#6 authors

[deaddriv]

Translated with permission!!

Here's the author's Twitter (achu_0u0) and the original post!

Note from author: Wouldn't it be hard for half-foots to go to the movie theater?

[hinamie]

new limited edition firefighter spacesuit hazmat itfs just dropped

[kittykatninja321]

Listen I am not opposed to a little bit of babygirlifying my favorite blorbo but when you start nerfing their canon skills for the sake of whump or woobifaction is where I draw the line. He would NOT fold that easily in that situation

[hedgehog-moss]

It’s always funny when anglo writers looking to express a specific idea casually pluck a cool ready-made monosyllabic phrase from their language’s unlimited supply and Romance language translators just curl up in the fœtal position and cry. I'm reading a text in which the American author talks about ‘Haves’ vs ‘Have-Nots’ vs ‘Have-Mosts’ —the poor French translator translated this as ‘ceux-qui-ont’ (the French language: don’t worry I’m just getting warmed up), ‘ceux-qui-n’ont-pas’ (nice we’ve doubled the syllable count but we mustn’t falter), and the beautiful ‘ceux-qui-ont-plus-que-tous-les-autres’ (300% expansion ratio let’s gooo! we did it great work everybody.) From 2 to 8 syllables—the minute I saw that bulky thing I knew it had to be Have-Mosts in the original and I was giggling. The anglo author happily proceeds to use the phrase ‘Have-Mosts’ 5 times per paragraph because why not! it’s so quick and wieldy :) we don’t actually need the word wieldy 'cause it’s just the normal state of our language <3 meanwhile you can feel the French translator’s desperation grow as she is reduced to juggling with “those” and “the latter” to avoid summoning her creature. Eventually she reaches the acceptance stage and uses ceux-qui-ont-plus-que-tous-les-autres again like, it’s my monster. I shouldn’t reject it

[cubfan135-facts]

cubfan135 fact #21:

Hermitcraft season 6 featured an unknown individual known only as The Jingler, who conducted a series of pranks on several hermits. Those who fell victim to the Jingler's pranks were often referred to as being "#Jingled". Some pranks included (but are not limited to) vandalizing Grian's map room to say "You have been J-J-Jingled!!!", and leaving a mysterious book in Hermitville with coordinates that merely led to a sign reading, "GG You've been had! #Jingled".

The Jingler's identity was never revealed by the time Season 6 had concluded. Fans and hermits alike speculated their true identity for years. Many fans believed them to be Grian, however it was unlikely as Grian already had two prankster alter egos in Season 6, Poultry Man and The Salmon Ghost. GoodTimesWithScar was revealed to be the Jangler, a different entity entirely with no official ties to the Jingler. Rendog was suspected of being the Jingler for asking his viewers to "jingle that [notification] bell" at the end of his videos. Tango was also suspected of being the Jingler, as his returns to the server coincidentally aligned with the Jingler's pranks.

The most in-depth search for the identity of the jingler on the Hermitcraft server appears to be from Joehills. Upon checking the community mailbox, Joehills discovered a message from the Jingler left in every hermit's mailbox. Deciding that he could not let this devious behavior continue, he set out to follow a trail to reveal their true identity. He initially asks for the help of his viewers to gather intel from other hermit's videos, however this effort would prove fruitless as the Jingler carefully made sure to never reveal themselves on camera. Joe suspects a parrot by the name of Jingles to be behind the pranks, claiming that the parrot works for ConCorp. However, it is possible he was actually thinking of Captain Jack Sparrow, the CEO of ConCorp, and the lead seemed to come to a dead end.

The Jingler's identity was still unknown by the end of season 6, leaving both fans and hermits to speculate on their identity for years. Many began to believe there was no one true Jingler, but the hermits as a collective conducted a multitude of pranks under one common alias.

The Jingler's identity was finally revealed on April 23, 2022 on the Hermitcraft 10-year anniversary livestream. Cub admitted to being the Jingler, notably only after being asked directly by Jevin. Grian in particular was so distraught by the revelation that he joined the discord call from his mobile phone to comment on the situation.

Hermitcraft season 6 began in July of 2018, meaning that the identity of the Jingler was kept a secret for roughly 4 years. It is possible that this is the longest-kept secret in all of Hermitcraft history. The only known "evidence" of Cub being the Jingler is when he is seen during Impulse's Season 6 episode 32 asking if Grian has completed the infinity room. It is likely Cub was inquiring either to see if he could vandalize the map without Grian noticing, or to see Grian's reaction if the prank had already been carried out. Besides this small piece of circumstantial evidence, there was virtually no proof of Cub being the Jingler prior to April 2022. The most concerning detail in this story is, perhaps, the fact that the identity of the Jingler was only revealed when Cub was directly confronted by Jevin on stream. It is unknown if Cub ever planned to reveal the Jingler's identity on his own, and he very well may have intended to take this secret to the grave.

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Ones Who Live | 1x03 - Bye

[valgue]

Black and White (Dir en Grey) - Featured in 8 Beat Gag Vol. 3 x

more vkei doujins here

[odo-apologist]

Thinking about Out of Time, specifically the ending, which, in my opinion, is one of the best Rimmer scenes of the franchise. It's one of those moments- like his sacrifice for Nirvannah in Holoship or his insistence that Lister burn his soldiers in Marooned as a gesture of friendship- that hint at the potential that he has, deep down, of being noble, heroic, kind. What's particularly interesting about this scene, though, is that up to this point, Rimmer has often been shown as having a fascination with power, with militarism and fascist aesthetics. This is among his worst, most dangerous traits. You see the extreme outcome of it in Meltdown, what I think is Rimmer at his most abhorrent; he is the cause of the death of an entire group of people all because he wanted to live out his power fantasy of being a strategic military general, watching the battle at a distance like he describes in Marooned. Of course, as others have pointed out in their own posts, Rimmer's desire for/adoration of power likely comes more from his desire to be loved and prove he's deserving of love, but its consequences can be horrific. In Out of Time, when he encounters a version of himself that is an *actual* fascist sympathizer/apologist, he is disgusted. He is the one who wants to fight and who says, "Better dead than smeg." Whereas his future self says he would rather die than live like rats as the present crew do, our Rimmer would rather die fighting than live a life of ease and comfort while rubbing shoulders with bloodthirsty, power-crazed dictators.

And I think it's really interesting that the episode before this one is Rimmerworld. The aspect I often think about (that I wouldn't be surprised a lot of other fans also often think about) is Rimmer's 550+ years of imprisonment. It's such a disturbing concept, being kept in solitude for that inconceivably long, that its apparent dismissive treatment as a joke and lack of any real impact on Rimmer haunts me a little bit and I'm glad there are a few fics out there that explore the aftermath more thoroughly. But before he ends up in that situation, he 1. Abandons the others- the seemingly only people who have ever come close to caring about him- to die, leaving them to flee in an escape pod, and 2. Creates a civilization of clones of himself that he clearly bases off of the Roman Empire (a notable inspiration for many fascists). The first is significant because it shows the contrast between his cowardice in that situation and his lack of it in Out of Time. But the second point here, about the creation of his civilization, may show why that contrast happens between episodes, the reason for it. The civilization of Rimmerworld, based on an obsession with power, inspired by what we can assume is Rimmer's own idealized view of the Romans and empire in general, is the same that causes his centuries of suffering. So the next episode, when he sees another version of himself willing to get along with the kind of people like those who imprisoned him (who, albeit, were also versions of him)...I don't know, maybe the events of Rimmerworld did have some notable effect on him after all, at least for a while; maybe that's why he was so sure in his decision that the crew fight even though he knows they'll die trying.

Or maybe I'm just being ridiculous and overthinking things

[aria-greenhoodie]

Cain and Abel...

Click for quality! + closeups ↓

[idle-compy]

wait wait wait if mantah corp island got shut down what did they do with angel, rebel, and firecracker

[finnlongman]

A paper presented at the Seventh Ulidia Conference on the Ulster Cycle of Tales, held at Ulster University, Belfast, June 2024.

No, this was not the official title of my paper.

Yes, this was my actual final slide and did remain on the screen for some time.

Yes, a few people laughed.

No, nobody brought it up afterwards. In fact, all the senior scholars were being incredibly nice about my paper, which suggests they read this in the most accurate way (completely sincerely and innocently).

This is probably for the best.

[rontra]

as the holder of extremely niche isako lore it's really important to me that you know i didn't make this whole writer thing up. the p3 club book brings up that she's a writer as a hobby, specifically so that it can then say she hasn't had any particular success with it. her whole profile is so hilarious but this bit really gets me. mean to her

[firbolgfriend]

Im just yapping but there is this fic on fimficton called Discord of Tomorrow that’s about s2 evil discord traveling forward in time right before he can be turned to stone to switch places with the version of himself (reformed discord) that exists when the elements of harmony are gone, so reformed discord gets stuck in the past and has had to snap away and hide the elements of harmony from the mane 6 so he can focus on trying to get back to the future without getting turned to stone, all while dealing with the moral dilemma of him realizing how easy it was to take the elements and how easy it would be to seriously just take Equestria over again vs being worried about what evil discord is currently doing to his friends in present time. It’s only like three chapters but I think the plot is so funny and the author didn’t even get to the part where evil discord is in the future and the mane 6 is trying to figure out wtf his problem is, thinking he has amnesia or something. I want to make a comic expanding on it so bad I’m like seriously obsessed with it I can’t stop thinking about it

[i-suc-at-art]

Summary:

Tim and Danny are apart of an online RPG which is basically D&D but anonymous and online.

Danny plays as a changeling rogue who will often swipe things from players they don’t like

Tim plays a Variant Human, monk who wields a pole staff (my guy is not subtle) and will often give back the things danny (who’s known as wraith) (Tim goes by Scarlet Redpoll (mainly just Scarlet though)) stole, shenanigans ensure however when there's an unexpected meet cute.. More like a meet chase ig?? Idek Tim has to grapple with Danny's new secret

@moonchild0924 @bianca-hooks123 @anarinette @starlightcat04 @aaaaaaaaaaggghhhhhhhhhh @i-miss-breathing @melyndadwest-blog @angelheartgamer @afanofmayships @bludendrobium @wanderwithwings @transparentgayprotector

ok i think that’s everyone i also posted it on the og post so ppl can find it there 🫡

[evilasiangenius]

He didn't so much hear Armand come in as he felt Armand come in. Like a moment of nullity moving through the room, a presence that was not a presence. A ghost.

“Daniel...” Armand sat down on the bed, his weight depressing the mattress lightly.

“No...go away.” Daniel tried to turn away but he was sweating and shivering, too cold, too hot.

“It's all right, Daniel. I'm here.” Armand shifted, bringing his legs up and lying down beside Daniel, moving into Daniel's arms. “I'm here.”

“You feel good.” Daniel pressed his cheek against Armand's cool forehead, sighing. He wrapped his arms tight around Armand and it was as though he could feel the heat melt away from him, soaking into Armand.

“My poor Daniel.” Armand stroked Daniel's pale hair. Daniel had only the faintest roughness of stubble clinging to his jaw, and his mussed hair had been cut and clipped in a slick modern style that suited him. Even his ruined clothes were new. That man had taken good care of him.

Daniel shifted, so he could move closer to Armand, so he could press his entire body against Armand. The fever was burning up inside Daniel, and Armand felt the twinge of that old fear, the fear of sickness and the death it brought. So often over the years he had seen Daniel shrug off coughs and chills that it had made him wonder at the strength of these modern mortals.

Death. His fingers brushed through Daniel's hair and Daniel sighed, turning so Armand's hand moved against his cheek. Just hiding under the skin, just beyond the bones. He wondered if he pressed his ear to Daniel's chest, if he could hear the little cells inside of him slowly dying, bursting and floating away.

“I won't let you.” Armand kissed his eyelids, speaking so softly that it was more for his own sake than Daniel's. “Not right now.” And he made that little cut on his throat and guided Daniel to to it. Daniel's dry lips moved against him, at first sluggish, but then he caught the taste of it and his mouth moved hungry.

x

[hannahssimblr]

I open the envelope on the stairs. The same stairs I spent six years rushing up and down, going from class to class, that was always bustling with students, bumping shoulders, swinging school bags, yet here I am, on an empty staircase in the building I thought I’d never be inside again. All the people I thought I’d never have to see again are here too, milling in and out of the foyer, collecting envelopes, telling each other about their summer. Somehow I’d forgotten I would have to do this. 

I keep to myself, wishing to minimise any conversation. Get in, get out, that’s the plan. I slip my thumbnail under the lip of the envelope and pull my results out. 

Mathematics A1 English A1 Art A1 Biology B3 Geography B1 German A2

Oh, Jesus Christ. There’s a roaring in my ears. I shove my grades back into the envelope before anyone can see them, then add up the score in my head.

Five-fifty. Is that possible? I peek inside to check again. 

Yes. Five-fifty. 

I blow out a lungful of air. How can this be? I’m famously a fucking idiot. This is a disruption to my worldview. I hardly even studied towards the end of the year, so how in the-

“Jude?” Someone steps into my space, and I have to suppress a groan as Sam from the yearbook committee stands over me, looking completely misplaced without his uniform on. It’s like the freakish experience of seeing your teacher in the supermarket. Sam, without his starched uniform shirt and perfectly knotted tie, is hardly Sam at all. Perhaps he thinks the same of me without my tie, which was always hanging crooked with a blue ink stain on it that wouldn’t come off after a hundred washes.  

The smug look, however, is Sam all over. “Looking a bit glum. Are you disappointed in your results, or something?”

I pause. “No?”

“Oh, grand. Suppose you don’t need the marks anyway, do you? You’re off to art college in Berlin, so I heard.”

“You heard correctly.”

“Surprised to see you here at all, I have to say. I thought you might have been gone already, off to the continent and all that, instead of coming into school.”

“No, my flight’s Wednesday.”

“Ah. So soon.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He stands expectantly, hovering, and so, with a sigh, I ask him what he is frothing to be asked. “What points did you get, Sam?”

“Five forty,” he gloats. “I’ll be off to Trinity now, all going well with the offers and all that. ‘Twas an expected result, but I’m still thrilled with myself. Just goes to show that hard work and proper study really pay off.”

“Yeah. Well done. Lucky that points don’t count for me, then, hm?”

“Well, it’s only art school. It’s not like you need to be smart.”

“Yep, that’s true.”

Sam’s head swivels like a submarine periscope. “Oh, look who’s just come in.” His mouth stretches into an unsettling grin. “Sure, it’s the lovely Michelle Tengu. You should say hi to her.”

“Right, yeah.” I say, though my fight or flight has activated and my palms prickle with sweat.

Michelle crosses the linoleum floor in the chunky black boots she’s had since fifteen. She accepts her envelope from the principal and stands to the side where she tears it open and her eyes scan the page. It’s impossible to tell how she feels.

She looks the same, of course she does. Maybe her hair is longer, maybe her makeup is different, her skin a little browner, and I have this feeling as I see her, that I am looking at a picture of a person I used to know, someone whose name I remembered, but whose face I had long forgotten. This girl I loved, or thought I did. I don’t really know that person anymore, at least not how I used to. 

She sees me and gives a hesitant wave. 

I wave back. 

“You’re still here,” she approaches me with the caution one would with a spooked cat, emotions flashing over her face, like she can’t decide how to feel. Neither can I. She’s still blocked in my phone, from that fateful night in June, but now, on the cusp of September, those heavy feelings I had seem so melodramatic. I am just Jude, she is just Michelle, and somewhere along the way, without me even paying heed to it, a storm has passed. 

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“I expected you to sneak off to Berlin under the cloak of night.”

“That’s the plan, honestly. I just needed my results first.”

“I see. Are you happy with them?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“I got enough for NCAD.”

“Oh, Michelle, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.” An odd moment follows, where I am not sure whether I should hug her. I twitch toward her, then second guess myself, and then I just freeze there, halfway lifted from the step. I slump back down onto it. 

“It, um… Well. It sounds like you had a pleasant summer, and all that.” She says. “Jen was telling me all about it.”

“Was she? Yeah, it was fine. Did she really say it was pleasant?”

“She mentioned that you two had a bit of a falling out, to be honest.”

“Ah, yeah, we did.”

She gives me this awkward smile, and it’s instantly obvious that she knows. Jen, being Jen, has told her the entire story. She’s revealed every aspect of my summer - the festival, the conflicts, and its conclusion. She knows about Evie too. It’s in her eyes. It’s that hint of betrayal she knows she’s not supposed to feel anymore. In them lies the sting of an ex moving on and leaving her behind.   

“I’m, um…” I smooth the front of my hair. “I think things will be alright with Jen, probably. I just need time, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it.” She adds delicately, “though, like, you are leaving in about five days.”

“That’s true.”

“And you were really planning to just vanish?”

“Well, yes. I just don’t know how else to do it.”

“Usually people have a party or something.”

“No, come on,” I scoff. “I’m not doing all of that. It’s so much work.”

“Hm. I just think you’ll regret not saying goodbye.”

I can’t decide whether she’s right, and can’t think of what to argue in my defence, so I say nothing. A sympathetic smile crosses her face. It’s strange. She never looked at me like that while we were together.

“I can help,” she says. “It can be low-key, just a few people. I’ll send out a text and see who wants to come, yeah? Whoever wants to say goodbye?”

“Including Jen?”

“I’ll need to invite Jen.” she shrugs, “it might be a good chance to talk. To get it all ironed out.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do. I think it’s best not to leave things unfinished.”

“Hm. That’s very philosophical of you.”

“Are you shocked?”

“Kind of.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Well I’ve been seeing someone.”

“A boy?”

“A therapist. I realised after we broke up that I had some things to work through. I had some… big feelings.”

“That’s great, Shell.”

I could swear that her eyes get a little misty as she inhales, as though to say something before deciding against it. She straightens her shoulders and smiles. “I’m happy you’re happy.” She says brightly. “With the Leaving Cert results, obviously.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, too.”

She glances toward the door. “Look, I better go, but I’ll text you about the going away party, right?”

“Yeah, I better unblock you.” It slips out of me before I can stop it, but to my immense relief, she laughs. “Good idea. See you Jude.”

“Bye, Shell. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I dunno. For this.”

She just smiles. 

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