#i think one scroll on my blog will feed you enough of my art for you to get cancer so buckle up 😔 <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

unrelated but ur tage WANNA MAKE ME CRY /pos I LOVE UR TAGS SO MUCH UR SO KIND?!?!??!?!?!?!?? WHAT!!!!!

also feed me ur rubbish and art pwease :3

why are SO many of you saying that when you guys are the ones posting banger art in the FIRST place!!!! hello??? did you think of MY tears looking at YOUR work??? i THOUGHT so >:'(((( you sweet talented little gremlins omgg look in a mirror one day before you say such kind things gosh<333333

[woozisguitar]

Another day, another block for writers who tag every member on their single member centric fic for NO REASON other attempting to gain views when no one wants the search feeds of other members clogged with stories not about them… 😔

woah my first anon hate but sure PLEASE feel free to block me :)

but because this is technically an 'ask' let me respond to it accordingly! I tagged all the members on the SIXTH chapter of glitch (9th if you consider the prologue and profiles) and with a pretty valid reason too. glitch gets an average of 50-60 interactions by the time we hit the 48 hours mark (that's an average of 15-25 when we hit the 24 hours mark ) and I decided to change the tags and give it a shot to see if there's any change (see: trail and error method). I AM an ot13 blog after all and not just dedicated to one member. Plus you can check all the other parts of glitch, they've all been tagged for ONE member. (I'll even add a screenshot from my word file with the tags). Now idk where or what or rather HOW i've clogged the tags of other members when almost all tags have pictures of every other member.

as for gaining views, I think its valid enough when a fanfic writer wants people to read their fics. most of us spend a lot of time plotting, planning and writing fics (some of us even have full time jobs) but we do this because we simply enjoy this art and sharing it with others. and when the same fic writer who spends DAYS writing a fic gets maybe 30 likes, its a little heartbreaking. and im pretty sure if you ask anyone on this app they will agree that some fics of some members get more traction as compared to others (which is completely fine! everyone has their own taste and preferences). also, reach on Tumblr is based on tags; this is not an archive like AO3.

also! I use the 'keep reading' cut thing for glitch so you may have seen maybe 4-5 lines before the story even starts AND again it was chapter six so if you WERE curious who its about you could've checked the masterlist or scrolled past it but no you decided to come on my blog and hide behind the anon button to send me that :)

anyways, these are the tags that I usually use for glitch. you can find them on the other chapters as well

PS: I had anyways planned on updating the tags for chapter 6 once I hit the 48 hours mark so I could get solid comparative data for my fics. but instead I got this in less than 24 hours from uploading :)

[nonkul]

hi it's me being annoying and condescending again

but i wish we could bring back fandom and edit tags.

i get that user tags are useful. many of us don't have time to scroll through the dash to find content to reblog, so it's great to have your personalized feed where others can directly share their art with you. i even use my friends' tags sometimes. it's like me knocking on their doors, saying "hi, just walking my dog here, wanna pet it?" user tags can also be my way of greeting moots i don't talk to often. in an "i thought of you when i made this" kind of way.

but then i hate how user tags are becoming the only way a post can get notes here. i hate how certain blogs only reblog posts where they're tagged. it turns reblogs into soulless transactions. and if we're only relying on big blogs to reblog our content, what's the incentive for other users to follow smaller blogs? they could just follow one big blog and see everything since everyone tags them anyway.

i hate how under every gifset is one tag for the show's name, and 16 other ones are all user tags. i hate how we don't even have space for actors' names. i hate how our tag lists expand as more people decide to open their own tags, and soon enough 20 tags won't be enough to tag everyone. i don't want to leave any of my friends out.

i hate seeing "#tagged" or "#thank you for tagging me" with no commentary. i'd rather see one note with commentary over 100 obligatory reblogs any day, but that's just me. but theeeen can i blame people for simply reblogging? knowing they are tagged 10+ times a day and it can get overwhelming? i don't want to force people to give thoughts when they have nothing to say. and a lot of times they're tagged in shows they have not watched, so what kind of commentary can they make? user tags are nice for discovering content, but they do entrap you with expectations. what you see is dictated by other people. kinda defeats the purpose of "personalized feed" doesn't it?

and trust me im guilty of all of above. i don't even give commentary most of the time, so don't think im shading anyone who "#tagged" under every post. i love and trust my moots. i just hate how this convention we came up to boost content flow is slowly killing content flow.

[sanguine-inkwell]

We reblog a lot of aesthetic posts, so I think it’s time for some armchair philosophy.

What does it mean to be a vampire? Call it what you want, sanguinarian, energy feeding- it’s an umbrella of experiences and concepts neatly dovetailed into the goth subculture, cousins to folks like otherkin and therians. This blog is a little bit of a perfect illustration of my point- we mostly reblog aesthetics and art because it’s fast, easy, and gets the point across. But it’s here to talk about an experience, too, and we haven’t done much of that.

Maybe it’s similar to the witchcraft community that way. People post their candles and crystals, but the real work happens behind closed doors. And it’s easy, as a vampire, to sum it up as “yeah I feed on people, move along”. We’re gay, keep scrolling. Don’t like, don’t read, flames are fed to the cat.

Part of the urge to do that is a reaction to folks who peddle the idea of binaural beats to give you heterochromia, or Top Ten Reasons Why You’re Actually Supernatural (Number 6 Will Shock You!). Whatever the reason is, whatever causes this, it doesn’t give us the ability to Force Choke people or smell their deepest fears. People will always want to be special. I’d even argue that that’s normal and okay. I just keep tripping over weird culty shit that dents my faith in the community, relying on magical promises and feeding the fantasies of lonely vulnerable teenagers, and then we’re back to square one.

The only thing I can say for sure, I think, it what it means to me. It helps me feel like I belong- even if not to a group of people, then at least the night. The dark, the murky place where horror movies and pareidolia and the bogeyman mythos lives. It lets me feel powerful, confident, enjoy being who I am. The aesthetic brings me joy. The experience.... it’s nestled in there somewhere between my gender and my psychological issues, I think. It can hurt, it can be lonely, but it’s not always. It’s impacted how I look at the world around me, given depth to my animistic beliefs, affected how I look at and think about food in particular. Nothing quite makes you analyze where you get your nutrients like cravings you can’t actually satisfy.

For me, being a vampire is halfway punk rebellion and halfway just self-acceptance. I’m going to dress like I walked out of Crimson Peak, I’m going to be queer and identifiable only as an entity dressed in bones and fangs, I’m going to do things and try things other people don’t because their identities are in a box, and mine is everything outside of the box. I want to play ttrpgs, read pretentious books by candlelight that make me ponder the human condition, and maybe stick a hand into the BDSM community to see if anything bites.

What does it mean to be a vampire? I don’t think I’ve really got the answer, yet. I think it’s more important to focus on what it means to be you, first, and being a vampire is just part of that. I mean, we crave blood. There’s poetry in that, the depth of connection to another person inherent in consuming what gives them life, a liquid record of their health and wellbeing that you can learn to read with sustained contact. And if we can learn so much from feeding, from the conversation in that, then surely there’s just as much to learn from the hunger alone.

We just can’t lose ourselves to it, I think. Touch grass. Go to the library. Remember thou art mortal, etc, etc. There’s enough angst to fill an ocean, here- but existence isn’t only pain.

Alright, there’s your vampire pondering for the night, I’m gonna go watch samurai movies.

[twig-tea]

Excellent post, MJ!

[Note, I had put this in my original reblog and then got in my head about it and removed it to its own post, but it had been reblogged, and the convo on that thread is so good. SO I've put this back and deleted the other post where I had separated it out. Sorry for the shenanigans! The rest of the text is copy-pasted.]

To make it as plain as I can state it: the tags are public space that is shared, you should expect to see things that you won't agree with in the common show tags. Tags on someone else's post, on the other hand, should be respectful of the original OP.

Reblogging a post and adding commentary tags that are rude about the thing the person who created the post likes is not good tumblr etiquette for two reasons: it forces someone who may not be interested in interacting with others' opinions to see yours, and it leaves little room for dialogue. If you are just salty about a show, no need to bring someone else's post into it, just make your own. This is especially true with gifsets, fanart, and other transformative works. Someone spent time and energy to make something as an act of love, that is not the place to say you didn't like the thing. Just don't reblog or comment only on the gifset itself, and make your own separate post with your opinions. Similarly, don't add gifs made by someone else to criticism; you're holding up a piece of their art and saying the thing they made it about sucks. That doesn't feel good and it isn't necessary.

On the other hand, tagging your separate post of criticism with the show tag is a way to add your voice to the public conversation about a show, and I think it's critical we not make that dependent on only positive commentary. No show is perfect and being able to talk through the things that did and didn't work make us all better media consumers. It also helps people avoid things they don't want to see in shows. If you love something and don't want to see criticism of it, you can skim and scroll past in the tags, temporarily or permanently filter or block people who are posting negatively about the show, or if you don't want to manage your own feed, just go to blogs that are positive about it and let other people curate your experience by skimming their blogs only for posts they've found and reblogged and tagged within their blog. We have some incredible tag divers in fandom who go through and surface good posts and reblog them, find the ones with your taste and use them to help curate your experience.

There are limits. Spamming a show tag with multiple posts that are complaints is bad etiquette. Reposting the same complaint every week is annoying. These are the kinds of behaviours that make me consider blocking or filtering someone's tags. And if there are fandom-specific tags, eg ship couple tags, or if someone has a specific custom tag, checking in and using it as it's intended is good etiquette.

At the end of the day it doesn't actually matter what I think about whether people should tag their criticism or not, and why; tumblr is a public social media space, and we'll never be able to force people to behave how we prefer on their own blogs. This is why blocking, filtering, and unfollowing is so important and healthy in this space. It isn't rude or mean, it's just curating your experience. If folks feel strongly about not wanting to see criticism of their faves, the reality is they'll have to manage that experience for themselves because those of us who prefer to see the full range of reactions even when we disagree with them will continue to tag our criticism with the generic show tag. Maybe if there are enough of them they could make their own positive-only tags [and immediately understand why the suggestion of tagging criticism as criticism is a flawed system lol].

I'm seeing the whole "If you don't like something stay out of the fandom tags" commentary again. Honestly, it bugs me quite a bit. I would say that I try to not piss in people's cheerios often. I try to not just complain for the sake of yelling about something. I do believe everyone should get to enjoy what they enjoy whether I like it or not.

but I also think people who like a certain kind of story and watch things with the hope they will get what they like, and then are disappointed, also deserve community.

I think the opinion that people are doing this to troll or because they enjoy complaining is a bad take, at least in the fandoms I'm in. When I get that stubborn about a show it's because I genuinely loved something about it and I now have passionate opinions about it. If I didn't care, I would not be posting about it. I would just forget it.

And yes, there are different levels of critique that are productive and others that are not. But having people be like - have your feelings but keep it to yourself or only your dash where others may or may not have the same feelings - maybe are harmless when you are annoyed that an adult show has all the plot points of a high school story, but are concerning when the post is talking about the pair the spare where there is no recognition that they had painted the antagonist as an assaulter and are now rehabilitating him with no effort at all. When you start dictating what is acceptable and unacceptable fandom opinions, you start walking the line of censoring voices that should be boosted.

In my opinion, fandom is at its best when you are hearing other points of view and gaining more understanding of media by listening to other voices. It's another part of the transformative nature of fandom.

It's so easy here to block people or filter people and tags. The expectation yet again that someone else should be responsible for your experience is beyond my brain capacity.

I do know how hard it is to see a huge fandom reaction that doesn't align with yours -I have experienced it both in loving something and hating something. But that is why we all need to find our community and well, on tumblr, it's in the tags.

[haadeswrites]

fic asks pt2

y’all are killing me with the love rn <33

THE CULT AU?? You have a very big sexy brain

i am actually smooth brained like a koala but ty bby 

I regularly stop by and stalk your blog and when I saw you updated your most recent works I went scrolling through to your latest update on the new fic! It was amazing. As always I just binge your content and block everything out! Your characterization of Oikawa has to be the best I’ve seen. It fits him so well and it’s so close to canon it’s insane. I’ve only seen one other writer hit that and I hope you understand that your brain is beautiful! I love the build up of the story, how the reader seems to doubt herself and get sucked in and brainwashed even though she swears on everything that she’s getting her ex and going. I also love how much of a freak Oikawa is over reader cutting his throat out dieneindieneid sorry for the rant you’re just so freaking lovely and I love you 🥺🥺🥺

nonnie!! come get ur kisses RN!! it’s probably not exactly a surprise but oikawa’s always been one of my favourites okay my favourite to write so it means so much that you think i write him well!

also oikawa getting all moan-y when they kill ryuji was one of my fave scenes to write haha

in Elysium, what’s the the lore behind Oikawa? like the tapestries you mentioned and the energy thing that he did? is he like actually a divine being or is just really good at tricking his followers? either way!! such a good read!! love you!!!

so i wrote this fic knowing it was gonna be a little ambiguous. you can technically read it as oikawa with a god complex, and everything that happens after the reader leaves the beach as an effect of drugged wine. she’s comfortable on the island because that’s how cults work and oikawa is very good at what he does. and if that’s how you want to read it then that’s absolutely fine.

but i wrote it with the intention of acutal god oikawa. the tapestries hint at his history; cast out from his home for murdering another deity, wandering for thousands of years - long enough that the people who once worshipped him died out. he feeds off of life, not just the essence of it, but things like memories and emotions - he’s physically manipulating every life on the island, erasing their thoughts, tugging at different emotions to get the results he wants. and naturally, killing becomes a culmination of that, the ultimate feast. in return, he nourishes the island

therefore the cult is actually almost as ancient as he is. no one who ever comes to the island leaves it; they either live out their lives under his benevolence, or they becomes sacrifices for the greater good. hence, the commune keeps its secrets :))

What made Oikawa become obsessed with reader? Was he experienced sexually before her with the limited people on the island? 

By the way, the style you write with is so beautiful and riveting. Truly an art piece❤️

ahh thank you nonnie!

i think in the beginning it was curiosity; he knew she’d come to the island looking for ryuji - who at that point was experiencing makki, mattsun and iwaizumi’s um... hospitality :)) 

he’d seen her in ryuji’s memories - all that he’d done to her, their relationship laid out in its entirety, so it was definitely something that piqued his interest. a challenge to make her submit, a bit of a break from the mundane. i think he resonated with her a little �� she’d suffered at the hands of those who were supposed to care for her, was lost and out of place, desperately wanting something she was never going to find in the real world. he was endeared, and ofc the longer she stayed on the island, and the tighter the trap he’d pulled began to close around her, the more he became invested.

as for whether he’d slept with other people on the island to sate an itch every now and then but nothing all that involved

[godkilller]

AAAAAA IM A LIL LATE for the ask meme now but anyways here goes!! I think I’ve already told you abt this before but I found your blog when I stumbled upon an rp thread you had w/ dokuhai ;w; I loved your portrayal of Gin from there so much I just had to check your blog for more content (w/c as you know, lead to me scrolling thru your blog for HOURS bc I couldn’t get enough of it 🥺)

Tbh I was kinda intimidated at first w/c is why I didn’t interact w/ any of your posts 👉👈 but then you saw & liked that post I made abt me finding your blog so I decided I HAD to let you know how much I loved your work by screaming in your inbox ;w;

I stayed bc of the quality content (your writing, your headcanons, your lengthy and in-depth ramblings abt Gin), the lovely ginran content you write w/ dokuhai, and also ofc the other relationships & interactions you write w/ other characters 👌👌👌

TL;DR YOU’RE AN AMAZING GIN & YOU PUT UP QUALITY CONTENT and I’m sticking around bc I love feeding on your content <3

What drew you to my blog initially, and what, so far, has made you stay? Is it their muse, the mun, the writing style, their worldbuilding? All of the above?

          out of character.  I COULD SAY THE SAME TO YOU. I’m so glad our paths crossed because it made me so immensely happy to see someone still loves Gin and Ginran out there, making beautiful art -- and I think those Gin Survived(tm) works with his dumb long-sleeved haori and the others in that batch, the one with his lil kid too, make me smile so big like a dork to this day. Truly happy, healing and wonderful artwork. Please never stop bein’ you.

[hawkbucks]

Love Is So Nice

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Universe: College/University!AU (as if there isn't enough of that on this blog already) Rating: PG-13 I guess? There's some innuendo, but nothing super explicit. Summary: Steve's happy whenever he's with Tony. Word Count: 736 A/N: Based off of Jonghyun's song of the same name. Also, this is super short, sorry. It's 3 AM as I do this and I'm my own beta, so I apologize for any errors, whether in spelling, grammar, me straight up omitting An Entire Word from a sentence, etc. etc.

It's dark in Steve's room. That's how he prefers it these days. Well, it's how his boyfriend (god, that feels weird to say; he's had a crush on Tony for so long that actually having him as his boyfriend feels like some dream) prefers it, and anything that Tony likes, Steve likes. The only lights come from the tablets Tony has scattered over the bed and Steve's own phone as he scrolls through his social media feed, a Marvin Gaye song that Sam recommended to him a few days back softly playing. He lies on his stomach.

"You sure you don't want to be out with your friends or something?" Tony says from his spot sitting next to Steve's head, back up against the wall with his legs stretched out. "S'gonna be a while until I'm done." As if to drive home his point, he puts down the tablet in his hands and picks up another one, tapping away on the screen.

Steve's 82% sure that there isn't anything important on that tablet. In fact, he's pretty sure Tony is just keeping it around for the extra light it gives, "Do you want me out that badly?" he asks, rolling over onto his back. He exaggerates his frowning.

Tony rolls his eyes but his mouth smiles. "I'd just feel bad if I was the reason you missed out on something exciting."

"I'm with you--" Steve breaks out into a grin-- "which is already pretty exciting."

"Sap."

"Yes." Steve's grin grows bigger when Tony leans down to give him a kiss.

Nothing. That's what they're doing, really. Steve's room is dark again. They're lying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, another one of Sam's song recommendations drifting throughout the room.

Steve's body is buzzing with how close Tony's body is. They've been together for months, but it feels like just yesterday he asked Tony out. His body buzzes with the close proximity, and he finds himself laughing.

"What's so funny?" Tony asks, turning his head to look at Steve. "This isn't about what happened last week, is it?"

"N--no," Steve responds. "Although now that you mention it--"

"Don't."

"I won't." Steve steals a glance at Tony from the corner of his eye. "I'm just... happy."

Tony adjusts himself, bed springs creaking, so that he's lying on his side, his head propped up by a hand. His free hand goes to run its fingers through Steve's hair. "Me too."

Steve gently grabs that hand by the wrist and presses a kiss to the palm.

"Unclench your jaw. Relax your shoulders. You're so tense." Tony punctuates this by placing his hands on Steve's shoulders and starting to massage. "Walker up your ass again?"

Steve groans.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." Tony sniffs. "You spell like turpentine."

"I'll shower later," Steve grunts, eyes fluttering closed. Tony's always been good with his hands. They're strong, firm, and exactly what Steve needs after hours of dealing with his hard-ass painting professor. Doesn't that fool understand that art is subjective? He's not going to mince words when it comes to evaluations.

"Is that an open invitation?"

Steve snorts, shaking his head. "You always hog the stream."

"It's not my fault you manage to get the water at the perfect temperature. I have to take advantage of it, you know."

Steve looks over his shoulder at Tony. "Is that all you're dating me for? My perfect water temperature?"

Tony meets his eyes. He doesn't mean to sound cliché, but he instantly feels like all of his worries are washed away. Tony is here. He's fine. They'll be fine. Professor Walker is a footnote in the book that is his life and all that. "I date you for other things too, you know," Tony says, snapping Steve out of his own thoughts.

"Like?"

"You make very good spaghetti."

"...I guess."

Growing up, Steve didn't believe in love lasting forever. His own parents divorced. He watched Bucky go through a rough break up with the person he said was "the one" back in high school. He's read the articles of celebrities breaking up and people proclaiming that love isn't real and has never existed. There are movies upon books upon poems upon art centered around love and the loss of it.

Love isn't forever. That's impossible.

As he lies with Tony in his arms, however, he thinks he could make it possible.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

20 years a blogger

It's been twenty years, to the day, since I published my first blog-post.

I'm a blogger.

Blogging - publicly breaking down the things that seem significant, then synthesizing them in longer pieces - is the defining activity of my days.

https://boingboing.net/2001/01/13/hey-mark-made-me-a.html

Over the years, I've been lauded, threatened, sued (more than once). I've met many people who read my work and have made connections with many more whose work  I wrote about. Combing through my old posts every morning is a journey through my intellectual development.

It's been almost exactly a year I left Boing Boing, after 19 years. It wasn't planned, and it wasn't fun, but it was definitely time. I still own a chunk of the business and wish them well. But after 19 years, it was time for a change.

A few weeks after I quit Boing Boing, I started a solo project. It's called Pluralistic: it's a blog that is published simultaneously on Twitter, Mastodon, Tumblr, a newsletter and the web. It's got no tracking or ads. Here's the very first edition:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/

I don't often do "process posts" but this merits it. Here's how I built Pluralistic and here's how it works today, after nearly a year.

I get up at 5AM and make coffee. Then I sit down on the sofa and open a huge tab-group, and scroll through my RSS feeds using Newsblur.

I spend the next 1-2 hours winnowing through all the stuff that seems important. I have a chronic pain problem and I really shouldn't sit on the sofa for more than 10 minutes, so I use a timer and get up every 10 minutes and do one minute of physio.

After a couple hours, I'm left with 3-4 tabs that I want to write articles about that day. When I started writing Pluralistic, I had a text file on my desktop with some blank HTML I'd tinkered with to generate a layout; now I have an XML file (more on that later).

First I go through these tabs and think up metadata tags I want to use for each; I type these into the template using my text-editor (gedit), like this:

   <xtags>

process, blogging, pluralistic, recursion, navel-gazing

   </xtags>

Each post has its own little template. It needs an anchor tag (for this post, that's "hfbd"), a title ("20 years a blogger") and a slug ("Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting"). I fill these in for each post.

Then I come up with a graphic for each post: I've got a giant folder of public domain clip-art, and I'm good at using all the search tools for open-licensed art: the Library of Congress, Wikimedia, Creative Commons, Flickr Commons, and, ofc, Google Image Search.

I am neither an artist nor a shooper, but I've been editing clip art since I created pixel-art versions of the Frankie Goes to Hollywood glyphs using Bannermaker for the Apple //c in 1985 and printed them out on enough fan-fold paper to form a border around my bedroom.

As I create the graphics, I pre-compose Creative Commons attribution strings to go in the post; there's two versions, one for the blog/newsletter and one for Mastodon/Twitter/Tumblr. I compose these manually.

Here's a recent one:

Blog/Newsletter:

(<i>Image: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg">Marc Nozell</a>, <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en">CC BY</a>, modified</i>)

Twitter/Masto/Tumblr:

Image: Marc Nozell (modified)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg

CC BY

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

This is purely manual work, but I've been composing these CC attribution strings since CC launched in 2003, and they're just muscle-memory now. Reflex.

These attribution strings, as well as anything else I'll need to go from Twitter to the web (for example, the names of people whose Twitter handles I use in posts, or images I drop in, go into the text file). Here's how the post looks at this point in the composition.

<hr>

<a name="hfbd"></a>

<img src="https://craphound.com/images/20yrs.jpg">

<h1>20 years a blogger</h1><xtagline>Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting.</xtagline>

<img src="https://craphound.com/images/frnklogo.jpg">

See that <img> tag in there for frnklogo.jpg? I snuck that in while I was composing this in Twitter. When I locate an image on the web I want to use in a post, I save it to a dir on my desktop that syncs every 60 seconds to the /images/ dir on my webserver.

As I save it, I copy the filename to my clipboard, flip over to gedit, and type in the <img> tag, pasting the filename. I've typed <img src="https://craphound.com/images/ CTRL-V"> tens of thousands of times - muscle memory.

Once the thread is complete, I copy each tweet back into gedit, tabbing back and forth, replacing Twitter handles and hashtags with non-Twitter versions, changing the ALL CAPS EMPHASIS to the extra-character-consuming *asterisk-bracketed emphasis*.

My composition is greatly aided both 20 years' worth of mnemonic slurry of semi-remembered posts and the ability to search memex.craphound.com (the site where I've mirrored all my Boing Boing posts) easily.

A huge, searchable database of decades of thoughts really simplifies the process of synthesis.

Next I port the posts to other media. I copy the headline and paste it into a new Tumblr compose tab, then import the image and tag the post "pluralistic."

Then I paste the text of the post into Tumblr and manually select, cut, and re-paste every URL in the post (because Tumblr's automatic URL-to-clickable-link tool's been broken for 10+ months).

Next I past the whole post into a Mastodon compose field. Working by trial and error, I cut it down to <500 characters, breaking at a para-break and putting the rest on my clipboard. I post, reply, and add the next item in the thread until it's all done.

*Then* I hit publish on my Twitter thread. Composing in Twitter is the most unforgiving medium I've ever worked in. You have to keep each stanza below 280 chars. You can't save a thread as a draft, so as you edit it, you have to pray your browser doesn't crash.

And once you hit publish, you can't edit it. Forever. So you want to publish Twitter threads LAST, because the process of mirroring them to Tumblr and Mastodon reveals typos and mistakes (but there's no way to save the thread while you work!).

Now I create a draft Wordpress post on pluralistic.net, and create a custom slug for the page (today's is "two-decades"). Saving the draft generates the URL for the page, which I add to the XML file.

Once all the day's posts are done, I make sure to credit all my sources in another part of that master XML file, and then I flip to the command line and run a bunch of python scripts that do MAGIC: formatting the master file as a newsletter, a blog post, and a master thread.

Those python scripts saved my ASS. For the first two months of Pluralistic, i did all the reformatting by hand. It was a lot of search-replace (I used a checklist) and I ALWAYS screwed it up and had to debug, sometimes taking hours.

Then, out of the blue, a reader - Loren Kohnfelder - wrote to me to point out bugs in the site's RSS. He offered to help with text automation and we embarked on a month of intensive back-and-forth as he wrote a custom suite for me.

Those programs take my XML file and spit out all the files I need to publish my site, newsletter and master thread (which I pin to my profile). They've saved me more time than I can say. I probably couldn't kept this up without Loren's generous help (thank you, Loren!).

I open up the output from the scripts in gedit. I paste the blog post into the Wordpress draft and copy-paste the metadata tags into WP's "tags" field. I preview the post, tweak as necessary, and publish.

(And now I write this, I realize I forgot to mention that while I'm doing the graphics, I also create a square header image that makes a grid-collage out of the day's post images, using the Gimp's "alignment" tool)

(because I'm composing this in Twitter, it would be a LOT of work to insert that information further up in the post, where it would make sense to have it - see what I mean about an unforgiving medium?)

(While I'm on the subject: putting the "add tweet to thread" and "publish the whole thread" buttons next to each other is a cruel joke that has caused me to repeatedly publish before I was done, and deleting a thread after you publish it is a nightmare)

Now I paste the newsletter file into a new mail message, address it to my Mailman server, and create a custom subject for the day, send it, open the Mailman admin interface in a browser, and approve the message.

Now it's time to create that anthology post you can see pinned to my Mastodon and Twitter accounts. Loren's script uses a template to produce all the tweets for the day, but it's not easy to get that pre-written thread into Twitter and Mastodon.

Part of the problem is that each day's Twitter master thread has a tweet with a link to the day's Mastodon master thread ("Are you trying to wean yourself off Big Tech? Follow these threads on the #fediverse at @pluralistic@mamot.fr. Here's today's edition: LINK").

So the first order of business is to create the Mastodon thread, pin it, copy the link to it, and paste it into the template for the Twitter thread, then create and pin the Twitter thread.

Now it's time to get ready for tomorrow. I open up the master XML template file and overwrite my daily working file with its contents. I edit the file's header with tomorrow's date, trim away any "Upcoming appearances" that have gone by, etc.

Then I compose tomorrow's retrospective links. I open tabs for this day a year ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 15 years ago, and (now) 20 years ago:

http://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2016/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2011/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2006/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2001/01/14

I go through each day, and open anything I want to republish in its own tab, then open the OP link in the next tab (finding it in the @internetarchive if necessary). Then I copy my original headline and the link to the article into tomorrow's XML file, like so:

#10yrsago Disney World’s awful Tiki Room catches fire <a href="https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/">https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/</a>

And NOW my day is done.

So, why do I do all this?

First and foremost, I do it for ME. The memex I've created by thinking about and then describing every interesting thing I've encountered is hugely important for how I understand the world. It's the raw material of every novel, article, story and speech I write.

And I do it for the causes I believe in. There's stuff in this world I want to change for the better. Explaining what I think is wrong, and how it can be improved, is the best way I know for nudging it in a direction I want to see it move.

The more people I reach, the more it moves.

When I left Boing Boing, I lost access to a freestanding way of communicating. Though I had popular Twitter and Tumblr accounts, they are at the mercy of giant companies with itchy banhammers and arbitrary moderation policies.

I'd long been a fan of the POSSE - Post Own Site, Share Everywhere - ethic, the idea that your work lives on platforms you control, but that it travels to meet your readers wherever they are.

Pluralistic posts start out as Twitter threads because that's the most constrained medium I work in, but their permalinks (each with multiple hidden messages in their slugs) are anchored to a server I control.

When my threads get popular, I make a point of appending the pluralistic.net permalink to them.

When I started blogging, 20 years ago, blogger.com had few amenities. None of the familiar utilities of today's media came with the package.

Back then, I'd manually create my headlines with <h2> tags. I'd manually create discussion links for each post on Quicktopic. I'd manually paste each post into a Yahoo Groups email. All the guff I do today to publish Pluralistic is, in some way, nothing new.

20 years in, blogging is still a curious mix of both technical, literary and graphic bodgery, with each day's work demanding the kind of technical minutuae we were told would disappear with WYSIWYG desktop publishing.

I grew up in the back-rooms of print shops where my dad and his friends published radical newspapers, laying out editions with a razor-blade and rubber cement on a light table. Today, I spend hours slicing up ASCII with a cursor.

I go through my old posts every day. I know that much - most? - of them are not for the ages. But some of them are good. Some, I think, are great. They define who I am. They're my outboard brain.

[sunsteez]

HellO!!

Wow okay so it has been 2 years (almost 3)?? I feel like Tumblr is a very different place now and 3 years a lot of time so if you’re wondering who the fuck this even is popping up on your timeline I FULLY understand SCROLL ON MY FRIEND

If you’d like to continue reading an extremely long and jumbled stream of consciousness, keep goin under the cut

I’ve been wanting to post an update like this for a while, but it’s been really hard for me to sit down and write something because of how disconnected I am at this point to the Haikyuu community, and how guilty I was feeling for just sort of..leaving abruptly? But I signed into my account recently and realized that after being inactive for years I was still getting the kindest, most warm hearted messages- not just about art, but people saying they missed me popping up on their feed, that wherever I was, they hoped I was doing well, or that I was happy, and folks just checking in and genuinely concerned and wondering if I was okay. I also realized that it was pretty uncool of me to just sort of peace out like that without an explanation, so I thought I owed you all at least that much.

*Things are about to get a little sad here (just a warning, in case you’re not feeling up for that)*

Basically, around the time I left, a very close childhood friend of mine passed away in a very tragic and unexpected accident.  She was like a sister to me, someone who was always there and was always supposed to be there- we grew up together, shared so many first experiences side by side, and of course we annoyed the shit out of each other to no end. She was supposed to be there for my other firsts, but now I have to do them alone. Losing her broke me like nothing I’ve ever felt in my entire life.  The pain was both terrifying and debilitating, and I had to take a break from EVERYTHING for a while. I went backpacking for a month in the woods with a couple of friends to get away, no service or anything, completely detached from everything and days of just walking, eating, sleeping, and being in nature.  It was very healing. And I guess I never really came back.

This blog was a safe and happy escape for me, a place to just have some laughs and fun, and that’s what I wanted it to be for everyone else. My life on social media was always pretty separate from my real life (though y’all got a weird ol chunk of that in the tags), but this especially had no place on my account.  I didn’t want to bring something so unpleasant and painful into my safe space, but that resulted me in completely abandoning this blog altogether since that loss is something I’m still learning to cope with.

I am finally feeling ready now so I’m here to say: I am okay!! I’m still picking myself back up, but I’ve come such a long way.  I’ve been seeing a therapist for almost 2 years now who’s helped me deal with not only the grief of losing my friend but making sense of past traumas I’ve experienced and teaching me to learn how and why I’m feeling the things that I do. I’m still the same fucking weirdo with maybe a bit more emotional depth. I’m now a full-time freelance animator and illustrator, and currently thinking about making the jump into comics!! And you know what, I don’t think any of that would have happened had it not been for the wonderful experience I’ve had on here.

Concerning the future of this account and contents: I guess it goes without saying but Full Eyes Full Hearts is officially being discontinued- thank you for the love and support for this comic, even if it was short lived. I know how frustrating it is to become invested in a story only for it to be discontinued, so I am sorry for those of you who were so looking forward to it. But here is a big 

*SPOILER ALERT*

They love each other.  They always loved each other. WHAT A TWIST THAT IS HUH I BET YOU DID NOT SEE THAT ONE COMING??????

*END OF EXTREMELY HUGE SURPRISING SPOILER*

I have no current plans to return to this account, but as Justin Bieber once said, “never say never.” Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get back into haikyuu (I heard my BOYY came back in some of the latest chapters and if there is oikawa content to consume I WILL consume it), maybe I’ll join another fandom? Maybe this brief resurfacing will awaken the tumblr child inside of me. Even I don’t know. For now though, I’ll be doin my own thing, working on my own projects and maybe one day you’ll find my work again!

I’ll also be popping in and out in the next week or so in case anybody has any questions or comments or wants to talk, ANYTHING

The world is wild right now, so I also just want to send some love to everyone. Things are not always happy, and that’s okay. Something that my friend taught me that I hold dear to this day is that: it’s important to laugh, and play, and cry when you’re sad, and just enjoy all the bad and good the world has to offer you. Because feeling means that you're alive.

I cannot thank everyone enough for the love and support you’ve given for me and my art, my mutuals for being there to inspire me and teach me and push me to do more, honestly I would not be where I was today without any of that.  I never took art seriously until I realized how much I enjoyed it on here. Maybe that sounds silly to some people that Tumblr Dot Com changed the course of my life, but it really did.

Thank you!!

[watchtheblog]

petty cache

thank you for coming to read my diary which masquerades as a blog but is actually just a vessel for disseminating my birthday wishlists. it’s like an event you show up to where the host tries to sell you a timeshare 25 minutes after some requisite, mindless song and dance.

welcome! if you’d like purchase a timeshare, scroll to the bottom. for the song and dance, look no further:

the other day i zoned out on zoom therapy and when my therapist asked where i “went” i had to lie because i had gone to the part of my brain that holds all the things i need to think about forever for no reason (i call it the petty cache — this is an umbrella term for the space that also houses my attitude cabinet) and dusted off a memory of a comment i saw on a stranger’s facebook three weeks ago that said “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”.

i don’t know either person, and that’s what i was thinking about. i spend $[redacted] a month on therapy and instead of focusing on one of my numerous unsolved mysteries, i was thinking about the nuances of this comment - like why they wouldn’t just share the news or message the person directly? or what losing their password had to do with anything? or why they would comment on facebook instead of texting or calling the person. did they not have their number? imagine not knowing someone well enough to have their phone number, but still wanting to share your good news with them!

all i want (for my birthday) is to know what the news is that this stranger has to share, and i’ll never know so i have to put that comment in my minutiae repository with all the other things that will plague me until i die from texting and driving, smoke inhalation as a result of purposely leaving a candle lit in my home overnight almost every night, consuming half a dozen hot dogs a week, or a now unnamed disease that will posthumously be attributed to my chronic inability to mind my own business.

i’m constantly concerning myself with things that are none of my concern - no matter how insignificant - because my brain is a commune of sentient pepperoni running instagram polls among themselves to discern if something is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about. and guess what? it turns out absolutely everything that has ever offended, confused, bothered, intrigued, slightly inconvenienced, or merely happened to me is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about.

because i devote so much energy to nonsense, i can often be found persecuting strangers for insulting me on the internet (and for other miscellaneous bad behavior). the information superhighway is my home so i have to protect myself (and my friends) here, and if that means spending 45 minutes to 48 hours trying to find every misstep you’ve made in your life until i have enough ammunition to spray a dozen simulated retaliatory bullets at your virtual head because you called me a “stupid bitch” on instagram, well… so be it!

i am relentless in my pursuit of wasting time, so if that doesn’t work, i will find the cold stone creamery you frequent, seek employment there, be hired on the spot, learn the craft, be promoted to manager, poison you on your birthday, gain access to your funeral, and tarnish your reputation by reading your shitty DM in front of the few family and friends whom i haven’t already made aware of the abhorrent way you conducted yourself online!

there are so many different ways strangers will try to hurt your feelings — an interesting genre of which come from men who (like me) have definitely never had sex before, and mistakenly think i care about the ways in which my body does not make them horny.

“no tits” one will say. and i’m like, how do you want me to respond to that? my boobs are indeed small, yes. did you come here to shoot facts back and forth all day? ok: you’re going to start balding way sooner than you’re prepared for, i bet your childhood dog is dead, your time on the internet should be supervised, your closet is full of vests, and you wait on line at nightclubs… good day?!

while i will obviously engage with anyone if they want to fight, i prefer when the unsolicited criticism is personalized, and not just thoughtless, lazily devised tripe.

a year and a half ago, a man who looked like he exhales smog DMed me to let me know - among other things in a paragraph long rant - he’d “lost brain cells” watching my story. knowing he had likely never had an adequate amount to begin with, it seemed like an emergency, so i started a group DM with his wife. because his message had come just three days after a “fuckkk [heart eye emoji]” response to a photo of my ass, i included a screenshot as evidence of his devolving mental state.

being - presumably - gainfully employed, neither of them responded.

luckily, the consolation prize for insulting me is that you gain residency in my brain and stay in my thoughts and prayers for all eternity, so i checked in on them a few days ago. they’d unfollowed and wiped their feeds clean of each other!!

because i’ve never “moved on” in my entire life, i fired up our long dormant group chat, and sent my condolences: “aw. sorry your trip to positano - where you were going to attempt to repair your ramshackle marriage - got cancelled because of covid and so you just got divorced instead :(” i wrote before being blocked by both of them. 

then i headed right over to my therapist’s facebook and commented “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”

i spent an entire therapy session detailing this monomania before my therapist thoughtfully suggested i “pick [my] battles”.

to which i thoughtfully responded: yeah, babe. i pick every single one.

                                                        ***

timeshare time! it’s the same list as this post, with a few additions (at top) (and edits based on availability).

places to donate food education fund pretty brown girl the okra project

some furniture stuff a side table  a pointless, laughably tiny little thing this website is calling a “drink table” a lamp one of these benches i do not want this but it’s important to me that at least 2 other people know it exists

this plant that obviously does not need to cost $165 but idk how to shop economically

air pods

gifts from the previous post - all still v much in play!

a pair of shoes (size 8 or 38) one pair, another pair, yet another, these are on sale, these are not, and a final pair

a specific clutch with three color choices they allege this color is called sand but it looks white to me, pink, green for those who do not know what malachite means (it couldn’t be me. i learned it 3 hours ago when i began compiling this cursed list)

something everyone with money to waste needs this

dresses i’ll never be able to wear until there’s a vaccine because unlike someone tacky who knows me, i won’t be having a birthday party in the middle of a global pandemic (hi, you fool) white polka dot, not white polka dot, also not polka dot, a red dress, a skirt (aka half a dress), a black dress

this sweatsuit xs in this, small in this

is sephora cancelled? i want this hair dryer which i’m sure you can buy elsewhere if sephora is cancelled, which it v well may be

this item which you may think is cheap but actually it’s not soooo a hairpin

earrings one pair, another pair, and another

this dress which i’ll never wear anywhere even when there is a vaccine because… what?! but maybe. you never know. size 34. lol when i get this far into the list i’m always blown away by how insane it is that i do this every year to no audience. so i’m just laughing alone at that. :) i am v funny to myself. another dress i’ll never wear ;)

the nicest weighted blanket you know of i’m depressed!!!!! if you can’t tell!!!!!!!

every year i have asked for a weekend bag and every year i have not received one, so alas, we try again this is not a weekend bag actually but it will do. this is!

a peloton but just venmo me the cash (@merce212) because i have a hookup

an assortment of ridiculous things a $500 body scarf a $580 beach towel with an octopus on it for no reason besides “art” i cannot tell analog time but it’s never too late to start!! how mad would you be if someone bought you a roulette table for your wrist? be honest. (THIS WATCH IS FOUR YEARS RENT!!!!!!) they won’t say how much this costs :( i’m losing my mind and must be gifted a chanel watch or else i will perish. to put my salami on when i am eating salami in my bed “24k gold crocodile [?!!) teddy bear”. the website says there’s only one left, which begs the question “why did someone buy one of these rather than buying me a chanel watch?!!” *real ‘billionaires shouldn’t exist [unless they’re buying me a watch]’ energy* to put my new watch in this is ugly but it’s on sale :) idk wtf “secret box pendant” means but i wish this necklace was also a USB with every season and spinoff of 90 day fiancé on it hi yes i’m stupid but i draw the line at $1500 connect four…

[bmaxwell]

Best Games I Don’t Want to Play

I play many games. I prefer to think of myself as a connoisseur, not just another pasty white neckbeard who has gained 50lb in the past year. But when I’m not working, or parenting, or doing other adult-type things, I’m usually playing a game of some sort. 

                                            Me playing Bloodborne

My job allows me to listen to podcasts while working, so between gaming podcasts and my Twitter feed, I end up hearing about approximately all of the games. And I’ve played enough diamonds in the rough and been delighted by enough things outside my comfort zone to cast a pretty wide net. 

Once in awhile, I find a game that I deeply want to connect with, but cannot. Like a defective moth to a digital flame, I keep coming back every year or two to try, try again. I’ll scroll through my library and think “Damn, Iconoclasts seems so cool! Why didn’t I get into that one? I need to try it again.” and repeat. It’s The Alan Wake Sbarro Experience.*

                                              Me playing Bloodborne

I spend a lot of time gaming. I spend a lot of time thinking. I think about thinking and I think about gaming. I like trying to find patterns, or to understand why certain games, or songs, or movies resonate with me while others fall flat. And so, dear reader, if you woke up today hoping against all odds you’d have the chance to read about some random gamer dude’s disappointing games on his blog - WELL...today is your lucky day! 

In no particular order:

Outer Wilds

Why it’s great:

Outer Wilds is about the majesty of space, exploration, and accepting that dying is a natural part of the cycle. At least I think it is. I really like the look of it, and I really like the idea of it. It has a low-tech charm; you start off on a planet where people are playing banjos and roasting marshmallows, and everyone seems laid back. The launch pad is made of rickety wood. Your ship might be, too. There’s a major mystery at hand that needs solving, and you’re just the being to do it.

Why I can’t get into it:

I’m not entirely sure. But I think it has something to do with how directionless and open the game is. Apart from some basic “Here’s how to control stuff” on your home planet, the rest is up to you. You can fly anywhere and check out anything. The universe somehow feels huge and scary and vast but not overwhelming. I have a problem with this kind of freedom. I once heard Patrick Klepek say that there are two kinds of kids: the kind who takes a block of Legos, tosses the instructions out, and has a blast making whatever, and the kid that HAS to have those directions. I’m the latter.

The Return of the Obra Dinn

Why it’s great:

It’s not often I play something that feels wholly unique. That’s Obra Dinn. It’s a weird Where’s Waldo whodunnit logic and deduction puzzle. You’re an insurance claims adjuster, tasked with finding out what happened to everyone aboard an abandoned ship. You do this by way of hearing audio clips and walking around memories frozen like dioramas. Sound design, visuals, concept, execution - Obra Dinn is just a success in every way.

Why I can’t get into it:

Logic and deduction puzzles feel like work, no matter how much I wish they didn’t. There are so many details to weigh against each other, I find the game exhausting and not fun to play. Playing it always made me feel tired and stupid.

Hyper Light Drifter

Why it’s great:

The main developer behind Hyper Light Drifter has congenital heart disease, and uses art to deal with his condition. He made this game where the protagonist suffers from a terminal disease. It’s a project made by someone with a passion for the subject matter. Diablo and A Link to the Past were among his inspirations. It has cool pixel art. The title is tits as fuck.

Why I can’t get into it:

I fired the game up and its opening cut scene worked for me. And I just do not know what happened. The movement and combat feels crisp, and yet I just can’t get into it. The world has no dialogue and has lots of puzzles to sort out. Maybe that’s it? There’s no real direction. Is that it?

                                      Me playing Hyper Light Drifter

Control

Why it’s great:

Before I talk about Control, I have to talk about Alan Wake from the same developer. Actually, just nevermind. Fuck Alan Wake.

Control’s writing, visuals, and worldbuilding are top notch. The game has a good central mystery, intriguing and well-written characters, and it’s often genuinely funny. It stars a redhead. 

Alan Wake was such a neat premise for a video game - a Stephen King-like story of a novelist who heads to a remote location to combat his writer’s block, only to have mysterious, supernatural shit happen to him. A cool, atmospheric mystery - great! I DON’T NEED OR WANT TO FIGHT RANDOM HITCHHIKER MONSTER MANS CONSTANTLY. I CAN ENJOY YOUR STORY I WON’T GET BORED WITHOUT ZOMBIES AND GUNS I PROMISE YOU

Why I can’t get into it:

I hate the combat. 3rd person cover shooting is not my jam. I figured once they added the option to turn the difficulty down I’d be all about it, but no. The map may be the worst I’ve encountered, it’s multilayered slightly varying shades of grey all spaghetti’d on top of one another. There’s supposed to be a door here...I guess it must be up or down a level? The checkpointing system sucks. Combine these two complaints with too many random battles, and this game is a real slog for me to try to get through, despite its good qualities.

Baba is You

Why it’s great:

See Obra Dinn. It’s a brilliant, unique puzzle game that is a bad fit for my brain. Visually, it’s dead simple. Each stage consists of a sheep named Baba, with some crude walls, water, rocks, grass, etc and a flag. There are also words on the screen that you can push around to make phrases which govern the game rules. So, if it says “Flag is Win” then you win the stage by getting Baba to the flag. Or you could push the word Baba into the space where Flag was and spell “Baba is Win.” Instant win. And so on.

Why I can’t get into it:

That “and so on” contains multitudes. Baba is hard. Bryan is dumb. Bryan is hard. Baba is Bryan. Baba is dumb. Hard is dumb.  I can’t do this.

Disgaea (just all of them)

Why its great:

It’s a long-running strategy RPG series, and I love those. Right? It’s anime and, if I don’t always love it, at least it’s not a deal-breaker. Right?

Why I can’t get into it: Wrong, apparently. First up, the anime is the kind of loud, shrill, in-your-face anime that put me off the stuff for most of my life. The gameplay is...a lot. It’s deep, and that’s a good thing. Right? I feel like if I hunker down and put real work into learning all of the game’s systems I’d probably love it! Maybe!

Hitman 2016

Why it’s great:

The game gives you a ton of creative freedom in how you go about carrying out your hits. You’re changing outfits to get access to different parts of the area, and using whichever makeshift weapons you can to get the job done. A can of pasta sauce is just as deadly as a pistol, and a lot more fun. The ridiculousness of the game’s clockwork world ends up being a positive because of how serious and straight-laced your protagonist is. 

Why I can’t get into it:

It’s the Lego problem again. Too much freedom, not enough direction. Every time something goes wrong, my lizard brain says YOU’RE SO BAD AT THIS WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID YOU CAN’T DO THIS AT ALL FOOL and my rational brain quietly says Uh, it’s just a game, bud. No one cares. No one’s scoring you on this. Just learn from your mistakes and have fun. Which is apparently not a convincing argument.

*The name of my new ska band

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (12/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Sorry not sorry for giving my main man Rafa’s ass a shoutout in this chapter. Can you guys tell that the summer tennis season was in full swing when I was writing this? 🎾 

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading through a massive amount of words and saying positive things about them to feed my ego. 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Tag list: @eala-captian @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

Emma: Can you do me a favor?

Killian: I feel like I need to know the favor before I say yes to that.

Emma: You’re no fun.

Killian: I have been reliably informed by my nieces that I am fun.

Emma: It’s great that you mention your nieces, because the favor is for my nephew.

Killian: Well, you should have said that first.

Emma: You’re the worst.

Killian: What do you need, Swan?

Emma: Like a month ago, I told Leo that I could get you to sign a hat for him, and I was just reminded that I haven’t done that yet.

Killian: Ah, so now I know why you’re really dating me.

Emma: Exactly.

Killian: I can most definitely get your nephew a signed hat. I’ll give it to you tonight?

Emma: Perfect. I can’t thank you enough.

Killian: You could come over on our off day tomorrow?

Emma: I like that idea. We’ve pretty much only texted for two weeks.

Killian: Or talked with a camera in our faces.

Emma: Exactly. See you tonight. I hope you have fun sitting in the dugout the entire time.

Killian: I’ve had a pretty woman sitting next to me the last few games, so it’s enjoyable.

Emma: Julia Roberts????

Emma: Okay, I really have to go, but don’t forget about the signed hat. It’s the only way that I’m going to come over tomorrow.

Killian chuckles at Emma’s last text before closing out his phone and placing it in the front pocket of his sweatpants as thunder roars to life outside, shaking the glass panes of his window as rain starts to fall from above. It’s a light sprinkling for about thirty seconds before a torrential downpour starts taking place, the sounds of the city drowned out by the late May storm that’s happening outside. He knew there was a chance that it was coming, has checked the weather obsessively as he tends to do whenever there’s the possibility of rain, and all he can do is hope that it’s a quick summer storm that dissipates long before tonight’s game so that the field can dry enough for them to play.

If this thunder and lightning continues, however, he doesn’t think that anyone will be stepping onto the field tonight.

Humming to himself, he steps away from his window and walks the few steps to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to find the ingredients he wants for an omelet and setting them out on the countertops. It takes him but a few moments to piddle around and start cooking himself a late breakfast, his coffee maker brewing behind him as the smell of coffee fills his nose, and soon enough, he’s raking his fork through his omelet so that metal scratches against glass as the rain continues to pour down outside, the sky only lightened by the occasional flash of light. It’s been a good while since it stormed like this, and oddly, he finds it relaxing.

Likely, it helps that he’s in the safety of his apartment and not currently wandering the streets of Manhattan trying to find somewhere to wait this thing out like so many others are.

When he’s finished eating his food, he settles back down on the couch and continues to watch the tennis match that’s playing, idly following along with the tournament as he scrolls through his phone and Instagram. He doesn’t follow that many people, mostly only his family and work-related things, so he sees a picture of Will and Belle smiling at the camera from the date that he knows they went on the other night, another photo of Elsa and the girls on Addy’s last day of kindergarten (how is his niece old enough to be finished with kindergarten?), and then one of Emma sitting with Ruby, the brightest smiles on their faces. They went out last night to celebrate Ruby’s boyfriend getting a raise, and while he hasn’t asked how the night went, it looks like it was a nice time.

And Emma is up early this morning, so she must not be too hungover. He’s both interested and terrified to know what his girlfriend would be like hungover.

His girlfriend.

They didn’t explicitly say the words, but they aren’t dating anyone else, aren’t planning on dating anyone else, so that’s what Emma is to him, right? It sounds childish and juvenile in a way, but it’s also…exhilarating. He never planned on feeling this way about a woman again, never planned on wanting to receive texts and have late-night phone conversations or hushed rendezvous in this little secluded corner outside of the clubhouse.  

He’s really starting to like that secluded corner.

He’s most definitely starting to fall in love with Emma. He’s not…he’s not quite there yet, but he knows that it’s coming.

Terrifying. Exhilarating. Wonderful. Every feeling all at once.

His phone buzzes in his hand, Ariel’s contact popping up at the top of the screen.

Ariel: Game is cancelled for tonight. You have three days off now, but don’t just sit on your ass. Do some exercises.Get Will or Robin to practice some pitches with you. Work out that arm.I’m sure Al will text you in a minute.

Killian: I was thinking about living a sedentary life, actually. I’d like to really screw the team over again whenwe’re currently leading the AL East and have another home series against the Sox coming up.

Ariel: Don’t be an ass.

Killian: I promise that I will exercise. I already did my run this morning.

Ariel: Good boy.

Killian: I am not your dog.

Ariel: That’s debatable. You and Max are similar. I’ll talk to you later. I think Eric and I are finally going to repaint the living room.

He’s just about to close his phone when another message pops up, this time one he’s definitely not going to ignore.

Elsa: I heard the game is cancelled tonight, and that means you’re coming over for dinner. No questions asked. We changed Sunday night dinner since you’re pitching against the Sox that night and we can’t miss that. Liam insisted.

Elsa: And Anna is cooking tonight.

Elsa Jones knows all, and he loves her for it.

-/-

“Look at the paper that Mrs. Johnson gave me,” Addy tells him as she stacks a certificate on top of the toys already sitting in his lap, several things from Lucy but mostly arts and crafts that Addy has decided she must show off by drowning him with them. It’s this or drown in the rain that’s still going on outside. “It’s because I’m smart.”

“I can see that. I think you get that from me.”

“I get it from Mommy.”

“Well, that too,” he chuckles, flexing his toes in his sneakers so that his feet don’t fall asleep, the slight tingling sensation already appearing.

“Killian,” Lucy whispers, coming up to him with a stuffed giraffe that’s bigger than she is and placing it next to him, “I have a giraffe.”

“I don’t think that’s smelly enough to be a giraffe, little love.”

“I gave her a bath.”

“Ah,” he sighs, Lucy very obviously not getting his joke. He’s still trying to figure her out, her seriousness extremely unlike Addy’s loud and boisterous personality, but he gets that. She’s likely overpowered by her older sister, and he can understand that. So, the younger siblings very obviously have to stick together. It’s in all of the unwritten rules. “Did you use soap?”

“Yep.” “What about water?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hmm, okay.” He taps his chin as he thinks before reaching forward and bopping her nose so that it scrunches up on her face. “What about peanut butter?”

“No,” she giggles, her smile lighting up her face as she pets the giraffe before pressing it forward so that it’s giving him kisses. At least, that’s what she’s told him before, so he assumes that’s what is happening now. “Peanut butter is too sticky.”

“And it’s for eating,” Addison says before she’s placing yet another drawing on top of his lap. Where does the kid get the supplies for this? There’s no way it’s all coming from her school.

“Speaking of that, what do the two of you say about us leaving your playroom and going down to the kitchen to see when I can get some food in my belly. I’m a growing boy. I need my food.”

“You’re not growing anymore because you’re an adult.”

He winks at Addy, amusement running over every inch of him. “That’s what you think, sweetheart.”

Carefully, he starts undoing the pile that’s been covering him, making sure not to rip any of the papers or stack the stuffed animals in the wrong way, before he stands from the ground, his knees popping the slightest bit. That was an awkward position for him to sit in for a long time, hence the feet that fell asleep, and he definitely doesn’t need to be hurting himself in unconventional ways when he’s already prone to injury. His arm has felt fine since Florida, all of his games pitched until the fourth or fifth inning, and he’s convinced himself that it was simply a one-time thing. It’s not going to get that bad again.

He won’t let it.

He can’t. He won’t miss any other physical therapy sessions with Archie, and he’s not going to overdo it.

“Alright,” he laughs, leaning down and scooping each girl up over his shoulders to the sound of their giggles, “let’s go find out what your Aunt Anna is cooking for dinner.”

They’re still so small right now, but with Addy turning six at the end of June, he’s not sure how long he’s going to be able to hold both of them at once as he walks down the stairs of the townhome from their playroom to the kitchen where he can already hear everyone who wasn’t pawned off onto the kids talking.

“Killian,” Elsa scolds the moment she sees him, “put them down. Your shoulder.”

“It’s fine, Els,” he huffs even as he puts them on the ground, a slight bit of relief running through his body. “I can pick my nieces up.”

“But – ”

“I am fine,” he promises, stepping into the room to brush his lips over Elsa’s temple. “It smells good in here. What are we eating?”

“Stuffed shells,” Anna answers as she chops up a cucumber, hopefully for a salad and not the stuffed shells. “I had some leftover marinara sauce and wanted to use it.”

“Bless you,” he sighs, resting his elbows against the countertop. “Are your parents coming tonight?”

“They are stubborn and refuse to come to Sunday dinners when it’s not on a Sunday,” Anna tells him as she presses up on her toes to check in the oven. “They do not understand baseball in the way that we understand it.”

“To be fair, it’s not like someone they’re related to is a player,” Kris says.

“Hey, I am a not-so-distant relative by marriage, thank you very much.”

“I’m their son-in-law,” Kris adds, a slight roll of his eyes as he eats a roll, “and sometimes they don’t even acknowledge me.”

“Well, that’s just because they don’t think your job is a real job, sweetie.”

“Someone has to decorate the city for Christmas! It’s real! Killian plays a sport for a living!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Killian playfully scoffs, cutting his toward Kris, “we don’t have to shit on my job to build yours up.”

“Language,” Liam warns before he takes a sip of his beer. All of them look over to the girls only to find that neither are paying any attention to them. Good. he doesn’t want to be the reason they start cursing. That is not something he’s going to have blamed on him. “And we all love the Karlssons, but they are definitely a little more old-fashioned on things. I’m a doctor, though, so I don’t have to worry about any of their judgment.”

Elsa chuckles before she slaps Liam’s shoulder, her eyes practically rolling to the back of her head. “Don’t be a jerk when you are far too invested in your brother’s career and have Kris come and decorate the house every year. A job is a job, and they have two really cool ones.”

“I was kidding, darling.” He leans in and presses his lips against Elsa’s, lingering a little too long, but that’s how they are sometimes. It’s sweet and awful all at once, and it makes him wish that he could bring Emma along to things like this instead of being the fifth wheel, seventh if Addy and Lucy can be considered a pair. “Killian, how are you handling having so many unexpected days off? I’m surprised you can even sit still when you’re so used to having something to do.”

Killian shrugs his shoulders, his nails tapping against the countertop as he feels four pairs of eyes staring at him and waiting for him to answer. “I mean, I wasn’t playing any of these days anyways, so I did my workouts at home today instead of going into work. Tomorrow will be the same, and then we’ll have games again.”

“Oh. You have tomorrow off?” Elsa asks, her eyes lighting up.

“Uh, yeah, I should. I’ve just got to do some weight training exercises and do my shoulder exercises. Why?”

“Do you want to watch the girls?”

Oh.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Reaching up to scratch behind his ears, he tries to think of an excuse, any excuse, but is coming up all kinds of short. Dammit.

(He’s probably going to be the reason Addy and Lucy start cursing.)

“I’m a little busy, love.”

“It’s your off day. What could you possibly be doing?”

“Doctor’s appointment and then a few errands,” he lies, enough guilt festering in his stomach that he may as well go ahead and schedule an appointment for his stomach. Then he won’t have really lied, right? “By the time I get everything done, you’ll practically be off work. I can spend another day with them, though. I’ll take them out to eat or to the park or even the zoo.”

“What kind of doctor’s appointment? Everything okay?”

“Just a normal check-up.” He clicks his tongue, his toes bouncing him up and down on the floor. “So, everyone’s coming on Sunday, right? Let me know where you want to sit, and I’ll get Ariel to arrange everything.”

It’s the most obvious change in conversation that he can think of, but it’s also literally all he can think of. He’s an asshole for telling Elsa he can’t spend time with the girls, but he was kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place there. It’s either disappoint his nieces or disappoint Emma, and while he’d like to disappoint no one, that’s not really an option. He had plans with Emma first, and that’s what he’s going to stick to. Maybe one day they’ll be in a situation where he can take the girls with him, and all four of them can do something without him having to lie to his family.

Today is not that day.

They’ll figure it all out.

There’s another loud crash of thunder outside, and his head turns to the side to look at the darkness outside. He’s not sure if this rain is every going to stop, and he’s really kind of dreading going home in this weather.

“Do you remember when we were younger, and you used to try to get struck by lightning?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Killian chuckles to Liam, leaning back from the countertop and pulling a barstool out to sit on. “I thought I’d be Thor or something if I got struck by lightning.”

“That’s pretty cute, actually,” Anna gushes. “Elsa used to think that she could control the snow because she’d ask for it to snow and it usually would.”

“Anna,” Elsa laughs as she buries her face in her hands, “why are you always sharing such weird things about me?”

“Because Liam was sharing weird things about Killian, and I thought it would be funny.”

“Growing up, you guys spent December in Norway,” Liam points out while he rubs his wife’s back. “It snowed all the time. Of course you thought you could control the snow. That’s cute, sweetheart. You and Killian think you can control the weather.”

“Els, are you feeling attacked right now?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

“I think we should get more food than everyone else for this torture.”

Elsa peeks through her fingers with a smile. “I like the way you think.”

-/-

“A signed hat, just as you requested, milady.” Killian holds the hat he signed for Leo out to Emma as he mockingly bows down in front of her while motioning her into his apartment.

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughs even as she takes the hat, placing it between her fingers before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and slowly sliding her lips over his, her teeth already nibbling as his hands find her hips, tugging them closer to his. Bloody hell has he missed being able to do this and feeling the warmth of Emma even if she is chilled by the rain. “Thank you for that hat.”

“No problem,” he murmurs against her mouth before he closes the door with his foot and backs Emma up against it so that their bodies can press further together, her mouth opening for him as their tongues curl together in a slow, warm heat that’s simmering over every inch of him. Emma’s fingers are nimble against the back of his neck, and when she cants her hips up, brushing where he’s already half-hard against her, he groans into her mouth, weeks and months of wanting starting to boil within him. It’s hungry and rough, and he has to stop himself from stripping them out of their clothes right then and there by pecking her mouth two times before resting his forehead against hers and inhaling a sharp breath. “Hi, Swan.”

“Hi,” she sighs as her hand falls from his hair to rest on his chest, right over his wildly beating heart. She can likely feel it. “We probably should have said that first.”

“Eh, I liked our greeting better.”

She blinks up at him, her face bare of makeup so that her lashes are blonde, and her freckles are showing, before she smiles a smile so bright that he figures that happiness can be tasted on her tongue.

“It was a good greeting. I approve.”

“Me – ” he presses the inch forward to kiss the smile, “ – too. Have you eaten?”

“It’s seven in the morning. No, I haven’t eaten.”

“That’s what I figured. You want to order in, or do you want me to make you something?”

Emma hums, her bottom lips pulled between her teeth as she thinks. “You can cook. I’m here to use you for your autograph skills, your cooking, and your cable.”

“What about me?”

“You’re on the list somewhere.” Emma giggles when he runs his fingers against the skin above her shorts, and he catalogs that spot away in the back of his mind because he can most definitely use that in the future. “I’m going to get to the TV part first, though, because Roland Garros is on, and there are some matches I want to watch.”

“It’s already on.”

“I like the way that you roll, twenty-nine.”

She pushes off of him and walks the few feet into his living room, flopping down on the couch and immediately resting her feet up on his coffee table. It’s a comfortable move, and he likes that Emma feels comfortable in his home. He’ll never quite get over that. All of their private moments are here or in one of their hotel rooms when they’re on the road, and as much as he sometimes loves those rooms, nothing compares to this.

He ate too much yesterday, Anna’s stuffed shells and rolls still residing in his stomach, so he only bothers to make enough batter to make Emma a waffle since she never said what she wanted, even when he just prodded her for more information. He knows that she likes them considering she’s always eating them in the hotel dining rooms, and since the other option that came to him was a grilled cheese sandwich at seven in the morning, he figures a waffle will have to do. He very much doubts Emma is going to complain when he’s found that the way to her heart is most definitely food.

Junk food specifically.

When the waffle maker beeps several minutes later, he opens it up and plates Emma’s food, grabbing some fruit out of the fridge and topping it. He most definitely sneaks away a few of her blackberries, but, really, he deserves that. He cooked after all.

(And this is his apartment.)

“Thank you,” Emma says when he places it in her lap before sitting down next to her on the couch, their shoulders hitting together before he wraps his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers tapping against her shoulder. She leans to the side and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You’re sweet.”

“Oh, I most definitely know.”

Her eyes roll. “You didn’t want to eat?”

He groans at the thought. He’s already gotten up and done some of his stretches, drinking a protein shake, and he probably won’t eat anything else serious until tonight. “I ate too much yesterday, and I’ve had this really bad influence on me lately for how I’m eating so I’m trying to be better.”

“Sorry not sorry,” she mumbles, her cheeks puffed out with waffles inside. Did she just stuff the entire thing in there? There’s a thwack of a tennis ball against a racket on his television screen, and he turns his attention from Emma chewing to watch Rafael Nadal slide against red clay, making it all look effortless even when Killian knows that nothing about being an athlete is effortless, not even natural talent. “Damn,” Emma sighs, “that is one good ass.”

If he was eating, he’d choke on his food.

“W-what?” he sputters out, looking between the TV and Emma.

She pokes her fork at the screen, waving it in the air. “Rafa’s ass. That’s, like, a dream ass. Just look at it.”

His mouth is gaping open as he looks between Emma putting her plate of food on the coffee table and the television screen, his eyes taking in another man’s ass like this is the most normal conversation for him to be having before eight in the morning. But then again, when is anything about his relationship with Emma normal?

“I mean, it’s okay,” he lies, sinking down a little further in the couch as a ball launches into the air. “I’ve been told time and time again that my ass is pretty good too.”

Why in the world did he say that? What is wrong with him?

“I mean, you have a good ass that I very much appreciate, but no one has an ass like…that. It’s insane.”

“Should I feel insecure about the fact that you’re admiring another man’s ass?”

“No,” she promises, not even bothering to look at him as she pats his thigh, her hand likely a little higher than she intended as he grits his teeth at the touch, “but you should admire this man’s body. And his tan. People would pay a lot of money for a tan like that.” She twists her head to the side to look at him, quirking her brow. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs as he reaches down to her hand and threads their fingers together, bringing her knuckles up to his lips to brush a kiss there, “I’m simply coming to the realization that my girlfriend as a thing for other athletes.”

“Step up your game, Jones.”

“I’ll try, I’ll try. I didn’t know I had any competition, so I was unprepared.”

“That is shame. I look forward to seeing how you make up for it.”

“I’ll start thinking.”

They lapse into easy conversation like they always do when they’re together, and despite all of their early complications and some of the complications that they still have, that’s what this relationship is…easy. He’s got no clue why Emma agreed to his crazy plan, but she did. That’s all that matters. As the rain continues to pour down outside for the second day in a row, he tells her about his day yesterday and how ridiculous his family is in their group meals and constant conversation. He loves them, but he imagines that to anyone else, it would be overwhelming to come into that environment. Emma shares that she spent her morning with David yesterday, hence the reminder of the autographed hat, and tells him that Ruth is planning on coming into town sometime in June. He can’t tell if she’s happy or nervous about that, but he imagines it’s somewhere in between for how Emma feels about her foster mother and the distance there.

Families and almost-families and non-families are all so damn complicated, and as fucked up as his past family life is, it makes him thankful for what he has now. They’ve gotten him through some of his darkest times, and very few people make him smile in the way that they do.

Emma.

Emma makes him smile like that.

As the morning passes, tennis ending and Netflix being switched on instead, Emma relaxes further into him, and he finds that under the dull roll of rain, nothing and no one else exists outside of the two of them. His fingers trace the skin of her upper thigh, an absentminded motion that becomes more focused when he sees small little bumps rising over her pale skin. He never thought he could enjoy the sight of pale skin so much until he saw the way Emma’s thighs look in these shorts.

She is exquisite.

“Killian,” she gasps when his nails move to her inner thigh, and when he looks over to her with a smirk, he can see the blush rising on her cheeks as her lips part and her eyes blacken with desire.

He’s wanted this for far too long, even with the short time that they’ve been together, and it’s what has him leaning into her and cupping her cheek with his palm, his thumb pressing into her bottom lip to open her up into him so that he can lick into her mouth with absolutely no hesitation, another warm, toe-curling slide that has Emma sighing into him as her hands grapple to grab onto his shirt.

It’s a quick escalation, something he can’t quite keep track of with the way that she feels under him, moving against him, and the only coherent thought that he has is the fact that this couch must be damn lucky for everything that’s happened on it.

Which is a ridiculous thought.

Desire continues to run through him, vibrations moving down each of his vertebrae and to the base of his spine, and the little sounds that Emma is making are nearly driving him into madness at the thought of sliding into her, feeling the slick heat and tight walls and…

“Ah fuck,” he murmurs into Emma’s neck, physically and mentally cursing himself.

“What?” she gasps, still rolling her hips up as her nails scratch across his biceps.

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“Oh? I – ”

“I can go buy some from the Duane Reade right across the street. It won’t be any problem, love.” He pulls back from Emma with a hiss, his pants incredibly tight despite the elastic band, only for her to yank him back down, their bodies melding together. “W-what?”

“Later,” she speaks against his lips, and it’s only now that he sees the utter darkness in her eyes, hears the deep desire in her voice. “We’ll get condoms later. We can do other things until then.”

Well those words go straight to his groin.

He arches a brow as he rolls his hips into Emma’s, his hardness meeting her softness through clothes, and she lets out a moan that he wants to memorize for all of eternity. “Yeah? Like what?”

Emma rolls her eyes, but there’s still the slightest bit of a smile on her face. “You’re a baseball player. Don’t you know about all of the bases? I feel like we’ve talked about this before.”

Killian has to press his mouth into the skin of her collarbone, his laugh muffled and the vibrations of it working their way through Emma as his fingers trace the hem of her shorts, dipping just below the elastic waist so that he can feel the edges of her underwear.

Fucking hell.

“I hate you for making that joke,” he sighs against her. His left hand keeps getting lower as his right moves higher and higher until his fingertips are ghosting over the soft swell of her breast. “You are ridiculous.”

“But you like it.”

“And I imagine,” he whispers as he bites down onto her collarbone and readjusts himself so that his knee is between her thighs and that his fingers are brushing against her clit, “that you like this.”

Emma lets out a sharp gasp, and he looks up to see her practically panting at his touch and at the slow circles that he’s working to build her up all the while he palms her breast, her nipple pressed between his thumb and forefinger. It may have been some time, but he knows that it’s not a lot of pressure, just a simple up and down motion between her bundle of nerves and her opening, but from the sounds Emma is making and the way her body is moving, he knows that he’s got a pretty good rhythm going on.

“So, you like that?” he murmurs into her neck as his fingers slip inside of her, curling the slightest bit.

“Oh, fuck yes.”

“That’s a good girl then.”

It’s almost overwhelming for him to see Emma like this, to see her lose her composure, her careful words and guarded heart, and he rather likes the way that he’s making her fall apart and under his touch, several curses and mutterings escaping her kiss-swollen lips as he tests out what she likes and what she doesn’t, letting her instruct him when she needs to.

Emma Swan sprawled out on his couch coming apart under his touch is something he always knew would be so damn wonderful but that he never thought would happen. It seemed to be too much of a dream.

With two more thrusts of his fingers and one circle around her clit, she goes quiet, her eyelids pressing together and her lips parting, and he presses up to cover her mouth with his, capturing the gentle moan himself as he works her through her orgasm, maybe even riling her up some more as his hips rolls against her thigh, desperately seeking some kind of friction.

This is like some kind of pleasant torture for him, and he wants both to stay like this forever but also needs more.

“I knew you knew the bases,” is the first thing she mutters afterwards, and he drops his forehead against hers, his nose pressing into her cheek so that he can breathe her on while he tries to regulate his breathing and his pounding heart.

“No more jokes about my job, love. They’re cheesy as hell, and if we’re not careful, I’m going to have an erection while on the mound.”

“Oh my God…there’s about five opportunities for a dirty joke right there.”

“I know, I know,” he chuckles, softly kissing her as he starts to focus on their surroundings and the reality of the step forward in their relationship that they just took hitting him. “You okay, Emma?”

“Yeah,” she promises, nodding her head and cupping his cheeks as she smiles that beautiful smile, this time a little more sated than usual. “I’m more than okay.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out so that he can turn it off only to see a text from Al pop up.

Al Dalton: I’m calling a mandatory practice in an hour. Be there.

“What?” Emma questions when he groans. Instead of answering, he simply hands his phone to her, letting her read the message. “Oh, that really sucks.”

“You’re telling me. I was having a much better time here.”

Emma adjusts herself under him so that he’s no longer covering her body, and he sits down against the couch, adjusting his joggers and thinking of every boner killer that he can possibly think of. He probably just needs a cold, bracing shower.

“Go to practice,” Emma sighs, a slight smile on her face, as she makes an attempt at fixing her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You’ve got to kick some Boston ass. And then maybe when that’s all over, we can continue what we started.”

“You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

She nods to his crotch with a smirk. “I think I do.”

[babypop-phantom]

I just got into Danny Phantom and made a sideblog (phantomsstars). Do you have any blogs to recommend so I can get active in the community? Thx!!

Well hello and welcome to the PhAnDoM @phantomsstars! I hope this is a good enough list. They are listed in no particualr order. 😅 I totally did not just spend an hour writing it all out.

@dannyphandump - Tali is a literal sweetheart and she was my first friend on here. Top notch Danny Phantom content and art. Also helps me run the @phandomphightclub and puts up with me and my shenanigans. Love her so much.👌

@ceciliaspen - Cecilia is sooooooo talented and a great friend of mine. Lots of Danny Phantom art and lots for her amazing OCs as well. Aesthetic and spooky af. I would die for her style. 13/10 👻

@wastefulreverie - Rev is an amazing author. Hands down at the top of my list for my favorite fanfic writers. She is super talented and so kind and she deserves so much. 💜

@ghostgothgeek - Steph is basically my mom. A quality Danny Phantom blog. Super sweet and caring. Crazy about the Jonas Brothers. 💚

@lumanae - Luma is an amazing human being. More of a multi fandom blog, but pretty active in the Phandom. Praises herself on her endoskeletons post. Very funny and fun to talk to. Makes my day a whole lot better. 🐿

@lexosaurus - Lexx runs the official Danny Phantom dumpster fire blog. Just quality shitposts. Love her so much. I still owe her for the time when I started an apocalypse in her name. So sorry. 🔥

@qlinq-qhost - Dee is a little child who needs protecting. Sooooooo sweet. Fun and funny content. Starts a lot of chaos, but everyone thinks she is too innocent. 💕

@dannyphantomisameme - Lily is a very talented artist and a very good friend of mine. Lovely to talk to. Also a great writer. 😉

@plazmawulf - Rus is sooo nice and fun to talk to! Amazing art and animation. Always shares their art progress pics with me and I LOVE them. 💚

@ecto-american - Nick deserves credit for his amazing writing skills!!! He is also so caring towards everyone and deserves more love!��

@reallydumbdannyphantomaus - Bug is so sweet. Blog is basically dedicated to seeing how many crazy Danny Phantom AUs the Phandom can come up with. 🐛

@kinglazrus - Laz is so good at art and writing like WhAt!?!?!? One of her fics roped me into reading more Danny Phantom fanfics and that’s kind of how I ended up here? Love her. 👑

@thelegendaryloaf - Loaf is so funny!!?!?! Love her so much. A great artist and a great friend. I always laugh at the comments she leaves on my posts. 🐝

@going-dead - Riley can write. Like heck her writing is so good. I’ve read through her blog a few times and I’m completely and utterly blown away a each time. 📝

@phantombreadproject - Dallas is so sweet and an amazing artist! I love her style so much and she needs to realize how cute it is. 💛

@daddyphannypack - Tay’s quality DP blog. I’m pretty sure we are mutuals? Anyways, I smile when I see her in my feed. 💙

@voidetrap - Fen is an amazing writer and runs a solid quality Phandom blog. 🌌

@ectopusses - Zach’s memes are great. Quality Phandom blog. I looked up to this blog a lot when I first joined the Phandom on tumblr. 🧡

@ectolights - A solid Danny Phanom blog. Good content. I like their profile picture. 💚

@shinyspooks - Kimberly makes some amazing posts. Very funny and good concepts. I love reading though her blog. ✨

@horrendoushag - Hag is a good artist. A solid Danny Phantom blog and very active. 🖌

@sputniik-spaced-out - Sput has a good blog. I believe we are mutuals? Seems super cool and runs a good Phandom blog. ⭐️

@ifellbecausegravity - Not all Danny Phantom content, but I really like this blog. ☺️

@heyheyitsstillgay - Anri is so nice!!! Super good writer! 💜

@wolfsongroar - Wolf is a great artist and runs a top notch blog. Good memes. Much like. 💗

@snappingsound - My FAVE Danny Phantom fanfic. 100% recommend following the blog for amazing art and updates on the book. 🚬

@earthphantom - Monica’s art is SO GOOD. I love her style so much!!!

@the-nerdiest-nerd-in-the-galaxy - Jules is a sweetie. Multi fandom blog, but mostly Danny Phantom. 💙

@planetgalactica - Kitt is very nice and a good friend of mine. Very talented artist. 💞

@auroraphantasma - Aura has a good blog. Much love. Very Danny Phantom. 💖

@quishaphantom - Quisha is super nice. Good art and blog. 🧡

@ghosty-graveyard - Pj has an amazing art style!!!! I could scroll through this blog for hours looking at the amazing art. It’s SOOO gooddddd!!! ❤️

@amethystocean-adr - Amazing Danny Phantom style art. Super cool. 💫

@diddly-darn-ghost - Diddly isn’t super active, but there are some top notch shitposts and art. 🥚

@d-o-t-s - Dots is a great Phandom artist. I love her use of colors and textures! Makes me very happy when I see her post a new piece! 🌈

@what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me - Also an amazing Phandom artist!!!?! Like dang the art just pops! 💖

[mrswagangel]

Not Sorry

This is a @soulbounty fan fiction. The story universe and all characters except Brian belong to @whatthehaxx​. Check out their art blog: @haxxydraws!

Beatboxxx was having the time of her life. Her hips swayed to the club music. The beat was so loud it felt like it was clutching her heart and compelling her body to dance. She could feel Suxxubus grinding on her front and someone she most likely didn’t know grazing her back, but Beatboxxx didn’t care as long as they didn’t get in the way of her dancing. She had so much emotion and frustration to let loose with no time but now to release them.

Beatboxxx had a job to complete tonight. Yesterday she flirted her way across some intel of where she and Clwn could find their next target. Brian Cyan sold his soul 10 years ago to make his wife and kid “go away” in order to marry into wealth. It was time for him to pay his debt, but he managed to slip away. Beatboxxx found out he had a bit of a gambling addiction landing him to a gamblers club meeting at midnight a few blocks from where she was dancing.

There was nothing to do until the meeting, so there was nothing standing in her way of accepting Suxxubus’ invite to the club... as long as she met up with Clwn on time.

She started to run low on energy and thought it was a great time to get another drink, so Beatboxxx pulled Suxxubus towards the bar. The person who was dancing too close behind Beatboxxx grabbed her arm. She tried bruising some pink strands attached to her forehead via sweat from her face with a hand still on her arm. She finally looked and knew for a fact she didn’t know this person.

“You’re not leaving without me, are you?” The man asked. “I thought we were having so much fun.”

“I need a drink!” Beatboxxx yelled over the music.

“I can’t let a pretty girl like you get away! Let me buy you and your friend a drink!”

“No, thanks,” Beatboxxx said while removing his hand from her arm and immediately grabbing Suxxubus again. “My boyfriend is waiting at the bar for me!”

She quickly lost him in the crowd and made it to the bar.

“Let me get the fruitiest drink you got and a vodka cranberry!” Beatboxxx yelled at the bartender.

“Men!” Suxxubus complained.

“I know, right!” Like I let you grind on me a bit while I dance! That should be enough!”

“This is why I don’t let them even talk to me!” Suxxubus pointed out.

“That and you’re in no way attracted to them!” Beatboxxx tried to get out while laughing.

The bartender gave them their drinks and Suxxubus paid while Beatboxxx checked her phone.

“Shit!” Suxxubus looked over Beatboxxx’s shoulder at her phone screen to see 3 missed calls and 4 texts from Clwn. “It’s 2:22! I missed the job and Clwn is pissed.”

“Well at least you don’t need to watch the time anymore!”

“I’m gonna go,” Beatboxxx said after she drowned her drink. “Clwn might go on a murder spree and I gotta make sure he collected the soul. Sometimes he just kills the target and leaves the soul when he’s in one of his moods.”

“Alright! See ya, girly!”

Suxxubus turned toward the bar looking down for someone to hang with for the night as Beatboxxx grabbed her bag and left.

Beatboxxx found the gamblers club riddled with ambulances and cops. All the members looked confused and terrified letting Beatboxxx know Clwn used his reality warping on them. He at least didn’t go on a murder spree here. The lifeless body being hauled had no soul, so Clwn has the soul or already delivered it. All his text said was that he “handled” it.

There was nothing else for Beatboxxx to see, so she made her way to one more pitstop before heading home.

                                                            : : :

Just as Beatboxxx suspected Bootsman was hanging by his harness from the living room ceiling. Because Bootsman had no arms, Clown put him in a jacket that he sew weights inside the sleeves to keep the harness in place.

Bootsman stopped angrily squirming once he noticed Beatboxxx looking at him. She heard a faint whine echo in her head she probably wouldn’t have heard if she wasn’t focused on the gachapon imp.

Beatboxxx put down the pig she caught and roasted with her electrokinesis before helping Bootsman.

Clown had a tendency of fucking with Bootsman when he was upset with Beatboxxx. She’s the one who wanted him as a pet and yet he was the one who took care of Bootsman the most (not that Clwn would let Bootsman know this). Beatboxxx just never thought about the responsibilities or consequences that came with her decisions and actions. Beatboxxx could buy and show off all her gachapon imp merchandise, but couldn’t feed or walk Bootsman half of the time unless she knew Clwn was royally pissed with her (hence the roasted pig).

Once Beatboxxx got Bootsman down, he beelined to Clwn’s door to kick it repeatedly. It raddled with each kick. Beatboxxx ignored this in favor of ripping the pig apart with her bare hands for her and Bootsman to share.

After Beatboxxx finished dividing up the pig, she called Bootsman to come eat. He left Clwn’s bedroom door to fill his stomach. He stopped in front of Beatboxxx who now sat at the kitchen island with pig parts all over the surface. She picked up one piece while Bootsman almost split himself in half vertically revealing sharp teeth. Beatboxxx dropped the pork and Bootsman closed himself over it. Beatboxxx ate and occasionally dropped a piece in Bootsman’s awaiting mouth whenever he split himself.

Beatboxxx made no attempt to clean off the counter after they finished eating. Instead she gagged at the smell left on her clothes and hands from carrying and splitting the pork. 

She stripped on the way to the bathroom leaving a clothes trail in her wake. After she finished washing up and removed her make-up, she sat on the living room couch scrolling through Instagram. Suxxubus already posted pictures and videos of them, so she shared those on her story adding stickers and such. Bootsman surprisingly jumped on the couch to snuggle her side waiting for scratches. Really Beatboxxx was avoiding Clwn. His last text just said the words “Fuck you” with no emoji.

Beatboxxx knew she probably shouldn’t have gone to the club or at least kept a better track of time, but the last thing she wanted to do was tell Clwn that or anyone for that matter. Clwn was just always right and he was never nice about it either. It didn’t help that Bootsman kicked Clwn’s door as soon as she let him down. There’s no way Bootsman could’ve got down on his own meaning Clwn had to know Beatboxxx was back. If she goes straight to her room, there will be a bigger fight in the morning.

She looked back at Clwn’s texts:

   12:16am Where are you? You should’ve been here 15 minutes ago. 😡

   12:30am Forget it. I handed it. 😒

   1:30am I made turkey wings for dinner... you know, whatever you get back 😑

   2:13am Fuck you

Actually Beatboxxx couldn’t do this. She got up and headed to her room. As soon as she opened her door, Clwn opened his which was directly across from Beatboxxx’s. Beatboxxx reluctantly let go of her door knob and faced Clwn. Bootsman, sensing the tension, ran past Beatboxxx into her room and kicked the door closed behind him.

“Look. I-”

“You should’ve been there. We had a plan,” Clwn interrupted. “Do you think I like this job?”

“Yes?” Clwn didn’t move. The poncho didn’t reveal any hand movement and his mask stayed as the cynical clown face. Beatboxxx, however, did notice the slight leak of black matter from under his mask. “I mean you can legally— or at least legal-ish— kill. You love killing!”

“I prefer picking my own targets and not having to create sneaky plans, so humans don’t see me,” Clwn retorted.

“I swear I was keeping track of time.”

“No, you were too busy with Suxxubus to do your damn job!”

Beatboxxx covered her mouth to giggle.

“Are you seriously jealous? Is that why you cursed at me over text? Because I wouldn’t eat a romantic, homemade dinner with you?”

“No,” Clwn said while holding himself back from telling her off. “I want you to do your job PROPERLY for once.”

“It got done, didn’t it?”

“No. Thanks. To you.” Some of Clwn dripped on the floor from behind his mask. Beatboxxx couldn’t say she wasn’t a bit scared. Usually Clwn could hold his form together. Not now clearly.

“I was the one who found out where he would be!”

“You also need to follow through! You can plan all you want, but, if you don’t do the damn deed, what’s the fucking point?!”

The two just glared at each other. Beatboxxx clenched her fists causing nail dents in her palms while Clwn dripped a small puddle of black matter over his poncho and onto the floor.

He was right. He was always right and it pissed off Beatboxxx to no end. She just had to be patterned up with him of the all Soul Bounty demons.

“Fine,” she exhaled. “I’ll handle the next job by myself. Will that make us even?”

All the matter on the floor creeped up Clwn’s legs disappearing under his poncho only to reappear briefly at his neck to go back under his mask.

“That’s what I like to hear.” One of Clwn’s detached hands came from under his poncho to re-open his door. As she turned around to retreat into his room, he warned, “Don’t let this happen again.” The hand followed him into the room to close it behind him.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Beatboxx mocked as she finally went into her own room. Beatboxxx found Bootsman comfy in his bed. Clwn got him a dog bed as a joke. Although Bootsman was initially upset about it, all it took was a soft blanket for him to reluctantly sleep in it.

Beatboxxx decided to call it a night if you could call 3:45am bedtime. She crawled into her bed and layed down, not looking forward to handling the next mission. Clwn was usually the strategist, but she knew he wouldn’t offer any insight. She supposed she got herself into this one. She would figure it out somehow.

Just as Beatboxxx closed her eyes she heard her door open. This confirmed her suspicion. Clwn was seeking her attention today. He was more mad about her not showing up for dinner than he was about the job.

Nevertheless, she allowed him to get into bed with her. Once he settled, she rolled over to cuddle him. Beatboxxx was the only one of them that had arms, so Clwn reluctantly let her be the big spoon. It had nothing to do with the fact he was 1 foot shorter than her with his heels.

The 2 of them— 3 if you count Bootsman— had a lot to work on relationship-wise, but, for now, they were all tired.

“You smell like a pig.”

[electricprincess96]

I mean.. you could just tell me which specific shipping tag you intended to use and then spend 3 extra seconds "once every blue moon" to add it to you art reblogs. That's not an unreasonable request. Tumblr was built on the "customize your own experience" and politely asking for other people to tag specific things only improves the experience for everyone, because now other people will also be able to find or avoid something easier. That's it. It's not an insult against you or the ship.

But like... I don't tag shipping art often enough to bother with a specific tag, I also don't know what ships I'll be reblogging so I'm not gonna sit and tell you them because I just reblog what I come across, I don't have a strict "I only reblog these ships".

There are thousands of people on Tumblr who don't tag at all, I'm pretty good with my tags I just didn't bother to tag one piece of shipping art (that isn't even that egregious or problematic last I checked, like Sylvain/Ingrid isn't an out there ship, not super popular but I didn't think people hated it...).

Like I'm not getting defensive I'm just saying I don't see why people can't just scroll past a picture of a fictional couple they don't like. I've got folk that reblog Edeleth pictures onto my feed and I don't demand they change their habits for me, I either ignore it or in some cases drop the artist a like because I genuinely liked the artwork.

For me tagging is more about keeping irrelevant things out of certain tags specifically character and ship tags, I don't tag Edelgard in my critical posts because I don't want to impose my views on her fans and I'd appreciate it if others did the same with characters I like. However tags on reblogs don't impact those so me tagging reblogs at all is for my convenience if I ever want to look for something again by searching my own blog.

Also just an fyi the more someone tells me to do something, especially someone on the internet who I don't know and thus have no reason to really put any weight on their views of me, the less likely I am to actually do it.