#get a grip this is tumblr dot com

[whatsyaname]

Hi.

I can't reveal who i am but i used to be a ex moot of tee (@/saetoru) and i don’t care if this seems cowardly to make a page just to call her out. after seeing lots of people share their experiences with tee i’d like to also add and show some of the stuff she’s done to remind people she’s not as angelic as she makes herself out to be.

me and tee weren’t close as she was with her little clique (they know who they are) and other people but the main reason we aren’t moots anymore is because i broke the mutual. after seeing a callout post about her way back in oct. 2023 with other people’s stories in the thread of reblogs / link (i’m sure you guys saw)

i simply didn’t wanna be associated with someone like that. i was just confused why tee was acting like it wasn’t her fault. she said she doesn’t have to provide proof because she doesn’t owe anyone anything when that doesn’t make sense. because if you’re gonna accuse someone, always provide proof otherwise it’s safe to assume you’re lying.

this was Tee’s response back in october to her being called out by one of her old moots also, she deleted this a few days before she returned to make it seem like nothing happened but oh it did. i’m putting this here for people to see again (if you already haven’t) because just look at this.

this is what a narcissistic manipulator sounds like!

the biggest thing that made me scratch my head was for her to immediately bring up past drama to redirect the situation and make herself seem like the good person, and address the other party as a “white girl who blackfishes,” and she tried taking the attention off her to bring up palestine.

are you serious? if she so called “blackfished” why were you supporting/defending her in the first place? shouldn’t you be in the wrong too? the party she was talking about didn’t even blackfish, from what i can recall it was a simple tan so again, this was Tee reaching and blowing things way out of proportion.

she keeps mentioning some random bnha blog but never gives the @ so she’s probably lying. how are you gonna accuse someone of plagiarism then your only evidence is “oh me and my moots saw the whole thing, so you know i’m not lying.” girl bffr. and for her to even say something as childish and stupid as “she’s stolen ppl’s skin tones and she’s stolen their ideas. not much to left to take besides your identity at that!”

you and i both read that right? this is a supposed 20+ year old, saying something as kiddish as that. she even exposed the persons @ in the tags and why did she do that? so she can make her thousands of followers / anons spam their inbox with threats, derogatory names, and literally anything else. and she has the nerve to say she’s not enabling that kind of behavior with her audience. she’s abusing her following and it’s showing.

and for her to sit there and say it’s not her fault for being in her own space and name dropping people without actually name dropping them is just absurd. subposting is the lowest of the low. If you’re gonna talk shit at least put the url while you’re at it. people can tell who you’re talking about even if you’re being discrete.

She has a private blog called @/clorindes where she uses it to "vent" and bash writers and laugh it off with her moots and even followers.

i know of this particular blog because like many others, if you followed tee that blog (her private) would appear in ‘blogs like…’ or ‘recommended to follow.’ after tee got called out, she privated it but it’s still up.

(i recommend blocking that blog) because i’m sure she’ll activate it again once things settle. i hope that’s not the case because how many drama, discourse posts, call outs does it take for her to fully leave this platform? this is chronically online mentality at its finest.

it’s been an ongoing rumor that tee has this tumblr 'burn book' to blacklist writers on this platform and it’s proven to be true. some of tees even own mutuals are in there, and its just embarrassing. you have to constantly remind yourself this is a 20+ y/o person acting like this, out of all platforms, tumblr…

i remember a while back tee drove off a few blogs just for having the same theme concepts as her. (is that even a thing?) like tee used to have instagram themes i think, yet when she found other blogs having the same, she’d send her thousands of anons to harass that person, and be so butthurt over a theme.

not gonna lie, her themes are generically basic and doesn’t even look like it takes much effort. so what is there to copy. i’m not saying copying themes are good and okay, but she takes things too far. i can see if it’s writing, but a theme or a layout? i just find it so mind boggling people stick by her side and support her still.

from her old blog she’d always say sneaky comments like these and laugh it up with her mutuals in the comments. it’s really…something, because why do you care what those writers do? she reeks of jealousy and envy, literally look at her tone.

“we all know yall just want the notes and numbers.” um, yeah? everyone wants recognition on their work, it feels good to know your works being appreciated. and her jab at shading writers who write half paragraphs was so unnecessary. because again, why do you care? how are those writers hyping each other up seen as ‘shady’ or ‘fishy’ behavior? just say you’re jealous and go.

she acts like she doesn’t do the exact same thing with her cult of friends on tumblr, spamming the tags with wtv.

miss tee, flat out you’re a nobody.

you have no right to judge how someone write. who cares if you have 30k+ followers on this old ass site. congrats ….i guess? in the real world, you’re just a miserable person who likes torturing people online.

she has this thing of coming after upcoming big blogs, if i’m not mistaken, the most recent one was a known jjk writer, kazu _____ another was a popular multi account munson____, and there were multiple others i’m sure. her following count boosts her ego a lot, that i can see. and she thinks it’s okay to say whatever and not get held accountable. well now she is.

notice how she came back to tumblr after a two month hiatus, turned anons on then back off. and shes been inactive for a few days. she’s running away from the drama because she knows exactly it’s no one’s fault but hers.

if you look through the long thread i linked earlier, actually read through the reblogs. if multiple various ppl are coming out to share their experiences (with receipts) chances are you should be able to tell who’s lying! she needs to be stopped and ran off the app, not those blogs who didn’t do anything. tee’s been involved with drama for a long time like i said before, way back in her tokyo rev/hq era in her @/hanmas era. so about three to four years ago.

it’s been said tee and her mutuals send anons to harass other writers and i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s true.

again, it’s a shame you have to remind yourself this is a grown woman in her twenties acting like this on tumblr. it’s sickening and she needs to grow up, and get the hell off this platform before she drives anyone else off.

thats all! thank you for reading

[paponela]

i have not spoken to my ex girlfriend since we broke up over a year ago but today i had to make small talk with her and i felt so many insane things that i have no option but to sneak them in a piece of fiction just to hear someone say wow that's fucked up!! to which i'll answer yeah!! and never speak of it again

[mainfaggot]

i need to get an actual grip i need to stop acting like my life is a tragedy like YOURE FINE YOURE FINE YOURE FIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE

[widevibratobitch]

.

[bloomberrypint]

I am entering my "whatever you call this look of angus" is hot era

[whifferdills]

seeing trans people they/them a trans woman in a context where it is very obvious she's a she/her......the call is coming from inside the house

[yakamozarda]

Saw a callout post so fucking stupid i am feeling my soul leaving my body

[javierpena-inatacvest]

His

Summary: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Warnings: ... again, this is straight up pwp, unprotected p in v sex, rough(er) sex, breeding kink (I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! It's physically impossible to not!!), praise kink, big, nasty creampie, cum play, 1 use of daddy and papí (but like, that's the goal), an ass smack, prone bone and the one position from s2e3 of Narcos because I say so!!! also sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I don't know how to write any other way

A/N: She's nothing, if not consistent, your honor 🤠 You'll have to pry Javier Peña and his big, fat breeding kink out of my cold, dead hands before I stop writing about it!!!!!! Figured what better way to break a hiatus than letting the ovulation demons do the lords work for me to post some smut on tumblr dot com, hope y'all enjoy!!!

Never Too Late Masterlist

“Fuck, Javi!” 

The only thing that’s keeping you from waking up your neighbors with the volume of your moans is the way Javi has you pressed against the mattress, muffling the sound of you screaming his name as he pounds into you, over and over. 

You swear he could smell it on you from the second he walked through the door, how you had been craving him all day. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you ache with unbearable need and want. From the moment he left for work this morning, you were counting down the hours until he got home so you could climb him like a goddamn tree. 

But then again, how can anyone blame you when he’s the one who instigated it in the first place? 

“I swear to god, when I get home, I’m not letting you out of the fucking bed tonight ‘till I knock you up.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise, Javi?” 

“Both.” 

Javi’s always been a man of his word, but with the way he’s fucking you right now, it makes you wonder if he’s ever planning on letting you out of the bed again. 

“That’s it baby girl, let me hear it.” 

You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest, pressed against your back as he fucks into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. The grip around your intertwined fingers tighten, practically melting you into the bed with the weight of his broad body is pinning you down, caging you beneath him. 

Heat is radiating off him, the tacky sheen of sweat pooling where your skin meets, Javi’s hips flushed against the meat of your ass. He’s already got you three orgasms deep, but there’s just something addictive about Javi that always has you begging for more, desperate to cum around his cock over and over again until you have nothing left to give. 

“Oh my god- fuck. Fuck, Javi, I want more baby, please. Fuck me harder- oh fuck-” 

You swear you can feel his smirk creeping into the corners of his cheeks as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in the mess he’s already made you, and yet, you still can’t seem to get enough of him. 

“You want more, hermosa? Let me hear you, baby.” Javi coos, purposely slowing his pace down just enough to make you whimper, quietly laughing to himself at the way he can feel you back your ass up against his hips, trying to keep yourself as full of him as you can. 

“I want it, I want more, baby, please.” You whine, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the devilish grin Javi has plastered across his face. 

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything I have to give you? Let me fill you up until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ stick?” He groans, the thought of fucking himself so deep inside you that nine months from now, he’ll be the reason for your growing family, igniting something indescribably primal in him. 

“Yes! Yes, please, fuck- I’ll take all of it!” 

It’s borderline pathetic how many octaves your voice has climbed as you beg him for more, a pitch and volume so loud and high you nearly startle yourself with your response. You can hear Javi sigh and curse under his breath. You’re not sure if it’s because having you like this drives him crazy, or if having you like this drives him so crazy, he’s worried he’ll bust right then and there if he doesn’t control himself. 

Your response has him shifting behind you, sitting back on his knees and gripping his fingers into the meat of your sides to force your bottom half up, one hand letting go to smack your ass just hard enough for your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. 

You’re not sure how, but the new position has him feeling even fuller, stretching you out to the point of pleasure filled sobs as he starts to pound against your g-spot, each thrust rougher than the last. 

You’re so wet that the sound of him sliding in and out of your cunt is almost as loud as the noise of his skin slapping against yours. That, combined with the lewd panting and moaning heaving from each of your chests, has the room sounding like you could easily give any porno ever produced a run for its money. 

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Always so fucking wet and tight for me. Whose pussy is this, baby?” Javi asks, his once smug demeanor quickly dissipating as he chokes out his question through gritted teeth, so drunk on you he can barely think straight. 

“Yours! Fuck, fuck fuck- It’s yours, Javi.” You sob, fisting at your bedsheets so tightly, you’re convinced it won’t be long until your knuckles turn white. 

“Fucking right, it is. Fuck you so full of me that I knock you up, make sure- mierda- make sure everyone knows you’re all mine. That what you want, Mami?” 

“Yes, y-yes! Oh fuck- yes! ” 

Javi gets one more smack at your ass before he reaches around to scoop you up from your front, draping his arm across your chest to flush it with his back, never letting the pace of his hips falter. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re positive you’d be limp, so all consumed by pleasure that it’s engulfed every inch of your body. to keep yourself upright. 

His free arm snakes around to find your clit, whimpering as the pads of his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. The undeniable tingle at the base of your spine is beginning to build again, the all too familiar clamping of your cunt around Javi’s cock growing tighter by the second. 

You can all but feel him in your stomach, every inch of him sunk as deep as you can take him, backing your ass into him to counter every snap of his hips. You shoot your hand behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of his thigh you can find to brace yourself on as he fucks into relentlessly, only egged on by the fact he knows how close you are. 

“You got one more for me, baby?” Javi mewls, nipping at your neck while the hot words of his breath dance across your skin. “One more time before I cum so fucking deep inside you?” 

You’re not sure how you even have the capacity to form words, nodding your head in compliance as you try your best to string together something comprehensible as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

“Y-yes, oh fuck- want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me, please, papí.“ 

“Fuck me.” Javi huffs under his breath, furrowing his brow in an intense focus to keep from fulfilling your request preemptively. “Cum for me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock, and I promise I will.” 

It only takes a few more frantic strokes before you’re collapsing around him, orgasm shooting through your body with such radiating pleasure, you’re not even sure you’re on this earth anymore. The way he’s pinning your nearly limp body to his, pounding into you relentlessly to chase his own high is almost too much, but you’ll take it. You’ll take everything he has to give because it means that you’re his. 

“That’s my girl.” Javi coos, sliding the hand that had been rubbing at your clit up your chest, stopping to wrap around your jaw, just firm enough to dip your head back to rest against his shoulder. “My good fucking girl.” 

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, pants and moans muffled against your skin, growing louder with each snap of his hips, each one more reckless and sloppy than the last. You can barely make out the words he’s mumbling into your ear, his brain just as jumbled as yours as he nears his finish line. 

“I have so much fucking cum for you. Gonna fuck it so deep in you, it’ll- oh fuck- it’ll fucking take. Fill up this pussy with every last- shit- every last fucking drop. Fuck!” 

It’s a low groan that rumbles in his chest first, followed by a strangled whimper that dies somewhere in the back of his throat as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his spend spilling inside of you while he cums. You know he doesn’t dare let a drop go to waste, that he’ll keep his cock stuffed inside your cunt until you’ve milked him of every ounce he has to give. 

And fuck, he wasn’t lying when he said plenty to give. 

You can’t even tell where your body ends and his begins, melded together as one, his length nestled so deep inside you, you can feel all of him pulsing while his seed overflows, leaking out pussy and dripping down your thighs. You know there’s nothing more Javi wants than to keep every last drop inside your cunt, but the best he can do with how much he has to give is to keep fucking it into you, forcing hips to thrust deeper in sync with the heavy heaves of his chest until you’re all but sobbing. 

“It’s- fuck- it’s so much, Javi, fuck-” You whimper, jaw slack at the slick, sticky mess pooling around the base of his cock. 

“Jesus, fuck- I know, baby. I know, but you’re taking me so fucking well.” He coos, softly kissing your neck and shoulder before shifting your body to lay you down, somehow remembering to grab a pillow from his side of the bed to prop under your hips before your back hits the mattress. 

You hiss at the loss of Javi inside you, the sharp breath quickly replaced by a gasp as you the next plop of cum dripping out of your hole caught by Javi’s fingers, sliding up your soaked folds to gently press back into your cunt. He uses the last bit of strength he has to part your legs just enough to make room for his head, leaning down just enough to pepper soft kisses to your clit, trailing up your stomach and chest until he collapses next to you. 

The both of you lay there for a moment in silence, nothing left to fill the room but the post-orgasmic haze you’ve left behind, catching your breath as you try to let your brain sync back up to your body. 

“Javi… Javi, holy fuck.” You huff, the corners of your cheeks turning upwards in a cheeky grin as you roll your head to face him, giggling at the wide eyed, fucked out expression his face still can’t seem to shake. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before running his hand through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair, prying them from the damp mat they’ve made on his forehead.  

“You came so hard, Jav.” You softly giggle, scooting close enough to lay your cheek against his chest, smiling as he drapes his arm across your back to pull you in closer. 

“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.” Javi smirks, fingers drawing gentle patterns on the warm skin of your back. 

“Trying to knock me up really turns you on that much, huh?” You tease, the two of you laughing like you didn’t already know the answer, or that he couldn’t say the same for you. “It’s hot.” 

“Yeah?” Javi asks, biting down on the plush of his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Mhmmm. You’re already about to be the hottest DILF known to man, makes it that much hotter how badly you want to be a daddy.” 

Even though Javi rolls his eyes at you, trying his best to hide the boyish grin stretched between his cheeks. You snicker at the pink flush of his face, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips, both your smiles meeting each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck me.” Javi sighs, quietly laughing to himself, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

“Again? Already? Hate to break it to ya, but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got nothing left in the tank there, Jav.” 

This eye roll makes him grin even harder, supring on your giggles with the ticklish kisses he pecks across your body as payback for your awful joke. 

“You’re such a fucking dork. God, I love you.” 

“Love you more, idiot.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[wishing-on-a-staranise]

Kiss it away, honey.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

summary: you have a perfect and loving boyfriend, and everything should be great but something is just not right.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: use of y/n, no pronouns used (gn!reader), use of pet names (honey, etc), codependency, dark themes, a new flavor of jealousy, horror (spookies and scawies), gore, murder

a/n: yall remember when i was yapping about clones and all that? yeah. I went a lil feral while writing this lmao✌️🤪

another banger by @procrastinationprincesses and I on tumblr dot com. Thank her for listening to me babble on and just helping me sift through the different routes this could go and also being what is basically my proofreader

i might write a part two of this. do not ask me when.

masterlist

You haven’t changed out of your work clothes yet, staring at the phone on the wall. 

It was silent now but it had rung, blaring, louder than you'd ever heard it before. Five times it had rung.

5 calls– 5 missed calls. Unknown number. No voicemail.

You hadn't picked up. You had just stared, you weren’t sure why– the ringing scared you. you weren't sure why but every fiber in your being had coloured you stuck– immovable even if you wanted to do otherwise.

Now it had stopped, empty as vacuum, dead quiet left in the wake of those shrill rings.

And just when you were about to let out a sigh of relief, just when you thought you could finally get to changing out of your work clothes, it started ringing again, your temples hurt from its shrill notes. 

Your nostrils flared, you will not cower, no, you huff of frustration before stomping towards the phone. Its red plastic is just as bright as it had been when you had first gotten it with Steve.

It's probably just a prank call. It's a prank call. A stupid kid doing a stupid prank call. Why the hell is your heartbeat so loud? 

You pick up the receiver, gripping it tight, ready to give the prank caller a piece of your mind.

Hello? Hey you stupid shithole, find something better to do with your stupid, pathetic life, why dont ya’? Good fucking night.

“He– hello?”, your voice comes out nowhere near as fierce as you had wanted it to be.

The line is silent for a second or two. But then you hear a gasp and then some rustling, crackle. You strain your ears, the sounds seemingly impossible to decipher, “hello, who– who is this?”

You think you hear muffled crying, after a few seconds they finally speak up, “y/n”, their voice is of a woman's. “y/n–” is all they choke out before breaking out into a sob. She says your name as if she hasn't said it in a long while, as if she can't believe she’s saying it. And you don’t know why but you feel your eyes sting. You press the receiver closer to your ears, the plastic creaks under your grip. you think you recognise her. The realisation hits you that you do. She sounds familiar.

“y/n, my baby where–” you hear a click, followed by beep beep beep beep, indicating that the call has been disconnected. This time you blink, a tear finally trickles down your cheek. You stare at the receiver, the beeping barely audible. You take in a deep breath, and dial the number again, waiting for the ring or the woman’s voice.

The ring never comes, her voice never comes. Invalid number.

You stare at it. If you were to look any harder, you think the plastic would melt. Too many thoughts were running through your head. And why the hell are you crying?

You hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the door opening. You tear your burning gaze away from the phone to the clock. 7:08 p.m. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah!” he answers back immediately, you hear the door shut, the keys in his hand jingle again followed by the clink of them landing in the ceramic ashtray-turned-bowl next to the door where you keep your keys. 

Any other day you would have walked to him, and even if he’d be in the middle of taking his shoes off he’d stop, give you a loving smile, hold his arms up, ready to engulf you into a hug. Any other day, you would have wrapped your arms around his torso, kissed his shoulder before burying your nose into his neck. 

He is the only one who could ever fix you, everyday you come from work, bags under your eyes, tired to your bones and everyday he comes and puts you all back together as if it was the easiest thing to do, as if he was made for it. And you want to go to him so bad. Any other day, you would have. But today doesn't seem like any other day. 

“Hey honey”, he finally comes around the corner and he gives you that smile you love being on the receiving end of, all lazy and adorning, “haven't changed out yet?” 

You look back down at yourself, and you see that you had still been stuck, body still facing the wall where the phone hung. you indeed haven't changed out yet. You barely shake your head before his brows scrunch up, “You okay? Your eyes look all red”

You blink before shaking your head, “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’ll go ch–”

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

What you were saying is left abandoned, your head snaps towards where the phone is. 

“I’ll get it. You go change,” Steve tells you, not noticing your immediate panic. As he ambles to the phone, you slowly shuffle away– moving towards the bathroom, making sure to listen in on the conversation. “Hello?” you hear him speak into the receiver, he pauses for a second and so do you in your tracks, “..oh hey, Henderson'', you breathe out in relief at hearing the familiar name, “Yeah, yep, doing good. How’s the new place treatin’ ya?”

The audibility of his words lessens as you continue on your way to the bathroom. In the small, tiled room, your own breathing echoes, it engulfs you. you immediately regret not just changing in your room because you can't hear Steve’s voice anymore. But you have already locked the door. You weren’t sure why you did– maybe it was your uneasiness and apprehension but normally you never lock the door because your ever clingy Steve loves joining you in, majority of the time there is nothing sexual about it. Most of the time he just stands there by the door, that same adorning smile on his lips.

When you step out of your jeans, it rings in your brain, again and again. The piercing ringing of the phone, the woman’s voice. You know that voice. You know that voice. You know that woman, you are certain. It is like its on the tip of your tongue, like it is obscured behind a frosted glass, like an itch you can’t scratch. 

A knock on the bathroom door breaks you out of your thoughts, “uh honey?” the voice comes muffled through the wood, “Are you done? Need to take a piss.”

“Yeah, just–” you quickly hop into your shorts, balling up your dirty clothes and tossy them into the laundry basket before unlocking the door. 

And he is there, that smile blooms across his face, “there you are”, and then his lips are on yours, his wide palm comes to hold your face, thumb rubbing softly at your cheeks— he’s a tactile being, your boyfriend, loves holding your face, loves holding you, touching you anywhere. 

When his fingers burrow into your hair behind your ear, you somehow manage to breathe out between the deepening kisses, “Thought you had to take a piss”

“Don't bring up pissing when I’m kissing you”

“Oh, but its okay when you wanna hold my hand while pooping?” He once told you he’d hold your hand while pooping if you’d let him– he had been absolutely drunk, maybe high off weed– inebriated, really and didn't remember saying it the next day. you love to tease him about it. he groans at the mention.

“I was high”, he whines, embarrassed,  “I told you I didn't mean it.”

“Drunk words… sober thoughts, honey.”

“You said it was endearing”

“It is endearing but still a weird thing to say”, you laugh all toothy and cute.

“Whatever, I gotta piss”, he mumbles trying his best to hide his smile before moving you by your shoulders to swap places with you so it’s him who is in the bathroom. He shuts the door, the sound of the lock clicking never reaches your ears.

You’re left alone with your thoughts again, and your smile fades away– you’re anxious, you know that much. You’re not so sure of what exactly. You plop down on the edge of the bed, leg bouncing restlessly, finger tracing over the pattern of the sheets. The pillows and comforter are set up perfectly for the night– every morning Steve sets the bed while you shower knowing you always get frustrated with the task. 

Your back sinks into the mattress, you breathe out, deep and slow, eyes closing on their own accord. You almost fall asleep for a second, but the bathroom door clicks open. A few seconds later, the bed dips beside you, the fabric rustles, “tired?” the question is followed by a groan. When you peak a look, you find him stretching out his arms beside you.

“Absolutely”, you answer.

“Yeah, me too,” he sighs out.

“We still have to make food.”

He lets a frustrated groan tumble from his lips, “can't we just have mac and cheese today?”

…

The night goes by in a breeze, not a lot of talking. 

The love is still there though, in the way that Steve holds the corner of the open cabinet door to make sure your head doesn't hit it, in the way he lets you sit on the countertop while waiting for the water to boil over, in the way you stare at him when you think he isn't looking, in the way you pull his hand over your lap and massage the tight muscles of his palm while he stirs the pot with his other hand. 

You put on his favourite show when he plates the food, he makes sure to put some chives on your plate to make it look a little more pretty for you. You watch the show in silence, eating under the flickering light of the tv. You let it play in the background while you wash the dishes, it is Steve who watches you this time, his head resting against the cabinets behind him. and he thinks he could watch you all day. Something about doing the most mundane things with you makes him feel all warm and lovely. He is sure that past anything grand and dramatic, its the everyday things that show love. He hopes in every world, he gets to hold you and love you. He thinks he'll give it all up just to be with you, just to watch you wash dishes, just to have you sit beside him while he cooks.

When the dishes are done, he makes sure the doors are locked, you turn off the lights and the TV. Before you know it you’re in bed, and before you know it, you’re already falling asleep. 

…

At first you weren’t sure why you were awake. Then you hear shuffling behind you, and you barely even roll over when there is a warm hand on your hip, “honey,” he whispers– voice all scratchy and low that makes you melt, you hum for a response, “I’m sorry honey, wake up please”, his tone is slightly rushed, you’re a bit more awake at that. 

Barely did you sit up when he engulfs you in a tight hug. You hold him back without a thought or hesitation. Your hand rubs his back, his arms tighten around you, nose nudging into your neck, his skin warm. your fingers find their place in his messy head of hair like they always do, you card through the strands. He pulls you closer, and then you're in his lap. He holds you like a boy holds his favourite toy– like he doesn't plan on letting go.

“Want some water?” After some time you ask softly. You feel him nod into the junction of your neck.

He loosens his hold on you enough for you to climb out of his lap. Not saying a word, he follows you to the kitchen, and he stays close when you pour him a glass. He is mid-gulp when you ask, “nightmare?”

He nods once, the rogue strands on his forehead bouncing with the movement, and downs the water before saying a soft ‘yeah’.You take the glass from his hands and place it in the sink, and lead him back to bed. 

You brush aside his disheveled hair. You tuck yourself into his side, an arm around him, “wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, fringernails scratching his faint stubble.

In the dim of the room, you see his adam's apple bob. Apparently, he does want to talk about it, because he nods– the movement barely noticeable but there. You put your head back on his chest and you wait patiently, trying your best not to fall back to slumber.

It takes him a while before he starts, “You were…”  his hand moves to hold yours, “you were sick–in the hospital, these wires and tubes attached to you. Y-You had been there for months. You were sick and you wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. And– and…. Then the– the damn heart monitor–”

“Honey–” 

His words are frantic and uneven, “I didnt– I didnt know what to do after. I didn’t–”

“Steve—” you hold his face to make him look at you, “I'm here.”

He licks his lips, then swallows, nodding. he pushes his face forward so your foreheads are touching. “I know", his nose is hot against yours, "it was still awful.”

You both lay that way for a while. Your thumb brushing against his red cheek, he sniffles a couple times. you hate seeing him this way, with his lashes clumped together, his beautiful eyes all red. The moisture glistening under his eyes doesn't let you fawn over his freckles like you'd normally wish to.

When his skin is a little less warm, and his heartbeat calmer beneath your fingertips, you kiss him. Your hand snakes up to hold his face. Fingers, softly rubbing over the spot behind his ear that makes him melt. You kiss him all slow and purposefully, so he knows that he has all the time in the world.

When you pull away, he murmurs, “Can we go back to sleep?” he pulls you closer, face burying into your neck, warm puffs of breath against your collarbones.

You land a quick kiss on his eyebrow before resting your chin above his head, “‘course”

...

You wake up to the alarm clock on Steve’s side of the bed. He turns off the thing before rolling around in your arms onto his back and then turning his head to face you. “Hi”, he smiles that way again and you do the same, sleepy as ever.

“Hi”, you say still half asleep– you ended up not getting a lot of sleep last night. Thankfully you had the day off today, so you plan on being unproductive and sleeping it away.

He stretches, a yawn escaping him, “Jesus, I so don't wanna go to work today”, your boyfriend laments.

You hum, “then don't go” you propose, eyes still closed, “We can both have a day off”

He turns his body so it faces you, leaning on his elbow. His hand moves to your waist before massaging the love handle there “hmm, tempting. I can't though”

“No fun”, you mumble groggily.

“Hey, don't fall asleep on me”, he brushes the hair that falls on your face with the back of his hand.

"But ‘m sleepy", you mumble into the pillow.

"Aw, don't worry, I will kiss it away, honey." He leans down, a smirk painted across his features. His soft lips land on your cheeks first, then one on your nose, they follow a trail that leads to your lips.

You hide your face in the pillow before your lips could meet though, “No, No kissing!” you giggle, holding up your palm to his face, effectively blocking his attacks, “no kissing before brushing your teeth!"

“You're no fun”, he rolls out of the twist of sheets. He stretches his arms, the muscles rippling beneath the skin– he's trying to entice you, seduce you. and if you weren't so damn sleepy, you would have climbed him up like a koala. He gets up to go to the bathroom. When he notices that you haven't moved, he pulls you by your ankle. You let out a surprised shriek that transforms into giggles when you feel his fingers creeping up your torso– tickling you. ”Here comes the tickle monster!” 

A fit of giggles erupts from your throat, "What are you–", your question gets interrupted by your own laughs.

"The tickle monster will not relent unless you wake up!"

“No! Okay, okay, I'm awake! Steve! I am awake!”

The two of you share the cramped space of the bathroom. It is small, but its the best you could afford. So when you brush your teeth together, you try to relish it when your elbows bump. And when you're done, he kisses you as if he waited ages. 

By now, you're a bit more awake so you decide to get his breakfast ready while he takes a shower. It's simple enough, waffles with banana and some coffee. When he comes back out, he kisses you again when he sees you at the stove, this time on the crown of your head.

When he is getting his keys to leave, he gives you another peck, “drive safe", you murmur against his lips..

“I will. You get some sleep, yeah?” you hum and nod in response. You both bid your goodbyes before he turns to leave.

You decide to eat the leftover waffles and clean up a little before returning to your bed. You make yourself a plate with the bananas neatly cut and placed beside the waffles. You drizzle maple syrup, and then start eating the sickly sweet breakfast, skipping the coffee. While you're pouring yourself a second helping of the maple syrup, the expiration date on the bottle catches your eye. expired more than a year ago. ew. 

Your face scrunches in disgust before immediately throwing it in the trash. And you wonder how the hell either of you hadn't gotten food poisoning yet. then it hits you, from what you remember you bought that bottle only a couple months ago. Did you buy an already expired one?

You open the fridge, the condiments and bottles staring at you. One by one, you check each and every one; ketchup, expired. Hot sauce, expired. Whipped cream, chocolate sauce, milk– expired, expired, expired. 

What the fuck?

You throw it all out and make a point to call Steve later to buy everything as he often calls to ask if you had to get something from the store. And that makes you wonder, when was the last time you actually told him he needed to get something?

You try not to think too much about it. Honestly, you don't know what to make of it, so you decide to go back to sleep.

…

You hear your name. Its faint. It echoes. Like a whisper in a church.

“y/n”, you know that voice. “I– I know you’re there, y/n”, the woman says, all shaky but sure. “y/n”, she repeats. Its that voice… again. 

Who are you?

“Its me, y/n! Its me!” she exclaims as if that would make you remember.

I don't ... understand.

“Baby, just tell me where you are– I'll find you.”

I’m home.

“Home? No– no baby, you’re not. You haven't been home—” her voice gets cut off. It becomes too loud. You feel as if the veins in your temple are going to explode. Its too loud to even tell what it is you’re hearing. Its a static like a radio or a TV, or maybe its wind, maybe its cars, maybe its screams. You think you hear sirens– you wonder if they’re the police or an ambulance. You hear your own breathing, your own heartbeat. Its deafening. And beneath it all, you hear….. Ringing.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. 

Your eyes fling open and you see your ceiling, you smell the faded mixture of your perfume and Steve's cologne. You’re in your bed. You still hear the ringing. The phone.

You are up in a second. Rushing towards the origin of the sound. When you’re there, you dont wait a second, the plastic is already to your ear.

“Hell– hello?” it comes out all out of breath and broken.

“Honey, you’re– you okay?” its not the voice of that woman.

“...Steve?”

“Who else?”, he chuckles, “you okay?”

“Uh– yeah,”you clear your throat, “I was um– sleeping. I think I just had a dream..” your hand creeps up to the back of your neck, scratching there to try to alleviate a little bit of the ache.

“Oh, well okay sleepy. I just wanted to check if you need me to buy anything? Like, groceries or whatever on my way back.” you give him the entire list of everything you wanted him to get. You would've talked more if Steve hadn't been interrupted by a customer. Nevertheless, you said your 'I love you's and the call ended.

Your heart is still loud in your ears but the ache has dulled down for the most part.

that voice. that woman. 

Its me. 

I’ll find you. 

You haven't been home.

"Home..", you say out loud to yourself. Home.

...

Hours have passed. you think you’re losing your mind because you have turned the apartment upside down. you're surrounded by boxes, most of them filled with normal things, your tattered rollerskates, shoes, old clothes. Most of it was normal, except one.

One unlabeled box you found in the corner of your closet. You haven't touched that box in ages, not since your fallout with your family, lying out of sight and out of mind. It didn't have a lot, all packed in a hurry. things you'd had in your room. picture frames, some books, clothes, papers.

You pick up a frame. The picture was from when you were a twelve-year-old. Wearing what were your favourite clothes back then, your hair in a manner that made you feel a little sorry. You're so different now, yet somehow its still you. There's your older sister, her braces glimmering under the flash of the old camera– her smile wide. Your dad, who doesn't ever know how to pose in pictures. Your mom, she holds you and your sister by your shoulders, a soft smile on her lips, her makeup done perfectly. Another picture from your high school. Another of you with your sister and cousins. 

You pull out the books, the pages are slightly yellowed and they have an earthy smell to them that you love. Pages you don't remember reading, dog-eared and written in.

Then there's the papers– some doodles, some notes, a few maps, some scraps and then.... a file. the file that has your name written on it. And when you open it; medical papers. medical bills. They are a little more than a year old. This wasn't a small stay apparently. From what you can tell from the dates on the bills, it lasted months. You don't remember going to the hospital.

Okay, what the actual fuck?

You find yourself reading through all the details of the paper on the floor of your closet.

months. you had been there for months. Steve's dream.

The entire time, you read and re-read the papers. Why don't you remember any of this? Why does Steve not remember any of this? Maybe he does, he had that dream after all, right? Why are there no discharge papers?

Hours pass. It's maddening, how slow the time passes. Its absolutely maddening. What the fuck does it mean that you haven't been home? You are home. and who the fuck was that woman?

You look through the box again, its contents scattered around you by now. The photos. Your family. Your parents. You miss them. You haven't seen them in so long...

Some broken memories have come to you. You had left– run away. You don't remember why. Then you met Steve when you were stopping by in Hawkins for a few months. You fell in love so quickly. Then one day, you asked if he wanted to run away with you. He said yes and you both left Hawkins and came here.

You don't remember much after that.

Wait, where is hawkins? and why did you go there?

...

It is 7 p.m. and you are pretty sure you have lost your mind. Why isn't Steve home yet? You need Steve. He's the only one who could ever fix you. And now, you need him to fix you again. You need him to fix this, to make some sense of this.

You are sitting by the door, eyes fixated on the hands of the clock.

7:01, nothing. Your arms fidget.

7:02, nothing. Your leg bounces.

7:03, 7:04, 7:05, 7:06, 7:07; nothing, nothing, nothing.

Then, 7:08 p.m., rattle of keys and the sound of the door being closed. Steve. Steve is home. Steve.

You're up on your feet instantly, Steve comes in holding a bag of groceries in one hand and his keys in the other, “I was so worried about you!” you say all hysterical.

“Worried, why?" he says, almost chuckling, but his brows furrow before he looks down at his wristwatch, shaking his head,"I don't think I’m late.” He leans in to land a kiss on your lips, but before he could do so, you turn your head away, “whats– whats wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” you wrap your arms around your torso to somehow collect your thoughts a little better. 

"Sure", he assures before moving to put the grocery bag on the beige kitchen counter. 

You follow behind him with hurried steps, "When did we buy groceries before this?"

He starts taking out the groceries, "um.. I don't–” he pauses, looking up as if trying to remember himself, “last month probably?" Confusion paints his face, "why?"

"All the stuff in our fridge had gone bad ages ago."

"What?"

“Have you talked to your friends recently? Where are they?” All your attempts to collect your thoughts are all for nought as questions come tumbling out of your lips and you don't even wait for Steve to give a response.

“Honey, why are you–”

“Okay, okay– what about that nightmare you had?”

“Nightmare?” he echoes, brows scrunching together as if he had no idea what you were talking about, “what nightmare?” he asks like he hadn't cried in your arms the previous night.

“Last night! You had a nightmare that I was in a hospital and– and then I was looking through our closet and I find these medical bills–

“Woah, honey. I didn’t have a nightmare. I think I'd remember something like that.. And– what bills?”

Your feet are moving before he even finishes his sentence, you grab the bundle of papers, you show him everything. And he just... stares at them. After some time, all that comes out of his mouth is a “what the fuck...” under his breath.

“I don't understand Steve, I don't remember, you don't remember. And there was this call yesterday–”

“Call? what– from who?”

“From– “ you pause, trying to remember, “ I– I dont…” from who? And then you feel everything you had recalled leaving you. Who called you? What was Steve's nightmare? 

“I don't remember!" you exclaim, frustrated, "why do– I'm so– I'm scared Steve. I’m–”

“Hey, it's okay. you have me honey, you have me”, he holds you by your shoulders, to provide you some semblance of comfort, "we'll figure something out.”

“Steve….”, you mumble, tears starting to collect on your lash line, “something's not right Steve…”

“Its okay..”

“No, no– I dont– I keep forgetting stuff. Why don't I remember anything?”

“Hey, honey—”

“And whatever I do remember; none of it makes sense– nothing makes sense!"

“Its okay–”

“Do not tell me to breathe–”, “breathe for me–” you warn him the exact same time he says it.

You have lost it. You have lost your mind. Eyes wide, you ask, “Why do I already know what you’re going to say? How is that– “

“Hey, hey look at me”, he holds your face in his warm palms, “Breathe for me”, he instructs, “please honey.”

“Steve”, you pull his hands away from your face not because you don't want him to hold you. You do, you want him to hold you forever, but dammit, you feel like you’re going crazy, “where did we meet?”

“Honey–”

“Where did we meet?”

“Family video! We met in Family Video! You just came in one day and asked if I could help you pick out a movie to lift your mood up”

“Where is family video? Like, what town? Wh– what state?”

“..Hawkins, Indiana”

“Steve.. There's no town named Hawkins in Indiana”

“Of course ther–”

“No– no. You can look in a map steve. There was a map in one of those boxes. No town named Hawkins. And then– those papers...” you gesture towards the papers in his hand. You stand there, impatiently so, as he scans over the papers once again. For a split second, you think you see a tinge of recognition in his eyes.

“What does it mean, Steve? Then your dream last night–”, he hands you the papers before turning towards the door.

“Steve, hey, steve!” He heads towards the apartment door. “Steve, come back here!” he doesn't stop, doesn't even spare a glance, his movement robotic. Your voice gets louder, more authoritative, angry “Steve! Come back here right the hell now.”

He doesn't stop, not for his keys, not to tie his shoes. Not for you. Tears cloud your vision and your words come out all desperate and weak, “Steve please! Please don't leave me..”

The door slams shut. Its loud, the silence after it. 

“No..” you whimper to yourself. Tears, finally streaming down your face.

He'll come back, you know he'll come back, sooner or later. He’ll come back to you. Steve wouldn't leave you. He couldn't.

You wait by the door. hours pass. You fall asleep waiting for him.

…

You wake up to the smell of something sweet in the air. When you open your eyes, you’re on the couch. But you don't have time to think about whether your neck will hurt for the rest of the day because Steve is there, standing over the stove– his back facing you. 

“Steve?” your voice comes out croaky.

“Y’wake baby?” he turns to take a glance at you. The furrow between his brows you saw the previous night gone. He smiles softly when you nod dumbly at the rhetorical question, “Well brush your teeth I’m making pancakes”

“Steve..” 

He notices that you don’t move, your gaze fixed on him. “Hey, what's wrong?” he leaves the batter he was working on on the counter before walking towards you, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry”

He kneels down infront of you, holding your hands in his– he smells like vanilla from up this close, “Sorry, for what?”

“Yesterday… I didn't mean to upset you. I just– I was–”

“What would I be upset for?”

“Last night.. I–”

“baby, I’m not upset”

“But you just left and..” you sniffle, “when did you come back?”

“I didn't leave. I was here the entire time”, he shook his head, confused.

“But– I… “

“I think you had a dream honey. Freshen up, kay? I’ll bring breakfast. I think we should rot in bed the entire day today. Get some sleep. How’s that sound, honey?”

You nod, he smiles as he pulls you in for a quick kiss, “Good thing we both have the day off– thank jesus for sundays”

…

7:08 p.m. that is what Steve's wristwatch reads and he is standing at your apartment door. Steve isn't sure why he is back. He isn't sure why he left. Maybe he needed some time. And spending nearly an entire day alone... he remembers things. things he wishes he could forget again.

Although Steve is unsure about a lot of things. one thing is for certain. He loves you. He loves you like he was made for it... and he was.

He was made for loving you and not loving you is not living. He's been there before, not having you to love, he remembers the torture of it. You still don't recall it yet and he doesn't want you to, but he does. He remembers it all. All the hurt, the loneliness, the grief, the silence.

The grief that was too much to bear. Silence was unbearable when it wasn't mixed with your heartbeat.

When he turns the door handle– the door isn't locked. He steps in slowly.

He can hear the TV playing, you're on the couch. there's someone else with you. Its him.

Steve watches as he sits between your thighs on the couch– his place, your fingers playing with his hair. He readjusts his head as if can’t quite find a comfortable spot, “You okay?” you ask as gently as you always do.

“Uh, yeah its just–” he sounds just like him, “I just have this nick in my neck”, he says rubbing the back of his neck.

“Here, let me…” you mumble sweetly as your expert fingers move to where he said it ached.

He sees you dig that spot a little with your thumb, “Ah, thanks honey” he almost melts, and it makes him groan the way that always drew a groan out of Steve.

Steve doesn't mind you made him, you probably didn't even know you did, you're powerful like that. But Steve feels something bubble inside him– maybe this is what jealousy feels like. Steve watches, watches as you touch him. He digs his nails into his palm, he feels the urge to touch where you are touching him. He wonders what he would feel when his thumb would run over that area.

His fingers rise on their own accord. Skin barely touching skin, almost hovering. And then he feels… a bump. He isn't sure how to describe it but he knows that that isn't supposed to be there. Not normally, anyway.

He watches as your expert fingers move up into his hair, he always loved when you did that to him. 

His own fingers move higher into his hair. He feels another– another protrusion, another bump.

Steve knows what those are, he knows not to press down on them. You have them too. You have them where he holds you when he kisses you. Its the reason you don't remember, its the reason he didn't remember. Just for a day, he didn't have you to hold him like the way you always do and now he remembers.

Steve watches as he leans down to kiss you. And all Steve sees is red. He doesn’t have control over him as he stomps over to where the two of you were. Your heads snap towards the sound. Confusion flashes through both your features.

“y/n”, Steve says. He watches as your eyes flick between himself and the other. Your eyes land on his. Of course you know he is the real Steve. You made him.

He holds a protective hand infront of you, “y/n”, he sounds like him, “y/n, get inside”, he nods towards your bedroom door. 

“Look, man I dont know who the fuck you are. But you need to leave”, Steve hates him, he sounds nothing like him. objectively that might not be true, but he isn't him.

“You don't know who I am? Fucking look at me"

“y/n get inside”, Steve doesn't like how he says your name, how he shouts it. It sounds nothing like him. 

Steve lets you go, he doesn’t want you to see this. 

You can't look away despite not being able to see much through the sliver of the slightly ajar bedroom door. It is only when he lands a punch on Steve, that you move away from the door– eyes closing on themselves.

You hear shouts. Then thuds, knuckles hitting jaws. Some more thuds and then a loud crack. Then nothing. Its becomes too quiet. 

You quietly step even further away from the door when you hear footsteps approaching, until you feel your back hit the wall. 

The hinges of the slightly ajar door creak. and he is there. Your Steve.

He has a split lip, bruises blooming on his cheekbones. Blood splattered on his jeans, on his hands, his arms. He lifts his arm to wipe his bleeding lip, more so smearing the blood in the process. Your eyes water, heartbeat too damn loud in your ears, eyes wide as a doe.

“It's Steve. your Steve”, he reassures you, holding your face by your chin. From up this close, the blood on him doesn't look quite like blood. Its too dark, too shiny, more viscous than it should be and it doesn't seem to clot. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But you already know that. dont you, honey?” Steve coos oh so gently as he thumbs over your cheeks to rid you of the tear stains. He feels sorry when the action instead makes the blood on his hands smear across your skin. He regrets it immediately, to have tainted you with it. He is sorry you have to see all this, to see him like this.

Steve knows he'll give it all up for you. If he ever had something to give, he would give it all up, just like you did.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

“It's for you, honey.”

He moves aside so you can go to the phone. It rings loud as it did earlier. You move past the kitchen, you don't see him– not entirely. He is on the floor, you see his hand around the corner of the kitchen counter, lifeless, a pool of that blood surrounding him. The corner of the kitchen counter drips with the liquid, forming a stark contrast against the light beige.

You move past the kitchen counter, eyes not daring to look at him or Steve, you don't turn around to see if Steve is there watching. You know he is.

You move to the bright red phone that is still ringing, blaring. You pick it and hold it up to your ear, “hello?”

“y– y/n? y/n its– it's me”, that woman says. And somehow, now, you know who she is. “it's me, do you–”

“Mom?” you say it before you even realise you did.

“Oh my goodness! Yes baby, it's– it's me!”

“I’m sorry mom, I had to.”

“y/n, what–”

“I have to go now.”

“y/n, no– no. Please don't hang up–” click.

“There you go honey", you feel Steve's warm hands on your shoulder, he rubs into the tense muscles there– surely staining your shirt with the liquid, "there you go."

You turn around and you see his eyes-- beautiful coffee coloured things, moles littered across his skin just the way you've memorized to heart. That smile, adorning and warm as ever. He holds you like he always does, thumb on your cheek, palm holding your face. 

He holds you like he was made for it. Your cheek fit perfectly in his palm as if you were made for him. You were made for each other.

You lean in closer and then your lips meet. It isn't hard and fast. Its slow and deep. Like you have all the time in the world, and you do.

When you pull apart and look at him, its just him. Your Steve.

You don't even remember what it was you had been worried about. All you see is Steve, all you feel is Steve. Your lover, your home, your family, your everything. It's all Steve.

You smile up at Steve and everything is right. The blood he had smeared on you was gone. The counter was clean. He was gone. Everything is right, once again.

"So", he starts, walking towards the stove, "what are we feelin' today? pancakes with blueberries, strawberries, or plain ol' choco-chip?"

"Is there an ‘all of the above’ option?"

"For you? always."

...

[areyoudreaminof]

I’m so over this trashy ass fandom.

Great and creative people are being chased out so you can have clout on tumblr dot com.

I know you little girls are still in high school or whatever, but grow up, touch grass, get a hobby, read another book. Death threats over pretend characters? Leave your fucking house, please.

Get a life, get a grip, and get over yourselves.

[askewhammer]

I'm sorry but it's really fucking weird yall are outing luigi mangione as bi. all yall say that it's important to not put anyone out for their own safety but as soon as it's some guy you've developed a parasocial relationship with its okay?? you all are sick actually. even if he's not actually bi you all are still sick.

as a matter of fact most of the shit everyone is posting about his PERSONAL LIFE is sick. he hasn't even fucking been sentenced yet and yet both the media and everyone else here is leaking every single detail about him?? have we forgotten the phrase "innocent until proven guilty"?? Don't you know you're supporting the cops narrative by doing this?? That you are actively participating in the smear of a man who's just been detained. I mean shit even if he's not innocent don't you think this is like the slightest bit immoral?

call me a sensitive little naive soul all you want but that man is a real living man that has suffered under the cold steel grip of the manipulative practices that American Healthcare upholds, and its really telling about your character and person by saying shit like "ugh I want to suck his cock so bad and eat his ass out like cake<33" stop treating him as if he's a commodity. as if he's a silly little blorbo from your favorite show. like be so fucking for real with me right now. you are a grown ass adult on www dot tumblr dot com.

this isn't me saying that we should halt all jokes and edgy memes about the situation. hell no. "Snitches get stitches and my Healthcare plan probably won't cover that" is funny as shit. The fact that people are saying that his attorney Tom Dickley is a deadringer for columbo/peter falk is funny as shit. What I'm saying is that we should treat this man with dignity. With both empathy and sympathy. With seriousness for his actions. To not treat this full grown man that harbors such calculated hatred as a little funny celebrity from a boyband that you write horny fanfiction about on ao3 and develop a parasocial relationship with. I know this is the piss on the poor media literacy website but be so serious with me.

also saying this for good measure TERFS step the fuck offff I've seen yall try to squeeze your narratives into this situation you are NOT slick

[actualbird]

do you think marius has a tumblr blog he’s forgotten about and then in 2030 some media tries to expose him by revealing his blog and it’s literally just. dumb memes and art stuff

[the gripping headline]

BREAKING NEWS: CEO MARIUS VON HAGEN'S INTERNET PAST ON BLOGGING PLATFORM TUMBLR DOT COM, UNEARTHED! SHOCKING POSTS AND CONTENT WERE FOUND, NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!

[the posts on tumblr url meowriusvonhaagendazs or something]

art reblog

art reblog

art reblog with unhinged praise tags ala "OP i want to eat this image"

art reblog

this post

art reblog

art reblog

[at pax ceo office]

marius talking to the pax PR department on his phone: yeah dont worry about it, people will think im an idiot from my tumblr but it's not like they dont already think im an idiot

[in the nxx group chat]

mc: "SHE BREAK ON MY BREAD TIL I COM WITH MY PANIS"?????????

luke: DAVIS, how do i unread a post

vyn: Very mature of you, marius

artem: i don't get it

marius: smh ur all uninvited from breaking on my bread

mc: DONT

marius: til i com

mc: STOP

marius: with my panis

[charles-leclerc-official]

What's your opinion on charles in wet. I've noticed that it's his weakest spot by now, but I'm quite new, and maybe it is not up to him, but some outside factors. Overall, I just want to know what you, as the princess of tumblr dot com races analysis, think about him on wet tracks because it most likely gonna rain in Canada.

Charles is actually a lot better in the wet than people usually give him credit for. Is he the best on the grid in the wet? No. There are several others who are much better(Lewis, Max, Fernando) However he does tend to get underestimated in the rain.

One of his best wet weather performances is Turkey 2021. The track is one of the lowest in terms of grip, so very slick already. Then it rained and he was overtaking, also set the fastest lap(at the time) in the rain, and finished P4. Like he wasn't just running in the rain he was putting out some very competitive racecraft in wet conditions. And he stayed ahead of Lewis even after the track was starting to dry(so inter conditions)

The reason he lost the podium place to Checo during that race was because Ferrari strategy decided to see how long he could go on old inters. So the loss of the place wasn't due to the weather.

Again in Monaco 2022(that race had other issues) he was leading the race, on the most technical track, with the most unforgiving margin for error, and was extremely competitive there(the reason he lost places that race was due to Ferrari double stack issue in the pits, you are seeing a pattern here . . .)

Regardless of the result, his racing under wet conditions there was extremely good. His pace and speed were on track to win there. And Monaco is one of the most difficult tracks in the rain.

There are others. But Overall I'd rank him in the top 5-7 drivers in the rain. He isn't as strong in the rain, and he certainly doesn't get stronger. But he is solid and has shown on multiple occasions that he is competitive in wet conditions both in speed and racecraft.

There are other things that work against drivers in the rain. This doesn't just apply to Charles. If a driver has a car that is really unstable in the rain there is only so much they can do.

A lot of lists and analysis just look at final results to determine if someone is "good" under X conditions, but you really have to look at the driving on track to get the real story. A driver coming in P5 who had insane skills in the wet, but then lost the places in the pits is an example where the end results wouldn't reflect the quality of driving.

Most drivers have mixed results in the rain. By results I mean finishing results and overall mistakes(big losses of traction etc) that's normal and doesn't mean any particular driver is bad in the rain. And I think another thing that comes up is his results have been mixed in the wet for other factors that were less to do with the rain and more to do with the car. Just about every driver on the grid has had a big spin or DNF due to rain. So I don't consider that a glaring sign of an issue unless it's happening very frequently.

In conclusion, Charles is solid and can be very competitive in the rain, but there are others on the grid who are better.

In Canada I expect a strong performance from him. The SF-24 is likely better suited for the wet compared to previous Ferraris. We will have to wait and see!

[redsandoranges]

im gonna rant here like i do on blusky because im bored at work and might as well use the unlimited potential of tumblr dot com

i like giving Dave a big dick when i ship him with Bro because, if you've noticed, i always have some element of comedy on my writing. even on the most heart wrenching, traumatized shit, i will find a way to make shit funny because it discombobulates the whole thing

this is where the big, fat cock Dave factors in

Dave who's, of course, subscribed to the idea that a big dick is The Best Thing a man can have. it is the shining beacon of masculinity. a badge of honor he was blessed with against his Bro. he can lord this over every single one of his male friends

...

and then the reality of a big dick crashes through his parade (tw for gross, every day shit and a lot more dick talking lmao)

skinny jeans? nope, not an option. neither are briefs. there goes half of his carefully curated closet

sit to take a shit? well now he has to consciously grip his dick to not get it wet in the worst way and if he doesn't pay attention. well

normal jeans are also a threat now! too fast and he'll be pinching skin that isn't meant to be pinched Like That

chaffing, accidentally sitting on it, (did you know a penis can also fall asleep like a limb?), everyone gawking, erections in public are now VERY obvious, getting asked none too subtly if he has a massive schlong...

and then there's the sex. Dave does not have the option of being lazy and just sticking his dick in because that shit is fucking painful

he got it. he got every man's dream come true and he fucking hates it. it's not a point of pride when the damn thing is a nuisance 24/7. how's he supposed to brag when he's constantly humbled whenever he goes to the bathroom and doesn't pay attention?

it is not the prize he thought he wanted and he wishes he had a normal dick

(Bro, being the size diva i fully belive him to be, would absolutely love it and be merciless about teasing Dave about it)

[thelambprince]

Can I request a Underfell Grillby with a water spirit/elemental SO?

Anon. Of course you may.

I never thought this day would come. I had to pause and be like "do i... write fanfic? Do people know I DO that on Tumblr dot com?". Then I realized it doesn't matter, because they will. I still don't know why everyone loves my intersex reader one-shot but I'm happy to do more lmao

Sorry that it took me several eternities to see and write this, I never thought I'd have this opportunity. It would be funny, though, if you accidentally sent the ask to me instead of your fav writer lol

Favorable Conditions– Underfell Grillby x Water Spirit/Elemental S/O Oneshot

Warning(s)/General Tags: Description on how a Water Elemental/Spirit Eats, Strangers to Friends, Mutual Pining, I forget how I initially characterized this AU Grillby so sorry if it's inconsistent, maybe OOC Grillby but I like to think not

He was closing the bar per usual and taking the time to stretch. 'Fuck, my back hurts,' he thought, flames crackling brighter.

-- -- --

From safe kitchen doors, I peak my head out to investigate the noise. The purple-flamed monster turns his head disinterestedly to see the water spirit that's been staying with him aboveground.

And he smiles at me, making my form melt.

"Looking for more work?" He teases, giving a wicked smirk. I point to the kitchen to tell him what's wrong, which garners Grillby's attention. He, also quietly, approaches me and leans close to see what I'm pointing at. He's so close, it kind of distracts me. So close, I can feel him without hurting anyone...

And Grillby realizes the problem. I was not very compatible with his grill and hoped to clean it, but I don't have any gloves that would fit me for this task.

The gloves he usually wears while cleaning his grill wouldn't work either as I usually can't grip larger accessories—

Ugh, he just knew this day would be a pain in the ass.

"The grill isn't going to burn you and it shouldn't be hot anymore. You could probably still wash the grill if you wanted to," he muses, "with you being made of water. You know where I keep the dish soap, and the baking soda is..." He trails off. And blinks at me, owlishly.

"What?" He askes, rather confused by my face.

"...I can't exactly touch dish soap. Tasting it wouldn't hurt, but it would be a hard taste to be rid of, and it can get everywhere—" "You what." He just. Blinks again at me.

Now it's my turn to look at him with confusion.

"Don't you eat with your fire?" I ask. He chuckles at that. "No? And come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you eat!" He thinks aloud. Then he rushes into the kitchen and grabs something out of the fridge, wincing at the coldness and moving it between his hands. He moves it to the countertop and places some chicken nuggets in a pan under a grill grate, closest to where the fire will be.

Then, there's fire.

I watch, quite dumbfounded at his excitement to make these chicken nuggets, that I leer closer at the flames and the way his body moves. It's enthustic, wanting to bubble with laughter, but that same care is always there. No matter what he makes, who he makes it for, the love of his craft and especially the love of who he might make it for is obviously there.

It can be easily seen that he's not just heating up chicken nuggets as a joke towards some stranger— he seems genuinely excited about our time after working hours. Even if he clearly wants to play it off as a joke to laugh at me.

No, Grillby was much more good-natured than he let on. His willingness to engage with me, despite the cultural oddity of verbal speaking or mixing things up with an elemental that could easily dust him...

Were I not the same elemental who hide in waterfalls and ponds, maybe I would have minded more.

And like that, his chicken nuggets are done. They are in the shape of monsters I don't recognize. Those human stores have them— 'dinosaur nuggets'? Maybe the King's Favorite Human orders them occassionally?

Grillby playfully hums a tune and unceremoniously dumps my snack on one of his personal plates.

He then clears his throat and keeps a straight face.

"So, before you show me how it's done, we have some things to discuss."

Then his face seems more strict, and I remember that this is Grillby.

"Like how you didn't tell me you needed gloves. Were you just avoiding the soap and dirty water this WHOLE time?" He asks, fire crackling much louder than what I'm used to.

Well, I'm going to be honest.

"Most people don't consider how water elementals can taste or eat. The workarounds are fairly convient and it's not too much fuss to quietly find them, anyways," I add, which softens Grillby's features. Actually, he seems... quite regretful. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew what I meant, being a fire elemental himself.

"And you took my offer anyways? You didn't have to do that." He sort of grumbles, absentmindly watching as I grab one of the chicken nuggets he made.

I look at it with a sort of bored gaze. "I wanted to. And for the record, I wouldn't have cared if you never noticed or asked. You're a great company to be around." I bite into chicken nugget, which sort of floats into my head before being magically dissolved into the water that makes up my body.

I catch Grillby staring into my eyes before conjuring an argument.

"But I'd help you anyways. If you were just desperate to leave that pond, I would have helped you find something else!" Grillby seems more frustrated. That's right.

I found Grillby with the rain was pouring outside this store. Being so new to the surface, we were both caught off guard when the rain could just. Appear anywhere? So he had no umbrella but the guy inside kind of pissed him off, so he wasn't going to buy an umbrella. He planned on waiting, until I gave him my umbrella.

I only ever carried one because Waterfall had them aplenty and the taste of cave ceiling condensate gets repetitive and repulsive with time. Lucky for Grillby, I kept it out of habit and saw the perfect opportunity to leave it with someone who would actually need it now.

Grillby (very reluctant and suspiciously) took the umbrella, checked it for holes or intentional slashes. Keeping an eye on me for any sudden or lethal movements.

When he determined that the umbrella was actually perfectly fine, he took the umbrella with more poise.

"Thanks," he muttered, and tested how well it kept off rain. Then walked with it, marveling at the shelter it provided, before he turned around. "If you don't plan on keeping it, I wouldn't mind having it," he (sort of) joked, which you calms waved off. "Keep it," you insisted. Then you walked off, continuing past the building for the one you actually came for.

Grillby could never forget how odd and kind the interaction was. This was the surface, huh?

Not a bad place to open shop, if a monster like YOU was here, too.

And when you ran into each other again, living at this new pond on the surface, you found yourself in a bit of situation.

Winter was approaching, which means you'd be trapped under the ice. And bear in mind, your pond was small and empty of fish. But if you left, you would probably have to go back underground and how would you work? What if another elemental took your pond?

Well, you were just going to have to figure something out.

On your way to work, you came by your bus stop. We'll, who would uave known? A familiar elemental showed his face, umbrella on hand in case of emergency.

Both of you talked, he joked, you laughed. It was a nice moment on a mundane day, between two unsuspecting elementals that crossed paths again. You told him your struggles for winter, he offered a job. You know, as thanks for valuing his time.

At first, you rejected. Didn't know the guy, who he really was, but he held the offer out in case you needed it.

You talked some more the following days. You got his number and met at all sorts of places. When you came to his bar, well... it was better than a pond. He laid his offer out.

That wasn't very long ago, but the time you've known him has certainly been something.

Back to your current situation, Grillby was more than sure he wanted to make out with you right here, right now. It didn't matter that the shop only just closed, or that you were both friends, or that he swore that it'd be a miracle if anything happened between you. His fear of water was there, yes, but there had to be some magic that allowed him to kiss you. To hold you. To craddle your face as you looked up to him with those watery eyes.

And it wasn't fair. It's not fair that he has to yearn like this when you were so close, so impossible close that he wanted to just lean in and risk it anyways. But even if he truly believed you felt just as strongly about him (which he doesn't), he would be at risk of hurting you, too. And he didn't pummel a few customers for making fun of you, because he didn't care.

Gods, if he could have one wish...

"I was in a bad spot, but I still choose to take your offer. So far, I still think you'll be one hell fo a roommate." You give him a little bit of a winning smile and he's reeling back to reality.

Right, of course. He nods.

"Just don't think you have to do everything yourself. We're roommates for a reason," he complains, which you blissfully tune out as you eat the rest of your nuggets.

'Roommates', you say? That's what you both agreed to. And as long as he's near you, maybe 'roommate' will be good enough for now.

[yesloulou]

Lestappen and maxiel are such different dynamics, it’s so funny to see 😭

Because Max will scurry out of his car like a lizard on hot sand to apologize to Charles for a racing incident, but if given the chance would rear end Daniel 10 times over without remorse

BUT Max will also call Daniel the most handsome man in the world and act like a clown for his attention, but would rather die than call Charles attractive

anon your visions are so inspiring how does it feel to have the most beautiful brain on tumblr dot com??? 😵‍💫

i think the thing with vegas 23 was that max literally ran wide bc the track was cold and he had no grip. he wasn't even trying to push charles off track. yet he still apologized? that was insane. like can you imagine if it were lewis or george (or anyone else tbh)?? he'd say "that's hard racing that's what happens at turn one's i was a passenger in it too and i served the penalty regardless idk what they were still moaning about" and frankly he has rights to say that. yet he apologized. and honestly WHO TF APOLOGIZE FOR TURN 1 INCIDENTS??? AT ALL?????

also whenever he takes a photo with charles i get the feeling that charles makes him nervous (he gets soooo fidgety 🥲). with daniel he's still a lil nervous (cue shaky stroopwafel) but he's much more comfortable around him and you're so right about the differences in their dynamics.. my vision is that he's in love w daniel and he has a huge gigantic crush on charles and he can do both at the same time bc he's aware of neither 😌