#i just wish we could rid ourselves once and for all of the idea that any political candidate is going to actually be interested in

[scenecipriano]

Time Stands Still (2)

Chapter One: Stayed Gone

TW: None that I can think of other than swearing

----------

Vox stares at his screen in disbelief, the no signal sign with Alastor’s face mocks him, it’s taunting him. How, just how did that asshole live from a holy bullet to the fucking heart? He digs his claws into his chair, taking a shaky breath as he does, this could be in his favor. Maybe Alastor can be talked to, be civil…

“Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? He’s fucking pissed and I’m the only one who knows why he’s pissed,” Vox mumbles as he drags his hands down his screen. 

He tenses when a knock comes from his door. 

“Voxxie, I get that you’re pissed the radio bitch is back but could you not plunge the city into total darkness? I have a film I have to produce soon and power is kind of needed for that.” 

It was Val, he felt himself relax knowing that it was only him. Not like Alastor would dare step into the V tower, even he wasn’t that stupid. 

“I-It’ll be back up in a second, I just overheated,” he replies. 

‘I’m going to make you wish I’d stayed gone.’ 

Vox grits his teeth, he has to get the upper hand on Alastor. The bastard already had a one up on him, by teaming up with the princess of fucking Hell. How would he even top that? He couldn’t go to Lucifer himself, he doubts the man would turn on the Radio Demon, not when it means he’d be turning against his own daughter. 

“If only that bitch had never come here this shit wouldn’t be happening,” Vox hisses. 

He pauses, his screen lighting up with a lightbulb as an idea occurs to him. If Alastor had never come to hell then he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. He stands from his chair and strides over to the door, throwing them open he hears Valentino hiss out a curse as he barely dodges out of the way. 

“What the fuck!?” 

“Sorry–I just had an idea to rid us of that fucking prick once and for all, do you know how to get ahold of Zestiel?” Vox asks as he continues his stride down the hallway. 

The sound of Val’s heels clicking behind him is the only answer he gets, Vox growls and glances back. 

“VaL-.” He hisses. 

“I don’t fucking know, Carmilla would be the best to ask about the old freak. Why do you even want to meet with him in the first place? I gave you a way to get rid of the radio bitch, why do you need to see them?” 

Vox swings around, a part of him hates the way Valentino flinches away from the sudden movement, but he can’t afford to worry about that right now. 

“I used what you gave me seven fucking years ago! He’s back and fucking pissed that I nearly killed him! Why the fuck do you think he’s been gone for seven years!?” 

Valentino blinks in surprise, “Then how–.” 

“I don’t fucking know!” Vox explodes, “I don’t f-fucking know. I thought for sure the shot to the damn heart would end him! I don’t know if the fucker made some type of deal, but if he did I need to get the upper hand. You saw what happened, even after seven years the motherfucker still has some form of damn clout over these idiot sinners.” 

He can’t let Alastor gain the upper hand he just can’t, damn it this was the new status quo, this was going to be the V’s era in Hell! There wasn’t going to be a goddamn reboot where the Radio Demon rules the airwaves and streets!

“Voxxie, just breathe. Before you go doing something stupid and possibly reckless, let's try to handle the bitch ourselves.” 

Vox frowns, “How do you propose we handle it then? Hm? Use your little whore as a spy? I know Alastor better than anyone and he won’t let someone like Angel get near him.” 

A grumble leaves the TV demon’s mouth when the overgrown moth slings his arm around his neck. 

“I was thinking of someone with a bit more sssstyle~.” 

Vox blinks and looks up at Val, the pimps gold tooth twinkling in the light of his screen. He mimics the pimps smirk as he lets out a laugh. 

“Ya know what? I think you’re right.” 

“Sssir Pentious reporting for duty!” 

Vox struggles to hold back his laughter, the snake demon was a pain in the V’s ass, but maybe he can be useful just this once. 

“At ease Sir Loser,” Velvette starts, “We just need you to snoop a little on Voxxie’s old pal, Alastor.” 

At the mention of the Radio Demon, Sir Pentious loses his confident edge. His hood deflates as he avoids eye-contact with the V’s. 

“I don’t know if that will be a good idea.” 

“And why is that, hm? Don’t you want to impress us? Finally be acknowledged by us,” Valentino says as he blows a puff of smoke in the snake's face. 

Pentious coughs and waves the smoke away, hissing slightly as he glares at the three overlords. 

“Of course! I just recently had a mishap with Alastor.” 

He shows them the little piece of fabric he managed to snag from the tails of his suit jacket. This time Vox can’t help but laugh at the snake demon, does he really think that just because he tore Alastor’s suit that that means anything? 

“O-Oh boy, and here I thought you actually got a real piece of him! Wow, you must be really proud of this little trophy of yours,” Vox teases as he plucks the piece of fabric from Pentious’s hand. 

“I-I am!” Sir Pentious exclaims as he takes the fabric back, “He made a fool of me lasst week! So getting even just the little snag of him shows that I have ssome potential!” 

“Oh! It definitely does snake babe, but if you really want to show us your potential you’ll infiltrate that pathetic hotel and find out just what the deer is up to,” Valentino purrs as he takes a drag from his cigarette. 

Sir Pentious bites his lip, he’s finally getting recognized by the three overlords, something he’s craved for years, but after his second encounter with Alastor he isn’t sure he wants to cross the radio again so soon. 

“You’re overthinking it, Pen! Look, it’ll be easy! You just get in there, the princess if naive enough to believe your quest for redemption and none of those morons will go against her,” Vox explains as he straps a video watch to the snakes wrist and placing a camera in his other hand, “You just need to take this camera in there and set it up where no one will find it. You accomplish that and maybe just maybe I’ll advertise your inventions on the next Vox Tech announcement!” 

Pen looks down at the watch and back up at the TV overlord. 

“Really?” 

“R-Really! Think about it, with your inventions on my screens nobody would ever try to step up to you again!” 

Vox watches patiently as the snake mulls the idea over in his head, he can already tell he’s won with the “promise” of promoting the idiot's inventions on Vox Tech. 

“Okay, I’ll do it. I swear on the life of my egg boys that I shall not fail you three!” 

“That’s the spirit!” Velvette exclaims, “Now, get outta here and get us into that hotel!” 

The three V’s watch as Sir Pentious slithers his way out of the tower, they wait for the door to fully shut before bursting out in laughter. 

“Do you really think he’s going to achieve this, Vox?” 

“My dear, if he manages it then I just might actually advertise his shitty inventions on Vox Tech just to show him a form of gratitude.” 

An hour passed and Vox honestly has hope that the idiot snake will actually pull this gig off. He takes a sip from his mug relishing in the taste of his coffee before the sound of Pentious’ voice causes him to do a noteworthy spit take. 

“Ah abort!! Abort S.O.S!! Agent Pentious in need of an immediate evacuation!!” 

Vox could feel himself trying to short circuit, of course this idiot couldn’t do one simple job. 

“Pentious? Wait you were, caught?” Vox lets out an incredulous laugh, “It hasn’t even been a day!” 

“Please!” Sir Pentious pleads, “you’ve got to get me out of here!” 

Is he really that stupid? 

“I can’t believe we thought you could handle even something  this simple! Hey, do us a favor,” Vox gets closer to the screen, “If they don’t kill you, go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable FAILURE!” 

He ends the transmission, slinging his mug into the wall as he does with a frustrated scream. How could he have been so stupid to think that an imbecile would even be able to do one simple job! 

The sound of static fills the room as the screen comes back to life. Vox swings around to face it, his teeth bared. 

“What!?” 

“You’ll have to try harder than that next time, old pal.” 

Vox screams his frustration as Alastor’s laughter echoes around him. He digs his claws into the metal of his control panel, the feeling of a power outage nags at the back of his head but he doesn’t care right now. 

“There has to be another way,” Vox growls as he drags his claws down. 

There has to be another way and he was going to find it even if it kills him. 

------------

TAGLIST: @justakidicarus

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel sir pentious #swearing #fill free to ask about the fic :D! #if you'd like to be tagged let me #know!

[cloudycera]

The Disappearing Man

A fateful accident lead the Justice League to discover that their close comrade, Captain Marvel, is a young boy named Billy Batson. On that day he made a promise to explain his situation the next day but unfortunately they never saw him or Captain Marvel again.

Days, Weeks and eventually months passed and no sighting of the Captain had been made, search parties of him or his counterpart all ended in nothing but dead ends. No one could find a trace of the hero in hell or the heavens.

He had simply disappeared.

Until one day a strange message was broadcasted across the world, anything with a screen or reflection, translated into all languages, inviting every single human being to play a game. The words replaying for hours into the day until it just stopped.

While heroes met up to discuss the legitimacy of this supposed game invitation.

If this game was real, then it was dangerous and they had to put a stop to it before people got hurt.

The justice league had gathered in the Tower briefing room days after the message was spread. Heated debate on how to approach the issues filled the room.

"But I the long run we have no idea what or who we're getting involved with, the only way to investigate this would be to put ourselves in unknown danger." Batman brought up contemplation written across his half covered face.

The others looks agreed but they couldn't revoke the curiosity that held onto them about the situation.

In that moment the room lit up as lightning crashed down from above, in the centre of the scrouched ground stood Black adam, a grim look replacing his usual cocky grin.

The Leaguers stood in alert as they prepared for the attacks that came with these surprised visits but to their surprise the only thing they received was plea from Adam.

" Heroes, it is with my deepest regret that I must plea with you to aid me." His head hung low but he made eye contact with the rest of the room.

"Help you? If I remember up until now the only thing you wanted help with was our heads." Diana stood with her sworn drawn as she spoke to him.

"Exactly, if this is a trick it's your worst one yet Buddy." Hal said arms crossed.

The others gave agreeing looks.

" If you wish to save the child and this world you have no choice buy to work with me."

Superman perked up and came forward.

"The Child? What child?" He asked.

Batman blankly replied before Adam could respond.

"Billy Batson correct."

Adam flinched and nodded.

"Why? What happened to him?" Superman asked looking concerned.

"I do not know."

"Then how do you know he's in danger" Flash spoke up.

"Because of this thing, Marvel gave it to he before he disappeared." Adam pulled out a toy, a tiger plushie and put it on the floor.

"A dol-" Before Superman could speak up the toy was surrounded by smoke and in it's place a real tiger took its place.

"This is Tawney Tawney, the Wizard's most trusted servant, he's typically in Marvel's care but before he disappeared he gave it to me and told me to hold onto it."

"Of course I tried to get rid of it but the blasted creature would always return." Adam seemed irritated as he glared at the Tiger.

"I made a promise to Billy to stick to you like my life depends on it and to only speak to you once it happens." Tawney finally spoke, peacefully making himself at home as he sat on the floor and licked his fur.

"I'm not sure why you chose now to tell me this, our situation is dire because of your procrastination." Adam muttered.

"What situation?" Batman asked his eyes not leaving Adam.

"The Beginning of the End of course, The Awakening of Klarion the witch kid. He's the one that made that message to the world, his invitation to the earth's demise." Tawney spoke drawing everyone's attention once more.

"What does this have to do with Billy?" Batman asked.

"Before he disappeared, Billy found put that Klarion was on the brink of becoming whole in this universe again and formulated a plan to safe guard the world from his wrath." Tawney said.

"I've seen Klarions destruction, he craves nothing but chaos and he has the power to cause it. He is a God and in the past it took the lives of millions to seal him and his legends away. But nothing can last forever.

"What I don't understand is why we're just hearing about this now? When he's finally showing his head?" Wonder woman asked rigidly.

"Yeah, at this point isn't it a little to late, it's been months since he disappeared and Klarion scheme is already in play" Green Lantern backed her.

"At this point it would seem all is lost." Adam closed his eyes.

"I hear a but in there" Hal replied.

Tawney spoke up.

"But believe it or not this is the best case scenario, Klarion is giving us a chance to play for our lives, which means Billy's plan is already in motion."

"We don't even know what the plan is?" Bruce said.

"I only know the first half of it, stay with Black adam till Klarion's message is revealed and gather the league in the Rock of eternity. If he's not back by then, he's moved on to the next phase." Tawney moved over to the window overlooking the earth itself.

"......I understand it's a lot to understand right now, but Billy is a good friend and a good soul, I believe there was a reason to leave you all in the dark."

"You're free to reject this of course."

#I told you i had angst #billy batson #Billy goes bye bye #Klarion my beloved #dc dcomics #dc heroes #shazam #justice league #captain marvel #Batman #Superman #fanficton #wonder woman #the flash #black adam #green lantern

[sakura-samsara]

Yoichi Main Story: Chapter 5 Normal Story

← Chapter 5

Yoichi: Aww, man. I really hate working off-schedule. 

Yoshino: Yoichi-san?!

Yoichi: That’s me.

He hurled another knife at the ayakashi, the flash of its blade splitting the black of night. 

The ayakashi let out a roar, and its mistlike form dispersed until it seemed like it had dissolved into the darkness.

Yoichi: Get over here, Yoshino!

Yoshino: !!

My body moved faster than my mind at the very moment that I heard him call for me. 

I dashed to Yoichi’s side despite the limp in my gait—at the same time, the dark shadow began to coalesce again, writhing with new vitality.

Yoshino: No…!

Yoichi: Well, this isn’t good. If a knife isn't going to cut it, there’s nothing else I can do. 

(How can he say that so casually?!)

Yoichi: Now—oof!—up you go.

Yoshino: Yoichi-san?! What are you doing??

He’d hooked his arm under my knees and lifted me up against his chest with ease.

Yoichi: Stay still, mmkay?

Yoichi spoke in a hushed voice, breaking into a sprint with me still held tight in his arms.

Yoshino: P-Put me down! You’re putting yourself in danger…

Yoichi: No way am I letting you do any running. Your leg’s injured, from the looks of it. Just keep quiet and hang on. 

(He noticed…)

Warmth bloomed in my chest as I entrusted my body to Yoichi despite my disorientation.

I cast an apprehensive look back towards the ayakashi—it hadn’t caught up to us just yet.

(It looks like the ayakashi needs to take a while to recover after it’s attacked.)

Yoshino: What are you even doing here in the first place?

Yoichi: Yashichi ran to my stand and begged me to come rescue you. Kid was just bawling his eyes out, so it wasn’t like I could say no. 

Yoshino: So Yashichi-kun called for help after all…

(Thank goodness that he returned safe and sound!)

(...But that makes this the second time that Yoichi-san’s saved me, now.)

Yoshino: …Thank you, Yoichi-san.

Yoichi: Don’t thank me just yet. 

He jabbed a finger out at the darkness,

and I followed its line to see the ayakashi creeping towards us almost vengefully. 

(....)

We had hidden ourselves in a grove of trees, but the ayakashi was still roving through the thicket as though it was searching for us.

Yoichi: Sure, I could run around playing cops and robbers with that thing all night.

Yoichi: But if we don’t deal with it eventually, we’re gonna end up bringing it back to town with us when we go back.

(If that happens…!)

Yoshino: We can't let it attack the townspeople!

Yoichi: Ehh, speak for yourself. It’s not like I've got any reason to care about the people of Kamakura.

Yoshino: How could you—?!

I swallowed the rest of my words before they could spill out.

(Yoichi-san came all this way to rescue me.)

(Regardless of why he did it, it’s not right for me to complain about what he says when he’s helping me.)

Yoshino: I just wish I could use my powers to get rid of it…

Yoichi: What? You can’t even use them?

Yoshino: I tried, but… Yeah… I have no idea how I was able to use them without thinking earlier. 

Yoichi: …

Yoichi: I heard Kurama tell Yoshitsune-sama something once.

Yoichi: Supernatural powers are transferred to and from the soul. Using them is less about thinking and more about feeling. So, the stronger your will to use them is, the stronger they’ll end up manifesting. Or something like that.

(That means…)

Yoshino: So you think I can’t use my powers well because I don’t believe enough in myself? 

Yoichi: That could be it, yeah.

(...Well, I was pretty doubtful about whether or not I’d be able to use my possession powers when I tried earlier.) 

Yoshino: So, if I try my hardest to will myself to use their power… will I finally be able to do it? 

Yoichi: Sure, yeah.

I looked intently at Yoichi in spite of his indifferent response. 

Yoshino: Yoichi-san, please put me down and stand back.

(Yoichi-san is right. There’s nothing we can do about the situation just by standing around.) 

(This time, I will stop the ayakashi before it attacks the town!)

Yoichi: ……

I held his gaze as he cast a long look at me, as though he was sizing me up. 

Yoichi: Nah, I don’t think I will.

(Huh?)

Yoichi: If you’re gonna use your powers, why don’t you use them with me by your side?

Yoichi: That way, I can have your back. 

He drew a knife from his pocket, so deftly that it seemed to appear out of thin air. Like a magic trick.

Yoshino: But…

Yoichi: Oh? You’re worried about me? You’re such a sweetheart.

(That wasn’t what I—)

The spark of mirth that always danced in Yoichi’s eyes suddenly disappeared, his face now cast in a serious light.

Yoichi: You’re the kind of person who’d throw your life in danger just to protect a little fox you found on the side of the road. 

Yoichi: So if you’re gonna try using your powers again, I think it’s best if you’ve got someone to protect you while you’re at it.

(...So he’s saying he won’t leave? He’ll stay with me?)

Yoshino: I just don’t get why you would help me. What’s in this for you…?

(From what I’ve learned about Yoichi-san, he doesn’t seem like he does things purely out of the kindness of his heart.) 

That devil-may-care smile reappeared on his face, but I had a feeling that he was far more calculating than he let on. 

Yoichi: You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy. I’ll only ask you for a contingency fee.

Yoshino: What do you want…?

Yoichi: Your trust.

Yoshino: Huh…?

Yoichi: I’m not asking you to trust in me completely.

Yoichi: But if you can manage to get rid of that ayakashi, I want you to let me into your heart a little.

Yoichi: Well, that’ll be good enough for now, at least.

Yoichi’s eyes glinted provocatively. 

Yoichi: So, what do you say? You gonna take me up on this gamble?

(It’s a risky deal for me to cut.)

(But right now, the only thing that matters to me is defeating the ayakashi, no matter what it takes.)

Yoshino: …I will.

I answered Yoichi with a resolute nod of my head.

Yoshino: Thank you, Yoichi-san.

Yoichi: You’re my partner now. Don’t mention it.

Yoichi: Oh, and by the way—there’s this other thing that I’ve seen Kurama and Yoshitsune-sama do.

Yoichi: You’ve got to have a strong will to use your powers and all that… 

Yoichi: But apparently it’s easier to control them if you associate some kind of gesture with it. 

Yoshino: Some kind of gesture?

Yoichi: You know, like how Yoshitsune-sama swings his sword to help him cast his blades of wind.

Yoichi: And how Kurama uses his war fan to do the same thing. Your gesture can be whatever you want.

(“Whatever you want”? It sounds pretty simple when he puts it that way…)

Yoshino: I guess that makes sense. I’ll give it a shot!

Yoichi: You can do it.

Yoichi stroked my hair with one of his hands.

Yoshino: …What was that for?

Yoichi: Hm? Oh, that? It’s a magic spell that’ll give you courage. 

(He’s as vexing as always… but I do feel a lot less nervous than I did before.)

Yoichi: You ready now, Yoshino?

Yoshino: I’m ready.

Yoichi: Marvelous.

With that, Yoichi picked me back up and dashed in front of the ayakashi.

(Ah-!)

He gently lowered me to the ground—and, a split second after, sent his knife hurtling towards the ayakashi with a practiced flick of his hand.

Yoichi: It’s no fun, hitting a target when it’s this hard to miss.

His knife struck the center of the black mass before us, and the ayakashi let out a groaning howl. 

Yoichi: Now, Yoshino!

Yoshino: …!

I raised my dominant hand high with its palm facing the ayakashi.

(I have to be strong.)

I focused my eyes forward, readying myself to use my power at its full strength.

(Let me take away its power!)

My hair whipped in a sudden gust of wind.

Yoshino: Ah…!

Silver light danced in the periphery of my vision, and I realized that the color of my hair—and my eyes—must have changed again.

(My hand… feels so hot…)

A thick golden haze rose in the air and illuminated the dark surroundings. 

It lingered for a moment before floating towards me, shimmering as it seemed to absorb into the center of my outstretched palm. 

The strange sensation of magic flowing into me shook me to my core, but…

Yoichi: You’ll be alright. I’ve got faith in you, I really do.

Yoichi: So just relax and do your thing. 

One of his hands settled firmly on my lower back as I felt a powerful warmth envelop my whole body.

(Somehow… I’m not afraid anymore.) 

Yoichi drew yet another knife at the ayakashi, ready to protect me.

The ayakashi stretched out towards Yoichi, as if aiming through the mist hanging in between itself and us.

Yoshino: I won’t let you hurt anyone—so you won’t get any further than here.

Yoichi: …

And at last, the tendrils of darkness was dispersed into the golden mist that then flowed back into my body. 

(Even someone like me… is able to be a protector.)

Yoshino: It’s… over…

Yoichi: Mm.

Yoichi: …Beautiful.

I only barely caught the sound of him murmuring to himself as he gazed at the dimming light that surrounded me.

Chapter 6 →

#ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden translations #ikemen genjiden yoichi #yoichi main story #adding the screenshots to this was such a pain...the things i do for yoichi #also hi friends!! long time no tl! >.< #i'm still in school and can't guarantee consistent ikegen updates again but i do have some things cooking! #namely shigehira yoshitsune and yasuchika's birthday voicelines since i wasn't able to post them on the same day like usual

[herrlindemann]

YAM! 2004

For ten years they have been rocking and shocking the Republic with their violent industrial sound: today they are megastars and shy away from the public like monsters. Yam! brings light into the darkness...

When Rammstein rolled over the local charts for the first time in 1995 like an army of darkness, millions of people were speechless: never before had a German band hit the masses with such blatant and sometimes really sick songs (e.g. 'Rammstein' and ‘Du riechst so gut’ ) before! The result: many people condemned Till, Paul, Flake, Richard, Christoph and Oliver as tasteless lunatics. But the army of fans grew with each of the four hit halves so far (currently: 'Reise, Reise'). To this day, even the most loyal Rammstein fans don't know how the six media-shy musicians really tick. Yam! met drummer Christoph Schneider in the gloomy catacombs of the Westfalenhalle in Dortmund to do "educational work "...

Right at the beginning of your career you were demonized by many as “godless freaks” or “right-wing rockers”. You have never properly denied these allegations. Are you really a danger to humanity?

I would classify Rammstein as an extreme band. But: We are not extreme types. We all come from East Germany where we grew up in a punk underground scene. We have never had anything to do with rights. And it was never our intention to express anything politically...

Why are you hardly ever seen in public?

At first we wanted to play on TV. But we quickly realized that we didn't like it and that we looked stupid. And: We were misunderstood too often.

Why didn't you do anything about these misunderstandings?

We often tried to explain ourselves back then. But once you get rid of an image, it's very hard to keep attacking it!

Please explain to the Yam! readers the idea behind the band Rammstein...

After the fall of the Wall and the end of the GDR in 1989, Rammstein came into being because we wanted to make uncompromising music that we hadn't been able to do in other bands before. The idea behind the project was never to become so famous. We just share one wish: we want to make heavy music.

Can you characterize yourself? Is Till the wild animal behind the stage who decides where to go?

We are all really very different. There are quieter and cheeky types. The guitarists are always cheeky. Paul and Richard. They are probably also the most ambitious in the band. They also have the greatest need for control. Olli, the bassist, is more of a quiet guy who likes to have a say. However, he doesn't have that much to do with the public. Flake is more of a funnyman — the man with two faces. He likes to be at home with his family and embodies humor in Rammstein. Flake is the antithesis to this tough male world. Till is a really cool guy who knows that as a singer he gets the most attention anyway. He doesn't bother arguing, he just gives his opinion every now and then. Assessing yourself is difficult: I belong to the quiet faction in the band and probably have a kind of harmony function. I can mediate between all sides. Everyone has their role...

Are you Rammstein 365 days a year? Do you have a private life?

We're like Rammstein for about ten months a year and have two months off. Then we are at home with our families or we go on vacation.

You all together?

We used to be really good friends and did almost everything together. But now we have been together intensely for over ten years. Then everyone does their own thing in their little free time!

Does that mean you're not friends anymore?

Now I see us more as colleagues who are also friends. But you need distance. Everyone has their own world into which they then disappear.

So the breakup rumors after the penultimate album 'Mutter' weren't entirely fabricated?

At that time there really was a relatively large crisis. That was because some just wanted to determine more in the band. The others fell by the wayside because they could no longer develop creatively. We couldn't get along with each other like that anymore, either. But after a few months, everyone realized what they had in the band.

And now there is democracy?

When voting, at least four people must agree. Rammstein just work that way...

#Rammstein #Christoph Schneider #Till Lindemann #Flake Lorenz #Oliver Riedel #Paul Landers #Richard Kruspe #2004 #interview #translation #*scans #*

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Farewell to Hollywood U #12 : Trapped

Art by the lovely @/mm1kaa_ (Instagram)

Characters: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!MC / OC) Book: Hollywood U (Hunt Date #2—The Reluctant Professor) Word Count: <700 Rating/Warnings: General (no warnings) Prompts: @choicesmonthlychallenge HWU (late)

Synopsis: Hunt reflects on his night being trapped in the studio with Alex. [Hunt's journal]

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer Masterlists] [HollywoodU]

People should come with warning labels. Or at least she should. Hers would read: if it can go wrong, it will go wrong—disastrously wrong. I understand this, and yet, every time, I still allow myself to be consumed by her, knowing full well that it could only result in a hopeless conclusion. 

Yesterday was no exception. What should have been an ordinary field trip to a film set turned into a night I will never forget and one I wish I could say I regretted.

At the end of the trip, we stepped aside for a moment to talk. She was being her usual self, blatantly open and persistent about the relationship she considers to be developing between us. She's so bold and brash, and yet, so passionate in her pursuits. She is unlike the rest of them. There is something more that I seem doomed to resist. I instinctively pulled her away from the group, hoping to confront her privately. We wandered further away, and the studio doors closed behind us, leaving us trapped. No one else. No distractions. No wandering eyes of passing observers. No pressure to fill a particular role. It was just us. Just her and I.

I attempted to refuse her advances, to deny her pursuits and interests, to keep her away. I wanted to ignore her completely, but her tenacity overwhelmed me. I let my guard down. We talked. I dare say it was narrowly satisfying. For a moment, I even allowed myself to believe that maybe it wasn't a bad idea, that the night could be something. I felt comfortable with her. I became complacent; I forgot our roles and let her in.

Of course, she would dress inappropriately for a situation such as this. She noted that she wasn't planning on being stuck in a giant warehouse overnight. As infuriating as it was, her logic was not flawed. I let her borrow my jacket. 

It should have ended there. However, it wasn't enough. As the night pressed on, the colder the studio became. Despite finding appropriate bedding thanks to a honeymoon suite set, it still wasn't enough. There is a reason why mittens are warmer than gloves, shared heat between fingers or, in this case, persons is warmer than separate coverings. I should have known better. I think I did, but I ignored it. She looked so cold; her body trembled despite her blanket. I let her lie down beside me and I held her in my arms. It was the biggest mistake I could make. She was only supposed to stay for a few minutes, get the chill off, and then go back to the bed while I remained on the floor. Once I held her, I didn't want to let her go. I talked, and surprisingly she listened. I let myself enjoy her company. I opened up to her despite knowing how dangerous that was.

I don't know what I said to her as sleep overtook me or perhaps in the morning as I awoke. However, I could tell that something had changed when I met her gaze in the morning. I fear what I may have confessed in my weary state and the implications I may have unwittingly allowed to rise given my behavior.

Thankfully, we snuck out the side exit without being discovered when the studio opened for the day. She returned my jacket and slipped away without another word. 

I still smell her on it. I endeavored to drop it off at the cleaners on the way home, wanting to rid myself of any further temptations. I know what transpired last night can never happen again. Yet, I could not do it. Instead, it sits beside me, still wrapped in the memory of her.

A looming reminder, a specter of the consequences that await us if we allow ourselves to forget who we are and give in to who we wished we could be. In another life, perhaps. In this one—I can't even allow the thought. I must resist what came between us. It was a moment of weakness, one I cannot repeat for the sake of my career and the future she is destined to have.

A/N: I've been struggling with writer's block for a week now. I started and stopped 12 different wips. This is the first thing I managed to complete.

I was reminded of something RCD Alex/MC said to Thomas in book 3, that any idea is better than no idea, so try to get yourself out of the cycle of wanting to create something perfect and shutting down because its not coming and just accept an imperfect idea and see where it leads.

I know this is rough and not perfect, but I'm afraid that if I don't share it, I'll delete it like everything else I've abandoned this week. So I'm taking Alex's advice and going with it.

A/N 2: I got the art a couple of days ago, after the HWUHSSaw. The artist had some unforeseen life complications. Since the event had already ended, I held the art until I had something written to match.

A/N3: wow, if you made it this far. THANK YOU. Also why? Truly thank you for reading. I hope it's not atrocious.

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x mc #thomas hunt x oc #red carpet diaries #professor hunt #hollywood u #alex hunt #fan fiction #choices #playchoices #choices game #alex spencer #halex #lovealexhunt #theartoflovingthomashunt #hunt x alex #thomas orson hunt #august2022 #hwuhssaw #farewell hwu #hwu #halex commission #commission #my commission #the reluctant professor

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 13

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: Strong language

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: The chapters/parts in italics are flashbacks. Also, I know I used Melissa Benoist as Juliette in India Lima Yankee but I really love her as an actress okay...

Chapter Songs: Like I Loved You How Not To

****

Ghost

Oooh, I fucked up. Ghost thought when she cracked her eyes open and saw Hangman passed out in bed next to her, fully unclothed. The activities from last night flooded her mind, and as enjoyable as it had been, Ghost still regretted it. She didn't want Hangman to get the wrong idea, even if they had agreed beforehand the night would mean nothing other than the breakup sex they never had after the second time they separated.

With a splitting headache and no wish but to hit the pillow again, Ghost quietly got out of bed and stepped into the shower, anxious to get rid of the bar and beer smell lingering on her skin and hair. She held no concerns about waking Hangman in the process. Like her, once asleep, he remained dead to the world. On more than one occasion, they'd both slept through tornado sirens, only to be woken by their frantic parents scrambling to get them out of bed. Things didn't change, and by the time Ghost had finished her shower, dried her hair, and put on enough makeup to hide the bags under her eyes, Hangman still hadn't woken. Tossing her Top Gun hat on and putting in earbuds, she slipped out of her apartment, hoping the brisk morning air would clear her headache and her head.

Ghost selected walking over jogging, her stomach just rough enough after all the drinking last night that she didn't want to overdo it. Instead, she listened to a mixture of calming soundtracks, a favorite music genre of hers, and quiet enough that it didn't add to her pounding headache.

Ghost hadn't drunk that much in years, and her body reminded her that she was no longer in her twenties. She wasn't one to drink to forget, but the image of Rooster and Bryn making out burned itself into her mind, and Ghost turned to alcohol and Hangman.

I'm such a dumbass. What good is sleeping with Jake going to do other than a temporary distraction and a morning of regret, no matter how good it was? God, I shouldn't have done it. Drunk or not, I knew better, but I did it anyway because I had my heart hurt. I'm better than that, and Jake deserves better than that too. I've got to get a grip on myself. Since when has a guy ever made me this stupid? What have I let Rooster do to me? What have I-

Ghost would've crashed headfirst into a muscular chest had the person not grabbed her shoulder. Startled, she looked up, and of all people that could've blocked her way, it had to be them.

"Rooster! Bryn!" Ghost exclaimed, taking out her earbuds. "What are you two doing here?"

"Hey!" Bryn replied cheerfully, exhaustion well-disguised by still visible dark circles under her makeup. Rooster had his arms around her shoulders. "We thought we'd go for a walk, wake ourselves up after the copious amounts of alcohol we drank last night. I have an appointment in a bit, and it's just down this road, so I'll probably walk there from here. We saw you and were calling out your name, but I don't think you heard us over your music."

"Oh, yeah, I was engrossed in it. Side effect of the hangover, too, probably," Ghost lied. It was a better option than telling them she was thinking things over because that would make the couple prod, the last thing Ghost wanted them doing. Of course, judging by the crinkle in Rooster's brow, he already understood she had a racing mind.

"Yeah, I haven't seen you that drunk in a while, and then you disappeared with Hangman after midnight-"

Ghost cringed, wishing more than anything to disappear from that line of conversation. "The one time I didn't want to be seen, and I am."

"You two were hard to miss," Bryn said with a laugh. "If it makes you feel better, only Rooster and I noticed."

"I guess that's a little solace. I-" Ghost's phone blared 'Slow Ride,' giving her a welcome interruption. Recognizing the ringtone, she said, "I gotta take this. I'll see y'all later!"

Waving goodbye, Ghost turned around and headed back toward her apartment, grateful to escape the couple and for the perfect timing of the call. "Hey, what's up?"

"I wanted to check on you since I couldn't find you in the apartment, that's all," Hangman said groggily. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was getting restless and went for a walk. How are you feeling?"

"I'll never admit this to anyone but you, but like shit. I'm going to catch a ride back to my apartment. Are you good to get home safely, or do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, you can go. It's busy out, and I have Ghost on me," she said, gripping the dagger Maverick gave her in her pocket, comforted by its constant presence. "Between me and the knife, I'll be fine."

Hangman chuckled. "All right. Text me when you get home, though, so I know. Love you, Annalise."

"I will," she promised, smiling to herself. Despite having broken up with each other, their friendship endured, and they did love each other with a passion, but it now was only platonically. There wasn't much, if anything, Ghost wouldn't do for Hangman. "Love you, Jake."

Hanging up, Ghost shoved her hands in her pockets, set on getting back to her apartment to eat and crash in her bed to sleep off the rest of her hangover when Rooster's voice sounded beside her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Oh, shit!" Ghost jumped, not having expected him. Glaring disapprovingly at him, she said, "Jesus, Rooster. Are you trying to kill me?"

"I thought nothing could surprise a ghost?" he teased, bumping her elbow with his.

"Must be an undiscovered seventh sense. Shouldn't you be walking Bryn to her appointment?"

"She decided to catch an Uber because it was later than she thought, and she was worried she'd be late. So I thought I'd catch up with you. Feel like we've barely hung out since I started dating Bryn."

"It's time-consuming having a girlfriend," Ghost remarked drolly, trying to hide any sign of her discomfort being around him, especially when all she could think about was how much she still loved him and how she hated herself for not telling him to cancel his first date with her 'friend' the night before. Ghost had had her chance, and she blew it. She had to live with the consequences, and it wasn't right to take it out on Rooster, even if her heartstrings pulled painfully at the mere sight of him.

"She's not my girlfriend yet," Rooster said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ghost raised an eyebrow at him. "Does she know that? Because you kind of announced to everyone last night that you two were together."

"We're dating exclusively, but I'm not sure I want a label yet. I don't want to move too fast with this."

"How come?"

"I want the honeymoon phase to pass, to see how we really are around each other when the novelty of first being with each other fades away. Speaking of being together, are you and Hangman back together?"

"No," Ghost said firmly. 

"So the hookup last night-"

"The breakup sex that never happened the second time around," she said with a grimace. One of the last topics she wanted to talk to Rooster about was her sex life with Hangman.

"Does he know it was just that?"

"Yeah, he does. I made sure he does."

The two fell silent, but an unusual and unwelcome awkwardness settled over them. Ghost wanted to break it but had no clue how. Rooster, however, took it into his own hands. "Hey, are we okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Ghost answered, her hand tightening nervously around her pocketknife. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Because you've been avoiding me since I started dating Bryn," he pointed out softly yet matter-of-factly. "At first, I thought it was because you were still settling in. I know you hate clutter, and the boxes stacked in your apartment undoubtedly drove you nuts. But when you got it all unpacked, you still avoided me. For better or worse, I know you Ghost. I know when you're avoiding me. I just want to know what's going on."

Ghost groaned internally. Why couldn't he have brought this up in private? "It's- it's nothing you did. At the risk of sounding cliche, it's me, not you."

"Oh, so it's most definitely me," Rooster joked lightly.

"No, no, it's really not anything you've done. It's my own issues. Don't worry about it."

"I am going to worry about it when you're pushing me away because of whatever it is. Talk to me, Ghost."

"I don't even know how to bring it up. I've always been shit at talking about my feelings, anyway. I'd rather deal with it on my own than drag other people down, too."

"Speaking from experience, it's not healthy to do that."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to go in a death spiral toward the ground with my captain because of it," Ghost said, shooting Rooster a sly smile.

"Mav told you about that?"

"Hangman, actually. He told me about the training and all that happened."

"Got it, got it... while I do trust you not to go in a death spiral, break the hard deck and commit insubordination in the process, I'm still not going to drop the subject."

"Can we at least talk about it in private at my apartment?"

"Of course," Rooster said instantly. The two once more fell silent, only a few bits of conversation popping up between them that never lasted long. By the time they reached her apartment, Ghost regretted her request to talk to him in private. She should've put her foot down and told him she didn't want to talk about it, but Rooster had always had a way of convincing her to do things she shouldn't. This would probably be one of those times.

Entering her apartment, she headed to the kitchen and asked, "Want anything to eat?"

"Sure, if it's not too much trouble," Rooster responded, leaning against the counter next to her and too close for comfort. "What's on the menu? Anything I can do to help?"

"PB and J, so it's super difficult and time-consuming."

Rooster clutched his heart. "I'm honored you would treat me to such a great meal."

Giving him a genuine grin, Ghost got out the ingredients, purposefully not starting the line of conversation Rooster so desperately wanted to discuss in hopes he'd forget or chicken out about it, but he annoyingly didn't.

"All right, we're in the privacy of your apartment. So, talk to me, Ghost. What's on your mind?"

She groaned. "Oh, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Nope."

"Fine, fine... I-I don't know. There are a few things, but mostly I feel guilty."

"Guilty? About what?"

"For sleeping with you the night before your first date with Bryn, for one thing. I may not have known it was her, but I still knew it was a friend, and I still slept with you."

Rooster looked at her curiously. "You know, that's the first time I've ever heard you acknowledge we slept together."

Ghost kept her eyes on the food in front of her, unwilling and unable to meet his gaze. She ignored his comment and continued, "I lied to Bryn as well. I told her nothing happened between us, and while that's true romantically, we still slept together, and more than once and recently, and while I kept it from her so she wouldn't think I was like that other bitch of a friend who slept with Bryn's boyfriend at the time, I worry if Bryn finds out, she'll think I lied for a different reason."

"Did you?"

Ghost didn't respond at first, trying to formulate an answer that wouldn't cause her to admit her feelings for him because it wasn't like she could ever act on them now that he had dated Bryn. Unfortunately, her moral code wouldn't allow her to.

Rooster refused to let up. "Ghost, is there another reason you lied to her?"

"Yes, but there's no point in bringing it up."

"Why not?"

"Because nothing will come of it. You dated her, and I don't date my friend's exes, no matter how long they dated and-"

"You like me?" Rooster interrupted, his brown eyes flashing with surprise.

"You think I slept with you for the hell of it?" Ghost countered, slightly irked, although she had no reason to be. "I don't sleep with any guy I find attractive."

"No, that's not- why did you never tell me?"

"You hated me for a while, and as much as you got on my nerves, I still liked you. Then by the time we got on good terms, I was dating Hangman. The first time you and I slept together was after I broke up with him, and I didn't want you to be rebound, so I said nothing. The second time, I was deploying the next day and didn't want to start something for one day and then be separated for months. The third-"

"We had an entire summer," Rooster pointed out, bristling. She heard the anger tinging his voice. "Why wait until the last minute to sleep with me?"

"I got scared. The last time I fell hard for a guy, he broke up with me, and it damn near broke my friendship with him. I didn't want that happening between us."

"And what about the third time? You knew I was going on a date with one of your friends, but you still slept with me. Why?"

Ghost's shoulders sagged. "Because I knew after that night, it would never happen between us again. I should've told you to cancel your date. I should've told you that night how I felt, but I didn't, and that's on me. It's why I didn't say anything to you about this because saying it aloud isn't going to change anything between us."

"We can't just ignore it!"

"Yes, we can, and we will." Ghost's voice remained steady. She stayed careful not to raise it, aware of Rooster's volatile temper when inflamed and not wanting to fan the flames any further. "I haven't just been avoiding you because of the guilt. I've also been doing it because every time I see you, I think of what I could've had and how I screwed it up by staying quiet like I always do. As happy as I genuinely am for you and Bryn because you two are a perfect match with your values and your personalities and interests, I still find myself wishing it was me instead of her, and I can't get that last night between us out of my head."

Rooster ran a hand through his hair, clenching a fist of it at the end. "So, what exactly are we supposed to do? Pretend like nothing ever happened between us? Pretend there's nothing between us?"

"Yes. I compromised my morals once by sleeping with you before you started dating my best friend, and I can't do it again by dating you if you two break up. I'm sorry, Rooster..."

"This is bullshit." He pushed himself off the counter and stalked off. Ghost followed, their sandwiches long forgotten on the counter. As he reached the front door, he whirled on her, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "I don't get it. You knew I liked you all this time, and you said nothing until I found someone else!"

"You asked me what was wrong, and I told you!" Ghost finally snapped, letting loose a little of her own temper. "This is why I didn't want to tell you in the first place!"

"No, you didn't tell me because you're afraid of commitment ever since Hangman broke your heart after your first breakup. But instead of moving on, you keep returning to him and getting back together."

"Might I remind you I'm the one who broke up with him the second time, and last night was a one-time thing-"

"We were supposed to be a one-time thing, and look what happened there! So sorry if I have a problem believing you and Hangman are done after last night."

"I was upset and drunk, and he was there making me feel like a million bucks while you never took your eyes off of Bryn, so I'm sorry for wanting to be with someone on New Years' Eve that was interested and available."

"Oh, you think it was easy for me to watch Hangman practically eye-fucking you on the dancefloor or seeing you sit in his lap with you two hanging all over each other? Do you think I felt nothing seeing you two stumble out of the bar, knowing full well what would happen?"

"If you liked me so much, then why did you never ask me out?!" Ghost demanded, stepping toward him with a challenging glare in his eye.

"Because you never showed interest!"

"I didn't sleep with you for the hell of it! I slept with you because I liked you!"

"Obviously not enough because you still keep running back to Hangman." Rooster threw open the door, his face red with rage.

"Where are you going?" Ghost asked, her fight evaporating. She wanted to work this out with Rooster, to try and find some peace between them.

"Home. This conversation is finished. I'm not going to be your boy toy. If you want one, go fuck Hangman. I'm done."

His words were a slap in the face to her. After everything she just said, after everything she just confessed to, he thought he was merely a boy toy to her? Voice cracking, Ghost started to say, "Bradley-"

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Ghost shell-shocked. She had feared Rooster would react negatively toward her if she voiced her troubles, but not like this. Never like this. It's not like she could talk to anyone about what went down just now, either. If Ghost told Bryn, she'd lose another friend because the truth would come out about her relationship with Rooster, and Bryn would undoubtedly accuse Ghost of being another Britney. 

Ghost couldn't go to Hangman. He'd deck Rooster for treating her the way he did because if anyone knew Ghost better than Rooster, it was Hangman, and he knew she wouldn't sleep with anyone for the hell of it.

Ghost couldn't even go to her mom because her mom would've said things she already knew: Ghost shouldn't have lied to Bryn in the first place, she should've told Rooster how she felt in the beginning, and she had to reap what she sowed.

No, Ghost was alone in this. She'd dug this grave for herself and now had to lie in it. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, and Ghost certainly found herself in a hellish place now. 

Bzz! Bzz! The vibrating of her ringtone shocked her back to reality, and she hastily grabbed it, desperately hoping Rooster would be on the other end to apologize but forcing herself to be realistic. Ghost lived in the real world, not in fantasy novels or fanfiction stories. The guy she loved wouldn't come crawling back to apologize.

Her realism stood correct. A familiar but unexpected name flashed on her screen. Frowning, Ghost answered the phone. "Hello, sir."

"Are you crying?" Cyclone inquired, sounding shockingly concerned.

"Uh, no, sir. I had a sneezing attack. What can I help you with?"

"I need you to report to base within the hour. We have a mission for you."

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons​ @harper1666​ @shadeops21​ @double-j​ @copaceticwriter​ @rotating-obsessions​ @sharkprestige​ @thedarkinmansfield​ @lapilark​ @mickeyluvs​ @starshipfantasy​ @bennypears00​ @mandowife221b​ @the-navistar-carol​ @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth​ @carmellasworld​ @0hb0llocks​ @nicangelinee​ @summ3rlotus​ @3picklesinajar​

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13

#top gun #top gun maverick #fanfiction #fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #tg #maverick #rooster #hangman #phoenix #bob #coyote #fanboy #payback #halo #fritz #omaha #harvard #yale #charlie #ghost #ghost story #winchester #bradley bradshaw #top gun 2 #iceman #penny #penny benjamin #new years

[the-witchs-archives]

[Lost in Pure Silence]

[From the pov of Dark Choco]

I've had enough. I'm not just some toy to push to the floor and step on.. I don't care about what he says at this point, I just force myself onto my knees, grabbing my sword to help push myself up. It's a pain that I know will be temporary, having to get to the one beyond the haze.

Our eyes make contact, and I can see the fear and distress in them. Distressed about this situation.. I can't take seeing him looking like this. This looming feeling of eyes upon me doesn't help the situation, the air heavy with judgement. Were there more entities than I thought, watching this scenario like a play?.. or was it just the entity itself that hung so lifelessly?

The pain drew out the rot, having to harshly wipe away the black fluid from my face. Whipped already saw enough, but I will get him out of here, and keep him safe.

But I heard the cracks again, this time with the ripping of fabric, I turned around to catch the source.

The corpse, the strings had pulled him to his feet...

his face was on the floor but there was no jam, only a void and the mask that hid the void, his limbs were white with gold details.

He stood as if he narrowly avoided death with severe wounds, with the strings straightening his posture, but it didn't fix how limp his limbs and neck were.

"Do you ever wish to have a peaceful life?"

Hearing him utter those words, it makes me grit my teeth. Of course I wish to have a peaceful life, but with my owed duties, I don't have that chance.

"Yes, but why would you even offer?"

I snap back, only to get laughed at.

"I can give you such a thing, rid you of the very thing that causes violence, chaos.. I can give you the peaceful life you want."

I've known better than to trust this being, after all, he grinded his heels into my back, but a part of me also believes him. A part that longs for normality with the one I'm here for. My head begins to hurt, staring into the black pit that was once his face.

"What would you even rid me of? What would be so simple as to finally give me peace?"

"Then let it be a short answer, Dark Choco.. It's your voice."

His arm limply extends out, the hand fixed in a position as to say 'come, join me.'.. But I refuse. Who would want to give up a part of their identity just to get some peace that may be ruined at some point? What is worth losing a part of yourself!?

"You want me to trade my voice for a peaceful life? My voice, something that can be used for the greater good?-"

"-Or for the greater evil, have you not heard how damaging voices are? How their words can drive people beyond madness and into turmoil so great they cannot withstand it?"

His neck finally snapped itself back into place, staring at me with that void of a face, I swore I saw the childhood memories of me inside it.

"Whipped Cream knew how it felt to live in a horrid world of suffering, we agreed that we would silence ourselves for peace."

"After all, that's what I am, The Silence."

The Silence.. now it finally clicked. The being I was facing, this CORPSE.. it was no corpse at all, but a god, lurking in wait. Almond was right to think it was a trap, and I was a careless insect who flew right into it. This god would not claim me, though, and the idea that Whipped Cream would willingly be silenced when he struggled to speak from his own anxiety?.. if jam could boil, mine would.

"Was he given the choice to even allow this to happen!? Is that WHY HIS LEGS WERE STREWN ON THE FLOOR!?"

My temperament was getting the better of me, and despite not seeing the god's eyes, I could tell he was growing impatient.. the feeling of fear suddenly overtaking me, instead of anger... I felt like my legs had a mind of their own, backing away for me, but not fast enough. The strings seemed to twirl him around in an eerily graceful fashion, once again getting distracted enough that the cold hard collision against floor was the only thing I noticed, my back planted flat as I was in.. somewhere new.

"Now, let me ask you again, do you want a peaceful life? or would you rather suffer with chaos and violence?"

This place was distorted and quiet, with a strong scent of jam, my gut tells me to remain quiet, but I saw him, my beloved Whipped, distressed and trying to reach me.

I slide on my back a little before pushing myself up, trying to back up towards Whipped.. He needed me, it's been over a year and a half.. our reunion just had to be in the worst of places. Though, the glimmer of something caught my eye as I looked back, and I could see the panic in Whipped's face as he held his fists in the air..

They weren't fists, he was holding ONTO something, and the cackle of that haunting voice only made everything worse. It was becoming too much, even for me.. and I could feel the tears run as red ran down his front, the thing he was holding cutting into his neck..

I simply ran for him then and there. It was all so sudden, but I just clung onto him as the entity behind me seemed to go quiet. I could feel the jam running against my armor, tearing off the damp trench coat to act as a wrap around the other's neck. I could see his panic, unable to speak but trying to tell me something through his pink eyes. I felt.. horrible. I felt like I failed him..

"Don't you see? Voices are so violent, they cause a stir, which becomes an uproar.. Just... I.. I didn't mean it.."

I could tell that his doughmanity was showing.. he's just like me, a cookie turned into a monster, but I can't forgive him.

That's when I felt the strings pull me out with Whipped in my arms, the door to the pocket dimension right behind me and the entity staring away from us.

"Good day, ■■■■ ■■■■■■."

As he mutters those words, I just hold Whipped close, saying no goodbyes as I kick open the door to the outside, preferring the rain on my body rather than letting him get wet... the rain doesn't hide my tears as I pull Whipped up completely into my arms, using the coat fabric to block my staining emotions as my head rested on his smaller shoulder.

"Thank god.. I have you again.. I'm so glad I have you again.."

#cookie run au #cookie run eldritch au #cookie run #eldritch!dark choco #story arc #eldritch!whipped cream #lost in pure silence arc

[marcussenvinther28]

How To Get New Business

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[indigo474]

God Bless the Queen~9822

the Queen of England died. the world will watch her funeral. My co workers son died. i was more upset when i heard he had cancer. when they said the cancer spread to his lungs i knew he was going to die. life is fucking cruel-unfair.

my waxer said it looks like i lost weight.. she sees me naked every 4 weeks and she said she could tell. she started waxing everything from my belly button down. i'll never get use to having hair ripped out of my body.. ouch- luckily the pain only last for however long it takes her to rip off the wax-2 seconds

maddy likes school!! she seems happy. she did not want to see her counselor - i am making her. she says she feels better- yes- all the reason to keep seeing her. afterwards she said i was right and she was glad she talked to her. i write her a little note every day and she said it is the highlight of her day. she brought up how she hasn't talked to her dad since march- hasnt heard from him. she also shared her sister no longer talks to her. we talked a lot and she says her dad is telling her siblings that she is mentally ill- like me. she says she heard him say it. it hurts my heart- it hurts my head and it just fucking hurts. he is evil. he gives no fucks about these kids. a user and abuser. he plays the victim- it is all so sick. Anyway we talked and talked and talked- Mads wont reach out. She does not want to. I told her that the best thing both of us can do is live a great life. Do the next right thing and work on ourselves and be happy and just live a great fucking life- prove him wrong. Be happy- something he will never be. he never was and he will never be happy. once you see him for what he is- you cant unsee it- he is so predictable. Mads told me she smoked pot - and got really really paranoid. she said she hated it. Good Good Good. I told her that's what she gets for smoking weed.

i dont know how i am going to survive this winter with work. Im going to work from home a few days- i havent told work yet.

im learning how to kayak this weekend. I missed the moon lite kayak thingy.. it sold out- next spring fo sho. im going to lock myself in my room and clean it. its not dirty like dirt dirt- clothes.. i have to get rid of stuff- organize and also set up my work computer.

there were bones along the Delaware... i don't know what kind. a guy at the park told me he saw a snake.. thanks.

i am tired- a good tired. ive been sleeping well. i feel good. i went out with Marci for dinner this week. i enjoy our time together. Dinner was delicious. Vegetarian- i have no idea what it was- it tasted good.

Freaky Tinder guy - i said i wouldn't meet him, said i would meet him- i do kind of remember him from long ago and i didnt think he was attractive - he wants his girlfriend to be involved and im not into that. so why would i entertain the thought of meeting him? boredom-

not a good reason to meet .. also i keep thinking he is going to poison my drink- like wtf- who thinks like that.. i guess i do

i had this bracelet- one of the kids- birthday party grab bag- a gum ball machine- i have no idea where it came from. tiny beads. it had a gold peace symbol hanging from it. i decided to wear it until it broke.. and it did. it exploded on my desk at work. it reminded me of fireworks- beads everywhere. it made me laugh while i was on the phone with a customer.

what are we doing here? what are any of us doing? what is the purpose of all of this? i wish i knew.. and ive been thinking a lot lately about why people talk about getting older like its a bad thing. or rather why i dont think getting older is a bad thing.. lots of thoughts on that.

[kendrixtermina]

Edelgard and “meritocracy” - an essay

In this essay I wish to adress the common argument that “meritocracy bad, therefore edelgard bad” & the logical leaps therein.

Before we begin, I’d like to stress that she doesn’t even use the word “meritocracy” & they’re not even looking at it’s modern definition but reacting to the way it has been used as a fighting word to denigrate the poor specificically in the post reagan modern USA & then assuming Edelgard means the exact same thing by that without bothering to examine what she actually says & in what context.

Modern capitalism & the way it uses rhetoric of merit as an excuse is bad & with its reduction of human value to their moneymaking ability, definitely inherently ableist, I agree totally.

But 3H does NOT take place in the modern world. Progress is always relative to what came before. It*s progress away from entrenched problems.

It’s a total failure to even imagine a world different from the sucky one we live in - that’s exactly what tolkien meant  by that saying that if we’re prisoners we have a duty to escape.

Edelgard doesn’t live in a capitalist society nor is she bringing about capitalism (if anything Claude’s the one talking of free trade & giving the merchants what they want, though he is almost certainly playing them much like the church)

And the main component of capitalism - factory owners, rich elites who owns large swathes of companies or real estate - is nowhere to be found.

In our world that cropped up because industrialization made owning factories, offices, trade etc. more lucrative that just owning the land, so factory owners replaced landed lords, essentially promising the peasants freedom if they helped them overthrow the kings but granting them only in a limited manner - the flawed inequal democracies that resulted were a compromise between peasants and factory owners.

But by and large the nobles are very much in the same niche as the factory owners today - they own the land and get special trade privileges (the means of production), they often abuse the populace with impunity, the peasants are very poor.

Edelgard cracks down on corruption & special trade privileges even during the timeskip.

And like the rich of our world, they have a self-mythology propaganda justification based on merit. Yes, there is the “by the grace of god” argument, too, but crests give you extra fighting power, and if you look at the Ferdinand support for example you do see that Fodlan’s nobles - especially the adrestian ones - see themselves as a honed elite that is trained from birth & therefore better at ruling.

Not quite the same argument a modern billionaire uses - who is very invested in convincing you that they didn’t get their power and wealth by their birth - but a myth nonetheless.

Edelgard’s not bringing “meritocracy” as in brutal competition opposed to caring social safety nets, but as opposed to unearned privilege.

If you wanted to compare that to any kind of sociohistorical context, you might look at Napoleon’s peasant liberation or the implementation of civil service examinations in ancient China.

That wasn’t an all good thing - In the same way that Europe is very impacted by the legacy of rome both good & bad (there are persisting bad attitudes toward war, authority and agriculture for example), east asia still has a lot of education obsession causing pressure & unhealthy work habits to this day.

But if you compared ancient china before the reforms to ancient China after it definitely got better, by ancient china standards.

We couldn’t expect the people back then to come up with all advances up to our exact modern values at once (not can we be sure how much of our values will stand the test of time)

Considering that Fodlan’s ideal of merit is basically what Lorenz, Ingrid and Ferdinand are embodying for their respective countries, and that she stocks her inner circle with very different leaders, it is no stretch to say that she wants to shake up the social ideas of what even counts as merit, to make ppl value other things that crest power or elite upbringing, the same way we might say today that hey, cleaners are valuable actually.

Edelgard is basically doing her world’s equivalent of taxing the billionaires - reducing the power of what the overprivilieged class happens to be, & it’s obvious from her talk of how she despises inequality that she would hardly be for rule of factory owners.

When Edelgard says that she wants to make Fodlan more merit-based, that has to be taken in the context that she lives in a world where your birth determines everything, incompetent nobles can be as lazy as they want, and no one cares how competent you are if you lack a crest, title or both.

If she looked at our world, she would quickly see through the propaganda that it is supposedly “merit based” and object to how wealth and national origin obviously dictate wealth & opportunity while talented people go to waste in sweatshops.

Now of course there have been arguments even against “perfect” meritocracy - one is the devaluation of working class jobs.

To this one could answer that this is more a flaw in how merit is conceived. Historically there have been societies that exahlted blue collar work, artisans or farming.

The second argument, however, is not so easy to get rid of: That is devalues people who can’t just go & produce like machines, especially the unemployed, the sick, the mentally ill, the disabled…

But at this point we’ve got to lean back & get our definitions straight, & make it clear what we even mean by “meritocracy” -

Because if we’re just talking about the basic idea that competency should be rewarded, I don’t think too many people disagree with that. We might see a problem with valueing the competency of a doctor or lawyers dispropottionally over the competency of a cleaner or a bricklayer, but we all, by and large, want the people who prepare our goods and services to be competent. Maybe we wouldn’t exalt it over all over qualities, but most of us admire skill.

Of course the problem with the political rhetoric of “meritocracy” is that it goes beyond just rewarding skill, first with the afore mentioned rewarding of only some skills, but mostly with the reversion or overemphasis of the above: Saying that skill is the only thing that matters (to the exclusion of any inheent human value) & that those who don’t have it are worthless.

First I want to throw out the thought that this is a product of the production/profit orientation of capitalism, but one could of course imagine, as many sci fi authors have done, a non-capitalistic society that is still obsessed with merit at the exclusion of those who are not oriented towards productivity & care more about fun & relationships than producing, or those who can’t produce because they are sick or disabled.

So now we must ask ourselves the question: Which of those views does Edelgard actually hold?

Cause I want you to notice that they’re not the same. “Skill should be rewarded & jobs should be done by competent people”  is not the same position as “Skill is the ONLY thing that matters and if you don’t have it you are worthless”

In one position, skill is a good quality, in the other, it's a prerequisite to worth.

Most of us here probably agree that skill is admirable (we like and reblog pretty fanarts), but not that the unskilled are worthless.

Looking at her superficially I could perhaps see how someone might suspect her of the latter -  She gravitates to & surrounds herself with skilled intelligent people and she’s obscenely superpowered.

It’s an misunderstanding that Dimitri makes in-universe, he accuses her of “only benefitting the strong”

But note that her answer to that is that she wants to empower the weak to no longer be weak & decide their own lives, instead of accepting charity. (Contrast with how Dimitri romanticizes abyss, for example, even as Claude points out that locking the poor underground is hardly help.)

Of course she can say many things, as rulers often give florid speeches.

But let’s have a look at what she actually thinks. How does edelgard actually act towards people who struggle or aren’t productivity oriented?

This is one of her lecture questions from part I:

“When one professor lectures many students, some will inevitably have trouble keeping up, while others will get too far ahead in their studies. I wonder how this problem might be solved…”

Her favorite answer is “lectures should be optional”.

Which part of that sounds like a bell curve type eugenicist “only skill & intelligence counts” kind of person? She wants the struggling students to be taken proper care of, not just the good ones.

Look at the speeches she gives to Petra & Lysithea about not giving up on themselves & wanting them to move forward from an empowered mindset. Look at how she tells Lysithea to take it easy & not overtax her body. (Not "don't whine & keep working")

Look at Bernadetta - very much an ‘unproductive’ individual with great struggles & limitation. Does Edelgard dismiss her as a weakling? Not at all. Not even in the C support. She makes sure to stress her good qualities when introducing  her, makes an effort to be more patient so as not to scare her, & they become good friends.

Look at the Linhardt support - at first she mistakes his behavior for youthful lazyness (He’s 16 after all) & wants to get him to apply himself, but when she realizes that he just has different priorities, she respects that, & works to get him the exact sort of position that he wants. No “suck it up!” or dismissing such a different lifestyle. Nor does she chide him for hating fighting at any point.

Edelgard does everything in her power to accomodate people so they can do their best. She sees the value even in strange unsocial people that society would dismiss. She found a job for someone like Jeritza & helped him, she doesn’t hesitate to make Dorothea a general or Manuela the prime minister no matter what people say or if they don’t act like typical politicians.

Also, when she talks about choosing her sucessor, she wants them to be brilliant/competent yes, but also kind and 'an outsider' (ie, impartial) - hardly a PoV of "if you are skilled you can do whatever you want and if you aren't no other quality matters". She's prizing kindness & objectivity just as highly, something which is absolutely reflected throughout all her actions & behaviors towards others.

She doesn't devalue living quietly & low key without making waves - in fact, that is her dream life, which she deems superior to achievement and ambition, which are to her just tools to archieve good aims.

She couldn’t be further from having a narrow definition of what a “valuable” person is, she is all ABOUT empowering people to take control of their own lives, no pity-driven charity, no paternalism, none of that. This is one of my favorite traits about her, so I can’t help but get mad when people accuse her of being the exact opposite.

But maybe the biggest argument is abyss. This is where the genuine underclass lives, poor, struggling, traumatized, refugees etc.

Edelgard isn’t as vocal during Cindered Shadows as Claude - she can’t blow her cover & just isn’t as expressive personality wise. But she’s the one who makes everybody swear to take care of Abyss no matter who wins.

And her route is the one where, instead of telling you that they lost people, Hapi tells you that they’ve all been pretty much fine over the timeskip.

If you want to help the struggling & the poor and those who don't have "conventional" skills, you should back edelgard.

#edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #three houses #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

[hyenahunt]

Secret Service: TERRORISM - 4

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Madara, Ibara, Nagisa

Proofreading: bakemonoremy (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: haranami

Ibara: Correct. Although we may be weak on our own, we can overcome even the greatest of evils once we band together! How wonderful! Long live democracy! Hahaha ☆

Location: A café in Shikoku

Madara: Alllrighty. Now that we’ve got a good grasp on our respective situations, why don’t we start talking about our “enemy”?

Or maybe we should call him “evil itself.” The whole reason why we joined forces was ‘cause we needed to square off against an opponent that we couldn’t take down alone, right?

Ibara: Correct. Although we may be weak on our own, we can overcome even the greatest of evils once we band together! How wonderful! Long live democracy! Hahaha ☆

Nagisa: …From an outsider’s perspective, it seems like you two are the ones who are up to no good.

Madara: Hahaha. You’re acting like this has got nothing to do with you, but I’m preeetty sure this is a conversation you can’t turn a blind eye to. Ain’t that right, Nagisa-san?

Nagisa: ……

Madara: That’s ‘cause the big bad final boss we’re trying to take down is the legendary idol that you look up to like a father…

The man known as the Godfather.

Nagisa: …He’s been on everyone’s lips lately.

…Lately, people have been using “Godfather” far more often than his true name.

…That’s likely because it’s a perfectly fitting nickname. It feels as though my late father is seen as more of a conceptual existence than a human who once had a corporeal body.

…As his son, I can’t help but feel conflicted, though it’s likely that he wished for this to happen.

…If one becomes an abstraction, a god… their existence becomes eternal.

…So long as even a single person continues to remember the idea of them, that is.

Ibara: Yes. However, the generations that follow tend to distort such ideas as they please. The more time passes, the harder it is to ascertain what the person was truly like.

Nagisa: …That’s precisely what happened to the Buddha, Confucius and Jesus Christ.

Madara: Hahaha! You’re making it sound like you actually knew those historical, holy figures. You should prooobably cut that out, unless you want people to think you’ve got a case of chuunibyou!

Nagisa: ……

Madara: It’s true. Everybody who lives on after those famous figures comes up with their own interpretation of ‘em; they conflate reality with their own fantasies. They twist and warp everything till it turns into a myth…

Those famous figures are six feet under now, but they were once flesh and blood just like us — it should be easy to see 'em for who they really were, and yet we make it harder and harder for ourselves.

Ibara: Precisely. That’s what makes it all so troublesome.

My ultimate objective is to extricate the veritable root of all evil — the Godfather — from the idol industry, ridding it of his influence.

Nagisa: …”The root of all evil”? Fufu. Yes, you could call him that.

Ibara: I’d loathe to see someone who’s already long dead continue to have such a strong hold over us. Even if this industry was built by that great man who could even be likened to a god...

At this very moment, in this reality wherein we live, the world around us is changing at a dizzyingly fast pace.

And yet, for how long must we adhere to the ways of the past? At this rate, we won’t be able to keep up with the times.

To put it frankly, the Godfather is a hindrance; his very existence is troublesome. Although we ought to be free, we continue to find ourselves trapped by his legacy from bygone times.

Nagisa: ...Fufu. I believe your personal grudge is one of the main reasons why you feel that way, however.

Ibara: Yes, and what’s wrong with that? I hate him. He’s unpleasant and an eyesore, and that is why I shall destroy him: the person which I consider my “enemy” — “evil itself”!

In order for that to happen, I’m even going so far as to enlist the help of the formidable pawn known as Mikejima-shi.

Madara: Hahaha. “Pawn,” huh? If you want people to be happy about working under you, you miiight wanna watch your language.

You could try “friend” or “family” or “ally” — something like that. That sounds a lot nicer, doesn’t it? Those’re my recommendations.

I hardly see you being this open, though. Maybe you just hate the Godfather so much, you can’t even be bothered to talk all politely anymore?

Nagisa: …Considering Ibara’s position, I think that’s only natural.

Ibara: Oh, I’m terribly sorry for being so foul-mouthed. I simply wasn’t taught my manners. However, don’t you also prefer it when people are frank with you, Mikejima-shi?

Madara: I sure do! If you had tried to manipulate me with that silver tongue of yours instead of opening up…

I would’ve kicked you out by the ass or something and told you to scram!

I’m no soldier. Money or ideology isn’t enough to motivate me, and I don’t want it to be enough either.

Ibara: That’s right. You’re fueled by your feelings of duty and humanity, just like the mobsters of the past.

Madara: Hahaha. I wish you could’ve called me a hero instead.

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

#enstars #enstars translation #ensemble stars #s: secret service #hyenahunttl #era: !! #type: event #ibara saegusa #nagisa ran #madara mikejima

[2tired2study]

hi! i’ve recently finished the picture of dorian gray so let’s go over my favorite quotes (in order from the ones that appear in the book first to last)

if they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat

being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose i know

and as for believing things, i can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible

when our eyes met, i felt that i was growing pale. a curious sensation of terror came over me. i knew that i had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if i allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself

he, too, felt that we were destined to know each other

laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is by far the best ending for one

a man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies

i like persons better than principles, and i like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world

every day. i couldn’t be happy if i didn’t see him every day. he is absolutely necessary to me

he is all my art to me now

it is only the intellectually lost who ever argue

and the mind of a thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing

there is no such thing as a good influence, mr gray. all influence is immoral; immoral from the scientific point of view

he becomes an echo of someone else’s music

but the bravest man among us is afraid of himself

nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul

some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires,you will feel it, you will feel it terribly

man is many things, but he is not rational

examinations, sir, are pure humbug from beginning to end. if a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him

behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic

there was something fascinating in this son of love and death

really! and where do bad americans go to when they die?... they go to america

well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth

all i want now is to look at life. you may come and look at it with me, if you care to

punctuality is the thief of time

it is only the sacred things that are worth touching

when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving ones self, and one always ends by deceiving others

there is always something infinitely mean about other peoples tragedies

how different he was now than the shy frightened boy he had met in basil hallwards studio! his nature had developed like a flower, had borne blossoms of scarlet flame. out of its secret hiding-place had crept his soul, and desire had come to meet it on the way

it is personalities, not principles, that move the age

people are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves

he lives the poetry that he cannot write. the others write the poetry that they dare not realize

human life—that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating

to note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect—to observe where they had met, and where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at discord—there was a delight in that! what matter was the cost? one could never pay too high a price for any sensation

with his beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. it was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. he was like one of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir ones sense of beauty, and whose wounds are like red roses

the senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade

all that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as our past, and that the sun we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times, and with joy

it often happened that when we thought we were experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves

the joy of a caged bird was in her voice

she was free in her prison of passion

i love him because he is like what love himself should be.

he was like a common gardener walking with a rose

he had the dislike of being stared at, which comes on geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace

to be in love is to surpass ones self

my wonderful lover, my god of graces

i wish i had, for as sure as there is a god in heaven, if he ever does you any wrong, i shall kill him

whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives

i don’t want to see dorian tied to some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his intellect

we are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices

and unselfish people are colourless. they lack individuality

you are much better than you pretend to be

of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are

he is not like other men. he would never bring misery upon any one. his nature is too fine for that

but i am afraid i cannot claim my theory as my own. it belongs to nature, not to me

no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is

there was a gloom over him

he felt that dorian gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past

any one you love must be marvellous

it is not good for ones morals to see bad acting

there are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing

you taught me what reality really is

you had made me understand what love really is

you are more to me than all art can ever be

there is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love

a faint echo of his love came back to him

we live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities

when we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us

i cant bear the idea of my soul being hideous

one can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing

nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner

it is only shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion

you were the most unspoiled creature in the whole world

of you wish me never to look at your picture again, i am content. i have always you to look at

from the moment i met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. i was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you

i grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. i wanted to have you all to myself. i was only happy when i was with you

i only knew that i had seen perfection face to face

i grew more and more absorbed in you

you are made to be worshipped

in every pleasure, cruelty has its place

but it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of life that is itself but a moment

out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. we have to resume it where we left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it nat be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance of even joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain

yet, as had been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself

he saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart

art, like nature, has her monsters

is insincerity such a terrible thing? i think not. it is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities

and mind you don’t talk about anything serious. nothing is serious nowadays. at least nothing should be

i am tired of myself tonight. i should like to be someone else

sin is a thing that writes itself across a mans face

you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite

that is the reason why i want you to be fine. you have not been fine

you have a wonderful influence. let it be for good, not for evil

i wonder do i know you? before i could answer that, i should have to see your soul

my god! don’t tell me that you are bad, and corrupt, and shameful

so you think it is only god who sees the soul, basil? draw that curtain back, and you will see mine

each of us has heaven and hell in him, basil

you are the one man who is able to save me

don’t speak about those days, dorian—they are dead... the dead linger sometimes

lord henry, i am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked

life is a great disappointment

i like men who have a future and women who have a past

moderation is a fatal thing. enough is as bad as a meal. more than enough is as good as a feast

you always want to know what one has been doing. i always want to forget what i have been doing

his soul, certainly, was sick to death

he was prisoned in thought. memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

ones days were too brief to take the burden of another’s errors on ones shoulders

it is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things

to define is to limit

to be popular one must be a mediocrity

romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art

i am searching for peace

the appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists

sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself

horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart

how terrible it was to think that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms

he had a wild adoration for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art

when you and he ceased to be great friends, he ceased to be a great artist

if a man treats life artistically, his brain is his heart

art has a soul, but that man had not

the soul is a terrible reality

to get back my youth i would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable

but a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—i tell you, dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend

life has been your art

the books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world it’s own shame

the world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. the curves of your lips rewrite history

it was the living death of his own soul that troubled him

as it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painters work, and all that that meant. it would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free

#chaotic academia #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #light academia #light academic aesthetic #punk academia #writers #museums #punk academia aesthetic #chaotic academia aesthetic #academia aesthetic #oscar wilde #the picture of dorian gray #quotes #my favorite quotes #list #bookworm #booksarelife #old books #classic books #book qoute #book quotes

[nightingaletrash]

An Evening Meal

Writing is pain but I damn well finished it 😤

--

It wasn’t often that Logan joined the others in the dining hall for meals. He knew that his presence was unwanted, that all but Page had demanded his death, and the pointed glares and scathing remarks were more than enough to put him off his food. So more often than not, he took his meals in his room and made an effort to stay out of the way of the rest of the council whenever possible. It just made life that little bit more tolerable for all of them.

Well, not quite everyone obviously.

On this particular evening, Lorna had insisted that Logan join the rest of them for dinner and she'd refused to take no for an answer. And when he’d arrived, having finally relented and agreed for her sake, it was clear that she’d had a word with the others.

He was keenly aware that Lorna’s friends and advisors were determinedly not looking at him and were taking great pains to avoid addressing or mentioning him. Instead they talked amongst themselves, discussing the day’s work or regaling one another with stories of their adventures as they indulged in a fine wine imported from Samarkand.

Judging by the flush of Sabine’s cheeks and the way he jumped up onto his chair with his staff raised aloft, the Dweller had gone a little beyond a small indulgence.

“And then, with thunderous cries that shook the heavens themselves, we brought down our axes on the troll’s monstrous head! Its mantle split, its blood spilt forth, and we Dwellers rid ourselves and our land of its insidious poisons!” he declared with a surprising boom. For such a small man, he had a very impressive set of lungs.

And a very impressive talent for embellishment, Logan thought to himself, considering that the victory hadn’t been the work of the Dwellers alone. But he said nothing and tried to focus on his food. He’d let the old man have his stories and glory. There was no need for him to bring any attention to himself.

“I remember that story a little differently,” Lorna chuckled, as if she’d read his mind. At least she kept her voice low and between herself and Logan. “I thought it was your hammer that split the troll’s head open, and that the Dwellers’ axes were busy with its nerve tendrils.”

Logan shrugged indifferently.

“I don’t see that it makes a difference. Sabine is welcome to tell his stories as he wishes.”

He was aware that her gaze lingered on him a moment before turning back to the conversation further down the table. The big Dweller - Boulder - was busy guiding the tipsy Sabine back into his seat just as Ben Finn leapt into his own tale.

“So one minute Private Jammy and I are walking our daring Rebel Princess through the use of the mortar. The next, a legion of Hollowmen are erupting from the ground, ready to charge the gates-!”

“Avo’s sake, Ben, give it a rest,” Page huffed. “No one cares whether you managed to kill three hollowmen with one shot or not.”

“But it really did happen!” he protested, his brows knitting together. Then he pointed an accusing finger at her and said, “you just don’t believe it because you didn’t even believe in hollowmen until you went to Reaver’s little Masquerade party, and now you don’t want to admit that I’m telling the truth!”

“I don’t believe it because you were probably too busy nattering at them to actually do any shooting.”

Logan observed the bickering pair briefly - he took faint amusement at the indignant look of offense on Ben’s face - then turned back to his sister, who was watching the small spectacle unfold with a small smile that was somewhat unreadable.

She’d aged since that day in the throne room. She’d lost some of the softness that rounded her cheeks, and while her eyes weren’t quite hardened, they’d lost their innocent glimmer. She’d also sprouted upwards a few inches, leaving her just shy of his own height. But what drew his attention were the scars on her face.

Suddenly, as if he was possessed by some old repressed childish instinct, he reached over and flicked her in the nose.

Lorna squeaked - actually squeaked - in surprise, swatted his hand away and stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.

Heads swivelled in their direction. Ben and Page’s spirited debate was abruptly cut off and Saker was halfway out of his seat before Lieutenant Attaway’s hand gripped his forearm and a pointed look sent him sinking back down apprehensively.

Logan felt his face heat up at the sudden scrutiny.

What in the Light’s name had possessed him to do that? He briefly entertained the notion of trying to will himself to fade from sight or to sink through his chair into the floor, but as ever, he remained in full view and firmly in his seat. So he tried to act as though he’d not just reached out and flicked his sister, the Queen, in the face like a child might.

Sabine and Kalin just watched with mild interest, and Walter stared for a moment, then chortled.

“No pestering each other at the table,” he said, as if they were still small children and in need of reminding, before he turned away. “I hear that Page’s people were able to track down your missing shipments, Kalin.”

“Hm? Oh yes. The young man, Kidd I believe? Was able to locate the thieves and reclaim them for us,” she replied, catching on quickly and inclining her head towards Page. “It would please me if he were to receive my most heartfelt thanks.”

Page affirmed that she’d pass on the message, and the conversation resumed, though Walter gave the siblings one last heartfelt grin before turning away and leaving them to their own discussion.

Logan made a note in the back of his mind to make up the last four years to Walter for his smooth redirection of the conversation before things got even more awkward.

“What was that for?” Lorna giggled, even though it was clear that she was utterly perplexed. “You haven’t flicked me since I was nine.”

Logan shrugged, still wishing he could vanish on the spot. Still no luck, and he wasn’t going to get away with such a plainly uncharacteristic act in the middle of dinner. So he vainly willed some of the pinkness from his cheeks and turned to his sister.

“There was something on your nose,” he said matter-of-factly. “You never did tell me where you got those scars.”

There were two. An arched cut over the bridge of her nose that hadn’t quite healed right, leaving a slight ridge of raised tissue along the bottom edge of the scar. The second was a perfect mirror of his own; a deep, thin line gouged through her lip as if drawn by a claw, though her’s was on the opposite side to his.

That was the scar that she self-consciously rubbed her thumb over.

“Well this one was a gift from Saker,” she said after a brief pause, tapping the side of her nose to indicate the arched mark. “He punched me in the face during our fight.”

“And the other?”

As expected, she hesitated to answer and her thumb traced over the mark once more, the side of her nail dragging through the narrow groove. He knew all too well where it had come from, but he needed to hear her say it before he could truly accept that she had encountered that thing too.

“Crawler,” she whispered. “It said something about ‘one to match the other.’ At the time, I thought it was talking about this one-" she tapped her nose again "-but I guess it was talking about you.”

The corner of his mouth itched, but he resisted the urge to rub it.

Every time he closed his eyes at night, he could taste blood in his mouth and hear the Crawler’s cackling as it dragged a wicked claw over his lips, marking him forever as one of its playthings. He’d wake up in a cold sweat and have to run his thumb over his mouth to ground himself, to reassure himself that he was not bleeding and that he was far from Crawler’s grasp… for the moment, at least.

He wondered, briefly, if Lorna had similar nightmares. The dark circles around her eyes were telling enough. It was little wonder that she applied makeup whenever she left the castle or attended court. Anything to keep her people from suspecting that their Queen was struggling with her burden.

"I suppose it must have been," was his reply. "Unless getting a scar from Saker of all people was somehow one of your worst memories."

The touch of sarcasm took the edge off of the conversation, and Lorna grinned in spite of herself.

"At least I didn't get one from falling down the stairs when I was six," she jabbed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Logan replied airily, though the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly upwards. "Especially when one considers that you weren't even alive back then."

"Jasper would never lie about something like that," she shot back smugly. "He said that you were inconsolable for over an hour."

"Jasper was mad even back then."

"People don't go senile in their early fifties, Logan."

"I said 'mad' not 'senile'. Sane people don't look at an advertisement that insists that a butler must be prepared for daily occurrences of violence and decide 'ah yes, that sounds like the perfect job for me'."

That was a story that their mother had simply loved to tell. Apparently Jasper was the only applicant she had received after her first butler's prompt resignation, which had resulted from a sudden and unexpected bandit attack, and when he'd proven more than capable of running her household and dealing with intruders - where he'd learned to handle live explosives, he'd never say - she kept him on, and he'd served her and her family ever since.

Most butlers had better self-preservation instincts.

Lorna simply grinned though, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"Careful Logan. He can hear everything we say, remember?"

"Well of course I do," Logan said, rolling his eyes. "He was doing that long before he figured out how to work the Guild Seal."

"Right," she laughed. "Remember that time we planned to leave earwigs under the pillow of that diplomat from Samarkand?"

"I still have no idea how he found out about that," Logan chuckled, shaking his head.

"Because he hears all, sees all and knows all." She paused, then nodded her head with a faux look of grim determination. "When this is all over, I shall see to it that there is a temple dedicated to Jasper."

"He deserves it. He's put up with the two of us for all these years."

It would be upon later reflection that the ease of the back and forth would surprise Logan. He and his sister hadn't bantered so casually in years. Not since Aurora. He'd certainly not indulged in the nostalgia of his youthful antics like this, not when so much had been resting on his shoulders.

And yet, for just a while, it was as if nothing had changed. They continued to chat over their dinner, completely ignorant to the conversation and sideways glances from further down the table.

Maybe, he thought to himself after they had all dispersed for the evening, he would take his meals in the dining room more often.

#nightingale writes #fable 3 #logan #hobw #lorna #walter beck #sabine #kalin #ben finn #page #saker #lieutenant attaway #hehe sibling content

[officialgomezaddams]

Morality

I honestly dk what this is but its set in AOTC kinda want to turn this into a little series $wag also shout out to my fellow nihilists this is for you bb

Palpatine had always kept watchful over her but never loomed. It would have been too obvious. When he met Anakin, it was like a breath of fresh air, a realization that this little boy was destined to restore the balance in the force and his daughter, Y/n, would be the one to defeat him. He had begun the idea of his daughter once he joined the Darkside, already knowing that the possibility to be overthrown was something he couldn’t let happen. The dark energy, the power, was simply too much to let go of. The moment he saw the nine-year-old boy, the lord was happy to know that the power would stay on the dark side. 

Dooku trained Y/n as a padawan, and when he left the order, he took Y/n with him, kidnapping her into the night. When she asked why they were leaving the temple as he dragged her into a ship, he simply replied, “Sometimes when politicians can’t do their job, we must do something ourselves.” Over the years together, he would open up more, telling Y/n about the death of Qui-Gon and every step that drove him to leave. 

“The Jedi rely on selflessness. To strip one’s ability to have connection and emotion. They lose themselves in conformity. We need to take control of the life we’re given. Emotion, passion, drive. Those are how we will be victorious. Corrupt politicians pull the Jedi around like kites on strings. You can not try and save a house that its lousy foundation has torn down. Tear it down and build a new one.” 

It was her job to ensure just that, a new foundation set within the heart of the Darkside. Relentless training to mentally and physically defeat the chosen one. Palpatine would often tell her that her destiny was a part of the Sith Two, that the strongest one of the two would survive, and it was to be her. Darth Sidious found comfort that his creation would take over the Darkside once she had killed him and the Count. The most decisive Jedi ruling on the side of the night. 

She didn’t quite understand it, but to stay on the Darkside made the most sense to her. It wasn’t about power. It was the lifestyle. Why be selfless if there was no personal gain? Why spend a life living for something else? Shouldn’t one live their life for themselves? Everyone, she determined, had to want something. As long as she did what she wanted, it was enough. It had to be. Because without drive and her idea of what was truly right and wrong, how would she get anything done? 

She rationed that it all didn’t matter. She would never know who was right because, in her mind, the concept of being right varied too much. The Jedi thought they were right, the sith thought they were right, the politicians who voted against their people’s needs thought they were right. She had to suffer through Palpatine’s long lectures about how awful the senate was and now terrible the Jedi Order is. But who was to say he was right? That was only his opinion. Who was to say the Jedi were right because a frog that was almost nine hundred years old said so? 

“I’m just…” Anakin went on, pulling a piece of grass out of the ground. “I mean, I don’t know. Padmè is beautiful and wonderful. She’s everything that could make someone perfect: marriage, it’s so permanent. I know I’m supposed to be excited, which I am, of course. But what if we were not supposed to be together.” 

His speech made her frown. “Sometimes, it’s better just to dive in and see where you land.” She offered. The dreams with Anakin were a peaceful escape to a Jedi’s life. Neither knew why their dreams brought them together or what they even meant. Neither of them bothered, living the same training life on opposite sides. A sweet dream was the perfect reward. “And who are you going to be with then, me?” She teased back. 

The setting of the dreams was in the meadows of Naboo. The pastel-colored flowers stood dim in the moonlight from the starry night above. Anakin laid with his head in her lap as they talked about their personal lives, never going in too deep about what their destinies were. Anakin no longer had the pressure of being the chosen one, and Y/n never had to admit she would kill the chosen one. 

“I wish,” Anakin admitted, now looking up at her. “I want so bad to meet you Y/n, not just in my dreams but in real life. If I could have you by my side, all of this would be less confusing. I’ve fallen in love with you, a woman in my dreams. Why can’t you be in my reality?”

“Don’t say that,” She whispered. Whenever Anakin talked about his little girl-thing, Y/n wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what their relationship was, and she always felt a slight nic in her heart. Y/n knew that she was in love with Anakin, but to hear about another woman making him the happiest he’s been in the majority of the years that she knew him, that it wasn’t her, the one sneaking in kisses with him in the shadows. It brought out an ugly feeling of jealousy and possessiveness to Y/n that she didn’t know she had. 

“I promise, one day, I’ll be with you in all the ways you want.” She spoke with a smile. She would often daydream about what life would be like to meet him real-time. They would run up to each other and crush each other in a hug. She imagined it all.

“Tell me about it,” Anakin edged on, closing his eyes as if it was going to play out in his head.

“Well, I want to go somewhere like D’Qar, somewhere quiet where I won’t have to worry about neighbors or anyone I don’t want finding me. Or us, because you’re coming with me no matter what your soon-to-be wife says,” You teased, making him laugh. “Maybe- Sometimes in my dreams, there’s no Padmè, it’s just us, and every so often there are kids, but it’s just us. Tucked away where we can be together, and nothing can bother us or stop us from being together.”

The silence that sat in between them began to scare Y/n, “Is that a future you would want with me?”

His eyes met hers, a peaceful moment in the chaos of their lives. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, behind her ear. “If I were able to, I would.”

“And why can’t you? Why can’t you have the things you want, Anakin? Is it wrong to be happy?” 

Waking up from the dreams was always the most challenging part, the reality of it not being a reality. Y/n woke up already in a bad mood, mentally kicking herself for pushing too far in. Of course, he wouldn’t want to. He’s getting married to someone else. You’re too late. It had always been Y/n’s plan to end up with Anakin in some way or another. From the first dream to now, she decided to leave the Sith once she had killed the chosen one. Somedays, she would pace around, impatiently waiting for whoever held the title to cross her path so she could just finish the job and take the next ship to wherever Anakin was. 

She tore the necklace he had given her off her neck, clutching the carven japor snippet in her hand with a grip so hard she could have cracked it if it wasn’t made out of stone. She was squeezing her eyes shut, trying not to cry. Anakin had given Y/n the good luck charm when they were at the age of thirteen. Y/n was upset that once everything was over that he may not want to be with her, the reputation of her choices would drive him away. 

“Well, you can’t be that bad,” He commented, pulling out the carved stone from his pocket and shyly handing it to her. “I made this for you,” Anakin explained as she put it around her neck, “So that when good things happen, you can think of me. It’ll be my way of keeping you safe, and in return, one day, you will come to me safely.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the carvings, remembering how Anakin said he made it just for her, so she better not lose it. Y/n wanted to break it, throw it away, and never see Anakin again. She wanted more than just the dreams. She wanted the sunsets and the early morning and the rainy days - all of it. Maybe they were wrong, they weren’t supposed to meet, and it was just a nice dream. 

She couldn’t do that. She at least owes him a simple greeting, and then she can get rid of him. Putting the necklace back on and wiping her face to make sure she wasn’t crying, Y/n walked out of the room, ready for whatever the sith wanted her to do. 

“Just be patient,” Her master told her as they waited outside the still open ship. Geonosis was overrun with battle, the sith fighting tooth and bone to claim the planet as its capital, the major droid foundries, and its Mandalorians. Nothing could be more perfect for the sith. The two force signatures caught Y/n’s attention. Looking up at Dooku, she told him, “Well, let’s make it quick then.” 

“The chosen one will be here,” he whispered back. “I’ll leave that one to you.”

“You’re gonna pay for all the Jedi you killed, Dooku,” A familiar voice said as you both turned around in unison. “Y/N?” A pit dropped in her stomach. It was him, Anakin. Anakin’s blue saber was pointed at the ground, more focused on her than the older man. 

The necklace he gave her burned her through her robes. Anakin was finally there in front of her. This Anakin was different from her dreams. He stood with more pride and confidence. He was also the chosen one. “I-I didn’t expect to meet you like this,” She told him, knowing full well once on the ship, she would be interrogated about her knowledge of the boy. 

“Why are you with him?” The venom in his voice almost made her feel guilty about being who she was. “Are you-? Don’t tell me Y/n-” He couldn’t find the words to express his confusion and disappointment, “You’re a Sith. How can you be with them? You lied to me! Can’t you see what they’re doing to you? Can’t you see what they’ve done!”

“The Jedi know no facts,” She spoke, looking over at the Count, waiting for his head nod and sign of approval to ignite her orange saber. The whole weapon was made for destruction, a perfect saber to kill the chosen one. Its orange glow was representing strength. The curved hilt that matched hers of her masters was perfect for duels and close fights. “Only assumptions.”

It hurt her to have him looking at her in disgust. As if she was suddenly less than him because of her beliefs. “Anakin, you need to calm down,” She warned him as he charged towards her, only for Dooku to step in front of her, raising his hand to send bolds of electricity into the boy’s body and fling him into a rock wall. “Don’t keep me waiting,” Her master spoke before walking up the platform of the ship. 

Y/n only had seconds to understand that not only her master had abandoned her, Anakin was also lying limp in a pile of rocks, and the other Jedi was making his way towards her. She pointed her saber straight ahead at him, taking careful steps around him, trying to think about how this all would end. Was this it? When is supposed to kill the chosen one who happened to be the boy Y/n had fallen in love with over the past ten years? She knew that once she killed Anakin, she would have to kill the two sith above her, starting the two over with her as a master. 

“I heard the little green guy talks highly of you, Kenobi. What a pity it will be when I kill his two strongest men.”

Obi-wan shook his head, “You’re not Dooku’s apprentice. You’re just an assassin to him. Y/n why would he elect a child to be his successor?” He spoke as if he could read her mind, his blue eyes pleading with her. 

“You don’t know anything!” Y/n yelled, making the first strike. His saber skills were advanced, but quickly she was able to disarm him and left two marks on him, one on his arm and one on his thigh. She walked up to him, the two staring at each other. Was she about to kill this man? She had never killed a human before. Taking down droids and other creatures were casual to her. Humans? This man was edging her on with his eyes, both understanding that she wasn’t able to drive her saber into his neck. She couldn’t just kill a man who had done nothing to her. That would be wrong, right? But if it was so bad, why was she encouraged to do it? 

Before she could thoroughly choose, Anakin came at full force again. This time his master had tossed him his saber, making the fight two against one. “Why won’t you join our site, the right side?” Anakin asked, swiftly dodging her but failing to make any advancements to disarming her. 

“I don’t believe in any right sides.” She told him, knocking the green lightsaber out of his hand, evening out the fight. “I believe in one thing. Power of human will.” 

She walked into the ship quietly, ignoring the little green Jedi behind her. She didn’t care about the older man, Yoda or Count Dooku. She walked past the sith and made her way right to the pilot’s seat before sitting down. 

Dooku followed her, giving her space as she sat down. Crossing his arms like a disappointed parent, he asked, “Well?”

“I cut his arm off,” Y/n spoke, taking out the necklace and looking at the charm in her hand. She left right after, watching him lay unconscious against his master, missing apart of his right arm. She had hurt him, and for a moment, when she was looking at the injured pair, the padawan’s master had the same look on his face as before. An eyebrow raised as if to say, Do it, kill us. I doubt you’ll do it. 

“I’m disappointed in you.” He said. Y/n could have done it. She would have just pictured them as droids and slice the two in half. It would have been quick and painless. She could have plaid her life out, kill the chosen one, rule the sith, and live her life. Why didn’t you? She kept thinking as she admired the gift. 

Looking at the charm, the future she talked about seemed too far away, especially now. The end with the boy she loved, Anakin, who also was the boy she was supposed to kill. But for right now, she thought to herself. She wouldn’t kill him, at least not yet, until she knew for sure that her fantasies with Anakin were just wild dreams. It was her own life. Why couldn’t she have the things she wanted? 

#anakin skywalker imagine #star wars imagine #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #star wars imagines #anakin imagines #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars x reader

[maxksx]

I was not going to write anything, as I am a latecomer to this masterful troll question and not many are likely going to scroll all the way down, but Paul Taylor's call for Proof mining and Realizability (or Realisability as the Queen would write it) was irresistible.

Nobody asks whether numbers are just a ritual, or at least not very many mathematicians do. Even the most anti-scientific philosopher can be silenced with ease by a suitable application of rituals and theories of social truth to the number that is written on his paycheck. At that point the hard reality of numbers kicks in with all its might, may it be Platonic, Realistic, or just Mathematical.

So what makes numbers so different from proofs that mathematicians will fight a meta-war just for the right to attack the heretical idea that mathematics could exist without rigor, but they would have long abandoned this question as irrelevant if it asked instead "are numbers just a ritual that most mathematicians wish to get rid of"? We may search for an answer in the fields of sociology and philosophy, and by doing so we shall learn important and sad facts about the way mathematical community operates in a world driven by profit, but as mathematicians we shall never find a truly satisfactory answer there. Isn't philosophy the art of never finding the answers?

Instead, as mathematicians we can and should turn inwards. How are numbers different from proofs? The answer is this: proofs are irrelevant but numbers are not. This is at the same time a joke and a very serious observation about mathematics. I tell my students that proofs serve two purposes:

They convince people (including ourselves) that statements are true.

They convey intuitions, ideas and techniques.

Both are important, and we have had some very nice quotes about this fact in other answers. Now ask the same question about numbers. What role do numbers play in mathematics? You might hear something like "they are what mathematics is (also) about" or "That's what mathematicians study", etc. Notice the difference? Proofs are for people but numbers are for mathematics. We admit numbers into mathematical universe as first-class citizen but we do not take seriously the idea that proofs themselves are also mathematical objects. We ignore proofs as mathematical objects. Proofs are irrelevant.

Of course you will say that logic takes proofs very seriously indeed. Yes, it does, but in a very limited way:

It mostly ignores the fact that we use proofs to convey ideas and focuses just on how proofs convey truth. Such practice not only hinders progress in logic, but is also actively harmful because it discourages mathematization of about 50% of mathematical activity. If you do not believe me try getting funding on research in "mathematical beauty".

It considers proofs as syntactic objects. This puts logic where analysis used to be when mathematicians thought of functions as symbolic expressions, probably sometime before the 19th century.

It is largely practiced in isolation from "normal" mathematics, by which it is doubly handicapped, once for passing over the rest of mathematics and once for passing over the rest of mathematicians.

Consequently even very basic questions, such as "when are two proofs equal" puzzle many logicians. This is a ridiculous state of affairs.

But these are rather minor technical deficiencies. The real problem is that mainstream mathematicians are mostly unaware of the fact that proofs can and should be first-class mathematical objects. I can anticipate the response: proofs are in the domain of logic, they should be studied by logicians, but normal mathematicians cannot gain much by doing proof theory. I agree, normal mathematicians cannot gain much by doing traditional proof theory. But did you know that proofs and computation are intimately connected, and that every time you prove something you have also written a program, and vice versa? That proofs have a homotopy-theoretic interpretation that has been discovered only recently? That proofs can be "mined" for additional, hidden mathematical gems? This is the stuff of new proof theory, which also goes under names such as Realizability, Type theory, and Proof mining.

Imagine what will happen with mathematics if logic gets boosted by the machinery of algebra and homotopy theory, if the full potential of "proofs as computations" is used in practice on modern computers, if completely new and fresh ways of looking at the nature of proof are explored by the brightest mathematicians who have vast experience outside the field of logic? This will necessarily represent a major shift in how mathematics is done and what it can accomplish.

Because mathematicians have not reached the level of reflection which would allow them to accept proof relevant mathematics they seek security in the mathematically and socially inadequate dogma that a proof can only be a finite syntactic entity. This makes us feeble and weak and unable to argue intelligently with a well-versed sociologist who can wield the weapons of social theories, anthropology and experimental psychology. So the best answer to the question "is rigor just a ritual" is to study rigor as a mathematical concept, to quantify it, to abstract it, and to turn it into something new, flexible and beautiful. Then we will laugh at our old fears, wonder how we ever could have thought that rigor is absolute, and we will become the teachers of our critics.

https://mathoverflow.net/questions/127889/is-rigour-just-a-ritual-that-most-mathematicians-wish-to-get-rid-of-if-they-coul/130125#130125

#andrej bauer

[nightowlfandom]

Eren Yeager- The Right Type Of Wrong (Part 2/2)

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

2/2 LEGGO BITCH

Like I said this is half AU/Half Not Really

Leggo!

...

(FLASHBACK)

“What do you think is outside the wall?” you asked innocently. You and Eren had snuck out after curfew (before you were granted immunity to go/do whatever you want). You two snuck out to the tallest building and sat on the roof, staring into the night. “When this whole Titan thing is taken care of...if it ever get’s taken care of, what do you think is out there?”

“Who knows.” Eren said. “I do know this though...freedom is one hell of a drug. We’re not gonna know what to do with ourselves.” he lazily drew lines onto your hand with his fingertips. “I mean I do what I want anyways, but knowing I can do what I want without worrying about being chased around all day, it’s gonna be nice.”

“We’re gonna travel one day.” you giggled. “We’re gonna pack up everything and camp in the mountains for a few days.” you said determined. “You hear that universe! Make it happen!” you playfully threatened the night sky.

You had noticed Eren was quiet. “Hey...everything good?”

“Hm? Oh...Yeah I’m fine...just thinking...Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you and took you in a warm hug.

“Hey look!” you pointed at the sky, pointing out the brightest star. “That can be our star!” you clapped excitedly.

“Yeah...our star”

(Flashback end)

...

You tapped against the counter filled with boredom. It was 7:57 already. Three more minutes and you were out of there. You were ready to leave already. You silently hoped Eren was at least a second late so you could up and leave. 

You had no idea why you decided to dress up for this. You weren’t even the least bit excited for this. This wasn’t worth ditching your uniform, not by a longshot. Whatever Eren had to say, he had better make it quick. You hadn’t even bothered ordering a drink, you were sure your stomach couldn’t handle it in the first place. 

7:58

“Two more minutes.” you mumbled to yourself. “Ugh, I’m wasting my time.” you leaned against the counter, looking around the cozy looking pub. Why did you even agree to this!? Were you stupid?

Yes, yes you were.

7:59...

“Alright, I’m out of here.” you scoffed. “Wasting my god-damn time.”

“I believe I still had one minute left.” a voice startled you. “How rude.”

“We’ll you and timing aren’t exactly the best of friends, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst.” you replied, turning towards Eren. 

“Sorry, darling. Car needed gas but I’m here now, aren’t I?” He winked, taking a seat next to you. “Hey Barkeep! Get me my usual! Hope you can still hold your liquor.” 

“What do you think.” you yawned. “We’re here to talk...”

“Can’t we catch up first?” he feigned hurt. “Damn Y/N, I haven’t even been back a day and you’re already eager to get rid of me...how you been?”

“Busy.” you huffed. “Training, teaching, and fighting.” you replied. “Not in that particular order.”

“Hm...any boyfriend to speak of?”

“No.” you cut him off. “I haven’t had time for dating...”

“Oh, really?” he smirked. “Wonder why that would be.”

“You know why...” you snapped. “No guy that knows you has even tried to come near me, and incase you haven’t noticed, is pretty much everyone.”

“Oh baby, I’m just messing with you.” he threw an arm around your waist. “I know you could never be with anyone else.” he kissed the side of your head. 

“Where were you?” you narrowed your eyes. 

“...I had to leave.” Eren replied, suddenly glowering. “I had some thinking to do...I had to get myself together.” he took his arm back, leaning on the counter. “I wanted to tell you-”

“This one’s on me Eren, welcome back.” the bartender came back with two glasses and stalked off. He gave you a short look, almost asking with his own eyes, ‘Are you sure about this guy?”

“Yet you didn’t, you didn’t tell me.” you ignored him and rolled your eyes focusing back on Eren. “So what is it, then?” you raised an eyebrow. “You left, so why did you come back? Care to enlighten me on why you didn’t stay gone? You left every single one of your peers behind and for what? Why didn’t you stay in the hole you crawled into!” you got louder and louder, not caring if the other patrons could hear. “Care to explain?”

“I came back because of you, Y/N.” he replied. “I wanted to better myself...for you...I just hope it isn’t too late.”

“Bullshit.” you laughed harshly, taking the glass off the counter. “If you wanted to escape the corps, just say that.” you boredly drank. “You don’t have to tell me some dumbass story.”

“I didn’t want to escape the corps.” he denied the idea. “I’m being honest, Y/N.”

“If there’s one thing I know about you...it’s that when you say you’re being honest, I have to assume the opposite.” you sighed.

“You have to believe me.” he raised his hand to caress your cheek. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Trust me, I believe a lot of things about you and I definitely don’t know what you would and wouldn’t do to me.” you huffed, placing the glass back on the counter. “I believe that you’re a selfish little-”

You didn’t have time to finish your insult because Eren swooped in and kissed you. Like he used to, he rested his palm on the base of your neck while he slithered his other arm around your waist. You practically melted into his touch, ignoring the disapproving glares of the other patrons. They’d never try to pull you apart though. Eren pulled away, still holding you. 

“That’s not fair.” you pouted, feeling your old self reach the surface. “You can’t do that.”

“You missed me.” he ignored your complaints. “You so fucking missed me.”

“Maybe a little...” you gave in. “Maybe a lot.”

“Good...good girl.”

“You left me.” you clenched your jaw, trying not to let your emotions show. “With a fucking note, Eren.”

“Yet you’re still wearing the dog-tags I left with said note.” he smirked at the chain that was peeking out from your jacket. You were sure you managed to hide them well. 

Eren found the necklace when he was out battling a titan once, it had burped out the necklace and he didn’t see the point in leaving it...so he took it, polished it and kept it. (Yo if this is offensive I am soooo sorry dude.)

He would up getting it engraved before he left it for you, like that would help.

Then again you wore them everywhere you went...so who was the moron?

“S-shut up...” you felt your face heat up violently.

... (NSFW themes ahead)

Your back hit the seat with a thud as Eren crawled over you, slamming the car door behind him. 

You were used to being acquainted with the backseat of Eren’s cars (whether they were his or not.) Your lips crashed together as he pinned your arms above your head. 

“Eren, we’re still in public!” you moaned as he trailed his mouth down your jawline. “I’m pretty sure people know what we’re doing here.” you whimpered.

“So? They sure as fuck won’t try and stop us.” he laughed. “Fuck I missed you, I missed you too much.” he groaned. “I thought about you every fucking day I was gone.” He ghosted his fingers under your shirt. “The only thing keeping me going was coming back for you.” he kissed up your exposed stomach, trailing his tongue along your scorching hot skin. “All our memories.” He bit his lip.

“Memories?”

“Remember when we used to fuck on that asshole Ackerman’s desk when he wasn’t there?”

“Yeah?” you trailed off. “Then we almost got caught -”

“Remember when you sucked my dick under the tables at our meetings and no one suspected a thing?”

“Eren, that’s so dirty.” you shyly covered your face with your hands.

“Remember when we’d fuck in the alleyways when we were supposed to be on guard, or all times we’d sneak out after curfew to do what we’re doing right now?” he bought up all the memories. He laced his fingertips into yours. “I don’t think that pussy of yours forgot...” he laughed darkly. “If I recall you convinced me a few times.” 

Eren kissed you again as he lifted your shirt over your head. “I stared at our star every night, wishing I could be closer to you.” he spoke in hushed tones. “Fuck Y/N, I missed you.” he groaned. 

You frantically unbuttoned his shirt, feeling his warm body collide with yours. The small space in the back seat only forced your two to get closer.

...

You laid on his check, basking in the afterglow of this moment. His chest rose and fell gracefully. His heart was racing...yours was too. 

Your clothes are thrown in the front seat with the exception of his jacket which was being used as a mini blanket to cover your back. 

“ We shook the car.” Eren commented with a laugh. “I’m sure people know what we’ve been up to.” 

“So what happens now?” you breathlessly asked.

“Well...I’m gonna get yelled at by Ackerman...probably get my ass kicked by our friends. Rejoin the corps...” he listed. 

“So you’re staying permanently?” You looked up at him, a glint of hope in your eye. 

“Of course.” he winked. “Course I gotta stay. Show these losers who the best titan killer is...and I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.” he tightened his arms around you.

“Good...because if you leave me again...we’re done for good.”

“Ouch...what happened to my innocent Y/N?” he scoffed with laughter.

“I took a page out of your book.” you giggled before giving out a long yawn. 

You soon fell asleep to the sound of Eren breathing. 

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