Chuck Klosterman, But What If We’re Wrong?

I really, really loved this. It’s a great thought and conversation starter, and it uses age-old ideas to attempt to explain how we both consume and remember our culture today. Most importantly, it makes philosophy accessible and challenges the current wide-spread misconception that philosophy is a discipline reserved for stuffy intellectuals within the ivory tower of academia or bourgeois salons. 

Guess what. 

Ok, so this is actually a fanart for the amazing and thrilling fanfiction Wicked Games by caelestisxyz (….that always makes me hold my breath and want more!! y’ w ‘y

If you love haikyuu!!, omega verse, yakuza AUs, action, fluff, suspense and…actually everything good in a story, check it out!!  

The wind had picked up again, though she barely noticed. She was caught up in her own thoughts, in conversations that had long passed, hanging on to the strong words she wished she had said instead of keeping quiet. Instead of letting other people talk and walk all over her. But it was who she was. The quiet one. The girl who never spoke up, busy fading into the shadows when lately she’d been finding herself wanting to stand in the light. Just once. Just for a little while. As long as it would take to be noticed. As long it would take to matter. People walked past her with their hands shoved into their pockets and their collars turned up against the cold, easy laughters in their eyes and unspoken stories on their lips. With a deep sigh, she watched the grey clouds roll in. Upcoming storms always excited her. For some reason, she always hoped autumn would bring her new energy. More courage to shake off her bad habits that clung to her like dried leaves. A change of season always brought along a chance to be someone else, if only for a day or two, until everyone remembered who she was. The quiet one. The girl who had the rain at her back, not the sun. But as the first bolt of lightning struck the sky, she thought that maybe this time things could be different. When the first drop of rain hit her chin, she thought that this time maybe she didn’t have to wait for spring to bloom. That maybe this time she could stand in the eye of the storm instead of watching it from afar. That maybe, with a little luck, she would find the light within herself instead of chasing it. Autumn didn’t bring her new energy this year, it brought her something more worthwhile. It brought her realisation: no matter what kind of person you were - quiet or loud, closed off or outgoing, shy or confident - there was a whole universe hidden inside of you. There were people who did not care for concealed secrets, and that was okay. Because there were also people who searched the world to meet someone like you. And then there was you. You, who had not even discovered an inch of yourself. She smiled as the wind picked up and the rain began to fall, because there were so many words stored inside her mind. And when the storm hit, she released the scream that had been building up inside her throat. This time she would not be quiet.
—  the quiet one / n.j.
an excerpt

There is a very interesting debate raging at the moment about the nature of sin, for example,” said Oats.

“And what do they think? Against it, are they?” said Granny Weatherwax.

“It’s not as simple as that. It’s not a black and white issue. There are so many shades of gray.”



“There’s no grays, only white that’s got grubby. I’m surprised you don’t know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That’s what sin is.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that …”

“No. It ain’t. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they’re getting worried that they won’t like the truth. People as things, that’s where it starts.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are worse crimes …”

“But they starts with thinking about people as things …


Terry Pratchett, Carpe Jugulum