#i don't have to ask permission to do the things i want :)

[voidmatic]

why do I need permission to delete something? who the hell am I asking permission to? this is my goddamn computer !

it's not a "maybe later" I'll never want to hear about your stupid AI "features", google!

and it isn't JUST computers, either. I go to work and every day we have people asking us why we don't have as many physical copies of certain games. it's because we didn't have trade-ins, our xbox section would be one small shelf - microsoft doesn't want to send us physical copies of most games, they want you to buy them digitally. the PS5 "pro" was released for over a thousand dollars and doesn't have a damn disc drive. you don't own anything digitally, we see it time and time again - they just don't want you to have a physical copy of something, because then you own it, you can share it with your friends and family, you can trade it in or sell it when you're done and want to play something new. they hate this ecosystem people have created.

we have to create sites to backup some games because of things like the eShop on 3DS just.. closing. countless titles with no ethical way to play them. like OP said, some flash stuff only exists because people care and they preserved it.

I don't want an ai shuffle for my spotify music. I don't want an image generator built into my google pixel home screen customization options. I don't want everything to look the same, with rounded corners and sterile bland white backgrounds and typefaces so bland they've lost any sense of character and logos that I can't tell apart and desaturated colours and no sense of humanity or personality whatsoever.

I get nostalgic when I turn on my first HTC smartphone, the one with the fun flip clock on the home screen, that used to animate raindrops when it was raining only to swipe them away with a windshield wiper. I could choose whatever annoying colour I wanted my text bubbles to be, and set the font colour to be as unreadable as I pleased. it was fun.

I won't forget when customization was key and fun and loud, I won't forget when physical media was common, and I won't forget when tech had personality.

I don't know I'm not done talking about it. It's insane that I can't just uninstall Edge or Copilot. That websites require my phone number to sign up. That people share their contacts to find their friends on social media.

I wouldn't use an adblocker if ads were just banners on the side funding a website I enjoy using and want to support. Ads pop up invasively and fill my whole screen, I misclick and get warped away to another page just for trying to read an article or get a recipe.

Every app shouldn't be like every other app. Instagram didn't need reels and a shop. TikTok doesn't need a store. Instagram doesn't need to be connected to Facebook. I don't want my apps to do everything, I want a hub for a specific thing, and I'll go to that place accordingly.

I love discord, but so much information gets lost to it. I don't want to join to view things. I want to lurk on forums. I want to be a user who can log in and join a conversation by replying to a thread, even if that conversation was two days ago. I know discord has threads, it's not the same. I don't want to have to verify my account with a phone number. I understand safety and digital concerns, but I'm concerned about information like that with leaks everywhere, even with password managers.

I shouldn't have to pay subscriptions to use services and get locked out of old versions. My old disk copy of photoshop should work. I should want to upgrade eventually because I like photoshop and supporting the business. Adobe is a whole other can of worms here.

Streaming is so splintered across everything. Shows release so fast. Things don't get physical releases. I can't stream a movie I own digitally to friends because the share-screen blocks it, even though I own two digital copies, even though I own a physical copy.

I have an iPod, and I had to install a third party OS to easily put my music on it without having to tangle with iTunes. Spotify bricked hardware I purchased because they were unwillingly to upkeep it. They don't pay their artists. iTunes isn't even iTunes anymore and Apple struggles to upkeep it.

My TV shows me ads on the home screen. My dad lost access to eBook he purchased because they were digital and got revoked by the company distributing them. Hitman 1-3 only runs online most of the time. Flash died and is staying alive because people love it and made efforts to keep it up.

I have to click "not now" and can't click "no". I don't just get emails, they want to text me to purchase things online too. My windows start search bar searches online, not just my computer. Everything is blindly called an app now. Everything wants me to upload to the cloud. These are good tools! But why am I forced to use them! Why am I not allowed to own or control them?

No more!!!!! I love my iPod with so much storage and FLAC files. I love having all my fics on my harddrive. I love having USBs and backups. I love running scripts to gut suck stuff out of my Windows computer I don't want that spies on me. I love having forums. I love sending letters. I love neocities and webpages and webrings. I will not be scanning QR codes. Please hand me a physical menu. If I didn't need a smartphone for work I'd get a "dumb" phone so fast. I want things to have buttons. I want to use a mouse. I want replaceable batteries. I want the right to repair. I grew up online and I won't forget how it was!

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Cereal

Bucky Barnes x Single Mom! Reader

The Boy looks upon the many shelves of cereal. Some are bland, some are sugary, and others are healthy. Some have cartoon characters on the box, and many have real-life heroes. With all these heroes, he still couldn't find his. The boy sighed, his lips quivering. He wipes his eyes before his tears even begin to slip.

"Honey?" his mother called for him.

"He's not here," His voice shakes and tears spilling over.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she gently moved him to the side out of the way of after customers.

"H-he doesn't have o-one." He points to the shelves as he begins to cry. She tucks his face into her stomach as she takes a look at the shelves for herself. And her boy was right, his hero was not amongst those on the shelve.

"I'm sorry," she tried to rub his back, providing some comfort. " We'll look at different stores. Don't worry."

"No," he cried. This was the third store in a week, and they still hadn't found it. He was tired, and he knew they weren't going to find it. Frustratedly, he snatched off his prosthetic arm and tossed it down the aisle. ( Moments like this made her grateful she bought plastic).

"Absolutely not. We don't throw things." The round of gasps and how quickly the aisle emptied told her all she needed to know. They would not be making any purchases here today.

Wiping his tears, she stood up to retrieve the arm, only to find a man holding it.

"Excuse me, that's my son's." He was a tall, big man in a baseball cap, thick coat, and leather gloves. And in those gloved hands was her son's prosthetic.

He hands it to her, and she gives him a small thanks.

"How'd he lose it? If- If you don't mind me asking?"

She took a deep breath. This was going to go one of two ways. The educational route and she'd possibly teach this man something new or bashing route, and this man would get disrespectful, and she'd probably have to call security or the police.

"He didn't lose it. He was born without." She moved to her son, tucking him into her side. His cries had stopped, but his tears were still streaming.

"I ....there was an accident and lost mine." The man said, massaging his left hand. She didn't understand why he was telling them this. But she did appreciate him sharing a piece of him. " Why is he crying?"

"He has a favorite hero. He's like him, and we were trying to find his cereal or his snack or... just anything with him on it. We can't seem to find him anywhere."

"May I?" the man asked, motioning to her son, asking permission to approach him. She granted it and watched as he kneeled in front of her son, who was still tucked into her side. His tears had dried, and he seemed to be in ...awe?

It wasn't until the man removed his gloves, then cap, that she realized who he was, and she felt like an idiot. She had been researching this man with every free moment she had ever since her son declared him to be his favorite and just like him. And she couldn't tell the difference between him on stage and him in a baseball cap.

Embarrassing.

"Hi, my name is Bucky, what's yours?"

Her son whispered his name as he blushed. " That's a cool arm you got their bud."

"I have another one that's cooler. It has space on it," he said as his mother kneeled, putting it back on his elbow.

"That does sound cooler. Mine doesn't really have anything on it." Bucky said, pulling up his sleeve to show off his metal appendage. The son gasped in amazement as he stepped forward, his little fingers reaching and tracing the gold and black plates. The man watched him carefully as he touched and stayed very still.

She would have corrected her son's rude behavior any other time, but right now, with the awe on his face and the smile on Mr. Barnes's face, she didn't want to interrupt. Plus, she was as in awe as the fluorescent lights made it shine—both the arm and his smile.

"A friend made it for me. It's made of a special metal called vibranum."

"Like your friend's shield?" He whispered as he pulled away.

"Exactly," he whispered in return as he stood up. She stood up as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. That was very kind of you, and we really appreciate it."

Bucky is fine, Mrs?" he said.

"(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n). No, Mrs. No husband," she regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. But that didn't shut her up. " There is no one else. Just me. Just us."

Bucky gave a soft smile and nodded. " I'm sorry to hear that." He didn't look or sound sorry. "Listen, Um, I volunteer at this rehab for kids, and they have a lot of programs there, so if your son wanted, he could come join." Bucky pulled out a flyer from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it over to her. It looked to be a place for physically disabled children.

"This looks nice, actually. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. My number is on the back if you need any help with the program or stuff. or just ... Want to hang out ." Bucky cringed on how that came, but she just smiled and laughed. She turned the flyer over to see his number was indeed on the back.

"Oh"

"Hopefully, I'll see you two there."

"Definitely, I mean, yes. We'll be there, won't we, buddy."

"Will you be there?" The boy asked.

"As long as the world doesn't need saving, I'm there every other afternoon."

"Hopefully, the world doesn't need saving when we come by." she teased.

"Even if it did, I'm sure the others could handle it on their own. I wouldn't leave a doll like you waiting."

Doll.

Doll. She didn't know how, but with a single word, the man nearly put her on her knees. Suddenly, her heart had quickened, and her legs were shaky. And the way he bit his lips after and looked her up and down. Was he trying to devour her with such a stare? When did the atmosphere change?

A little squeak brought them both back to reality and reminded them of their little audience. No flirting in front of the babies.

"We'll be there, Mr. B...Bucky. We'll be there." Taking her son's hand, she turned to leave before stopping and saying, " I'll call."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Bye-bye," the boy waved to his hero with a big grin on his face. As he watched them walk away. His cereal crisis was long forgotten.

[digi-lov]

It's the season of giving, so how about we

give some fucking credit. Part 1

I'll link my other posts on art theft at the end of the paragraph, but I'll repeat a couple things here I want people to remember.

Check out [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

On tumblr, and many social media, you cannot report art theft without filing a proper DMCA, which entails sharing your real name and address to the other party, i.e. the art thief. Needless to say this system can easily be abused.

Additionally, many artists who have their art stolen, do not speak english. This makes navigating this issue even more difficult. Also, in Japan for example, art theft is considered a form of online harassment, and causes many people to delete their art or entire accounts.

Do NOT repost Art without Permission.

Always assume an artist would not be okay with reposts, and ask for permission. Credit without permission is not enough. Credit without a link or note of what platform the username is used on is not enough. Reposting art from people who explicitly state "No Reposts", is not okay. Reposting art you don't know the original source of is also not okay.

I don't like to call out specific people, but at some point I don't know what else to do.

Here are my previous posts on the topic: [X1] [X2] [X3] [X4] [X5] [X6]

I have dealt with this person before. According to her bio, she is in her 30s, so she should "know better". I have called her out before, and her response was to just block me and keep stealing. She started leaving the occasional username, but not always. She even mispelled one artist's name. Some artists here have openly stated they don't want reposts. Some artist have deleted the respective work or their account. Some art is stolen from TCG artist or Illustration Contest artist.

I'll put the first batch under a cut to not fill your dashboard, but please do take a look. Also, this post will have multiple parts, because I got over 60 cases here and it won't fit in the post image limit.

they mispelled the artist's name in the "credits", it's Kaki_Rin

To be continued...

[nxzz-skz]

Bound by contract (a bangchan x reader series)

Chapter 10

ᯓ★arranged marriage between nonidol!bangchan and fem!reader

ᯓ★ warnings: angst

ᯓ★ note: send an ask or comment to be added to my taglist!

ᯓ★ my heart literally broke into tiny little pieces whilst writing this :( on the other hand - YIPPIE 10th CHAPTER OF MY FIRST SERIES!

chapter 9 - masterlist - chapter 11

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

The night of the gala didn't end with forgiveness.

You were driven home in Chan's car, the whole journey filled with quiet tension. The air between you was thick with all the things neither of you wanted to say yet. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly you thought he might break it, and you sat with your arms crossed, eyes fixed on the city lights as the flashed past the window.

When the car finally came to a stop in front of the house, you expected him to stay in the car. To drive away. To leave.

But he didn't.

Instead, he got out, walked round to your side, and opened your door for you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to react to the sudden change in his behaviour.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly, his voice careful but firm.

You blinked up at him. Was he asking for your permission?

"You don't have to," you muttered, glancing away. "If you think I'm still to fragile to be trusted."

He sucked in a breath, and for a moment, you thought you'd gone too far. But when you finally looked at him, his expression wasn't angry.

It was raw.

"No more games, Y/N," he said quietly. "Not with you."

His words buried themselves deep in your chest, heavier than you wanted them to be.

You stepped out of the car, brushing past him silently. But you didn't stop him from following you inside.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Once inside, you kicked off your heels and threw your purse onto the kitchen counter. Chan lingered by the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

You glanced at him, annoyed by how easily he could make himself look vulnerable — as if he weren’t the man who could destroy an entire empire with a single phone call.

“Are you going to just stand there?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He looked at you, then stepped forward, each step deliberate and slow. His eyes never left yours. “I’m done standing around.”

You hated how your heart betrayed you, thudding loudly in your chest.

“Why now, Chan?” you asked, voice sharp. “Why do you suddenly care so much?”

He stopped a few feet away, close enough to touch but far enough to give you space. His gaze softened, and the weight of everything that had passed between you was suddenly too heavy to ignore.

���Because I’m tired,” he admitted, his voice low but certain. “I’m tired of pretending that I’m fine without you.”

You sucked in a breath, your chest tightening painfully. Don’t fall for it. Don’t fall for him.

“Stop,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Stop saying things like that.”

“Why?” He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Because you’ll believe me?

Yes.

“No,” you lied, your throat tight with emotion.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see through you. “You always do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?” you bit back.

“Run,” he said simply.

You froze, his words cutting deeper than you expected.

He didn’t press forward this time. Instead, he stood there, his gaze steady, like he was finally seeing you for exactly who you were.

“I’m not running,” you said firmly.

“No?” He arched a brow. “Then stay.”

“Stay for what, Chan?” You raised your hands, letting them fall to your sides. “Stay so you can control me? So you can make deals with people behind my back?”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “I told you — I’m done with that.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe you?” Your voice cracked, all the hurt you’d been holding in pouring out at once. “Do you have any idea how stupid I feel? I let you in, Chan. I let you—” You stopped yourself, taking a sharp breath, shaking your head. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

His eyes searched yours, his face twisting in pain. “Then tell me how to fix it,” he said, his voice desperate in a way you’d never heard before. “Tell me what to do, Y/N. Tell me what you need.”

What I need?

“I needed you to choose me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But you didn’t.”

Silence.

Chan took a step closer, and you didn’t stop him. His hands hovered near your face, his fingers just shy of touching your cheek. His eyes bore into yours with a raw intensity that left you breathless.

“I’m choosing you now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

You swallowed hard, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. But trust wasn’t something you could just give back.

“Then prove it,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “Prove it, Chan. Or leave.”

He stared at you for a long, heavy moment. No words. No promises. Just silence.

Then he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m not leaving,” he said softly. “Not this time.”

He stayed the night.

But not in your room.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

The days after that night felt different.

Chan was still around, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the kitchen when you woke up. He wasn’t by your side at the dinner table. He’d leave for work before you saw him and return long after you were in bed.

It was like living with a ghost.

Until one night, you woke up to the faint sound of something.

At first, you thought it was a dream. But then you heard it again. A low, broken sound.

Was that…

You threw the blanket off and stepped out of bed. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed the sound down the hall.

It was coming from the guest room.

Slowly, you opened the door. The room was dark, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlight outside. But you saw him.

Chan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

He didn’t see you.

At first, you thought he was just tired. But then you heard it — the sound that had woken you up.

He was crying.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Bang Chan didn’t cry. Not the man you knew. Not the man who carried the world on his back. But here he was, shoulders shaking, his breath hitching like he was trying to hold it all in but failing miserably.

Don’t go in. Don’t get involved.

But your feet moved anyway.

You stepped forward slowly, heart pounding in your chest. He didn’t notice you until you sat beside him.

His head lifted, his eyes red and wet with tears. The shock on his face was immediate, his eyes wide like you’d caught him committing a crime.

“Go back to bed,” he muttered, wiping at his face like he could erase it all.

But you didn’t move.

“Chan,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away. He glanced at you, then away, his breathing still uneven. You waited.

Finally, he spoke.

“The board wants me to step down,” he said quietly. “They think I’m too much of a liability now.” His lips twitched into something like a broken smile. “I built this company for them, and now they want me gone.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavier than anything he’d ever confessed.

He glanced at you again, his eyes full of something dangerous and fragile all at once.

“Tell me to walk away, Y/N,” he said, his voice hollow. “Tell me to walk away from you, from all of it.”

You stared at him, your heart aching in ways you couldn’t explain.

This man. This broken, brilliant, infuriating man.

“Don’t,” you whispered, reaching for his hand. “Don’t walk away.”

He blinked, his breath catching. His fingers curled around yours, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Then I won’t,” he said, voice rough.

For the first time, you believed him.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

ᯓ★ Reblogs and follows appreciated!

ᯓ★ taglist: @bluesoobinnie @lynastrawberry @nappynapnaps

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[shiny-jr]

are we allowed to write for damnation (with credits and ofc u being tagged)?

So, due the recent activity that has been surrounding this series, I want to be very careful in how I respond to this. I don't want to ruin anyone's fun and creative endeavors, but I have boundaries too, you know?

I recently gave another user permission because they asked me politely and showed me their ideas. However, I will admit, this entire thing has me feeling on edge. I love the damnation series, but part of me is relieved that soon it will all be over. As I never expected it to draw this much attention and a very negative experience for me.

I'm very honored by the request. In all honesty, I do feel a bit guilty. The entire plagiarism situation has negatively affected me, like it's caused some damage to the trust I place in my readers. All it took was one user to ruin it for everyone, which isn't right. So I'm still trying to remind myself that it's alright and not everyone is like that. Writers and readers shouldn't be affected by the actions of one user, because it is unfair.

So to this anon and anyone else that is interested in writing for damnation, please dm me first so we can talk before anything is posted. I'd like to hear your ideas and such before I make a decision. Thank you.

[illogicalghost]

me, about to google "is it weird to go to the zoo by yourself"

tumblr voice in my brain: you can do whatever you want forever

me: oh yeah :)

and so i went to the zoo alone and i'm having a great time :) always remember you can do whatever you want forever

[singswhendrunk]

@oflietoprotect

I'm not looking for a "thank you, Jay." I don't even want any gratitude. In fact, if you'd pull your stubborn head out of your own ass for a second to listen, you'd realize I'm not trying to make excuses, to justify my reaction, or even to ask for your gratitude or sympathy. All I'm trying to say is, what I did wasn't planned and I don't understand why I did it. Don't get me wrong, pain in the ass moments aside, I do care about you, but even though I care about you, me jumping in front of those bullets was stupid and shocking to me, too. It also wasn't planned. I'm not hero, so I don't do things like that. Hell, I don't know why I did and I'm kinda irritated with myself that I did that, even if I am relieved that you're safe and came out of that unscathed. {I admitted. Wishing Jay would pull his head out of his ass long enough to realize I'm normally not that stupid or impulsive. Against my better judgement or common sense, I just acted. That said, I'm glad Jay is safe, but if that was to happen again, I really hoped we'd both just duck and miss the line of fire} I get it, Jay... You're the protector not the one who's used to be protected. Trust me, going forward, I give you full permission to throw me down onto the floor or behind something so I'm shielded from the flying bullets because getting shot definitely wasn't a good time. The worst part of it all though is, you got so mad at me over something I didn't even intend to do, and not only am I dealing with the aftermath of that shooting, but I lost you too, which just makes this whole situation suck all around. {I aired out through a soft sigh. I hated this. And sure, it was great and all to see Jay here at the bar again, but deep down I wondered if I'd see him again once Mouse had left town over the next week or so, or if I'd have lost everyone who mattered because of this whole shooting shit show. Hell, if this place wasn't my parents' legacy, I'd stick up a for sale sign, pack up my crap, cut my losses, and get as far away from Chicago as humanly possible. If only. I silently thought to myself as I felt Jay's hand resting over mine for support}

Continued

@singswhendrunk

Let your guard down; for one night Jay wanted to escape the long cases he’s been working. The workload was heavy. He’d been in day and night attached to his desk working on each lead, working on signing off on each document we needed to more ahead. But tonight I was told to go home; to rest. And instead of being safely in my bed; I was here at the bar across town. Not because I needed a drink or perhaps two to get the edge off. But because I wanted to see Gia. I wanted to see her smile; hear her sense of humor. We helped each other, but it did develop into more. 

I had feelings and I made my shot; all jokes aside, I had found the balls to make my move; even going as far to stand up on a stage and sing with her. I was terrified but not as terrified when I heard those familiar shots; bullets flying. I wasn’t wearing a vest, I wasn’t wearing protective gear because why should I? I was off the clock, I assumed our case was closed. But Gia she got stuck in the crossfire because of me. Jay felt the guilt rolling off him; he knew she was hurt; the rapid way her breathing was coming, the lost of blood now pooling on the stage floor. 

I was scared for her. I felt at fault; if only I had gone home perhaps the suspect wouldn’t of tracked me down to the bar. Gia was fighting for her life because of me. I didn’t have time to think over the what ifs, or the guilt that was reeling off of me. My main concern was her; I had my hand pressed to her wound. Until the second Brett and Violet had arrived, the gurney in play; as they helped me lift her onto the gurney. Shaking palms bloody; not mine. I barely felt like I was able to walk on my own. Her calling my name before she went unconscious; that’s why I forced myself to be okay. In shock wobbly legs walked from the stage to the entrance doors.. Once a happy place full of music and now I felt like the laughs were wasted. I just wanted to make sure Gia fought this fight and woke up. But given her lack of blood; I had the gut wrecking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

Upon reaching the ambulance; I knew Voight would have questions; ones I was prepared to answer at a later time. Hands shaking as I lowered myself down onto the spot besides the gurney where Brett had put an oxygen mask over her face to help with the shallowed breathing, she also was attempting to stop the bleeding, she had injected her to palm the brunette down a bit. Swallowing the lump that formed in my throat; the male had leaned closer, pressing a hand to her pale hand; thumb tugged under to fingers.  “ I’ll be here when you wake up okay.” A promise to myself and her. I just hoped Violet picked it up. 

Sirens rang through the streets; no one could blame Violet was rushing; eyes were glued to the stats on the machine; it wasn’t great, but her pulse was still running strong. A sign of relief as I heard Violet call back. “ Prepare to be ready, doctors are outside ready for us.” Ready for us; prepared; I hoped Will was on board; as the doors opened I had noticed Maggie, and the other members of the ED as they started to roll her inside. I stepped outside feeling the brush of the breeze hit my back; I stood there; releasing my hand from hers; she was rushed inside. 

What if I had spoken sooner? Or was it just the wrong place at the wrong time..

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

[melancholic-pigeon]

Alright, this is my last comment on the issue, for real this time.

@nerdykeppie is staffed by unprofessional, rude, cruel people who double down on their entitlement to be unprofessional, rude and cruel in public to their former customers.

You should know the sorts of people you're giving money to if you patronize them. The founder is liable to misread your words, lash out at you in anger over something he misunderstood, and generally behave like a tantruming child even if you go out of your way to be polite and give him the benefit of the doubt when he lashes out at you over his own poor reading comprehension.

I'm done getting into this. No, Spider is not ~required~ to be professional on his (public) personal blog which is closely tied to his business. I just think it's extremely stupid to double down on his "right" to be unprofessional on his public blog when he owns a business that is clearly tied to said public blog, because it reflects very poorly on both his personal character and his business. I think it is hilariously foolish and an extremely poor decision to openly advertise and defend your founder's unprofessionalism, which speaks of general lack of professionalism and poor judgment throughout the whole business, not just from Spider (though his lack of good judgment and public unprofessionalism is the most obvious).

So. Best of luck in the people involved resolving whatever problem in their lives that they're taking out on me, and beware interacting with them in any way because they will absolutely be rude as shit to you and then smear you in public and private for (/checks hand) apologizing for a miscommunication because you didn't mean what they incorrectly interpreted you to mean.

I can't fucking believe they still think they're in the right here and *I* am the one who needs to be ~asked not to contact them again~. You answered me THREE TIMES *after* I had blocked you because you cannot let go of the fact that you were wrong about a stupid fucking plastic pumpkin and the fact that I went OUT OF MY WAY to give you the benefit of the doubt.

(two of those three asks were frantic apologies because I genuinely felt terrible, and they were both met with meanness and scorn and snide insults about my communication failures.

Lol. Me. I'm the one who is failing to communicate and has poor reading comprehension because you misunderstood me and started lashing out like I personally strangled all of your pets for having the filthy nerve to apologize and try to clear it up.

Yeah. I'm the villain here. Sure, Jan.)

I'm done now, but enjoy having your unprofessional, cruel, immature nonsense publicly exposed. I stand by my actions (the ones I actually took in real life, not the fake pretend ones you made up because you misunderstood what I wrote) and I look forward to you experiencing the natural consequences of your own.

Don't give money to childish jerks.

[late-night-vocaloid]

(disclaimer there's no hio news this is old stuff)

I was never a huge hio stan specifically but these runner-up designs in particular are so sick

he should've been pink

[florida3exclamationpoints]

My mom said "don't you think maybe we tried really hard and we're just not gonna see her a second time?" No 🫶 no i literally do not 🫶 but I told her that and she doesn't really want me to go to indy alone so she might be up for Toronto

[girlivealwaysbean]

sometimes my bestfriend is like an angel in disguise istg

[eats-the-stars]

being an adult who makes my own income is also realizing i can actually buy some of the pretty art i see online. some day i might even be bold enough to directly commission an artist.

[b4kuch1n]

Hi, I've been inspired by the composition and abstract style of your artwork for a while now, if I made an experimental art piece inspired by your composition style would you want me to credit you as an inspo? or would you just not be comfortable with me using your art as inspiration altogether? (which is fine btw, i don't wanna do smth that would make you uncomfortable)

oh sure! feel free! I don't mind at all lol

[simptasia]

perspective is amazing. i am adamant that people taking their shoes off in my house is disrespectful and impolite as fuck. but the comments on that post are full of people insisting that its polite to take their shoes off when they go to somebody elses house

thats genuinely amazing and baffling to me

[wookgerine]

Love that they take Bella with the gym with them all the time