Electric-Curls

This “call out” culture that’s becoming more prominent in fandom spaces quite literally goes against the entire purpose of fan fiction. Fandoms are supposed to be safe spaces for people to express their ideas and if you don’t like a certain blog/type of writing, you simply block them and move on.

By “calling out” or demanding certain changes be made to how a person writes, you are stripping away the concept of fandom being a creative, judgment free space. Fan fiction censorship is as dangerous as book censorship; it’s the act of silencing those you don’t agree with.

I had to learn this the hard way when I made this mistake in the past, realizing the topic I was “calling out” was simply me trying to censor something I didn’t like. The reason this action becomes dangerous is that there is no stopping point to what can be called out and therefore censored, and it opens up the potential for hatred, bullying, and other harmful behavior towards those engaging in the “controversial” topics.

If you see something you don’t like, then don’t interact. It’s simple and doesn’t cost a thing to you. Stop promoting these forms of isolation and harassment.

***side note, just because you’re not “calling out” or openly condemning a certain topic does not mean you are agreeing with or condoning it, either. It simply means you respect the principle of writing what you want and disengaging with those that write what you don’t like.

fandom spaces have started to confuse discomfort with danger, personal dislike with moral emergency, and curation with public punishment.

fandom should be strange, excessive, embarrassing, tender, horny, indulgent, experimental, full of things you personally would never touch and things that feel like they were written with a knife pressed directly into your ribs. that is the point. it is a library with too many locked doors, and you are allowed to choose which ones you open.

you are allowed to dislike things. you are allowed to block, mute, scroll past, close the tab, protect your own peace.

genuinely, please do.

curation is healthy.

what scares me is when “i don’t want to see this” becomes “no one should be allowed to write this.” and no, refusing to join a public stoning does not mean you secretly endorse everything ever written. it means you understand that fiction is fiction, your discomfort is yours to manage, and someone else’s imagination is not automatically a crime scene.

Hey folks! Google is fucking you via sneaky enshittification again!

Want the shit in your google drive to load instantly again, instead of taking for-fucking-ever?

Open your gdrive (web OR app) Settings > Manage Apps

Gemini was checked "use as default" (and i sure the fuck didn't set it that way, this was a silent push)

🎧 Listen to Josh Gluck - Down No More on Spotify here: Josh Gluck - Down No More

Written by Ale Rosero, Realm26

Some songs don’t just sound beautiful—they feel like transmissions from another world. Josh Gluck’s “Down No More” is one of those songs. A local treasure here in Fort Lauderdale, Josh is more than a musician—he’s a vessel for something rare, raw, and transcendent.

The first time I heard this track, I got chills. The second time too. And now, after well over a hundred listens, it still gets me. Every time. There’s magic in the melody, truth in the lyrics, a kind of aching clarity in the voice and instrumentation that feels otherworldly. It’s perfect in its own quiet way.

Let’s break it down.

From the very first chord, there’s something suspended in time—nostalgic, sorrowful, yet wise. Then Josh’s voice enters: soft but resolute, echoing through space with lines like:

“I don’t want time. I’ve had enough of it now. I don’t want to lie down just to fall asleep and wake up on the ground.”

These words, paired with that haunting melody, strike deep. It’s hopeful sorrow. It’s peaceful ache. It’s a kind of emotional alchemy that few artists can conjure.

Then, just a few verses in—

“But they say don’t live too fast, as if I don’t know things won’t last…”

That line alone is worth sitting with. It reveals the heart of the song: a reflection on impermanence, on living while knowing how fragile it all is.

But this song doesn’t stay still.

Around the 1:30 mark, it transforms—building into something more declarative, more alive. Josh speeds up, and the energy blooms. It’s delicate yet defiant. Gentle but powerful. A rollercoaster wrapped in stardust.

And just when you think the song can’t reach any higher—

2:30 hits.

This moment is overwhelming in the best possible way. Every time I get there, I have to pause—breathe—and simply feel. Because beauty like this doesn’t whisper for your attention—it requires your presence.

It happens just after Josh delivers a line that feels like emotional release:

“So I must let you know that I won’t hold myself down no more.”

There’s a quiet desperation in his voice—a plea to be heard, to be seen, to finally let go. And in that instant, every element—guitar, bass, drums—locks into place around him. It’s not just accompaniment; it’s emotional conversation.

This is vulnerability, fully orchestrated. And it’s unforgettable.

At Realm26, we had the chance to meet Josh—and it truly felt special. He recorded a live session with us that we’ll be sharing soon, and honestly, it left a mark. If the studio version moved you, the live one goes even deeper. It hit all of us in the room. I’ll admit—I got emotional. It’s that powerful.

Can’t wait to share it with you.