#website push notification

[jennilah]

i dont want to see any more fucking ads i want to live in a cave

[procrastinating-prepper]

[softpowertech]

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[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 .ᐟ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A joke profile on a sugar daddy site turns serious when @TimeIsMoney starts paying—and praising—you. What begins as harmless fun spirals into obsession after one night in his hotel suite leaves you aching, ruined, and wanting more.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: daddy kink, age gap, sugar baby stuff, praise, rough sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, money kink, dirty talk, power dynamics, he’s obsessed, reader gets absolutely ruined, aftercare, light choking, finger fucking, reader gets called good girl a lot

𝐖𝐂: 4,000

PART 2

It starts as a joke.

Wine bottles rattle as Nobara kicks the recycling bin closed with the heel of her foot, the sound of glass clinking against cheap plastic barely audible over the laughter echoing through your tiny, overstuffed apartment. Maki flops onto the couch beside you, stretching out like a cat, her legs hooked over the armrest and one arm draped across her eyes. The air smells like takeout and wine, sweet and familiar, the kind of scent that clings to memories. Finals are looming like storm clouds, rent is due in a week, and the textbooks on the kitchen table are collecting more dust than notes. The weight of it all sits heavy in the background, but for now, there’s laughter—loud and warm and so completely alive it makes you forget that you’re broke. That you’re stressed. That everything feels impossible sometimes.

“I’m telling you,” Nobara says as she refills her glass, the wine sloshing close to the rim. “Sugar daddies are the answer. Tuition? Handled. Rent? Done. Textbooks? Bought by some old man who just wants to stare at your feet and be told he’s a good little pay pig.”

You nearly choke on your drink, laughing as you wave her off. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

But Maki’s already pulling your laptop closer, pushing aside the half-eaten box of noodles and flicking the screen to wake it. “Come on, let’s just look. You never know.”

The three of you huddle close as the website loads, the layout exactly as tacky as you’d expect. It takes ten minutes to craft a profile that’s both over-the-top and strangely believable. You use a slightly sultry selfie from last month—nothing too scandalous, just a little cleavage and a coy smile. The bio is ridiculous: College student. Lit major. Broke but charming. Let’s make a deal. You don’t use your real name. The username you pick @YourSweetestSin is half a joke, half something that makes you snort. By the time the profile is live, you’re all laughing so hard your stomach hurts. It’s stupid. It’s harmless. You never intend to take it seriously.

But you don’t delete the profile either. Not that night. Not the next day.

The first message comes two days later while you’re curled in bed, laptop balanced on your thighs, half-focused on an essay you’re bullshitting at the last possible second. The ping startles you, the notification bouncing in the corner of your screen.

@TimeIsMoney: Hello.

That’s it. No gross pickup line. No emojis. No sleazy GIFs. Just a greeting. Curious, you click the profile, expecting a troll or someone who looks like he just escaped from a retirement home. But there’s no picture. Just a clean profile with a short bio: Professional. Discreet. Generous. It makes you snort. “Sure,” you mutter under your breath. But you reply anyway. For the bit. For the laugh. You can’t wait to show the girls.

Except it doesn’t end there. He writes back. You respond. The next message comes within the hour. Then another. And another. Each one short, to the point, polite in a way that disarms you. He asks how your classes are going. What books you’re reading. He doesn’t flirt. He compliments you, but not in a way that makes your skin crawl. It’s strange. It’s addictive. You start checking the app more often. You start replying faster. There’s something comforting about the consistency of it, about the way he always answers. Predictable. Reliable. And that’s something you didn’t realize you were craving until now.

Then, on the fifth night

I want to see you.

The message appears while you’re lying on your stomach, feet kicking behind you, chin resting in your palm. You read it three times. Your heart skips a beat, your stomach flips, and your first instinct is to laugh. This is the part where you bail, right? Where you screenshot it and send it to Nobara with a “can you believe this guy?” But instead, you’re walking to the mirror, pulling your hair over one shoulder, angling your phone just right. You pick your best push-up bra—the black one that hugs you perfectly—and snap a photo. You send it. Doll eyes. Slight pout. Your lips parting like you’ve done this a thousand times.

The response is immediate.

Good girl.

Then, a second later, another notification.

You’ve received $500.

You sit up. Blink. Refresh the app. But it’s there. Sitting in your account, waiting to be transferred. Your jaw drops. Then you scream. Then you laugh. Hard. You’re breathless. You don’t tell Nobara or Maki. Not this time.

From that moment on, it’s a blur. More messages. More requests. Nothing below the waist, not yet. Just photos. A little more skin each time. He never demands. He always asks. And he always pays.

Take off your bra. $500.

Show me your nipples. $700.

Each time, the money lands in your account within seconds. And each time, you find yourself a little wetter. A little more flushed. A little more eager to read the next message. You don’t just do it for the money anymore. You do it because his praise makes your stomach flutter. Because you feel seen. Desired. Wanted. Powerful.

Then comes the night he asks to call you. Your hands tremble as you answer. His voice is everything you didn’t expect. Calm. Smooth. Deep enough to settle in your bones and echo. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t tease. He tells you exactly what he wants. Exactly how he wants to hear you fall apart. You’re already naked when the call starts. The toy he told you to buy is buzzing between your thighs before he even finishes the first sentence. His voice doesn’t falter. He talks you through it like he’s done it a hundred times. You come so hard you see white. He pays you $1,000.

You don’t bother pretending anymore. You wait for his messages. You ache when he disappears for too long. You’re careful not to get too attached, but it’s hard not to wonder. Not to imagine what he looks like. How he might taste. How it would feel to have those hands on your skin instead of just your imagination. So when the next message comes, you already know how you��ll answer.

I want you meet you

When and where?

The hotel he books is far nicer than anywhere you’ve ever been. Just stepping into the lobby makes you feel like an imposter. Crystal chandeliers, velvet furniture, a floral arrangement so big it probably has its own budget. Your heels click across the marble as you walk toward the elevators, your trench coat clutched tight around your body, hiding the lace beneath. You keep your head down. Pretend you belong. The nerves bubbling in your stomach are loud enough, sharp enough to echo.

He said he’d meet you in the room. Top floor. Private. You know the number by heart. You’ve read it over and over again on the message thread. Your fingers hover over the keypad outside the suite door. You press it before you can talk yourself out of it.

The door swings open almost immediately. And there he is.

Nanami Kento.

He doesn’t look how you pictured. He’s younger. Broader. Tall enough that you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Blonde hair, glasses, expensive-looking suit. He smells like cedar and something clean and expensive. His jaw is sharp. His expression unreadable. But his eyes, they roam your body like he knows exactly what’s under your coat.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

You move past him into the room. The suite is massive. Soft lighting, a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets, a view of the city skyline that stretches beyond floor-to-ceiling windows. You hear the door close behind you. The lock clicks.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says.

Your voice barely works. “I wasn’t sure either.”

“Are you nervous?”

You nod.

“Good.” He steps closer. “It means this matters.”

Then he touches you.

It’s not a grab. Not even a full reach. Just the brush of his fingers down your arm, slow and steady, his touch so light it makes your skin prickle. He looks at you like he’s reading you, analyzing every twitch, every flutter of your lashes. His fingers find the belt of your coat. He doesn’t tug. He doesn’t ask. He just looks at you.

You nod.

He undoes the knot slowly, methodically, like he’s unwrapping a gift he doesn’t want to damage. The coat falls open. His breath catches.

The lingerie is sheer black lace, delicate enough to feel sinful. You chose it for him. You’ve sent him pictures in it before. But the way he’s looking at you now—it makes your knees weak.

“Beautiful,” he says. It’s quiet. Like he’s talking to himself.

He slips the coat from your shoulders. It falls in a soft thud at your feet.

“Get on the bed.”

You crawl onto the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress, your heartbeat thudding loud in your ears. The sheets are soft beneath your hands, cool against your flushed skin, and you feel him watching you. Not just looking—watching. The heat of his gaze crawls along your spine as you settle on your back, your legs folding to the side, thighs tight with anticipation. He doesn’t move right away. He just stands there, drinking you in like you’re art, like you’re something to be studied.

Then he begins to undress.

Each movement is precise, deliberate. He removes his watch first, setting it on the nightstand with a soft click. Then he unbuttons his shirt, one button at a time, his fingers steady and sure. You watch his chest slowly come into view—firm, broad, sculpted in a way that makes your breath catch. His shoulders are wide, his waist trim, his skin smooth and golden under the low light. When he slides the shirt off and starts on his belt, your thighs press together involuntarily. The buckle clinks. The zipper lowers. And then he steps out of his slacks, revealing long legs, tight black briefs, and the hard line of his cock already straining against the fabric.

He climbs onto the bed with the kind of calm confidence that makes your stomach flip. He doesn’t pounce. Doesn’t rush. He kneels between your legs and runs his hands up your thighs, spreading them slowly, pushing them apart with the patience of someone who knows exactly what you need and intends to give it to you—on his terms. The cool air kisses your heat, and you realize how wet you already are, your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs. He hums low in his throat as his fingers hook into your panties and begins sliding them down, inch by inch.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he says softly. “I can feel it. You’re soaked.”

You whimper, arching slightly as he tosses the lace aside. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you wait. He leans down, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs wider, and when his mouth finally touches you, you gasp—loud, sharp, uncontrollable. His tongue strokes through your folds with slow, deliberate pressure, tasting you like he has all night. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, and your back bows off the bed.

“Fuck—Nanami,” you breathe, fingers flying into his hair.

He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. He eats you like he means it, like it’s his mission. His tongue moves with skill, pressure alternating between soft flicks and firm, devastating licks. One of his hands slides under your ass, lifting your hips, tilting you up so he can go deeper. The other moves between your legs, and when two fingers slide inside you, you cry out.

Your walls clench around him, tight and wet, your body already shaking. He curls his fingers just right and your thighs twitch in response, your breath catching. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. He watches you from below, eyes dark and steady, like he’s memorizing every twitch, every moan, every desperate roll of your hips. You’re spiraling. Unraveling.

It hits fast. Hard. Your orgasm crashes over you before you can warn him, a wave of heat and light that rips through your body and leaves you sobbing his name. Your hips buck, your legs tremble, your fingers claw at the sheets—but he holds you down, mouth still on you, tongue relentless.

When he finally pulls back, his chin is wet, his lips slick with you. He looks pleased. Controlled. Like he could keep going. Like he wants to.

“That’s one,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers from your cunt and bringing them to his mouth. He sucks them clean slowly, and you moan again, helpless, already throbbing with the need for more.

He leans over you and kisses you—slow, deep, messy—and you taste yourself on his lips. He rolls his hips against yours, his cock hot and hard against your thigh. Your hands slide down, tugging at the waistband of his briefs, and he lets you peel them down.

He’s thick. Long. Veins running along the shaft, the head flushed and already leaking.

“You want this?” he asks, voice low, rough.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly. Inch by inch. Stretching you wide, filling you so deep you can feel it in your stomach. Your jaw drops, a choked moan escaping as your nails sink into his back.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

“Too much?” he breathes, pausing halfway.

“No—don’t stop. Please. Keep going.”

He groans, sliding in the rest of the way, bottoming out. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs. “So perfect around me.”

Then he moves.

Slow at first. Deep. His hips roll into yours, grinding with each thrust. It’s overwhelming, every drag of his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. You cling to him, moaning into his shoulder, and he presses kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers. “Taking me so well. My good girl.”

The praise makes your walls flutter. Your body is already on edge again, hips rolling up to meet his, chasing more.

And then you remember—

“I thought you were gonna fuck me stupid,” you pant.

He stills.

His head lifts. His eyes meet yours.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he says, his voice suddenly darker. “But if you’re going to act like a cock-drunk little slut—”

He pulls out and flips you over in one smooth motion, dragging your hips up, pushing your chest into the mattress. He thrusts back into you hard, deep, and you scream into the sheets.

“—then I’ll fuck you like one”

He doesn’t hold back now. His pace is punishing, hips slamming into yours with the kind of strength that makes the bed creak beneath you. Each thrust drives his cock deeper, harder, making you cry out with every stroke. Your hands fist the sheets, knuckles white, as your body rocks forward from the force of him. He grabs your hips tighter, pulling you back onto him, forcing every inch of him inside like he’s claiming you, ruining you. Your thoughts are gone, scattered, every one of them drowned beneath the sound of skin meeting skin and the filthy things he’s growling into your ear.

“This what you wanted?” he pants, his voice a low growl. “To be fucked like a desperate little whore? You like it like this—don’t you?”

You try to answer, but all that leaves your mouth is a broken moan, high-pitched and needy. Your legs are shaking, your pussy clenching so tightly around him that you feel every twitch of his cock. You’re drooling onto the sheets, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, from how deep he’s inside you.

He reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling your head back until your spine arches, your back flush to his chest. His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. He rubs slow, tight circles, the pressure just right. Your body locks up.

“Oh my god—Nanami—fuck—”

“I want you to cum again,” he hisses into your ear. “Cum for me while I’m buried in this tight little pussy. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You do.

It hits harder than the first time, your body convulsing around him, thighs trembling, a sob of pleasure ripping from your throat as your orgasm tears through you. You clench around him so hard it makes him grunt, his rhythm faltering for the first time. He curses under his breath, fucking you through it, prolonging your high until you’re left a shaking, overstimulated mess.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he growls.

You collapse forward, cheek pressed to the sheets, too wrecked to hold yourself up anymore. But he doesn’t stop. He slows down, but he keeps moving, long deep strokes that fill you again and again. One hand stays on your hip while the other presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down. You’re gasping, moaning brokenly, your cunt so sensitive you’re already on the edge again.

“Please—please, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re gonna give me one more.”

His cock drags along your walls, thick and pulsing, hitting every spot that makes your vision blur. Your body is on fire. Nerves raw. Everything tightens again, too soon, too fast.

“Cum,” he demands, and the command alone pushes you over the edge.

You scream his name as your third orgasm slams into you, thighs quaking, fingers clawing at the mattress as you fall apart. Your pussy clenches so hard around him that his rhythm shatters. He groans, deep and guttural, thrusts stuttering as he slams into you one final time and spills inside you with a growl.

You can feel it—his cum flooding your pussy, hot and thick, filling you up as his body presses down on yours. His breath is hot against your back. His weight grounding.

He stays like that for a moment, both of you panting, your bodies tangled in heat and sweat. Then he pulls out slowly, gently, and you whimper at the loss. You feel the slick of his release drip down your thigh.

You’re boneless. Floating. Barely able to lift your head.

He pulls you into his arms, rolls you over, kisses your forehead. His hands are soft again, soothing, trailing along your back in lazy circles.

“You did so good,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

He holds you until your breathing slows. Until the ache in your muscles fades into something warm and satisfied. Until the world stops spinning quite so fast.

Then he rises. Dresses slowly. Smooths his hair back into place. He leans down to press one last kiss to your lips.

“The room is yours until tomorrow night,” he whispers. “Order whatever you want. Rest. Recover.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Where are you going?”

He smiles. “I need to get ready for work on Monday.”

And then he’s gone.

The silence after he leaves is loud. You lie there for a while, naked in the sheets that smell like him, your body sore and aching in the best possible way. Everything feels distant. Fuzzy. Like your skin is still buzzing with the echo of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at you like he owned every inch of you. You eventually drag yourself out of bed, your legs unsteady, and pad to the bathroom. The tub is huge, the kind of thing you’d only ever seen in movies, and you don’t think twice before running the water, pouring in a generous stream of lavender bubble bath from the bottle on the counter. You sink into the warmth with a soft moan, letting the water ease the tightness in your thighs, the soreness in your hips. Every shift of your body reminds you of what just happened—of how thoroughly he fucked you, how deeply he filled you, how completely he took you apart.

You stay in the bath until the water starts to cool, then dry off and wrap yourself in one of the fluffy white robes hanging by the door. You pour yourself a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling by the window and collapse onto the bed again, legs curled under you, robe slipping off one shoulder. You stare at the city lights outside the window, the skyline glowing and endless. You feel expensive. Adored. Used and treasured at the same time. The kind of full you didn’t know you were craving.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

You grab it lazily, still smiling.

Nanami has sent you $10,000.

You stare.

You’re up in a flash, jumping on the bed like a maniac, the robe falling off as you laugh and squeal and spin yourself dizzy. You don’t even care. You roll across the mattress, kick your legs in the air, and scream into a pillow. Then you check again—just to be sure. It’s still there. Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

You sink back against the pillows, grinning like a fool, and take a long, slow sip of champagne.

This is the best night of your life.

The weekend melts away in a blur of room service and luxury. You spend hours soaking in the tub, order dessert with every meal, and sleep tangled in hotel sheets that smell like him. You keep your phone close, reading and rereading every message he sends. He doesn’t disappear. He checks in constantly. Tells you how proud he is. How badly he wants you again. How he’s counting the hours until next time.

By Monday morning, you’re still sore. Still giddy. You barely hear your alarm over the buzz of your phone. You get ready for class with your phone in your hand the entire time, texting back between sips of coffee.

I need you again this weekend. Same hotel. I want you on your knees when I walk in.

I can still feel you. Still smell you. I’m not done with you.

You’re practically floating when you meet up with Nobara and Maki in the courtyard.

“You’re glowing,” Maki says. “Who are you texting?”

Nobara leans in to peek. You pull your phone away with a smirk.

“No one.”

“She’s lying,” Maki says. “It’s totally a sugar daddy. Look at her.” She jokes.

You laugh. Shrug. Say nothing.

Because they’re right. And you’re not giving up your secret that easy. The three of you head to class, sliding into your usual seats as you pull out your laptop. You open a blank doc, fingers still dancing over your phone under the table.

I want your pussy on my mouth the second I see you again.

You bite your lip, cheeks hot, and set your phone face-down as the door opens.

Footsteps. A soft clearing of a throat.

You look up and freeze.

Nanami Kento walks to the front of the classroom, calm and collected, setting his briefcase on the podium like he’s done it a hundred times. He’s in a fitted suit, glasses perched on his nose, hair neat and perfect.

He adjusts his tie. Opens his laptop. Looks up.

His eyes meet yours.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t falter. Just offers the faintest flicker of a smile.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says smoothly. “Welcome to Ethics in Literature.

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

[webuniseo]

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[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

“autistic people’s interests not ‘restrictive’ that be pathologizing language!!!” n then cue example of low support needs level 1 autistic with PhD n it’s like

so right now be in extreme fixation stage of something that stick around long enough be call special interest

extreme enough that it overrode my main special interest for 4+ years. just like that.

here what “extreme” mean:

am active do that special interest moment am wake to moment go sleep. constant. as non stop as possible.

sleep about 2-4 hours a day, n sleep at all because human body need sleep. this be 3rd or 4th night in row where do not go sleep until 6am, 8am, wake up at 10 AM, 12PM. AM NOT TIRED. just want do Thing (ppl who know me irl follow this account so shouldn’t admit this or else get concerned spam but brain even too occupy abt that right now. shh.)

btw this lack of sleep probably reason trigger my GI issues. n it really bad. it look like dysmotility, stomach, intestine, maybe, who tf knows. eat 2 bites for “breakfast” before feel like too full will throw up from be stuffed, but even by dinner time maybe stomach growling but not hungry n can’t eat more than another 2 bite. which then cause severe constipation. etc etc etc whatever. know my lack of sleep definitely contribute to it n idk if go catch up w sleep will fix it or if that be trigger worsen episode that gonna stay for while. even with these consequences, no, can’t go sleep. Can’t.

also my eyes blurry from constant use (bc need for do Thing) n lack sleep. will am be able go sleep? no.

basic activities of daily living (ones that can do) too boring to do. spend time eating chewing, that be time away from Thing. minute or two of go bathroom take too much time away from Thing n am almost rushing back so can do Thing. push off get help shower because that take precious time away from Thing. n upset about interruptions. can’t handle interruptions. can’t handle anything be pull out from my lil world of Thing. do those bADLs not pull me out my internal world of Thing. zero attention elsewhere. most ppl even level 1 & maybe even some of 2 autistics not understand what mean by “too bored by bADL to do them” n they think it just spoiled not want do it but no

this be busiest time of semester (online school). have 3 finals this week n already behind (haven’t studied for 2). it not matter. nothing got done. try listen to audio n 20 minutes later realize been zone out somehow thinking abt Thing again. try open up something link really just few clicks n spend 30 minutes because “oh website loading let me just go look at Thing real quick” n 30 minutes pass bc cant stop. my brain occupied. any information need memorize for school for other things simply not fit no space bc whole entire mode on Thing.

write this post fucking painful bc just NEED get back to think about this thing bc write this post be interruption n in fleeing moments (minutes) of can think about other things been thinking abt write this post. if post sound extra confusing or frantic that because am frantic get back. again reminder this blog (disability) be part of MAIN SPECIAL INTEREST FOR FOUR PLUS YEARS it just get kicked off like that. use to check tumblr multiple times day n now go DAYS without check tumblr. n coincidentally this be time be one of post escape containment so get constant notif one point to 2k before cleared it. now again probably another 2k

hope this post fucking make sense bc brain too occupy to think abt write anything that unrelate

haha fuck! me!

okay to reblog this incoherent post in fact please do bc autistic interest can be EXTREMELY restrictive. it can be this level of restrictive AND MORE. can make you genuinely not able do ADLs n cause health issues from things you not doing n you suffer from it but it not change anything

[butlervibesonly]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I have this idea you could do! Since I love dad Austin fics as probably you do, can you do one where reader is pregnant with their first baby, and she already has a bump but Austin and her decided to keep it secret from medias as long as it's possible. But one day Austin's away at some meeting and reader goes out for some reason where she runs into paparazzi, freaks out cause they get photos of her and bump and she then calls Austin and they work it out together? Might be too demanding, write only if you like it 😅🫶🏻

𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 | Austin Butler

• NOTE: Hiiii and thank you! Love this idea and I hope it’s as you imagined! 💕

• PAIRING: Austin Butler x pregnant! reader

• WARNINGS: pregnancy, paparazzi, slight angst, panicking, …

Your hand rests on your growing belly, and you feel the baby kick. This baby is so far a secret you and Austin keep from medias and fans to enjoy these moments as a family. You both do everything to keep this little life growing inside of you hidden.

But that’s not always very easy, especially when you and Austin are constantly under a microscope of paparazzis and medias. And now, with a baby on the way, you both know the frenzy that awaits you once the news gets out.

Austin has interview and some meetings today, so you’re home alone. Not that alone if you count your baby in you, of course. You suddenly think of making some good dinner for Austin when he comes home. “What should we do for daddy’s dinner, huh?” you rub your belly, not expecting any answers.

After a while of brainstorming and thinking you think of doing some good lasagne. You get up from the couch and go to see if you have everything for the meal to be done. And well, your pantry, however, isn’t cooperating.

“I’ll just make a quick shopping,” you mumble to yourself, grabbing the coat and scarf. You tug it tightly around you, hoping it would be enough to hide the small, but now undeniable, bump.

The grocery shop isn’t so far from yours and Austin’s home, just a few blocks away actually. You hurry down the aisles, picking the needed ingredients. A small part of you feels a hint of unease — the kind you often feel while stepping outside without Austin. Luckily no one recognized you so far. You not a celebrity after all, you’re just a wife of your husband.

Or at least you thought. As you step out of the store, carrying your bag and keys, the flashes came like a sudden storm.

“Y/n over there!”

“Are you and Austin expecting?”

“You are pregnant, Y/n?”

Your heart is racing as the paparazzi surround you, their cameras clicking furiously. Panic flows through you as questions are bombarding you from every direction.

“Please, I—“ you stammer, before pushing your way through the paparazzi and walk away down the street.

As soon as you get back home, you start trembling and shaking, tears spilling from your eyes. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket — texts from friends, notifications from news websites. You don’t even dare look. Instead, you text Austin immediately.

As soon as Austin arrives home, he finds you crying on the couch. “They know,” you whisper, voice breaking. “The paparazzi... they saw me. They took pictures of me,”

Austin’s face is a mixture of worry and determination. He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as you let the tears fall. “I’m so sorry,” you choke out. “I didn’t think— I just wanted to cook for you but there wasn’t enough of stuff so I went shopping and—”

“Shhh, no,” he murmurs stroking your hair. “It’s not your fault, honey .” Austin’s free hand travels to touch your belly and rubs it in soothing circles. “We should expect this could happen, Y/n,” he says gently.

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice voice shaking.

“We will handle this together, okay?” Austin looks into your watery eyes. “The most important thing is that you and the baby are alright. We can do a statement on Instagram if you’re comfortable with it. No media gets to ruin how we share this happiness.”

Austin’s words were gentle, reassuring, and exactly what you need to hear in this moment. You nod, squeezing his arm. As soon as you calm down Austin gets his phone and picks a picture that would be best to share.

He posts a simple picture — his hand resting on you growing belly — he took this photo no too long ago while the both of you were sharing some sweet time.

austinbutler posted

Liked by ashleytisdale, bazluhrmann and 823 493 more

austinbutler Our biggest roles yet: mom and dad. We love you so much already little bean. ❤️

ashleytisdale Best roles! Can’t wait! 🥹❤️

fan1 OMG!! PARENTS 🫶🏼🥹

fan2 I saw the paparazzi pictures and im disgusted, leave them alone they clearly weren’t ready to post this. Congrats anyway!

The response is immediate, and the support very much overwhelming. The media craziness was horrible, but for the first time that day you feel peaceful and happy.

“I love you and our baby so much and I wouldn’t let anyone to ruin this.” he kisses you gently, his hand never leaving your bump. And you feel so lucky that Austin is like this. Because with Austin nothing feels impossible.

[rockyteriyaki]

The screenshot doesn’t crop when she sends it to Max, for some reason.

She’d wanted to only send the smaller three of the five size options, but now they’re all lined up in the WhatsApp chat, incriminating. A little staircase of silicone. The blue ticks next to the message light up one-two and Daniel puts her phone down on top of her face. Lets it balance precariously on her nose.

There’s a strobe light of notification. Max has sent the screenshot back with a confident iPhone-highlighter-circle over the longest strap-on dick length.

What, Daniel types, with one finger. No.

Why not?

Because, she types, and then stops. Everything sounds so insane and dirty.

“Max,” she shouts, and he shouts “what?” back at her from where he’s been playing FIFA in the living room. It’s one of those Alaska-in-Monaco days, where the sun never seems to go down. Daniel has been alternating between napping and scrolling around the sex toy website for the past three hours.

“Stop shouting,” she yells back, which is something her mum used to say as a conversation-ender when she was being difficult. She hears the chime of the pause menu, then Max is standing in the doorway in his socks, controller still in one hand. Daniel draws the covers up further around herself, feels like a prude.

“Not that one,” she says. Max frowns.

“I could take it.”

“Jesus,” Daniel puts the covers over her head. “Don’t—oh my god. Max.”

“What?” Max says, and chucks the controller onto his side of the bed, coming to crawl over Daniel’s blanketed legs. “If you had a dick it would be very big, like that.”

“Sexist,” Daniel says, even though it doesn’t make sense.

“Not sexist! Sex-y!” Max says, and then laughs at his own joke. When she still doesn’t come out of the blanket, he runs a hand over her torso. “Daniel. I would of course like it with any length. Like how you like my dick, yes?”

Max’s real-flesh-dick is probably a two or three on the strap-on scale and Daniel does like it, likes it in her mouth and in her hand and between her tits. She doesn’t like it inside her. Max, apparently, does.

“But if we get to choose, like how you sent,” Max continues, referencing the dumbfuck dildos on the idiot website. “I want that one.”

Daniel peeks out from the blanket. Max is looking at her, open and steadfast.

“Are you gonna let me, uh. Prep you, then?”

“Yes,” Max says, immediately, shifting closer so he’s sitting on her crotch, basically. “Yes, Daniel, yes. Now?”

“What? No, not now. But, like. Before.”

“Please,” Max says. It’s the same thing he’d said a few nights ago, when Daniel had pressed a curved knuckle to his hole and pushed. Before he’d come all over them both with barely anything on his dick. She allows herself a gratuitous four seconds to think about it: Max, split open. Max, taking more than he can handle. Max, taking it from her.

She must have some kind of expression on her face, because Max laughs a raspy laugh and crashes his face into where her sleep-sweaty hair falls against her collarbone.

“Just get all of them,” he says, against her. “We can work our way up.”

[idolomantises]

I'm not sure if anyone who owns a patreon account feels the same way but one thing about patreon i find super weird is that it really, really wants its creators to see how much money they're making.

Which i know, sounds a bit odd, but i swear, they keep reformatting the website and mobile app so you can immediately see how much money you're making (or losing) and listing off every single person that unsubs.

I started to feel this way when a few weeks ago, they started straight up forcing the scrollbar to go a little downward so you can see how much money you're making every time you logged in. They have a notifications section that tells you when people delete their patron and even if you alter it to just see something like likes or comments, it still forces you to look at the users removing their patrons.

I'm saying this because I feel like im running myself ragged trying to upload weekly and every time i do set up a proper schedule for myself, something comes up and all of a sudden my patreon it at risk and becomes a greater priority (in my case, i have a 3 week long vacation in another country and i'm unsure if i'll be able to draw over there so ive been spending the past 3 weeks just sitting and drawing, but then i got sick which added to the stress)

It sucks a lot honestly. social media in general has been so obsessed with algorithms and pushing quality over quantity. i want to produce less comics and relax a bit, but despite people saying they're perfectly fine with waiting for new art, i tend to lose a lot of patrons and followers when i take a hiatus. im just a bit tired.

[lumberrobot]

Digital Echoes

danielle marsh | mo jihye x fem!reader

notes: took a break from writing hwhdohaow; italicized sections are flashbacks; I miss coding :'((

warning/s: none (except for the breakup probs)

genre: angst?, fluff

The soft, rhythmic patter of rain against the window filled the silence of Danielle’s apartment. The dim light filtered through the raindrops, casting a muted glow over the room and highlighting the emptiness that seemed to envelop her tonight. Photos of Danielle's friends and family adorned a small bulletin board above her desk, snapshots of happier days pinned alongside her carefully organized planner, each tab and colorful note marking her meticulous schedule. A faint scent of coffee lingered, a reminder of lazy mornings and slow conversations she once shared here.

There, pinned to the board and encircled with a red marker and tiny heart stickers, was the date: Our Anniversary!!! Danielle's chest tightened just looking at it. She ignored her phone’s occasional chime, each one an unread message of concern from her friends. Minji had even offered to come by, with promises of warm food and distracting laughter, but Danielle had declined. She felt suspended in a quiet kind of ache, unwilling to break the solitude by letting anyone in tonight. Everyone close to them knew what this day meant. Even her family, blissfully unaware of the months-old breakup, had sent cheerful anniversary wishes.

Her gaze drifted over the room, drawn to the small remnants of Y/N’s presence still scattered around—like memories made tangible. A hoodie Y/N always wore draped over the back of the couch, her favorite mug perched on the kitchen counter, and a stack of novels piled beside the bed. Danielle had tried packing these things away more than once, but every attempt left her feeling hollow, the ache too sharp to ignore. So instead, she let them stay—a bittersweet comfort, grounding her in a past that felt both vivid and painfully distant.

Danielle tried to push down the memories as she pulled her focus back to work, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her laptop keyboard. Yet her concentration wavered, her heart pounding in her chest as she sat under the weight of the date. And that’s when it appeared: a notification in the corner of her screen, breaking through her thoughts with a small chime.

She hesitated, the familiar dread settling in her stomach. What if it was something she didn't want to see? But curiosity pushed her to open it anyway.

"Important Day Alert!"

A shiver ran down her spine, the dread settling heavy in her stomach. She hadn’t seen that reminder in ages.

Danielle’s breath hitched, a knot tightening in her stomach. She knew instantly where the reminder came from, and she was hesitant to face it. What if it was something she didn't want to see? What if Y/N had moved on and left it untouched? Still, something within her urged her to open it.

======

The website had been their secret treasure—a labor of love, built as a testament to their bond. Years ago, Y/N had painstakingly taught herself to code just to confess through that first simple landing page. Over time, it became a ritual for them: every year on their anniversary, Y/N would update the site, adding new memories and little surprises—nostalgic photos, shared playlists, or heartfelt messages to Danielle. Each addition was a love letter, private and sincere.

It was a tradition between them. Every year on their anniversary, Y/N would update the site with something new—a surprise game, a video montage of memories, or a heartfelt message. And every year, Danielle would eagerly log on, grinning ear-to-ear as she clicked through the carefully designed pages.

But this year was different.

They weren’t together anymore. The breakup had been painful—quiet, but brutal in its own way. It had been months now since they last spoke, and Danielle had done everything she could to keep moving forward, even when it hurt.

======

Danielle had just finished a long day of meetings when she stumbled into the tiny coffee shop near her apartment. She wasn’t expecting much—just a quick caffeine fix to get her through the evening—but that’s when she saw Y/N sitting by the window, typing furiously on a laptop.

Danielle’s breath caught. She didn’t know why, but something about Y/N’s focused expression drew her in. When she approached the counter, she kept sneaking glances at Y/N, trying to figure out what they were working on so intensely.

It was pure chance that Y/N looked up at the exact same moment.

“Oh, uh, hey Dani,” Y/N exclaims, quite startled looking with her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” Danielle stammered, feeling her cheeks flush. “You just look... really into whatever you're doing.”

Y/N smiled, rubbing the back of their neck sheepishly. “Yeah, just working on something for uh, someone... well, a girl I like, but I’m working on it.”

Danielle’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Really? That sounds interesting.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, lowering their voice as if sharing a secret. “It’s something to show her how much I care, you know?”

Danielle’s heart warmed at the thought. “She’s lucky, whoever she is.”

Y/N met her gaze, their eyes full of hope. “I hope she thinks so.”

======

Tonight, as Danielle sat alone in her apartment, her fingers itched to open the notification. With a heavy heart, she clicked on it.

As the website loaded, Danielle’s heart raced. She had prepared herself for an empty page, some silent confirmation that Y/N had moved on, even if Danielle hadn’t. But instead, the familiar pastel colors greeted her, unchanged since the last time she’d visited. The homepage looked the same, simple yet elegant, with Y/N’s signature drawn hearts and soft text.

But her eyes quickly caught something new—a large, bold message that hadn’t been there before.

"Happy Anniversary, Dani."

The words seemed to pulse against the screen, pulling her back into the warmth of Y/N’s world. Beneath the message was a carousel of photos—frozen snapshots of a love that once was. There was a picture of Danielle making a goofy face, another of her holding a stuffed koala with the caption: Our son, Jerry (p.s. - obviously, Dani named him). Danielle couldn’t help but smile, the ache in her heart blending with a strange, fragile warmth.

The lump in Danielle’s throat grew. She clicked into the different sections of the website, her heart pounding with each click. The familiar categories were still there: Our Memories, Our Songs, Our Adventures. Each one bursting with photos, videos, and shared experiences—images of their first trip to the beach, goofy selfies from late-night movie marathons, that time they’d gone to a random hole-in-the-wall restaurant on a whim and discovered their favorite dish.

But now, there was something more. Scattered throughout the site were handwritten notes—new ones, messages that weren’t there before.

"I thought I could move on, but I keep coming back here."

"I built this for you, but it’s where I still find us."

"If you’re reading this, then maybe you haven’t let go either."

The last words hit her hardest. Danielle swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that blurred her vision. Each message felt like a thread, connecting her to Y/N in a way she couldn’t ignore.

She remembered the last time she saw Y/N, during that fateful evening when everything came undone. They had met in a small park after weeks of missed calls and messages that went unanswered as work swallowed them both. Danielle had tried so hard to be there, but her career demanded late nights, last-minute trips, and weekend meetings. And for Y/N, her schedule was just as unforgiving.

Their laughter had faded, replaced by quick goodbyes and rescheduled plans, each a small tear in the fabric of their relationship. And that night in the park, it had all come to a head.

"Maybe… maybe we’re just too busy,” Danielle had whispered, her voice trembling. "I don’t know how to make time for us anymore, Y/N."

Danielle remembered the heartbreak in Y/N’s eyes as she heard the words. She had wanted to take the words she said back, to promise that they’d try harder, that they could somehow fit their love into the small corners of their lives. But deep down, Danielle knew they were both exhausted, stretched so thin that even their love couldn’t seem to fill the spaces left by absence.

In the end, she simply nodded, unable to find the words to change Danielle’s mind. And as they parted that night, Danielle felt the weight of the silence that had settled between them, a silence that lingered, unbroken, until now.

She opened her eyes, blinking back tears as she scrolled to the final message Y/N had left on the site:

"I’ll wait as long as it takes."

Danielle’s chest tightened. Her gaze drifted to the contact form at the bottom of the page, the blinking cursor an invitation, a chance she wasn’t sure she could take. Her fingers hovered over the keys, doubt creeping in. What if Y/N had written those words in a moment of weakness, but didn’t mean them anymore? What if reaching out would only reopen old wounds?

But the memory of Y/N’s smile, her touch, the feeling of her hand in Danielle’s—these were the things Danielle held onto, the reminders of a love that had never truly left her.

With a shaky breath, she typed the words that had been on her heart for months, words she wished she had said that night in the park:

"I'm still here, too."

======

One crisp autumn afternoon, Y/N handed Danielle a small slip of paper, looking down as she did. "I, uh… made something for you," Y/N said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Danielle tilted her head, amused. "A mystery link? You’ve been acting so secretive about this!” She took out her phone, her curiosity piqued, and entered the address.

As the page loaded, a quiet melody began to play—a song she’d once mentioned in passing. A pixelated image of a familiar park bench came into view, set under a soft twilight sky filling with tiny stars. Two animated figures appeared on the bench, one for each of them, sitting side by side. Danielle’s expression softened, captivated.

Slowly, words began to type out on the screen, one by one.

"Danielle, I like you."

Danielle’s breath caught as the words continued.

"I didn’t know how to put this into words… so I made this instead. You’ve brought so much light and joy into my life—moments I didn’t know I’d ever have."

She blinked, the message blurring slightly as her eyes misted. Turning to Y/N, who was watching her with a hopeful look, Danielle felt her chest tighten with something warm and steady.

“So… yeah,” Y/N smiled, her cheeks a little pink. “I like you, Dani. And… I was kind of hoping maybe you feel the same.”

Danielle managed a small laugh, shaking her head as she wiped away a stray tear. She took Y/N’s hand, her own words barely a murmur. “Yeah… I do. I really do.”

======

The silence that followed was deafening. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Danielle wasn’t sure if Y/N would respond—wasn’t sure if this was still real, or if it was all just a one-sided hope she had been holding onto. She chewed nervously at her lip, staring at the empty screen.

Then, her laptop pinged. A notification appeared.

Y/N had replied.

With shaky hands, Danielle opened the message. A soft smile broke across her face, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"I knew you’d come back."

[hamadisthings]

BAD CALIFORNIAN INTERNET BILLS

While it is good that KOSA is now dead in the House (for now) I would like to ask for people's attention on AB1949 and SB976, which could push for Age verification by showing your ID.

There was a third bill named AB3080 that had similar goals, but luckily it received revisions so it is no longer a threat or require ID verification to access websites. So it would be possible to get AB1949 and SB976 to be revised so they aren't dangerous anymore.

You can read the text for AB1949 right here

AB1949 doesn't explicitly ask for ID verification anymore, as it used to, due to a revision, but there is a provision stating if they deem a website "willfully disregards" the age of the user they will be deemed to have actual knowledge of the user's age.

This broad part could be left to abuse, which is why it needs to be revised before passing, in order to confirm ID verification is not required. FIND YOUR REPS HERE!

For AB1949, you can find your Senate representative with the link above as I said, and check to see if they're a member of the CA Senate Appropriations Committee. Then call them to tell them you oppose this bill. Try to add reasons you think this bill would negatively affect California financially because that's what this committee focuses on.

As for SB976, which you can read here

Its goal is to "keep kids off social medias and addictive feeds" But the concerning part is that "it would make it unlawful for the operator of an addictive internet-based service or application, as defined, to provide an addictive feed to a user, unless the operator does not have actual knowledge that the user is a minor; commencing January 1, 2027, has reasonably determined that the user is not a minor; or has obtained verifiable parental consent to provide an addictive feed to the user who is a minor."

How are you supposed to know that you have "verifiable parental consent" without ID and age verification of both parents and child?Even then, holding the ID of a minor feels pretty illegal given how sensitive how an info this is, in case of a data breach (which will happen) this would endanger kids even more, and no one in general want to give their ID to access a website or an app.

The bill would also make it unlawful for a website or app to send notifications to a minor according to a certain timeframe.

For SB976, find your Assembly representative using the link below and check to see if they're a member of the CA Assembly Appropriations Committee. Then call them to tell them you oppose this bill. https://apro.assembly.ca.gov/members

You can tell them how this is terrible for privacy, and the safety of children, and that it would be terrible for the economy of California, as they seem to focus on it. You can try sending faxes for either bills, but calling IS MUCH MORE efficient. https://faxzero.com/

Here is the time schedule, bills must be taken care before the end of August so it is a matter of time crunch:

You may use the following scripts for the respective bills, you can try to trim it if you deem it too long!

Might be worth a shot to contact Gavin Newsom (Californian governor) here to voice your concerns for these bills

[ahhnini]

kaleidoscope - rafe cameron x reader

warnings - angst, angst, angst

synopsis - rafe and reader were inseparable. that is, until reader confessed her feelings. years pass, the two are no contact. but as it turns out, reader had been talking to him all this time, on a platform she never expected.

rafe cameron x tumblr!user reader

wc - 1.4k

a/n - i apologize if the formatting is a bit messy, i tried to have both of their perspectives.

your heart shattered as rafe ignored your words. you’d messed up everything. what you thought were signs of interest had just been signs of him being friendly to you. that’s all you were to rafe. a friend. so here you were, in the school hallway, sitting down on the floor, eating lunch all by yourself. you’d muffle your sniffles, trying to ignore the stares from everyone passing by, texting your mom to pick you up early from school. as soon as you’d gotten home, you immediately ran to your desktop, ranting about how “boys are stupid” and how you hate being melodramatic to your tumblr blog.

you scoff as you see rafe’s arm around sofia. it’s funny, knowing she’ll be dumped the next month. having just celebrated your sweet sixteenth, you were now old enough to have an island club membership of your own, and that’s where you’d been spending most of your time these days. you stretch your arms outwards, before opening your laptop, logging into the tumblr website. you had gained a pretty sufficient following, and you can’t help but smile at all the people interacting with your blog. huh, that’s weird. there’s someone new trying to message you. it was from one of your longtime followers. opening it, you smile at the kind message.

Hey, I’ve been following your blog since you started, and I’ve been here every step of the way. It’s been so nice seeing you grow.

little did you know that this message would create a long lasting friendship.

another night, another party at the cameron house. you weren’t invited, of course. rafe was throwing it. but to be honest, even if sarah was gonna host, you weren’t gonna show up either way. seeing the strobe lights dance around the estate, you close your curtains, making your way to your bed. you bring your laptop close to you, opening it up to your last tab open, tumblr.

going right to your direct messages, you click your most recent one, a friend you’ve made who liked to be called R. he still hasn’t replied to your message. sighing, you exit out of the chat and check on your page, making a quick new post. you browse the site for a couple more minutes, liking and reblogging, before opening up another tab for netflix, falling asleep to a random show.

the morning sun wakes you up. immediately searching for your phone, you check your notifications, smiling when you see R’s username pop up.

Hey, was busy last night, i’ll make it up to you :)

your smile widens, and you quickly reply,

dw about it!! <3

across the street, rafe’s phone lights up.

you’re awake, he’s hungover. he let out a soft groan, squinting his eyes.

you send another message,

gonna get ready for the day!! + one attachment

even though his head was pounding, he sat up, opening the selfie you sent him.

after that first message all those years back, you and R instantly clicked. even if it had been through the screen, the connection felt…magical. now that you were both nineteen, you’ve realized that you’d grown up with him.

putting your shades on, you lay on the couch of your yacht. all of your friends were busy; you didn’t have anything else better to do. you close your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun be your blanket.

you feel his arms wrap around you, you see his smile, bright and inviting. he kisses your lips, whispering your name. your eyebrows furrow, something was wrong. you push him away, suddenly becoming self aware. rafe didn’t love you, this was a dream. why were you dreaming about him?

you wake up, wiping a tear that fell down your eye. shaking your head, you go to the mini fridge, sipping on a cup of water. you hate to admit it, but you’d been thinking of rafe more often than you’d like. he probably hasn’t thought about you in years; probably forgetting that you existed.

after spending a couple more hours in the sun, you decided to go to the wreck for a quick snack. you ordered your favorite; a chicken sandwich with a chocolate milkshake. sitting down in one of the booths, you open your phone, seeing that R replied to you.

Beautiful, as always.

your cheeks grow slightly red at the compliment. he’d do this often, texting you compliments whenever you’d sent a photo of yourself. it started after you’d posted a rant to your dash about your low self esteem, R doing anything he could to bring your spirits up, even if it had been over the internet. then, when you self-reflected and started growing your confidence, you’d started sending pictures of yourself to him. he’d never send you anything back, though. which bummed you out at first, but you respected his decision.

you two had been planning to meet up for a while, but R was always dismissive with you when you’d ask. a part of you was terrified that you’d been talking to a creepy middle aged man all this time, but those thoughts dwindled away as you got to know each other more. sipping on your milkshake, you decide to follow your impulses, wanting to meet up with the mysterious R as soon as possible.

ik this is kind of random but when do u wanna meet up? we both live in nc so we could meet up in a city somewhere?

shit. rafe was not expecting that. his palms began to sweat, quick fingers moving across his phone screen.

It’s too soon, don’t you think?

no, not at all! we’ve been planning this for months now, all we need is a city and date.

rafe took a deep breath, feeling his headache get worse. deciding to bite the bullet, he replies,

Okay, what about saturday? We could meet up in Raleigh.

sounds good! what time?

Around 11:00 AM work for you?

perfect, so excited to see you, R! <3

fuck. shit. he stood up from the stool he’d been sitting on, running his hands along his head. his breathing quickened as he paced along the kitchen, wondering how he was supposed to face you again.

saturday rolls around quicker than you expected. you were on a ferry, headed to the mainland to meet R. you carried pepper spray just in case he did turn out to be a creepy middle aged man, can never be too safe.

he can see you, sitting down on one of the ferry benches, fidgeting on your phone. he felt like a creep, watching you. god, he wanted to jump into the ocean right now.

after confirming the plans, you both agreed to meet up in a popular restaurant in the middle of town. you’d gotten there a little early, reserving a table for the both of you. you tapped your foot anxiously, looking at all the decor. you were so nervous that you didn’t even realize you heard the chair across from you move, looking up when you heard a deep voice say, “hey, y/n.”

what the fuck.

“r-rafe?!” you whisper-shout, suddenly standing up from your chair. his eyes widen, everyone around the restaurant looking at you two. suddenly becoming embarrassed, you sink down into your seat, looking at your former friend, in shock. “you need to explain. now.” he nods, licking his lips before speaking, “it was stupid. after you confessed freshman year I’d been going through some shit with my dad and I couldn’t handle a relationship yet. so I ghosted you. and everyone else after that,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I should’ve told you right away. you were my best friend, y/n. after everything got sorted out I wanted to talk to you again, but it was too soon. I remembered you made me follow your tumblr account back in middle school, so I looked through your profile, and I felt so bad, knowing I hurt you. it haunted me for years,” he lets out a bitter chuckle, “it took balls for me to message you on there, I was so scared you were gonna find out and block me. but you didn’t. so I kept talking to you…and now we’re here.” he finishes his monologue, playing with the napkin on the table.

“rafe…I don’t know what to say…” you respond, throat becoming dry. he grabs your hands from across the table, gently squeezing them. “you don’t have to say anything. if you don’t wanna continue what we have, that’s fine. at least now you know the truth.”

“so, you were the one giving me those compliments?”

“of course.”

“and you weren’t bullshitting this whole time?”

“why would I? i’ve always found you stunning.”

your ears grow red, pulling your hands away from his.

“I…I need some time. this is all too much,” you stand up again, rushing out of the restaurant, rafe’s calls falling deaf to your ears.

thank you to my irl @vannbao for helping me with this (and feeding into my delusions)!!

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @maybankslover @dreamygirli3

[actual-changeling]

A small 'this is how you use tumblr' for the people that haven't been here very long. These are in no particular order, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them!

Since I probably did not mention a lot of things, you are welcome to add to this post with your own advice.

a) Reblog posts. if you like it, reblog it. even if you have zero followers and ESPECIALLY if it's art or writing of any kind. We will see the reblog in our notifications and that alone brings joy. One reblog can start a chain and push the post onto many people's dashes.

b) Tumblr is not a very functional website, if you want to survive without losing your mind, there are two things you need: xkit rewritten and dashboard unfucker. Play around with the settings until it is to your liking. Additionally, change to firefox if you haven't already and install ublock origin to get rid of ads, tracking etc.

c) If you go to your settings (account! not blog) you can find this under dashboard at the bottom. Turn off at the very least 'best stuff first' since that will fuck up your dash and not give you posts in chronological order.

The rest are a perfonal preference but it will keep your dash tidy and easy to control if you turn them off, too.

d) Apropos settings—get a profile picture, a header, write something human in your bio, anything. Otherwise people will assume you are a bot and block you on sight.

e) Blocking! Do it generously and whenever you want, this is how you keep whatever remains of your sanity. It's not a lethal offense, it is (usually) not even seen as rude or anything along those lines. You block people and they block you and everyone is happy.

f) Under account settings you will find this:

Just like with blocking, use both options to your heart's content.

g) Tumblr is not like other social media platforms, spam liking & reblogging and going three years deep into someone's account is NORMAL and encouraged. You can search a blog by post type, tags, or even go to the archive and scroll through the posts there.

h) Lastly—interaction. We already went over reblogging (I mean it, REBLOG), but there are also replies and asks. If you add something to someone else's post please behave like a kind human being and don't be an asshole; based on my experience, that's easier said than done. On top of that, the tags are ALSO used for communication, go unhinged, ramble, leave your thoughts, or simply use them for organisational purposes. Everyone loves a good insane tag wall.

An open inbox (either anonymously or with your blog attached) is to be used! Please send people asks if they have them active, use it like DMs or a comment section, use it to recommend something, ask questions, participate in an ask or prompt game—we love asks here.

(We do not like harassment in our inboxes, same rules as above.)

[orithyia-eriphyle]

Drive

Chapter 4: Railway Previous Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7k

Stray Kids x Fem!Reader (Street Racing AU)

Synopsis: Chan takes you to a fresh racing scene and you meet a handsome new face.

Warnings: (N/n) = Nickname, slightly suggestive, swearing, Chan.

Not proofread

Although you wish you could spend your entire weekend with Minho, you are an adult with adult responsibilities, which means you have to tend to those responsibilities. 

You had been placing job applications left and right. You were looking for something part-time since you made plenty of money from street racing and only wanted a job you could fall back on in case that time ever came. Most of the jobs you had applied for were mundane, nothing you really wanted to do. 

All but one job, that is. 

You had come across the website for a small, locally owned, record shop. You had always been a big music lover and were pleasantly surprised that they were hiring. You had never worked any music-related jobs but were praying that your experience as a librarian would suffice, hoping that organizing records and books wasn’t all that different. 

Sunday was the first day you had alone in your new apartment. For once, you had no plans and were not running into insanely attractive men who also happened to be street racers. 

You lounged on your couch, a cold glass of water in hand and a book that you had been meaning to read since before you moved. You pushed your reading glasses back up your nose as they began to slide down when you were startled by the loud ‘ding!’ of your phone. You lifted your phone from the spot on the couch next to you and noticed an email. 

You quirked a brow and opened the email, smiling when you realized it was from the record shop. The owner asked you to come in for an interview sometime this week. Your grin widened after reading the message, happy to get a reply so quickly. You were eager to respond, supplying the owner with a certain time and day that you would be available to be interviewed. 

After agreeing on a date with your potential employer, you began preparing to head to bed. As you applied your moisturizer, an Instagram notification popped up on your phone. It was a follow request from someone with the username CB97. You clicked on the account, taking note of the person’s grungy feed. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was Chan. His bio read, ‘Christopher Bang, tattoo artist by day, producer by night.’

You scrolled through his account, admiring the photos. You figured you would accept his request, considering you would probably be seeing him around at races and returning to him for your next tattoo. 

Almost as soon as you accepted his request, he had messaged you. You smirked at how eager he was and opened his message. You smiled as you read, 

“There’s a big race happening in Incheon tomorrow. I was wondering if you would wanna be my plus one?” 

You stared at his message for a moment, contemplating your response. You were interested in getting to know Chan better, and watching a race together was your idea of a perfect get-together. Coming to that conclusion, you were quick to type out your response.

“I’d like that. Time and place?”

Chan replied soon after.

“Race is at midnight. Expect me at 7. I’ll be driving.”

You quirked your eyebrow at his bluntness and replied smoothly.

“Cute, but you’ll need my address.” 

“Ah, I thought I was smooth. Mind telling me then, (N/n)?”

You chuckled at his admittance, before giving him your address and confirming the time once again. 

After speaking with Chan, you made your way to bed. You snuggled into the sheets and drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke the next morning around 8, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes. You trudged around your apartment as you got ready for the day. You made a simple breakfast before heading to your room to do your makeup and change clothes. You chose a simplistic outfit, but it was still cute enough to see Chan in. 

You grabbed your keys and your purse as you headed out the door of your apartment, not forgetting to lock up. 

You descended to the lobby of the apartment complex with the elevator and quickly made it to the lobby and out to the parking lot. You made quick work of hopping in your car, haphazardly throwing your purse in the passenger seat, and firing up the engine. You felt the familiar flutter in your heart as you heard the exhaust crackle and pop. 

You peeled out of the parking lot and headed to your new favorite cafe. Despite not having a big appetite for coffee, a certain chubby-cheeked employee made you keep coming back.

You parked your car next to Jisung’s and practically skipped to the entrance of the cozy cafe. The bell jingled as you pushed the door open, a bright smile on your face. 

Your favorite employee peaked from behind the counter, his face breaking into his familiar smile as he greeted you, “Hi (Y/n)! I didn’t think you’d come in today.”

The man spoke with his usual cheerful and polite demeanor. You frowned at him playfully as you approached the counter and scanned the menu above his head, “Why’d you think that Jisungie?” You said curiously, testing out the new nickname on your tongue. 

Jisung flushed slightly, fiddling with a peeling sticker on the register. “Chan-hyung said you guys would be together today.” He spoke, slightly shy.

You quirked a brow, “Word gets around quickly with you guys I guess.” You said with a slight mumble. You looked at the man before continuing, “But yeah I’m supposed to hang out with him today, but that’s later on.”

You told him your order and spoke again as you paid in cash, “Besides, that wouldn’t stop me from seeing you,” You said with a flirty wink in his direction. 

Jisung sputtered slightly, dropping some of the change he meant to hand you, “O-Oh?” He questioned as he scrambled to pick up the scattered money. 

You nodded affirmatively, “Don’t bother with the change ‘Sungie, you can keep it.” The brunette perked up at your statement.

“Oh! Thanks (Y/n)!” He said cheerfully before stuffing the change in his pocket. It wasn’t much but the gesture was nice. 

You smiled before going to take a seat at your usual table as you waited for your order. You looked out the window until you felt your phone buzz in your purse. You pulled it out and read the message on your screen. It was from Minho.

“Hey (N/n). Are you coming to the race tonight?”

You replied quickly.

“I am. Wby?”

His response was immediate.

“Me too. Are you racing tonight?”

You smiled at his question.

“Why do you ask? Itching to get your ass kicked again?”

You watched as the typing bubble appeared on your screen. 

“I’d win this time, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes before typing out a response. 

“Sure. But no. I’m Chan’s arm candy for the night.��

The typing bubble appeared and disappeared repeatedly before Minho finally texted back.

“See you then.”

You huffed at the rather dry response but didn’t dwell on it too long. 

“(Y/n)!” Jisung shouted your name from behind the counter, a bit louder than necessary. You gave a playful glare to the man, who was giggling at you like a schoolgirl. 

“I think the bookstore across the street heard you, Jisung.” You spoke monotonously as you grabbed your coffee from his hands. 

“I’m taking advantage of us being the only ones here. Sometimes you just need to yell.” He said with an indifferent shrug. You smiled at him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Sure ‘Sungie.” You said as you walked to the door, shrugging your purse farther up your shoulder. You paused at the door before leaving. “I’ll see you tonight?” You questioned with a raised brow.

Jisung faltered at the sudden question before responding, “Yeah, you will.” He said with a dreamy smile and a breathy voice. 

You smiled and waved goodbye before leaving the cafe.

You watched the minutes tick by as the clock approached 7 pm. You were slightly nervous for tonight. Chan was attractive in an intimidating way. Not that any of the other men you met weren’t also incredibly attractive. It was all circumstantial. Chan’s first impression of you was when you were in a rather vulnerable state. You would like to say you’re tough and thick-skinned, but needles hurt like a bitch. 

You stared out your window at the city lights. Feint sounds of city life bleeding into your home. You were startled out of your trance at the sound of your apartment’s buzzer going off. 

You walked to the intercom and held down the button. “Who is it?” You questioned but already knew the answer. 

“It’s Chan.” The smooth voice on the other side of the intercom sent a chill down your spine. 

“I’ll buzz you in.” You said and let your finger off the button. 

Minutes passed until there was a knock at your door. You approached your door and swung it open to reveal Chan on the other side. 

The man was decked out in a black leather jacket that he wore over a white wife beater. He had black ripped jeans and leather combat boots on to match his jacket. 

You looked him up and down momentarily before speaking, “Right on time, handsome.” You said as you looked up into his eyes.

He smirked at you, “Ready to go?” He questioned.

You nodded at him with a smile, “Yeah. Let me grab my purse.” You said as you turned and walked to your side table to grab your bag. 

You walked back to the door, exiting the apartment. You turned to lock your door when Chan spoke, “You look cute.” He said with a charming smile.

You flushed slightly before turning to look back at him. “Thank you. You do too.” You said with a playful wink and began making your trek to the lobby. The elevator ride down to the lobby was filled with a peaceful silence between you and Chan. You looked at him with a sideways glance, admiring his chiseled features. The slope of his nose and his plump lips flattered him well, and you couldn’t help but appreciate that.

Chan led the way to the parking lot, stopping at a completely blacked-out Comaro with carbon fiber features littered across it. You could only imagine what the beauty looked like under the hood. 

Chan gave you a small smile before opening the passenger side door for you. You smiled and thanked him.

“Wow, such a gentleman.” You said teasingly as he got into the driver’s seat of the car. 

Chan playfully scoffed at you, “I was raised right.” He replied simply.

Chan put the key in the ignition and you grinned as the engine roared to life, the car’s display lighting up before you. 70s and 80s rock songs played softly through the car's custom sound system. 

“Where are we headed?” You asked rather quietly.

Chan hummed, contemplating whether leaving your destination a surprise or not. “Incheon. There’s a big race happening there tonight.”

You nodded. “I’ve never been to Incheon before. Is the scene any good?”

You watched Chan’s ringed fingers dance across the wheel, following the rhythm of the music closely. His rings occasionally clinked against the wheel. “Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty fun. A lot of Seoul drivers head up there when they get bored of racing here.”

You listened to his words closely, completely interested in anything he had to say. 

“Felix goes up there quite often. He says they’re nicer to him over there.” Chan added.

You tilted your head in curiosity, “Who’s Felix?” 

Chan smiled slightly at your question, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ll see him there. He wouldn’t miss a race like this.”

After about 30 minutes, you and Chan arrived at your destination. Once again, the race was on the outskirts of the city, to not attract too much attention from cops and the public. The atmosphere was bustling with the sound of music, people, and loud cars. 

Chan shot you an occasional glance, admiring the way your eyes practically sparkled as you gazed out the window of the area around you. He couldn’t help but also admire your beauty.

Eventually, Chan’s car rolled to a stop, in line with many other impressive cars. He turned the car off and walked around to your door, opening it for you and offering his hand. You smiled at him appreciatively as you took it and stepped out of the car. 

Chan smiled at you, holding your hand a second longer than needed before letting go. “C’mon, let’s look around. I might be able to introduce you to some people.” He said rather cheerfully. You nodded and followed behind him to avoid getting lost in the rowdy crowd. 

Shortly after leaving the car, you heard someone shout Chan’s name. The two of you turned to meet eyes with a blonde man waving at Chan. His smile was bright and his freckles even brighter. 

Chan grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the blonde man. “Hey, Felix!” Chan said excitedly, bringing the other man into a hug. Felix continued to beam at him, before turning to you.

“I’m going to assume that you’re (Yn)?” He asked, his voice rich and smooth.

You were taken aback at how he knew you but nodded anyway, “Yeah. You’re Felix?” You asked with a raised brow, though you already knew the answer.

He smirked at you, “The one and only. The others won’t shut up about you.” He stated, “I can see why.” He said with a playful wink, which made you chuckle and wave him off.

He continued to speak, “You racing tonight? Or did Chan just bring you to show off to you?” He said, teasing the older man, who just rolled his eyes.

You smiled. “Pretty sure he just wants to show off. But I’m fine with watching. I always appreciate a good race.” You said, placing a bit of an expectation on Chan. He scoffed and rolled his eyes once again.

“I always put on a good race, sweetheart.” He said confidently. 

“Don’t get too confident, Channie. You’re racing me tonight.” Felix spoke, staring Chan down. 

Chan quirked a brow at the blonde, “That supposed to scare me, Lixie?” He replied, hitting back with a nickname of his own. Felix chuckled, clapping Chan on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

“No, but you’re girl is going to think you’re pretty lame once you lose.” The younger teased Chan cheekily. Chan gave Felix a blank stare,

“Yeah, whatever. See you at the starting line.” 

Eventually, you were standing on the sidelines as the men rolled to a stop at the aforementioned starting line. Felix was driving a sleek Chevrolet Corvet C6 in all black. His windows were down, which gave you the chance to admire his good looks. His long, blonde hair was pushed away from his face. Your eyes followed along his sharp jawline and moved up his face slowly. Your eyes widened when you met his eyes and saw that he was already staring at you. He smiled at your flustered state and winked cockily in your direction, before turning his eyes back to the road in front of him. 

Your eyes left his face, and you gave your attention to Chan. His windows were also down as he waved you over. You gave a light smile before approaching his open window. Reaching the window, you leaned down to be level with Chan, placing your elbows on the edge of the car door. 

Chan’s eyes trailed your face, holding himself back from taking a glance at your cleavage as your folded arms pressed your chest together enticingly. 

“Yes, Channie?” Your sweet voice rang in his ears.

Chan’s gaze felt  heavier than usual, “Not gonna wish me luck, sweetheart?” He asked. His tone gruff

You smirked at him teasingly, “You seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t need luck.” You said with a tilt of your head, batting your lashes tauntingly. 

Chan pursed his lips and tongued his cheek. He thought before speaking, “I could always use luck from you, pretty.” He states firmly.

You simply nodded and reached into the car to grab his chin. His eyes widened in shock as your steady grip turned his face away from you and towards the windshield. You leaned forward, “Good luck, handsome.” You whispered into his ear and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek. 

You turned and walked back towards the crowd and Chan turned his gaze to follow your form, his jaw slightly dropped and his breathing heavy. 

You noticed a familiar face as you walked back to the crowd. 

Minho.

His stare was curious as he watched you approach. 

“That was quite the show you put on, sweetheart. You’ve got his fangirls jealous.” Minho spoke, a teasing lilt to his voice as he looked down into your shadowed eyes.

You rolled your eyes at his taunting, “I was just wishing him luck.” You said affirmedly, crossing your arms and turning to look at the two cars in front of you.

Minho kept his eyes locked on your form, looking you up and down, “Well, you look nice.” He said in a much softer tone. You smiled at him and thanked him, returning the compliment.

A woman with a makeshift flag walked towards the track, standing in front of the two cars. 

“I think it’s starting.” You mumbled. Minho nodded in confirmation. 

“Racers!” The woman called out in a light British accent. “Engines ready?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

Both men revved their engines in response, their hands gripping the wheel a bit tighter. The woman smiled, raising the flag for a moment before dropping it abruptly. “Go!”

The men sped off, their tires squealing and engines roaring. The two cars got smaller as they traveled further off into the distance. The crowd cheered and screamed, quickly dispersing to move to the location of the finish line. 

You and Minho moved together, his hand resting gently on the small of your back to keep you close to him in the swarm of moving bodies. His hand felt hot against your exposed skin, but you didn’t mind. 

You finally made it to where the two cars would come to a stop, and one would be a winner. 

“You gonna wish me luck like that when I take you to a race?” Minho suddenly questioned. You looked up at him and examined his somewhat feline features. 

“I don’t see why not, Min.” You said, poking at his side playfully. He swatted your hand away and tsked at you. 

The two of you continued to chat until the sound of two familiar roaring engines met your ears. 

The crowd began to cheer again as the two vehicles appeared in the distance, their headlights bouncing off their surroundings. The men were neck and neck. When one overtook the other, it wouldn’t last long. 

You smiled as the speeding cars approached and the crowd bustled with life. They looked to be neck-and-neck. You vibrated with excitement as they got closer and closer.

It almost looked like the men weren’t going to stop until they came to a screeching halt right in front of you. Your hair blew back from your face and you felt the heat from the running cars kiss the apples of your cheeks. 

You were staring too hard at the two through their windshields to notice who won the race. The crowd gathered around their cars as they cheered and hollered. You, however, didn’t move from your spot. You wanted them to come to you. 

Felix and Chan exited their cars, closed the doors, and locked them. They met each other in front of the vehicles. “Congrats.” Felix’s deep and velvety voice rang through your ears as he gripped Chan’s shoulder in a brotherly manner. Chan smiled and nodded at him before the two men made their way to you and Minho.

“That was pretty close.” You said lightly, tilting your head up at them.

They both grinned, “We never know who is going to win when we race each other. That’s why we keep doing it.” Chan explained to you.

You nodded in understanding, pausing when you felt a hand on your hip. 

“Care if I take her home, Chan?” Minho spoke suddenly to the eldest man. 

Chan’s brows furrowed as he glanced between the two of you. You were also rather confused.

“She came with me, Min. It’s only right if I take her back home.” Chan responded.

You watched the side of Minho’s face closely as his jaw ticked slightly. 

“She’s my neighbor. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way when it’s already so late.” He stated, “And besides, you work early in the morning.” Minho finished. His cat-like eyes locked onto Chan.

You could see the questioning look on Chan’s face as he stared at Minho for a moment longer before looking down at you.

“Well, it’s up to you, pretty.” He said.

You faltered. The interaction felt rather tense.

“U-uh yeah. I don’t mind going home with Minho.” You finally responded, glancing up at the man whose hand was still grasping your hip. 

You missed the sag in Chan’s shoulders at your answer. 

“Alright (Y/n),  say bye to the boys, it’s getting late,” Minho said, now smiling. You furrowed your brows at him, your lips quirked in confusion. 

“Are you my father?” You teased.

Minho rolled his eyes at your teasing, “No, but I can act like it.” He said, throwing back the same energy you had given him moments ago. 

You made a gagging noise and pretended to throw up, “I did not need to know about your hidden daddy kink, you nasty man.” You said with a sneer. 

The men around you laughed at the interaction, the air feeling much lighter now. 

You decided to finally say goodbye, bringing Chan into a hug and thanking him for the amazing night you had. 

“Don’t thank me. I’d love to do this again, sweetheart.” He said quietly in your ear. You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. 

You then turned to Felix. You didn’t want to be as forward with him considering you had just met and didn’t want to make the man uncomfortable. However, you were shocked when he also brought you into a hug. 

“Next time, I’m racing you.”

Taglist:

@burningchaosdeer

@noone356097

@ateezkeepmysoul

@babyphotos0325

@foliea

@k-p0p-4ever

@obeythemasters

@multeciahucho

@my-dinos-life-is-good

@sirenthalia

@multeciahucho

@crybqbyme

@realrintaro

@lysira340

@emmmanaaa

@albedoalfredo17

@riveriki

Divider creds to @kodaswrld

[changes]

Friday, July 28th, 2023

🌟 New

We’ve updated the text for the blog setting that said it would ��hide your blog from search results”. Unfortunately, we’ve never been able to guarantee hiding content from search crawlers, unless they play nice with the standard prevention measures of robots.txt and noindex. With this in mind, we’ve changed the text of that setting to be more accurate, insofar as we discourage them, but cannot prevent search indexing. If you want to completely isolate your blog from the outside internet and require only logged in folks to see your blog, then that’s the separate “Hide [blog] from people without an account” setting, which does prevent search engines from indexing your blog.

When creating a poll on the web, you can now have 12 poll options instead of 10. Wow.

For folks using the Android app, if you get a push notification that a blog you’re subscribed to has a new post, that push will take you to the post itself, instead of the blog view.

For those of you seeing the new desktop website layout, we’ve eased up the spacing between columns a bit to hopefully make things feel less cramped. Thanks to everyone who sent in feedback about this! We’re still triaging more feedback as the experiment continues.

🛠 Fixed

While experimenting with new dashboard tab configuration options, we accidentally broke dashboard tabs that had been enabled via Tumblr Labs, like the Blog Subs tab. We’ve rolled back that change to fix those tabs.

We’ve fixed more problems with how we choose what content goes into blogs’ RSS feeds. This time we’ve fixed a few issues with how answer post content is shown as RSS items.

We’ve also fixed some layout issues with the new desktop website navigation, especially glitches caused when resizing the browser window.

Fixed a visual glitch in the new activity redesign experiment on web that was making unread activity items difficult to read in some color palettes.

Fixed a bug in Safari that was preventing mature content from being blurred properly.

When using Tumblr on a mobile phone browser, the hamburger menu icon will now have an indicator when you have an unread ask or submission in your Inbox.

🚧 Ongoing

Nothing to report here today.

🌱 Upcoming

We hear it’s crab day tomorrow on Tumblr. 🦀

We’re working on adding the ability to reply to posts as a sideblog! We’re just getting started, so it may be a little while before we run an experiment with it.

Experiencing an issue? File a Support Request and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

[kaiasky]

Complete-ish Guide To Settings You Might Want to Change

These instructions will be for desktop, because the settings are easier to find there. You can do the same on mobile, but it might be in different places.

Dash settings

Your dashboard is broken down into several feeds, including "Following" and "For You".

"Following" is primarily the posts of people you follow, "For You" is algorithmic.

If you just joined, "For You" is default, if you're a longtime user it's "Following". You can change this in the settings on the right

A lot of longtime users will tell you that the Following feed is where we spend most of our time. But try out all the feeds, and see what you like most.

The settings that are settings:

To start, click the settings gear under the account icon (the abstract person head).

This should take you to the General tab. Key settings:

Community Labels: By default anything NSFW is silently hidden. You can change how each subtype is handled.

Hide Additional Mature Content: If you have an iPhone disable this or it'll hide every post from you on the off-chance it contains porn.

If you're under 18 as determined by the birthdate you entered on signup, you can't change these. (If you want them on, you'll have to make a new account and lie)

Under the "Dashboard" tab, you can enable timestamps, which is mostly just nice information to have. sometimes a post is from 2010 and you can be like wow.

The next four probably have the biggest impact on your tumblr experience, so I'm gonna do a breakdown.

Best Stuff First reorders your "Following" to have popular posts at the top. Disabling it makes your feed chronological. I like it off, but up to you.

Include Stuff In Your Orbit and Based On Your Likes put various content from "For You" into "Following". Personally, I disable them to keep "Following" purely posts by people I follow, and then switch between feeds to get what I want.

Followed Tag Posts will put content from the "Your Tags" feed into your "Following" feed. Since you can go to the separate tags feed, I usually turn this off (it tends to show me a lot of duplicate posts), but up to you.

Under the "Notifications" tab you can tell Tumblr to stop sending you emails.

I'd recommend disabling all the emails--if you get a bunch of replies, Tumblr will happily send you dozens of emails, and you don't need that.

Notifications is the push-notifications in-app/in-website. The mobile app, for some reason, has a much better interface for controlling these, including the option to only get activity-notifications for mutuals. You can leave these on, or turn them off if you find the flood of notifications is distracting.

Tumblr News is a newsletter, it usually just has content from @fandom and the other staff-run recap blogs.

Conversational notifications sends you more emails.

Under the "Tumblr Labs" tab you can enable a bunch of cool beta tests.

I particularly suggest Reblog Graphs, What you Missed tab, & Popular Reblogs tab, but they're all fun to try out. A lot of these are honestly better than the For You dashboard.

For each blog you have, you can customize it's Blog Settings. Beyond things like setting an avatar or description, there's a few settings that are fun.

Custom Theme gives you your own subdomain at [blogurl].tumblr.com.

This makes your blog easier to search, and a lot of 3rd party tools depend on you enabling it. It also makes it easier to link your posts to people who don't have tumblr accounts.

You can completely customize the CSS/HTML/Javascript. you can go legitimately crazy. It's not a requirement, but if you want unlimited flexibility, go wild.

On the contrary, if you wanna run a more private blog, you can disable this and then hide your blog from search results/non-registered users.

Likes and Following are public by default. I like to turn these off so I don't have to worry about like, "what will people think if they see i'm following [...] or liking [...]". But it's also fair to keep them public if you'd like.

The other Blog Settings are important but pretty self-explanatory I think.

Finally, there's some useful tools I like:

XKit Rewritten - A bunch of scripts (like RES for Reddit). The one I really like is "mutual checker", which shows at a glance which blogs you are in mutuals with. Which is such a good feature it's included in the mobile apps by default i think.

siikr.tumblr.com - Tumblr search is bad, and google's indexing of tumblr blogs is worse. Siikr will find any post you've made on your blog. Because disk space is limited, only use it to search your blog, and if you're tech savvy consider running a local copy from source.