#Blast Tyrant

[rainingmusic]

Clutch - The Regulator

[dijidweeeb]

Motivational Music in the Morning ... #Clutch, #TheRegulator ... From #BlastTyrant [Official Audio Track] (2015) #MMitM1

[pvtjoker22]

Favourite Albums

I figure no better place to catalogue this than right here on Tumblr, here’s the running list:

Also, no there’s no ranked system to this either, except for maybe NIN and Kendrick being at the top of the pile.

[mothmanwarble]

I still love that thing that the Mask of Power books did, in which they established Eon having some sort of telepathic link with his Skylanders. It’s really interesting, and I feel like it helps explain why/how Eon knows when to call the Skylanders back home if they’re tired or in trouble or something.

But also I imagine that it’d be very funny if this extended to Sensei Kaos and the other Skylanders, cuz let’s not forget: he’s still 100% a Portal Master. I love the idea of him creating his own mental links between him and other Skylanders just to be a nuisance. He keeps beaming thoughts directly into people’s heads and they hate it.

Aurora’s having fun though. She and Kaos keep using the brainlink to wordlessly quote YouTube Poops at each other. They deliberately get songs stuck in each other’s heads via telepathy.

[bonefall]

Why doesn't Blossom just. leave? Idk if that sounds weird since you have talked about how the clans essentially function like a cult (although this was in reference to starclan), but if Blossom feels so completely isolated and shut off, why not just. Run away.

Blossom literally gets told 'no one cares about you, why not just disappear?", and the clan does NOTHING to say otherwise, and their silence is basically agreement. Suicide tw, to someone who is already at their lowest, or just climbing out of it at least, that line could have horrible implications- you dont matter, just fade away, no one would notice, etc. Idk if that was intended (ashfur seems like the kind of asshole who would intend it but i dont think you intended it), but. yeah its horrible.

Since im believing it wasn't intended, maybe change it? Emptycry could work (instead of 'no one cares, you're a waste of space' its 'your words are empty, be quiet'), or maybe naming her Rottedpetal- the flowers have been shredded, and now they have begun to rot instead of growing anew. Or, if you want to keep the name, Blossom snaps and decides that he's speaking the truth- so she leaves. Maybe she becomes a loner (does the lake territories even HAVE any loners that function similar to Barley, Ravenpaw, Smudge, etc???), or joins another clan (i highly doubt this since the other clan would eventually learn of 'clearface' and start calling her that again, or worse kick her out for breaking the code), OR she becomes a kittypet, completely willing to trade freedom just to be loved.

...forgive me but I feel like a lot of people are missing the point of Dishonor Titles and why and how Ashfur uses them.

Ashfur is picking the cruelest possible names he can think of exactly because he wants the people who oppose him to be broken. He is finding a character's deepest insecurity and putting it on full display, forcing the other cats in the Clan to join in on his mental abuse to set them against each other.

This serves the purpose of showing that Ashfur is even worse than Bramblestar, and that he is very perceptive of people's insecurities.

The cruelty is the point. These titles from the Impostor aren't meant to be petty, they are meant to be gutwrenching.

Why does Blossomfall not leave? Because her entire family is here. Father, siblings, three children, any friendships she's finally started working on. She had to beg to come back in on their grace and she will not get another chance. Random humans aren't an option. It hurts but she eats it, knowing her only options are to take it for the next two weeks or be exiled forever.

If she was going to leave because of the name, then that is something Bramblefake can use as well. "Codebreakers are weak cats. She couldn't handle having her disrespect thrown back at her and cared more about her pride than her Clan. A traitor twice, now a traitor thrice."

But things were just finally starting to get better for her, and she's not willing to leave her entire life behind for the exciting opportunity to... live alone in the woods. Not yet.

She becomes a rebel later, but not yet.

[2af-afterdark]

Hi I'm back! Since my own take about the au was slightly different than you, I decided that I'm gonna call this, tryrant!reader instead of god!reader so anyone can tell the difference.

-

CW: , mention of gore/violence, talk about sacrifices, Messing with the theory that wasn't even mine, religious theme, pretty fucked up writing, suggestive?(They lick your feet and got hard), MC is GOD

CHARA: currently not mentioned. Only use angels and humans. They're npc in this???

MC/READER: currently not mention any pronoun. Only use YOU

READER is not Ra-on.

-

You let out a low huff as you lean back till you feel the firm coldness of the object hit the fabric of your clothing. With your legs crossed, heads high up with only your eyes gazing down, refusing to show any sign of respect, you look undoubtedly superior.

The angels continue to grovel in your feet, knees scraped like a crumbled paper from constantly being on the floor as they continue to worship you with obsessive reverence. Your face scrunch in disgust and without a warning, your muscle reflex on your legs to your feet before it ended up moving. You kick one of the angel in the face as he got send flying on the wall. The angels don't show any concern about their fellow colleagues and in fact envied them even for getting touched by you.

You quickly regain your manner as you notice the blood tickling down on your feet. You snap your hand, quickly getting the rest of the angels attention as you guide their gaze to your heels.

"Lick it. I want nothing to be left behind"

You don't have to speak twice before the angels start shoving each other way, with one nearly get it's wing ripped. A lucky one manages to sneak from the chaos as it holds your legs delicately before

eagerly start lapping at the what left in your shoes. A wave of shiver after shiver send on the angels spine with every contact of their tongue to your skin. It's intoxicating.

You roll your eyes as you rest on your arm. Just another day in heaven.

-

👉👈

.

[stylized-corpse]

One of my favourite Immortal songs ever.

Immortal - "Tyrants" Sons of Northern Darkness February 4th, 2002 Black Metal Nuclear Blast Records Bergen, Norway

[kingcriccket]

I don't think The Poppy War is perfect, but it's sure interesting in dialogue with Iron Widow, a book it is- maybe unfairly- often compared to. There's this interview at the end of the copy I have where R. F. Kuang talks about the scene where Rin has to decide between expulsion from the academy and becoming permanently sterile, and she chooses to become sterile.

And the author talks about this as an unfair choice— she says it's child abuse, it shouldn't have been asked of Rin. Return to poverty and subjugation, or destroy part of your body. It's a mark of injustice and abuse as much as Rin needing to burn herself to stay awake studying is. This is a cruel and unjust world, especially for young women— destroy yourself in the pursuit of power, or be destroyed by the world. It's the choiceless choice. She says, "it's horrible that she's forced to choose... and she does make a choice, and she does find it empowering, and she doesn't regret it, but that never should have been a choice that was presented to her in the first place, and that's what I wish people would take from that scene, rather than like "yay, girl power, no babies."

And Iron Widow is the "yay girl power no babies" book. Metaphorically speaking.

[thedeadthree]

HEHEEEHEHE YANA HATH MADE IT TO THE MIND FLAYER COLONY SHES ON HER WAY TO SEE HER DEAREST !!!!!!!

[beggars-opera]

On the road leading into the center of Concord, Massachusetts, there sits a house.

It is a plain, colonial-style house, of which there are many along this road. It has sea green and buff paint, a historical plaque, and one of the most multi-layered stories I have ever encountered to showcase that history is continuous, complicated, and most importantly, fragmentary, unless you know where to look.

So, where to start? The plaque.

There's some usual information here: Benjamin Barron built the house in 1716, and years later it was a "witness house" to the start of the American Revolution. And then, something unusual: a note about an enslaved man named John Jack whose epitaph is "world famous."

Where is this epitaph? Right around the corner in the town center.

It reads:

God wills us free; man wills us slaves. I will as God wills; God’s will be done. Here lies the body of JOHN JACK a native of Africa who died March 1773 aged about 60 years Tho’ born in a land of slavery, He was born free. Tho’ he lived in a land of liberty, He lived a slave. Till by his honest, tho’ stolen labors, He acquired the source of slavery, Which gave him his freedom; Tho’ not long before Death, the grand tyrant Gave him his final emancipation, And set him on a footing with kings. Tho’ a slave to vice, He practised those virtues Without which kings are but slaves.

We don't know precisely when the man first known only as Jack was purchased by Benjamin Barron. We do know that he, along with an enslaved woman named Violet, were listed in Barron's estate upon his death in 1754. Assuming his gravestone is accurate, at that time Jack would have been about 40 and had apparently learned the shoemaking trade from his enslaver. With his "honest, though stolen labors" he was then able to earn enough money to eventually purchase his freedom from the remaining Barron family and change his name to John, keeping Jack as a last name rather than using his enslaver's.

John Jack died, poor but free, in 1773, just two years before the Revolutionary War started. Presumably as part of setting up his own estate, he became a client of local lawyer Daniel Bliss, brother-in-law to the minister, William Emerson. Bliss and Emerson were in a massive family feud that spilled into the rest of the town, as Bliss was notoriously loyal to the crown, eventually letting British soldiers stay in his home and giving them information about Patriot activities.

Daniel Bliss also had abolitionist leanings. And after hearing John's story, he was angry.

Here was a man who had been kidnapped from his home country, dragged across the ocean, and treated as an animal for decades. Countless others were being brutalized in the same way, in the same town that claimed to love liberty and freedom. Reverend Emerson railed against the British government from the pulpit, and he himself was an enslaver.

It wouldn't do. John Jack deserved so much more. So, when he died, Bliss personally paid for a large gravestone and wrote its epitaph to blast the town's hypocrisy from the top of Burial Hill. When the British soldiers trudged through the cemetery on April 19th, 1775, they were so struck that they wrote the words down and published them in the British newspapers, and that hypocrisy passed around Europe as well. And the stone is still there today.

You know whose stone doesn't survive in the burial ground?

Benjamin Barron's.

Or any of his family that I know of. Which is absolutely astonishing, because this story is about to get even more complicated.

Benjamin Barron was a middle-class shoemaker in a suburb that wouldn't become famous until decades after his death. He lived a simple life only made possible by chattel slavery, and he will never show up in a U.S. history textbook.

But he had a wife, and a family. His widow, Betty Barron, from whom John purchased his freedom, whose name does not appear on her home's plaque or anywhere else in town, does appear either by name or in passing in every single one of those textbooks.

Terrible colonial spelling of all names in their marriage record aside, you may have heard her maiden name before:

Betty Parris was born into a slaveholding family in 1683, in a time when it was fairly common for not only Black, but also Indigenous people to be enslaved. It was also a time of war, religious extremism, and severe paranoia in a pre-scientific frontier. And so it was that at the age of nine, Betty pointed a finger at the Arawak woman enslaved in her Salem home, named Titibe, and accused her of witchcraft.

Yes, that Betty Parris.

Her accusations may have started the Salem Witch trials, but unlike her peers, she did not stay in the action for long. As a minor, she was not allowed to testify at court, and as the minister's daughter, she was too high-profile to be allowed near the courtroom circus. Betty's parents sent her to live with relatives during the proceedings, at which point her "bewitchment" was cured, though we're still unsure if she had psychosomatic problems solved by being away from stress, if she stopped because the public stopped listening, or if she stopped because she no longer had adults prompting her.

Following the witch hysteria, the Parrises moved several times as her infamous father struggled to hold down a job and deal with his family's reputation. Eventually they landed in Concord, where Betty met Benjamin and married him at the age of 26, presumably having had no more encounters with Satan in the preceding seventeen years. She lived an undocumented life and died, obscure and forgotten, in 1760, just five years before the Stamp Act crisis plunged America into a revolution, a living bridge between the old world and the new.

I often wonder how much Betty's story followed her throughout her life. People must have talked. Did they whisper in the town square, "Do you know what she did when she was a girl?" Did John Jack hear the stories of how she had previously treated the enslaved people in her life? Did that hasten his desperation to get out? And what of Daniel Bliss; did he know this history as well, seeing the double indignity of it all? Did he stop and think about how much in the world had changed in less than a century since his neighbor was born?

We'll never know.

All that's left is a gravestone, and a house with an insufficient plaque.

[dijidweeeb]

Motivational Music in the Morning ... #Clutch, #TightLikeThat #BasketOfEggs ... From #BlastTyrant [Official Audio Track] (2015) #MMitM1

[so-sures-blog]

Earthbound

earthbound definition: attached or restricted to the earth.

In which Cole stands up to a tyrant that is cruel and unjust deep within the mountain. Because he made a promise.

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

It doesn’t take a genius to see that Cole’s losing.

The cave is in chaos; the sound of screams and clanging weapons fill the air as two sides clash against each other.

Vangelis and the Skull are toying with him, and he knows it: they’re circling him, trying to throw him off by telling lies about his mother. Cole blocks the hits from Vangelis and the blasts from the Skull, feeling like a fly they were winding up in a web of lies.

Vangelis rises above him, resembling a winged creature of death with his blank mask and the glowing Skull of Hazza D’ur in hand. “And now, her deceit has doomed you!”

“Her only son,” the Skull rasps.

Vangelis hurls the Skull at Cole; growing brighter and brighter the closer it gets. He stands his ground and braces himself.

The Skull collides, and the blades …

… shatter.

Cole is thrown back, the air knocked out of his lungs as his body rolls to a stop. He sits up weakly, before throwing back his mask to gasp at the sight of the broken Blades of Deliverance.

“No!” He cries. With trembling fingers, his gloved hands hold onto the shattered pieces of the black and white blades. “It can’t be …”

His mother … lied …

“It is,” Vangelis glides towards him menacingly. “And now, you will pay the price for your mother’s lies.”

“Lies, deceit,” the Skull rasps.

Cole screams in pain as the Skull unleashes fire upon his fallen form.

“Your cause is lost.”

More fire.

“Have the grace to admit defeat.”

More fire. More, more. Blistering pain wreaks havoc across his broken body.

It’s hopeless. He’s finished. He’s too weak. It’s over. He just wants to —

He remembers his mother.

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

“I want you to promise me, Cole. That you will always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust. Always.”

“Always.”

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

His mother … her strength hadn’t come from the Blades of Deliverance. She’s always been strong. She had been sick all his life, yet no matter how weak her body had gotten she had moved through her life with implacable momentum. Impossible to sway or dissuade. Ever since he was young, his mom had power — from her beliefs … and from the Earth.

“It was her,” he realizes. “It wasn't the blades. It was her. The power inside my mother.” The power inside of me, his heart whispers. Not the Spinjitzu Burst. The power of Earth.

“It was all her.”

“Alas,” Vangelis laughs cruelly. “You are not half the warrior your mother was.”

Pain and grief bite through his being, but Cole forces himself to his feet to glare at the Skull Sorcerer. “Maybe not, but I am her son.” Conviction buries itself deep into his being. “And I made her a promise to stand up to tyrants like you! Always!”

The mountain rumbles its agreement. Cole digs his fingers into the rock and feels it mold around the shape of them. Every grain of earth begins to glow as his power seeps into it.

“What are you doing? What is this!” The Skull Sorcerer demands.

“It's the Burst!” He barely hears Master Wu cry above his roaring element.

But no. It's not, and Cole can feel it. It's something different. Deeper.

His power was strongest when he was the closest to the earth and he’s never been farther underground. He was basically at the bottom of the world. Never has he been more surrounded by the very thing that powered him. The Skull Sorcerer thought he was burying him — but what if bringing him closer to his full strength? To the source of his elemental power?

Cole could feel it — the connection to the earth. He could feel it reaching out towards him, coming from the ground all around him.

He stands and lets it in. He let the energy of the earth infuse him, deep into his core and surging forward. The Skull of Hazza D’ur comes flying forward to finish him off and Cole bursts to life.

Unparalleled power explodes from the earth, bright and blinding, and Cole feels more alive than ever. His skin disappears, being replaced with magma and rock as the mountain quakes under his force.

The battle halts as everyone stops at the sheer force of the Earth; Ninja gape in shock, the Shintarians fly back in fear, the cave-dwellers stare with awe.

“Son of Lilly,” the Geckle and Munce whisper.

Cole rises with the power of the Earth; the Skull spiraling, lost, as he reaches for it with a molten hand and throws it down against the Earth. Destroying it.

The battle — one that had been reigning in secret for decades — is finally over.

🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤

Vania dips her head as the last servant that has finished attending her and shuts the door.

She takes a deep breath, listening to the fading footsteps of the servant and the guards clanking armor move away.

Then she springs into action.

She quickly changes, flying out of her normal, queenly wardrobe into more plain, neutral robes. She glances at Chompy, who’s watching her from his bed. She touches the dragon’s head.

“I’ll be back before morning — promise,” she whispers. He makes a chattering noise, telling her he’s displeased. “I know! I will, I promise. I just …” she bites her lip. “I just can’t leave him alone down there.”

Maybe Chompy can hear the pain in her voice, because he doesn’t argue — simply pushes his head into her hand with a small chur of forgiveness.

Vania pushes past the grief and stands, lighting a candle before leaving. She sneaks through her own palace silently, moving past guards like a ninja as she heads for the gardens.

She makes her way to the entrance of the garden alcove leading into the mountain, her heart steadily beating harder. The caves beneath the mountain were deserted, with the Geckle and Munce people deciding that they wanted to live their new lives above the mountain.

She scurries down; down and down the winding mountain, past cramped caverns and twisting turns, the cloying darkness only fought off by a single flame.

Finally she reaches it.

The Heart of the Mountain.

The legendary temple for the Masters of Earth. Ancient scriptures written in the Old Tongue read: Let pass through here, into this refuge and sanctuary, only those who are One with the Earth. Orange flames danced off the walls, even though no one had been down here to light them. Power shined through the giant doorway as Vania drew nearer.

Creak …

The door opened slightly.

Vania went inside, following the carved path molded by Geckle and Munce. Statues of ancient Earth Masters and their stories echoes around her, and she ignores the familiar goosebumps that rise along her skin. Her eyes linger on the statue of Lilly, before moving on.

Statues are more than solid pieces of art. They are immovable, unbreakable monuments that enrich storytelling, making the experience of living more profound and unforgettable. They remind us of the strength of traditions, the power of history, and the enduring spirit that echoes throughout the ages.

She draws closer to the one standing in the middle, heart beating loudly in her chest. It's tall and strong, newly carved. Awake and glowing with the surging elemental energy. She reads the plaque in front of it.

This statue was carved with love and gratitude by Geckle, Munce, and Shintarian craftsmen in honor of Cole Brookstone: Ninja, brother, and son.

Vania places the candle on the stone ledge and takes a seat on it, facing away from the statue. It feels like yesterday she was trapped in here with the Upply and Master Wu, trying to figure out a way to stop her father. She forces the memories away when she feels the mountain move.

“Hello, Cole,” she says softly. The Earth rumbles under her feet, before slowly forming and making a vague shape of the person she used to know. Orange light shines through the cracks of rock as he peers at her curiously, waiting.

Vania smiles.

“So, what story would you like to hear today?”

[brainrot-yumm]

by the way I just realized something deeply important to my understanding of Mario lore

Mario loves adventure. Luigi loves exploration.

Mario is the one who does all the main quests, fights most of the bosses, has the main rivalry with the current kidnapper/tyrant/omnicidal maniac. Luigi will tag along sometimes, but not all the time, and though he will always be willing to fight, he will always be a lot more afraid.

But Luigi loves exploring! He's a big tourist! Likes talking to the people! He likes seeing new places, he just doesn't like getting attacked for it! In Odyssey he still shows up on many different worlds! Went there himself! And sure he's happy being at home, but he's happy to explore too!

Think about that lederhosen and tell me he isn't having a blast when people aren't trying to kill him lol

[impyssadobsessions]

Just some doodling concepts randomly. This is King Danny frozen in ice. The idea basically he gets imprisoned like pariah but not for being a tyrant but the ancients feared him. Made a quick short excerpt. Either way.. Justice league finds his resting place after busting a villain for their mine operation of powerful ice crystals. Only to discover an entity frozen behind ice with high power levels. Turns out its possibly the ancient being known as the Ghost King. He is waking up from the mining and disturbance of the Justice League. The ice shatters revealing the ghost king to be a small teen.. broken and in shambles as he realize he had been imprisoned and everyone and thing he knew was most n likely long gone. owo mini excerpt below >w<

The caverns rumbled and roared as the ice crackled and shook from the power emitting from the being trapped behind its crystalize tomb. The heroes could do nothing, but fall to their knees to keep balance and prepare for whatever hell this “Ghost King” could unleash once freed. The crystals started to shatter and burst, until the large one exploded. The heroes shielded themselves and each other, trying to protect from the blast as the cavern filled with icy smoke and crystalize dust. Thick silence hung heavy in the air as the power aura of the being kept the heroes frozen in spot. In the dust a figure stood large and tall, eyes glowing bright green. Piercing through the dense dust. It felt as if the Ghost King could see right into their souls. The heroes watched, baiting and waiting to move. But as the dust clear, they realized the King wasn't going to fight. Yet, they stayed in place hesitant for another reason as the settling of the dust revealed the form behind the silhouette was of a young teen. The teen's eyes dimmed, as the air in the room lightened. The young king's shoulders fell as green eyes drooped. The child slumped back against the remains of his prison, sliding down until he plopped onto the floor. He stared off in front of him, pulling a leg to his chest, looking broken, as if all the weight that was once in the room now had been placed on his shoulders. Steps echoed in the cavern towards the teen, who barely glanced at the figure once they stood in front of him. White rings appearing around the teen as Batman knelt down in front of him. The white hair teen avoiding looking at him until the voice register. “Who are you? Do you know where you are?” The white rings slowly climbed up and down the teen's body. The other heroes tensing and flinching to grab Batman- until they realize the white rings was revealing the teen's true form. The teen stared up at Batman, seeming to think about answering, when he sighed tiredly. Batman tensing at seeing such a defeated expression. “Danny... Phantom.. Ghost king. And...” The white rings revealing a teenage boy with black hair and blue eyes. He glanced back, gesturing to the broken crystal. “This was my prison..”