#tip of the hats 2018

[darcyolsson]

in loving memory of tumblr's april fools' pranks 💐 2014 - 2024

icymi, tumblr used to do an elaborate april fool's prank every year, but this year they suddenly stopped. here's a somewhat detailed recap of everything they did over the decade:

2013 - mishapocalypse (honourable mention): tumblr staff didn’t start doing april fools until 2014, but the mishapocalypse happened on tumblr in 2013 and i feel like this list would be incomplete without it

2014 - tumblrpro: upon opening your dash you were greeted by an “inspirational” video, that ended with the option to get “tumblrpro (for free)”. all it did was put a top hat on your icon.

2015 - tumblr executivesuite/coppy: a copying machine appeared in the corner of your dash. it would offer tips on how to use tumblr, like clippy the paperclip used to do in microsoft word. as the day went on, it slowly broke down and died right in front of your eyes. many people hated him (but not me). you could also make a (small) spreadsheet. @executivesuite2016 is the official blog.

2016 - this is decision/lizard election/tumblrdecides: a parody of the 2016 US elections. there were 4 lizards (well, one of them turned out to be a salamander in a scandal) to vote for. the dash looked different and there was a live news report with election updates, as well as an election blog for each lizard. they all had their own slogans and you would get an "i voted" button after you voted that would get slapped next to your icon. there were built-in functions to make an election poster for your favourite lizard and to create a text post that supported your lizard of choice that autogenerated a statement for all your followers to read. imo tumblr’s april fools peak. @thisisdecision2016-blog is the official blog, @mop-2016-blog @wretchedtooth @timefordeborah-blog were candidates. rick also had a blog (rick-official) but that now seems to have vanished because he ended up dropping out of the election. mop won, if you're curious. by far the most elaborate prank tumblr ever did.

2017 - horse friend: a tamagotchi-inspired game where you had to take care of a little horse in the corner of your screen. it came with a randomly generated name, and you had to feed and clean up after it. if you didnt take good care of it, it died. you could then hatch (yes, hatch) a new one. there was also an option to look at the names of all your dead horses. this is now available to buy in the tumblr shop. @horse-friends is the official blog.

2018 - tumblcoin: a parody of cryptocurrency (this was the year bitcoin took off). you could ‘invest’ in tumblcoin, with which you could in turn buy things with to spice up your dash, including last year’s horse friend, coppy from 2015, and a frame for around your icon. you could share the amount of tumblcoin you owned in an automatically generated gif post which would be tagged #tbc2018 and #tumblcoin. @tumblcoin is the official blog.

2019 - @memories: this blog still functions the way it did on april fools itself! it's like mad libs, where it takes post templates and then adds in tags you use a lot and users you frequently interact with on your main blog. like a personalized shitpost bot.

2020 - group chat prank/@storybot: it was so hard to find info on this because it was contained entirely in the now-defunct group chat function, which no one used. i had to go through the notes of this post for information because no one cared enough to actually write anything explaining it. turns out, you could write a story with your mutuals by adding storybot to your group chat. it also kept working after april fools (well, up until the group chats were deleted) just like memories. many people missed out on it entirely because they did not use the group chat function.

2021 - tumblcryptids: tumblr allowed you to adopt “non-fungible tumblcryptids”, a parody of NFTs. clicking a button that said "Summon thy Tumblrcryptid" would spawn an image of a little blob-shaped creature with a short description, which would always read "Hi! My name is [randomly generated name]. I love [thing most people like]. I hate [thing most people dislike]. Like my parent, I can't get enough of #[tag from your main blog]." you could share them in a post, which would automatically add the tag #NFTumblcryptids to your post. and yes, people on the piss on the poor website freaked out about it because they thought they were real NFTs harming the environment. @tumblcryptidadoptioncenter is the official blog.

2022 - click-a-thon: when you clicked a light switch on your dashboard, a bunch of colourful things showed up, like a sponge you could move around, an "engagament meter", clickable buttons, and a “Summon Crab!” button, which would summon a crab when you clicked it. you could. the crabs, like horse friend, are still available in the tumblr store as of 2025. here's some screenshots. there were various ways to share your crab activities, which would all get tagged #april fools 2022. the prank was presented as a marketing technique created by Brick Whartley, a fictional businessman character created by tumblr, who (afaik) originated in a post on the official blog of the 2018 april fools prank, albeit originally in a different role. around this time he also started functioning as the mascot for tumblr's shop ( @emporium )

2023 - abstract reactions (emoji reacts): buttons were added to every post that allowed you to add emoji reactions, many of them based on tumblr inside jokes (horse as a reference to horse plinko/horse friend, vanilla for the vanilla extract meme, pikaman, bug for bug race, and brick whartley, who wasn't a meme but staff really wanted him to be). if one specific emoji was used a certain amount of times it would add an effect to the post, eg many cheese emoji reacts would cover the post in cheese. this was also attributed to Brick Whartley ("his" blog @brickwhartley also documented the day)

2024 - boop-o-meter: allowed you to “boop” other users who had opted in to the booping, like facebook’s poke feature back in the day. depending on how long you held the button, you would either boop, super boop, or evil boop. on the dashboard there was a counter for both how many times you had booped others and how many times others had booped you, as well as how many boops were given side-wide. when booping someone, an image of a cat paw appeared. you would get badges (which can still be used) for booping 1, 100 and 1000 times. if you gave/received more than 999 boops, the counter would switch to showing a three-letter word (see this post for specifics). this was brought back for halloween 2024 (as BOOp-o-meter. get it), with a ghost, skeleton and mummy paw. no official blog, but here's an official recap for april first from staff. i believe this was the only april fools prank that was mobile user friendly.

2025 - @fandom is running some polls, i guess

[jess-total-mess]

I went digging through youtube, old posts, and shitty websites, along with my memories, and here you go! Hopefully these are accurate.

2013 — Unoffical Tumblr event “Mishapocalypse” happened, an online flash mob event wherein which Tumblrinas change their profile pictures to a specific picture of Misha Collins of Supernatural fame.

2014 — Users were given the option to get Tumblr Pro for free, and those who accepted were given top hats on their icons. Prompty after this, @staff announced that “Everyone with a top hat is now marked for account deletion. This is the only way we could destroy this horrible website. Happy April Fools day.”

2015 — The “Executive Suite 2016 Productivity Edition” essentially changed Tumblr into office software, allowing spreadsheets for memes, calculators that gave incorrect answers, and Coppy. Who gave “helpful tips”.

2016 — Tumblr voted to select the “new lizard king”, from Rick, Debrah, Mop and Wretched Tooth. However, more famously, an edited @staff post reads “for april fools we’re deleting this entire site sayonara you weeaboo shits”.

2017 — The Tumblr Horse Game was a feature that, when clicked, took users to a game wherein you had to collect shit from a pixelated horse. If you failed to do so, the horse died.

2018 — The answer to Bitcoin, is Tumblcoin! A parody of crytocurency.

2019 — Tumblr Memories, in which Tumbeasts were set loose. Remember them? The mascot from 2011, for service interruption announcements.

2020 — There was seemingly no prank this year. This was COVID-19.

2021 — Tumblr released “non-fungible tumblcryptids”, a parody of NFTs. There was a supposedly limited amount of them.

2022 — A light switch, when activated, would open up a variety of colourful things on the desktop dashboard, including a “Summon Crab!” button, which would summon a crab when activated. Other buttons made different sounds.

2023 — A feature similar to the Discord reaction function was temporarily added, using basic emojis.

2024 — Every user was given the option to opt-in to the boop o meter, and could boop, super boop, and evil boop other users who also opted in, earning up to three badges by doing so.

[oligbia]

Orange Skies --- Chapter One --- Table of Contents cowboy!Wakatoshi Ushijima X Reader X Satori Tendou

This was the last place you wanted to be. 

This town moved too slow, thought too small, and there was ample amount of nothing to do and see. It was home, sure, and you did grow up here. But there were reasons you moved away. The city, while it was over 500 miles away, was where you wanted to be — no, needed to be. 

The company you worked for went bankrupt, you were laid off, and rent got too expensive. Your grandmother was eager to let you move back in, even if it was literally one of the last things you wanted to do. 

So, you came back home with however much you could fit in your car and sold the rest. And now, on a Friday night as the sun is almost completely set, you are stuck at the only gas station in town, which also serves as the only liquor store, alone and mildly depressed. 

Back in the city, you probably would have been picking an outfit to go out, or maybe already had a foot out the door, ready to go to a nearby friend’s apartment to pregame on cheap drinks in a tiny kitchen.

But here, you’re alone. You’ve got a t-shirt and sneakers on — the cowboy boots from your childhood are too far gone and the pumps you’d wear in the city are in some box at your grandmother’s house now. Two different pasts stuffed down deep inside for you to confront a different day. 

You lean absently against your 2018 Toyota Corolla, scrolling through your phone absently, social media being both a bore and an attention fill. 

A large truck pulled up to the pump next to yours — a large black pick up truck. It had to be from the 1960s. Sat in the driver's seat was a tanned, broad shouldered man who didn’t bat an eye to look your way. His black cowboy hat sat low on his head, his dark brown hair poking out from the sides as he chewed on a toothpick. 

His friend hopped out of the car, leaner but just as tall with red hair fair that looked long and thick. He wore a light brown cowboy hat with a thick leather hatband that was embroidered red flowers. He was not as mysterious as his friend, not with the way his resting face featured a grin. He looked you up and down unapologetically when he lifted the gas pump and placed the nozzle into his friend’s truck.   

“You from around here, sweet thing?” 

You roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his voice had a warm tenor to it, and that his short sleeved shirt and jeans were well fitted — he wasn’t as built out like his friend but wasn’t bad looking either. He was attractive in a way where you’ve never seen someone quite like him yet you can’t look away.

“Who’s asking?” You ask without looking up from your phone, trying to sound uninterested and sarcastic, but your voice was warm in a way that suggested you had at least been intrigued.

“Satori Tendou is asking,” he offers you a hand to shake, his grin growing a little wider as his eyes land on yours, full of something playful and a genuine interest. You smirk and push yourself off your car and shake his hand. 

“Y/N L/N”

He whistles high and lets his hand hold yours a little longer than is cordial, “Pretty name,” he says with a wink. He tips his hat a little when he lets go of your hand, giving you a look at his large hands with long, slender fingers. He has pretty hands. 

You narrow your eyes a little at him, unsure of the game he’s playing at. In the city, if a boy ever tried what he did, you’d give them the finger and move on, maybe hit them with some pepper spray. But this Satori character seemed safe enough- or at least piqued your curiosity enough to make you want to play along. 

“My buddy and I are getting a 12 pack then heading to a kick back” he gestures his backwards at the mystery man in the driver’s seat of the truck. He still wasn’t looking at you, but was watching Satori from the review window.  “Would love it if you’d come with us”

You narrow your eyes, “What about my car?” 

He chuckles a little, “Ain’t nobody around here gonna steal a city whip like that. Leave it here, we’ll get you back safe to it.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “City whip?” 

“City whip… you really want me to think you bought a little city car like that ‘round here?” He grins larger, “Think bout it while I run inside, alright pretty thing?” 

He gives you one last wink before turning to run inside the liquor store, leaving the truck to keep filling with gas. You laugh a little to yourself as he leaves and run your hand through your hair, because how else do you react to an interaction like that? 

 The mystery man inside watches something from his side mirror, his long arm half out his rolled-down window, resting his chin on his hand as he watches whatever caught his eye.

“You should come.” 

The voice is low and smooth, deep with a bass and a little twang. Apparently, you are the thing he was watching from his side mirror. You take the gas pump out of your car and back to the main tank. 

“Do you have a name too? Or you wanna keep it a secret?” 

He doesn’t laugh, but you swear you catch the corner of his lips twitch from a frown to a small smirk. His eyes find yours in his side mirror for a brief second, he looks away again. 

“Wakatoshi Ushijima.” 

As if on cue, Satori walks back out with a 12 pack of Modelos and that stupid grin when he sees you’re still there. He tosses them into the bed of the truck and removes the gas pump. He looks at you expectantly, hands crossed in front of him. 

“Well, what do you say?” He opens the passenger door of the truck and looks you up and down again, offering a hand.

Inspiration and beta reading from @deardaichi / @pomigranit

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This work will contain NSFW chapters that will be published on AO3. They are able to be skipped without the reader losing context.

This work can also be found on AO3, updating on the same schedule.

© oligbia― all rights reserved. modifying, copying or/and translating of any kind is not permitted. plagiarism is not tolerated. These characters do not belong to me.

[ackermansundercut]

Swing Dancin'

Summary: She was lucky enough to have a regular gig as a singer at a club in Brooklyn, and he was simply the beautiful soldier she had stolen a drink from. 

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 1940’s James Buchanan Barnes is a warning, fluff, no angst, implications of smut but not explicit, my first fic in like 5 years please be gentle with me (If you remember this fic from my bucky account I had in 2018 ily and this is the much better, edited version)

Amber lighting illuminated swirling dresses and sparkling crystal glass, the smell of cigar smoke floating through breezes of laughter spilling from the dance floor and the bar. This was her environment, the comfort she thrived in. Women in dresses and skirts that tickled their legs as they were twirled by men in uniform, enjoying normalcy for as long as possible before loading up and shipping off to fight in the war. Y/N got to observe this environment every Friday night. Sometimes, if she let out a saccharine giggle and held back her vomit when the club manager Louis touched her ass and made sleazy remarks, Saturdays too.

Minutes before her set, Y/N was reapplying her cherry red lipstick to her lips, half listening to the soldier holding her compact for her as he chattered on about something or the other. Maybe complimenting the deep blue of her dress, or the way it plunged just a little more than all of the other girls’ in the room, or her beautiful hair done up in curls. Nothing significant enough for Y/N to pay attention to, and certainly nothing that she hadn’t heard before. The man was less than charming and bordering on leery, and it looked as if he didn’t brush his teeth. Y/N  got to her feet gracefully, the click of her heels muted in the noise. She shot the soldier a small smirk of a smile, lightly plucking her compact from his fingers and snapping it shut, slipping it into her clutch. 

“Thanks darlin’,” y/n hummed ever so sweetly. She left the soldier slack jawed with an absentminded pat on his cheek and turned her gaze towards the stage, shooting a smile at the band who were finishing up with a fun bit of a jazz jive.

 Sammy, the bassist, got the attention of the rest of the band and nodded at them, giving them the cue to wrap up the last few riffs so he could announce the woman just as he had every week for the past two months, since she had moved back to Brooklyn and secured this gig. With a final crescendo of the brass, the band was done, and Sammy was at the mic with a charismatic smile. 

“Now, now, now, listen up y’all. I’m glad we’re all havin’ a good time, and it’s about to get a whole lot better! ‘Cause we got one of the best singin’ dames in Brooklyn back tonight!” Sammy shouted the last few words enthusiastically, and there was a chorus of drunken and sober shouts of approval alike accompanied by raucous applause. Y/N rolled her eyes, her smile still adorning her lips and a light flush visible high on her cheekbones. She absentmindedly patted her hair, smoothing her dress once more. In the split second before she was meant to take the stage, movement beside her shoulder caught her attention. With a quick glance to her right, Y/N  snatched a glass of amber alcohol out of the oblivious soldier's hand and downed it in one go, the burn welcome in her throat. The man, once he had worked through a moment of shock at what exactly just happened, protested, but when she turned her gaze to him and his greyish blue eyes met her beautiful, enthralling ones, his voice caught in his throat. She dropped her mascara coated eyelashes into a demure wink at the admittedly handsome man, a smile on her cherry lips. 

“Thanks for the drink, soldier,” she said sweetly, sparing him one last glance before swanning up the steps to the stage. Her lips curled back in place as she flashed a brilliant smile to Sammy, who handed her the microphone and tipped his hat before moving back to stand beside his bass. She glanced out at the audience, smatterings of applause meeting her in any direction she shifted her gaze. 

She recognized a few faces, regulars of this particular club. Others were new. She noticed the soldier she had used as a mirror holder, and the soldier she had stolen the drink from. She had seen him a few times before, and who could forget those eyes? She also recognized a few other faces, a man with whom she had slept with once or twice because he said he drove fast, and she liked feeling alive. A girl who she had saved from a creep, and a few simply damn good swing dancers who made their impression on the singer. The new ones were always the most interesting, though, because she tried to guess who she would see next week, and who, on the off chance, would tip her for her singing. 

“Well, aren’t you all just a sweet crowd,” she hummed into the microphone, shooting a dazzling  smile at the audience as she adjusted it to her height, garnering her some whistles and shouts of the positive sort, making her smile internally to match the one playing on her lips. Good crowd tonight. “I believe our lovely Sammy over there did a mighty fine job of introducing me, so I might as well go ahead and start singing,” she let out a peal of laughter that was as enthralling as the notes that slid past her cherry lips as she sang. She had one hand on the mic stand, the other delicately placed on the mic itself as she started her first song of the night, a fast jazzy crowd-pleaser about a little bit of love on a hot summer night in Hollywood. She moved her hips as she sang, a smirk or a grin adorning her lips throughout the entirety of her set. She loved watching the crowd dance as she sang, though she couldn’t help the way her eyes strayed to where a specific soldier was dancing with a beautiful girl, though his eyes weren’t on his date. Every single time Y/N unwittingly allowed her gaze to drift to that section of the floor, his eyes were on hers as she moved her hips and sang her pretty little heart out in that sultry, swing voice of hers. Through every song, the slow and the fast, she met his eyes at least once. At one point, during her third or fourth song, he went to the bar and perched himself next to a skinny blonde boy, but never took his eyes off of the woman commanding the attention of the room from the small stage.

Y/N finished her set after her second extra song, pushing the time limit that Louis had set for her, laughter bubbling past her lips as she caught a rose thrown from somewhere in the crowd. She quirked an eyebrow and grinned, facetiously placing it between her teeth and turning to Sammy with an exaggerated curtsy, who without hesitation swung the woman around in just enough dance to give the audience a good laugh. 

“I thank you all kindly, you’ve been more than darling. Now, back to the band!” Y/N called out into the microphone before winking at the crowd and descending the few steps to the floor level. As per usual, there were a few people at the base of the stairs telling her she did well, and a few bold men doing their best to take her home with them tonight. She graciously accepted the praise, kissing a few cheeks and reminding everyone she’d be here next week as well. And as soon as she could, she slipped back to the bar, weaving between dancing couples until she was leaning against the hardwood. 

“Hey baby, give me something strong,” she called to the bartender, who flashed her a smile and nodded, reaching for the bourbon as he responded. 

“Amazing as always, y/n!” 

He was just handing her the glass, the cool surface barely skimming her fingertips before it was stolen out of her hand and downed by none other than the soldier she had stolen a drink from at the beginning of the night. She couldn’t help the abrupt laugh that escaped her throat, an eyebrow raised as she raised a hand at the bartender for another drink . 

“I suppose we’re even now, aren’t we soldier?” 

“I suppose we are, doll,” he said sweetly and leaned against the bar beside her, a crooked smile on his lips. She took a moment to study his face. He was handsome, sure, but it was the easy nature of his smile and the light of life in his stormy ocean eyes that drew her in. He had his hat sitting cocked on his head, and the way his uniform fit perfectly across his broad shoulders made something flutter in her lower stomach. She grabbed her drink from the bartender with a grin of thanks and took a small sip as she examined the man in front of her.

“What did you think of the show…?” She trailed off, opening the door for him to offer his name. 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, ma’am,” he shot her another smirk, tipping his hat, “at your service. I think I truly did see one of the most beautiful, best singin’ dames in this country,” James said. There was a light blush threatening to creep up Y/N’s cheeks, but she tilted her chin down for a moment to attempt to keep it at bay. She fluttered her eyelashes a bit, pulling her painted lower lip between her teeth. She hummed thoughtfully for only a few moments before her fingertips were seizing the rim of her glass, and she was downing her entire drink, setting the glass back on the table. James was looking at her with an open expression of amusement and curiosity, and she felt the corners of her lips curling into a genuine smile subconsciously. 

“I think you want to ask me to dance, Sergeant,” Y/N stated, her eyebrow raised and mirth dancing in her eyes. James Buchanan Barnes mirrored her expression, nodding after a millisecond of thought with a chuckle and offering his hand. 

“Well then, doll, it would be my pleasure if you accompanied me in a dance,” James said. Y/N didn’t respond with words, only settling her hand in the larger, rougher one of James Barnes, allowing him to pull her into the center of the dance floor. He swung her around for more than just one dance, spinning her from left to right and lifting her off the floor into his arms, and then back to the ground to twirl some more. He left her breathless, both from the dancing and his charm. It was as if the expression of joy was glued to y/n’s face, laughter spilling past her lips with each dip and turn. James Buchanan Barnes knew how to dance. Y/N was no stranger to dancing with, well, strangers, but she had never felt so at ease with anyone else. James had an aura to him, a warmth that radiated and filled her chest with more than a few butterflies.

Soon enough, the boys on stage slowed the pace to a smoother, crooning song, and Y/N found herself pressed close to James’ chest. His cologne clouded any sort of thought in her mind, and she couldn’t help but reach up with a delicate hand to rest on his clean shaven jaw. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied on her waist mirrored her touch, sliding up her shoulder to cup the back of her neck. Y/N felt her breath catch between her parted lips as James’ smirk melted into something sweeter, and an irresistible magnetic pull drew their lips together. The moment their lips met, what began as a sweet, soft, first kiss dissolved into one with more heat, more want, more everything and it felt as if every nerve that ran through Y/N’s body had gained a static charge. The noise of the band and the din of the people surrounding the pair dimmed in comparison to the blood rushing through Y/N’s ears, and she went as long as her singer lungs would allow before the burning need for oxygen forced her to pull away from the sergeant's lips. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he had a boyish grin on his lips when he caught her gaze.

“You wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” James murmured, his voice only audible to her. She nodded, a clever smirk back on her red lips as she looked up at the soldier through her eyelashes. 

“C’mon, let’s go to my place,” she said. And they went, James waving to his friend that Y/N had seen him sitting with earlier, and Y/N stopping for a moment to collect her tips from the night. Once outside of the club, James had Y/N pressed against the wall outside of the club for another kiss, his lips cascading down the column of her throat and causing a whine or two to escape Y/N. She interrupted him when a cab finally paid attention to her halfhearted hailing, and she lightly shoved at James’ chest to get his attention and get him into the car before the impatient driver left without them. Y/N managed to give the cabbie her address, a small apartment above a family owned grocery store, before James’ insatiable lips were back on hers. 

The pair shared countless kisses in the back of the car, their hands becoming more daring with each minute of the short ride. It wasn’t long before the car stopped and the annoyed cabbie grumbled something or another at the couple, so she tossed a bit of cash over the seat to the driver and grabbed James’ hand, pulling him up the stairs and fumbling with the lock, giggling when James kissed her neck impatiently from behind her. When she finally got the old door open and had taken only a step inside her apartment, James closed the door with his foot and had his hands on her waist as if they belonged nowhere else. He had her spun around and pressed to the door before she even got a chance to catch her breath, and he took a moment to appreciate the dazed look in her eyes. Y/N was less than patient, however, and reached up to tug his face down to hers. She swallowed his chuckles with open mouthed kisses, and his hands roamed the expanse of her back and waist. Her hands fingertips tugged at the ends of the short hair at the nape of his next, and he let out a low, deep groan and moved his lips to the beautiful woman’s neck, then her collarbone, and she responded eagerly, a needy whimper sounding as pretty as her singing graced James’ ears. The soldier groaned lowly at the beautiful noise, and before she knew it, his hands moved again. They were beneath the plush of her thighs, lifting her up. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist with a quiet giggle, a sweet little noise that had James grinning. He turned and with only a few strides, her apartment was quite small, she was on the bed as he hovered over top of her, running his fingers through her beautiful hair. His dog tags slipped from where they were tucked into his collar, and Y/N had to fight the urge to grab them with her teeth and tug his face right back down to hers. Everything about her was beautiful, and he hungrily took in every detail of her features with ravenous eyes. Her lips were swollen and her lipstick was a bit smeared, her hair slightly tousled. He had left a couple hickies on her neck, and he failed to suppress a grin at the sight. She didn’t fail to notice his beauty, either, and she sent him an alluring smile fit for a vixen. 

“I suggest,” Y/N began, one of her hands ghosting up the sergeant's front, “you start taking my clothes off now, Sarge,” she murmured in her breathy, nothing short of sexy voice that had James’s blood flow change direction. He groaned and seized forward to steal another kiss from her before pulling back and tugging lightly at the strap of her dress. 

“Yes, ma’am,” his deep voice rattled her to her core, and she grinned. There was a flurry of clothing hitting the floor in a haphazard pile, and Y/N had a fleeting thought that she had never been happier that she didn’t have neighbors. 

Y/N woke to golden sunlight dancing across her eyelids and warming the bare skin of her back, a heavy arm draped across her waist tickled her side as fingertips traced invisible shapes onto her skin. She forced her eyelids apart despite the lull of peace in the quiet morning drawing her back to sleep, the corners of her lips tilting into a blissful, surprised smile when she met the gaze of the man sharing her bed. 

“Well, Sergeant, didn’t quite expect you to stay the night,” she murmured sleepily, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to James’s lips. It wasn’t something she did often, allowing men to stay the night, let alone greeting them in the morning. He was just different. He sent the dame a grin, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, the gentle motion sending a shiver up her spine. This wasn’t very common for him either, staying the night and into the morning. She was just different.

“What, and leave the most beautiful dame in Brooklyn to wake up alone?” James hummed, shaking his head with a soft smile. 

“What a gentleman,” Y/N teased with a laugh, propping her head up with her hand, meeting James’s captivating gaze. She tugged the sheet up slightly, allowing her a bit more modesty under his thoughtful eyes. He was staring at her as if he was a man with a million questions, and she held the secrets to the universe. It was a good few beats of silence before he spoke, his fingers never ceasing their sweeping motions on her waist as he contemplated his words. 

“You know, doll, I’ve still got a week before I ship out, and I want to get to know you better, if that’s alright with you,” he stated, and Y/N could’ve sworn she saw the tips of his ears turn a Typically, on the off chance she allowed a man to stay overnight in her bed, the second they began to imply that they wanted to see her again, she cut them off with a sweet kiss and a push out the door. Instead, she silenced the little voice in her head, and she found herself pulling her lower lip between her teeth, barely concealing an elated smile. 

“It’s more than alright with me. If we only have a week, I do believe we better make the most of our time together, then. Why don’t we start by going for breakfast, Sergeant Barnes?” She suggested, cursing the girlish butterflies in her stomach. He let out a laugh, almost sounding relieved, and James Buchanan Barnes found himself nodding his head and cupping her cheek with one of his hands, tracing the outline of her lips with his thumb. 

“I think that’s a fine idea, sweetheart. And you can call me Bucky.”

A/N I'm so happy to be writing again, even this is just an updated, edited version of one of my favorite fics from my old blog!!

[freebooter4ever]

i have one bit of words and then im back to surviving but the last time this happened in 2017 there was a reason i started researching wwii in depth. on his deathbed in 2018 grandpa held my hand and told me he was terrified because the world right now reminded him of the world right before the war when he was young and he didn't want to leave me alone in it. grandpa and i both felt it, we are both bleeding heart liberals, we both sensed the social/political shift even before it became explicit.

best case scenario the threats and dictatorship turns out to be as ineffective as the orange cheeto has been before. but worst case scenario?

americans, we are no longer the good guy in the story. you research history, its time to start paying attention to what the average citizen in germany could do. white women, we have become the fucking enemy and we need to admit it before feminism truly progresses. it's telling that the pink hat ladies wouldn't rally behind a black woman the same way they did a white woman from new england. you want comfort that its possible to live out a dictator coup? start looking into how people in the past survived it, how they risked their lives down the chain to protect the more vulnerable, when the tipping point came where it was too dangerous for the more vulnerable to remain in those societies. the truly sad thing about humanity is how often we repeat the past and how long it takes for people to welcome change. but that also means we have seen this before, we have fought this before, we have won this before.

there are a lot of protections surrounding the US government, our biggest hope is that this narcissist discovers he is smaller than any of them. but i wouldn't count on it. ask anyone in south america about how experienced the US conservative right is at taking down governments.

[realmoftheacornking]

Dutch Election poster for the Pirate Party, 2018. Nothing to hide.

I'd like to take Kev to Amsterdam, once the world settles down a bit.

He came down this morning wearing black wing tips, black socks held up by leather sock garters, a plaid trilby hat, and nothing else. All my favorite fetishes for my birthday. He remembered!

[youcouldmakealife]

TAYLOR!!! At the beginning of year you said we could expect 11 - 13 parts of SAIT and you’ve already given us 17, it’s only mid-October!!This makes me (an AIT mega-fan) so happy! (I hope it makes you happy too!)

Very clever to exploit the name in all caps admission, I tip my hat to you.

Right now it'll be somewhere around 22, so I basically doubled my anticipated output, which I'm obviously super happy about, especially since SAIT has been such a rollercoaster when it comes to timeline.

There was, at one point, a yearlong gap between parts. It was far from the only multi-month gap too: 2024 has more parts already than 2018-2021 did combined.

I think partly it's Robbie arriving on the scene. Georgie is happy to wallow, to take his time -- and to be fair, SAIT has spanned an enormous length of time compared to BAIT, even including college flashbacks -- Robbie, not so much.

Not to say I didn't have pacing issues with BAIT as well -- it took a long time to get some of those parts about Robbie's depressive period finish, because it came from a place I couldn't tap into too much without finding myself sitting right there with him.

And I think that's the crux of why SAIT has been such a struggle: it's really hard to spend time with an unhappy person. It's even harder to be that person, and that is, to an extent, what writing a character involves (or at least should). And Georgie, from the beginning to SAIT to now, is a deeply unhappy person.

[thorst]

✘  ⠀⠀ELYSIUM FOR EXILES  ⠀⠀⠀⠀✘⠀⠀⠀⠀i. I Grew Up Fast; I Guess I Grew Up Mean  ⠀✘ Gen Fic : no ships ✘ Post-game setting, canon compliant ✘ Mature: canon-typical violence, high honour Arthur Morgan ✘ multi-chapter ✘  ✘

✘ ✘⠀⠀ ⠀⠀✘ Excerpt:

"Marston!" The name cracked like a whip, and John flinched, his pistol hand wavering even as he kept his Pa's old cattleman levelled at the mouthy stranger's skull. "Put that gun down right now, ya fool boy! What are you doin?" He knew he shouldn't turn. Knew that he had to keep his eye on his mark - even if the man under his gun looked ready to piss himself of fright. The speaker was just visible in the corner of his eye, a huge, barrel-chested man, blurry and indistinct in his blue work shirt. Marston didn't turn his head. "Y-y-y-you're right, mister, you did say hello, I-I shoulda just tipped my hat an'—" "Shut up." John growled, nudging the pistol at the man while he fought to think. But no. No, that name wasn't his. He'd been trying to wear it, but it fit worse than his Pa's other old things. He wasn't John, even if that was what it said on his papers. John junior. "Ain't your Ma raise you better'n that, boy? What he do to you," the big man behind him was talking again, his rough voice taking on a sardonic tone, "not wish you a good day? Christ alive, Marston. Put the damn gun down." His voice softened at that last, and Jack finally lowered the revolver.

Read More on AO3

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Author's Notes: This is nominally a sequel to my fic Not So Different wherein Arthur is haunted benevolently by Charles Vane of Black Sails. It is occupying secondary brainrot position in my head to Cowboy & Hellcat but I have plotted out where this is going and it will theoretically be updated somewhat regularly

Attribution: Graphics made by me in Photoshop CS6 using extremely old brushes, RDR1 & 2 screenshots/promo images from IGN, some assets (eg: frame) grabbed from in-game screenshots by me, fonts: RDR Catalogue Bold, RDR Lino (these were downloaded in 2018, sorry, I can't find the link, but I can share the files)

[foxes-that-run]

NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE

Harry Styles Proclaimed His Enduring Love for Taylor Swift’s “22” During a Concert

Years after breaking up with Taylor Swift, Styles is (understandably) still quite a fan of the bop.

by Steph Eckardt March 22, 2018 W magazine (x)

Harry Styles Tour Opener at The Masonic Auditorium

Remember “22” by Taylor Swift, the seminal pop song released long before the singer declared herself dead and started out hanging in bathtubs full of millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds? Of course you do—the song was such an omnipresent bop at the time that chances are you know the words to at least the chorus. Still, it doesn’t seem to have been at the forefront of most people’s minds, since it came out in 2012, but those select few notably happen to include Harry Styles, who’s still publicly showcasing his love for the song years later.

While onstage as part of his Copenhagen tour this week, Styles decided to give a birthday shout-out to one of his fans. He then asked how old she was, and then tried to guess in an extremely strange, apparently self-aware voice of what fans would speculate from his making a reference to his ex: “22?” Apparently deciding to just go for it, he briefly launched into a verse from the single’s chorus: “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling…” (Though the crowd burst into cheers, his cover unfortunately abruptly ended after that.

This isn’t the first time Styles publicly expressed his approval of the song: He also threw his fans into a frenzy on his 22nd birthday back in 2016, again making a direct reference to it by tweeting simply, “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22.”

His love for the song may seem a bit awkward, given that he and Swift dated from October of 2012 to January of 2013, a relationship most memorably memorialized in the paparazzi photos documenting their extremely public walk in Central Park. Since then, Styles has been the much-rumored subject of at least three songs on her subsequent album, 1989, including the not so subtly named “Style.” None are particularly bitter about their subject, though Swift did seem to express some of her not-so-positive memories of their fling when she once performed “Out of the Woods,” telling the crowd that it was about a relationship in which “the number-one feeling” she felt was anxiety. “Because it felt very fragile, it felt very tentative. And it always felt like, ‘Okay, what’s the next roadblock? What’s the next thing that’s gonna deter this? How long do we have before this turns into just an awful mess and we break up? Is it a month? Is it three days?'”

That sounds difficult, but it’s also not the worst reason for a relationship to end. And while he professed to not knowing for sure whether they were about him, in 2017, Styles told Rolling Stone that he’s “well aware” that “Style” and “Out of the Woods” are considered to be about their relationship, and that he’s, in fact, glad she wrote them. “I write from my experiences; everyone does that. I’m lucky if everything [we went through] helped create those songs. That’s what hits your heart. That’s the stuff that’s hardest to say, and it’s the stuff I talk least about,” he said.

Whether they’re about him isn’t even his biggest concern about the songs: “The issue is, she’s so good, they’re bloody everywhere,” he added, even continuing his praise when pressed: “She doesn’t need me to tell her they’re great. They’re great songs…It’s the most amazing unspoken dialogue ever.” He even thanked Swift for writing them: “In writing songs about stuff like that, I like tipping a hat to the time together. You’re celebrating the fact it was powerful and made you feel something, rather than ‘this didn’t work out, and that’s bad.’ And if you run into that person, maybe it’s awkward, maybe you have to get drunk…but you shared something. Meeting someone new, sharing those experiences, it’s the best shit ever. So thank you.”

Getting back to the present, Thea, the birthday girl who prompted the homage, afterward tweeted about the experience to her 20 or so followers. She also retweeted an extremely strange mash-up her friend made replacing Swift’s “22” with Styles’ extremely oddly voiced one that is definitely worth the six-second watch—even, it seems, for Styles and Swift, too.

[not100bees]

i've hated taylor lorenz since she covered vidcon 2018 i think i might be the earliest hater and i AM proud of that

I've really only been aware of her the past couple of years so I will tip my hat to you

[chalkrevelations]

An Exercise In Perspective:

Every time you start to ask yourself, "Why in the fuck would Kanghan do that?" I want you to look at this picture of Perth as Ae in Love By Chance from 2018

and remember that Kanghan is supposed to be about the age that Perth actually is here - aka A Wholeass Baby - and that his brain isn't even finished cooking yet. Have you ever asked a kid this age why tf they've done something. THEY HAVE NO IDEA. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. Because everything is turned up to 12, and nothing will ever again be as important as this thing that is happening right here and right now, in this moment. A teenager is a constant source of embarrassment and shame to Future Them. Sometimes to values of Future Them that are half an hour from now.

I'm less familiar with Chimon's back catalog, but if someone wants to point me to something he did when he was 16-17 years old, I'll steal an accompanying image from imdb and add that to the post for every time you start to ask yourself, "Why in the fuck would Sailom do that?"

ETA Chimon as Sun in My Dear Loser: Edge of 17 in 2017:

Yoinked from MyDramaList. Hat tip to @gaiaxygang for pointing me toward something in the right year.

[eucanthos]

eucanthos

elemental traces no.3, n 42 / femme fatale

Sølve Sundsbø: Anja Rubik, 2023. V magazine 141 Spring eyewear fashion photoshoot [neck, wet hair, mouth and nose tip] - thnx blogmodern

Mona Tougaard by Cass Bird for Chaos SixtyNine August 2020

Sølve Sundsbø: [3D] Head Cape, shot 1998, published Dazed & Confused issue 49, November 23, 2018

Venus de Milo fragment in color

Caryatid’s braided hair from British Museum

Herb Ritts: Female Bodysuit-Detail, Malibu, 1992

Steven Meisel: Julia Nobis, 2013 [hat]

Dot to dots extreme

Eye and ear from anatomy etching

cut-outs (mostly straight), no distortion [27 jul 23 update x3]

[happilyshadowyfest-blog]

On April 23, 2018, Kate Middleton wore a dress identical to one in the horror film ‘Rosemary's Baby,’ to present the birth of her second son to the world. In the film, Rosemary is impregnated by a Satanic cult leader and gives birth to anti-Christ.

I tip my hat. She's ne plus ultra mistress of troll. She's trolling us, right? Right?

[just-a-carrot]

Yo yo yo Carrot.

I did do research on character design a bit ago. I was just wondering if there were any specific tips/things you kept in mind while designing any of your characters. I have a general idea of where I'm heading but I figured it couldn't hurt to try. No need to push yourself though.

(Orlam has a white shirt because he's basic :). It's perfect character design. )

hhhhh... i can try 💦

behind the cut because this got long

i think the problem is i never have any specific things in mind. for the life of me i can't even think back to how i came up with any of the characters i've ever come up with. usually they are like a mish-mash inspiration of various ideas tumbling around in my head, often influenced heavily by sheer vibes and/or music i'm listening to and/or media i've consumed or images i've seen

for me i think the biggest thing i've noticed is that i develop characters incredibly slowly lol. like i have a really hard time jumping into a new story with new characters that i haven't spent a long time thinking about (i.e., literal years). they all start from like a small random kernel of an idea or inspiration and then they grow and develop as the rest of the story starts slowly turning into random scenes into my mind, and i continue to learn new things about the characters even while actively writing (i think i've said before but some of the biggest themes and plot points in OW that feel like core parts of the story i didn't even come up with until i was actively in the midst of writing it, like, post writing arc 1 and even arc 2; arc 4 in particular like i had not planned 80% of what happened in that arc until i was writing it laksjdfa)

and i feel like a big part of this is because i'm actually really bad at designing/developing characters at the drop of a hat and can only figure them out through long periods of thinking and writing

2018 vs 2023

2018 vs 2023

i first drew the OW characters in 2018, but i'd had the idea for the general story (arc 1) even before that. from what i can remember when trying to come up with what they'd look like, i would try to think about their vibes from their role in the story. iggy is somewhat soft, awkward, and anxious, so i guess my mind developed a somewhat nerdy disalarming look for him with kinda muted colors (we don't talk about the fact that his shirt/overshirt combo makes no sense laksdjfads). orlam i knew i wanted a kinda scraggly little guy with greasy hair (sooper sekrit never-before-heard!ow lore: i actually did originally design him with a ponytail but it changed to a rattail while working on arc 1)

i'm quite bad when it comes to fashion design in general so i often come up with fairly plain-looking outfits. but some of the things i like playing around with the most are things like height dynamics and color variety (i always try to use a diverse range of hair colors for instance, as i feel like it's one of the big things that can instantly differentiate characters in a group)

you can see this in easter too i guess:

admittedly with easter it was a bit different in that tho i had some mental images in my head of generally what i wanted the chars to look like, some of the details and choices got limited because i had to use a sprite generator someone had made to create the sprites for the game (because it was an RPG maker game and i wasn't good/still am not good at creating animated sprites). so their final designs were a bit of a mix between my original ideas and my ideas translated into sprite generator options, hence some of the... odd design choices lakjdfsd

going back even further to characters i designed for other stuff like novels and stories, though my art style was different back then i feel like a lot of the same types of design choices can perhaps be seen LOL:

also please enjoy this old old old old OLD carrot!art from 2005 of three chars i created as a child that i thought were the coolest things ever...

i feel like i've lost the plot here a little bit LKAJDSFLKADSF

though i guess this is simply because i can't really explain what my head does when it comes up with characters. i don't have any sort of formal training in character or game design. i do have an art degree but that was more formal stuff (and i was often told that my personal cartoon-esque style of artwork and the stuff i drew in my sketchbooks was Not Creative). so i don't really have any set sort of guidelines or rules or even strategies that i use for coming up with characters. they tend to just kinda form over time in my mind according to my own aesthetics???? like i create characters that i would like to write and draw. i create groups of characters because i really really like group dynamics. i create characters with varying heights and body types and vibes. i create lots of short loud-mouth snarky asshole characters ldkajfsldkadlfafLDJFADFAD

if you have any more specific-type questions i can try to answer them but i think this might be the best i can do for just talking about my general mindset for characters... 💦

[johntonkin]

Relationship: Solomon Tozer/Thomas Jopson

Word Count: 6,100

Rating: E

Summary: “Sol,” groans Thomas, trying to resist grinding his hips forward against where he can feel Sol is already hard. “Let me turn on the shower, we’re going to be late.”

“No,” says Sol. “Want you like this.”

“We should go,” Thomas half-protests, but Sol doesn’t listen, choosing instead to trace the tip of his tongue up Thomas’ jugular towards his jaw. “We can pick this back up after— Fuck.”

“Let me have you like this,” Sol whispers in his ear.

In the locker room after Thomas scores a hat trick in a match, he and Sol find their own private way to celebrate.

[saturdaynightlivedork]

In tribute to the CBS Sunday Morning host Charles Osgood, I’m sharing this story I wrote in the fall of 2018, asking where an elephant got his name.

The Emma with the Dilemma

Hello, and how are you? How are you today?

I send you this letter, for I have to say,

That I send you this letter to ask something great

I'm on pins and needles; oh, I cannot wait.

Marvin K. Mooney and Gertrude McFuzz,

They’d both be surprised at how happy I was.

I feel as glad as the Cat in the Hat,

I must ask you a question, a good one at that.

Now I know you will mark this letter as spam

Quicker than one can say “Green Eggs and Ham”—

But hear me out on this, oh, please do not fail

To listen to all of this mystical tale.

Not much long ago, in the Land of the Prowds,

There was a young maiden, her head in the clouds.

This young maiden (named Emma McRosebud McGlews)

Had her heart wholly taken by men of the news.

Walter Cronkite made her heart go quite crazy!

She’d swoon and she’d sigh at John Cameron Swayze!

She hopped up and down just as if there were bees in her

When she laid her eyes on the late Harry Reasoner.

And last, but not least, there was one more to mention.

A man who had captured her beyond comprehension.

Born on January eighth, nineteen thirty-three,

He was as wondrous as wondrous could be.

Well, he still is wondrous, since he’s still alive.

(Last January, he happened to turn eighty-five.)

He made it a great day, he made it a fun day,

When he’d saunter by every morning of Sunday.

The sun would be shining, a smile on its face,

And all would be right with the world, everyplace.

He had a sweet smile, and also brown eyes,

And, also, of course, quite a thing for bow ties.

But something else also chased off the blues,

From the mind of our Emma McRosebud McGlews,

You see, she loved beasts: beasts big and beasts small,

Beasts fat and beasts thin, beasts short and beasts tall.

She especially had a soft spot in her heart

For the great elephant, and it's not a small part.

She knew of one elephant who babysat

For a little bird egg, and not only that;

This elephant also saved all the Whos,

Which has earned him respect from our dear Miss McGlews.

But he’s not her most favorite elephant ever;

Not the reason for Emma's question most clever;

No, here is the reason I tell you this story:

She wants to ask you folks a question of glory:

On the sixteenth of August, nineteen ninety-nine,

There was born a great big baby boy, oh so fine,

Thirty-nine inches tall, forty-three long,

And two-hundred-fifty pounds, healthy and strong.

His father was Charlie—now this is a dilemma—

You see, this baby boy’s mom’s name was, too, Emma.

But that’s not the wonderful, magical part

(Though it's an amusing and cute little start);

'Tis the tip of the iceberg, yes, it is a joy;

But it's not the best thing about this baby boy.

This baby boy, he had nothing to lose,

At least not to Emma McRosebud McGlews...

He did not get his name immediately;

For there was a poll ‘twas conducted, you see.

Five names in the running, five names did begin;

But obviously, only one name could win.

“Barnum” and “Boomer” and “Webster” and “Petey” –

All were considered for this little sweetie.

But none of these four came out victorious.

No, he got the other name, which was much more glorious.

It brought to mind Sunday morn on CBS,

His name was "Osgood"—she has to confess.

Now, he might have been named for a clown known as Scott,

Who flew in the air in a sinister plot.

Scott Osgood toured with them two decades ago,

But he might be the reason, this Emma does know.

But a small part of Emma still has happy hope,

Gladder than soap back again with its rope,

That this handsome prince of great wisdom and size

Got his name from the man with the lovely bow ties,

Born on January eighth, nineteen thirty-three,

In the bitter, cold Bronx borough of NYC,

The bringer of joy and the fighter for good,

The wonderful man they call Charles Osgood Wood.

Now you know what has enchanted her so;

Now Emma must ask you, oh, Emma must know.

Did Osgood the elephant, of wisdom and size,

Get his name from the man with the lovely bow ties?

If he did, that’s so lovely; if not, that’s OK.

If you tell her, we know you will make Emma’s day.