#why? because the world is ending that's why so let's have what little joys we can still find

[monstersflashlight]

Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

[mcflymemes]

THE MUMMY (1999) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!

by the way... why did you kiss me?

it seemed like a good idea at the time.

that's called stealing, you know.

is it dangerous?

stop it! you'll kill them!

get me a glass of bourbon.

this just keeps getting better and better.

this door doesn't open.

who opened that chest?

i only want four!

the map! i forgot the map!

i think he's filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. i don't like him one bit.

i guess we go home empty-handed... again.

look what i got.

i think you found something.

what exactly is this man in prison for?

you just got promoted.

you're with me on this one, right?

keep him busy.

we are in serious trouble.

this creature is the bringer of death.

you must not read from the book!

where are they taking him?

there's only one person i know that can possibly give us any answers.

can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that this isn't all some kind of flimflam?

i'm a very lonely man.

look at my library!

you're gonna get yours, [name]!

never did like camels.

what do you suppose killed him?

time to go.

take my hand, and i will spare your friends.

will you look at that?

do they know something we don't?

i need a new job.

have you no respect for the dead?

i've dreamt about this since i was a little girl.

you dream about dead guys?

patience is a virtue.

any last requests?

loosen the knot and let me go.

i don't think we need to know this.

ooh... that's gotta hurt.

you... i just don't get.

you probably won't live through it.

everybody else we've bumped into has died. why not you?

you're wondering... what is a place like me doing in a girl like this?

yeah, i was there.

can you swim?

of course we don't let him go!

you'll be dead when they do this.

i think i'll kill you.

think of my children.

i only gamble with my life, never my money.

i may not be an explorer or an adventurer, or a treasure-seeker or a gunfighter, but i am proud of what i am.

give me frogs! flies! locusts! anything but you!

compared to you, the other plagues were a joy.

i am so very sorry. it was an accident.

you are a catastrophe.

oh my god, i hate it when these things do that.

is he supposed to look like that?

of course i can swim, if the occasion calls for it.

now, because of you, we have failed.

you think this justifies the killing of innocent people?

what did you say?

i don't want to tell you.

let me get this straight.

you don't have any children.

you lied to me.

i lie to everybody.

what makes you so special?

sorry. didn't mean to scare you.

the only thing that scares me are your manners.

have you got any bright ideas?

i'm thinking. i'm thinking!

you'd better think of something fast.

what are we going to do?

wait here! i'll go get help!

i thought you said you didn't believe in all this fairy tales and hokum stuff.

forget it! we're out the door, we're down the hall, and we're gone!

i told you not to play around with that thing.

you heard the man. no mortal weeapons can kill this guy.

listen! we've got to do something!

is that my problem?

i appreciate you saving my life and all, but when i signed on, i agreed to take you out there and bring you back. end of job, end of story, contract terminated.

that's all i am to you? a contract?

you can either tag along with me or stay here and try to save the world.

do something!

you know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.

what's the challenge then?

rescue the damsel in distress, kill the bad guy, and save the world.

death is only the beginning.

why are you going back?

i'm going downstairs to get me a drink. you want something?

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ short bucktommy angst/whump with a happy ending, coz i love torturing my boys. 8x07 spoilers and verrrrrry loosely insp by a still from 8x08

typing

Why would he type type type and not send anything?

The alarms blare and Buck throws his baking back in the oven and sprints downstairs, but his mind is elsewhere. This? This is all muscle memory at this point. His mind occupies itself with other things, wondering what exactly Tommy might have wanted to say.

Evan. No. Buck. God, he still hates it that he called him Buck.

Can we talk? Tommy always was a man of few words. Or maybe Buck is just a man of many. But what does 'can we talk' even mean? He'd be spiralling just as hard as with the silent disappearing bubble. It's better this way.

MARRIAGE, EVAN??

God, he's an idiot. A pathetic, clingy idiot. Even now he would kill for a second round, just to dig that knife in deeper. At least then maybe, he'd be able to pick up what he'd missed before; where exactly that big dimpled grin and soft eyes had turned to hard words and hidden pain. At least then, he'd be able to fix it.

Hen watches him with a knowing eye.

“Stay strong, Buck,” she reminds him as they pull up to the scene. “Head in the game.”

Buck nods. He drops his phone on the seat and packs it away to the back of his mind, as best he can. Maybe he'll get to whip out the jaws of life. They always make him feel better. Shake it off, Buckley, let's go.

He's the last one out of the engine, and he hits the ground already triaging the scene. His senses expand, cataloguing the vehicles, the passers-by, the direction and nature of the accident. Eddie and Bobby are getting a run-down from a uniformed police officer on scene and it happens a splt second before Buck's mind catches up.

“A silver-” he overhears - “oh-”

He can see it in his minds eye, almost feel it even as his own heart sinks; the way recognition sets into Eddie's face. And then horror. He looks further down the road, to a sight that's partially obstructed from Buck's view. Partially, but not so much that he doesn't start running toward it because he has a feeling he knows, he knows, he knows who it is.

Why would he type type type and not send anything?

“Buck-” Hen warns, reaching to grab him but she's already missed.

Buck knows he should be helping but his world is caving in. Bobby's barking commands but all he hears is a wordless echo. Ravi hustles the balloons and the jaws up to the worst hit of the vehicles and Chimney is already there; medkit tossed over the worst of the shattered glass as he kneels by the dangerously crushed window and tries to make contact with the person inside.

“Buck.” It's Eddie this time, blocking with his body as much as he can – and he can, even with the full force of Buck throwing himself forward - but even he can't stop the terrible, terrible knowing.

“TOMMY!”

The name rips out of his lungs, because it's the truck: it's Tommy's pride and joy. It's singing along in the passenger seat and Tommy's smiling – sometimes he joins in, even though he wouldn't otherwise care for Buck's taste. It's Tommy slinging a greasy towel over his shoulder and hitching himinto the truck bed and making out until they both can't breathe. It's spilling the salt from hot chips in there; it's shoulder to shoulder at the drive-ins; it's getting fucked into the seats; it's polishing and vacuuming just last week because he can't help with the engine for shit. He'd put a little thing of jellybeans in the cup holder after - like his old detailer used to do, just to be cute - and it hits him that that's what those little coloured smudges are, intermingled with the crushed glass littered across the road.

What if he's in trouble and he needs my help?

“Oh, God, Tommy.”

The howling turns to hopeless. Breathless. The fight evaporates right out of him and he collapses forward into Eddie's arms. Eddie's embrace is firm and steadying as he lowers them both as gently as he can manage to the curb. Buck closes his eyes, sapped of the strength to watch any more but cursed by the knowledge of what's still got to be happening. Hen and Chim will be extracting Tommy's bruised and broken body onto a backboard right about now, and then lifting him onto a gurney. They'll be doing CPR if he's lucky – and they are, he can hear it, so at least there's that.

Then it stops.

For a few, horrible seconds all he can hear is his own hammering heart. Eddie's ragged breathing. Footsteps. Bobby.

“Buck.”

It takes a second, for him to gather the courage to open his eyes and look up. Bobby's demeanour is solemn and serious, but there's a softness Buck recognises well. A lightness that promises things might just be okay, as he offers a hand to pull Buck up from the roadside.

“He's asking for you in the ambulance,” Bobby says, and there's just a flicker, just an iota of a smile as he urges - “Go.”

[estrellayluna]

In another life

Nanami Kento

Synopsis : You promised yourself that you wouldn’t have the same unfortunate fate that your mother had gone through with love. Until your whole world comes crumbling down discovering your husband’s infidelity. Through tears and heartbreak you recall your mothers last words.

(We all know he would never!!) (please check out link once you see it for visuals!!!)

One text message from an unsaved number. One simple message was the reason your whole world came crumbling down in just seconds.

It was vile. The photo. It seemed as if whoever took the photo was in a rush to capture it. A little blurred in some spots but you could immediately make out what it depicted.

Your husband, Nanami having his arms wrapped around a waist of another woman just steps away from his desk. Whoever the woman was, her head was slightly tilted looking up at him with a smile on her face. Arms loosely wrapped around his shoulder blades.

At a loss for words and seemingly unaware the breaths you were holding in, the sudden ache you felt in your chest was growing deeper. Tears forming just before multiple escaping your eyes.

You didn’t want to believe it, but how could you not? The moment you felt the ache in your chest you knew.

-

4 months earlier

The sounds of monitors and footsteps were faint outside the door of your mothers hospital room. The room’s television on low volume as you peel a bright colored orange.

It has been a while coming but your mothers health has been declining since the last attempt of hope with needed surgery. But unfortunately to no avail.

And as much as you wished for your mother to keep fighting she finally made the decision to leave this world in peace. No more mustering up the little strength she had left to the annoyance of appointments or the continuous failed improvements.

So you devoted your time to spend as much time with your mother as you could.

“How is Nanami doing (Y/N),” your mother asks in a soft voice while looking over to you “he hasn’t come along with you for the past 3 weeks or so. Is everything alright?”

Finally finished with peeling the orange and setting it down you smiled at her, “he’s doing fine mom, just busy at work these days. He actually got promoted up at his office job a few days ago.” You tell her with a smile on your face.

Your mother slightly gasps with joy, clasping your hands with yours she beams.

“I’m so happy to hear that, I’m sure the both of you will continue to live a nice peaceful life together. He’s a good man darling, I’ll be able to leave this world in peace knowing you’ll be well taken care of.”

You smile at her words, a pang of joy and sadness.

Your mother was a single mother raising you all on her own. Your father was in the picture up until the age 11. From then on his visits were some and then eventually no more.

Though you didn’t hate him, you grew up more focused on the fact of trying your best to be a good daughter. Not causing too much stress to your mother.

Your father was your mothers first and only love. Only as time passed by, he became unfaithful. Your mother immediately took action into trying to become the best mother she can be with the so little she had. You grew up to promise yourself you refuse to let the same happen to you. To not let this curse that your father casted upon your mother trickle down to you.

“(Y/N), do you want to know why I always called you my little star,” you mother brings up. you can tell she was growing tired some.

8:30 pm

Visiting hours will end soon.

You hum in response, smoothing out the blanket that lays just between you two.

“Because moths always look for light in the darkness. You are my light and star (Y/N). I will forever be grateful to have had you as my daughter.”

Before visiting hours came to an end your head falls onto her lap, tears streaming down as her hands strokes your hair.

-

Moths look for the light in the darkness

Everything you had planned for, promised yourself and your mother was eradicated. You wanted to scream. To make a mess of everything in this home you two shared.

But you can only frown at the thought of your mother disapproving those actions.

You had no idea what to do.

More importantly, what to do with the hidden pregnancy test you tucked away inside your side of the dresser.

Wiping your tears away, headed towards your shared room you look for the test.

You tried to recall when it must have all changed. Was it when Nanami was promoted at work that he was moved to the upper level of the office building?

You recall the first couple of times you stopped by to deliver him lunch that he had forgotten.

The atmosphere was not as welcoming as his previous position. You had felt out of place when just simply asking for your husband at the front desk.

Rummaging through your belongings looking for the damn test you heard the front door open to your apartment.

8:45 pm

Though it was somewhat late, you hadn’t expect him to arrive just yet.

You froze, not sure of anything anymore.

A part of you wanted to confront him, and the other part of you just wanted to be comforted, to be told it was a fake. Absolutely anything else other than being told it was true.

Is this the end?

Finally spotting the pregnancy test you sat down in the corner of the king size bed. Holding the pregnancy test close to you, but hidden from anyone else’s view.

You hadn’t bothered to put all the clothing that fell from your frantic digging back inside.

So when Nanami walked in your shared bedroom, it was the first thing he saw.

“What the hell happened in here?” Nanami sighed placing his briefcase aside the room.

Nanami noticed your lack on response and the fact you weren’t facing him.

“I didn’t intend to have you find out like this (Y/N),” your eyes slightly widen in shock. Nanami brought his left hand to sooth the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know who must have sent that photo to you. And I don’t intend to let that person have the satisfaction of knowing it actually got to you. Though I do have a few people in mind.” Nanami headed towards the closet to find a more comfortable to change into.

If you didn’t think your heart was beating, his lack of empathy causes your heart to break into a million pieces.

How could he be so calm about this..

“Why Nanami,” your voice trembles, your heart beating faster than ever “what caused this to happen?”

Nanami now finally walked towards you, trying to clasp your hands into yours you refuse to budge. The test tightly protected in your hands unbeknownst to him.

Nanami sighs again with a tight stern look on his face. Knowing there’s no longer any chance you’ll be able to come back from it all.

“When your mother passed away you became a shell of yourself (Y/N). It was easy in the beginning to be there for you. But it eventually turned into mindless sex as an escape for you. I did not want to hurt your decisions into avoiding the reality of losing your mother. If you hadn’t ignored your grief,” Nanami continues while taking off his glasses and watch setting them aside, glancing at your reflection at the mirror in front of him. Your eyes finally met “perhaps I could have better helped you understand (Y/N).”

“Who is she? Is she a coworker of yours?” At Nanamis confession, you felt numb. All the anger and sadness you felt dissipated. You wanted nothing more now than to go to sleep and dream of your mom comforting you and feel her hand stroke your hair again even for a mere moment inside your unconscious mind.

“Her name is Kuina. She was employed just a month into when your mother passed,” Nanami turned around to face you, leaning against the drawer head turned slightly down, arms crossed “I didn’t think I would have ever been one to end up doing such a thing (Y/N). I’m sorry.”

‘I’m sorry’

Nanami walked out into the living room closing the door behind him.

-

6 years ago

“Mom are you alright?” Walking into your moms room seeing her working on paper work for your grandmother. Gathering information about her as needed for the funeral home to work on her death certificate.

Your mom looked frantic and tired. Noting the atmosphere felt different, “hey mom, where’s Karube?” Your mom looked up at you putting up a brave face.

“Karube and I are no longer together (Y/N). He and I just realized we weren’t a match really. No need to worry.”

-

Karube ended up cheating on my mother around the same time my grandmother passed away.

Not only did you fail in keeping that promise you made yourself all those years ago.

You failed your mom too.

Hearing the faint sounds of the television being turned on just outside the living room, you tried your best to muffle your cries as it all eventually settled inside of you.

‘You were my light in times of darkness’

Hugging yourself to sleep, it didn’t take long as your cries settled you down.

-

It’s been a week since everything was brought to light. And just 3 days ago you were met with a few documents settled on the main wooden table of the home.

Divorce papers

You sigh with stress laced within. You avoided even looking through everything until the night before your first appointment with your doctor.

Frantically filing everything down, deciding on stopping by Nanamis office before heading to your doctors to drop off the paperwork.

-

Your walk to Nanamis workplace wasn’t how it was before. Your gentle smiles while walking is now replaced by a neutral toned face. The warmth of the sun is no longer a lovely feeling but a sticky hot feeling all over your body.

You hated to be a burden at such a young age. That night, after Nanamis confession you held out on telling him.

Guilt swept over you as you realized how tragic it all is.

This baby wasn’t due to the love you both have for each other, at least not anymore. It’s due to your wanting to escape from your grief.

Oh how your mother would be saddened.

-

Walking up to Nanamis now private office, trying your best to keep your head held high. You noticed that some look over at you knowing the gossip that had gone around. And others who seem to not care at all. You were silently grateful for the few.

Reaching his office, you knocked twice. Looking over your shoulder to see few of his fellow colleagues quickly look away from you as if they weren’t popping their eyes at the front seat view they had.

You let yourself in once you heard an approval from the other side.

Whispers soon ensued as the door closed behind you.

Nanami was looking over paperwork at his desk, eyebrows furrowed in whatever god knows what he deals with nowadays.

“I came to drop off the divorce paper work Kento.” Stating as you walk up his desk, your soft footsteps and his quick writing with pen hitting his paper being the silence breaker between the two of you.

Nanami drops his pen on his desk and looks up at you.

The tall windows of his office gently illuminated your face, earrings softly shimmering and pieces of your hair fall front of your face framing a delicate balance to your face.

‘You became a shell of yourself’

You didn’t try to improve your appearance just for him. Matter of fact you did it for yourself. You refused to let his words eat your self conscious.

Plus, your mother always told you how important it is to be presentable to the public. Not for the approval of others but for your own self.

Handing him the folder, your hands softly brush against each others.

Keeping your calm composure, you stood straight ready to turn around and leave.

“(Y/N)-“ Nanami starts but you had cut him off.

“I plan to leave the apartment soon Kento. If approved in just days time, you need not worry about me being in that place anymore,” you ushered as to turn around once again “have a good day Kento.”

Pushing his office doors to open and leave this place once and for all, you open the doors to Kuina waiting just outside the doors.

You should have known his office colleagues were just as wanting to know what must have been discussed behind the closed doors.

As your eyes met Kuina’s, all you had left in you was a smile.

Just as the doors of his office completely closed, Nanami caught a glance at the exchange.

Deep down inside he knew he had caused enough pain when all you did was smile at her.

-

As the elevator descends to the lower floors of the building it stopped just below the floor that Nanami once was.

As people come in and go, a tall man with white hair and circular dark navy shades shuffled his way to your side as the elevator doors close descending back down once again.

Wood scents, with a note of eucalyptus

You’re familiar with this scent of the man standing next to you. It’s nothing new. Besides you’re fond of the scent. Nothing extreme from what you’ve come across before. Men and their obnoxious amount of sprays.

So you weren’t so sure as to why the man’s scent next to you caused you to almost gag out loud inside the cramp elevator.

Catching your action swiftly your hand goes up to cover your mouth, catching the attention of the tall white haired man.

Looking down at you he asks “you alright miss?”

The elevator finally opens to the first floor and you quickly nod as you try to quickly get out.

“Woah I’m sorry! Was it my doing? Do I smell bad today?” The man looks in disbelief and quite embarrassed.

“No no no,” you try to apologize for your actions “it was actually just me! Im sensitive to smells at the moment.” You tried to explain in embarrassment.

As people continue to pass by the man shyly smile at you, his cheeks turned slightly blushed.

“I apologize then Miss…” he trails off, smiling back once again you introduced yourself “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Nice to meet you (L/N), I’m Gojo Satoru.”

12:44 pm

My appointment is soon, but almost gagging earlier has given me anxiety. What if I can’t make it in time?

It was like if the man you just met sense your urgency and asked if things are alright.

“Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m fine I can go on my own!” You exclaimed as you start to walk towards the front entrance.

The white haired man caught up to you once again before beaming at you with a flashy smile of his

“No worries (L/N), I don’t mind!”

Looking down at the time you realized perhaps it would be best. You were anxious all week once you made your appointment for the doctors.

Looking around your surroundings before finally agreeing, you smiled back up at him thanking him.

You thought you’d follow him to the parking structure but his car was pulled up by the valet.

As the valet driver approached to open your door, Gojo reassured him letting himself open the door for you. Thanking him before settling inside his car, he was walking over to the drivers side.

Gojo looked up feeling a stare burn behind him, before driving away.

-

Y’all idk where this one is going either y’all were supposed to die & be sad.

Part 2? Idk either

(Not proofread I’ve been typing 3 hours straight.)

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why does it comfort some people or bring them joy/excitement to imagine their favorite characters in terrible situations and being hurt physically or mentally? wouldn’t you want your favorite characters to be happy and safe?

I’m sure I’ve seen this exact ask being sent to another writing blog before, so seeing one in my own inbox was a little surprising. but anyway, I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind saying it again because lots of people seem to still be confused about this; the enjoyment of imagining or seeing fictional characters in terrible situations in which they are hurt and/or scared is called whump. people who enjoy whump tend to express their interest through art, such as drawings, writings, etc. whump has a community on several online platforms, as well as here on Tumblr. we are simply known as “whump community”.

moving on to your question, “why does it comfort us to imagine our favorite characters in agony?” — there is no definitive answer to the question, because different people enjoy whump for various, different reasons, and all of these reasons are valid. however, what I can give you is some examples of the reasons why people enjoy whump

reasons why people like whump:

some people use whump as a reflection of what they’ve been through, and they let their trauma out by channeling the trauma through fictional characters. to make it as simple as I can, some people use whump as a coping mechanism to help them heal from any traumatic events in their lives.

while whump is indeed about pain, it can also be about the comfort (the healing process) that comes after the pain. I personally known several people who heal by writing whump stories in which their favorite characters went through and survived terrible things that happened to them. the comfort part of the whump was used as a symbol of hope for these people, in the sense that they hold on to the idea that if these fictional characters can survive horrible things that happened to them, they (the writers) can survive and heal too.

some people use whump as a way to let out their frustration, trauma or pain. an abuse victim may fantasize about hurting their abuser back by creating a fantasy world in which their favorite character was hurt, but later healed and/or get their revenge.

it’s also worth mentioning that one doesn’t have go through their own trauma in order to be able to enjoy whump. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they just Want to Hurt These Little Guys. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they like the part where their favorite character gets comforted and is nursed back to health after they are rescued.

whump that’s followed by comfort (whump with a happy ending) is valid.

whump that has no comfort (whump without a happy ending) is also valid.

because whump is a genre, just like how lots of people like horror movies just for the sake of liking them. 

the term whumperflies is used to describe the euphoric feeling a person experiences while watching, drawing, writing or reading a whump scenario that hits right in the feels. for lack of better comparison, some people experience whumperflies that come close to an orgasm, whether or not whump is a sexual thing to them (some may enjoy whump as a form of kink, while some may enjoy whump for reasons that aren’t sexual at all). for some, whumperflies are these tingling sensation in the chest and/or the stomach, for someone else, whumperflies is like when you ride a rollercoaster and the ride is going down from its highest stop. there's no wrong way to experience whumperflies, as different people describe and experience them differently.

so, yes, some people may enjoy whump just for the euphoria whumperflies bring. and some people — myself included — can’t get whumperflies unless the character that’s going through pain is their most favorite character; it’s like… because you love this character so much, you’re so connected to them, you're so emotionally invested in them that you can only get whumperflies if it’s them going through the torture, meanwhile other characters just don’t make you feel half as strongly.

and that’s explain why people in the whump community prefer their favorite characters to be the ones going through hell.

and again, just like how movies have different genres, whump is a genre — people who like whump aren’t “freaks” or “red flags” in real life, even if they like whump for reasons that aren’t about coping mechanism. whump is a genre and a form of art, and most importantly, whump is fiction. it’s not real.

I do understand why people who aren’t into whump tend to be confused by the concept of whump, and I do understand why these people think being a fan of a fictional character only means wanting said fictional character to be safe and happy, which is why whump is not for everybody, and that’s okay too.

the thing is there is no wrong way to be a fan of something that’s fictional, you can like this fictional character so much you want to see them cry and covered in blood for whatever reasons, and that’s okay. as long as you’re not hurting anybody in real life.

there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who enjoy whump, just like how there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who like horror movies. it’s fiction and it’s a form of art. and I believe everybody is allowed to express and enjoy their interests through art in whichever way they want, as long as they’re not harming anybody in real life.

[iloveoldermen-posts]

Pen-pals

Warnings: only the hapter to start things going and to set the vibe, part one of at least 10, i have not proof read ୨୧

Chapter 1 – Greetings.

He was forced into it, no way in hell would he ever do it on his own. But his also forced councillor thought it would help him to have connections to the outside world and ensured him that if it didn’t work out within two months, he could stop trying and never do it again. But he couldn’t tell her that or it would be ‘cheating.’

Which would probably deter people but as a chronic people-pleaser, I just couldn’t let that run. So, I tried my absolute hardest to fill my letters with copious amounts of joy so that there’s no way he couldn’t write back.

January 13th

--

Dear ‘Ghost’,

I was only told your call-sign to ensure maximum confidentiality – rules right. They told me that you were the only one who could tell me your real name so if you ever feel comfortable enough, I will happily learn all about you!

Here is some information about me; my name is Y/N, I am always helping people out for work (quite interesting if I do say so myself), I love to bake in my free time and my favourite time of the year is autumn (I just LOVE the mix of weather).

I always add some questions to these letters.

Why is your call-sign Ghost?

What’s your favourite thing to do when you aren’t deployed?

And finally, a simple one – what’s your favourite colour?

From,

       Y/N.

P.S I was told you would probably take around a week – two to respond so don’t feel rushed to write back, I know how taxing your job tends to be :)

January 29th

--

Dear Ghost,     

I hope you are doing well, I’m not sure if you received the letter I sent as you haven’t replied so I’m trying again just to make sure. My name is Y/N and I have a black Labrador that I love so much. 

I have a hectic work schedule and I am always flying all over the world to help people. So I won’t always be able to write to you consistently. I hope that’s okay!

Instead of questions, I thought I would tell a little joke;

What do you call a shipment full of military-issued T-Rexes?  SMALL ARMS. 

:) hope you enjoyed that one because there are way more to come.

From

 Y/N.

February 13th

--

Dear ‘Ghost’,

This will be the last letter I am writing to you as I believe someone could get through to you, it just won’t be me. So, I have requested to be swapped buddies. 

I think it might be someone who’s in your unit, I think his name is John or Johnny – something like that. And I’m told I will be a better suit to them and their personalities.

So I hope you stay safe and are able to speak with someone who you can let your guard down too; even though they will never be as funny as me. Teehee :)

From

Y/N.

I’m quite sad that it didn’t work out as I thought we could have both benefited from it, but you know what they say – it is what it is. And at the end of the day, he needs someone he can truly feel comfortable talking to and I never did get to know him so it doesn’t affect me much in those terms. Even if a month was wasted by waiting for a never-to-arrive letter. Well the true term would be never-to-be-write-or-sent but we digress.

The birds hum a beautiful harmony as I post the final letter through the poorly painted post-box on the end of my road. As I turn to leave, the clouds above me start weeping uncontrollably at my departure.

I’ve never been one for signs but that can’t have been a coincidence.

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

They first two chapters will be mostly letters and then will move to texts and irl interactions - at least I plan...

[laiiaaa]

in need of more dad!carmy cause oml

him walkin in on the girls doing something they're not supposed to be doin :0 but ofc he can't manage to stay upset at them for long

He’s got the biggest soft spot in the world for his girls and he really can’t help it, especially when they’re young. They’re always up to something, usually because Rory’s a little shit (she takes after you) and Jack’s just trying to copy after her big sister.

You’re fast asleep one night when he’s wide awake. Just nerves, kinks in the road with The Bear, thoughts of Mikey’s birthday approaching, anxiety bubbling up that he doesn’t want to worry you with. So he heads downstairs to sit outside and clear his head with some fresh air—

Only to find Rory and Jack in the living room, on the floor, your sneaky bag of candy—the one reserved for you, that you pick at once the girls are off to bed and you’re cozied up on the couch with Carmen, chatting about your days between sweets—dispersed on the floor.

They don’t even notice his presence till he speaks up:

“What’s goin’ on here?”

They both look up, entirely spooked at their dad standing feet away.

“You two should be in bed.”

“But Dad,” Rory whines, “We don’t even have school tomorrow.” She puts on that pout she knows will have him cooing at her, and Jack follows right behind. “We were just looking, I promise.”

“Just lookin’, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You know that’s your mother’s, right? That’s her candy you’re stealin’?”

Jack frowns, puts her big brown doe eyes to work. “Mommy lets us have some all the time.”

“Don’t lie t’me, Jacqueline.” One hand of his rests at his hip, the other swiping at his mouth as he fidgets. “You lyin’ t’me?”

He looks back and forth between his girls—his babies, really, because even though they’ve grown out of diapers and go to school on the weekdays, he still can’t fathom them as anything but his baby girls. So small, and so adorable, with tiny pouts and tiny hands and tiny giggles. They’re just so sweet.

“Not lyin’, Daddy.”

“She’s not,” Rory agrees. “Promise.”

He must be going soft. If Richie knew, he’d never hear the end of it, what with his heart going to mush at his girls, how he sees you in them both, how just a simple and meek little promise has his irritation going smooth and his lungs letting out a sigh before he cleans them up and carries them to bed—after they get one more piece of candy, of course, because who is he to deny them a little joy?

Carmen tells you the short of it by morning, limbs tangled together.

“You’re too easy on ‘em,” you giggle, “Such a softie. And they know it.”

“I’m not, y’know, soft, I’m just—”

“Bear, you let them get away with everything—”

“No I don’t—”

“If you say so,” you tease, letting the matter settle with your lips pressed sweetly against his, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you just a little closer. “It’s gonna come back ‘n bite you, though.”

“I’ll be alright, baby.” Another gentle trail of kisses, along your jaw, down to your neck, fading away at your collarbone. He’d kiss you all day if you’d let him.

“Hm.” Your nails scratch gently along his back, and you press your fingertips into the tender muscles of his back as he buries himself into your neck. “Are you making waffles today?”

A muffled groan escapes him, and he peeks up at you. “Thought you said you were doin’ breakfast today?”

You pout, and it looks awfully familiar to him. “Next weekend?”

“Next weekend, huh?”

“Promise.”

And oh, how the irony dawns on him, and oh, how little he cares. But why would he? How could he say no to you, or the girls you’ve brought into his life, when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—when you love him like you do?

With a brief stretch and a deepened kiss with your hands in his hair, he lifts himself out of bed as you trail close behind, your touch a comfort unlike anything else. And when you shimmy into your seat at the counter, laughing with him over your cup of coffee, watching sweetly as he prepares breakfast before the girls scurry into the kitchen, he knows:

He wouldn’t change a thing.

[ledesaid]

A family wish ⚡⚡

A Halloween wish is something that only certain magical beings know how to harness and conjure… Here we have Billy Batson, for example, standing in the middle of the Salem woods with a cloak that hides him from the curious eye of other beings. He's excited because today is the day, and he doesn't want to waste his time while stitching with spider silk everything that's in his Superman lunchbox. It's his fourth Halloween party, but it's the first one he truly feels he's enjoying. It's like Christmas! But Billy thinks it's a hundred times better because of what he's going to get. That's why he has been diligently collecting everything necessary… and he's had an audience on several occasions:

—Excuse me, sir, I'm just going to take a bit of your hair… or your cape?—

Immediately, Captain Marvel seems to debate whether to use his blunt scissors on the hair or cape. He gets a piece of cape from one of his current villains. Don't let his slender appearance or clever words fool you because he's determined. The toad heads and Gorgon eyes in his magical bag confirm it. And let's not talk about his recently added occultist cape, it's the most normal thing he has so far and really shouldn't be the case.

Can someone please tell Billy that he shouldn't collect DNA or cut clothes from every magical entity he encounters?!

Oh, and no one in the League dares to get involved in the Captain's magical mysteries. Flash is still confused by his last explanation of Groundhog Day and his collection of hair from… better not know, Flash didn't want to know. But now he does. The League is worried because they heard the captain politely asking for a piece of hair from Zatanna and playing poker with Constantine until he won. The Englishman argued with the captain to find out what he was up to, but…

—I already have the flesh, I just need something cursed to finish… Your blood would be very useful!—

Constantine feels highly offended, yes he does, but the term flattered doesn't quite fit in his head, and let's not talk about "the flesh". He just wants to go home and it doesn't seem like Captain Marvel is going to give in.

—It's cursed, but it's not mine, have fun!—

He gives Billy a bottle of wine and ends the discussion. Captain Marvel jumps and celebrates like a child when he smells the bottle's contents, undoubtedly very cursed. This last event brings us back to Billy in the middle of the Salem graves, pouring the blood wine onto the tangled hair and fabric that has taken a feline shape.

—Come to me!— he yells energetically. —I order you!— His fingers sparkle with tiny lightning bolts.

His little altar sparkled among the flames of the candles.

—Live!— The lightning bolts increase and Billy takes the tangle of hair in his hands.

The small ball of fur quickly writhes in his grip and begins to transform into something more than it originally was.

—Wake up, Tawny!—

And that's it, a baby tiger gives its first roar, more of a meow, but Billy hugs it with joy.

—Yes! It's alive! It's alive!— exclaims Billy, recalling Dr. Frankenstein's words.

With all the joy in the world, an eleven-year-old boy celebrates having created his first familiar. On November first, the Captain takes his little friend to the Watchtower.

—Guys, look what I did last night! Isn't it cute? Look, Zatanna, its little black stripes are as beautiful as your hair!—

[ogfangirl]

DANIEL RICCIARDO BROKE THE INTERNET

authors note: this is my first piece of writing for Daniel Ricciardo and for F1. I’ve been obsessed with Danny lately and it randomly came to me late last night so bare with me 🥹 with Danny coming back this weekend it brought a lot of emotions happy ! I just want him racing so bad. This is fluffy and cute, and exactly how I imagine he’d be as a dad 🫶🏼

Pairing: Dad!Daniel Ricciardo x Wife!reader

Instagram AU & behind the scenes of the post

Summary: Daniel has been quite busy in 2023, but not behind the wheel of an F1 car.

Enjoy!

Liked by f1, landonorris, redbullracing and 1,991,562 others

danielricciardo I’ve been kept pretty busy these last three months 💙 @.yourinstagram

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yourinstagram we love you papa 🧸💙

- liked by danielricciardo

user7 whAT?!?!? WHAT IS HAPPENING

redbullracing a future Red Bull world champ 🏆

- liked by danielricciardo and yourinstagram

dannyshoney OMG THIS IS AMAZING!

landonorris can’t wait to meet the little man

- liked by danielricciardo and yourinstagram

maxverstappen1 my nephew !

- liked by danielricciardo and yourinstagram

Daniel Ricciardo broke the internet.

Let’s recap:

Almost a year ago, you found out you were expecting your first child with your husband, Daniel. You were thrilled, and you knew you had to come up with a way to surprise him. You got a onesie with his logo on it, a card with the words "and soon there will be 3" as a reference to your growing family AND his racing number 3, as well as the three pregnancy tests you took, and you placed them into a little gift box. On a boat day out in Monaco, you handed him the gift box, but not before you took your phone out and pressed record. He was confused as to why you were recording him, but he opened the box anyway. His face was priceless. He was ecstatic. It was a dream come true.

Since this was your first pregnancy, you wanted to keep it a secret for as long as possible. You felt as though it was more special that way. His life was already so public, and yours was too as a result of being his wife. The two of you agreed to keep your pregnancy between your closest friends and family. But it didn’t take long before Daniel came home looking all guilty, and when you asked him what happened, he told you that everyone at the paddock knew he was going to be a dad. When you asked him how they knew, he sheepishly reminded you of his excitement and that you know how much he likes to talk. You forgave him, of course, because the paddock was like his second home. That was his family, too.

 You didn’t get mad or upset. You knew your husband. Daniel is known to ramble, and he just couldn’t contain himself, but who could blame him? It was an exciting chapter in his life. one that came at a rough time, when he didn’t know what his future in Formula One would look like. Obviously, McLaren wasn't working out, and he didn’t know where else he would end up. But what mattered to him most was that his baby was coming.

 It didn’t take long to find out the gender. He paid for the early test. He was too anxious to wait. The gender reveal was an intimate get-together with only a few family members and friends. As soon as the black balloon exploded and the blue confetti hit the floor, Daniel picked you up and spun you around in joy. "We’re having a boy!" He exclaimed with a huge smile on his face. His very own baby boy He already had a little boy in his life, his nephew, whom he watched grow up, and he couldn’t imagine loving someone more than he loves him. But he was excited to experience this new space of love, one he could only share with a son. He also fell even deeper in love with you after seeing you grow a life inside your body.

 Keeping your pregnancy a secret in the beginning was a breeze. At first, there were no signs of a bump; you could get away with wearing any outfit. The second trimester came around, and you had to pull out all the flowy dresses and tops. Daniel watched you in awe as you performed daily tasks, but with a growing belly. He noticed your glow becoming brighter and brighter every day. He loved parading down the paddock with you while everyone congratulated you on the baby.

Throughout the season, you traveled to as many races as possible while you could still hide the bump, but it soon became too difficult. Especially since Daniel was the star of Drive to survive, and there was always a camera in his face. He had asked the producers to try and keep you out of the footage, but it was hard considering he wouldn’t leave your side unless he was in the car. The more your belly grew, the fewer races you attended. Ultimately, with your energy levels plummeting and your bump being extremely noticeable, you decided that it was finally time to stay home. Daniel missed having you at races, and you definitely felt weird having to watch them from home after being used to the hustle and bustle for years.

 Daniel became less and less excited for race weekends as the season went on. One because, frankly, his car sucked, and two because you weren’t there with him. His favorite activity soon became taking the long haul flights back home, because he knew you’d be there waiting for him. Every time he’d arrive home, it was like his world was complete again. You’d be there waiting for him with a smile and your big ol’ growing belly. He didn’t know how to describe how intense his love and admiration for you had gotten. But he sure knew how to show it. Daniel showered you in hugs, kisses, massages, flowers, chocolate, gifts, love, but most importantly, reassurance. The pregnancy itself was fairly easy, but the part you were scared of the most was how his busy lifestyle would impact how much time he’d spend with you and the baby. So he did exactly what he knew you wanted but didn’t have the heart to ask for.

With the 2022 F1 season coming to an end, Daniel decided that it was the perfect opportunity to take time away from the sport so that he could spend time with his wife and his son, who could arrive at any time. He agreed to become a third driver for Red Bull, counting on the fact that they wouldn’t need him for a few weeks. He never gave the media much of an explanation as to why he decided to take a third driver position; all he said was that he needed time to himself. Some fans understood, and some didn’t, but it didn’t matter. He knew he had made the right decision.

 His little boy, Luca Gabriel Ricciardo, was born on January 5, 2023. The day both your lives changed, but for the better.

 You love watching him be a dad. He did it so effortlessly. He was eager to do night feeds and didn’t even mind staying up with the baby at night. He loved doing skin-to-skin, and was a pro at diaper changes. He wanted to be all hands on deck. The two of you would take long walks on the farm with Luca, and occasionally you would have picnics in the garden. That was what he cherished the most. When it was just you three. The family he built with the woman he loves

 The months flew by, and next thing he knew, the Australian Grand Prix was coming up. He couldn’t hide anymore. His life was perfect, but he knew he had to go back to work. That’s his home race, and there isn’t an Australian Grand Prix without F1’s favorite Aussie.

 Race week was the first time since Luca was born that Daniel spent time away from home. It felt weird for both you and him. In the 8 days that he was gone, there were approximately 52 FaceTime calls, 37 phone calls, and 12 pictures of Luca sent to him. He missed his son, and even though he was away, he still wanted to be a full participant in his soon-to-be 3-month-old's daily activities, which didn’t include much but eating, sleeping, and pooping, but you appreciated it.

 Word travels fast in F1, and everyone was excited for Daniel’s return. As predicted, Daniel was asked a million times what he did to keep busy during the past three months. He would chuckle to himself and keep giving vague answers like, "I was working on myself."

 But enough was enough.

 With the Australian Grand Prix behind us, on Monday afternoon he arrived at home and immediately made his way towards you and his baby boy. After planting a kiss on your lips and one on his baby’s head, he looked down at you with a smile. You looked at him, almost afraid of what his mind had come up with. "How do you feel about finally presenting Luca to the world?" He asked. It caught you off guard, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about it.

 "I think I’m ready if you are," you smiled back.

 And that was all he needed to hear. He was finally going to show the world his biggest accomplishment: his family.

 Daniel had taken a photo of you with Luca while you guys took a trip to the beach when he was about two months old. He loved the photo, and immediately knew that it was the photo he was going to use to announce his boy. Daniel had the post saved in his drafts for about two weeks. He was waiting for the perfect time, but after getting back to work, he knew that there was no better time. Everyone still had lots of questions, and he knew that the answers he gave didn’t actually give them any insight into what his days off looked like. But he could paint a perfect picture with one post. So on Monday, April 3, 2023, he introduced the world to his boy.

 It didn’t take long before his comment section became flooded with support, surprised comments and overall excitement. Both of your phones began blowing up, and you two couldn’t contain your smile. You opened Twitter and saw people were already talking about it all over your timeline. Your family and friends left cute comments on his post, and you took the time to reply and like all of their comments. It meant a lot for the both of you that you had such a strong support system behind your family. Your boy was so loved, and he didn’t even know it yet.

Following Daniel’s Instagram post, you decided to share an announcement of your own.

@.yourinstagram posted on their story

[kanmom51]

JK's birthday 2019

Let's talk about JK's birthday in 2019.

I know it's a long time ago, but I got to thinking about it again and it just filled me with joy. And who am I to deprive you guys of some delusional joy as well? Right?

So, I think I am actually going to start from the end on this one.

JM flying half way across the world, from Paris...

to be with JK on his birthday only to have to fly out the next morning to Hawaii with Sungwoon.

And he does this all by surprising JK, who was not expecting him to be there with him, as he knew JM was in Paris, sly JM even sending him a kind of generic happy birthday message from Paris. You know, making sure JK KNOWS that he is still there on the streets of Paris all while JM was already on his way to be with him.

JM loved to tell us all about it in his Riad live (you know, the one he also told us how happy he was with the surprise birthday celebration JK arranged for him during their concert there, oh and the same one we got him eying his "manager").

There is a link to the live itself in my post as well.

And here you will find screenshots of JM telling the story:

He was so damn proud of himself.

And rightfully so.

He made JK's day.

Brought him this very special gift too:

Yeah, let's hear how this wasn't planned why don't we?

Anyways...

Moving on.

Or perhaps moving back would be the proper way of putting it.

All of this happened on JK's birthday itself at night time (JM tells us he arrived back in SK 8-9 pm). But see, JK started off his birthday for us.

Wait. Was it for us? Or more so, was it only for us? Or was it perhaps also meant for that one person that wasn't there on that day. The one person that was in Paris, and whom JK believed was not going to be spending his birthday with him. The one person that flew half way across the world to surprise JK, and he sure did.

I know at this point I could be considered to be reaching a little bit, but hear me out here. Yes, JK was sending Army a message (well a few of them as you will see), but I do think that within those messages (this is something that those two are so good at), he was also sending another message, and it wasn't just for us. Although you could argue that in a sense it was also for us (letting us know who was on his mind at that point in time).

So here we go.

JK posts on Weverse on the eve of his birthday. This is just after midnight, specifically at 00:22 or 12:22 am KST.

This one is clearly for Army (not the one who declares himself to be Army).

Following that, JK moves on to Twitter, where he tweets twice exactly 40 minutes later. 2 tweets, one minute apart from each other.

First tweet at 1:03 am SKT:

Let's look at the numbers first before we move on to bigger and better things.

1:03 am 1.9

Just looking at those numbers we can get:

13-10 (1+9)

If we look at the date as 1.9.19 then we have the 13-10 and 1-9 as well. Go figure.

On purpose?

Who knows... maybe if we look into it a little further we will have more facts that can show us either way.

The caption on JK's first tweet.

Could definitley be meant, once again, for us. Even though he already thanks us for making him happy. But what if this time it wasn't meant specifically for us. I mean, he already thanked us in a long message only 40 minutes earlier. What if the earlier one was for us, and this one here, with the timing of the posting, was meant for a special someone else, who happened to be far away from him.

Perhaps his choice to split his posts, his thanks, was because they were meant for 2 different recipients? Perhaps, this was just like him splitting up his White day live in 2023 into 4 segments. Each one of those segments with a clear purpose and you could also say a specific audience (at least for one of those 4 the intended audience was not us).

Yeah, I know, call me deluded. Call me crazy and call me whatever, but you know, I really don't think it's that far fetched.

And even more so when within a minute he tweets again. This time he uploads his gift - a snippet of his song Decalcomania.

Captioned: "This... Please look forward to it".

{Side note, we still are even though we will never get the full song seeing that he had deleted it.}

Are you seeing what I'm seeing here?

Like seriously, how can we miss this? And nope, you can't make up this shit either.

Time stamp on clip:

1: 18 min.

The song is clearly cut off at that time stamp.

This is not a coincidence. Seriously, enough is enough with that excuse. The recurring use of these numbers. 118, Nov 8, again and again and again. Before and after.

This is a clear message JK is sending again

and again

and again

and again

And lest forget a couple of his latest 8:11's

and

And here we have JK, on his birthday, following his tweet only one minute earlier thanking "you" for making him happy. Who he means by "you", well that I'm sure many will assume is his fans. At this point, seeing what came before and definitely what came after, I am easily convinced that it wasn't necessarily that "you", but the "you" that was about to surprise the shit out of him later that day.

So yeah, I'm finding it hard to conclude this is all a coincidence, seeing JM himself told us it's not...

As for Decalcomania. Well, that one requires a post all of it's own.

One more thing before I go.

JK's 2019 birthday was a big one. It happened when the band were on break. When JM was using this time to travel with friends (not that they didn't spend time together, JK basically tells us that in BV4). A time with a couple of yucky dating rumors. A time of self reflection. This was a break where JK had his hand tattoos done, and surprisingly (NOT) added that very 'inconspicuous' J just above the M after his birthday.

So yeah, this here my friends, is a hill, or even more so a mountain, that I am climbing up and are pretty confidently willing to die on...

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 10

I can't believe this is my last one of these 😭

I've loved watching and writing about this show so much. I was always going to enjoy it because of the FortPeat of it all but I never thought I'd have so much to say about it or that I'd end up writing about it weekly. The only other shows I've written about to such an extent are Two Worlds and Dead Friend Forever.

I've only had this blog for a little over a year and a half and it's only in the past six months that I've been actively talking on it and making friends on here. I really want to thank all of you who take the time to read my posts and indulge my clown behavior and leave your thoughts and kind words in the tags. It means a lot 💜

Okay let's talk about microexpressions before I start crying in the club. Again.

We start off with Tongrak about to go have lunch with his mama after not seeing her for years. Mahasamut is lovely and encouraging because of course he is, he's my Memo Ochoa, but this face when Rak mentions wanting him to come along next time...

It's not that Mut doesn't want to. He does. It's just that he's very aware that it's not up to him.

And Rak doesn't quite get what he means because he's been trying very hard this whole time to not see this situationship for what it is.

His smile doesn't quite fall but it does flicker for a second and there's the smallest tilt of his head. Didn't he just ask Mut to come along? Then why is Mut telling him that it's up to him whether that meal with mama ever happens?

You can't pretend that elephant ain't there forever, Khun Tongrak.

And Mahasamut can't either.

"See the missing heart?"

It was at that moment that Tongrak understood what Mut was doing in giving him that bracelet.

And there was no joy at the realization. Only fear, dread, and panic. He doesn't allow Mut to get out the 'I love you'. He begs him not to sat it because simply knowing that it's coming terrifies him.

Tongrak tries to run away and draw up another agreement in a useless last-ditch effort to avoid Mut's feelings, but Mut doesn't allow that. We're at the end of the rope. We're at the edge of the cliff. The camel's back is one straw away. He loves Rak and he wants and needs to tell Rak. And he does.

But Tongrak is afraid of that love. He doesn't want it, and it breaks Mut's heart.

So Mut makes one last effort to make Tongrak understand that what he wants isn't Rak's money, but him and that terrifies Rak MORE because that money was another brick in the wall he'd built to protect his heart and now Mut is giving it all back and the integrity of that wall is weakening.

He isn't prepared to be without the wall so he rejects Mut and in doing so, chooses to be without him instead.

And here is where I grumble again about wanting to talk about a scene more and having to cut myself off for photo limit reasons.

When Mahasamut goes to say goodbye to Vivi and Mook and ask them to take care of Tongrak, Mook is the only one who's surprised. Vivi isn't. Hell, she doesn't say a word the whole scene and she doesn't have to. Look at her face. She understands why things are happening this way because she understands Rak and was coming to understand Mut. She knew something had to give.

Mook asks Mut if he's sure and wants him to reconsider but Vivi knows that he's here because he is and he has. Mook wonders what will become of Rak without Mut but Vivi (and we) know what it isn't just about Rak. Mut deserves to be loved and cared for the same way he does for others and has emotional needs just like anyone else and that's why he has to go home.

Mahasamut made sure to keep his promise of sweets in exchange for a good report card to Meena before he left and he almost made it home without breaking down but hearing Meena and her mom talk about what the number 8 means to Tongrak and the dawning realization of why Tongrak gave him an 8 that random night in bed is just too much.

It's all too much because at its core the reason Mut and Rak can't be together at this moment isn't a lack of love. The love is there but it's being smothered beneath the weight of Rak's fear.

Oh and hearing Mut's hitched sob after Meena asks him if he's okay?That absolutely did me the fuck in I'm never recovering fuck you Fort and also well done go sit at Chris Chiu's table.

I'd like to take a break from all this pain to complain that Mook didn't get to wear glasses for the whole show because look how cute my girly looks in them.

And the two flavors of concern she and Vivi have for Tongrak who is doing about as well as expected.

Sidenote: Khun Tongrak I'm never going to get over you leaving Mut's bracelet in the trash can for a week.

Her mess of a love life aside, Vivi is such a good friend. If I hadn't been so busy being sad in the moment I would've caught this face and realized the bracelet was safe.

As devastating as it was to see both Mahasamut and Tongrak have their individual moments of realization followed by a public breakdown, they were both important. I daresay they needed to happen because THIS is the true root of the issue.

Tongrak isn't afraid of love and he doesn't actually think it doesn't exist. He knows that it does and he's afraid of what comes with it. He's afraid of what happens when it's gone and the way that it hurts people because that is all he knows, that's the sum total of what all his life experiences have taught him about love.

But because until meeting Mut he never experienced love himself, he never had to confront that fear or fight its hold on him. There was never a reason to. It just kept getting reinforced to him and he fell back on it when he couldn't hide from his or Mut's feelings anymore.

This is what "do it scared" looks like. I'm so proud of my fighter.

And I'm proud of my Memo too for standing on business and not folding the moment Rak appeared even though I know a part of him really wanted to.

Tongrak broke Mahasamut's heart and it's not enough for Rak to appear and ask Mut to put the bracelet on him. That's still him wanting Mut to take the first step and even though we know that it's because Rak doesn't know how to go about this and desperately wants an opening, the first step is one he has to take without any help or prompting. Coming to the island was only half the battle.

And it's BRUTAL to watch because we know that Rak isn't there to hurt Mut and that he wants to reconcile and apologize and tell Mut he loves him but he just CANNOT find the words no matter how hard he tries.

Tongrak is a writer, words are his whole life, but it's like he told Vivi: fiction isn't reality. It is so much harder to say what you want to say when you're doing it for yourself and not for a character on a page.

"Don't make me throw my own heart away."

The lighting and the photo limit are preventing more screenshots of this scene and that is a good thing because just rewatching and seeing the glint of tear tracks on Fort's face is making me cry.

DAMN RIGHT YOU'RE NOT GONNA QUIT THAT'S MY BOY

Tongrak found the words and he found a way to say them and he found a way to make Mahasamut hear them and they're looking at each other with hope and surprise and love and I'm a MESS.

*blubbering* Just look at this adorable little cross-eyed look that makes it seem like Rak is trying to make sure he's not imagining this and all he can say is Mahasamut's name with increasing desperation and and--

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Pom rak khun."

"Chan rak nai."

*CRYING IN THE CLUB*

There is not a single expression in this entire television program that means more to me than this one. Not a single fucking one.

This is the face Rak is going to wake up to for the rest of his life, soft sexy morning voice included.

I just want to state for the record that I knew this pouty kitten had bought them a house the second he rushed in all excited with his envelope. I understand this man too well to be surprised by the things he does.

I would also like to point out THAT HE IS IN A TEXTURED PATTERN AND THAT I WAS RIGHT!

There are so many more expressions that I would've loved to include but this was a long episode and the photo limit is a cruel mistress.

This show wasn't perfect but I loved it so much. It helped me process some things, it healed some things, and it gave me Tongrak and Mahasamut whom I love and will miss so dearly.

I had a great time watching with ya'll and writing about it 🥰

*manifests a special episode*

[mellowsaturns]

at the end of the day

summary: after another failed date, you run into bucky barnes on the way home and the two of you get caught in the rain

warnings: fluff, dancing in the rain, talks about love, romcom vibes i hope, pining bucky

wc: 1.7k

a/n: inspired by the talk @jadedvibes and i had a while ago heheh. men suck sometimes but we gotta put our trust in rom-communism and that everything will work out at the end :)

How many horrible dates will you go on to realize that you're never going to have your happy ending? 

The thought plagued you as you walked down the street. You were going to give up on love completely this time, you promised yourself.

You were deep in thought when a soft voice interrupted your pitiful reverie. 

“Oh?” you said, eyes widening in surprise. “Bucky, what are you doing here?”

A light chuckle filled the air between the two of you before he spoke. “I live in this neighbourhood, doll.” 

You mentally smacked yourself on the forehead. “Oh, right. I forgot.” 

His mouth curved into an amused grin before he took a good look at you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer. 

You looked down at your outfit, one so different from the usual attire you have on at the Tower. “Isn’t it kinda obvious?” you teased, though your voice’s laced with defeat. “I was on a date.” 

He hummed, “And how’d it go?” 

“Let’s just say there isn’t going to be a second one,” you answered, finishing off with a sigh.

Bucky winced. “M’sorry it didn’t go well.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you said, “It… it happens a lot, I’m used to it.” 

His brow creased in confusion. “Used to what?”

Did you really have to lay out your shitty love life in front of Bucky Barnes? 

You twiddled your thumb nervously. “Going on bad dates,” you stated, “Never finding anything meaningful from them. Always going home with the feeling of disappointment. You know, the usual.” 

Bucky frowned. He never realized you had problems with the whole… dating thing. At least you didn’t look like it whenever he saw you around the Tower. You were a joy to be around—always surrounded by people. How could you possibly have problems with dating? Half the department was already in love with you. (Not that Bucky was keeping records on names or anything. Maybe a little.) If you had problems with love, then what about someone like him? 

Now that you voiced your problem out loud, you felt a bit better. It’s not that you couldn’t find someone—there’s plenty of someones out there—but none of them made you feel special or seen. That spark you were always looking for seemed to be nonexistent.

Maybe the problem was that you were too picky, your standard was too high—too unrealistic.

Or maybe you were the thing you feared the most.

“Sometimes, I feel like there’s something wrong with me,” you confessed. “No, there must be something wrong with me. Maybe the stuff you see in movies does happen, just not to me because no one wants to put in that effort with me. Maybe, I’m unlovable.”

You never thought you would be confessing all this to him. 

Bucky took a minute to digest your words before speaking again. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Looking into his eyes, you wondered if he truly meant it, or if he’s just being kind like he always was. And as if he could read your mind, “I mean it,” he added, reassuring you. 

“Then why…” 

“These people you go on dates with,” he jumped in, “They don’t even realize how lucky they are. You’re amazing,” he said, a gentle smile spreading across his face, “And if they don’t see that or don’t make you feel like you’re on top of the world, then I guess they weren’t that great to begin with. They don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.” 

You were speechless. Bucky and you weren’t strangers but calling him a friend seemed a bit too… intimate. You don’t even have his number for Christ’s sake. The two of you were just two people who worked in the same building and saw each other frequently and talked here and there. But why did his words mean more to you than any pep-talk your friends gave you? 

“I-l—” you stuttered, “I don’t know what to say. I’m honoured that you think so highly of me.”

If you only knew what Bucky thought of you. He doesn’t really know when it happened, this growing feeling inside of him, but seeing you had become his favourite part of the job. He always tried to spark up small talk (much to everyone’s surprise) but the both of you were busy, always getting whisked away mid-conversation.

Today was the first time he saw you outside of work, in his neighbourhood nonetheless. Perhaps this was his chance—finally some alone time with you. He felt like there were a million things to say, but of course, it came out wrong, as it always does. “I always think about you.” When you raised an eyebrow at him, he corrected himself, “I-I mean I always think highly of you,” he corrected, a tinge of pink evident on his cheek. 

A small chuckle escaped from you, and you had to look down bashfully, trying your best to hide your flusteredness. I always think about you.

You wondered why you never paid more attention to the Avenger who always had business in your department. 

“That’s really sweet of you to say. If I’m being honest, I was genuinely ready to give up on love tonight,” you said with a small laugh.

Bucky swallowed. “Loo—” Before he could finish his sentence, something wet landed on top of his forehead. Then another one. And another one. It had started to rain. He could have sworn that wasn’t the predicted forecast tonight.

The two of you looked up, letting the steady gentle rain hit the surfaces of your skin. It was probably a good idea to find shelter, maybe stand underneath a roof for the time being until the unexpected summer rain went away.

But the two of you just stood there, completely still, looking ridiculous to onlookers. And then you bursted into a fit of laughter. “Sorry, it’s just… I always imagined what it would be like to be stuck in a storm.” 

He grinned. “And how is it?” he yelled through the pitter-patter. 

“Hmm. Not as romantic as I thought it’ll be,” you noted amusingly.

Bucky met your eyes for a moment, then swallowed a breath. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending a hand towards you. 

You raised a brow, heart skipping a beat at his words. You would be lying if you said the hopeless romantic in you never imagined yourself in this position multiple times. You just never thought it would be with Bucky Barnes.

Taking his hand, he led you with small slow steps. 

“You must’ve done this a lot back in your days,” you teased playfully.

Connecting his eyes with yours, he confessed, “This is the first time I’ve danced with someone in the rain.”

Bringing you in and out, and then lifting your arm to twirl you around while the water rippled beneath your feet, it felt like you were suddenly transported elsewhere. Like a movie you had seen on screen that had you swooning. Or a novel you had read late into the night with a gigantic smile on your face. You almost expected some low jazz to start playing soon. But even if it didn’t, it would’ve been fine, because you had the soft glow of moonlight peeking out from behind the clouds, the summer rain, and Bucky with you. It was already enough to set the scene. 

He looked particularly boyish tonight with his hair sticking to his forehead. You had the urge to sweep the strands away.

You let out a small yelp when Bucky dipped you down before pulling you back up so you were pressed into his chest. You were glad the sound of raindrops masked your beating heart. 

He was a bit rusty, he knew that. It has been over seventy-years since he danced with someone. He couldn’t believe how you would think no one wanted to put in the effort with you. He would dance with you in the rain all the time if that’s what you wanted. Would probably do anything you asked of him, if he was being honest.

You’re not a very good dancer, you had to admit. But Bucky was leading you through the whole thing, even smiling down at you when you accidentally stepped on his foot. 

You wondered how many people this beautiful and charming being of a man had swept off their feet before. Hopefully, he still had space in his heart for you. Because you were completely wooed.

As the rain slowed down and sky started to clear ever so slightly, you realized that the spark you were always complaining about not feeling—it was here, in this very moment, ignited from the touches between the two of you. It was there the moment you took his hand. Giving him another sneaky glance, your eyes lit up like a thousand stars.

Maybe the right person was in front of you all along. 

Bucky doesn’t know how long the two of you stood there in the aftermath, looking into each other's eyes. It’s the brightest thing in the city, he thought.

Moments later, you removed yourself from him. “Well, the rain stopped.” 

“It certainly did,” he said, sounding faintly amused. 

“I guess I should get going,” you said, though you were still lingering around.

Bucky, who was soaked to the bones, asked, “Should I take you home?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. My place is only a few stations from here. Thank you for offering though.” Maybe next time.

Before you completely escaped from his vision, he shouted your name, causing you to pause in your steps and look over your shoulder. “I hope you’re not giving up on love.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to fight back a smile.

How could you?

Bucky Barnes gave you a million reasons to believe in love again. 

[p4p4y4princess]

Every time I go on tiktok, I just get angry. Like I've not mentioned the hate after Brazil as a Lando supporter because I choose to tune it out because I'm unwell myself and can't handle the stress of worrying about a man who doesn't know about me, parasocial relationships aside, I do not know this man but I do know what the women and fem presenting people in the F1 fandom go through.

It's not just the "What's DRS then?" joke. It's the sarcasm and snarky comments on every Lando or Carlos or Charles or Oscar (or anyone really) supporter who happens to be a girl's posts. It's the bullying of TEENAGERS by grown men for finding a celebrity attractive or entertaining. When men lust over the WAGs, when the tabloids reported on drivers groping women in the backs of cars and spraying champagne up grid girls' skirts: it gets continuously brushed under the rug because there will always be the power imbalance and a sexist angle in every aspect of this sport because if a woman opens her mouth about liking a driver, she's ruining the sport but when Ayrton Senna dated a 15 year old girl, he was a hero and a different time.

I think of Rush as a film so often and that Chris Hemsworth as James Hunt said that it's not the driving that gets girls to like the drivers, it's the thrill of it all which I think has some weight to it while misogynistic but there's only so much grace you can give James Hunt in this conversation. We look at drivers of the past and those who have grown with decorum and not acted like a fool whilst in Formula 1 or post retirement as this shining light of movement in the F1 world. Seb Vettel was objectively a little shit when he was at RB and look what a shining example he is now, there's room for change, kindness and learning in a sport like this.

We all get used to this misogyny at times, we take the blows given out for having an interest, we get reminded of our places in society in a patriarchy like F1 and we do it because we want that morsel of respect. We fall to it sometimes, personally I've seen multiple girls and fem presenting people make the joke of "why are we sexualizing the drivers?" "why do you have to make everything weird?" May it be the constant willingness to shrink ourselves into the background and be the ones who don't cause a fuss or make our excitement the loudest but if you are in that either end of that situation, I see you and I hear you. You are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to be as loud and as proud as you want to be about your favourite drivers and teams. Defend that shit with your life if that is your joy, do not let anyone take that from you but understand every action has a reaction and if you have a disdain for your fellow girl, please ask yourself why.

The girls are in the academies, baby girls are growing up in garages and in front of TV's in awe of fast, brightly coloured cars, freshly 18 year old women are becoming motorsports students and interning on go-kart tracks and mechanics. Let's not crush their dreams by letting misogyny no matter how miniscule win.

[somerandomdudelmao]

It's Cass appreciation time!!! Don't get me wrong, I think we all appreciate you exactly all the time, but I wanted to write it out because I'm filled with SO MUCH LOVE RIGHT NOW THAT I PHYSICALLY CAN'T CONTAIN IT.

So!

First and foremost, I think you're a wonderful person. I may not know you personally, but the way in which you go about things - not just in your comic, but the way you interact with people - just leaves me in awe. You're so gentle but in the most chaotic way possible, and it makes me so happy to be alive. You're supportive of people and the things they create, while also just... spreading the joys of not just the fandom, but so many other things too. You're one of the people on here that unites the fandom as a whole, and it's so inspiring! You bring so much love here, and I admire that about you.

Another thing that I admire is that you know what your limits are and that you take care of yourself. I see so many people these days who don't - some who just forget, some who don't realize they're doing it, and others who blatantly refuse to do so - and it's frustrating to see. I want to help them (aka: wrap them in a blanket burrito to protect them from the world, offer coping skills, give them the support they need- the list goes on), but I can't really do much of that without burning myself out. Which is why I love to see you take care of yourself - whenever I see those asks that are like "reminder to drink water / rest / take a break", it reminds me that I need to do it too, and I'm positive that it reminds others as well. That, and it's refreshing to see!

I also love how creative and spontaneous you are! The plots you come up with, as well as the characterization and overall flow of the story - not to mention the PERFECT amount of fluff and angst you give us (WITH THE PROMISE OF A HAPPY ENDING??? OH MY GOD)- leaves me floored every time! I don't know a whole lot about writing and portraying things, but I've learned a bunch just by what you do. LETS ALSO REMEMBER ALL THE SMALL DETAILS YOU PUT INTO THIS - THE PARALLELS, THE LITTLE SHOWS OF AFFECTION,AND JUST- EVERYTHING??? GHDBDKDBSJ

AHH!

You inspire me to create, and whenever I have the confidence to post what I'm working on, I'll be sure to tag you (bc all of it is related to your comic)!

I have so much to say, but not nearly enough words to fully express it! But this is also getting much longer than I thought it would, and as much as I want to sing you praises all day, there's not enough time. So to wrap this up:

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all that you do. I'm sure it's not easy - you're a whole person outside of this, and everyone has bad days - so, again, thank you. I may not know you personally, but I still care a great deal about you. Please keep taking care of yourself! Drink some water, have a snack, take a nap, make some time for yourself - whatever it is, have a fantastic time hon. You deserve it.

Keep being amazing, and I wish you the best!

Until next time, dearie ^-^

Oh god I don't even know what to say jcdtujdsukcdhb thank you yhank you thank you so much you just brightened my day I

[alltimefail]

This song, "For Forever" was on George's Edwin playlist (he said so in a Cameo) and holy fuck it's perfect for Edwin and Charles.

Knowing the current fate of our beloved show it stings a little extra hard to talk about, but not in a bad way and I want to talk about why that is. Warning that I'm going to wax poetic here, maybe definitely cry a little along the way, but please stick with me. 🖤

These boys have a bond that is special; it defies hell, rejects heaven, scoffs at the classic tragedies with a molotov cocktail in hand, rewrites the expected "bury your gays" trope (surprise, the gays came back as ghosts!), and says fuck a soulmate - I willed this, I chose this, I chose you, fate may have brought us together but I stayed with you and I'd do it again. No one can change that they are together for forever, two friends having a perfect day every day because the other one is there. They'll always have each other in every universe, they'll be together until the end of time and not even death herself can (or would) split them up. For Charles and Edwin it's just sky for forever, inside jokes, silly dance sessions, late night games of cluedo, reminiscing and confiding, puzzling cases, paperwork, infinite backpacks to organize, spells to master, books to read aloud (Edwin doing the reading of course while Charles enjoys), and long walks to wherever, whenever, because they've got nothing but time.

These two silly ghost boys will have the promise of endless possibility, content with the life they've made in their death, just letting the world pass them by for forever and it's everything, better than a life either of them could have ever imagined. Charles and Edwin have known so much tragedy and injustice in their respective lifetimes, they know loss intimately and are constatly fighting tooth and nail against the many forces that try to separate them along the way, but they still choose to do good, to help others, and they are happy because the reward is enough: the ability to bask in the light they've found in eachother is more than enough. Regardless of how you interpret that love, it is truly eternal and pure... so much so that it honestly makes some of the greatest love stories and epics pale in comparison.

All that to say, every time we talk about these two and tell their stories (through another television adaptation, through rewatching season 1 and analyzing every little detail, through fanart, through the comics, through their appearance in doom patrol, and so on) we only add to that cosmic universe that they'll exist in forever. Their story doesn't end with the Netflix adaptation, just like it didn't really start there either.

"You say 'There's nowhere else I'd rather be, and I say me too... we just talk and take in the view."

That line ⬆️ is the essence of the boys whole dynamic, and you know what? That is really fucking beautiful. The whole drive in this song - its steady, epic build and sensational crescendos that convey excitement, awe, a little bit of uncertainty, and an abundance of unbriddled emotion - is exactly how Charles and Edwin's dynamic feels and it's a goddamn treasure, a fucking whirlwind, a blessing to witness. Frankly the love they share is worth celebrating, it's worth honoring and creating for because it's breathtaking, pure joy, warmth, and unyielding devotion. It's a one of a kind story with two boys who will always come to each other's rescue, who will do everything in their power to make sure the other is okay, who will accept each other and pick each other up every time and love each other enough in death to make up for all the people who dared to not see the brilliant light they shined in life.

Netflix may not want to tell their story any more, but we can. We can keep making art, writing fics, supporting Jayden and George who brought our boys to life - and Kassius and Yuyu who gave us their sensational living counterparts as well. I know I love these dead boys and their alive girl companions and that their story will always mean the world to me. I love their love, the found family they've created, and all the residual joy and inspiration it causes; but most of all I love that they've brought us all together in our own little found family. No one can take that from us, nor can they take that from the writers, cast, and crew who put everything into starting this legacy.

So let's do what we do best and get back to our work...for forever, yeah? Maybe another streaming service saves our show (and that would he fucking mint, aces, BRILLS!!!!) but at the end of the day, fandom can immortalize this story.

There's still cases to solve, rights to wrong, jobs to job! No reason to stop just because Netflix mucked this up royally. 🔎💀