#clorkball

[bigdamnproject]

We’ll carry on…

[cryinginblaseball]

Not exactly a fic but I want to hear about ★ for clorkball

I can talk about Clorkball :3

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in [fic]? what was the hardest scene to write?

The first scene I ever wrote for Ultimate League became the end of the chapter "Playoffs" towards the end of the book. It's a scene I'd mirror earlier in the book, Trashcat running to the wall to try to make a clutch catch, and the darker implications of the results. Even in the beginning, I was making Oliver cry :3c

I think the hardest scene to write was really trying to figure out a reason for [redacted] and [redacted] to switch teams when there was a plot device in the dug out to prevent exactly that sort of thing (you absolutely know the scene). I ended up cutting out what I had and going with something different.

There's also a scene I wanted to get right, where Oliver and [redacted] reconcile with each other. I wanted their conflict to be believable, not for the other person to be a villain. Basically, it was about how different people would handle their situation, and I don't think everyone would feel the same way.

Thanks for the ask, Blestie!

PS -- You can get Ultimate League here!

[cryinginblaseball]

Ultimate League 39

Back to Part 38 Everyone That's Left As far as celebrations went, it wouldn't be one for the ages, but it was pretty damn good. Th

Everyone That's Left

Sometimes, when Oliver wandered the city, he’d spot the stickers, Thunderbirds logos slapped onto stop signs, The Hustle spray-painted in a bright mural, the Leftovers logo on windows, on bumper stickers. He’d see names on walls, Giggle and Joon-Ho and Lafayette and Dino and Lance and Ali and Fish. Sometimes he’d stop to look them over, and he’d catch someone across the street, or down the sidewalk, looking too. Sometimes they noticed, and when they recognized him, they nodded. Oliver always nodded back. Amylee sent him a picture one day, a photo of the Hangar, all of the Thunderbirds in a mural on the side. Whoever had painted it, put their names there too, Indra and Edgar and Shiny and Gil and Billie and Nigel and Hubert and Rosalyn, and of course, Amylee, her own portrait staring the viewer down. The artist had painted “God Killer” under her. Aston informed Oliver there was a mural of The Leftovers in an alley close to the Civic Center Arena. He kept meaning to go see it.

[cryinginblaseball]

IS THIS WHAT YOU SEND TO US? Shiny Fitzgerald stepped forward, holding their bat at their side. "This is us. You want to fight? Let's fight

Finals Game 2

IS THIS WHAT YOU SEND TO US?

Shiny Fitzgerald stepped forward, holding their bat at their side. “This is us. You want to fight? Let’s fight.”

[cryinginblaseball]

COMING MONDAY

It’s finally time! I can finally show it off! This is the project I spent the last year on, I Signed Up For a Rec Team And Now I’m Playing For The ULTIMATE LEAGUE In Another Dimension?? This is my, oops I made a Blaseball OC but he really needs his own story. This is me being so inspired by Blaseball and its community that I wanted to write my own story. This is a story about friends and taking care of each other while facing unfathomable evil. This is my love letter to Blaseball.

I’m so excited for everyone to see it.

"So you have been pulled from an alternate dimension and chosen to play in the Ultimate League. Congratulations!"

Oliver Trashcat had only wanted to play corkball in a recreational league, to meet people and get exercise. Now he's in an alternate dimension with no way to get home, playing in the Ultimate League with a bunch of strangers. He's never cared about winning anything in his life, but between secretive teammates, bloodthirsty fans, and mysterious league owners, he's starting to feel like his life depends on it...

You can find the introductory post here: I Guess I’m Used to Moving On

[cryinginblaseball]

Every game, Mariya put on her uniform, put on the color blue, and she walked out onto the field with her team. She had never had a team befo

Every game, Mariya put on her uniform, put on the color blue, and she walked out onto the field with her team. She had never had a team before this, never made friends before this. In many ways, it was a little overwhelming.

Mariya listened to the way her teammates talked about “back home,” back to the places they had come from. She always bit her tongue when she listened to them. She knew they had all come from worlds different than her own, but she could never understand how they could ever miss those places. She had come from a bleak world, a world of red and black, from a world that valued suffering more than anything else. She hated that world, hated the people who lived in it, hated what they did to her. And she’d do everything she could to stay.

Mariya never said so, because she was a little unsure herself, but she felt that the United were her family. She hadn’t had a family Before, not really, not anyone she felt she could trust or count on. But every night, in the dorm common area, she sat with people she would fiercely defend to the death. Every night, she wanted to tell them how much she loved them, but didn’t know how, because she had never felt love for anyone before. Even when they were fighting, when they disagreed about things, poked at each other out of fear, she wanted so badly to pick all of them up and hug them until her arms hurt.

[cryinginblaseball]

SLICEY WEBSTER: Well we should have seen this coming, but here we are! It's late February, the weather is awful, and it's a great time for t

Finals, Game 1

SLICEY WEBSTER: Well we should have seen this coming, but here we are! It's late February, the weather is awful, and it's a great time for the Ultimate League Corkball Championship!

Good luck, everyone

[cryinginblaseball]

The polls continued, as the team more or less expected. Worse, the League insisted on putting the live results up on the giant screen above

Across The Pitch Black Night

The polls continued, as the team more or less expected. Worse, the League insisted on putting the live results up on the giant screen above the scoreboard. All the teams could do while they were expected to play like nothing was wrong was hope the fans were more enthusiastic about other players on other teams, hope that the beast wouldn’t come for them.

For the next week, the League shuffled its teams around. It seemed like players that had already been moved were off the table, so each team had more of a chance to become its own Ship of Theseus. Three days out and the Weathermancers were missing half the players they started with, scattered to other stadiums around the city. The Basement Turtles saw two of their players swapped for players on The Lemp Poltergeists. The Blackhats saw over half the team go elsewhere. Morale on the teams was low, but the fans loved it. Slowly, carefully, other polls began to appear.

Just two updates this week. Getting my timing down just right :3