From a seemingly quiet observation I could feel the build up towards survival and you depicted perfectly how ambivalent it is. ” Written like the world exists to be understood, not survived” Brilliant writing!!
I’m glad you felt the story. Survival is rarely loud at first. It gathers quietly, under the surface, and the ambivalence is part of its weight - wanting to understand, yet having to endure.
This hit like a gut punch. The way it moves from quiet observation to raw survival is brutal and beautiful at the same time. That line about unfinishedness being “cute” really stuck with me so much truth in how life doesn’t wait for metaphors to resolve. Incredible writing.
Thank you Aailiya! That means a lot. The shift from quiet to survival was exactly what I was trying to hold - that moment when reflection stops being safe and becomes necessary. I’m really glad that line stayed with you.
I’m glad the scene felt dimensional - almost self-aware. That quiet mockery was intentional. Not to dismiss “clean” writing, but to question who it’s written for, and what it quietly assumes about the world.
That last line sits close to me too. Sometimes the gap between understanding and surviving is the whole story.
Those lines came from a very quiet, very real place. I wanted tomorrow to feel close enough to touch, but just out of reach - like something you still have to face, even when you’d rather stay still.
The opening critique of “clean” meaning-making hits hard — especially the line about writing for people who don’t wake up broke.
You don’t romanticise survival. You render it.
What makes the piece more than rage is the self-implication. The real turn isn’t Asgard being real — it’s the recognition that sarcasm was a flotation device.
The myth doesn’t save him, it feels like it it exposes him.
And that’s where the writing sharpens.
This isn’t about gods.
It’s about the psychology of someone who refuses shore because shore requires commitment.
It’s angry, yes. But it’s also honest about the cost of floating.
The stories begin to merge in parallel now, bigger picture unravels. Slowly, gracefully, very humanly. That’s what happens when floating is no longer allowed. Very cool!
I’m so glad MoTy you feel that. Yes - once floating is no longer an option, everything starts to converge. The merging was inevitable. Thank you for noticing the pace of it.
I love the originality of your work, and the messages in it.
I hope I have grasped what you have tried to convey in this piece.
I think the defensiveness is about survival, not cruelty. I felt the pain behind the cynicism…the sense of someone who’s had to survive so long that softness feels suspicious. The contrast between “clean” words and lived reality was powerful and uncomfortable in a way that felt intentional…it felt honest.
Thank you Hidden for reading it that carefully. You understood it exactly as I hoped someone would. The defensiveness isn’t cruelty - it’s a scar that learned to function. I’m grateful you felt the pain behind it, not just the surface. Glad to see you here
Your writing style is what caught my attention; it is truly unique and different. The words you use are like photographs, because I can actually see the image while I'm reading. I really enjoyed reading your work.
Thank you for noticing that. It’s a very precise description of what actually happens - and it means a lot that you saw it.
That is genuinely how my mind works. Every story begins as a small film that I watch inside. Scenes unfold, light shifts, gestures appear, space has texture. And afterwards - maybe it’s a kind of cheating - I simply describe in words what I’ve already seen.
That’s why it often feels cinematic and visually driven. I’m not inventing images while writing - I’m translating them.
That is a beautiful way to describe it—being a translator of your own inner cinema. It definitely isn’t 'cheating'; it’s a gift to be able to capture those shifting lights and textures so clearly that we, as readers, feel like we are watching the film with you. Thank you for sharing that vision with us.
In my opinion, creating fiction is incredibly difficult. I have been writing for almost 20 years, and fiction remains the hardest thing in the world for me. I’ve never been able to imagine a picture I invented, to visualize, manifest, or imagine something that never happened to me. That’s why, to me, what you do is the talent of all talents. When I write, I write from pure feelings and experience. But to create a film in your head that never occurred and write it in such vivid images that every single one can be seen—that is art, a talent, and something completely out of reach for me. It is truly special!
The Honda not being called a Honda made me grin~ because it sounds like you can hear the cough before the engine catches and you just accept it as the day’s mood.
Your prose hits like a pulse in the dark...every line a weight, every silence a trap. I felt the tension between structure and chaos, and how survival is an art, not a rule. The raft metaphor lingers...spite and humor as shields against a world that demands endings. You make the reader build their own meaning while the text quietly floats beyond it.
Hey, thank you, Dawnithic - it’s truly an honour to read words like that from you.
I’m glad you felt the tension. That’s exactly where the text lives for me - between structure and chaos, with the characters simply trying to stay afloat. If the raft lingers, then it’s done what it was meant to do.
I’ve never wanted to hand over a finished meaning. I’d rather offer a current and let the reader find their own way through it. Your reading was thoughtful and generous - I’m genuinely grateful you stepped onto the raft with me.
"He smirked and kept scrolling" 🐈⬛
From a seemingly quiet observation I could feel the build up towards survival and you depicted perfectly how ambivalent it is. ” Written like the world exists to be understood, not survived” Brilliant writing!!
Thank you Theinspilled that’s beautifully put.
I’m glad you felt the story. Survival is rarely loud at first. It gathers quietly, under the surface, and the ambivalence is part of its weight - wanting to understand, yet having to endure.
That line carries a lot for me.
I’m grateful it resonated with you.
"Loki.
Not a god.
Not a hero.
The last thing that still floats
when floating is no longer allowed."
Standing ovation 👏
This hit like a gut punch. The way it moves from quiet observation to raw survival is brutal and beautiful at the same time. That line about unfinishedness being “cute” really stuck with me so much truth in how life doesn’t wait for metaphors to resolve. Incredible writing.
Thank you Aailiya! That means a lot. The shift from quiet to survival was exactly what I was trying to hold - that moment when reflection stops being safe and becomes necessary. I’m really glad that line stayed with you.
'Home starts where
you stop being ready to leave.' oh my. 💙
I’m really glad that line found you 💙
Thank you for holding it so gently. )))
This is one of my favourite ones because of the scene it’s set in, the 3D vibe and it almost mocks the other chapters-
“All that stuff about how
if you look the right way,
things eventually line up.
He smirked and kept scrolling.
Good writing, he thought.
Clean writing.
Written like the world exists
to be understood,
not survived.”
Gosh have I ever felt that when reading!
GUUB!!
That makes me really happy to hear!
I’m glad the scene felt dimensional - almost self-aware. That quiet mockery was intentional. Not to dismiss “clean” writing, but to question who it’s written for, and what it quietly assumes about the world.
That last line sits close to me too. Sometimes the gap between understanding and surviving is the whole story.
Thank you for feeling it with me.
And you can connect more dots now )
He isn’t mocking hope.
He’s allergic to it.
That jacket — he never takes it off because the world has trained him not to exhale. That’s not cynicism. That’s survival.
“Written like the world exists to be understood, not survived.”
There’s the knife.
He laughs at ships and bridges — but when the net rises, he fights.
That’s the tell. He doesn’t want myth. He wants proof something will grab back.
The raft made of spite and refusal? Brilliant. That’s how some of us float.
This isn’t about Asgard.
It’s about the humiliation of needing rescue when you’ve built an identity around not asking.
That final silence isn’t surrender.
It’s recognition.
That’s perfect Dipti
Thank you for such deep feedback
Perfect? No. Just attentive.
Your piece did the heavy lifting. I only followed the fracture lines you left exposed.
Deep feedback is easy when the writing is already bleeding in the right places.
But thank you, not for the compliment. For writing something worth entering.
"Not a word about tomorrow.
About waking up broke
but still having to get up.
About the moment when all those transitions
run straight into an empty pocket
and yesterday’s shirt that still smells like you." Haunting but in a good way. Beautiful as always, @Odr.
COSMIC!!
Thank you sp much, that means a lot to me.
Those lines came from a very quiet, very real place. I wanted tomorrow to feel close enough to touch, but just out of reach - like something you still have to face, even when you’d rather stay still.
I’m grateful they stayed with you. Truly.
Glad you resonetd
This is muscular writing Óðr.
The opening critique of “clean” meaning-making hits hard — especially the line about writing for people who don’t wake up broke.
You don’t romanticise survival. You render it.
What makes the piece more than rage is the self-implication. The real turn isn’t Asgard being real — it’s the recognition that sarcasm was a flotation device.
The myth doesn’t save him, it feels like it it exposes him.
And that’s where the writing sharpens.
This isn’t about gods.
It’s about the psychology of someone who refuses shore because shore requires commitment.
It’s angry, yes. But it’s also honest about the cost of floating.
That’s what gives it weight.
Great writing!
Thank you Mark - that’s a sharp and generous reading.
By my initial concept, this turn isn’t the myth but the exposure. Sarcasm was a flotation device, and letting that be seen mattered more than any god.
I’m glad the honesty about the cost of floating came through.
That’s where the weight is for me.
The stories begin to merge in parallel now, bigger picture unravels. Slowly, gracefully, very humanly. That’s what happens when floating is no longer allowed. Very cool!
I’m so glad MoTy you feel that. Yes - once floating is no longer an option, everything starts to converge. The merging was inevitable. Thank you for noticing the pace of it.
I love the originality of your work, and the messages in it.
I hope I have grasped what you have tried to convey in this piece.
I think the defensiveness is about survival, not cruelty. I felt the pain behind the cynicism…the sense of someone who’s had to survive so long that softness feels suspicious. The contrast between “clean” words and lived reality was powerful and uncomfortable in a way that felt intentional…it felt honest.
Powerful and intentional. 🙏💛
Thank you Hidden for reading it that carefully. You understood it exactly as I hoped someone would. The defensiveness isn’t cruelty - it’s a scar that learned to function. I’m grateful you felt the pain behind it, not just the surface. Glad to see you here
That really worked. Well done.
Thank you Gustavo,
Gustavo. I like that.
Your writing style is what caught my attention; it is truly unique and different. The words you use are like photographs, because I can actually see the image while I'm reading. I really enjoyed reading your work.
Thank you for noticing that. It’s a very precise description of what actually happens - and it means a lot that you saw it.
That is genuinely how my mind works. Every story begins as a small film that I watch inside. Scenes unfold, light shifts, gestures appear, space has texture. And afterwards - maybe it’s a kind of cheating - I simply describe in words what I’ve already seen.
That’s why it often feels cinematic and visually driven. I’m not inventing images while writing - I’m translating them.
That is a beautiful way to describe it—being a translator of your own inner cinema. It definitely isn’t 'cheating'; it’s a gift to be able to capture those shifting lights and textures so clearly that we, as readers, feel like we are watching the film with you. Thank you for sharing that vision with us.
Thank you, but honeslty i beleive this is not something special. To create something is the talent.
In my opinion, creating fiction is incredibly difficult. I have been writing for almost 20 years, and fiction remains the hardest thing in the world for me. I’ve never been able to imagine a picture I invented, to visualize, manifest, or imagine something that never happened to me. That’s why, to me, what you do is the talent of all talents. When I write, I write from pure feelings and experience. But to create a film in your head that never occurred and write it in such vivid images that every single one can be seen—that is art, a talent, and something completely out of reach for me. It is truly special!
Had a feeling Loki had something to do with this.
Thanks, Alicia. He definitely had to 🙂
My fave Norse god next to Freya!🐱
The Honda not being called a Honda made me grin~ because it sounds like you can hear the cough before the engine catches and you just accept it as the day’s mood.
Thank you Asuka!
I love that you heard it that way.
That small cough before the engine turns over.
That’s exactly it.
Not a flaw.
Just character.
Some mornings don’t start clean.
They clear their throat first. ))))
Your prose hits like a pulse in the dark...every line a weight, every silence a trap. I felt the tension between structure and chaos, and how survival is an art, not a rule. The raft metaphor lingers...spite and humor as shields against a world that demands endings. You make the reader build their own meaning while the text quietly floats beyond it.
Hey, thank you, Dawnithic - it’s truly an honour to read words like that from you.
I’m glad you felt the tension. That’s exactly where the text lives for me - between structure and chaos, with the characters simply trying to stay afloat. If the raft lingers, then it’s done what it was meant to do.
I’ve never wanted to hand over a finished meaning. I’d rather offer a current and let the reader find their own way through it. Your reading was thoughtful and generous - I’m genuinely grateful you stepped onto the raft with me.