golden orchards

/ban user:1153984868804468756

to get rid of it.

if you're interested in the Colorful support post i made regarding this, its under the cut. i'm livid.

Discord bots you need to ban

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Like worstie, I can barely promote my own published book without wanting to curl up and die.

They’re just not disclosing it as ads, which they are supposed to do, and instead it's marketed in a very Tumblr-esque way which can be summed up as “omg guys look how CUTE this is” followed by a different account underneath going “omg found it!!” and it links to a drop ship site with the item(s).

And the link usually has an affiliate tracker in it, which you may or may not be able to spot unless you’re familiar with them, which is also something you are legally supposed to disclose.

I used to get a lot of offers from around 2016-2020 to sell “moon lamps” on here, y’know those orb lights that look like a moon? Yeah. I was offered a higher kickback to make it look like I wasnt posting an add because these sellers know Tumblrites don’t like ads.

They wanted it to look as organic and hyped up as possible and then I’d just so happen to be like “omg you guys it's on sale” and post a link. Which is skeevy as shit and also illegal af in the US.

It’s like the insta/tiktok girlies saying “link in bio” to get around saying “here’s a product I make money on if you buy it” because they want to sound like your friend because people are more likely to impulse buy stuff if a “friend” is recommending something.

They’re also trusting that everyone knows “link in bio” means “affiliate link” which is technically not enough of a disclosure but whatever.

This is why I tag all my own book promos with “affiliate links” because depending on which storefront you buy Hunger Pangs from, I may get a kickback from the vender which I do to help mediate the fees I lose from distribution. It’s not much—literal pennies in some cases—but I’m still legally required to state it.

It’s also why when I do post products I use or like, I make a point of letting people know I’m not an affiliate and not sponsored because despite the legal ramifications these people are flirting with by not disclosing their affiliate status, I want to be fully transparent with my followers when it comes to me trying to sell them things.

Y’all keep my lights on by reading my work and through my ko-fi and patreon. I am not about to risk that trust for the sake of some shitty vibrator sales from a sketch-ass drop shipper who wants me to pretend I’m not selling you things.

So, yeah. People do successfully sell stuff on here. A lot of us small indie creators sell our own work all the time.

These type of undeclared sellers are relying on you believing that Tumblr is different from other social media platforms where the advertising is usually more blatant. They are also relying on your trust in your community not to put undisclosed ads onto your dash.

After all, everyone knows Tumblr is a sinkhole where profit goes to die and everyone hates ads. Why would anyone waste time doing that here… unless they can adapt what they’re doing to make you think you’re not being marketed to, because Tumblr as a user base would never allow that kind of thing. Right?

Turns out, not so much.

Some people might say, “well that’s just obvious! You’d have to be really silly not to realize it!”

And maybe it was obvious to them.

I know it was obvious to me. But I also know I have enough online experience to play “spot the affiliate link” and enough knowledge as a indie author about how those links are supposed to be disclosed by law, to know when someone is being dishonest and trying to make a post seem organic and not like an ad.

But not everyone has the same knowledge or life experiences to put the context clues together, and that’s why I wrote the above post because many, many, many people on here are unaware they are reblogging ads—usually while talking about how much they hate ads!

And let me be clear. In most circumstances? Ideal scenario. But we live in the real world and the real world has depression and screaming toddlers and 9-5 jobs.

I've drawn the blinds and the curtains, drenched my shirt in cold water and turned up the fan. I keep ice cubes in the fridge and I hide from the sun. The flat is dark, in the summer.

It's that type of season.

I change the batteries in my thermometer. I change the water for the cats. I step into the shower in the mornings, and the evenings, and at lunchtime too. My brain slows. My hair has not been dry in weeks. When I step outside, onto the concrete and into the bright sun sitting proudly in that cloudless sky, it is as though she has sat herself, fat and heavy, and oozing, atop my shoulders.

My head. My mouth. My thighs.

I take the weighted blanket off the bed. I take the cover off the blanket. The fan in the corner whirrs and whirrs.

Yesterday, we recorded another record high temperature. We do that every year, it seems.

42 degrees in Central Europe.

Do you remember, when thirty degrees was a lot? Do you remember going out to swim, for ice cream and a laugh, at twenty-five? How long has it been? A decade, maybe.

More, maybe.

I heard it's going to rain again.

The grass is yellow, and brown in patches. There are holes in the leaves of my hibiscus, and my cat presses herself into the wet soil after I've watered the mint. Everything is thirsty nowadays, it seems.

The last storm brought lightning, thunder and wind. It did not rain.

I am not allowed to install an AC in my flat. It might ruin the cityscape, you see. Tourists can't be expected to put up with that. The ambulance sirens are coming closer together. The man who lives in front of the supermarket with his dog empties an entire bottle of water over its back. His skin is red, and reveals, in flakes, even more burnt flesh.

I have a sunburn on my shoulders from the five minutes I spent getting from the store to the heavy metal door that leads to the stairwell - it's never cool, see. It collects cigarette smoke and the scent of onions frying in oil. One side is all glass. There are no windows to open.

My alarm rings at 6am. It's going to heat up now, and I have to close my windows, and draw my blinds and my blackout curtains. The sun sits alone in her cloudless sky.

if you want to join my tag list and be notified every time i post a new piece, like my pinned post here: https://www.tumblr.com/glasswaters/676167769344065536

It is absolutely immoral, completely counterproductive to the goal of learning things, and turns out incredibly subpar work.