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sovaharbor · 4 months

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"i think i'm already the demiurge," billy says suddenly.

teddy looks over at him, furrowing his brow. "what?"

"i think i'm already the demiurge," billy repeats. he sits up further in their bed, turning to look down at teddy. "i mean, like, think about it, babe. the demiurge is...omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient-- it's everywhere. everything. all the time. so, like, i'm technically already the demiurge, because the demiurge just, y'know, exists."

the furrow of teddy's brow only deepens. he reaches to take the bag of illicit brownie bites out of billy's hands. "you're done with these. three was plenty; five was clearly too much."

"it's not the brownies, tee!" billy exclaims. he slaps a newly-freed hand down on the mattress. "it's me. my brain! i'm cracking into the mainframe like a fucking hacker! and i'm serious, just listen to me! i'm already the demiurge, right? because my perception of time just hasn't caught up to that yet. so, because i think i'm not already the demiurge, that's what my reality reflects. it's, like, manifestation? but waaayyy more convoluted."

"okay, but how exactly does perception of time segue into manifestation? aren't those two different concepts?"

"demiurge existence is convoluted by nature, tee. be for real."

"ugh. i'm not high enough to go along with this," teddy mutters as he pops another brownie bite into his mouth. "keef goin'."

"gladly. so, okay. if the demi-urge is timeless and omnipresent and all those other omni-things, then that's where perception of time comes into play. because we're just perceiving things. right? i mean, obviously. how else are we existing right now? so we're perceiving things, but reality is based on our perception, therefore that's when manifestation comes into play, right? because all that really is, is, like, you trying to conform reality to what you want to perceive. so if i say, 'no! actually, i am the demi-urge, because i literally already am,' then that's manifestation! in a really fucked up way, anyway."

teddy blinks at billy. "but if you're just manifesting your way into being the demiurge...you're not actually the demiurge right now, right?"

billy groans loudly and dramatically, flopping back onto the mattress. "no! wrong! very wrong! the demiurge exists outside of time, tee. omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient! it just exists."

"but you're obviously not the demiurge right now? you're just my husband, billy kaplan-altman, who ate too many weed brownies--"

"tee, i am always the demiurge."

teddy blinks at him again, and this time says nothing.

billy stares right back at him.

"i'm always the demiurge," he repeats. there's something awfully solemn about his tone. "no matter what. i literally cannot escape it. because the demiurge just exists. i'm not the demiurge right now because i think i'm not, even when i actually am, because reality is perception, right? and if the demiurge just exists, outside of time, outside of the bounds of reality...then the demiurge exists right now. and who, teddy kaplan-altman, is the demiurge?"

"you," says teddy, quieter, more solemn himself.

"me," billy says with a nod. "i just haven't caught up to that yet. i've spent this whole time thinking it's something i need to work up to, when this whole time the demiurge has existed right under my nose. when i've existed right under my own nose."

teddy's silent for a few moments, before he rears back with a shake of his head. "nope. nuh-uh. i don't like that." he sits up, zips the bag of brownies shut, and promptly throws it across the bedroom. it hits the wall with a very sad crinkling noise, brownie bites jostled inside of it, and then falls on top of their dresser with another crinkling clatter. "we're gonna stop talking about this before you perceive yourself into demiurge-dom."

"i'm gonna perceive myself into demiurge-dom eventually! i technically already have--"

teddy quickly leans down, pressing a kiss to billy's lips to quiet him. but billy starts to argue /against/ his lips, so teddy pulls back and tells him, "are we going to make out or are you going to turn into the demiurge?"

billy purses his lips. "um..." he scrunches his nose. "well..." he shakes his head. "make out, definitely, thank you."

a few minutes later, though, billy blurts out that he thinks the sims is basically analogous to demiurge practice, and -- well, making out turns into making fucked up little sims characters, but that's definitely a normal friday night for a couple of losers who married their high school sweetheart twice.

#wickling #nobody look at me i think about them a lot despite never posting about them ever on here. sorry #teddy altman #billy kaplan #GOING TO BED NOW GOOD NIGHT.#summer's writing tag

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ruershrimo · 17 days

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f. megumi x reader | summer heat

“i’m bored.”

“i know,” comes megumi’s exasperated reply.

this year the heat waves of tokyo have encroached on a new high, light spilling in abundance from windows sparse in number like water overflowing from a tiny cup. you wrap your balmy arms around his neck, sweat on his silky smooth skin and bleeding through the fabric of his shirt, nearly bare without his uniform jacket on.

“I’d blow air onto you, but it would just make you feel hotter,” you say, landing an open-mouthed kiss on his cheek, your hands on your knees. he leans back on the edge of the bed in exhaustion, energy seeped out by the heat like blood sucked by a leech. curse japanese floors and carpets— always built for heat absorption in the winter. what if it was hot— really hot, like now?

“it’s fine. it’s too hot for anything right now.”

he has skin like snow— you wonder if, with the scalding summer sun on him, he’s going to end up with tanned skin by the end of september.

he’s right, though. even with his hand on your back, precariously near to your waist, the two of you aren’t set on doing anything and there isn’t any air conditioning in his room either. so you’re stuck here, faces hot and breath hotter, necks sweaty and bodies sweatier.

you place your legs over his and your forehead against his collarbone, comfortable and calm, even with the sweltering heat. at this point everything in your mind is swimming through warm waves as you feel more sweat trickle down your cheek.

“I wish we had summer uniforms.”

“I’ll go buy a fan next time,” he whispers into your scalp. his breath fans against your head like steam. he moves his hand from the sweat of your back, looping his arm around your neck. “it’s too damn hot, I can’t even think.”

you nuzzle your nose into the very top of his chest for a moment, before raising your head to peck a spot on the crook of his neck. “feels like an oven.”

you don’t mind the heat, though. not right now.

okay so this is horrible and really short but I wrote this earlier today while it was really hot just because it was really hot. there's not much to say; I live in malaysia. (this is going to flop but omg it's been SO HOT lately like. sweating all the time and i know i should expect it but STILL)

again, selamat hari raya!

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pmpwbrrs · 3 months

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I am NOT going to finish this even the thought of it makes me tired + its been so long.. i draw everything differently now + oh my fucking goooododddddddddDDDD + lyrics are not on point + i would rather eat a sock than continue working on this 😢

So I'll just chomp it all up into gifs and plomp it all here and finally close this coffin

The point was that Pebbles is just reliving main moments of his life. Everything flashes before his eyes, but distorted and strange and not all the way through, because the rot has eaten out of him almost everything that was responsible for his memories. He can't even remember the faces and names of his loved ones. But even so, shame and guilt and pain still suffocate him.

#it looks a bit silly in some places but thats how it was in summer of 2023 #rain world #rw #rw five pebbles #rw seven red suns #flashing #gif #distorted #corrupted #<- ..? idk man pl ask to tag #pmpwbrrs #also Tumblr please stop your this bullshit little thingie ehen you try tooo write in a chunk of text but instead you grab the whole paragra #h and when i try to escape i accidentally drag it to th trash can ans you delete everything #please man im trying to ralk englush you csnt do thos to me man noo *accidentally deletes another paragraph*

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elvisabutler · 5 months

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one night of sin

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( priest au ) x female reader word count: 3003 warnings: priest kink. religious talk. cheating ( reader is technically cheating on her boyfriend ). minor implications/ideas of entrapment. minor breeding mention ( like blink and you miss it ). cum swallowing. boot riding. oral ( male receiving ). an obscene amount of the words father presley used. elvis ia a catholic in this because that's my specific flavor of priest. improper confessional. author’s note: welcome to day 15 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, religious kink/priest kink with 68/69 era priest elvis presley x reader. so. long time no see? i got no excuse but to simply explain that when you need the us government to go fast, it'll go slow as molasses in january in yellowknife but when you need it to maybe go a little slower you end up concluding what has been a nearly 5 year long adventure in less than two months. america y'all. BUT. i'm back with a new shift, a sleeping pattern that enables me to not pass out every hour and a priest fic for the smut summer ( that's now just smut last half of the year ) to tide y'all over while i finish up spark and other shenanigans. pick your poison the elvis though to be honest.

"A woman like you should know better," Father Presley murmurs in your ear as he pulls you in for a hug. Unlike most Fathers the congregation has had, he's always been more of a tactile person. He's always joked that it came from his Pentecostal upbringing even as other there were always titters about how it came from actually being a Baptist. Father Presley would turn the other cheek though, a true sign of how he was a good godly man. A man who truly was meant for the cloth.

Yet, your body craves him, and you desire to be on your knees, praying to God and him for salvation. The Lord wouldn't allow the devil to tempt you so viciously with Father Presley. There had to be some good in this temptation. There had to be a plan you were yet to be privy to, but perhaps perhaps the Father might be.

"What did you mean by a woman like me?" You ask after the service legs crossed at the ankles in a plush chair, long after you should have left to spend time with your significant other. He was a boyfriend you had been steady with since college, and yet neither of you had decided to marry. Neither of you had decided to walk down that aisle despite both of your parents insisting on the union. You ought to be spending time with him, but more and more, you found yourself in the rectory with Father Presely discussing any number of topics. He was intellectually stimulating in a way those around you weren't, and you found yourself drawn like a moth to a flame to Father Presley's light.

Father Presley looks up from the papers he had been scribbling on, and you feel a shudder pass through you at the heat in his gaze. The Father shouldn't be looking at you like that. Your boyfriend barely looks at you like that, and yet here the Father was with eyes that set a fire ablaze inside you and underneath your skin. A part of you wants to hang your head in shame, to hide your face as if the Father is stripping your purity with every second he looks at you. If you were being honest with yourself- he already had been. A woman like you should know better than to fantasize about the man who God chose to lead the congregation you're a part of. You always found yourself in the late night hours before bed or the early morning hours before daylight, wondering how his plush lips would feel against your neck, sucking marks on your skin. You wondered how the occasional beard he grew would feel between your thighs and against your most intimate parts. Against your will your thighs clench at the thoughts that float unbidden to the forefront of your mind.

His eyes dart down to your clenched thighs and you see his nostrils flare before he speaks. "A woman who believes in God and who cares about how he sees her. You should know better than to fall for tricks the devil puts in front of you."

Tricks. The word feels like a joke bouncing about your head once it leaves his lips. Was that Father Presley confessing to you that he wasn't a force of good in the world? That he was sent by the devil himself to tempt young women such as yourself to the side of the dark. No, no, Father Presley wasn't that sort of man. Maybe he wasn't perfect but he loves God so much and the mere idea sends a shiver down your spine and through to your soul.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you swallow. "And what sort of tricks are those, Father?"

If you weren't paying attention to his face, you'd miss how his jaw clenches and miss how his hand tightens on a paper he's holding. You are paying attention. Rapt attention as you always do for Father Presley and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips. He may not be sent by the devil to tempt young women but maybe you were sent to tempt him. And it appears that it might be working. You're playing with fire though, hellfire and damnation you could joke but but something in the way Father Presley stands up from his desk and makes his way to the front of it has you willing to risk even more.

"You ain't naive, lil one," his voice is pitched so low you almost don't hear him but the words are there, just barely. "You're so innocent, so pure n' righteous but I know ya. Ya ain't the least bit naive. Ya know better than this."

To play with hellfire like this. Perhaps that was the point, perhaps you knew better and yet you also knew this was what you wanted. You wanted to see how far you could push Father Presley, you wanted to see if he would finally break and join you in having a mind swirling off and on with images of the two of you entwined together. Lips pressing against one another and against every body part. Your clit throbs at the memory of your dream from last night.

With a shaky exhale, you try to respond with something witty and charming and expected. "I'm only a woman, Father Presley. I- I'm not- I'm not as innocent as I once was."

You watch as something shifts in Father Presley at your words, how his jaw tenses and he finally moves the front of his desk to right in front of you. He's always been a bit taller than you, than most of the congregation, and yet you've never realized how overpowering that simple height difference could be. You've never quite realized how his broad shoulders and thick arms could cage you in with an ease until you found yourself in the position. Your breath comes in short pants as you swear Father Presley steals them from your chest. His eyes roam across your body, beginning at your open mouth, gliding down your neck and chest and down, down, down until he stops at your thighs.

The thighs that are clenched together so tightly he reckons you'd be able to form a diamond out of coal from the pressure. He can hear the whispers of the Lord telling him he shouldn't do anything. That this is a test the Lord wants him to pass. Yet the longer he looks at you, the longer he sees your chest rise and fall with shallow breaths of desire the louder the voice of the Devil is in his ear becomes. You want this, you need this. You deserve this for being such a pious young woman. You weren't like some other girls who thought they could throw themselves at him, no, you stayed pure and so very inviting for him.

He moves a hand to under your chin, grasping it lightly in an effort to have you look at him. His words leave his mouth in a murmur. "Have ya done somethin' ya need to confess?"

A burning fire rolls through his veins at the idea, threatening to envelop the two of you in hellfire from the Lord smiting you where you both sit. He watches as you open your mouth to speak only to have something akin to a low whine leave your lips. "Lil one, I asked you a question. Have ya done-"

The words are cut off by your answer, a measured response where you drag the words out. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

He's heard so many people say those words through tears and with husky breaths yet the way you say it has him needing his own confession. The way your eyes look up at him with desire and pure unadulterated need have him exhaling heavily. "When was your last confession?"

It was last week, he knows because you were always so dutiful in admitting when you had done wrong. The glint he sees in your eyes tells him you hadn't admitted this before, hadn't dreamed of putting this sin into words for him and for the Lord. That devilish voice becomes just a bit deeper, a bit more pronounced.

"Last week. But- Father, I- I've been keeping this a secret. From you and the Lord." Your voice shakes even as your gaze on Father Presley is steady. "I've- I've-"

"It's alright, lil one, this- this ain't any different than the other times you've confessed, you can jus' see me now. The Lord is forgiving if you're truly repentant, darlin'. are you?" His thumb brushes against your chin and it occurs to him that if he moved it just enough he could run his thumb over your lower lip, could coax them open like he was going to feed you a wafer. "Tell me what it is."

"I've thought of you sexually." You whisper quickly and quietly, your face and body heating up as if you've caught it on fire. Is this the Lord smiting you for finally admitting what you've done? Putting into actual words your desires and wants? "I've touched myself to the thought of you, Father. Touched between my legs and cried out for you to help me."

It's not that you mean to utter such filth so quickly and with such fervor but the more the fire burns within you the more you can't help it. Father Presley's gaze is unwavering even as his jaw tightens more and more with each passing word. You swear you see his eyes becoming hooded, a dangerous glint forming as his pupils start to widen and his nostrils flare. Against your better judgment, your hand sneaks up to his jaw.

"Don't," he growls, his grip on your chin tightening as he does. "Don't touch me like that. You- you know better."

The cracks that had always been there, miniscule as they were are widening with every second the two of you are in this room. His clerical collar is choking him, tightening like a vice grip the longer your hand stays on his jaw.

"Father Presley. Forgive me, but I want to. And I think you-" Stopping yourself, you take a deep breath. "I'll repent if I can just have one time with you."

A moment is all you have to regret the words that come out of your mouth before he backs away from you like he's been burned. Shame runs through your body infecting every inch of you as you start to get up, ready to run from the room. Hiding would be an acceptable alternative than seeing the look on his face become one of pure disappointment and distaste. So busy with the thoughts in your head, you don't realize that he's moved back in front of you until his hands grab your hips.

"One night," he commands with a tone that offers no questioning. The tone he uses at the pulpit, the one that forces everyone in the church to hang on to every single word that passes by his lips. A shiver runs through your body as you start to drop to your knees despite the way he tries to keep you from doing so. "Don't- Get back up here."

A head shake is the only response he gets as your hands move to the front of his slacks, shaking as you fumble with the button and the zipper. His cock is warm to the touch and firm as your brush against it and you wonder how it's supposed to cool the fire between your legs. If anything you worry it'll stroke it even higher and higher until it burns the two of you to ash and takes the church down with you. You've gone far to back down and once his pants are finally undone, his cock springs from its confines. He hadn't worn underwear, his bare cock had been so close and yet so far from you. You've never seen one before, not up close and personal but you know from the way his thighs tighten there's something different, something that makes him nervous as you lick your lips, admiring the head of his cock trying to peek out from the skin that surrounds it like a casing.

As your hand moves to grasp at his cock, Elvis grabs your wrist and holds it tight for a moment. "It's different, I know, lil one. But-"

If the ache between your legs didn't make you want to cry from sheer desire and if you had something to truly compare it to, you're certain you would have wanted to defend Father Presley's cock, tell him that you haven't seen anything more beautiful in all your years of living. Instead you allow yourself a tentative lick, looking up through your eyelashes to see Father Presley's head lean back, eyes looking up as if to pray for salvation.

His hand drops your wrist and moves to your shoulder, clenching and holding on for dear life as you play with the slit, unsure of how to move the skin around. You mouth at his cock, spreading your spit and his not small amount of precum around it. Noises you've only ever dreamed of ripping from his mouth exit in an unending stream as his hand moves to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you off as much as he can, even as your teeth graze at his cock. "Darlin' you- You gotta move up the skin, let 'im in your mouth fully."

His grip loosens the moment your hand slides his foreskin up and without missing a beat your mouth is back on him, tongue playing with the slit of his penis, and trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. What you can't get into your mouth, your hand grasps, trying to make sure every moment of this is something you can remember all those nights when you won't have this, won't have him. A hand makes it way to your hair and you whine around his cock, wanting him to do something with it. The chuckle he lets out, low and practically devilish is all the warning you get before his hand yanks at the ends of your hair. If your mouth wasn't full, you're certain you'd have cried out as you grind against the floor. As it is, he still hears you, still understands what he's done and yanks again, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.

"Takin' me so well, such a good woman. Saved your mouth and everything just for me, haven't ya? Been achin' wit' no relief from that boyfriend of yours. Jus' wanted a forbidden fruit like Eve, didn't ya?" He knows the words he's saying don't make sense, that it's murmured and muttered as he focuses on the warm heat of your mouth and the feel of your tongue against his cock and tracing the veins. "Lord's pushed us too far. Couldn't- Shoulda- Been wanting to taste ya for too long. Needed ya for too long."

He shouldn't admit this, shouldn't tell you these things but it's as if the devil himself has taken over his body and filled his mouth with every sinful thought he's had of the two of you. Your thighs clench and he moves his foot in between them, trying to give you something to grind down on proper. And grind down you do, whimpering and groaning around his cock, almost seeming to bounce as you chase a release while bringing him to his own.

"Devil put us in front of each other- tempted us till we broke but this- we'll get it outta our systems. Gonna forget all 'bout this after tonight. No one but us and the Lord'll know. Won't have anythin' to 'member tonight wit'."

You nod, even as your mind tells you that's not what you want. Even as your mind tells you that you want to remember this and that you want to beg him to give you something to remember this by. That's not what you're supposed to do, what either one of you are supposed to do and yet it doesn't stop the desire and need you have for it. It doesn't stop your mind from picturing a life past tonight with him as his grip tightens once more when he yanks and your clit brushes against the toe of his shoe. You feel your orgasm slam through you at that simple brush, already overstimulated and aching and you worry you're going to stain the carpet or the leather of his shoes but looking up, you realize he won't care.

"Gonna have ya swallow, lil one. Gonna be good for ya," he groans, even as his minds supplies an image of your face and hair painted with his cum. At another drag of your teeth along the underside of his cock, your mouth fills with the salty tang of his cum. Your mouth fills with it and you have to force yourself to start to swallow quickly to avoid choking. Your eyes burn from the effort but it slows quicker than you expect, leaving you exhaling through your nose heavily and inhaling the full musk of his pubic hair. His grip on your neck is the first thing you feel as you start to come back to yourself and you let him pull you off his cock, opening your mouth when you feel his thumb against your lower lip.

"Didn't waste a drop," he whispers, patting at your neck and motioning for you to stand up. Your legs are shaky but he helps, even as you fall against his chest, so warm and inviting.

"Father-" You start to speak only to be silenced by a finger to your lips as he starts to walk both of you back to his desk.

"For tonight, it's Elvis. Let me take care of you."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour @butlersxbirdy, @precious-lil-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @doll-elvis, @whatstruthgottodowithit. i literally think i used spark's last tag list. lord help me i don't even know.

#elvis presley #ally writes #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presely smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis x you #ally's wet hot smut summer #( am i missing a tag? probably. alas. )#priest elvis

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darubyprincx · 3 months

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#ray's tag #keys' writing #poetry #undescribed #i know everyone's probably sick and tired of hearing about america but did you know that it's beautiful here #i love the summer so much you dont even know and i will be so insufferable about it forever and ever

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fuckingwhateverdude · 2 years

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feelings and photos from a kodak disposable film camera, july 2022

#loving the disposable cameras….#my writing #my writing tag #july #august #poetry #prose #summer #spilled ink #poetryblr #poetry on tumblr #bipolar disorder #vent art #mental illness

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londonfoginacup · 1 year

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A New Larrie’s Guide to Tumblr

A probably incomprehensible, certainly incomplete list of what you need to know; whether you’re coming from a different platform or discovering Larry for the first time.

My credentials

Hello! I’m Emmu. I’ve had tumblr since… 2008? Maybe 2009. I moved over from deviantArt and used Tumblr as a personal art blog for many years. I joined the One Direction fandom in 2014, so my 1D blog has 8+ years at this point. That being said, I will get on my soapbox a bit during this. Please excuse me, I’m quite passionate about cultivating a happy and healthy fandom.

What makes Tumblr different

The biggest thing that makes Tumblr, as a site, different from Twitter or Instagram is the rejection of algorithms. The “following” tab on your dashboard is in chronological order (and if it isn’t, you can – and should – change that), and the “for you” tab is both a recent feature and rarely used. Tumblr has very little algorithm, and the algorithm they have isn’t very good. It means that you’ll get the most god awful ads you’ve ever seen on this site, because they don’t utilize your data well. And that’s to your advantage.

Tumblr is a great place because you can curate what you see more than other social media. The people that you choose to follow are the only people that you see on your dash (unless you choose to follow tags, which I guess is an option? @lululawrence says “it is and it used to not do anything unless you went to the search page and then it would like autofill your followed tags options, but NOW they take those followed tags and plop them on your dash... SOMETIMES. usually only on mobile. but if there's only one new post in the tag, it shows you that post OVER. AND OVER. AND OVER AGAIN. IT'S SUPER ANNOYING ACTUALLY. SO I STOPPED FOLLOWING TAGS. lol anyway”).

So, the site is in chronological order. This is its biggest selling point.

There is also the opportunity for long posts. Masterposts. Things that are searchable without having to read through pages of screenshots or condensed twitter threads. You can write a whole lot more without worrying about character limit. People publish whole fics on here (I suggest ao3 for that, but tumblr is technically an option!).

Another important thing to know about tumblr is that the archives on tumblr run deep. There are newer larries here, and a lot of them, but you can also find older larries. People whose 1D blogs go back to 2010 or 2011. You can dive into the archives and read firsthand accounts of what was happening with One Direction or larry at that very time. Doing a bit of research means you find cute fetus pictures of the boys, but also you’re able to figure out for yourself whether something actually happened. Rumors always seem to spread quite easily and fandom memory always seems impossibly short, but here on tumblr you’re able to find out for yourself. That means the next time you hear about how xyz thing happened a long time ago, check out some of those archives and see what you can find.

Also, my personal favorite part of tumblr is that old posts are just as valid as new posts. Find a masterpost about RBB and SBB from 2015? Go ahead and reblog that; bring it back to the circulating dash. People will love that. Find a fanartist that you really like? Search through their tags, reblog anything you want. It’s not considered stalking or weird in any way. We love bringing back old posts here. Tumblr is a website where you’re not meant to just talk about the present.

The cultural difference between Tumblr and Twitter

Speaking of the ways that tumblr and twitter are different, let’s talk for a moment about the 1D fandom in particular.

I’ve held this theory for a while that the twitter (and instagram) algorithm is fracturing the fandom. Because twitter is so dependent on the algorithm, people are more likely to split apart and join smaller and smaller communities based on smaller, more specific opinions. Tumblr, being a place where you don’t just get a post on your dash because someone else liked it, doesn’t have those smaller cliques. There are larries, and there are antis.

(if you get really in the weeds, there are also larry shippers [who don’t believe they’re together but like to read it in fic], and houis [who think they were together but broke up], but I just don’t hear about them as much).

While I do occasionally hear about blouies on my dash, for the most part this is a culture that exists primarily on other sites.

On another note, because tumblr doesn’t have that handy algorithm, we have to work to make it a more active space. Likes don’t do anything here for anyone other than you, and it doesn’t really change anything about what you’ll see on your dash. Think of them more like the bookmark setting on twitter or instagram. Reblogs are necessary to get anything spread. Anything that you enjoy, or that looks interesting for any reason? Reblog it! That’s the only way other people will see it! And leave a happy comment in the tags if you’ve got one (more on that later).

And, while lurkers do exist in this fandom (and we love them), it’s important to get an icon and blog header that make you look like a real person. People on tumblr have long been in the habit of blocking shady blogs, mostly because of a bot problem, so if you want to lurk, you have to look like a lurker. Maybe reblog a post or two to establish yourself, and make sure you don’t accidentally look like an icon-less bot posing as a sugar daddy.

How to set up your account

Okay, so you’ve got a tumblr. Let’s take a minute to fix up the settings so that you’re not getting, well, the worst version of the site.

My advice is to start by going into your dashboard preferences and:

Turn off the best stuff first (it’ll just show you things you’ve already seen)

Turn off “include stuff in your orbit” (you’ll see terrible posts that are mostly NOT in your orbit)

Turn off “Included based on your likes” (again, you’ll see posts you hate)

Turn off “shorten long posts”. It’s a ridiculous setting that, like many things on tumblr, had potential but was rolled out in an incredibly unhelpful and user unfriendly way.

Once you’ve got that squared away, go into filtering and block any tags and content you don’t like, as that is always proper fandom etiquette. Not seeing things you don’t like is your responsibility, not the responsibility of the person posting them. I personally suggest adding the topics you don’t want to see to both the content list and the filtered tags list, as that gives a much better likelihood of posts that are particularly unsavory for you getting caught by the filters. Please also note this might need to be done on both desktop and the app separately as, depending on where tumblr is at the moment, these filters do not always carry over from one application to the other.

Now scroll down to tumblr labs. These are their experimental things. Some are good! Some are very bad. They do change, though, so this might get out of date pretty fast.

Personally, I enabled fast queue

And disabled everything else

ALSO, an important note, if you are using the apple app, you need to go in and turn off the adult content filter. No idea offhand where that is, but it means posts that include tags like “mine” and “girl” are blocked. It’s ridiculous.

Who to follow and how to find them

So, you’ve got a new tumblr and need people to follow. This makes sense! To really fill up your dash, I’d suggest the following

Find one person you like. There’s a good chance you know at least someone from twitter who also has a tumblr, so you can start there. If you’re not from twitter, or are looking to start fresh, you can dive into the search function (I’ve never tried finding someone this way myself, but searching larry stylinson or something similar would probably get you started)

Find the people they reblog from and check out each of their blogs! Follow people that make you happy

Follow some update accounts! Thinking of some off the top of my head, there’s @HLUpdate, @Stylesnews, @dailytomlinson, @HLDailyUpdate, or @neilswaterbottles (there’s definitely more though).

Follow some fanart or fic rec accounts!

I’d always suggest @1d-fanart or @hlcreators for art.

For fic, you could check out @hlficlibrary, @ficsyoumayhavemissed, or @thelarriefics.

Or, recurring fic fests! @onedirectionbigbang or @wordplayfics, which happen every year.

And if you end up not enjoying someone you’ve followed? Unfollow them! It’ll make you happier.

How to interact with posts

Tumblr is all about tags. Do you have a comment or thought? Reblog a post and say your thought in the tags. That way anyone you follow will see it, and the person who made the post will see it. This way a post doesn’t end up with a lot of cluttery additions that don’t mean a lot to the average person reblogging it, but if you browse the tags of posts you’ll find lots of interesting things. Tags can be used to keep track of things, too, of course — some people tag all pictures with who’s in them, or tag art or fic with tags that mean they can find them again. Tags are versatile! But reblog, don’t just like, and tag! The more you interact, the happier content creators are!

What not to do

Don’t repost. If you see something you like on tumblr, reblog it. Even if it’s a really old piece of fanart (like circa 2011). Reblog that old post! Reposting means people don’t get credit, and it doesn’t link back to them. That’s not cool, and in the long term makes fandom less happy.

How to cultivate a happy and healthy fandom

Send happy anons! Ask how people are doing, do question memes, say how much you loved fic/art/edits, etc.

Reblog art. Reblog fic. Reblog what makes you laugh. The more you reblog, the more other people see, the more the fandom moves! Content creators just want their things seen; every time you reblog, their phone gets that little notification and you’ve given someone a bit of happiness.

Unfollow people who annoy you. Follow people who make you happy!

If someone has a take about 1D that you don’t agree with, don’t tell them or send them argumentative anons. Find people who will agree with you, and complain to them privately. Or make your own post, not shading anyone, just presenting your own opinion and theories!

Remember that everyone is a real person. Cut them some slack when you find them being annoying. But also, unfollow. Curate your dash.

#I made this like #in the spring? or summer #and then felt like it was too pretentious to post lmao #anyway maybe this will help someone!#foggy essays #that's a tag that WILL have more in it eventually #once i write my essay about Carolina #...which i was supposed to do back when it first came out lmao

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corrodedcoughin · 1 year

Text

little story about little Eddie and his 2 new friends | word count approx 2.5k | general audience rating | steve and eddie are kids and Wayne is a pushover

Wayne sometimes thinks it was a mistake, not taking in the boy. God no, he would never think of Eddie as anything other than an important and intrinsic part of his life, couldn't be without him, wouldn't want to be.

No, what Wayne worries about is how his readiness to help Eddie feel loved might contribute to the boy's difficulty in making friends.

It was an innocent enough request, Eddie asked for a pet as all young children do. He was so small and so wide eyed, just a scrap of an 8 year old with more feelings than he knew what to do with. Wayne knew he'd never hold up against any request Eddie made but he liked to pretend to himself that he could. And while technically he never pandered to the boy, yes Eddie usually got what he wanted but in a way that suited their means. Or so Wayne tells himself.

8 year old Eddie asked for a pet and a pet is what he got.

Eddie barrelled into the trailer door, backpack swinging off his arm and ready to be thrown into the corner. Planning to shoot off back out the door to do his usual; lift up rocks and inspect whatever bugs he could find, to grab sticks and imagine them as wizard staffs, to let his imagination finally run wild after hours of sitting still at a desk under too bright lights and too busy class rooms. In truth he wasn't really paying attention to the insides of the trailer, expecting it to be the same as always. It took a very pointed cough for Eddie to register that Wayne was unusually home from work, far earlier than normal, and a further loud clearing of the throat for Eddie to pay attention to what Wayne had placed on the kitchen table.

Right in the middle of the table, sitting in a beam of sunlight, was a cage and in that cage was what would soon become, Eddie's very reason for being. He crept up close, almost as if scared that any sudden movements would prove the whole thing to be a cruel illusion. He was brought out of his reverie by a pink nose wiggling at the bars, whiskers attached and twitching as the rest of the rat appeared.

'is he-? is he for real?' Eddie said with a gasp, hands inching towards the door of the cage.

Wayne had to suppress a laugh, trust this boy to be bowled over in wonder at a rat as if it were a puppy. He opened the contraption of the enclosure door and dipped his hand inside, allowing the rat to climb onto his palm. The guy from work assured him that this one was the most tame he had, inquisitive to a fault and oddly enough, desperate to be handled. Quite honestly, the perfect match for his well meaning but excitable nephew-near-enough-son.

'Yeah, yeah kid it's for real. And he's a she.' Wayne lets the rat sniff at Eddie's hands, little pink hands finding a platform on Eddie's palms, clearly holding himself a still as possible but if Wayne knew this boy, and he did, he knows that Eddie is so close to vibrating out of his skin, that containing that much excitement must be killing him.

'I don't care. Wayne, I don't! Can she sleep in my room? Does she know tricks? Can I teach her? What does she like? Can I take her to school? Please! Wayne!' He's started now, words pouring out of his mouth, tripping over himself to try and release every thought entering his brain at lightning speed.

'Woah, there' Wayne says pulling the rat up, cradling it in two hands, 'We got to be kind to her alright? She's only small. Doesn't know what loud noises are good and which are bad, okay?' He watches as Eddie nods vigorously, eyes never leaving the creature. 'Now you promised me you'd look after a pet so that's what's going to happen. She is your responsibility. That means cleaning, feeding and loving, got it?' Eddie nods again, tentatively reaching his hands up, the image of Oliver Twist springs to Wayne's mind.

Wayne comes around the kitchen table, crouches down to Eddie on creaky knees and hands the rat over, filling Eddie's small hands with a heartbeat and fur. Eddie giggles, watching as the rat surveils the new patch of skin its found itself on.

'Tickles, Wayne' and its said with such love and devotion Wayne almost feels his heart break

'Yeah son. She does, doesn't she?'

Of course it takes less than a week and Eddie and Sam are inseparable. As soon as Eddie gets home he's itching for his furry friend, delighting in the way she scampers around the room, over his arms and anywhere she can get. No matter what though, she always comes back to him. She can be digging in to a particularly interesting crevice behind the couch but she'll always come running back when she hears Eddie make a noise.

The thing is, Eddie is a pretty lonely kid. Not for lack of trying, don't get it wrong. Eddie tries to socialise he tries to talk to the other kids in his class, get them involved in his imaginary games and play pretend but being the new kid doesn't really do him any favours. Being the new kid that lives in the trailer park and a penchant for biting to show affection does him even less.

To Eddie, its him and Sam against the world. He can come home and know that his best friend will listen to all his problems, will stay close and won't run away even when he's extra loud or being 'a lot' as his teacher like to tell him. He's so tired of being told to use his 'quiet hands', his 'inside voice' and every other subdued phrase they try to press on him.

This particular day was a hard one, Sally Winters had said that Eddie was 'bad luck' and the word quickly spread around by recess. Eddie had thought he was making some progress with a couple of kids from the class, was thinking today might be the day that he finally got asked to play but that hope quickly got squashed. He had hopped up to the potential friends with a stick in his hand and a notion of being a pirate when they both looked at him like he was a monster, they couldn't get away fast enough. And Eddie couldn't find a place to hide quick enough before the fat and heavy tears fell from his eyes.

It was a long day and home time was his only saving grace.

Wayne knows somethings up, can tell in the way that Eddie isn't even really talking to Sam, hardly looking at the Tv despite the fact that Wayne very purposefully had put the cartoon Lord of the Rings movie on. The sure fire fall back he liked to keep in his back pocket. The trump card to get his kid happy. This time though? No luck. Looking at the kid makes a chasm open up in his gut, deep and full of overwhelming sadness that he just wants to stop, wants to find the solution to make this boy smile like the sun again. They don't talk much for the rest of the night but Wayne makes sure to stay close, stay awake in case he's needed. Eddie spends the time between dinner and bed sitting on the floor, side pressed up against Wayne's leg and playing fetch with bits of Wayne's whittling with Sam, not a word said.

Eddie wakes up the next morning with a plan and a devil may care attitude. Oh so carefully he maintains his usual routine; says good morning to Sam, carts her around the trailer as he washes his face and wanders into the kitchen, placing her in her secondary cage so she can eat breakfast with Eddie and Wayne - Eddie was adamant that they couldn't have meals without her, 'she's part of the family!' and soft hearted fool Wayne Munson agreed and an additional cage was sourced.

When breakfast is finished Eddie begins his usual rigmarole of dragging his feet to get out of his pjs and into his clothes, reluctant to grab his bag and go out the door. Same old protests as Wayne watches him walk out towards the school bus.

What is a new addition to the routine though, is Sam Munson hiding up the sleeve of a school boy and about to go on a secret and very dangerous mission. A mission to survive the school day.

Surprisingly, Eddie manages to keep Sam secret, keep her safe, the whole morning. He came prepared with snacks to make sure she was entertained and happy, he couldn't stand the thought of her being sad, her eyes get so big and her tail droops as well as her ears, it makes the whole of Eddie ache. But no, she's happy, or happy enough at least.

So the morning goes without a hitch, Eddie making noises to cover up any squeaks and keeping a hand in his pocket to reassure Sam, stowed in the pocket of his hoodie. He knows he's seen as 'weird' so what's a few extra noises? They are let out for recess and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, thinking this is his time to let Sam out, knowing she's desperate for some fresh air. Sure, she's peed in his hoodie pocket, but he can't really tell with it's dark colour and the layer of t-shirt between the wet material and his tummy.

He runs off to his usual corner, stuck between a bush and a tree and gently tips Sam out of his pocket, she scampers around his feet and gratefully accepts a broken off bit of cracker between her hands.

'Thanks for coming with me Sam. Everyone is so mean, its so stupid. I don't care. You are a better friend than any of those losers' He crouches down, hoping to find a twig to play fetch with. A game that he delights in, is immeasurably proud of her for learning it so quickly. 'Gonna find you the best stick Sam. Promise. Best stick for the best friend'

He continues muttering to himself and doesn't notice that he's getting progressively louder after finding a twig and beginning the game. Doesn't register that he's drawn unwanted attention with his happy shouts and encouragement until a body is crashing through the shrub he's hidden himself behind.

Sam doesn't notice either until the unexpected form is right in front of her and she bolts, running as fast as her legs will carry her and Eddie is right behind her, muttering under his breath as he trips over his own feet in an attempt to catch her 'oh shit oh no oh no oh no' He's pushing himself as hard as he can but it doesn't count for much, he never was the fastest. He keeps trying though but then a faster body is accelrating past him, in a evident bee line for Sam.

Without thinking, Eddie lets out a painful 'NO!' terrified of what might happen.

He knows people think rats are dirty, thinks they don't deserve love and don't deserve life. He doesn't want to imagine what this person's intent might be. Sam reaches a dead end up against the wall of the school and the body, the boy, stops infront of her. Scoops her up? Cradles her into his chest? Eddie...Eddie doesn't know what to think, he's prepared to fight this kid but then the boy is looking up at him with curious hazel eyes. Stroking Sam's head gently and with intent.

He holds Sam out, careful with his motions, trying to blow his brown floppy hair out of his face without disturbing the animal in his hands 'is she okay? is she yours? did I hurt her? she looks okay, is she?' Eddie gingerly steps forward and plucks Sam out of the boys hands, gives hera thorough inspection as the other boy continues

'I didn't mean to scare her I swear! I didn't even know you had her! I won't tell, I swear I wont! You know...you shouldn't really have a rat in school. If I promise not to tell can I play with you? I'm Steve'

Holding her close, Eddie squints at the boy, at Steve, and thinks. Thinks about how he looks nice, about how soft his hair looks and how he asked Eddie, Eddie!, to play, that he didn't give him a wide bearth and that he held Sam with such care. It isn't even a hard decision.

They spend the rest of recess together. Eddie shows Steve just how smart Sam. That she can play fetch, that she can run across one arm to the next, over your shoulders without losing balance. That she can twitch her whiskers and it seems like she's laughing at the joke Eddie tells her. That she laughs at the joke Steve tells her! Steve learns that she's named after somebody called Samwise and it doesn't matter that he's a boy because Sam is brave just like Samwise and smart and cares just as much. That Sam is Sam and Eddie is Frodo and together they can take on the world.

Steve asks if he can have a name too and Eddie calls him Legolas, doesn't tell him why. Doesn't say that Steve reminds him of the pretty elves described in the books Wayne reads out loud to Eddie. It doesn't matter, not really.

Recess ends and they shuffle back to the school doors, both of them lagging behind the others.

Eddie steels himself, knows he has to bring his misfortune up so that he can own in, so that his new friend doesn't find out from someone else. 'I'm bad luck you know. Sally...she said it. now everyone wont talk to me. I wont be mad if you don't either. I've got Sam. We'll be oaky! So you can just go, I don't care!' He knows he's getting wound up, he can't stop himself. He just wants the bandaid ripped off so he can start feeling sad quicker, get it over with sooner.

Before he can register is, Steve is wrapped around Eddie in a flash of a hug, careful to keep his tummy away from squashing Sam.

'Not bad luck to me. See you tomorrow Frodo' Steve whispers next to Eddie's ear and shuffles through the school door.

Eddie is in a daze of joy and happiness, thoughts rumbling through his head but none of them sticking as he journey back into his class room. Pure happiness radiating out of his body, he takes Sam out of his pocket and holds her up to his face 'Sam you made my bad luck go away!' kissing her on the forehead as he hears his teacher scream

'EDWARD MUNSON IS THAT A RAT?!'

So Wayne thought the already unpopular kid having a rat would make things worse. Turns out, he was wrong. Very, very wrong. He might have to start pocket inspections before school though.

--------------------------------------

also on ao3 if that's the preferred reading format for you

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #stranger things #hello is this thing on? hi ummm so i didn't think i'd write again for a very long time if ever #but choco mentioned rat boy eddie and idk this sprang forth #and i KNOW okay i KNOW its rusty and not good but i finally just wrote!! i wrote because i wanted to!! and i had FUN!!! IT DIDN'T FEEL #FORCED OR PAINFUL!!!!!#anyway i am half thinking of a part 2 but who knows maybe possible maybe not #either way it is a relief to know that i can actually have fun writing and not feel like i owe something to someone!!!!#its like when i startd back in the summer of last year!!!!!#idk man its silly and these tags are silly but i had fun and creating is fun and i missed having fun WITH it #probably wont write again for a while but thats OKAY!!!!#thank you anyone who reads this and any one who has ever been nice about my silly words #choco shout out to the jestie #okay okay sorry GBYE

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montypng · 1 year

Photo

out here in the desert, your shadow lives on without you (otherwise known as grief, in five acts)

[ID: a digital drawing of the girl from a high angle —her head is tilted, eyes tearing up angrily. large, shadow-like figures of the fabulous four stretch out behind her, each of them faceless and pictured in the position of their death. party poison’s chin is tilted upwards, jet star is outstretched, limbs askew, fun ghoul raises his arm, aiming their ray gun, and kobra kid falls backward, arm limply falling to his side and head turned away./end ID]

inspired by @graffitibible / @omegalomania’s incredible fic i’m not a messiah (just a mess)

#danger days #the girl #party poison #jet star #fun ghoul #kobra kid #ttlotfk #killjoys #my art #listen. to anyone reading the tags. if u havent read pray for disaster yet (the full fic series)#you are not living ur life to the fullest. PLEASE READ IT #im not about to write a whole essay in the tags but. oh my god #anyways i read it last summer and i havent stopped thinking abt it since #to ao3 author omegalomania: what the actual fuck. holy shit #u understand danger days like no one else im going to lose my mind

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xjustakay · 7 months

Text

(9/16) prompt: vision — 1,052 words (fame au pt.3; famous boyfriends pre-their first premiere together - pt.1, pt.2, pt.4, pt.5) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus is sure that Dorcas is pacing impatiently down in his building’s lobby while he finishes examining his reflection. She’s an ‘on time is late and early is on time’ sort of manager and Regulus tests that consistently. Especially since he and James started seeing each other, even more since they’ve gone public.

It’s their first premiere together, two months of their relationship being officially confirmed for the masses under their belt. Even Regulus is sometimes stunted by it still —the outpour of both shock and support that’s come from finally confirming that James is his boyfriend. The Marauders’ tour has been over for months, Regulus wrapped filming his latest project about a week and a half ago. Now, outside of their private time for just the two of them, it’s all various Hollywood events he’s invited to. Except it’s different now, because he gets to have James at his side walking carpets and taking photos.

He adjusts the collar of the white suit jacket his stylist picked out for him. They’ve forgone a shirt underneath and the jacket dips low down his bare chest when it’s left partially open. It leaves the diamond encrusted choker of pieces made to look like bones wrapped around his throat all the more apparent. The styling team had left a little while ago, giving him and James a brief bit of privacy before needing to leave.

Of course, most of that time thus far has been spent looking in a mirror, making sure he likes how he looks. He’s allowed to be a little vain, it’s practically in his job description. Regulus fluffs up the front of messily styled black curls before finally exiting the penthouse bathroom into the adjoined bedroom.

“Ready?” He asks.

James sits waiting for him at the foot of the bed in an all black crushed velvet suit; a picturesque opposite to the all white of Regulus’ ensemble. There’s a deep burgundy tie undone around his neck, left that way on purpose. A new pair of glasses were offered to him for the night, the squared-off frames the same shade of his silk tie, and they bring out the swirl of warm colors in James’ hazel eyes when he looks up from his phone.

Immediately upon his gaze landing on Regulus, James groans dramatically, like he’s in physical pain. He pinches his eyes shut tightly beneath the furrow of his brow, head slumping backward heavily on his neck.

“God, we have to break up right now. I can’t deal with you looking like this anymore.”

Regulus snorts, a smirk twitching at his lips. “Feels a bit dramatic.”

“I’ll write a song about the split and everything. It’ll be so clever, everyone will know it’s about you without trying. I’ll call it ‘Heartache On the Big Screen.’” James sweeps his hand in the air in example before he looks at him with a faint grin, brows lifted. “Are you seeing the vision? Because I’m seeing the vision.”

“Mm, little cheesy, if you ask me,” Regulus hums, moving nearer to stand in front of him. James’ knees part automatically to make room for him there, hands settling at Regulus’ hips when Regulus tucks a hand beneath his chin to tilt his head backwards. “You’re already thinking up lyrics, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” James nods, tilts his head down to kiss at the back of Regulus’ hand in response to the soft laugh he lets out. “How do you feel about ‘a tragic story, starring you and me’ for part of the chorus?”

“I hate you,” Regulus laughs further.

“Just adding to my heartbreak, love, you’re really doing me a favor here.”

“You make it so hard to date you.” It’s the world’s biggest fucking lie and Regulus knows it.

James’ eyes flash triumphantly like he knows it, too. “‘Started out like in the movies, but it ended like a bad dream.’ Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Mhm, keep it coming.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Regulus dips down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. James hums contently into it and Regulus can feel his unrelenting smile right against his own mouth. Both of James’ hands glide up beneath the back of his suit jacket, settling on the warm skin at his lower back.

It’s enough for Regulus to inch back, their lips still brushing as he murmurs, “Don’t fuck up this outfit, baby.”

“I’ll save that for later.” James winks at him.

With a huff of a laugh, Regulus pushes against his shoulders to put a little distance between them. He takes a small step back but holds out one hand expectantly for his boyfriend.

“Car’s waiting downstairs, Dorcas said. We should get to the photo op’s before you make up anymore fake songs.”

“Fake songs,” James scoffs playfully, taking his hand and standing up. “I’m writing it, it’s so real.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Just you wait, Reg. It’s going to be a fan favorite.”

“You’re lucky I like you so much.”

James chuckles behind him as they get to the front door, crowds into Regulus’ back as he presses the needed buttons for the security system. James loops his arms around his waist from behind and hugs around him. A couple kisses at the side of his neck. Another hum right beside his ear that Regulus can hear the smile present in.

Regulus resists the instinctive urge to tilt back into him, open himself up fully to the physical attention. He can’t afford to go into this premiere looking rumpled or someone (Dorcas) really might kill him.

“I am lucky, you know,” James says softly; so sweet, so full of an adoration that nine months ago might have had Regulus bolting away in seconds.

Instead, now, Regulus turns his head to look at James sideways, affection bright in his own shining eyes. He kisses once at the line of James’ jaw, a second time at his cheek, a third at the corner of his mouth. It’s soft and it’s tender —an isolated moment of knowing that this is real and they’re finally letting themselves have it, have each other.

Then, Regulus jokingly ruins it when he says, “Yeah, you really are.”

James only laughs loudly as he’s tugged by the hand out of the apartment and toward the elevator.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #movie star reg and musician jamie my beloveds #s/o to 5 seconds of summer for the song james is talking about writing lmao #and s/o to mil for pointing out to me that fame au james would write it #also timmy’s bones and all look at london film festival #okay rambled in the tags bye #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing

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