The Stonewall Inn
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
izzy's playlists!
Monterey Bay Aquarium
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Cosmic Funnies
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@valeriosinos
que tal, bebe. 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒 , a nightlife maestro, medicinal lord — socialite. one son of the mexican ambassador of spain. one of three siblings. a study on addiction, euphoric irresponsibility, a velvet tongue, rising and falling. dark secrets kept. neon lights, a ticking firecracker in lavish life of high class wealth, dysfunctional family, and endless gluttony.
What's up. I come from twitter (the inferior writing platform) and I'm reeeeeeally trying to open the doors for people to get things started here on the better writing platform instead, and I'm looking for more elite character accounts and just more solo character accounts in general to interact, banter, write and worldbuild with! see you soon, ey?
What do we have here, you ask, bebes? oh it's juuuuuust a little tag bucket to dump all these in and keep them nice and organized, ey? 😊 nothing major. love youuuuu, mean it.
⚜︎𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧͟𝐨͟𝐤͟𝐞𝐧 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙳 : caye cut it a liiiiiiitle shorter than we're used to, but it's fine! with the way my shit operates just give it, like, 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 and nothing even happened.
closer and closer, valerio crowds into her space. her curls ; his curls. he's so beautiful, and he knew it, the kind of boy who'd worked his charm of HALF THE GIRLS in the city worth hitting on, and never found himself too put off of the confidence that he felt. it's part of why she thinks he's so fun, how he turned to her positioning a drink, and already, she's dreaming about the way it's going to melt through her spine and leave her alive...
so yes, she wants it, a coy grin slipping into place. "wow, you REALLY miss me, don't you?" there's a laugh for her, reaching out to loop an arm around his, tugging his arm back and out to her, to meet them side by side. "i don't even care where-" she did. "but i need something as a welcome to make myself feel alive again. i have jetlag, and it's time for going out as it is, so mimosas? a start."
a moment, really, already feeling the city warm and explode around them. this was her present win, the flight now long forgotten and behind her. a return was always a brilliant time, but a WRETCHED adjustment, tongue lapping at her bottom lip. "is everyone around in the city or have half the group abandoned us for their summer vacation houses?"
★— ATTN: @valeriosinos
❪oh bebe, summer is FAST APPROACHING. plans are being made. vacations are being ironed out. estates are being booked. you know how that shit goes.
hell, I definitely know how that shit goes. we've got a villa with a pending charge seeping through the interwebs right now. a place for me and my siblings to rest our heads when we finally land in the spot. and bebe, we're gonna need that check to hurry up and clear. cause that place is nice. okay valerio let's focus, ey?❫ Bebes. ❪words, would firstly say.❫ you hit nail directly on it's head. ❪spoken, diligently walking by her side, once more, at his notably taller height — eyes focused forward. long stretch, of sidewalk. concrete jungle. one that he loves oh so much. building trees. and all the idle, loose animals that inhabit between them all. and his chin. tilted upward. like a cat. that is, before gaze, focuses itself. back down upon her. back to the girl, at his side.❫ I've done the wonderful, beautiful favor of arranging where me and my alunmi are going to pop out this summer. ❪it's tradition, after all. las encinas has to leave the city and hike somewhere fun for the summer, every summer.❫ And this year? ❪words were followed. by him ducking himself down some. amongst the length of legs. just enough, so that he could be face level, with blair. sweeping down, into new, figurative camera frame.❫ We're going to Brazil.
✱ ˚｡⋆ ↪ MORBID CURIOSITY ... [ REMASTERED ] ( a collection of various original dialogue prompts centered around asking questions. adjust phrasing / gendered terms as necessary. )
give that to me! where did you find this?!
do you drink coffee or tea?
sorry– am i crazy, or have we met before?
do you trust me enough to close your eyes?
when were you planning on telling me?
at the risk of being a cliché, do you want to get out of here?
can i convince you to stay the night?
do i look like someone who knows what that means?
would you consider giving me a second chance?
do you really think that's helpful right now?
would you mind showing me around?
do you ever plan on forgiving yourself?
are you thinking what i'm thinking?
can we ... go out and do something crazy?
why are we whispering?
who exactly are you, anyways?
can't we just be civil for a minute?
does the past ever keep you up at night?
if you have nothing to hide, what's the problem?
how long has it been since i saw you last, [ name ]?
did the power just go out?
are we still doing the thing where we pretend not to care?
how should we celebrate?
can we just ... start over?
why is this so important to you?
how was i supposed to know that?!
do you want me to stay? it doesn't have to mean anything.
where are you? nobody's heard from you.
can you help me zip this up?
why do these things always happen to me?
you don't secretly hate me, right?
can i get you something to eat? –or drink?
ready to see what i've been working on?
where have you been disappearing off to?
what's that perfume you're wearing?
you're laughing?! do you really think this is funny?
are you planning to stay for dinner?
did you think it was going to be easy?
you see where you went wrong, don't you?
when did we become so cold and distant?
who are you working for?
did you really do all of this for me?
can i open my eyes yet?
haven't you heard the stories?
[ name ], what are you doing here?
what's it gonna take for you to trust me?
do you believe people can change?
how about we catch the ten o'clock showing?
don't you remember what happened last time?
why is it so unbelievable that i'd want to help you?
you're [ name ], aren't you?
who did this to you?!
how did you know i'd be here?
what's that supposed to mean?
do you think i'm irredeemable?
what kind of mess have you gotten us into?!
do you see anything you like?
what do i owe you for the food?
why won't this stupid thing work?!
does tonight really have to end?
holy shit. can you believe we really pulled that off?!
i can tell you're upset, [ name ]. what happened?
how long have you been standing there?
do you ever wish you could just ... run away?
haven't we been here before?
wait, shush ... did you hear that?
did i miss today's newsletter or something?
can we put our differences aside for a second?
what are you getting out of this, exactly?
you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?
are you willing to bet on it?
would you kill for me?
what made you think that was okay?!
do you believe people can change?
what's the worst thing you've ever done?
you were going to leave without saying goodbye?
[ name ], can you sit up for me?
can i kiss you?
where are your keys? you're not driving like this.
how's life been treating you?
where have you been?!
aren't we supposed to be alone tonight?
aw, has someone had a little too much to drink?
where are you going with this?
are we really doing this right now?
have you eaten today?
can i crash here for the night?
how did you learn to lie so well?
can i at least buy you a drink?
where should i meet you?
is that ... blood?!
are you trying to make me jealous right now?
what’s your problem? you're acting weird.
[ name ], you're ... real, right?
where’s your sense of adventure?
do you like horror movies?
what are you trying to prove?
can you give me a ride?
do you have any idea what you've done?
shouldn't you answer that?
why should i be the one to calm down?
have you been up all night?
why are you lying to me?
is that my [ jacket / hoodie / shirt ]?
what are you so afraid of?
do you want to grow old with me?
you’re gonna walk away from this?
are you nervous? your hands are shaking.
where am i supposed to go?
how many fingers am i holding up?
you want me to just walk away from this?
[ name ], slow down– what's wrong?!
are you embarrassed of me?
what's that smell? something's burning.
how can i make it up to you?
why can't you stay out of it?
is this some kind of trick?
come on, what do you have to lose?
do you ever still think of me?
idiot. why didn't you tell me?!
can we stop and think about this rationally?
how long has it been since you’ve slept?
what's your ideal first date?
are you ready to tell me the truth?
i almost died, and you're laughing?
what do you mean, "sort of"?
can we just stay like this forever?
when can i see you again?
can we put this behind us?
oh ... you thought of me first?
where did you learn to do that?
oh my god, are you bleeding?!
where are you? nobody’s heard from you.
[ name ], are you drunk?
how can i make this go away?
someone's jumpy today. are you feeling okay?
are we safe here?
what can i do to convince you?
what could possibly go wrong?
you have no idea who i am, do you?
how do you really feel about me?
why can't you look me in the eyes?
did you know you talk in your sleep?
were you following me?
can we just pretend this never happened?
are you just barely getting home?
are you even listening to me right now?!
where does it hurt? can you show me?
are you trying to get yourself killed?!
how about we just forget the world exists?
how long have you been keeping this from me?
were you ever going to tell me?
what do you make of this?
[ name ], what the hell?!
can we just be honest with each other, here?
are you trying to keep me a secret?
why does your story keep changing?
how long have you known?
it can't be that bad, right?
are you happy? i mean, really happy?
isn't this place amazing?
did i interrupt something?
how am i supposed to trust you?
are they still following us?
are you fucking serious?
do you remember our first kiss?
can we take a break for a minute?
how about we disappear for awhile?
you're going to walk away from this?
can you please just cut the crap?!
why didn't you tell me you were hurt?
how can i make this go away?
can you just look at me, please?
is there anything i can do to change your mind?
do you ever stop talking?
that depends. are you done lying to me?
are you sure this is legal?
how do you take your coffee?
can you keep your voice down?
why does your phone keep buzzing?
╱ Snowballing ic banter that eventually evolves into something bigger seems to be rather unpopular here but I'll trailblaze it if i have to. it's one of the things that I enjoy(ed) most about twitter, that would also work really well here due to the much larger amounts of freedom that we have on this app.
because. ( a roll of his eyes. ) you’re always just… around doing nothing.
Bebes. ❪he would affirm, for the other.❫ I'm not doing nothing. I'm never doing 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, eh? I make these things. ❪his fingers. start rubbing themselves together, grubbily. it seems to be suggesting 𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠. infront, of his face.❫ In my sleep.
blair loved a MOVIE READY moment. and who could say there wasn't something perfect about the way that valerios appeared on the scene? tall, handsome, a mess, she reminded her of some of the boys back in new york and the way they tried to fake the sort of charm that came to valerios naturally. but that was the difference between hanging out with the close minded rich of america's generationally weathy, versus back home in spain where everything melted into accomplishment and heathenism, without the half assed giddiness that her classmates had adopted.
here, it was a WAY OF LIFE!
"of course! i wasn't born brilliant to let that part of me be squandered like pearls before swine. my mind is a knife! it needs to be kept sharp!" so dramatic - but he gives her the room to be, giggling as she's set down and feeling, for the first time in a while, that she could take a BREATH out here. it seemed as if he already had a plot, a plan, a scheme already brewing, a grin forming as she took to a pace alongside of him.
"tell me. who's happy, who's sad, who's pregnant, who's broken up?" there's so much that she misses out on amongst their childhood cohort, though perhaps he's adopted them better than her now, given her own absence. it's a wound to the heart, but a REAL ONE, proof that there was something tangible, even within a pit of vipers. "america is so buttoned down and everyone's afraid to do anything. i'm bored to tears, to absolute tears." well, the rich at least. the average, however, felt almost embarrassing to acknowledge.
★— ATTN: @valeriosinos
Tell you what. ❪he would start — gaze would turn itself, from the expanse of city and bustle, back to the girl. the shorter one. walking by his side. small, unintentional shake of curls curls, that dangled about.❫ How dooooooooes, ❪he would move himself. from walking, at her side — to now walking, within front of her. facing her. a complete backwards walk, that his legs, began to court him within.❫ a 𝒎𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒂 sound. ❪a good ol' mimosa. always ready, easily accessible. always reliable. always something he could fall back on, as an 𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟 and whatnot. a good place to start, if you ask him. upward tip, of his chin, as he looked at her. silver ringed hands, clasped gently. behind his back. as they moved.❫
starter for @valeriosinos
yeong had a system. it wasn’t complicated. avoid crowds where possible, manage the unavoidable ones with efficiency and exits, never linger anywhere long enough for the ambient weight of other people’s sins to accumulate past what the vial could handle. it had kept him functional for the better part of a decade. he had built his entire life inside it, the gloves, the odd jobs, the careful calibration of distance, and told himself that functional was enough. it had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to acknowledge that functional and living were not the same thing.
he had started in the mountains. gangwon province first, where the air was thin and cold and the silence had a quality that almost, almost, resembled the inside of his own chest on a good day. he had spoken to healers and herbalists and one very old woman in a village outside sokcho who had looked at his hands for a long time without touching them and then said something he hadn’t fully understood but that had felt, in the way things felt before language got involved, like a door closing. south gyeongsang next, where someone had told him about a ritual that had been performed on a curse similar to his three generations back. the ritual required ingredients he couldn’t source and a bloodline connection he couldn’t verify and had probably never worked anyway. jeju island last, because someone else had told him about jeju, and by then he was following rumors the way a drowning person follows light, not because the light is necessarily the surface but because it is the only direction that feels like movement.
he found nothing. no ritual. no herb. no magic old enough or specific enough to reach what lived in his blood. nothing in all of korea that could lift it, redirect it, silence it for longer than the vial managed. he had stood on the edge of jeju’s coastline in the early morning with the wind pulling at his jacket and understood, in the particular way you understand things you have been avoiding, that the answer was not here. so he left. his first time on a plane. his first time leaving the country. his first time doing something that exceeded every personal boundary he had constructed over twenty-five years to stay somewhat sane — and he had constructed many, had built them carefully, had lived inside them so long they had started to feel like walls he had chosen rather than walls that had chosen him. the flight was eight hours and he spent most of it with his gloves on and his eyes closed and his ability doing its quiet inventory of everyone in the adjacent seats, which was exactly as unpleasant as it sounded.
spain received him with heat and noise and the particular smell of a city that had been inhabited for longer than most cities had words for what they were. he had chosen spain for a reason he hadn’t fully articulated to himself. something about the folklore … the reading he had done in the weeks before leaving, sitting in the library after closing with books he had technically checked out for himself, which was a thing he had never done before. spanish folklore made little distinction between the living and the dead, between sin and punishment, between curse and destiny. those who led the santa compaña did not know this. those who desired the lamia may have sensed it. here, sin was not a moral judgment but a state of being. and that was precisely the language yeong understood. something you could taste. something you felt with your whole body. not shame and not condemnation but simply the texture of existence, present and specific and real. he had thought, reading that, that maybe this was a place his curse would feel less like a verdict. he was still deciding whether he had been right.
it was his fourth night in madrid when he first encountered the flavor. he had been doing what he had been doing every night : walking, mostly, because madrid at night was a different city than madrid in daylight and he found the darkness easier to navigate, the crowds thinning to something manageable, the sins of strangers arriving at a lower volume when the city stopped performing itself. he had found a bar that was quiet by local standards, which meant it was merely loud rather than genuinely unbearable, and had ordered something cold and sat in the corner the way he always sat in corners and told himself this was fine, this was progress, this was a person trying. and then something reached him that his ability turned over and couldn’t place. sweet. warm. open in a way that had no layer underneath it. no guilt, no buried shame, no rot living below the surface. gluttony, he thought, because the shape of it was familiar, the excess and the wanting. but the sourness that always followed wasn’t there. he waited. his ability kept reaching, kept looking for the part that made indulgence ugly, the part that made wanting things you had too much of feel like a wound slowly filling with something wrong. it didn’t come. across the room, someone was laughing at something that apparently deserved it. yeong looked up.
the laugh was too comfortable for someone in a bar they didn’t own. that was yeong’s first coherent thought — not about the flavor, not about the sweetness that was still sitting at the back of his throat without the sourness he kept waiting for, but about the specific quality of ease that some people carried like a second skin. the kind that didn’t perform itself. the kind that simply was, the way weather simply was, occupying whatever space it found itself in without negotiating for permission first.
the man was spanish in the way that madrid at night was spanish: loose and warm and entirely unbothered by the hour. dark hair. the particular kind of handsome that knew about itself without being defined by it. a drink in one hand and a story in the other, delivered to whoever was listening with the unhurried certainty of someone who had never once worried about whether the room was paying attention. it was. yeong looked back at his drink.
the sweetness was still there. closer now. proximity making it more specific, giving it texture. he turned it over the way he turned everything over, looking for the seam, the place where the honest wanting became something else. excess without apology. gluttony worn openly, the way you wore a color you liked without checking whether it suited you.
no sourness.
he waited another thirty seconds to be certain.
nothing.
it was the most confusing thing his ability had done in recent memory, and his ability had recently led him across an entire country looking for a cure that didn’t exist. he picked up his drink and told himself to stop cataloguing strangers in foreign bars and go back to the apartment he had rented for the week and get some sleep.
he was still there an hour later. not because of the man. he told himself that specifically and with some conviction. because the bar was tolerable and his drink was cold and madrid at this hour had the loose and warm and entirely unbothered quality of a city that wasn’t asking anything of him, and that was rare enough to be worth staying for. the sweetness had become almost … comfortable. background noise in the best sense. his ability resting against it the way you rest against something solid, not because you’re tired but because the solidity is there and it costs nothing to use it.
he became aware that someone had sat down across from him approximately three seconds after it happened. up close the sweetness sharpened. still no sourness. his ability turned it over one more time, stubborn, and found the same thing it had found across the room: excess worn honestly, wanting without shame, the special texture of someone who had looked at everything they desired and simply taken it and felt, apparently, fine about that. he found it deeply strange. and he didn’t leave. “you don’t seem to be at war with yourself.” he said quietly.
it arrived slowly, the way his own sins always did when his presence cleared enough of the ambient noise to let them through. not sharp. not the acrid edge he knew from other people’s envy, the wanting that had gone sour from being held too long. this was softer. almost sweet, which confused him for a moment before he understood, this was fresh envy. new. the kind that hadn’t had time to curdle yet because he had only just understood what he was missing. it tasted like the first bite of something warm after going without. like the specific ache of a word you don’t have in your own language but recognize the shape of immediately. like watching someone move through a room as if they had every right to be there and feeling, quietly and without drama, the full weight of never having felt that way yourself.
not bitter. just … present. and honest. and his.
which made it worse, somehow, than anything he had ever tasted in someone else.
Who has time for war. ❪voice was heard, within vicinity of the other. one that was apparently, speaking, to him. something that would be revealed. within the hard cut, of figurative camera. that flipped, across the table. upward tip, of his chin. warm gaze, still laid, directly amongst the other from that notion .̲.̲.̲ a small 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒. why is this one by himself? just what was troubling him? ya wey, he looks so lonely over here, within this corner. and we most certainly cannot have that. that just won't do. not in the slightest bit. introvertive energy, drew him in, like a light. something to pick the brain of. something to make, feel more comfortable. even at the risk, of pulling them, outside of their comfort zone. they wouldn't stray too far. as they've got a blanket, to coat their potential trip and stumble. and that blanket? is called 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜. hard cut, of camera. back to his face. his features, framed centerly, within the middle. slightly raising chin .̲.̲.̲ let his view. simmer 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑙𝑦. amongst the other. blooming, closed mouth smile. all of which, coated, blinked, and sprinkled, within the dim, fluorescent lightings. flicks and tickles of various others.❫ It's so messy, don't you think?
𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝑖'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕? 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝒊 𝒏𝙚𝒗𝙚𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆.
a canonically accurate portrayal of lucrecia montesinos—hendrich from the netflix original series: elite. the queen bee of las encinas; crowned by fear, undone by remorse.
disclaimer: this account is strictly in character and has no affiliation with netflix or danna paola. governed by a dead dove do not eat warning, with mature and taboo themes present, not suitable for minor audiences.
@valeriosinos!!!!
i’m bored.
❪smallest raise of brows. smile that perches itself. hands rested, amongst his own hips.❫ And I so happen to be the one that you call on?
que tal, bebe. 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒 , a nightlife maestro, medicinal lord — socialite. one son of the mexican ambassador of spain. one of three siblings. a study on addiction, euphoric irresponsibility, a velvet tongue, rising and falling. dark secrets kept. neon lights, a ticking firecracker in lavish life of high class wealth, dysfunctional family, and endless gluttony.
╱ Yeah twitter's new limitations have me all the way fucked up, and that was just the push that I needed to really lock in and start utilizing this platform for writing over twitter like I've been wanting to do. the only reason I even still tolerate(ed) twitter is because it was my home for over two years where I've been worldbuilding and developing valerio, and literally everyone is over there and seems to be attached to it., but now #that annoying shitty man is making it so easy to leave with the way he just ruins the app more and more each month for no reason. and I'm going to do my best to drag all my people with me too, cause we truly deserve better than torturing ourselves putting up with trying to use that shitty app as a writing platform. at some point enough is genuinely enough.
SUBJECT: new follower starter ! CONCERNING: valerio montesinos
the summer hits, and blair feels that familiar pull ; how even when she's peeled off from manhatten's familiar concrete court steps, off at college, and yale, and everything that she's been GRINDING HERSELF TO DUST for... there's no denying the warmth, the refresh that coming back to spain did for her once class gave her a break. and honestly? while she doubted she'd have the same level of relaxation she'd glimpse during her high school years, she was ready to embrace what she could, while she could.
blair just waits to be delivered into the family home, her parents already having flown in separately, and she, directly from uni. there was no need to stress over what to pack and bring, having unfolded her life into an apartment back in new haven in the fall. and whatever - she could just BUY whatever was missing. what feels too familiar are the faces she sees, head shaking with mock disgust when her gaze landed on none other than valerio montesinos.
oh, oh, would could have counted on seeing HIM so soon?
her hand works to shut the door of the vintage car her father loves to drive when he's here. "i thought they didn't let the animals out SO SOON." her drawling tone ending with a grin, already skipping past the distance between him to pull him into a hug, groaning conspiratorially. "i only just got off the plane, and i already feel so weak, take me somewhere i can actually feel alive again."
★— ATTN: @valeriosinos
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝟐:𝟓𝟑𝐏𝐌 ❪joining her? within figurative camera frame? larger figure, made it's presense known. blair, was pulled into a hug. shag of curls that dangled. down the back of neck. a set of arms, that wrapped themselves around the shape, of her waist. not only that — but also managed to 𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐓 her upward. from off the ground. oh ya, one of those. a nice succulent 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒍 that he scooped her up within. singular turn. and he 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 her back. amongst the floor. upward tip. of his chin. as gaze, leveled amongst her. shorter form. small, warm smile. catlike, that stretched gently, amongst his features.❫ You. ❪he merely started.❫ so happen, to learn something new 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 day, now don't you? ❪smile, stretches itself. upon features. once more.❫ Come come! ❪words merely spoken. no context, but 𝑎𝑙𝑙 the context, he felt was needed. already turning his back to her, and starting to stroll. within direction. a leaf, blowing within the wind. but a leaf, on a mission. one that had already shone a lightbulb, within his head. not even looking back. quite sure that she'd follow. within his path and whatnot. walking out of figurative camera frame. leading the way.❫
Watching euphoria has me wanting to go back down to the strips and support the local ladies .̲.̲.̲ that sounds like a 𝑙𝑜𝑡 of fun, actually. ❪ 🤔 ❫
