#-platform left!!! where will we go if tumblr shuts down!!!'

[wygolvillage]

i feel like a lot of arguments over Internet Platforms could be solved by simply rejecting platforms entirely and hosting everything on your own website. but a lot of people dont want to learn html i suppose

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

Savannah Squad Presentation Night Headcanons/Drabble [2/3]

it has been forever :'D (everyone say thank you to @moonbiine)

ANYWAYS, here's part 2 :}

Part 1: Taylor & Logan Part 2: Ben & Tyler Part 3: Aiden & Ashlyn [WIP]

Logan's POV

Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. It has been two hours and twenty-eight minutes and we've been stuck at 76% complete for forty minutes. Whoever made Windows deserves to burn and I stand by that, cause what do you mean that they can push an update and force restart my laptop.

"Logan when was the last time you updated this?" "Logan, why are there fifteen updates that need to be downloaded?" "Bro, when was the last time you actually shut down your laptop?" ... "I've been busy, okay--"

So it might be my fault. Partially. I will admit that much, but the laptop's never given me a problem before and it was running fine. It's just old, and has a few odd... kinks? I mean, the left half of the mousepad is jammed to the point where it can't click, and, sure, the screen does go black every now and again, but just hit it a few times it works! It's character, charm even (and I can't be bothered to fix it...)!

It was, honest to God, easier for Aiden to run back to his place and grab his laptop.

"So we agree that Logan is off electronic duty right?" Taylor had asked as Ben was setting up the other computer to the television screen with Aiden helping. It was a unanimous decision. Ben and Aiden are the new tech guys.

"Yeah, that's probably for the better," I had conceded.

Ben Clarke

Ben goes next because he saved the groups sanity by suggesting that Aiden just gets his laptop. Everyone, thank Ben for the night not failing.

To address the obvious, Ben has a text to speech app on his phone, which is connected to a speaker, that he uses to present. I will say that there is a sort of humor in this for two reasons. One, the voice can either be monotoned like a typical text-to-speech program with funny pronunciation errors, or two, it will sound like one of those videos on tiktok where an AI is reading a tumblr post about SuperBats or something and gets progressively more expressive as time goes on. Personally, I want to hear exasperated robot Ben voice explaining to Aiden why "Life is a Highway" on repeat can and will be considered a torture method.

Ben's music taste is GODLY. And he's more of a eclectic listener too so he has experience with a good amount of genres. This man does not bash other genres of music that he doesn't care for, he thinks its rude to the person he's talking to and to the artist.

Aiden is the exception to this rule^^

DESPISES having to subscribe to music platforms. What do you mean that you can't listen to a song on repeat without paying, what do you mean that you will interrupt his carefully crafted playlist with a recommended song that does not fit the vibe. This end up derailing his presentation couple times.

He has a set criteria that he judges on: length, vibes, transitions, and replayability. Good playlists should at minimum be an hour, have similar vibes/sound while still being unique, the transitions between songs shouldn't be jarring, and the playlist shouldn't be painful to listen to after a month.

Taylor and Ashlyn helped him judge everyone's playlists by acting as secondary perspectives. Taylor is more open to everyone's music tastes while Ashlyn scrutinizes them more. They pretty much just took a playlist that everyone listens to regularly, one that they made but listen to it every so often, and their liked songs.

I would also like everyone to remember that the series is set in 2016... they would have songs mostly from the 2000s-2010s with the exceptions of some 90s and 80s songs. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, I'm just saying that I looked up 2010s hit songs and I'm filled with nostalgia.

Overall, Ben's criticisms and recommendations are genuinely thoughtful. Especially the recommendations. For each person, after critiquing their playlists, Ben made a slide of genres and artists that each person should check out to expand their tastes.

(I'll probably make a bit about what songs were on their playlist, idk tho)

Group Reaction (how they ranked in comparison to each other)

Personally, Tyler and Logan getting the best ratings because their playlists are very consistent in their vibes and are replayable. I also think that Ben's music taste fits the most with these two for some reason, so they got the most song recs out of everyone.

Ashlyn is third in the ranking. She has one or two that she listens to occasionally, and they're pretty short. They are absolute polar opposites though. One of the playlists is rock, since she canonically likes Paramore (if you don't, get well soon), and the other is classical music for her ballet performances.

Taylor is next. Her playlist isn't bad, its just... a bit everywhere. Like it starts pretty good, but you can tell that somewhere along the lines of creating this playlist she just added songs that she remembered that she likes. It mostly fits the same genre. Ben makes her a more organized playlist after the presentation.

Aiden is dead last. It's not because his music taste is shit. Aiden actually has a pretty good music taste. No. Its because he only listens to his liked songs on repeat like a monster. It is musical whiplash. You go from a movie theme song, to crying, to listening to white girl club music, to rock, to crying again, and then for some reason the Home Depot jingle???? The only playlists that he makes are for jokes really. Do you know the John Mulaney bit where he plays "What's New Pussycat?" 27 times. Yeah, that's Aiden.

Tyler Hernandez

Tyler's next, and, I'm letting you know now that he sprayed the fuck out of Aiden for interrupting. Yeah, Ash pulled them a part.

Motherfucker is so pleased with himself, like its honestly so funny. Aiden had him by the collar and Tyler was just fucking smiling. Taylor does throw her slipper at him for being rude, but he could honestly care less.

The slideshow itself is the most soulless thing ever made, man used the Blank Google Slides template and called it a day. Like one stock image on each slide, and its so pixelated. He probably did it like an hour ago. That's why his presentation is funny because he's just jabbing at Aiden over and over with a basic slideshow that you'd see someone pull out in a Spanish 1-2 class.

You know what? He probably had another presentation about what piercing he think would suit the group best, and just did this one out of spite cause Aiden was being loud. I take back my previous statement about him doing it an hour before getting to Logan's place, he did this on his PHONE WHEN THE LAPTOP WAS UPDATING!!!! Like Logan was taking a walk, Ben was trying to fix the computer, the girls went to make sandwiches, Aiden was running errands, and Tyler made this in an hour.

His presentation is based off a tier system where it gets more effective with each method. Methods 1-3 are pretty basic where its just stuff like duct taping his mouth shut, 4 and onwards just gets funny

I'll be completely honest, each way he put is wild, and it gets progressively more deranged as the presentation goes on. These one's my favorite

"Number 9: Dying You know, I thought this would be the best way, but the bastard got crushed by a ceiling and walked it off. I want you to try and convince me that Aiden wouldn't crawl out of hell just to ruin my day. " "Number 10: Put him in a room alone with Ashlyn's mom and dad *insert a picture of Aiden sitting not so comfortably in between Ashlyn's parents* I don't even think I need to say anything else, I mean, I will, but like... look at him"

This is honestly the shortest presentation of the night but so far it's the most chaotic (he will quickly lose this title).

Tyler went through two spray bottles, mainly for Aiden, but he did spray Taylor once or twice. She threw a shoe at him. It's only fair.

Groups Reaction

Aiden is standing to the side with a towel around himself because Logan said his grandparents would kill them for ruining their couch. He's not exactly pissed but he is kind of sulking. Honestly this just makes his presentation so much better for him.

You know how Tyler asked for suggestions in the beginning, Ben and Ashlyn give him genuine ideas. Mainly Ben, just out of good humor you know. And Tyler's taking notes.

Taylor is giggling, but she does feel a bit bad for Aiden. At some point she gives him a consolation sandwich to raise his spirits.

Logan, however, doesn't and he's just quietly enjoying the scene that's unfolding around him.

The end of these two presentations are by far more chaotic than the first two, and it feels like its only going to get worse from here(/pos). Because right now Aiden is fighting with Tyler, getting him soaked too, Taylor is filming them while Logan provides commentary, and Ashlyn is standing with Ben setting up the next powerpoint.

While it was initially decided that Aiden would go last, Ashlyn suggested that she and him switch. Mainly so that he can drip dry while presenting, and sit down when he's done.

Aiden is following a presentation that was just jabbing at him, how do you think his is going to end up now?

[inagetawaycarxo]

You’re On Your Own, Kid  ❪ Roman Reigns ❫

PAIRINGS: Roman Reigns x F!Reader

FEATURING: Roman Reigns, Y/n, other wrestlers, Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso.

SYNOPSIS: Y/n comes back after being away from an injury to find out everything has changed, that he has changed.

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, typical Roman behaviour, he is kind of an asshole, prob crap, errors I missed.

— AUTHORS NOTE: I'M BACK!!!. I hope you like it! [repost because tumblr is a being a jerk again!]

— DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT give consent/permission for my work to be copied and pasted on other platforms. However, I highly encourage feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments.

Y/n let out a deep sigh as she parked her car in the arena car parking lot. Nerves started to get the best of her, as she put her car into park, then put the handbrake up. Turning the key in the ignition. Turning the car off.

Though she made no effort to get out of the car. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. She breathed in and out. Trying to calm her nerves. She hadn’t kept in touch with the rest of the shield. She knew Dean left the same time she sustained an injury. Though the shield was broken up before she left. She just wasn’t sure where Roman and Seth stood with each other. She didn’t watch wwe after she left, she wanted to focus on her recovery. Plus, watching wrestling only made her heart hurt more that she was injured and couldn’t wrestle. She wasn’t sure how they would react to her coming back. In her mind, she hoped they could reform The Shield again. Sure, it would be hard, but they were the best faction in wwe.

She took a deep breath in and out, before collecting herself. She took the keys out of the ignition and took her seatbelt off. Then grabbed her gym bag. Her shaky hand grabbed the car door handle, opening the car door. She got out of the car. Shutting the door. Her heart hammering faster. Her palms were clammy. She locked her car. She started to walk to the stadium. Her anxiety only grew more with every step.

No matter how many times she breathed in and out, nothing could settle her anxiety.

She made her way to the back door, showing her pass, and the stadium worker let her in. Her breathing got heavier as she made her way in. Gripping the bag strap tightly.

She wanted to find either Seth or Roman, but she got stopped by other co-workers and wrestlers, hugging her tightly and asking her how she is. Telling her it was great to have her back. Though none of them told her about Roman, how he changed. Maybe they didn’t want to see her hurt expression.

Though she appreciated how much they welcomed her back, she wanted to see Seth and Roman. She made her way down a hall. Stopping as she heard her name being called out from behind her. She turned around to see The Usos.

“Y/n/n,” Jey and Jimmy both spoke excitedly. Well shouted. She smiled happily at them.

“It is you,” Jey spoke. Both Jey and Jimmy rushed over to her.

“And I thought it was just rumors,” Jimmy spoke.

Jey and Jimmy hugged her tightly both at once.

“Hey guys,” Y/n spoke. Though her voice was muffled. Neither Jey nor Jimmy let her go.

“We missed you,” Jimmy spoke.

“It hasn’t been the same since you left, you brightened up the room,” Jey spoke.

“How have you been?” Jimmy asked, before she could even reply another voice spoke. It was him, one of the guys she was looking for. But this time it seemed different. It was colder and more distant, it held authority, it was nothing like the voice she heard before she left.

“What are you two doing? Don’t you have a match to get ready for?” Roman snapped.

She felt Jimmy and Jey’s bodies stiffen before they let go of her. Looking behind y/n to see Roman.

Y/n turned to look at Roman. He looked different. His hair was in a neat man bun, he had a beard, and he looked colder. If looks could kill, she would be dead. He looked at his cousins with a cold hard expression. She gulped.

“Yes, tribal chief,” Jey mumbled.

Jimmy gave him a tight-lipped smile. Jey and Jimmy bid you farewell before leaving. Roman finally directed his action to you. His gaze softened a bit before it hardened.

“Hey ro,” She gasped out.

“Hey, y/n/n,” Roman spoke in a soft tone, she smiled slightly. She quickly outstretched her arms and quickly walked to Roman. Wrapping her arms around his body. Resting her head against his chest. It felt nice. Roman hugged her awkwardly. Making her feel a little insecure. She pulled away. Taking a step back.

“You…seem…different,” She spoke. Fiddling with her fingers nervously.

Roman seemed to go back to his cold hard demeanor.

“Things have changed, y/n/n, I’m not the same men you once knew,” Roman spoke.

“I moved on from The Shield, I’m in the bloodline now, and I am the tribal chief, just because you are back that doesn’t mean I’m going to be in a fraction with you, I’m already in one of the best ones of this company, I don’t need you,” He spoke again.

She looked at him with a hurt expression.

“You are on your own, kid, but you have potential, you don’t need me to succeed, I know you are talented, but if you ever need advice, I am here for you,” Roman spoke. He smiled at her, though it seemed forced.

“Come here,” He spoke. Hugging her, though it seemed cold. Her hands were hovering over his sides, her body slightly shaking. The hug didn’t last long before he pulled away.

He said something else, but she couldn’t hear him. All she could hear was white noise. He gave her another fake smile before walking away from her, leaving her devasted. Tears stinging her eyes at how her friend could be so cruel…

LIKES ARE AWESOME, BUT COMMENTS/FEEDBACK ARE GEMS! HOPE YOU LOVELIES LIKED IT! 💜

[unmaskthewriter]

You’re A Great Man, Arthur Morgan: Part Two {Sean Macguire x F!Reader}

Summary: Arthur was always a ghost of a person, but now that he’s gone, the grief will remain. The only family left is the one you’ve made for yourself. Part One is HERE.

A/N: A few of you have requested and I delivered! I will be tagging you so that you see the update :) also, the first half takes place in Yukon as that’s where the Marstons go first several years before purchasing Beecher’s Hope. I don’t make it clear but they share a house in Canada, but are neighbors at Beecher’s Hope ~ @photo1030 @12timetraveler

I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, published and/or translated on any platform including Tumblr.

Word Count: 1517

Warnings: angst, mention of criminal activities and canon character death

January, 1900; Yukon, Canada

You lay in bed, beads of sweat slowly trailing down the side of your face. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as Abigail returns to your side, carefully handing the baby to you. The baby was wrapped in a beautiful blanket made by Abigail herself.

“It’s a boy.” She tells you as you carefully move the blanket aside, looking over your son’s features. A head full of reddish brown hair, and blue-green eyes.

God, how you wished Arthur could be here.

The baby yawned as the front door to the home burst open. Quickly, Sean and John entered, shutting the door behind them before the cold wind could blow inside. Unfortunately you had gone into labor a week early, and Sean was in town working when John had called for him.

“Where’s me girl?” Sean shrugged off his jacket by the front door, and began searching each room until arriving at yours. He froze at the door to the bedroom, holding his snow-brimmed hat over his chest.

“Oh lass…” He spoke softly, forcing one foot in front of the other until he reached your bedside. Carefully, you handed the babe to your fiancé. Sean admires the babe in his arms, checking for all ten fingers and toes.

“He’s so beautiful,” Sean whispered, “Hell… if it weren���t for Arthur we wouldn’t be ‘ere… my boy.” Sean tells his son, letting the babe’s tiny fingers curl around his one.

“Have you thought of any names yet?” A familiar voice questions. You look to see John standing in the doorway with young Jack.

“Traditionally, we would name him after me Pa-“

“Not this again.” Abigail muttered, holding her head in her hand.

“Ye of little faith, Abigail!” Sean chuckled, looking at the young woman, “We already chose a name. A strong one.” Sean stands with the babe in his arms, looking back down to him, “Artúr Macguire.”

“That’s a wonderful name. John, perhaps we should give them some time with their son?” Abigail suggested before leading her boys out of the room.

Later that night, you stood over the bassinet as Artúr slept peacefully. Sean came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you ever so gently.

“I meant what I said earlier, darlin’. If it weren’t for ya’ brother… I wouldn’t be ‘ere… I’ll always be grateful for that ol’ grouch.” Sean mentioned, emitting a small laugh from you.

“He was a bit of a grouch but he had his reasons,” You add, placing your hands over his, as his chin rested on your shoulder. A moment passes and your eyes divert to the worm satchel bag hanging from the edge of the bassinet. “When he comes of age, he will know what Arthur did for us, for him.”

1910; Beecher’s Hope

If you had asked yourself ten or so years ago if you would ever work on a ranch, the answer would be no. You were used to moving from one heist to the next, never truly considering tomorrow, only living in the moment. Despite that, John had bought a piece of property outside of Blackwater of all places, and built a ranch from the ground up with help from Charles, Sean and Uncle, but mostly Charles and Sean.

It is Artúr’s birthday.

You sit on the edge of the bed you share with Sean, the sun having barely crept up over the horizon. The room was still dark, the candles having been put out hours ago. In your hands, a journal with worn edges and pages. You felt knots in your stomach as the opened satchel sat beside you. In the ten years of having possession of it, you didn’t dare open it and seek its contents. The satchel alone was haunting you, to have something that belonged to your brother before he…

died.

You remember when Charles took you to his grave for the first time, back when the ranch was first built. Abigail had offered to watch Artúr, giving him some time to play with Jack whilst you were away with Charles.

“Oh, Charles.” You whisper, slowly dismounting the horse. His grave was facing the west, in the direction of the setting sun. Flowers adorned his grave. Etched into the wood, it stated: “Arthur Morgan: “Blessed Are Those Who Hunger And Thirst For Righteousness”. You are reminded of an earlier conversation back at one of the earlier campsites with Tilly, Hosea, Lenny and Arthur.

“When I die, I just want to be buried with friends.” Hosea admitted plainly. It made sense for him, such a simple man considering your shared lifestyle.

“Me too,” Lenny joined in, “with friends, or with family. I don’t think it matters more than that.”

“What about you, Arthur?” Hosea looked up from where he was sitting to meet your brother’s gaze.

“Me? Ah, I don’t care about that nonsense.” Arthur brushed it off, his hands resting on his weapons belt on his waist.

“Come on.” Hosea urged, taking a sip of his coffee. A moment passes as Arthur presses his lips together, thinking for a moment.

“Face me to the west, so I can watch the setting sun… and remember all the fine times we had that way.” Arthur explained.

“See, Tilly, I told you Arthur had a soul.” The old man jokes and you smile.

Your hands shake as your fingers rest on the outside of the journal. You blink away tears, wiping your eyes with the collar of your nightgown. As you prepare for the day, you can’t help but keep looking at the satchel. You hated how upset it made you, that no matter the time that’s passed, grief still had its hold on you. As the rest of the house slowly woke from their slumber, you had begun to set the table for breakfast. Sean and Artúr come downstairs, dressed for the day. Hanging on the edge of a chair was the all too familiar satchel.

“Good mornin’ love.” Sean greeted, coming behind you with a kiss to the cheek. You smiled and turned to face your son who was walking towards the table. It was adorned with a variety of hot food.

“Oh, happy birthday, my son.” You approached him and welcomed him with a hug.

“Happy birthday! Are ya excited for later?” Sean gently ruffled his son’s hair.

“Paaa, stooop!” Artúr laughs, pulling away. Sean only stands beside him with a proud grin.

“What’s later?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m taking ‘im out on his first hunt. I thought I mentioned it. John and Jack will be joining us.” Sean explained with a tone of excitement.

“Perhaps you did… I feel like my mind has been miles away…Sit, both of you. We should eat before the food gets cold.” You insist, sitting at the table beside your now husband. Everyone eats, discussing the plans for the day. After the hunt, the Marstons would be joining you all for dinner to celebrate Artúr’s birthday.

“I have something I want to give you.” You tell him, your breath is shaky. Sean takes your hand, squeezing gently as to reassure you.

“Before you were born, your Pa and I lived a… bad lifestyle. We were criminals, Artúr. Towards the end, very bad men were coming after us, and my brother, your uncle Arthur… s-saved us…” You explain as you blink away tears, carefully reaching for the satchel and placing it on the table in front of your son. Sean lifted your hand, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“It belongs to ya now, son. Your uncle would have wanted you to have it..” Sean added, watching as Artúr opened the bag carefully. He pulls out the journal, along with a few other various items Arthur had collected over the years. As Artúr opens the journal, a single photo falls out. Artúr examines it closely, flipping over to look at the back.

“Oh, Ma, I think this is for you.” Artúr extends the photo to you, and you carefully take it. Sean scoots closer to look at it with you. The photo was of the entire gang standing on the porch of an unfamiliar shop. You and Arthur stood alongside each other, while Sean stood a bit aways.

“Oi, there’s me beautiful face!” Sean laughed, pointing to himself in the photo. You flip the photo over.

“Nothin’ means more to me than this gang. I would kill for it. I would happily die for it. I wish things were different, but it weren’t us who changed. We can’t change what’s done, we can only move on” - A.M

You let out a stifled cry, smiling as you look back at the photo before handing it to your son. He looks over the photo once more.

“My uncle was a good man, wasn’t he?”

“A great man, son.” Sean corrected, his eyes glistening with tears as you both listened as Artúr began to read through the journal aloud.

“I bought this new journal after the last one got destroyed in that fire all those months ago, whenever it was…”

[delicatelystrangepolice]

I said it before and I’m saying it now: Young Royals fandom only claims to be SO POSITIVE AND LOVING when in fact it’s one of the most toxic fandoms that I’ve ever been in

It’s very unwelcoming when it comes to the critique and different opinions

I understand the mechanism of feeling protective over the things you love. I also know that every fandom (every community in fact) is made out of individuals and it should be transgressive, and changing as it goes. The excuse ‘yeah, people on the internet are like this, there will always be individuals who are toxic’ just doesn’t work for me. No, individuals make communities and those communities can only work and grow when there’s enough space for all sorts of different behaviors and opinions. You would think that Young Royals fans would be understanding of that – always so eager to scream about social injustice. (I guess Lisa’s message that you can’t change anything ever was effective in the end. Congratulations.)

Last year there was a lot of lamenting: I can’t believe it’s going to be over after s3, what’s going to happen to the loveliest fandom then??? And then every time anybody tried to say anything other than widely accepted headcanon people raised and screamed: oh, don’t spread the negativity! Always in an exaggerated tone: I’M SO TIRED OF THE NEGATIVITY CAN’T WE JUST PLEASE LOVE EACH OTHER?? No, we can’t.  We can’t and stop silencing people because you are killing this fandom.

People are leaving (and left before) not because the show ended, not even because the third season was a fucking disaster, but because they feel like they can’t say anything other than lovey-dovey gushy mushy bullshit.

I understand that the critique is more accepted when it’s beautifully written and coherent

Tumblr however is also a blogging platform where people process things individualistically.  You don’t have to follow people who don’t share your opinions. Hell, you can even block them. You shouldn’t however go into their blog and write them mean anons because they dared to say something on their blog. (Yes, even if it was in your beloved tag or you saw that accidentally. Learn to fucking scroll past things) Your input that you think this particular person’s opinion is stupid and should be taken down does NOTHING to spread your beloved positivity. It only makes people shut down and you know what that is going to result in? A bland, weak fandom made out of people in an echo chamber.

Communities can grow because of the negativity

Even if the show ended, there will be people in the future who will watch it and love it and maybe love it enough to want to go on Tumblr and seek others to share the love. Among those people, there will be also the ones who won’t love every single thing about the show and they will seek others to share some disappointments too. If you want this community to stay alive and growing, there must be space for some fucking negativity.

Fandoms are often about finding your niche. This fandom, this fake fucking positivity almost killed the enjoyment of the show for me. I was lucky enough to find my niche but imagine if the people I found left before I got there. Maybe you’d be happy that I’m not here, spilling some hard to accept truths. Maybe you like your fandoms to be small and cliquey. I don’t. I found my niche because I wasn’t afraid to speak about my negative experiences.

Another helpful tip to some people here: don’t make personal claims when you are trying to argue with somebody

I’ve seen enough of ‘you must be (something negative or personal) to think this’:  ‘you must be too young to understand’ ‘you must be racist’ Hell, on one horrible occasion I’ve seen ‘you must have been abused to have this take’ HOLY SHIT. You on the other hand must not be as welcoming and accepting as you claim to be to say something like this to a person who was just writing about a fucking tv show.

I think it’s very ironic that people celebrate the ending of the show: yeah, you should leave the toxic environment if it’s hurting you and then in the fandom people are leaving because they are being attacked.

Yeah, I’m talking about a small group of people who do it. They are very noticeable and the community is accepting of them. If you think I’m talking about you then great, I’m happy you’ve read it to the end. My ask box is open, but don’t think you’ll change my mind if you try to tell me things about me. I know how to delete things. I know how to ignore things. I hope you can too, and maybe you can also take a little critique from someone who’s been in many fandoms before and never felt as unwelcomed and as uncomfortable as I felt in Young Royals fandom.

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

I posted this in response to this ask, but I think it’s gotten hidden in “read more” and just looks like a reblog. I wanted to post this separately because I know I’m not the only person who feels this way.

I hope you don’t mind me responding here, but as a newer/less popular writer who was not included in the original list I think I’m in a position to offer some perspective. I can see both sides here.

I feel you, anon, I promise you I do. I 100% agree on the point of feeling like an outsider looking in. I have never been on a rec list (I think one of my fics was included in Fic Rec Friday once), I am not proud to say I’ve sat here and cried a little when a fic I posted went unnoticed while some of my mutuals reblogged other (more popular writers) fics and I wondered what was wrong with mine, I’ve had conversations with some trusted friends on here asking what I’m doing wrong and how do I get my stuff read, their answers ranged from “🤷” to “hope that a popular blog notices you and reblogs.” It absolutely feels like a popularity contest in this fandom sometimes, and it hurts to be shut out. I know.

But, that is not any one person’s fault. I have felt hurt and left out at times too, but I think we need to give —— some grace here. She cannot read every single fic in this fandom, it’s not possible. She was asked a question and she answered, and she ended the post with an open call for people to add more recommendations. I don’t know what else we should have expected her to do.

I think the fandom as a whole needs to be more aware of how we set up certain people/blogs as popular or the voice of the fandom. We all can be better about hyping each other up and rec’ing each other’s work.

I was feeling pretty down after one of my fics “flopped,” I was feeling like a shit writer and a fandom outsider. But then I reminded myself of why I joined tumblr in the first place. Because I’d been reading all these amazing fics for the last year or so, and I wanted a platform to scream about how much I loved them, and to tell other people to go read them and shower the writers with the love they deserve. So I’ve started being more intentional in a) my ao3 commenting b) reblogging fics I love after I read them, even if it’s an older one and c) sending dms to authors I love making sure they know how much I loved their story and d) trying to rec smaller/newer/less popular writers. I do a monthly fic rec post where I specifically aim to center less-popular writers. Again, I can’t read everything and there are some topics I avoid (parental death/grief is hard for me, I’m not huge on smut/kink…), but I try so damn hard to be inclusive.

And you know what? My fandom experience has been so much more fun recently! So, if there’s a fic you wanna see reblogged or an author you want to get more recognition go scream from the rooftops. Send me a DM I love to rec writers and fics. Let’s all make a more conscious effort to make this fandom more inclusive and a more encouraging place to be.

[calamitydaze]

First of all I'm so glad you want to talk about other perspectives and explain why you have yours, when one of your post got recommended to me I thought you were also shutting down everything that questionend his behavior.

I think the reason people are uncomfortable with the reddit is because of the way the aggressively ridicule everyone that's on the,, wrong side". I saw an essay that talked about how believing the victim in general is problematic, and there were just too many people agreeing with it. They also act like the people who left did this because they secretly always searched for a reason to do so. I didn't see a single blog that,, left overnight" that didn't talk about how miserable they are about this. We waited two years for this era, we spent this years thinking we can trust him to be a safe place, someone we won't have to look back as the guy who turn out to be a dick, no genuinely had fun with this

oh nooo that’s exactly how i was afraid of coming off 😭😭 thank you for giving me a chance anyway! especially if i was just recommended to you instead of following me like i assumed

you have a fair point about the reddit, i think they definitely feel very superior to other platforms in how they handle things and they’re not subtle about it. in this case specifically it’s pretty warranted, but still, i can see how if you’re still reeling from tumblr’s emotional fallout it would be uncomfortable to go to an environment that isn’t sympathetic to that at all (and in fairness, i think they should be more understanding). when i recommend the reddit to people it’s more so intended as a place of discussion where you can read a lot of opinions and use them to formulate your own rather than “they’re right about everything”, but maybe that wasn’t super clear and it’s fair to not really like it

[creativeroleplay-ads]

Fandom: FNAF Security Breach

Genre: Romance, Adventure, mild Horror, Idk what exactly to describe what I have in mind as

Literacy/Level: Advanced

Triggers: None atm

Ships: None atm, see where the story goes

Platform: (Amino/Discord/Tumblr/Instagram/ ect) Tumblr, possibly part time on the Xbox app

Age: 18+

NSFW/SFW: Nsfw is not required, but it would help for more roleplay flexibility.

What I have in mind, is a fully fleshed out alternate ending for the canon ending to Security Breach. We see nothing of what happened to Vanny, aka Vanessa afterwards, and it is implied that she survived, escaped, or other theories, because the mask in the ruin DLC is NOT the same as Vanny's mask, because for starters, the most obvious difference is the fact that the color patch on the mask is brown in the Ruin DLC, when Vanny's is a slightly darker gray. the other difference, is that Vanny's "mask" is more along the line of a mascot head, in that it wraps around her entire head, you can't see her hair from the back, like you would 100% be able to see Cassie's when she puts on her mask, because it's just for her face. Anyway, my point is, I like to believe that during the fire, Vanny got her head hit by some debris, knocking off her mask, that combined with the intense heat and chaos around her, just might have been enough to essentially...destroy the Gllitchtrap virus in her mind. She remembers everything that has happened to her, but is fully in control of her actions now. She doesn't have time to have a crisis, she needs to get out of the fire. She focuses on that, however along the way, she finds the other animatronics, destroyed, and now that Burntrap is no longer able to control them because he's dead-dead, alongside the fire frying anything left of their virus, they are left to wander, afraid and confused in the flames. Vanessa doesn't have time to save them all, however she manages to get the DJ out of his arcade where he would have been trapped, with minimal damage. With this in mind, once the flames and the Press have their fun with the building, knowing Fazbear Corporation, they'll shut the place down, and slowly, gradually rebuild the Plex, though knowing how poor the management is, it'll take them years. Which is perfect, because that gives Vanessa time to plan with DJ on getting any remaining animatronics out of the burned down Pizza Plex, scavenge for any spare parts and possibly some animatronics who were left behind. Vanessa was only approved into the company, is because her uncle, was William Afton himself. When William's youngest son and daughter died, and he was certain Michael wouldn't want to take over the company, he promised Vanessa that she would own a significant part of the company when he was gone. That deal is still on, because she has the official documents and papers proving it. She just let the company have it's fun because she wasn't in her right mind...now she is. And with her knowledge of building and repairing animatronics, she's going to start over. She's going to FIX what her uncle broke.

Ok, with that tangent aside, let me break it down. Long term, COMMITTED roleplay partner, available most hours of the day, able to play canon AND non-canon characters, both of us will most likely be playing multiple, so you better be prepared and ok with that if you want to do this. MESSAGE ME if you are interested, I won't respond to a like because I won't be notified of it. DO NOT MESSAGE ME UNLESS YOU ARE CERTAIN, AND DETERMINED TO BE COMMITTED TO THIS ROLEPLAY. I'M GOING FOR A LONG TERM, FULLY FLESHED OUT STORY HERE. If you have any questions, ask me when you message me, I'll do my best to answer.

-

[sizo14]

“Stay home, stay safe!”

“The nationwide lockdown is necessary to save the lives of thousands, even tens of thousands, of our people”  the South African president said during his first speech during the outbreak of Coronavirus in South Africa. According to the World Health Organisation https://www.who.int/health-topics/coronavirus#tab=tab_1 ,  it is an infectious disease caused by the SARS-CoV-2 virus where one infected will experience mild to moderate respiratory illness, some recover and unfortunately,  some pass away. To minimize the spread of the disease social distancing, quarantining, sensitization, or frequent washing of hands is advisable. Early during the outbreak period in South Africa, this was said to save thousands of lives instead peoples’ lives were more in danger.  He emphasized everyone to stay home and be safe, unfortunately, those who were experiencing GBV and running away from their abusers were forced to be in the same environment or space with them. Many citizens were left unemployed, and still are, due to businesses shutting down resulting in high numbers of depressed individuals.

People were forced to adapt new ways of getting entertained or staying in touch with the outside world. Here comes TikTok and Instagram or Facebook.  According to Hum (2021) https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fhumd.2021.684137/full , there was a higher increase in engagement on social media during COVID-19 than in any other year in history. People were not only entertained but they also learned the importance of taking care of one's health, as a physical and spiritual being. This period was an eye-opening to society and the world at large. Learning how important it is to take care of your mental health and looking after those who are around you.

During this period people started sharing their struggles, some were academic struggles. Please visit my first blog to read more about my struggles at https://www.tumblr.com/mzeken/726054270181457920/i-may-not-be-there-yet-but-im-closer-than-i-was?source=share&ref=_tumblr. These social media platforms created awareness on cases such as depression, gender base violence, and anxiety. These platforms assisted with the destigmatization of mental illness.  As people started sharing what they were going through even those who didn’t know that they were depressed started seeking for help.  During covid 19. I was battling with depression as I felt shame, guilt, and a disappointment as I couldn’t pass all my modules. I knew then when my family started looking or taking serious mental health that I would have their support. Even though they didn’t know much about my case the way they viewed and sympathized with other people gave me hope that even if I share this with them, I will not be alone in overcoming this.

There is this famous quote that says there is a lesson in every storm. Even though we lost significant others, our lives changed forever, some in the same circumstances got to know about platforms that can assist us with mental health problems or mental illness such as  SADAG https://www.sadag.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=11&Itemid=114 and learned the importance of taking care of our mental health. I hope you take care of your health too before it is late. Unfortunately, we have come to an end of my writing to you. I hope you have enjoyed my blogs. If you missed some of my blogs, visit my page and enjoy my pieces online on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/.

537Words.

[froggywritesstuff]

Your Idiots | poly! John Laurens & Eliza Schuyler

Pairings: poly! John x Eliza x g/n!reader

Warnings: no plot just fluff, not proofread, John and Eliza are cinnamon rolls

Time: modern

A/N: I got this prompt from this tumblr blog @creativepromptsforwriting and their prompt lists (go check them out)

(DO NOT PLAGARISE, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM)

A loud sigh left Y/N's lips as they stared back at the empty page of writing. They were both stressed and unmotivated about the upcoming work they needed to have done. They had been shut inside their room all day, barely even speaking to John or Eliza.

Though that would change soon.

John loudly kicked open the bedroom door, frowning when Y/N didn't even look up from their laptop.

"Hey." he said, standing in the door frame like a bored toddler.

"Hey." Y/N responded, eyes still glued to their laptop screen. A moment passed and John was still stood in the door frame, and Y/N grew tired of the silence, "What's wrong?"

Not even a second after those words left their mouth, John raced toward the bed where Y/N was sitting and sat down on the bed beside Y/N, resting his head on Y/N's shoulder, “I'm bored." he whined.

"I can see that," Y/N mumbled, shutting their laptop and setting it aside so John could properly sit long enough for them to talk.

"And I need attention.” he added, staring up at Y/N with puppy dog eyes.

“And I need to focus right now." they argued, resisting his puppy dog eyes, "Go annoy Lizzie, that’s why there are three of us.”

John scoffed, "Jokes on you, she's bored too. I just convinced her to come and annoy you."

"What?" Y/N groaned, hanging their head back against the bed frame. Within seconds, Eliza ran inside the room and practically jumped onto the bed, lying down on Y/N's lap, "I hate you both." they mumbled, even though they knew it was far from the truth.

"That's a lie." John and Eliza corrected simultaneously.

"Besides," Eliza began, "You've been working forever."

"It's been like, three hours." Y/N said, staring at the pair with confused looks.

"Exactly," John said, "Forever."

Y/N just rolled their eyes, fighting the smile that tugged on their lips at their partners behavior's.

"And we wanna watch movies with you." Eliza added, staring up at Y/N with a smile.

"But I really need to finish this..." Y/N mumbled, deep down hoping that either one would find a way to shut that idea down.

"A break could help you." John chimed in, the small smile on his face sending butterflies in Y/N's stomach, "And it's not like you had much done."

"Rude."

"I'm sorry, it's true!" 

Y/N squeezed their eyes shut, contemplating their two choices, even though they knew which one they would choose (and no way were Eliza or John leaving).

"Fineeeee." they groaned, "What movie do you guys want?"

Y/N felt Eliza shrug, "I don't mind." she mumbled, receiving a sigh from Y/N and John.

"See, you say that, then say no to every movie option we give you." John mumbled, making Eliza huff in frustration.

"I do not." she argued.

Y/N sighed, "Well, what about Broken Hearts Gallery?" (guys I think I'm funny)

"Nah."

"Moana?"

"We watched that last week." Eliza mumbled.

"Over The Moon?"

"No, I can't have us all crying again."

"Then you suggest something," Y/N groaned.

Eliza scrunched up her lips together, showing that she was thinking, "What about Shark Tale?"

A smile tugged on both Eliza and Y/N's lips, as they stared at John expectantly and couldn't help but laugh at how quickly his face dropped.

"No," he said, lifting his head up from Y/N's shoulder to sit up straight, "no we're not watching that. I'm not letting you two bully me about the stupid fish."

"But it's funny." Eliza mumbled, sitting up from Y/N's lap to be eye to eye with John, fighting a laugh when they glanced over at Y/N.

"I hate that stupid fish so much. I look nothing like him." John whispered, earning a laugh from Y/N.

"Ok, we won't watch Shark Tale." Y/N muttered, rolling their eyes playfully, "But we've gotta choose something."

Eliza huffed, running a hand through her hair, "Why don't we just watch Disney movies?"

"How does that narrow it down?" Y/N asked, who just got two shrugs in return.

Eliza smiled, "It doesn't."

"You're meant to be taking a break, we didn't clarify how long of one." John shrugged, pursing his lips.

A laugh left Eliza's lips as she reached for the t.v. remote on the bedside table, before shuffling back beside Y/N, John on the other side, both of them resting their heads on Y/N's shoulders.

"Oh my gosh, you two are idiots." Y/N laughed.

"First of all, rude. Second of all, we're your idiots."

A/N: I feel like Eliza and John were kind of out of character, and I'm not really happy with this, but here we are also remember to take breaks! y'all know what happened to Hamilton when he didn't take a break....

buy me a coffee <3

[hollie911]

This is not my work. It is by the user constantwriter85 whose account had been deactivated on tumblr and ao3 and i am just sharing their work

The devil you know

Vampire!jefferson x reader

Part 5/10

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter shows Jefferson being turned vampire in a satanic ritual. Everything's made up, but if you're overly religious this might bother you.

**October 31 st, 1912 – Salem, Massachusetts**

The witch trials that had taken place in the sleepy little town on the coast of Massachusetts had been over for centuries, but it was still a place of magic.

Dark magic.

Night had fallen, and evil had gathered once again in the clearing just south of town. The local historians loved to boast that it had once been used for sacrifices and satanic rituals, and for once, they were right. Torches lit a large circular area, and a cauldron bubbled away over a low fire as Jefferson was led to the edge of the woods.

Four hooded figures stood in the center of the circle, chanting softly while two more held him tightly. Jefferson tried to struggle, but the hands around his arms were like vices. He blanched when he saw the pentagram drawn on a low circular dais, a candle placed at each of its five points. It was just large enough to hold a man, and he whimpered when he saw the restraints laying open.

Oh, dear Christ they’re going to sacrifice me.

Jefferson struggled harder, his heart slamming painfully against his ribs as he imagined the sorts of horrors this clearing had witnessed…horrors he seemed ultimately destined for.

“P-Please…don’t do this, Regina, I…I gave it back, I never—”

“Stop your whining Jefferson, it’s unbecoming.”

One of the figures pushed back their hood, revealing raven hair and bright red lips curled into a cruel smile. She turned and placed the spell book she was holding on a low table, giving the cauldron a brief stir before walking up to him.

“I warned you, Jefferson. I warned you what would happen if you tried to double cross me, yet here we are.”

Her fingers slid thoughtfully over the ceremonial dagger at her hip, and he flinched. Why…oh why did he ever get involved with these crazy people? All he had been trying to do was to put a bit of food on the table…okay yes, perhaps he had overreached a bit, but he had only taken a small trinket, and he had given it back. Surely that didn’t warrant—

“I’m disappointed in you Jefferson, I thought you would be a real asset to me, and now…now you’ve forced me to do something I was rather hoping to avoid…”

“Please, don’t kill me,” he begged. “I have a daughter, Grace…she’s only five…she’s waiting for me.”

Regina laughed, a cold and unpleasant sound. “Oh sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you…although you’ll wish you were dead before this night is through. No, I have something more fitting planned for you.”

Whatever color was left in his face quickly disappeared. Regina’s smile deepened and she stepped forward. She caressed his face mockingly, her blood red nails raking lightly over his skin. Jefferson shuddered. Her eyes flicked down to where his pulse beat wildly in his throat, and she grinned.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you Jefferson?” she taunted. “You are absolutely terrified right now.” She stepped back and her eyes narrowed.

“You should be.”

At her nod, his two captors led him up to the platform, stripping off his shirt. He kicked and struggled, but it was to no avail—they were too strong. Jefferson felt like he was going to faint. His eyes squeezed shut as they held him down against the cold wood and he shivered, frantically murmuring any prayer he could remember under his breath.

His terror heightened as they strapped down his wrists and ankles, each limb placed along a line of the pentagram. The ropes cut into him painfully as he lay there, spread-eagled on his back and staring up at the full blood moon.

“You’ve heard of the Maledicta Vampir?”

Jefferson simply blinked up at her.

Regina shrugged. “Not to worry if you haven’t, you’ll soon become well acquainted with it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as one of the hooded figures dipped a ladle into the cauldron and poured the contents into a small wooden bowl. Jefferson was trembling, nearly out of his mind with fear, which only ratcheted up a notch when a man came into view, standing next to Regina.

He had longish hair and a somber suit, but what struck Jefferson most was his pallid complexion and his eyes, as dark as night and twice as sinister.

And then he grinned.

Fangs. Dear lord, the man had fangs…he was a vampire.

“This is my friend, Mr. Gold. He’s going to help me solve my little problem. You see Jefferson, your punishment will be a death of sorts—you will live forever, feasting upon others, a cursed and miserable creature until you finally meet your end and burn in the fiery pits of hell for all eternity.”

Regina strolled back and forth, enjoying taunting him.

“Your beloved Grace will never see her father again, and you will watch her suffer. You’ll watch as she mourns you and grows old without you, because if you do come close to her, she will die by your own hand. A newborn vampire is highly unstable, you know…it’s liable to attack anyone.”

“P-Please…please don’t do this, I’ll do anything you want, just…please…”

His pleas fell on deaf ears as Regina nodded to Mr. Gold, and he descended upon Jefferson.

He cried out as fangs pieced his throat and a stream of blood ran down onto the dais, soaking into the wood. Then Mr. Gold’s mouth fastened over the throbbing wound, and he began to drink. Jefferson choked and struggled against the bonds, but his movements began to slow as a strange euphoria settled over him.

Dimly, he was aware of Regina bending down, collecting some of his blood as it dripped off the dais. Everything was fuzzy and doubled, the world tilting crazily on its axis. She let it drop into the bowl, and the potion flashed for a moment in a brilliant display of crimson.

He fell back, completely powerless against the fiend latched to his throat. His vision swam through half-lidded eyes and his mouth fell open slightly as he felt himself begin to slow. Oven and over he murmured his daughter’s name, struggling to hold on to her memory.

“Mr. Gold, you need to stop, you’ve nearly bled him dry,” Regina ordered. Jefferson was barely breathing, looking up at the moon with sightless eyes. “Quickly now, before he slips away.”

The vampire removed his fangs from Jefferson’s throat and stood, leaving the wound pulsing sluggishly. He pushed back his coat sleeve and bit his own wrist, letting the blood flow into the bowl she held. The potion flashed again, illuminating the gruesome scene in the clearing.

“Malachi, Alfred, sit him up.”

Jefferson’s head rolled weakly to the side as Regina held the bowl to his lips and ordered him to drink. He clamped his lips tightly shut and feebly tried to turn his head, but he felt a fist collide with his stomach, and the bowl tipped back as he gasped for air.

The potion was vile. Viscous and coppery, it filled his mouth and nose. He coughed, and a hand gripped his hair tightly, forcing his head back. He couldn’t breathe, and he swallowed purely on instinct. Finally the hands released him and Jefferson slumped limply back against the dais as the figures gathered round.

They began to chant, and that was when it started to burn. He could feel the potion coursing through him, changing him. Limbs trembling, he writhed against his restraints as he felt the heat start to build past the point of tolerance. Jefferson panted and he threw his head back against the dais, his muscles cording as he broke out into a cold sweat.

It kept getting worse. His heart thudded away at an impossible pace, faster and faster as it tried to pound its way out of his chest. Jefferson’s back arched and his hands clenched, the ropes creaking ominously. His blood was liquid fire, burning away everything clean and pure until only the pain and darkness remained.

Jefferson began to scream.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything beyond the horrible chanting and the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. He tried to pray, tried to think of Grace, but his mind was not his own anymore. Horrible images flashed across his closed lids—devils and demons, death and debauchery. It was as if he could feel his very soul blacken at the edges as every ounce of light it held deserted him.

The pain reached a fever pitch along with the frantic beating of his heart, and then it all stopped. His heart simply stopped, and Jefferson felt himself drift.

Suddenly, he was looking down at himself. Regina stepped forward, drawing symbols on his chest in blood—his blood. He was deathly pale, his hair slicked with sweat and his eyes closed. He looked dead, and then Jefferson realized that he was.

He barely had time to ponder this thought before he felt himself being sucked back into his body, and he opened new eyes to stare at the blood moon with hunger.

**Present Day – Storybrooke, ME**

It was still light when you awoke. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were. Unfamiliar sheets coiled around your body, certainly the nicest you’d ever seen, and you were dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to you.

Jefferson. You were in his house.

You’d dreamt about him. Warm hands on your body, sweet words in your ear and soft lips against yours. You had woken sometime around noon, the sheets tangled and your skin flushed, a telltale pool of wetness between your legs and an unanswered throbbing in your core.

You were in love with Jefferson. Sudden and all-encompassing, head-over-heels love. He was all you could think about, every minute of the day. His dazzling eyes and kind smile, his gentle, awkward nature, darkness mixed with light. Hints of sadness that lay in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. You longed to run your hands over every inch of his flawless body, to hear him moan your name as he filled you.

You had it bad, no doubt about that. You weren’t exactly the type to fling yourself at another man—just the opposite, really. Love had never come easily to you, and to be swept away by it like this took your breath away.

You lay back and glanced at the clock. Four in the afternoon. Jefferson was still sleeping, right in the next room, and just knowing he was near made you feel safe. The events of last night still troubled you, and although you still felt fear at the thought of meeting Regina again, you also felt a surge of anger. She’d hurt you, and she almost killed Jefferson.

It almost seemed absurd, but you felt protective of him. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but you still had a desire to hold him and shield him from every bad thing in the world. To tell him it was going to be okay, and to try to ease some of the horrible self-loathing he felt.

You lay there for several long minutes, thinking about the predicament you were both in. Answers. That was what you needed. You couldn’t begin to help him until you had the whole story, something he promised you would hear tonight.

Slowly you sat up, wincing at the stiffness in your leg. Your headache was virtually gone, as was the pain in your shoulder. You looked in the mirror. The bruises had colored nicely overnight and you grimaced, wishing you had a scarf or something to cover them up.

Looking around the room, you noticed your scrubs lying washed, mended, and folded at the foot of the bed. You sighed in relief—you were wearing sweatpants and a tee that were several sizes too large, and you had the suspicion they were Jefferson’s. You hadn’t looked forward to spending the evening trying to keep your pants from falling down.

You dressed, and went downstairs in search of Mrs. Conrad.

You found her at the stove, and she turned with a smile when she saw you enter. Whatever she was cooking smelled heavenly, and your stomach growled.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/N, how are you feeling?”

You smiled back. Her good mood was infectious. “Much better, Mrs. Conrad, thank you. And please—Y/N is fine.”

“All right then, as you will.” She pulled a couple of stoneware bowls down from the cupboards and ladled some of the soup into each. “I was just finishing up with the dinner, I expect you’re quite famished.”

“Thank you, it smells wonderful.”

A couple of sandwiches were added alongside the bowls, and she sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for you to sit. “Go ahead lass, tuck in.”

You detected a hint of Scottish brogue in her voice, and you wondered just how old she really was. Smiling politely, you tasted the soup. Butternut squash, rich and thick with just the right ratio of salty sweetness, perfect for a cold fall day.

You groaned. “Oh my god, Mrs. Conrad, I think this is the best soup I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” she beamed. “I’m glad you like it, it’s nice to have someone else to enjoy my cooking other than myself. Good food is utterly lost on Jefferson.”

“So, how long have you been working for him?”

Mrs. Conrad got a far off look in her eye as she calculated. “Let’s see now, it’ll be…sixty years come this June.”

You blinked. “Sixty years?”

“Yes, I took over after my dear mother passed, god rest her soul.”

You drifted off into silence, processing this last bit of information.

“Mrs. Conrad? Sorry if this is a strange question, but how did you get this job? I mean, it’s not really something you see in the papers— ‘Wanted: Housekeeper and Caretaker for a hundred-year-old vampire.’”

She laughed. “A very logical question, my dear. My family has looked after Jefferson for years—my mother before me, and her mother before that.”

“But…why?”

“Oh that’s simple—we’re witches.”

You went rigid and nearly choked on your soup, your thoughts immediately recalling blood red lips and raven hair. Mrs. Conrad saw your distress, and she smiled kindly.

“Not that kind of witch—I’m a white witch. I follow the light, protecting others from dark magic, and occasionally guiding those who have fallen victim to it.”

You frowned, and your heart fell. Victim. You hadn’t thought about how Jefferson might have become a vampire, and hearing that, you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Mrs. Conrad caught your look, and her expression softened.

“Jefferson has been through hell and he’s lost nearly everything he’s held dear. He was a lost soul for many years, and since he came to us he’s been driven with a single purpose…until now.”

You weren’t sure what she meant by that last comment. “What do you mean? Why was he turned?”

Mrs. Conrad shook her head. “That’s not my story to tell, lass. He’ll tell you, if you ask him.”

She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye, and you blushed, returning to your meal. She continued, her gaze distant.

“When I first met Jefferson he was very much like the man you know today…maybe not quite as beaten-down, a little rougher around the edges, but still the same.” Her smile faltered, and she looked at you sadly. “He wasn’t always that way.

“My grandmother was the first to find him and take him under her wing not long after he’d been turned. Jefferson had been on his own for a few years, and a newborn vampire is a terrifying thing to behold. He was wild, vicious, a slave to his emotions and hunger, and a danger to everyone around him.”

She pointed the spoon at you, her gaze sharp, and you could feel the pride and affection she had for her charge. “Yet he was still there, which is more than can be said for some who have shared his fate. He was still trying to fight the instincts, trying to preserve any humanity he had left. Jefferson is a strong man, a good man. My grandmother saw something in him, and she decided to save him.”

“Save him?” You were confused. “But he’s still a vampire.”

“Not turn him back, no. That spell can only be found in the Cartea Morților,the Romanian Book of the Dead. Regina’s been in possession of it for centuries—it was that very spell book that Jefferson stole the night she staked him and he was brought to you.”

The two of you lapsed into companionable silence, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls and the tick of the kitchen clock. Your head was spinning, trying to process everything. Finally, Mrs. Conrad sat back from the table, folding her hands primly in her lap.

“This…might not be my place to say this, but if I leave that great fool to his own devices…”

She drifted off, and you were just going to ask what she meant when she spoke again.

“He’s different around you. My Jefferson is a dark and troubled soul, but when he looks at you…the way he speaks of you…it’s as if he’s lit from the inside. When he smiles, it’s the look of someone who has found true happiness. There’s only one person who has ever made him look like that, and that was his daughter Grace.”

She didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t ask. You thought again of the little girl in the pocket watch. You’d noticed her use of the past tense, and had a feeling that was a story that hadn’t ended well.

Mrs. Conrad reached across the table and took your hand. “I only say this because I see the same look in your eyes. I’m not trying to push anything my dear, I’m simply letting you know how stubborn of a man he can be when he puts his mind to it.

“Jefferson hates what he is, and he thinks himself undeserving of love. He’s awkward and mercurial, even a bit eccentric at times, but he’s got a heart of gold. If you let him, he will love you forever and follow you to the ends of the earth. But you’re going to have to make the first move, because he never will.”

You were stunned. How the old woman could see all of that was beyond you, but maybe there was something there after all. You didn’t get to ask her any further questions, however, because just at that moment, Jefferson entered the kitchen.

“Good evening, ladies.”

Jefferson was beaming at you—Mrs. Conrad was right, he almost looked lit from the inside. His smile was light and warm, his eyes sparkling with joy when he saw you. She nodded hello and gathered the plates, tottering off towards the refrigerator, leaving the two of you alone.

Jefferson’s finger tentatively grazed your outstretched hand. “How are you, Y/N? Are you feeling any better?”

You smiled and took his hand in yours, noting the way his breathing picked up. “Much, Jefferson, thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course, like I said, it’s—”

“—the least you can do, I know,” you said, finishing his sentence with a smirk. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Jefferson chuckled nervously. “Yes, I believe I did. I also believe I promised you a full explanation tonight. Would you accompany me to the library? We can—”

Mrs. Conrad set a thermos heavily down on the table in front of Jefferson, and fixed him with a pointed stare.

“No one’s accompanying anyone anywhere until you’ve fed, Jefferson. I know you two lovebirds will be up till all hours of the morning, chittering away until you’ve neglected yourself once again.”

Her gaze softened, and she delicately set a teacup in front of you. “For you, my dear, please forgive this one’s uncouth behavior, he’s not used to entertaining members of the delicate sex.”

Jefferson snorted. “And what exactly would you call yourself, you old busybody?”

“The voice of reason,” she said simply.

Jefferson burst out laughing, and you joined in as she smirked and walked upstairs, leaving the two of you alone.

“Oh my god, she’s terrifying,” you giggled.

Jefferson laughed, and you loved the way his eyes lit up. “Yes, she’s a tiresome old battle-axe, but she’s somehow managed to keep me in line.”

“Can I ask what’s in the thermos?”

The smile disappeared from his face. “Blood.”

He looked down, ashamed. You placed your hand atop his, curling your fingers around his hand. Once again, he felt cold, and you wondered if the fluctuations in his body heat had to do with feeding.

“Jefferson, you don’t have to be ashamed of what you are in front of me. I see the kind of man you truly are, and you’re not the monster you’re making yourself out to be.”

His lips twitched in a sad smile. “It’s because you don’t know any better.”

He sighed deeply and unscrewed the thermos, leveling a glance at you. Almost as if he were curious as to what your reaction would be. He raised it to his lips and drank, maintaining eye contact at first, but his eyes soon fluttered closed in satisfaction.

You watched his throat move as he drank, enraptured. He set the empty thermos down, licking his lips and breathing heavily. You had the sudden desire to kiss him, to taste him and feel his body pressed against yours.

Jefferson’s eyes were blown black, and as his lips parted, you could see his fangs. You shivered and your breath hitched, but not out of fear—out of desire. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, to your breasts, and then lower, hungrily roving over your body and sending a thrill of excitement through you.

Suddenly he stood, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair in agitation. He snatched up the thermos and brought it to the sink, seemingly wanting to put as much distance as possible between the two of you.

“Jefferson—”

“All right, well…that’s that, now the old biddy’s had her way, let’s go to the library, shall we?”

That was the second time he’d freaked out after getting close to you. He was clearly upset—maybe Mrs. Conrad was wrong about his feelings. You’d better tone it down a bit.

Still, he offered you his hand, and you took it.

“You’re not limping as badly, are you still very sore?” he asked.

“Not after that bath last night, it was just like magic—wait.” You turned to him, your eyes wide. “She put something in it, didn’t she?”

Jefferson laughed. “I see Mrs. Conrad told you about her origins. Yes, she still dabbles in magic, mostly herbology and whatnot. Some of it’s quite useful.”

“Wow.” You blinked in amazement as he led you back to the library. Seeing your interest in the subject, Jefferson continued.

“Magic has all but died out—there’s not much left in the world. All that remains are a few wretched creatures like Regina and me, scrabbling for that last little bit.”

You bit your lip, positively bursting with questions. “So…do you practice magic? Are you like, a wizard or something?”

Jefferson roared with laughter. “Goodness no! This isn’t Harry Potter—wands and broomsticks and rubbish like that. No, I was a perfectly normal man once, and I only stumbled upon this world through regrettable misfortune.”

Jefferson was born on August 9th, 1887. He’d grown up in Boston, Massachusetts, the son of a wealthy apothecary. His father had expanded the family business throughout the state, and was planning on opening up shops in New York City before business ground to a halt after his untimely death in a carriage accident.

Jefferson’s mother was inconsolable, and followed her husband to the grave a year later, leaving the business and the estate solely to Jefferson. He had an older sister, Rebecca, but she had married young and well, and was content living with her husband in Chicago.

Having been sent to the best boarding schools and groomed from a young age to succeed his father as the head of the family business, Jefferson immediately took over. However, he tired quickly with the life of a businessman, and soon left the running of the company to others.

“I was young and foolish,” he explained. “Adventure, cheap thrills and women, that’s what I wanted out of life. I wasn’t allowed to choose much for myself, so when I had a chance to have a little fun, I made the most out of it.”

“What did you do?”

“Drinking, gambling, all sorts of debauchery. The people I ran with were a tough crowd, but their dark world glittered with a kaleidoscope of color compared to the gilded cage in which I’d been placed.”

He looked at you, his face deadly serious. “I sought the darkness Y/N, and in the end, it found me. I brought this upon myself, and have no one else to blame for my troubles.”

Jefferson was a conman and a thief. He didn’t need the money, he simply did it for the thrill. It was all a game to him. The people he called his friends operated at the fringes of a much darker world—the world of magic. The more he learned, the more fascinated he became, and soon he was taking odd jobs hunting for magical artifacts.

“It’s how I came to be in possession of the hat,” he said. “Very useful for a thief.”

It was a dusty old top hat, imbued with magical powers. One tap from the matching pocket watch, and an object would be instantly transported into the hat. A way to make something valuable disappear.

You giggled with delight as Jefferson showed you, his own face lighting up as he watched you.

“Here, you try,” he said, handing you the pocket watch.

“But I’m not—”

“I told you, I’m nothing special.”

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. “You are to me.”

Jefferson swallowed thickly as you took the watch from him. The intense mood quickly dissolved, however, as you made a small book on his desk disappear and reappear in the hat.

“That is so cool,” you laughed, shaking your head.

You sat together on the couch, staring into the roaring fire and talking long into the night, just as Mrs. Conrad had predicted. Jefferson seemed much more at ease with you, occasionally brushing your arm affectionately. Slowly the two of you had eased closer to one another, until your shoulders and legs were touching. Neither of you pulled away.

Jefferson pulled your hand in his lap and he played with your fingers nervously as he told you how he became a vampire. He had lost the business when the economy had crashed in the early 1910’s, and had become more desperate when it looked like he would lose his house as well. He’d started working for Regina, but when he tried to double-cross her for the promise of more money, she’d had him turned as punishment.

The story was horrifying, and Jefferson spared you no detail. A satanic ritual performed by a coven of witches, in Salem, no less. It seemed as if he was looking to shock you, to prove to you what a monster he was. How he preyed upon others, wild and driven nearly mad with hunger, until Mrs. Conrad’s grandmother found him and helped him to control his urges.

Still, you didn’t see him as a monster. His was a tragic story, and you noticed that he failed to mention the worst part of it—his daughter, Grace. You sensed that was a very personal subject for him, a story for another time, perhaps.

He explained how he came to be in the graveyard that night with Regina, and why he’d stolen the Cartea Morților.He wanted to reverse the curse and save his soul, and die a free man. You suspected it also had something to do with Grace, a way of seeing her again in the afterlife, because she surely had to be dead.

It made your heart ache, to hear what he’d gone through. He’d led a tragic and lonely existence—over a hundred years’ worth—too afraid to reach out to anyone for fear he’d hurt them.

“I want to help you,” you said suddenly.

“Wh-what?”

“I want to help you,” you said again. “I don’t know what I can do, but if there’s any way I can help, I want to do it.”

He didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his lap almost guiltily.

“Jefferson, you’re a good man. You’ve been through so much, you’ve seen so much heartache and suffering. Please let me help you—you deserve saving.”

He looked at you, his eyes liquid with misery. “Why would you want to save a wretched soul like me?” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything, but he wouldn’t let it go. “Why?”

This was it. You knew exactly how you felt about him. It didn’t matter what Jefferson thought of himself, you could see through to the man he truly was, and you loved him, more intensely that you had ever loved another man. It didn’t matter what he was—the heart wants what the heart wants.

Right now your heart was racing, pounding painfully in your throat. You weren’t sure if Jefferson could hear it or not—sometimes it seemed like he could. He was tense, staring at you with an indiscernible look on his face that did nothing to settle your nerves.

“Why?” he asked again, his voice a hoarse whisper.

You took a deep breath, and looked him right in the eye.

“Because I’m in love with you Jefferson.”

His mouth slammed shut. “Y-You can’t.”

Your heart fell. Jefferson’s face was flushed, and he immediately scooted back, putting distance between the two of you. He shook his head and twisted his hands together. You saw he was shaking.

“You…you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m dangerous…you have no idea—”

“Jefferson—”

“No! You can’t love someone like me. I’m a monster—I’m not even alive!” He was on his feet now, pacing anxiously. “You think that I’m this tragic figure, but you have no idea how dangerous I can be. I could kill you in a heartbeat, and there would be nothing you could do to stop it! You don’t have a clue—"

“I’m just a silly girl, playing with fire, is that it?”

Now you were on your feet as well, masking your hurt and embarrassment with anger. Anger that he kept insisting that he was a monster, refusing to see any good in himself.

“I’m no good for you, Y/N.”

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

You reached out to place a hand on his arm, and he flinched away from you.

“Don’t touch me.”

You stepped back as if you’d been slapped.

“S-So that’s it then? Don’t you care for me at all?”

Jefferson was silent, and he wouldn’t meet your eye. He was upset, the bitterness radiating off him in waves. His hands were fisted at his sides, and a muscle worked in his jaw.

So there it was…blatant rejection. Mrs. Conrad had been wrong about him after all. The world felt like it was crumbling all around you, and there suddenly wasn’t enough air in the room. You clenched your jaw and blinked back the tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I…I have to leave. I can’t…I’ll see you around, Jefferson.”

Nothing. You nodded bitterly and turned, walking swiftly towards the door.

“Y/N, no—wait!”

You didn’t slow. You felt so embarrassed, so heartbroken at his rejection, you didn’t want to hear any more excuses as to why he wasn’t good for you.

“Please—stop!”

Jefferson’s hand closed around your arm firmly, and he spun you around. Something darkly possessive flashed in the depths of his eyes. It made your belly flare with heat, but you promptly snuffed it out. He didn’t want you.

“Let me go.”

You twisted in his grip, but he held you tightly. “No.”

“I’m not interested in playing games, Jefferson,” you said, your voice flat and lifeless.

“Games?”

“One minute you make me feel like…” you trailed off as your eyes started to burn. “And then the next, you’re pushing me away. You’re giving me whiplash.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let you go, either.

“I get it. I’m just naive, in love with someone I don’t understand and who doesn’t feel the same way. It’s all right, I’m not mad, I just…I need some space.”

You tried to pull away again, but he held you fast. “Please let me go,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the last word.

Jefferson shut the door gently but firmly. He was trembling, and he looked seconds from tears himself. His eyes were darting back and forth, looking at everything and nothing, all at once. Finally, they rested on you.

His head dipped once, bending towards you before he stopped himself, blinking hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes flicked back and forth between yours, and then something shifted deep within them.

“Jefferson?”

Your breath was cut off as his hands came up to grasp your face, firmly but gently. Then his lips met yours, and your brain stopped.

The kiss was unlike any you’d shared before. It was passionate and hungry, his mouth working against yours as his tongue licked into your mouth. He pressed you back against the doorframe. You moaned as he leaned into you, his body warm and solid beneath the silky touch of his shirt. His lips worked across your jaw and down your throat, where he paused, resting his forehead on your shoulder and breathing heavily.

Slowly his head raised. One hand remained wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while the other tenderly bushed the hair back from your eyes.

“I…I always fancied myself a man of great control,” he said, “but when you’re near…Y/N, I have none at all. I’m as weak as a kitten around you, and I can’t hold back anymore.”

He kissed you again.

“I don’t want to,” he murmured against your lips.

You noticed that although his eyes were dark with desire, his fangs weren’t out. This was him, not bloodlust or whatever other carnal urges his vampirism brought. Just him.

“I love you,” he said simply.

You inhaled sharply at his words. Jefferson pulled back and stared at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you, Y/N. Goddamnit, I love you to the very depths of my soul. I would do anything for you, I would burn in a thousand hells for you, just to see you safe and happy. I can’t breathe without you, and whatever’s left of my cold, dead heart…I give it to you freely. If…If you still want me, I’m completely yours.”

You surged forward, knocking him back in surprise. The fool still half-believed you wouldn’t want him, even after all of that.

Well, you’d just have to show him differently.

“I love you, Jefferson,” you murmured between kisses. “and I want you.”

Your fingers brushed the knot of his scarf, slowly untying it. His breath caught as you traced the dimple in his chin, down his throat to rest at the hollow where his collarbones met. You lightly fingered the top button on his shirt, looking up at him and asking permission.

He nodded minutely, and you slowly started to unbutton his shirt and vest. His eyes fluttered closed and he drew in a shaky breath as your hands slipped beneath the fabric, tracing the hard lines of his body and making him tremble with want.

The shirt fell to the floor, and you stared in awe, his flawless body lit by the firelight. Jefferson saw the look in your eye, or maybe he heard the tempo of your heart increase, because his hands tightened around your waist, slipping up underneath your shirt to touch bare skin.

With that single touch, any restraint either of you still held evaporated. Your lips smashed together again, teeth clicking and tongues caressing as hands frantically tore at what remained of your clothes. Jefferson pulled you back, laying you down on a plush rug in front of the fireplace.

Within minutes you were both naked, lying skin-to-skin and feeling like the fire would consume you both. Jefferson’s hand slid down between your legs as his tongue ran sinfully over your nipples, and he groaned when he felt the wetness pooled there. He ground his hips against you and began to caress the sensitive skin there, but you stopped him.

“You. I need you, now.”

It came out a bit more forceful than you intended, but Jefferson’s eyes flashed darkly hearing your urgency. He swiftly rolled on top of you, positioned himself between your legs and pushed into you slowly. He groaned loudly and your fingers dug into his back as he filled you, leaving you dizzy with ecstasy as he bottomed out.

He pushed against you, staring at you in wonder as if he could see the depths of your soul. Slowly he began to move.

Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of panting and stifled cries as you fell into a rhythm together, building momentum as the heat in your core flared out of control. Your head fell back and you arched against him as you came undone, crying his name.

Hearing that pushed Jefferson over the edge. His thrusts became erratic and you felt his stomach tense seconds before he released inside you with a gasp.

For several long minutes neither of you moved as you slowly came down from your high. Bodies slicked with sweat and legs intertwined, you both just stared at each other in wonder at what had just happened.

Jefferson wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace and laid his head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat. He was so still and so quiet you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then his shoulders began to shake and you felt wetness against your breasts, and you realized he was crying.

“Jefferson,” you said in alarm, trying to see his face, “Jefferson, honey, what’s wrong?”

He sniffed and wiped his face, but when he looked up at you he was smiling.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he said. “For the first time in a very long time, I feel like everything is as it should be. I love you, Y/N.”

He gently kissed your lips, and you smiled back.

“I love you too, Jefferson.”

[kobithedragon]

Yet another essay about tumblr (originally intended to be sent as an ask to @cyle but I decided to just post it here instead).

ps: I have a #tumblr tag for more meta-commentary (although if you scroll far down enough there's a very long and annoying essay I wrote that nobody really needs to read)

I did a meta-commentary tumblr meme thing for u and the team I hope u like it ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

There's good n bad of both sides of course, I just had this idea for a meme because there's a clear dichotomy between the different social platforms in our current day and age due to the ageing of the internet, and this'll only get more interesting as the internet ages further. Tumblr seems to be at somewhat of a fork in the road after Yahoo thought they were Facebook and bought x trendy social platform(s) to stay relevant after years of decline. However, unlike Facebook with Instagram, over the years Yahoo failed to adapt the once trendy flickr & tumblr to new trends such as the switch to smartphones (Instagram is a smartphone app before anything else) or the rise of video-based content (IGTV and now reels) and the ever increasing lean on social features rather than blogging features (Instagram's story replies leading to direct conversation rather than more forum-like reblogging to a thread).

Anyway, I'm glad Yahoo left tumblr virtually untouched besides a few tweaks and oversights that shrunk the traffic. A huge userbase at the cost of being like Instagram? Heck, ban whatever you like, but don't close the api. Tumblr is tumblr because I can thoroughly explore without an algorithm (thanks via chain!), I can reshare permanently (thanks reblogs!) and consistently and not sporadically (thanks queue!) to a publicly viewable and paginated archive without breaking any sort of links to the communities I shared from (thanks the via chain again!), I can do all this on whichever 3rd party software I choose with whichever features I want, aaaand I can annoy people in the dashboard by writing huge essays without a read more section. And we can all make a ridiculously long reblog chain together. At least to me, that's what tumblr is. Freedom to explore and express. No matter how tight the guidelines become due to everyone's least favourite fruit, who also claims to be the arbiter of the direct word of God (perhaps you've seen the post floating around where Apple disallows incorrect interpretations of religious scripture even though scholars have been arguing over what it all really means for quite some time now), the core mechanics of the tumblr platform allow for so much expression and diversity to be aggregated by everyone.

While tumblr isn't quite as "specialised" as flickr or "underground" like are.na, it has way more of an identity than Facebook. There's no such thing as a "Facebook user" because everyone is a Facebook user. It's the same with Instagram, and even Pinterest. Everyone uses them because they appeal to everyone. And that's fine of course, because tumblr also wants to appeal to a diverse community. But they don't have their unique charm like tumblr does. Lesser known platforms have a charm. Platforms with niche features that don't exist just for user engagement and profit but instead for the sake of a higher purpose. Older platforms have a charm. Those that are both unknown/declining and relics have survived because they weren't shut down when they stopped being profitable or easy to run like Google+ was for example. They keep going because they're precious and important to their userbase. Tumblr doesn't wake up every morning because it's easy, it does it because it must! You guys have been through a ridiculous amount but you're still going strong. Alternatives need to exist. And they were made because the internet is exciting, not because the internet is profitable. To quote Porcupine Tree's "The Sound of Muzak":

Hear the sound of music

Drifting in the aisles

Elevator Prozac

Stretching on for miles

The music of the future

Will not entertain

It's only meant to repress

And neutralize your brain

Soul gets squeezed out

Edges get blunt

Demographic

Gives what you want

One of the wonders of the world is going down

It's going down I know

It's one of the blunders of the world that no-one cares

No-one cares enough

Now the sound of music

Comes in silver pills

Engineered to suit you

Building cheaper thrills

The music of rebellion

Makes you want to rage

But it's made by millionaires

Who are nearly twice your age

One of the wonders of the world is going down

It's going down I know

It's one of the blunders of the world that no-one cares

No-one cares enough

If we replace "music" with "social media" we get a profoundly accurate description of our current situation - predicted back in 2002 while Geocities was still cool. But I know that whatever tumblr does, whether it adds stories or reels ("takes"?) or whatever the next big thing is, or even if it invents something completely different, it'll still be tumblr. It's a tough world out there with all these social media giants swallowing up the userbases of their still living ancestors and their exciting alternatives. I have a lot of respect to you guys for keeping this ship afloat. I hope you can break even someday. I wish you the best:)

Ps: this is really very long, so you don't have to worry about posting it or anything. It started off as "hey there's an idea for a meme" and sorta just became "oh man. I got so carried away and here I am 4 hours later re reading this for the 50th time". Also I'm too lazy to rewrite the meme now but I kinda want to reword some stuff like "aggressive monetisation" in regards to Instagram and Facebook just means like the whole privacy Ad scandal, which of course tumblr has nothing to do with, and then there's paying for features that have been taken away which is at the opposite end of the spectrum but I guess can also be interpreted as "aggressive monetisation" right? I mean are.na has no commercialisation whatsoever, it's tiny and probably covers it's tiny server costs thanks to subscribers and investors and flickr has a tonne of photos it needs to store (well, less now unfortunately but it's still probably an insane amount, all that internet history) and it's overt about how much money it's losing but then there's the 100 year thing which seems cool, I just hope enough people are subbed to Flickr pro and they're getting enough revenue from those ads💔. Anyway so tumblr has done neither of these things yet, it's not advertiser friendly and it's not paywalling any features that should really be free (are.na isn't usable with a 200 post (aka block) limit. It really isn't. 4 days later and I'm 200 blocks in - not making any new connections. It's very unhealthy for the platform to restrict it's core feature and stunt the growth of archives. It's actually very heartbreaking because there would be so many more connections, so many more channels, so much more to explore. There should never be a limit on that stuff in my opinion, especially on are.na)..Yes there's a store now and the shopping cart skeleton dude (actually seeing that is what inspired me to do this in the first place, it was just interesting and cute) which is something are.na would probably never do but I'm not sure if it can be compared to the Facebook marketplace but I have no idea where any of this is headed but I'm excited because where does tumblr fit in the social media dichotomy as we accelerate into a rapidly changing future of the internet? Only time will tell. Truly fascinating platform.

[thesquishypenguin]

Sad Sun, Happy Moon - 1/2

FnafI finally wrote some stuff for sun/moon! You can find it on AO3 here!!

Or read on tumblr: (1) Why can’t we be friends..? / (2) If only tonight would last forever..

Irritable, mean employee reader crushes Suns poor heart, he just wants to be friends! (No positive ending, if you've ever wanted to be mean to Sun now's your chance...meanie)

Sun notices poor reader is getting sleepy and decides Moon should put them to bed - But reader wants to spend time with attention starved Moon. (Cute and fluffy x reader!)

Comments appreciated!

Sun:

Why can’t we be friends..?

The daycare was eerily quiet and still, despite the obscenely cheery music playing incessantly on what felt like a few seconds loop. It was enough to make anyone go insane, but thankfully you wouldn’t be here for long. Creaking open the daycare doors you left them ajar behind as you stepped further into the daycare, eyes searching for the abomination of a machine. Nothing. Not a peep. No movement. Zilch. You stepped further inside, eyes roaming the play structures for any signs…nothing. Where was it? Your gaze was cast to the platform above, it was easier to call the thing down than go around the back to its…room, if you could call it that.

Movement caught your attention, a colourful - and no doubt grimy as all hell - ball from the bit rolled across the floor, as if possessed by a need to escape its brethren. You watched until it came to a stop, then whipped focus back to the ball pit as not so quiet giggling hit your ears. “Come out.” you ordered, but were met with silence until the sea of balls moved, just a ripple. Stepping closer to the pit was a mistake as the kraken popped up, plastic balls catapulted into the air and rained back into the ocean. “BOO!” It shouted, arms stretched out upwards. Its face plate spun, rotating fully and coming back to rest with that unnerving grin aimed at your way as you recoiled from the shock. “Did I get ya!? Did I!?” It asked, tone inflected upwards with playful mirth as large hands came to rest on the edge of the pit - though the damned thing would not stop swaying gleefully. You gave it a disgusted look “Knock it the hell off” words chided. “Language..!” The machine warbled, its tone still light, yet clearly reminding you of the daycare rule. “What’re we doing today, friend?! Did you come for a slumber party? It’s so late! Sososo late!” It exclaimed, seemingly no volume control whatsoever. It shouted. All. The. Time. It grated on your ever fraying nerves, along with the cheery attitude. Friend..yeah, right, the damn thing was delusional. You just wished it would stop messing around for once. “We could do so much! So many things! We can paint, draw, colour in- oh! Oh! Make friendship bracelets! Braid each other’s hair!!-” it didn’t even have hair..

“Get out. I’ve got work to do” You scowled, cutting off its incessant rambling. Demanding now that it comply and stop playing. The robot ducked its head slightly before hauling itself out of the pit with a flourish “Hoo-hoo!” it cheered to further put on a show of somersaulting out, bells jingling with the movement. “And shut up would you? All this noise is killing me” you groused. It stilled once again, placing its hands together and worrying them in an almost nervous manner, the only other movement was the furious nodding of its head as it stooped lower to make itself smaller. This new friend was always so…tetchy. Maybe if they just did some arts and crafts for once they’d relax a little! But..they always refused. Sun wanted to ask what kind of work exactly but…he knew. Maintenance, of course. Not..fun. He watched the back of their head as they turned around and stepped away, but hesitated on following “W-wait! F-friend! I have something..for you” It’s voice actually lowered towards the end, nerves setting in made it shy, actually almost quiet for once. You stopped and sagged your shoulders heavily at the delay “What NOW?” You grumbled with a venom, turning around and putting hands on your hips, further showing growing impatience.

Sun popped open the container built into its arm, reaching in to pull out a slightly curled piece of paper, it closed it before pulling its hand away to offer the page. Its face plate tilted curiously, holding out the hand drawn offering. You snatched it from its hands to examine it, a blank unreadable expression on your face the entire time. “D-Do..do you like i-it? I made it!! Just for you..! I used my favourite glitter glue a-and stickers..!” It exclaimed, head bent towards the floor to avert its gaze as it awkwardly ground its shoe into the floor bashfully. “Please say you like it! Oh pleasepleaseplease” it practically begged, crouching low again it tilted its face up to once again look at them. “Did…did I do good?” the machine asked, quiet, anticipating, wanting a reward for its efforts. Wanting a friend. Trying to win you over with gifts if kindness wasn’t working. Sun watched in dismay as you scrunched up the artwork and tossed the ball over your shoulder “I don’t have time for this crap just get going!” You seethed, just wanting to finish your damn work and go home already. Sun put his hands up in front of him “I-I’m sorry! I’ll do better next time! Sorry..sorrysorrysosorry” he pleaded hoping for forgiveness, but electricity still sparked around his circuits painfully. As you turned back around he put his hands up to his head, pushing the sun rays in as he ran his hands around the rim of his face, each one popping back out as his hands passed, distraught. Sun retrieved the damaged gift, lookin between it and their ‘friend’. He unfurled it as best as he could, trying to smooth it out again though it hardly fixed anything, the damage was permanent. He held the picture close to his chest for a moment, sure to keep his pace behind you..or else he’d be told off again. You could’ve sworn they heard him whine pathetically, but didn’t say anything and kept walking. Stupid robot.

[onesheeptwosheepandachicken]

Mf stop acting like you're doing nothing but talking about how much you love RWBY and we're coming in your space and telling you you're full of shit. Your blogs are literally DEDICATED the shitting on our criticisms of the show on different platforms and you think you just can get away with it without problem? Tell your friend to shut down her targeted harassment blog where she personally insults people for their takes on RWBY and then either shows screenshots of their articles or give us directions for others to go find them.

Leave us the fuck alone and then you'll be left alone. You like RWBY? That's fine, just talk about how much you like it and stop antagonizing us.

buddy? Stop acting like you're doing nothing but talking about how you have issues (criticism) with RWBY and how we're coming into your space and complaining.

Your blogs are quite literally DEDICATED to trash-talking the fandom, the writers, and the show on different platforms and you think you can just threaten or slander us without problems?

Tell your hate bloggers to shut down their targeted harassment blogs where they personally insult anyone saying rwby is a good/enjoyable show and then shows either screenshots or gives directions for the rwby haters to go harass them/us.

Leave the RWBY fandom alone, and we will stop responding to every hate mail you send out.

You despise RWBY? That's up to you, just keep your hatred to yourselves, and stop going after everyone trying to spread rwby positivity.

Oh, and speaking of positivity.

https://canonseeker.tumblr.com/post/669777878220685312/111-rwby-youtube-channels-for-rwby-fans-to-enjoy?

https://canonseeker.tumblr.com/post/675576944249749504/friendly-rwby-tumblr-bloggers-for-people-new-to

these are useful to others for the sake of positivity.

[meltedhorror]

Speaking up.

So, this is the long awaited post, huh? The part of the story where I break my silence on the subject, where I finally speak up loud and clear about my side of the story.

You’ve been oh so keen on sharing your side of the story Ranze, so now it’s my turn. So sit down. I know that you are watching, you have been actively stalking me this past half a year.

I’ll try to keep this post short, so I’ll start from where this conflict started. At the end of this post you will find a google doc with all the evidence you’ll ever want and more, plus more personal accounts of what has happened.

Back in October of last year I believe, me and Ranze had a falling out over discord leading to me leaving the fandom permanently (until now). A lot happened to lead up to this.

Ranze, though not being the cause of my depression and other darker shit, had a hand in making all of that so much worse for me. He was actively hurting me for a long time with his so-called “positivity” which was basically telling everyone to shut up and bottle their emotions including me. He would give advice, something completely unasked for and in my case completely unwanted and try to force it on me. If I didn’t take this advice, he would blame me for my depressive episodes and blame me for making everyone else around me depressed like it’d be some kind of cold I could spread onto others. He would try to force me to promise him shit about MY mental state in front of others a lot of the time. I can’t keep any promises about that, but no matter how many times I would express my discomfort about this he would not care. He would try to force me.

It was not only promises he tried to force me with though, it was also things with what I was and wasn’t allowed to post, what I was allowed to talk about/do as well as other things. He would try to control me and my platform, again no matter how many times I told him to stop he simply would not.

I had several long talks with him about this. He would give a half-assed apology, but it wouldn’t take more than just a few days for him to continue with this behavior. I talked to him and pleaded with him to stop doing this shit because he was my friend and I just wanted him to become better.

Just become better.

But actions speak louder than words, and today it’s clear to me that he truly did not give a shit about me or my mental wellbeing. After I left he started to spread rumors about me, talking shit about me to others and discouraging anyone and everyone of our mutual friends to stop being around me. He completely isolated me, knowing full well how bad my mental state already was and knowing full well that earlier during the time we were still friends I had fantasized about taking my own life on multiple occasions. But he did not care. He does not care.

And this continued on until very recently. It wasn’t just friends either, he would tell people to leave my lm3 themed server in attempts to essentially kill it, which congratulations you succeeded with! I hope you are happy and contempt with yourself Ranze.

I go way further into exactly what went on between me and him in the doc, but before I post that I just want to say

I hope you’re happy with yourself Ranze. Did this fulfill you? Did it boost your little God complex to beat someone who was already so fucking far down because of you? And do not dare tell me you didn’t know, because in that last call we had in your server? I told you exactly what you had done. I told you exactly what you were doing. But you didn’t care. Because it was way easier to go behind my back and talk about me in your public chats in that server.

I have not had contact with either Ranze or Marshall to this day. Ranze has me blocked on several different platforms. The only one who I have talked to since is Sarah, who was so kind to message me here on Tumblr to ask me to go hush hush about all of this because if I don’t then someone would commit suicide because of me, and it’d be all my fault.

There was a reason I never spoke about any of this after this all happened, and that was because I didn’t want to have anything to do with any of you again. I wanted to leave and be left alone, I didn’t want to be in contact with Ranze who had hurt me so fucking badly. And whatever little respect I still kept for him also lead me to not speak about it. Not to friends, not to mutuals, not to my followers, not to anyone. But that respect is long gone, since I was not shown the same back.

So I hope you are happy with yourself. I’m done being silent about this.

But I’m not gonna tell anyone what to do with this information. You do as you please, if you want to keep being friends with him that’s fine by me (I’m not gonna go and start blocking people who interact with him like he does with people for me). But this is what happened, this is the evidence, and you do with it as you see fit.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1bjeO69YTRu-6K70AvREgWNB2-LhEiXM1LMC9sRmNwCE/edit?usp=sharing

That is the doc. Have fun reading it.

[spotofmummery]

Spot of Mummery Blog Archive & Social Media Thoughts

tl;dr: Social media and third-party hosting sell-outs are scary. I’m finally breaking down and just flat out making a Spot of Mummery static HTML blog archive.

See the blog archive here. (WIP)

----

So, yesterday’s Twitter situation caused me to take a step back (yet again) and reassess the platforms where I’ve entrusted my content – not that I haven’t already done that many times over.  While I don’t plan on removing my content from Twitter or Tumblr, I am still considering where my content should live in the future. (You should, too, if this sort of thing bothers you – nothing lasts forever.)

I’ve never had a strong trust of hosting my original writings/art in a place where I don’t have some control over it. That’s part of the reason why I began to create my own sites – so that my writing wouldn’t just be hosted in someone else’s hands (which was, at the time, only Tumblr).

It’s also why I’ve made a shift away from hosted blogs to designing my own sites in HTML again, like I did in the days of the Old Internet. Yes, I do host my site on Neocities, but if something should happen to Neocities, I have a full backup of all my files right here. All it would take is finding another webhost and FTPing these files to somewhere new – my site would be back up again in very short order.

In contrast, if somewhere like Tumblr or WordPress shut my site down, and I didn’t have a backup… well… Even with a backup, it would take a LOT of work to import somewhere else and so much time to get the site running again.

In fact, it’s because I stumbled upon backups of my website from 2002 (not a typo) – still completely in the condition I left it – that I started messing around with site coding and Neocities. The website was 20 years old, but I could plop it up like nothing had changed, just because I had the file backup on hand.

All this to say – I’m finally going to do the thing I should have done all along. I’m taking my original content posts and putting them up on my static HTML site to safeguard my blog content.

Note: I'm not removing anything from Tumblr. I'm just making a static place to host the history of the posts that are important to me in a format that I think is easier to view.

I’m not fully confident in leaving it all with Tumblr – we all know that stuff happens. For a while, I was trying to move my content to WordPress thinking that might be a safe place to keep it. But then WordPress turned around and did its own funky pricing things a few weeks ago that marred trust with me.

I’ve been avoiding hand-coding a blog archive just because of the sheer amount of time and work that will be required to do it. However, I’ve figured out some templates and found some pretty nifty things in terms of organization and page navigation. So I’m taking the plunge, even though this will take quite a while to complete.

So far, I’ve archived all of my important original content from 2022 – there wasn’t a ton of it, so that was pretty quick to do. I plan on continuing to update by month as time allows.

You can view the main blog archive page here. (It's a WIP.)

You can also view the 2022 archives for:

January

February

March

April

Now that the templates have taken shape, I’m a little excited about getting all of this archived in a place where I know I have complete control over it. I’ve mostly given up on moving to WordPress, aside from it being a place to announce updates, and will continue to use Twitter and Tumblr as I always have.