Fanfic writers, are you okay with people downloading your works to their devices and/or printing your works out (for personal use only) without them asking for your permission first?
I’m okay with both
I’m okay with people downloading my works, but don’t print them out
I’m okay with people printing my work out, but don’t download them
No, I’m not okay with either
They should ask first. My answer varies, depends on each work/*what they ask
Not a fanfic writer
Voting ended onAug 25, 2025
*What the they ask = if they want to download the work to their device and/or if they want to print it out
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Derek is the old god of the forest, forgotten and unworshiped for centuries. Towns were built around his forests and the alter where once offerings were laid has been overgrown. Derek believes himself to be lost and resigns to an endless slumber.
That is until a college kid stumbles on his alter and offers the large stone wolf a piece of his sandwich.
Now, awake and once more worshiped, the god must protect his new high priest Stiles at all cost. Which means blending into a world he knows nothing about. And going to college.
Hope it's cool if I start a little something from your prompt @renmackree. I don't really know Tumblr etiquette yet.
All it took was a few meager pieces of meat and bread, and the old god lived. The priest who roused him was a strange one. He was young and earnest in a way that could inspire both hope and a sense of protectiveness. How he stumbled upon the worn-down altar was a mystery. The once grand stone statues had been chipped away by rain and wind and ice long, long ago. The sacrificial platform was broken and buried beneath centuries of rotting leaves and forest life. It was a surprising wonder that this boy sat right in the middle of his dias and prayed.
"Please, please, please don't find me here," the boy whispered to himself. "I swear to god I will never let Scott set me up again."
The oath was made. Now all that was needed was a sacrifice to seal the bond.
The boy unhooked his knapsack from his back and rummaged through it to find a bottle of water. He took a generous swig, letting a few drops escape and slide down his chin. Wiping his mouth gracelessly, he grabbed another item from the sack and began to peel off the outer layer. In less than a minute, half the morsel was gone, and the boy took another long sip of water to wash it down. Just before he started eating the second half, a twig snapped somewhere to the east. The boy whipped his head toward the sound and froze.
"Stiles?" A voice called from the distance. "I was just kidding, okay? Stiles?"
The boy took action fast. In his haste to grab his knapsack and stand, his small meal fell to the ground--right at the foot of the old god's alter. The offering was modest but true: made with no malice or selfishness, and given freely from his own hand.
It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air--he was alive again. The True Forest Guard, the Wolf of the Wood, the Red-Eyed Demon. He had gone by many names, but he preferred the one his mother had given him: Derek.
He was slow to rise after spending so long sleeping in the space between life and death. It took 3 days to push through the veil while his body was remade from the earth. It was just as he remembered it--strong and tall and virile. He grew more alert as his priest prayed, which was surprisingly quite often, and used that time to survey his domain. Many more villages had been born, some with altars that reached impressively far into the sky. The humans had harnessed the elements to create beautiful and horrible things. But their essence hadn't changed. They still wished for love and sex and money and revenge, just like always.
When he finally set foot on solid ground, the forest was chilly but teeming with life. Excitement was not becoming of a 10,000 year-old god, but Derek couldn't help it. This new priest was feisty and warm and good, and it had been so long since Derek had actually wanted a human in his circle. He had long grown tired of the zealots and devotees committing atrocities in his name, so when the last of his followers passed away, Derek was relieved. He could start fresh. The first step was to give a blessing to his new high priest.
Derek reached out along the bond between them and tugged, instantly popping into the boy's humble dwelling. A small bed was tucked into the corner of a cramped room, with a table and a chest of drawers on the opposite wall. Nearly every available surface, including the floor, was covered in books, loose parchment, and lightly dirtied garments. The boy was sleeping in an impossibly contorted angle, his body twisted and half falling over the edge of his mattress.
"Arise," Derek commanded.
A snore and a mumble escaped the boy as he continued to sleep.
"ARISE," said Derek, this time with much more force.
The boy jerked awake and tumbled to the floor, hitting his elbow against the hard ground and wincing in pain. Derek expected the priest to be overjoyed with the sight of Derek in front of him. Instead, he screamed, covered his eyes, and recoiled as if Derek's nude form offended him.
"Dude, what the fuck? Did Scott send you in here as a prank? Because while I love the package, I'm more of a let's-get-coffee-first kind of guy, you know?"
Why was the boy not happy? Did he not realize the magnitude of his position? Derek looked down at the mess of blankets surrounding the boy and scowled. It was mid day already, and his high priest was still in bed. Perhaps he just needed some inspiration from his new god. The child may not even know of his fortune yet.
"I come as the Wolf of the Wood reborn. Your oath was heard, and our bond was sealed. You will have the protection and favor granted to the high priests of the old gods. Bow, and receive your blessing." Derek puffed out his chest and lifted his chin, eager to have his new follower at his side.
The boy faced forward and looked at Derek with a mixture of disbelief and fear. This was not the reaction he was supposed to have.
"I'm calling campus security," he replied with determination.
"You would pit your simple guards against me?" Derek was confused, but he soon realized that the boy simply needed a show of strength. "Very well, I can easily defeat them in combat. Let us spill blood at my altar. Their sacrifice will give me strength."
The boy looked upon him in horror, undoubtedly impressed with his confidence. Derek waited for him to shout orders and summon the guard, but the boy just stared at him.
"Please don't hurt anyone," he said meekly. "Just tell me what you want."
Derek couldn't figure out why this priest was acting so strangely, like he was genuinely afraid of him.
"Boy, you are my high priest. Do you have any idea what that means? Tell me, what do you need to build your faith? A miracle? Riches? Virgins?"
"I need you to leave. And also put on some clothes."
A strange request, but easily done.
"Very well. I can bestow the blessing when I return tomorrow. Try not to die before then."
It looked like the boy was about to say something, but Derek vanished before he he had a chance to hear it.
Headcanon that Bruce’s kids have all pulled the ‘you're not my father card’ at some point or the other and by the time steph rolled around he didn't even take it seriously
Of course, the first time dick said it, bruce cried himself to sleep. But by the eighteenth time, he was numb to it. “Dickie just eat your peas.”
The first time jason did it Bruce pulled him aside and said “i know Im not, but that doesn't mean i don't care for you jason.” by the twenty fifth time he just held up the adoption papers
The first time Tim said it Bruce laughed. “Tim, you literally forced me to adopt you. Yes I am your father.” Tim didn't bother to say it from then on, maybe muttering ‘you're not my dad!’ under his breath at the computer, just for bruce to whisper ominously ‘yes i am.’
When Steph said it, full of anger and hate and sadness and fear, bruce just followed her and said “you're right. Im not your father. And i will never be your father. But, if you'll let me, id like to be better.” After that any time steph said ‘ur not my father’ bruce would just respond with ‘never will be’
Cass said “your are my father” and left no room for argument
Babs said “ur not my dad or my father or even close to being any of it, but you are my mom.” bruce just had to accept that
When damian said it bruce just stood there for a solid fifteen minutes rebooting. Dick and jason fell out of their chairs laughing.
Duke specifically went “ur my dad! My dad! Boogie woogie woogie!’ and bruce was just like ‘bet aight.”
no more cold and calculating i want warm and calculating. i want characters who use deductive reasoning to figure out whether their friend would like a wool or cotton quilt based off of their lifestyle, career, hobbies, and habits. i want "your nails are often chipped because you work for a law firm as a typist for this company which notoriously underbudgets their IT department, so ive bought you a keyboard cover that will not only prevent manicure damage but is also sensory friendly because I know you dislike certain clicking noises". i want characters who figure out their friends entire schedules and social battery levels just by examining who only use that info to know when the best time is to hang out with them. i want characters who create elaborate, supervillain level schemes just to get their hands on some collectible they know their best friend wants. most of all i want characters who do not use intelligence and reasoning skills as a reason to be cruel but as a means to be kind
did anyone else ever find it odd how easily zeus offered percy godhood? and how it almost seemed like he secretly wanted percy to accept? well i did, and after thinking long and hard about it…
i don’t think percy understood what turning down godhood really meant
demigods do tasks for the gods because they don’t have to follow any rules. they aren’t controlled by anyone or anything. demigods are a strange hybrid - not god, not human. they are in between the laws of immortal and mortal. they are not supposed to exist. yet they do, which is what makes them so extraordinary.
percy is crazy powerful. of course, there’s the aspect of raw power. he has domain over air (storms/hurricanes), land (earthquakes and volcanic eruptions), and sea (monster waves, tsunamis, floods, basically anything that involves water.) he can control bodily fluids. he has super strength (with one hand, he held up an unconscious annabeth who was being pulled down by both arachne AND the forces of tartarus). he has super speed (he moves faster than bullets in TTC). no matter how badly you hurt him, he automatically heals and regenerates the second he touches water (an ability no other demigod has). he’s an extraordinary swordsman. very skilled in combat and warfare. he’s smart, and thinks of plans quickly. but he also has a great deal of social/poltcial power… i mean, he’s a leader and hero to both the greek and roman camps. if he says “attack,” all demigods, greek or roman, attack. no question. do you have any idea how threatening that is to the olympians? he’s also best friends and has an empathy link with the lord of the wild, which basically means all of nature is by his side too, including all land creatures. he’s also prince of horses, which means pegasi too (both of which are extremely useful in battle). and of course all sea creatures, including the mythical ones like krakens and leviathans. not to mention many of the gods really like him. hermes, hephaestus, athena, aphrodite, and dionysis have all gone out of their way to help him. artemis holds him in high regard, especially since he saved her. apollo literally considers him his friend! and poseidon - his dad, the god who is the biggest threat to zeus - is fiercely protective of him and cares about him a great deal. many minor gods also like him because he demanded them to be given more respect and for their kids to be welcomed at the camps.
percy unknowingly has more power, both physical and social/political, than anyone should ever have. he may have absolutely no idea, but it must scare the living daylights out of zeus. by accepting zeus’s offer to become a god, percy would have submitted himself to the control of zeus. zeus would be his king and ruler. zeus would then have complete control over him.
but percy said no. therefore, percy remains out of zeus’s control.
percy had no idea what he was doing. but thank the gods he made that choice. thank the gods he’s an incredible person. thank the gods percy jackson has no desire for power, because he has more of it than anyone should ever be able to have.
Is it bad that I want an Evil percy or just one where he is " fuck it. I'm gonna listen to the voices on my head saying to rule over the gods, and I would definitely do a better job!" Kinda thing?
my head is full of so much useless knowledge now. i remember your birthday, your favourite foods, the flowers you like and the emojis you used too often. when i close my eyes, your favourite colour burns bright against my eyelids. we haven't talked in years. i wonder if you still remember me, and i wonder if i even want you to.
I dont remember what your favorite color or what color you like, if you still like playing with sand. I moved to much and didn't make memorable friends. I knew I would have to let go. So why get attached at all? It's bittersweet if I think about it.
Oh gee, you're right! Why didn't the people who can't even move their arms think of just making a painting? /s
And before anyone starts spouting some "art is more than just painting" spiel, you don't know what kind of art someone might need to make in order to express their vision. An artist may have a very specific idea in mind to create the perfect piece of graphic art, and using music, performance, etc. just won't cut it for them. AI is a tool that can help the disabled in so many ways. Not even just with art. Get off your high horse and accept that disabled people have different needs and, guess what, ABILITIES than you do. Fuck you, asshole.
you're fighting against a tool that makes art more accessible, and actively dismissing the notion that it could even possibly be doing that. this IS ableist. YOU are the tar pit in this situation.
Hi I’m disabled I’m crippled I have a disorder that makes my fingers suddenly dislocate while I’m holding my pencil I have a spinal issue that makes it hard for me to bend over a desk half of the time I have leg issues that make it difficult for me to get around etc etc etc. I also have a bunch of other issues I don’t want to tell you about.
I’m also in art college. And even if I wasn’t, I’ve been doing art for almost a decade now. I’ve been disabled the whole bloody time.
AI, isn’t art.
There are many disabled artists and we have adapted our own ways of dealing with how we create. Fuck you, we have been doing this forever.
Vincent Van Gogh had temporal lobe epilepsy; Henri Matisse became a wheelchair user after surgery for cancer; Michelangelo had osteoarthritis, limiting mobility and causing pain in his hands and feet.
Paul Smith had a severe case of cerebral palsy and created art using typewriters.
Peter Longstaff has no arms due to Thalidomide, and paints with his feet.
Frida Kahlo not only had polio that disabled her as a child, but of course as we all know was injured in a bus accident at the age of 18, which caused her lifelong pain and medical problems.
Fuck, you want a personal annecdote? I knew a girl (we have lost touch since) who was paralysed from the neck down and she painted with her mouth and there are other artists who do so too! And with eye tracking technology I’m sure disabled artists will be getting more and more tools as the years pass. But we do NOT condone AI art. All that does is put us, real disabled artists, who exist and need support, out of jobs and commissions.
hi, another disabled person here for more personal anecdotes! here is an art piece i made entirely with my non dominant hand 1 week before my most recent shoulder surgery on that same arm. i also wear splint rings to keep my fingers from dislocating while painting (or playing bass guitar cause i do that too). i make most of my income off hand painted art despite having hand tremors, frequent wrist dislocations/subluxations, and migraines.
my friend and her wife also make their incomes off wig making, leatherwork, and digital collage prints. both have chronic pain as well.
our lines arent perfect because we have shaky hands but thats ok, make it a feature not a flaw in your art. fuck AI.
Anyone who thinks physically disabled people need to use art stealing AI to make our own art is the ableist, actually.
Mine isn't as drastic (yet) but I've been having to wear wrist braces and finger splints since childhood off and on because using my hands in a repetitive motions causes them to be in pretty excruciating pain.
What is my art medium of choice? Knitting. You know, that thing where you have to do a repetitive motion over and over again. I hold my needles a bit strange, I knit through the pain, I sometimes have to give up working on it for weeks at a time. But I will not stop because it's what makes my heart sing.
Disabled artists don't need your pity, we've been getting by, doing what makes us happy despite the pain and hardships for thousands of years, probably longer, I bet there were neolithic disabled artists.
No actual real artist wants or uses AI, including disabled artists. AI is for losers who are scared of the extremely important phase in art where you suck and want to skip it by stealing and not even in a cool "I'm emulating your style because I wanna learn from it" way.
Go suck at art for a couple years like the rest of us and stop talking over disabled artists.
And also if you just really really really really cannot create your vision and need someone else to do it for you. Then just hire a goddamn artist. Save up your money if you need it so badly that you're willing to enable thieves that care as little about art as they do about the real people who make it.
I'm disabled, I'm a writer, and I will absolutely fistfight anyone trying to say they shouldn't have to put in the twenty years of fucking EFFORT that I HAVE EXPENDED in BEING A GODDAMN WRITER behind a goddamn denny's at three AM
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