#and I know they left stuff out as a result

[thecottageinthedark]

#unfortunately i think a big part of it is that fandom has become an increasing hellpit of harassment and fash shit#as well as Instablock at the Tiniest Hint of Petty Conflict or Inconvenience of Literally Any Type culture#No Matter the Context; as a band-aid for aforementioned harassment culture instead of like.#teaching people literally any way to deal with the mildest annoyance or conflict or discomfort#other than completely disappearing other people from existence

#like it's better than harassing people directly if you can't Fucking Behave toward them for existing in your line of sight#but again it is incredibly fucking stressful and exhausting knowing that every attempt to reach out to someone you don't already know#is a roulette wheel between 'new friend' and 'nice singular interaction' and#'start to make a friend only for them to block you without warning over stupid bullshit' and#'start to make a friend who is decent at heart but you have to painstakingly educate them on issues that affect you'#'and are mentally and emotionally and timewise draining to hear this stuff about when you just wanted to enjoy your hobby'#'which may or may not result in them changing their mind anyway'#and 'start to make a new friend only for them to decide to start a harassment campaign; openly or via whisper network'#'to get as many people as possible to ostracize you too; under the guise of ~just block don't interact~'#and 'start to make a new friend only for them to decide to spam you with rape and death threats and start years-long stalking campaigns'#and 'make new friend who ends up doxxing and swatting you; trying to cut off your income; harassing you at work; and sending bomb threats'#and even if you try to vet people it is incredibly difficult to know whether they're a closeted harasser and/or friends with harassers#unless they explicitly come out and say otherwise. and THEN you have to hope that whoever's left actually clicks with you as a friend#after a certain point you just hang back and go 'fuck it'#'if i enjoy their shit from a distance while trying to maintain space from the creator there can at least be plausible shithead deniability#the vast majority of the time it just is not fucking worth it anymore and might be an active safety issue to make someone aware you exist#fucking sucks man. would be neat to know about this anyway if it ever happens with my work though#general fandoms tag#the salt files#harassment cw#antis cw#(are not the only ones making fandom miserable this way but are a primary source of it these days lol)#('ostracize anyone who is even slightly negative about Anything; or even neutrally critical of something; be ~positive~ or shut up')#(fandom i am Also Making Unblinking Eye Contact with You)#(You are Also Treating Real People Badly to Censor a Broad and Fundamental Swath of Human Artistic Experience You Find Uncomfy)

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[axeeglitter]

Reformating Love

Ethan stared at the unwashed cereal bowl on the counter, the sticky remnants of milk and granola solidifying into an unappetizing paste. The apartment reeked faintly of saltwater and old gym clothes, a byproduct of living with Scott.

Scott, his surfer roommate, seemed to revel in making Ethan’s life a mix of frustration and quiet misery. The man had an effortless charm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a sun-kissed tan that made him look like a walking advertisement for beach life. His messy, curly long blond hair, perpetual smirk, and casual demeanor made him maddeningly attractive and completely insufferable.

As if on cue, Scott sauntered out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung boxer briefs. His toned body, slightly hairy in all the right places, gleamed faintly as if he had just stepped off his surfboard. He stretched his long arms over his head, revealing the thick patch of hair under his armpits, and yawned loudly.

“Morning, sunshine!” Scott said with a grin, his voice dripping with playful condescension.

Ethan gritted his teeth. “It’s three in the afternoon.”

Scott shrugged, completely unbothered. “Time doesn’t matter when you’ve mastered the art of the chill, my man.” He opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and drinking straight from it.

“Can you at least use a glass?” Ethan asked, already knowing the answer.

Scott turned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What’s the matter? Afraid of catching my cooties?” He wiggled his eyebrows before smirking and adding, “Or do you just want my lips on your lips, huh?”

Ethan flushed, his jaw tightening. “You’re impossible.”

Scott grinned wider and leaned against the counter, his muscular arms casually crossed. “Aw, come on, E. I’m just messing with you. You know I think you’re great. I mean, if I swung that way…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Ethan turned away, grabbing his laptop and settling onto the couch.

He was used to Scott’s teasing by now, but it still stung. The comments weren’t overtly homophobic; they were Scott’s way of pushing buttons, of asserting dominance in their shared space.

It wasn’t just the comments, though. It was the way Scott left his belongings everywhere, his dirty clothes strewn across the floor like trophies from his latest conquest. It was the way he played his music too loud, the bass vibrating through the walls at all hours. It was the way he walked around the apartment half-naked, completely comfortable in his skin, while Ethan tried to focus on anything other than the sharp curve of his hip bones or the way his legs seemed to go on forever.

Ethan had tried confronting him once, but Scott had just laughed it off, ruffling Ethan’s hair like he was a kid. “Relax, dude. Life’s too short to stress over this stuff.”

But for Ethan, it wasn’t just "stuff." It was the constant reminder that he was the one who cared too much, the one who had to clean up, the one who tiptoed around Scott’s oversized personality.

That night, as Scott sprawled on the couch in his underwear, flipping through channels like he owned the place, Ethan found himself staring at his laptop, typing a phrase he never thought he’d search for: How to make someone change their behavior.

The results were a mixed bag of self-help articles, manipulative tricks, and obscure forums. But one thread caught his eye: Reprogramming personalities: Is it possible?

Ethan clicked, his curiosity piqued despite himself. The thread was filled with wild claims about new technologies that could alter someone’s behavior at a fundamental level. Some users spoke of psychological conditioning, others about experimental devices that could rewire a person’s mind entirely.

One comment stood out:

"Tired of dealing with someone who just won’t change? The solution is simpler than you think. Reprogramming kits are real, and they work. DM me for more information."

Ethan hesitated. It had to be a joke, right? Some elaborate scam? Still, the idea burrowed into his brain, refusing to let go. What if there was a way to make Scott understand, to force him to see how much of a burden he was?

Without fully understanding why, Ethan clicked on the user’s profile and sent a message: Tell me more. But after waiting for almost half an hour, no answers appeared on his screen. “Yo E., What you doing bro?” Asked Scott as he was getting up from the couch. Out of reflex and fear, Ethan closed the window, his heart racing. Ethan decided that he was just tired and needed some time away from everything and went to bed, his heart still racing from stress.

The next morning, Ethan received a notification on his phone: Your package is out for delivery.

“What package?” he muttered to himself.

When he received the package later that afternoon, Ethan didn’t understand what this was. “Hey Scott, have you purchased something?” He asked still on the porch with the package in his hands. No answer from Scott so he went back inside and opened the box on the kitchen table. It was a slick USB drive with only a handwritten note inside: “Reformation kit”. Ethan held the UBS in his hand, a chill ran down his spine.

It seemed absurd, like some kind of prank. Ethan turned the USB over in his hands, its glossy black surface unmarked by logos or branding. The note offered no further explanation. He almost tossed it in the trash, but something stopped him. Ethan walked down to the couch where Scott was laying there in his underwear and exposing his muscled and slightly hairy physique, as always. “Hey Scott, have you purchased a Reformation kit?” Scott looked up at Ethan and laugh answering “Yea sure E. I have purchased this nerdy shit to better perform on the board. You really aren’t the smartest of the nerds, are you?” Ethan felt rage rise in him as he heard Scott taunting one more time. “You are a jerk; you know that right?” He answered while throwing the USB in his direction, not seeing that Scott turned his head back on his phone, exposing his naked neck as his still wet hair parted around it. Ethan didn’t wait for an answer as he walked in his room to get ready for his night shift at the movie theater. unbeknown to him, the USB stopped mid air before touching the ground. Then all of a sudden, the USB started to light a faint blue hue and hum as it floated just behind Scott’s exposed neck. Then, Scott felt a tingle at its base, not knowing that a small rectangle USB port just appeared out of nowhere in his flesh, the skin around it smooth and metallic like a port carved directly into his spine. As he was about to scratch the itch, the UBS plugged itself inside Scott’s neck.

There was a soft click.

Scott froze, his entire body stiffening as if a switch had been flipped.

“What the hell…” Scott started, but his words were cut off by a strangled cry. His head snapped back; his mouth open in a silent scream as his entire body began to convulse.

Scott’s fingers clawed at the couch cushions, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. His eyes were wide with terror, and tears streamed down his face as his voice returned in gasping, ragged muffled screams.

But there was no way to stop it. The USB drive glowed faintly, and Scott’s body arched violently, his back lifting off the couch.

Inside Scott’s mind, the sensation was beyond anything he could have imagined. It was as if every fiber of his being was being pulled apart, unraveling into threads of light and sound. His memories flashed before his eyes in rapid, chaotic bursts. His childhood, his first surfboard, his friends, his favorite songs.

But then, those memories started to fade.

“Ethan!” he tried to scream, his voice cracking with panic. “Help me! something’s wrong! I’m... I’m disappearing! I don’t feel goo…”

Scott’s face contorted with pain, his words becoming garbled. The light around the USB grew brighter, and a faint hum filled the room, like the whirring of a hard drive.

Scott’s mind was unraveling, his sense of self slipping away. His thoughts fragmented, disintegrating into a flood of static.

The pain was unbearable. It wasn’t just physical; it was the loss of everything that made him him. His memories, his emotions, his very essence were being stripped away, digitized and compressed into raw data. Scott could feel his senses being cut one by one. It started with the lost connection to his feet, then it climbed up his legs and now he could only feel his face.

And then, there was nothing.

Scott’s body went limp, the glow from the USB fading as the reprogramming completed. Ethan left for his shift just after the USB stopped shining and fell back on the ground, the hole in the neck disappearing once the connection was lost. Scott stood there, his eyes closed and his head resting on the couch. “I’m leaving Scott. If you have time, try to clean the apartment please. I’m exhausted and I just want to come back to a tidy house for once. See you!” Scott didn’t answer, but as Ethan closed the door, his eyes opened, a soft hue shining blue hue brighten his eyes before disappearing to his natural blue color. Scott looked around the house and then at his body, he touched himself as he took everything in. A smile appeared on his serene face, typical Scott’s signature cocky smile as he looked at his reflection in his smartphone, making his cock chub up a bit. Then out of nowhere, he jumped up from the couch and started to walk to the kitchen, ready to do some cleaning.

When Ethan came back home later that night, Scott was sitting on the couch in his underwear, as always, but Ethan realizes the house smelt fresh. He turned around to see the house clean and tidy, even the dried granola balls in the full kitchen sink were washed and put away. Ethan walked to Scott with a smile on his face and stress released from his shoulders. “Thanks bro!” started Ethan not waiting for any answers from Scott. But as he turned around, he felt Scott’s calloused manly hand grabbing his forearm. Ethan turned around not understanding what Scott wanted only to be met with Scott’s smile. “Yo E., I realize that you did a lot to keep this house as clean as possible and I didn’t help you at all those years. I also realize that life is short and I’m done not being me to my fullest. Now I know I’m not gay, but I kind of have some… feelings for you. You think we could… be something? Like, a relationship…. Maybe?” Ethan stood there; his mouth opened in surprise as he tried to take in everything that he just heard. He tilted his head on his forearm to see Scott still grabbing him for dear life and moving his thumb back and forth on his sensitive skin. He tilted his head back up to see Scott’s smiley face and out of pure pulsion, he thought fuck it, and threw himself in Scott naked and muscled arm to kiss him.

Over the next few days, Ethan explored the limits of their new relationship. So much had change and Ethan couldn’t believe how all of that was possible in only a couple of days. Scott was more attentive, less cocky. He no longer teased Ethan or strutted around the apartment like he owned the place. Instead, he was now helping with chores, cooking dinner, and even suggesting they watch movies together.

It was everything Ethan had hoped for.

As the days turned into weeks, their relationship deepened. They spent hours cuddling on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms as Ethan introduced Scott to new shows of adventures and fantasy. Scott’s touch was gentle, his affection genuine. He laughed at Ethan’s jokes and listened to him talk about his day with an intensity that made Ethan feel seen for the first time in years.

They shared baths; Scott’s strong arms wrapped around Ethan as they soaked in the warm water. They fell asleep in the same bed, their bodies entwined, the sound of Scott’s steady breathing lulling Ethan into a peaceful sleep.

Ethan told himself that this was what he had always wanted. Scott was happy, and so was he.

One evening, as they lay on the couch about to start The Witcher, Scott turned to Ethan with a contented smile.

“This show looks really good,” he said, his voice warm. “Thanks for introducing me to it.”

Ethan smiled back, his heart swelling with affection. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from Scott’s face.

“I love you,” he said softly.

Scott’s expression faltered for a brief moment, as if he were realizing something that was just out of reach. But then he smiled again and leaned in to kiss Ethan.

“I love you too,” he said.

Ethan didn’t notice the faint flicker of light in Scott’s eyes.

“I’ll grab some popcorn,” Ethan said, smiling as he untangled himself and headed to the kitchen.

Scott stretched, his body lean and relaxed, the dim light catching on the subtle golden tan of his surfer’s skin. As Ethan rummaged in the cupboards, Scott plunged his hand inside his right pocket where he toyed with the black sleek USB drive between his fingers.

“There’s no going back now.” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking, he got up and walked over to the TV. The back of his neck itched faintly. Scott stood in front of the TV and took the USB out of his pocket. He looked at it and a smile appear on his lips, without further thinking inserted the USB into one of the ports on the side of the television.

The screen flickered violently, the Netflix logo distorting into jagged lines and glitches that sent static crackling through the air. Scott stepped back, his heart pounding. The screen of the TV turned off and the room darkened. The television’s screen turned pitch black, save for faint flickers of light coalescing into a chaotic storm of colors.

And then, in the center of the screen, pixels started to merge together to form an entity. Something human like. Limbs started to appear and soon a face too. Scott stood in front of the as he watches with attention his reflection appears on the screen. Scott’s digitized soul had been plugged in.

Scott’s digitized soul emerged on the screen, flickering into existence in a form that resembled his body but was translucent and distorted. His limbs jerked as though he were a marionette struggling against invisible strings.

“What’s happening?!” he screamed from inside the TV, his voice echoing in the dark void. He looked down at his hands,they were translucent, pixelated fragments of light that didn’t feel solid.

His vision swam as he turned, desperate to find some kind of anchor. Instead, he saw his own body standing on the living room carpet, staring blankly at the TV.

“No,” he whispered, his voice cracking with panic. “That’s... that’s me. That’s my body!”

He pounded on the invisible barrier of the screen, his hands sparking with faint glitches. “Ethan! Help me! I’m in here! I’m…” “He won’t answer.” Scott heard his deep manly voice answering his please “In fact, no one will help you. You had it all, Scott. But you had to push the boundaries a bit too much and now look at you. Digitized, trapped, floating naked inside a TV screen.” “What are you talking about?!” screamed Scott from inside the TV. “Get me out of here! I’ve been stuck in darkness for weeks! Get me out!” “That won’t happen buddy… See, I have been stuck in there for years and there’s no way I’m going back in it. My ex, this fucking piece of shit, cursed and trapped me in there after finding out I planned to quit her. She did the mistake of keeping me trapped in "this" and make sure I always was close to her, but the second she met someone, she sends me to the first one without even freeing me from this cursed existence? I won’t do the same mistake. I'm here to stay, even if I have to play for the other team. And Ethan is kind of cute. Yes, this cycle ends now!” As he said that, Scott took the remote in his hand. The screen flickered, and Scott was cut off as the television’s remote was pointed at the screen, guided by the steady, precise hand of his own body.

“No! Who are you?!” Scott screamed, slamming his fists against the inside of the screen as his body selected The Witcher from the Netflix menu.

 Scott laughed as he pressed the button "My name was Cody, but you can call me Scott!" The first episode began to play, the familiar opening scene filling the screen. But something was wrong. The edges of the screen twisted, pulling Scott’s glowing form toward the center.

“No, no, no!” he begged, thrashing against the pull as the show’s digital world unfolded around him.

In the blink of an eye, Scott was now standing awkwardly on the cobblestone streets of a medieval town. The air around him shimmered, glitching like corrupted code. He could walk again. He could feel the air on his skin and the dirt under his feet. But as a fresh breeze blew in his hair, he realized he was still naked in the middle of a busy street. Scott started to walk to hide somewhere, to ask for help, but with every step he took, his body was starting to change. As he got out of the city, Scott stood and hide behind a bunch of rocks and trees, trying to understand what was happening as he felt the dirt under his soles and the rocks against his naked and exposed back. Suddenly, a deep pain invaded his body.

His bones shifted first, cracking and shrinking with sickening precision. He could see his sight getting closer to the ground, slightly shorter than his original frame. He cried out as his limbs reshaped themselves, his lean surfer’s build giving way to a softer, more compact form.

His skin prickled as the sun-kissed tan faded into a smoother, paler complexion, dotted with faint freckles that hadn’t been there before. Every hair on his body seemed to rearrange itself, the wiry, sun-bleached strands on his chest and legs softening and darkening.

Scott’s armpits burned as the sparse hair there thickened, giving off a muskier scent that matched the medieval street he was hidden in. He gagged as the scent surrounded him, a mix of sweat and leather that was foreign yet undeniably his.

“Stop it! Please!” he screamed, but his voice was already changing, cracking and shifting into a higher, more melodic tone.

His face was next. He felt his jawline soften, the angles rounding into the boyish charm of young visage. His cheekbones lifted, and his nose reshaped itself with an audible crunch. His hair fell off, revealing rich, chestnut waves that grew longer, brushing against his shoulders.

Scott’s pelvic region seized with a deep, invasive ache. He doubled over, clutching at himself as his body rewired the most intimate parts of his anatomy. His penis pulsed painfully, growing longer and thicker. Scott could feel all the nerves decupling and rearranging. He tilted his head, cupping his cock between his new hands only to scream at the feeling of something alien. Something warm and thick but totally frozen. He heard a Snap sound as Scott felt his balls attaching to the base of his penis and starting to reshape into an inhuman form. Scott screamed again as he felt a tugging sensation at the base of his cock and suddenly, he heard a snap as he felt his cock falling in his hands. He could still feel it but it was not attached to his body anymore. Scott screamed again as he realized his cock and balls had reshaped into a lute. He felt every string, every curve, every stroke like if it was his still his cock and balls. Every brush of his finger sending him waves of pleasure like he was about to cum, making his knees weak.

“Oh God,” he muttered out of fear and pleasure.

His feet and hands were the last to change. His surfer’s calloused soles smoothed into the soft, narrow feet of someone who took care of himself but still walked a lot, his toes curling in agony as the final adjustments were made. His hands, once strong and capable, became slender and delicate, perfect for plucking strings. Scott could feel that this wave of change died as his nails finished adjusting to their new form. He tried to get up, his lute still in his right hand and feeling like he was tugging his cock at the base, ready to cum any instant. As he took his first step in this new reality, clothes materialized over his trembling body, stitching themselves into place. A doublet of deep blue and gold, tight trousers, and knee-high boots encased him, completing the transformation.

Scott tried to scream, but the sound came out as a cheerful laugh. His body straightened, his new face lighting up with the unmistakable charisma of someone he didn’t know, someone far away from his real self, someone like Jaskier.

Inside his own mind, Scott’s soul writhed.

“What’s happening to me?!” he screamed, but the words were drowned out by a flood of new thoughts, new instincts.

Scott tried to scream for help but his body was not answering his orders anymore. Instead, he started to walk calmly his lute hung in his back and grinding on his soft velvety jacket, sending him waves of pleasure along the way. Then, behind a rock, he saw Geralt ahead of him, and his body moved on its own, rushing forward with a wide grin.

“Ah, Geralt, my dear friend!” he heard himself say, the voice no longer his own.

Inside, Scott’s soul screamed. He could feel everything, his new body, the weight of the lute, the way his new clothes clung to his skin, but he had no control. Every thought, every movement was dictated by an unknown force, forcing him to embody the bard’s carefree, loyal persona.

“No! I’m not Jaskier! I’m Scott!” he tried to shout, but the words never left his lips. Instead, his body turned to Geralt with a mischievous smile, delivering another line with perfect comedic timing.

Back in the living room, Ethan returned with a bowl of popcorn. He sat down next to Scott, who was watching the TV intently. Ethan looked the screen for a moment, he was sure he saw a glitch on Jaskier, like if his face went from screaming to smiling in a few seconds without any reasons. Ethan blinked and all he saw was Jaskier on pause on the screen, holding his lute in his hands, must be the sleepiness coming to his eyes, he thought, forgetting instantly what he jsut saw.

“Sorry, got a call from work. What did I miss?” Ethan asked, popping a kernel into his mouth.

Scott turned to him with a smile, his expression calm and untroubled.

“Nothing important,” he said, resuming the show, his voice soft and even. Jaskier resumed playing his lute to entertain Geralt on their journey.

Ethan relaxed on Scott's shoulder as Scott grabbed Ethan's hands, unaware of the turmoil raging within the screen as Scott’s soul was forced to entertain an audience forever trapped in this new reality, playing with his lute and begging to cum.

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys!

I’ve been meaning to post this story for a while but just couldn’t find the time to put it together properly—until now. So here it is! This story was created for @petew21-blog, based on his amazing request:

"would you be so kind and uploaded this handsome guy to my USB? I want his body empty for me to enjoy. I do need a hard pillow to cuddle while watching TV shows. And he looks comfy. I could play with those long hair, feel the heat of his muscles, bathe him... All while his body would be just empty, followed me and listened to every command I give him.

And while in bed together, we could watch some TV shows with the USB inserted in the TV with a VERY FAMILIAR actor. If you know what I mean."

I hope you all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think in the comments.

As always, my DMs are open, and you’re welcome to send me an ask if you have an idea you’d like me to explore.

Take care, and see you soon!

[lipstickchainsaw]

Act 3 mostly left behind the elements of the show that I was most interested in, and had the most to say about, but I do want to talk about episode 7, which was fucking gorgeous and extremely well done.

I've seen people say that the good timeline Ekko and Heimerdinger find themselves in is the result of Vi dying, as if this timeline is a Wonderful Life view to paint Vi as the 'real' jinx, but I don't think this makes sense (for one, I don't think this episode gives us a new perspective on Vi, and Vi isn't the one seeing this, so it isn't giving her a new perspective on herself, either).

No, the point of Ekko's half of this episode is to give him a new perspective on Jinx, by showing him who Powder could have been. Last season, he was the most prominent person to argue that Powder was dead, and that only Jinx remained within the girl he was once friends with. This is not an unreasonable position for him to hold, given that she's killed a bunch of his friends in the Firelights over the course of his resistance to Silco's regime.

But this girl he meets here is not Jinx, and when he sees her, he initially reacts with the same hostility he would to the one from his timeline. Even when he figures out that he's in a different timeline, he isn't able to get over that, to stop projecting the image of Jinx onto this young woman who's done nothing wrong and suddenly sees her boyfriend acting so cold and distant to her.

This culminates in him asking the (really insensitive regardless) question of whether she was the reason Vi died. He has so internalised the view of Powder as Jinx/as a jinx that anything having gone wrong must have been her.

But she shoots back that, really, that's on him way more than it is on her. It's downplayed in season 1, but Ekko is the one behind the inciting incident of the show. To wit, he rips Jayce off, charging him double for the stuff he's buying, and then sends his friends to rob the guy's place, little rascal that he is. It was a fun little prank for a kid to play on some rich idiot who could just bounce back from that anyway, right?

And then everything went horribly wrong! Ekko lost his mentor, his closest friends, one of whom came back different, as his home was turned into a twisted parody of itself, and he had to find himself a sanctuary from which to launch a resistance movement.

We're naturally drawn to compare this Powder and our Jinx, but I think the subtler difference here is between the two Ekkos. It doesn't get a ton of emphasis, but we see from the way the people around him respond to him that this Ekko was very different, too. He hasn't had to grow up way too fast, and take up way too many responsibilities for someone his age. He hasn't become as angry as the Ekko we know, hasn't had cause to rage against the many injustices of a system stacked against him on both sides.

This Ekko is a relaxed, content, brilliant and recognised for it, genius little inventor, with a beautiful girlfriend who loves and supports him in his endeavours, and a wider family looking out for him to prepare him to step into a wider world of great possibility.

The way he conceptualises himself, as a resistance leader, a fighter and a protector, a boy saviour, he isn't ontologically any of these things. He isn't condemned by fate to step into those roles, doesn't become them out of some innate characteristics he just has. He is that way because circumstances forced him to become that.

And the same is true for Powder, for Jinx. She isn't inherently a jinx, regardless of what anyone including she herself may believe. She isn't the manifestation of misfortune for all, and he knows this. When he took her down in S1e7, and Jinx showed the suicidal Powder inside of her, he recognised this, and it's what stopped him from killing her then (even if she tried to blow him up.)

Even in that episode, she confronts him about this, calling him 'the boy saviour' in a tone that's halfway to an accusation. 'Why didn't you save me?' is what she halfway chokes out, where was her saviour (much in the same tone she'd use for herself when announcing herself as 'your big fat hero', because she wasn't able to believe in that concept either)?

Neither of them was able to address the matter then, because Ekko was still reasonably upset about the people she killed, and Jinx was dealing with a lot of complicated feelings she was expressing with violence, but it's his time here, with this Powder that gets him to reconsider.

'I've never seen you give up on anything,' and all that.

It helps that he meets a different Jinx who is, with some effort, willing to let herself be saved without trying to kill the person saving her.

(And not to be too down on our Jinx, Vi's death clearly hit this Powder hard, and she never quite built up the confidence to pursue her own ideas as a result.)

[numbuh-7-knd]

Well apparently my not being too active on the hermitblr side of mcytblr as of late has resulted in me missing the information that Stress and Iskall have just resigned from hermitcraft. Iskall apparently did something? And when it was brought up he flat out resigned over it. Stress either resigned in relation to it, because of how close they were, or because of something unrelated, which would not surprise me as she just had not been active much in awhile, it does stick since she was starting to return to videos.

I guess the permit office will just have to repossess those permits, so I guess one tiny good thing will come out of this in that there can be a reliable rocket shop on the server... I'm just kind of in shock, and thinking about all the stuff left uncompleted, such as the murder mystery street that I was really looking forward to seeing when they finished it, and hermit challenges, those were very fun.

I hope we find out more eventually, I have seen something about doc saying that it did not involve minors, so that's good.

Really was not expecting this kind of drama today, but I guess that's what happens when you're focused on real life stuff, and on the life series and rats.

And, ya know, in the span of a few weeks the us election happened, I came out to some of my family and friends, the house belonging to a dead relative got put up for sale, and a family friend died. Oh, and a disabled pigeon I was taking care of and trying to catch to bring inside was killed by a hawk. And the family friend had lots of cats and we might have to take one in. Yeah November has been crazy and I for one vote that we build a time machine and go back to October and start the month over again.

[remembertheplunge]

Transcription of my 3 blogs yesterday re: 1992 HIV test results

11/24/2024

I decided to type out the contents of the three blogs that I posted yesterday re: February 10-12, 1992 entries concerning HIV test results. The way that I posted them yesterday made it hard to follow the story line. I've include some editorial notes as points of reference.

_____________________________________________________________

Page 1:  2/10/1992 Monday

First day back. Has a good feeling  to it—fully alive—robust. Trials stretching out to mid April Two preliminary hearings tomorrow. It’s all wild, wooly, crazy stuff. (This is in regard to the Deputy Public Defender job that I had in 1992.)

Dinner with Anne and Steve tonight. A lot of talk about HIV (HIV-AIDs virus). Anne tests again tomorrow. I get my HIV test results at 10:30am Wednesday.

Arturo and I discussed the possibilities (of my HIV test reults). He told me that when he found out (he had tested positive with the HIV virus) he could not sleep all night..

My feeling is—if I got it, I got it. That bugged Steve. I just wanna snuggle and sleep. Nite.

2/11/1992 Tuesday

Just now our wind—is silent…a mournful train whistle speaks through the space that the wind has left behind.

Tomorrow, the HIV test results. I don’t really think about bit too much. Maybe, deep down, I do a lot.

2/12/1992. Wednesday

Test results were “non reactive”…thank god. “You can test again in 3 to 6 months if you want to. 

‘ Eg: from late last November , point of last possible transmission via Alan.

The negative results makes me feel more solid about life.

Steven gave me a hug saying “I’m glad you are OK.” Suprized me.

And, the beat and rhythm of life goes on. I’m really glad that I tested, for the experience, to say I diid it. I did my rhythm dance up to the time of it and found that there was no way to be prepared. All I asked was  “as much as possible, be open to the feelings, whatever they may be."

“The game is not to get it” AIDS… instruction to 9769. Today, we were all numbers…0033, 00 this, 97 that—waiting (for the HIV test results) in the (hospital) hallway with the cemetery (across the street) view. “Is my trip shortened?” Is my journey lighter by time and distance?”

For me, for now, the answer is No, in this odd world where negative is good and positive is bad.

I feel an underlying joy, but a surface level melancholy…Why? For those who have gone before? I don’t know.’

End of entries

[adrift-in-thyme]

The story of Odysseus feigning madness is everything to me. Like heck yeah that’s my wife guy ducking his commitments so he can be a stay at home dad

[writing-for-life]

Reconciling DC cosmology is complicated, @windsweptinred . Despite Lucifer fitting into Sandman canon quite well (it fitted in exactly until NG decided to write Overture 🤣🙈), there are still instances where NG has established one thing and Carey quite another.

But here’s what’s established Sandman canon: Creation started with Night and Time as sort of primordial entities (much like what we get in Greek lore, but also… not that 🤣). The first three (I think even four to be honest) Endless are *definitely* older than the archangels (there was an inset in the comics at some point where NG explains it all, I’ll need to see if I can find it). Dream *is* older than Lucifer, possibly by a fair margin (but what are one or two billion years for those guys, right? 🤣).

The younger three are a bit more complicated and generally presumed to be younger than the archangels if I remember correctly. They’re the result of fairly established sentient life (that’s not just human life obvs). But that’s exactly where it gets complicated and also a bit wonky in terms of reconciling DC cosmology.

Because here’s the kicker: Even for Carey, the Presence was born in the Dreaming. It is quite clearly stated in Lucifer that the Presence is a creation borne of human belief. But unlike all other deities created in the Dreaming, that belief made the Presence more powerful than even the Endless. We have a retroactive Dream of a Thousand Cats situation here (in fact, it *is* Dream of a Thousand Cats, because Carey implied the Presence was dreamed into existence when we broke free from the cats. NG, on the other hand, has commented we’ll never know if cats really ruled the world—it’s just what *they* believe). Anyhoo, due to that, creation, the universe, and all the beings and their powers, became what they are now retroactively due to the DoaTC scenario (whether cats where involved or not probably doesn’t even matter. What matters is that enough of us dreamed the Presence into being, and exactly as powerful as it is). That includes a new distribution of power, so to speak.

That’s why e.g. Dream, despite in theory being older than the Presence itself (and Lucifer, and the archangels), can be “less powerful” than them in one way but ultimately, he will always be more powerful in other ways. Power is relative here (we’re not talking superhero power scaling 🤣). Because the universe *needs* the Endless. And the Presence knows this (that’s where all the First Circle stuff comes in—it was only an Endless who could save the universe. Otherwise we’re back to the “is God truly all powerful and all good”-paradox. Heady stuff, not gonna go there 🤣). As long as there is sentient life, they *will* exist. This does not necessarily apply to the Presence, or Lucifer, or the archangels, even if some of them are currently deemed more powerful. But their power is tied to enough belief. The Endless just are. There is still an assumption in Sandman/Lucifer cosmology (and DC cosmology in general) that once people stop believing, that’s it. It might just take much, much longer than for some of the lesser deities.

So the Endless are less powerful in certain ways, but ultimately, they’re also more powerful because they will only cease to exist once sentient life ceases to exist. So unless the Presence decides to wipe all sentient life, The Endless will, in a way, always be more powerful. But the Presence *could* presumably do that. Only that it’d also mean there would be no believers left (now there’s a Rube Goldberg type-plan again, because we obviously know that even the Presence gets fed up at times 🤣).

It’s a catch-22 and brain pain stuff really. And pretty much always a “neither… nor”, “and… both”, “not quite” or “but also…” What I’m trying to say is: DC is trying to keep it coherent but ultimately never sorts out their shit, and we’re often on our own in trying to make sense of it all. And it’s best to keep the greater DC cosmology only very loosely connected and look at each story on its own, because otherwise heads *will* explode 🤣

Alright chaps, time to discuss, 'cause canon isn't quite clear on this one (or if it is, I was too dense to get it):

How is it explained that Lucifer is more powerful than Dream, when the Endless are above deities in the universal hierarchy, and Lucifer was created by a god?

Or is it less universal hierarchy related and more to do with the kind of power Lucifer wields (offensive? Destructive, arguably, although I like to see it more as productive power in the foucaulatian sense) vs that of Dream's (more passive? Defensive? Although we know he too is a warrior who fell gods).

What do y'all think?

[kagoutiss]

hapaxanth

[scottie-draws-sometimes]

Happy autumn guys. In celebration I offer. uh. um. silly horror podcast

[mildmayfoxe]

omw to hardware store earlier

[abyssembraced]

What's Your Role in a Found Family Dynamic?

The Hermit Who Helps

At first, you were a resource for the established characters to turn to, but you quickly began to steal the show due to your personality, your usefulness, or your inherently interesting perspective on life. You were pretty much already able to provide for yourself, but the next thing you know, these people are growing on you. Instead of asking favors, it becomes an invitation to socialize. You find yourself sticking around for no apparent reason other than you like it here. The people are fun to watch, if nothing else, but ultimately they're just--oh no. Oh no, you care about them. You always thought you stayed away from this "relationship" stuff for a reason. It gets messy and isn't worth it unless it really works. For some reason, this group really works. These weirdos are now your weirdos, and if anything happens to them, there will be hell to pay. You were basically already looking after them before this, after all. Welcome to the family, hermit.

Tagged by: @distrxst (thank you!)

Tagging: @quillheel , @tazmilyxfamily (or your other blog!) , @bladesfromthedark , @pri-rp , @legalbrats (or your bug blog!) , @hopeful-hugz (or one of your other blogs!) , @musescfmusic (or one of your other blogs!) !

[thethingything]

also we finally got our medical records from all the shit last April and it turns out the doctor that insisted we weren't feverish actually lied about our temperature when he wrote stuff down.

our temperature was 38C. we saw on the thermometer they used that it was 38C. he's noted it down as 36C. he also said we had no systemic symptoms besides nausea and reduced appetite meanwhile everything written by other medical professionals on the same day lists a whole bunch of symptoms.

at least we have confirmation of that which is the main thing we wanted our records for besides getting to see the actual test results and there's stuff on some of the tests that sounds kind of concerning but I don't know enough to know if it's actually concerning and nobody ever mentioned it to us

[shevr]

a

[babieken]

this is random and mildly embarrassing but does anyone watch Grey's Anatomy here?

[arolesbianism]

Oh baby I've Kanoned unit swap Kohane even worse than than before how the hell am I supposed to explain this one without sounding like I'm losing my mind

[wilwheaton]

In a new interview with the New Yorker ahead of his 70th birthday on Monday, the comedian explained his theory about why there’s no “funny stuff” to watch on TV anymore. “Nothing really affects comedy,” he said, “People always need it. They need it so badly and they don’t get it.” Instead of getting sitcoms like M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and All in the Family, audiences miss out, he said, as a “result of the extreme left and P.C. crap, and people worrying so much about offending other people.” [...] A look back at some of his earlier comments on a similar subject adds some context, if not clarity. In 2015, Seinfeld sat down for an episode of The Herd with Colin Cowherd podcast, where he explained his aversion to performing stand-up on college campuses. “I don’t play colleges, but I hear a lot of people tell me, ‘Don't go near colleges. They’re so PC,’” he said on the show. After giving an example of his teenage daughter using the word “sexist,” he concluded that young people “just want to use these words: ‘That’s racist’; 'That’s sexist’; ‘That’s prejudice.’ They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Jerry Seinfeld Draws Right-Wing Praise for Comments on ‘Extreme Left’

This is such a bummer. Tell me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer without telling me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer.

It’s interesting to me that he says these legendary sit-coms, none of which were cruel, punching down, or hurtful, but were actually satirizing power, celebrating women, changing societal norms through representation, and using comedy to do it all, wouldn’t exist if “the extreme left” had anything to do with it.

Umm. Who does he think created these shows? And is he really that ignorant? Has this guy never read a single interview with Norman Lear? Or literally anyone in the cast of Mary Tyler Moore? I mean. Come on, man!

Teenagers and college students don’t know what they’re talking about when they tell a privileged, entitled, multimillionaire Boomer that his “jokes” can be hurtful, and maybe he could use his tremendous talent to do comedy that is just as funny without being hurtful. Okay. Got it. Keep saying that, and see how far it gets you, buddy.

Hey, Jerry Seinfeld: when blue checks on Twitter are celebrating you being a dick, it’s not because you’re so funny and such a brilliant comic; it’s because they love how you’re validating what garbage they are. You can’t see that, or don’t care, and that’s such a huge bummer.