How To: See All Your Published Posts That Got Flagged

Hi Tumblr, I’m back with another script after last night. This time it comes with actual instructions :P I recorded a demo video of the script running. It’s available here: https://flight-of-the-felix.tumblr.com/post/180811718885/demo-for-the-tumblr-flagging-tester

For those familiar with Tampermonkey/Greasemonkey, this is a known process. If not, follow these steps:

1. Install the tampermonkey browser extension via the official site. 2. Click the toolbar button, press Dashboard. 3. From the Dashboard, press the plus sign in the horizontal toolbar. 4. Replace all text in the editor with the code of the script, available here: https://gist.githubusercontent.com/boisei0/2ea7d7145d04a1cc5864d316271d09fd/raw/tumblr_flagging_score_checker.js 5. Click File -> Save. The script should now enable itself. 6. Close the tab with the editor. 7. Open a new tab with the Tumblr dashboard: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard and wait until the script is fully loaded and the black-with-white box is displayed. 8. Follow the instructions on the screen.

Since this script will now run every time you open the tumblr dashboard, disable it again after usage: With the dashboard open, click the toolbar button for Tampermonkey. Now click the switch to disable the “tumblr score checker 2.0” again. In case of problems, click the tampermonkey button, and ask if there are updates.

Common problems and how to ask for help

Q: You keep getting an error message saying you are rate limited. A: Click the tampermonkey button, click Dashboard, and click the flagging script in the list. Around line 16 you find the following: const debug = false; const debugFlag = -1; Replace false with true, and replace -1 with 3. Save the script, and reload the tumblr dashboard. If you’re on Mac with Chrome, do command+option+J, Windows with Chrome ctrl+shift+J, Mac with Firefox command+shift+J, Windows with Firefox ctrl+shift+J. (Rest I don’t know from mind, look up “developer console YourBrowser” on google to get the shortcut). If you run XKit you’re going to see a lot of spam first, scroll down to the end and take a screnshot of the last couple lines you see. It should be 2 numbers. The first is the total amount of posts, the second the number of requests needed to look at every post listed. Check if the number of posts is indeed correct, and take a screenshot of the output. Send it to me in DM, and I’ll look along with you for a way to fix this.

Q: Your blogs are not getting listed, or twice. A: Refresh the page and try again. If it persists, look at the previous question and change the -1 to 1 instead. Follow the rest of the steps and send me a screenshot in DM. I’ve seen this before, but it appears to only randomly happen and I haven’t managed to solve this yet.

Should I use this?

As for those wondering about “what am I going to run on my tumblr, is it even save?”, if you would like to feel free to check the code, but what it does is get the so called “form key” from the page (tumblr uses it internally to communicate between pages, e.g. xkit uses it too). Next, this form key is used in combination with the part of the server that loads blogs in the sidebar view. The loading code returned by the server has information about whether or not posts are flagged, and a lot of extra information.

Also feel free to spread this script around :)

Some screenshots for additional guidance are placed below

AO3 and Feedback: Yes, No, and Maybe

In the days since our initial post, we’ve received and discussed many ideas either through reblogs, Google doc suggestions, asks, and submissions. 

We’ve had a preliminary discussion with AO3 about some of the ideas and have narrowed our goal to increasing the quantity of feedback authors receive without a decrease in quality by focusing on helping readers who want to leave comments but don’t because of technological (e.g. mobile) limitations, they’re shy, or they don’t know what to say.

With that in mind, here’s a summary about which ideas have already been accepted, which have been rejected, which already exist as features on AO3, and which currently need more discussion and consideration.

Under the jump: what’s here, what’s coming, what’s a no, and what we don’t know yet. 

Keep reading

Lights Out

On the days his Commander’s war meeting went well, she was courteously chipper in their sparring sessions. Aden would always get a greeting and a fond ruffle of his increasingly messy hair. Aden knew the other boys and girls whispered behind his back of favouritism but he found he didn’t quite care. His Heda had chosen him to spar, and quite often he would be nicknamed ‘The Commander’s Second'—except he was clearly not.

If anything, Titus enforced that. Commanders did not take seconds—but Lexa liked to smirk at him and go against Titus’ iron-strong teachings anyway.

Today, Lexa’s meeting with the Southern clans had been satisfactory to say the least. They picked up their weapons in silence—lightly-carved sticks from the finest wood within the Trikru territory.

“Do you see how it falls just below your eye?” Lexa said, nearly jabbing Aden’s eye out. “That is when you should get your hair cut. Sometimes it gets in the way.”

“My mother says I look better with longer hair,” Aden replied.

“Your mother is not acquainted with the ways of sparring.”

They laughed at that, and then they sparred. One of the many, many things Aden admired about Lexa was her refusal to give Aden any opportunity to better her. Lexa fought fairly, and Aden suspected at not even half her capacity—but she would never just roll over on one side like some cuddly bear and allow for all the children to attack her good-naturedly. Lexa was harsh and demanding, sparring for hours and bruising and causing nosebleeds and scratches until Aden was bent over, panting and gulping in breath. If he forgot to surrender, Lexa would continually smack him down whenever he moved until he tapped out.

“Don’t forget the importance of that,” Lexa had scolded him, “otherwise your opponent will be well within their rights to keep attacking you. Tap out if you must. There is no shame in it.”

It came as no surprise to anyone, then, that Aden continually tapped out whenever Lexa bettered him. He was aware that Lexa would not hesitate in beating the living daylights out of him if he did not. And Aden was a swift learner. He picked up in some of Lexa’s defining moves, though his agility did not match hers and neither did his cunning. He got better. He tracked his progress in the seconds it took for her to knock him down—and along the weeks, when the seconds grew to minutes, he felt his heart swell in pride.

He could see it in Lexa’s eyes too. “Were you trained?” Lexa asked conversationally as Aden grunted to keep up with her lightning pace, shifting so that his feet were almost trained to dance around the pits. “As a fighter, I mean?”

“No—argh—” Aden ducked from a wayward swing of the log from Lexa, retreating as they circled each other. Lexa smiled, pleased. “My mother reads fortunes in the Square. My father passed.”

“I’m sorry to hear of it.”

“They trust her,” Aden said. Lexa made no move to attack. “I suppose it must be legend: if a boy or a girl bleeds black, then their parents must speak the truth.”

Lexa dug one end of the log into the boggy marsh. “What do you think?”

Aden shrugged. “We must eat somehow.”

-

“I didn’t call for you.”

“I know, Commander, but I thought—as I usually spar with you—”

“I specifically didn’t call for you!” Lexa reprimanded him. Today was different. The sun had disappeared and instead, the clouds rewarded them with harsh, blunt rain. It soaked through Aden’s tunic and he thanked the spirits he had finally cut his hair—for he would not be able to see a thing if his fringe still existed. “I asked for a warrior!”

It stung, because Aden knew Lexa was telling the truth. He was no warrior, and he knew that. He was not of Indra or Anya or even Titus’ calibre, but they had been suspended with questions and diplomatic meetings. Ever since the dark happenings of the Ice Nation’s declaration of war and rejection of the coalition, the sun had not dared to peek upon Polis. Aden had only heard rumours from the chef’s kitchen—who had slipped him an extra ration of pork belly—that his Commander’s lover had been executed by Queen Nia of the North.

Judging by the way Lexa roared at him to go away, wielding her log like she wanted to smash it against something, Aden doubted it was far from the truth.

“You are here to spar, surely,” he called across the room, wobbling a little as the mud nearly twisted his ankle. “Why else would you be in the sparring pits, Heda?”

“There are opponents I spar with,” Lexa said, “and then there are those I am unafraid to unleash upon.”

“Why can’t I be both?”

“Because—you—” Lexa sighed heavily, staring up at the skies as the rain smattered down on her face. Exasperation tore through her body, because this boy just would not give up. “You are my student, Aden. I will not beat you.”

“You have been fair before. Remember?”

Lexa’s eyes flashed with…something. Aden didn’t recognise it. “I don’t want to be fair.”

Nobody else came to the sparring pits.

When his fellow Nightbloods assisted Nyko in patching up a near-unconscious Aden afterwards, he could only recall the angry way Lexa came after him, smacking down against the weakening grip on his log with her own, down, down, down, down—until it flew from his hand. And then she’d twirled it in her hand, smashing it upwards against his chin so he sprawled backwards from his staggered position, his intent to get to his feet.

In her ferocity he had barely moved an inch, his boots sinking into the sparring pit that became a bog. Logs cast aside, they had moved to fisticuffs—something Aden was hugely unfamiliar with. He ducked desperately, his lungs gasping for air in the unforgiving rain as Lexa swiftly jabbed at him, catching his jaw with a heavy left hook. She took no defensive position. She only advanced as he held both his fists up, feeling woefully inadequate as she decked him in the stomach, giving him milliseconds to yell in pain before her palm went up to shove at his face, sending him sprawling backwards into the dirt.

It would not stop.

“In a box,” she said haggardly, advancing as Aden gingerly got to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. His entire body ached all over. “On my bed. My bed!”

“Heda—”

Her fist connected with his cheekbone, and his body clattered to the floor, unconscious.

-

The Wanheda had been missing for months now, and in her absence, in her silence, her legend only grew. At first she had simply been the Sky girl who had brought the Mountain down with some otherworldly force—but now she was one of the most powerful beings in all of the earth, second only to his Commander.

Aden was a few years older now, and knew better than to listen to kitchen gossip. But he could not help and admire Clarke kom Skaikru for her tenacity despite his Commander’s decision. He knew people of Polis spoke highly of his Commander but others within the coalition or others in outlying villages spoke differently. He disagreed with them.

Teachings of politics and geography and village chiefdoms and old earth history with Titus and Lexa had been most revealing and informing. He liked to think of himself, as he stared at his baby-faced reflection in the mirror, as standing on the precipice of being a man. He had not had his first appearance of stubble, but his shoulders had broadened with years of sparring with others—lads bigger than him, lads quicker than him, and the Commander herself, too.

He was among the hopeless and the curious in the crowd as Prince Roan of Azgeda towed a masked prisoner into Polisian walls. Whispers said it was Clarke kom Skaikru, the Wanheda, herself; Aden did not know what to think, but that kind of rumour did not sprout from nothing. He had heard Lexa and Titus converse about it once in a training session, which had ended with Titus storming from the sparring pits. Lexa had made some joke about him, and everyone had laughed, but Aden chewed on his lip and wondered if Polisian hearsay turned out to be true.

Aden was beyond relieved that afternoon when the Commander chose him to be her sparring partner yet again. It was fun, conversing with her about the day’s war meetings and how the Rock Commander’s joke sunk like a rock itself and how the Water Commander’s mead consumption was still hideous. He enjoyed gossip when it came from the Commander’s mouth itself.

Instead, she remained tight-lipped—and for the most part, unfocussed—as she parried with him. Mostly on the back-foot, Aden took advantage of his smaller size and manipulated their parries so he ended up jabbing her throat three times. Her footwork was slow, and her gaze—so often drilled into his eyes, to anticipate his every move—was everywhere. She looked over the city sometimes. She looked at the floor. She stared at some gap above Aden’s head.

Quite simply, Lexa was out-of-sorts and Aden didn’t have it in him to embarrass the Commander and point this out in front of the other Nightbloods and Aden. Instead, he tried to slow his moves down, each parry growing weaker and weaker as he thought of it like a game of checkers. Every carefully constructed sequence would be the same—and Lexa spotted it within seconds.

“No holding back,” she said absently, tapping Aden’s makeshift weapon. “Do you think you’ll be able to hold back in the trials, Aden?”

“No, Commander.”

“Then let’s train properly.”

But Lexa did not hold up her end of the promise. At the end of the day, when Aden decked her on the chin, upwards, and she reeled back in surprise—as if that had knocked some sort of responsibility back in her—the gaze she gave him was not one of danger, but one of wonderment. He could only stare back, panting heavily as she half-smiled at him, studying him closely. Titus dismissed him and he quickly gathered his items, wanting to go home to a bowl of hearty soup and a heavy lump of bread. He didn’t want—whatever this was today.

“Clarke elevates herself,” he heard Lexa say wistfully as he sped past, stopping in his tracks. He was behind the conversing duo. He hated eavesdropping, so he left quickly after that. But he ate keenly that night, knowing legends were true.

-

Aden moved slowly, this time with a blunt blade instead of a wooden stick. He focussed heavily on his footwork, making sure he was quiet, quick and efficient. He would be slender like the night, bold like the daylight, and most of all, he would be silent.

“A lot of the time, it’s in the footwork—in fact, I’d say it’s most of the time,” Lexa said in front of him. “It depends on how deeply you study your opponent. If I took my fight with King Roan in Nia’s vote of no confidence, it was easy to note that his foot stepped forward every time he was to lunge—which was usually his move.”

“Then one must anticipate,” Aden said.

“Yes. The fight is usually won in here—” Lexa tapped the side of his head, and Aden closed his eyes, smiling, “—first. It is rarely won out of physicality.”

“What use are muscles if you cannot wield them properly?” Aden recited, and he thought he could hear Lexa laugh. Making his Commander laugh, properly, was no mean feat—and he’d achieved it, proudly, multiple times. Maybe that was just his overactive imagination. “I saw you against Roan. I watched you every step of the way. I have never seen a recovery so magnificent. I have never seen sword-work…two of them!…so quick, so…so elegant. So beautiful.”

“And yet there were points I had to work on, then,” Lexa said. “I left my defence exposed in the hope that I would overpower him. But Roan was a powerful opponent with a much more advantageous weapon than mine.”

“I remember the way my heart sunk when he kicked you.”

“Me too.”

“I remember seeing Clarke kom Skaikru in the crowd. I thought she was going to run to you.”

“That would’ve been illegal, Aden.”

“I wish she had run to you. You needed nothing to spur you into killing the Ice Queen. But in that moment, when you were alone on the ground, I wished she had to run to you to tell you that she loved you.”

“How do you–?”

“Because she loves you. She loves you, she loves you, she loves you.”

Lexa smiled softly at him and ordered him to take a defensive stance again, jerking her head so he cast his weapon aside. Instead, he raised both fists defensively, as Lexa circled him. He kept light on his toes, knowing he would have to duck and sway as Lexa swung for him.

She swung right; he ducked down. She swung left; he ducked down.

The art of a fight did not always lie with weapons—bows and arrows, spears, swords, maces—they mattered not when neither of you had a weapon to go for. When it came down to your fists, your mind and your feet mattered, as did your ability to react quickly. Once you were smacked down with a bloody nose, it was hard to stagger upright without being hit back down yet again.

Aden stared in front of him, determined eyes jabbing forwards in a serious of drills. It would coordinate his footwork with his punches; and then he’d advance to a left hook, meant for cheeks. The uppercut was meant for the chin, a blast only to be used lastly when he was surely guaranteed victory. He wasn’t convinced this style of fighting was the best for him—he was slim, and excelled at archery as well as swordwork—but Indra had insisted he had to be capable in all areas.

It was raining, much like that day Lexa had taken him out in the rain only to beat him within an inch of his life. She’d apologised the day after, staying by his bedside for three days, applying some of Nyko’s potion to his swollen eye. Aden swallowed the lump in his throat and jabbed forwards harder, sighing when Lexa jerked her head to one side and his wayward punch had missed her completely.

“Aden?” Clarke leant against the palisade, worry etched over her features. “What the hell are you doing? It’s freezing!”

“Sparring,” he called back, shouting above the pitter-patter of the rain. Lexa nodded silently in agreement, grinning at Clarke. “It’s fine!”

“Get back inside!”

“I’m fine, Clarke!”

Clarke surveyed the sight in front of him. The boy was jabbing at thin air, two sets of towels neatly folded by the edge of the pits. There were two flagons of water there too, neatly arranged side-by-side. Two blunted swords had also been discarded, and Clarke, feeling the lump rise to bile in her throat, understood.

“Tend to your Commander,” Clarke ordered. Aden had his back to her, but as soon as she’d said it, his shoulders deflated. It was hard to tell if the boy was crying when the drizzle became a downpour, and he trudged over towards where she was stood. “Keep her warm. You’d do well with warming yourself up, too.”

“How long will it take?” Aden asked impatiently, closing his eyes.

Clarke leant over the palisade. Fuck the barriers; fuck custom. “As long as it takes,” she reassured him, just like Lexa had reassured her once. She cupped Aden’s cheek. “Go.”

He left without another word, and Clarke tided up after him. She picked up the remnants of the stuff Aden had left behind, including his training sword, which he’d carved a clumsy “ADEN” into the wooden blade. The other was unmarked, but its hilt was wrapped in the Commander’s signature red sash. Clarke stood for a moment in the rain, seeing only black liquid seeping into her hands as she desperately hoped for the rain to wash it away, but it stayed, persistent like treacle. Reshop, Heda, she’d told Lexa one night, and now she could not wait for Lexa to wake up.

Chapters: 13/? Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Costia (The 100), Aden (The 100), Anya (The 100), Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake, Lincoln (The 100), Abby Griffin, Indra (The 100), Gustus (The 100), Ontari (The 100), Echo (The 100), Ice Queen (The 100) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Mental Health Issues, artist!Clarke, Unstable!Lexa Summary:

“That’s a harsh word, isn’t it? I don’t like the way it sounds on you.” Lexa hums and Clarke’s arms tighten. “Being crazy is a harsh thing.”

Everything has a beginning and an end. When it comes to Clarke, Lexa’s afraid to begin.

Clarke’s team is determined to win the prize this year, even if it means taking Lexa down.

College Sorority Intramural Football Tournament AU. (You know, that age-old trope.)

Clexa hug

Something like, Clarke looking at the stars out the window and Lexa just -hug-

Some very quick colours on a sketch that I liked!

The very best email in the universe is [AO3] Comment on ________

i got the best ao3 comment ever this morning its like 600 words on a 2k story. im printing it out and keeping it in my wallet.

If I could, I would engrave all the comments I get on individual metal discs and pile them up into a dragon hoard and sleep on it.

Awh.