
538 posts
Idk If This Happens To Anyone Else Or If It's Just Me, But Tumblr Keeps Doing This Thing Where My Long
idk if this happens to anyone else or if it's just me, but tumblr keeps doing this thing where my long posts (i.e. answered asks, starters, etc.) take at least 5-10mins to show up on the dash, but will post to my blog instantly. but little posts like this show up on the dash no problem. i'm so confused and idk why this is happening but it's driving me crazy dflkja;s
More Posts from Loyalpromise
@lastedpromise asked: 97 [ john to abigail! ]
![@lastedpromiseasked: 97 [ John To Abigail! ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0a59f07b45be280f25dd865ea0996a8c/0707ba6bc3a17e9f-a1/s500x750/fa408b3f38364c1037a30824ceee22c6d66afcdd.png)
![@lastedpromiseasked: 97 [ John To Abigail! ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/904456bbe8aab348f2f71539c227b481/0707ba6bc3a17e9f-1c/s500x750/a6d8e7d333e43c0d16466ee9eaf5ee88aa4299fe.png)
#𝟗𝟕: "𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬𝑺" - 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒂 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !
i don't wanna be so shy... every time that I'm alone, I wonder why... hope that you will wait for me...
life with john has been anything but easy, and abigail knows that in another life, they most likely wouldn’t be together. in all honesty, despite her school-girl crush on him, she knows that, realistically, had she never fallen pregnant with his child, nothing would’ve come of them. john wouldn’t have wanted to settle down with her, anyway, she’s sure. still, as much as she would never say it to his face, abigail knows that if jack had to be the child of anyone at the camp, she’s glad his father is john. she’d never had any doubts about it—even if john had, and had subsequently deserted them for a year as a result. it’s taken them both a long while to accept their situation—more so john than herself—but she supposes, when it comes down to it, she loves that stupid, foolish man.
abigail loves him more than he even really deserves, but it’s an unwavering sort of love. she couldn’t unlove him if she tried. she’s stuck with him, and he, her. together for the long haul and all they can really do is try to make the most of it.
“ you’ll see, john, ” she tells him one day, voice full of conviction. “ you’ll see that you’re the only one for me. ”
not tumblr not showing my posts on the dash... this is homophobic.
@lastedpromise asked: 23 [ will to mike! ]
![@lastedpromiseasked: 23 [ Will To Mike! ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5a8965211ecb5c3c8553da1a49b847ca/6eb0a5244c36c601-04/s500x750/28724cea410e67e855b73e99006a9946e20c663e.png)
![@lastedpromiseasked: 23 [ Will To Mike! ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/904456bbe8aab348f2f71539c227b481/6eb0a5244c36c601-4e/s500x750/3bed214b5c6bc92fbbfde4caa35b0bbfacf20993.png)
#𝟐𝟑: "𝑺𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹" - 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !
i should go now quietly... for my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep... where all my layers can become reeds... all my limbs can become trees... all my children can become me...
most liked to think that mike didn’t know or care about what an asshole he could be. it’s not like he liked lashing out and he regretted when he did it—but damn if he wasn’t miserable. it certainly wasn’t an excuse, but between feeling like an inadequate son, boyfriend, and best friend, well, how could he not be in a bad mood ? it wasn’t like he did too spectacularly at school either. truth be told, he wished he could get out of hawkins and never have to come back. college couldn't come soon enough—if he’d even be able to get into where he really wanted to go…
though, his biggest, most secret gripe was an internal struggle that he hadn’t dared to tell anyone about. how could he ? who would even understand ? he didn’t even like to think about it, himself. he liked to shove it all down and pretend like that side of him didn’t even exist, but the truth of the matter was that it just made him angrier.
a moody teenager.
one that everyone had to constantly clean up after. he didn’t like that he was like this, but what could he do ?
slowly, apologetic eyes lifted to meet will’s for a brief moment before flitting away again. some ‘best friend’ he’d been…
“ man… ” he muttered, drawing out a long sigh. “ what a mess i leave, to follow… ”
another beat of silence passed between them before he quietly added, “ i’m sorry… you don’t…deserve that… ”
93 [ carlos to tk! ]
![93 [ Carlos To Tk! ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/03cbd9116010c87853b443d59372ce7c/284a23767dc741d8-51/s500x750/9f37cb192d093a37cf80619d8dff4bc4eda4d15a.png)
![93 [ Carlos To Tk! ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/904456bbe8aab348f2f71539c227b481/284a23767dc741d8-96/s500x750/6a48e76fc3e2f247f318d42753366451e18cc459.png)
#𝟗𝟑: "𝑪𝑶𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑬" - 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 / 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙵𝚈 𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 !
coffee in the morning... don't wanna wake you... just wanna watch you sleep... it's the smell of your hair... and it's the way that we feel...
they’re married now. that’s still something that tk sometimes struggles to wrap his head around. they’re married. prior to meeting carlos, tk had never thought he’d actually get married. after having his heart shattered back in new york, after his last relapse… he’d truly thought of himself as unlovable; afraid to put himself back out there and risk it all once again for the sake of LOVE.
he knows he hadn’t made it easy for carlos, but he had to give the man props—he never gave up. it had been a good thing that he hadn’t, too. otherwise, tk has no doubt that he’d still be miserable and aimless. carlos made his life infinitely better than he ever thought possible. he doesn’t know how he ever got so damn LUCKY…
still groggy with sleep, not willing to get out of bed quite yet, he snuggles in closer to carlos, curling against his muscular frame. idly, fingers trace imaginary shapes into his husband’s chest as he sleepily murmurs, “ i've never felt comfortable like this… ”
tagged by: @imaginarianisms tagging: anyone who wants to do this!

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

MINT
The world is a puzzle, so complex and multifaceted that you long to run your hands through the tapestry of its wonders and stay there forever, lost in the threads and colors and stories. You wish to stay there forever and you tell yourself it's to know the world but maybe it's not, maybe it's a fear that you're not enough, that you're so fragile and helpless in a world that moves too fast, to sharply, too many bright, painful colors that you stay locked inside your mind and thoughts, where you decide the tempo of your world, where you can grow and be as competent, as capable as you want, where the world is as wide as you can imagine it and never out of control unless you want it to be. Your shield is your knowledge, your mind, and you never feel ready enough for the world around you, never feel prepared enough, never safe, and you wonder if things could have been different, if you could have been better, happier, more like everyone else if you'd just known what you know now.

BASIL
You wear a thousand masks and you claim them all. You say they are all you, all parts of you but some of them you picked up when you needed to be brave, some you picked up when you failed because you were yourself, some of them you picked up because you needed to be stronger for someone smaller, better for someone bigger, useful for someone crueler, and you can't help but desperately scramble for first place, for usefulness, to prove you're worth keeping around, to prove you're the best, to prove you're good enough, valuable, enough. You just want someone to tell you you're enough. You strive for success, to be a role model, to take the lead, to be someone everyone loves, someone who can't fall, someone who can't be hurt the way you were once, the way you're running from even now. Sometimes you just want someone to hold your hand and let you spill all your broken fragments outward but you know you could never let it go. The only thing holding you together some days is the image of perfection and success and security and the worst part is that everyone else needs you to never falter either because you so often are the one holding everyone together too. You can't help but wonder if your emotions are ever your own, if you are just an actor in a life that's not your own, if you were cursed to be a mannequin, a doll, from the moment you were born and placed into a life where you were a child meant to be seen, not heard, to perform, not live, and the jealousy the injustice or the pain is fueled into masks as you take the world by storm.