i-dont-exist-r - Tumblr blog

[i-dont-exist-r]

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

[i-dont-exist-r]

I feel cheated. no one on Reddit told me that tumblr is a serotonin factory. Keep liking and reblogging my posts please thanks

[i-dont-exist-r]

Well, well, well look who came running back

[i-dont-exist-r]

[i-dont-exist-r]

I love that I'm so noninteractive on this site that the reddit refugees are learning and posting more than me. Welcome to hell guys.

[i-dont-exist-r]

It’s not common to see Atsumu fuming.

Genuine anger, not the petty shit he throws at you when he decides he wants to be an obnoxious turd to yourself or his brother.

You can tell the difference, too, because a petulant pout and attitude is plastered on that pretty face of his, but when he’s genuinely mad, there’s no attitude; it’s just raw emotion and lips pulled in a straight line, his chest giving irregular, short breaths because he can’t breathe. It’s almost scary, but it happens so little that you’ve learned to manage it when it does happen.

This is one of those rare occasions you have no clue which he’s feeling.

The car door outside slams shut, sending a nervous chill up your spine, but it’s immediately squashed when you hear Hisako’s innocent laughter. You smile and turn towards the now opening door, and you give atsumu a fake, sympathetic look when his thick brows are furrowed in frustration. On his leg, Hisako’s tiny arms are wrapped around him, her legs locked around his ankle and her smile that’s missing a tooth is beaming up at him.

“You,” he scolds, looking down at his menace of a six year old. “Go upstairs. And don’t come out until you’re seventy-eight.”

“Can I hug mommy first?”

“If you must,” he growls. With that, Hisako quickly bounds over to you and reaches her arms up for a hug, and while you give her one, you watch as Atsumu paces the floor, cards his hair, chews on his cuticles, anything to make him calm down.

“Daddy’s mad,” she whispers in your ear.

You offer her a snort, “I know.” With a kiss to her head you plant her back to her feet and nudge her to go into her room, waiting until to door closes before you turn back to your husband.

“Atsumu-“

“I’m not ready for this,” he growls. “The little traitor, I can’t believe she’d do this to me- my own flesh and blood.”

“Don’t word it like that, you make it sound like she committed arson or something.”

He softens and pouts like a dog; clearly, whatever it is, it’s taking a toll, and you sigh before you walk over and plant a kiss to his forehead. “Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t on purpose; what happened?”

“She’s just not ready, okay, she just doesn’t know-“

“Sweetheart, you need to let me in here-“

“He was holding her hand!” He whines, scrubbing his face with his hands. “They-They-They were holding hands! I thought I had a few more years to prepare for this shit! Wanted to wait before I put the fear back into these damn boys! I can’t fight a six year old!”

You pause. You retract your hand and give him an absolute smirk.

“You’re kidding me?”

“Sure ain’t!” He barks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s so mad his forehead vein makes itself known with a sheen of sweat. “Tomorrow, I’m going to that damned school, and I’m moving her classes!”

“Honey,” you say sweetly, gently grabbing his arm to ground him. “It’s okay; I’m the one who told her to be nice to this boy.”

Instantly, his head whips in betrayal. His eyes are blown wide, muscles tense and despite how angry he looks, he can’t find the words to convey it.

“YOU WHAT?”

You shake your head, “she asked me why she feels butterflies in her tummy when she sees him.” To try and soothe him, you hook your head over his shoulder and bat your eyes innocently, “and I told her that it’s the same feeling I get when I see you-“

“Don’t try to be sweet, I’m mad at you,” he snarls, but there’s a softness in his eye that makes you think he’s not as serious as he thinks he comes across. A massive hand cards through his hair and he looks up to the sky as if to ask for patience. “I can’t believe this. My two babies, the loves of my life, betraying me in such juvenile ways.”

“Atsumu, spell juvenile,” you challenge.

“Spell ‘no’,” he grumbles. You sigh and gently grab his arm to pull him to the couch, and for a few seconds he puts up a small fight, but does end up giving into you in the end.

“Sweetie, listen to me,” you soothe. “Hisako is six. She’s going to start having little crushes soon enough-“

“Fuck, stop reminding me,” he whines.

You shake your head and rub a soothing hand on his back. “And all we can do is let her express those feelings in healthy ways; it’s what we’ve always done.”

“What if he hurts her?”

“He’s six.”

“What if he breaks her heart?”

“I’m sure she’ll cope.”

“What if he-“

“Atsumu.” Your hands squish his cheeks. “Calm down; she’s going to be okay.” You smile and kiss his pouted lips, “you remember what it was like having a crush at school-“

“Excuse you,” he grumbles from his squished cheeks, shaking his head from your grip. “I’ve only ever been in love with you.”

“You’ve told me about your relationship with Rintaro, trust me, that was a crush.”

“Was not!”

“Was too.”

“Was not!”

“It absolutely was.” You smile warmly, “and that’s fine. But now, you need to let her experience the same thing. She’s a big girl. Besides,” you nudge your nose with his, “you’ll always be her favorite man.”

“That’s actually Osamu, but I appreciate it.” Your words do seem to calm him down however, and he wraps a big arm around you to settle into the couch, “I just love her, baby… just want her to be safe.”

“I know; and she will be.”

The silence you get comfortable in gets interrupted by the door to your home getting flung open, and while you jump in the air in shock, next to you, Atsumu chuckles.

“Speaking of the devil.”

“What did you-“

Before you can say anything, Miya Osamu suddenly stands in the middle of your living room, the hat on his head tampered with and his apron turn on his hip, his head lined with sweat as if he ran here. Your jaw slacks in surprise, “Osamu, you did not leave work to come here-“

“WHAT STUPID LITTLE SNOT WAS HOLDING HER HAND?”

[i-dont-exist-r]

HELP?

[i-dont-exist-r]

why are we letting twitter be funnier than us

[i-dont-exist-r]

An overwhelming sense of calmness descends upon the Disco.

[i-dont-exist-r]

rockstar!eddie going ballistic and jealous when his guy fans are all screaming for his wife, asking to sign an autograph on her playboy magazine after the show’s over. some would even ask her hand in marriage and it makes her laugh but eddie doesn’t find it funny in slightest lmao

rockstar! eddie x wife! reader

WOOWIE i hate how i’m so lazy to reply with my inbox. 😭 but anyways, this is so funny and cute tho. i feel like he’d be smug at first seeing everyone hot over his wife LOL then he’ll go ballistic the moment someone says about that ‘hand in marriage’ i love it <3

suggestive themes under here

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like every fantastic show that ends, eddie would always have to face the flashing lights of the paparazzi and the fucking screams and cheers outside the venue when he’s prepared to finally get the fuck out of there. he does like the excitement of a crowd racing for him, all his fanboys screeching for an autograph or even just for him to glance at them. he feels on the top of the world though when you manage to accompany him after his shows with his band.

but right now, he feels like he wants to punch his massive fanbase for overly gawking at you now as he watches you inside the limousine, waiting as you signed the heck out of that recent playboy magazine cover from each prick’s hand as they were squeezing in from the steel barricade separating you from them, with your million dollar smile on. all of them screaming for your attention as eddie rolls his eyes underneath his sunglasses.

he grits his teeth, sighing as he groans. what was with you with signing every single cover or whatever those weirdos wanted from you? your attention away from him was already a torn on his clingy heart and now his fanboys are being the center of your attention was the least at his list! he’s fucking livid. and he’s had enough, knowing you might want the help to get out of that mob of people screaming your name. he gets out of the limousine as the crowd goes wild again seeing him, the number of securities doubling as eddie walks towards you. causing his manager to almost faint. eddie’s jaw ticking hearing everything what came out of those weirdos mouth as you smiled at them, still grabbing marker by marker.

“y/n! sign me next, please!”

“mrs. munson, i love you!”

“can you sign it on my arm!? i’m gonna get it tattooed just for you!”

“i fucking love you!”

“i loved your playboy cover-“

“thank you!” you merely said, waving at them, amused how eddie’s supposed own crowd has grown a liking towards you knowing majority are metalheads and teenagers. but it was fun, seeing how many arms and hands were waving your playboy cover. not noticing your own husband waving to the now hurling crowd as you were about to finally sign the last item that you decided to get the hell out of here. laughing a bit awkwardly hearing so many flattering and unflattering things they were saying to you until one made you giggle—

“can i have your hand in marriage?”

“marriage?” your eyes widened as you laughed at the teenage boy you were signing some notebook he was holding. he smiled cheekily at you, blushing seeing you notice him. “i’m already married, darling.” you giggled, handing him back his pen.

“it’s worth the try!” he counters making you laugh, not noticing the fuming rockstar behind you hearing all of that.

“yeah, better luck next time, bud.” eddie quipped suddenly making you turn around to see him. the boy eyes’s practically widened seeing his favorite rockstar talk to him.

“eddie!” you greeted him as he gently tugs your arm, silent as ever as he puts on a fake smile. eddie glared at the little prick from his sunglasses. marriage? asking for marriage to you? his fucking wife? oh, he could feel the bile form in his throat until your back hit his chest as you turned around surprised to see him out here.

you raised a brow, kissing his cheek as you were lead back into the car. the door shutting loudly as the crowd and flashes muffled. you could feel the sudden switch of the mood your husband has put on. you face him, seeing as he removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes. you frowned, knowing how camera flashes hurts his head.

“you alright, eds?” you ask gently, feeling the car start as you moved closer to him. eddie hummed, a slight pout on his face as he didn’t answer again.

“eddie…” you scolded gently, knowing he has this habit of getting silent when he’s in a mood. “what’s wrong, baby? you have a headache?” you put your hand above his, cooing him gently. a moment of silence transpired as he finally sighs.

“don’t like it when you sign for ‘em.”

“who? your fans? why eds?” you laughed gently, eddie pouted more hearing you not take this seriously as he looks away to the window making your roll your eyes at his behavior. “c’mon, eds! your fans are so cute wanting my autographs! i love their interactions. it’s so sweet.”

“yeah, like asking for your hand marriage is fucking cute, huh? bunch of creeps…” he claps back, mumbling. you’re taken aback, remembering the teenage boy as you laughed at it. he’s jealous! you realized making you wheeze at how he’s reacting to his own fanbase.

“oh my god, eddie! he’s literally a fucking kid!”

“oh a kid? yeah, still not fucking cool.” he groans, annoyed you were laughing it off with his jealousy. “stop laughing!” he sighs out. “babe, this isn’t funny. you know what shit those weirdos of mine would say else?”

“like you aren’t the one dirty talking to me all the time, eddie.” you countered, still stifling a giggle. “you’re just as bad as them. and you’re my husband.”

“don’t compare me to those asshats—“ you giggled, rolling your eyes as you squeezed his hand. leaning in to kiss the pout away on his face as he gives in to your affections, still muttering shit talk about the situation as you felt yourself getting annoyed at his antics, making you pinch his cheeks to shut him up.

“oh, stop the fucking whining, eddie!”

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[i-dont-exist-r]

Today is a very special day

[i-dont-exist-r]

#Once again, Joe, Joseph and Gaten are just their characters

[i-dont-exist-r]

Normalize taking care of men. Normalize holding and kissing them when they’re sad and just because. Normalize doing nice things for them. Normalize genuinely listening to them when they’re upset. Normalize complimenting them and telling them you love and appreciate them. Normalize taking care of your man the same way you would want him to take care of you.

[i-dont-exist-r]

The dsmp panel went really well and everyone was so scared about it.

I think the dsmp fandom, as a large fandom, was a public target for being called insane, cringe and toxic and a number of things, and because people were tried of being harrassed people started distancing themselves to go “well at least I’m not like THOSE Dream stans”. We’ve started bullying ourselves to stop being passionate, stop having fun, and stop being cringe. This panel was just a reminder that this fanbase is not as off the rails and awful and weird and anything else that we think it is. We are just like anyone else who goes to cons and participates in fan culture.

[i-dont-exist-r]

being a girl is all about jumping from one obsession to the other to run away from yourself

[i-dont-exist-r]

happy pride to bi girls with bad posture

[i-dont-exist-r]

Every reblog removes one HP from the queen