#web hosting tax

[moyalucom]

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[equalseleventhirds]

"I don't understand how I'm losing," Reigen said, his hands flying over his keyboard. It was so late now—too late, maybe—if only he'd used the same technique as with the Player Killer from the beginning, he might have stood a chance, but he hadn't seriously thought he'd lose—

"Shishou," Mob said, "why is this so important? You already have second place from Twitter."

Reigen laughed, not at all nervously, and splayed a hand across his forehead. "You don't understand, Mob. The publicity from something like this, even a rematch, would do wonders for Spirits and Such. This is about business."

(He would never admit to his pride being on the line.)

"And anyway, who is this guy? A radio host? I've been on TV, you know."

Mob carefully did not bring up what had actually happened when Reigen made his television debut.

Ritsu had no such qualms. "When they exposed you as a fraud? That was publicity too, right?"

"Hey—!"

Serizawa leaned over Reigen's shoulder to see the computer screen, careful not to spill the tea he placed on the desk. "Oh, Cecil from Welcome to Night Vale? It's been a while since I listened to that, maybe I should catch up."

Reigen stared at him. "You? What? Serizawa?"

"Ah... yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Back when I was... well, when I didn't leave my room much, the podcast was popular. I guess it gave a sense of... community? Feeling less alone, even when you are." He shrugged. "Plus, hearing another gay man in a show like that was comforting."

"He's gay? Canonically?" Why can't I be gay canonically?

"Sure, he got married in episode 100. It was very emotional."

"I nearly died in our chapter 100—"

-- -- -- -- --

Well, listeners, there's still a few hours left on the poll, but I'm now leading at 56%! I must say, I did not expect this, especially after Twitter users so clearly forgot—or perhaps never knew—about my Tumblr Sexyman Origins.

But, that's neither here nor there. I certainly am grateful, if a bit bemused, about all of this, but let us not forget that this is all a friendly competition. Unlike the annual War On Christmas—and let us all take a moment to remember our fallen allies against that terrible holiday foe—this is a battle of kindness. Love, even. The love we feel for Tumblr, for our favorite sexy men, for pressing a button on a meaningless internet poll. The love we feel, listeners, for each other.

And in the spirit of that love and friendliness, I figured I'd get to know my opponent a little better! A bit of googling, which of course you know means searching via every search engine but Google, what with the Town Council imposing the Google Search Tax and getting all Night Vale IP addresses shadowbanned, has led me to... oh my, listeners. I do not know who made this, but Reigen Arataka has the single most beautiful professional web page I have ever encountered. It's... words do not do it justice. I am tearing up. This... I could not make anything better myself.

A-hem. Listeners, now that I've wiped away the tears such beauty inspired in me, I can now see that Reigen's website advertises his business, one Spirits and Such Consulting. Well! We may be rivals in this moment, but I am overjoyed to learn that Reigen runs such an innovative and important business! I am nearly ashamed that, while my opponent works to make the world a better place, I, a mere community radio host, am winning the sexyman contest.

Nevertheless, we must respect the polls. Not respecting polls could get us in hot water with the Town Council, or with the demigods of numbers who lurk in the sharp edges of percentages. So since I can't hand my victory over to him, I think I'll do what I can as a community radio host, and promote Reigen Arataka's important business!

So if you're a spirit in need of counseling, a ghost in need of therapy, or an eldritch beast in need of a shoulder to cry on, head on over to Seasoning City and pay our good friend Reigen a visit! I'm sure he'll be pleased as anything to see you.

[bit-odd-innit]

Fic: Somewhere That’s Green

[based on a post I made about Eddie’s future]

It’s a hole in the wall just off the main drag, the kind of place you can’t find unless you know to look. In a previous life it had been a pizzeria, which explained the bright green vinyl awning Eddie had no intention of replacing. He’d kept the pick-up window, too, used it to host “office hours.” (“Office hours” was supposed to mean “deliver personalized music recommendations to interested passers-by.” Now it means “help harried, double-parked parents reschedule music lessons.”) 

He’d also kept the apartment upstairs. They have a house now—a nice one, with a wrap-around porch and a big backyard and a cluster of hedges Steve always insists are “a mess”—but when Eddie trips into an inventory hole and loses track of time, it’s nice to have a place to crash. If it’s not a school night sometimes Steve joins him, and they’ll relive the halcyon days of their early twenties, buoyed by cheap beer, diner curly fries, and giddy infatuation. (The infatuation has only grown and flourished even as his tolerance for salty food has withered. Acid reflux is a bitch.)

He’s happy they kept the apartment. He happy knowing that if someone needs it—someone scared, broke, desperate for a lifeline and a scrap of no-strings-attached kindness—it’s something he can provide. 

Initial plans had been to focus on music, just music. It was supposed to be the utopic all-metal record store of Eddie’s nightmares.  But as he started to build stock, he remembered how hard it had been to find merch for the things he liked. How a pin or a patch or poster he’d dug up at a garage sale four towns over made him feel more seen than anything on offer at the local mini-mall. How he wanted to be a hub for the weird shit not everyone liked, but the people who did loved. His horrible little magpie brain fluttered from shiny thing to shiny thing, and by the time opening day rolled around the store was a one-stop shop for all things music, merch and whatever wacky knick-knacks tickled Eddie’s fancy. Or horrified Steve. Or both. Both was best.

The Corroded Coffin guys slotted in easily. Francis always liked doing promo for their gigs, was good at it, too. But by the early 2000s, his methods were apparently so outdated his daughter begged to let her take over. (“He’s stapling fliers to telephone poles, Uncle Eddie. You don’t even have a website.”  

“What is a telephone pole covered in fliers if not the working man’s web-ed site?”

“Oh my God give me your credit card I’m buying you a domain name.”

“A what?”)

Jeff got his CPA and took over the financials, reeling Eddie in whenever he was struck by the urge to make a impulsive, outlandish purchase. (“I genuinely don’t understand how you make money.” 

“It’s cause I don’t do my taxes.”

“I do your taxes. At a great personal expense.”) 

Gareth was instrumental (heh…) in building up the music program—soundproofing the basement and hiring instructors and coordinating concerts and organizing payment plans, all the nitty-gritty non-music stuff that made Eddie’s head spin. At some point it just made the most sense for Eddie to cede control, let him operate it however he saw fit. (“This is your baby, dude. It’s a baby that took form within my own, much larger baby. But it’s yours.”

“I’m touched by your words and appalled by your phrasing.”

“That’s the only way I could have said it.”) 

(Gareth also once described the store as an “Elevated Hot Topic.” Eddie still hasn’t decided when he’s going to kick his ass.)


Momentum grew. Ideas compounded ideas. A kid asked how to sew a patch to his backpack and it snowballed into the Build Your Own Battlevest Workshop. Wayne suggested knocking out the connecting wall between the walk-in freezer and the pantry, and now thrice weekly Eddie runs table-top games for varying age-sets and skill-levels. (At Steve’s request, the elementary school group is called H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS FIRE CLUB. Not because he thinks it needs to be censored. He just thinks it’s funny.)  (He’s right.)

It was supposed to be a record store but now it’s so much more. Now there are listening parties and movie screenings and little league teams with his store’s name on the back of their jerseys and and and—

Eddie used to think, if he got lucky, he’d last a year. Now he’s closing in on 30. He was profiled by the local newspaper. They called him “a pillar of the community.”

Wild. 

It’s a warm, sunny April morning. He’s sitting at the takeout window, sipping coffee from the bottom half of a teapot-teacup combo that reads, in a menacing blood-red font, THIS FREAK DRINKS TEA. His hair is gathered in a loose braid, the ends still damp from his post-run shower. (Sometime in their mid-thirties Steve tricked him into maintaining a consistent cardio routine, and now he’s the type of person who gets out of bed at the crack of dawn to knock out an “easy three.” He’s a monster, a husk of his former self. A husk with a much-improved lung capacity and thighs that can juice a watermelon but nonetheless HUSK.) The middle school is about a half mile from the shop; he pulls faces at all the students filtering past. (Steve’s kids, current and former, refer to Eddie exclusively as Mr. Munson’s Husband. It never fails to thrill him.)

He’s leaning back to flip the record piping through the store’s speakers (“Dustin I don’t care if it’s ‘easier’ to ‘create a Spotify account,’ whatever that means. We play vinyl only! Let me be pretentious about this one thing!”) when he hears a meek, polite cough coming from just beneath the window. He peers out and on the sidewalk stands a girl. She’s small, too little to be one of Steve’s. She clutches the strap of her backpack, blue eyes huge with nerves and determination. 

“Hail and well met, weary traveler!” He’s speaking in what Steve calls his Dork Voice, the slightly tuned-down version he uses to put shy kids at ease. “How might I be of assistance?” The girl purses her lips, sets her shoulders, shakes her shaggy bangs out of her face. Eddie thinks suddenly of Nancy and Robin and his heart clenches.

“Do you like games?” She asks.

He smiles softly. Drops the act. “Yeah.” He rests his scarred cheek in the cradle of his palm. “I like games. Do you like games?”

The dam breaks.

“Yes!” She replies at once, breathless with enthusiasm. “My family plays a lot of board games, like Game of Life and Monopoly, and they’re okay but kind of boring, but my brother taught me how to play Settlers of Catan and I really liked that, and my friends and I played Werewolf at a sleepover but we made up a bunch of extra rules to make it harder, and my cousin showed me this video game where the ending changes based on what choices you make and that’s so cool—”

“Alright, slugger.” Eddie can’t help but laugh. “What game are you looking to play?”

The girl collects herself. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, so. So I like it in games where there are rules, but also you can make stuff up? And you can do something weird that might ruin everything but also might pay off? And sometimes you have to work with other people to accomplish your goal, but alliances can break?” Eddie nods. “So there’s this one game. It sounds like so much fun, but nobody I know plays it. They play it on this show I like, well, okay, it’s not really a show, it’s, uh, okay do you know what a podcast is?” Eddie beams.

Steve swapped study hall coverage so he could pop in for lunch. Tonight is parent-teacher conferences, which means Steve’ll be home late, which means Eddie will get absorbed in a project and either crash upstairs or stumble home well after Steve’s gone to bed, which means they’ve got to snatch the time together they can get. They split a sandwich, a salmon burger from Costco Eddie threw in the air fryer and smashed up with avocado and grilled poblano pepper. (”It’s heart healthy!” “You’re heart healthy.” “Aw.” “I meant that as an insult.” “I’m not taking it as one, mwah mwah mwah.”) Eddie eats too fast, as he often does, and drags his nails over the veins of Steve’s forearm to distract himself from his gastrointestinal tract turning inside out.

“🎶Myyyy babyyyy myyyyyy babyyyyyy,” he hums against the shell of Steve’s ear. “You’reeee my babyyyyy sayyyy it to meeeeee🎶.” “Alright,” he huffs, tapping his fingers to the knobby bone of Eddie’s wrist. He presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw and rises. “I gotta get back.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, gathers the papers he’d promised he’d grade but didn’t. Eddie watches him readjust, watches him smooth down the salt-and-pepper hairs dusting his temples, watches him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He catches Eddie watching and asks, slyly, “What?”

Eddie wants to say, I love you. He wants to say, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be. He wants to say, I’m so grateful I built this life with you. 

But he’s still himself, so what he says is, “Those khakis make your ass look great.”

Steve scoffs, and with a bitchy eye roll he sinks his weight onto his back foot and says, “I KNOW,” and there he is. There’s the man he married. He looks over his shoulder before he leaves, his honey-warm eyes liquifying Eddie’s spine.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you too.” Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.  Pretty good life. 

[stonecrusherdrawsthearts]

World of Heroes R - Spider Squad

Who are the Spiders of New York? MENACES, that's who! Vigilantes with no official backing, who have taken it upon themselves to act as the 'protectors' of this city, but lack the real means to handle the crimes here. They focus on some maniacs with animal costumes tackier then even their own, and don't do anything to mitigate the damage left behind from their fights. I thought it was bad when there was just one of these freaks of nature here, but now there are three of them! Who knows when they'll strike next?! Whenever that is, you can bet the Daily Bugle will be the first to call them out on it!

MEMBERS

Spider-Man - the most infamous vigilante menace in this here fine city. Sure, his rabid fans will say he's "their favorite hero" who "never gives up" and "will always stand up for the right thing, even when its hard." And he sometime pays lip service to the idea of "Great Power coming with Great Responsibility." But if he wanted accountability, he'd register with the Avengers or Justice League or, hell, even the X-Men. But NO! He's a rogue, and that makes him just as dangerous as the 'villains' he fights!

Venom - For a month, Spider-Man tried out an edgier color palate maybe to avoid some real consequences for a shuttle incident, only to change back later. Then this guy showed up with the exact style, calling himself New York's new Lethal Protector! And wouldn't you know it, he's taking the Spider-Man motif and applying the Batman method of striking fear into the common man. Hell, some people claim he's actually a host to an alien symbiote, but I personally think that mouth is just... I dunno, makeup effects.

Web Ghost - The third webslinger to show up randomly in New York, and she's surprisingly even more active then Spider-Man herself. I don't know if she's just that dedicated to being a menace, or if she's trying to prove something. Hell, some people theorizes she's the reanimated corpse of the one person Spider-Man's confirmed to have killed "on accident," Gwen Stacy. I don't think this is true, but I can't help but wonder what it says to the world if it was. Like, the girl died at Spider-Man's hands and now she's swinging around the city like he does. Would he feel even a hint of regret? ...Ah, who am I kidding, she's just another girl with spider-powers, none of that death stuff.

NOT MEMBERS

J. Jonah Jameson - Former Top Reporter and Now Editor of the Daily Bugle, the best damn newspaper in the city of New York. People come to me for the truth, and I give it to them. You want my opinion on rich billionaires like Lex Luthor going into politics? They should have to give up literally every cent over 5 million as taxes, that way they actually contribute to society. You want my opinion on the Avengers? Reliable defenses against unwanted alien invasions, and so humble about it, too. Metahuman rights? That's something I support, and I hope Professor Xavier helps everyone. And Spider-Man... a goddamn menace playing hero in my city. This guy wants to help the greater good? Then show who you really are behind that stupid mask. Secret Identities are just a coward's way of avoiding accountability... unless we're talking the internet.

Mary Jane Watson - Some theater kid who works near the Bugle, I don't know. She's better behind the scenes then out front... look, what do you want me to tell you? I know nothing about her! Do you... look, just get out of here already.

[omegaphilosophia]

The Impact of Extreme Wealth on Society: Unraveling the Complex Web

In the 21st century, the issue of wealth inequality has reached unprecedented levels. The ultra-rich, a minuscule fraction of the global population, possess a staggering amount of wealth, often equivalent to that of entire countries. While wealth accumulation isn't inherently problematic, the concentration of extreme wealth in the hands of a few has far-reaching consequences for society. In this blog post, we'll explore how the ultra-rich have contributed to many of the problems we face today.

Wealth Inequality: Perhaps the most obvious consequence of extreme wealth is the exacerbation of wealth inequality. The gap between the richest and the rest has grown to alarming proportions. This inequality can lead to social unrest and hinder economic growth by limiting opportunities for the majority.

Economic Disparities: Extreme wealth often translates into disproportionate economic power. This can result in monopolistic practices, which stifle competition and innovation. Smaller businesses struggle to compete, leading to fewer choices for consumers.

Social Issues: Wealth inequality contributes to a host of social issues, including reduced access to education, healthcare, and housing for marginalized communities. It also perpetuates cycles of poverty that are difficult to escape.

Power and Influence: The ultra-rich have outsized political influence. They can shape public policies to their advantage, often at the expense of the common good. This undermines the democratic principles upon which many societies are built.

Corporate Dominance: Many of the wealthiest individuals are tied to large corporations. Their influence over these entities can lead to decisions that prioritize profits over environmental responsibility or workers' rights.

Political Lobbying: Lobbying efforts by the ultra-rich can influence legislation in their favor. This can result in tax breaks for the wealthy, further exacerbating wealth inequality.

Tax Evasion: Some of the ultra-rich engage in tax evasion schemes, depriving governments of revenue needed for essential public services. This places a heavier burden on ordinary taxpayers.

Public Policy: The ultra-rich can use their influence to push for policies that benefit them financially, such as reduced regulations or favorable trade agreements. These policies may not align with the best interests of society as a whole.

Poverty Alleviation: While philanthropy is common among the wealthy, it often falls short of addressing systemic issues. Charity, while commendable, cannot replace comprehensive government programs aimed at poverty alleviation.

Social Responsibility: Extreme wealth can lead to a detachment from the daily struggles of ordinary people. This lack of empathy can hinder efforts to address pressing social and economic challenges.

The impact of extreme wealth on society is a multifaceted issue. While it's crucial to acknowledge the positive contributions of wealthy individuals, it's equally important to scrutinize the consequences of concentrated wealth and power. Addressing these issues requires thoughtful public policy, increased transparency, and a commitment to a more equitable society. By recognizing the challenges posed by extreme wealth, we can work towards a more just and inclusive future for all.

[succubunsvent]

740972072741879808 is absolutely Yves or Luca (or someone close to them they've told about this) lashing out because they're the only ones beside myself who would know that the issue brought up to their server providers was the following thing which they reference in their rant: The idea that their business was not legally registered correctly- including the specific term "LLC" which has not previously been used on this blog at all. I hoped to keep this to myself until a complete resolution had been reached, but I see that they cannot refrain from outright lies, so I am here to set the record straight. The so called "griefing" was a single complaint as shown above by myself to their server host, DigitalStorm, and their web host, GoDaddy (a historically misogynistic company). This is publicly available and legal information to find: 

IP and Hosting source checker: https://hostingchecker.com/ WHOIS checker (domain info): https://lookup.icann.org/en/lookup This ONE complaint was valid enough that DigitalStorm took a look at their site and had them add an email that was not present before to the contact button (Succubuns@succubuns.com), and they noticeably changed the job descriptions to "freelance"- which means that they were not able to meet the standards to offer true employment, and were not complying with the laws regarding employment. DigitalStorm is a strong and reliable source of legal knowledge, and also frequently removes hate speech from the web/deals with false complaints, so they would not baselessly make Yves and Luca make these changes unless there was actually a real issue present.  Yves and Luca are lying by presenting this as a " an attempt to get the website taken down". That is straight up an entire lie- they did not take anything down for safety, they took it down because they were caught not complying with the law/standards.

Original Job Posting Page Archive:

https://web.archive.org/web/20240104030639/https://succubuns.com/news/120.guest-artist-announcement-and-moderator-applications

Discord Mod Application Archive: https://web.archive.org/web/20240104025941/https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdNAvenntM4NT3nIpwfZhg29lgqZGQnxoCHl946cYOsUH-KMA/viewform

Written Mod App Archive: https://web.archive.org/web/20240104025957/https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdyOOqIhbxONZuqTOYxYhNy9iUhnlTh0TU6M-zlhZZJEqRgNA/viewform

Art Mod App Archive https://web.archive.org/web/20240104030436/https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScFWlu9Q6UTNchU06F_hB8ZjvDW4x1iIXvBvshCA72l7rq2TQ/viewform

As an example of one of the many issues: the page for applications says 75+, actual form says 50+. This lie/inconsistency is illegal in disclosure required states. New Job Posting: was not able to grab archives of new forms, if anyone has screenshots that would be great, but they labelled it as a "freelance" job instead, which puts it in the category of contract work/"Content Moderation"- https://web.archive.org/web/20240130204654/https://succubuns.com/news/121.moderator-applications-re-open It is not harassment to keep track of what people have said when they put out outright lies like this. It is not harassment to expect business owners to comply with the law when offering jobs. It is not harassment to show that they are LYING about things that happen, and to show that they are purposefully twisting events. If you DO work for Yves and Luca, you should make yourself aware of the labor laws in your state, as those are what will protect you, regarding contract "freelance" work as well as "content moderation". You should expect to receive a form/information from them to report your income earned from them as taxable- in case of "freelance" it would be a 1099 form. Here's a great article on what kind of form you might get:  get- https://turbotax.intuit.com/tax-tips/self-employment-taxes/a-freelancers-guide-to-taxes/L6ACNfKVW and here is the IRS page on requirements for the employer as well links to the forms:  https://www.irs.gov/businesses/small-businesses-self-employed/reporting-payments-to-independent-contractors

[tamapalace]

Tamagotchi x Breeze & ALGY

Bandai Japan has partnered up with Breeze and ALGY, two Japanese clothing brands. The collection features a nostalgic yet modern take with Y2K elements, and features colorful and special items.

The collection features Breeze Tamagotchi color loose socks for ¥770 including tax. Available in lavender, mint, yellow.

A Breeze flashy shaggy knit sweater in both a wavy pink pattern, or yellow argyle pattern for ¥3,360.

A Breeze Tamagotchi shoulder bag for ¥3,960 including tax available in black.

A Breeze one piece Tamagotchi dress with a pocket for ¥3,190 available in gray and pink, including tax.

An Allolun fuzzy Tamagotchi mirror available in mint for ¥1,650 including tax.

Allolun Tamagotchi nail tips featuring cute vintage sprites for ¥1,100 including tax, which you can pair with the nail polish.

Tamagotchi Knee Heart Leggings in black and Ivory for ¥1,320.

Denim pleated skirts in either black or blue for ¥3,190 

A Tamagotchi fluffy bucket hat in off white and pink for ¥2,530.

Tamagotchi line socks in black and off white for ¥550.

Breeze Tamagotchi denim jackets in both black and blue denim for ¥5,060.

Breeze Tamagotchi block calendar for ¥3,190.

Lastly, a Oyajitchi boxer shorts in black, which are web exclusive.

Tamagotchi Original shells will also be available for purchase priced ¥3,080 including tax. The collection is available for order on November 22nd, 2023 at 12:00. The collection will be available in stores starting on November 23rd, 2023. Enjoy Tamagotchi fashion!

To help celebrate, Breeze is hosting a social media contest where 8 people will win a Tamagotchi Original and a piece of clothing from the collection. Learn more about the contest here.

Breeze will also be hosting an Instagram live stream on November 22nd, at 20:00 to introduce the series to followers!

[crash476]

As someone who works for an actual archive I can say with 100% confidence that AO3 is NOT an archive. It is a social media sight, therefore OTW is obliged to moderate LIKE A SOCIAL MEDIA SIGHT

Archives are usually seen as the final repository for documents and artifacts deemed to have historical value from the perspective of an archive. If AO3 was operating as a traditional archive (and there’s plenty that are run by non-profit orgs, community groups, etc. with little to no government backing) then they would just take on the collections from soon to be defunct fan sights and forums. This is incredibly important work as we are staring down the barrel of a digital dark age. Media companies have shown they have no regard for letting people have access to their IP and are willing to scrap completed work for a tax write off. Backwards compatibility has at best been an afterthought of tech companies, trapping critically important information on now defunct hardware. Hell, one massive solar flare and digital media is gone.

The problem from my perspective is that AO3 wants to be an archive AND a social media sight. Not only does it collect fan work that would otherwise be lost, but users are allowed to post their own work. I mean, I use AO3 to post my fics, it has the biggest platform right now and I like how you can organize your fics. But as an assistant archivist, you can’t have your cake and eat it to.

As a final repository for documents and artifacts, we have to vet and do research on the accessions that come to us. We are constantly trying to engage with our collections, giving them descriptions and context. It’s a sort of afterlife for these documents and artifacts, because aside from our preservation efforts, we archivists and technicians don’t add to the finished document. It’s treated as a completed. There’s no more editing to do. We do, also, get to choose what the public sees. In an ideal world, there’s no restrictions to any information, but working in a government archive, we have privacy and confidentiality policies that dictate how and when archival material can be seen. And we don’t keep everything, coming from the information management site. There’s a lot of docs that get destroyed immediately or after a certain amount of time.

If I had the ability, I would have the archive part of AO3 separate from a hosting site for ongoing fics. If a fic hasn’t been updated after a certain amount of time, then it should be added to the archive with a descriptor like “incomplete”. All the while the ongoing fic hosting side is moderated like any other web forum, blog, or fic hosting site.

This is all a long preamble for me to say that as a SOCIAL MEDIA site, AO3 is obliged to moderate users. When it comes to prejudice in all its form, you got to be on top of it. It’s like running a bar: most people are here for a good time, but you got to have boundaries. If someone gets to plastered or gets belligerent, you toss them out. And to invoke the old punk bar story, you have to toss out bad actors immediately, even if they seem nice. Because once they get comfortable, they bring in their likeminded crew and take over. AO3′s got a bad racism problem, fandom as a whole is rotten with prejudice, but that shouldn’t stop us from trying to be better.

[wowbright]

National Clean Your Home Month Days 16 & 17

Yesterday I felt like my head was stuffed with cotton instead of brains, but I still had enough energy to sit at a computer, so I just did mostly mindless filing and deletion of old screenshots I've been let piling up on my desktop. Some were receipts and I need to keep them for my taxes, most of them were for temporary reference and I never got back around to deleting them. So yay! My desktop is much cleaner now!

Today my brain is still a little fuzzy but better. I checked a few financial tasks off my to-do list, put away the various packages I received in the mail yesterday and dealt with the packaging (New face masks! New ankle supports! Also got a set of elbow compression sleeves, I've been getting bicep tendonitis in my left arm for no good reason--actually I think it's related to crafting--and want to see if they will help.) I emptied the dishwasher and moved dishes from the sink into it. Emptied the dehumidifier. Worked on cleaning up my web hosting account by pressing on with transferring one of my privately hosted website back to wordpress.com (I had a meltdown about this yesterday on my Tumblr if you want to see; update is I won't have to pay $300 and may or may not have to redo the work I've already done--I'll know for sure in a few days). Packaged up some of the wool dryer balls for mailing to my fellow tumblrites. I'm so excited they're going to good homes! 🧶🎉 (If you requested some and haven't sent me your address yet, please do so today or tomorrow so I can get them ready for mailing out on Monday.)

The day isn't done but I'm pretty tired so that's it for tidying and organizing today unless I get a second wind. Right now the plan for the afternoon is to sit on the couch and watch Identity Thief.

[spamreports]

Seeing more and more fake carl / mee6 / dyno / other bots in those fake social engineering "journalist" attacks Killed about a dozen in the couple days alone ca-rl.xyz

car-l.co

car-l.xyz

c-arl.xyz

carl-bot.gg

carls.gg

You report one site - they just move the dash and register another one, no problem.

Same registrar, same hosting.

Very hard to put 2 + 2 togeder.

But always happy to receive profits in the form of BTC from the repeat offender proven scammers, no problem. Just a business model of a legitimate web hosting firm and legitimate domain registrar. Just conspiracy to knowingly commit fraud and working with known proven repeat offender fraudsters, money laundering and illegal proceeds turned into tax deductible profits, nothing to see here.

[undertale-anomaly20]

Mortal Kombat 11 x reader: Chapter 10 To hell and back

(OK I know this might be shorter than the other chapters but that's because Scorpions part in the game didn't run for that long. On another note do you guys know how hard it was to try and figure out a way for Hanzo to live in this chapter?)

Across the shoreline, (Name) and the Grandmasters of the Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei walk toward their destination. They stop to take in the view of a large bridge of rock - too thin to be a natural occurrence, and with no visible support from one end to the other - stretching across the skyline.

The camera cuts to the bridge itself, showing the massive army - numbering in the thousands - of Netherrealm oni and Cyber Lin Kuei walking across it. A glowing figure beaming light from her being hovers high above the bridge, and that figure is Cetrion.

A close up on her face reveals she is visibly straining, and her arms are held aloft in the air. It becomes apparent that the constructed bridge of rock is her doing, and she is focusing on keeping it aloft for the army of demons to traverse across it. Back on the shoreline, Hanzo Hasashi looks to Kuai Liang.

"Those warriors must be headed for Kronika's Keep" Hanzo stated "Agreed. But why not use Kharon's fleet? The bridge clearly taxes her power" Kuai replied "The fleet's bound to Kharon. It sails only by his command. That it's still moored suggests he won't help Kronika" Hanzo said to which Kuai replied "In which case he may help us" (Name) looks to them both "true but Kronika wouldn't allow Kharon to roam free. so where is he?" she questioned making the grandmasters think.

Back on the bridge, the last of the Netherrealm army has finished

crossing. Still focusing as best she can, Cetrion disperses the bridge, causing it to disintegrate into a green mist. On the shoreline, a scream of agony resonates across the surroundings. Scorpion turns to look at a nearby shack, determining that was where the scream came from.

"It looks like Kharon is home, perhaps hosting some unwelcome guests" Hanzo says then he turns to Sub-Zero and (Name) "Return to Earthrealm. Tell the others we've found him. We'll deploy as soon as I return" he says "Are you certain Kharon will aid us?" asks Kuai "No. But he's our best chance"

Kuai leaves but (Name) remains with her arms crossed with a stern look "you're not getting rid of me that easily, Hanzo" she says then smiles uncrossing her arms "I can handle this on my own, (Name), It is not necessary-" "what have you always told me?" (Name) said interrupting him. he is silent for a few moments "Be strong enough to stand alone, be smart enough to know when you need help, be brave enough to ask for it" he said sighing when he looks to her. she walks to his side and holds his hand "I'm not leaving you to do this on your own" she said. Hanzo slowly smiles and hold her hands "and for that I am thankful" he says as they look at each other lovingly in this one moment.

The scene cuts to a closer shot of the shack. Hanzo and (Name) approach it, taking cover behind an outcropping of rock. The camera cuts to him peeking through the window of the shack, where he sees Kharon.

Kharon himself would almost pass for an old human, were it not that his skin on the top of his head is pitch dark and his eyes a milky grey. He is also laid on a table, wrapped in a webbed cocoon. The camera pans across the shack to show the creature

responsible, who drops down from the ceiling.

It is D'Vorah.

"You should have aided Kronika, Kharon. Now you must suffer" she says as she approaches the table and releases a swarm of insects from her hand. They engulf Kharon's face, but he remains defiant "I am immortal, D'Vorah. You cannot kill me" he says "This One needs only render you unfit to ferry Kronika's enemies" she replies smirking when she suddenly lurches forward in pain as something plunges into her back.

"GET OVER HERE!"

D'Vorah is violently yanked out of the shack window, courtesy of Hanzo's chained kunai. She falls onto the shoreline in a crumpled heap, but as Scorpion lands nearby, she pulls herself to a standing position with the help of her extendable stingers.

"First Shinnok, now Kronika. You fight for lost causes" Hanzo growls as (Name) follows behind with a deadly glare "This One ensures the Hive's survival. You will not save the Shirai Ryu"

They fight. In the past, D'Vorah has managed to overcome Hanzo, and her fighting ability and unique control over parasites and poison has not waned since then. But Hanzo's discipline and skill have also improved immensely, and he takes the fight to

the Kytinn. After a brutal exchange, he beats her into unconsciousness.

"The Shirai Ryu will not fall"

A noise from behind him causes Hanzo to turn, but he reacts too late. His younger self teleports in to punch him square in the face but (Name) steps in catching his fist in her palm and throws him back "don't touch him" she growls surprising Scorpion as he stands back up "why? why do you protect this man who has abandoned his traditions!?" Scorpion yells "because changed for the better. because he found a way to be happy and let go of the past. because he is the man I love" She replied her heart finally feeling free, finally saying the words she held back. Hanzo's eyes widen and his heart melted at her words that's he's waited so long to hear. Scorpion didn't know how to feel on the one hand he was filled with an unknown warmth in himself at the fact that (Name) was in love with his future self but on the other hand his future self had abandoned his traditions and his anger towards those who took everything from him.

"Your clan of impostors will indeed fall" Scorpion sneered looking past (Name) to Hanzo "I've restored the Shirai Ryu. Built a clan that's never been stronger" Hanzo replied walking in front of (Name), placing her behind him. Scorpion angrily points a finger in his direction "On a foundation of pretenders and outsiders! Kronika told me" he yells. He pulls out his ninjato sword and twirls it in his hands. Hanzo pulls out his own ninjato. Scorpion charges his older self, who meets the charge with one of his own. They clash, with Hanzo pressing the attack. His younger self blocks and parries his sword strikes, pushing back on him after their blades briefly lock.

They each block and deflect one another's strikes until Hanzo ducks a swipe from his younger self and delivers a counter stab, but Scorpion teleports away in a flash of hellfire before he can connect. This time, Hanzo is ready and does a 180 degree turn just as his younger self emerges behind him.

In slow motion, Scorpion throws his chained kunai, but Old Scorpion skillfully knocks it aside with his sword before it hits. He then grabs the chain, tugs on it to unbalance his younger self and ignites the chain with some hellfire of his own. The fire travels down the chain in an instant, torching Scorpion and forcing him onto his knees in pain.

Hanzo stops attacking, but his younger self is not willing to surrender just yet. He remains on one knee "Without our original bloodlines, there is no Shirai Ryu. Our clan's massacre extinguished them. Kronika will revive the true Shirai Ryu in the New Era!" he yells as he stands back up and assumes a fighting stance. Hanzo does so as

well "Do not trust Kronika! She uses your anger to enslave you, as Quan Chi did both of us. I let go my rage, and it saved me. To save yourself, you must do the same"

They fight. The battle is truly an epic one, with both kombatants equally matched in strength, fighting skill and powers of hellfire. But the elder Scorpion has one thing the younger lacks; control over his anger. He uses it to fight intelligently, gradually finding weak spots in his younger self's attacks and taking advantage. After a hellacious battle, the younger Scorpion is finally beaten into submission.

"It's past time you were freed. We both know what truly drives you. It's not Shirai Ryu pride... it's your wife...and child" Hanzo said walking towards his younger self. (Name) follows him quickly "Harumi and Satoshi were stolen from me. Murdered. Seeing them again is all that matters" Scorpion says as he stands back to his feet, still enraged "We share this pain. I fought through Hell to end it. But Kronika's New Era is not the remedy. She would resurrect Shinnok - the same devil who brought death to our family and clan. He cannot be allowed to return!" Hanzo said angrily while (Name) looked on in worry. Hanzo walks up to his younger self, who is ready to fight, but taking in the words spoken to him.

"When I revived the Shirai Ryu, I vowed our clan would ensure Earthrealm's protection and promised (Name) a life where she would never again need to fight" Hanzo said as (Name)'s heart melt. (Name) stands in front of Scorpion, his milky white eyes meeting her warm amber eyes "Kronika only wants to use you to complete her goals. she doesn't care what happens to you or anyone else" she says and holds her hand out to him "please Scorpion...help us" She pleads.

Scorpion looks away from her, lost in thought. As he looks

as her, remembering that back in his time she is there a bright and happy 18 year old girl, how she had grown from a playful pup into a fierce and protective wolf. Then he looked to his older self in the eye again, his look changes from thoughtful to horrified, as four stingers arise behind Hanzo. He turns around just as D'Vorah stabs Hanzo in the chest, the blow so powerful the stinger goes clean through his body.

(Name) turns around quickly her eyes widen in horror "HANZO!" she screams. Hanzo grabs the stinger with his hand, but is unable to pry it loose. D'Vorah comes in closer, fondling his cheek with her hand in what could be described as a twisted lover's embrace. Her other stingers lightly tap Hanzo's body, until one of them finds a soft

spot, stabbing into his side. He groans in agony, but remains defiant, and he suddenly channels hellfire through his entire body, blasting D'Vorah away from him. He struggles to remain upright, though.

"Poison..." he struggles to say. He groans and falls to one knee. D'Vorah stands back to her feet, grinning sadistically. "Kronika knew your past sins would distract you. Now This One ends your misery" D'Vorah says smirking.

Unbeknownst to her, Scorpion sneaks up on D'Vorah from behind and chops off all four of her stingers with his ninjato. She falls to her knees in pain "Now, you die!" Scorpion yells. D'Vorah suddenly whirls around and blasts a swarm of insects into

Scorpion's face. As he backpedals and destroys them with a burst of hellfire, D'Vorah scrambles backwards on all fours in a reverse crab walk, before going to burrow herself underground when a blast of fire hits her sending her flying into the wall of rock.

Scorpion rushes to his elder self's side, who still has not risen from one knee "Raiden is at the Fire Gardens. Enlist Kharon's aid. Bring Raiden's army to the Keep. You must!" Hanzo begs "You have my word" Scorpion says.

D'Vorah struggles to get up when a pair of brown boots enter her line of sight. she slowly looks up to see (Name), her (e/c) eyes glowing menacingly, her hands set ablaze with her flames, her teeth showing her sharp canines and her face showing a variety of emotions. rage, anger, fury and hatred. for the second time in her life D'Vorah felt true and utter Fear.

"You" (Name) growled sending a chill down D'Vorahs spine. (Name) grabbed the stunned D'Vorah by her throat, picking her up off the ground with one hand extinguished, and pinning her to the wall "how DARE you lay even one finger on him!?" she yelled. she squeezes her throat harder making D'Vorah gasp for air "this...one cares only for the survival of the hive. not pitiful men" (Name) raises her other hand in full view, making the flames brighter, and brings it towards D'Vorahs mouth, causing her to panic, (Name)'s glare hardens as she brings her hand down on D'Vorahs mouth burning and melting the flesh. D'Vorah tries to scream in agony but only muffled screams are produced. once (Name) removes her hand from D'Vorahs mouth all that remains is a mangled and melted glob of flesh where once was a mouth. (Name)'s cold eyes glare into hers "never again...will you harm those I love" (Name) says as she pulls her fist back "I'm going to do what I should have done 2 years ago" and with that (Name) thrust her fist through D'Vorahs chest and grabs her heart. D'Vorah spasms a bit trying to scream in pain but all that stops once (Name) pulls her hand back out, dripping with dark green blood, with D'Vorahs bleeding and still beating heart in her grasps. the light in D'Vorahs eyes die out as her body hangs limp.

Hanzo almost stands fully, but staggers. Scorpion catches him before he can fall, bringing him to gently rest in his arms. Hanzo groans snapping (Name) out of her rage as she snaps her head in Hanzo and Scorpions direction "no..." she whispers as she drops D'Vorahs corpse and rushes to them, dread filling her heart "The new Shirai Ryu are worthy. It's heart, not blood, that makes them warriors" Hanzo says struggling to stay alive "Hanzo!" (Name) cries out dropping to her knees at his side. Scorpion allows her to hold Hanzo in his final moment.

Hanzo, with his head on her chest, looks up at her and smiles weakly "(Name)..." he says her name in almost a whisper "I wish...we had more time" (Name)'s eyes fill with tears threatening to spill over, her heart breaking "what are you talking about? you're..you're gonna be fine. wh-where gonna go back to the fire gardens a-a-a-and you're gonna get help and then you and I will retire from fighting" she stammered as she held him tighter, her mind running through every way to save him, the tears rolling down her cheeks. Hanzo weakly reaches his hand up and caresses her face. (Name) quickly hold that hand to her cheek nuzzling it as Hanzo rubs his thumb across her cheek wiping away her tears "my love...you and I both know I will not survive" "no no no" (Name) says in denial. " I want you to promise me..." "I can't....I can't" she babbles " I want you to...promise me that...you and Calithea will live happily" "I CAN'T!" (Name) yells, her eyes squeezed shut, a silence hung in the air "how...how can we live happy...with out you there...please don't leave us..don't...don't leave me" she begs. Hanzo can feel his time drawing near as it becomes harder to breath for him "I know you can...if not for me or yourself..do it for Calithea" he says. (Name) finally opens her eyes...finally accepting the cold hard truth. she sniffles and nods "I...I promise...I promise I will" her voice trembling. Hanzo smiled softly "I love you with all that I have, my beloved" he says looking into her eyes. she gives him a wobbly smile "and I love you in this or any universe, my Hanzo, my love" she says lowering her head and capturing his lips. every memory they shared flashes through their minds. the first time they met, their first fight against one another, there first fight, their heartfelt reunion, there time training together, the injuries they patched together, Hanzo's first confession, Hanzo meeting Calithea, raisng Calithea together and their first kiss. Hanzo's hand goes limp and his head lolls to the side breaking the kiss. (Name)'s eyes widen in heart break and horror, her lips trembling and her tears falling faster than before as Scorpion can only watch her as she breaks down, his own heart feeling the pain, and she wails in pain with her voice echoing throughout the realm.

The scene fades from the Netherrealm to the Fire Gardens, just as a breeze blows the autumn leaves into the sky. In the gardens, Liu Kang and Sub-Zero walk together in conversation.

"Your Shaolin masters, they're ready?" Kuai asks "They will fight until the last man" Liu Kang replied "That is likely what it will take" "There will not be a fight if Kharon does not help us. Is there any word from Grandmaster Hasashi?" "No. If we do not hear soon, I will return to the Netherrealm"

Before them, Scorpion emerges in a flash of hellfire with (Name) in his arms. she looks weak, her eyes puffy, red and half open. Instantly, Liu Kang and Sub-Zero shift to fighting stances, but Scorpion does not follow suit, instead looking around at the scenery while keeping a firm hold on (Name) "Wrong Scorpion. This cannot be good" Liu Kang says to Kuai "Get Raiden!" Kuai shouts

As Liu Kang runs off, Sub-Zero faces Scorpion down "The Fire Gardens, rebuilt? The Shirai Ryu are indeed restored" Scorpion says amazed, (Name)'s head is on his shoulder staring off into space "Why are you here, Scorpion? Where is Grandmaster Hasashi? What have you done to Lady (Name)?" "...He is dead" Scorpion replies and then looks down at (Name) in his arms, his heart aches knowing how it feels to loos someone you love, and brings her closer "as for Lady (Name)...she is grieving" Kuai grits his teeth "And now you have come to finish us" he growls causing Scorpion to look up at him "I understand your mistrust, but I am here to assist you!" Scorpion tries to explain "I find that impossible to believe! now release her!" Scorpion knows nothing will stop Kuai from fighting him so he carries (Name) to a near by tree to put her down but as he does something stops him. (Name) is holding his clothes in a tight grip "lady (Name) I must-" "no..." he hears her mutter "please...I must quell Sub-Zeros anger. I promise you I will come back" he says trying to convince her as Kuai watches in confusion. (Name) reluctantly lets go of his clothes and allows her hand to drop into her lap still staring at the ground. Scorpion goes to face off against Kuai.

They fight. As has been the case with their many fights before, Scorpion and Sub-Zero are equally matched in skill, strength, speed and powers. But this time, it is Sub-Zero who fights recklessly, allowing Scorpion the opportunities he needs to exploit his weaknesses. After a back and forth exchange, the wraith knocks the Grandmaster to the floor.

"You misunderstand my intentions"

Suddenly, a lightning blast catches Scorpion square in the chest. He is hurled backwards and crashes to the ground hard. Raiden stands above the beaten Sub-Zero, his hands charged with lightning. Liu Kang stands beside him, who quickly runs to (Name)'s side worried "Who sent you here, Scorpion? Raiden demand. Scorpion struggles to his feet and says "My future self is dead. I am here at his behest"

"Grandmaster Hasashi sent you?" Liu Kang asked turning his head away from (Name) to look back "I honour his dying wish. Kharon will ferry your armies to the Isle of Kronika. We must leave at once" Scorpion replied "Do you have proof of Kharon's offer?" Raiden asked not believeing him "...Only my word and Lady (Name)'s but as you can see...she is in no state to answer" everyone looks back to (Name), who is staring at the ground with a blank expression.

"Your word is worthless. At the tournament, I trusted you to spare Bi-Han, and you betrayed me" Raiden says glaring "A mistake born of rage. I seek redemption Scorpion tried explaining "Lies, Scorpion! You are a slave! And Kronika is your master!"

They fight. Scorpion finds himself in the battle of his life. Raiden himself is at full strength in Earthrealm, he has the power of thunder and lightning at his beck and call and thousands of years of fighting experience. It takes all of Scorpion's martial arts skill and powers of the Netherrealm to even keep in the fight, but he refuses to fall, and manages to knock the Thunder God to his knees for a moment.

"Raiden, you must listen!"

"Spout your falsehoods elsewhere, Scorpion! Kronika will not entrap us" He says as he stands back to his feet "It is no trap! Kharon awaits you in the Netherrealm"

(....I said TRY to figure out how to make Hanzo survive....never said I actually succeeded....yes I know I'm an evil bitch trust me I cried writing this part but I can make it worse...who's telling Calithea her daddy isn't coming home)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

On September 14, I'm hosting the EFF Awards in San Francisco.

#20yrsago Gilmore on not obfuscating email in online archives https://web.archive.org/web/20030924160038/http://www.interesting-people.org/archives/interesting-people/200309/msg00069.html

#20yrsago Tell the Patent Office to back off on the open source WIPO debate https://web.archive.org/web/20030921014946/http://action.eff.org/action/index.asp?step=2&item=2776

#20yrsago Making Book: best of the proto-blogs https://memex.craphound.com/2003/09/09/making-book-best-of-the-proto-blogs/

#10yrsago Bid on the spy-rock that Lockheed and the DoD stiffed a subcontractor on https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2013/09/ebay-rock-cam-surveillance/

#10yrsago What NSA sabotage does to security https://freedom-to-tinker.com/2013/09/09/nsa-apparently-undermining-standards-security-confidence/

#10yrsago Fighting back against NSA sabotage with a dead-man’s switch https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2013/sep/09/nsa-sabotage-dead-mans-switch

#10yrsago NSA broke into networks of Brazil’s president; state oil company, Google Brazil, and SWIFT, for “economic” reasons https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2013-09-08/u-s-government-spied-on-brazil-s-petrobras-globo-tv-reports

#5yrsago Motorola patents a robocop autonomous car that brethalyzes, mirandizes you, calls your lawyer and collects your bail https://patents.google.com/patent/US10049419B1/en?oq=10049419

#5yrsago A public bank for LA: instead of sending hundreds of millions to predatory finance, Angelenos’ taxes can fund community development https://whowhatwhy.org/economy/business/banking-on-the-public-option-will-la-lead-the-way-for-people-owned-banks/

#1yrago Guide to a ripoff-free funeral https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/09/high-cost-of-dying/#memento-mori

[magicknightraytheon]

An Autopsy of Roguesci: the coolest way to lose an eye in 2005

If you've been online since the 2000s, you'll have noticed a shift from a web of many independent forums and websites to everything being concentrated on a few social media networks. The content grab started long ago, so many storied subcultures are being lost to digital decay. It's with this in mind that I want to tell the story of the Explosives and Weapons Forum.

Many websites served to dispense advice on gray area or outright illegal activity. There were the pyro forums, specialized toward both legal and illegal fireworks. Beyond fireworks forums there were sketchier places that dealt in more weaponized explosives, drugs and petty crime: Totse, Rorta, Bombshock. They attracted many a fan, but few a practitioner - everyone knew that the information was not the best. Try anything and it would be a dice roll between making something that can go pop, making a dud and blowing your fingers off in an accident in the midst of a felony.

In 1998, megalomania established Roguesci: The Explosives and Weapons Forum, a site to rule above all of these trash boards...or at least that was the expectation.

Roguesci, like others, grew from the mid 90s BBS subcultures and seemed to have been inspired by the writings of an Aussie who went by the name of "Lowry". Lowry was an Aussie pyro who made a little how-to file of various improvised weapons and fireworks (very dangerous to mess with, for chemistry reasons, so just don't). He resurfaced at some point with an obscure partial reup of his site, not knowing that a more complete PDF was going around and that there was another pyro forum with his old contacts.

But these BBS and Usenet lists had a problem that would carry on through the years: Low quality posters and files spread dangerous misinformation. Even widely published and famous books were full of information.

Roguesci would be the site with standards and the go-to for conversations about explosives, chemical warfare, improvised firearms and collection of historical chemistry texts.

So mega brought in his friend nbk2000, a lifetime hobbyist weaponeer, who self-identified as a psychopath and a Nazi to deliver HED, "hot electrion death" (bans) to all "kewls": Kids and young men who spread "cool" dodgy instructions for making dangerous chemicals. Advice was to be peer reviewed and unskilled members expected to lurk and study before posting. Using "crapbooks" like the Anarchist Cookbook was also a quick route to a ban.

(the joke "NBK likes to give HED" was prohibited on the forum)

Under their rule, the site thrived. It hopped from free hosting to its own dedicated domain with official explosives guide to explosives and their synthesis, written by mega himself.

The site thrived throughout the mid-2000s but ran into some scandals with an early user killing several people with a bomb, and whispers of users getting injured in lab accidents (I can't tell who but one user was said to have lost some fingers).

Dangerous content was its draw and vague connection to murders weren't going to slow it down. But its weakness was in a cult of personality around the vice admin, NBK.

To roguesci users, NBK was a mysterious, charismatic drifter who held the highest subject knowledge. Sometimes hated for his debates about the worthiness of non-white people. Usually respected because he had the most entertaining posts. His famous work was a pdf file and website of his name that mixed his own advice with reprints of a few books and contained "rules to profit by" for criminals. NBK had spent most of a decade writing what he said would be an encyclopedia of improvised weapons and advice for criminals.

NBK maintained one of the most popular non-technical threads, "Why I Hate Rent (rant)" detailing his beliefs that paying rent or property tax was slavery. He escaped this slavery by squatting at abandoned houses, and he blogged about his experiences in the thread.

One of his actually brilliant ideas came in handy when a guy robbed his squat: he kept his money in a safe made with a pipe and padlock. It was mistaken for a pipe bomb and dropped by the burglar.

Then one day, mega announced that NBK had died. There was no elaborating. Users poured out performative mourning (sentiments of respect and resentment were mixed, but the latter not shown as much).

Later on it turned out that NBK was alive but needed legal help: he was being charged with the murder of a guy who he was living with, and had fled to Canada where he tried to stay with another forum member (who promptly turned him in).

NBK2000, or Arthur Charles Carnes, was later convicted after using his history in weaponry to argue that he would have done a far better job of murdering the guy than whoever did (most likely nbk in a less composed, dumber incarnation of himself than he presented online).

NBK2000 unmasked: nerd

According to a forumite's investigation, NBK's friend (the victim) had falsely converted to Judaism so that he could sell kosher meat to the local Jewish community. NBK had decided that this was race treason.

The forum went down and reopened, with some in-house web crawling to preserve the information for the final shutdown that we knew was inevitable, and the inevitable came in 2009 with the site disappearing forever. Rumors of a reopening circulated but it seemed like there was too much heat on mega, and its heyday was long past.

A few users and mods tried to open successor sites and bring the community back together. They also disappeared.

Another of the old Roguesci mods, fierce opponent of seatbelts after a few near miss accidents, died after being thrown through his windshield in a car crash.

Another one lost an eye in an explosives accident.

Roguesci prided itself on having higher standards of accuracy than all the other pyro and weapon freak boards. But it fell short of its own self image and its prided top dog that the user base looked up to (in public at least), NBK, was actually a bit of a dumbass. Many forumites were dumbasses posting things they'd regret, but at their high point, they also distributed information on how to produce illegal weapons that could have killed thousands of innocent civilians if the wrong readers took interest.

In its wake, I've found nothing that is even similar in scope. The condensation of the internet to big social platforms and the ruining of search engines makes it almost impossible, and ironically with less conspiracy-riddled eyes it's obvious that if you wanted to engage in such hobbies, you could just get an ATF license and use explosives legally without resorting to hardware store chemicals that will blow your hands clean off your body as your skin melts off. That's right: explosives and munitions are legal if you fill out ATF forms and pay a fee.

[darkandstormydolls]

So I think I may be selling Ashling short.

I know I called him “tied for my most traumatized character”. And everything I have have about him had sort of contributed to that.

So, to make up for that, I present: a scene of Ashling being cool and capable!

The office looked familiar. It wasn’t that I’d been here before. It was simply that every person’s office I’d ever been in seemed to look the same. Sure, the butler had called it the “study”, but the same principle applied.

Every person in possession of an office who was trying to look intimidating seemed to go about it the same way. Some sort of very large and intimidating desk with a matching large and intimidating chair behind it. One or two much smaller chairs on the other side of it, so that the people waiting would feel small. A fireplace on the opposite wall, with some sort of large picture hanging over it. Heavy curtains in some dark jewel tone framing the windows. Dark paneling and dark wallpaper. Bookshelves that were full but not stuffed with heavy volumes. Phantom kept records of every person involved in her complicated web on the ones in her office, along with what she had over them, what they were worth, what they owed her, if they worked for her, if they were a threat, and what to do with them. I could only imagine what the duke must have used his for. Tax records?

Despite this formulaic appearance, there were a handful of personal touches. A wooden duck sat on the mantle. The painting over the fireplace was of the estate, the exact same view from the road that I had seen on my way, with the sprawling house visible in the background, rising up to survey its holdings. A rather inexpert piece of needlepoint depicting what I presumed to be a tree of cardinals hung on the wall. Done by one of his daughters, perhaps?

I was still working through my mental assessment of the room, and debating whether the potential findings that could be obtained by rummaging through the desk outweighed the risk of starting off this interaction on an even worse foot than I already would if I got caught when a small figure appeared in the doorway and asked, will all the bluntness of a young child, “Who are you?”

I looked over at her from my seat in front of the desk. Returning my gaze was a young girl, perhaps around eight, in a light purple flowered dress and a pinafore with enough eyelet lace that it would likely protect the dress beneath about as much as a colander would hold water. I quickly slipped into the cheerful persona I’d used on the butler before. I stood up and gave a small, rather theatrical bow. “Before I answer, I have a question of my own; do I have the great honor of addressing the lovely Lady Emma Minsal?”

The little girl’s face lit up, and she straightened up with a look of contented self-importance. “And Countess of Halermill, don’t forget that bit.”

Oh sweet girl. If only you knew. You may not be Countess of Halermill for long. I smiled back at her. “Of course. How could I forget? Well, my lady, I’m here to meet with the duke.”

“I’ll wait with you, then.” she announced decisively. “Daddy says it’s important to be a good host. And I know where he keeps the good treats.” Walking over to one of the bookshelves, she reached over her head and took down a large, square glass jar. “Lemon cookies,” Lady Emma explained, taking one out of the jar. She held it out to me. “Do you want one, Mr…”

“Elerson. And thank you very much.” I politely accepted the cookie, taking the tiniest bite. It seemed fine, but then again, the first rule of my job was always to be cautious. Better overly suspicious than dead.

“So, what do you need to talk to the duke about?” Lady Emma asked, climbing up into the chair behind the desk after she returned the cookies to their rightful place. She had to sit on her knees to be even approaching the right height for it.

“It’s a matter of land management. Nothing interesting, I promise.”

“Oh. I see.” She considered this for a moment. “Isn’t that usually Mander’s job? He’s the estate’s agent, after all.”

“This was a rather complicated matter. The duke wanted to handle it himself. If I may ask, my lady, is there somewhere you need to be?”

“Oh no, not at all,” she replied while finishing off the rest of her cookie. “Miss Jasmile has her hands full with Salna, and I said I was going for a walk in the garden. You know, it’s a bit late for most of the flowers, but I like the fall ones most of all. Especially the mums. They have so many colors, really, and they look lovely in the beds. What’s your favorite flower?”

“I must admit I haven’t really thought about that. Perhaps… morning glories?”

Lady Emma nodded, satisfied by this answer.

“Emma, sweetheart, are you in here?”

She looked up at to the door, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Daddy!” She hopped up and ran into the arms of the man waiting in the doorway.

“Hello, love. What are you doing in here?”

“I was just talking to Mr. Elerson. He said he was here to talk to you.” The man, presumably the Duke of Cosmere, looked up from his daughter and at me. I looked back. His mouth tightened as he recognized me. “Emma, love, why don’t you run along?”

“Can’t I stay? I think he’s very nice.”

“No, darling, this is a grownup matter.”

“Alright, alright.” Emma left, and the duke closed the door behind him, settling into his seat behind the desk.

“You have some nerve, coming here.”

I slipped smoothly from the cheerful demeanor I’d used on Lady Emma to a much colder one. My heir-to-the-lord-of-spies face. “Nearly as much as you have to refuse Phantom’s demands.”

“I don’t have to listen to someone in some abandoned city who dresses like a ghost and doesn’t have a proper name.”

“The conditions she outlined were quite clear. Fulfill your part of the agreement, or news will come out.”

He glared at me. “I never agreed to anything.”

I shrugged. “That’s not my fault.”

“You forced me into this!”

“I never forced you into anything. That would have been Phantom’s doing.” I held up my hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“You’re blackmailing me.”

I nodded. “A fact I never denied.”

“I could call the police.”

“Trust me, I could be gone in the time it takes them to come. And if by some miracle they arrive on time, I can say three words and they’d let me go with an apology for wasting my time.”

“You and your cursed spies-”

“-not my spies-”

“-you think you can just come in here and demand unreasonable conditions for honest people.”

“I wouldn’t call it unreasonable. The money’s less than you give your mistress in a month, and you were given other options as well.”

“I’m not listening to someone who won’t even come here and say her threats to my face.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Trust me, the only reason that Phantom isn’t here right now is because she has much more important things to do with her time than explain simple contracts to irritating nobility. And if you consider her conditions too much, well-” I shrugged casually “-you’re welcome to explain to the lovely ladies Emma and Salna that they have a new older brother.”

The duke looked at me, fuming, for a minute before saying, “This isn’t right.”

“Oh, is that what you thought to yourself before you forced an innocent, vulnerable housemaid into your bed and then paid her a deeply insufficient amount of money to run to one of the most dangerous places in the world when it turned out she was pregnant?”

“I could deny it. Who would believe you?”

I pulled a stack of letters from my pocket, fanning them out so that he could see the handwriting. “This aside, well…” I gestured to my own face, then to his. “Look at me and then look in a mirror.” I stuffed the letters back into my pocket before asking, “So. Do we have a deal?”

“This isn’t going to work like you want it to.”

I sighed in mock exasperation. “Do I really need to explain the inheritance laws of your own country to you? ‘A child born to two parents, both of whom are unmarried, is considered as much a legitimate heir to both of them as one born of wedlock’. And there is legal precedent for this. Back in 1826, the courts backed a young woman in a situation quite similar to mine. Her father attempted to declare his nephew as heir to his title and lands instead. And yet, I believe that Viscountess Mandrae retains her title to this day.”

“What would you even get from this?” The duke was growing increasingly exasperated.

“What would I get from this? If you don’t agree to the conditions, I’ll become your heir! You’ll be legally required to provide for me as long as I avoid any serious criminal convictions, and if I get sick of that, well, a little inheritance powder in a cup of tea and I’m the next Duke of Cosmere, widely regarded as the most powerful nonroyal in the country. And can you imagine how much the Lord of Spies would benefit from having such close connections with someone in that position?”

“You wouldn’t.”

I looked him in the eye. “I’m Undercity-born. Don’t try and tell me what I would or wouldn’t do.”

He sighed, resting his head in his hands. “What do you want?” he asked defeatedly.

“For you to fulfill the terms of your agreement with Phantom.”

“I can’t do it right now. I don’t have the money on me.”

“Collateral, then.”

“What do you mean, collateral?”

“Something to prove that you won’t go back on our deal. Something that can be held over your head.”

“Fine. Fine! What about this? I’ll write a letter, all signed and things, declaring that ‘I hereby name- do you have a name besides that stupid title?”

“Ashling.”

“I name Ashling Elerson as heir to my titles, lands, and family name. You can take that with you. It would save you the trouble of having to prove it all in a court of law. Will that be sufficient?”

“Lord Ashling.”

“Sorry?”

“Lord Ashling Minsal, Earl of Halermill. As your heir, I would be permitted to use your name, a courtesy title, and your subsidiary titles, yes?”

I was seriously considering how to defend myself if the duke stood up and attempted to strangle me when he gritted his teeth and replied, “Fine.” He pulled out a blank sheet of paper from one of the desk drawers and uncapped an inkwell. “And I get this back once your conditions are filled?”

I smiled. “Oh no. Consider this an apology for all the inconvenience that you’ve caused Phantom, and, by extent, me.”

“I hope you rot in hell.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything different. Now.” I tapped the paper in front of him. “Write.”

He wrote out the letter, muttering under his breath the whole time, signed it, blotted the ink, and held it out to me. “Happy?”

I read over it several times, examining it for anything that would make it seem fake or invalid. It looked fine. “This’ll do.” I checked that the ink was dry, folded it up, slipped it into the document pocket of my jacket, and stood up to leave. “I’ll see myself out.”

[headedoutleft]

I am not going to read the Vogue piece, but I thought this essay on it was pretty funny -

It will never cease to morbidly fascinate me how the ultra-wealthy, despite having every resource at their disposal, will never be able to buy Authentic Coolness. We are so normal, this story’s subjects seem to be yelling, look at us in our normal 400,000-acre ranch in West Texas drinking margaritas, talking about our blended families and our friendship with the Kardashian-Jenners!

The patina of normalcy and chillness does not, shockingly, last much longer than it takes to read the story. Because all the while they are talking about driving their kids to school, attending work meetings, driving down to Tijuana for supposed philanthropic endeavors, and calling their siblings, we, the people who live in the real world and not a universe in which there exists a “salt genie” (read the story), cannot help but think, this man owns Amazon Web Services, a platform that hosts not only companies but major governments, their agencies, and financial institutions around the world; this man owns the Washington Post, one of the most widely-circulated newspapers in the country, in a continuing conflict of interest to which the government did not see fit to object; this man is not an insignificant enemy of the rising labor movement in America; and this man pays a lower tax rate than most of us. And somehow, despite all this, he and his fiancée are the recipients of Vogue puff pieces.

No? Apologies, maybe that’s what I was thinking as I absorbed these words and pictures. It is so nakedly needy, this contradictory yearning both for recognition as a Titan of Business and as One of the People. It is almost too revelatory, like we’re reading Jeff and Lauren’s journals (the ones they get to “like, three times a week”) without permission. I can picture their publicists meeting with Anna Wintour, convincing her — as they clearly did — that this would be a marketable love story. And to be fair, we are talking about it, but God, at what cost? Why be so public? Why, when even among your cohort of billionaires, you are particularly problematic, would you call so much attention to yourself? Much like we’ve all noticed with Elon Musk and his parade of mistakes, it is evident that there is no one in the Bezos-Sánchez circle to shake their head when they spout off insane and damaging-to-the-brand ideas. They either haven’t a clue how they are perceived or they simply do not care. I’m not sure which is worse.

There were so many insane quotes in this story, I almost blacked out while reading it. My brain could simply not catch up to or even fully compute what my eyes were seeing. You should absolutely read the full story, which naturally serves as a very thinly-veiled advertisement for Bezos's and Sánchez's many brands and enterprises, if only to see the below quotes in context — context that does not, I promise you, make the words any more sensical.

“… The phrase “Love you to space and back,” a favorite saying between Sánchez and Bezos, embroidered in her lilting cursive.” (The couple’s focus on space is both childish and almost mind-numbing, as if, by their calculations and without acknowledging their own role in its destruction, earth is already lost and no longer a concern of theirs.)

“Sánchez uses a mug Bezos got her from Amazon, with the words “Woke up sexy as hell again” splashed across the side.” (In another life, Jeff Bezos was a TJ Maxx mom.)

“Sánchez is also a big audiobook fan—she’s deep into Chop Wood Carry Water: How to Fall in Love with the Process of Becoming Great.” (About this, what can I tell you that you are not already thinking?)

“On the weekends Bezos makes churros in his deep fryer, a recipe passed down from his Cuban grandfather. ‘Abuelo made churros whenever we were with him,’ says Bezos.” (Not Jeff Bezos remembering he’s Latino!! Not this! Amigues, we do not claim him.)

“Collins counts Sánchez as a close friend (they have a pickleball crew) and describes how in “deep COVID” Sánchez called her at 6:20 a.m. wanting to help.” (If a so-called friend called me at 6:20 a.m. claiming to want to help, the first step towards that journey would be deleting my number.)

“‘I made her vulnerable and soft,’ says Bezos with more than a hint of pride.” (Reader, I gagged (derogatory).)

[foldingfittedsheets]

I had an extremely radical thought today in class but like- I don’t think it should be radical!

We were discussing the collapse of Twitter and honestly tumblr is one of the safest places online because I’m not being constantly screamed at by advertisers but it still needs money to function. So without ads where does the money come from? It’s users. We pay for the services or subscriptions or we allow online spaces to be pumped full of ads.

And then I thought- I wish there was a way to make functional web hosting without it feeding off its user base. In an incredibly digital world I feel like people deserve to connect with others without being preyed on. What if. What if there was free government hosting? I know there’s issues with regulating content and all sorts of shit but honestly- like a digital communication service or social media that’s actually free of ads and algorithms would be amazing.

Wikipedia is a good example of an online staple that constantly has to be asking for donations to keep running. But with tax money going toward web servers it could just keep on being rad without having to beg. There’s so many useful resources that need to approach their users hat in hand that could just be funded. There could be actual websites for kids again! It could be amazing.