#old man yells into a void cloud

[iftadwascool]

im gonna be honest with ya, i didnt really like WOTW 29. it was fine, and i liked Josh Robert Thompson. but it never clicked together like other bad BOTW. its like barely above the Patton Oswald episode only because Jeff Peterson's Arnold and DeNiro impressions.

also its mainly because of that pee video. that was just too gross for me.

[aingeal98]

Thinking about Bruce and his flaws again and the thing is while I can ignore most of the things he does in other comics because they're clearly using him to dramatically advance the stories of his kids (firing Dick in ntt, beating Jason in rhato, Tim's 16th birthday in Robin, his treatment of Cass during her Batgirl run etc.) it's his treatment of others in his own run especially women like Helena and Steph that kills me. Because several of the writers are clearly fully aware that they're writing him as a misogynist but instead of overcoming that character flaw the narrative ends up making the women atone and prove themselves to his unfair double standard (Helena in NML Steph in Robin) or suffer and die because the misogyny is as strong in the creative team as it was in Bruce (Steph during war games)

There's never any real reckoning with the flaws and attitudes they give him, likely because the writers see it as a character quirk instead of something that should negatively impact him and that he should overcome. Bruce Wayne murder fugitive has him hit Dick and later apologise. NML and War Games never have him take responsibility the same way. He's misogynistic, the women pay the price, he learns nothing because the message gets twisted to avoid the writer's own misogyny.

If you're a fan of Bruce you probably want to just pretend it never happened which is what a lot of writers choose to do. If you're a fan of the female characters affected you have to acknowledge it because it was a major story point for their character. And it wasn't even for them. They were were used and spat out to try and fail to make Bruce seem more complex.

And I say fail because it doesn't make Bruce more complex. The writers make him a bad person and then call it a day. No one around him actually holds him accountable. Everything goes back to the status quo. A new writer comes along and Batman is a straightforward hero again.

The only lasting impact is on the characters torn down to give him poorly written drama. All this to say if Babs Helena and Steph teamed up to murder Batman completely unprompted I would be their number one defender.

[takumi-sumino]

Spoiler tags all blocked - tonight, I think, I'm going to block all the main tags as well. Better safe than sorry

[cloudedhologram]

i, too, will also never shut up about hawk/tim

I WILL ABSOLUTELY NEVER STOP. THE WAY THIS SHOW NEVER BECAME A TRUE PHENOMENON BAFFLES ME?? ITS THE MOST RAW AND TRUE EXPRESSION OF MLM LOVE IN THAT TIME PERIOD WE MAY EVER GET. THEYRE BEAUTIFUL AND BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN. IVE NEVER FELT SO MUCH DURING A SHOW MY ENTIRE LIFE ITS BAFFLING AGHTHHRHGEGSVAVHA

[honeyandsickle]

I like tumblr

I see stuff I like, so I like and reblog it

Sometimes someone will like and reblog something from me

It's just fun, ya know

Can't say the same about most other social media

[skyllion-uwu]

Being a YIIKer is so hard because it failed really bad at what it was trying to do that the majority of people just go "bad game" without examining it as a novel because really that's how it was written, but the people who do like it see it without flaw and get mad when you point out that the execution fell flat on its face. YIIK is a multi layered experience of "everything about this sucks" that you have to pluck apart and reform in order to get what it's trying to say which makes you go "OH I get it now". It has a lot of cool ideas but the game requires you to sit down and analyze its story to bits in order to get it instead of most games where it's incorporated into gameplay and cutscenes outright. Alex YIIK is a liar. He is telling you the story and that's why everyone forgives him for his actions and it gets disjointed. Because he's trying to paint himself as a hero for you. But if you say "hey this could've been incorporated in the story better" other YIIK fans accuse you of not actually getting it. I did get it. It would work a million times better as a novel because the way it's written doesn't mesh with the execution of being a video game and thus the average person's expectations aren't met and they go "it's bad". Does this make sense? I dunno I just saw a post where OP made fun of YIIK and people in the comments ripped them apart but also acted like YIIK is flawless

[themaraudershavethephonebox]

I've seen alot of chatter around here recently about people who are newer to the fandom who refuse to read unfinished fics, and are quite vocal about it by the sounds of it. And it makes me so. damn. sad.

Firstly because, as someone who publishes their writing, I know that the hardest thing to stick to (especially now that we seem to have passed the height of activity within the community) is a multichapter longfic, or even just multichapter fics in general. Yes, it's a labour of love and we don't explicitly do it for the kudos or the comments, but those kudos and comments - that encouragement goes SUCH a long way. I've seen more posts and comments in the last week than I can count on one hand saying they wouldn't have had the motivation to finish their next chapter so quickly or even pick back up after years of hiatus if it weren't for the comment or two that they had on their work, praising and encouraging them!

But also, if you're not reading unfinished work you are missing out on so! much! great! writing! Yeah, it kinda sucks when you read something amazing only to find out it's been abandoned (we know, some of us are still lowkey hoping for a miracle TLAT update), but sometimes life gets in the way and that's just how it works. It might not be ideal but you still got to behold the art someone put out into the world and that's wonderful! I think you'll also find that alot of old (I'm talking pre 2018) fics have been abandoned, but the content and the writing is extraordinary and to experience it is still a pleasure!

Anyways TLDR - Read unfinished, abandoned, and in progress fics - COMMENT on them even if they haven't been updated in a while - we still see them. And ENJOY THE ART THAT'S WHAT IT'S THERE FOR.

[friend-of-a-cat]

And I'm not talking about Tomorrow's Catch-22, because that doesn't count. They were allowed to be freaky in that. That was the whole point.

The Love and Deepspace guys aren't even that freaky. I don't know what people are talking about. Unless I just haven't witnessed their true freak yet??

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Where can a man get a beer around here?” Bucky’s voice distracts you from watching the starchy boil of potatoes.  

You step back look at him as he fills the doorway. The house was built in another time. People were smaller. Or maybe he’s just big. 

“Oh, the beer stores about fifteen minutes away.” 

“Great,” he says. “Phone can’t find it. Map’s blank.” 

“Ah, yeah, up here, that happens,” you say. “Fifteen minutes driving. It’ll be at least an hour on foot.” 

“Right,” the disappointment is crisp in his voice. 

“I got a case of Molson in the fridge. Neighbour’s wife was sick and I helped out. Gesture of kindness... for anyone that drinks. You’re welcome to it.” You take a fork and poke at the potatoes. “It’ll end up in the sink anyway.” 

He inhales audibly, “you don’t mind?” 

“As long as you don’t. I don’t know if it’s any good. I’m not a beer person. Unfortunately, everyone else around here is,” you turn off the burner and lift the large pot. 

You carry it to the sink and dump the potatoes into the strainer. A cloud of steam puffs up and sets a sheen over your face. You grunt and put the hot pot aside. You lift the colander and shake out the excess water. 

You look over your shoulder and set it back down. He’s still in the doorway, watching. It must be strange. To be fair, you feel the same. You’re not used to company and he’s a far way from home. 

You go to the fridge and break off a tall can from the six-pack. You bring it to him and his lips clamp sheepishly, “thanks. Coulda waited til dinner... you need help?” 

“I got it,” you assure as you hold out the can.  

He takes it an examines the label. “More of a Heineken man.” 

“Like I said, I wouldn’t know the difference,” you shrug. 

You return to the sink and dump the potatoes back into the pot. He lingers at the door as he cracks the can. You cross to the fridge again as tension pinches the nape of your neck. You take out the butter and milk. The door sucks shut and you sniff as you back up. 

“I... never been to New York,” you say to fill the void. “I hear it smells.” 

“Stinks,” he agrees. “Born in Indiana but I ended up in New York. Home to me. Or... was.” 

“Right,” you nod as you add some milk and butter to the potatoes and grab the masher. “I grew up south of here. Small town but closer to the city. Compared to this it was a metropolis.” 

“It’s quiet up here.” 

“Sure it,” you agree. “It’s nice. Most of the time.” 

You put a lid on the pot to keep it warm and go to the stove. You turn off the steamer as the lid begins to tremble. The timer on the stove counts down. 

“I can take you to the beer store tomorrow. Sorry but I hate driving after dark. The moose don’t exactly abide by the rules of the road.” You explain. 

“It’s fine,” he takes a loud slurp. “It’s beer. It’s not...” he sucks his teeth loudly. “You know, I can’t even get drunk. The taste is just familiar.” 

“Fair enough,” you hit the cancel button before the time can yell at you. “Dinner’s ready.” 

You open the cupboard and take down two plates. You lay them out side by side and work at doling out the portions. His shadow hovers on the other side of the stove. 

“Thanks, you know,” he dares to inch closer. “You already put a roof over me, now you’re feeding me.” 

“No biggie. Just the way up here.” 

He sniffs and gets closer, peeking at the pan as you carve out a hunk of meatloaf, “hadn’t had good home cooking since... well, I been living off the microwave crap or take out.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn him. “It’s nothing special, I manage. As long as the meat’s cooked, I’m not complaining.” 

“Me either,” he agrees. You lift the plates but before you can bring them to the table, he stops you. He puts the beer on the counter and brings his hands to the edges of the plates. “I got it.” 

You let him take the food and he brings it to the table. You watch him then scoop up the can and follow him. It’s going to be an adjustment. For both of you. 

You put the Molson next to his plate as he’s reluctant to claim his seat, “dig in. It’ll get cold.” 

You go back to grab cutlery and come back. You sit and hand him a knife and fork. He reaches with his left hand and hesitates as you look at his metal digits.  

He clutches the cutlery and quickly retracts. You don’t mention it though you do wonder if he’s embarrassed. Why? Isn’t that what makes him special? A hero? Or whatever he is. 

“This place is old. My ma had the same lintels on her doors in 1934.” He points with his fork to the door frame. 

“Old on top of old. Those are actually from the twenties. No one was doing renos in the thirties, I’m sure you know that. Somewhere back there, one of my great great whatever’s put in a stove and fridge and wired the place up. Kept the fire stove though. Antique now.” 

“Antique, like me,” he scoffs. 

You nod, unsure how to respond. You hope you don’t think you were implying anything. You get a bit carried away. Your mother and grandmother were always into genealogy and you caught a bit of the bug. 

Or maybe he thinks you’re over explaining. He was alive. He would know all these things and could guess the rest. You bite into the meatloaf and stare at the painted trim on the plate. 

“Ma’s place was taken down. Lived near the base since dad was there and they flattened it for a firing range. Now the place in New York... drug den now. New York, glamourous, really. You’re missing out,” he tuts dryly. 

You look up at him and give a tight-lipped expression, “sorry to hear that.” 

“It is what it is. The world changes. With or without you,” he reaches for the beer and swigs. His blue eyes dart to the wall and sharpen. He put the can down with a bit of force and pats his chest. He feels around and grimaces. “I’m gonna have a--” there’s a crinkle and he slides out another sucker. “Well...” 

He waves the candy at you and stands. You watch him silently and scrape your fork through the mashed potato. He twirls the stick between his fingers. 

“It’s good,” he points to his plate, “really.” He clears his throat and shifts on his feet, “back soon.” 

He turns and marches out. You look down at your food and slice into the loaf. The grainy scent of the beer wafts over. You take another bite as your forehead creases in thought. Sam’s a funny guy and this feels a bit like a joke. 

[charmedreincarnation]

Success story (not the void)

Maya, as I promised you, I'm writing you my success story. It's quite a wild one, so please bear with me.

My journey started during the Angel era, when I was struggling with the void state. I tried everything I could think of to get out of it - every method, every meditation technique, affirming, intention, lucid dreaming, and even coaching from various LoA experts, including those not so well-known. I was desperate for a breakthrough, a key to unlock the life I deserved. I would have done anything, even ate dirt if that was what it took.

At that time, my family was going through a rough patch. My abusive father, a police officer, divorced my mother and left us with nothing. We were homeless, living out of our car, while my dad was living a comfortable life. He had a new girlfriend, a younger woman, and continued to be respected in his job. Meanwhile, my mom, who was a victim of his abuse, was labeled a liar and lost everything. I was filled with rage, towards him, towards the world, towards the jury that declared him innocent. I wasn’t safe in this world especially being homeless, women and children are the most vulnerable to sexual and physical assault. I was scared, unsafe, and had nothing aside my mother and siblings.

I wanted to enter the void, not just for myself, but to give my family a better life and to bring justice to those who had wronged us. I was at a point where I was harming myself, but I couldn't give up because my family needed me. I remember messaging you, Maya, pouring out my story, begging you to help me enter the void. Despite your initial hesitation, you responded with kindness, sharing some personal experiences, and reassuring me that I wasn't alone.

Your words gave me hope. You made me realize that many people who find the law have gone through, or are still going through difficulties. If they could overcome their struggles, so could I.

So, I decided to let go of the void. Not because I didn't believe in it, but because I had elevated it to a status akin to a genie that would magically solve all my problems. When non-dualism and other loa concepts were introduced, everything finally clicked. I realized I didn't have to be angry, or try to be someone manifesting master, or do all these fake methods. I have always known that my family and I were meant to be happy.

For a month, I went through a process of shedding my ego. It was uncomfortable, and there were times I found myself fighting my own thoughts, telling them to shut up. I was separating my ego from myself. You, Maya, had once said that this process was similar to withdrawal symptoms of someone quitting drugs. This thought comforted me. I was becoming someone new, my old thoughts weren't there anymore.

Living in my car, I began to see it as my mansion. My mom's crying turned into laughter, my siblings' whine for food turned into jokes. We pretended that we were living our dream life, and after a while, my siblings joined me in this game. We would come "home" from school and yell at each other, pretending that the house was so big that we needed walkie-talkies to communicate.whenever I needed to steal food it was because we owned the place and can take whatever we want, not because I had to.

One day, we parked at a field, and I started imagining my life. I tried to become the clouds by thinking I am and accepting that my consciousness could be whatever it wanted. I got my siblings to do the same. We became the flowers, then the sun, then the stars at night. Even though physically I was still in the car, mentally and emotionally, I was living my dream life.

When I woke up, I was in a large room. It was decorated to perfection. I heard my siblings running around, throwing toys, and my mother laughing with a man, who's laugh alone sounded like gold. I explored the house, and it was beautiful. There was no yelling, no violence, only laughter and love. My mom introduced me to her boyfriend, and he was holding a newspaper that read that my father had been arrested for domestic crimes and fraud. He was losing everything.

At that moment, I realized that I had done it. My mom was happy, beautiful, and loved. My siblings had plenty of toys and clothes, and our house was filled with love. My family and I were finally living our dream life.

I have been living my life for about a month and now, and it has been blissful to say the least. I go to a well known private school and I am the top student. I am apart of many clubs, and also spend a lot of time volunteering at domestic shelters, and speaking to victims of intrapersonal abuse. I have made friends of people who volunteer with me, so it’s nice to have people who care about the same thing I do.

I am also apart of my writing club, and found comfort in reading and writing and have decided I want to be an author once I graduate. I have always wanted to be a writer but they don’t make enough money often. But now not only do I know I will be successful but my family has enough money to last us multiple generations plus some more. My Bio father had gotten much to what is coming to him and he will be going to jail. I hope he drops the soap but I have let go of my anger with that barbaric fool. So has my mother who has also recently gotten engaged and I get to be her maid of honor. She has a friend group of mothers from school and I have never seen her happier. My now father treats her like a goddess and treats everyone like that. He spoils my mom and us with gifts and luxurious trips. He also spoils the help such as the maids and cooks and never treats them below us. He does not expect anything from my mother except for her to be happy and spend time with us. He is kind selfless loving and respectful. the real definition of a man. I adore him so much and I’m so happy to call him my father.

I find great joy in the little stuff. I love cleaning my room. My bio dad was a hoarder and the house was always a mess because my mom was the sole provider though my “bio dad” made much more. He instead used it on hookers, alcohol, and drugs. Pathetic excuse for a man I know. I love going shopping, as I don’t have to look at the price tag. It feels normal, there was no shift. This is just life constantly changing. I have 5 pets and spend great time with all of them, and they are all so loving and adore me. I love school, and doing my homework, taking tests, assemblies etc. i love talking to my teacher about my ideas and how I can improve. They’re always so encouraging and kind, and I have never experienced that. I also loveeeee having crushes hehe. I never had time nor the “looks” for that prior to these past few months, but I receive a good amount of attention from a lot of sweet man and the “what if” aspect of having crushes is fun. I just love being a teenage girl, something I was not always able to say. I love the world and the people in it, the creations I bring and make, and all I did to make it what it is. I never worry what happened to my old self or life. It died, it doesn’t exist I am here right now with them and the old story is gone. Like an author erasing a part of a story she doesn’t like and never producing it, I did the same. My one true reality and I am so blessed.

Also big thanks to bloggers like @awarenessis @starbursts777 @consciousnessbaddie for introducing this concepts to Tumblr in a simple and kind way. Love to everyone in this devoted app.

Congratulations on your astounding success story 🥹 Your journey is a testament to the power of the human spirit, and it's an honor to hear about your transformation. This is beautiful wild tale, but it's your reality, and it's absolutely beautiful.

Your story is a powerful reminder that we have the power to shape our reality, no matter how dire our circumstances may be. It's a testament to the power of belief, determination, and the human spirit. I'm incredibly proud of you and wish you and your family all the happiness in the world.

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 64

Welcome back to this week's chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest. This week Tripitaka gets what is probably his nicest kidnapping to date. So let's get into it shall we?

The pilgrims are continuing on their journey, but first they have some dead weight to dump. Turns out that the monks they rescued are so grateful to them, that they want to tag along on their journey. Monkey however, already has his hands full protecting one monk, and doesn't want anymore. So he transforms some of his hairs into tigers, to scare the monks off, so they can continue unimpeded.

Now that there is only one squishy mortal that they need to worry about, the group continues on their journey until they find their path blocked by brambles. Pigsy offers to clear the path for them, but Tripitaka is worried that Pigsy wouldn't be able to keep it up indefinitely, so he has Monkey check just how far this bramble will last. Monkey takes a look and reports back that he can't see the end of it, which means that it must be at least a thousand miles long. Sandy suggests that they try the whole slash and burn technique for clearing the bramble, but Pigsy points out that it's not the right season for the bramble to catch fire easily- and Monkey never a big fan of fire points out that they wouldn't be able to control the fire if it got out of hand anyways.

In the end they really do end up having to rely on Pigsy to get the job done. Helped along by the fact that he uses his transformation ability to grow to 200 feet tall, with his weapon to match. This works, and the group is able to continue on with Pigsy taking the lead to clear their path. They travel like this until they find their way to a small clearing with an old shrine. Monkey says that this place is no good, and that they should probably just get a move on. Sandy has barely enough time to ask Monkey if he is perhaps a bit to paranoid, when the door to the shrine opens to reveal a suspicious old man.

This suspicious old man even has a demon attendant, and claims to be the local spirit of Bramble Ridge, and is here to offer them some not at all suspicious steamed cakes. Pigsy of course has no problem accepting food from suspicious strangers, but before he can eat anything, Monkey yells that he's evil and goes in for the kill. Unfortunately since it's been to long since Tripitaka's last kidnapping, the old man turns into a gust of wind before Monkey can kill him and sweeps Tripitaka away to places currently unknown.

This chapter is a bit different from most others, since instead of sticking with Monkey and the gangs POV while they try and rescue Tripitaka, we actually get to hang out with Tripitaka and his POV for this particular kidnapping. And that's because, instead of being hogtied and tossed in a corner of a cave to wait to be eaten like usual, the old man actually brings him to a nice little house. The old man sets him down and introduces himself as Squire Eight and Ten, and says that he brought Tripitaka here to have a leisurely night talking about poetry with him and a few friends. Which 10/10 this is easily the nicest kidnapping Tripitaka has ever had. Squire Eight and Ten then introduces his friends to Tripitaka, who are 'Squire Lonesome Rectitude, Master Void-Surmounting, Cloud-Brushing Dean and Knotty Virtue and they are all tree spirits.

Even though all these immortals are already more then one thousand years old, they are all interested in Tripitaka and his teachings. We also learn that Tripitaka is currently forty years old- which is a bit older then I thought he was, since I was kind of just assuming he was still somewhere in his thirties. Anyways, Tripitaka is more then happy to share some Buddhist wisdom with all of them, and the immortals are more then happy to receive it. Which I would also be starved for entertainment if I were a tree.

After they talk outside for a while, they finally invite Tripitaka inside for some tea, snacks and poetry. It seems that Tripitaka still hasn't dropped his guard completely though, since he waits for the immortals to eat before trying it for himself. After they are done eating, they start a fun poetry game, where one of them creates a line of poetry, and then they have everyone add a line to it to make a completed poem. After that, they move on and has everyone make a completed poem on their own, with Tripitaka going first.

After everyone creates a poem, Tripitaka tries to broach the subject of going back to his disciples now, preferably before they burn down the mountain looking for him. The others just brush his concern aside however, and tell him to just stay the night and that they'll let him go back in the morning.

Just then, someone new shows up, an pretty immortal girl named Apricot Immortal, and two maiden attendants. The other immortals ask what brings her here, and she says that she heard from the grapevine that they were entertaining an interesting guest, so she came to meet him. Tripitaka greets her politely by bowing, but as always when faced with a suspicious pretty girl, seems to nervous to actually talk to her. Regardless of that, the girl still calls for more tea, and hands Tripitaka his cup personally. After they all settle in for tea time, the men give the girl the recount of the previous poems, and the girl shares one of her own with them.

Despite Tripitaka's silence, Apricot Immortal continues to try and cozy up with Tripitaka, and receives encouragement from the other immortals. The immortals gladly say that they will be witnesses to Tripitaka and Apricot Immortal's wedding, if Tripitaka wants to get it on with her without soiling her virtue. This angers Tripitaka into breaking his silence- I guess he should have known that just having one good day without a terrible catch was to much to ask for. Anyways he yells at them for trying to seduce him, while they still try and insist that Apricot Immortal is a perfect match for him.

As the immortals continue to try and pressure him, Tripitaka quietly wonders if his disciples are looking for him with tears rolling down his cheeks. The girl tries to comfort him, which has the opposite effect and has Tripitaka bolting for the door, only for the immortals to tackle him. Luckily before things can get worse for Tripitaka, his disciples finally arrive, having traveled the entire Bramble Ridge throughout the night looking for him. As soon as Tripitaka yells for Wukong to save him, all the immortals and their attendants suddenly vanish.

Tripitaka gives his disciples the run down of the night he had, when his disciples ask what their names were, and where they vanished to, Tripitaka tells them their names, and brings them to the shrine he spent the night in. There they see that there is a large Juniper tree, cypress tree, pine tree, some bamboo, a maple tree, and an apricot tree, flanked by a winter plum and cassia plants. These various plants are the identities of the immortals the Tripitaka spent his night with. When Pigsy learns that these tree's are the immortals that harassed Tripitaka all night, it's Pigsy's turn to violate tree law, as he uses his rake to uproot all the tree's. When he does this blood spirts out, and Tripitaka tries to stop him, saying that they didn't really do him any harm. However Monkey says that although they didn't harm him now, they might grow into problems in the future and hurt people later. And with that, Pigsy finishes killing the tree's, before they load Tripitaka back onto his horse to continue their Journey to the West.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction, vanishing in a flash of light, super healing, transforming others, Invisibility, and Wind Immunity Demon Kill Count: 11 + Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1039 God's Defeated: 23 + Unknown number Defeats: 7 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Disorderly Conduct and Joyriding Cry Count: 9 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization, Heart Sutra, Meditation, and Being Heaven's Specialist Little Guy Cry Count: 33 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 63 Paralyzed by fear: 6 Bandit Problems: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 9 Falling Off Horses: 10

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, and Sword Dancing. Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 1

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement and CPR Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 15 + Unknown number of minions Kidnapped by Demons: 5 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 4 Cry Count: 2 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Theft, Forcible entry, Disrupting a Funeral and Violating Tree Law

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater, Cloud soaring, and fetching water from a well. Demon Kill Count: 1 + Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 3 Human Kill Count: 1 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, Damage to Religious Property and contaminating a substance for human consumption

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[clockwork-ashes]

Something Lonesome - Part I (a few times more)

Read also on Ao3 :)

Summary: Elain dies when she’s thrown into the cauldron, but she doesn’t stay dead for long. Over and over, again and again, something brings her back, and every time she finds her way to Lucien.

Note: This is a romance, but it’s also just a story about Elain. There will be a happy ending <3 Also, completely dedicated to the lovely @nocasdatsgay because I have so many ideas and every time I yell them into the tumblr void (the tags) she has something nice to say <3

Elain watched as Feyre’s blood flowed between the grooves of the stone tiles. Steady like a lazy river, just as mesmerising as the waters that danced in the Cauldron.

She heard the strangled moan Nesta made in response, a tortured, animalistic sound. The gag in her own mouth was soaked through with tears, damp as it cut into her cheeks. 

Rhysand howled in pain, almost as if the King of Hybern had taken a knife to his heart instead. Elain wished he had. 

Just as the soldiers hauled her into the air, she locked a terrified gaze onto the warrior whose eyes were made of sunlight. She felt as if she had seen them before, known them as surely as her reflection when she looked in the mirror. 

He took a measured step, purposeful. His broad hand was on the jewelled sword at his side, and Elain knew he would have been a sight to behold wielding the weapon. She was thrown into the whirling waves suddenly, pulled under by a force so strong, fighting against it would have been impossible. Darkness clouded her vision, but the map of a vicious scar lingered bright as day for the briefest of moments, lovely. 

* * *

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, his voice ringing from where he sat on his throne. Elain wanted to rip out his dark eyes, wished to feel skin and blood and tears beneath the crescent moons of her nails. 

Nesta hadn’t stopped fighting, and Elain hadn’t stopped shaking in fear. There was a part of her that knew there was an inevitability to it all, a sixth sense warning her not to even try. It felt deeply rooted, connected to her like a tree was to the ground it grew from. 

The red haired man spoke, tilting the world on its axis. His voice was as rich as melted gold, bright as the arrow of light Elain swore she saw arching towards her. “Stop this,” he said roughly, the demand echoing when no one listened.  

Elain could still hear the two simple words as she was shoved into the Cauldron, tripping over the edge of the ancient object, sinking until all she could see was darkness. 

* * *

Moonlight always looked like sunshine on the darkest nights, Elain knew. Each bright ray cutting across the sky, forcing all the stars to fade away. She liked how a path sometimes appeared over water, endless, not even stopping when it reached the horizon. When Elain had been a girl, she’d often wonder if there was a way to walk across the phantom bridge, could close her eyes and imagine it clear as glass. 

* * *

Elain went into the darkness willingly, knowing it like an old friend. 

Darling. 

Cold waters hugged her like welcoming hands, gentle. 

Stay. 

Only once, Elain wanted to know what might happen if she asked the darkness to wait. 

[coffinsister]

Hi there!

I just wanted to let you know that I'd never heard of Saya no Uta until I saw you talking about it on my dash and I was like hey I'll look into that!! I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and it was definitely an experience. I've only played the route of choosing Saya and choosing to call Ryoko, so I still have to make the other choices to view all of the game's content, but I just wanted to come say thank you for giving me the second controversial piece of media I've been able to consume without my ocd throwing a bitchfit, because the whole story is fascinating from a psychological standpoint and that definitely drew me in.

I just wish the story was a little more 3D, I guess? Like the writing is overly descriptive of things it doesn't need to be descriptive of and underwhelming with the actual voiced dialogue. It's an extremely bizarre contrast. And from what little Japanese I've learn over the years out of SpInterest there are some translation points that aren't entirely accurate.

A big one is the fact that Saya speaks in third person which is a common cutesy mannerism for small children in Japanese media. In fact, she speaks super similarly to Maria Ushiromiya from Umineko ( complete with using 'uu!' for emphasis too ) which caused me to attach quickly to her for it. While it's true that this doesn't translate well into English, it does lose in translation just how young Saya really sounds while speaking. Because in Japanese she's saying things like 'Saya did this for Fuminori because Saya wants to be with Fuminori forever!' and it's getting translated as like 'I did this to make you happy. So you'll stay with me forever, right, Fuminori?' and those are two completely different tones. In fact, it's so overlooked from the English translation that this trope of hers isn't even mentioned on the The Song of Saya tvtropes page and that's wild to me.

Sorry, I didn't meant to turn this into a rant in your inbox asjklhd. Thank you for bringing this intriguing piece of media to my attention. 💖

Hiii, I'm so sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask but it was lovely getting it, so please don't apologize! We love getting long asks, and talking about our interests <3 And I'm really happy me basically screaming into the void about it, got you into it! That's great, that's exactly why I post about the things I like.

This was very interesting to read so thank you for sending it.

Side Thought: TV Troupes actually really really sucks for this kinda thing, it is widely innacurate with big media, and incredibly lacking for small media. So personally, I would not chuck TV Tropes lacking this as much to the (very bad, like super bad) official translation, as much as I would to the site just kinda sucking.

I'm sorry if I sound harsh, the website is fun, like any other wiki is, I just have personal beef against it, do not mind me, old man yells at cloud.

The first route I finished was also the one with Ryouko, and tbh, in my opinion that's the best one, but obviously seeing the other endings gives a lot of extra information, and character depth, so I hope you play through them and enjoy them too.

And yeah, I feel you, I wish it was more 3D and that I could have cared more about the characters, the writing definetly feels too much like purple prose, and way too descriptive about meaningless things sometimes, while also compeltley glazing over others.

Also big big same about the translation, I already posted my long rant about it, but it's really such a shame, because Nitro+ is actually so good at conveying character through dialogue, like actually reading some of the VNs in Japanese is a whole new experience on its own

And exactly as you said, it would have been far easier to understand Saya is a literally preubecent child if the translation had shown how childishly she actually speaks, or another big one, we would have gotten to see more of just how badly Fuminori wants to show off in front of Saya and Yoh, if the translation had actually shown him avoiding being fully honest with Saya.

Like there's so so many moments in Japanese of him just going, Well, about that, you know... to Saya when she's asking him about their plans together, and he's very reluctant to ask her for help, even when he really needs it, until she blatantly offers it, and he takes it.

In the Official English version he literally just goes "Well, the thing, Saya is that I failed to kill Koji, any ideas about that?"

So much character missed there, I feel like also missing the honorifics isn't helpful or good, like Yoh calling Oumi, Oumi-chan makes them feel way way closer, than just college friends who hang out between classes. And it gives you a better sense that they care for each other.

My hot take about translations is that they shouldn't just accomodate to what's most familiar to the target audience, in this case USA people, it should just make the media more accesible. It isn't a failure of art if it is a bit of a struggle to engage with it, it's good to make an effort to try to understand foreign art, even when the way the text is presented, isn't super familiar or relatable to you.

This is basically what everybody who isn't from an English speaking country already does lol

[krizzostopfero]

August is the worst month of the year and I need to scream it into the void. I am the old man yelling at the clouds. Or, at least I would be IF THERE WERE ANY CLOUDS. THANKS AGAIN, AUGUST.

Hear me out. I know what you're thinking. "No worse than any other month," you think. "Man I kinda like the summer" I hear some of you saying. Let me show you why you're wrong and should be ashamed of every single atom that contributed to those thoughts.

It has no US federal holidays. As a US Citizen, this cheeses me off. It's hot. It's dry. It was literally created to honor some self-important asshole who ROBBED us of the name SEXTILLIS. But. August's greatest sin? IT SOUNDS LIKE A FALL MONTH.

Just think for a moment. Open your eyes. Open your heart. Read the word quietly to yourself like a gentle affirmation whispered to a lover.

August.

It's all there. AU. Gold. I believe it was Robert Frost who said "Nothing gold can stay." Not only is that a deeply fallish sentiment, but what's another word for not staying? LEAVING. LEAVES. That's right, queers and steers. GOLDEN. LEAVES. Now. Gust. I don't even need to do the legwork on that. Gusts of wind. Golden leaves blowing in the wind. August has fall coded into it's BONES. AND YET WE ARE MADE TO ENDURE THE INJUSTICE OF ANOTHER SUMMER MONTH EVERY YEAR.

I dare say this is riot worthy. I can think of absolutely no better use of my time and energy than railing against something that oppresses so many people every year. None whatsoever.

[ask-paradox-and-friends]

CHAPTER 17 THE BUSINESS OF KINGS PT3

—---------------------------------------------------------------

*As the kings got ready they swung and swung with both of them getting some close shaves like Hades getting a cut on his cheek and have his bangs cut and Derail got his mustache cut in half as he nearly got his face cut as the Galeforce king stabbed him through the leg and grabbing what was left of his shirt and kicks him in the shin as Hades whacked him in the ribs with the handle of the bident and soon both backed up both panting raggedy but both got into a stance as the ground shook beneath them. With Hades mimicking the movements and stances of his fallen brother and pouring the last of power into one last swing as Derail started covering himself in the shadows he created and controlled as the light from the world around him started to dim more and more as pieces of the arena and Hades spilt blood fell into the shadows around him as soon he was seemingly now one with the void as he stood up growing stronger from the divine blood as Hades smiled.*

Hades:I see my blood made you stronger as your divine weapon is the source of your enhanced shadows and your increased magic. Well played Derail. If I didn't know better I would have said you were a descendant of one of my children.

*Derail pulled out all the stops finally using all the blessings from his 3 gods as Hades was now dodging the ground splitting open long with fire Flying at him from the ground as Boiling water and destructive lighting and harsh winds flew at the god as he ducked weaved and charged the king with his max power on display as Ares and other gods were saying about how that would kill any God or mortal as Derail channeled his vigor will and minor anger at the gods of heaven into one swing as both weapons clashed hard enough that the ground was soon mostly gone and the clouds above were scattered across the sky as both struggled for domination*

*Hades soon had his vision blur as he saw Derail's shadows mix into his own and start dragging his limbs downwards as more shadows crept across his weapon and then soon.*

KRACKKKKKK!!!!! SPLIT……SHATTERRR!!

*Hades's bident exploded as he soon staggered back The Galeforce king with one last yell that sounded demonic thanks to this void armor boosted more than his power as he lunged the slash for a lack of better words cut the god of the underworld open almost cutting him in two as the magic slash projectile flew across the arena seemingly devouring all it made contact with and rammed into the edge with enough force to completely pulverize the wall and shook the arena as soon Hades took some steps closer to his opponent and fell to one knee struggling to stay upright and to pay respect.*

Derail:*Kneeling next to him.* come now. There's no need to bow.

Hades:such power…I wasn't expecting anything else you were truly magnificent mortal…no your name is Derail right?

Derail:*holding Hades's hand like two friends would as they shake their hands.* I see what he meant to you. I believe he'd be proud of you. It would have been an honor to serve with you or for you Lord Hades.

Hades:you're a funny young man aren't you?

Derail:this old timer has lived long enough to know how to see a man's motive and morals.

Hades:*looking to Zeus then the sky* i'm sorry…I failed my promise…it was my duty to protect and avenge you…as a older brother I am sorry…I have failed…Forgive me…

*after he dies Derail took the broken Bident and soon bowed as a form of respect and sighs.*

Derail:if only Zues wasn't the man he was…I wish you well My Lord….we could have been friends….I'm sorry I did this…

*the king soon fell over face first into the ground as Alvitr freaked out scared.*

Alvitr:DERAIL! GET UP OLD MAN! SOMEONE! HELP!

*medics soon took him away but soon the Valkyrie soon also got taken but she saw a symbol she didn't recall. Who was the A.C.H.S.?*

[Meanwhile with the next two fighters.]

Beelzebub:even if I had been wishing for death..this shall not stand! HUMANITY MUST BE EXTERMINATED!

Sunblood:*clapping* WONDERFUL! PERFECT JOB MY SIRE! *Coughs* well it seems my round is next. *takes his coat off a rack and places Derail in a stasis chamber as he walks away to get his weapon ready the chambers were shown to be labeled each with a body.*

'KAITO YAMAMOTO'

'PARADOX [REDACTED]'

'TSUGUMI TSUGU HAZAWA'

'IZUKU DEKU/BUN MIDORIYA'

'DERAIL GALEFORCE'

'FREDERICK SUNBLOOD'

'MAI'

ROUND FIVE OVER

WINNER:DEARIL GALEFORCE

TIME:25 MINUTES 22 SECONDS

MORTALS:4

GODS:1

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

SHADOW IN THE SANDS

• · ──────· ⏳ ·──────· •

Summary:

Phileas Fogg and June Phillis Smith find themselves trapped in an ancient tomb after a mysterious collapse.

As they struggle to find an exit, their connection deepens.

• · ──────· ⏳ ·──────· •

Chapter 2

Phileas Fogg agreed to join June Phillis Smith in the excavations, feeling a strangely familiar sense of adventure pulling him once again.

The next day, they headed to the archaeological site with a team of researchers from various parts of the world and local labourers.

The desert sun was scorching as they began to dig.

June was in her element, overseeing every aspect of the excavations, from planning to execution, and didn't shy away from digging herself, moving heavy buckets of sand and debris.

Phileas, despite his initial disinterest in archaeology, found himself fascinated by her passion.

"FOGG! Come and see!" the archaeologist yelled.

Phileas rushed, stumbling over small dunes.

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"This is an Ushabti, these figurines are mainly part of funerary equipment. They represent servants meant to assist the pharaoh in the afterlife," she explained, extracting the small statue from the sand and delicately brushing off the grains with a brush from her old leather bag.

She then handed the Ushabti to Fogg.

"I don't think I should touch something so delicate," observed the gentleman.

"Nonsense," she replied, trying to grab his hand abruptly.

When she saw Phileas take half a step back, she tried again, more gently.

Fogg let her take his wrist, then turned his hand palm up, placing the small statue on it.

Phileas was genuinely afraid of breaking it but examined it with his delicate fingers.

"Does this mean there's a tomb nearby?" he inquired.

"I hope so; we've been searching for this tomb for years! We might have found what we're looking for this time. Gallagher, the man I debunked about the authenticity of Cleopatra's mummy, would be even more furious. Maybe you bring good luck, Mr. Fogg," she winked, and he visibly blushed from head to toe.

They were about to head to the researchers' tent when a noise made them both stop.

"What was that?" Fogg asked, looking down, between the sand and the excavation equipment.

It was a dull noise of cracking stone.

The next moment, they were plummeting into the void.

June regained consciousness, the pain in her head and the constant ringing in her ears clouding her mind.

She got up from what seemed like a paved floor, but the darkness was almost total.

"DARN!" she shouted in silence, kicking the thick layer of sand and dust. "We're stuck!"

"Mr. Fogg?" she asked, her voice trembling, and the sound echoed. The response came in the form of a choked groan, and the archaeologist fumbled her way until she found the source.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Phileas said when he felt her close.

June, with her usual energy, tried to examine the tomb's structure to find an exit, but every attempt seemed futile. It was too dark due to the collapsed roof.

Fogg, usually impassive, couldn't hide a slight concern on his face, aware of the seriousness of the situation.

He sat with his back against the ancient rock, in total silence.

"I'll keep looking for a way out; there must be something," murmured June.

Crawling on the ground to avoid tripping, she felt something solid against her boot, so she bent down to see what it was.

She was surprised to find not a rock but what seemed to be a bag.

"There are excavation tools in here, a water bottle, and... Oh, you won't believe it," she laughed.

She turned and immediately illuminated the room with a flashlight.

The light bounced off the white walls adorned with hieroglyphs.

"Incredible," she smiled, "this tomb is in perfect condition. I wonder where the sarcophagus and funerary equipment are."

Despite the critical situation, Fogg found himself smiling too, noting Miss Smith's radiant expression, covered in dust from head to toe.

"It would be nice if we could also find a way out," he said, standing up, "the owner of this tomb probably doesn't need company; he already has his servants, it seems."

June turned with a questioning look, pointing the flashlight at Phileas's handsome face.

He was indicating a niche full of Ushabti that originally must have been inside a now deteriorated wooden crate, and behind them was a passage large enough for them to crawl through.

The couple ventured deeper into the tomb, reaching a vast room with a high ceiling adorned with intricate starry designs.

In the center of the room, an imposing structure drew their attention: the deceased's sarcophagus, adorned with richly detailed symbols and images.

June examined the structure but tried to contain her enthusiasm.

"It's incredible, but we need to figure out how to get out of here before the situation worsens," said Fogg.

"It seems there's nothing that can lead us outside. These tombs were well sealed to prevent tomb raiders from looting the treasures," explained June.

"I feared you would say that," he sighed.

The flashlight began to run out of power.

Occasionally, June kept it off to save the batteries.

Hours must have passed since their incident, and still, they couldn't hear the sounds of excavation or the voices of the workers.

The heat had become even more stifling than on the surface due to the rarefied air, and Phileas began to feel unwell.

June could sense his breaths becoming short and fast, and at that pace, he would faint soon.

"Mr. Fogg, listen to me. Do as I say," she groped for his shoulder in the dark to reassure him, finding it tense and trembling.

"Inhale, wait a couple of seconds, inhale deeply again until you can't take in any more air. Hold your breath for another two seconds and exhale slowly," she explained firmly.

She did the same to help him through the process. Her hand slid from his shoulder to the elbow, then down to his hand, resting on the ground.

As before, she took it gently, placing it on her chest to let him feel the correct way to breathe.

Phileas let her do it; it was so reassuring to have someone so decisive and quick-witted.

Eventually, after many controlled breaths, he calmed down.

"You know, Mr. Fogg," she began, "being stuck here with you isn't so bad." She confessed, and Phineas felt butterflies in his stomach like a teenager in his first infatuation. "But you can't know how sorry I am for putting you in this situation."

Phileas Fogg was truly the most interesting person she had ever met, perhaps because he didn't try to be what he wasn't.

June had met many wealthy men like him, scholars, scientists, and fellow archaeologists, but all so arrogant and full of themselves that they became boring after the first minute of conversation.

"Miss Smith, I have spent 20 years of my life doing the same things every day, never deviating from my plans and never stopping for a second to appreciate the beautiful things that flowed before me" He took a handful of sand and let it slide between his fingers "exactly like these grains, my days have slipped between matches of whist and dinners at the Reform Club. I don't regret this trip or even having followed you this far"

June listened to him carefully in silence, she didn't know whether to voice her thoughts or remain silent.

"Mr Fogg..." she took a deep breath.

For her, he wasn't just frighteningly handsome; he also had a kind soul that desired nothing but affection.

Still, he was so scared to ask for it that he preferred to go without and suffer in silence.

She had understood it immediately as if she had known him forever.

"I'll get us out of here," she sighed, continuing her search.

Phileas watched as June wandered around the room. The flashlight now emitted a dim light, but it was enough for her to move freely.

She checked every wall, every crevice, and possible passage, refusing to surrender to the evidence.

June was steadfast and determined, beautiful and fearless.

Phileas felt almost intimidated by her.

She was a magnetic woman, and he wondered how it was possible that there wasn't a line of suitors ready to propose to her, or maybe she had rejected them all, sending them away because she didn't need them.

He held a deep admiration for her.

Phileas tried not to look as June unbuttoned her vest and shirt, remaining in trousers and her shift, but he couldn't divert his gaze.

"Mr. Fogg, I don't know how you manage to endure the heat, but if I were you, I'd at least take off the jacket," she suggested.

Phileas agreed, attempting to remove the dusty beige jacket from his shoulders.

"Let me help," she said, and he felt June's hands assisting him in the process. Once the jacket was off, he turned.

He swore the temperature became even hotter.

He was fairly certain that June felt the strong shiver that ran through him like an electric shock down his spine.

"Thank you," he said, taking his jacket from June's hands.

"Don't you like being touched?" She asked, pretending it was a casual question and not something she was dying to know.

"No, I don't appreciate it much..." he confessed.

June felt mortified.

She had touched him without asking for permission.

"But you can do it," he said with a faint voice, so feeble that June thought she might have imagined it.

However, Phileas's face said it all—blush on his cheeks, his large dark eyes looking sad, and for a moment, he stared at June's mouth.

The archaeologist tentatively raised a hand and placed it on Phileas's cheek and he tilted his head toward it, closing his eyes.

"Mr. Fogg?" she asked, brushing his lips with her thumb. "Can I kiss you?"

Phileas released a trembling sigh and, without breaking eye contact, nodded.

A part of him was screaming to back away from her, that he did not deserve that: caresses and kindness, kisses and sweet words.

The other part was simply screaming and screaming for it.

Suddenly, the tomb's roof collapsed with a deafening noise, raising a dust cloud.

"Miss Smith," the man at the top said, "if I were you, I'd raise my hands." He pointed a gun at them and lowered a rope. "And Mr. Phileas Fogg! I hit the jackpot."

"Gallagher," June, with her resourcefulness, spat in his direction.

"Ms. Smith, that man is armed," Fogg whispered.

"He wouldn't know how to shoot a target half a meter away," she mocked him.

The shot embedded itself near Phileas's foot.

"Alright!" the archaeologist yelled. "We'll come with you."

"June, June, June... The rope isn't for you to climb but for me to descend. This will be your tomb as well."

To be continued...