade flashes a grin. “All right, now that we’ve got the somber stuff out of the way, it’s time to meet my real pride and joy. Follow me, Y/n.” He leads you down a narrow hallway, barely glancing back as he goes. “And here, in the third and definitely not cleanest room on the left, is the Mini Wolverine herself, Laura Kinney!”

You peer around the doorframe, and sure enough, there’s a young girl, no older than you, sharpening a knife with an intensity that could probably slice through steel. She looks up, one eyebrow raised as she sizes you up.

“So…another of Wade’s recruits?” she asks, her tone half-sarcastic but half-genuine, like she’s as surprised as anyone to find herself among this crowd.

“Not exactly,” you reply. “Apparently, I’m part of some…life-affirming experiment?”

Laura smirks. “Good luck. Most people just end up scarred. Or worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mini-me,” Wade says, swooping in to ruffle her hair, which she swats at with the speed of a ninja. “Y/n, Laura here is what we call a ‘clone’—same rage issues, same claws, same immunity to hugs as Mr. Broodmaster in the kitchen. Laura, Y/n here is testing out the Wade Wilson School of Life Choices.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Well, better you than me. Good luck.”

“Look at that, Y/n! She’s already rooting for you,” Wade says, pulling you back out of the room before you can reply.

“Sure,” you mutter. “I feel like I’m one big science project.”

“Nah, science projects are boring,” Wade says cheerfully. “And last, but certainly not least, the crown jewel of this ridiculous ensemble is… Peter!”

You frown, confused, as Wade leads you to the living room, where a man with glasses and a receding hairline is lounging on the couch, a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other. He looks up and waves at you with a sheepish smile.

“Hey there. I’m Peter,” he says. “No code name, no special abilities, just…Peter.”

You raise an eyebrow at Wade. “How does he fit in?”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Wade says matter-of-factly. “He’s just a genuinely good guy. The one, non-superpowered person who got tangled up in my dumpster fire of a life and didn’t immediately bail. I figured he’d be a nice balance to all the violent murderers in the room. Plus, he makes a mean ham and cheese sandwich.”

Peter shrugs, giving you a friendly smile. “Sometimes, it’s good to have at least one guy who knows what life’s like for the average person. And I figure, if Wade can make it, maybe there’s hope for all of us, right?”

You nod slowly, unsure what to make of all this but also, maybe for the first time in a long time, feeling something close to warmth. These people are rough around the edges, sure, but there’s an understanding in the way they look at you—like they know what it’s like to have the world chew you up and spit you out.

“Well, Y/n,” Wade says, clapping his hands together, “you’ve met the gang. Now, how about that empanada?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine,” you mutter. “One empanada. But if it sucks, this deal’s off.”

Wade grins. “Deal! And hey, if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even get a side of wisdom and life lessons from our merry band of misfits. Consider this step one on the path to…not hating everything.”

He leads the way, Peter and Al in tow, while Logan and Laura hang back a bit. And as you walk down the dimly lit street, surrounded by this unlikely crew, you realize maybe—just maybe—Wade might actually have a point.

The morning sun drips through the dirty windows of Blind Al’s apartment, casting a pale yellow glow over the chaotic mess of takeout boxes, weapon cases, and torn-up furniture. You’re sprawled on an old, threadbare armchair, an empanada wrapper stuck to your shirt from last night’s “Deadpool Tour de Joy.” You’d made it through an entire night with Wade and his crew of insane, sarcastic maniacs—and, against all odds, it wasn’t completely awful. In fact, you’d felt something almost like…belonging.

But now it’s the next day, and you’ve already told yourself a hundred times that you should probably just slip out, go back to what you were doing, forget all of this ever happened. You’re starting to push yourself up when Wade barges into the room, wearing his costume but missing the mask, eyes bleary, and looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Ah! Sleeping beauty rises!” Wade yells, startling you. “Figured you’d skipped out by now, but no! Y/n, my little suicidal protégé, how’s life on the wild side?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s early. Can you not yell?”

“Oh, no-no-no, kid, this is normal volume,” Wade replies with a grin. “Wait ‘til Logan shows up and starts shouting at me. Speaking of which…”

Right on cue, Logan comes around the corner, his expression twisted in irritation. “Wade, it’s nine in the damn morning, why are you already so loud?”

“Why are you such a ray of sunshine?” Wade replies cheerfully, barely dodging Logan’s hand as he tries to grab him.

“Because you’re annoying,” Logan growls, rolling his eyes and making for the coffee pot. But Wade is already blocking him, a mug in one hand, smirking.

“What if I told you there was no coffee left? Would you kill me?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to repeat it. Without a word, he pops out his claws, a metallic snikt slicing through the silence.

“Oh, I’m shaking!” Wade sneers, clearly egging him on.

“Deadpool, just get out of my way.” Logan tries to push past, but Wade laughs, making some obnoxious buzzing noise that apparently does the trick, because Logan grits his teeth and stabs him, right through the side.

You jump, stunned, watching as Logan’s claws slip back out, leaving Wade clutching his side. Blood pours out of the wound, and you’re about to call out when you realize that Wade’s grinning.

“Oh, there it is,” Wade says, inspecting the hole in his side, barely even phased. “You got me good, Wolvie. Was hoping you’d go for the chest, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“What the hell?” You can’t help but gape at him. “You’re bleeding, and you’re laughing?”

Wade winks, dropping his hand and letting you see that the wound is…healing. Muscles and tissue knit themselves back together, as if he hadn’t been stabbed at all. “Oh, yeah! Y/n, I forgot to mention one of my best features: I’m unkillable! Like an annoying houseplant that refuses to die. Cool, right?”

You blink, still trying to process. “So…no matter what happens to you, you just…keep coming back?”

“Yup! Think of it like this,” Wade says, throwing an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the sticky blood on his suit. “I am the miracle of human resilience, cranked up to eleven. Plus, I give Logan a stress outlet every morning. Win-win, really.”

“Wouldn’t call it a win,” Logan mutters, pouring his coffee. “If anything, you’re my worst nightmare.”

Wade smirks, turning to you. “Logan here’s my best friend. Don’t let him fool you.”

Logan takes a long, deliberate sip of his coffee, glaring over the rim. “One more word, Wade, and I’ll make it two stabs.”

“Oh, two stabs?” Wade clutches his chest dramatically. “Why, Mr. Howlett, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

“Honestly,” you mutter, looking at them, “this is the weirdest friendship I’ve ever seen.”

Logan glances over at you, grumbling, “It’s not a friendship. It’s a…complicated arrangement.”

Wade beams, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulder, which Logan promptly shrugs off. “Call it whatever you want, sweetie.”

As they bicker, Laura enters the room, unfazed by the chaos. She gives you a nod of acknowledgment before grabbing a seat at the table, watching the two men as if this is just another morning.

“Y/n, how’s Wade treating you?” she asks, a smirk forming on her face.

You can’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Oh, it’s just been fantastic. Nothing like witnessing multiple acts of violence before breakfast.”

She grins. “Get used to it. That’s pretty much every day around here.”

“Hey, I call it ‘combat therapy,’” Wade retorts, tossing her a wink. “You know, bonding time for the soul. Plus, Logan secretly loves it.”

You’re still processing all of this when Peter comes in, looking almost suspiciously normal, like a PTA dad in a nightmare of superheroes and chaos. He gives you a friendly wave, balancing a bag of bagels and a coffee tray.

“Morning, everyone!” Peter says, the only cheerful voice in the room. “Brought bagels for you all. Thought maybe today we could take it easy and just…you know, be normal for a while?”

Wade gasps. “Normal? Peter, buddy, you’re really asking a lot of me.”

“Don’t mind him, Peter,” you mutter, taking a bagel. “I think I’m the only sane one here.”

Peter gives you a sympathetic look. “I figured as much. Good luck with this crew, Y/n. If you ever need a sane friend, I’m your guy.”

Laura scoffs. “He doesn’t want ‘sane’ friends. If he did, he’d have run by now.”

You can’t argue with that. In fact, the thought does cross your mind—why didn’t you leave? But before you can dwell on it too long, Wade claps his hands.

“Today’s adventure awaits!” he announces, eyes alight with his usual chaotic energy. “We’ll start with breakfast and then…well, I’m not sure yet, but it’ll be something awesome.”

The group groans as Wade grabs his mask and heads for the door, beckoning for you to follow. Logan sighs, Laura grabs her knives, and Peter just looks resigned. But they all follow, like it’s a ritual they’re somehow tied to, and after a moment, you find yourself tagging along too.

The day is filled with antics. You lose track of the times Wade gets hurt, only to heal right in front of your eyes. Logan mutters that he’d be better off without Wade, only to punch him in the shoulder five minutes later with a hidden grin. Laura challenges Wade to a knife fight, and Peter just sighs, trying to keep everyone in line. And for the first time in…who knows how long, you’re laughing. Really laughing.

It’s almost night by the time you head back, the sky darkening as the city lights flicker on. You’re about to part ways and make your way home, but somehow, your feet keep taking you back to Al’s apartment. You know you don’t belong here, not really, but when you reach the door, there’s that same warmth—a strange pull you can’t ignore.

Wade notices you hesitate by the door and grins. “Aw, he’s back! See, I told you I’d be your favorite person in no time.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you mutter, but you don’t turn to leave. Logan, Laura, Peter, and Al all glance at you, each with a look of welcome that they probably wouldn’t admit to feeling. It’s an odd sight, this bunch of misfits, but in some way, you realize that maybe they’re not as much of a mess as they seem. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve found something here that doesn’t completely suck.

“All right, all right, enough with the mushy stuff!” Wade says, breaking the silence. “Y/n, welcome back to Dysfunctional Central. We’re going to make you regret every second.”

You roll your eyes but smirk, stepping back inside and letting the door click shut behind you. Because this time, you don’t mind sticking around.

As night settles in over Blind Al’s apartment, the usual chaos of the group fades. Laura’s busy sharpening a blade on the couch, Logan’s nursing a beer in the corner, Peter is cleaning up the disaster of takeout containers from earlier, and Al is sitting near the window, her face turned toward the cool night breeze drifting in. Wade, in his typical way, is chattering aimlessly about everything and nothing at all, flipping between mocking TV commercials and talking up his latest “brilliant” idea for a reality show. And, as usual, you’re mostly tuning him out, feeling a mix of exhaustion and…something else. Something that’s starting to feel suspiciously like relief.

Wade breaks off suddenly, his head cocked as he glances over at you with a curious look. “So, Y/n,” he begins, his voice dropping a few notches in volume—a rarity. “How’s our little…adventure going? You feelin’ the spark of life yet? The whole, ‘maybe being alive doesn’t completely suck’ kinda thing?”

You shrug, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket. “I mean, it’s…been okay. You guys are insane, obviously, but it’s not the worst.”

Wade grins. “Insane and proud, baby. It’s kind of our brand. But don’t think I haven’t noticed your little act.” He leans in, dropping his voice even lower. “You’re good at the sarcasm, the deadpan thing. But I can see the cracks, kid. What’s under there?”

You freeze, not sure how to answer. Part of you wants to laugh it off, throw a sarcastic line his way, but something about the way Wade’s looking at you, uncharacteristically sincere, throws you off guard.

“Why’re you asking?” you mutter, looking away.

He shrugs, casual but not unkind. “Because, believe it or not, I give a damn. And because if I’m gonna help you out of whatever pit you’ve fallen into, I need to know where to start. So…give me the lowdown. What’s so bad it made you wanna bail on this whole rodeo?”

You swallow, throat tight. The last thing you want is to spill everything, to lay out every messy thought and feeling. But the words are there, just behind your teeth, begging to be let out after you’ve kept them buried for so long.

“It’s…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “It’s not one thing, okay? It’s like…everything.”

Wade’s eyes don’t leave yours, an unspoken encouragement in his gaze.

You take a breath, still unsure, but the dam is cracking, and suddenly the words are pouring out before you can stop them. “I don’t know, Wade. I just—I feel like I don’t fit. Anywhere. I’ve tried, I really have, but no matter what I do, it’s like I’m some kind of outsider. The kid who’s always…wrong. Like I don’t belong in my own life. And the more I tried to fit in, the harder it got.”

Wade nods, not interrupting, just letting you talk.

“School was a nightmare,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “People either ignored me or treated me like I was invisible. Even my own family doesn’t seem to get me. I just…there’s no place for me. No one who actually cares, and it’s been that way for so long that I can’t remember a time it wasn’t. And I know you’re supposed to push through or whatever, but I just got so tired, Wade. Tired of always feeling like I’m on the outside looking in. Tired of being…me.”

You shake your head, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Everywhere I look, it’s like people have these lives, friends, family, things that give them a reason to wake up. But me? I don’t have anything, not really. So I started wondering…if I just disappeared, would anyone even notice? Would anyone care?”

Wade is quiet, watching you with an expression you can’t quite place. It’s not pity—thankfully, you don’t think you could stand that—but something softer, gentler.

“That’s why I went up there last night,” you admit, surprised by the honesty in your own voice. “Because I couldn’t stand the emptiness anymore. I thought maybe if I just…ended it, at least it would stop hurting, you know?”

There’s silence in the room now, even the usual background noise faded to nothing. You can feel the weight of your own words, a relief but also a vulnerability that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.

After a moment, Wade shifts, sitting down next to you. “Hey, kid,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I know that feeling. I know it all too well.”

You glance at him, surprised. “You? You seem like you’ve got everything figured out.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, kid. I may be the king of talking big, but I’ve been where you are. Hell, I’ve been to worse places. You think I’m here just ‘cause life handed me everything I wanted? Nope. I got scars, inside and out, that’d make your head spin. And you know what? That ‘don’t belong’ feeling? I had that too.”

Wade pauses, running a hand over his mask, which he’s bunched up in his hands. “I used to think…if I could just disappear, maybe that would be the best thing for everyone. And that was before I became…this.” He gestures to his scarred skin, his voice low but steady. “When you look like this, people either turn away or look at you like you’re some kind of monster. It was…lonely. Really, really lonely.”

You swallow, something in his words hitting close to home. “So what changed?”

Wade smiles, a bit of his usual spark returning. “Well, I guess I just got stubborn. Figured if the world didn’t want me, then I’d make my own place. Found people—well, like the circus act you met last night. Turns out, sometimes family’s not about blood. It’s about…finding people who see the worst parts of you and stick around anyway.”

“Not everyone has that,” you murmur, glancing at the floor.

“True,” Wade admits, his gaze softening. “But kid, here’s the thing: you’re still here. And now, you’ve got us—like it or not.” He gives you a wry smile. “You don’t have to carry that weight alone anymore. I get it, I really do, but there’s no shame in letting someone else help pick up the pieces. Maybe you just haven’t found your people yet…but you’ve got me, and the squad. We’re not perfect, but we don’t go down without a fight.”

You look at him, a strange warmth spreading through your chest despite the heaviness of the moment. For the first time, you feel like maybe someone actually understands. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not completely alone.

“Thanks,” you say, the word barely loud enough to hear. “For…listening.”

Wade grins, reaching out and patting your shoulder, a bit rough but oddly comforting. “Anytime, kid. I’m annoying, sure, but you won’t find anyone more loyal.” He gives you a wink. “Besides, I told you—I’m not letting you off the hook that easy.”

You chuckle, feeling a little lighter despite everything. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope. It’s a gift and a curse.” Wade stands, offering a hand to help you up. “Now, you and me? We’re gonna keep going until you see just how much life’s got to offer. I mean, look at me—scarred, hated, stabbed on a daily basis—and somehow, I’m still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re a walking disaster.”

“Guilty as charged,” Wade says with a laugh. “But hey, you stick around with us long enough, maybe we’ll rub off on you. Logan can teach you how to growl menacingly, and Laura can teach you how to stab with precision. Peter’s got the dad jokes covered. It’s a real all-inclusive experience.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a spark of hope. It’s small, fragile, but it’s there. Maybe life’s not all bright and shiny, and maybe you’ve got a long way to go, but with Wade and this dysfunctional crew, maybe there’s a chance you can start over. At the very least, you’re not alone.

“Alright,” you say, meeting Wade’s gaze with newfound determination. “I’ll give this a shot.”

Wade’s grin stretches wide, genuine. “That’s the spirit, Y/n! I knew you had it in you.” He throws an arm around your shoulder, squeezing a little too tight. “And hey, if it ever gets too tough, just remember—you’ve got us.”

You nod, letting yourself lean into the odd but reassuring presence of Wade by your side. For the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s a path forward, one you don’t have to walk alone.

And with this crazy group, maybe that path won’t be as empty as the one you were on before.

if you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and leave a comment if you want!

[tomorrowxtogether]

YEONJUN: “I’ll just keep trying till I make it”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.15

Let’s hear from the idol who has “nothing to fear” and who’s only grown stronger as he “hit it over and over down down down”: YEONJUN.

What’s it like getting ready to promote with the group again after doing promotions solo for your mixtape? YEONJUN: It put me at ease, honestly. (laughs) When I was working on “GGUM,” I was like, “Gahh!” having to take part in everything on my own, but when it’s with the group, I’m with them. But then it made me wonder if I wasn’t doing as much as I did for “GGUM.” Whenever I felt that way, I tried not to fall short. I kept reminding myself to work just as hard because our group album is more important—so I wouldn’t lose that.

I heard you were focused on your diction and the rhymes while working on “GGUM.” What were you mainly focused on for the new album? YEONJUN: My tone. Like having an overall light and airy voice, maybe? For “Heaven” and “Resist (Not Gonna Run Away),” I tried to make my voice dense and strong, and on “Higher Than Heaven,” for the line, “I’ll take you,” I imagined being able to hear the excitement in my voice and then sang it that way. I have a feeling MOA will really love this album, so I’m really excited. It has a completely different vibe from “GGUM”.

You also contributed lyrics for both “Heaven” and “Danger.” YEONJUN: Right after finishing the lyrics for “GGUM” and going, “Done! Sent it in today!” I jumped straight into “Heaven.” I wrote a lot of lines in the chorus, like, “heaven isn’t far, it’s now,” “the instant our lips touch,” “as long as you’re there, it’s heaven,” but it was really hard. “GGUM” is all about my own view, you know? So writing lyrics for the album was way harder than for “GGUM”. (laughs)

The lyrics to “Touch” (ft. YEONJUN of TOMORROW X TOGETHER) are interesting too. I felt like they really showcased the real you, like how you love food and watch lots of movies—a kind of condensed summary of what you’ve always said about yourself. (laughs) YEONJUN: Exactly. (laughs) And I used the word “ghosting” because we have a song called that. There’s also “YJ” from “GGUM,” which is there in the intro to the “Touch” remix, too. Our producer Slow Rabbit was the one who came up with the idea to put “YJ” in, and he got all excited and was like, “Let’s put ‘YJ’ in again!” (laughs) I liked that. When I heard it, it felt like it’s my signature now. And you know how we sing together from the pre-chorus all the way to the last chorus? That wasn’t actually part of the plan—it got added in after recording. Just a little behind-the-scenes tidbit for you there. (laughs)

That makes me think of how you said you wanted to show more of yourself as an artist, starting with “GGUM.” What does that side of you look like exactly? YEONJUN: I’d say someone who sets trends. I see myself as someone who can make anything work. When it comes to music, at least, I want to try out a ton of different things, and sometimes I want to convince MOA of that by trying new things like that. I think, like, How will it help my music if I don’t explore musically or take any risks?

I see you’re aiming even higher when it comes to music. YEONJUN: I’m always thinking about how important it is to make sure the music tells our story, whether it’s with the group or on my own. I’m the kind of person who wants to be recognized for my continued work in the field and I’m really driven to do a good job. My mindset has always been, no matter what I’m doing, I’ll just keep trying till I make it. And I think that’s really important. Putting my story into the music is always going to be a tough task, but it’s a good challenge. I want to keep dreaming big.

Is that why you wrote on Weverse that you’re happy with your work–life balance? (laughs) You’ve been really busy this year with all the touring, your first solo mixtape—GGUM—and working on a new mini album. YEONJUN: I was overflowing with excitement every single day I was working on GGUM. I actually get anxious when I have some downtime. I was working on the mixtape, getting ready to promote with the group, and featuring on “Touch.” Crushing it all made me feel like I’m at peak life and productivity. I was secretly proud of myself—like, I’m straight fire! (laughs)

And even with all that going on, you streamed an Essence of Dance🦊 on Weverse LIVE. That isn’t exactly the easiest kind of stream, either, given you have to have everything memorized and dance on the spot. YEONJUN: Right. (laughs) But MOA’s always waiting. I already said I’d do it, but it kept getting pushed back because I had other obligations, and even still, MOA was so understanding, and it just made me feel even sorrier. So I ended up squeezing it in after deciding I should do it before “GGUM” came out, even if it was short. I usually keep at it until I’m happy with it, but I was so physically drained that day, unfortunately. (laughs)

You must have felt really proud when “GGUM” finally came out after all you went through. YEONJUN: I knew it was the one the second I heard it. It’s hip hop but has a pop feel, and it’s sexy and mysterious at the same time. It feels really multilayered. It made me happy to see people all over social media covering my song and the dance moves. Even my friends used the gamja-ggang joke on me, and they’re never like that. (laughs) I thought, Whoa, they know my song? Every single reaction was great. And hearing MOA chant my name that loud and clear—like, “Choi Yeonjun! Choi Yeonjun!”—was amazing. Now I have even more things I want to say through my music and more musical styles I want to try, and I love my work even more now. I’d say it’s a combination of, “it was really fun,” and, “it’s exhilarating,” but at the same time, “I’m not fully satisfied yet,” maybe? (laughs)

Why aren’t you fully satisfied? YEONJUN: I tried a lot of new things with the group and with “GGUM,” obviously, but I think there’s still more I haven’t tried yet. I’m a big rock fan, for example. I’ve done a lot of pure, emotional rock with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, but if the chance comes up, I want to try some really hard rock, like, “Let’s tear it up!” When I was working on “GGUM”, I started thinking about trying an R&B ballad, too. There’s different subgenres even within hip hop and R&B, and I want to try the ones I’ve never done before. I really just want to try a wide variety of things.

In the ‘YEONJUN’s Mixtape: GGUM’ MAKING FILM making-of trilogy, you were open about the struggles you experience as an artist. Even though you always work in front of the camera, wasn’t it still a lot of pressure to document the whole process? YEONJUN: I actually feel that I need that pressure to give me that extra push. In my everyday life, I try to keep things chill—put on some chill music, watch movies, eat—but when I’m working, pressure motivates me. (laughs)

Is that what let you send in your rough lyrics for the first verse of “GGUM” without any hesitation? You didn’t seem worried about getting feedback. YEONJUN: I used to feel a lot of pressure, but I think my personality has changed a lot. It’s inevitable that the lyrics will be rejected more often than approved when I send them over, to be honest, so it’s better to just send them right over and get the feedback back quickly to get rewriting. That’s why I don’t feel pressure about feedback anymore. I don’t find the whole, “No good? Okay, I’ll give it another shot,” thing hard anymore. (laughs) If it were before, and things didn’t go my way or something stressful came up, I’d be distracted by thoughts all day, but now I just take a deep breath and say, “It is what it is.” Kinda like TAEHYUN? (laughs) That’s exactly what TAEHYUN says.

Your MBTI changed too, didn’t it? YEONJUN: Yes, it did. Actually, it’s always been the case that, whenever I do an MBTI test, sometimes I get a type N and sometimes a type S. But then I kept getting ENFP for the longest time and that didn’t sit right with me somehow. I always thought I was sort of imaginative, so it made me think I was still a type N! (laughs) But when I took the test again recently and still got a type S, I was like, I guess I just changed. Now I can acknowledge that I changed, and that’s kind of a weight off. (laughs)

You said you used to be the kind of person who couldn’t show anything that wasn’t fully polished. I guess that’s also changed, seeing as you made the process behind your mixtape public. YEONJUN: Hmm … True. The promotional period’s all wrapped up now, and I wanted to show people how I might’ve been lacking at first but that I’ve slowly grown since then. MOA usually only ever sees our highlights, really. I wanted to give as much of a glimpse as possible into my work behind the scenes, like pitching ideas for concepts and finalizing the choreography with everyone. I also wanted to show how it wasn’t just me but all the staff putting in so much effort and how we all worked together to make the most amazing thing we could. I feel like the staff cooks the whole meal perfectly and I’m just there to set the table. I think it’s our responsibility to tell people about how much hard work the staff puts in and make sure they get the credit they deserve.

You also mentioned in another interview with Weverse Magazine last year that you never want to forget that you can’t take anything for granted. YEONJUN: That’s a mindset I plan to cling to until the day I die.

Is there a reason why it’s so important to you to stay humble? YEONJUN: Is that being humble? It seems obvious to me that you can’t take anything for granted. I really stress that a lot when I talk with the other members: We should never take this lifestyle for granted. We also have to be thankful. We get way more than we deserve.

Then I guess that’s why, in the MAKING FILM, you said, “They were like, ‘There’s gonna be a lot of pressure and you’re gonna be really busy.’ As soon as I heard that, my heart started pounding.” YEONJUN: Oh man. I guess I’m just destined to be an idol. (laughs) I used to think I had a really weak mindset—like, bad—but now I think it’s good? (laughs) Everyone goes through rough patches. Me, I’ve practically collapsed while promoting and felt frustrated before. Endless torment and pressure have crushed me many times. That’s the reason I thought I just had too weak of a mindset to be an idol, but after I “hit it over and over, down down down,” I toughened up, you know? (laughs)

Before shooting the music video for “GGUM,” you recorded yourself, pretending the camera’s MOA and getting some things off your mind, expressing how you were feeling anxious and afraid. Talking it through on Weverse could’ve been an option, but you seem more like the kind of person who likes to deal with things yourself. YEONJUN: Yes, that’s true. I used to be the kind of person who would turn to others immediately, but I worry I’ll become overly dependent on them. I thought that constantly talking about having a hard time was making me weaker. I was also worried that the other members or my family especially would feel concerned or that I’d be placing a burden on them if I opened up to them, so I started to bite my tongue. I think I should just know how to deal with problems myself. Sometimes I think I’m no good or hate myself, but I try to love myself. I mean, I have to.

But in “GGUM”, you sing that you’re “not alone, got ma team by my side.” The whole group was there to support you at the music video shoot, in the practice studio, and at the pre-recording. YEONJUN: I really felt those lyrics. I realized I’m really not alone—that I really do have my team at my side and a whole army to back me up that I can rely on. That was my first time shooting alone for that long and it made me feel a little lonely. I could really feel the group’s absence, but I was so grateful to them and so touched that they kept coming by periodically to boost my spirits, even though they were all busy with their own things. And Huening coming by himself, just grabbing a taxi and coming by with dakgangjeong, was so sweet of him. It was so thoughtful. I really appreciated it.

Just like you said in the MAKING FILM : The group comes first. YEONJUN: The group always comes first, no question. The group comes first in everything.

[binkywinky]

I liked seeing the realism of the awkwardness between Carol and Monica and just how generally awkward Carol would be after years alone in space but I miss the cocky know-it-all version of Captain Marvel we got in the first movie. She was just so competent and cool and this movie felt a little tepid in that regard. Also wanted much more in terms of a conversation between Monica and her especially considering the ending. There should’ve been some kind of deep emotional exchange and we just didn’t get that. What do you think?

Hmm. Honestly, my first thought is that it sounds like maybe you wanted a different movie, but let me take a crack at this.

I'll address the version of Captain Marvel part first.

In CM, Carol was cocky because she was a young soldier as part of an elite team that only cared about the Kree. She had cool powers and never saw her actions as having any consequences because she was told the Kree were always in the right and she was a hero. She also had no memories or real emotional attachments to anyone, so there was no one depending on her or waiting on her back home. She could be as brash and know-it-all as she liked.

In The Marvels, she's almost 70. She has some of her memories back. She has people she cares about and who care about her - and who have expectations of her. She's lost one of the most important people in her life. She has thousands of planets of people who look to her to help them. And she has seen firsthand that being cocky and a know-it-all can have catastrophic consequences that spiral out of your control.

It wouldn't make a lick of sense for her to have the same attitude in The Marvels as she did in CM unless the plot and trajectory of her character was completely different. CM was about owning her power and reclaiming herself, which leans itself towards showcasing the cocky side of her. The Marvels is about family, reconnection, and atonement - which does not really call for that cocky aspect of her personality to be at the forefront. She still had moments of being cocky and certainly competent (like while fighting), but it was tempered by experience, as it should be. So while it may not be as exciting, I think it was better for her as a character because we actually got to see more sides of Carol and not just Captain Marvel. And personally, I find that a lot more interesting than the cocky, know-it-all schtick. We've seen that with countless characters in the MCU - I'm kind of over it. It's lazy IMO.

Now as far as the stuff with Monica, I stand by my statement that their deeper conversation would naturally have come after they finished the mission with Dar-Benn. They had to reach a point with each other where they're willing to have that conversation first, and that wasn't earned until the end. It's just unfortunate that Monica got trapped on the other side, so we can't see that full talk yet.

But you bring up an interesting point, and I really want to know, what exactly did you want or expect to happen? And I'm asking to take into account the actual situation they were in and what makes sense for the characters, not the fanfiction of what we're all guilty of imagining playing out. Because, for example, I've seen people say Monica should've fought Carol or screamed at her, and that makes zero sense because that's not in Monica's character. I also don't know what Monica would yell at her about after being told point blank, "I wanted to come home, but I inadvertently doomed a whole planet of people to die, and didn't feel like I deserved to be with family until I fixed it." Like what is Monica supposed to say to that? "I don't care - you still should've visited." That's silly.

So genuinely - and this is open to anyone - what would you have preferred to happen that still makes sense within the context of the movie and with the characters?

[fumifooms]

Makima, devils and self-fulfillment

Dumping some Makima and CSM thoughts after a part 1 binge bc I think about her forever and ever. I’m sure I’m forgetting some devil lore, feel free to correct what i get wrong/what’s been confirmed. On the table of contents there’s why & how Makima got fixated on Chainsaw, her revealing liking for the country mouse and discussion of her nature & emotions & desires. Was the scorpion doomed to be a scorpion?

The most of this post was thought of during a conversation with @saccharineomens and I don’t think it makes sense to jump into the spiral it sent me on without first laying down the interesting groundwork theorizing she did:

"Thinking about how makima herself wants to be deified. I wonder whether she recognizes the difference between Love As Worship and the love that Aki, Power, and Denji had. She says she wants to help humanity by having Chainsawman eat the “bad” devils, but why does she want to help humans? Because she was ordered to by the Prime Minister? No, her drive seems much more personal than that, it seems like she teamed up with the PM for contractual reasons. (In the most recent chapters we see governmental members wanting certain devils to be eaten, too. What was Makima’s relationship with them? She’s too independent to just follow THEIR orders, she’s Control.)

So is she wanting to better humanity for the accolades, or out of the goodness of her heart? She sees the big picture. She sees any small sacrifice as worth it for the end result, and she’s ruthless. Perhaps she thinks that a more sedate human race would be easier to control? But Makima doesn’t loathe humanity. She never acts like she sees all humans as lesser. She loves humanity’s creations, like good food and movies. She just wants Good Things all the time

She says she prefers the country mouse BUT adds a story where she helps exterminate country mice like vermin. She likes the simplicity yet rejects the idea of being simple. Makima the complex individual you are"

~

The story itself seems to prefr the country mouse. Well- it strikes a balance, shows that a risk to live good & fully can be very worth it, but still that stability over ambition is preferable, proning having a simple happy life over fame, a simple job instead of a dangerous one, etc etc. And I do find Makima’s answer on this so so interesting, she prefers the country mouse, but this preference isn’t out of affection or sympathy but because of how relaxing it feels to exterminate them when they cause problems.

Order satisfies her. Her order satisfies her. She likes the action of rooting out disorder. Maybe this is the devil part, like how Power especially wants blood and drinking it, I feel there’s an itch to every devil, and for Makima it’s a very rigid world view/morality/standards & making things follow her rules and submit to her order.

And maybe this is why she’s attached to humans too, why she felt it was worth it to stick with the government- because devils are chaotic by nature (it’s a whole plot point that hell is essentially a free-for-all battleground for example), meanwhile humans are the species that universally rule Earth with systems they invented and instilled. They made then enforced rules, complex and intricate webs of them. She feels alienated amongst devils but she understands the humans’ need for an orderly organised society, and now she wants to be part of it. Control and conquest require social dynamics after all, requires civilizations or groups. War is chaotic while peace is, well, peaceful— Makima resents her sisters for being death, famine and war, things that throw the world in such chaos. She wants a world of perfect order, no matter how much collateral damage there will be if the end result is control.

This is even more interesting if you consider that yes, Makima is untouchable of her own design, she deifies herself with her omnipresent amount of control and the sway over others that she seeks and encourages— There is this urge to dehumanize her for it, that yes, she is the devil of control and that means she was never going to be any different, have any more feeling be any less uncanny. And I love part 2 so much for this, because it shows us the war devil and the famine devil and we see how frankly uncharismatic with poor self-discipline they are, Nayuta too, and it helps us realize just how much Makima’s success was self-made.

She admires Chainsaw Devil, the Hero of Hell, because he had his own code and his own rules and he made Hell, the chaos pit, submit to them unfailingly. Wherever he goes he decides what he does and what happens to the people he encounters but does so consistently, he has his mechanism and his rules that he always obeys, and he fulfills them every time. It’s still a mystery the why of Chainsaw Devil’s behavior back then and how it works exactly, maybe Pochita left hell because he was tired of these rules he lived by like chains, but still, he was a servant to his code. Makima would have been glad being killed and eaten by Chainsaw Devil because it’d have been becoming part of his design, his conquest, his domination, she’d have been part of that —his— order. Through her death she would be shaping his world and be part of a conqueror’s making history. Like how she appreciates the country mice that die for the sake of order. Like how sacrifices must be made to herself, like listing the name of every person whose life was lost to the Gun Devil— All for the ~greater good~, for her vision for the world. Conquest always thinks its reasons are justified.

And she does mention with the country mice thing that she goes out to a friend’s farm every year! She has a human friend?? That she visits yearly and she genuinely likes it?? Ultimately she lives a busy city life because of her goal and drive and her urge & satisfaction with overseeing shaping the world herself, but part of her, like so many characters including Angel and Aki and Reze, wishes she could live a slow peaceful country life. Moviegoing and dogs and mice in a farm- Wouldn’t it be so much simpler if Makima could find fulfillment and happiness in being a farmer, in keeping control of her own farm, getting satisfaction from exterminating vermin and expertly getting everything right, the right crops grown at the right time on the right soil? Here, too, in a way it’s trying to have full control of an ecosystem, but her goals would be easier to achieve and better, without ceaseless sacrifice or much pressure. But Makima wants grandiosity and her goal does matter to her on a fundamental and moral level, she does think she knows what’s best for the world, and with the power to change it why wouldn’t she strive to? Visiting the farm is just a break, just something she does in fall to help out and just in time to see the vermin extermination. It calms her, then it’s back to actual work.

In capitalism, even the one at the very top of the ladder is ultimately alienated from others and often unsatisfied by their lifestyle, always wanting more and more power because surely that’s the extra edge they must be missing to be content— like how Makima thinks she wants to dominate Chainsaw Devil instead of being his equal. And she says it herself too, she likes humans the way humans like dogs…….. And she keeps so many dogs :( Makima prefers the country mice because they’re calming to root out, maybe because she usually mainly deals with city mice. It’s very easy to equate humans to the mice in this allegory because it’s pretty direct and she’s already likened humans to lesser animals compared to her. She’s self-isolating by design for her design but she still craves relationships and contentment, and the dogs are the embodiment or her want for bonds and occasional simplicity because there is no possible ulterior motive, no way they tie back into her wider plan. They’re her personal life— something that feels so alien when speaking about Makima. Personality and individuality and likes and preferences and friends they visit every year. She likes how easily she can train a dog and how they become putty in her hands, at her beck and call, how much they love her and how much she enjoys their love. How simple and straightforward and easy it is. She keeps them because she likes being loved by them and loving them, and she’s gotten and raised so many. A conqueror always wants more and more and more, is never satisfied.

Devils and agency

Like Power the blood devil wanting blood and having a fixation on drinking it like with Denji’s, or how it was shocking that the violence devil was pretty tame and nice and how he himself theorized it was because he was a fiend and possessing a human body… There’s something to be said about nature vs nurture with the devils. The way they reincarnate and always embody their fear makes it seem categorically like nature, that they always always end up fulfilling the role they were named after and born to fill… Outside influence they’re helpless but to conform with. Like the humans accepting their spot in the social ladder and the shittiness of their living conditions and job under capitalism. Makima craved being equals with someone despite being the control/conquest devil, Angel Devil despite claiming to be a devil who likes to see humans dying was haunted by their deaths and wanted to avoid ones like Aki’s. The Ghost Devil being ironically haunted by Himeno, seemingly helping Aki in her memory out of… Lasting affection? Or maybe it was less about being haunted itself and more about it recognizing how Himeno haunted Aki, and acknowledging that, with the memento, paying her respect to the ghost of her. It’s Angel Devil’s devil nature that makes him like human suffering, so then is it his angel nature too to still care about their deaths? Is there truth to this or is that just personality, just our confirmation bias haunting every part of their identity like it might in their own view of themselves too? We do know different reincarnations of devils do have different personalities after all.

Yoru, war devil, is the most interesting one when talking about the nature vs nurture debate with devils. There is how through her we see the perhaps the most the consequences of a devil stopping being feared— we see a horseman for a concept as universal and horrifying as war be reduced to some bird who needs a contract with a human to have any power even just on the situation when meeting Asa. And through the story we get to know her better, and it becomes clear that her goal is fueled in good part by simply wanting to be remembered and respected through fear. Liked, validated, seen a powerful. But what is more isolating than war? Or control? We also see Nayuta accepting others’ house rules. If part 1 shows perhaps the futility of running away from the truth, with Denji’s memory, with escapist coping mechanisms, with passivity and denial under a corrupt system and with abusive relationships- running away from your own feelings and from the reality of things and from all that you are, more complex than simply human or devil or both or neither— part 2 builds upon the theme of cult of personalities, the chainsaw church, etc. The apocalypse is coming, but this celebrity superhero might save us all, or doom us all uh, dunno. The hero of hell reliving the cycle of pressure from responsibilities and expectations, maybe the part will end with Denji running away like Pochita did~

But yes, on the reverse, I think Famine is a very interesting example of how a devil’s namesake may be more innate than coerced by circumstances. One would think that a famine devil would only like inflicting famine upon others, not being famished itself, but Famine has a bottomless stomach that can never, ever be satisfied, sated. I struggle to find a psychological explanation for this, except that maybe instead of her being hungry it’s her feeling empty when she’s not eating, tasting and having that high sensory experience that releases serotonin in humans, sort of like drugs? But I do take this as a step towards the compulsion theory overall, feels like a reach in the consistency otherwise. And compulsion does not mean it’s something that they like nor that it’s something that they fight against, pretty neutral, just a nature that nudges you towards one path. Maybe it’s even just their go-to for entertainment. Maybe it’s the only thing that makes them feel right and whole. But still the debate remains, what is it, a compulsion or an urge or an itch or an active desire or a conscious chosen want? Does it change anything in practice?

And because of all of this earlier, devils being self-fulfilling prophecies with their role is not in unsignificant part nurture, because doing their atrocities is how they stay remembered— feared, powerful, known— hell and devils are a very isolating place and breed after all, and we do see devils can want companionship. Existentially, it’s their purpose and how they justify their place in the world, in the terrifyingly vast and unknowable cosmos.

We still know so little of what makes Chainsaw Devil so special, why his carnage is so self-controlled. Despite a chainsaw maybe being possibly one of the most "nature" thing you can be— a tool to cut things, a human tool that can be helpful for many things, something to be wielding by another at their judgement on what they decide, but mainly something to cut, a tool suited for carnage, to hurt and to destroy. A blade with a toothed chain, spinning around and around and around endlessly on the same road at the same pace. Such a…. Innately circular concept. And yet the Chainsaw Devil is his own, not driven by an urge or by chaos but his very own brand of order, his own unique assigned purpose, a "if you call i’ll come running to help" policy equalizing everyone. He chooses to withhold his destruction and interference otherwise, and then he chooses to be used. If it’s a choice, of course.

Maybe this is what inspired Makima so much, that Chainsaw Devil could decide what to make of himself despite expectations or innate role. Because even Hell he decided & managed to subjugate under his will and whim, with a precise vision and process. When Chainsaw Devil acts like Denji or is defeated, Makima clicks her tongue and loses her admiration and respect. Makima admired and liked Chainsaw Devil, but only as long as he matched her great image of him in her mind, as long as he followed he rules for what she thinks he should be like. She admired him for his unrivaled self-made success, but once he stepped out of that to truly embody self-fulfillment and agency, disappearing from hell to live on his own road at the beat of his own drum… Well. Surely that was a mistake she has to correct. However their second battle ends, the better conqueror will have prevailed and she’s happy about that, all in the spirit of domination and subjugation.

Imo Makima’s biggest tool, similarly capitalism’s most helpful effect for its own purposes, is complacency. Resignation and passivity helps uphold the system and go along the flow of the will of the people in power. Aki and Reze go along with orders even when knowing their job is trash, etc. In Angel Devil especially we see him go along with the flow uncaring about anyhing, and we discover it was in part due to Makima taking away memories that motivated him. If every devil decides this is just how things are and how things should be that’s what they’ll continue to be and do mindlessly, not pursuing a better life like Chainsaw Devil and Denj and not seeking to change the world like Makima. I think even Makima veils herself to a lot of things, she doesn’t like to think deeply about some things, like her desire for connection, or how making bad movies disappear is strenuous and unsustainable and requiring sacrifices at best— how her judgement is as subjective as anyone else. How liking the country mouse and her friend back at the farm and her dogs could be not devoid of sentimality. Wanting bad movies erased is her one biggest show of selfishness, of pettiness and individuality, it’s about her tastes, simple as. About how she can have tastes, and cry seeing a scene of people hug, and want things that aren’t logical, her ideology and mind twisted into a pretzel to avoid acknowledging that she doesn’t live and breathe purely for the mission she’s made a single-minded robot out of herself to accomplish. Nayuta is assertive and selfish and loud, Makima is manipulative and strategically both for her goals and for coping hollow.

Everything in her plans and goals she says is for the greater good, necessary evil, manufactured happiness the way she’ll have decided for people— and that’s the thing isn’t it, like with War, it’s the crack that shows it was all truly about herself after all. Her self-made deification still had the flaw that a self made it. Makima is not omniscient, and it’s not Chainsaw Devil the not-so-fellow-kindred-soul conqueror who gets the best of her, but a city mouse, a dog, someone she would have never thought to respect, Denji.

[nostalgia-tblr]

today i spent SEVERAL minutes contemplating the difference between "sympathetic villain" and "charismatic villain" and whether fandom as a whole confuses these categories sometimes

[fionnaskyborn]

current mood:

[kansasjustgotgayer]

Can we have someone other than lin manuel miranda writing songs for disney now? Theres a lot i did not like in encanto.

[undyinglantern]

logically I don’t even think I’m doing horribly (the guy training me told the manager I was doing “pretty well” about handling a “mini-rush”) but mentally my mind keeps telling me oh he’s just lying because we keep getting out breaks at the same time and since I’m practically tailing him of course he’s say that to be nice during the only opportunity to speak to the manager. Only since I’m around and can listen in is he saying something nice.

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..��� you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[yuvany]

# HYPNOTIC ''

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 getting a whiff off your perfume.

OT7 enhypen x female reader ֶָ֢ WC: ~ 100 / character GENRE / WARNING(S) :: fluff + slightly suggestive + skinship + est relationship + possibly a bit ooc + not proofread!

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

immediately spots the new scent on you. You and him were cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, and he inched himself closer to you slowly. "Baby, did you spray a new perfume today?" He asks, in which you reply, "Yeah, do you like it?" Heeseung didn't answer right away, instead, his nose found your neck and breathed in your scent. The tip of his nose brushed against your nape a couple of times, and his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck ever so slightly. "So?" You whispered with a hint of uncertainty. "It's lovely." He replies at last, his face now buried in your shoulder.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆

is a perfume enthusiast for sure. Asks what perfume it is, and throws in his own guess. Most of the times, he guesses correct, but only if the perfume you're wearing is trending. You also ask him what he thinks often. "Jjongie, smell this, please." You request with puppy eyes, and why would he reject you? You lift your wrist up to his level and he sniffs it a couple of times before nodding his head. "Might just be my favourite, princess." He says with a smirk.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

"You smell nice." He just blurts it out, and it takes you a while to fully comprehend what he meant. "Don't I smell nice on other days as well?" You tease with a smile, obviously knowing that he refers to the change of perfume you're wearing. "Of course you do! This smell is just different than before." His hand holds yours, and he lifts it up to his nose to smell your wrist. Jake sniffs it for a while, a bit longer than expected, which causes you to arch an eyebrow. "I really like this one, babe." He comments at last, and kisses your hand before pulling you into a strong hug.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

lets the smell familiarise in his nose before asking, "Is that the perfume I bought for you?" You nod, and smell your wrist for confirmation. "I really like the smell." You say, looking up at him. "I do too, it reminded me of you, you know?" Sunghoon says, kissing your forehead. You lean into his touch, and engulf him in a long hug where he swings you from from side to side. The two of you enjoy this moment of intimacy and closeness. The scent adding a sweet and comfortable aroma to the moment. "Maybe I should wear this more often" you laugh, patting his head that found itself by your nape.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

hums in delight when you walk past him, and the scent lingers in the air for a while. You turn around with a questioning look painting your features. "I just mean that you smell wonderful!" He said panickingly in case you got the wrong idea of his reaction. "Really? I can't really smell myself right now." You chuckled, and walked up to him, forgetting what you actually wanted to do prior. "Well, there's no need to worry. Even if you smelled bad, I wouldn't worry." Sunoo said, taking your hand in his. "What, why?" You asked, shocked. "Because I wouldn't have to worry about other people trying to pursue you."

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍๋

has a sensitive nose, but when he breaths in the faint smell of your new perfume, he perks an eyebrow. "Is that you who smells so nice?" He asks, stepping closer to you. "Yeah, why, is it too strong, babe?" You ask worryingly. "No, no, it's just right." Jungwon wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you closer to him. "I was scared for a second, thought it was too strong for you, and, so I switched to oil perfumes." You explain followed with a soft giggle. He cracks a sweet smile for you, and presses a soft kiss to your cheek sweetly. "It smells sweet, just like you."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

you had asked for his opinion on it, and risen your wrist to make it easier for him to smell it. Personally, you liked it a lot, so you really hoped he did too. Halfway up, he softly took your hand, and held you by the wrist, letting the perfume waft his way. Riki's eyes shifted from yours to the side of your head, and moved closer to smell it better. "Sorry baby, this doesn't really fit you." He says, and you are shook. "Huh?" You mumble, and he chuckles. "You're so cute. I was just kidding. It smells amazing, babe." He said with a joking tone, and nudged your with his hip.

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