#i just realized the creator of the show is on this site

[rhymeswithfart]

I unexpectedly rediscovered this cartoon character I liked from watching a cartoon at my cousin's house when I was 8 or something, while at the same time being on a trip to see Trixie and Katya so

Glowface Dragsona

(I got "Gloria" from the name Tuesday improvised when she didn't want her parents to know they were fighting Glowface in that one episode and "Sparxxx" bc she's got electricity)

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[certified-bi]

Okay all my thoughts because some people have been saying that not supporting this change is not supporting artist and creators and as an artist fuck that.

1. Audiences owe you nothing. You have to convince them to engage with your creation not the other way around. This is something both the nonprofit theatre I work with recognizes and huge companies realize. It's just part of life. There are so many talented people in the world making amazing art, videos, music, writings, and on and on, and there's only so much time in the day. I'm not saying you shouldn't know your worth, just that being flippant about how little you care about those who can't pay isn't a good move. On that note...

2. PR is everything. If you haven't made a visible effort to push patreon, channel memberships or other avenues of making money, don't be suprised that your creation that was previously accessible to those without extra cash and to those who can't support foreign subscriptions due either to conversions or because it simply doesn't work, being made private isn't popular. There's a big leap from "We want to have more artistic control" to "We can't afford to make our content accessible to most of our audience," and people are smart enough to see this. You either have to make budget cuts or give into sponsors. This isn't unique to Watcher, it's part of literally every production from broadway, to Hollywood, to YouTube. Unless you can fund it yourself or get viewers to pay(which given how many are already strapped for cash...) that's life.

Not to mention they simply do not have enough followers to make the switch to a paid only site(dropping the first epsiode only on YouTube isn't going to draw people in, they're just going to say "oh why start if I'm not going to see the rest" and not watch) especially not one that is buggy and a security risk. Even if the switch had been supported its not going to end well. The only reason services like nebula and dropout work is because of the large amount of series and creators and the fact those creators still are partly on YouTube so new people are drawn in.

3. As for the price, 6 dollars a month is a not a good starting price for only their content and that's as someone who pays for nebula. I'd be paying the same amount for a fraction of the access to others work. Actually it'd be twice as much. And before someone says "it's only a coffee-" that's for you. Not everyone has your lifestyle. And with every other patreon and subscription service that says the same thing, it all adds up and I simply don't think 60 dollars for 48 videos a year on a subscription basis where you don't get to keep the videos if your situation changes, some of which don't appeal to every viewer is a good move. If you were able to buy physical copies of your favorite series they've made that'd be different, but that's not what this is.

4. I do believe that the employees deserve a livable wage. I also did not hire them. It is not on the viewers that they hired more people than they could afford to. They can charge that much if they want to to try and balance this out. They also shouldn't be suprised if not many can or will sign up. They also don't have to be based in L.A. L.A has ridiculous costs associated with it, and quite honestly it doesn't really add much to the content. I'm not saying they need to move to the middle of nowhere Kansas. Simply that living and basing your studio in a super expensive city and then being suprised money is tight is just weird.

5. Something that occurs to me is that they might get more views if their playlists were better set up. Only some series are given playlists. It'd be easier to find all of the series and binge them if they didn't just show off their more popular shows. Honestly the only draw the streaming site has to me is that the series are actually labeled well.

Do I think the weird ass energy towards Steven is necessary? No. He's not the only one at the company and they're all adults. I actually liked grocery run and homemade, and like to see them back. The parascoial attachment to Ryan and Shane is annoying in people's criticisms, but that doesn't make them completely wrong. If you're going to brand yourself as the anti capalist underdogs you can't get away with being dismissive of your poorer fans. The dissonance is what is causing this backlash and makes you look like hypocrites. I definitely think Steven is turning into the fall guy which is fucked up, his statement and the fact dish granted is one of those shows that make people uncomfortable about wealth flexs doesn't help matters.

[rae-writes]

dirty secret(s)

Levi x cam!reader

wc : 0.7k

warnings : nsfw

synopsis : Levi had a dirty secret. You had an even dirtier one.

a/n : honestly don't know how this thought popped into my head but my gods am I fucking glad it did-

While Levi usually thought of himself as scum of the Devildom at most normal hours of the day, he thought he was even scummier when he locked himself in his room, headphones pressed snugly against his ears, with his sweatpants kicked off to the floor. 

The slick sounds filling his ears were absolutely vile— in the best kind of way. Plastered over his main monitor, lighting up his flushed and sweaty face, was the sight of someone bouncing on a pretty dragon dildo; it’d become his guilty pleasure to get on the site and watch them get off- someone he found by complete accident as he was scrolling online. 

The only thing he knew about them was they never showed their face, they always had a blank black sheet as a background, and they never talked. 

But it didn’t really matter when he was fisting his cock at the pace they were riding their toy, biting down on his tongue harshly to hide his moans when they came, forcing him to paint his abdomen white as he came right after. 

No, it didn’t really matter— especially when it was just Levi’s dirty secret. 

Until it wasn’t. 

You weren’t supposed to swing by his room that day, but you had some time and thought it would be best spent with Levi- only he wasn’t in his room. 

The only active sound that had been in his room was the whirring of his desktop. You only meant to shut it off- you weren’t supposed to see the way the screen lit back up with the sight of someone bent over, faux cum spilling out of their hole. 

You weren’t supposed to find out his dirty secret— but you did. And it became your dirtier secret.

Because the person on the video was you. 

It started off as a joke- just a little bet you lost with Asmo. When your first video got so much attention, you curiously did another, just to see what would happen; the money sent in as tips and donations made you make another video, and then another, and another. 

After a while, you spiffed up your page and made it all pretty and official— it became fun. Alluring. 

And then you found out Levi was watching and it changed everything. Suddenly, there was a particular heat constantly pooling in your stomach that wouldn't go away and your videos became centered around what you thought Levi would like. 

He was none the wiser. 

He didn’t suspect a single thing, not even when his favorite (and only) porn creator began making videos in anime cosplay of his favorite characters or began using tentacle related toys instead or made videos of them trying to not cum while they played his favorite video games. 

It all flew right over Levi’s head— right up until their latest video, posted only a few seconds ago. 

For the first time ever, they weren’t using a black backdrop. It was eye-catching— dark, but with bright leds. The shimmer of what seemed to be water washed over their bare lower half as high-pitched moans left them, hand desperately shoving a new toy in and out of their hole; it was another ‘tentacle’ but it was plain, dark colored, with scales carved in to create ridges for extra friction. 

The more he hyper fixated on them, the more things he started to notice: their toy kind of looked like his tail, the lighting looked exactly like his room’s, and the hoodie they wore…

With a choked moan, Levi’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull as he finally realizes he’s watching you— you in his room with his hoodie on, getting off on a toy that was meant to replicate his tail. 

And as the increase of your moans flowed through his headphones, getting louder and whinier until you were cumming with a choked cry of what could’ve been his name had you been just a little bit louder, Levi was practically sprinting through the halls of the house before slamming open the door to his room. 

And there you were, phone tossed aside on his bed as you laid back on his pillows with your legs spread and shiny with your cum, toy tossed aside to the ground. 

“Was waiting for you to figure it out...wanna feel the real thing, Levi…come play with me?”

[beesmygod]

we can all look back on and laugh at this when im wrong, but it seems like social media in its current incarnation is dying an undignified and overdue death. it turns out throwing all of humanity into one room and expecting everyone to develop a single ethos was beyond insane conceptually and the artists who built their following on social media are probably in a tail spin right now. people jumping to bluesky are insane lol. did you forget jack dorsey is the idiot who got us into this mess in the first place. why would you choose to subject yourself to this shit again. for what purpose?

the stock answer i got was that "for discoverability/audience" and if that's true thats a problem. i've been hollerin about this to anyone who would listen prior to this but the customer base of twitter (and all social media) is its advertisers. they have not been shy from the start about that fact because its the only way they generate income, as far as i know. YOU (the user) are the product. YOU (still the user) are also what draws people to the site. there is not a social media website on earth that has figured out that making a good website (which would require hiring and paying for quality labor over an extended period of time) is more likely to result in economic success than exclusively courting the businesses whose interest is in making the website worse to use with ads. at no point were our interests ever a factor.

in fact, imo, the number of people following you is not an accurate representational sample of your audience. the reasonable assumption you should make is that the vast majority of numbers involved with any website (esp those with a vested interest in showing off big numbers to VC investors or advertising execs) are inflated or just outright fake. the numbers exist solely to drive you insane and make awful people happy. the numbers cause you and everyone around you to start spontaneously spawning myths about a beast called "the algorithm" that possesses the incredible traits of being both something you can game for success or blame for your failures. it coerces you into enacting out nonsense superstitions to try to counteract or appease it in the hopes of, let's be honest, breaking it big and going viral. this way, you, the creator, do not have to do the hard work of building up a rapport with an audience. none of this goes anything but adds more numbers for the ceos to look at and nod approvingly or disapprovingly at.

the people running the world today are, without exaggeration, cartoon villains. they are deeply stupid, devoid of empathy, and open about their intent to do deeply evil acts in order to further their economic interests. trying to derive some kind of financial benefit from the creations of these unapologetic losers was always bound to be a wasted effort. the best thing i can say about twitter, a website i was banned from countless times and returned to out of stubborn desire, was that i got to make some great jokes with friends and cause some chaos lol. letting people know i have a web comic was always a secondary function once the realization of what social media was turning out to be set in like 7 years ago. any artist who insists that you have to do this or that on this or that social media site is trying to drag you down into the quagmire of online numbers poisoning.

run away!!! children heed my advice!!! the joy of creation does not lie on a path that encourages you to cater to the lowest common denominators while casting your net. just fucking have fun with it. if its not fun then it wont even be fun to do financially anyway. and isnt that, like. the point.

[princescribbler]

5 Common Misconceptions of ABDLs!

To be clear, these are common misconceptions ABDLs have, not common misconceptions ABOUT us ABDLs!

1. "My kink is so rare!"

Really? Because candidly, abdl, ageplay, and diaper fetishism intersect in a fascinating way. There are diaper fetishists who despise any form of ageplay or regression, there are ageplayers who get off on the Ageplay, or the diapers, or the humiliation, teasing, or any other aspect of the kink. And candidly, you can tell ABDL really isn't that uncommon when the communities that show up are this large and varied. Heck, there's entire communities on reddit with tens of thousands of abdls, and that's just one site (and not the most kink friendly space to begin with.) Add in the fact that many people are very embarrassed or worried about this kink and you've got an even better explanation for why it can FEEL very rare or isolating... but it often comes down to just being hard to find, at first!

2. "Nobody vanilla will accept me! They must all think I'm a freak" (or similar negative expectation setting)

Except.. they do, all the time, every day. I've personally avoided most vanilla relationships, but I know MARRIED abdl couples who started with one partner totally vanilla, and some of the biggest and most successful content creators in this space are well known for having partners not into ABDL.

Simply put, if you assume it'll go wrong and you'll be judged, your body language, words, and tone can be much more nervous and defensive and make your partner feel ill at ease. Try to not go in with negative assumptions!

3. "I have to find a caregiver to feel little!"

Uh... no you don't. Your kink might involve a partner, your desires might include one or more people around to care for you or dominate you or join you in diapered submission... but none of that means you can't enjoy still, and have a GREAT time. You can try to foster your own regressive or littlespace mindset, happily. And you don't need ANYONE else to enable that. If you're expecting that just having sometime else around will fix things, you're sadly incorrect! You need, at some level, to be comfortable enough to not just rely on EXTERNAL enforcement of your abdl side!

4. "I should get rid of [x] because I feel embarrassed/bad/upset!" (Or any similar variant of the binge/ purge mentality)

Binge and purge cycles happen, and can be very emotionally destructive. Try to instead put the object in storage instead of throwing it out, because often your emotional negative response will only get worse when you later regret it or judge your own reaction.

Try to give yourself the space to struggle, but don't just throw things away or destroy them if they're kink items... instead, realize you might feel differently later and give yourself the grace to be allowed to change your mind without any further fear or judgment!

5. "Everybody can tell if I'm padded/ little/ going out discretely!"

No they can't. I could stop there but truly let's consider this: you realize that incontinence is common... shockingly common. You've passed people in adult diapers, pull ups, discrete pads, you've likely even been in a room with another heavily diapered adult and NEVER realized. Because unless you're being obvious, have leaks, or make a point to wear very form fitting clothing, nobody will notice or likely even look! You're much less exposed than your brain makes you think!!

My point is this: be nice to yourself, and work hard to challenge those negative self talk moments that come up for so many abdls. Your interests and desires aren't as rare as you think, more people are ok with it than you realize, nobody can usually tell even if you are padded (and would be more likely to assume it medical than kinky even if they noticed), and struggling with this is normal too!

BE NICER TO YOURSELF: THAT'S THIS PAPI'S ORDERS! You don't deserve to feel bad about something that helps you feel good!

And as always; stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!

- Scribbler

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

What led to Showdown—a character analysis

Summary:

Chosen was the one who initiated the rampages after he and Dark escaped the PC.

Dark created the Virabot in an attempt to please Chosen.

I firmly believe that the names of the hollowheads shaped their personality to some extent. The name "The Chosen One" not only bestowed god- like powers upon the black hollowhead but also a instilled a sense of responsibility, strong self-esteem, and a drive to fight for what is right.

Upon his creation, he immediately rebelled against Alan, seeing the animator as "evil" for creating and torturing stick figures just for fun. Five years of enslavement didn’t wear down his spirit, the moment the slightest opportunity arose, he broke free from his shackles and unleashed his fury upon the PC.

But even when victory was within his grasp, with his tormentor's pawn, The Dark Lord, trembling powerlessly before him, he still chose mercy.

I believe his sense of responsibility and justice wouldn’t allow him to harm someone who was already defenseless, even if that person was his enemy.

I couldn't imagine someone with such a strong moral compass initiating or even agreeing to participate in rampages on the internet purely for the sake of destruction and vengeance. A more reasonable explanation is that Chosen initiated these attacks due to a warped sense of justice. The mistreatment by his creator, the only human he ever knew, might have led him to believe that all humans are tyrants who abuse and exploit stick figures. As "The Chosen One," he felt a responsibility to fight on behalf of his own kind, believing it was his duty to deliver well-deserved punishment upon humans.

But as for Dark, he had no interest in justice whatsoever, he went along with Chosen purely for the thrill of it. Contrary to "The Chosen One", the name "The Dark Lord" weakened his sense of morality and empathy(a sociopath, in a sense). This doesn’t mean he was incapable of learning to be good or sympathetic, though. Chosen simply didn’t realize Dark's moral deficiency until it was too late.

(Or perhaps Chosen was in denial? Dark was his best friend after all)

As time passed, Chosen became more aware of the complexity of mankind. He realized that not all humans were evil, some even formed positive connections with stick figures, like building websites where they could live and work. By attacking the internet and destroying these sites, he was inadvertently harming those he wanted to protect. This made him hesitant and forced him to rethink his actions.

But Dark, he didn't care. Humans, stick figures, animations, it's all the same to him. He enjoyed causing harm and destruction, because it was fun, because he couldn't see that it was wrong.

Imagine Dark laughing joyously as he hurled fireballs at the screaming, retreating crowd of stick figures and animations,

but when he turn around he saw Chosen's shocked, horrified expression, it was as if Chosen was looking at a monster, not his best friend.

Chosen could no longer ignore the fact that Dark was betraying the very ideals he had lived by in his whole life. It became painfully clear that the noble qualities embedded in his code which he so deeply valued were absent in his best friend.

They argued, definitely, fought, maybe. Their once impregnable friendship was cracking, threatening to collapse.

And it scared Dark. Dark didn't understand why Chosen was so angry at him, but he cared about their friendship, he cared about Chosen.

And he wanted to salvage their friendship, he wanted to make Chosen happy again.

So he came up with a plan. He would create a virus so powerful the world has never seen—a virus that would paralyse the internet once and for all. After all, mankind was evil, wasn't that what Chosen always told him? Dark would give humans what they deserve, just as Chosen had always wanted. And then, surely, they could be friends again.

That’s why he eagerly presented his virabots to Chosen, like a child showing off a prized drawing to their parents.

He was certain that Chosen would be impressed, that Chosen would share in the excitement for this grand scheme of destruction.

But instead, the black hollowhead was terrified. Having already lost his trust on Dark, he immediately jumped to the worst conclusion, that Dark was going to terrorise the world including the stick figure civilisation with his virus.

(But Dark's plan never involved harming stick figures. He knew Chosen was adamantly against the idea, so why would he risk their friendship by going against Chosen?)

Dark was understandably hurt and furious at Chosen's betrayal.

It was Chosen who had fuelled his love for destruction, who inspired him to create the virus in the first place. And now, Chosen had the audacity to demand him to stop? Even going so far as to attack him to protect the very humans Chosen had once hated so much?

Was their friendship truly worth less than the properties of evil humans?

As for Chosen, the destructive power of Dark's virabot was the final proof that Dark was an irredeemable villain down to his code. Consumed by a sense of justice, Chosen attacked without mercy.

And Dark, wounded and enraged, retaliated with everything he had.

[lantern-hill]

It really is baffling that the watcher crew don't seem to realize the answer to their legitimate financial woes has GOT to be downsizing. Like there's a reason they succeeded in leaving a network, there's a reason people followed them to watcher from BuzzFeed, and it's because the core element is just those specific two guys hanging out. Everything else is just set dressing. There's a reason too many spirits is one of their best shows and it only requires lawn chairs and some liquor basically. I respect the attempt to become a legitimate network and if that's their creative dream that's their prerogative, but asking the fans to finance that is just not going to work because it's just not what most people actually want. And obviously they're not obligated to tailor their dreams to what fans want, but fans are also not going to open their wallets to pay for things they don't care about.

realistically 6 dollars is really not that much; though for a ton of people it's not going to be in the budget that's more a general cost of living thing than the watcher's fault imo. But a) the framing of asking people to pay for a streaming service I think has reflexively caused backlash by people who are angry at the other big corps splitting everything onto their services, who they're powerless to yell at whereas they can yell very effectively at the watcher gang, and b) people are used by now to content just as high quality as the watchers for free, so they will not want to pay for it, and c) there is an extremely tiny faction of any group of fans that is willing to actually pay for the content they like. Like a LOT of the views any given creator gets is people just passing the time or really casual fans, especially on YouTube where people open up the site to "watch YouTube" not to "watch ghost files." People who are just there to see "a YouTube video" are going to go and watch a different YouTube video and that's a lot of people.

But honestly I think a) is really more of a driving force here. People are tired of being up charged for free services on every single front and they're usually so helpless in the face of the corpos who are the usual culprits that it makes them feel betrayed that people they connect with are doing the same and it feels good to lash out at someone they know is likely to hear

[calcium-chan]

DRAWMEGLE DUMP FROM LIKEFORVER AGO

drawmegle was this weird little website that was like omegle, except for drawing and nominally fewer nazis?? tho at launch that was a bit of an issue lol (idk the creator went on vacation right after advertising or something? oops). i got sucked into it for like a day or two and ended up drawing a bunch of stuff. ive lost some of it because there was this weird glitch that just deleted my drawings before i could save them or anything. OH WELL. thats also the reason some of these are slightly unfinished. im also going to be cropping most of these to just my side, exceptions where its funny, or the other persons art was nice or whatever. just know that these almost all had people on the other side who were also drawing their own thing. also of note, i wont be posting these in order of creation, its mostly arbitrary tbh

this first one is of haru from dorohedodo. i had just finished reading the manga about a month or so prior, and i really loved this character a lot. disregard the amogus or whatever. dorohedoro is really cool and its really special to me now. not a fan of the anime adaption but what the fuck else is new (im sorry if you like the anime, i just didnt like the style very much). Q hayashida is brilliant, and she clearly just really loves women like a lot, thank you miss Q!

next is this silly drawing of knives chau. scott pilgrim takes off had just aired, and i was slightly enamored with knives for a bit, i kin the scott pilgrim girl fucking sue me. i also drew kim, but the drawing deleted and this was the last save i had WAHOOOOOO its so fucking over. scott pilgrim takes off was obviously really really good in my opinion, and its like the perfect way to adapt an original work in my mind. uh shout outs knives or whatever.

oops shitty cowboy bebop drawing. i like this one well enough for how goofy it is. jets fucking face still kinda gets me. i love bebop a ton, but i dont think ive ever drawn the characters despite that. theyre actually a ton of fun to draw, like their shapes are all super varied and they have distinct style about them. very good cast of characters. i didnt even realize or mean to, but i kinda gave spike a fucking granny face, oops

uuuuhthese pissing dogs are really funny, they were fun to draw, and seeing peoples reactions to this one in particular was cool. having even a little bit of ability to draw on sites like this where randos are looking at your work as youre drawing it is always kind of an ego boost. like none of these drawings are really that great, but for the medium im happy with them, and having people show up and go "woah" was always really flattering and it was fun watching the other people draw and interacting with them in some limited capacity.

ggggundam bullshit. i left the other persons side this time because i thought it was kinda funny. i had been rewatching the early part of turn A gundam, and it really reminded me how fucking cool that series is? loran is like top 10 gender non conforming mech pilots (there are a surprising amount honestly). and it always kinda takes me off guard when i watch any gundam because they were just so forward thinking in a nominally "boy" coded genre. shoutouts the fucking gundam staff frfr.

@oretal joined me for these next two!

a lot of the shit in the second drawing is probably totally incomprehensible to like anyone outside of a select group. were both have that like, 3ds era nintendo brain parasite, so a lot of these are just weird obscure game characters or memes, or just straight up OCs. most of these are actually oretals little characters which have kind of entered that inside joke canon of being so ubiquitous between the two of us (and honestly i assume oretals friend group at large) that i kinda forget "glasses girl" isnt a well known character. many such cases. thank you oretal for drawing silly shit with me! i really like your drawing of james and your madotsuki yapping about blunt rotations to uboa. very cool

uuuh quick fire round of stuff i dont like how i drew but want to post anyways. the first one is my irl husband, aki from chainsaw man. i love him a lot, kinda hate this drawing tho, i think it was the first one i did? the second one is basil from omori, im a big fan of little blorbos who peep the horror, and basil is no exception. my friend got me the little vinyl figure of him for my birthday so i end up thinking about him a lot and i doodle him every now and then. very good design. the last one is kiruko from heavenly delusion. i did not have much hype going into the show after my middling feelings on summertime rendering (they were both in the news for being on disney+ for absolutely no reason). i dont remember what got me to watch it, but by the time episode 2 ended i was stuck in big time. i ended up binging the whole series in like one night and it was such a good time. the prototypical calcium show is probably somewhere between heavenly delusion and made in abyss. its a rough watch at times, but if you have this specific brainrot, its probably one of the best in its league tbh.

second to last is this drawing of vriska homestuck. i kept the other side because it was really pretty. im genuinely quite pleased witht his drawing, its not perfect but for what it is i find it visually appealing enough to like it. vriskas design is probably the best in homestuck, at least to me. its been a long time since ive read through homestuck proper, but something about these little shits sticks with you pretty much forever. actual fucking deadly brain parasites you get from dunking your head underwater in an infested pool, dead within days.

OOPS ALL KUMI CHAN! it had to be alien nine, it could only be alien nine. i love alien nine more than i love any of my blood relatives. kumi is literally me, i love this stupid fucking series so much you have no idea.

[joebrrrow]

Refunds || Joe x F!Reader (NSFW)

You were no stranger to Joe’s hijinks.

word count: 3,237

warnings/contents: blowjob, daddy name-calling (i'm sorry joe i'm just saying what we're all thinking), dom!joe/sub!reader dynamics, rough sex (i'm sorry joe), choking, full mind-break, degradation (but also, like, praise), bimbo behavior-fication, dirty talk

author’s note: crawling out of my hole to give you this filthy filth in celebration of the bengals going to the AFC championship! now excuse me i must go take a cold shower and get to my scheduled exorcism because i need church after writing this. 

don’t be shy to like and reblog if you enjoyed. as creators say, likes are amazing but reblogs go a long way in sharing my work. thank y’all!!!!!

For more of my smut, read Sturdy. For fluff, check out Capturing You, because your girl can do both. <3

enjoy under the cut!

No matter what, Joe was a winner to you. 

And you never really let it get to your head too much, especially when you were watching him from the stands, whatever the team’s score was. You were endlessly proud of him, win or lose, because you’d been there from the very beginning. Even when he was still at Ohio State and barely even saw the field, you gleamed with pride. But honestly, it had been pissing you off a little bit—and you’re typically mild-mannered, some might even go as far as saying meek—to hear everyone doubt Joe, and the whole team for that matter. 

“It’s just trash talk, baby,” Joe would soothe you the moment you heard about all this bullshit about neutral sites, ticket sales. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and reached over to close your laptop, cutting out the noise in a way. “If that gets to ya, you should hear what some guys say on the field.” He cracked a grin and that made things better. 

You tried out logic for a while. It wasn’t like pre-selling tickets to a matchup was unheard of; it was basically customary in any sport. Even protocol. And that satiated you for now. You didn’t notice, but Joe actually liked seeing a little bit of that fire in you—this newfound willingness to prove someone wrong. You were always someone who didn’t care too much about what others thought, which was why he wanted even more to win against the Bills on Sunday, just for you; because as much as you were proud of him no matter what, he also liked your praise just as much. He wanted to make you proud. 

So come Sunday, when it was the fourth quarter and the Bills were too behind to catch up to the Bengals’ score and that timer was running out, you couldn’t hide how happy you were for him. You watched him from the stands with a big stupid smile on your face because this was who Joe Burrow was—your Joe. He was a winner, a champion, and the sooner people started to realize that, the better. And what a helluva way to prove them wrong with just four words: 

“Better send those refunds.” 

—

You sat there, mouth slightly falling open. The bright light of your phone’s screen illuminated your face in the otherwise dark parking lot, at a gas station somewhere in the outskirts of Cincinnati, about five minutes away from yours and Joe’s place. You were catching up on all the social media, retweeting things, reposting stories, acknowledging everything you could that was singing Joe’s praises because goddamn if he didn’t deserve it. And that was when you caught this clip of Joe’s postgame interview. 

Better send those refunds. 

You were no stranger to his hijinks. You loved how fired up he got after a great game and an even better win. You loved how he was slowly opening up to the media, showing a little more of the goofy person you know him to be (though you secretly wished he’d kept it all for you). But this… Something was different about this. 

You were suddenly startled by Joe opening the door to his car, entering the driver’s seat and handing a plastic bag over to you. Without much thought, you grabbed it. “What’s this?” you asked. 

He snickered at this. “Your snacks, sweetheart.” Oh, that’s right—you had run out of your celebratory post-game Oreos at the house and wanted him to grab a quick pack. 

With a chuckle, you played it off. “Thanks.”

He started the car and began pulling out of the parking lot, but not without question. “You good, baby?” 

“Yep,” you croaked out. You turned beet red and thanked God it was dark outside so he couldn’t see. You both laughed about how your voice broke just then. 

A few seconds passed before you spoke again. You willed up some confidence. “It’s just… You know, I can’t let it go. About how they were selling those tickets before they even knew who was going to play in the Championship.” 

“Ah, I know, babe.” He reached over and patted your knee. “But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause we’re gonna be there next week.” 

“I know, I know, but… What was it you said at that interview after the game? ‘Give the tickets back,’ or something like that?” You purposely watered down his words, wanting him to correct you.

“Nah, nah, you’re butchering it,” he said, laughing. “I don’t remember what I said, really.” 

“Oh, c’mon. You remember,” you insisted teasingly. “I bet you had it bubbling up. You thought of it last week, probably, and kept rehearsing it over and over again so you got it right by the time you had to say it.” 

Joe scoffed, reaching over and ruffling your hair. “Where’s this comin’ from, bug?” His sweet little nickname for you. He always treated you like you were small, and you liked that. But you didn’t want to sink into it, not yet—you wanted this first. 

“Just say it. You remember what you said.” 

“Hmm.” At a red light, he stopped the car and looked over at you. His perplexed expression was smoldering even when dimly lit crimson. 

Biting your lip, you waited. 

“I know what I said,” he finally confessed. 

“Yeah?” you squirmed a bit in your seat. The light was still red. 

“I said, ‘Better send those refunds.’” 

“Mmm.” You couldn’t hold back your whimper. It was involuntary. Sometimes it shocked you, still, the effect that Joe Burrow had on you. Even after all these years. But you caught yourself and added, “Mmmhmm. That’s what you said.” 

He didn’t let you get away with it, though. He never did. 

As the light turned green, Joe slowly accelerated forward; you were the only car on these quiet streets. He said nothing. You bit back your smile as you looked out of the window, pretending like nothing happened. 

Then, you felt it. He brought his right hand down from the wheel to pat your knee again, but it wasn’t a silly pat this time. He started rubbing his huge hand on your knee, slowly lowering it to your inner thigh. You thought his touch was going to burn a hole in your leggings. But you weren’t done. 

“Better send those refunds,” you repeated, somewhat more enunciated, voice a bit breathy. But you didn’t want to make it obvious that his touch had already gotten to you; that you’d already been soaked from the moment he got back in the car. You let out a soft chuckle. “I mean, it’s true. They knew better than to doubt you.” 

“Hmph.” Joe seemed to be satisfied by your words. 

“I mean, right? God, this should show them that they’re stupid for even thinking about selling those tickets in the first place, whether it’s protocol or not,” you continued. His hand on your thigh just kept moving higher and higher. Your next words came out with a slight gasp: “You’re the fucking best, Joe. And if they don’t know that by now…” 

When his hand finally snuck between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your warm pussy over your leggings, you let out a slutty moan. “Daddy.” It was, like that whimper earlier, involuntary. Conditioned. 

“Shh. Tell me.” It was the first time you’d heard his voice in a minute, and it was suddenly colored so deep, lustful. 

You knew what to say. “I just think you’re—you’re the best, daddy.” Your confidence had waned off a bit, replaced by this slightly bimbofied persona only he knew how to dig out of you. “And you’re so right… they better send those refunds.” You nodded, biting down hard on your lip as he rubbed your clit in circles. You looked at him even if he wasn’t looking at you back; his focused expression as he drove was all you needed to keep getting wetter and wetter. 

But you were suddenly disappointed as you felt the car slow down and pull into your house. Those were the fastest five minutes of your life. You wanted it to be like the last time you got frisky in the car, Joe so desperate that you pulled off to the side of the road and fucked you right there. You supposed this was better, though; you could both get out of your clothes easier and didn’t have to wrestle with a pile of winter coats. (It was summer the last time you had car sex; your tiny shorts were easy to pull off.)

“Let’s go,” Joe spoke, stepping out of the car. He was calm as you both headed inside the house. 

You dropped off your coat and bag on the wall hook by the door and pathetically set the plastic bag on the kitchen island, feeling his presence somewhere behind you. You looked up at him, biting your lip, seeing him standing in the doorway. He’d taken his shoes and coat off already, just in his warm-ups. When you caught his gaze, his ocean blue eyes looked expectant of you. 

“Yes, daddy?”

That was enough to set him off. He walked over to you, towering over you and backing you up against the kitchen island. You gulped, looking up at him. You loved when he made you feel small. 

“Better send those refunds.” 

You feigned confusion. “Huh?” 

Abruptly, he grabbed you by your waist and turned you around, bending you over the counter. He had a fistful of your hair and his cock pressed hard against you, and you felt him breathing in your ear. “I said, you’d better send those refunds.” 

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, looking at him through your peripherals, brows curled up. Your mouth hung agape, moaning as he reached his free hand down and grabbed your ass. Just from this, your head was already swirling with dumb pleasure. “Right away, daddy.” 

He turned you around and pulled you onto your knees by your hair. You braced yourself by grabbing his thighs and didn’t dare break eye contact from him. Even if his bulge was right in your face. This was the first time in a long time, since the beginning of today, that he’d gotten a look at you. He smirked; you knew he thought you were gorgeous, he didn’t have to say it. This was about him. 

“Suck my cock.” 

You did as you were told, pulling down his sweatpants and not even allowing yourself a second to admire his length. You took the shaft in your hand and directed the tip of his cock into your mouth, closing your eyes as you expertly began sucking him off. There was no slow burn here; that already happened in the car. 

Joe still had your hair in his hand, and it gripped tighter as you blew him. “Mmm. Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he growled. He broke eye contact from you for a moment to lean his head back and close his eyes, focusing on the sound of you gagging over his cock. You took him as far as you could then fucked the back of your throat with the tip of his cock, which was slick in your drool. Your hands held onto his thighs as you whimpered with your mouth full. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you didn’t break eye contact from him; it made you so wet to watch him go all primal. 

Then he grabbed two fistfuls of your hair to make pigtails. You knew that he wanted to control your mouth, so you held your hands behind your back like a good girl and you let him throw your head back and forth against his cock. Your eyes welled up with tears. 

He looked down to watch you as he fucked your throat, and he looked so proud to own you. It made you want to be even better at being throatfucked, like you would go to college and get a degree in being a good throat to fuck if you could. You wanted to serve him in that way. You made filthy, wet gagging noises, and babbled when you could; your face was coated in your own drool. 

“Alright, get up,” he said, pulling his cock out of your mouth and hoisting you to your feet by your pigtails. He let go of your hair and you sighed in slight relief from the new lack of tension. 

“Y-yes daddy,” you gurgled out. Your makeup was ruined, but you still looked pretty to him. He kissed you messily, grabbing both of your cheeks with one hand of his squeezing your face together. Then he gave your face a nice, solid slap. 

“You gonna be a good girl for daddy, huh? You gonna take this dick?” he asked, breathless. 

You whimpered and nodded. “Yes,” you whimpered. “I want it. I want it so bad. Please.” 

Satisfied with your pleading, he forced you on your stomach, bent over against the kitchen island. He pulled down your leggings and lifted your jersey up, and as you watched him over your shoulder, you caught his smirk. Of course you were wearing his number. You knew he liked seeing you wear it and loved fucking you in it even more. 

With one hand on your back and the other on the base of his shaft, he slowly directed the tip of his cock inside of you, not shy to groan as he felt how wet you were. “Fuck. Look how wet you are,” he said, tone as if to humiliate you, but you loved it when it came along with praise. “You’re fucking soaked. Are you that much of a slut that seeing me win gets you this fucking soaked and slutty, sweetheart?” 

You whimpered, finding yourself almost begging for him to slide in all the way. “Y-yes, daddy. I’m a slut,” you barely got out. Your words were somewhat nasally and high-pitched; you were almost full bimbo at this point. “Please. Please.” 

He chuckled at this, pulling back out. He rubbed his tip along the wet, slick slit of your cunt. “Please what?”

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me. I can’t take it,” you begged. “I’ll—I’ll get on those refunds right away, daddy. I should’ve known better.”

Joe growled. Satisfied, he shoved deep into you, and held his cock there; you felt his balls graze up against your clit. 

“Ah!” you moaned. You braced yourself against the kitchen island, staring at the Oreos. 

Then, Joe started to fuck you. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and everything went black. You bathed in the pleasure that was his cock pummeling your tight little pussy. You loved how rough he was being. You were losing yourself. You were being owned by Joe Burrow. You were his piece of pussy, and only that. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you moaned in conjunction with each thrust of his as he took you from behind. 

His hands gripped tightly on your waist, letting out primal groans as he fucked you hard. He wasn’t holding back, and you loved it. “Oh, c’mon, baby. You better get to it,” he spoke, breathily, and yet confidently. “You were gonna do something for me, weren’t you? Before you went all brain-stupid and cock-slutty for your daddy?” 

You hated how easily his words came out when all you could think about was his dick obliterating your pussy. The words were jumbled in your head: “Refunds, better send.” And they came out repeatedly in whines. “Refunds. Daddy. Send. Yes. Fuck. Me.” 

One of his hands left your waist and you almost began sobbing at that lack of contact only if he didn’t reach up and grab your throat, pulling you up from the cold marble of the kitchen island so you could stand up a bit and watch him fuck you. He held your throat tightly, and you looked over your shoulder as best as you could to catch a blurry image of the most handsome fucking man you’ve ever seen hammer into you. He shoved his thumb in your mouth and you sucked happily. You repositioned your hands on the counter to hold yourself up and continue to be a good slut. His other hand spanked your ass. 

“That’s right, baby. Better send those refunds like the stupid fuckin’ bimbo you are,” he growled out, words accented with that smirk you knew he wore while he fucked you. “Take this big fuckin’ daddy cock in your wet, tight little pussy, baby.” His hand left your throat only to dig under your shirt and grab your tits, tugging that bralette down and off your tits. He roughly pinched your nipple and you whined out. Your tits bounced freely in rhythm with his incessant, merciless fucking. 

“D-daddy,” you whined, desperately.

“Aw, what’s that? You can’t say anything?” There he was again, pulling out coherent sentences while you babbled. 

You’d gone full bimbo by this point. You were far gone, and your only compass was his dick inside of you. You knew nothing else about fuck-all until his cock was drained inside of you, and you would be a good slut-servant until he was done. 

But goddamn, you were about to cum. “I—” you whimpered out. “If you keep fucking me like that, daddy, I’m gonna cum.” 

He laughed at this. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Mhm. Put your—daddy, please—” 

You didn’t have to finish your sentence. Joe knew what you needed. His hand left your tit if only to grab your throat again, and his other hand held onto your waist, keeping you still. Otherwise, you’d squirm away from him. He knew you were uncontrollable when you came. 

“What’s that, baby? Use your words for daddy, c’mon.” He smirked. 

“I’m gonna—” you cried out. 

He timed his thrusts with these next few words, feeling close to climaxing himself: “You’d. Better. Send. Those. Fucking. Refunds. You. Fucking. Slut.” 

And with that, you came hard all over his cock, clenching your tight, wet walls around him. “God, daddy! I’m cumming! Yes! Don’t stop!” You closed your eyes and indeed, squirmed around a ton, and he had to hold your waist to keep you still. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum, too, baby.” He grunted, wrangling and fucking you at the same time, and at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, shot his white hot load deep inside you. You felt him filling you up, the warmth of his load sinking deep into your stomach. You both slowed down, breathing hard. 

With him still inside of you, you slumped forward, laying your top half down on the counter. You looked over your shoulder up at him, then cracked a grin. 

And he broke into a smile, too, gleaming with pride. He’d never admit it, but you turned him into such an animal. It was even sweeter when the clouds had all cleared and all you both felt was bliss. 

You lifted a heavy, lifeless arm to reach across the counter. You pulled the plastic bag closer and took out the package of Oreos. Barely functioning and breathing hard, you put all your effort into ripping that stupid, plastic seal off the package, revealing three rows of double-stuffed sandwich cookies. You pulled one out and offered it over your shoulder to him. “Want a celebratory Oreo, champ?” you asked. 

He took it with a snicker. “Yeah, sweetheart. I sure do.” 

[roguemonsterfucker]

The website I lost was about the game Petz. The *real* petz games, not the new 3D ones that fucking suck.

The original Petz games, Dogz and Catz, came out in 1995 and spawned a dedicated following. I originally played Petz 2 and had no idea more were made until I stumbled across Petz 5 in a computer store in the early 2000s.

After that, I found the online community. So many websites and forums dedicated to the games. People modding it to make custom pets, people using the breeding mechanics to create their own breeds. People trading pets with each other. It was magical.

And then websites started dying. Geocities took a lot of wonderful sites down with it when it died. Several other hosts died. Some websites were taken down by their creators.

Downloads and information were lost to internet decay. Even by the time I started being active in the community, some links were dead and I never even had a chance to see them.

One by one, a favorite Petz creator of mine's websites went down. Her first website, featuring unmodded pets available for download which I used to spend hours scrolling through for the perfect pet... gone. Her website dedicated to selective breeding, which contained so much information that helped me with my own projects... gone. Her modded Show Breeds pages, of highly realistic dogs and cats, and even her Show Rats... gone. And finally, more recently, her massive website hosting modded animals of all sorts, (giraffes, snakes, parrots, fish, etc)... gone. All of her websites are gone. Every. Single. One.

And now several of my websites have joined the list of lost content. My original website, hosted on Webs, was lost a few years ago when that service went down. I hadn't touched it in a long time as Webs wasn't a very good host for what I wanted. And it vanished without me realizing. It didn't have much, but it had the start of my selective breeding journey. My original creations from when I was a young teenager. And they're gone. Even the wayback machine didn't fully save it.

While my weebly website is still up, for the moment, it has now joined the ranks of dead Petz websites. And that's really fucking sad.

The old adage about nothing going away once it's online... That only works for things you want to go away. Anything you want to keep is in danger. The internet is a hostile place for the things you love. All information is just a misclick away from being lost forever.

The Petz community is still alive. When I updated my forum post about my website, telling people I could no longer update it, someone replied within a few hours to say how valuable my website had been to them. A game that came out nearly 30 years ago still has a community of people that adore it. But sadly we have lost so much over those thirty years. Some has been preserved via the wayback machine or via community efforts but much hasn't.

It's so depressing to scroll through the petz forum for links only for nearly every one to be dead. And it's so depressing to know that now my websites are among them.

[seananmcguire]

Hey, I understand if you're sick of the questions and don't want to answer this, but given the recent discourse I've been ruminating the possibility of a website where people could submit prompts and by submitting relinquish their rights to the idea. The submissions could be sorted by genre etc and tagged for specific franchises like Star Trek or The Simpsons or whatever. The understanding would be that these ideas are now free to use, for anyone from fanfic authors up to the shows creators themselves and so long as an author can show they took the original prompt from this creative commons-esq website they should be protected from legal action.

I'm sure there is something I'm missing as to why a website like this wouldn't work, but I was just wondering about its potential as a person who has many ideas for how shows should go and not enough executive function to make my own version.

So ideas are not the issue. Ideas have never been the issue. Creators have ideas by the truckload, or we wouldn't have become creators. At the end of the day, we have the same excess of ideas as the most invested fans, and we don't need the help.

So why the avoidance? Contamination. That's where the issue comes in. If we execute an idea the same way someone else did, we open ourselves or the IPs we're working on to lawsuits. We create doubt. "Oh why do you have to be so careful not to steal ideas if you don't need them?" Because sometimes we won't know we've done it.

Look. I am a songwriter, in addition to prose, and I've released several CDs. I don't need anyone else's ideas. I am also not a huge Green Day fan. This is relevant because I once spent a month working on a song with a really cool hook that had just popped into my head one day. I was very pleased with the song as a whole!

And then I realized I'd stolen the hook wholesale from "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day, and had to scrap the whole thing. Theft is not always intentional. The chance of contamination from such a site would be dangerous enough.

But what happens when you make your perfect site, and then someone takes your free-to-use ideas and writes a bestselling novel from them? And then the book gets made into a movie, and the lawyers for the movie studio go after everyone else who took that idea? I'm sure you could set up the initial site in such a way that they'd be in the clear, but lawsuits still cost time and money, and it's better to avoid them when possible.

So many stories have been born from ideas for specific IPs that then wind up nowhere near the final creations, I would hate to see you pouring that much passion into a platform that no sensible IP holder is going to touch, and most creators are going to avoid, because you only want to do the fun, easy part. Let us work uncontaminated, and hopefully we'll make you happy.

[olderthannetfic]

The "reblog, don't like. Liking hurts creators" stuff has always gotten on my nerves, who are you to tell me what to put on my blog? But I jsut saw this post, which put it in a different light. https://mayahawkse.tumblr.com/post/691239174316097536/heres-a-little-comparison-for-people-who-say

I' got on Tumblr in 2013, quit around the porn ban, and only came back pretty recently. I didn't realise that people had actually stopped reblogging things from each other.

I guess the "likes hurt creators" thing might have some validity after all. I still really don't like the tone of entitlement or the idea that expressing your appreciation to OP with a like is an insult instead of an expression of appreciation.

The comment section probably cuts into the reblog counts; people have conversations there instead of in reblog chains, and don't have to reblog an entire post just to point out one quick thing or make the same joke as everyone else, but I don't think that comments account for the ratios in that post, especially since the screenshots don't show posts with hefty comments.

So yeah, guys, likes don't hurt creators, but Tumblr is for passing posts around. If you see something you like, you can just reblog it to be all "look at this cool thing I found". You don't have to worry about adding anything meaningful in a reblog, and if you and all your mutuals reblog the same post twelve times in a row, well, that's just how Tumblr works; if someone gets anoyed they can block the post through xkit.

--

Eh. I'd beware of anecdata like that.

I used to get like 2 notes a post and no asks ever. On the rare occasions that I reblogged heavily in a hot fandom of the moment for a month or two, I got a lot of engagement once people realized I was a place to go for that fandom, and I particularly got a lot of reblogs because people wanted that content on their own tumblrs.

Currently, I get a decent number of reblogs, but I get a lot more other interaction because things here tend to be discussions and debates and people don't necessarily want them on their own tumblrs.

--

In my case, I don't like the framing that it hurts creators because that's assuming that a person would have reblogged if they hadn't liked. In reality, they probably just wouldn't have interacted.

People pass posts around all kinds of ways, including pasting links to mine into various discord channels for fandom drama or sending me links to others' posts via chat messages here.

I also don't like the framing that it hurts creators because this only makes sense if you mean that it hurts the ability of visual artists to earn money.

Am I not a creator of a kind? Do I not write copious meta even if a lot of the content here comes from others? My ~engagement numbers~ are not harmed by failing to reblog. My engagement numbers don't matter full stop.

Or maybe, maybe, it's not about money, but it's about clout-chasing nonsense. Boo hoo, my gifset doesn't do numbers because it's not 2012 and I'm not in superwholock fandom now. Oh well. Chase the crowds to another site or chase the megafandoms. That's the only way to get those numbers back.

--

I do think that some time after 2012, people became increasingly afraid of harassment and may have pulled back on interactions, particularly contentful ones, because of that.

But mostly, tumblr has cleared out. Fewer people are using it, and fewer of the ones remaining are using it actively in a way where it makes sense to fill their own blog with content.

Maybe part of the change is that you can't become a BNF of tasteful curation so easily now, so there's no point in reblogging unless it's for yourself?

Maybe it's gifsets that are out of fashion? I don't know.

--

I never had much interest in "look at this cool thing" sans commentary back then, and I have little now. I have my activity page set to hide all that.

The changing phases of a site can be interesting, but we need a bit more than one person's top couple of posts to reach any conclusions.

[uncommonsunlight]

Genuinely so dissapointed by the "Major Announcement" from the ex-Buzzfeed creators over on @wearewatcher today. Another subscription service? In this economy?

So obviously they saw Dropout's success and went "man, need to get us some of that action". Boys, want that to be you? Time travel back to 1999, build a solid community from the ground up, create an abundance of content over a span of 20+ years, then maybe people will feel it's worth another subscription fee. Paramount is $11 a month right now and they have thousands of shows and movies. How much content does watcher have again? These boys want to go from point A to point B without the time and energy it took for College Humor to become Dropout. Sorry boys but you're not College Humor.

Even if people do sub for the first little while, subscription rotation is a thing now. If they were hurting that much for revenue, there are so many steps they could have taken between Youtube > Streaming site that would have been better recieved. Look at good mythical morning, smosh, try guys, etc. Patreon tiers, extra content for subs, insider clubs. But they went and hit the button for last resort plan before trying anything else. If this fails what happens? Where do you go from here? After alienating a majority of fans, who's gonna come back if you realize this was a bad plan.

To have this come on the heels of their tour where they charged people a hundred bucks a pop to come see them without a word of warning or even asking what people would think? Small wonder a massive chunk of fans feel betrayed.

I started writing this in a nicer way but really I'm just pissed at the audacity. At least the stuff that's on youtube now will stay and still be free. Good luck ghoul boys. You'll need it.

[antimony-medusa]

honestly yeah u make a really good point in ur mcyt rpf post. i was Also the person bemoaning how mcyt defaults into vbrpf tags and that there isn't a separate set, but then i realized like. i spent Years writing fic about the roosterteeth crew, which all fell in a very similar gray area like mcyt. like looking at shit like fake ah crew fic, the characters written about there are very obviously separate from the real life people, but also they are intrinsically linked. the characters don't exist without the people. and even though we were all in fandom talking and writing about them like playing with dolls, it was still like... yeah okay this fits under the rpf umbrella still. i never questioned it then, or was bothered about it not being a separate tag set, because it didn't feel necessary. which is really the same situation with mcyt!! its just that for any number of reasons, mcyt fandom in particular tends to have a very loud and very vehement group that think rpf as a whole is abhorrent and doesn't even want to be clocked anywhere close to it. which like honestly thats a personal issue at that point, thats not on everyone else to deal with, and certainly not on ao3 to sort out.

Yeah like I think RPF has a bad reputation because of some very obvious bad actors who've behaved badly in the past that the whole internet knows about, and especially because MCYT was kind of the butt of the joke and hatred for a lot of social media sites, a lot of people were eager to emphasize that they weren't behaving like that, it was fine, they were being totally normal (and they had the creator's permission, hence the boundaries discourse and the twitter cancellations for anything "weird"), and nobody should hate them cause they totally weren't like those weirdos.

And that's a really understandable reaction to try and do, I also have gone into the comments of bracket polls and seen hate, but that also ignores that the vast majority of RPF is a) not actually hurting anyone b) is not any more egregious in its content than any other fandom c) Is not inherently weirder to the creators than anyone who avidly follows their social media and shows up at their meet and greet and like— tts them stuff. We've all seen people TTS stuff that should NOT have been said in view of the creators, but the vast majority of it is perfectly fine. I very much think we shouldn't be showing RPF to the creators, and because the boundary is thin for MCYT I extend that to thinking that there's a WHOLE bunch of stuff that we shouldn't be showing to the creators— from gore to shipping to nsfw to aging down family dynamics to stuff about people they've lost— but I don't think that reacting with a horrified gasp to anyone saying "oh yeah rpf" is actually necessary. Or heck, if you were watching twitchcon vids and you want to straight up write tagged-as-RPF, go with god, I don't think that's inherently any weirder than people who go to twitchcon to meet streamers. You like them a lot and you want to rotate them mentally and get a picture with them, that's like, fine. As long as we keep it in fandom spaces and don't make the streamers feel weird cause we're showing them it, you're just doing what people who got really into polygon videos over the pandemic did, or historians who write historical RPF about their ancient blorbos, or whatever. it's fine.

Particularly cause what I write is mostly aus, I've had to wrestle with the question of if what I'm writing is RPF, and I think it's (usually) not, I can tell in my head when I'm thinking streamers or when I'm thinking characters, but like, we're talking *really* fine distinctions at points. If someone thinks that it's RPF it's not an insult to me, I can tell how they get there, and me reacting like it IS an insult is kind of rude to my fandom neighbours who are writing Gamechanger RPF where they design their own challenges cause they just have so much fun with the show, you know?

Some of this is just that I'm in my 30s and I'm tired of fandom policing, I can coexist with a lot of shit if you just tag it appropriately so I can filter it if I need to. For the holiday exchange last year we had no RPF as a rule not because I had an issue with it, but because the form to get the information for it would have been literally two hundred checkboxes long and I didn't want to do that to my spreadsheets.

I kind of drifted from your point there, but yeah, I think MCYT is legitimately in a blurry spot when it comes to if it's RPF or not, but that's not something I think we need to get all up in arms about, and we certainly don't need to, as I saw someone recommend we all do, file a ticket with Ao3 to remove MCYT tags from Video Blogging RPF.

[doggone-devil]

By the Cover: Chapter 1

Behold! A secondary novel for me to write while I work on my other one XD No, but this idea has a chokehold on me so of course I had to write it. Pairing: Alastor x afab!Reader Warnings: none for this chapter~ Word Count: 2,517

"I waited for you my entire life and you were worth every minute." - Mark Anthony

Two lovers, hand in hand, facing the odds of the world around them. A poetic tale of how love triumphs over everything, not even the Universe itself able to keep them together. A romance little girls dream of as they watch their idols on screen, fantasizing about the day they'll be swept off their feet into a happily ever after. Such a beautiful hope, a goal they could one day accomplish, unlike you.

Wrapped in a well-worn blanket, you sit on your couch with your nose buried in the latest episode of your favorite show. The second you received the notification of its release, your were scrambling to go to the streaming site, the show queued in your favorites, ready to play. Giddy with excitement, you began to watch, engrossed in the plot as it furthered, the various characters building the hype of the upcoming climax. As much as  you loved seeing them, your eyes waited patiently to recognize one character in particular.

There.

An audible gasp escapes you before a high pitch shriek, your toes wiggling to try and exert some of the built up energy you felt just from seeing them appear. Red hair dipped in black, fluffy ears, and captivating red eyes. You swoon when they speak, voice filtered to sound like those old 1920s radio broadcast. Some fans find the voice annoying but you swore it was an angel speaking, your body shivering in response to their words. They were the love of your life, your hyperfixation, your absolute obsession.

Alastor was the their name, a very powerful Overlord and one of the main characters of your favorite animated show, Hazbin Hotel. It had appeared and swept many into it's fandom, becoming favored next to the other show released by the same creator, Helluva Boss. Granted, you still loved that show and watched it when the episodes came out, but this one - you squeal - this one had you in an iron grip and all because of the radio demon so graciously displayed on screen.

Granted, you realized your quick fascination with the character was a bit problematic. Firstly, he was manipulative, scheming, and in it for only for him. He didn't care, really, about the other characters, even having a near breakdown when almost dying for them. You were certain if he existed in real life, he wouldn't be as lovely as you dreamt him to be, but that didn't stop your heart from skipping when you saw him. It also didn't stop  you from spending your hard earn money on countless fan merch, his face decorating every pillow, blanket, and object you owned. Even the phone in your hand had his face on it, smiling at you with hooded lids. Yes, you had a problem but you weren't stopping any time soon.

"Another perfect episode," you sigh, letting your hands drop to your lap as you lean back into your couch. The credits roll and you happily stare up at your ceiling, thoughts already plagued by him. He was so cool this time, not that he wasn't all the time, but this time he had been so sassy. You were already thinking of ways to write about it, ready to tell others in the fandom how baby girl coded he was. You giggle, tossing your blanket off your legs. You stretch with a groan, looking back at your phone to note the time. Your stomach grumbles.

You hum as you walk to your kitchen, looking in the fridge for something to eat. You weigh your options of a ketchup sandwich or mayo sandwich. Tough decisions, both sounding very appeasing, but you opt for the third option. You grab your keys and hoodie, tugging it over your head as you slip on your flip flops. You may only have sixteen dollars left after purchasing that one Alastor keychain, but it was totally worth it. Besides, you only needed eight of it to buy an everything bagel and coffee.

Basking in the sunlight for a second once you step outside, you head down the sidewalk from your duplex home, steering clear of other pedestrians as they mosey about. It's clear out, the cold air leftover from winter barely noticeable with no wind, the sun warm as it hangs high in the sky. A very nice day to enjoy as you walk, wondering what it'd be like to take Alastor to a small café. You tilt your head down to keep others from seeing your goofy smile, unable to hide the joy you feel of imagining Alastor critique the food.

He would probably comment on the way it's processed, stating how homecooked meals were the way to go. Oh, how you'd give anything to taste a meal cooked by Alastor. From what you knew of his backstory, he loved to cook and enjoyed a good jambalaya. You weren't raised southern, nowhere close as you recall your hometown in Michigan. You grew up with cabbages and kolackies, a drastic difference from shrimp and gumbo. Granted, you have tasted the Cajun dishes, curious to know what they tasted like when you discovered Alastor's birthplace, but you wanted them cooked by a real southern man. No, you wanted them cooked by Alastor, otherwise they just couldn't be as good. Shame.

You're greeted by a barista as you walk into your favorite café, breathing in the air deeply, enjoying the favorable scents that assault you. It's just a small business a block away from your house, easy and fast to get to. It had the best bagels you've ever tasted and the coffee wasn't half bad, either. You step in line, eagerly waiting behind three other customers while you roam the menu above. You already know what you'll order but it doesn't hurt to see what's new, checking their daily specials. Today seems to be an in house blueberry muffin, complimented with a drink of the customer's choice. It's appealing, but you're not that big a fan of blueberries. Or muffins.

"Excuse me." You hear the voice before feeling the shove, a person squeezing in the line to get through. You step back to avoid them, yet your foot gets caught on the other. You begin to fall backwards until a firm body stops you. You turn to apologize as you regain your footing, but your words get caught in your throat. You see a man standing behind you, his hands fixing his bowtie, but that's not what makes you speechless. He's tall, very tall, with bright red hair and tan skin. As he looks down at you, your breath hitches. His eyes are almost as red as his hair and you wonder if they're contacts. They have to be, you think to yourself, no one's eyes are red. It's not a natural color but they look natural. You must be staring too long cause he clears his throat.

"Sorry!" you blurt out, quickly turning to face forward, realizing a gap between you and the customer ahead of you. You scamper to move up, nearly tripping over your feet, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. You try not to think about the man behind you or his stupidly good looks. Seriously, how chiseled does one jaw have to be? You could cut marble with it. You focus on anything but him, staring at your feet until the barista is asking for your order.

Bagel and coffee secured, you walk to your usual spot in the corner of the café, a window table with two seats. It's comfortable and spaced far enough away from the other tables to let you enjoy your food in peace. You shrug out of your hoodie as you sit, hanging it on the back of the chair. You take a bite of your bagel, moaning softly at the seasonings popping off on your tongue. It's simple and yet, to you, so delicious. Pulling out your phone, you go to scroll through some apps, but your attention is caught by a red coat passing by. You glance up and nearly choke on the bite you swallow. The man from before settles at a table close to yours, only a coffee in hand when he sets it down. He also pulls out his phone, paying no mind to anything around him. Unlike you, your eyes glued to him. You swear he seems familiar despite never seeing him before.

He's wearing nearly all red, minus his black pants. His coat is a deep red, matching his hair. The undershirt is white, however, and you notice black gloves on his hands. Huh, you chuckle to yourself. He almost looks like Alastor, the clothes very similar and even his build - You blink. 

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, you think, eyes wider than the plate your bagel sits on. You quickly look away, your hand slapped over your mouth at the realization. You just compared a real person to a fictional character. 

You take another glance, trying to study him more. He's tall like Alastor, slender for sure, but you can't really tell with the coat on. He's style is like that out of the 1920s, just like Alastor. A tailcoat, collared undershirt, bowtie, and even dress pants completed with dress shoes. Just slap a monocle on him and he could be Alastor what with the slanted, bob haircut had had. God, if you had your cosplay Alastor ears and antlers, you'd ask him to wear them and call you darling.

No, wait, what's wrong with you? Ugh, you're so creepy and you need to stop staring so much and - oh my god, now he's staring back. Idiot!

You take interest in your bagel again, taking a rather large bite as you struggle to chew. You begin to cough as the pieces roughly slide down your throat, eyes watering as you reach for your coffee. You're gulping it down to help the food along, gasping for air. You hear a snorted chuckle and look up, seeing the man cover his mouth with the back of his hand, avoiding your look. You can see the smile and blush, realizing he watched all of that. Could this get any worse?

You sigh, wanting to bang your head on the table. Instead, you reach for your phone, knowing tumblr will distract you. Only, the Universe decided today was the day to pick on you and as you reach for said phone, your arm bumps your coffee. It spills. All over your table. All over you. You want to cry.

"Here." You see the man walk over to you, extending his hand to offer a handkerchief. You take it, sniffling with a pout.

"Thank you," you mumble, wiping at your now ruined top. It was white ten seconds ago, now stained brown. As you wipe, the liquid spreads. You sigh in defeat, knowing you'll have to throw it away when you get home. Thank god you have your hoodie.

"Here, let me," the man says, taking the handkerchief gently from your hands. You let him, too embarrassed and sad about your shirt. He smiles as he dabs at your shirt. "Wiping only helps the coffee to set. You have to dab for the best results." You watch him, slightly annoyed at the way he fusses over it like a dad would, but you're not angry. In fact, you feel kind of in awe as he moves, your eyes glued to his face. His nose is pointed and sharp, eyes angled like a cat. His lashes are long, complimenting those strange red eyes. You try to see if they are, in fact, contacts, but as you lean to get a closer look, they snap up to meet you. You jump back, knocking into the table. Your coffee cup sways but before it can spill again, he reaches out to steady it. You sigh in relief.

"Sorry," you apologize.

"You have a clumsy habit, don't you?" he hums, chuckling when you pout again.

"Not usually," you state, turning to grab your hoodie when he steps back. You can't help but feel so small when he straightens up to full height again.

"Really? I couldn't tell." It's a banter, but you're failing to think of how to respond. You're not use to actively conversing with people in the real world, most of your conversations being with friends online or AI chatbots. Ok, maybe you didn't need to think about the last one, but the fact still stands that you don't know how to talk to people. Especially people as attractive as he is.

"Well," you grab your bagel and what's left of your coffee, "as fun as was to bother you and embarrass myself, I have to go." You need to escape, more like it. Your social battery is already beeping in alarm, drained from the back to back events that was your attempted outing for lunch. You throw your trash away as you leave, not taking the chance to look back at the man.

As you walk back home, you can't help but think of how the scenario could've played out different. If you were a normal person, you could've held a conversation with the man, maybe even inviting him for coffee tomorrow. You could flirt and date until, one day, he would ask your hand in marriage. Then you would have kids, grow old together, and live a life well filled. At least, that's the person your mother wanted to be. A normal woman with a normal love life, finding a man to support you and give her grandkids. Sadly, that was never going to happen, you think as you step into your house. If the seven foot cardboard cutout of Alastor greeting you at your front door wasn't enough to deter potential mates away, then surely the numerous framed Alastor posters scattered across your walls would.

Maybe you should cancel that order for the Alastor cursed cat plushie…

Nah.

You toss your keys down and kick off flip fops, pulling your hoodie off to grimace at the disaster that is your white-turned-brown tee. Yeah, there's no getting this stain out and you weren't about to buy some fifteen dollar produce that claims to erase the stain. You shrug it off, opening your kitchen bin and tossing it away. It doesn't bother you too much, thankful it's not one of your Alastor shirts. Speaking of, you walk to your bedroom, going straight to your dresser. You rummage through your shirts before picking one and putting it on. This was one is black, Alastor's face printed on the front with the words 'Smile Like You Mean It' placed around him. It's one of your favorites.

Shuffling back to your living room, you decide to ease your stress with the one thing you know will put a smile on your face. Sitting on your couch, tucking your legs as you bring your blanket back over your body, you quickly open your phone to its browser. Archive of Our Own loads up and you quickly begin filtering through the latest additions to Alastor fanfictions.

Masterlist ... Ao3