To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:
A post in 2023:
A post in 2014:
A zoom out of the same post:
This is what a community looks like.
See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.
It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.
Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.
If you want more of something, reblog it.
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The Sham | Lost Memories | Khan
C!Nadakhan will be referred to as Khan in from now on, especially on Lost Memories but not with Origins especially on writing unless the timeline in Origins is after Jay gave C!Nadakhan the Nickname or after.
Jay was inside his office, bored and held no motivation whatsoever to fill in all the paperwork he had been putting off, desperate for a distraction Jay turned to Khan. “so… if you're a ghost… Does that mean that's what you looked like when you died? Or can you change your appearance like y’know make yourself into all big and scary?”
Khan narrows its hollow eyes at Jay, placing a hand on its hip and sighed. “Again I am not a Ghost. but… yes I can change my appearance just as you described as big and scary”
Jay's eyes widened before they began to sparkle with mischief. “Really?” He asked almost excitedly as if this was a perfect distraction for him to not do his paperwork.
Khan raised a brow as it crossed its arms, “Yes?”
Jay grins, unintentionally baring his fangs. “have you tried changing your appearance other than looking all scary like maybe your clothes? Your hair? Heck you could try looking entirely unrecognizable and become someone entirely new than well…” Jay looks up and down at Khan's armor and general attire with a raised brow. “That. I mean it does the job, but you could try something new for a change.”
“something… new?” Khan blinks as it hums thoughtfully at Jay’s idea. “But… I don't know what to wear? I've never thought of changing my attire since no one can even see me other than you… and well Dan.”
Jay, again held that mischievous and pure sparkle of excitement in his eyes. “Would you be willing to accept my help on picking your wardrobe? Who knows you might like whatever look you might end up in.
Khan doesn't respond, simply floating in front of Jay and looking into his eyes. “Khan?” Jay's demeanor changed instantly to cautious worry when he called out to his friend.
Khan snapped itself back before quickly responding, “I… I’ll give it a shot.”
Jay blinks a bit surprised that his friend agreed but quickly smiles as he jumps up from his office chair with child-like excitement, before taking Khan by the arm and dragging Khan to Jay’s workshop.
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Gem lies back, between Scott and Impulse. Their blood still tastes sharp and iron at the back of her throat, which is a little silly, given that it's not like she licked them or something. There's no reason she should taste anything. She just... stabbed them, when they asked her to.
Stabbed them, because they knew they had to go red eventually, and for the sake of the team they wanted her to win.
Stabbed. Scott and Impulse.
Here's the thing: she'd told herself she wouldn't feel guilty, and she'd told herself this ages ago, when she started leading people to the End to see if the dragon would kill them. She told herself she wouldn't feel guilty, because clearly, she wouldn't let these games wear her down the way they do some people. She told herself she wouldn't feel guilty because people like to mistake her for a prey animal when she's a predator, and guilt would give the game away. She told herself she wouldn't feel guilty, because why feel guilty over having fun? It's just a game. A bloody, bloody game. She told herself she wouldn't feel guilty.
She told herself. She told herself.
There's no reason to feel guilty. She enjoyed herself, the rush of blood when running with Pearl, and then the heady feeling of having life, life, life running through her. She's pretty sure, despite being a red name, she has the most life anyone ever has in these games. It makes sense! Life and death are all wrapped up together, and Scott had choked on his own blood before he went down, even though she'd tried to make it quick, and as he gurgled over the injury she'd inflicted she'd felt life running in her and her heart pounding and everything getting dizzy and--
It doesn't matter. They told her to do it. She shouldn't feel guilty. Impulse had smiled at her. It had been a lovely smile. She hadn't known what to make of it.
And she closes her eyes and sees the life leave his.
But she shouldn't feel guilty. She tried to make it quick. Impulse had turned around, told her to do it like killing a chicken, destroying the brain stem so that he doesn't have to feel it, those last few minutes. It's fast. Humane. Like killing a chicken. Almost impersonal, except that he'd been so gentle, and they both had Scott's blood on them, and there was so much blood, and she likes blood. This whole game, that's been the point. She likes blood.
Impulse had died surprisingly bloodless but he'd screamed, for just a moment, because she doesn't actually know how to make it fast and humane, even if it's supposed to be like killing a chicken, and she'd felt--
Felt--
She'd felt good, is the thing. It had felt good, even though he'd taken several blows to bring down, in the end. Even though she hadn't managed to make it quick. Even though, for a moment, he'd been terrified, and then after that, he'd convulsed, twitching on the ground, and she hadn't known if he was able to feel that at all. These are games. They're supposed to be fun. She won't feel guilty, she tells herself. There's no reason to feel guilty.
They told her they loved her, afterwards. Quietly, through actions and words. They told her not to feel guilty. It's in her nature.
One does not blame a lion for biting when it's given meat. It's in their nature.
This is her nature. This is what she is. She knows that now. That's what this has all taught her, this game she's playing. She knows well what she is; everyone will know well what she is, when next they take her in.
And maybe that's why, as she starts laughing, she can't stop from feeling guilty for what will happen next.
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