#no one tell the tumblr flagging system that this is about jerking it together

[mack3030]

I find it really telling that even after their “apology” (which was really weak and seemed more like barely admitting to their problems and sweeping it all under the rug), Anto still has the evidence up on his tumblr.

He can’t say “I don’t accept your apology because it sounds weak and fake and barely takes any real responsibility...” without sounding like a jerk to certain people. (Even if it’s true.)

There’s a difference between saying:

* Okay I finally admit I might have made a mesh that looks almost identical to yours and it might come across as copyright infringement oops sorry about that...and that it took so long to admit...

VS

* I am deeply sorry to the communities I hurt. Not just those who play the sims, but the creators on secondlife whose work I directly stole and edited and claimed as my own. I was not right to deny the claims against me when I knew they were true. From now on I am going to hold myself to a higher standard and apologize to those who I have hurt.

See the thing that rings false about Sonya’s apology is the claim that they didn’t “steal” the mesh but copied it side by side. This rings hollow because of all of the evidence posted by Anto and others that literally shows how IDENTICAL the “Sonyasims” meshes are to the original meshes. Yes, there are some minor differences, but they are few and the similarities are way too uncanny for it to be copied.

In my profession I deal a lot with kids who “trace” artwork and pass it off as their own. One of the biggest red flags is the artwork being too similar to the original. Why? Because if you’re “eyeballing” the work and drawing (aka copying from a reference image) there will be enough noticeable differences for it to not look exactly like the original. Lines might not be as smooth or straight, proportions might be slightly off, details missed. A traced image, however, looks 95% or more like the original with only a few details missed most of the time.

And sonyasims work, based on the screenshots and video evidence compiled, looks like a traced work I’d get from one of my kiddos.

See, there IS a difference between taking someone’s work directly and tracing and using it as a reference for a new work (particularly if you are in the process of learning how to do an art form). Usually if you are not making serious money (I.E you only sell your eyeballed work to a few friends/family members that want one vs trying to make a “brand” and sell it professionally) you can (normally) get away with eyeballing work and not changing it too much. (While it might not be 100% in line with copyright, this is commonly done at the beginners/student level — ex: a student selling a work they did in class at an art show that was heavily derived from a reference image to a friend/teacher.)

But when you decide you want to be a “professional” artist, you have to be able to take a reference image and remix and change it enough that it is a new work in its own right. Copying a reference alone won’t cut it. You have to make it different enough that people can’t come after you for it thinking you lifted a good portion of it from another work in any form. Lots of professional artists have had issues with this, a recent case being Jake Parker, the founder of Inktober, who was accused of plagiarizing from another artist’s how to draw book.

Sonyasims cannot claim ignorance about where the inspiration for their mesh came from. They can’t claim they were only copying the meshes of Anto and others for practice or as cc for their own game. They blatantly put it on their patreon, and claimed that the edited mesh was their own. They tried to be a “professional” cc maker by taking the work of others, editing it a slight bit, and selling it as their own under their own “brand”.

When called out on it, they denied it until they were blue in the face, even throwing out wild suggestions on how they’d “prove” their innocence. All this did was make people more upset, because in light of all the evidence shared....sonyasims’ denials rang hollow.

So what can we ask ourselves and learn from this?:

1) How are we as a community going to deal with “creators” who are blatantly stealing meshes from other sites and creators? I’m not just talking secondlife, I’m also talking turbosquid, imvu, sketchfab, and other 3D sites and places where people take and/or buy meshes and then resell them as their own sims 4 content. As I’ve detailed in one of my past posts, many of these sites don’t actually allow you to sell their meshes for 3D worlds like the Sims 4. And many sims 4 creators don’t inform the original mesh creators about how their mesh is being resold.

How are we going to deal with this? Because this is a bigger problem than just Sonyasims. Many high profile CC creators are VERY guilty of fully converting entire sets from 3D modeling sites to “sell” as their cc content and the community turns a blind eye to it because we want pretty things for our game and don’t think about where they come from. It’s easier to just assume that person made them....even if they are amazingly able to “crank out” tons of surprisingly high quality content on the daily...(almost as if they didn’t have to mesh much at all...🤭).

2) What actions should be required of those who have violated the community’s trust? At what point will they be “forgiven”? 

If Sonyasims wants to rebuild trust in the community they will have to show that they deserve it. They have two options. Either try to find more obscure meshes to steal that people won’t recognize, or actually mesh stuff themselves and show they are sorry for their actions. I hope they choose the second, but at what point does the community have to forgive someone who’s wronged it? I think of Savvysweet, who although a majority of the community loves and still supports even with the incident earlier this year, still gets hateful asks and comments from others. What should a simblr do when they’ve been proven to have wronged the Sims 4 CC community? What steps should they take to show true remorse?   

3) What do we, as a community value? Do we value having “pretty stuff” in our games, regardless of how it got there and what creative individual’s rights are stepped on? Do we value having a system of paywalls and exclusives where only those who have more can access the creations of the creative community? Do we desire an open source and sharing community where creatives come together and learn and share resources freely while respecting each other?  These are all important questions for us to ask as we continue to move forward from this. While this is not the first time a creator has been called out for stealing meshes, this is one that has gained a lot of attention. And while I agree that they deserve the negative attention and consequences that come with their actions, I also feel that if we as a community are going to publicly hold them accountable for it, we need to examine others who are doing the same thing. Because it’s up to us to decide what we want our creative space to look like, and feel like.  So chew on these questions, ponder them. If you have an opinion on them, I’d love to know. They’re just questions to consider, because I sure don’t have an answer. 

[today-only-happens-once]

the only exception

Title: the only exception

Word Count: 4,549

Summary: College!AU, Musician!AU. Patton shows up to a music festival that Virgil—along with his twin brother, Roman—is headlining, hoping to surprise him. Turns out, it’s Virgil that surprises him first. Romantic Moxiety, brief background Logince. Song-fic.

Warnings: lots of fluff and softness and sappiness, mutual pining elements, declarations of love, description of crowds, cursing, discussion of anxiety, mention of anxiety attacks, kissing, Virgil “writes” a song that’s actually written irl by Paramore but ssshhh Paramore doesn’t exist in this AU, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: Someone on tumblr once made a textpost that said “The Only Exception” was a Moxiety song, and weeks later I listened to it and realized they were right. And then I had this image in my head that wouldn’t go away for like. Months. And then eventually I decided to write this. It’s basically a song-fic. Crazy self-indulgent, heh. Also, I’ve never written Romantic Moxiety before, nor have I written a Patton-POV focused fic. So writing this was a whole boatload of new. I hope it turned out okay! Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

You can listen to the song Virgil sings at the end here! 

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, and also @randomslasher because moxiety! ^u^

…

Present. March. Junior Year.

Patton shoulders his way through the crowd as rock music blares loudly over the speakers. The late March air is cool, and the breeze tugs at the COLLEGE-PALOOZA MUSIC FEST banner hanging from the amphitheater’s stage. A few people he recognizes from his classes wave to him as they nod their head to the music. Patton slows as he finds a small gap in the crowd, not particularly keen on getting into the tightly packed mosh pit that had formed right in front of the stage.

The sun is beginning to set, casting the sky in a light purple hue. Perhaps ironically, it reminds Patton of the guy he’s actually here to see perform. Patton glances at the stage, but there’s no sign of him. He checks his phone for the time. The group was supposed to be on now, but perhaps he’d missed them already.

He looks at the guy beside him—leather jacket and sunglasses, holding a Starbucks cup—and asks over the music, “Which group is this?”

The guy takes a long swallow and then jerks his head towards the stage. “Planets Align. They had trouble getting the sound system working, so they’re running behind.”

Patton nods his understanding, smiles, and thanks him. Planets Align was scheduled to go on right before them, if the pamphlet he’d found on Virgil’s desk was anything to go by. He’d felt terrible at the time when he realized that the band Virgil had formed with his twin brother, Roman, would be headlining a music festival the same day Patton had already promised to help with a group project.

But the other members of his group canceled the meeting earlier today and rescheduled it for next week. So Patton really didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t come support Virgil. And if he maybe didn’t tell Virge in the hopes of being able to surprise him… well.

Besides, he had a feeling Virgil could use a nice surprise. He’d seemed really nervous about the festival when Patton was talking to him about it when he found the pamphlet. Virgil often seemed nervous, but… more nervous than even Virgil’s normal.

Patton smiles a bit to himself when he remembers when they first met.

…

September. Sophomore year.

“For the purposes of this research presentation, I will allow you to choose partners. We will need one group of three, but that certainly seems manageable.”

Patton glances around the stuffy lecture hall. It was only the third time the class had met, so Patton hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to many of his classmates yet. On top of that, it was a pretty big class. Patton had a feeling that he wouldn’t know everybody even by the end of the year. The professor waves her hand to indicate that they should select a partner and begin discussing the project.

Chatter rose up—most people leaning over towards people they were sitting next to, a few calling to friends across the room—and there was shuffling movement and the scraping of chairs as students milled about to find a research partner. Then Patton caught sight of a black and purple hoodie in the back row.

What was his name? Patton couldn’t remember, despite the ice breaker during their first class. He does remember the snort the guy had released when Patton had made a pun about his name when introducing himself. He also remembers the way he’d immediately ducked his head a second later when Patton grinned at him.

Patton gathers his things and squeezes through his classmates. “Hey,” he says. The guy in the hoodie looks up, seeming startled. “Wanna be partners?”

The guy blinks at him, then shifts in his seat and motions to the empty chair on the other side of his desk. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Virgil. What, uh, what are you studying?”

Patton pulls his laptop out of his bag. “Oh! I’m an early education major. What about you?” As he asks, Patton casts a quick glance at the laptop in front of Virgil and notices the stickers on it: SANDERS in messy black scrawl, a thundercloud with a bolt of lightning, a small circle with a paint-smear style gay pride flag, and a few music notes.

“Graphic design with a minor in music,” he replies. Patton notices him glancing at the buttons on Patton’s backpack that he threw in the empty chair beside him—some about cats, some about dogs, a heart with glasses that he thought was cute, and a pride pin from last year’s Pride week.

“That’s pretty cool. You play music?”

Virgil lifts a shoulder. “With my brother, mostly.”

“Wow. That’s… really awesome,” Patton says, sincerely impressed. He’d always loved music, but really only dabbled in the ukulele. He’d always thought musicians were cool: having skills like that took a lot of work, and a lot of dedication. That seemed pretty admirable to Patton.

Virgil smirks. “If you say so.”

“I do. I mean it.” For a fleeting moment, Virgil looks taken aback by the insistence in Patton’s voice. “What do you play?”

…

Present.

“Roman is totally the hot one,” Patton hears a girl behind him say to her friends.

“Elliot thinks he has a crush on Logan Berry, you know.”

“He’s gay?” The girl sounds surprised, but not hostile.

“Ace, I think. Panromantic, if the stickers on his laptop are anything to go by.” Patton recognizes that voice as one of the girls in the LGBTQ+ club that Patton was secretary for.

“You have class with him?”

“We had English 100 together freshman year. Elliot’s in class with him and Logan, though, and says they want to gag literally any time the two so much as talk to each other.”

Patton grins to himself. Subtlety when he had a crush had never really been Roman’s strong suit. That was another place where Virgil was markedly different from his twin brother. Both Roman and Virgil had ways of keeping their distance from others, but where Roman put up a front of fearlessness and confidence and friendliness… Virgil seemed more likely to withdraw into himself.

Patton had learned that, and many other things about Virgil, slowly as meetings for the research project gradually developed into hanging out regularly and casually. Patton picked up on things about Virgil relatively quickly. He gets quiet and irritable when he’s actually anxious about something. He tends to catastrophize, especially when it comes to academics. He hasn’t yet learned how to accept compliments—something Patton didn’t let deter him from giving them. He hopes that the more he’s able to expose Virgil to them, the easier it will eventually get for him to accept them.

Patton learned that Virgil is fiercely protective, too. The fastest way for Virgil to overcome his anxiety about a situation is usually when it’s related to someone he cares about. He still remembers the fire that had alighted in his eyes when someone had started harassing Roman when he, Patton, Roman, and Logan had been heading back from a party on a Friday night a couple of months ago. Logan had been the one to diffuse that particular situation, but Patton hadn’t missed the way Virgil hovered closer to his brother and looked ready to fight when he’d seen the shaken look in Roman’s eyes.

But then there were the softer moments from Virgil, too. The fleeting moments when Patton saw something gentle and relaxed from him that a secret part of Patton liked to believe were just for him. They were a sign of trust from Virgil, and Patton had always cherished that trust precisely because it was so rare.

   …

April. Sophomore year.

“What time is it?” Virgil asks with a yawn. He’s sitting on the floor of his dorm, his guitar in his hands. His back is leaned up against the drawers of his desk. Patton sits on the floor across from him with his back against the cinderblock wall and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Patton digs his phone out of his pocket and checks. “Almost 1 in the morning.”

Virgil nods and strums a few chords softly. “You’re welcome to stick around, Patton, but… y’know. It’s chill if you’d rather go home.”

Patton shakes his head “I like it here,” he says. For reasons he is still figuring out, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Patton watches him; he watches the way Virgil’s bangs fall in a soft sweep across his face, the dark eyeshadow smudged under his eyes, the slight parting of his lips as he mouths unheard lyrics. He always loves watching Virgil play guitar. There’s something about watching him hold the light brown acoustic instrument—like it steadies him, like it’s a shield that protects him—that Patton can’t help but love. Virgil seems to… breathe easier when he has a guitar in his hands.

“Virgil? Can I ask you something?” Patton says suddenly.

Virgil glances quickly at him, then back down at the guitar in his hands. Avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.” His voice sounds oddly tight to Patton.

“Why do you play music?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. Virgil stops short for a moment, glancing back up at Patton. His hands still against the instrument, his eyes flit away in thought.

Then—to Patton’s surprise—he sets the guitar aside.

“It… gives me a space where I can… connect, I guess?” He rubs the back of his head, glancing at Patton as if unsure whether or not his own words made sense.

“Connect?”

“Well,” Virgil pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on top of them, “Yeah. I’ve never been good at… at the whole…” He waves a hand and sighs. “At the whole ‘words’ thing that’s required for making friends or helping someone or… whatever. I’m always afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing, or make them feel awkward, or… shit, I don’t know. But music is different. It…” He huffs a frustrated sigh as the words escape him. Then he tosses Patton a wry smile. “See what I mean? Words aren’t really my thing. Music is different, though.”

Patton nods. He glances around at the MCR and Dear Evan Hansen poster on walls of Virgil’s side of the room. “I think I get it. Music lets you speak from where you are emotionally at a given moment, and people can come to you—or your music—to find that connection and community. It… lets you express yourself, and by doing that, lets you connect to other people.”

When Patton looks back at Virgil, he’s looking at him with something like disbelief. But there’s a softness and light in his eyes that makes Patton’s stomach flutter. “Yeah,” Virgil says eventually. “Exactly.” Patton meets his gaze with a small smile, even as he feels suddenly like Virgil can see all the parts of himself that he wants to hide.

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks slightly and he digs a small purple leather notepad out of his back pocket. He grabs a pen from the top of his desk and scribbles something down.

“Whatcha writing?” Patton asks curiously.

Virgil folds it and slips it back into his pocket. “Nothing, Pat.” He still has that soft kind of smile and look in his eyes even as he grabs his guitar and pulls it back into his lap.

…

Present.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Planets Align!” The emcee shouts into the mic as he runs on stage and the band waves as they exit to the cheers of the crowd. Patton applauds them and briefly considers moving closer to the stage before deciding against it. He’d never done well with tight crowds.

The sun has dipped below the horizon now, the sky darkening quickly. The lights from the stage bleed out onto the grass clearing, providing some lighting of the crowd itself as well. The air is a bit colder now, but Patton doesn’t mind. Besides, all the people around him moving and dancing have helped keep it from getting too cold anyway.

“Next up, the ones you’ve all been waiting for. Let’s hear it for… SANDERS!”

Patton lets out a cheer as the crowd screams. He sees Virgil’s twin brother—though you’d never know it from how differently they do make up and their hair—run on stage with his arms up to encourage the crowd’s response. The cheers get louder, and Roman grins and strikes a hero pose. He’s energized. Patton smiles at his evident excitement.

Virgil follows behind him, an electric guitar strapped to his back. Even from his distance from the stage, Patton can see him shaking his head at his brother’s antics. He gives a small, appreciative wave to the crowd. His eyes scan it, and a part of Patton can’t help but wonder if he’s looking for him someone.

Reasoning, though, reminds him that Virgil said he always tries to get a feel for the size of a crowd when he goes out on stage at a venue for the first time. It had started as a nervous thing—how many people might see me fail?—but as Virgil’s confidence in performing grew, it had mostly just become a habit.

“What is UP, everybody?” Roman says into the mic. He’s wearing a bright red leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, shiny gold skinny jeans, and red high top converse. “We’re so glad you could come out tonight. How about this awesome weather, yeah?”

More cheers. Patton watches as Virgil pulls the guitar from around his back with a smile. He’s in his familiar hoodie, purple shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, and his black sneakers with purple laces. At first glance, he doesn’t seem too nervous—Patton had long ago gotten in the habit of glancing at him to check if he’s okay when he knows Virgil might be getting anxious—but it’s hard to tell from this distance.

“My brother, Virgil, and I thought we’d kick things off with an original song. How’s that sound, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals?”  There’s louder cheering, and the two of them waste no time starting a song that Patton remembers from previous concerts of theirs he’d attended.

…

November. Junior Year.

Patton’s phone dings while he’s eating lunch in the student union and flipping through an education textbook to study for his quiz tomorrow on Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development. Exams are quickly approaching, and Patton had always struggled to remember theorists’ names for some reason.

It’s a text from Roman. Is V with you?

Patton frowns and types back quickly. No. It’s Tuesday. Then he sends a second text. Why?

The student union is bustling with students breezing through to grab lunch before rushing off to the library or their class. Groups are clustered around tables to hash out the details of final projects as their deadlines approach in the next week or two. Exhausted English majors slump over their stale coffee cups and computers as they edit their final paper for the eighth time. Engineering students running on caffeine and spite chug another energy drink before hurrying off to the lab building. A couple others that Patton can see are watching Netflix in a desperate attempt to give themselves a break before plunging back into the grind of end-of-the-semester assignments.

Roman’s reply comes almost immediately. He sent me a single letter text which usually means he’s freaking out but idek where he is

Patton stands up and forgets his half-eaten sandwich, dropping it in the compost bin as he slings his backpack over his shoulder and hurries out of the building. Have you tried calling him?  He texts quickly.

R: Yeah. No response… just lemme know if you see him or if he texts you or something ok

Patton rolls his eyes. As if he’s just going to go about his day and not try to help. Especially if V might be freaking out. We’ll find him, Roman. You check the science center and I’ll check the music floor of Stokes Hall.

R: ok.

R: Thanks

Patton turns his ringer on at full volume and braces against the cold air as he hurries to the building beside the Student Union. The November air is biting. Students bustle with their noses tucked into their scarves and red fingers curled around coffee cups. There was no snow on the ground, but the grass still crunches under Patton’s shoes as he hurries across the quad towards Stokes Hall. His light blue beanie is pulled low over his light brown hair.

He’s wishing he had a scarf to hide his nose in—instead opting to try to tuck it into the sleeves of the sweatshirt tied around his shoulders—when he walks straight into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry—”

“Virgil?” Patton asks, immediately recognizing the voice. He looks up, and Virgil seems frozen for a moment. It only takes Patton a second to realize that his eyes are red and sunken slightly. His usual sweep of hair is a disheveled mess under the hood of his sweatshirt that engulfs his frame.

If Patton’s being honest, he looks… rough. Concern twists in Patton’s chest.

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I’m an idiot, I just wasn’t watching where—”

“Hey, it’s all good, Virge,” Patton says, quickly but sincerely. He places his hands on Virgil’s shoulder to anchor him. “Breathe.”

Virgil laughs but it’s humorless and shrugs out from under his grip. Patton frowns. “I’m fine. I know I look like a mess, but really. It’s fine now. I was just. Um. Coming outside for some air.”

Patton considers the deflection and decides to meet Virgil half-way. “I could use some too.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Honest, V. The cold air is kind of nice.” Patton slips his phone out of his pocket and sends a quick text to Roman. Got him. He offers a small, reassuring smile to Virgil.“ You wanna take a seat?”

Virgil meets his gaze, then glances away. He seems to think about it for a moment, then relents with a slight sag to his shoulders. “Sure. Fine.”

Patton wanders over to a bench across the pathway and takes a seat. He looks around as students rush quickly towards their classes, smiling brightly as a service dog trots dutifully beside his owner and pushes the button to open the door as the student hurries inside. He intentionally keeps his gaze from lingering on Virgil, even as he hesitates before sitting beside him.

Virgil waits until most of the students have rushed off before breaking the silence between them. “You aren’t going to ask?”

Patton glances over at him. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and you seemed reluctant to talk about it…. Should I ask?”

“No. Yes?” Virgil groans, zipping up his hoodie against the chilly air. “It wasn’t anything like. That bad. Y’know? I just get… anxiety attacks sometimes, and sometimes they get…” He trails off. Patton senses more than sees the way Virgil glances quickly at him. “Anyway. I’m fine now.”

Patton isn’t sure what to say. He’d known for a long time now that Virgil struggled with anxiety. That Virgil had anxiety attacks doesn’t exactly surprise him, and it definitely isn’t off-putting or anything of the sort. But Patton hates the way Virgil keeps trying to deflect… something. Judgement. Concern. Patton suddenly and fiercely wishes Virgil would just let someone care about him. Let someone love him.

Patton thinks maybe he already does.

“Virgil….” Patton says softly, looking at his hands folded between his knees, “It’s okay. You know that, right? You can talk to me about it. And I’m not gonna judge you or think you’re weird or that there’s anything wrong with you.”

“I… I’m fine.”

Patton lifts a shoulder. “Okay. But… it’s okay if you aren’t, too. And either way… you’re definitely not alone. You know? You know Roman’s there for you, but… but I am too. I care about you.”

In his peripheral, he sees Virgil look at him. “Patton—”

“There you guys are!” Roman exclaims as he jogs up to the two of them. Patton smiles at Virgil—who looks, for all the world, like the ground has shifted underneath him.

Patton wants to ask him why. He never does.

…

Present.

SANDERS has played through five songs, which means they’re nearing the end of their set. Patton is beaming. Virgil and Roman play off each other so well, and their music seems to be a blend of both of them in a way. They balance each other on stage. They’re fun to watch. Patton can’t help but think, though he may be biased, that if they really wanted to… they could make a career out of it.

But then they do something that surprises Patton, and apparently everyone else too from the way the crowd starts to murmur.

Virgil trades out his electric guitar for his light brown acoustic one. Roman grabs a wooden stool from one of the wings and sets it in the middle of the stage. Virgil adjusts the strap of the guitar around his shoulders, nodding his thanks to Roman.

“So I hope you all don’t mind if we close out with something a little different than our usual pace,” Virgil is saying into the wireless mic attached to him. “But I lost a bet against Roman, and that means I gotta do this.”

“If I lost I was gonna have to wear jorts for this concert. You all should be thanking me,” Roman quips back through his own mic. There’s a chuckle from Virgil as well as the crowd.

“Yeah, well. This is a song I wrote over the course of… probably about a year. It’s about someone very… important to me. He couldn’t be here tonight, but… he’s pretty great. Anyway, it’s a little different, so uh.” Even under the stage lights, Patton thinks he can see Virgil flushing slightly. “I hope you all like it.”

Virgil starts strumming and all Patton can do is watch him, transfixed by the sound of an acoustic guitar and the sight of Virgil under a spotlight on stage. It’s a much softer song already than any other song in their entire set. Virgil ducks his head slightly, his black sneaker tapping out the ¾ meter. And then Virgil starts to sing.

“When I was younger I saw my daddy cry, and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget.

And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.

But darlin’ you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

As Virgil sings, Patton can’t help but feel rooted to the spot. Virgil sitting and playing his acoustic guitar reminds Patton suddenly of that moment again back in Virgil’s dorm room. That moment of honesty and openness from him that always felt so rare. Patton feels like he’s experiencing that again, despite the crowd and the spotlights. Because this is not performance-Virgil, this is just…. Virgil. At his most honest. At his mot exposed. And it’s breathtaking.

Patton doesn’t even fully realize that he’s moving closer to the stage until he almost trips over a girl that’s swaying and holding her phone with a flashlight up in the air.

Virgil breaks into the second verse, and Patton feels his stomach fluttering all over again at the sound of his voice.

“Well maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts.

And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face.

And I’ve always lived like this. Keeping a comfortable distance.

And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness,

‘Cuz none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

And a part of Patton—a part he’s afraid to admit to—suddenly starts to grow insistent with the realization that he might be really, truly, unequivocally in love with the person singing on the stage in this moment. The one with his bangs falling into eyes that had always looked to Patton to be a little bit afraid and a lot brave.

This song, this moment, is no exception to that. Music, for Virgil, had always started from some place deeply personal. It is what allows him to connect to others, after all. And Patton doesn’t know if the song is about him, but he wants it to be. Because that deeply personal space that Virgil is singing from resonates with Patton in a way that leaves only one thought repeating in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Almost as if he hears the thought itself, Virgil looks up and starts scanning the crowd again as he reaches the bridge.

“I’ve got a tight grip on reality  

But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here.” He’s scanning, scanning, scanning…

“I know you’re leaving in the morning. When you wake up,

Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream. Oh…”

And then his eyes settle squarely on Patton, and Patton swears he hears the very faint catch of Virgil’s breath through the mic.

Patton gives him a small, faint smile. There’s a brief moment where uncertainty flickers through Virgil’s dark eyes, and then something sets firmly in them. As if he’s made some kind of split-second decision. Virgil stands up from the stool and starts making his way towards the stage stairs, continuing to play and sing as he does so.

“You are the only exception. You are the only exception….”

Patton loses sight of him as he steps down to ground level, the crowd blocking his view. But Virgil keeps singing that line over and over, you are the only exception, as if imploring Patton to hear it and understand it and know it is meant for him. As if perhaps Virgil has to repeat it himself to fully believe in its truth, but each time he sings it, Patton can hear the conviction growing. Far ahead of him, Patton can see people shifting around in the mosh pit in front of him.

Patton doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he knows how to.

And then through the crowd of people in front of him steps Virgil, still playing. Still singing. And Patton can’t help but notice his eyes look wide and scared and vulnerable—but unwavering—as he sings the final line.

“But I’m on my way to believing…”

He plays the final chord and stands there, looking up at Patton. He’s so close. The guitar and a few inches is all that separates them. Patton swallows past the lump in his throat and brings a hand up to cup Virgil’s jaw before leaning his forehead against Virgil’s and whispering.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see Virgil’s relieved, crooked grin. But he feels it when Virgil presses his lips to his own.

[embhm]

Chapter 199: The YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE BANTERS

Note: Sae, please rest well and thank you very much for this chapter translation. <3

As a continued notice, please be advised that the “Addicted: The Novel” blog will always update the chapters earlier than here on Tumblr. Please visit https://addictedthenovel.wordpress.com for up to date postings on the translations.

There are no in-line comments yet on the blog but we can reply to each other’s comments there. The app for Wordpress is available on both iOS and Android. Just use the Reader tab and follow the website blog address. Sae’s translations for “Lawless Gangster” are on there too. <Alec>

NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!, in the comments or anywhere on this account. We have not finished reading the novel. No copy/paste and all that other shenanigans either. Votes/likes/comments are highly appreciated.

While reading, if available, please read the footnotes at the end of the chapter for clarification.

Translator: Sae      Editors: Sae + Alec

As always, THANK YOU for reading and enjoying the journey with our AROUSED boys:

GU HAI & BAI LUO YIN

《你丫上瘾了》

Chapter 199: The YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE BANTERS

“Hey? How did you get here from over there?” Bai Luo Yin’s bemused eyes captured Gu Hai’s tall figure marching towards him from the opposite side of the street. As those seemingly pugnacious steps moved in closer, the strong bellicose aura percolating throughout the atmosphere around him could jar with that of the bustling and boisterous crowds scuttling about.

The anxiety had long engulfed Gu Hai, completely detaining his brain, rendering any logical thought impossible. His lips, once the lovely hue of terra cotta and carnelian, were now a silent purple from the disquietness that was conceived within his heart the moment Bai Luo Yin’s presence vanished from just a few minutes of his own negligence. But now that the missing person stood before him, holding a stick of tanghulu, gaily savoring the sweet taste to the point that the side of his lips were kissed with sugar, how can his heart and mind not burn with rage?

Keeping his eyes on him, he walked over and bellowed out, “Where the fuck did you run off to?”

Bai Luo Yin’s face immediately tensed up and even the bright smile that once adorned his lips waned. “I went to buy two tanghulus.”

Having said that, he passed the remaining uneaten stick of tanghulu over to Gu Hai.

Gu Hai refused to take it, letting his eyes imprison Bai Luo Yin’s instead. He maintained a darkened face and asked, “Why didn’t you at least say something to me when you went to buy the tanghulu? Do you know how worried sick I was?”

A watchful silence besieged the space between them before anger recalcitrantly charged into Bai Luo Yin’s head. “I did tell you! You’re the one that didn’t hear it!”

“If you had properly told me, wouldn’t I have heard it?” Gu Hai said with an imperious aggression that invited his voice to rise. “Couldn’t you wait until I came out so that we could go get it together? What the hell, would you have died from the craving if you ate a bit later?”

The stick in Bai Luo Yin’s hand that was still stretched out towards Gu Hai suddenly dropped to the ground with a thud. Before long, the remaining pieces of tanghulu were also smashed on the ground beneath their feet. A thunderous roar then rang out amongst the raucous laughter passing by them.

“Fine! See if I fucking give a shit if you get to eat any or not!!”

Bai Luo Yin seethed, then he quickly calmed himself down, turned around and walked away!

With haste, Gu Hai forcibly grabbed the hem of Bai Luo Yin’s shirt, but the other lad took to ruthlessly shaking it off instead. When Gu Hai grabbed again, Bai Luo Yin also shook it away once more. The two that were talking and laughing on the street just a moment ago were now tearing each other apart. After a few more seconds of pushing and pulling, the pressure of a raging sea of anger forced Bai Luo Yin’s sturdy fist to brutally land on Gu Hai’s face. As the saying goes, you can hit the person but not his face. Gu Hai’s mind darkened like that of a gathering storm clouds. As anger afflicted his chest, he picked up his feet and kicked Bai Luo Yin’s ass.

Fine, fuck it!!

That kick was the breaking point of his patience which had completely drawn out all of young master Bai’s wrath. This time, there was no use in saying anything else. He was blinded by a five-course serving of wrath that tasted bitter yet unsurprisingly sour. Bai Luo Yin’s face erupted to a dark shade, black like the bottom of a pot that had burned for too long. He marched off, flagged down a taxi and left.  

Gu Hai stood on the street, fuming with rage between gritted teeth as he watched the taxi gradually disappeared into the sea of cars. How big of a deal was it? Just because of a stick of tanghulu, the two had torn at each other furiously. It was true, a harmonious relationship was not something that could be truly nurtured overnight or even a short period of time.

Lifting his head to squint up at the sky in an attempt to catch a glimpse of color, Gu Hai then closed his eyes and let out a few heavy breaths. Just as he was about to return, he suddenly saw the small shop that sold tanghulu. As it turns out, it was just one corner away. With just one look, there were still a rabble of noisy, excited customers inside.

It must’ve also been crowded when he was queuing to pay too, huh? Isn’t he normally unhappy about being in the crowd?

He turned around to glance at the fallen tanghulu on the ground. Thinking about it, a sense of regret and distress subconsciously formed in his chest, gripping it just a bit. Glancing once more, he turned, went in the shop to buy a few sticks of tanghulus, then carried it back to their rented apartment.

Having returned earlier, Bai Luo Yin was now in the bedroom processing his thoughts. The bags of goods that he had previously purchased with Gu Hai and brought back with him were thrown at the front doorway unattended.

Once Gu Hai entered through the door, the floor near his feet were stacked with bags that had been lying there for a long while now. He first tidied them up in an orderly manner then picked up a stick of tanghulu and stood rooted at the bedroom doorway. Just as he cleared his throat, he was met with the back of Bai Luo Yin’s eerie figure. Without seeing the expression that lined his face, one could make out the gloominess that exuded from his body. Even after hearing Gu Hai’s voice, he did not turn his head around.

When Gu Hai sauntered into the room and placed his hand on Bai Luo Yin’s shoulder, he was immediately answered with a ‘fuck off.’ Undeterred by that expected reaction, Gu Hai playfully stretched out his hand, holding the stick of tanghulu in front of Bai Luo Yin. But Bai Luo Yin unswervingly flung his hand back.

“You’re really angry?”

At those words, a sense of coldness licked at Bai Luo Yin’s tongue and crept into his voice, spreading across his skin like the icy tide on a frigid winter beach.

“It’s not fucking worth it!!”

“Do you have to go that far? Isn’t it because of a tanghulu, huh? Besides, you’re the one that smashed it to the ground yourself. Look, didn’t I buy it back for you? If it’s not enough, there’s more in the other room.”

Bai Luo Yin’s brows drew close as anger boiled deep in his system. It churned within his mind, making it nearly impossible for him to control himself.

“It has nothing to do with the tanghulu at all!”

“Then what’s the reason? Because I’m terrible to you? Tell me yourself, aren’t you to blame for today’s situation? If it was any other time, it wouldn’t have mattered as much but what’s happening now, huh? If you couldn’t find me, wouldn’t you be anxious?”

Bai Luo Yin deliberately maintained a strong-minded attitude, “I won’t be anxious!”

Gu Hai knew full well that Bai Luo Yin’s harsh words were said in a moment of anger. He proceeded to point at his own face and said accusingly, “Look here, look at the punch that you gave me, it’s already bluish green. Is there anyone out there that punch a person like you? Who am I for you to hit me however you want?”

Keeping his eyes on him, Bai Luo Yin’s foreboding eyes pressed at the person in front of him, “Didn’t you also kick me?”

“Where? I didn’t use any strength at all!”

“Whether there was strength in it or not, you’d know?”

“See! And you still have the nerve to say you’re not angry!” Gu Hai reached out and pinched Bai Luo Yin’s cheeks before teasing him, “Did that kick really hurt that much? Let me look at it. I want to see if you’re bruised or not.”

“Fuck off!” said Bai Luo Yin in a sulky tone of a querulous child. His mood seemed to have ricocheted between low and…lower.

Gu Hai gave him a warm glance and as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he jauntily picked up the tanghulu and took a bite of it. He glanced again and praised the sweetness in his mouth. “The taste is really good. You don’t want a bite?” He passed the stick towards the side of Bai Luo Yin’s mouth.

The entire time, Bai Luo Yin simply ignored the pea-brained jerk.

Gu Hai pulled his hand back and rubbed the stick of tanghulu along his own lip again, then took a bite, savoring the sugar that glued to his mouth. “Yeah, it’s sweet and crunchy.”

This behavior immediately made Bai Luo Yin think that there was a mentally disturbed child standing beside him.

Still in his own world, Gu Hai ate several more pieces until there were only two remaining. He waved it back and forth in front of Bai Luo Yin again in an attempt to lure his aching taste buds. Then he asked, “You really don’t want any? If you don’t eat it now, there won’t be any more later.”

“I already said I won’t eat it, so I won’t.” Bai Luo Yin roughly vocalize that sentence.

“I’m going to fucking make you take a bite of it today!”

Immediately after saying that, he bit a whole piece of the sweetened fruit off, pulled it off the stick and, let it hang loosely between lips. Then he grabbed Bai Luo Yin’s head with both his hands and attempted to press it into his mouth. Bai Luo Yin shifted left and right, trying to dodge the invading attacks but to no avail. After a while, the constant rubbing caused his lips to be covered in a thick messy layer of sugar, bullying his mouth to break open.

Half of the tanghulu and someone’s mischievous tongue charged in at the same time, allowing the sweet taste to pervade every corner of his mouth. It was a sloppy attempt, but nonetheless, a kiss was a kiss. As Bai Luo Yin chewed on the tanghulu, he deliberately bit on Gu Hai’s roaming tongue. The painful sensation shocked Gu Hai, forcing him to withdraw his playful tongue. Instead of retreating, a slight smirk appeared on his face instead. He slowly licked the sugars that clung at the side of Bai Luo Yin’s mouth, bit by bit, until it was clean.

In this simple yet endearing manner, the two quickly reconciled and gathered in the kitchen to prepare a magnificent dinner.

Gu Hai cut and sliced the vegetables to perfection and allowed them to pile up on the cutting board. He stopped his own task for a moment and glanced to the side. Bai Luo Yin was in the middle of washing a cucumber ah…...his hand was firmly gripping the cucumber, rubbing it up and down, up and down. As Gu Hai continued to keep an attentive gaze on the movements of Bai Luo Yin’s hands, deadly flames immediately began to flare up in his heart and surround the space within his chest, provoking tendrils of smoke to desperately escape his burning body.

“It won’t be clean if you wash it like that.” Gu Hai warned him from the side, while averting his eyes.

Bai Luo Yin responded with a few words, “Then how should it be washed so that it’ll be clean?”

“Bring it over here, I’ll show you.”

When Bai Luo Yin complied, and passed the cucumber over, Gu Hai immediately put the end of it into his mouth without hesitation. First, he slowly extended the tip of his pale pink tongue and sensually licked it for a while. Then, he pushed the cucumber half way into his mouth before pulling it in and out in a slow tantalizing manner. All the while, his wicked eyes bled out with an irresistible sense of eroticism and sexual innuendo as he glanced at Bai Luo Yin from time to time.

Bai Luo Yin, on the other hand, has had enough with Gu Hai’s wickedness. Looking at Gu Hai’s unruffled appearance, he immediately snatched the slobbered cucumber away from his mouth and went to pull his pants down. Handling the stolen fruit as a formidable weapon, he used it to poke that restless ‘little chrysanthemum’ down below.

Caught off guard, it was too late for Gu Hai to evade the incoming assault. He was nearly captured by the suddenness of it. But fortunately, he was able to force enough strength into his hand to intercept the cucumber at his tailbone. After his thrilling escape from that dangerous situation, he saw Bai Luo Yin toss the cucumber in the trash can. Even then he had the nerve to complain begrudgingly.

“Why did you throw it away?”

“There’s saliva all over it now. If it shouldn’t be thrown out, who are you trying to disgust with it?”

Gu Hai scoffed and jokingly said, “You think I’m dirty? When I fed you mouth to mouth, was it not enough, hmmmm?”

A gentle flush of pink tinged Bai Luo Yin’s cheeks, making him look vulnerable and bashful. He kept silent and washed the remaining vegetables.

Noting the warm aura that encased the tranquil space between them, Gu Hai gently embraced Bai Luo Yin’s waist from behind and carefully rest his chin on his firm shoulder. His voice then softened with a touch of sweetness as he spoke.

“When are you going to cook a meal for me?”

“Don’t even think about it. That day will never come.”

Gu Hai instantly cried out in grievance, “Isn’t it obvious that you’re bullying me? Just exactly how have I served you, huh?”

“No one forced you to.”

Slightly pouting first, Gu Hai then bitterly bit Bai Luo Yin’s ear. His tongue danced out and licked the outer rim several times before tracing circles along the inside. These enticing movements caused the rhythm of Bai Luo Yin’s hands to immediately spiral into chaos.

“Hey, I bought sex toys. After dinner, the two of us can play,” said Gu Hai seductively as his hot breath fanned out on the side Bai Luo Yin’s neck, leaving behind a warm sensation that tickled the sensitive skin.

Bai Luo Yin’s body stiffened as he turned around to look at Gu Hai. His teeth ground against each other creating a creaking sound. “You really……!! I’m not playing. If you’re dying to, then go play with it by yourself!!”

“It’s really interesting!” Gu Hai persistently incited.

In the end, finding it impossible to resist the enticement, Bai Luo Yin asked out of curiosity, “What did you buy? Let me see it first.”

“Tsk tsk……” A devious smile played on Gu Hai’s lips, “Who said he didn’t want to play a moment ago?”

“Let me see it first!”

Seeing the slight frustration in Bai Luo Yin’s narrowed eyes, Gu Hai continued to smile shamelessly. “We’ll talk about it again later. If I take it out now, I’m afraid we’ll just end up playing with it right away. If that happens, even our meal won’t be as good anymore.”

Since Gu Hai said it like that, Bai Luo Yin’s mind became even more uncertain. As a result, when Gu Hai was diligently cooking in his own world, Bai Luo Yin sneakily made use of the opportunity to enter the bedroom. Making sure not to create too much noise, he incessantly flipped through everything in search of these mysterious items. In the wardrobe, on the bookcase, the drawers of their small studying table, beneath the pillows……all the places that could be used to hide something, he combed through them high and low. Unexpectedly, he still could not find any suspicious item.

“Baobei, it’s time to eat.” Gu Hai shouted loudly from outside of the bedroom.

Fruitless in his search, Bai Luo Yin was forced to drop his investigation.

Today was Xiao Nian, a festive day that not only everyone from old to young heartily celebrated, but they also seek to eliminate their misfortune and any lingering illness during the holiday. With a positive mindset, the two decided to have a drink.

Before having their meal, they had agreed to only have one drink, and in no condition, should they have more than that. But, once the liquor ravaged their throats and the words flowed out of their thirsty mouths, the more imbued they were with excitement. Another sour and vile taste slipped into their mouths, slowly intoxicating them but it was not enough to steal away reality. In just the blink of an eye, another cup of liquor streamed smoothly into their awaiting stomachs. Gu Hai deliberately poured more for Bai Luo Yin and as that cup flowed to the brim, his own was also filled.

Once Bai Luo Yin drank, especially if he has one too many, he would definitely become a silly fool. Gu Hai had assiduously sought out all the chances that he could find to put more liquor towards Bai Luo Yin’s lips so that he could see this moment of silliness.

In no time, the two slumped sideways on the sofa. Staring straight ahead, Bai Luo Yin looked at his own flushed face through the small mirror sitting silently on the tea table in front of them. Thinking that he must have caught some sort of sickness, he buried his head into Gu Hai’s shoulder and rubbed against it incessantly. After finishing, he took another look at himself. It was even redder than before.

“It looks strange.” Bai Luo Yin mumbled almost incoherently.

Although Gu Hai’s mind has already been devoured by intoxication, his body was still wide awake. His fingers crawled out and sternly gripped Bai Luo Yin’s shirt, pulling him so close that their face nearly collided.

“Nothing’s going to happen if you rub there. You have to rub here.” As he said that, he pointed down towards his own crotch.

Within just seconds of him saying that, Bai Luo Yin’s head instantly fell, like an iron ball crashing on Gu Hai’s idle penis, causing him to wail. Afterwards, Bai Luo Yin turned his face halfway to the side and stole a glance at Gu Hai before laughing to the point his sides ached.

“Have a taste, it’s very delicious.” Undeterred, Gu Hai fished his large penis out and placed it at Bai Luo Yin’s mouth.

Bai Luo Yin instead groaned coldly and twisted his face to the other side so that the back of his head was facing Xiao Hai Zi.

Gu Hai suddenly remembered something and pulled Bai Luo Yin up. “That’s right! We haven’t played with the sex toys I bought yet!!”

The moment Bai Luo Yin heard this, his spirit energetically rushed back into his body, dragging a bit of his soberness back. He straightened his back and sat upright in a rather obedient manner while facing Gu Hai.

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and go get it. Huuurrrrryyyyy!”

----------------------------

Are you Addicted?

The original novel is written by Chai Ji Dan.

We, the translators and editors, DO NOT own any of this novel's content.

PLEASE DO NOT TAKE OR REPOST OUR TRANSLATIONS ANYWHERE ELSE!

[wrangletangle]

Since you were recommending Dreamwidth, I decided to check it out. Is their anyway to look purely at art/fanfic without searching through someone's blog? What makes Tumblr so easy to use is that you can search through peoples tags quickly to find what you want, and I can't really find that on DW. Also, can you follow tags/interests on DW just like you do on Tumblr? It's a feature that allows me to keep up with my fandoms even when I'm not actively combing the tags and it's very helpful.

Hi anon, thanks for asking! Sorry for the delay.

Dreamwidth is constructed very differently from Tumblr, as you noticed. It was originally created as a fork of the Livejournal code, but has since developed in its own direction, as requests from the userbase came in.

To give you some parallels:

You can still follow individual users. In fact, you have a lot more control over how you follow users - you can adjust your following preferences to group users together into named dashes, for example. I have a dash for individual blogs and a separate one for communities (details below).

Most users do have a personal tagging system, and this generates an automatic list of their personal tags, available at the /tag URL for that user. So if I want to see all of the art that pentapus has ever posted (and I do, regularly), I just go to pentapus’s blog, glance at the taglist and pick the “art” tag. Voila, I have it all. No skipping stuff like Tumblr likes to do.

Now for what’s different:

DW doesn’t block your post for being “adult” or hide posts based on tags. Instead, you flag your individual posts or entire blog as adult, and if someone isn’t logged in, they get a warning before they see the material.

When I make a post on DW, I can literally control who can see it. I can either lock it to only my followers, to only a subset of my followers (groups I’ve put together privately, which my followers can’t see), or I can let everyone see it. I can choose my own tags for my own blog. I don’t have to worry about fighting over tags with another fandom I’ve never heard of, or strangers hopping into my blog and fighting with me over something they have no context for.

Where Dreamwidth is really different is in how it organizes what Tumblr does via general tags. DW does that via opt-in communities, which have mods and everything. When it comes to fannish content, I often won’t post that to my personal journal at all but to a community for that topic instead, or I’ll post it to my personal journal but I’ll post a notice about it at a relevant community. That way, I know that people who are interested in that topic can see the post. I also don’t spam my followers with 50 million Baze/Chirrut reblogs haha ha (still not apologizing).

I join and follow communities for topics I’m interested in. Those communities can show up on my dash/feed, mixed in with the individuals I follow, or I can separate them into their own dash/feed. I have the power!

I can lock my posts in communities to community members only, if I don’t want to tell the entire universe about my Baze/Chirrut feels but only want to talk to like-minded shippers. (Though really, I want to tell the entire universe.)

No need for sideblogs. Just post to communities related to that topic.

Functional cut tags.

Multiple icons on free accounts.

THREADED CONVERSATIONS IN CONTEXT, ALONG WITH EVERYONE ELSE’S COMMENTS ON THE SAME POST. ALSO, CONVERSATIONS WITHOUT REBLOGGING.

No ads.

No porn blog followers.

Community-run support, so you can literally see the support queue and usually get a helpful response within like 2-3 days at most, often faster for easy questions.

Help files? That tell you how to use the site? Linked from a button that says “Help”?

You can edit your posts, and there won’t be 500 copies of the version with the typo in it.

Screened comments that can be unscreened at will.

Long-form non-chat PM system.

Comment-tracking, even for posts you didn’t make.

Multiple icons, which allow you to mood theme your posts.

Polls, if you have a paying account.

Actual mood themes, if you have a paying account.

What does that mean?

No antis. Anti content is not posted to the communities, or if it is, mods remove it. Antis are allowed to form their own communities, and people who love the thing they hate just avoid those. (Most people don’t bother making anti comms and just occasionally mutter on their personal blogs. Overall anti noise level is much lower, comparatively speaking.)

No fighting over tags.

Better RP. Let’s be real, RPing on Tumblr is horrifying.

More control over what feeds I see and when.

More control over what other people see. I can post personal rl posts for my followers only, and they will never be seen by anyone who doesn’t follow me.

More personal connections among mutuals, as you’re able to talk either privately or in small groups about your personal life or interests without random people barging in, taking your sandwich, and kicking your shins.

Better privacy controls. Honestly, does Tumblr even have privacy?

But also, in the reverse, the ability to connect with most of the people who have a particular interest by posting in a community. Since communities are moderated, people don’t hide from them the way a lot of us hide from the tags on Tumblr. You also don’t have to call into the void for people to follow - you can literally just look at the community membership list and browse for cool people.

CONVERSATION.

Connection. Belonging to a community on DW is not like being on Tumblr. It’s much more personal and interconnected, with individual support. On the flip side, communities don’t have the kinds of requirements that Tumblr networks do. You don’t have to follow X or do Y and send in an application and give them your icon and description or any of that jazz. You click a button. There, you’ve joined. No submissions required. No mod has to trawl the tags for things to reblog - members just post their stuff directly to the community, or post to their personal blogs and post a link to the community.

None of this requires an xkit-style extension. All of these features are natively supported by the site itself.

The experience is very different, but it is very awesome. Much more interconnected, much less wank (not totally non-wanky, because fandom wanks, but the system is designed to make it harder to be a jerk and easier to be a friend).