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mel

@okaymels / okaymels.tumblr.com

+mel , i'm in like a ton of fandoms. this is the love of my life
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my tumblr is dead and im upset because i used to make so many friends on here like,,,, do people even have internet friends anymore?? is there an equivalent to those group chats we used to make in 2019 that i can join??? šŸ„ŗ 2017 was a happier time

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Wow being in love is great and I miss it terribly

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reblogged

I love genuinely innocent ā€œboys will be boys.ā€ Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans theyā€™d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going ā€œYOOOOOOOOOOā€

I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.

I once lost my keys at a frat house.

My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch.Ā  Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out.Ā  I do not remember this part.

The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house.Ā  I stood there, right in front of the front door.Ā  This was a novel experience for me.Ā  Iā€™d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.

A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing.Ā 

ā€œI lost my keys in here last night,ā€ I called back.Ā Ā ā€œI was seeing if I could go in and look for them?ā€

He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.

ā€œGo wherever you want.ā€

Iā€™d never seen a frat house post-party before.Ā  Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light.Ā  A few of them threw puzzled glances my way.Ā  Iā€™m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.

I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.

ā€œDo you like dog movies?ā€ he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.

I told him I did.

He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing.Ā  I told him I was looking for my keys.

ā€œSorry, I havenā€™t seen any keys around here.ā€

I didnā€™t doubt him.

Twenty minutes had passed.Ā  Iā€™d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house.Ā  Iā€™d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommatesā€™ forgiveness and get a new set copied.

As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.

ā€œYou need help with something?ā€

ā€œI lost my keys here last night and I canā€™t find them, Iā€™ve looked everywhere.ā€

ā€œWhat do they look like?Ā  Iā€™ll put it into the group chat.ā€Ā  He was already pulling out his phone.

No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell.Ā  It was worth a shot.Ā Ā ā€œUm, itā€™s just a ring of keys.Ā  The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big.Ā  Like bright pink, you canā€™t miss it.ā€

He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.

ā€œAlright, I sent the message out.Ā  Good luck.ā€

And with that, he turned and left.

A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering.Ā  It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder.Ā  One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.

ā€œSomeone tell the girl!ā€ One of them shouted, faceless in the mob.Ā  ā€œGirl!Ā  Hey, GIRL!!!Ā Ā We found your keys, girl!!!ā€

They circled around me.Ā  I hadnā€™t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old.Ā  One of them split himself off from the crowd.

ā€œAre theseĀ -ā€ he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, ā€œyour keys?ā€

And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.

ā€œYes,ā€ I whispered.Ā Ā ā€œOh my god, yes.ā€

ā€œEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!ā€

The cheer went up.

Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs.Ā  I thanked them again profusely.Ā  There was a scattered round ofĀ ā€œno problemsā€ and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.

I think the best ā€œBoys will be boysā€ situations are when they all collectively share one brain cell over the most simple of tasks

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reblogged
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kenna-snow

ā€œNot all menā€“ā€œ

Youā€™re absolutely right, Thor would never do this.

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gaynfl

waitress assigned kin

As someone whoā€™s worked in several cafes, Iā€™m mad at how accurate this is.

I will forever remember the time my friend and I were out for chinese food. we got up to pay and I (the short one with bottom energy i guess?) revealed that I would be paying for the meal, and the elderly man at the counter just flat out said ā€œOh, YOUā€™RE the boss!ā€

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watermelinoe

abac (assigned bottom at chiliā€™s)

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