#Fucktarded Defaults

[butch-reidentified]

I've been frustrated with the beauty hypocrisy on radblr. I seen many posts how radblr say it hates the beauty industry and plastic surgery... Everyone including feminists and radfeminists say shit like "be yourself, be confident, plastic surgery is bad" but as an fat girl since early childhood and without trendy beauty features, I was definitely treated as an unworthy ogre by pretty much the whole world. Radfems on here are like: beauty doesn't matter! if you're fat that means you're ugly and revolting! just accept it and be happy! 😍😌 I hate that everyone trying to make me accept the idea that Im ugly and an ugliest skinny fucktard is attractive by the default... And that im undesirable, that every inch of my body is repulsive and offensive to all the humanity... And if i want to be considered human i need to be at least 60 kg...Radblr says that it hates modern beauty standards but has the same understanding of "beauty" as your typical tasteless male gym rat. Plastic surgery is way more than just "fixing" your ethnic nose. I definately want to change pretty much my whole face in the future. And i know the hypocrites who call me unnatractive now will laugh in my face and tell "just be myself" after the surgeries including all the "i hate beuty industry" feminists. You can't always bully "ugly" people and say you hate plastic surgery at the same time! That's hypocrisy radblr.

Girl idk how many ppl you're gonna send this to but radfems aren't bullying women for their appearances. Do you think all radfems are skinny conventionally attractive white women? Bc that's utterly false and borders on delusional. Plenty of us have embraced body neutrality and are able to exist happily as gnc women, fat women, not conventionally attractive women, etc. Hell, I actively take pride in being unattractive to males. The radfem perspective on this is consistent, sorry to tell ya.

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

DADDY ISSUES - Part Seven: Friends

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Now that you're all moved in and set up, what do you have to look forward to in your relationship as Elvis Presley's sugar baby? [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: sad reader, angst, guilt/shame as a result of sexual activity, elvis being a bit of a fucktard ngl

Rating: M || Word Count: 3985

A/N: i hope y'all are enjoying still!! i can't tell you how many ideas spurred while writing these chapters. i literally had a web of ideas that i somehow managed to weave all into this little fic lol

Song Rec: friends - anne marie and marshmello

This is Part 7 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

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“Am I allowed to date or see other people or is this an exclusive thing?”

Elvis’ eyebrows shoot up when you ask the question and you can tell that he wasn’t expecting it. His eyes drop to the floor and eyebrows furrow as he considers what you’ve asked. After a few moments of tense silence, he clears his throat and glances back up at you with a tight smile.

“Course you can see other people. We ain’t an item or nothin. It’s just a convenient relationship for both of us. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, but doesn’t mean we gotta be lovers neither.”

You nod, offering a small smile. His eyes fall to your finger and he smirks.

“That’s a good girl. Lemme see,” he says, scooting forward and holding out his palm.

You drop your hand into his and he gently runs his fingers over it with the hint of a smile on his face. His calloused fingertips ghost over your knuckle and then onto the ring resting snugly on your finger. You take a deep breath, the feeling of your touch on his palm making you giddy and excited.

“See you doin so good already followin my rules. This ring’ll tell everybody important that you’re with me. Looks good on ya, princess,” he says with a nod. “You like it?”

“Oh absolutely, Mr. Presley,” you say, automatically defaulting to his proper name. You feel like you should treat him respectfully, or maybe you’re addressing him as your boss? You aren’t sure but the urge to be formal is suddenly extremely present in the room. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen and definitely not something that I could ever afford on my own. Thank you so much for gifting it to me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, waving dismissively. “It’s payment for our first appointment. This was the arrangement we agreed to and I stick to my promises. There’s more to come, I’m sure.”

Your lips part as you watch his gaze fade from sunny blue eyes to a dark, serious expression. He emphasizes the word come, pausing after he speaks the word. He draws it out, licking his tongue over his lips before finishing the sentence. You desperately hope you’re not reading too much into it, because you do desperately want him to be talking about you.

Everything in your body wants him to touch you and make you feel things you’ve never experienced in your life. The first time you saw him in 1956, you wanted him. Other girls may also want him, but not like you. They don’t want him like you do. The lust he planted then has done nothing but grow since that day. For god’s sake, it possessed you, the most unlikely person in the world, to slide out of your panties and offer them up to a complete stranger who you’d probably never see again. Elvis’ voice jerks you out of your awe.

“Which reminds me, what sorta payments do you want? I don’t wanna get you nothin you dont like.”

“Oh, uh, I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Well, I like necklaces and rings. Um, I’m more of a pants girl than dresses but I still like nice dresses and things. Um…”

“Noted,” he replies.

Silence settles as his eyes trace over your figure. You’re becoming more comfortable with him doing that, since he does it pretty constantly. The little problem of your debts and bills rises to the forefront of your mind and you consider adding to the list since that’s what you really need to be paid off, but before you can say anything else, he curls his finger and motions for you to come over to him.

Your core starts to swell with excitement and you actively fight the smile that wants to cross your face. You take a few steps closer to him and sit down on his lap, just as you had the other day. You already feel a bit more comfortable this time as you rest your hands on his chest and his hands gently cup your thighs. You stay still, waiting for instructions which he promptly provides.

“Tilt your head up for me,” he says and you gulp before obeying, lengthening your chin out so that he can see your neck better.

His fingers gently rise up toward your skin, ghosting across your throat and the sensitive skin underneath your jawline. Your eyes flutter and threaten to close but you force them to remain open. He just gently closes his fingers around your throat, not all the way but enough that your breath audibly shudders. You gulp your nerves down as your pussy begins to throb with desire for him. Just as you’ve resolved to lean down and kiss him, he pulls his fingers away.

“You got a pretty neck, princess. Perfect for my hand. I think a necklace would work nicely for you.”

You hover in the space between you, resisting the strongest urge to smash your lips against his. Your entire body is slowly aching for him, but is it okay for you to make a move? Despite his loveliness in answering your questions, you’re still confused as to how all of this works. Plus, now that you’re relying totally and completely on Elvis to sustain you financially, you’re terrified of making a mistake that’s unfixable. Just as your head begins to bob forward with a burst of confidence, your nerves get the better of you and you just hover anxiously. You clear your throat and Elvis continues the conversation.

“Is jewelry what you like best? Or dresses or what?”

“Um, I guess I’ve never really thought about it, honestly. I…don’t have much of a preference,” you reply with a lackluster shrug. “I could use some new clothes. But, of course the jewelry is also very nice. Um…sorry, I just feel very awkward saying these things.”

You laugh nervously but he shakes his head.

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” you suddenly laugh as you realize what it feels like and that image begins to surface in your mind, “honestly, it feels a bit like sitting on Santa’s lap and telling him what I want for Christmas. I’m just not very used to asking for things, like material things.”

“But that’s how you get what you want. Y'ask for it.”

“I guess so, yeah. But that’s usually not how it works for normal people, and it’s certainly never worked out that way for me. I hardly ever get what I ask or pray for. God has favorites and I really don’t think I’m one of them,” you reply with a weak chuckle. “Besides, I’m just not the kind of person who places a lot of value on material objects or gifts or anything. I don’t need all that many things, to be honest. Just the basics, although these are very tempting and it feels good to own them. They’re not really necessary in the grand scheme of things, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s what I’m here for. I ain’t got no issue giving you whatever you want. All you gotta do is ask, princess, and it’s yours.”

“I’m not used to that. People like me don’t just get the things we ask for. We have to work for them.”

“Not anymore, doll,” he smiles, leaning forward to whisper against your cheek. “Ask and it’s yours.”

You smile in awe as Elvis pulls back.

“Stand up, over there,” he gestures toward the middle of the room. You nod and carefully remove yourself from his lap to stand on the mark he’s given you. Once there, you await his directions. “Take the dress off. Just the top. I wanna see you better.”

You nod and turn away from him to spice things up. You shakily lift the strap of your dress up and off of your shoulder, glancing over your skin at Elvis who watches you hungrily. You let the strap fall, exposing the skin of your shoulder to him. The slow speed with which you’re stripping is putting both you and him through an uncomfortable tenseness that only grows when you drop the other strap down. The dress, being held up mostly by the straps, elegantly falls off your chest and pools around your waist where it’s cinched in a little tighter. You reach up for the strap to your bra, but Elvis stops you.

“No. There’s good enough,” he says. “Turn around.”

You obey him, spinning around so he can get a good look at your entire body. He rubs his slender fingers over his lips, tugging them out lazily. You stand still like a statue before him until he gestures for you to come closer.

“Come here. Right here. All the way this time.”

He points to the space between his legs, a spot that has become rather familiar to you already. You can’t help the smile that spreads onto your cheeks as you step toward him.

He leans forward, his fingers taking hold of your waist. They gingerly trail up the bare skin of your waist, so lightly that you feel goosebumps spreading across your skin. He traces his fingers around to your front, ghosting over your breasts underneath the bra. He curls his fingers around your chest and squeezes firmly. You release a contented breath and close your eyes at the sensation, what little of it there even is. It’s more than you’ve gotten from him so far. He squeezes a few more times, saying nothing, before he releases your breasts.

You instinctively follow his grasp as it retreats. Your eyes fly open in disappointment and he slides further down into the red velvet chair. He tugs gently on the zipper to his jumpsuit while staring intensely into your eyes.

“You know what to do, darlin."

Unfortunately, you do know what to do, although you’d love to do something else right now. It might only be the second time you’ve sucked him off, you hope this time will be different. You hope this time you’ll get to share in the receiving end. Glancing up into his bright blue eyes, you have an idea. You lean over him, trying to push your breasts near his face in the hopes that you’ll tempt him enough to put some effort into pleasing you. You pause for a few seconds, waiting for him to grasp your chest.

When he doesn't respond, you reach down to grasp the zipper. His hand snakes onto yours, gripping your fingers away from his suit. You glance up at him in confusion

"I liked what you did the other night with your teeth," he says, his eyes falling down to your lips. "Do it like that again."

You gently maneuver yourself onto the floor on your knees and catch the zipper between your teeth. This time, you unzip the jumpsuit slowly, maintaining eye contact with Elvis all the way down. You spread the leather of his jumpsuit aside so you can access him. His white boxer briefs are familiar to you now. You glance sneakily up at the clock in the corner of the room to see that you only have about five minutes until show time.

As much as you appreciate his trying to get to know you better, you’re desperate for some physical attention. You’ve been responsible for taking care of yourself for the last five years or so and, quite frankly, you’re just tired of it. Having a man touch you for once is a need that’s rekindled every time he dares to touch you.

But with only five minutes left, you waste no time, yanking his underwear off and wrapping your fingers around his length. You immediately start to pump him, licking the tip of his dick with your tongue. He releases a satisfied sigh and leans back into the chair. You glance up to see his head tilted toward the ceiling with his eyes completely closed. You feel pleased with yourself but frustrated at his passivity. You yank him into your mouth and harshly bob your head up and down on top of him.

He groans and moans in approval. Your eyes flash wide when his hand sneaks down your chest to massage your breasts through your bra. You hum against his length as he pinches your nipple between his fingers. You shift closer to him, hoping he'll touch you harder. While the sensation is very welcome, you need so much more.

As your head bobs up, your eyes flick up toward him again to see that he hasn’t moved, other than his hips which are beginning to buck up into your mouth as he matches your pace. You squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. You continue to bob up and down on his dick as you fight back the emotion that’s flooding into your chest painfully.

You feel him start to twitch in your mouth and pump your hand harder on his length. A few seconds later, his hips are bucking into your lips and his hot cum is slipping down your throat. You gulp it down begrudgingly, the taste almost sour on your tongue. Your body shudders with the displeasure of the action and the taste but mostly with how it made you feel at the moment.

You drop your head immediately, focusing on the floor below you as Elvis reassembles himself to go back out for the show which starts in just a few minutes. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, wanting to transport yourself completely from this situation into a different time and place, somewhere you’re safe and alone. On his way out, Elvis places his hand on your head and gives your hair a little muss. His fingers slip down to your chin, lifting your gaze to his. You reluctantly open your eyes and he smirks down at you slightly.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs before making his way toward the door.

You keep yourself upright until you hear the door shut behind him. As soon as the lock clicks, you feel your face screwing up. You keel over onto your hands and knees, your arms shaking with the emotion that is coursing through your body. You curl onto your knees and sit back on them, resting your forehead on the scratchy carpet below you. Tears start to pool by your eyes and you don’t stop them as the warm liquid falls from your eyes to stain the carpet below you. You curl your arms around your shoulders as your body shakes and you cry.

He had his chance to pleasure you and he didn’t take the hints, which you thought were very obviously being given to him. Now, it’s too late. You feel worthless, disgusting, dirty. You understand that you wholeheartedly gave yourself up to Elvis when you agreed to become his sugar baby but you assumed the arrangement would be mutual.

You should be stronger than this; this shouldn’t bother you so much. You are the one who agreed to this, who decided to accept the proposal. You’re just reaping the consequences of your actions, the ones Steve warned you about. But for some unplaceable reason, it hurts. A lot.

On the other hand, while you realize how silly and dramatic it is to be upset when you’ve just begun, the emotions that are running through your veins are so strong. And considering that you’ve relocated your entire life over the last week, it’s probably understandable that you’re feeling so overwhelmed.

After a few more tears sneak out, you sniffle and wipe your runny nose on your arm, not caring about the stickiness spreading onto your skin. You don’t have anyone to look pretty for anymore. And the one person you did choose to look nice for doesn’t seem to have any interest in you other than using you as a personal fleshlight. As moments of anger and embarrassment pulse through your veins, you pull yourself together with a few deep breaths.

You weren’t really in the mood for giving him a blowjob even when you got dressed to come downstairs tonight. But he asks and you provide. As he said earlier, ‘all you gotta do is ask and it’s yours’. As you dry your tears, that phrase starts to circle in your brain. Ask and it’s yours… If that’s what he wants. That’s what he’ll get. Why can’t you take the reins a little? You’re half of the deal, after all.

You stand, fix your hair and your dress, wipe off your tears and snot and grab your purse. You exit the dressing room with the confidence of someone who simply doesn’t have the will to care anymore.

As you trudge out of the dressing room, not bothering to pause before the door to listen for anyone passing, you keep your eyes glued to the floor beneath you. You shrug your bag over your shoulder and pull the bottom of your dress down harshly, trying to get the stubborn fabric to stay put. When your body slams into another, you momentarily lose your footing and feel yourself careening toward the floor. Luckily, whoever you bumped into manages to catch you at the last moment. With a panting breath, you glance up to see one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen in your life. He helps you to your feet as you feel heat creeping into your face.

“Uh…thanks,” you say nervously. “I’m so sorry about that.”

He chuckles, leaning down to pick up your purse, which you hadn’t even realized you’d dropped during the collision. Your eyes widen as you notice the black lingerie poking out from inside the bag. You wonder if he notices, although he doesn’t mention or allude to it at all when he carefully hands the bag back to you. You snatch it quickly from his hands, sneakily reaching your hand in to push the lingerie back into its hidden place.

“It’s no big deal. It’s my fault for being so clumsy,” he says, flashing a crooked smile at you.

As his straight white teeth sparkle in the light of the hallway, you can’t help but grin back at him. A few moments of silence pass before one of you gets the courage to say something else.

“So…do you work here?” he asks, gesturing to your outfit.

“Oh, uh, sorta. I’m part of Mr. Presley’s…” your eyes wander quickly around your environment, desperately searching for an excuse that doesn’t involve your chest and face being covered in Elvis' cum. You suddenly see someone pass carrying a case of makeup and your face brightens. “...makeup crew. I’m one of his makeup consultants.”

“You do his makeup?”

“Well, I just sort of check it to make sure it’s up to standard, you know. The eyeliner and such,” you pull out as much knowledge of makeup as you can possibly access in your brain as your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed to admit what you really do here, but you still feel too ashamed to fess up to it. You know there’s no way that this stranger is actually buying the idea that you’re a makeup artist for Elvis, considering what you’re wearing and the fact that your own makeup is probably smudged hideously from the crying and snotting all over.

“Cool. I’m one of the stagehands, so I carry some of the props onstage and help with the curtains and all that.”

“Oh, that’s super cool!” you say, folding your arms over your chest. “How did you get into that?”

“My mom was a singer back in the day, so I’ve always been around sets. How did you get into…what you do?”

“Oh, it’s just a job for money. There’s nothing that special about it, honestly.”

“Working that closely to Elvis Presley isn’t special?”

“He’s not as amazing as you’d think, actually,” you reply with a curt smile as you reflect on all the disappointments you’ve already experienced since becoming his sugar baby. “But it pays the bills.”

“I can understand that,” he says, staring down into your eyes.

You’ve been truthful with him, besides admitting what you do. Although you can’t explain why, you want this man to think highly of you. Elvis did say that you could date other people, so why shouldn’t you take a stab at this one. He’s handsome with curly brown locks, deep brown doe eyes, and a nicely shaped face. He’s very tall and decently built; you guess he has to be pretty strong to be able to toss set pieces around.

You abruptly stick your hand out for him to shake. His eyebrows raise but he takes your hand in his, giving it two solid pumps. You wiggle your fingers, assuming he’s going to release your hand but he holds onto it for a few seconds longer than you’re expecting. You smile sweetly as he releases your fingers slowly. You drag them across his palm and resist the urge to shudder with excitement.

It’s been upwards of five years since you last had a serious boyfriend, so the thought of maybe finding someone after all this time is extremely appealing. Not to mention that you’re desperate for some physical pleasure. With all of this teasing and leading-up to nothing, you’re starting to get fed up and very tired of the constant lack of tension relief.

“I’m Y/N,” you say.

“I’m-”

“Max!” someone shouts from a different spot in the backstage area. “Stop flirting and get your ass over here to help with the curtains!”

Your eyes shift toward a man yelling orders who you assume is in charge of the stagehands and the backstage activities. Max glances back at you with a shrug.

“Duty calls. Will I…see you here tomorrow?”

“Uh…no, probably not. I don’t think I work tomorrow and I have another job that I have to take care of on the side,” you lie, not too excited about the idea of coming down here more than necessary.

“Oh, damn. Well, what days do you work?”

“It’s sort of unpredictable, to be honest,” you can feel your palms growing sweaty with his constant questioning.

“Alright. Cryptic but alright,” he laughs, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. You bite your lip as you watch his biceps flex. If you were wondering, your question has now been answered. He’s strong strong. “Guess I’ll just have to hang out around here every day until I see you again.”

“Oh…” you drop your gaze, embarrassed and flattered by his charming flirting. “Well in that case, maybe I can make an exception for you. Here.”

You snatch a pen from the table next to you and scribble the number to your hotel room on his palm.

“You can reach me here. If you ever want to hang out or need help or, well, whatever,” you offer.

“And what if I need something tonight? I can call you then?”

You chuckle and bite your lip at his goofy smile.

“You can call whenever. And I’ll decide if I want to pick up or not.”

“Max Carver!” the stage manager shouts and Max jumps.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Max. I’ll hope to see you again some time.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you will," he replies with a wink and a handsome grin.

You turn and start on your way out of the backstage area as you hear the stage manager shouting instructions to Max. You smile to yourself, just a little bit smitten with him.

As you pass the trash can on the way out, you click open your purse and pull the black lingerie out. You drop it into the can and get on your way back upstairs without giving the piece of clothing a second thought.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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[8054yamato]

12/17/2023

It is 10:01PM as I begin to write this. I do not know what this blog will contain. Really, I should be in bed because I have school tomorrow. However, I have not been going to school more frequently than I should and I get scolded by my parents and sibling as a consequence of that. The main reasoning for my absence is primarily my mental stability.

It is pretty ironic. I know what the 'noble' courses of action that I must take. I know that I should not let my mental get the best of me. I am not the type to be swayed into sides of arguments because of how I emotionally feel. I believe that I am a logical person and generally a person of facts over emotions. Despite this, why am I feeling the way I am feeling right now? I am confused despite knowing the answer, yet I can not maintain my drive to pursue change. Maybe because I am pessimistic as a default mood, but regardless, this has taken a toll on myself mentally. I am lost.

Do not get it twisted. I am not suicidal. I am completely against self-harm and would never try it again. I hate harming myself and I implore you to never hurt yourself like that. Yes, multiple points in my life I had attempted suicide, but that is a story for an another day.

Lately, I just have been losing myself. It sounds corny, I know, but I do not even know myself anymore. In school, I put on a front. I had friends but they only know that front. I started distancing myself from all of them as a way to burn a bridge slowly. In my household, I put on a front. Though, I am sure that is normal for many people.

The point I am getting to is that I put on a front different types of people I engage with and I have never truly expressed myself for who I am. The only exception to this was my best friend back in 8th grade but unfortunately, he moved away and I lost his contact. Now, I do not truly know myself anymore.

Identity issues is just one of many problems I have unfortunately. I hope to be able to rant them in one way or another, outside of this platform or in.

With my current work ethic, I just do not see a future within me. My future looks bleak and I might burn bridges with my family at this rate just so they do not see how much of a fucktard of their son is. If I do not find a purpose, I will venture far off to the east of the United States, whatever the way, and start anew with all bridges I have made burnt. Or, I will join the army.

I have not and will not reread any of this so I do not know if I followed anything. I am too sleepy to give a fuck, respectfully. So if it is a jumbled mess and nothing made sense, that is probably why. I just spoke whatever my thoughts came up with during these 40 minutes of staring into my laptop screen.

[haunted-homes]

Intro Post !!

BLOCK IF ON YOUR DNI ! DNI GOES BOTH WAYS !

Hi, Sorry for the really long intro Post !

You can call us Haunt, we are a bodily 19 White Polyfragmented DID system, Physically Disabled, Trans, and Queer! Default Pronouns are He/They/Haunt!

This Tumblr is dedicated to the more problematic sides of our interests or coping mechanisms. We might proxy using emojis under some posts, to avoid using names. Im unsure if we will EVER let littles post here but Regressors or Sliders might. We intend to post Art, Writing, Rants and Vents, etc here. I will add a Disclaimer at the end of this post about my views and nuances about this kind of thing because it is genuinely not black and white to me. Sorry if that makes this intro too long but I wanna be thorough about what my beliefs are so no one gets the wrong idea about us as a person! But aside from that, here's more about us!

MCYT ! Mainly old DSMP, but also Hermitcraft, QSMP, etc etc

Interests Include -

Cookie Run !!!!!

Warrior Cats! Creepy Pasta! FNAF! Mythology! Writing, Art, Music, etc!

The Coffin of Andy and LeyLey

BOUNDARIES !

- You can reclaim slurs around us but only at us if we know each other. We extensively reclaim slurs, but we do not support the use of slurs you cannot reclaim.

- Always ask for consent to flirt, sexualize, etc before doing it because all Alters have different boundaries on this! (That being said, NEVER sexualize our Littles. ever.)

- DMs are open but please don't just send one word, it's hard to read tone or intentions through that and can make us anxious or block you!

- Try to use Tonetags, we are Autistic and really need them sometimes.

- Don't ask for Alters Sources if they don't wanna say. NEVER assume an Alter is like their source, or even enjoys their source. But on that same note, never assume an alter is fully source seperated or wants to Seperate from Source.

- Don't ever ask about our Trauma. We do not owe anyone that information. Whatever information we freely give at one time may be a touchy subject at another time, and we will never put your curiosity before our comfort.

- We prefer to say Source Memories over Psuedo Memories. Pseudo Memories feels demeaning and invalidating, but it is a fully recognized and studied symptom of DID. Source memories are a REAL symptom, it's just a different name than the clinical term. (We also do not like or use ANP/EP)

- We fully believe in System Accountability but all Alters are still seperate people. Some of us have different opinions, ideologies, Religions, etc. That's Normal. That does not mean we collectively support anything damaging to communities we are apart of or especially aren't. I can genuinely and proudly say ALL Alters are Anti-Racist and Anti-Conservative Fucktards.

DISCLAAAAIMER ♡

I like FANTASY tellings of Dead Dove Content. Basically, Proship, Zoo, Necro, shit like that. It should never be misconstrued that I would ever practice those outside of fantasy or fiction, the idea makes me sick.

Maybe one day I will outgrow this, or learn to cope better, but that is not today. I'm going to have my safe and consensual fun, and stick to my own moral code as I do infact have one, and just go from there.

I wanna also make it clear I don't really support MAPS/NOMAPS/AAMS at *all*. That's really weird and creepy as fuck and not the same as what we do/like in the SLIGHTEST, as again, this is all Fantasy/Fiction.

And I do acknowledge that Fiction can affect Reality, it can affect My reality, and I can control how I let it. If I'm gonna be plagued by Problematic shit, I'm gonna make it fun instead of agonizing, but I am not delusional enough to let it affect my judgement on following laws and doing no harm. I don't support or consent to any contact with minors on this account.

TW to things you may find on this Account.

Imagery of Raw Meat - I'm obsessed with aesthetics and Meat and stuff, so I'll probably use it a lot.

NSFW Animal Content (Petplay, Furry, etc)

NSFW Proship Content + SFW Proship Content

CNC / NC / DC Content

Necro Kink

Possibly SH or ED content (only in talk, Headcannons, or Fics, this specifically will ALWAYS be tagged and censored)

Again, just to reiterate. I only enjoy these concepts within the realms of Fiction and Fantasy.

DNI -

- Minors - Anyone under 18.

- Endo's / Endo Supporters

- Fakeclaimers

- Anti LGBTQIA+ (This includes Terfs, Anti Neopronouns, Anti Xenogenders, Anti Mspec / 'Contradictory' Identities, etc)

- Racism / Anti Semitism

- MAP/NOMAP/AAM

- Pro-Contact philia havers

- Transracial, Transabled, Transage. (I know there's nuance here but it's not the kind you weirdos think. Please research Mental Regression and BIIDS for the love of fucking christ.)

[bubble--berry]

I don’t think anyone who’s watched the movie is talking about this but

Garret Laughlin getting ready to get the fuck UP out of his seat to possibly punch those two douchebags making fun of Simon after the leaked emails. Like he full on put his leg on the other side of his seat for a while and it was even there after Ms. Albright shows up, like he’s still hesitant to let them leave. If Simon hadn’t gotten up he definitely would’ve.

It should also be pointed out that no one else moved. Only Garret. Only Garret was going to do something. And I think it’s a big hint on Blue being Bram.

I feel like Bram maybe came out to Garret after the emails got leaked?? He wasn’t there at the lunch table with the others that day so I feel like he told Garret then got nervous and avoided.

[horrible-monstrosity]

mothermom 3 is a baaad animine

part 1: fuck these characters I thought the bit about not being able to go through a certain way because there's ants (that the player can't see) you wouldn't want to trample was going to introduce a theme of kindness and gentleness, but the game sure... tramples that early on by having your oh-so-kindhearted-and-mournable mother trample the fuck out of a sentient talking mole cricket to death right the fuck afterwards. Like, you were just talking to and playfighting with that mole mere seconds ago, and now it's thoughtlessly and meaninglessly dead, and it's supposed to be funny. And then you're supposed to forget all about it when mom dead because care and have emotions for this characters you've barely known for like one minute worth of interactions dragged out over like an hour. ok Then after bumbling along being a hollow little bag of nothing for like ten hours Lucas suddenly proves himself a detestable little cunt by just straight up stealing something he's told was a precious item, a yo-yo belonging to Porky's friend. Because, like... fuck Porky, I guess, in this geame franchise about love and heart and healing there's just this one fat kid we're all supposed to just disregard and piss and shit on and detest by default for no fucking reason just because the game narrative said so. Porky's existence was pretty weird already in Earthbound- he's apparently being abused by his fat parents, and aside from being a bit snotty and show-offy, he does at least make sure his little brother gets home safely at the beginning. He just seems like someone who needs a friend, which... actually makes Ness look like an asshole in retrospect for not just giving him some kind of help. It was kind of fine in that game because he was just a minor character, but making him some supervillain in the next game just because he was some dumpy abused kid is just... what the fuck. But anyway, whenever the plot expects us to care about Loocus and his dumb dead mom I just think about things like the yo-yo and the mole cricket and I lose all empathy. These people are assholes. You're trying to make sympathetic victims out of assholes and an asshole out of a sympathetic victim. Get your meaningless fucking sunflowers the fuck off my screen you bitch fuck

And then on the other hand there's Duster. The character who's absolutely the most deserving of empathy out of all these cunts and we're supposed to see him reembracing his shitty old life as something he should be really happy about. Like for one thing, the entire plot where he reenters the cast is stupid and makes no sense. When we hear he's at the club playing with the band, I could think of a lot of reasons for it- he could be laying low to protect the egg (seeing as how Tamzilly got pozzed and going back there would accomplish nothing), he could have just decided to fuck off and do something he actually enjoyed rather than go back to his shitty asshole dad, he could have somehow ended up far far away from the town and joined the band to make his way back home travelling with them/earn a living so he could get back. But no, before we even get to see him and see how he's acting Strong Female McDerpa Character tells us that he most definitely has amnesia. Because, like, why would he ever give up on his jackass dad and that braindead town otherwise? And then we meet him and it's exactly what we were unceremonously told it was, how rivetting. Then for some reason he decides that if he's really who you say he is he needs to... give up his life as a band member entirely to get the egg back. Can't just come with you to get the egg or until the adventure's over, nooo he needs to abandon his new life forever and ever and just go get fucked and fuck himself. fuck. let my man play guitar and also that "thiefs but good somehow because derp" shit is retarded and I hate it

Finally there's Girl Character who I refuse to even remember the name of because she's... nothing. Even her being kinda cunty about how she's sTrOnG and nOt lIkE ThoSe OthEr gIrlS is just bland. The other girls from the past two games were cute and girly and still credit to team with their strong psychic powers, why the fuck is she like this?

part 2: i've stopped giving a fuck about making this into parts fuck you What the fuck is the story of this game? You spend hours dicking around with a fucking timeskip and a ghost mansion or some shit and the game randomly namedrops the needles at some point, and then... the six or seventh chapter is just titled GUYS THE NEEDLES ARE ACTUALLY REALLY IMPORTANT YOU GUYS. Six or seven fucking chapters in, and we've barely gotten to anything resembling a coherent plot. What the fuck have we been doing up until this point again? Why the fuck do we even need the dragon needles plot anyway? Just have the main cast move from one pigmeng plot to another with things like the thunder tower, slowly working their way up the chain of command until they reach the final boss and his ultimate plan. You don't need to introduce an entire plot worth of fucking shit a third of the way into the game you fucking fuckers

The themes are a fucking dumpsterfire. Just plop some fucktarded work bad money bad bullshit in there and call it a day... Evil monkey man could have given that fucktard anything and got him to hide it in the well and it would have caused a ruckus when he came back and stole it. He could have convinced him to hide his grandma's ashes in the well- would the takeaway from that have been that honoring the dead bad? That's how fucking flat it is. If anything it just comes off as if the people of Tamzilly are just a bunch of mindkilled retards with no defence against humanity's own nature aside from shutting themselves off from the outside world entirely- the slightest contact with normal human interactions like money or having to contribute to society for a living, they all self-destruct. It's not le capitalism that made the old people home bad, it's whoever the fuck actually built it... which, if the outside world weren't basically strawmanned with the le evil pigmans and monkey abuser guy, would have been Tamzilly themselves. Which, because the strawmanning is so unbelievably absurd, makes it seem like Tazmilly is just a retarded place that somehow managed to make the old people's home this bad on their own or some shit I don't know I just can't buy it

Speaking of empathy, the game somehow manages to make the Pig Heil guys endearing even while they're actively working on the thunder tower that's cooking the dumbass town residents. Are they supposed to be abusing the electric catfish when they're cutely telling the things to hang in there and do their best? When Lucas got a jerb hustling the golems around and they managed to make it like a positive thing (the pigmangs encourage you, seemingly pay a decent wage, and even the doggo enjoys running on the treadmill once he gets into it), I thought there was going to be a tweest or at least some nuance, but the absurdity of the nice ol' piglins in the evil tower just makes it seem like it's just entirely unintentional, by writers who just have no idea what the fuck they're doing. The generic braindead modern-bad messaging and the generic brainless funny-characters-ha-ha sides of the writing clash horribly and somehow manage to mangle each other even worse than they already were.

The whimsicality is fucking dead. It's just all so forced and one-note... or, very consistently two-note in every single thing, because absolutely every single monster you meet is just two things funny stuck together. The first two games could glide smoothly between fighting enraged possessed zoo animals and weirdo people, weirdo fucking blended monsters that don't look like anything in particular, and then just sometimes the taxis that're used for decoration on roads will veer off course and engage you in battle. It's simultaneously wildly unpredictable and smoothly cohesive. And it's wonderful. But M3 is just... it leans over, shoves a megaphone down your throat and loudly informs you that "the PIGMEN have FUSED the THINGS toGETHER" and proceeds to beat you over the head with "this thing is THAT thing and THAT thing" over and over again. It's forced, mechanical, hamfisted and just not whimsical at all. And it's not just because the pigmengs aren't Giiigigigigiyasass (which could have been fixed by having them harness traces of Gig's power if that was the problem anyway), because it extends to absolutely everything- the ghosts at the mansion for example are just all absolutely fucking nothing. Like the main big bad boss is just "he's GHOST who THROWS FURNITURE and is BEETHOVEN and plays BEETHOVEN MUSIC". Because Beethoven is old thing therefore old mansion and ghosts, geddit? How fucking pathetic. Oh there's another thing, the weird aliens/conspiracy bent the first two games had is gone entirely. That's something that really helped it feel so wild yet at the same time cohesive... Actually, the game also seems to have done away with the surprise overworld sprite encounters like the aforementioned taxis. ... No wait that's right, they blew their load in the first levels with the rock lizards, which were fucking boring.

The dialogue fucking sucks. just fucking drags the fuck on endlessly for fucking ever to say barely anything, and barely anything you need to actually hear. Did Earthbound ever stop you to inform you that the TAXIS are AFFECTED by GIGUDUGDSAS like you couldn't figure that out yourself? No, they say Gigi's affected shit in a couple sentences near the beginning and let the rest of it speak for itself, pretty much. It's hard to give exact examples because I can't fucking remember any of this shit because it just slides right off my brain like ducks off of water, it's so bland and pointless. The sparrows drone on endlessly with worthless tutorial shit and then take an entire extra sentence to chirp at you and remind you that it's talking animals oh wow wacky!!!!!!! And when Duster decides he really is what you say he is he stands there going "ME IS DUSTER" over and over again like he's fucking Bimpson. You don't have anything interesting to say about finally figuring out who you really are? Okay... There's multiple fucking scenes of slow-scrolling walls of fucking text telling you absolutely nothng you don't already know except that the writers are wanking the fuck off over their own dumbass writing where in Earthbound there was like one scene of this towards the end that really just set up the emotions of the final sequences and underlined how far you'd come and shit and was a good moment of reflection and shit.

I also find it exceptionally intersting that all the people in Tazmilly before the timeskip have names and unique appearances, but anyone who only shows up after is just some generic design called "Man" or "Woman" or what have you. It feels weirdly dehumanizing towards outsiders.

This game fucking feels like the writers just fucking dumped a bunch of absolute shit down like they expected everyone to just eat it up, either because of the success of the previous games or because of the emotional manipulation the plot is laced with. The characters are all either detestable cunts or desperately need to be airlifted out into a better game pronto. And it's unsettlingly... modern in what's wrong with it. The capitalism-bad-tradition-good-mindkill-yourself messaging, the spunky female character(tm) who rubs it in your face how strongk she is (and who keeps talking even when you're controlling her while the other characters all become silent protagonists)... even the weirdly random spite towards characters the narrative has decided aren't "deserving" enough, or characters only being allowed to handle said spite and retain sympathy by cucking to it completely (Duster)... I suppose that's just a sign that these sorts of writing problems and hangups are older than that and have just become more popular/visible in recent times, but it's still really fucking weird to see.

I feel like I should be concerned that the team behind the Earthbound series also started Gamefreak and created Pokemon, though since the split obviously happened before Mo 3 I don't know how much overlap there is between staff members there specifically... seeing as how these exact same sort of writing problems have started to rear their heads in the Pokemon franchise, starting weakly in gen 6 (cough zinnia cough abandoned ship plotline cough) and absolutely fucking exploding in 7 (cough LILLIE COUHG FUCKING TAPUS COUGH AGAG V HIC CUFGH VOMIT AAGHK); I haven't yet fully witnessed gen 8 but everything I've seen of it so far looks no better, except there's no shill character (Marnie is just kinda... there), just suffering. But that's all for another post.

welp time to go watch the remainder of the game until my brain rots off

[swrx-rant]

User eXperience - Windows Explorer

Microsoft, does it feel like I'm picking on you? Get the fuck over it, its nothing you don't deserve a hundred million times over. (once for each user you have pissed off with your shitty interface)

DRAG & DROP - onDragEnter over an EXE file... TURN THIS FUCKING SHIT OFF. DON'T DO A FUCKING THING UNLESS I FUCKING DROP IT THERE!!! DO NOT FREEZE OR LAG MY COMPUTER OR FORCE THE MOUSE TO STICK OVER THE FUCKING EXE INCREASING THE CHANCE OF AN ACCIDENTAL FUCKING DROP DUE TO SIGNAL LOSS/LOW BATTERY/A CHEAP-ASS WIRELESS MOUSE THAT RANDOMLY RELEASES AND RECLICKS MISFIRING EVENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TOOLTIPS - 99% of the FUCKING TIME WE DO NOT WANT THESE FUCKING THINGS POPPED IN OUR FACE. THEY TEND TO COVER IMPORTANT INFORMATION LIKE FUCKING THE FILENAMES BELOW THE CURRENT ITEM TO PROVIDE US WITH REDUNDANT SHIT ALREADY VISIBLE ON THE SCREEN. They are useful 1% of the time and the UI should reflect that by USING A MODIFIER KEY TO SUMMON THEM!!! In other words, DON'T SHOW ME FUCKING TOOLTIPS UNLESS I'M HOLDING DOWN THE MOTHERFUCKING ALT KEY, ASSHOLES!!!!!!!!! That goes for Blizzard UI/WoW too. :/

STUPIDFETCH/PREFETCH - this is when your dog brings you the stick before you throw it. While you're driving. On the freeway. In the snow and ice. At night. With one headlight out. And no sleep for 36 hours. And your heater doesn't work. And the passenger window is broken.... I DON'T FUCKING WANT THE STICK RIGHT NOW, I WANT TRACTION ON THE FUCKING ROAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What DIPSHIT at Microsoft (sounds like they need those little blue pills) thought it was a good idea to WASTE ALL OF THE RAM ALL OF THE TIME? Seriously, some dumbass came up with a whitepaper that said unused resources were wasted. No, unused resources are RESERVED/PROTECTED/THERE-WHEN-NEEDED. OVERUSED RESOURCES ARE WASTED! AND SO WAS THE FUCKWAD THAT WROTE THE PAPER! Why should I slow my system, put unnecessary wear, and generally fuck up my user experience by having the computer load shit I am not currently using??? It doesn't fucking matter what I did last Tuesday, I expect 90% of system resources to be available TO THE ACTUAL PROGRAM/PROJECT I AM RUNNING!!! And the remaining 10% to keep the fucking system stable/responding.

How hard is it to just do what the fuck you are told and not try (badly) to guess what I might want next??? Saving 0.3 seconds on application load isn't worth taking 2-3x LONGER to fucking render!!! ALLOCATE MEMORY TO MY ACTUAL TASK, FUCK WHAT YOU THINK! Why doesn't the system give the RAM to Photoshop/GIMP/DAZ/Poser/Blender/Z-Brush/Maya/LightWave/3D Max/Carrara/Vue/Cinema4D/Bryce/or-whatever-the-fuck-high-system-requirement-program-I-am-USING!!!?? Hasn't anyone else noticed this? RAM says 0% free, 70% Available, 70% cached... and the program you are USING is CHOKING while it waits for the system to give it the fucking RAM it Requested/COMMITTED???? I'm watching the PAGE-FAULTS pile up while the system reports, "EVERYTHING'S FINE, NOT TO WORRY... WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY SOLITAIRE NOW¿ I'M GONNA LOAD THAT FOR YOU..." Is it illegal to fucking shoot a computer? Give it time, it will be.

I have watched this fucktarded process try to stuff 40GB of WoW data into 4GB of RAM. Windows, you have no fucking clue what bits the game needs, why don’t you WAIT FOR IT TO DECIDE/REQUEST!

SEARCH - HOW FUCKING HARD IS IT TO WRITE A USEFUL GODDAMNED SEARCH? (Don't ask Google, they sure as fuck don't know, no wonder I want to *bing* you jackasses upside the head) When I search for "desktop.ini" (to delete the useless fuckers), I do not want "desktop-utilities.ini", "desktop-widgets, incororated magical wanker with bluetooth file-syncing.ini", or anything the fuck else besides D E S K T O P . I N I -- why the fuck do I have to tell you "name:=" just to get expected behavior??? I didn't search for "desktop*.ini"! Users are smart enough to know how a fucking wildcard character works, too bad the OS isn't smart enough to know how a STRING LITERAL does! If you want to support more flexible searches, then why don't you limpdicks implement REGULAR EXPRESSION support on searches???????????? Then, if I wanted to search for "desktop.*\.ini" I would fucking tell you, otherwise assume I mean "desktop\.ini". The search worked better in Windows98 than it has in any version since... and it wasn't great back then either, it just hadn't become a total fuckup yet... that was before it started using crack. Can we just get the fucking thing to stop guessing and start fucking looking??

NETWORKING - on the subject of JUST FUCKING LOOK, perhaps we could get the network TO ACTUALLY FUCKING TRY TO CONNECT BEFORE IT SAYS IT COULDN'T??? Do you like being called limpdicks? You must, you did call yourselves "micro-soft". Do you think we're too stupid to notice the difference between the system trying to connect to a shared computer/network folder and it INSTANTLY bitching it can't? The only Denial of Service happening here is from you not letting me connect to my fucking internal network, you douchebags.

DEFRAG - what the fuck were you losers thinking??? First you replace the visual feedback of moving cluster blocks and replace it with a shitty progress bar (dropping from a 2D visual matrix to a single dimension), then you remove the feedback ENTIRELY... not even a generic progress bar or percentage or estimated completion time. Instead you fucktards just give us a message that says "please wait" with no indication that you are doing a fucking thing (even taskmanager can't see it half the fucking time). Then you take a goddamned nap for the next 36 hours, making no discernible progress. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT AND WHY THE FUCK IS IT EVEN TURNED ON? What shitbag thought the answer was "always running defrag in the background"??? That isn't a solution, its a fucking problem, a goddamned big one you numbshits! This had to come from the same dumbass that believes unused RAM is wasted, now we get the idea that if your HDD is GRINDING ALL THE TIME, it too is somehow wasted. FUCK. THAT. GUY. (please, somebody just shoot him between the eyes with a military grade paintball gun... and if you miss the *between* part, well, that's okay too) [yeah, yeah, "violence is never called for"... clearly you didn't read the script, cause the dramatic tension in this scene needs to break... its right there below line 7, it clearly says "and violence ensues"]

TILES - yes, let's make an interface that takes up extra space and doesn't provide anything useful... oh, and let's make it the FUCKING DEFAULT. And no matter how many times the user tells us they don't want this piece of shit view, we'll keep reverting to it, especially when they open a network folder or external device.

Seriously dipfucks, this could have been a useful, CUSTOMIZABLE view where the USER could decide what details they wanted to see, and HOW BIG THE TUMBNAIL/PREVIEW is, and what META-INFORMATION such as URLs could be attached and how they would be shown.

But instead they made a shitty, small preview/thumbnail, and piled on useless details that cannot be configured, leaving out USEFUL information wherever possible. THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN A CUSTOM FUCKING WIDGET, LET THE DAMNED USER DECIDE WHAT THEY WANT, DON'T FORCE IT ON THEM. NO MEANS NO.

SETTINGS/CONTROL PANEL - WHY?! WHY DO YOU FUCKERS HAVE TO RENAME AND MOVE SETTINGS WITH EVERY FUCKING VERSION OF THE OS????? It was painful enough to find how to customize this shitty operating system the first time, now, like fucking walmart, I have to learn an entirely new store layout every fucking time I visit instead of finding the product/service/setting I'm looking for. KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF! AND QUIT FUCKING HIDING SETTINGS TOO... things that could be configured in older versions of windows are now FUCKING HARDCODED LIKE THE FUCKTARDS AT APPLE DO! I don't wan't a single-button mouse or interface, morons, I WANT FULL FUCKING CONTROL OF EVERY SINGLE (reasonably distinct) ASPECT, THAT CAN BE *SAFELY* CONFIGURED. I don't like fucktarded "basic" settings that have only 1 or 2 options, I DEMAND FULL CONTROL OF THE FUCKING COMPUTER AND OPERATING SYSTEM I PAID FOR! If I don't like a how shitty UI/UX feature is implemented, I ought to be able to change it! I'm not asking to modify core stability and security, just the ability to use your product without wanting to kill myself. (or you... mostly you)

JUMP LISTS: PINNED ITEMS - why can't you fucking remember what was PINNED!? Especially for web-browsers! When I pin 10 websites, I EXPECT THEM TO BE THERE A WEEK FROM NOW, A MONTH FROM NOW, A DECADE FROM NOW!!! Instead, they disappear after just a couple of days because you keep OVERWRITING PINNED ITEMS with "new" items. TREAT THE FUCKING PINNED AS READ ONLY, WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT OTHER VISITED SITES, WHY SHOULD THEY TAKE PRECEDENCE!? Only the USER should be allowed to REMOVE PINS!!!!!!!! Its time you "microsoft dogs" learn what *STAY* means! But enough talk, HAVE AT YOU!

[jiskblr]

multiheaded1793 replied to your post “It’s presidents’ day so I’ll just state my noncontroversial opinion...”

@plain-dealing-villain in your opinion, would centralizing such elements of the US power structure as the appointment of judges and district attorneys (in place of electing them locally) make the country more or less oppressive to live in? why or why not?

I consider “appointed by the state governor” to be the default state of affairs for judges; electing judges is clearly immoral and always has been. For DAs, it’s probably still bad to elect them but they all seem to be tyrannical pro-cop fucktards regardless of what means put them in power so I’m not sure I care.

Other than the effects of racism more federal power is unambiguously bad; less ability to leave laws you find oppressive, more intrusive, more ability to wage war and leverage other powers to get support for your war, less latitude for expressing dissent from a connected but distant corner.

For racism (and to a lesser extent other bigotry) there is the significant drawback that states which are more bigoted and have more power under their control can make it worse to live in for the targets of their bigotry, which is particularly significant in the content of racism because most black people lived in the most anti-black states for most of the history of the US. (They might still? I don’t remember.)

Does that make centralization worth it? Probably not, I think.

[swrx-rant]

Chrome HTML Document - FUCK YOU GOOGLE

(As usual, RANT FIRST, solution after... scroll to the bottom unless you want to here me rip half the valley a new one)

Chrome can be useful for a lot of file types, especially now that Micro$hit has decided TO REMOVE SUPPORT FOR ANIMATED GIFS from their bundled viewers (this happened all the way back in Vista, “We have not forgotten, Señor Gates, nor shall we forgive.”) And, of course, since NOTHING else supports the new bullshit WEBP format, even though floogle is trying so damned hard to push it. (Irfan says they do, BULL-FUCKING-SHIT they do!)

But of course, the convenience of having a program that CAN ACTUALLY WORK WITH THESE FILES can quickly be overshadowed by the stupid shit it does TO EVERY FILE ASSOCIATED WITH IT! For some, paradoxical reason, Larry and Sergey (or one of their COUNTLESS MINIONS) decided to call EVERYTHING a “Chrome HTML Document”. I mean, WHO GIVES A FUCK IF ITS ACTUALLY AN HTML FILE IN THE FIRST PLACE... *.pdf? that’s a “ Chrome HTML Document ”; GIF89a? that too is a “Chrome HTML Document“ (I wonder if the assholes at CompuShit can sue them over insinuating GIF is theirs? Give it a shot guys, you wanted to sue everyone for using the format anyway, right?? For using the GRAPHICAL INTERCHANGE FORMAT to interchange graphical files? I mean, first you claim its an INDUSTRY STANDARD, then you try to claim its a PROPRIETARY FORMAT AND EVERYONE OWES YOU ROYALTIES... What, do you think your FUCKIN APPLE or somethin?? You fucktarded shits probably didn’t even come up with LZW compression, I bet you BOUGHT the fuckers that did, just like all you Silicon Valley douchebags... anyway, I digress.)

vvvvvvvvvv SOLUTION vvvvvvvvvvv

So here’s a quickie for anyone tired of this FUCKTARDED FILE DESCRIPTION that CHROME APPLIES TO EVERY GODDAMNED FILE ITS ASSOCIATED WITH REGARDLESS OF EXTENSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Open the Registry Editor: ([Windows]+R, type: “regedit”)

Search for the Offending String (there should be only 1 match in this case), or go directly to: HKEY_CLASSES_ROOT\ChromeHTML

You should see the FUCKTARDED DESCRIPTION there under the (default) value.

"MODIFY...” this value (leave it a blank/empty string)

Now, the problem should go away from here (windows will go back to using the default “<extension> file” descriptions), but you may have to do one of two things to see the change, either:

a. Change the association to another program then back to Chrome

OR

b. Reboot the computer (especially if there are multiple extensions offending)

^^^^^^^^^^ SOLUTION ^^^^^^^^^^^

Now, a small SECONDARY RANT for anyone who asks, WHY? As in, “why would you want to do that... ?”, “why don’t you just... ?”, et cetera. Let me ask YOU something, WHY DA FUCK DID YOU POST A GODDAMNED RESPONSE ON A FORUM OR HELP SITE IF YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH EXPERIENCE AS A COMPUTER USER TO ACTUALLY OFFER GOOD ADVICE?! I mean, clearly, you’re even lacking a fully developed PREFRONTAL CORTEX if you can’t empathize with how fucking frustrating shit like this is.

No? Then let me fucking enlighten ya:

Have you, IN YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE, ever needed to SORT FILES BY TYPE????????? As in, I want all the GIFs in this group, all the PDFs in that, etc., so I can MOVE THEM INTO DIFFERENT FOLDERS TO BE PROCESSED BY DIFFERENT PROGRAMS!

If you answered no to the above question, THEN GET THE FUCK OFF THE INTERNET!!! Clearly, you’ve barely touched a computer and have no business trying to “help” others with your stupidity. Seems to me, you’re the kind of jerk-off that has never even SEEN a file extension, so what the fuck would you know about editing file-type descriptors?

Fact is, bugs like this cause a cluster-fuck of file types, because Gate’s minions decided Sort by Type should use arbitrary descriptors instead of ACTUAL EXTENSIONS, while Page and Brin’s minions decided that EVERYTHING is a fucking Chrome HTML Document, no matter what the fuck it is... is that water you’re drinking? No, my friend, THAT’S A FUCKING WEBPAGE!

(Sorry, I really had the best of intentions when I said scroll to the bottom, but I hadn’t gotten everything off my chest yet, so scroll to the middle... look for the arrows that point to the SOLUTION. I guess I’m incapable of a short rant... lmao)

[swrx-rant]

If it don’t start with = it ain’t a damned FORMULA!

I’m lookin at you Microsoft Office/Quirks Excel, LibreOffice/OpenOfice Calc, Corel Office Quattro-Amateur, and yer ilk!

None of you sons of bitches seem to get this. There is NO SETTING to tell these fuckers to knock this shit off!

If I want to type “+/- “ or anything remotely similar I have to prefix it with an apostrophe... to make this worse, calc then SHOWS THE APOSTROPHE! This seriously slows work flow and pisses me off, distracting me from my work while I fight the Google to try to find anyone in the fucking world who has EVER mentioned this problem... guess what that fucktarded engine said about this...

And don’t even get me started on Corel’s overpriced garbage-ware!

Again, if I didn’t type a mother fucking EQUALS sign as the FIRST CHARACTER in a cell, then I am 100% fucking sure I didn’t ask you to make a fucking formula out of it! Turn that shit off or let ME turn that shit off!!!!!

Also, a NUMBER RANGE, FRACTION, OR DECIMAL IS NOT A FUCKING DATE YOU DUMB MOTHER FUCKERS! If I wanted it to BE a date, I would have FORMATTED IT AS ONE!

1-10 is ONE TO TEN. It is NEVER January 2010 or January 10, Year(Now())

1/5 is ONE FIFTH in an UNFORMATED or NUMERIC CELL, it should ONLY be treated as a date IF THE CELL IS DATE FORMATTED!

Same goes for 1.5!

Now, if I type 1/1/2000 in a cell, then type 1/2 (god damn it, tumblr, you keep your fucking auto-replace to yourself too, I didn’t ask to replace 1 / 2  with the half-fraction symbol/character (1/2)!) in the cell directly below it, THEN you can assume 1/2 is a DATE, but you should ALSO ASSUME IT FALLS IN THE SAME YEAR!

So, can we stop converting TWO-PART potential dates when we are NOT FUCKING ASKED TO? Because they could just as easily NOT BE DATES! And, the DEFAULT FORMAT IS/SHOULD-BE NUMERIC, therefor 1-10, 1.2, and 1/3 ARE NOT DATES!

Reminder, asshole devs:

^[=].*$                  IS A FORMULA

^[^=].*$                 IS NEVER EVER EVER A FUCKING FORMULA!!!

[swrx-rant]

JUST FUCKING COPY!

JUST FUCKING COPY, is that too much to ask, Microsoft?

I don’t fucking care if there are “thumbs.db” files “desktop.ini” files! Bill Gates can shove these useless pieces of crap where they belong! As far as I’m concerned, these should be treated like MALWARE and immediately DELETED whenever detected. I have NEVER asked the system to make a “desktop.ini” file (okay, there was that once I wanted an icon on a folder...), and just because I told you not to use dipshit TILES view or stop autodetecting content and just treat it as a documents/general items folder, is no fucking reason to ADD SUPERFLUOUS JUNK FILES TO MY DAMNED DIRECTORY!!! Knock it the fuck off and continue the fucking copy!

I don’t fucking care if there are “properties” that won’t copy from NADS (read as NTFS ADS) to CDFS or FAT32 or ExFAT. I didn’t create that fucking metadata and I don’t give a fuck whether it gets included, just copy the god damned files, dipshit!

Out of namespace in FAT32 (error 0x80070052)? START ANOTHER FUCKING FOLDER AND KEEP FUCKING COPYING!!!! SERIOUSLY, WHY THE FUCK DO FUCKTARDED ERRORS LIKE THIS EVEN EXIST AND WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING ABORT A COPY OPERATION MIDWAY THROUGH???? WHAT KIND OF FUCKING MORON THOUGHT A PARTIAL COPY WITH ZERO INTEGRITY WAS THE CORRECT RESULT??? Either complete the whole fucking transaction, or give me the OPTION to keep the partial or roll it back AND in EITHER CASE GIVE ME A SAVABLE/RESUMABLE LIST INDICATING CLEARLY WHAT COPIED AND WHAT FAILED!!

Filename too long for destination? THEN FUCKING TRUNCATE IT AND FINISH THE FUCKING COPY!!!!

That (MS-DOS 8.3) Filename already exists...? No it fucking doesn’t. And why the fuck are you using 8.3 naming rules? SO FUCKING WHAT IF A FILE ENDS IN ~1, DOESN’T AUTOMATICALLY MEAN IT HAS TO COMPLY WITH OUTDATED STANDARDS FROM ANCIENT FILESYSTEMS!!! “FuckYouYouStupidSonOfABitch.kma” and “FUCKYO~1.KMA” --- ARE NOT THE SAME FUCKING FILE! THIS ISN’T 1984 YOU STUPID MOTHER FUCKER! DROP THE 8.3 COMPATIBILITY MODE ALREADY!!!

God damn it, Microshit! Do I need to rewrite Windows Explorer for you?! Stop doing stupid shit!!! And stop giving me excuses when I give you an EXCEEDINGLY SIMPLE ORDER TO COPY FILES TO A BACKUP DEVICE! I don’t have to to fucking babysit your fucktarded OS while it performs an ELEVEN HOUR COPY!!!!!!!

That’s it... I’m going to write a VB6 or .NET2.0 utility program to stand there holding a fucking gun to your Kernel/CPU while the copy completes. I’ll give it a few extra bells and whistles like move/copy option after files are selected, multiple copy destinations, and even the ability to AUTOMATICALLY FUCKING EXTERMINATE thumbs.db and desktop.ini SYSTEM FILES ON SIGHT, and truncate filenames longer than 64(default) characters, and remove non-latin characters that cause problems for some programs (including irfanview batch conversions), and fix/replace bad extensions like “*.jpe”. But mostly, it will just SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THE JOB DONE.

I’m going to call it “Just Fucking Copy” (JFC.exe)