Patreon changed their pledge model to pass extra fees along to patrons, murdering the $1 pledge, the backbone of many Patreons.
This is going to hurt a lot of creators with small audiences.
Merry fucking Christmas! 🙂
so to elaborate on this, they’re adding a 35 cent charge + a 2.9% fee to every individual pledge. (this means creators that charge per-post will get screwed even worse because for every single post, their patrons will be charged that extra fee.) the justification for this is that by passing processing/service fees to the customer they are “helping” the creator take home “more money.”
the new reality is that instead of being able to present nice flat fees to my potential patrons, i now have to advertise this obtuse bullshit, which is a much harder sell.
this also means a lot of people supporting many creators are going to get hit hard and are going to have to cut down their pledges.
it is FUCKING BULLSHIT, it is going to do real harm to lots of people, and if you support anyone on patreon you need to yell at them RIGHT NOW and tell them not to do this. if you look at what actual creators are saying, the vast majority of us would rather eat the fees and keep our patrons. but so far they have been really fucking dismissive.
we need loud backlash RIGHT NOW, before they can make the excuse that it’s too late to change back.
jesus fuck
“In prior runs Cranberry slipped and killed everyone” Soooooooo you don’t think maybe she’d end up doing that again? Every time? Seems kind of like a habit to me! Seems kind of like she didn’t want another winner, so she could just keep killing people, to me!
This is dedicated to lesbianneptune, who gave me the idea for this story. I had a big thing planned for haruka’s birthday, but stuff happened and it didn’t, so this will have to do. I hope you like it.
MIchiru had been thinking of Haruka’s birthday for weeks. She had hardly been able to think of anything else, distracted even as she played her violin, her conductor gently chiding her. She was usually so flawless. But Haruka was special, and did not require her flawlessness. She applied her lipstick carefully, the red that Haruka always commented on when she wore it, her hair elegantly tied with a scarf in the back, a set of pearls at her throat. She took one last slow, elegant twirl in the mirror before she left the house. Haruka loved this pink dress, flared at the hip. Michiru thought it perhaps a little old-fashioned, but Haruka always grinned so brightly when she wore it, she could hardly deny her on her birthday.
In the cake shop, she chatted with the baker behind the counter, struggling with the excellent misery of deciding between so many delicious confections. She preferred the princess cake, light and airy, but today was not her day, she thought.
She smirked slyly at the girl behind the counter. “The chocolate, with the raspberry filling.” Too sweet for Michiru, but perfect for Haruka, she had it boxed up in a bright gold box tied with a blue bow, smiling as she took the small cake in her arms.
The man in the flower shop smiled softly as she agonized over several large bouquets. Haruka always pretended not to like getting flowers, telling Michiru she didn’t have to do that, but she always sniffed them happily and displayed them on her desk, all the while telling everyone, well, it’s just how my wife is, you know.
The man wrapped up the bouquet—bright roses, delicately scented lilies, a bright spray of green—it certainly made a statement. Michiru carefully tucked the bouquet under one arm as she left the shop, still balancing the cake. The day was bright, even though it was chilly in the January air, and Michiru was pleased to see the sun had decided to join the world for Haruka’s birthday. Soon spring would be upon them, the lush green carpeting the parks, the world exploding with life.
It was quiet as she heard her own heels clicking on the roadway, the still, sunny day surrounding her. She crossed the grass, the crunch of it beneath her heels a soundtrack, every note echoing. She paused, and sat the bouquet on the ground. She spread out the shawl wrapped around her next and sat down on it, drawing the little cake out of the box and setting it in front of her. She drew one small candle and a lighter out of her pocket, sticking the candle in the middle of the elegantly decorated cake.
She lit the candle and began to sing, voice wavering. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Haruka. Happy birthday to you…”
She looked down at the candle, still burning, gazed up at the gravestone in front of her, and began to cry.
Megan said to me, and I quote: “Haruka can’t be alive for her birthday, what is this fluff?” and so I came up with this.
Oath reminded me that I have actually written more than one fic for haruka’s birthday. ENJOY
Rhio's Tunglr Stuff 