[Here's a second read along! Reading done by animeArtluvr469]
[Read it here in German! Translated by the lovely alltimeOpheliac]
Alfred washed out his mouth, spitting brown water back into the bathroom sink. He glanced back at the toilet but decided against going back until after dinner.
He wiped his mouth and threw out the paper towel, missing the trash can. He sighed, picking it up again. As he bent over his sweat shirt hung as if it were three sizes too big but it wasn't. As he threw out the paper towel he grimly thought about the red sweatshirt hanging on his shoulders loosely. It had once fit him, bu
The Many Faces of Chara
A Comparison of Undertale Theories
Third Edition: Updated June 12, 2016
New in the Third Edition:
Added a hierarchy of fan theory evidence.Added the origins, major influences, and major arguments of each theory.Renamed Reincarnation Theory to Passive Frisk Theory, added new variations on the theory.Renamed Control Theory to Third Entity Theory, added new information.
Added a list of common Chara depictions by fans, plus links to examples.Expanded on the rise and current fall of Genocide Chara Theory, as well as the rise of Narrator/Passive Chara Theory.Added a section on what will happen if Toby Fox confirms one of the theor
An Introduction to Haiku Structures
A haiku poem cannot be defined according to the number of syllables and lines it contains (nor by the number of syllables in each line). Although I do not wish to go into the reasons why at this point (I will save that for a later discussion) the form of modern English haiku, as Haruo Shirane writes, is a short poem, usually written in one to three lines. (in Gilbert, 2009) At this point our definition sounds very vague. If the number of syllables and lines do not define a haiku poem, then what does? And if a haiku poem is simply a short one, two or three-line poem then what separates it from other forms of Western short-verse or, in the case of one-line haiku, a sentence?
Patricia Donegan writes, in agreement with the Western haiku community at large, that syllable counting... is not the important thing for haiku in English. Haiku is an experience, not an act of co
Yao stumbled through the crowded kitchen at the greasy restaurant he worked at. He was carrying about five woks he had just cleaned and they were heavy for someone as young as him. He pushed through men and set the woks down on the counter with much effort.
Yao was currently working at a local restaurant to help support his family. The man who had hired him liked him better than other children who wanted the job. He was strong and he could pay him little because of his age, a mere eleven years old.
Usually by his age he would’ve been sent to school but his family didn’t have the money, so he was stuck working. He didn’t mind it that much. The restaurant was much nicer than the other places he had worked in. At least he wasn’t out in fields harvesting
Two men, dressed in white scrubs that outlined fine muscles, held an even larger man by his biceps. They led him through the dreary bland hallways to one of many rooms in the labyrinth-like building. The large man walked in without fighting and one man quickly jabbed a needle in his arm, a sedative. As soon as the doors closed behind him he snapped his head around at it. He glared at the door for a moment, mumbling something his breath.
Ivan had been in a mental institution for years now. How long? He wasn't sure. He just knew it was a long, long time. He was admitted here when he was in his mid-twenties, now he was nearing middle aged. His family had stopped visiting him years ago. They left him. The voices told him that. They didn't want him. He was useless to them and they would let him die here.
[Read along here! reading done by animeArtluvr469]
Arthur was on another one of his trips. Not a traveling trip of course, but a deranged one of hallucinations. The hallucinations were fading now though. Arthur sighed, falling back onto his dirty couch in his run-down flat. He didn't have much money to make his flat any better due to his drug addiction but he did not care at all.
He grabbed the bag of mushrooms from the small plastic table in front of him. He smiled now He had just bought these new mushrooms his dealer picked out in the forest. They were called "amanita muscaria" apparently. He didn't care for the name really. He just wanted the euphoric sensation they gave him.
He popped a couple in his mouth along with a few ol