tale as old as time

–

You were certain that this was the longest, toughest, worst day you’d ever suffered through. You dragged yourself through the door, kicked off your shoes, and saw a pile of dog vomit on the livingroom rug.

You didn’t even have the energy to groan. One more goddamn thing, you thought, shuffled past the pile, and flopped straight onto your bed, coat on and the whole works.

Your phone buzzed. Sidney.

Hey—want to get a bite tonight?

  You could barely see over your scarf as you texted back.

I had the shittiest day on the planet. I have a headache. Everything sucks and I want to stay in. Bring some takeout?

You didn’t see his response, because you passed out.

When you woke up, your house was filled with a delicious smell. On your bedside table sat a bottle of acetaminophen, a glass of water, and two Dove chocolates. Instantly, you brightened a bit, realizing Sidney was there; you appreciated his thoughtfulness at times like these. Shedding your coat and scarf, you wandered out to the livingroom, and saw that the dog vomit was gone.

Sidney came out of the kitchen then, in boxer briefs and one of the T-shirts he kept at your place. “All my pajama pants were dirty,” he said by way of explanation, as your eyes went directly to his thighs. “I didn’t think you’d mind, though.”

Smiling, despite all the shit you’d gone through, you walked over to him, and he folded you up in a big, warm hug. You melted into his arms; he had the miraculous effect of making your troubles seem more insignificant than they actually were. At this moment, you welcomed that. “You know I don’t.”

“I brought takeout. I’ve got General Tso’s for you. And vanilla ice cream.”

“Ughhhhh, you are a lifesaver. I love you.” You tilted your chin up for a kiss. “Seriously, thank you.”

“I love you. I figured tonight is a cuddle up with your dog under blankets and watch Harry Potter kind of night.”

“Yes.”

“Also, I did put some laundry in,” he said. “I thought I would help you out… and get my pajama pants.”

“So… you went down in your boxers?”

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK.

Oh, how quickly the past is forgotten. 

They are part of the reason A03 is a thing now. Not the whole reason, but part of it. 

The Great Purges of 2002 and 2012 are when ff.net got a wild hair up their ass about THINK OF THE CHILDREN and nuked any fic posted on there that was explicit. Thousands upon thousands of nc-17 smutfics were lost.

Is there any way to spread this info? 

THE OTW WAS CREATED BY FANS SO WE’D HAVE AN ARCHIVE THAT WASN’T SUBJECT TO CORPORATE REVIEW. 

Nonprofit, so that nobody could ever say, “this isn’t making enough money; it’s getting shut down.” (See: Geocities, Quizilla, Figment, G+.) With lawyers involved and a firm awareness of the legalities of fanfic, so nobody would decide “we’ve gotten a nasty letter from a megacorporation with lawyers, so we’re hiding because we can’t afford to face a lawsuit. (Jedi Hurtaholics, Trevizo’s Millennium site.) With teams, so that an argument between co-mods didn’t result in the destruction of a whole archive. (Gryffindor Tower, Detention.)

AO3 IS OUR SITE.

It is by fans, for fans. Fans do all the coding. All the legal paperwork. All the abuse/tos violation complaints. Fans make all the choices about policies. Fans decide how to run the fundraisers. Fans write the blog posts. All the volunteer staff are fans; all the people who train them are fans. Fans wrangle all the tags. 

(And the other OTW projects, too. Fans manage the entries at Fanlore. Fans run the Open Doors project. Fans publish Transformative Works and Cultures.)

EVERYONE WORKING FOR THE OTW LOVES FANDOM. Wants it to survive. Wants it to be awesome for everyone.

(Knows that it can’t be awesome for everyone; some approaches to fandom just clash hard. But they strive to minimize those clashes as much as possible, because they love fandom.) 

AO3 is not some company that decided, “we’ll make a site for fanfic and then…” I don’t know what people are thinking is the reason. Money? Data harvesting? Tax shelter? Amusement and pity?

Nope; AO3 was fans saying, “Livejournal sucks; we’re tired of this fucked-up ‘rebuild every three years’ garbage; WE NEED TO OWN THE DAMN SERVERS.”

THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T PUT LINKS TO YOUR KO-FE OR PATREON OR ADVERTISE FOR COMMISSIONS ON AO3

1. Fuck it, it’s fiction

2. Let me look up real estate listings, so I can plot out subway routes and schedules and see if this walk really is long enough for them to have this conversation.

brain: dont do it then

“[I]t is actually more expensive to be poor than not poor. If you can’t afford the first month’s rent and security deposit you need in order to rent an apartment, you may get stuck in an overpriced residential motel. If you don’t have a kitchen or even a refrigerator and microwave, you will find yourself falling back on convenience store food, which — in addition to its nutritional deficits — is also alarmingly overpriced. If you need a loan, as most poor people eventually do, you will end up paying an interest rate many times more than what a more affluent borrower would be charged. To be poor — especially with children to support and care for — is a perpetual high-wire act.”