#google alternatives

[hollowfacility]

Hey, since everyone is switching over to firefox, are there any alternatives to google drive, google docs, etc? I already know of MEGA as an alternative to drive, but I wanted to know if there were any others.

[in-sufficientdata]

ok but how am i supposed to stop using google when the alternatives suck so bad

i switched to qwant but if i do a search and then click on the news tab it tells me there's no news items (this is usually when i'm 100% certain there is bc i just searched a news story i heard on the radio). i can't search by date there (i use that feature of google's search constantly). there is a drop-down where you can choose freshness but it's not very exact

i had a similar experience trying to use duck duck go

i basically end up re-running all my searches on google anyway and that's really not helpful for what i'm trying to do here

[feline17ff]

So.

Just listened to this

Highly recommend her channel.

US NSA and other US government orgs and all governments are disgusting.

She gives actionable things you can do/ alternatives to common non-private things like Gmail and Chrome near the end

I'm sorry I was half listening but I will download the captions again for the alternatives.

Some of the ones I remember are Brave browser, Signal, Proton mail, Startpage search engine, VPNs and VOIPs

Check out her channel. It's awesome.

I also should really watch Snowden.

Please take care.

[friendofthecrows]

I made a list of all the browsers I could find for Windows (there are 168 on the list) and as many search engines as I could find (112) and I'm going to try a random one per week, but now I have to come up with interesting searches to test them. They have to be specific and frustrating to search for on Google, but with a lot of material definitely existing on it.

Also here's the link to the google docs if you want, it just has the names in alphabetical order right now, but I'll add download links and summaries of them if I have time.

BTW I can't guarantee these all still exist or are available in English. Also some of them are for very specific things.

[maroonpaper]

What is Chat-GPT? What does it offer? Do we need to be afraid of Chat-GPT?

OpenAI’s ChatGPT is a language model that has been trained to produce writing that resembles that of a human. It can be used for many different things, including dialogue generation, text summarization, and language translation. Regarding job security, it’s critical to keep in mind that ChatGPT is a tool that can help with specific activities rather than serving as a substitute for human workers.…

[as1ficon1calworld]

[assetgas1]

Top Google Services and Alternatives You Should Know About in 2024

Top Google Services and Alternatives You Should Know About For Profits. Google is one of the most influential and innovative companies in the world, offering a wide range of services and products that can help you with various aspects of your life. Whether you need to search for information, communicate with others, create and share content, or have some fun, Google has something for you. An…

[the960writers]

Alternatives to google docs

For various reasons, this is now a hot topic. I'm putting my favorites here, please add more in your reblogs. I'm not pointing to Microsoft Word because I hate it.

Local on your computer:

1.

LibreOffice (https://www.libreoffice.org/), Win, Linux, Mac.

Looks like early 2000 Word, works great, imports all formats. Saves in OpenDocumentFormat. Combine with something like Dropbox for Cloud Backup.

2.

FocusWriter (https://gottcode.org/focuswriter/) Win, Linux.

Super customizable to make it look pretty, all toolbars hide to be as non-distracting as possible. Can make typewriter sounds as you type, and you can set daily wordcount goals. Saves in OpenDocumentFormat. Combine with something like Dropbox for Cloud Backup.

3.

Scrivener (https://www.literatureandlatte.com/scrivener/overview) Win, Mac, iOS

The lovechild of so many writers. Too many things to fiddle with for me, but I'm sure someone else can sing its praises. You can put the database folder into a Dropbox folder for cloud saving (but make sure to always close the program before shutting down).

Web-based:

4.

Reedsy bookeditor (https://reedsy.com/write-a-book) Browser based, works on Firefox on Android. Be aware that they also have a TOS that forbids pornography on publicly shared documents.

My current writing program. Just enough features to be helpful, not so many that I start fiddling. Writing is chapter based, exports to docx, epub, pdf. You can share chapters (for beta reading) with other people registered at Reedsy.

5.

Novelpad (https://novelpad.co/) Browser based.

Looks very promising, there's a youtuber with really informative videos about it (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHN8TnwjG1g). I wanted to love it, but the editor didn't work on Firefox on my phone. It might now, but I'm reluctant to switch again.

------

So, this is my list. Please add more suggestions in reblogs.

[metalhoops]

Steve was used to climbing out windows. Before his junior year, he’d made a habit of entering through and escaping from girls' houses unnoticed. He was stealthy. He’d learned how to scale trees and tread lightly across roof shingles with the deftness of a nocturnal animal. Yet, for the first time, he found himself escaping his own home. There was a first time for everything, right? 

Steve’s parents were home. The second Steve saw the familiar BMW pull into the Harrington’s driveway, he knew he wanted to be anywhere but home. His parents were only palatable when he had good news, but all he had to tell them was that after their last visit, The Mall had burnt down and he’d gotten a new job at a video store. He really was doing the family proud. He didn’t want to deal with it, not today. 

That’s how he found himself crawling out his bedroom window, shimmying across the guttering and trying not to sprain his ankles as he dropped onto the lawn. He headed out back, past his pool and into the woods. Usually, it was the last place you’d find Steve. He kept expecting to run into a Demogorgon or something equally as nasty. 

He walked for a while without direction, trudging through the underbrush until the rustling of leaves behind him set his teeth on edge. His body moved before his mind had time to keep up. He spun on his heels, hand scrabbling to the forest floor in search of a weapon. It supplied him with a fallen tree branch, almost too large to heft comfortably, but he did it, running on adrenaline. He came face to face with a familiar, wide-eyed boy. 

“Holy shit, Harrington. Take it down like ten notches,” the boy grumbled, showing his upturned hands as though trying to calm a startled animal. 

Hawkins was a small town, the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. Steve knew the boy with deep brown eyes and dark hair, halloed by fallen leaves, was none other than Eddie Munson, or as he was colloquially known, ‘The Freak’. They’d gone to high school together. He thought the guy was due to repeat his senior year, again. He didn’t know what he was doing alone in the woods. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

You couldn’t blame him for being on high alert. Even if Eddie was someone he’d grown up with, that didn’t make him safe. Steve was still riled up after running down Billy Hargrove with his car. He was paranoid. He’d had a rough couple of years. 

“Collecting sticks,” Eddie breathed, indicating the large bundle in his hand. 

“Collecting sticks?” Steve echoed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him. He couldn’t fathom why the guy was doing it.

“Yeah, I’m making a miniature log cabin for my D&D campaign, and you know, miniature logs are just... sticks—you don’t care, anyway. Sorry for startling you, my liege.” Steve tilted his head, thinking the acronym was familiar. 

“Is that the dragon game, with the Demogorgon and junk?” Eddie looked at Steve like he’d sprouted a third head.

“How the hell do you, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, know what D&D is?” 

Steve wished people would stop calling him that. Every time he heard the stupid nickname it felt like someone was rubbing chunks of asphalt into his gravel rash. He wondered if Eddie felt the same about his title. 

The old Steve would’ve used it just to spite the guy, to see what buttons he could push, not because he wanted to but because it was expected of him. It wasn’t an excuse. He knew that. Instead, Steve shrugged his shoulders and told the truth, something the old Steve never would’ve done.

“I babysit some nerds who play it,” he confessed. 

Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. He was puzzled, amazed and, for once, a little intrigued. He’d never looked at Steve like that back in high school. The two rarely crossed paths and when they did, they never spoke. Sure, Eddie ranted about ‘jocks’ as a whole, but Steve had always just been one piece of a puzzle. It would seem redundant to yell at a patch of blue and grey for being a picture of the sky. 

“Why did you need to take up a babysitting gig?” 

To answer that, Steve had to embellish a little. Maybe he no longer liked lying about who he was, but he couldn’t exactly dump the cosmic mind fuck that was The Upside Down on some unsuspecting guy. 

“I needed money.” 

“You needed money? What, did you get cut off?” Steve shrugged in response. 

“Christ, what did you do? Piss in a family urn? Trash the house? Get a girl pregnant?” Eddie questioned.

“I think generally existing was enough to do it,” Steve mumbled, kicking at the dirt beneath his shoes. 

Eddie let out a low whistle. 

“Hey Harrington, think fast,” Eddie called, throwing the bundle of twigs in his direction. Steve dropped the branch and grabbed the bundle with wide eyes. 

“What was that for?” Steve choked. 

“What are you doing in this neck of the woods, anyway?” Eddie asked instead of responding. Steve shrugged, still cradling the bundle to his chest. 

“Avoiding my parents.” 

“You got any plans for the rest of the day?” Eddie spoke. Steve responded with a shake of his head. 

“Well, you know, this really is a two-person job, so if you wanted to come back to my place, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

For some reason, Steve agreed. 

Eddie had a habit of collecting strays. 

There was the cat he’d kept under the bed when he was six and the gathering of stray dogs that hung around the back of the trailer park that he’d been feeding for as long as he could remember. The same theory applied to people. He made friends with the loners, the weird kids, the ones with wide eyes and nowhere to go. He was a bleeding heart, so sue him. However, he’d never expected Steve Harrington to trigger his urge to protect and befriend. That really hit Eddie out of left field. 

Never in Eddie’s wildest dreams did he imagine he and Steve would be sitting across from each other at his small dining table, Steve’s knee pressed on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. The jock’s still hands held small bits of twigs in place as Eddie worked around him with his hot glue gun. The guy had seemed so lost, back in the woods, so unlike how Eddie remembered him. He knew about D&D for Christ’s sake. Eddie wondered if he’d woken up in an alternate universe because it seemed like Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. 

He asked Eddie about his goddamn log cabin, tavern. Then he’d pushed deeper. ‘Why do you need a bar in a game about dragons’? To which Eddie explained, of course, you do more than just fight dragons, which appeared to be news to Steve. Besides his friends, no one showed interest in Eddie’s ‘stupid little fantasy game’. With Steve, questions came thick and fast. Eddie loved every second of it. When he’d asked why Steve cared so much, the guy had shrugged his shoulders and muttered,

“I might be able to impress the kids.” 

Eddie decided to ask about ‘the kids’. He and Steve didn’t have much in common. Sure, the two could commiserate about high school together, but neither man was in the mood to do that. And god, Steve could talk about ‘the kids’. 

“I run a D&D club called Hellfire. If they’re starting high school this year, send ‘em my way. I’ll tuck your little ducklings under my wing. Keep the big scary jocks away from ‘em,” Eddie noted, feeling comfortable enough with Steve to take a jab at him. Steve surprised him again by snorting out a laugh.

“Make sure you do. That Jason kid’s a senior, right? Total psychopath. The kid would peg basketballs at pigeons.” 

By the time the sun set, the boys were in stitches and had a fairly decent log cabin to show for a day’s work. Eddie was surprised that the idea of Steve leaving set a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, Steve? We should do this again,” Eddie proposed, and Steve was too quick to agree. 

“I have work tomorrow morning, but how about the afternoon?” 

Eddie hadn’t expected the guy to be as keen as he felt. 

“It’s a date,” Eddie agreed, before promptly wanting to shove his head through a miniature log cabin. A date? Really, Munson? 

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans. Mind out of the gutter, Munson. You were doing so well. 

“You’re weird, you know that?” Steve remarked, running his hand through his trademark hair, and yeah, Eddie should’ve expected that. 

Now Steve was going to call him a Freak, the ‘King Steve’, he’d heard about would make an appearance and Eddie would be glad he dodged a bullet by cutting his crush off at the knees before it had the chance to grow legs. 

“Weird is good,” Steve corrected, seeming aware of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 

“One thing I’ve learnt about myself since high school is that I like weird.”

Oh, no. Eddie was so gone for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. 

Read Part 2

[beeqisch]

very self indulgent timkon doodles

[wreckedandpolemic]

can't seem to get it right - matty healy

prompt: secret admirer

day 1 of the lovely @abiiors' valentine75 prompts!! i actually dont think this is very good i am very much a one trick pony in this space However i had fun writing it and thats what matters!!!

no warnings here this is v v short and sweet <3

Nauseated, you swat at the tacky, heart-shaped balloon as it drifts into your vision, ignoring its owner’s affronted scoff and stomping off down the hallway. Matty snickers behind you and you turn your glare on him. He holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “What’d that balloon ever do to you?”

You roll your eyes. “Fucking hate this week. It’s not even Valentine’s yet and this whole fucking place is full of dickheads who think their hormone-fuelled ‘love story’ makes them the centre of the universe. Just an excuse for brands to paint themselves pink and flog you shiny crap that’ll go in the bin after five seconds.” A strange look flickers across Matty’s face, but the bell rings sharply before you can question it. You trudge off to your class — double History, ugh — and don’t think on it for another moment.

The boy that sits across from you in History, Cameron, has a massive crush on you, flirts incessantly, flushes when you turn a smile on him. He’s not hard to look at, sweet-faced and kind, and not totally hopeless with a textbook, either. So, when he blushes and stammers his way through asking you out when you mention not having any Valentine’s plans, you think, this could be fun. “Is it gonna be worth my time?” you ask, leaning towards him and grinning when he flinches. “Convince me.” Eyebrows go up around the table at your challenge, Cameron smiling nervously and stuttering out something that passes for an affirmative. You flash your teeth, predatory. Maybe you shouldn’t play around with boys like this, but it’s so much fun. And they make it so easy.

The next morning, a card addressed to you has been slipped into your locker. The message is short, but sweetly poetic, witty in a way you hadn’t known Cameron could be. It’s unsigned, but the sentiment is adorable, and you make a mental note to get him a gift later. You catch sight of Matty sloping down the hall, and wave him over. “How sweet is this?” you say, smiling cheek to cheek. “Didn’t think he’d actually convince me to go on a date with him, but… Who knows? Might actually be fun.”

Matty’s face falls for a split second, before he rearranges it into smooth blankness that quickly crumples into confusion. “Wait– date? With who?” he demands. 

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Cameron. From my History. He’s nice.”

Matty scoffs. “I’m sure,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Your face scrunches, displeased. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sure he’s a top bloke, and you’ll skip off into the sunset holding hands and pop out a million adorable little blonde babies.”

You splutter a laugh, shoving him gently. “Don’t be a dick. He’s nice,” you repeat, fixing him with a glare. “I haven’t even agreed to the date yet, nobody’s skipping off into the sunset.”

Shrugging, Matty kicks idly at the row of lockers. “Yet,” he teases, and the brief flare of awkwardness between you melts away. “Listen, I really don’t feel like hanging around this shithole the rest of the day. Wanna come smoke?” he offers. You shouldn’t — you really shouldn’t — but that’s never stopped you before. Especially when it comes to Matty and the teasing grin he dares you with.

“Go on, then.” You shoulder your bag and follow Matty out of the gates, the short stroll to your favourite smoke spot passing quickly as you chat back and forth about nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going on a fucking date,” Matty tells you, voice thickened by the smoke pouring from his mouth.

“Oi!” you snap playfully. “Why’s that so unbelievable, huh?”

“Well, you’re hideous, for one,” he says, gasping when you stomp down hard on his foot. “I’m messing, I’m messing! You were the one being mardy about Valentine’s Day, like, yesterday, though.” He shrugs, passing you the last of the joint. 

Flicking away the roach, you blow out rings of smoke. “Yeah, I dunno. Probably won’t go, but it’s kind of nice being chased.” You scoff, leaning back against a tree. “I know you don’t have that problem, ‘cos you’ve got all your fuckin’ groupies.” A sharp edge creeps into your words at the end, and you bite the inside of your cheek to curb it. “But some of us aren’t used to that attention every second of the day, and we take it where we can get it.”

Matty shrugs. “Touche. Don’t think he’s worth your time, though,” he says, tone thick with something you can’t decipher through the weed-induced haze enveloping your mind.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Shut up, you dick.”

After dousing yourself in body spray to cover the weed smell, you let yourself into your house, stopping short at the bouquet that sits innocently under the hallway mirror. Red carnations bound around pink roses and an inexplicable spray of miniature daffodils, a muted pink ribbon tying them closed.

“Hi, love!” your mum shouts, appearing around the corner. “Those came for you while you were out. No name. Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” she grins, nudging you as you flush.

“It’s just this bloke from my History.” You wave a hand dismissively, but you can’t help smiling at the bouquet. “Trying to convince me to go out with him for Valentine’s.”

Your mum’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, eyes so wide it’s comical. “You? Valentine’s?” she says incredulously, face softening into a warm smile. “Love, that’s great. You’ll have such a good time,” she smiles.

You scoff. “Steady on, I haven’t said yes, yet.”

Smirking knowingly, your mum pads off into the kitchen, shouting back at you to be down for tea in an hour. You pick up the flowers on your way upstairs, arranging them delicately in a vase on your windowsill and snapping a quick picture. You debate texting Cameron a thank you, but decide against it — he sent them anonymously, after all.

Strangely, though, Cameron’s behaviour the rest of the week is at odds with the gifts that keep piling up. The chocolates aren’t a surprise, and nor is the single red rose laid across your desk, though maybe a little dramatic. But he doesn’t take credit for any of it, nothing in his face even indicating there’s anything he should be taking credit for.

That Friday, the last day Cameron has to convince you, a little, flat box finds its way into your schoolbag. You peel off the ribbon and find a delicate necklace nestled against deep blue velvet. It’s exquisite, a crystal pendant hanging off a thin silver chain. You slide into your seat in History, a little bemused, and smile at Cameron. He smiles back, twirling his hands nervously. “Everything was lovely,” you say, and his brow furrows in confusion. “The card, and the chocolates, and the flowers. I’d love to go out with you.” He breaks into a wide smile, sunlight practically beaming from his face. “But the necklace is too much — it must’ve cost a fortune!”

He blinks innocently at you. “Um, that’s great. I’d, um, love to take you out. But, uh, I didn’t get you any gifts,” he says, biting his lip.

Your head spins as you sift through your memories of the last week, reexamining them through a new lens. All at once, something clicks into place, and you bolt out of your seat. “I’m sorry,” you rush out. “I can’t go out with you. I’ve gotta– I need to go.” You shove your stuff back into your bag, leaving Cameron stuttering and baffled at your back, and dash off.

You find Matty where he usually is, tucked away in a practice room and engrossed in a guitar. Taking a second before he notices you outside the door, you fix the necklace around your neck and smooth your hair nervously. Should you put on some lipgloss? No, that’s crazy, right? It’s Matty. Your heart is racing, your mouth suddenly dry. How were you so fucking stupid? Of course fucking Cameron from History didn’t write that stupid card. 

Taking a deep breath to settle your nerves, you turn the handle of the practice room, and it rattles but stays closed. Locked, obviously. You clap a palm to your face; this is off to a terrible start. Then, Matty looks up, eyes lighting up as they find the pendant at the hollow of your throat, your heart melting at the sweetness in his face.

Matty stands up to open the door. “Hi,” he says, and all the tenseness melts from your body.

“It was you,” you whisper, collapsing into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. “All of those lovely things were you. And you let me bang on about fucking Cameron all week! Matty, I feel like a total idiot, I’m so sor–” Matty cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, tentative and gentle.

“Knew you’d figure it out eventually, love, smart girl that you are,” Matty murmurs against your lips, and you smile softly, face flushed. He pulls you close, his body warm against yours, and tugs you into the practice room, pressing you up against the door as soon as it clicks shut. 

You lose yourself in his kiss, his hands steady at your waist as you melt against him. His tongue parts your lips and sweeps your mouth, tasting faintly of cigarettes and spearmint gum. Breathless, you break away, a string of saliva briefly connecting your lips, and you giggle quietly as it breaks. “Thank you,” you murmur.

A dopey smile crosses his face. “You’re welcome,” he says, cupping your jaw and pulling you back in, kissing you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. A quiet squeal escapes you when he dips his head to bite at your neck, and you indulge him for a moment before pushing his head away gently.

“Down, boy,” you say, giggling when he kisses over the necklace at the hollow of your throat.

Matty’s eyes shine hopefully as he looks down at you. “So,” he dips his head to kiss you. “Can I finally take you out?” He punctuates every word with a kiss, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Widening your eyes, you look up at him with a pout that splits into a smile without your permission. “Well, my Saturday did just free up…” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. “I’d love to.” You stretch to your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Matty grins, his joy practically infectious, warming you through and melting your heart, leaving it dripping stickily down your ribs. His lips meet your neck again, his next words murmured against your bruising skin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

[glass-needles-and-futurisms]

Muse studio albums, 1999-2022

(idea taken from here)

[ivie-online]

not a surprise but google is continuously getting worse. searches related to items that can be bought will return endless shopping options, then a few vaguely sourced blogs (made by or for businesses that link to even more shopping options). google scholar is fine for subjects that are broadly represented in western academia, but good luck getting past the abstract without an institution to sign in with, hundreds of loose dollars, or a 3rd party site that works roughly 20% of the time. an entire civilization that has compiled near endless amounts of information, but no unified way to quickly and accurately access it. shouldn’t be of any concern though. i’m sure

[zakumi-akabane]

While he was getting drunk with his husband Law, thanks to the sake drinking competition started by Shachi, Sabo who for years had never encountered that brand or that taste, recognized the sake of childhood promise, in the bottle they brought, and all her memories came back.

Therefore, when they both see the news from Marineford, they immediately went to help Luffy and Ace, abandoning Sabo's initial plan, which was to look for a good opportunity to talk to his brothers.

Then, when they put Ace on the sub, give him a blow to the head so he doesn't want to fight again, and the three recognize each other, Sabo goes into his overprotective mode: "Traffy, help them! Ace might die!" just because he sees his two brothers with minor injuries.

"He's not going to die, he's just dehydrated and..." Law trying to calm him down.

"But it's the head injuries that are the worst" Sabo shaking by the shoulders his husband.

"You hit him with the pipe, dear."

Sabo, ignoring him, dramatically: "I've read that a blow to the head can make you an imbecile".

Luffy, who was eating meat, starts yelling, "What?!, Ace will be an idiot?!" and also starts tugging at Law.

Ace, with a bump on the back of his head, "Shut up, I'm fine."

Sabo and Luffy look sideways at each other, the blond nods, "That's right, I don't think he can be any more of an idiot than he already is."

Law watches the stretcher catching on fire, Luffy running with the plate of meat on top of his head, while Bepo throws a bucket of water.

" I'll miss when you had amnesia, Sabo."

Sabo chuckles.

HAHAHA, they're a trio of idiots.... I love.

[cynical-things]

kato ft reptiles

[yasmeensh]

Finally got to paint something a little more proper for my project. Paleolithic kids see a dragon come down from the sky 🐉

a few more doodles of my OCs Tam Kujo below >>

drew this one in the span of three days during class time :p. A few lines here and there while I wait for the prof to set up the slides and start the class. Kept going until I felt like not adding anymore.

two more