#maybe he truly is a visionary?

[idkimnotreal]

tfw elon musk literally ends twitter and it's not april 1st.

the name twitter, the brand, was everything keeping it from flopping definitely under his new "direction". but i don't think he wants to save twitter, he never did. they shouldn't have let this purchase go through. i feel like twitter was too big to fail and it's going to leave a permanent vacuum on the already depleted and overly monopolized 2020s internet.

[mythicmanuscripts]

can you write sub!aemond going into sub–space mid fuck? like he switches to high–valyrian, eye all glassy and pupil dilated, and no control over his body (hips bucking up subconsciously etc)

maybe some overstimulation because he's so sensitive and he's all pliant and grabby with his hands? 🤭

I… anon you are truly a visionary.

NSFW sub!Aemond below the cut :))

So firstly, Aemond has no idea what subspace is before this happens, but I do think he actually would have been sort of teetering on subspace for a while whenever you and he would spend quiet time alone? Like if he knelt for you or you let him rest his head on your chest or if you read to him. His mind just switches off and he lets himself relax and float, knowing that you’re there if anything happens.

Because if that, I think the first time it would happen would be one of those times that turned into sex? You were laying in bed with his head resting on your inner thigh. You had one hand in his hair, gently stroking and massaging his head and then you were reading something to him, usually something calming and familiar.

He was letting himself relax, but he also hadn’t seen you in a few days and while you were absolutely right when you saw him and said he needed to calm down with you before he did anything else, he is now calm and far far too close to your undergarments to not want to taste.

You see that coming from a mile away of course, Aemond can never hide his intentions with you. You wait until he starts to get squirmy and grinds against the bed before you give him permission to eat you out, which he immediately dives into the moment you let him.

He’s so good with it, and by the time you’re pulling him away from you he’s so turned on and so so needy.

You get him to lay on the bed then with his back against the headboard and you ride him. When you start he’s not in subspace, but he is just… really settled? There’s no urgency, no begging or gripping of your thighs. It’s like he knows now that when he’s this vulnerable you will always give him exactly what he needs, so he doesn’t beg or try to do anything, he knows you’ll make this perfect.

And you do, of course.

You start off riding him nice and slow, listening to all his little whimpers. It’s when you pick up the pace that you see something has changed.

The first thing you notice is that his grip on your hips tightens and then his hips buck up. You had told him not to move at all, so feeling his hips buck up into you surprised you, because he’d normally never ever disobey you like that.

You’re about to tell him off for that, but then you look at him and he’s just so clearly gone. He’s leaning his head against the wall, panting and whining and mumbling something in high Valyrian so soft that you can’t make out what he’s saying. You tell him to look at you and he only whines louder and bucks his hips again.

You gently take his jaw in your hand and directly him to look into yours and that’s when you know for certain that he’s in subspace. His eyes are all glossy and looking right past you. He mumbles in high Valyrian again and this time you’re able to actually make out the word.

Wife. He’s mumbling wife.

And well, you’re certainly not going to tell him off now.

You tell him he’s so pretty like this, which makes him whine again and then you start riding him properly once more. He no longer knows what to do with his hands, can’t seem to make his mind up. He’s grabbing your thighs then hips then breaths then face and repeating it over and over, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You end up taking his hands and putting them on your waist, telling him to keep them there. He throws his head back in response and whimpers out something that sounded like “yes, wife, I will try” in high Valyrian. The poor thing seems completely incapable of English.

When you can see he starts to get close, you tell him immediately that he can cum because you really don’t want to risk how he might react if he came without permission and thought he disappointed you.

He’s so loud when he comes, whimpering and whining and saying “wife” and “thank you” over and over in high Valyrian.

The moment his orgasm is over, he’s straight into overstimulation because you’re still sitting on him, but he’s so pliant? He tries to push you off him, but it’s like he has absolutely no strength? He ends up kinda just weakly pushing against your hip.

You only ride him a little while longer and then get off because you don’t want to overwhelm him when he’s this vulnerable.

The moment you’ve rolled off him, he rolls to follow you and buries his head in your chest. He just holds you tight and whines and cries as he slowly comes down.

You ensure not to leave his side until you’re sure he’s recovered.

When he does recover, he’s just so thankful? He felt so so safe and well looked after by you. For the next few days he’s in the best mood that anyone has ever seen him in.

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

cordell is such a simp for mason verger it's actually kind of embarrassing

[kyoghurts]

LOVER, YOU SHOULD'VE COME OVER. ✦˚˳⊹ RAYNE AMES

you confess your love to rayne and you don't regret doing so. ever. angst | inspired by this song | short drabble i wrote instead of resting.

you’re ready for anything that comes your way. well, you like to tell that to yourself before you dive headfirst into anything reckless. and confessing to your crush, rayne ames, wouldn’t be any different to how you approach things, even if the affirmation is a lie. you fake it 'til you make it, you suppose.

what prompted you to pour your honest feelings for him, you are not sure. but there’s something in the way he always checks up on you through short greetings before your class starts. his random questions regarding your activity after, if you’re free, or if you’re going out, only for him to give you a warning of the slightest danger that you know you could ward off so easily.

but even then, he didn’t have to do all that, with the nature of his divine visionary work, you honestly don’t expect anything from him. you’re happy to just simply sit still, to quiet your thoughts when he’s near you, to smile him across the halls in simple acknowledgment.

to let him know that you exist, admiring and supporting him, was enough.

was enough.

you couldn’t just sit still after he gave you a gift for no particular reason when he just got off from his mission and god so help you if you were seeing things because he’s awful at hiding his miniscule smile (or that he never intended to hide it in the first place) as he withdraws from you.

and when you open the box to be met with a limited edition merch you once complained to him of not having your hands on it—mind you, that was only a trivial musing you briefly mentioned eons ago— your mind won’t let you sleep until you finally sealed it.

there was no way he’d do all that without an intention. he’s not that kind of person that you’ve come to hold dear.

but what other option do you have in order to prove yourself wrong, other than directly addressing the source?

yeah, maybe you’re just confirming your point. maybe you’re ready to find out the truth, maybe you’re not.

you stand, knees wobbling, though rayne doesn’t seem to notice it. his golden eyes fixed on yours, an unreadable expression—like always— stuck to his face.

you don’t expect anything, truly you don’t, but just this once in your life — you want to see things go right this time.

it doesn’t.

you don’t know where you stand with rayne at this point, maybe you’re just someone he knows, maybe you’re just a junior he’s grown fond with, like his brother, or maybe you’re not any of that — does it matter now?

(does he even think of you the way you think of him?)

(his bow, blocking whichever expression he was wearing, wasn't enough for you to draw any conclusion. the last thing you'll probably ever hear from him is his apology, his rejection ever so quiet, softening the blow. he'll never get to see how pained you are, how much you cried through closed doors, and you like to keep it that way.)

somewhere in the middle of a war between life and death, caught up in the eclipse set up by innocent zero, destruction and debris soon fall before you as you try to save another person. your head is pounding, your vision grown muzzy. a giant suddenly kicks you against brick walls until you pierce through it, and events leading after that is unrevealed to you as you lose consciousness. as death wins before life can claim you back.

you don't regret your life that much. you've let rayne know there was someone out there who watched him grow beyond limits, who loved him as he is.

his warm, tiny smile lulls you to your eternal sleep. soft, peaceful, and quiet. you leave the world in a silent goodbye.

"..."

"their body brutally experienced several traumatic injuries, the collapse was too deep. we found them after several days, and their face was muddled so we couldn't determine their identi—"

"i'll take it from here." the coldness upon rayne's order bled through one of the investigators. he sees the merch cling to your pocket like a lucky charm, and he doesn't need proof that it's you because other than his brother, you value him more than he values himself.

he waits for prying eyes to eventually leave before he hangs his head low, he drapes your figure over a blanket. away from which the world shall never inflict pain to you ever again.

away from him, from the shattered heart that he caused.

"i'm sorry." it means nothing. his actions had done nothing for his apology to hold any weight. this is the second time he had hurt you, and from the looks of it, had cost your life instead of protecting it. protecting you.

"i'm sorry." his voice starts breaking. because i didn't want to reject you. i had to.

"i'm sorry." because i failed you.

"i'm sorry." because i loved you in the wrong way.

"i'm sorry." because i should've loved you how you deserved to be loved.

"i'm sorry." because i love you, and i never told you.

teardrops stain the blanket as quiet sobs fill the empty room. you never got to understand that when he bowed to you the first time, his lips were swollen from biting down hard, and his expression were morphed with regret. now, he looks as if he's a mourning lover deserted in his own world.

tags. @seneon @steleir @luvmequmi eat this.

notes. LOLLLLL IM EVIL :3

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[stellar-skyy]

IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE — Wanderer, Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Moments that changed everything between you. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has medium length/long hair (long enough to braid) in Wanderer's part, VERY slight spoilers for the 4.2 Archon quest in Furina's part. iii. NOTES: Rivals to lovers & Vahumana!reader in Wanderer's part, lovers to exes to ??? in Furina's part, fluff, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.9k words. iv. A/N: This is my gift, for the Favonius Lbrary secret santa, for @heiayen! Merry Christmas Heia, I hope you enjoy! if you don't i will cry! (that is a joke but i do hope you like it :3) Once again, sorry this is late :(

WANDERER

The students that studied at the Akademiya could be divided into several groups.

There were the hard-workers, who weren't particularly intelligent by birth, but fought tooth and nail to drag themselves up in the ranks. That group occasionally overlapped with the truly passionate ones; who were so invested in their pursuit of knowledge that little could stand in their way of it. There were the underachievers, the overachievers, the visionaries and the slackers. In each classroom you were bound to have at least a handful of each.

Then there were the gifted ones. The ones who breezed past every subject with ease, who were pushed as the representatives of the Darshans, to show outsiders how talented and dedicated their students were. The geniuses, the prodigies, the virtuosos. They were the students that treated their intelligence as a prize to be flaunted above the rest, who would lazily fill out their test papers and be returned with perfect grades, who managed to both value their knowledge above all else and take it for granted. Out of all the Akademiya scholars, those were the most arrogant and truly insufferable ones.

Wanderer fell into the latter category.

He joined their class later in the year, and settled in as a permanent thorn in everyone's side. Every addition to their scholarly discussions was gasoline on a dying bonfire, strategically placed to set the class aflame. He'd raise his hand with disinterested corrections to other student's theories, followed by irritating opposition to whatever stance the professor was attempting to take, all sprinkled with a pinch of disdain and the most unpleasant attitude one could possibly have.

The most infuriating part, was that he was never wrong. His logic was sound, every addition was justified. No matter how sarcastic or scornful-sounding his interjections were, they were never without reason. And a week into their class proved him to be one of the most naturally exceptional minds in Vahumana.

Maybe [Name] would admire him if being around him didn’t make them want to throw a book at his head.

That first week in their class had solidified two more things. First, if Wanderer was going to act so cocky, then it was their sworn mission to make sure he was knocked down.

Second—

“The answer is D. All of the above.” Wanderer yawned. “Honestly, you call yourselves scholars—”

“Actually, it’s not.” A voice rang out, clear and steady. “You could argue that it’s all of the above if you were looking at it from a very elementary perspective, but once you actually start to analyse each answer, you’ll see the flaws in them all. All except one, that is. The answer’s C.”

“[Name] is correct. The answer is C.”

He turned, eyes narrowed. They fell on an equally hard gaze. There was something fiery there, as if they were raising a challenge. He met them with a smirk, as if he was accepting it.

—They were not friends. They were rivals.

Precisely why they couldn't work with him.

“Please! Can I be paired with anyone else?” They begged, face falling further with every passing moment that their professor remained unfazed. The rest of the class had vacated the lecture hall already—all eagerly chatting about their chosen topics—leaving the two of them alone to talk.

“I have full faith in you, [Name].” The professor said calmly, sitting down at his chair and shuffling papers into an orderly stack. “This is a simple assessment.”

The assignment itself wasn’t the difficult part. A straightforward research project in a subject of their choice, one that related to the topics they’d been learning that semester. It was supposed to help lead the class into their further studies, to gently ease them into researching on their own and prepare them for when they would have to write their final thesis.

It was the easiest of tasks, but the problem wasn’t the task itself. It was who they’d been chosen to work with.

“Group projects are designed to test how well people can work together with others.” He sighed, and leaned back on his chair with a pensive expression. “I don’t like all of the people I have worked with in my studies, but as academics, it is something we all must suffer. And besides; if I regrouped everyone who complained about their partner, I would never stop changing them.”

It wasn’t as if they were trying to be painful. Finishing a group project would be easy, had they been partnered with anyone but him.

“Just try to make the best of it, wont you?” A smile flashed across his face. “Perhaps you might even make a friend.”

Friend was far too hopeful of a thought. Friend was the last word they would use to describe—

“Wanderer.” They hissed under their breath, his name poison on their lips. “Trust me, Professor. I will not.”

The two students arranged to meet in the library. Or, more specifically Wanderer had appeared right as they left the classroom and told them, “If you’re finished complaining about me, come to the library tomorrow at eleven.” before disappearing.

The library was once their solace, where they could study in peace away from any distractions. The sounds of pages turning, faint whispers, and pens scratching against paper provided a comforting ambience to their research.

Now, it was—

“You took long enough.”

“It’s not my fault you’re impatient.”

Something considerably less homely.

“I have several ideas,” They said.

“Of course you do.” Wanderer scoffed. They ignored him.

“We could do it on Ancient Deshrat.” They mused, skimming across their notes. A stray strand of hair fell into their eyeline, and they tucked it behind their ear mindlessly. “We looked at them earlier in the year, a little before you joined the class. They have a lot of interesting traditions we could look at—maybe a comparison back to modern Sumeru, to see how the influences carry over.”

“I don’t care. Just choose one, and tell me what part you’re doing.”

They inhaled slowly, forcing the anger down and running the professor’s words through their mind. It’s one project. Once they were done, they never had to work with him again.

“Fine,” They snapped. “I will work on researching whatever information we need. You will write up an introduction outlining… outlining…” Their words trailed off to make way for a huff. Once again, their hair had fallen into their eyes, and they pushed it out of their face impatiently.

“Just move it out of your face, it’s not that hard.” Wanderer said snippily.

“Oh, thank you, I would never have thought of that.” They retorted.

“Well, I don’t see you doing anything useful, other than swatting at your own forehead.”

“I’m moving it out of my way! We can’t all have a bowl-cut!”

“Then braid it.”

“I—” It wasn’t a bad suggestion, as much as they loathed to admit it. “I can’t. I can’t braid my hair behind my back, and I don’t have anything to tie it up, even if I could.”

They lapsed into silence, Wanderer staring at them like he didn't quite believe them.

“I could braid it for you,” He said suddenly. They looked up at him, blinking.

“You… want to… braid my hair?” They repeat slowly.

He huffed. “Are you seriously that slow? Do you need it written and signed for you to understand?”

“I just find it hard to believe," They said defensively.

“You were complaining about it being in your way." He said, extending each word slowly like they were a child who couldn't quite understand what was going on. "The less you complain, the faster we get this done, and the less time I have to spend working with you.”

"Fine." They say, fighting back a blush.

"Fine?"

"Just do it, already."

His hands were oddly careful against their hair, raking across their scalp to comb through the knots and tangles. The feeling was soothing, almost cathartic. It would be far too easy to close their eyes and sink into the feeling.

They weren't quite sure what they were expecting. Nails that felt more like claws? Rough tugging on the knots in their hair, just enough to be painful? Surely something uncomfortable, to match the animosity between them. Nothing quite as soft as this.

“This is kind of surprising to be honest. You don’t seem to be the type to be good at braiding hair.” Their words sounded a touch too nice, so they were quick to add, “—Especially with that haircut.”

A shiver ran down their spine, as gentle hands ran through their hair. It was freshly brushed, and by then he must have already worked out any knots, yet they ran through it anyway, as if their intent wasn’t just to untangle it.

“I braid my… Aunt’s hair, a lot.” He said suddenly, pulling them from the trance. They make a hum, a quiet signal for him to continue. “She’s the one who showed me how to do it.”

“I didn’t know you had an aunt,” They said, without thinking. The thought comes a moment after: Of course you didn’t, you don’t know a thing about him.

Wanderer didn’t seem fazed. “No, we only became close recently. She… she’s done a lot for me.”

They waited for him to elaborate, but his quota for abruptly sharing information about himself appeared to have been filled. Instead of talking, he fixed his focus on their hair, dividing it into three sections and brushing his fingers through to neaten them. One by one, he twisted them over one another until he reached the end of their hair.

“Do you have anything to tie it up?” He asked. They shake their head, and he scoffed. “Of course."

Still gripping the end of the braid, he used his free hand to rifle through the inside of his bag until he pulled out a loose piece of ribbon. From there, he quickly tied off the end.

"Now stop complaining," He sat back down and leaned back in his hair nonchalantly, as if he was unaware of the static filling their mind. All they could focus on was the phantom feeling of hands—his hands—on their scalp.

It shouldn't have felt pleasant, not when those were the hands of someone they despised.

“Are you going to continue?”

"Right..." They cleared their throat, a strange heat against their cheeks. It was stark, out of place. They ignored it. "Where was I...?"

FURINA

[Name] stared across the ballroom, a drink in their hand. On the opposite side, a woman in a blue dress tipped back her head in a laugh and held her hand over her mouth. It wasn’t her true laugh, the one that sounded like tumbling waves and sweeping currents. It was the specially curated laugh she made for laughing at jokes she didn’t find funny, in front of people she didn’t like.

Furina turned, catching their eye. She smiled, far too casually, and raised a hand in a tiny wave. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t wearing her gloves, leaving the skin of her hand exposed.

They didn’t need to ponder what the feeling of that hand in theirs was like, after holding it countless times, until the weight of it caused phantom pains in their wrist. They didn’t have to wonder about her lips on their cheek, or her arms around their waist, when they were sensations that had been burned into their skin.

They averted their eyes, instead of returning the wave. There wasn’t any point dwelling on the past, or exchanging pleasantries with their ex-lover.

Maybe if they had been informed of her presence ahead of time, they wouldn’t have come. That way, they’d never had the chance to do something as foolish as reminisce on people as painful as Furina. But Navia—sweet, kind, oblivious Navia—had invited them, unaware of their messy break-up.

The split wasn’t either of their faults. ‘Grown apart’, could be used to describe it if you were feeling cliché. Perhaps a more accurate description would be ‘grew too close, until their roots were tangled with each other and their thorns were too deeply buried in each other’s sides, that removing them would hurt more than letting the relationship fester.’ It was a classic tragedy; two flawed people clinging desperately to each others’ side, until the haze of romance cleared and said flaws drove them apart.

The split was mutual, made for both their sakes. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting when their lives—previously entangled and interwoven with each other—were torn into two. Suddenly they were alone, and half of their existence had up and left.

It hurt, the split. But they knew staying would hurt more.

“Excuse me,” The voice was so soft, so excruciatingly familiar that if they kept looking away, they could convince themself it was just a hallucination. “[Name].”

They couldn’t. They couldn’t do it. At least while staring into their drink, they could enjoy the voice as a pleasant dream.

“[Name], please.”

But they never were strong enough to resist her, were they?

Their resolve crumbled like sand. They looked over, and there she was: as breathtaking as she looked the day they first met her.

“Hi,” She whispered. It was one word, and all too much.

“Hey,” They respond, keeping their voice low to seclude the conversation to the corner of the room.

“How have you been?” Furina asked. They tried not to let their face fall at the words. Before they broke up, there wasn’t a need for small talk, or even greetings for that matter. Their conversations would taper off into quietness or end completely, and they would pick right back up the next time they spoke. Questions of how they were, or dull observations about the weather had no room to fill the silence, when that space was filled with a comfortable kind of quiet.

“I’ve been well.” Far too stiff. The old [Name], the one that was Furina’s lover, would never let themself be so formal with her.“And yourself?”

“…Well, as well.”

In an effort to fill the awkward silence, they blurted out “I heard about your…” What was it exactly? Demotion? Abdication? Dismissal? “…I heard what happened. About how you’re not the Hyrdo Archon anymore.”

“Ah, yes, I figured you would have heard about that.” She rolled her eyes, part of her mask slipping. “There isn’t a person here who hasn’t…”

They cringed inwardly at how their choice of conversation made the silence even more uncomfortable. “So… what are you doing over here?”

She grinned in relief at the topic change. “Darling, we’re at a party; there’s one obvious thing we could be doing.”

“What’s that?”

Furina extended her hand, folding the other behind her back. She smiled coyly, a million words dancing on the tip of her tongue, all unsaid. “Well, the reason I came over here, of course. Will you dance with me?”

Letting the conversation lead on this long was dangerously close to letting her back into their life. But what was a little more danger, when the music was so sweet and Furina was offering the chance so freely? It was just a dance, nothing more.

They placed their drink down on a nearby waiter’s tray, and took her hand.

Furina’s lips parted into an O, momentarily surprised by their willingness, but she quickly recovered. She tugged on their hand to bring them further into the centre of the room, taking one of their hands and placing it on her waist, and intertwining her fingers with the other.

She swept them across the floor, twirling and spinning past the rest of the couples. One step forward, a step back. They let go of her waist to spin her in a circle and she let out a giggle, sounding like waves crashing on the shore. The sound made them breathless.

Furina replaced her arms around their waist, stepping so close that they were only a breath away.

Their eyes drifted to the windows, reflecting the ballroom. In it, they could see all of the couples pressed together, while the orchestra played tirelessly off to the side. In the centre was one pair that fell directly under the ballroom’s chandelier lights, a beautiful woman in a blue dress, and… well, them. Beyond that, they could see the night sky in the background: hundreds of shining stars and a full moon staring back at them.

“The sky is so pretty,” They whisper.

“It’s beautiful,” Furina agrees, not taking her eyes off them.

The song ended, fading off in place of a more upbeat tune. Furina didn’t remove her hands from their waist, barely acknowledging the change. It wasn’t quite dancing by then, simple swaying in place with her arms around them. They didn’t care enough to move.

“Would you like to have tea with me, sometime?” Furina asked. The words were more than an invitation; they were the keys left in the lock, letting them through and back into her life if they so pleased. An I don’t think that’s a good idea would be easy. A no would be easier. Instead, all they said was, “I would like that.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[la-pheacienne]

On the meaning of "Misérable"

"The point of departure, like the point of arrival, for all his thoughts, was hatred of human law; that hatred which, if it be not arrested in its development by some providential incident, becomes, within a given time, the hatred of society, then the hatred of the human race, then the hatred of creation, and which manifests itself by a vague, incessant, and brutal desire to do harm to some living being, no matter whom. It will be perceived that it was not without reason that Jean Valjean’s passport described him as a very dangerous man".

Les Misérables, Volume 1, Book 2, Chapter 7, The Interior of Despair

"First of all, even before examining himself and reflecting, all bewildered, like one who seeks to save himself, he tried to find the child in order to return his money to him; then, when he recognized the fact that this was impossible, he halted in despair. At the moment when he exclaimed “I am a wretch!” he had just perceived what he was, and he was already separated from himself to such a degree, that he seemed to himself to be no longer anything more than a phantom, and as if he had, there before him, in flesh and blood, the hideous galley-convict, Jean Valjean, cudgel in hand, his blouse on his hips, his knapsack filled with stolen objects on his back, with his resolute and gloomy visage, with his thoughts filled with abominable projects. Excess of unhappiness had, as we have remarked, made him in some sort a visionary. This, then, was in the nature of a vision. He actually saw that Jean Valjean, that sinister face, before him. He had almost reached the point of asking himself who that man was, and he was horrified by him".

Les Miserables, Vol. 1, Book 2, Chapter 13, Little Gervais

Continuing my post on the greek translation of the title of Les Misérables, what's interesting here is the phrase "I am a wretch!". It's interesting because in french it's "Je suis un misérable!". The greek translator chooses to use the greek word "athlios" here, the same one he used for the title of the book, and I think that was a good choice. I don't understand why the english translator replaced the word "miserable" with the word "wretch", probably because the word "miserable" does not exactly convey what Valjean describes himself as in this particular chapter? "Miserable" does not necessarily have a deeply pejorative connotation, whereas the word "wretch" means both "an unfortunate or unhappy person" and "a despicable or contemptible person". Maybe the differences are small but in my mind the two words just feel different. Here the french word "misérable" is used in the latter sense, I think (= despicable and contemptible person) so "wretch" does feel closer to that.

However, it would be important to use the same word as the title, because Hugo clearly wanted to associate both Valjean's particular state of mind and the objective situation he was in with the title of the book. That's why Valjean exclaims "Je suis un misérable!". That's what the book is about. And what is that? A "very dangerous man", a "hideous" ex convict with "abominable" thoughts, a man "horrified" by himself. He's not just miserable, he's not just poor, he's not even just an outcast. He's not just rejected by society because it's not just society that hates him. It's that he has truly actually become a hateful human being, capable of the worst, so much that he is horrified by himself. He is a man who steals little kids and attacks the only person that has treated him with kindness, contemplating whether or not to crush his skull. That's the very essence of what a "Misérable" is in the context of this book.

Final note (disclaimer, I'm not at all specialized in translations or in languages, that's just my superficial opinion): After a brief comparison of the greek and the english translation with the french text, what I can say is that globally the use of some words, phrases, expressions in greek just hits different in ways the english vocabulary can't always convey, and that's probably because of the particularity of the greek language, mainly the syntactic versatility and the richness of the vocabulary. That is why it is practically impossible to find the exact equivalent of "Athlios" (greek word for misérable) in english because that word alone has a very particular magnitude, meaning both miserable and despicable in equal measure. However, what the english translator maybe lacks in "depth", he gains in rigor and scrupulousness, I think, because our guy is not very meticulous lol (not a surprise culturally we are not famous for that). So I definitely do not want to discredit the english translation.

[ckret2]

Failed to resist the urge to post a snippet from chapter 16. This is my way of 🤝ing @godsfavoritescientist over the "grieving ex-worshiper who never figured out how to fill the gap left by a false god" Ford characterization.

Ford didn't move. He was still staring at the neon sign of an eyed triangle hanging in the psychic shop's window.

Did the "psychic" who ran this shop actually know what that symbol meant, Ford wondered? Did Bill have a worshiper here? Perhaps just another believer who'd been recruited by one of the micro-cults Bill left in his wake, five degrees removed from a former "student" that Bill had "inspired" and then abandoned half a century ago? Or had Bill met them in their dreams? Had he been summoned up to give them knowledge of the future—did they remember Bill as the central figure in a visionary dream that now made up the core of their spirituality? Maybe he'd visited them more than once, while trying to decide whether they'd be useful to him? Perhaps he'd been grooming the fortune teller into his minion, feeding them lines he wanted to pass on to a local politician or scientist? Did he ever play board games with them?

Did they worship him still?

Did they know their god was dead?

####

There'd been an ache in Ford's chest for over thirty years—an empty pit that once held awe—a dark void that used to be filled with starlight. Ford knew now that, metaphorically speaking, the divine light Bill put off had never been anything but optical illusions with flashlights and mirrors. But even so—even so, nothing and nobody had inspired such sublime wonder in Ford since.

During his lowest moments out in the multiverse, starving and exhausted and despairing, he'd irrationally wondered if the unimpressable depression left in Bill's wake was evidence that Bill had been truly that great, too great for a human like Ford to understand, and the shadow cast on his life in Bill's absence was the natural consequence of turning away from something godlike.

Ford had gotten over that. He'd recovered, he'd grown. He understood the truth: Bill's parlor tricks had dazzled his eyes so thoroughly that now he couldn't detect the subtler glimmer of the truly wondrous. He wondered if his eyes would ever adjust to the dark again.

Whether he liked it or not, he missed the way mind-blowing awe felt. He missed being dazzled. 

There were days when he wasn't sure what he resented Bill for more: vomiting so much glittery garbage into his soul, or stopping.

[mouwrites]

Could you write a Cole x fem reader? I headcanon Cole having synesthesia so maybe a oneshot about him loving the colors of her voice?

My goodness,, I love that headcanon!! I swear you guys are the most brilliant visionaries...

Word count: 505

Ninjago - Cole Loving the Colors of Your Voice

It was a cozy evening. You were cozied up with your laptop on your lap, scrolling mindlessly as you rambled on about one of your obsessions. Cole was sitting close by, wrapped in a thick blanket and gazing at you dreamily. A soft smile graced his lips as he nodded along to your narrative.

You loved when he’d let you explain your interests to him; you often mused to yourself that he just liked the sound of your voice, but you were grateful for a listening ear anyhow. 

You wrapped up one concept, catching a glance at Cole before thinking of what to talk about next. The look in his eyes made you pause. 

He noticed that you noticed his staring. “I love the colors of your voice right now,” he offered in explanation.

Now you were curious. Closing your laptop, you gave him a look that said tell me more. You knew that he had synesthesia, but he rarely ever spoke about it. So of course it piqued your interest when he implied that he could see your voice. 

“I mean, I always love how your voice looks. In the morning it’s like a gouache painting, with all these muted natural colors muddling together. Almost like a pond. When you get a little more energy, like right now, it’s so colorful. Vivid orange. Royal blue. Grass green. Swirling and jumping around like a sea of rabbits.” As he spoke, he got a far-off look in his eyes, as if he were envisioning it now.

“Even when you’re talking about something you find boring, the colors are still amazing. They’re drab—usually just black and gray, actually—and they don’t move, but it’s kind of like a blurry black and white picture. Articulate, in a way.”

You were staring at him with stars in your eyes. The way he described things was just so poetic. You wished you could see what he saw; it sounded magical. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Yeah. It’s… it’s just amazing.”

“Is that what all sounds are like for you?”

“No. Just your voice. Other voices have more consistent hues, and some of them don’t even move. I’m actually not sure why yours is so colorful, but I love it.”

“So I was right,” you murmured, half to yourself.

“About what?”

“I had a hunch you only let me talk so much because you like the sound of my voice.”

“What? Not at all. I like the look of your voice,” Cole teased, making you both giggle. “But I promise I always try to listen.”

You hummed, setting down your laptop and leaning in closer. Cole repositioned himself so that you were leaning back on the sofa together, you on his chest, his arms around your middle.

“Please,” he implored, “keep talking.”

With a twinkle in your eye, you recalled what you wanted to gush about next. The hearts in his eyes were now mirrored in yours when you spoke; his beautiful mind was truly enchanting—almost as enchanting as your voice was to him.

Thank you for your request, sorry this was a little short! But thanks for reading, take care you little geniuses <33

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM BATMAN *  assorted dialogue from the 1989 film

i want you to do me a favor.

i know who you are.

can you pass the salt?

why is it every time i come for you, somebody always gets in the way.

who do you trust?

are we gonna try to love each other?

i thought i was a pisces!

i like you a lot.

you know what they say?

that wasn't easy to get over, and don't think that i didn't try.

he stole my balloons!

i'm sorry, this is my cab.

i've gotta go to work.

perhaps you could try telling them the truth.

i love that tie.

listen, i was here first!

pardon me, but that's not a denial.

nice outfit!

if you gotta go, go with a smile.

i'm only laughing on the outside.

shall we dance?

what? what are you talking about?

it's an important job.

my life is really... complex.

i mean, how childish can you get?

i don't know if it's art, but i like it!

i've been dead once already.

i'm gonna need a minute or two alone.

who the hell are you?

i've recently had a tragedy in my life.

i have no wish to fill my few remaining years grieving for the loss of old friends.

they say he drinks blood.

oh, you're a visionary.

they don't make them like they used to.

you idiot! you made me!

i don't seem to be on the guest list.

you wanna get nuts? come on. let's get nuts.

i always ask that of my prey.

you killed my parents.

they're not bad people.

i thought champagne would be in order.

what are you?

will you marry me?

you look fine.

maybe we can cut a deal.

they love you a lot.

i'm not going to kill you.

i say... you're full of shit.

i'm not a bit surprised.

come on, you gruesome son of a bitch!

i just like the sound of it.

what are you laughing at?

take your camera.

i'm glad you're dead.

what do you want?

oh thank god you're alive.

hey, let's beat it.

we'll just shake hands and that'll be it.

grab it. whatever you do, don't let go.

right now, shut up.

feel free to drop in.

i'm going to kill you!

i don't like it up here.

oh, i got a live one here!

as you can see, i'm a lot happier.

now that's good work!

you know why they're so odd?

will you buy me lunch?

i didn't ask.

i like them already.

i couldn't find my socks without them.

you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses on, would you?

if you could see inside, i'm really crying.

you must be joking.

nobody wants a war.

you can quote me on that.

i've got to get you to the church on time.

if anyone else calls you beast, i'll rip their lungs out.

where does he get those wonderful toys?

don't kill me! don't kill me!

how do you know?

is that what you heard?

well, i'm in trouble now.

i love a good party.

let's broaden our minds.

what a dick.

i'd say we break into the place, trash the office, and make off with the records and say it was industrial espionage.

i make art until someone dies.

this house and all this stuff really doesn't seem like you at all.

honey, you'll never believe what happened to me today.

wait 'til they get a load of me.

can we get somebody else to do this?

what if we say no?

you say such beautiful things.

the pen is truly mightier than the sword.

some people say the same thing about you.

i mean, let's face it. you're not exactly normal, are you?

do i look like i'm joking?

you must be insane.

i'm reading your stuff.

i'm no picasso, but do you like it?

so what brings you here?

life's been good to me.

stop the press! who is that?

shut up and listen!

don't flatter yourself.

haven't you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?

i want you to tell all your friends about me.

it's time to retire!

brought you a little snack.

[an-au-blog]

I'll take Sanon lmao.

Listen Sora has this warlord wrapped around her goddamned finger and Mihawk knows it, Sanji teases him for it. So when Sora enacts a family picture day maybe about six months to a year after they arrive they agree. The photo looks like those royal family portraits that go viral a couple times a year. The difference through the years is Mihawk is more open in them, Sora and Sanji look healthier and Sanji grows. The difference hits when they take photos at Baratie and Sanji is in his work uniform.

Mihawk spoils the both of them, he gets Sanji his first set of really nice chef knives and he finds a tiara in a treasure so he places it carefully on Sora's head as she giggles. Sanji is a better cook than both of them, Sora will sword fight Mihawk and she's decent, nowhere near his level but she can. Sanji's flexibility has led him to several instances of getting stuck in some tight spaces in the castle when he was outrunning the humandrills. Sora has evidence of at least two instances on film. Mihawk asks him every time if he's learned his lesson when the answer every time is no but Sanji lies to his face and says yes.

Bonus Points: when Zoro appears and they add him and Perona and the best looking wanted poster of Sanji that's out to the family photos. Perona enjoys dolling up for these and Mihawk has to force Zoro into looking presentable.

Thanks for letting me name you haha,

I think their little swordfights would be so cute, they're fighting close combat and she'll give him a little wink, he'll pretend to get distracted and give her the upper hand just for a bit.

The thing with the portraits made me amile like an idiot especially the bonus bit :') Tho I think I'd be cute if during the two years of training, they managed to get Zoro and Perona to agree on an actual portrait. Maybe they pinned the wantef poster of Sanji next to one of their heads on the painting to feel like he's there hahaha

Also do you think they have cute little tea-time dates? I think it'd be adorable, the clock strikes 3 and Mihawk just drops everything he's been doing because "Ah, it's tea time..." and just goes to have a drink with biscuits or something, idk??? sounds a bit like something he'd do????

Sanji getting stuck in tight spaces is so canon to me! Sanon, you're truly a visionary. I can actually see him trying to craw through a vent or get through the gate bars or something and just standing there for what feels like hours because he can't get out. Like Sora sees him and goes all "Sanji, what happened, again???" and Sanji just kinda not wanting to answer on the verge of tears just shaking his head.

[viveela]

you are a visionary for npd kyle ive never thought about it and at first i was like i dont think so? then thought about it for a few minutes and now i keep thinking about it. yeah. yeah he totally is.

Tyyy!! I was a bit worried bringing it up since the moment people hear npd they get all y'know on edge and start thinking of it in a villain/monsterous person perspective...but stigmatization aside I really think that's what he's got. Also he's my favorite, so I'm not proposing this in a bad way.

Maybe I'll make a whole post exploring it some day, but it truly does adds up, thanks for thinking on it!

[omegalomania]

ive got a one free sincere poetical diatribe coupon that expires this week so im cashing it in on waxing lyrical about my favorite band for a minute cause im stupidly sleep deprived and its gonna be a long night so

the thing is this.

the thing is that maybe there isnt quite magic in this world but theres something to be said for the pure unfettered serendipity of a million little things conspiring to have certain peoples paths cross and the way this can change entire worlds. maybe i dont believe in magic but i believe in the unshakable fucking certainty that a 17 year old joe trohman had when he met a 17 year old patrick stump in a bookstore by sheer chance and listened to his demos and Knowing that he should sing despite patrick not being a singer and not particularly wanting to sing. i believe in the stone cold rock solid belief this kid had in this other kids voice to the point where he dragged his buddy over to his house to prove he had the pipes they needed. i believe in pete wentz hearing patrick stump sing in person for the first time and realizing wait, yeah, actually hes our golden fucking ticket. i believe in the last second just before patrick was about to get on the kit to record the drums for take this to your grave, andy hurley comes swinging in fresh from recording an ep with another band and knocking out every drum part damn near flawlessly. i believe in a band of scrappy dumb punk kids who grew up in the suburbs of the midwest and took over the world and didnt plan for any of it to get as big as it did. i believe in this weird fucking band with their weird fucking idiosyncrasies, this band of four guys who dont look like they should be friends let alone making music together: a heavily tattooed vegan straightedge beefcake drummer, the ambitious visionary bassist with the 50-megawatt grin, the tattoo-sleeved lanky guitarist with an inescapable rock 'n roll bent, the pixie-pale and painfully anxious frontman with the voice of a soul singer.

i believe theres a special kind of chemistry that only makes sense with the four of them, together. its the guy with the visuals and the words, this bassist who was supposed to be a lawyer or a star soccer player but instead crafts stories from the narratives he crafts in his head. its this guitarist with his love for the interleaving of sounds and ability to seamlessly jump from front-facing to incredibly restrained and his indelible blues-rock momentum. its this singer who never intended to sing but whose soaring, clear tenor is so utterly distinct that he quickly became one of the most iconic and versatile vocalists in the genre, if not in the world of music in general. its this hardcore drummer who pulls everything together and forms the throbbing heartbeat of the band, whose grit-edged metalcore backbone not even the poppiest of all pop choruses can truly file away.

i believe in this: andy hurley's unshakable faith that the band would reform during the hiatus, despite all evidence to the contrary. patrick stump writing the song that would become "miss missing you" for his solo record but then setting it aside because it didnt feel like it was for him, again, despite every indication that for all anyone knew, fall out boy was done for good. pete wentz, moved by a miserable blog post from his split-up bands singer, reaching out and sparking what was unheard of, especially for bands like them - a renaissance, a successful resurgence, and one of the best comebacks any musical act can say theyve had in decades. joe trohman picking up the phone and preparing to tell patrick stump that he wasn't ready to go back and do the band again if he wasn't going to be writing music, only for patrick to take the words out of his mouth and insist that he should be writing more and he was too talented a writer for them not to allow him space for that.

i believe in the little things. i believe in a band that was never expected to last a summer but has become an indelible part of music history, naysayers be damned. i believe in the unique chemistry of four guys who have no monetary or logistical reason to continue doing this thing aside from the fact that they love it so - they love the process of creating with one another, and they love the car crash hearts whose hearts beat in sync with theirs. i believe in joe listening to the first pass of "fake out" exactly once, picking up an acoustic guitar, and walking into record the instrumentation that ultimately pulled the entire song together in one take without thinking twice about it. i believe in andy simply knowing that "heaven, iowa" would make the final cut of the record despite patricks reticence and his not knowing how to make the song something he could say he was proud of. i believe in pete pouring some of his most vulnerable feelings into his, fearful of how well they will be accepted but making that leap nonetheless, only for the crowds to sing every single word back to him.

maybe theres no such thing as magic or fate and maybe theres no point. but i think of stardust. i think of four guys who poured so much love and time into this record and named it for stardust and i think of them as this: fistfuls of cosmic dust who all sprang from the same etiology. i think of them and its a romantic fucking notion but i allow myself this, i entertain the thought that when the cosmos formed and the detonation of planets and the dissolution of comets created that far-flung scatter of so much (for) stardust, that starry residue liberally dotting the broad span of the black, the four of them all came from the same origin point and like magnets ended up snapping together and thats the way theyve stayed. for years. for decades.

what i guess im trying to say is this: when the universe formed we all came from stardust and we will all return to stardust and i cant help but wonder if those four guys all came from the same stardust too.

like i said. its a romantic fucking notion. i believe in the little things though. and you know what they say about believers (never die).

[miwhotep]

Tbh I think milvey is a little silly and has some playful cat energy I mean look at his character art! He makes a heart shape with his finger( or maybe snap his finger? Nah probably making heart shape) and also the way he stands to show the back? Truly a silly kitten rather than a snake. Also what do you think his mbti? Maybe estj.. But he doesn't seem like typical unhealthy estj to Ruskin or employee

Oooh, absolutely! I'm happy I'm not the only one thinking Milvey is just like a kitty (a really evil, sneaky kitty). He reminds me much more of a cat than a snake, I even made a little cat Milvy doll what I didn't post yet. (I reeeeally love cats, I keep taking in strays from the street, currently, I have 5 - and one of them is white, with exactly same eyes as Milvey)

I think his mbti is definitely ENTJ. Milverton is a visionary, even if an evil visionary - he feels like the textbook evil ENTJ. But since he still has a little bit of soul left, he is able to care about Ruskin and yeah, I don't think that as an employer, he is cruel with the people working for him. He was quite respectful to the mercenaries he employed, his house staff didn't seem to be afraid of him and there were no gossip about Milverton mistreating his company workers, (otherwise, the Moriarty group would have mentioned it when they discussed Milvey during the Merchant arc) so I'm sure he pays them fairly. Milverton actually made lot of people's lives better as a company owner who provides lot of workplaces - this wasn't his purpose, tho, and I don't think he ever realized it. It would be a shock to him :)

[visualnovelzombie]

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 11 SPOILERS

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER discussion post for “Echo - Leo’s Thursday and Friday”

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Free Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

We start Thursday with Chase and Leo driving down the road, the two finally learning what happened to Carl. The ram was in the crawlspace left to wander about without Chase spending the night with him. Chase and Leo discuss Chase’s project, the two chiding to each other the merit of college in the process.

RANT: If you think Leo is a hard-line Republican/Trumper and use this part ‘evidence’, you can’t fucking read. Even without Howly’s Trump statement re:Leo retraction, that’s a VERY fucking different thing in 2016 and has a LOT of context. This liberal thing is literally Leo lashing out at his own failings/fall to pressure from his father, as well as his irrational anger over Pueblo ‘stealing’ Chase from him. This is the second time Leo expressed interest in College in someway, and is regurgitating hate/ignorant speech as a coping mechanism. Please learn to read and not just fucking meme.

They plan to meet with TJ later to make up for bailing on him Tuesday, and discuss filming out the rail-yard in the meantime. The scene changes to the rail-yard, the track ‘Oldwinds’ playing, a rustic American Western piece.

Insane Posting: Okay add this to my Samuel x Chase ship folder, lets go people lets go!

Chase films the rail-yard while Leo fetches water bottles, until eventually the rustling of grass startles Chase.

Okay now this is interesting in a ‘meta’ lore sense. So this is obviously some kind of supernatural being. Something fucking with Chase. I don’t think there’s enough evidence to say what yet, even Socketman right here and right now doesn’t track to much. But more importantly it’s described as dragging, similar to the ‘slithering’. I think this gives more credence that the entity that chases after Carl and Chase in Carl’s route isn’t necessarily the entity that stalks Sam and Chase in the Murder Pitt. Maybe it’s just how some/all of the entities move on a physical space.

While trying to find the source of the sound, Leo arrives on the scene, scaring Chase.

Everyone bullies my poor otter boy... and that makes him kinnie

Come Over begins to play as Chase asks Leo how he made the dragging noise, to which Leo acts completely clueless to. Distracted by Chase’s stomach, the two end up flirting with each other, rubbing and admiring each other’s body.

Another reference to Route 65, the two sharing another moment together in this place that means... everything to them. They’re begging, end... and beginning of the end. Chase’s ‘Sunset Station’ if you will.

They kiss gently… at first. The sudden shock encouraging them to make out more fully. Before the two can continue, Kudzu shows up, catching the two in their PDA. The track changes to Neutral as the conversation shifts. The raccoon teases the pair but otherwise partakes in casual conversion with them afterwards. Leo thanks the raccoon for helping the two last night, the track Quiet playing as the conversation shifts. Kudzu warns Leo that Clint is being more violent and the pair should avoid him. Leo becomes more and more agitated at the insinuation that Clint threatened Chase.

Sidenote: AWOOGA. Thank you Howly, Based God, for including full muzzle wolf kisses in Latino Wolf simulator route. Truly a visionary ahead of his time.

Chase changes the conversation topic, inviting Kudzu to the park with the pair and TJ. The group pick up TJ off screen and on route to a park in Payton, we learn that Chase isn’t a good swimmer when compared to other otters. Closer to the park itself, Chase and TJ talk in the backseat, the lynx admitting to Chase that he felt like the trip was a mistake, and he felt like he shouldn’t have come. 

Chase very literally ignoring everyone for his and Leo’s sake again. Also more of the coldness Chase generally has towards TJ... more ‘evidence’ the Chase we see on that Route isn’t fully him IMO. This definitely calls into question how good of a friend Chase is, and if anything how Leo and Chase treat everyone else when they’re together is the most outright toxic and rude thing they do with each other that is probably harder to ‘fix’ than most things.

…Before the mood can shit to much the group arrives at the field, dividing the teams for a match of soccer.

TJ completely dominates the game and the group laugh about the imbalance in players. As the group prepare to leave, Chase and Kudzu have a moment to themselves to talk. Chase apologies for being racist and the conversation turns cold, with Kudzu hinting at something heavy happening to the him whilst in Payton.

The scene cuts to later, with Chase returning to the rail-yard for more footage.

Two important things here that are back to back. Chase literally goes out of his way to make the town look WORSE than it already his. His mind is so poisoned and made up about the place, that he’ll make sure everyone else feels the same way. Poising his own-well and all that.

As Leo’s motif/time of day is the setting sun, this is also a ‘foreshadow’ or hint towards what’s coming. No matter what happens with Leo... it has to end. They’re to far gone in their delusion and lack of communication to fix things. The Sun WILL set on the two... Bittersweet and all.

Clint wanders into the rail-yard while on a walk, eventually noticing Chase. He’s high on something and doesn’t remember the night before. Chase notices he has a gun in his pocket and tries to keep him calm..Clint talks to Chase, ignorant but not completely hateful… at least to being gay itself. and gives his perspective on Leo.

We get more of Leo’s anger and rage here. Leo took out his feelings, and continues to do so, by bullying those weaker than him. Clint not having a place to relax or be himself, with his home life dominated by his abusive father, and social life dominated by Leo... the ringtail ended up ‘worse’ arguably because of Leo. While child-selfishness and anger and Echo’s general ability to ramp up negative emotions, even outside of the Hysteria, is definitely call to ‘shield’ Leo, Chase and the audience is finally starting to learn that there’s an anger and darkness deeper down that we’ve been shown so far.

Clint seemingly threatens Chase with a gun, demanding to know why he’s out here. Chase calms him down by referencing his camera, and Clint tells Chase a story about someone dying the in 50’s hopping trains. Clint reveals his father would always tell him that story, and that sometimes he sees the man in it, even purposely coming to the rail-yard to see him at times. Clint walks off afterwards and Chase hurries back to Leo’s house.

When Chase arrives, Leo is eating a TV Dinner, having ‘cooked’ one for Chase as well. Chase asks Leo if the wolf ‘bullied’ Clint, and Leo almost admits to it… before the cheapness of the TV dinner causes the two to jokingly tease each other back and forth it with, the two man-handling each other on the couch as a result.

Insane Posting: Hi, my local goon cave called and they requested both of these go up on the wall, framed and blown up to 5x6 feet each... But more seriously Howly’s... ‘interest’ in Latino men (Looking at Leo and Devon) is on full blast here... and by god am I looking.

Two two fall asleep on the couch together, both exhausted from the day

Insane Posting: Chase’s musky ass didn’t shower and Leo was fucking smooshing him into that couch... Hot

Friday opens with the two at the library, Chase actually working on his project doing some research. Chase learns that the man in the story was real, and that he reported being saved by some creature.

HOWLY PLEASE. Literally learning the cost of staying with him like this. Not learning or changing, but literally dangling his legs into the abyss.

Leo bugs Chase to grab dinner and the two make plans on where to eat.

This is such a dark and twisted view into Leo. Up until now, beyond anger issues, he’s been relatively ‘okay’. But this is where thing turn manipulative and truly concerning. Not only for what he’s doing, but for outright lying to Chase. Leo’s a troubled man, and this turn to outright manipulation and control to get what he wants is dark and fascinating... It isn’t enough for me to ‘cancel’ him myself, or completely disavow the two (as highlighted later), but it’s definitely one of the very much actual ‘red flags’ Leo displays. This is where he’s at his lowest point in my opinion. There’s a difference between coddling and ignoring the situation he’s manipulating (Agreeing with Chase with the music, only pulling strings) to OUTRIGHT lying, bringing it up to put others down... to lessen them to Chase. One of the more intense things Leo does in the whole novel.

The two eat at a steakhouse, Leo insisting he buys, and on the way back they take a detour to Payton High, the pair’s old school. They reminiscence about school, Intimate begins to play. Chase mentions he would repeat high-school to fix mistakes, while Leo wants to relive it for its own sake. Chase learns that Leo is deeply tied to his past, upset he doesn’t feel the same anymore. 

This is their doomed fate I love so much. They share interests, mutual body attractiveness, displays of affection, and bond and find comfort in each other... but fundamentally they want or need different things. Echo bound them together, anchoring each other to the rocks of the craggy shore... And in that web of mistrusts and falsehoods and circumstance... love bloomed. Leo and Chase truly care for each other, they truly want each other to be happy, and both WANT to be happy with the other. But their rock, their flag in the sand, their Rubicon... IS Echo. It IS the game. It IS the point. The point isn’t that they’re toxic and abusive and hate each other deep down. It’s that they’ve built themselves up and torn themselves down on the idea of the past, both positive and negative. Of Echo, of the Town itself, of The Entity and the Player and of Sam, of the things that make up the ugly and good: together. It’s tied together fused forcibly and neither of them are able to TRULY dissect and separate themselves from it (Insert Micha in Brian’s trailer) from it. Sure Chase agrees to try Echo again... but only for Leo himself, not because he’s okay with the idea, or receptive to loving or even just living in the town. It’s all at a cost to himself, to his freedom, and to each other. The two can’t move on or find happiness when neither of them is truly willing to compromise... and that’s why they’ll be each other’s Sunset. That’s why they can’t work... because just like this town, they’re only moving in circles...

Chase comforts the wolf, the two embracing on the stadium stand.

This is where my main ‘defense’ of Leo comes from. He’s a troubled man but he’s willing to try and learn. He’s willing to make himself better, to make his partner happy. Deep down all he wants is TO love, to provide and be with someone who makes him happy. His motives are good... his actions aren’t the smartest.

Leo pours his heart out to Chase, begging him to stay. Chase is hesitant, not wanting to stay tied to the town. Leo tells Chase to try again after school, even if it’s just for awhile. So that they’ll know for sure.

And the crux of it all.. Leo wants closure. Three years ago Chase just didn’t break his heart, but left the wolf in state of chaos. He couldn’t move on, couldn’t accept the hand fate dealt him. Leo wants that chance. He truly believes that Chase and him CAN work, that the two deserve to TRY. Leo wants to give what’s in his heart to someone else... He doesn’t take the best actions, hell he probably doens’t know HOW to. But the wolf is trying... trying to fight for what he wants. The fact its wrong and sick makes it even more compelling...

Damn Chase... what else is going to STRIKE you.... But more seriously, the author is reminding/foreshadowing that ignoring everything comes at a cost...

The track Bittwerseet begins to play when Chase chooses Leo. 

...

The two embrace and kiss passionately on the stadium steps, the two feeling each other’s love.

The scene switches to the two on Leo’s bed, the two doing a bit more than ‘fooling around’. The scene cuts to afterwards, Leo singing in the shower with Chase on the bed. Leo’s phone wakes up the groggy otter and we’re met with a Choice…

And that’s where we’ll cut it for here. This part was EXTREMELY emotionally taxing (positive) so I wanted it to be a bit shorter, and this next part needed to be cut in half for the Spoiler Free version. Feel free to choose either option and read until the next choice (this screen):

Sidenote: I love this visual bug when fast forwarding to this screen LMAO.

For next Week, Spoiler will be in one post and you can read as normal, but Spoiler Free will be separated into two separate posts. I would recommend waiting until the end of the Route to read the ‘other’ side, but this changes will reconvene after the choice that leads to the next day.

Thank you again everyone, and especially listen to me rant about Leo Alvarez for forever ~

[qqueenofhades]

I absolutely hate seeing all these articles coming out about how Musk makes Twitter employees work 12 hr days or 24/7 or sleep in the office as like haha he's so quirky this is so silly. Like this crap is literally why musk is a billionaire ripping off his employees and also all his customers, it is disgusting, and it shows everything that is wrong with the fucking world

Listen, I don't truly, deeply, HATE-hate many people, but I HATE-hate fucking Elon Musk. He's a racist shit-for-brains alt-right clown who made all his money from his racist shit-for-brains apartheid clown father, who has a totally undeserved reputation for being a Business Genius when he can't even make cars that don't blow up, is determined to buy and then wreck the world's biggest communication platform with his shady Saudi friends just because some people were mean to him, defend dictators and war criminals, re-platform Nazis, etc etc. FUCK. THAT. GUY.

Now that his efforts to be as much of a dick as possible are resulting in him losing money hand over fist, it will be interesting to see if he course corrects in the name of preserving those billions. But it shocks me that anyone thinks he is a "visionary" of any sort, and I hope this destroys both him, Twitter, and everything else he is associated with. Then maybe someone else can buy the bird app for pennies on the dime and start fixing the damage that has already been done and continues to be done by a petulant man-baby sociopath billionaire's over-inflated ego and delusions of grandeur. I hope every Twitter employee either voluntarily quits or sues the living shit out of him for all he's got, and he ends up sleeping under a bridge. He won't, of course, but lord, would it be nice.

[theseventhoffrostfall]

I won't spoil Alan wake ii if you havent played it yet, but ngl while I dont think Kojima is bad at all, its really opening my eyes a bit. Sam Lake (real last name is finnish or a lovecraftian god) uses what he's inspired by way more integrated into his games. And the interplay of multiple forms of media including live action and music and, god help me for uttering this overused phrase, playing with the fourth wall, is something that makes Kojima look like simultaneously like an amateur and an elitist at the same time.

Let's say Kojima likes David Bowie. He'd have a character named David Bowie, Otacon would call in on the comms and say "Snake, that's david bowie. He's named after David Bowie the singer. He was a glam rock singer active from the late 1960s to 2016 most known for Ziggy Stardust" and the entire thing would be a thinly veiled excuse to hang out with David Bowie and put his likeness in the game and maybe release some haute couture sunglasses or something, while also namedropping extremely esoteric things Kojima can feel smart over knowing people will have to go to Wikipedia to understand the concepts he stayed up last weekend reading about. I cant really give an example for Alan Wake/Control like that entirely because everything is so worked in. Yeah its clearly Twin Peaks and X-Files and True Detective and a bit of that sparse Scandinavian Noir and some Lovecraft as well. But everything is blended together without coming to a screeching halt while you listen to the games creator tell you about the stuff he likes.

Not that I dislike MGS or anything, but in terms of "visionary" creators I think Sam Lake has just pulled ahead of Kojima in a really big way. He feels more like those TGWTG people who were only there as a stepping stone to their big hollywood career (which never panned out) and likewise Kojima treats his games more like the artsy movies he's always wanted to make instead of trying to be truly creative.

That's essentially the conclusion I've come to, yeah. Plus, Lake seems to embrace making games while Kojima seems to bitterly regret that he'd be laughed out of Hollywood.

Hell, MGS is supposed to be like an overblown, larger-than-life metaphor/representation of real, serious topics like nuclear proliferation and yadda yadda yadda. Except it gets muddled and stupid because the mechs that symbolize nuclear weapons are just dangerous for being nuclear launch platforms, because metaphors are hard. 30% of the earth's population was a child soldier who now wanders the land fighting for obscure philosophical reasons but shows little to none of the actual problems associated with former child soldiers, and 45% of all military personnel are clones or genetically engineered or turbocyborgs or something. Because this story that tries to touch on Very Serious Issues about soldiers and their place in the world was written in a country with pretty much 0 living combat veterans by a man who's never raised a fist in anger