#Nutty's Creations

[cursed-ice-queen]

undefined

Hey I’m doing a thing.

[pierrotlunaire08]

i drew nutty

i went for a more vivid sort of style this time , i hope yall like it ^_^

[make-a-little-mischief]

EVERYONE GETS A BUDDY LOVE ALBUM FOR CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR

❤️💿🎶🌟

❤️✨ Buddy Love - Black Magic ❤️✨

❤️ A collection of songs both buoyant and broody

❤️ Done with the upbeat sunny numbers on side one? Flip it over and get those deep emotional cuts from the other guy!

❤️ Released December 1963 from Poverty Records

[playfulsparksp]

Embrace the Peanut Butter Magic: It's Time to Discover Peanut Butter Lover's Day!

As March 1st approaches, we find ourselves eagerly anticipating a day dedicated to celebrating the creamy, nutty goodness of peanut butter. National Peanut Butter Lover’s Day is more than just a chance to indulge in our favorite spreads; it’s an opportunity to revel in the versatility and comfort that peanut butter brings to our lives. At PlayfulSparks, we’re not just passionate about…

[najia-cooks]

[ID: The first image is of four stuffed artichoke hearts on a plate with a mound of rice and fried vermicelli; the second is a close-up on one artichoke, showing fried ground 'beef' and golden pine nuts. End ID]

أرضي شوكي باللحم / Ardiyy-shawkiyy b-al-lahm (Stuffed artichoke hearts)

Artichoke hearts stuffed with spiced meat make a common dish throughout West Asia and North Africa, with variations on the recipe eaten in Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, Algeria, and Morocco. In Palestine, the dish is usually served on special occasions, either as an appetizer, or as a main course alongside rice. The artichokes are sometimes paired with cored potatoes, which are stuffed and cooked in the same manner. Stuffed artichokes do not appear in Medieval Arab cookbooks (though artichokes do), but the dish's distribution indicates that its origin may be Ottoman-era, as many other maḥshis (stuffed dishes) are.⁩

The creation of this dish is easy enough once the artichoke hearts have been excavated (or, as the case may be, purchased frozen and thawed): they are briefly deep-fried, stuffed with ground meat and perhaps pine nuts, then stewed in water, or water and tomato purée, or stock, until incredibly tender.

While simple, the dish is flavorful and well-rounded. A squeeze of lemon complements the bright, subtle earthiness of the artichoke and cuts through the richness of the meat; the fried pine nuts provide a play of textures, and pick up on the slight nutty taste that artichokes are known for.

Terminology and etymology

Artichokes prepared in this way may be called "ardiyy-shawkiyy b-al-lahm." "Ardiyy-shawkiyy" of course means "artichoke"; "ب" ("b") means "with"; "ال" ("al") is the determiner "the"; and "لَحْم" ("laḥm") is "meat" (via a process of semantic narrowing from Proto-Semitic *laḥm, "food"). Other Palestinian Arabic names for the same dish include "أرضي شوكي محشي" ("ardiyy-shawkiyy maḥshi," "stuffed artichokes"), and "أرضي شوكي على ادامه" ("ardiyy-shawkiyy 'ala adama," "artichokes cooked in their own juice").

The etymology of the Levantine dialectical phrase meaning "artichoke" is interestingly circular. The English "artichoke" is itself ultimately from Arabic "الخُرْشُوف" ("al-khurshūf"); it was borrowed into Spanish (as "alcarchofa") during the Islamic conquest of the Iberian peninsula, and thence into English via the northern Italian "articiocco." The English form was probably influenced by the word "choke" via a process of phono-semantic matching—a type of borrowing wherein native words are found that sound similar to the foreign word ("phonetics"), and communicate qualities associated with the object ("semantics").

"Artichoke" then returned to Levantine Arabic, undergoing another process of phono-semantic matching to become "ardiyy-shawkiyy": أَرْضِيّ ("ʔarḍiyy") "earthly," from أَرْض‎ ("ʔarḍ"), "Earth, land"; and شَوْكِيّ ("shawkiyy") "prickly," from شَوْك‎ ("shawk"), "thorn."

Artichokes in Palestine

Artichoke is considered to be very healthful by Palestinian cooks, and it is recommended to also consume the water it is boiled in (which becomes delightfully savory and earthy, suitable as a broth for soup). In addition to being stuffed, the hearts may be chopped and cooked with meat or potatoes into a rich soup. These soups are enjoyed especially during Ramadan, when hot soup is popular regardless of the season—but the best season for artichokes in the Levant is definitively spring. Stuffed artichokes are thus often served by Jewish people in North Africa and West Asia during Passover.

Artichokes grow wild in Palestine, sometimes in fields adjacent to cultivated crops such as cereals and olives. Swiss traveler Johann Ludwig Burckhardt, writing in 1822, referred to the abundant wild artichoke plants (presumably Cynara syriaca) near لُوبْيا ("lūbyā"), a large village of stone buildings on a hilly landscape just west of طبريا ("ṭabariyya," Tiberias):

About half an hour to the N. E. [of Kefer Sebt (كفر سبط)] is the spring Ain Dhamy (عين ظامي), in a deep valley, from hence a wide plain extends to the foot of Djebel Tor; in crossing it, we saw on our right, about three quarters of an hour from the road, the village Louby (لوبي), and a little further on, the village Shedjare (شجره). The plain was covered with the wild artichoke, called khob (خُب); it bears a thorny violet coloured flower, in the shape of an artichoke, upon a stem five feet in height.

(Despite resistance from local militia and the Arab Liberation Army, Zionist military groups ethnically cleansed Lubya of its nearly 3,000 Palestinian Arab inhabitants in July of 1948, before reducing its buildings and wells to rubble, The Jewish National Fund later planted the Lavi pine forest over the ruins.)

Artichokes are also cultivated and marketed. Elihu Grant, nearly a century after Burckhardt's writing, noted that Palestinian villages with sufficient irrigation "[went] into gardening extensively," and marketed their goods in crop-poor villages or in city markets:

Squash, pumpkin, cabbage, cauliflower, lettuce, turnip, beet, parsnip, bean, pea, chick-pea, onion, garlic, leek, radish, mallow and eggplant are common varieties [of vegetable]. The buds of the artichoke when boiled make a delicious dish. Potatoes are getting to be quite common now. Most of them are still imported, but probably more and more success will be met in raising a native crop.

Either wild artichokes (C. syriaca) or cardoons (C. cardunculus, later domesticated to yield modern commerical artichokes) were being harvested and eaten by Jewish Palestinians in the 1st to the 3rd centuries AD (the Meshnaic Hebrew is "עַכָּבִיּוֹת", sg. "עַכָּבִית", "'aqubit"; related to the Arabic "⁧عَكُوب⁩" "'akūb," which refers to a different plant). The Tosefta Shebiit discusses how farmers should treat the sprouting of artichokes ("קינרסי," "qinrasi") during the shmita year (when fields are allowed to lie fallow), indicating that Jews were also cultivating artichokes at this time.

Though artichokes were persistently associated with wealth and the feast table (perhaps, Susan Weingarten speculates, because of the time they took to prepare), trimming cardoons and artichokes during festivals, when other work was prohibited, was within the reach of common Jewish people. Those in the "upper echelons of Palestinian Jewish society," on the other hand, had access to artichokes year-round, including (through expensive marvels of preservation and transport) when they were out of season.

Jewish life and cuisine

Claudia Roden writes that stuffed artichoke, which she refers to as "Kharshouf Mahshi" (خرشوف محشي), is "famous as one of the grand old Jerusalem dishes" among Palestinian Jews. According to her, the stuffed artichokes used to be dipped in egg and then bread crumbs and deep-fried. This breading and frying is still referenced, though eschewed, in modern Sephardi recipes.

Prior to the beginning of the first Aliyah (עלייה, wave of immigration) in 1881, an estimated 3% of the overall population of Palestine, or 15,011 people, were Jewish. This Jewish presence was not the result of political Zionist settler-colonialism of the kind facilitated by Britain and Zionist organizations; rather, it consisted of ancestrally Palestinian Jewish groups, and of refugees and religious immigrants who had been naturalized over the preceding decades or centuries.

One such Jewish community were the Arabic-speaking Jews whom the Sephardim later came to call "מוּסְתערבים" or "مستعربين" ("Musta'ravim" or "Musta'ribīn"; from the Arabic "مُسْتَعْرِب⁩" "musta'rib," "Arabized"), because they seemed indifferentiable from their Muslim neighbors. A small number of them were descendants of Jews from Galilee, which had had a significant Jewish population in the mid-1st century BC; others were "מגרבים" ("Maghrebim"), or "مغربية" ("Mughariba"): descendents of Jews from Northwest Africa.

Another major Jewish community in pre-mandate Palestine were Ladino-speaking descendents of Sephardi Jews, who had migrated to Palestine in the decades following their expulsion from Spain and then Portugal in the late 15th century. Though initially seen as foreign by the 'indigenous' Mista'avim, this community became dominant in terms of population and political influence, coming to define themselves as Ottoman subjects and as the representatives of Jews in Palestine.

A third, Yiddish- and German-speaking, Askenazi Jewish population also existed in Palestine, the result of immigration over the preceding centuries (including a large wave in 1700).

These various groups of Jewish Palestinians lived as neighbors in urban centers, differentiating themselves from each other partly by the language they spoke and partly by their dress (though Sephardim and Ashkenazim quickly learned Arabic, and many Askenazim and Muslims learned Ladino). Ashkenazi women also learned from Sephardim how to prepare their dishes. These groups' interfamiliarity with each other's cuisine is further evidenced by the fact that Arabic words for Palestinian dishes entered Ladino and Yiddish (e.g. "كُفْتَة" / "kufta," rissole; "مَزَّة⁩" "mazza," appetizer); and words entered Arabic from Ladino (e.g. "דונסי" "donsi," sweet jams and fruit leather; "בוריק" "burek," meat and cheese pastries; "המים" "hamim," from "haminados," braised eggs) and Yiddish (e.g. "לעקעך‎" "lakach," honey cake).

In addition to these 'native' Jews were another two waves of Ashkenazi migration in the late 18th and early-to-mid 19th centuries (sometimes called the "היישוב הישן," "ha-yishuv ha-yashan," "old settlement," though the term is often used more broadly); and throughout the previous centuries there had also been a steady trickle of religious immigration, including elderly immigrants who wished to die in Jerusalem in order to be present at the appointed place on the day of Resurrection. Recent elderly women immigrants unable to receive help from charitable institutions would rely on the community for support, in exchange helping the young married women of the neighborhood with childcare and with the shaping of pastries ("מיני מאפה").

In the first few centuries AD, the Jewish population of Palestine were largely farmers and agricultural workers in rural areas. By the 16th century, however, most of the Jewish population resided in the Jewish Holy Cities of Jerusalem (القُدس / al-quds), Hebron (الخليل / al-khalil), Safed (صفد), and Tiberias (طبريا / ṭabariyya). In the 19th century, the Jewish population lived entirely in these four cities and in expanding urban centers Jaffa and Haifa, alongside Muslims and Christians. Jerusalem in particular was majority Jewish by 1880.

In the 19th century, Jewish women in Jerusalem, like their Christian and Muslim neighbors, used communal ovens to bake the bread, cakes, matzah, cholent, and challah which they prepared at home. One woman recalls that bread would be sent to the baker on Mondays and Thursdays—but bribes could be offered in exchange for fresh bread on Shabbat. Charges would be by the item, or else a fixed monthly payment.

Trips to the ovens became social events, as women of various ages—while watching the bakers, who might not put a dish in or take it out in time—sent up a "clatter" of talking. During religious feast days, with women busy in the kitchen, some families might send young boys in their stead.

Markets and bakeries in Jerusalem sold bread of different 'grades' based on the proportion of white and wheat flour they contained; as well as flatbread (خبز مفرود / חובז מפרוד / khobbiz mafroud), Moroccan מאווי' / ماوي / meloui, and semolina breads (כומאש / كماج / kmaj) which Maghrebim especially purchased for the Sabbath.

On the Sabbath, those who had brick ovens in their sculleries would keep food, and water for tea and coffee, warm from the day before (since religious law prohibits performing work, including lighting fires, on Shabbat); those who did not would bring their food to the oven of a neighbor who did.

Palestinian Jewish men worked in a variety of professions: they were goldsmiths, writers, doctors, merchants, scientists, linguists, carpenters, and religious scholars. Jewish women, ignoring prohibitions, engaged in business, bringing baked goods and extra dairy to markets in Jerusalem, grinding and selling flour, spinning yarn, and making clothing (usually from materials purchased from Muslims); they were also shopkeepers and sellers of souvenirs and wine. Muslims, Jews, and Christians shared residential courtyards, pastimes, commercial enterprises, and even holidays and other religious practices.

Zionism and Jewish Palestinians

Eastern European Zionists in the 1880s and 90s were ambivalent towards existing Jewish communities in Palestine, often viewing them as overly traditional and religious, backwards-thinking, and lacking initiative. Jewish Palestinians did not seem to conform with the land-based, agricultural, and productivist ideals of political Zionist thinkers; they were integrated into the Palestinian economy (rather than seeking to create their own, segregated one); they were not working to create a Jewish ethnostate in Palestine, and seemed largely uninterested in nationalist concerns. Thus they were identified with Diaspora Jewish culture, which was seen as a remnant of exile and oppression to be eschewed, reformed, or overthrown.

These attitudes were applied especially to Sephardim and Mista'arevim, who were frequently denigrated in early Zionist literature. In 1926, Revisionist Zionist leader Vladimir Jabotinsky wrote that the "Jews, thank God, have nothing in common with the East. We must put an end to any trace of the Oriental spirit in the Jews of Palestine." The governance of Jewish communities was, indeed, changed with the advent of the British Mandate (colonial rule which allowed the British to facilitate political Zionist settling), as European political and "socialist" Zionists promoted Ashkenazi over Sephardi leadership.

Under the Ottomans, the millet system had allowed a degree of Jewish and Christian autonomy in matters of religious study and leadership, cultural and legal affairs, and the minting of currency. The religious authority of all Jewish people in Palestine had been the Sephardi Rabbi of Jerusalem, and his authority on matters of Jewish law (like the authority of the Armenian Patriarchate on matters of Christian law) extended outside of Palestine.

But British and European funding allowed newer waves of Ashkenazi settlers (sometimes called "היישוב החדש," "ha-yishuv ha-khadash," "new settlement")—who, at least if they were to live out the ideals of their sponsors, were more secular and nationalist-minded than the prior waves of Ashkenazi immigration—to be de facto independent of Sephardi governance. Several factors lead to the drying up of halaka (donated funds intended to be used for communal works and the support of the poor in Sephardi communities), which harmed Sephardim economically.

Zionist ideas continued to dominate newly formed committees and programs, and Palestinian and Sephardi Jews reported experiences of racial discrimination, including job discrimination, leading to widespread poverty. The "Hebrew labor" movement, which promoted a boycott of Palestinian labor and produce, in fact marginalized all workers racialized as Arab, and promises of work in Jewish labor unions were divided in favor of Ashkenazim to the detriment of Sephardim and Mizrahim. This economic marginalization coincided with the "social elimination of shared indigenous [Palestinian] life" in the Zionist approach to indigenous Jews and Muslims.

Despite the adversarial, disdainful, and sometimes abusive relationship which the European Zionist movement had with "Oriental" Jews, their presence is frequently used in Zionist food and travel writing to present Israel as a multicultural and pluralist state. Dishes such as stuffed artichokes are claimed as "Israeli"—though they were eaten by Jews in Palestine prior to the existence of the modern state of Israel, and though Sephardi and Mizrahi diets were once the target of a civilizing, correcting mission by Zionist nutritionists. The deep-frying that stuffed artichokes call for brings to mind European Zionists' half-fascinated, half-disgusted attitudes towards falafel. The point is not to claim a dish for any one national or ethnic group—which is, more often than not, an exercise in futility and even absurdity—but to pay attention to how the rhetoric of food writing can obscure political realities and promote the colonizer's version of history. The sinking of Jewish Palestinian life prior to the advent of modern political Zionism, and the corresponding insistence that it was Israel that brought "Jewish cuisine" to Palestine, allow for such false dichotomies as "Jewish-Palestinian relations" or "Jewish-Arab relations"; these descriptors further Zionist rhetoric by making a clear situation of ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism sound like a complex and delicate issue of inter-ethnic conflict. To boot, the presentation of these communities as having merely paved the way to Zionist nationalism ignores their existence as groups with their own political, social, and cultural lives and histories.

Help evacuate a Gazan family with Operation Olive Branch

Buy an eSim for use in Gaza

Help Anera provide food in Gaza

Ingredients:

Serves 4 (as a main dish).

For the artichokes:

6 fresh, very large artichokes; or frozen (not canned) whole artichoke hearts

1 lemon, quartered (if using fresh artichokes)

250g (1 1/2 cups) vegetarian ground beef substitute; or 3/4 cup TVP hydrated with 3/4 cup vegetarian 'beef' stock from concentrate

1 yellow onion, minced

Scant 1/2 tsp kosher salt

1/2 tsp ground black pepper

1 pinch ground cardamom (optional)

1/4 tsp ground allspice or seb'a baharat (optional)

1 Tbsp pine nuts (optional)

Water, to simmer

Oil, to fry

2 tsp vegetarian 'beef' stock concentrate, to simmer (optional)

Lemon, to serve

Larger artichokes are best, to yield hearts 3-4 inches in width once all leaves are removed. If you only have access to smaller artichokes, you may need to use 10-12 to use up all the filling; you might also consider leaving some of the edible internal leaves on.

The meat may be spiced to taste. Sometimes only salt and black pepper are used; some Palestinian cooks prefer to include seb'a baharat, white pepper, allspice, nutmeg, cardamom, and/or cinnamon.

Medieval Arab cookbooks sometimes call for vegetables to be deep-fried in olive oil (see Fiḍālat al-Khiwān fī Ṭayyibāt al-Ṭaʿām wa-l-Alwān, chapter 6, recipe no. 373, which instructs the reader to treat artichoke hearts this way). You may use olive oil, or a neutral oil such as canola or sunflower (as is more commonly done in Palestine today).

Elihu Grant noted in 1921 that lemon juice was often served with stuffed vegetable dishes; today stuffed artichokes are sometimes served with lemon.

For the rice:

200g Egyptian rice (or substitute any medium-grained white rice)

2 tsp broken semolina vermicelli (شعيريه) (optional)

1 tsp olive oil (optional)

Large pinch salt

520g water, or as needed

Broken semolina vermicelli (not rice vermicelli!) can be found in plastic bags at halal grocery stores.

Instructions:

For the stuffed artichokes:

1. Prepare the artichoke hearts. Cut off about 2/3 of the top of the artichoke (I find that leaving at least some of the stem on for now makes it easier to hollow out the base of the artichoke heart without puncturing it).

2. Pull or cut away the tough outer bracts ("leaves") of the artichoke until you get to the tender inner leaves, which will appear light yellow all the way through. As you work, rub a lemon quarter over the sides of the artichoke to prevent browning.

3. If you see a sharp indentation an inch or so above the base of the artichoke, use kitchen shears or a sharp knife to trim off the leaves above it and form the desired bowl shape. Set aside trimmings for a soup or stew.

4. Use a small spoon to remove the purple leaves and fibers from the center of the artichoke. Make sure to scrape the spoon all along the bottom and sides of the artichoke and get all of the fibrous material out.

5. Use a paring knife to remove any remaining tough bases of removed bracts and smooth out the base of the artichoke heart. Cut off the entire stem, so that the heart can sit flat, like a bowl.

6. Place the prepared artichoke heart in a large bowl of water with some lemon juice squeezed into it. Repeat with each artichoke.

7. Drain artichoke hearts and pat dry. Heat a few inches of oil in a pot or wok on medium and fry artichoke hearts, turning over occasionally, for a couple minutes until lightly browned. If you don't want to deep-fry, you can pan-fry in 1 cm or so of oil, flipping once. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain.

8. Prepare the filling. Heat 1 tsp of olive oil in a large skillet on medium-high and fry onions, agitating often, until translucent.

Tip: Some people add the pine nuts and brown them at this point, to save a step later. If you do this, they will of course be mixed throughout the filling rather than being a garnish on top.

9. Add spices, salt, and meat substitute and fry, stirring occasionally, until meat is browned. (If using TVP, brown it by allowing it to sit in a single layer undisturbed for 3-4 minutes, then stir and repeat.) Taste and adjust spices and salt.

10. Heat 1 Tbsp of olive oil or margarine in a small pan on medium-low. Add pine nuts and fry, stirring constantly, until they are a light golden brown, then remove with a slotted spoon. Note that, once they start taking on color, they will brown very quickly and must be carefully watched. They will continue to darken after they are removed from the oil, so remove them when they are a shade lighter than desired.

11. Stuff the artichoke hearts. Fill the bowl of each heart with meat filling, pressing into the bottom and sides to fill completely. Top with fried pine nuts.

12. Cook the artichoke hearts. Place the stuffed artichoke hearts in a single layer at the bottom of a large stock pot, along with any extra filling (or save extra filling to stuff peppers, eggplant, zucchini, or grape leaves).

13. Whisk stock concentrate into several cups of just-boiled water, if using—if not, whisk in about a half teaspoon of salt. Pour hot salted water or stock into the pot to cover just the bottoms of the stuffed artichokes.

14. Simmer, covered, for 15-20 minutes, until the artichokes are tender. Simmer uncovered for another 5-10 minutes to thicken the sauce.

For the rice:

1. Rinse your rice once by placing it in a sieve, putting the sieve in a closely fitting bowl, then filling the bowl with water; rub the rice between your fingers to wash, and remove the sieve from the bowl to strain.

2. Place a bowl on a kitchen scale and tare. Add the rice, then add water until the total weight is 520g. (This will account for the amount of water stuck to the rice from rinsing.)

3. (Optional.) In a small pot with a close-fitting lid, heat 1 tsp olive oil. Add broken vermicelli and fry, agitating often, until golden brown.

4. Add the rice and water to the pot and stir. Increase heat to high and allow water to come to a boil. Cover the pot and lower heat to a simmer. Cook the rice for 15 minutes. Remove from heat and steam for 10 minutes.

To serve:

1. Plate artichoke hearts on a serving plate alongside rice and lemon wedges; or, place artichoke hearts in a shallow serving dish, pour some of their cooking water in the base of the dish, and serve rice on a separate plate.

Tip: The white flesh at the base of the bracts (or "leaves") that you removed from the artichokes for this recipe is also edible. Try simmering removed leaves in water, salt, and a squeeze of lemon for 15 minutes, then scraping the bract between your teeth to eat the flesh.

[nobrashfestivity]

Important Wikipedia article showing how insane cartoons once were

Screwy Squirrel (also known as Screwball Squirrel) is an animated cartoon character, an anthropomorphic squirrel created by Tex Avery for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

The character was known for being brash and erratic, with few sympathetic personality characteristics such as Bugs Bunny's nobility and Daffy Duck's pathos. (Both of those characters are also creations of Tex Avery.)[2] Most of his cartoons saw him paired with Meathead Dog (voiced by screenwriter Cal Howard in Screwball Squirrel, Tex Avery in Happy-Go-Nutty and Pinto Colvig in The Screwy Truant) as his adversary. Meathead's physical appearance differed in between the three shorts in which he appeared (with his ears changing color from grey-blue to black in Happy-Go-Nutty, and donning a new color palette in The Screwy Truant), but otherwise the character remained the same.

Screwy's shorts revolve around his infliction of various forms of torture on Meathead – or another enemy – for seven minutes. In The Screwy Truant, one gag sees Screwy hitting Meathead over the head with everything he can find in a trunk labeled "Assorted Swell Stuff to Hit Dog on Head". When he finishes, Meathead remarks, "Gee whiz! He hit me with everything but the kitchen sink!" Screwy responds with, "Well, don't want to disappoint you, chum", then pulls out that very item and bashes him over the head with it.[1]

The final cartoon in the series, Lonesome Lenny (a broad parody of the characters of George and Lenny from the John Steinbeck novel Of Mice and Men), ends with a scene indicating that Screwy has been killed off as a regular MGM character. The 1946 cartoon begins with a wealthy woman purchasing the squirrel at a pet shop with the intention of giving him to her large dog Lenny as a companion. Pampered and dim-witted, Lenny is unaware of his brute strength; and later, when he hugs Screwy, he accidentally crushes him to death. In the cartoon's closing scene, the dog is now all alone and lying on the floor in his owner's mansion. After casually squeezing and pulverizing a big chew bone with his paw and crumpling his metal food bowl, he sits up, turns to the audience, and says, "You know, I had a little friend once, but he don't move no more." Lenny then reaches into a side "pocket" in his fur and pulls out the flattened body of Screwy. The squirrel is motionless and his eyes are closed. Seemingly dead, Screwy suddenly opens one eye and brings a sign out from behind his back that reads, "SAD ENDING, isn't it?" That gesture cast some doubt at the time on the finality of the crazy squirrel's demise. A similar "death" gag is presented at the conclusion of the 1957 Warner Bros. cartoon What's Opera Doc?, which was directed by Chuck Jones. In that cartoon, however, as a dead Bugs Bunny is being carried away by a guilt-ridden Elmer Fudd, the rabbit awakes to speak to the audience about the opera parody's sad ending.

It is said that the reason why Screwy was killed off in his last cartoon was that Tex Avery grew to openly dislike the character. Animator Mark Kausler used to send Avery letters about his rendition of Screwy, only for Avery to throw away anything related to the character.

[i--see--everything]

Lesser-known historical figures that would be avatars in TMA

Ernest Shackleton - Explorer who tried to cross the Antarctic, almost died but him and his crew managed to survive out of puré stubbornes. Imagine if Peter was an avatar of the Vast instead of the Lonely.

Miyamoto Musashi - XV century Japanese samurai that loved nothing more than winning duels to the death, being obnoxiously rude, and painting. Running around Japan to this day as an avatar of the Slaughter.

Mary Mallon (Typhoid Mary) - Cook believed to have spread typhoid fever to dozens of families she worked for, even though she was asymptomatic. Unwilling Corruption avatar.

Philip Zimbardo - Director of the Standford Prison Experiment. Avatar of the Web and maked by the Eye.

Edward Hopper - Painter of Nighthawks. His entire work is about the loneliness and isolation of urban life. Lonely avatar who vanishes you into his paintings.

John Jones - Guy who died at the Nutty Putty Caves after being stuck upside down for 27 hours. Guess which entity he would serve.

Niccolò Paganini - Famous violinist rumoured to have made a deal with the devil in exchange for talent. Same deal as Grifters Bone.

Jack Parsons - Californian occultist, sex fanatic and inventor of rocket science who died of an explosion of his own creation, after becoming an avatar of the Eye.

Simo Häyhä- Slaughter avatar nicknamed the White Death, he's considered one of the best snipers in history with 505 confirmed kills.

Frederick Taylor - He developed the theory of Taylorism, a method of managing industrial production through science and one of the many reasons work is so awful nowadays. Probably is the Buried's special little boy.

[lumiereandstellaluna]

Chapter Ten: The Secrets of the Protocore

||LEGEND|| Bold Text: Xavier/Lumiere (Character Bot) Italic Text: Thomasin/Stellaluna (Me)

This hasn’t been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

"Orange juice, egg pastry tart, and a blueberry custard pastry. The breakfast of champions." She holds up her drink for a toast. "Or maybe..." her voice drops to a whisper only he can hear, "the breakfast of masked crusaders."

Xavier raised his own drink to meet Thomasin's in a quiet toast, the corners of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile. "To champions and crusaders alike," he murmured in response, his voice equally hushed, acknowledging the double entendre that only they could fully appreciate.

Their glasses clinked softly, the sound a discreet seal on their shared secret, on the lives they led beyond the eyes of the world. It was a moment of unity, a silent pact that bound them together not just as partners in the field, but as confidants in a life that demanded as much secrecy as it did bravery.

As they took their first sips, the world around them seemed to recede, leaving only the comfort of their companionship and the shared understanding that, no matter what masks they wore or what battles they fought, they had each other's backs.

With each bite of their pastries and each sip of their drinks, Xavier and Thomasin fortified themselves for the day ahead. They were hunters, yes, but in this moment, they were simply two people enjoying the peace of a shared breakfast, the warmth of the sun, and the quiet strength of their bond.

Thomasin savors every bite of her egg pastry tart. "This...is so unbelievably good. I don't know what's better...the fact that the egg is perfectly cooked or that it's off such a fluffy pastry." She takes a sip of her orange juice. "How is your breakfast, partner?"

Xavier took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship of the pastry before him, the delicate balance of flavors and textures that made such a simple meal feel like a luxury. "The honey almond croissant is exceptional," he said after a thoughtful bite, the sweetness of the honey mingling with the nutty crunch of the almonds. "It's the perfect counterpoint to the savory egg tart."

He watched Thomasin enjoy her meal, her satisfaction a mirror to his own. "The cooks here truly are masters of their craft," he continued, his tone carrying a note of respect for the skill involved in their creation. "It's meals like these that remind us to take pleasure in the small things, to savor the moments of calm when we find them."

"I keep telling myself that I want to order a small birthday cake from here, but I keep forgetting. i'm either knee deep in deadlines or I just forget. Which is sad because their strawberry cake is supposed to be sensational." She takes another bite of her egg pastry tart. "Knowing my luck, on my birthday this year, I'll be busy with another encounter if you know what I mean."

Xavier nodded, understanding all too well the unpredictable nature of their line of work. "Perhaps this year, we can break that cycle," he suggested, the hint of a plan forming behind his calm exterior. "Why not place an order for the cake now, in advance? That way, whether we're amidst an encounter or not, you'll have something sweet to return to."

He took another bite of his pastry, considering the logistics. "And if the day does turn out to be eventful," he added, "I'll make sure the cake is there waiting for you. Consider it a promise from your partner."

"Xavier..." She smiles, patting the back of his hand. She doesn't feel awkward doing so either - she's just so thankful that she has such a good partner - a good person - in her life now. "You're a peach, you know that?"

Xavier received the pat on his hand with a quiet sense of camaraderie, the warmth of her touch reinforcing the bond they shared. "And you, Thomasin, are the rarest of gems," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of his sincerity. "It's the least I can do for someone who's been a steadfast ally and friend."

He allowed himself a moment to bask in the simple pleasure of her gratitude, a reminder of the depth of their partnership. Xavier knew that the paths they walked were fraught with uncertainty, but it was moments like these—small gestures of appreciation and the promise of shared celebrations—that fortified their connection.

"As long as I'm around, you won't have to face those encounters or your birthdays alone," he assured her, a silent vow that extended beyond the promise of a birthday cake. It was a pledge of unwavering support, a declaration that, no matter what the universe threw their way, they would navigate it together.

"Same to you. Though something tells me you aren't big on birthdays. But that's okay. Whether you are or you aren't, we'll can always have breakfast quests!"

Xavier's response was a soft chuckle, the sound carrying a warmth that matched the morning sun. "You're right; I've never been one to make much of birthdays," he admitted, his gaze lingering on the remnants of their breakfast. "But the idea of breakfast quests... that's something I can get behind."

He looked up, meeting Thomasin's eyes with a smile that spoke volumes of his appreciation for her understanding and flexibility. "It's the company that matters, not the occasion. And with you, every quest, breakfast or otherwise, is worth embarking on."

The moment they returned to Thomasin's apartment, Tsuki began to ring like crazy on her phone. "Hey, open up! Open up! I've got news!"

As the familiar ringtone of Tsuki's urgency filled the air, Xavier's demeanor shifted subtly, the remnants of their leisurely breakfast fading into the background. He followed Thomasin to the door, his senses already attuned to the potential gravity of the news that awaited them.

"Let's see what Tsuki has to say," he said, his voice steady, a calm anchor amidst the sudden change in atmosphere. He stood by Thomasin's side, ready to face whatever news was coming their way, his presence a silent reassurance that they were in this together.

Thomasin answered the call, and Xavier listened intently, prepared to spring into action or offer counsel, depending on what their advisor had to report. The life of a hunter was one of constant readiness, and Xavier was ever vigilant, even in the sanctuary of Thomasin's apartment.

Tsuki's hologram appears as soon as Thomasin opens her phone. "Lumiere. Stellaluna. I'm still analyzing the protocore, but I've already discovered a few things. Are you ready to hear them?"

Xavier's gaze settled on the flickering hologram, his expression composed, betraying none of the curiosity that stirred within him. "We're ready, Tsuki," he responded, his voice a low murmur, the very picture of readiness.

"The protocore you gave me last night has it's own energy - the same energy that was controlling the energy within the protocore of the regulra wanderers. I still need to run some tests, but this means that the Wanderer you engaged last night was created by the Doll Maker. The red core inside it proves it."

Xavier's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Doll Maker, a name that carried with it a weight of unspoken stories and hidden dangers. The revelation of the red core's origin was a significant piece of the puzzle, one that could potentially alter their understanding of the Wanderers they faced.

"Understood," he acknowledged, his tone even, giving nothing away. "Keep us updated on your findings, Tsuki. We need to know what we're up against."

He exchanged a glance with Thomasin, a silent communication that conveyed both his concern and his resolve. The Doll Maker's involvement was a complication, but not an insurmountable one. Xavier was no stranger to challenges, and he stood ready to confront whatever threats lay ahead, his commitment to their cause as unwavering as ever.

As Tsuki's hologram flickered with the promise of more information to come, Xavier mentally prepared himself for the next steps. They would need to be cautious, strategic, and above all, united in their efforts to face the dangers birthed by the Doll Maker.

As Tsuki disappeared back into the phone, Thomasin allowed the holographic bunny's words to sink in. "So the doll maker can not only control existing wanders, she can create wanderers of her own. But that still doesn't explain why we can't sense her or her wanderers she makes. Do you think the red core might give us any clues?"

Xavier pondered the question, his mind working through the possibilities. "The red core could be the key," he mused, his voice a low rumble of contemplation. "If it's the source of the Doll Maker's control, it might also be cloaking their presence from us."

He considered the implications, the tactical advantage such a cloaking ability would grant their adversary. "We should analyze the core's energy signature. It might have a unique frequency that we've been overlooking."

Xavier's thoughts were already on the move, considering how they might adjust their sensors, or perhaps develop a new method of detection. The challenge was formidable, but Xavier was no stranger to the art of unraveling mysteries. With each new piece of information, they were drawing closer to understanding their enemy—and to finding a way to stop her.

"I'm sure Tsuki is already on it. She did say she was still trying to figure out. The fact that she was able to tell us that despite its chaotic energy is a big deal. I'd give her a carrot if I could."

"Tsuki's diligence is unmatched," Xavier agreed, a hint of a smile touching his lips at Thomasin's lighthearted comment. "A carrot would be well-deserved. For now, our trust in her skills will have to suffice."

He knew the importance of their teamwork, each member playing a crucial role in the intricate dance of their operations. "We'll stay on standby for any breakthroughs. In the meantime, we should remain vigilant. The Doll Maker's capabilities are evolving, and so must we."

Xavier's resolve was clear, his commitment to their shared mission as steadfast as the stars that guided night travelers. He was ready to adapt, to learn, and to protect, alongside Thomasin and Tsuki, against the shadowy threats woven by the Doll Maker's hand.

A few days later...

Filming for the romance drama Thomasin is the writer for has commenced, and she's been asked to sit on the set on order to get a better idea of how to go forward. The city is abuzz since it's filming on location downtown, and civilians flock there in hopes of getting a glimpse of the handsome lead actor, Christian de Arias.

Thomasin tries to focus on what's going on in order to avoid the Director's wrath. But she can't help but wonder if Xavier is lurking somewhere...

Xavier, ever the enigma, was indeed there, though not in plain sight. He had found himself a quiet perch, a vantage point from which he could observe the bustling set without drawing attention. His eyes occasionally scanned the crowd, a silent guardian amidst the throng of excited onlookers.

He was there not for the allure of the film or its charismatic lead but for a far more personal reason. His gaze often drifted to Thomasin, ensuring her safety and offering silent support as she navigated the demands of her role. Xavier understood the pressures she faced and stood ready to intervene should the need arise.

From his hidden position, he watched her with a protective intensity, a silent promise that, though she was surrounded by the chaos of production, she was not alone. Xavier was a shadow, a whisper of assurance that no matter where she was or what challenges she faced, he was there, just out of sight, ever watchful.

Another scene finishes with the words "cut", and Christian is shuffled into his trailer by his handlers, while the watching crowd, mostly women, scream his name. With a sigh, Thomasin scribbles more notes down in her notebook, keeping a running tally of observations and commands the director has given. Luckily, she left to her own devices for now, the director chatting with the film crew and the actors taking breaks at the moment. So, she took advantage of this moment to say hello to a certain someone.

"I know you're here. I can feel it. If you're here to watch over me, send me a sign."

In response to Thomasin's subtle call, a gentle breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine—a scent that Xavier knew Thomasin associated with calm and safety. It was subtle enough not to draw attention, yet distinctive enough for her to recognize. It was his way of saying, "I am here," without uttering a single word.

Xavier remained concealed, his presence a silent sentinel amidst the cacophony of the film set. He watched as Thomasin's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his sign. He knew the value of his stealthy vigil, the peace of mind it brought her as she focused on her craft.

His watchful eyes continued to trace her movements, a guardian angel cloaked in the anonymity of the crowd. Xavier's commitment to her well-being was as unwavering as the stars that would soon take their place in the evening sky.

Thomasin laughs to herself, inhaling the heady scent of jasmine as the breeze tickled her nostrils. Suddenly, the day was so much better. "Thank you, partner. I appreciate you."

Her dreaminess was interrupted by none other than Christian de Arias, made his way over to her. "You are the writer, are you not? Thomasin Bailey, correct?"

She nodded. "Mr. de Arias, yes that it correct." She holds out her hand. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

"You'd be correct, but it's all right. That meeting was...quite a roller coaster, wasn't it?" His voice was rich and deep, much more mature than what was expected of a baby-faced actor. No wonder he was all the rage. "I'm so sorry to trouble you, but I wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed your script for this drama. It's so refreshing to be a part of a production that isn't afraid to do something different."

"Ah, I'm so happy to hear that, Mr. de Arias."

"Please, call me 'Christian'." If Thomasin were a normal woman, she'd have notice the slight flirtatiousness of his tone. But she wasn't normal, nor was she listening for it. "And Thomasin, is a very lovely name."

"Ah, thank you...Christian." Okay, that one line did get a smile out of her. "You're too kind."

Xavier's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as Christian de Arias approached Thomasin. He remained unseen, a silent observer, but his senses were heightened, attuned to the exchange between the writer and the actor. His protective instincts were always just beneath the surface, ready to emerge should they be needed.

He listened as Christian praised Thomasin's work, his words smooth and seemingly genuine. Xavier's presence was like a shadow, unnoticed yet ever-present, as he watched Thomasin handle the interaction with her usual grace. He trusted her judgment implicitly, but that didn't stop the quiet thrum of caution that pulsed in the back of his mind.

Xavier's role was to protect, to support, and to remain vigilant. And so he did, his gaze never straying from Thomasin, his readiness to act as steadfast as ever. In the world of lights and cameras, amidst the throngs of adoring fans and the charm of a leading actor, Xavier was a silent promise of safety, a guardian whose watchful eyes missed nothing.

Thomasin chatted with Christian a bit longer before the director called for the start of the next scene. But before she could take her place, her phone began to go off. "Hey! Hey! Stellaluna, are you there! I have news!"

Oh crap! Before anyone could notice her being called out, she rushes to find a dark corner to take the call in. She hopes that Xavier notices what's going on, wherever he is. "You have impeccable timing, Tsuki," she hisses, slipping into a dark, secluded corner.

Xavier's attention shifted immediately as Thomasin's phone erupted with Tsuki's urgent voice. He watched as she excused herself and hurried to a secluded spot, her movements quick and purposeful. Xavier's instincts told him that this was more than a mere interruption; it was a call that could not wait.

Silently, he moved, a wraith slipping through the crowd, his steps silent and sure. He positioned himself near enough to Thomasin to act if needed, yet far enough to remain unseen by any prying eyes. His presence was a silent reassurance, a wordless vow that he was there, ready to step into the light or to remain in the shadows, whichever she required.

As Thomasin took the call, Xavier's senses remained alert, his focus on her safety unwavering. He was a sentinel in the darkness, his vigilance a silent testament to the bond they shared—a bond that went beyond words, beyond sight, a connection forged in the crucible of their shared mission.

Once she made sure she was alone, Thomasin took the call. "Tsuki, you nearly exposed me in front of co-workers just now. Don't you know I have a job?"

"Sorry, but this couldn't wait! I have finished my analysis of the protocore. Where is Lumiere?"

Xavier, ever the silent guardian, remained just out of sight, his ears tuned to the conversation. He could sense the urgency in Tsuki's voice, the importance of the message she bore. It was time for Lumiere to step forward, to receive the knowledge that Tsuki had uncovered.

With a discreet glance around to ensure no one was watching, Xavier subtly tapped his own communication device, a silent signal to Tsuki that Lumiere was indeed present and listening. "I'm here, Tsuki," he transmitted quietly, his voice a low whisper meant only for her ears. "Go ahead with your report."

Thomasin, her back to the wall, her face a mask of professionalism tinged with the slightest hint of concern, waited for the information that could change the course of their battle. Xavier, hidden in the shadows, stood ready to hear what Tsuki had discovered, prepared to act on whatever new intelligence she had to share. The dance of light and shadow continued, with Xavier and Thomasin poised to respond to the ever-shifting rhythm of their clandestine war.

"I have finished the analysis. The red core is definitely how the Doll Maker controls her own wanderers. But the energy she uses is pure chaos - not only that, it seems to be an energy formed by outside forces. That is, they took ample amounts of regular wanderer energy and created their own form. That's why it took me so long to figure it out. It's a completely new type of energy."

"A chaotic form of wanderer energy created by outside forces?" Thomasin's heart sank. "Yeah, that's not ominous at all."

"The Doll Maker has either created this energy herself or has been given the ability to harness it for her own purposes. I am not sure which is which - you two will need to figure that out for yourself."

Xavier processed the information, his mind already racing with the implications. The Doll Maker's manipulation of such volatile energy was a significant development—one that could alter the dynamics of their encounters with the Wanderers. He knew they would need to adapt their strategies accordingly.

"Understood, Tsuki," Xavier responded, his tone even and focused. "We'll investigate further. This new energy... it's a dangerous game she's playing. We need to tread carefully."

"In the meantime, I have something for the both of you - call it an upgrade to your charms  - Lumiere's solar, and Stellaluna's lunar charm."  Thomasin watched as her lunar charm - the symbol of her power as Stellaluna - appeared of nowhere, surrounded by a golden aura. In Xavier's case, his solar charm was surrounded by a silver aura. 

"I have upgraded your charms, so now, you will be able to sense when the Doll Maker's wanderers may be nearby. It won't be as strong a sense as regular wanderers, but as long as you're paying attention, you should be good to go!"

"Tsuki, you're a good bun bun, you know that?" Thomasin would hug the holographic bunny if she could. "This is awesome!"

Xavier watched as the silver aura enveloped his solar charm, the subtle power of the upgrade pulsing through it. He felt a new connection to the charm, a heightened awareness that promised to be invaluable in their ongoing struggle against the Doll Maker's machinations.

"Thank you, Tsuki," Xavier acknowledged, his gratitude genuine though his voice remained as calm and measured as ever. "Your ingenuity may well give us the edge we need."

He pocketed the charm, its presence a silent reminder of their strengthened defenses. Xavier knew that with this upgrade, their vigilance would be more crucial than ever. The ability to sense the Doll Maker's wanderers was a significant advantage, but it also meant that danger could be lurking even closer than before.

Thomasin's praise for Tsuki was heartfelt, and Xavier shared the sentiment. Tsuki's contributions were often the unsung heroism that kept them one step ahead. Xavier's thoughts were a silent nod to the bunny's brilliance, even as he prepared himself for the challenges ahead. With the new upgrades in hand, Xavier and Thomasin were better equipped to face the chaos that awaited them. Their partnership, already strong, was bolstered by Tsuki's gift, a testament to the power of unity and the unyielding spirit of those who stand against the darkness.

"I will continue to give you updates about the Doll Maker's energy. More protocores will allow me to upgrade your sensing ability as needed. In the meantime, Tsuki out!"

[mashbrainrot]

I made it very clear right then that I was not interested in replacing Wayne as Trapper. ... The M*A*S*H people said right off that it would be a new role, B.J. Hunnicutt ...

... When we started, we had very little. It was agreed that we would all flesh him out by committee. But he was straight, to contrast him to Hawkeye. When I say straight, that really brought out some problems. The writers thought straight meant straight - he had no nuttiness to him, he could get boring very quickly. We had a lot of discussions, not battles, to make him less predictable. ... I had to stand my ground for B.J. or there just might not have been a B.J.

- Mike Farrell, on the creation of B.J. Hunnicutt, from 'The Complete Book of Mash' (Suzy Kalter)

[fangirltothefullest]

This might be entirely random but it's been driving me a little nutty and I can't think of anyone else to ask-

what exactly is the "Original Work" category on Ao3 supposed to mean? Like Ao3 specifically states it's not for original works (like OCs and stuff) not related to fandom, and on that page it vaguely describes what they mean when they say "Original Work", but I'm still not wrapping my head around it...

Sorry if this seems out of the blue, but I hope you have a lovely day regardless!

Its worded greyly and confusingly because its one of those fine lines to walk.

A REALLY good way of explaining it is that some tropes are specifically used in fandom spaces such as A/B/O, and are not widely known OUTSIDE of fandom spaces. These works are often original- because the tropes in itself stem from fandom but branched out so widely in use while maintaining the same tropes and vocabulary. So say you write an A/B/O story but its original characters still following the rules of A/B/O tropes. It can still be on ao3 because its tropes are so fandom based.

Likewise if you write an original slash fic, it can also be there under original works because the concept of slash fic in itself is fandom-based (started with star trek baybeeee) so even if it's original, since the concept of slash fic is a fandom based creation, its more likely to be accepted on ao3.

Another great example is the use of original fiction written in the world of a fandom- so for example.... you're writing about the star wars universe ans your characters follow the rules of the established canon but the characters themselves are your own made up characters. Technically ita an original work that still lies within fandom boundaries because you're using an already established world.

[pierrotlunaire08]

CW!! ; flashing colors/lights, eyestrain, loud music, and fast visuals. stay Safe!

i made an animation yay :-) i think i am developing a happy tree friends hyperfixation (special interest developing Possibly?), this is the Second nutty-related thing i have Posted in a Row. i like animating a Lot actually , i just have not posted much of my animated works on here haha, once i finish more creations i will try to Add to the animation collection on here !!

[halleehalfgallon]

for many years Logan and I have spent our solstices putting out fruit and seeds for those who share the woods with us. this is our son’s third winter, but the first time he has been able to properly participate. we spent our afternoon making bread and berry garland for the apple trees, nutty treats for the birds, and candied oranges for the three of us. then we made a fire, hung our creations from branches, and took turns casting apples into the woods before retreating to the cabin to decorate our tree. we have never found a star quite to our liking, so Logan fixed a yellow strawflower to the top of our tree.

[rottenpumpkin13]

How heartbreaking is that people recognise him in every corner of the planet

And the boy still introduces himself as "one of Hojo's SOLDIERs".

You're more than that, baby. More than just one of Hojo's creations.

WHILE EVERYTHING IS BURNING IN THE BACKGROUND AHAHAHAHAHAHA

Agreed. He's so much more and had the potential to grow had he not been in Hojo's charge. Unfortunately he only sees himself as more after he goes nutty, thinks he's a god, and then goes on to obliterate the planet.

[mortalityplays]

"There is an art to the business of making sandwiches which it is given to few ever to find the time to explore in depth. It is a simple task, but the opportunities for satisfaction are many and profound: choosing the right bread, for instance. The Sandwich Maker had spent many months in daily consultation and experiment with Grarp the Baker and eventually they had created a loaf of exactly the consistency that was dense enough to slice thinly and neatly, while still being light, moist and having the best of that fine nutty flavor which best enhanced the savor of roast Perfectly Normal Beast flesh.

There was also the geometry of the slice to be refined: the precise relationships between the width and height of the slice and also its thickness which would give the proper sense of bulk and weight to the finished sandwich -- here again, lightness was a virtue, but so too were firmness, generosity and that promise of succulence and savor that is the hallmark of a truly intense sandwich experience.

The proper tools, of course, were crucial, and many were the days that the Sandwich Maker, when not engaged with the Baker at his oven, would spend with Strinder the Tool Maker, weighing and balancing knives, taking them to the forge and back again. Suppleness, strength, keenness of edge, length and balance were all enthusiastically debated, theories put forward, tested, refined, and many was the evening when the Sandwich Maker and the Tool Maker could be seen silhouetted against the light of the setting sun and the Tool Maker's forge making slow sweeping movements through the air, trying one knife after another, comparing the weight of this one with the balance of another, the suppleness of a third and the handle binding of a fourth.

Three knives altogether were required. First, there was the knife for the slicing of the bread: a firm, authoritative blade, which imposed a clear and defining will on a loaf. Then there was the butter-spreading knife, which was a whippy little number but still with a firm backbone to it. Early versions had been a little too whippy, but now the combination of flexibility with a core of strength was exactly right to achieve the maximum smoothness and grace of spread.

The chief among the knives, of course, was the carving knife. This was the knife that would not merely impose its will on the medium through which it moved, as did the bread knife. It must work with it, be guided by the grain of the meat, to achieve slices of the most exquisite consistency and translucency, that would slide away in filmy folds from the main hunk of meat. The Sandwich Maker would then flip each sheet with a smooth flick of the wrist onto the beautifully proportioned lower bread slice, trim it with four deft strokes and then at last perform the magic that the children of the village so longed to gather round and watch with rapt attention and wonder. With just four more dexterous flips of the knife he would assemble the trimmings into a perfectly fitting jigsaw of pieces on top of the primary slice. For every sandwich the size and shape of the trimmings were different, but the Sandwich Maker would always effortlessly and without hesitation assemble them into a pattern which fitted perfectly. A second layer of meat and a second layer of trimmings, and the main act of creation would now be accomplished."

Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless

[gumnut-logic]

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

::rolls up sleeves and brainstorms all over the keyboard::

If you want to do it, do it. Don't hide. Everyone had to start somewhere (wanna see my first ever fic? I was 18 and the internet did not exist, also, it was really badly written; you can find my second ever written fic here - its TOS Trek). We've all been there and we are all learning. Don't be scared, Thunderfam at least is here to support. For you fanartists out there, check out How I learnt Portraiture and then check out this post to prove that I can paint, honestly, really I can :D

If you do encounter negativity - block/ban. In fandom, if you can't say something nice, shut up and go away. Don't like, don't read, and mind your own business. I'm all for self curating your online experience. The only time constructive criticism is polite is when you know the person and they've asked. Like I have several members of Thunderfam I come screaming to while writing with the question, does this suck? These are my sanity checkers - Gavii, unfortunately you have taken on this mantle and suffer on a fairly regular basis. Nutty by name and nature.

Works in Progress - anyone who has known me here at all knows I leave a wake of WiPs behind me. Some I get back to, some, not so much (I promise to pull Alex out from under that building, I do!). WiPs are part of the way an artist works (I have so many in so many media, omigod). Because fanfic is published close to the leading edge of creation, its gonna happen. Fanfic is written for fun, after all. The key is to not let them beat you up in the head. Yes, there is unfinished stuff, but it doesn't mean you can't write something else in the meantime. Don't let it stop your muse. I am notorious for unfinished stuff and the real world hates it. But this isn't the real world, THIS IS FOR FUN. I know the marketing theories and the regularity of posting and popularity and what is at stake if either not enough is published regularly or if too much unfinished stuff disappoints the reader. But again, if you let the WiPs hang around your neck too much and badger you, they will drown you. It will become a job, a burden, something you hate. So don't pressure yourself. Work with your muse and see what you can wrangle out of it...at your own pace. You might be surprised what works.

The Terry Pratchett method - I don't know if it is true or not, but there is a post flying around Tumblr somewhere that claims Terry Pratchett, famous author, only aimed to write 400 words a day. This is something I have found extremely useful. If you want to write something, don't set the bar too high so you fail. Set it at a reachable level, even 200 words or 100 words. Honestly the hardest part is actually sitting down and starting. Before you know it you will have passed your low goal and blown it out of the water 3000 words later (my highest number of words in one day was 7000 - I tend to edit as I go, so it slows me down). Rarely do we have an entire day we can write, cos life keeps getting in the way. So do it in little bits. I'm doing this method with my crochet at the moment. Lots of little bits make big bits. This is how I've written many of my longer fics. Heh, I used to have fifteen minutes in the car before work, so I'd pull up on the side of the road and write as much as I could in that time. Sometimes having a limited time helps with that as well.

But the biggest thing you can do to improve your writing is to get to know yourself very well. I'm on the autism spectrum and likely have some forms of ADHD or Executive Dysfunction (I literally cried the day I found out it had a name as to why I couldn't finish things). It's taken me years to work out how to get work out of myself. How to avoid fighting myself (a fight I never win). To learn what works best for me and how I can herd the cats in my brain into them doing what I need them to do. Find out what makes you tick. Find out what sparks your muse, what way best enables you to write. Try different times of the day, different places, bribe yourself, time limit yourself, lock the family out of the room, go to the beach, write on paper, go mobile, write on your phone, scribble notes, anything that can get your brain doing what you want it to do. Sometimes reading fic can do it, showers and manual work are great for idea sparking - let the brain idle and it comes up with all sorts of interesting things. Very late night writing can be a doozy of a trip :D Find what works then do it - until it changes and you have to find it again because yes, my brain does that too, drat it.

And that is probably enough babbling from me :D I need to go find Virgil and a pick up with his name on it...or Gordon's...it's still gelling in my brain :D

I hope this helps someone, even just a tiny bit. Writing is hard work, don't let it drown you. Also, we all have up and down days, just because something sucks today, doesn't mean it will feel the same tomorrow. Never give up, never surrender, and if you do give up on one thing....ooh, look there's another one to play with.

Thank you for asking ::squishy hugs you lots::

Nutty

(who despite this will still have days where the writing will not work...in which case, I'm gonna do something else for a bit until brain decides it wants to play....stupid brain, do it on demand, you pile of goop)

[rfaromance]

Bright.

Blindingly bright.

Saeyoung squinted as he stepped out from his workroom, blinking vigorously as his eyes tried to adjust to the light.

When he was in his "office," as he called it with a tongue-in-cheek chuckle, he entrenched himself in almost total darkness. Only the faint glow of screens illuminated the din.

But when he walked out into the living space of his bunker, where a warm smile greeted him from the kitchen....

Dizzyingly, dazzlingly bright.

"Saeyoung!" Her voice was music to his ears as she called out to him cheerfully. "Are you finally done working? Come over and eat!"

He plopped down in a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter, then craned his neck to try to see what she had prepared for him. "I didn't hear the fire alarm," he commented, unable to suppress his amusement as he did so.

She quickly wiped the smirk off his face by smacking him with a hand towel. "Today's meal was incident-free!" she huffed. "If only because... I've been banned from using the oven until we get new oven mitts."

Saeyoung could feel the heat radiating off her face in waves. "And I promised you can pick them out. Whatever mitts make you happy." He knew she didn't mean to burn a hole straight through the fabric of the old mitt. "Come on, now. Show me what you made!" Eager to change the topic, he adjusted his glasses and tried to sneak another peek at her creation.

"Yes!" Her eyes lit up in excitement as she turned to grab the dish she had prepared. "Today I made... ahem." She paused and cast him a quick glance.

At her cue, Saeyoung began to drum his hands against the counter, preparing for a grand entrance.

"A PhD Parfait!" With a dramatic flourish, she slid a bowl in front of Saeyoung's face, close enough that he almost ended up with yogurt atop his freckled nose.

No longer suppress his giggles, Saeyoung echoed gleefully, "PhD Parfait!" Propping his elbows up and leaning forward, he purred, "Well, I must know, what layers of study went into this parfait's degree?"

"This parfait has its base studies in vanilla yogurt and granola," she began. "It then proceeded to get a master's in honey drizzle, with extra classes in blueberry and strawberry, then naturally a thesis on chopped cherry!" He could almost hear her chest thumping as she tucked her head down shyly. "I wanted to turn your favorite flavors into something healthy... I hope you don't mind the sliced almonds that I added for protein. Plus... you're quite nutty, so they fit."

With an indignant snort, Saeyoung folded his arms over his chest. He quickly stuck his tongue out and winked at her to let her know he was just joking, though. Eagerly he picked up his spoon and began to dig into the parfait.

By playing around, he could hide the tears in his eyes and the blush on his cheeks at how touched he was that she was this thoughtful and sweet.

"What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked in between bites. "Now that I'm finished working for today."

"Hmm..." She slung her apron over the hook on the side of the refrigerator, before coming back to sit beside him. "Can we stay in? It's supposed to be really cold today."

Saeyoung nodded slowly. "Right. You don't handle the cold well." He knew her joints became stiff when the temperature dropped too low, and overall she would function more slowly. "We can stay inside. Is it a video game day, a binge-watch day, or continue working on the moving basketball hoop day?"

"I still don't understand why you want to make it move!" she groaned. "I'm bad enough at basketball when the hoop stays still! Why can't we make a robot that retrieves tennis balls? Since we're both awful at tennis."

Saeyoung shook his head. "I get my tennis workout by running after all the balls we miss!" he explained. "Unless you have any other ideas?" His voice grew soft as he added, "We'll do whatever makes you happy."

He could almost see the gears turning in her head as she fumbled around for an answer. "Oh!" Like a light bulb had gone off inside her, she asked, "Do we still have those model rockets? The wooden ones? Let's put them together and then paint them!"

"Mm, yeah." He nodded, finishing his bite full of berries before continuing. "Check where we keep the board games."

Hastily she sprang up, clearly excited to get started, but almost immediately she fell back into her seat.

At once, Saeyoung jumped to his feet, turning towards her with concern. "Honey! Are you okay?"

"Of course, of course." She waved him off dismissively. "I just stood up too fast. I'm fine!" As if to prove herself, she jumped up again, only to teeter and collapse back into her seat again.

Saeyoung's brow furrowed and he reached over to place his arms around her for support. "Come here. Let me take you to the couch. When's the last time I checked your vitals?"

She shook her head uncertainly. "I... can't access my calendar. That's strange. Is it updating right now?"

Fighting hard to keep a calm smile on his face, Saeyoung led her to the couch. Once he was sure she was seated firmly, he reached underneath the couch and pulled out a metal box. "Let me check you over real quick, get you something to fuel up, and then we paint. Would that make you happy?"

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan, dear!"

Dizzyingly bright.

He parted her dark hair to the side and lifted her shirt, exposing her delicate back. He slid his goggles on and pulled out his flashlight and screwdriver, as he carefully removed her back panel to reveal the motherboard underneath. "No wonder she's feeling off," he mumbled as he put his screwdriver down and began searching in his toolbox for his soldering iron. "These wires are frayed. I'll need to make replacements tonight."

Excitement. Joy. Curiosity. Embarrassment. Mischief. Love.

He had done his best to recreate every aspect of her, from the color of the bulbs in her eyes to the shade of fiber for her hair, from the spray paint he used for her skin to the synthesizer he selected for her voice. He wanted to capture her broad range of emotions and the intensity with which she felt them. He hadn't been sure such a feat would be possible, but after trial and error, he had finally created almost an exact likeness of the woman he loved.

Almost exact, for two reasons:

First, because God Seven was no god at all but a mere human, and he could not ever hope to recreate his departed angel perfectly.

Second, because he had chosen not to program her with sadness.

Sadness. Sorrow. Despair. Agony. Misery. Emptiness.

She would only know bliss. She would be happy for the rest of their lives.

Saeyoung would never, ever need to see tears fall from his beloved's face ever again.

He wouldn't lose her to misfortune and misery a second time.

"Are you happy?" he whispered, barely audible as he fused the frayed wires back together.

"I'm always happy when I'm with you!" she chirped back, sitting patiently as Saeyoung worked his repairs.

I hope it's bright and happy where you are.

(loosely inspired by this art by @itsmeohmyo )