#so it felt more like cliquey

[hallawayheart-moved]

birds eye (eye emoji)

[postmanlinksbootyshorts]

really funny seeing someone who is the problem commenting on how and why the server died... lol

[bonefall]

I love the new retool of Stormpaw's Demon because it so neatly slots into what happens later on. Of COURSE Hailstar made Crookedjaw deputy. Even ignoring the fact of Crookedjaw being a great warrior, he's got the ghosts of Volestar and Darkstar by extension breathing down his neck. Of COURSE Mapleshade gets Silverstream later on. After the way Rainflower treated him, Crookedjaw would want to break the cycle of abuse any way he could. Going through his daughter is the best way to punish him. I could sit down and think about it for a few minutes and come up with ways that the consequences of all this echo through Riverclan to this very day. (They still seem to not be super great at believing young cats standing up to abuse, if the whole Frostpaw debacle is any indication)

ASC is ALMOST done we're ALMOST there, the idiot plot's life ENDS on November 5th. I'm holding a VERY large mallet and waiting patiently

I've always seen RiverClan as the Clan that does the most gossip. ThunderClan might be famous for their group-wide arguments, but that's just because the people aren't aware of the absolute psychological warfare that's going on in every RiverClan meeting. Mousefur's Bigotry Ballyhoo has absolutely NOTHING on the Long Island Housewives Tier bullshit that can kill a grandma on the stump where she stands.

So when it comes to how I handle RiverClan's political drama, I approach it with a vibe that their culture is very "cliquey." I won't be completely removing the way that a lot of RiverClan took Splashstar's side, but I will be dividing the social groups into actual alliances. Not EVERYONE in RiverClan turned on Frostpaw.

Just like how here, in Stormpaw's Demon, not all of the Clan felt any one way.

There's cats who are more inclined to take Rainflower's side. There's a growing clique of cats who made a stand with Shellheart. Because Rainflower was the deputy, which comes with a lot of social capital, many warriors don't quite know how to feel because they don't want to update their mental image of a cat they greatly respected.

You might say that compared to ThunderClan, RiverClan is more individualist. When the tide turns on an idea in ThunderClan, cats are a lot more likely to "get on board" with popular opinion without examining it. Especially if they're shocked by something (like Tigerclaw's reveal), they can shift pretty quickly if they're rallied by a cat with enough passion, like Firestar and Goldenflower managed to do. That's not the case in RiverClan, if they're surprised by something, they'll gather into their clique and talk about it.

BB!Splashstar, for as much as an edgelord as he is, has an idea of how this works. He's no master manipulator, just clever.

Anyway. Glad to see it's noticed that everything's connected in BB. I ALWAYS try to make sure that history and culture trickles down to the current events!

[scarlettaagni]

Nocturnal Subroutines

Everyone was standing before him, far away. All the Autobots in a neat curved line, though unable to be distinguished, in a dusty pink desert with a black sky. A raised edge marks a divide.

Servos reached out from underneath the vision, with grasping digits. Starscream stumbled forward with desperation. An uneven and stilted gait as if he were learning to walk.

“Help—” he couldn't tell if he was thinking it or managing to say it aloud. “I thought you…”

A constricting sensation in his ventilation, and distant panting. He needed them. Someone, anyone. He needed someone else like he needed air.

As they allowed him to come closer, their cold gazes from equally cold blue eyes were visible. They even narrowed. There was judgment in them.

This made the jet stop in his tracks. The yearning for companionship became pleading and questioning.

“Why won’t you let me—? What did I do? What did I do?!”

Not a word was said, just sneers and cliquey looks. They stood as if about to turn around and leave him.

The un-earth roared from beneath them and the two halves parted. A yawning abyss grew to split the parties, Starscream’s half sinking as the Autobots’ rose. He stumbled, but they stood still as if he were overreacting.

Finally, they approached him, if only to peer over the edge of the growing cliffside. There was impartial curiosity, like how one watches a flying insect in the distance.

They were similarly disgusted.

“Stop looking at me like that! I didn’t do anything!” he cried. “Don’t look down on me… stop looking at me… I don’t know what I did, I—”

He collapsed to his knees and doubled over as if the pain were physical. Arms wrapped around him to protect from the cold. Some gazes seemed to hold concern, but it brought no comfort.

They never meant it. They would never do anything about it even if they did. He didn’t understand these feelings, but they were felt, and felt strongly.

He cupped his face in his hands, bowing.

“Stop pitying me. Don’t pity me. Don’t…”

He reached out once more, a wilting hand nowhere near what he craved. Another curled a fist atop his spark.

It felt like he was falling.

“Why are you all just standing there?!”

Some wry smiles, a familiar smirk. Even the placid stares.

Nobody came down for him.

Stop looking down on me… stop looking down on me… stop looking down on me… stop looking down on me…

A horrible creaking came from his limbs. How dare he try to reach out? He held his arms out before him and saw their sorry condition. They sloughed off at the elbow before he could say “cosmic rust”.

The pain was numb and far away, as if they had already died and merely broke off. Still, he gasped and choked.

His hands were sullied, so they must be destroyed. While Starscream nudged his cybernetic stubs at them, they writhed unnaturally and threw themselves into the deadly valley.

It was cold. So cold.

The jet struggled to right himself without his arms and turned to meet a brutal maelstrom. A haze of white and rolling dunes of snow lay before him.

Something in the distance, disappeared further along.

He chased it. He sought it.

A monstrous shadow, who seemed to drift in and out of view in the distance’s frosty barrier.

“What—who are you?!” he yelled, voice lost to the wind.

Starscream had to find it. Every electron in his spark pulled him forward. He knew he must find it, but could not conceive why.

It was always ahead of him, and he would lose sight.

“Come back to me! Please!” he hurled with a foreign desperation, voice fraying.

He teased Starscream. Always on the precipice of being caught up to, and vanishing without a trace. A whisper of a person, as uncertain as a promise.

Anachronistic arms reached from past the vision once more. Yes… this was when his hands were not sullied.

A name the Seeker didn’t know escaped his own lips. It, too, disappeared in the wind.

Wildly shuffling through the snow, his foot hooked onto something and he tripped. Starscream fell facedown and curled painfully. His right leg buckled in a wrong way. The lining of his ventilation pipe was stripped. Smears of energon stained the snow he laid in.

He threw himself onto his aft, dizzily looking up. He was standing there. No features other than his size to make out… but he appeared… displeased.

Nobody came down for him.

Starscream couldn’t go on. It felt like his mind was being pulled apart in different directions. His optics deliriously circled around as he idly thought to check what he tripped on.

He brushed the airy precipitation away, eventually hitting metal.

A massive dead face with cold blue eyes smiled at him.

“ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍᴇ.”

The shriek emitted from the display traveled to the real Starscream, who shot upright as the mind circuit uncoupled itself.

[bloodibambiidoll]

I little ramble/announcement:

When I'm in a better headspace I will still be reading Stranger Things fics again eventually. But, I’m done writing for this fandom. I feel like it's just been proven to me over and over again that this is a negative, generally unsupportive, entitled, competitive space. I often wish I stayed a reader. I miss when I didn't know about all the drama. I’m not going to put my time and creativity into something just to put it out into such a toxic space. It’s not worth it to me.

I truly wish I could just get the entire ST fandom in a room and give us all the Mean Girls gym scene treatment. Like "who here has felt personally victimized by this fandom?" Because I bet it would be just like that scene, everyone would raise their hands. I have been belittled, bullied, called racist and homophobic slurs. I've had insults thrown at me that I haven't heard since l was in highschool. I've watched my friends be treated the same way. I've watched the fandom divide and then divide again. The cliquey bullshit, the pointing fingers, the accusations of "copying". It's all so fucking pointless, if I'm being honest. We are all here for the same reason more or less. We all love the same characters.

This fandom has completely forgotten what FANDOM is about. Community, creativity, a safe space to share your art and your love for something with people who love it too. I wish so badly that we could all go back to that. To when it felt like an actual safe space, an actual community. But I just want to say thank you to anyone who's ever taken the time to read my work, become my friend, or even just been kind to me on this app. I'm thankful for each and every one of you.

I've always said I wouldn't let people chase me off or ruin my love for this fandom but at this point, I'm done. I'll still be around, l'm NOT deleting my blog, I still love Eddie and Steve very much but I absolutely need to take a step back from them before my love for them is ruined entirely. I am multifandom now and I will still be writing but for other characters. So if you don't want to see that I understand if you decide to unfollow me. I won’t hold it against you. I wasn’t even going to make a post, because honestly? No one is entitled to an explanation from me but I felt that the people who have actually been kind and made being here worth while deserved to know.

-Xoxodolly

[crappymixtape]

where you go i go too

everyone’s home for christmas break, so steve drags you to a party, but tommy’s there being a creep – steve has to confront his old ‘friend' | (  2.3k, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

W H E R E  Y O U  G O  I  G O  T O O 🎶 bodies, the knocks, MUNA, tycho

“C’mon, it’s a party, we’re supposed to have fun.”

The heat of Tommy’s breath washed over your neck, heavy with the scent of bourbon and cheap cigars, and he was drunk.

“Fuck off, Tommy,” you snapped, shouldering him in the chest, wanting nothing more than a breath of fresh air and Tommy fucking Hagan out of your face.

“Ooo, feisty, I like,” his nose wrinkled as he emphasized his words, hand catching your wrist as you turned to walk away. He pulled you back against him, giving you one of his devilish grins. “Carol won’t care, she’s not coming home for Christmas,” he gave you a wink then and you couldn’t take it anymore.

The grip he had on you was vice-like, and for a split second you felt your heart rate flutter against your neck. If he really wanted to he could pull you away, down the hall behind any of the doors and do whatever the hell he wanted. Panic threatened to wreck your cool and you quickly looked over his shoulder for Steve, but he was no where to be seen.

You’d only come to this fucking party because it was Christmas break and everyone was home til New Years. Steve said it’d be good for you both to get out, spend time with people your own age for once – no offense to the kids – but it had proven to be nothing short of a shitty time.

Everyone that had been a dick in high school still was, except for Steve, and college only seemed to make it worse. The popular girls were even more cliquey, wanting nothing to do with you when you approached to say hi, and all the guys were only there to hook up.

Resigned to the fact that Steve was off doing whatever the hell he was doing and not coming to save your ass, you closed your eyes and took in a breath to try and steady yourself.

Then, leaning in as close as you could bear, you put your lips to Tommy’s ear, voice saccharine sweet, “You’re an ass.” And your knee moved so fast he didn’t have time to think before it connected with his crotch.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he half groaned half yelped, doubling over in pain, and you couldn't move fast enough as you walked quickly across the living room to the kitchen. Anything to get away from that creep.

Your face must have said volumes because the girls that had been crowded around the bowl of punch chatting about their nails or something just as stupid scattered without hesitation. Grabbing a red cup from the stack you dunked it into the bowl, not bothering with the ladle, and downed it in one go.

Vodka. Gross.

Wiping the back of your hand across your lips you dunked it again when you felt someone grab your shoulder.

“Tommy, I said fuck off,” you snarled, rounding on what you assumed was a second attempt to yank you into a bedroom, but instead found yourself face to face with the stupid idiot that had dragged you here in the first place.

Your mouth firmed into a straight line and you said nothing as you turned back to the bowl.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve scrambled around you so that you were facing each other and he put his hand back on your shoulder, “What was that?”

“Nothing. This party sucks,” you snipe, giving him a shitty look before downing your second cup of gross vodka and Kool-Aid.

Steve’s brows furrowed and he straightened, eyes scanning the room, then stooped back down to look at you again. “What’d he do?” he knew, it was always Tommy, and you knew the look on his face. If you hadn’t been so angry about everything you might have told him how much you liked it when he looked at you like that, but you didn’t have it in you. Not now.

The two of you had been friends forever, since the second grade, always following each other around to parties or movie night or Upside Down shenanigans. Just friends. But lately. Lately it felt like more. Like crackling static buzzing between the two of you anytime you were close. Anytime he pulled you into a hug. Anytime you caught him looking at you while you sat close on the couch watching movies with the kids. And it was there now, but you were too angry.

What’d he do? Steve’s words echoed again in your head, pulling you back to the present and you set your jaw, looking away from him.

“Just being Tommy, fucking creep,” you went to dip your cup in for thirds, but Steve’s hand gently caught your wrist before you could refill it. “Hey!” yanking your hand away you gave him a glare, “It’s a party. We’re supposed be ‘having fun’ aren’t we?”

Jamming his tongue into his cheek, Steve sucked in a breath, a piss poor attempt to keep his cool as he looked up at the ceiling. Bringing his gaze back down to you he took your hand again and gently, but firmly pulled you out the sliding door and onto the patio.

The cold Indiana winter hit you square in the chest, taking your breath away. Even your grandma’s old bedazzled Christmas sweater couldn’t hold any warmth. “What the hell?” you could see your breath as it carried into the night air, glaring at Steve.

His face was struggling between anger and concern and he put his hands on his hips as he leveled with you. “Tommy! What’d he do?” he asked again, flinging a hand out for emphasis, and you felt yourself coming down from the mixture of anger, panic, and shitty vodka.

Biting in your bottom lip you looked away from him, eyes dropping to your chucks that were quickly cold as ice in the small bit of snow still on the ground. “I don’t know,” you started, throat tight as you tried to put words to how for a minute you felt scared. For a minute you weren’t your confident, don’t-fuck-with-me self. And all because of some asshole.

“He–” your words caught in your throat and you cleared it, trying again, “–he tried to get me to…mess around or whatever.” The last part of your sentence was said quietly, almost a whisper. Saying it aloud made it feel more real, made you think about what might’ve happened had you not kneed him in the crotch.

Steve had closed the gap between you two, you hadn’t realized until his fingers softly lifted your chin, trying to meet your gaze. “Fuck him,” Steve said decidedly. His other hand took yours for just a second, squeezing it reassuringly, and then dropped it to storm back inside.

The slider door slammed open on the frame and the buzz of laughter and yelling quieted immediately, ‘Need You Tonight’ by INXS blaring from the speakers was the only thing cutting the silence.

“Tommy!” Steve’s voice was loud over the music and the crowd quickly parted giving him a path straight to what used to be his best friend.

The shit eating grin on Tommy’s face was enough to make Steve want to level him right then and there, but he knew better. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the King,” Tommy drawled, pupils blown from all the keg stands and cigars, hands lifting up as he gave an over-exaggerated bow.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Steve snapped, bringing himself well into the other man’s space. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater Steve pushed two fingers into Tommy’s chest and shoved, “Get out.”

Ooooooo.

A crowd had gathered now, leaving enough space in case punches were thrown, and when you finally shoved yourself to the front your stomach dropped. A small groan escaped you and you covered your face with your hands. Why did it always come to this?

“Steve,” you hissed, “Drop it.”

But he either didn’t hear you or ignored it – probably the last one – and hadn’t pulled his gaze away from Tommy who’s response to getting told to leave was laughing.

“Fuck you, Harrington. I’m not leaving,” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest and took a step toward Steve. The toes of their shoes were almost touching as he bit in his lower lip, grinning ear to ear, “You’re gonna have to make me.” The smug look on Tommy’s face was enough to make anyone want to punch him at that point and every pair of eyes at the party immediately settled on Steve, waiting to see what he was going to do.

A dark laugh escaped Steve as he shook his head, turning to look at you as if to say, this fucking guy. A few others chuckled along with him, but the tension was thick.

Then, you saw it first, Steve’s fist ball up at his side, and when he turned back to Tommy it cut through the air, slamming into Tommy’s jaw.

“Oh shit!”

“Fuck him up, Harrington!”

“C’mon, Tommy! Don’t be a pussy!”

Tommy yelped and put a hand over his face, a lilac colored bruise blooming where Steve’s fist had landed. “Man, fuck you, Harrington!” stooping down Tommy lunged at Steve and tried to catch him around the waist, but Steve was too quick. Probably because neither of you had had too much to drink just yet, but Tommy crashed into the coffee table just behind Steve with a crack! the wood top breaking in two.

Shaking his hand, Steve grimaced and quickly shoved past a couple people who were crowding over Tommy to get to you. “Let’s get the hell outta here,” he grumbled, holding his hand against his chest.

“Best idea you’ve had all night,” you say rolling your eyes, but your tone didn’t hold any venom.

You grabbed the front door for him and followed Steve down the front walk to his BMW parked on the street. His one step made up for two of yours and you had to half jog to keep up as he stalked along the pavement.

Unable to help yourself, you looked over at his hand as you got to his car, his good hand reaching to open the passenger door for you. One of his knuckles was cracked and bleeding and the rest of his hand was bright red.

You bit in your lower lip, worrying it between your teeth as the door closed next to you, plopping down into your seat. Clicking your belt into place, Steve fell into his seat quickly after you and started the car. He turned on the heat, ‘Girl Like You’ by Foreigner quietly playing through a bit of static on the speakers.

Neither of you said a word as he waited for the car to warm up, but you could tell his hand hurt. His brows were knitted together as he slowly flexed his hand open and closed, and when he closed it he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Hey,” almost instinctively you reached across him for his good hand, voice soft as it was your turn to give a reassuring squeeze.

Steve lifted his gaze from the steering wheel to meet yours, the light from the street lamps turning his brown eyes a soft caramel color. A small huff of a laugh escaped him as he threaded his fingers with yours, “Sorry. That party did suck.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, but it fell when you looked back down at his hand. “Your hand…” you started, untangling your fingers from his to ghost over the cut and bruises that were forming.

“Ah, it’s fine. I’ve had worse,” he joked, and while you knew he was right, demobats aside, he was still hurting. His eyes flicked back up to look at you and you felt the last little bits of anger melt under his gaze. Even now, brow furrowed and hair haphazard, he was still so fucking pretty.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said, reaching a hand up to brush a few stray hairs out of his face, letting it settle on the line of his jaw.

Steve leaned into your touch, it was warm and soft as you both sat in the wintery cold, and he was thankful for it. “S’okay,” he murmured, his good hand moving to brush his thumb gently across your cheek, “You’re worth it.” The smile he gave you then sent your heart rate racing, heat rising in your cheeks, and you could’ve sworn you saw the same in him.

The air between you felt electric as you held each other softly, tenderly in a moment where only the two of you existed. Swallowing the nerves that were creeping into your chest, you blinked softly, lashes sweeping your cheeks. “Steve…” your voice was gentle, more timid than usual, and he could sense your hesitation.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning in just a little closer, your noses almost touching as his bruised hand settled on your waist.

Quiet again, you couldn’t muster a response, and instead closed the gap between the two of you by pressing your lips against his.

Steve was soft and sweet and you could taste the spearmint gum he’d been chewing earlier in the night. The leathery cedar scent of his cologne made your head hazy and when you finally pulled away the absence of him made your heart ache.

“Hm,” Steve murmured thoughtfully, hand still gently resting on your cheek, “That’s funny.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, finding nothing funny about what had just happened, but he caught it on your face and laughed softly. “My hand feels better,” he joked, the corners of his lips tugging up into a grin.

Letting out a small groan you shook your head and slipped your hands down to his chest to grab fistfuls of his scratchy, woolly Christmas sweater. “Well, then you better do it again, Harrington," you said, matching his grin. Pulling him into you there in the idling car, the warmth from the vents not the only source of heat in that moment, you kissed him again. And again. And again.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[poisonedspider]

Didn't get as much done as I wanted to tonight, but you know, that's okay. It's okay if I never fully catch up. I get done what I get done, and that's that. I'm also very sleep drunk right now, so I'm going to be sappy on main for a second buttttt -

I love you guys.

I used to have rules that I would never talk to people OOC because quite frankly I didn't care to. I didn't really care to get to know people because I'm here to write, not make friends. But this fandom has changed that. I know people say 'roleplay is just a hobby, you don't know these people' but joke's on you my best friend for 15+ years and I met through roleplay. Like, even if we don't talk all that much, you guys are my FRIENDS. And I love you.

I love that it is one in the morning, and whereas a few months ago I would have been going to bed at ten every night at the latest due to crippling depression, I am now sitting here cracking up over things like penis fly traps and grease boiled babies. I feel like I am part of a community, which I haven't felt in a long time, if ever in a rpc (I am usually in very small fandoms, or fandoms that have horrible reputations for being cliquey - I see you str*nger things fandom).

The fact that people comment on my head canons almost as a YAS QUEEN makes me feel so validated. The fact that there is genuine evidence there that people love my portrayal (I don't suck if I have 94 drafts left, right?) That sometimes I doubt myself and my writing, we all do, but I'm met with support rather than told I'm being a whiny bitch baby (It's okay, I know I'm a bitch baby).

I love dash games - I've never been in a fandom that really does those. Feeling like my Angel gets to be a part of something. That I get to be a part of something. Maybe it's because we are such a dead dove fandom and therefore there isn't the purity culture and bullshit monitoring or whatever and that makes us more open minded, but I feel seen here.

And I am literally happy crying at one AM because I haven't felt this happiness in a long time. A stupid spider slut and a bunch of hazbins are making me feel genuine joy. And you guys are just....you're so wonderful. So wonderful. You are all brilliant writers with such amazing takes and every time I get a reply from any of you I roll around and kick like a toddler because I love to see how each specific portrayal responds to my italian slut of a son.

Thank you, friends. Really - friends. If you are struggling thinking you matter or that anyone cares, know that you at least have me here cheering you on, because my life has been changed because each and every one of you, and I'd say that means you have a pretty big impact.

Grazie per essere parte della mia famiglia prescelta. Grazie per essere l'antidoto al mio veleno.

[ameliapples]

I see people on other platforms talking about cohost going down and I generally see the same few complaints being trotted out over and over as the reasons why it failed and was doomed to fail from the start. "It kept logging me out", "there was no app", "my timeline was always dead", "I got so little engagement", "I had to wait how long before I could post??". It's the stuff people have complained about with the platform forever, and while I think these complaints are generally a bit silly, they do arrive at what's probably the real reason we're all mourning the impending death of eggbug without realizing it.

A big part of what made cohost so different from other social media platforms is that it was the only platform where you had to actually want to be there. Every other platform is basically designed to hold you at gunpoint and force your attention and engagement 24/7. The gun in this situation being mostly fomo - everything is happening so rapidly, there's so much to keep track of, what if you miss something? what if it's something really big and you don't tweet about it within the first 5 minutes of it happening? what if you miss the next Main Character? there's a new one every day and they're forgotten as quickly as they arrive, but a month from now someone's gonna bring it up as a joke and you won't get it and you'll look lame and cringe! you don't want to look Lame and also Cringe, do you?

cohost never felt that way. If you were there, it was because you genuinely wanted to be. The site was designed to ensure that, even. You had to wait about a week after you made an account to ensure you weren't a spam bot before you could post at all. Once you could post, there was no algorithm. None. Nothing was fed into your feed that wasn't directly posted to a tag you follow or a person you follow. If you wanted to see something outside of that, you'd have to do the legwork browsing tags yourself. For budgetary reasons, there was never an app, so you had to either learn to set up a shortcut icon on your phone or else open it manually in a browser. It also logged you out every 30 days as a privacy and security measure. You had to want to jump through all these hoops to use cohost.

And what did you get for doing the effort? Peace. A social media environment that didn't feel like you were constantly stood in the center of Time Square with all the noise and marquees and heckling voices focused directly at you at all times. It didn't try to be a news site, or an advertising platform. No algorithm meant you only got what you actively chose to see, and nothing more. You could say in your head "lemme check cohost real quick", and you could be up-to-date on your timeline in under 5 minutes. It was a place you would willingly go to check in on friends or look at cool art or play around with html like it was 2004 again, not get sucked into for hours doom scrolling. Because there was no algorithm, no push for engagement, no numbers that publicly went up, no one was competing for attention or clout. No one I ever met on cohost was immediately antagonistic, or rude, or trying to dunk someone. People were chill, FRIENDLY even, in a way I have never seen on twitter or tumblr even back in "the good ol days". The adversarial, cliquey, petty nonsense we all expect from social media was almost entirely absent. It was peaceful, quiet. It was the only social media platform I've used to not give me anxiety, or a migraine.

So of course it fell apart. We live in a world where things require money to simply exist, and cohost was designed basically not to make any by virtue of having virtues. It refused to advertise, sell user data in any way, open a weird shop where you can put microscopic pngs next to your name, or force people's worst impulses in order to keep them on the site for as long as possible. It ran off merch purchases and cohost plus, which was meant to give you premium features but never got the chance to do much more than upping your file size limit on uploads. It was essentially a $5 a month donation. It wasn't enough, clearly.

So now it's going, but I don't really think saying it "failed" is right. If anything, it's made it clear what a failure the rest of the social media ecosystem is. Usually when a platform is dying, or looks to be dying (in the case of twitter, or tumblr post 2018), people immediately make plans to jump ship to a new one. But upon hearing that cohost was shutting down, my reaction, as well as that of a pretty large portion of the user base, was that we'd rather spend time on other things. Cohost was so different an atmosphere it seems to have had a healing property on people who used it. It wasn't perfect, moderation was spotty at times due to the limited staff, people had their blind spots and biases they sometimes struggled to work through. But it was better than what we've grown to expect. It made you realize how tiring the rest of the internet has become, and that you don't need to deal with it. You can better spend that time, doing things you enjoy with people you enjoy. Maybe even outside, if you can muster it. You might even meet some cool people out there, wearing cool patches, eulogizing a cool little website, with a funny lil bug shaped like an egg.

[pseudowho]

jfc i know the clique you're talking about in that post Haitch! i never knew you were a part of the group but lmty i am HAPPY that you left. any time i see their reblogs i just scroll past tbh because they're so ott that its clear theyre just doing it because theyre friends and it feels so unfair especialy when most of the work isnt half as good as they build it up to be

glad you stepped away and tbh it makes sense. dont let the muggles get you down bebe!

For anyone wanting full discourse, a discussion on cliques began with This Ask Here:

I've had a few people say this!

I think while groups like this convince themselves and each other that they reblog out of community spirit, and reblog each other as a show of support for each others' writing, and because they adore each other, etc (which may be true), the real pathology creeps in when they unfairly prioritise their inner circle, 'over the top' reblog as you've said, and then exclude people whose personality they don't like.

There's a lack of self-reflection that comes with this; nobody seems to want to admit that they're playing favouritism. Nobody seems to want to admit that other people getting more interaction than them upsets them. Nobody seems to want to admit that they don't reblog art for the art; their mates are prioritised, and anyone they decide has wronged them, or has not conformed, is ghosted even when their work is brilliant.

I'll be honest, when it came to leaving the cliquey group, I walked away myself after my snapping incident. I'd been brewing bad feelings for quite some time, and I wasn't as eloquent as I usually am, and it left a very bad taste in my mouth. I'm disappointed with how I handled it, as I should have taken the opportunity to better display how I felt the morality and ethics of the overall group had taken a backseat, and I was angry for quite some time. As I tend to do in these situations, I remove myself, take a deep breath, and think.

Spending more time reflecting on it afterwards (as I always take time to consider that I may be the AH in any conflict situation; it's important to confront yourself) and spending time observing the clique from a distance, actually, I am quite certain that I read the situation well. Their pathology does seem to have only worsened.

When it then comes with silly little things, like being blocked, and your friends being ignored because a clique knows they're friends with you, and a weird obsessive 'collecting' attitude of more and more writers and artists being brought into 'the group', it very much starts to look very insincere, doesn't it?

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[moenxs]

I hope you feel better! What sort of things do you feel are rampant in the rpc? Do you think they are things that are easy to improve?

oooh boy now THIS is definitely going under a read more because the yapping i'm about to do....

Let me start off by saying a lot of things "wrong" with the rpc are easy to improve as a whole but much harder to improve individually since really a lot of this comes down to individuals and a "vocal minority" in a sense.

I think there's a lot of underlying elitism as a whole in the rpc whether its purposeful or just a byproduct of existing on this site. And a lot of this also results in a very "cliquey" vibe that stretches across every fandom. Now I'm not saying that having a friend group that you tend to prioritize a bit is bad, we all do that, i mean going out of your way to exclude people that try to extend a conversation of interacting, especially if you happen to be mutuals with them.

And I get that OOC interactions can be a little rough especially when social interactions can be hard for people, but if that's the case, then why be mutuals with someone if you're either not going to reach out first, OR interact with them at all if THEY reach out first? Idk that whole thing is just frustrating to me and I think that it's something that definitely needs to be improved on as a whole.

This next thing is just a little more personal and to some people i might sound like I'm whining but it's genuinely an issue with roleplay as a whole and not really just on tumblr.

The topic of a strange aversion to female characters, and OCs. And particularly female OCs. I talked about this with a mutual briefly earlier and they helped me feel a little better about speaking up on this. To be blunt, it still sucks to be an OC writer on tumblr, especially if it happens to be a female OC (don't even get me started on female CANONS though lmao that's a whole other convo-) and especially if you're not really "popular" within the rpc already.

I quite literally have one of my blogs on a momentary hiatus because he was getting a little too much attention. Meanwhile it was nearly crickets here at one point, and I won't lie it does hurt quite a bit. But I'm not going to blame everyone entirely, people have their preferences and that's understandable.

As someone who is a cis woman, i started out on tumblr writing female OCs, and slowly when i found myself getting more comfortable writing male OCs I also found myself getting more consistent interactions. It felt like people were actually getting excited to write with me. And younger me was loving it! I didn't even realize anything was weird as I eventually transitioned over to just writing male OCs entirely for a time. Female OCs still existed on my blog but they were collecting dust.

It wasn't until recently (post 2020 ish) that i really dived back into my female characters and it was around that that I had started to notice the trend as well. I dedicated myself to female OCs in particular and I noticed a pretty steep decline in interactions as a whole. Yea, maybe you can say it was a coincidence until I started writing a male OC again and things steadily increased once again.

Also, I dearly love interacting with other people's OCs, wholeheartedly so. But who wouldn't want to interact with a canon character as well? Other OC writers are extremely welcoming, I've rarely found someone that actively writes OCs more often than not that's not sweet as can be (there are exceptions but i won't get into that).

I've noticed though that (not all obviously but it's definitely a chunk) a decent bit of the elitism that I mentioned before comes from these canon writers. The ones that are "popular" and are actually well known in the space, while most can be just as nice, there's that "vocal minority" that can easily leave quite a bad taste in your mouth.

Like i said, it's a pretty vocal minority. Most if not all of my mutuals that write canons are absolutely not in this category. But still there are some that-

this is going to sound so bad but i promise it's not it's just that i cannot find a better way to word this-

Make me as an OC writer, idk, feel lesser? Like if i'm not one of their close friends that also happens to write an OC it feels more like it's simply an obligation to try and write with me than it is a mutual "excitement" i guess.

I don't know, it's just that even with some mutuals, there's a lack of mutuality and sometimes it makes me wonder why we're even mutuals. Maybe that's just a bit of insecurity talking but honestly at this point it's just incredibly frustrating than it is disheartening anymore.

Like, I do not care how slow you are as a writer, I would just be happy with some sort of reciprocation OOC???? I don't know if that sounds entitled, I know people have busy lives but to see people boasting about ships or plots that theyve been talking about with other people when I've been trying actively to plot with them or even just converse with them is also now more frustrating than disheartening these days lol.

ANYWAYS HAHA

yea that sure was a yap session and a half, I don't know how many of you will make it to this point but if you did thank you so much for hearing me out and hopefully I didn't really offend anyone that badly at any point LMAO

[sapari]

the thing about fediverse (i.e. mastodon) is that it can actually be a decent social media experience if you find the right instance. but to find the right instance, you either need a lot of patience, or you gotta Know A Guy. i think ive bounced between 10 or so instances over the years and it's only within the last year i finally found an instance i felt good about (lethallava.land/wetdry.world), because i didn't have Fedi Friends to help me find instances

here are some things that might make getting into fedi a better experience:

bring your friends to join with you. if you don't have fedi friends, your social interaction would come from the public timeline. this is like, the equivalent of joining a social media site and following 50 people at random whom you don't know. unless you're an adaptable extrovert, you would probably feel quite out of place

don't bother with the large instances, past a certain size it becomes extremely difficult to moderate and you're more likely to bear witness to some absurd cross-instance drama. if you don't have friends, your posts kind of get lost in the flood. i would classify >2000 active users as too big for comfort

i tried furry.engineer (among a few other furry instances) for a while. get ready to see blurred images constantly drifting past your timeline if you do this. i personally found that mastodon furries are cliquey and complain a lot, though

there is currently a spam wave happening on fedi, just be aware of that, you should probably disable mention notifications on your notifs menu if it becomes an issue. and report all spammers so your instance admin can block the source of them.

also, because of this spam wave, almost all active fedi instances are set to invite only or admin-approval for joining, but approvals run fairly quick if the admins are monitoring it (which they probably are rn)

it sucks that like, of course if you join fedi you're not gonna bring your friends until you figure out if you like it or not, and of course you're gonna try the big instances first, and i think this leads to most new fedi users getting incredibly sick of it fast. it's unfortunate but not much anyone can do about it unless you're willing to jump instances, and if you are i wish you luck (it's better to get comfortable doing so anyway)

in my opinion fedi is meant to be experienced with small-medium communities, the kind where you start to recognize repeat faces

[fruitcoops]

Solstice Sweetheart

Happy Secret Santa, Elise! This was such a fun prompt to tackle, and I hope you find as much joy in the New Year as these three <3 O'Darwin belong to @lumosinlove and the Cold Brewed Enchantments/ witchy coffeeshop genderbend AU is credited to the server's lovely minds!

Nat inhaled.

Bottles on the table—mostly. Repurposed jars held most of their previous contents, and those had been scattered to kingdom come since the night began. As they should be, of course. He could think of nothing worse than a mediocre solstice party. Awkwardness was born and bred in the cliquey little huddles of a party gone wrong.

Nat exhaled.

None of that, now. The house was still standing. People had fun. Out-of-control spellwork had been kept to a dull roar, even after the firewhiskey made an appearance. He could feel, deep in his soul, that it had been a good night.

Glass chimed in the other room. Kasey, if Nat had to guess. That sound had the hallmarks of her careful handling all over it. Alex was somewhere on the stairs if the heavy footsteps were any indication. If she was untangling the streamers from the banister, Nat was going to…he didn’t even know, anymore. He had spent the better part of a year since Alex’s arrival in their little town trying to figure out what the hell was going on between his girlfriend and the gorgeous new girl, with naught but a spinning head to show for it.

They knew each other. Kasey had told him that much. The dulled gray-blue of her tone said more than words could.

Soft humming floated through the empty doorframe. The gentle rasp of Alex’s voice had such a lovely color to it, like fresh maple syrup or crystalline honey. It glowed against the jewel tones of the rest of her—rich, curling clues tucked in tight next to sparking reds.

Kasey’s braid caught the light when she turned, only just visible through the kitchen doorway. Nat had loved that about their house since the first day; so few doors to still the air. Something was always in motion, always making noise. He wished Kasey could see it—the brilliance of sound, the cool shades of her voice—but she just seemed to like it so much when he described it.

And maybe that was something just for him to cherish. Their life clung to the ceiling corners like cobwebs. Words and music and laughter. A snippet of Kasey singing ‘happy birthday’ had been lingering in the dining room window since the summer.

“Winter!”

An electric blue comet zipped from the stairs to the kitchen sink.

“What?” came the mossy wave of Kasey’s answer.

“Knutty promised pastries for us tomorrow! She’s trying new recipes. Needs extra mouths.”

Alex would need more hands if she was trying to text Leo and clean at the same time. Nat gathered an armful of empty bottles off the table and dumped them into the recycling bin before turning to the staircase, where one sneaker-clad foot was barely visible through the slats in the railing.

“New recipes?” he asked.

Alex’s face popped into view. Still freckled, even in the dead of winter. Nat felt his stomach perform a funny little flip-flop over itself at her bright smile. “Oh, hey!”

Orange and gold fireworks, crackling about her head. “Thanks for cleaning that up.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Alex’s vague wave sent a curlicue of taupe his way. His mouth tanged with citrus when it reached him. “Least I can do.”

“None of the other guests stayed to help,” Nat pointed out, bending to collect a few paper crowns.

“None of the other guests are as gracious as me.” Her smile was quick and mischievous, but genuine. How often had Nat thought the same of its owner? “Get up here, Music Man. Where’s your solstice sweetheart?”

“Downstairs, with the dishes.”

Alex pulled a face that made her pointed nose wrinkle. “I told her I’d handle those.”

“Clearly it worked,” Nat teased. “Don’t feel too bad. You know how she gets around the solstice.”

A test. Just a teeny-tiny-itty-bitty maybe of a test. Alex’s fond smile was far and away the best answer. “Yeah,” she said, darting a grin toward Nat. “You’re a lucky one, Darcy. It ain’t easy being a seasonal delight.”

“I think she’s pretty great all year.”

“Good answer.”

It was times like this when Nat wondered if Alex could see what he saw. Or at least, if she understood. Dark topaz eyes ticked along the path of pensive purple.

Alex had been speaking in purple a lot, lately. He knew why. Even without his gift, he’d be a fool to miss the way she reached, hesitated, ached for Kasey now that their distance could be measured in inches instead of borders. It pulled at them both, torn edges of the past snagging on the present. He knew what it felt like to match himself to Kasey’s steady keel and let her draw him through her oceans. Alex spoke like someone who had swum those waters before, unafraid that Kasey would ever close the ice around her.

Nat…wanted that. For himself, and a laughed morning, Music Man held in golden parentheses, but more than that, for Kasey. She deserved so much. He could give so much. But if Alex had ridden out the storm and found harbor in Kasey’s heart enough to linger after all these years, Nat would be worse than a fool to let that fall away for his own sake. He could love them both.

Did.

Would.

“Nathaniel.”

“Alexandra.”

“You’re thinking at me.”

“You’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Alex’s hands never stuttered on the loops of ribbon. “Yes.”

Butter yellow. A pastel, more tender than her heavy saturation, but unyielding. “You didn’t stay here just to be a good guest.”

“No.”

Dandelion cradled in blush pink. “You’re in love with me.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t whisper. He didn’t know why he thought she would. Alex never whispered. She was far too vibrant for it to do any good. It didn’t matter if she was banging on their door to drag them out for a taste of Leo’s kitchen witchery or falling asleep on their throw pillows in her fox form—wherever Alex was, the world grew brighter.

“You should tell her,” Nat said.

“I won’t get in the way of what you have.”

“You won’t,” he agreed. It had lacked the fuzzy edges of a question, but that didn’t matter. Anything, as long as she understood.

“It’s—” The maroon undercurrent of her voice curdled mauve. Her gaze fell on him with the weight of a feather alighting on the water. “It was before you. I let her go. It’s okay.”

“Alexandra.” An old joke between them, perhaps too flirty for simple friends. Nat propped his chin on the end of the railing and made sure she was looking, really looking, before he continued. “I’m in love with my girlfriend, and I’m more in love with you every time you come by, and I’m pretty sure our solstice sweetheart has been head over heels for you since the day you met.”

Alex’s lips pressed together, but the smile ticking at the corners betrayed her.

“It seems like a waste to sit here and be sad on the stairs when Kasey Winter is in the kitchen and waiting for you to say something,” he finished quietly.

His heart should be racing. His stomach should be in knots, all aflutter the way it had been when he first asked Kasey out. But with Alex looking at him like she could hardly believe the marvel of her ears, he found only calm waiting.

“Yes.”

Crimson bloomed around the word. Alex was so sure of herself—Nat thought he might love that most about her, from not-so-sneaky tips stuffed into her sister’s café jar to her utter confidence that whatever new drink she brought to their doorstep would be the most delicious thing they had ever tasted. She was unfailingly correct. His eyes flickered to her mouth.

“What are you waiting for?” she challenged.

“Kasey first.” She deserved so much.

Alex’s smile grew, and she pushed herself up with a “don’t have to tell me twice” that flashed peacock through the stairwell. Peacock, like Kasey’s laughter on the first day of winter when her magic was thick and strong in her veins. Nat was pretty sure some part of his heart beat just to hear that sound and watch it coat their home.

He was already reaching for the ribbon where she left off when Alex’s hand closed around his wrist and dragged him after her. He couldn’t help a laugh and didn’t particularly want to—turquoise shimmered ahead of them where Kasey was singing along to the record player under her breath. What a thing to have waiting.

“Winter.”

Kasey looked up, a casserole dish held in both hands under the warm water. Her eyes darted between them; a golden brow arched. “What did you…”

It took two steps for Alex to close the distance between them. She shut the faucet off and took Kasey’s hands from the sink, holding her wrists between them without a care for the water dripping on them both. “Please?” came the lilac-soft request.

Any other time of year, and Kasey might have questioned it.

The solstice lined her in threads of gold and blue. Her cheeks were round and flushed pink with power, and her hands were steady despite the anticipation that quickened her breath when she looked to Nat, then back to Alex, then to Nat once more. “You spoke?”

“Yeah.”

Kasey leaned in and kissed her without a moment’s hesitation.

Nat watched Alex’s ribs expand to accommodate a deep breath in—tiny crystals of ice began budding in the water droplets on Kasey’s skin as she cupped her hands around the back of Alex’s head and exhaled, long enough for steam to billow up between them. It was kind of the season to let everyone else see how much of a wonder she was.

“Mmm, wait wait wait,” Alex hummed when Kasey began pulling away. She closed her hands around Kasey’s forearms without a care for the chill and kissed the smile from her lips in a burst. “Storm girl,” she whispered with periwinkle fondness that made Kasey blush. Her thumb traced the peony-pink of her cheekbones and Nat steadied himself on the countertop. “Gods and fae, I missed you.”

Nat loved her when she was a chattering fox on their couch, and loved her when she was tall and kind and warm in every word. He loved her when her booming reds mingled with Kasey’s mellow blue in harmony so perfect it struck him silent, just to listen and watch for a second longer.

“Nathaniel!”

When Alex pulled away to launch herself into his arms with a laugh so bright and happy he could see it through closed eyes, he thought he might love her so much he’d burst with it. The solstice was the time of greatest and best change for them. He could think of no better way to start anew than with Alex beside them.

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Hi, Tatsuo! If I may ask, what Hogwarts House do you think Geto belongs to? ><

SLYTHERIN SUGURU GETO

Hello love ! I didn’t think that this small sweet ask would entertain me as MUCH, I just wanted to answer you shortly but I guess I got too carried away (it’s about my lovely Sugu so what a surprise lmao), but I just loved answering your ask so thank you a lot for it ! Don’t hesitate to tell me if you liked my answer, have a beautiful day/night ! 💞💞💞

I straight up wanted to answer : SLYTHERIN !!! Because it works really well with our lovely Sugu I think.

(And also because I’m Slytherin and I want to be in the same house as my husband lmao)

No but honestly, after looking closely at the qualities of the different houses, he would be a Slytherin in my opinion, even though Suguru is a complex character and it’s hard to put him in a specific Hogwarts House when he has so many characteristics himself.

But I also never saw the Slytherin wizards as really bad persons, more akin to very cunning personalities you know.

Suguru is a very clever man, but we also know that he knows how to manipulate his environment in order to get what he wants with his charisma, while still being a good person with a soft aura.

If we talk about Suguru as a whole (meaning all his different personalities through Jujutsu Kaisen), I don’t see him being a Gryffindor because he no longer believes in justice. He isn’t a Hufflepuff either because I don’t see him as passive as them, as we know that he is more to take matters into his own hands. And I don’t see him being a Ravenclaw, because we also know Suguru to not be that know-it-all, it was canon that he always preferred to see the world as a matter of morally « grey » and not just black and white as his daughters said, also saying to Yuta that neither himself nor Yuta were either right or wrong and that it was more a matter of perspective and ambition.

So yes Slytherin is more suitable for Suguru, if I look at their characteristics, he’s indeed resourceful, cunning, ambitious, a strong leader, fraternal but also cliquey, ruthless, power-hungry and manipulative, even though it rather applies to protecting his whole family and not just to himself, as we know that he isn’t self-absorbed like Slytherin are said to be, Suguru is the kind to put his loved ones before himself that’s for sure, and that’s the only exception I could see for this house.

And he would look so pretty in that green attire, wearing half his long black hair untied with just his neat bun on top, being the soft Suguru that we know, taking care of his cherished ones but also not letting himself be pushed around by anyone. He would also be so teasing around someone that he liked and would be so flirty by cooing at you when he wants to catch your attention : making you blush as Suguru murmurs cute pet names in the crook of your neck during classes or him holding your waist a little too long when he walks past you. Suguru would also steal your wand and hold it over your head with an annoying smirk, Suguru laughing at you as you try to jump to get it back, him telling you that if you kiss him then maybe he would give it back to you. He would be so sweetly-cruel until he finally succeed into making you flustered enough with his charming demeanor, you telling him to « stop it » or something like that, a blush starting to appear on your cheeks as you had enough of all his playtime with you. And he would be so happy to finally have you wrapped around his little finger, trying to hold back his proud smile as he walks around you like a predator would do with his prey, his hand running on your shoulder slowly, making butterflies dance in your tummy as you felt even more exposed to him, Suguru perfectly knew what he was doing, and he was enjoying this game a little too much.

« I didn’t quite hear you, love. Care to come closer sweetheart ? », he would say with a smug smile as he pulls on your tie, forcing you to look up at him.

Okay sorry I’ll stop there but Slytherin Suguru just awakened something feral inside me 🥵 (I actually want to write a full story for Slytherin Suguru now😌💚)

🤍 Suguru Geto Masterlist 🤍

[blackbat05]

Life

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: Life could be a cruel joke. You turn to escapism to meet someone with a unique perspective on your struggles.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Let’s just say I’ve based this on the shit I’ve experienced so far in adulting and it hasn’t been long yet. Really hope everyone is doing alright and I’m so sorry for the lack of content. Tagging @the-slumberparty for the BINGO card game!💜 I think this fic could fulfill two slots? I don’t think this is how it works? Please correct me if I’m wrong?😅

Life.

It could be a bed full of sunflowers and roses, and you feel like you could take on the world.

But it mostly also involved you being punched in the gut without warning.

Let’s just say, you had enough of terrible working conditions and decided that the only power a poor working woman like you was to quit.

You pulled your suitcase behind you, weaving through the departure hall. Passport in hand, you managed to get through the self check-in with the help of an attendant. In record speed, you found yourself having two hours of spare time to kill.

Making yourself comfortable at the lounge, you satisfied yourself by watching the planes dock and prepare for take off at the landing strip. Your phone beeps and you sigh at the rude intrusion.

It was only your parents who meant well, telling you to take care and text them when you arrived. A rush of emotions overwhelms you as you read how proud they are of you for making this decision.

Honestly? You were feeling pretty shitty. You were ecstatic getting that job you studied so hard for, only to be slapped in the face with reality where the lack of guidance and cliquey colleagues increased your self-doubt and incompetence. When you announced that you were ending your short lived career, there was no surprise. Only nonchalance and a whole lot of gossiping behind your back.

You abruptly stand up, hoping to make your way to the washroom before you experienced another breakdown.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You looked down to see a stain the size of a dollar imprinted on your shirt. The man in front of you with an opened juice bottle has what can only be described as a sheer look of terror on his face as he scrambles to hand you napkins from his bag. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

He doesn’t notice you staring at him blankly as he attempts to do damage control. You can’t help but to be reeled in by the way his curls bounce against his forehead rhythmically. Doe eyes furrowed in concentration, the man’s attention turns back to you and catches you looking at him.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah! I’m fine!” You shake yourself awake and into reality. “It’s alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going either. In fact, I could use a drink myself. Please let me get you another drink. I insist.”

The man doesn’t seem convinced, especially when you were about to board a flight with a soiled shirt. But if there was one thing you were good at, it was being stubborn.

An eventful way to pass time even, as you realized that both of you had the same destination on your plane tickets. Credit to the charming stranger, as he does not pry for more information. As the announcement booms through the departure hall, you shake his hand, glad to have made an acquaintance even if it was short lived.

***

The bright lights from the neon signboards mixed with the sounds from the foot traffic was enough to overload your senses. Yet, you felt completely at ease as you walked across the bridge that connected to multiple shopping malls.

Stomach growling, you opted to enter the next shopping mall to make your way to the food court. It was your happy place. Authentic, local cuisine that offered tantalizing flavors.

You weren’t the only one with the idea to come to the food court to escape the humidity. Tourists and locals alike prowl the area in search for seats to devour their purchased food and drinks. Carefully balancing your tray, you crane your neck to keep an eye out for an available seat.

“Y/N?”

You turn around at the voice to find a familiar face beaming at you.

“What a coincidence! You can sit here if you want.”

“Joaquin.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Am I glad to see you. Thank you.” You take the seat across him, eager to give your legs a break. “I thought I saw the last of you at the airport.”

“Well, I’m here now. I hope you aren’t rushing off to anywhere because I would like to know more about what brings you to the land of smiles.”

You pause, hesitant in dredging up the horrid memories. Joaquin senses this as he naturally steps in. “I lost a close friend. I can’t tell you much but his death affected me terribly. I needed to get away so here I am.”

He slurps more noodles to fill the silence. You can’t imagine the scars that Joaquin is holding behind his smile.

“I guess you could say I lost someone- well, something too.” You twirl the noodles around your chopsticks. “My sense of worth.”

“All this while, I thought I knew what I was fighting so hard for. I was so happy to be finally be able to make that difference that I always dreamed of as a student. But reality is often disappointing and terrifying.” You slowly savored the noodles as your chest constricts. “Maybe I’m just running away from reality.”

“Looks like the world hasn’t been kind to us both.”

“Touché.” You raise your glass bottle of soda, clinking it with his. “If the world wasn’t going to be kind to me, I figured I should be kind to myself.”

Joaquin nods in approval, taking a sip from his own drink.

As the crowds come and go, you get lost in the conversation with Joaquin, truly enjoying what it means to be in the presence of another human.

***

You had a blast.

It turns out that this wasn’t Joaquin’s first rodeo, as he took you to many places beyond touristy traps. Eating breakfast at a Michelin star coffee shop. Visiting the temple with locals. Meeting adorable canines at a dog cafe. Chilling at the hotel bar to finish the evening.

“I’m definitely coming back here!” You saved another picture of you and a majestic husky at the cafe. “Thanks for the amazing day, Joaquin. I didn’t even know half of these places exist!”

“Glad my reputation as tour guide still stands.” Joaquin takes a swig of beer, watching the vibrant nightlife that had no intention of dying down. You take a sip of your Bloody Mary, still reeling from the adrenaline of the past few days.

Even though you were aware that all good things had to come to an end.

“What’s next? Although being a hippie sounds very appealing but I can’t imagine it isn’t very cost friendly.” Joaquin keeps the conversation light, knowing how touchy the subject could be with you.

Little did he know how much of a positive impact he had on you for the past six days. Sure, it was a trip to shake loose all worries and responsibilities but Joaquin managed to keep you grounded. No one can run away forever, Y/N.

“I’ll try.” You watch the mini whirlpool you created. “But I’m not going to lie, I’m scared. The idea of being disappointed by others when you’ve already gave it your all… I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Then you know how to fall better. Sure, you’ll take a hit but that’s really all we can do. To fail better.”

Joaquin’s wisdom hits you and you wonder again what kind of horrors he had to witness and endure to come out with a rock solid mentality that was unshakable.

“You’re still in the game, you haven’t lost. So keep your chin up.”

“Is this what you tell your fellow soldiers?”

Joaquin chuckles. “No. This is what I tell to the people I care about.”

In the midst of tourists being invested in the soccer match that was shown on the large television and servers expertly serving countless of drinks and meals to hungry customers, time slowed down and the confusing thing called life seemed to make a little more sense in the chaos.

Joaquin checks his phone with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry-”

You waved a hand, dismissing his apology. “Duty calls, I get it. Thanks for everything, Joaquin. I mean it.”

He leaves a bill on the table, shooting down your protests. You can’t help but to feel a pang of sadness at how quickly Joaquin had disappeared from your dreamlike holiday as quickly as he came into your life.

A waitress comes to collect the bill and to your surprise, she slips you a piece of paper. “The gentleman told me to pass this to you once he left.” Her eyes have a knowing twinkle and leaves you to check the content - a number scribbled in blue ink.

Call me, Joaquin.

You toss your head back slightly, amused at the situation. Dialing the number, Joaquin picks up on the second ring.

“So, does this mean I can see you back home?”

“You bet.”

Life.

Maybe it punched you in the gut to fall into a bed of roses.

[chaotic-iguana]

I’ve felt for a while that the Pedro fandom is getting very “cliquey”

Like there’s some big accounts that make it obvious that they basically look down on other/smaller accounts. They only stick to their clique, their friends and don’t really interact with others.

I’m at the point where I unfollowed so so many Pedro accounts because I’m so sick of this and I’m so glad you said something. Much love to you 💕💕

yep. yep yep yep. love to u too. come say hi in my dms, i promise i dont bite.

also, if ur above 25 and want to come after me just know u have beef w a 19 yo and that’s so sad of u im not being ageist i’m just saying u’ve had more time to marinate in ur personality and develop ur brain and u choose to do this with ur enlightenment

[sleepythug]

miss the flourishing film community on here, several years ago i remember someone organizing a tumblr canon, people posting lists, and that's how i followed a bunch of people. also, i used to have such a healthy flow of photosets of films i had never heard of or may have heard of but never seen anything of before; now barely a trickle. it's a shame because i had plenty of people to talk films with and some with more knowledge than me available to pick their brain.

between that and letterboxd 2013-2017-ish i was thriving. when lb was a shelter for MUBI refugees, had more of a social community, and felt genuinely like a place to foster an interest film; and find like-minded people who shared the same love of an artistic medium. possibly wrong but i want to say that none of the big letterboxd users now we're from then, most came 2 or 3 years before the covid boom. makes me melancholy that there's no genuine places left on the internet.

there's film twt but everyone on there is so weird, catty, and gatekeepy and it's so insular people talk to who they know and make jokes of the people they don't, reminds me of high school almost in how cliquey it is but it's predominantly a bunch of nerds, neckbeards, and sad looking men with not a lot of hair. i have never had any interest in engaging with it - i just follow a bunch of people hoping they occasionally drop an interestign rec or something

yearn for something lost n only exists irl in coastal cities prolly