#so i'm sharing it anyways

[wanderingmind867]

Loki is like Set from the Kane Chronicles, to me. They're both incredibly chaotic and clever, but I'd never go so far as to say they're evil. And besides, Loki's really hard to hate. He's stuck to a rock with acid dripping down onto his face, I believe. He's in constant agony. If he hates the other gods, it's really no wonder. I'd hate them too. This is sort of like the Prometheus or Atlas story with the greeks.

Of course Atlas and Prometheus hate the gods, they've been forced into cruel and unusual punishment for all of time. Atlas holds up the skies, feeling the literal weight of the world on his shoulders. Prometheus is chained to a rock with eagles constantly eating him. If these two hate the gods, it's really not surprising. It's honestly something I completely expect. I still think Luke and Kronos were the worst villians ever, but I at least understand why Prometheus and Atlas were in on it. And I understand why Loki might hate the other norse gods.

Let me just phrase this in a way that befits something involving ethics: I don't think cruel and unusual punishment is ever justifiable as a crime deterrent. And I think the gods probably need to learn that, or else the cycles of hate and war are just going to continue. Same to real world politics too, but I don't want to lose any goodwill by wading into politics on here. But I will insist that capital punishment (and especially cruel and unusual versions of said punishments) is wrong.

[onwriting-hrarby]

Engraved — Writing workshop week I

I needed to get off my novel for a while, so this exercise helped me a lot in imagining other things! It is quite long, but I don't think I have ever uploaded any og fiction inn here...

This is part of the Writing workshop by @books and @bettsfic!

Engraved

The wife later swore under oath it had been an impetuous reaction—lights on her face and the moustache man holding a clickety pen in front of her—but the truth is that she had seen it from the first instant she had entered the kitchen.

Her legs felt stiff and wobbly, that day. They carried her body like a strange weight, even though the scale had shown her that she needed to eat more. All bones, all bones, her man had sighed while lunch, gnawing at his steak. She would later think that the effort in which she walked was telling her that she should have stayed quiet. To never enter the kitchen. Never lay her eyes next to the stove. Never begin cooking. Never saying to her husband that she would begin cooking. Never hearing him exclaim, Finally, for fuck’s sake. Never thinking she was not a worthy woman, never feeling so angry, so ready to burst up, so—never never. But she did carry herself to the room, and her eyes did focus next to the stove, where it had been years she hadn’t seen it, the cutting knife her mother had gifted her on her wedding day.

It came along with a lot of fine china. They had shoved them away in the living room, where they couldn’t be seen and wouldn’t get dirt on them. She had said to her husband, “What a pity, those are very expensive”. He had hummed, had kept on putting thin ceramic plates and golden-rimmed teacups into the wooden cabinets, and had barely thrown her a glance as she inwardly apologized for the ingratitude. When she found the knife in the box and took it in her hands, it weighed. She felt it into her fingers for some seconds. The steel was cold and polished. It reflected the orange light of the living room, the way the snow was pouring outside, and shone in a myriad of decisions not taken and secrets better kept. The wife faintly heard his husband say, That will come out handy. She had glanced at him, held the knife sturdier against her palm. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a fine blade”, he had answered. “It will cut meat just great.”

But the knife had been left unused for almost all of the marriage, stuffed into the utensils drawer just like any other knife. Upon inspection the day of the china, she had found her initials engraved: M. A. The lettering was beautiful, adorning one of the tangs of the handler. The M was curvy, the ends pointy in riveting ribbons, and the A had a full stomach, protruding to the interior part. Years later, the wife realized the knife hadn’t lost the scale, nor the sharpness of the blade, but the letters had mysteriously given up their fullness and were starting to fade onto the metal.

Nevertheless, the knife was there after so long, so she thought, I better use it. She couldn’t imagine why her husband must have taken it out of the drawer and left it next to the stove. He had long given up seeing her cut with it, although it was true that no knife she had tried quite cut the meat like he wanted to. Always too thin, or too thick, or it couldn’t get through the veins, maybe couldn’t tear into the grease well enough.

She took the filet for supper out of the fridge. It had defrosted well, but some icy tears were still stuck to it. She brushed them off with her hand and they melted on her fingers. She brought her fingers inside the mouth and sucked. It tasted like watery iron. She put the meat on the cutting board, grabbed the engraved knife made an incision in the middle. He would complain that they had the same amount of meat. But then again, she could say, Wasn’t I all bones? As she cut the meat, the knife boiled in her hand. Strange, she thought. She felt a rush of dizziness overcome her, and as she closed her eyes, she could hear her mom’s voice—no, a scream, so loud she had to brace herself onto the marble counter, the knife hanging from her fingers nimbly.

She recomposed herself. The cut was perfect, though. She thought, a momentary anaemia. She was old after all, too many memories and too many years on her back.

The pan sizzled with some oil. It splattered all over the knife she still had in her hand. I can’t let go, she realized. Maybe I don’t want to. Her mom had died in a painful scream, her father had confessed. She had looked at him through the plastic glass and saw his eyes full of grief and guilt, and swore to herself not to be consumed by rage. “Some things run in one’s blood”, her dad had chuckled, “even though you hate me so”.

On the pan, the meat smelled like burnt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck it”. She swore some more and then swore to herself she could never swear again. Her husband didn’t like it, and wasn’t she such a proper lady?

 She left the knife next to the stove and took the pan off the fire, but the meat was far off saving. The wife sighed, felt the tears coming to her eyes. They wet the rim of her eyelashes. She patted her free hand against them. She breathed out, invoked patience. He could hear him say, It’s not raw enough. I want to see the blood, see? I want to see it, for fuck’s sake. If it’s not raw, then—It tastes like a shoe! Have you ever tasted a shoe?, and she would say, no, I’ve never, and he would put the filet away, or maybe smash it against the wall, and the dish would crack, yes, she could evoke it because it had happened before, and the husband would say, You’re such of no use, why did I marry someone that useless, yes, you, I’m taking about you.

She heard the steps approaching the kitchen. Light as ever, but threatening. She knew the sound because she had to train herself to listen to it all of her life. He appeared on the door frame, watching at her with his mouth open in surprise, the canines hanging pointily, the tongue layered with yellow saliva onto it. His spit reached her face as he screamed:

“What the hell have you done?!”

And because she had seen it in the first instant she had entered the kitchen, the knife rested on her hand, with a weight of something unconfessed and the pride of something long foreseeable.

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[madootles]

the two seater couch from mag 175 has seen better days

[mroddmod]

chucks this overthought fiddlestan au at u

[ruporas]

new year! [id in alt]

[pseudophan]

anthony is dead: the funeral roast (paid content)

[royalarchivist]

Phil: I still stand by, if I get a snail, I'm gonna fail RP and log out.

Sneeg: I don't think they're gonna give you one just like, unsolicited. Especially 'cuz you've threatened to not play? 🙄

Phil: [Cracks up] I've played these games before! I've done it before, man! I genuinely probably need therapy, but I'm just putting it off! [Laughs]

Sneeg: How do you explain to a therapist that you're attached to an Egg from Minecraft though? 🤨

Phil: Ok, so there's this server, right? And it's ran by my friend, and– It's– brings in people from various different cultures and languages, and then– and then he decided: "Oh, you know what would be really cool to keep people playing? And invested? What if we give them a fcking EGG?"

Phil's Chayanne and Lullah emotes were made by @strawbekka.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Phil: I still stand by, if I get a snail, I'm gonna fail RP and log out.

Sneeg: I don't think they're gonna give you one–

Phil: Good

Sneeg: –just like, unsolicited. Especially 'cuz you've threatened to not play? 🙄 Um...

Phil: [Cracks up]

Sneeg: I don't think they're... I don't think they're gonna gamble on that.

Phil: I'm not doin' this NPC, like– actor– like, thing on server again! I've played these games before!

Sneeg: [Laughs]

Phil: I've played these g– I've done it before, man! I genuinely probably need therapy, but I'm just putting it off! [Laughs] For- for fckin'–

Sneeg: How do you explain to a therapist that you're attached to an Egg from Minecraft though?

Phil: Ok, so there's this server, right? And it's ran by my friend, and– it's–

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] There's this server– and then there was an Egg, with a glock. [Laughs]

Phil: –Brings in people from various different cultures and languages, and then– and then he decided: "Oh, you know what would be really cool to keep people playing? And invested? What if we give them a fcking EGG?"

Sneeg: Attachment. [Laughs] Attachment to something!

Phil: "What if we give them an Egg that- that has wants and needs? And you need to look after it."

Sneeg: And a personality!

Phil: Yeah, "And a personality, and- [stammers] and quirks and- and–"

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] And its life's in danger, people– things were trying to kill it.

Phil: Yeah. And things keep trying to kill it, and you have to save it, you are its– you are its only s– hope.

Sneeg: If it dies, it's your fault. It's your fault! Your fault. [Laughs]

Phil: [In unison with Sneeg] Your fault! Your entire audience of thousands of people will be PISSED if you don't care! If you don't care, you are a MONSTER!

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] And they're so valid, they're so valid 'cuz it's true.

Phil: [Laugh] Imagine joining my stream, and I'm just like reading a bedtime story to a little Egg.

Sneeg: [Cracks up]

Phil: Like– [Laughs] Like, what a CRAZY way to come back!

Sneeg: "Oh, my favorite vanilla Minecraft streamer Philza Minecraft's on– playing Minecraft today, let's see what he's doing!" [Voice cracks as he tries not to laugh]

Phil: Yeah, "What's- what's Kusump?" [QSMP]

Sneeg: –and you're like: [Leaning into his mic] "Humpty Dumpty." [Laughs]

Phil: "What's Kusump? What's this? Why's he got an Egg, and why is it just holding up a sign that just says 'Food'?"

[momomallowart]

Fun with portals 🎮✨

[seoksoonwoo]

BACK IT UP Wonwoo @ IN-COMPLETE 2021 Hoshi @ CARATLAND 2023

for @ikjun ♡

[hiragis]

S U P E R N A T U R A L T R I O / Version 2

[sharpace]

136. No Shave Challenge

I had to do one post season 2.

Crank It Comics  |  Leave a tip! (Ko-Fi) | Store |  BlueSky

[expelliarmus]

[theoldkyokodied]

It's always funny in sillydelphia or whatever. Sorry i can't concentrate on making a joke, there are women right in front of me (pointing at my own genderbend iasip drawings, sweating profusely)

[veevil]

FALLOUT CHERIK AU!!

Since the fish fic is about to be finished, I started working on another cherik AU with the help of the christian minecraft server and got to smash my special interest together with my current hyperfixation!

Charles is a pre-war vault dweller who gets defrosted into the wasteland with no idea on what is going on and Erik is a mercenary, griefing his late wife and children.

Charles slowly loses his spark and faith in humanity after experiencing The Horrors and Erik finds something worth living for and learns how to love again.

The whole AU is basically just the I can fix him/I can make him worse meme.