#our lives have been fundamentally different in almost every single way

[thejoyofseax]

Why We Can't Have Medieval Food

I noted in a previous post that I'd "expand on my thinking on efforts to reproduce period food and how we’re just never going to know if we have it right or not." Well, now I have 2am sleep?-never-heard-of-it insomnia, so let's go.

At the fundamental level, this is the idea that you can't step in the same river twice. You can put your foot down at the same point in space, and it'll go into water, but that's different water, and the bed of the river has inevitably changed, even a little, from the last time you did so.

Our ingredients have changed. This is not just because we can't get the fat from fat-tailed sheep in Ireland, or silphium at all anywhere, although both of those are true. But the aubergine you buy today is markedly different to the aubergine that was available even 40 years ago. You no longer need to salt aubergine slices and draw out the bitter fluids, which was necessary for pretty much all of the thing's existence before (except in those cultures that liked the bitter taste). The bitterness has been bred out of them. And the old bitter aubergine is gone. Possibly there are a few plants of it preserved in some archive garden, or a seed bank, or something, but I can't get to those.

We don't really have a good idea of the plant called worts in medieval English recipes. I mean, we know (or we're fairly sure) it was brassica oleracea. But that one species has cultivars as distinct as cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, Savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan (list swiped from Wikipedia). And even within "cabbage" or "kale", you have literally dozens of varieties. If you plant the seeds from a brassica, unless you've been moderately careful with pollination, you won't get the same plant as the seeds are from. You can crossbreed brassicas just by planting them near each other and letting them flower. And of course there is no way to determine what varietal any medieval village had, a very high likelihood that it was different to the village next door, and an exceedingly high chance that that varietal no longer exists. Further, it only ever existed for a few tens of years - before it went on cross-breeding into something different. So our access to medieval worts (or indeed, cabbage, kale, etc) is just non-existant.

Some other species within the brassica genus are as varied. Brassica rapa includes oilseed rape, field mustard, turnip, Chinese cabbage, and pak choi.

We have an off-chance, as it happens, of getting almost the same kind of apple as some medieval varieties, because apples can only be reproduced for orchard use by grafting, which is essentially cloning. Identification through paintings, DNA analysis, and archaeobotany sometimes let us pin down exactly which apple was there. But the conditions under which we grow those apples are probably not the same as the medieval orchard. Were they thinned? When were they harvested? How were they stored? And apples are pretty much the best case.

Medieval wheat was practically a different plant. It was far pickier about where it would grow, and frequently produced 2-4 grains per stalk. A really good year had 6-8. In modern conditions, any wheat variety with less than 30 grains per stalk would be considered a flop.

Meats are worse. Selective breeding in the last century has absolutely and completely changed every single species of livestock, and if you follow that back another five centuries, some of them would be almost unrecognisable. Even our heritage breeds are mostly only about 200 years old.

Cheese, well. Cheese is dependent on very specific bacteria, and there are plenty of conditions where the resulting cheese is different depending on whether it was stored at the back or front of the cave. Yogurts, quarks, skyrs, etc, are also live cultures, and almost certainly vary massively. (I have a theory about British cheese here, too, which I'll expand on in a future post)

So, even before you go near the different cooking conditions (wood, burnables like camel and cow dung, smoke, the material and condition of cooking pots), we just can't say with any reliability that the food we're making now is anything like medieval people produced from the same recipe. We can't even say that with much reliability over a century.

Under very controlled conditions, you could make an argument for very specific dishes. If you track down a wild mountain sheep in Afghanistan, and use water from a local spring, and salt from some local salt mine, then you can make a case that you can produce something fairly close to the original ma wa milh, the water-and-salt stew that forms the most basic dish in Arabic cookery. But once you start introducing domestic livestock, vegetables, or even water from newer wells, you're now adrift.

It is possible that some dishes taste exactly the same, by coincidence. But we can't determine that. We can't compare the taste of a dish from five years ago, let alone five hundred, because we're only just getting to a state where we can "record" a taste accurately. Otherwise it's memory and chance.

We've got to be at peace with this. We can put in the best efforts we can, and produce things that are, in spirit, like the medieval dishes we're reading about. But that's as good as it gets.

[dekusleftsock]

Me personally, I’m a very big fan of how Horikoshi handled his themes around forgiveness. I love that he really hammers in that forgiveness is a choice that someone can or cannot make, and that neither of those decisions are necessarily “wrong” or “harmful”, that they’re just that. Choices.

And I realized just how much I enjoyed how he handles this because of these leaks. Like him choosing to never forgive Shigaraki for what he’s done, yet wanting to end the suffering as much as possible I feel really speaks to an experience I could never put into words. It’s so viscerally human to be angry, happy, sad; it’s human to forgive, it’s human to not. It’s human to empathize with someone you fundamentally feel shouldn’t be empathized for, and yet it is the single most prominent structure of ancient human societies. We live to empathize, it’s why we have a dog in our house, or we help heal a stranger back to health; and I don’t necessarily think is what “makes us human” bc I feel that excludes people who don’t (because they do exist and nothing is wrong with them for not doing so), but I think it does speak to a very common feeling. It’s normal to want revenge, or to be angry, or to not forgive, but it’s also perfectly normal to want to end the suffering from its source.

That’s also a prominent feature of the Todoroki family, and it’s also what made me so angry about the interpretations surrounding it. There’s nothing wrong with Fuyumi or Natsuo to respond differently to their shared father’s abuse, they’re normal and expected ways to handle one’s inner turmoil. There is healing in forgiving someone, that’s a perfectly truthful idea. But what’s also a way to heal is to simply not let someone matter in your life, you can simultaneously be angry for what they’ve done…and be perfectly fulfilled/healed.

Horikoshi isn’t telling you to forgive bad people, he’s telling you that there’s a reason behind every bad action, that empathy and shared humanity is the single most integral part to a healthy society.

And I love this EVEN MORE because Midoriya Izuku: Rising isn’t even about Izuku, it’s about how everyone else has brought him here, now. That we are one people, one society—Izuku may be the driving horse but he stands as a symbol of our shared humanity in this moment.

I wish I could find the officials rn but I’m gonna have to interpret this given what it is.

Ochako’s choice to “not wipe your slate clean” almost feels less like a “I can’t forgive you” and more like a “society won’t forgive you” statement.

Where Izuku’s or Natsuo’s choice to not forgive someone who has hurt them was a personal decision, this was more of a decision to empathize with Himiko, maybe even forgive her. I can’t help but notice that this was much more of a confession/declaration of affection for someone who has done bad things, than it was about forgiveness and mistakes.

It almost feels more like the bkdk apology if I’m honest. Both of which never have a “I won’t ever forgive you for this” statement, more like they avoid it in its entirety. Same with Rei and Endeavors conversations.

Because it is the victims choice to forgive or not forgive someone. They have as much a right to do so as anyone else.

I guess that’s why I always hated the whole “Izuku shouldn’t forgive Katsuki” take, it’s a very literal commentary on the very thing Horikoshi has written is wrong. It’s wrong to try to tell someone how they should or shouldn’t have reacted to something, you are taking away their integrity. To a certain extent you are infantilizing their ability to make choices for themself.

So it’s for this reason that my love for this series shoots to the sky at this “I won’t forgive you” moment. It’s like Izukus guilt has been lifted, that he has allowed himself to be angry or bitter at someone for wronging him or someone he loves. The mask has fallen, this is it; Izuku and Tenko, and he is being honest of his feelings.

That’s what I love most—the honesty, the anger, the relief, the love, and that these are his choices. No one can take that away from him. Not you, not I, not us.

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

Madara Week Day 5 : found family

Originally analysis but there is a lot of my own interpretation so let's say Meta/Headcanon?

Madara sincerely tried to consider Konoha as his new home. He did it for the sake of his people but mostly because the warring state era, the death of every single member of his family left him emotionally exhausted.

Paradoxically what Madara feared the most in his youth was solitude. It is revealed during the monologue Obito did to Naruto just after the death of Neji and Madara noted that Obito sounds just like him back then.~

Hashirama's hand came like a relief from the horror of his situation. Everything had been destroyed anyway so yeah... maybe let's build something brand new from scratches. Yeah maybe he can trust the Senju clan after all and life would be easier. But the effect of this renewed friendship was unfortunately temporary, it was like applying a tiger balm in an open infected wound full of filths. The weight of guilt, the promise he made to Izuna on his death bed, the distrust from his clansmen he wanted so badly to save, it was still haunting him... And later the village revealed itself to be just an illusion of peace. People were living side by side but they still hated each other in silence and soon he could already prophetize his clan would be in great danger under the Senju's authority. But he never found a way to properly communicate his worries to the Uchihas that have now a warm roof over their head and a meal everyday. He couldn't neither communicate with Hashirama, and the main reason in my opinion was because they have changed too much during the last decade.

If you think about it seriously there is something unrealistic about Kishimoto's writing. Close you eyes for a minute, remember your best friend when you were 12 years old. and then you go your separate way and you see him again fifteen years later. What would you say to each other? Sure you still have dear memories together but...that's it.

The fundamental period of your life when you grow from being just a child to a grown adult many things happened that change you deeply:

1) puberty, often more spectacular in men. their physical appearance, their height, their voice, their hormones like testosterone that makes them more aggressive, open to sexual experience. Just from being 12 to 17 it's two different characters. Your parents who have to deal with your teenage angst can talk about it.

2) socially you change too. from 12 to 17 you're still cocooned by the educational system, for most of us we still depend economically from our parents. and from 18 to 26. Some goes to university, changes for a different cities, hang out with different friends, shape their values different from what their parents taught them. Others start to work straight away and the changes are even more brutal, now you confront the child that you were with the reality of building a career, earning a living, pay your own taxes, vote for your president ect... in a nutshell being a functional and independent member of your society.

3) emotionally you mature : it's obvious that from our 12 to 26, most of us went through different phase of first love, second love? maybe third? maybe just broken heart, maybe just a period of chaotic love affairs one after an other, maybe long abstinence. and probably after 26 some choose to finally settle down. other may already have children and being a parents which means you don't live just for yourself anymore. It's a complete shift of paradigm when someone else depend on you for survival. Your social circles change a lot too, slowly you befriend people based on your workplace, your hobbies, your political views rather than just sharing the same playground. Some of you can befriend people from lower or higher class that what you originally comes from, forcing you to understand new codes, new skills, new cultures, new languages. And when you almost reach your thirties you may experience for the first time the death of the elders from your community. A grandma, a grandpa who was there since you were born is now gone. The brevity of life suddenly slaps you in the face. Children thinks of themselves as eternal, not adult.

Birth, childhood, adulthood, love, deception, growth, rebirth, mourning, wisdom ect...Why do I say all of this? To describe the life of someone living in a relatively peaceful environment and born in a wealthy modern world which is all of us.

The fact that you are literate, you can read my words in english, you have an internet connection, a smartphone or a desktop, and the luxury to spend time on tumblr is a proof that you are relatively privileged comparing to the majority of people on Earth.

Now we are talking about Madara born into a traditional environment and during a war time when life was even shorter and fragile. Everything I've just described is basically done faster. At 15 you're already an adult, at 18 you have responsibilities as a breadwinner, at 26 you're a senior, head of clan, veteran of many war with all the trauma it drives, parents of many children, maybe widow, (not his case but for instance Tajima was). To put it into perceptive Madara at 26 lived the life of someone 40 years old in the modern world.

To pretend that Hashirama can cast out a a whole lifetime, and just hold to their childhood to build his dreamed village was indeed utterly naive. Between the moment he was elected hokage and the moment Madara shows him the Uchiha shrine, at least a whole year has passed, the relationship with Tobirama was still tense and the first hokage did nothing on purpose. Based on that, it's obvious that Hashirama never thought about discussing what Madara went throught the last 15 years of his life. He knew the child Madara but he completely brush off the adult Madara.

Yes they were close friend as children, but that were now two different persons with a separate background. Am I saying that their reconciliation was doomed from the start? No, they have healthy roots but it would have ask from both side to be more patient with each other and more attentive to what the other says rather than forcing a past childhood into the present.

@uchiha-event

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

After the now infamous deleted GRRM blogpost it felt like a good time to bring up this rant that's been sitting in the back of my drafts for a while now. This is a long one so buckle in.

The adaptation discourse will be so much easier when the fact that an “adaptation” and “inspired by” are accepted as different things. Many of the things being argued as adaptations really end up fitting under “inspired by/based on” more than “adaptation.” The basis of the breakdown lying in “are you adapting for change in medium or are you adopting characters and worlds with new narratives and personalities?” Too often these terms are used interchangeably or amalgamated together.

Because an adaption from text to film should boil down to; okay we may not be able to show this grand explosion or wild fight so we will make it as similar in tone as possible with the right tension and have a choreographer work around our physical limitations. For example, if you tried to make a live action Naruto (which I vehemently condemn for the record) almost every single fight has to be changed because outside of overusing CGI you could simply never display the key moments of those battles. So while the resounding retort of, "aN aDapTatiOn iS nEveR gOinG tO bE a 1:1" is obvious, but that phrase is commonly being used as a blanket response to any and all criticism regardless of how valid the point is.

An inspired by on the contrary CAN deviate from the canon in ways that an adaption should not. Inspired by is categorically like what Disney did with 90s animated movies, they were inspired by myths, folktales and legends but changed to make palatable for young audiences and of course there’s subtextual references (Scar holding the skull as in Hamlet) through out. You would never call them adaptions however. A production inspired by Shakespeare (Lion King inspired by Hamlet) and an adaptation (Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo & Juliet) are inherently different because of this fundamental distinction. Because the adaptation of Romeo & Juliet kept faithfully to not only the themes in a modern setting but Luhrmann being a madman left the play's dialogue unchanged, only the setting and props suited to the new format. Which is the case in point. THAT was an adaptation.

I always come back to it but with Avatar the Last Airbender adaptations are really categorically more suited for the label of “inspired by” because an adaptation doesn’t mean “okay let’s jam 3 separate story lines into one episode” like absolutely NO. If you don’t “have the time” to explore an arc fully then YOU NEED MORE EPISODES. Sokka not wearing Kyoshi makeup and therefore changing the entire dynamic and the entire point of that plot is NOT an adaption, it was something both physically and metaphysically that could and should have happened. Changing a character and their relationships is not adaption, it’s adoption, and listen it’s okay to want to do that. It’s the foundation of fan fiction. And it’s also okay to say, I like the stories as they’re presented because I don’t have a relationship/love for the source. However, the people who do have every right to take issue with the changes, even those you enjoyed.

Whereas the inspired by category gets a lot more leniency with the plot and characters. To go back to the Disney animated films of the 90s, Hercules is one of the cases referenced most often. Of course you can’t make a Greek mythological adaption for children with today’s ratings and restrictions - that was what made them stories to inspire not adapt. It’s why what Rick Riordan did was a great effort and worked to make complex mythology accessible to kids. It’s why tumblr nerds often laugh about the portrayal of Zeus being a faithful and loving husband and Hera being the loving mother of Hercules. In that case of course you have to change those dynamics and principles for the intended audience. Or sometimes inspired by requires you to introduce a different setting and protagonist inspired by a source. Detective Pikachu for example isn’t an Ash Ketchum led live action it’s something completely separate from that universe while following most of the main principles. Similar to the “based on” film/television that might also keep some foundational material but present a new plot or different tone. Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy is a fantastic example of this where the protagonist and antagonists are all familiar and they’re in Gotham City as fans would expect but their stories and relationships might not have been what the audience expected.

All that to be said, when a writer themselves is entering the ring to defend their work from the "adaptation" being put forth with their name on it - it is completely justifiable. GRRM isn't new to television or film, he's been doing this for decades and has worked on projects before, all of which had budgets and production teams to be considered. The other blanket response of "well THE BUDGET" is really fallible because we've seen low budget films pull off incredible results on screen. The reoccurring issue here and in the television media landscape really all doubles back to executives being the downfall. You have calculating business wads who wouldn’t know creativity if it bit them in the ass making creative choices for shows. Most of them being qualified only in business and not in media or entertainment by any other way. This is not exclusive to television we can see cases of this happening in music as well (see Sabrina Carpenters label not wanting to release “Espresso” the arguable song of the summer) when these people are more often than not dead wrong.

GRRM's main focus in the blog post was around Maelor's exclusion which was purported to be a budget/casting issue. To me this is a very fallible excuse. Mainly because, not wanting to cast another toddler when you already aged down the other children is an easy one. A. You could have had used an infant (also would have added more emotional tension in B&C if Haelena was alone holding the baby) because it's pretty easy to interchange infant actors. B. use a doll. I mean this is like elementary but seriously a swaddled baby doll and some sound fx could have been easily done. Still works for later scenes if you have the doll in a crib "sleeping" and that's me accepting a relatively lazy inclusion of Maelor. Considering there's no way to introduce him now after the explicit details of Aegon's dick being destroyed. Some of these changes or mashups of plot points are more than just budgetary issues they’re logic and continuity based issues.

My point being, the very purpose of an adaptation is to take the source material and doing what you can to present the best version of this story to the audience with the tools you are given. There are of course ways this won't mean every single line of dialogue or action is going to be followed to a t. However, if you were going to adapt a recipe let's say, to make it a vegetarian dish - you can swap out the meat for another source of protein or veggies and make the sauce/foundation of the recipe exactly as it's called for but adapt it to your palette or preference. Inspired by is when white people make shit like “lasagna tacos” where you’re like well that’s … nice I guess? But definitely not authentic. Or just ask an Italian chef if you put heavy cream in your Carbonara and watch them start foaming at the mouth.

So while I understand not everyone may agree with GRRM about his response - he is completely justified in doing so, as is anyone else critical of this adaptation. Because it barely adheres to what an adaptation is supposed to be. Some of you may not like that either but this production should have been labeled as "inspired by" or “from the world of” for a lot of reasons considering the liberties they took and omissions they executed. This goes far beyond the scope of this case but I truly applaud George for making a stand and calling out the failures of this production. If I had one more person try to tell me to basically accept shitty adaptations for the sake of them being adaptations I was going to start screaming at the sky. If you're one of the people that likes the changes to HoTD or ATLA or Witcher then god bless I'm happy you have that but the suggestion that fans of the source material are supposed to shut up and accept them is asinine. Discounting the majority of a fanbase is grossly disrespectful and dismissing their criticisms is truly unjustifiable. When an author has to throw their hat in the ring to explain this it's time to look at the bigger picture. He nailed it in a previous blog post:

it does not seem to matter whether the source material was written by Stan Lee, Charles Dickens, Ian Fleming, Roald Dahl, Ursula K. Le Guin, J.R.R. Tolkien, Mark Twain, Raymond Chandler, Jane Austen, or… well, anyone.   No matter how major a writer it is, no matter how great the book, there always seems to be someone on hand who thinks he can do better, eager to take the story and “improve” on it.   “The book is the book, the film is the film,” they will tell you, as if they were saying something profound.   Then they make the story their own. They never make it better, though.   Nine hundred ninety-nine times out of a thousand, they make it worse. (x)

Not to sound like a Boomer but making a story your own is not an adaptation. It just isn't. If you aren't clever or creative enough (*cough* Ryan C*ndal *cough*) to make an original work I personally do not see any validity in taking someone else's work and implementing your own artistic choices that fundamentally contradict the source material. Unless you want to call it something else. I have no problem with taking a concept and reinventing the story ie: Kurt Sutter basing Sons of Anarchy loosely on Hamlet or Diablo Cody's Lisa Frankenstein. I actually rather enjoy re-imagined stories whether they be parodies or more creative interpretations. Those are all well and good. Not to be mischaracterized as adaptations tho.

"Adaptations" and "inspired by" works can and should coexist but there needs to be a clear distinction to the production teams and audiences respectively.

While some people have had negative responses to George's post, on the website flooded with creators whether they make art or write, I find it rather a suspiring reaction. It's an odd position to take even if the justification is that he sold the material - how many of you wouldn't take that opportunity? Who wouldn't want a major media corporation to offer to adapt your work. Shit, I would sell my work for pennies on the dollar to see a television show produced from it. That being said, I would be devastated beyond belief if the changes that I never accepted or approved were implemented and put out there under the name of my work. So whether it be from the point of view as a fan or an author I simply cannot subscribe to the notion that disappointing adaptations are in and of themselves a compliment undeserving of criticism. Nor can I accept some of the television productions being marketed as "adaptation" when they're categorically "inspired by" in nature. If that distinction was acknowledged I could at least justify some of the changes we’ve seen and dismiss book purists as well, but as the show is purported to be an adaptation I cannot see this as a success. It fails in ways an adaptation would not, for reasons that frankly have more holes in them than Swiss cheese. George deserves better and the fans deserve better.

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: The Punishment of Kaname Tojo - 4

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, two years ago

Characters: Jun, Kaname

Proofreading: Remi + 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Peace & hyenahunt

Kaname: Would you ever listen to someone who told you to stop breathing? What if they tried to force you to stop instead?

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Jun: And here I'd thought that guy —

That Tojo was the only one different from those fucking lowlifes...

Kaname: How many times have I told you to refrain from calling me by that name?

Jun: ...Tojo. Or well, sorry, it's HiMERU, huh?

Jun: Somehow, I'm still not quiiite used to the concept of a stage name, see. It feels kinda awkward.

Kaname: Don't misunderstand, Sazanami.

Jun: Say that again?

Kaname: I just don't want you to make the same foolish mistake you did before. Don't ever barge your way into another Special Student classroom, understood? What a nuisance.

Jun: ...What're you going on about after pulling that shit on me?

Kaname: You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?

Go ahead, then. I'll hear you out.

Jun: Acting like you're all that as usual, huh?

Kaname: I owe you one from back then. Guiding me to the catacombs and all.

I'm simply returning the favor. I'm not ungrateful, you know.

Jun: Huh, so that's how it is. ...Haha, guess I really can't bring myself to hate you.

Kaname: I don't care if you like me or not, Sazanami.

Jun: ...So why'd ya suddenly feel like hearing me out now?

Kaname: I would have heard you out earlier, if there were no one else around...

But you came into a classroom in which only Special Students were permitted to enter. There, you were surrounded by those who hate you Non-Special Students with every fiber of their being.

Simply looking down on you all was the extent of their contempt...

But due to Tatsumi-senpai's actions, they've turned their disdain into detestation.

Jun: So you're blaming Kazehaya-senpai too, aren'tcha.

Kaname: It's the truth, after all. The group that Tatsumi-senpai's leading has been monopolizing almost every single job opportunity that comes our way.

The idol industry's in a recession, so I think everyone's considering those who are more "able" to do their jobs consistently than those who aren't.

But the more jobs "Tatsumi Kazehaya" takes on as a group, the less work there is for everyone else.

Originally, the only idols who were given work were Special Students. Only we were the ones who were entitled to debuting and receiving jobs.

But Tatsumi-senpai chose to ignore such a fundamental fact and instead hogged every opportunity for his own "company", which employed more Non-Special Students than not.

As a result, the Special Students are seeing their jobs being stolen away by the very people they've always looked down on — it's so frustrating, it turns their discontent to hatred.

Humans naturally hate those who invade their space and take what is rightfully theirs.

Jun: Seems more to me like they got what's been coming to 'em. It's like they're getting punished for how much they've looked down on Non-Specials and treated 'em like shit all this time.

Kaname: No one thinks of it like that. All the Special Students really believe they're living good, just lives.

They live brilliantly by trampling the Non-Special Students beneath them.

They're Special Students, after all. They far exceed their lower counterparts. They were judged as such by their grades during admission.

They don't have any issue with stepping on those below them, being of the elite.

There aren't many who feel guilty for the livestock slaughtered for their pork and beef. Some maybe, but they're in the minority.

But they don't see anything fundamentally wrong with eating meat. They've paid a fair price for it, so there's no issue.

It isn't a sin to eat meat, after all. In fact, it's our justly given right to.

And in line with that way of thinking, Special Students believe it their "natural right" to trample on the Non-Special Students they despise.

That's why, frustrating it may be, they mean no ill by it.

It comes as naturally to them as breathing.

Kaname: Would you ever listen to someone who told you to stop breathing? What if they tried to force you to stop instead?

You'd tell them off, wouldn't you?

That's how the Special Students feel.

To them, Tatsumi-senpai and his band of Non-Special Students are foreigners invading their territory, taking what is "rightfully theirs".

Jun: ...Huh, you really have gotten smarter in the time we haven't talked, HiMERU.

Kaname: What do you mean by that? I've always been smart.

... Though it isn't something worth bragging about. I'm only parroting another's words.

Jun: Parroting whose words?

Kaname: Someone I respect very much, who I look to as a guide.

Jun: And I'm asking just who that is... Is it Kazehaya-senpai?

I mean, it seems like you've been frequenting the Catacombs ever since the first time I showed you the way to 'em.

Though you've been a Special Student all along save for that brief time, I heard you listened to what he had to say with more dedication than anyone else.

That you were more passionate 'bout him for him than any Non-Special... to the point one could even call you a fanatic.

Kaname: I won't deny that, it's true.

However, don't lump me in with the rest of those "followers" of his.

I'm not some devotee of Tatsumi-senpai's simply because I visited him often, you know.

I was just doing as I was told so that I'd be able to accomplish my goals as fast as possible.

Jun: And like I keep asking, who's been telling you to do all that...?

Kaname: I can't tell you. It goes against our contract.

I have to follow his every word to the letter, or else I'll make another mistake and be punished for it again.

In fact, it was because of him that I was able to climb back to where I belong! I'm forever grateful for his help.

Jun: Who the hell is this guy even...?

Kaname: Heehee. To me, he's alike to God.

✦✦✦✦✦

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[crionic-dubs]

To those only passingly familiar with the Dwarves, the concept of Grudges can seem like a toxic one. To spend the lives of living Dwarves on the wrongs done to those long dead seems shockingly wasteful. But as you've become familiar with the Dwarves, you've come to believe that Grudges are not the cause of Dwarven troubles, but a bandage over them. The human mind is capable of letting the past stay in the past: leaving the past in the past, letting bygones be bygones, least said, soonest mended. To a human, a grudge is something that needs to be tended and nurtured, something to be constantly stoked lest those fires begin to die. But the average Dwarf, you suspect, is no more able to let the past be forgotten than they are to breathe underwater. To them, unredressed emotional pain is as strong decades later as it was the day it was inflicted upon them. A Dwarf who has been wronged and has no way to right that wrong will be forever haunted by it until it drives them mad, as inevitably as a river carving a valley through stone. In this way, a recorded Grudge is the mirror to the Slayer Oath: where a Dwarf that has wronged others and cannot fix it seeks to die for the Karaz Ankor, a Dwarf that has been wronged and cannot fix it seeks to live for the Karaz Ankor. Their Grudge being recorded is a promise that someday, somehow, the Karaz Ankor will take vengeance on their behalf, and this means that any act that strengthens the Karaz Ankor becomes an act of vengeance. But the cost of this is that even the canniest and most cynical of Dwarven leaders must still pay heed to the Grudges of the past, because the promises of a Book of Grudges might represent a titanic outlay of lives and resources, but it is also the mortar that keeps the battered souls of the Dwarven people from falling apart. To entirely ignore it would be to undermine their entire society.

- Boney, Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties, Mining Mount Drakenhof Part 1

well now I am curious what does she think the fundamental difference between dwarves and humans are? Most prominently unfading emotional memory, leading to the cultural institutions of Grudges to deal with unredressable grief and Slayers for unredressable shame.

- Woltaire & Boney, Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties

That - That has really deep implications, actually. Like, way the fuck deeper than yours and WHF's depiction of them would ordinarily permit. Were the Dawi not an engineered species, I'd call bullshit on them bearing even a slight psychological or physiological resemblance to humans, and just the idea of it sets my imagination flying. So, okay. Repeated stimulus gets tuned out. This is something that happens at every single level of your body, from physical nerve cells be they touch, hearing, sight related, etc - to pathways, to the neurons that receive those signals, to the brain talking to and making sense of itself. Monotonous repetition is something that gets muted, this is why fading of emotional memory is even a thing - eventually, the same internal reaction to the same memory will just get... tuned down. That's just how nerve cells and neurons work. They kind of have to, because all stimulus and activation is relative. If you couldn't de-prioritize a response to stimulus, you almost wouldn't be able to learn or sense things at all. That Dawi don't have fading emotional memory hints at something way, way more fundamental about how their... well, everything works, just calling it their brains is underselling it. But as a small example... in humans, our ability to tell the difference between two stimulus is more or less percentage/ratio based - our increments of perception are not absolute, the brighter a light, the greater a difference in lumens is required for a change in it to be perceptible. The heavier a weight, the more ounces or pounds have to change for us to tell the difference between it and another weight. This is a consequence of the same underlying mechanism of sensory deadening as everything else I've talked about. So if that just doesn't apply to emotional memory for Dawi, can they tell the difference in stimulus in absolute rather than relative terms, too? Certainly seems like it could be a major benefit for precision work, I'll say that much...

- Prime 2.0, Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties

It would also seem to imply that they have no reason to value novelty for its own sake, and that repeating a task they find engaging over and over while regularly realizing slight improvements would be the height of satisfaction to them, instead of something that they'd grow bored of. So they would likely default to somewhere between caution and suspicion towards new things. They wouldn't have the hedonic treadmill at work in their brains, so they'd tend to be rather spartan out of practicality, because they'd only need a certain amount of comforts and pleasures to be happy and wouldn't grow to see them as a new baseline requiring them to seek new heights to get the same sense of enjoyment. It would mean they'd value well-insulated, carefully-controlled environments to live in, and would highly value depressants to dull external stimulus, possibly outright relying on them. All of which sounds rather familiar…

- Boney, Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties

What is a Dwarf?

What is a dwarf, really? A bundle of grudges wrapped up in an ale-stained beard? A tiny Scottish man with impossibly bulgy forearms? It’s an interesting question to me, because I really don’t know what makes dwarves such an attractive archetype. To be fair, I prefer them in miniatures gaming rather than roleplaying, so the strong visual recognition is probably a core aspect. But at their core, Dwarves represent a culture every bit as vain, obsessive and greedy as ours. It’s not even taken to extremes, really. Dwarves dig too deep, drink too much and exploit their natural environment.

I think that humanises them, that they are so like us. But what about the differences? I have always pictured dwarf people to be very relateable on the battlefield, but extremely creepy up close. These aren’t humans. Are they even people? They spend all their time beneath the earth, listening to the world breathe in and out its furnace breath. Their eyes aren’t like ours. They have milky white orbs in their heads. On the surface, their senses are dulled. Their skin is stretched thin across strange bones. You don’t notice it right away. Some of them ingest elixirs and potions to shroud their subterranean bodies in petty illusions. Their beards aren’t soft, cuddly Father Christmas beards. They’re steel-wool and they help them navigate the labyrinthine confines of their tomb-like worlds. They are greedy, obsessive and vindictive. They are more spirits than people. Gold appeases them, of course, but what they seek is a true beauty they can never grasp. Many go mad with it, those suited to crafts, and countless others seek it in the dying breath of a surface-dweller or the blood-splatter of a green-skinned intruder. I like to think of Dwarves as multi-faceted. Sure, when they’re around you can be lulled into thinking they’re just grumpy, drunk grandfathers. But dig a little deeper and you will find something alien. Something that wishes, for the most part, to be left alone beneath the ground.

[seeklovenet]

The 3 Best Dating Websites In Australia What I Discovered

The 3 Best Dating Websites In Australia What I Discovered

One major downfall is that Singles50 isn't catered to homosexuals and bisexual people. When you register as a female, the system generates that you're on the lookout for a male, however this may be changed. Singles50 is usually heteronormative but you do nonetheless have the option to change the “looking for” subject.

And if you're right down to have some fun and experience Australia in every potential side, this app is the one for you. Oasis Active is an ideal app for free relationship Australia and it offers numerous potentialities. When registering on this page, you can also use your FB account, or you'll find a way to fill in the kind on the Oasis dating web site Australia. The entire network is interlinked, so if you have already got an account on one of many sites that belong to the group, do not make the new one. In case that doesn’t happen, one will get a free six-month subscription as a second chance.

Aussie On-line Relationship Faq

Probably the most effective function concerning the online relationship app itself is that it has a built-in translator so you'll have the ability to talk with any other individual on the planet whatever the language you converse. Our team’s pitched in the hard yakka and sorted by way of hundreds of on-line courting choices to reach at this listing of the best Aussie courting apps. Using these, you should be succesful of find whatever you’re on the lookout for, whether or not that’s a quick date at Macca’s, grabbing some drinks, marriage, or anything in-between. Christian Mingle has been serving to Australian singles find one another since 2001 and has grown to be the #1 group of religious singles on-line with over 15 million lively customers worldwide. On top of some wonderful scores (9.6/10), this AU courting app is 100% targeted on religion based mostly courting which means everybody you meet will share your values and beliefs. Another great proof of prime quality and great success fee of this site are love stories from the people who have discovered their happiness and perfect companion by using this web page.

Looking to calm down and and join the almost 52% of Australians which might be blissfully married? Hoping to find something a bit more meaningful than you’ve skilled on different Aussie relationship apps? Our next advice is bound to help you discover that Mr or Mrs proper in no time. Online For Love is a mixture of courting and relationship specialists. We have come together to create the last word online relationship useful resource.

Does On-line Dating In Australia Work?

Age group variety – Are there going to be other singles in your age group on Australia dating sites? We appeared at the variety of people in every city from 18 to 24, from 25 to 34, from 35 to forty zoosk review reddit four, from forty five to 54, and seniors (55+). Here’s and the Aussie cities with the very best percentage population in every age vary.18 to 24 – Canberra 14.1% of total city inhabitants.

These costs could also be lower than you’re paying, but for the aim of our study we simply wanted to cost out the minimal requirement to run Australian dating sites smoothly. The cause Pink Cupid is on this listing is that it's linked to greater than 30 different courting sites worldwide, so their social community is massive. Since its inception in 2006, Pink Cupid has taken the lesbian community by storm, and in Australia alone, greater than 1,600 members log in every day with a total of 400,000 members joined. The app is free for a fundamental membership but this doesn't enable the messaging feature. If you wish to chat with different users you will need to pay a minimum of $11.sixty seven.

Eharmony – Finest Aussie Courting App For Severe Relationships And Marriage

“Another shrimp on the barbie” – This ultimate point really isn’t going to be what you think… see, people exterior of Australia have a lot of preconceived notions about what Aussies are and aren’t. The only way to really get to know them is to put these concepts apart and start assembly Australian singles. Stubbies, Tinnys, and Cold Ones – Whatever you name em, be able to see some beers and different bevvies if you’re relationship an Aussie.

The web site boasts that a match is made each 14 minutes but it's largely utilized by adults over the age of 30. EHarmony is unquestionably definitely worth the five-part personal questionnaire upon joining as a outcome of it asks hundreds of questions about your personality, curiosity, and hobbies. This questionnaire is designed to match you up with someone who shares comparable concepts and thoughts. EHarmony has a successful status for matching people that ultimately get married. % of inhabitants that’s by no means been married – Slightly completely different than the previous stat this looks at singles who've by no means been divorced, widowed, or separated. According to our information Darwin is the town with the biggest proportion of singles who've never been married at forty two.1% of the entire inhabitants.

Speaking of extra “ladies only” perks, they can only be contacted by the members they've favored. Upon “diving in”, you will get down to analysis, and search for your different half in some of the three potential ways- using basic strategy , superior or by typing in his/her username. This is particularly essential for communication with other customers, as plenty of useful instruments on Elite Singles Australia will permit you to get in contact with the advised match. Speaking of recent members, the registration process is nothing difficult in any respect, however it is a bit time-consuming. If two individuals mutually right-swipe each other, a match is made and one receives a notification.

However, they can “extend” their interest for an extra 24 hours by using the Boost feature, which requires payment. This dating service was established in 2008, which means there’s greater than a decade of expertise and success in connecting individuals who are looking for a companion. Fake profiles and scammers are one of the main problems all of the cost-free platforms have, which is why this one will not be the perfect selection for these excited about some critical relationship.

Also, yet one more piece of advice, if you're looking for one thing more long run , take a look at real relationship apps/sites like the ones I will mention below. Despite it’s not typically Australia relationship web site, it’s very fashionable amongst intellectuals from this area, as it offers best-in-class expertise an internet matchmaking page can supply. On this relationship web page, girls are the ones to start the ball rolling. If a woman just isn't thinking about chatting and doesn’t present her curiosity inside at some point , the connection expires.

[kinomiakai]

Whats the weirdest thing you've heard someone say about Naruto? I saw someone on tiktok say that orochimaru was 100% a good guy, and that it was ok if he did experiments on babies.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh oh. oh that. that is a....a take. I’ve seen....honestly my mind just spiraled through a whole bunch of terrible things and I am going to make an executive decision and spare y’all from all of them.

What’s the best Naruto take you’ve ever heard??? Mine is that Sasuke fucks up and says dattebayo once and lives in shame for the rest of his life

[fatehbaz]

It is spring in Houston, which means that each day the temperature rises and so does the humidity. The dampness has darkened the flower bed, and from the black mulch has emerged what looks like a pile of snotty scrambled eggs [...]. I recognize this curious specimen as the aethalial state of Fuligo septica, more commonly known as “dog vomit slime mold.” Despite its name, it’s not actually a mold -- not any type of fungus at all -- but rather a myxomycete (pronounced MIX-oh-my-seat), a small, understudied class of creatures that occasionally appear in yards and gardens as strange, Technicolor blobs. Like fungi, myxomycetes begin their lives as spores, but when a myxomycete spore germinates and cracks open, a microscopic amoeba slithers out. [...] When the amoeba encounters another amoeba with whom it is genetically compatible, the two fuse, joining chromosomes and nuclei [...], growing ever larger, until at the end of its life, it transforms into an aethalia, a “fruiting body” that might be spongelike in some species, or like a hardened calcium deposit in others, or, as with Stemonitis axifera, grows into hundreds of delicate rust-colored stalks. [...]

These creatures exist on every continent and almost everywhere people have looked for them: from Antarctica, where Calomyxa metallica forms iridescent beads, to the Sonoran Desert, where Didymium eremophilum clings to the skeletons of decaying saguaro cacti [...]. Throughout their lives, myxomycetes only ever exist as a single cell, inside which the cytoplasm always flows -- out to its extremities, back to the center. When it encounters something it likes, such as oatmeal, the cytoplasm pulsates more quickly. If it finds something it dislikes, like salt, quinine, bright light, cold, or caffeine, it pulsates more slowly [...]. It can solve mazes in pursuit of a single oat flake, and later, can recall the path it took to reach it. [...]

How do you classify a creature such as this?

In the ninth century, Chinese scholar Twang Ching-Shih referred to a pale yellow substance that grows in damp, shady conditions as kwei hi, literally “demon droppings.” In European folklore, slime mold is depicted as the work of witches, trolls, and demons -- a curse sent from a neighbor to spoil the butter and milk. In Carl Linnaeus’s Species Plantarum -- a book that aspires to list every species of plant known at the time (nearly seven thousand by the 1753 edition) -- he names only seven species of slime molds. Among those seven we recognize Fuligo in the species he calls Mucor septicus (“rotting mucus”), which he classifies, incorrectly, as a type of fungus. [...]

These “ladders” or “scales of ascent,” in turn, inspired the “Great Chain of Being” -- the [...] worldview central to European thought from the end of the Roman Empire through the Middle Ages, that ordered all of creation from lowest to highest [...]. Over time, Linnaeus revised his classifications of Homo sapiens, naming “varieties” that at first corresponded to what he saw as the four geographic corners of the planet, but which became hierarchical, assigned different intellectual and moral value based on phenotypes and physical attributes. The idea that humans could and should be ordered -- that some were superior to others, that this superiority had a physical as well as social component -- was deeply embedded in many previous schema. But Linnaeus’s taxonomy, unlike the systems that came before, gave these prejudices the appearance of objectivity, of being backed by scientific proof. When Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was published in 1859, it was on the foundation of this “science,” which had taught white Europeans to reject the idea of evolution unless it crowned them in glory.

But the history of taxonomic classification has always been about establishing hierarchy [...].

I did not learn until college about a taxonomic category that superseded kingdom, proposed in the 1970s by biologists Carl Woese and George Fox and based on genetic sequencing, that divided life into three domains: Bacteria, Eukarya, and Archaea, a recently discovered single-celled organism that has survived in geysers and swamps and hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the ocean for billions of years. 

Perhaps a limit of our so-called intelligence is that we cannot fathom ourselves in the context of time at this scale, and that so many of us fail, so consistently, to marvel at any lives but our own. [...]

A few years ago, near a rural village in Myanmar, miners came across a piece of amber containing a fossilized Stemonitis slime mold dating from the mid-Cretaceous period. Scientists were thrilled by the discovery, because few slime mold fossils exist, and noted that the 100-million-year-old Stemonitis looks indistinguishable from the one oozing around forests today. [...]

One special ability of slime molds that supports this possibility is their capacity for cryptobiosis: the process of exchanging all the water in one’s body for sugars, allowing a creature to enter a kind of stasis for weeks, months, years, centuries, perhaps even for millennia. [...] The only other species who have this ability are the so-called “living fossils” such as tardigrades and Notostraca (commonly known as water bears and tadpole shrimp, respectively). [...]

In laboratory environments, researchers have cut Physarum polycephalum into pieces and found that it can fuse back together within two minutes. Or, each piece can go off and live separate lives, learn new things, and return later to fuse together, and in the fusing, each individual can teach the other what it knows, and can learn from it in return.

Though, in truth, “individual” is not the right word to use here, because “individuality” [...] doesn’t apply to the slime mold worldview. A single cell might look to us like a coherent whole, but that cell can divide itself into countless spores, creating countless possible cycles of amoeba to plasmodium to aethalia, which in turn will divide and repeat the cycle again. It can choose to “fruit” or not, to reproduce sexually or asexually or not at all, challenging every traditional concept of “species,” the most basic and fundamental unit of our flawed and imprecise understanding of the biological world. As a consequence, we have no way of knowing whether slime molds, as a broad class of beings, are stable or whether climate change threatens their survival, as it does our own. Without a way to count their population as a species, we can’t measure whether they are endangered or thriving. Should individuals that produce similar fruiting bodies be considered a species? What if two separate slime molds do not mate but share genetic material?

The very idea of separateness seems antithetical to slime mold existence. It has so much to teach us.

-------

Headline and all text published by: Lacy M. Johnson. “What Slime Knows.” Orion Magazine. August 2021. Photos by Alison Pollack and published alongside article.

[mariacallous]

The Supreme Court’s decision to reverse nearly fifty years of precedent and send the abortion issue back to the states sent shock waves throughout the country. During the summer months the implications of that decision were widely held to be helping the Democrats in what had been shaping up to be a dismal midterm election year. In some states voter registration of women surged. But by Labor Day the conventional wisdom had swung back. No, insisted most pundits, abortion wouldn’t drive many votes, but inflation would.

How wrong they were.

The first indication came early on election night in CNN’s exit polls. To the obvious surprise of the on-air talent, abortion came in a close second to inflation: 31% said inflation was their top issue but 27% said abortion was. Despite late pre-election polls showing abortion sinking to third or fourth place or disappearing, there are several reasons why the issue never really went away.

First, there are a lot of women in America, they are evenly distributed across the country, and they consistently vote more often than men—as the following table from our colleague Bill Frey here at Brookings illustrates.

This year was no different. According to CNN exit polls, women constituted 52% of the vote and men 48%. That is an enormous difference. Let’s assume that turnout in 2022 ends up being about the same as the record 2018 turnout—roughly 116 million votes. The women’s share of that vote? 60,320,000. Exit polls also show that 53% of women voted Democratic. That’s 31,969,600 votes—a big number. Hillary Clinton, who clearly shares our frustration with those who discounted the women’s vote, tweeted out the following clearly sarcastic comment: “It turns out women enjoy having human rights, and we vote.”

Apart from the sheer magnitude of the women’s vote is the issue of intensity. Unlike men, women spend a great deal of their lives thinking about reproduction. They have no choice. Even in the 21st century, pregnancy is still a dangerous business, and women’s health care is no place for government bureaucrats. No wonder that women think abortion is a lot more important than men do. As the election season entered its final stretch, and many Republican candidates got a crash course in obstetrics, some pulled back and/or softened their previous hard lines on abortion.

The importance of the issue was seen most clearly in the Senate debate in Pennsylvania. Although the Democrat, John Fetterman gave a halting performance because he was still recovering from a serious stroke, his opponent, Republican Mehmet Oz, managed to make what had to be one of the most damaging comments on abortion ever: “I want women, doctors, and local political leaders…” to make these decisions.

The sheer absurdity of that comment went a long way towards distracting voters from the issue of Fetterman’s health and reminded many that government shouldn’t be making those decisions.

Finally, abortion is fundamentally different from inflation. Inflation is unpopular with both parties—there is no pro-inflation and anti-inflation party. In fact, if we’ve learned anything about politics in our polarized time it’s that voters see almost all issues through their partisan lens. Democrats worried about inflation could think that Joe Biden was dealing with it and Republicans that Joe Biden caused it. But abortion is different. One party is clearly in favor of keeping it legal in most or all circumstances and the other is not.

If you put together the sheer size of the women’s vote, the intensity of the issue and the fact that, unlike inflation or the economy, the two parties have stark differences on the issue, you get a powerful driver of the vote. There were five states with abortion referenda on the ballot and in every single one—including the deep red state of Kentucky—the pro-choice position won. In Michigan, where the abortion referendum won by 13.4 percent, it is not far-fetched to assume that it helped the Democrats keep several congressional seats. And in Pennsylvania, where abortion topped inflation by 9 points, Democrats picked up the only Senate seat so far.

The following table shows the percentage of voters in each of the crucial states and how they rated inflation and abortion. In most cases abortion was a close second; in Michigan and Pennsylvania it was far ahead of inflation.

Central to the story of the 2022 midterms, then, is an issue central to women’s lives, powerful enough to snatch victory from the Republicans, and durable enough to send a message about the future.

[kaiqarker]

the watchtower’s lighthouse | stan vogel

pairing: stan vogel x reader

warnings: smut, swearing

summary: months after a disasterous first date with stan vogel, your paths cross once more when you’re lost within the depths of kern canyon national park during a thunderstorm and stan happens to have inherited a shift patrolling from the watchtower.

a/n: back from the dead because of this man. hope y’all enjoy :)

THE SKY EMULATED STAN VOGEL'S morals, consisting of gray unpredictability. If he was within the familiar walls of his assigned cabin, located along the grounds of Kern Canyon National Park, it would be an indication he wouldn't have to do much patrolling. Campers usually stayed put if there was rainfall, sticking to their own site and not off doing God knows what to the land Stan takes pride in preserving. Cascading a thick husk of superiority and knowledge was his favorite thing about the job, which is why he was disappointed he was stuck maintaining the watchtower for tonight.

The surveillance for the watchtower was run by a tight knit schedule of volunteers and the occasional firefighter that needed a change of scenery for a couple days. Needless to say with all the strange occurrences and sightings, there have been less and less people willing to take on the task. And now the duty was bestowed upon the park ranger— at least for tonight. He swore to himself that at sunrise he would be out of there and back to being the persistent, vexing gum stuck to the bottom of everyone's shoe.

Stan now sat in a wobbly chair, feet propped up on the desk and his trusty binoculars in hand. His surroundings were darkening, quicker than they would at his cabin because of the parade of trees towering over the area. He could mostly only see shadows and the outlines of the forest. His paranoia kept him on the lookout, knowing all too well what kind of perilous entities the park harbored, dark secrets he was trusted in keeping.

It was why his body jolted and he nearly fell out of his seat at a sign of movement. His hands itched to drop the binoculars and reunite with the shotgun propped up in the corner. His burst of anxiety was halted, however, once the lenses revealed a person. A wandering, soaked person clearly becoming victim to the thunderstorm that had been periodically easing and worsening for the past two hours.

Stan stood, walking over to the window with his binoculars hanging from the strap around his neck. He easily pried it open and stuck out his head. The drizzle of rain didn't reach him because of the roof stretching out along the perimeter of the watchtower, but he still felt the dip in the temperature. He estimated that it had dropped at least fifteen degrees since the start of the storm, the disappearance of the sun only escalating the drafty change.

He was about to shout down at what is most certainly a woman who had strayed too far from her campsite but then she twisted around, finally noticing the light emitting from up above. Recognization crumbles both of their attentive expressions. She becomes more than a drenched, carmine tank top, huddled body, and ropes of wet hair. He transforms into the exact opposite of a saving grace when his beige uniform and ironically angelic face are perceived.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Stalking your ex, eh?" Stan called down to her. The pattern of swift and drawned out words, swirled into a provoking and often mocking Australian accent, reached her ears over the light patter of rainfall.

She sighed, dramatically enough for Stan to see the rise and fall of her diaphragm. She considered turning around and braving the unknown of the wilderness again. If it wasn't for her sore feet and her prediction that she would develop some sort of hyperthermia if she stayed out in the cold, then she would've already been on her way.

"We went out on one date. You don't count as an ex," she clarified, craning her neck up at him. His smirk from knowing she was in a miserable condition and that he was the only one that could do anything about it ignited the first sense of heat she had felt in awhile. Her fists clenched against her crossed arms. "And you're the one with the pervy binoculars. On the prowel for half-naked campers, are you?"

He scoffed, winding his head to the side for a moment. "Enough with the bullshit. Are you coming up or not?"

In any other situation, he probably would've dragged their reunion out, teased her for being so helpless and naive. But she was shivering and looked so small curling into herself; it was a sight that played his heartstrings like a mystical harp. Even after a date gone wrong and the resentment that followed, he couldn't bare to see her like this.

She, on the other hand, still clung to some hesitation. Cozying up in a small, confined space with Stan where there were no other people around to ground her into the realms of sanity wasn't a compelling option. The both of them simply didn't get along. The nightmare of their date was very vivid in her mind, too, and she didn't want tonight to be a repeat of that.

Almost like nature could sense her doubts, thunder crackled and reverberated around the forest. Lightning flashed, incandescent and forbiding. The rain intensified, hitting her bare skin with a harsh force. Muddy shoes stumble forward a few steps but still don't gravitate towards the ladder.

"Better move your ass, sweetheart! Unless you'd prefer to get struck by lightning? Not to mention all the dangerous things lurking around that you haven't the slightest idea about."

Undeniable complacency was weaved into his taunt. However, it did get her moving. If she would've bothered to look up or if there wasn't such vast distance between them from their differing heights, she might've seen the concern nestled into glimmering, cobalt eyes.

Suffering through a climb where her wobbly legs and white knuckles were put the use, she eventually made it to top. Stan already had the latch swung open, bent down in the center of the room and waiting for her with an outstretched arm. Reluctantly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her inside the watchtower.

"Crickey, you're freezing," he murmured. There was a softness to his features and the low timber of his voice. He'd even began rubbing over her fingers with his own, attempting to summon some warmth back into him, before he realized what he was doing and backed away.

"That's what happens when you get lost and separated from your friends and then get caught up in a storm," she summed up, monotonous.

"Your friends are idiots," Stan muttered.

She was about to deter the insults back his way until she suddenly felt a subtle weight on her shoulders. The scent combination of spearmint gum and lingering campfire smoke was sensed with a mere sniffle, and soon her hands were reaching up to pull on the sage green trim of his coat.

"You don't even know them," she settled for saying.

"They let you get lost, didn't they?" Stan's eyes found her wide ones, squinting slightly in familiar anger, but she could tell—this time at least—it wasn't directed towards her. "Yeah, bunch of mates, they are."

It was her turn to break the intimacy blossoming between them. She disconnects their stare that was inevitably going to convey all the unspoken feelings that still flourished inside of her to spare a glance over his shoulder. The furnace filled with a burning stack of dry wood lures her away from Stan, and she kneels down in front of it.

His hands go to his belt, elbows bent outward like he was posing as a chicken. He was unsettled by how consumed he was by his emotions. He wanted to give her space but then he finds himself reaching for her. He wanted to remain civil but the distaste in her tone and her infuriating, unreasonable glare casted towards him causes him to delve into his own hostile urges. The confusion of what to do and how to deal with her presence was boardering on insufferable.

But facing her, watching her beneath the firelight, the strain of his internal compass ebbed. He was no longer directionless or purposeless. The orange glare enducing a riveting shine to her hair and her tranquil countenance she upheld gazing into the flames had him feeling certain in just about every single thing that made the universe, the universe.

"You're staring," she whispers, a tremble in her reply she blames on recovering from the weather.

"And you won't even look over at me for a second." His observation coaxes her into peering at him, finding that he enclosed the distance between them by a few steps. A playful smile twitches across his lips. "What? Don't like a man in uniform?"

"I wouldn't be bragging about your outfit, Stan. You're a glorified Boy Scout," she remarks, rising from her position on her knees. Her thumb and pointer finger pinch the small, golden slate pinned to his shirt. "Even have badges and everything,"

"Get your grubby little hands away from my name tag. You're gonna smudge it," he grumbles, smacking her hand away; she lets out a humorless, short-lived laugh at his overreaction.

"Still an uptight asshole, I see."

"Still a mouthy brat, then?"

His retort makes her face harden. "Being honest doesn't make me a mouthy brat."

"Just inconsiderate?"

"You're preaching to me about being inconsiderate? You live off of ridiculing people. On our date, you insulted and humiliated our waiter because he didn't know the exact species of deer mounted to the wall."

"I was just taking a moment to educate him!"

"You called him a fumbling idiot who didn't know the basic fundamentals of biology!"

"Oh, like you were any better! Shoving your tits into the bartender's face to get free drinks!" He throws his hands up, easily overtaken by frustration and unresolved jealously.

"I know how much you make, Stan. You should be thanking me for that," she says slowly, deliberately, bringing up the one thing she knows will push him over the edge. He takes the bait, but she doesn't expect what he throws back at her.

"You're right. Thank you, sweetheart, for acting like such a slut on our first date that all anyone had to do for dessert was crouch down between your open legs."

Her mouth dropped at his statement. His exasperation dissolves to shock at processing his own harsh comment. He isn't able to focus on it for long, though, because she properly acts by allowing her palm to connect to his cheek.

Head snapped to the side, he can begin to taste a droplet of blood on his tongue, emitting from where his incisor pinched his bottom lip. He licks over the minor wound thoughtfully, heaving out a breath of false amusement. When he looks at her again, his face is dark and full of cruel intentions of revenge.

Stan surges forward and doesn't stop until her body crashes against the wall like she was just a bag of dismantled bones. His coat falls from her shoulders and slumps against the hardwood floor during the journey. His towering height and weight pin her in place, leaving her at the mercy of splayed hands and the relentless motions of his mouth against hers.

The awakening, leftover flavor of gum he must've chewed eariler just sinks in when he bites down hard on her lip. A whimper, the first sound she makes besides the ejection of a surprised gasp, is forced out her from the harsh gesture. A metallic taste replaces the one prior, one eager swipe of his tongue rolling past her parted lips.

The instinct to shoot her hands up and enmesh them in the soft, chestnut strands of his cropped hair is interrupted by an action of his own. He eases the intensity of the kiss, allowing her to breathe through languid, desperate puckers she reciprocates, but his fingers hook around both her bra and tank top straps, yanking them down her arms. She lifts herself out of them only to have him grasp the collar of her shirt and pull it down, her bra in tow, until they were just bundled material around her midriff.

Calloused hands fondled her breasts while his mouth diverts to her neck, sucking and nipping until her skin resembled the colorful patches of a quilt. She throws her head back against the wall, leaning into his touch and letting out the most delicate moans that had all of his blood gushing to the apex of his legs; she felt proof of it when he rutted himself against her.

Her forearms are squeezed between their bodies so she can reach the buttons of his shirt, manicured fingers working hastily and with not as much care she knew Stan would've liked, but he seemed to be too preoccupied by kissing her all over. Soon her hands were tugging up the white t-shirt he always wore underneath his uniform, and he helped her out by shifting it over his head and discarding it to the growing pile of clothes.

His chest was warm and inviting compared to hers. Her skin felt like cool marble underneath his fingertips, keeping her nipples pebbled and sweat from the heated exchange at bay. It was quite a contrast as their bodies continued to press together, her hands sliding along the expanse of his taut back while he concentrated on undoing her shorts.

"All mine," he mumbled against her jaw; it was certainly hard to disagree with him and all his handsy clutches and kisses that left her craving more.

"All yours," she confirmed softly.

The words barely left her mouth before she felt the heart-jolting sensation that was his hand sliding past her unzipped shorts and underwear. His fingers ran up and down down her folds, taking his time, ever the explorer. He often grazed her clit, encouraging her hips to arch into him for more direct contact, but he was careful to only give her a slight, fleeting amount.

"Stan." His name parted from her in a low whine—somewhat shamefully because she never thought she'd be in this circumstance, begging a hardass park ranger with a major superiority complex for a release.

"So wet for me. Awful naughty of you to get this soaked from one arguement with me, don't you think?"

She nuzzled her face into the side of his, nose brushing along his chiseled cheekbone. "Please."

"Aw, look at you. So sweet. You'd never think that you live to slander me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am nothing but nice to you."

"Oh?" He inserts his middle finger into her, curling it precisely, while the heel of his hand grinds against her clit with every deliberate pump.

"Yes," she gasps.

Shallow pants gradually rack through her torso, and the ache of his throbbing cock becomes unbearable at the sight of her defenseless against his advances. He adds another finger, the grip and warmth of her slick walls causing him to shudder in anticipation.

"Such a little liar," he groans out after a particularly provocative contraction around his digits, one that rids him of whatever patience he had left.

He abruptly removes his hand from her shorts, something that makes her closed eyes flicker open. Her mouth immediately morphs into a pout and she squeezes his biceps in protest.

She isn't left waiting for long, hands on her hips guiding her away from the wall until the underside of her knees hit the edge of a cot. His mouth parts from hers once more, a sweet dragging of overlapped lips exchanged during the slow steps, so he can pull back the blanket. She looks over her shoulder at the neatly presented cot, which Stan must've brought with him along with his own fitted bedspread. She was now appreciative that he always came prepared.

Without having to be told, she crawled underneath the covers after ridding herself of the remainder of her clothing. Stan did the same once she was settled, becoming the final layer that draped over her body. The blanket and the crisp white of a top sheet stopped at the dimples of his back, and she was trapped in warmth, intensified by the glorious weight of his bare body on hers. Arms on either side of her head latch the cage as he leans down for another kiss.

"Don't mistake me keeping you warm as forgiveness. I'm still very mad at you. You drive me crazy," he sighs against her jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against the apple of her cheek.

"Don't mistake me moaning for you as an apology. You don't deserve one." Her strokes at the nape of his neck never faltered. Her thighs spread, legs winding around his, desperate for him to do something with his cock that laid twitching and swollen on her navel. "Well, you might if you fuck me hard enough."

"Shut up already."

Long fingers brick over her parted mouth in time with the repositioning of his hips, muffling the cries of consumption that came from him sinking inside of her. Eyes roll to the back of her head, almost completely sated by just the feeling of being filled. The head of his shaft glided against her most sensitive spot like a brush of shoulders, and her thighs tightening around his waist was her turning around, ready to chase shattering gratification.

Although slow, his thrusts into her were brutal. They held onto to each other like you would to ropes of a ruinous bridge connecting two cliffs, like they would be faced with a plummeting death if they were to let go. And yet, they were fighting along the wobbly planks, the semicircles of hip bones clashing together like medieval swords. It was all extremes, but neither of them would have it any other way.

He was making the most beautiful sounds above her. Through his ruthless motions, were breathy moans and whines of her name, the occasional praise intertwined into his enticing responses. Eventually, he allowed his hand to stop sealing her lips, sliding it down to clutch the flesh of her thigh with the promise of bruises. Her soft pleas and moans of euphoria joined his to create a symphony worthy of a ballet orchestra.

Strings of saliva conntected rouge lips to the marked skin of his neck, where she continued to suckle and playfully nip. The roll of their bodies picked up speed, both becoming impatient by the delicious ache they kept provoking, daring one another to spasm out of control. They craved for their muscles to become a tightrope and for the most intimate parts of them to pulsate from the finality of release.

"You've never looked prettier than you do right now. Your cunt squeezing me so tight, your mouth only able to form breathless whispers... completely wrecked. I love it."

"Please," she cannot help but beg, flickering eyes undecided on whether to shut her continue their hazy, half-lidded stare into his own.

"You want to come?" The inward pull of his eyebrows and the slight curl of his parted mouth way as well have been a mocking pout. "I know you do. I shouldn't even let you, though. You've been intolerable. I should just come all over your writhing body and leave you here without any satisfaction. Even if you were to finish yourself off, it wouldn't be enough. It would only feel subpar, and you know that, don't you?" His breath fans her face like the furnace had moments ago, and she can only whimper in reply. "Only I can sate you, sweetheart."

Her hands, whose nails had already inflicted damage to the freckled canvas of his back, sweep over his shoulders to cup his jaw. Her thumb strokes his jawline while the other ventures down the column of his throat, feeling the bob of his adam's apple with every constristing swallow he took. She could tell he was close, too, and decided to nod her head gently in agreement to his words, to wave her white flag.

Her surrender is reassured by fingertips dragging down her torso to her enlarged clit, granting bone-vanishing swipes that causes stuttered gasps and limbs going slack. It only takes a few seconds of coaxing rubbing for her release to erupt, the molten lava bursting from the pit of her stomach to electrify just about every nerve in her body. Her encompassing walls clutch around him so tightly that it summons a delirious climax from him.

His strenuous pace wavers, his hold on the cot becoming prudent, as if it was a buoy keeping him afloat through the thrashing waves of pleasure. White, sticky ribbons coat the inside of her thighs, and it's only when his heartbeat ebbs from his eardrums that he cracks his eyes open and collaspes into the small remaining space between her and the wall.

Stan speaks after catching his breath, remaining pants interwoven into his declaration. "This should've happened sooner."

"It would've if you weren't such a prick," she noted, sparing him a quick glance.

"Okay, maybe... I wasn't on my best behavior. But I was nervous. I liked you a lot. I wanted to impress you."

"And you thought bragging about how you're a know-it-all when it comes to plants and wildlife and the park's terrain was going to the trick?"She questioned, snorting at his logic. His nose twitch, an indicator of embarrassment, and she grabs his arm and tucks herself into his side. "You're such a dork."

He smiled at the gesture before she continued, "I'm sorry that I flirted with the bartender. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were second best or anything. Honest to God, I just wanted free stuff."

"Well, the cream puffs you got out of it were actually delicious," Stan admitted, tilting his head in her direction.

She smiled back at him. "I know, right?"

Stan may not be a prime example of a good guy but he had always took glory in being good at his job. That's what kept him going, that's what fueled him all these years. Now, he was considering what life entailed outside of that. Outside of the stressful responsibilities and government conspiracies and the never-ending studious tendencies. She came to him for refuge tonight, but, the truth is, he had been relying on her for a long time. To fascinate him, to stand up to him, to guide him back to where he belonged.

He felt like he was finally pursuing something that was more important than his duties here, than anything else he's ever experienced. He was an off-bound ship, cruising blind into the dead of the night, and she was a lighthouse, promising purpose and salvation from every bad thing that ever tried to sink him.

// idk who to tag but i think @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme & @instinctsxbaby might be interested (you’re all so talented)!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Under a dome

It was strange, living on the bottom. At least it felt, now and then, like any of the things we'd seen in the Floornight before the dome's appearance. It was strange to have one's surroundings be what had become familiar.

"Floordropped," it had been called. I'd seen the word go by many times, but each time it had seemed oddly alien. This was a word that, for the first time, felt very natural to me. It was a word which could have meant, and which would have meant, almost anything, and here was its natural home. It would be a word of the future, but it could have begun its life as a word of now.

"All of the strange things that make living in the dome strange are going to have their name. And not just some weird, whimsical or pejorative name, but an observable and specific name. One that, at least by my standards, can be used to express a single distinct set of meanings and concepts."

(In the following note, I try to describe how I felt, at the time, the first time it was said. For clarity's sake, I've chosen to replace every instance of "Floornight" with "post-Floornight.")

"What does it mean?" was my first thought, and I asked it before I had the slightest inkling of the answer. "It was only after, that evening, that I thought: well, what does it mean?"

It was at about this time -- the evening after the conversation that led to this realization -- that I met the first of the new arrivals. It was one of those strange situations where the name "Floornight" felt entirely natural, and even -- for the time being, at least -- completely appropriate.

They called themselves EPRN. I was told that these were just their initials, E, P, R, and N. They said they were the Extended Physics Research Network, and this seemed like a very precise and clear enough explanation. My mind was still very fuzzy.

"So you're going to study it -- just what is it? What's down there?" I said, more out of a desire to know the answer than out of any real curiosity.

"That's just it, Dave," they said. "We don't exactly know what we'll find when we go down there. There's a lot of weird shit that's been bubbling up for years, now, about how the fundamental nature of the physical world might be very different from what we've always thought. Some of it seems like it could be true, or at least worthy of study. Some of it just seems silly, and some of it is outright false. Some of it may even be good news. But we don't have the time to study it all, and the more we do the more we may find out about what we might find when we do."

(Here was my first inkling, of all the words and ideas to come.)

"So what does it mean, that you called it 'Floornight?'"

"We've just been calling it that, for short."

"Why?"

"Well, you're used to the phrase 'bottom-up' theory. Right? A lot of the theories we've studied come from it. And it does come from down there, you have to keep in mind, when you think about it."

"No, I don't think I get it. Why isn't it just a theory, then?"

"Well, the theory says the world is not like what we have believed it to be. It says the world is different, but we haven't yet figured out which way."

(I thought of that "one more step" argument. I had just begun to see some kind of light, and it would not have been fair, just then, to ask further questions of these strange people.)

"Yes, but the bottom-up theories we've studied in the past, they didn't discover the world was different -- they didn't do anything to show us what the different things were -- it was just an argument, a series of steps and hypotheses. We've never discovered what the world is really like down there. We can't have, because it's been here before we got here. We think there's a lot more to learn about it, now, than we did a few months ago, but the new things we're learning don't say a whole lot about what it really is, to be honest. It's a mystery, like most of what's under that dome, which we can hope to understand in full. Not just our understanding of it, but what it is. We want to understand, just how it is, what's there."

"But that's kind of the entire problem, isn't it? We can't understand what it is. There are things we don't understand now. There are things we've learned that have only just begun to take shape in our minds, and there are things that we don't even know we don't know."

"There's another word for it, though -- the word for 'theory' comes from the Greek root for 'theory' -- theos, 'divine.' We'll call it, the 'theory of the divine' --"

"You mean theology."

"Sure, theology. But I know what theology was back when it meant that. That doesn't mean it's the same thing."

"What were you saying about the bottom-up theories we've studied?"

"You're right, we've never proven anything in that way. All that has been proven is the possibility. To start with, what did the bottom-up theories have to say about the actual physical reality, about the objects in space and time? What was down there when the first theories came about?"

"I don't think they ever addressed that," I said.

"Correct. What do they have to say now, when we have the materials to answer it? We'd have to be there to answer it. That's where we want to go, with this mission. We'd have to get into there, that's where the theory is."

"But --" I said.

"But what, Dave?"

"But we'll need a theory, first, so we can understand what we'll be finding --"

"I agree. But once we find it, what then? What are you going to do with it? When you're in there, who do you expect to find?"

"Who do you mean?"

"Well, the theory. It's not just going to tell you 'x' because we say so, and then you say 'y' and it says 'z.' What's going to happen with it?"

"I don't know. I mean, I expect I'll be able to make some guesses. But -- this is just the theory of the divine, and we won't really know what the divine is until we discover that, and we'll have to discover that while we're in there. The theory

[liesmyteachertoldme]

Education as a Battleground

If you want to see the problem with American education, look at a chart illustrating the comparative growth in the number of students, teachers, and district administrators in our public schools in the period between 2000 and 2019. (See the chart below.) The number of district administrators grew by a whopping 87.6 percent during these years, far outstripping the growth in the number of students (7.6 percent) and teachers (8.7 percent).

In illustrating the difference in these rates of growth, the chart also illustrates a fundamental change that has come over our nation as a whole during this period—a change in how we govern ourselves and how we live. To say a change is fundamental means that it concerns the foundation of things. If the foundation changes, then the things built on it are changed. Education is fundamental, and it has changed radically. This has changed everything else.

One way of describing the change in education today is that it provides a different answer than we have ever known to the question: who owns American children? Of course, no one actually owns the children. They are human beings, and insofar as they are owned, they own themselves. But by nature, they require a long time to grow up—much longer than most creatures—and someone must act on their behalf until they mature. Who is to do that?

Are these decisions the province of professional educators, who claim to be experts? Or are they the province of parents, who rely on common sense and love to guide them? In other words, is the title to govern children established by expertise or by nature as exhibited in parenthood? The first is available to a professionally educated few. The second is available to any human being who will take the trouble.

The natural answer to this question is contained in the way human beings come to be. Prior to recent scientific “advances,” every child has been the result of a natural process to which people have a natural attraction. “Natural” here does not mean what every single person wants or does—it means the way things work unless we humans intervene. 

In its essence, “nature” means the process of begetting and growth by which a mature, living thing comes to be. Not quite every human being is attracted to the natural process of human reproduction, but nearly all are—and when the process works to produce a baby, it works that way and no other way. 

This process of human reproduction and growth works for two reasons. The first is that human beings, when mature, are capable of so much more than other creatures. Almost from birth we learn to talk, a rational function that indicates decisive differences from other creatures. Because of reason and speech we are moral beings, capable of distinguishing among kinds of things and therefore of knowing and doing right and wrong. Also because of them we are social beings, able to understand and explain things to one another that other creatures do not understand and cannot discuss. This draws us closer together than even herd or swarm animals. 

We are unique in possessing these capacities, and it is in this specific respect that our nation’s founders declared that “all men are created equal.” This equality has nothing to do with the color of anyone. Its source is the unique, immaterial, rational soul of the human being. One of my teachers used to respond to the claims of animal rights advocates that one must not be cruel to any creature, but that only those who can talk are entitled to vote. 

The second reason in nature that makes human reproduction unique is our especially long period of maturation. For months, human babies are simply helpless; without constant attention they will starve. For years afterwards they must develop the skills and knowledge that are uniquely available to the human being. Both the skills and the knowledge are natural, meaning all human beings can obtain them, but both take time. Each child does the work of obtaining them, but each child needs help. Modern educators often mistake the work of helping them to learn for actually doing the learning for them. The second is impossible.

The skills of reading, writing, and arithmetic are direct exercises of the rational faculty. They are in principle the same thing as talking, and in principle every child will learn much of them unassisted. Just watch a child grow up to the age of two. He or she begins very early to respond to things with comprehension. Words soon follow. Children copy adults for the use of words, but they are doing all the work of learning. Little wonder that human beings take a long time to mature: they have so much to learn. 

Raising a child has always been difficult and expensive. With rare exceptions, it has always been true that the parents who conceive the child raise him the best. And throughout American history, it has been thought that the family is the cradle of good citizenship and therefore of free and just politics. Public education is as old as our nation—but only lately has it adopted the purpose of supplanting the family and controlling parents. 

[yoonpobs]

things change | jhs

pairing: jung hoseok x oc

genre: FLUFFFFFF, established relationship

words: 3, 377

summary: when you're an unlikely pair but it works

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t with her?” Yoongi slurs, his alcohol breath apparent enough for Hoseok to scrunch in his direction.

Hoseok knew, though. What he meant. Drunk Yoongi got sentimental and curious, two perceptions that were dangerous independently and possibly collateral together.

“I don’t.” Hoseok shrugs.

Because being with you was the best thing that’s happened to him and he would be a crazy man to ever put himself through the angst of imagining a world that he was Jung Hoseok without you by his side. It was cheesy and he was sure if he said it to your face you’d groan and shove him by the shoulder. But he’s always been observant and he’d be the first to see the way your eyes soften in a way that no one else can notice but him.

“I do.” Yoongi snorts.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He’s careful with his words because Yoongi was no snitch, even if he was absolutely wasted. But Hoseok can’t say his interest isn’t piqued. Especially when he surrendered himself to the DD (designated driver) of the group.

“It’s just”—Yoongi sighs, sitting up and his drink sloshes in his cup when he places it onto the table—“I’ve said this before and you’ve probably heard this a thousand times but the two of you are so different.”

Hoseok remains silent but doesn’t do anything to give away the thoughts floating through his mind. He was half-expecting the same words to leave his friend's mouth, but having it be confirmed only makes Hoseok internalise his sighs.

“Yeah. You and every person who’s seen the two of us together.” Hoseok grunts.

“Look. I know you hate it when people point it out.” Yoongi says. “And I’m not here to tell you what you already know and on a fundamental level, we both know that the birds of a feather flock together bullshit is redundant and unrealistic. It’s just that every time I see the two of you together—it works. And it’s bewildering maybe because I can’t ever imagine _____ letting you win an argument.”

Hoseok blinks. “She doesn’t.”

Yoongi snickers, throwing the last bit of his drink down his throat before leaning back into the plush booth of the club they were at.

When Jin suggested throwing a bachelor party at one of the hottest nightclubs in Seoul, Yoongi and Hoseok almost ditched purely because the two of them had girlfriends and they didn’t really want to hear the end of the story if a stripper suddenly thought they were free game for the night.

Frankly, Yoongi’s girl was far more possessive but she was sweet. She just didn’t like it when people were actively trying to sleep with her boyfriend.

You, on the other hand, were simply unbothered. It wasn’t because you didn’t care—because you did. Hoseok knew that even if you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d joke about going to a strip club with the boys. But you weren’t insecure, and that wasn’t to say that women who were outwardly concerned were. You were just assured, and you made an effort to let Hoseok know that he needed you as much as you needed him—so anything he did wouldn’t just hurt you, but him too.

“It’s just that you’re basically the most cheerful dude I know and I don’t think I’ve seen you ever frown at anyone. Even the barista who fucked up our order four times.” Yoongi recalls. “Then there’s ____ who’s resting face literally is a big fuck you to anyone who breathes in her direction.”

Hoseok snorts, sipping his virgin cocktail. Even if he wasn’t the DD, he couldn’t do alcohol so the minty flavour of his drink was a night refresher for a tiring night (though he spent it just moping in his seat while the rest of his single friends partied away).

“I get mad too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Yeah. Barely. Even then—you’re the most diplomatic person I know and you have a way of talking to people to get your point across without making them fear for their lives the next morning.” Yoongi deadpans.

“And sometimes diplomacy isn’t necessary.” Hoseok retorts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m not shitting on your girlfriend. You don’t need to play social justice warrior here.”

Hoseok sighs before leaning back, mirroring the man spread Yoongi was in while he ponders his next set of words carefully.

Yoongi was probably one of the most chill people Hoseok knows, and maybe that was why they got along so well. Yoongi was a take-no-shit kind of man who was truly sensitive under all the intimidating layers he showed the world. Hoseok was just nice, but he was no pushover. It was a good balance that came out when necessary.

So Hoseok didn’t want to rub Yoongi the wrong way and tell him to stop talking about petty differences between him and you but also wanted to satiate the curiousity that lingers in his eyes.

“I know,” Hoseok says. A girl nearly topples into their booth but Hoseok spots his younger friend Taehyung grabbing her by the waist and shooting the two men a sleazy wink before he stalks off with her in his arms. Yoongi rolls his eyes but Hoseok can’t even be bothered.

“I mean,” Yoongi drawls. “Based on what you told me I know that the two of you don’t even want the same things in the future. And again—not saying there’s anything wrong with that—but didn’t you want kids for the longest time?”

Hoseok nods his head, deciding against his words.

Yoongi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, nodding slowly as if he was processing Hoseok’s words.

“How did that … do you still want kids?”

“I want what _____ wants.”

Yoongi groans. “You sound like a total pushover.”

Hoseok levels a strict stare onto his friend, and even if Yoongi was older—there was something about a man who never got angry shooting him an intense stare that could make Yoongi zip his mouth.

“And kids aren’t endgame to a relationship. I love her, and yeah—I want kids. But she’s important to me and she’s here now. There isn’t a reason for me to condemn her or push her for a future that doesn’t exist yet. She’s the one carrying the baby for nine months and it’s her decision whether or not we have kids. Whether or not a kid comes along doesn’t matter to me because I’m with her because I love her and not because of a kid that isn’t real.”

Yoongi blinks. Then he huffs a breath out before letting out a low chuckle.

“Wow.”

“I know you don’t mean any harm but I don’t need to explain to anyone why _____ and I work so well together. But because you’re my best friend and you get oddly sentimental when you’re drunk I’ll spell it out for you and you better hope you’re sober enough to remember this tomorrow because I won’t repeat it again.” Hoseok says firmly.

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the serious tone Hoseok shifted to and observes the way Hoseok looks stern yet … soft, all at the same time.

“_____ is tough. In more ways than her exterior. She knows what she wants and what she’s ready for. And it was a goddamn miracle that she decided that what she wants and what she’s ready for was me. Yeah, she’s terrifying but she’s human—her heart is still pure and she’s a kind woman—person. Sure she’s systematic and needs an answer for everything but I’m her boyfriend and I’ll make sure that I can give her all the answer she needs to feel safe in this relationship. And yeah—we may not want the same things. She doesn’t want to get married but I do. But marriage isn’t endgame to me. She is. She wanted to move in together but I was iffy about it. So we live apart. That doesn’t change the nature of our love and she still loves me even if all I do is annoy her. So yeah. I’m willing to compromise and so is she. We’re different but we’re together.”

Hoseok is still calm as ever and there’s even a hint of a small smile on his face. The fact he’s smiling only testifies to the fact that you and Hoseok were so different from each other.

Yoongi is stunned to silence and sure he’s a quiet man but he usually had things to say, opinions to add. But Hoseok’s proclamation of your love only makes him sit in silence, letting the words dissipate in the atmosphere but remain in his conscience.

“Wow,” Yoongi repeats his words from earlier, but it’s all he can muster up.

Hoseok offers his friend a kind smile, sipping the rest of his drink while his friend can only stare at his nonchalant demeanour.

“And if you still don’t see it.” Hoseok grins. “There’s a reason why you don’t. I’m the only one that gets to fall in love with her like this.”

Yoongi whistles lowly before rolling his eyes. “No need to get possessive.”

“I’m a man in love. Sue me.” Hoseok shrugs with a slight smirk.

Yoongi gags at the cheesiness even if he finds himself internally grinning at his best friends blatant love for his girlfriend. He was sure it was the alcohol that was making him mushy—or perhaps Hoseok has always looked the way he did when he spoke about you. Eyes bright under dark lights and the heart-shaped smile of his becoming wider.

“If it counts for anything …” Yoongi trails off, offering a lazy smile to Hoseok. “I really hope she does marry you.”

Hoseok scoffs at Yoongi’s blatant optimism. Sure, he wanted that. He wanted nothing more than to see you in white, smiling only at him—or even with your usual stoic face—he doesn’t care. But he knew that the event itself would never change the fact that he wanted to be with you, now and forever. If fate wills, he’d marry you in a heartbeat. But Hoseok was content—and more importantly, he was in love.

“It doesn’t. But thanks.”

extra scene

“Hi, my love and my absolute sunshine.” Hoseok coos the next morning, and that’s the first thing he says when you open the door to your apartment; eyes already rolling to the back of your head.

“Did you do anything to piss me off?” You ask dryly.

Hoseok snickers, but pulls you in by your shoulders to give you a wet smooch to your lips that has you whining. You don’t push him away because you knew it was just the two of you and possibly one of your snooping neighbours.

“As you love to remind me during arguments—my existence is enough to do that, no?”

You nod your head, patting him gently on the cheek as you offer a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad you’re on the road to self-actualisation.”

Your boyfriend snorts, stepping into your apartment as he makes sure to leave his shoes on the shoe rack instead of idly laying on the floor because you were anal about things like that. And he missed you so he didn’t want you shooting him death stares just yet.

“You keep me on my feet.” Hoseok flirts, tone a little sleazy and you can’t help but sigh at your boyfriend's antics even though a hint of a smile marks your face.

When Hoseok settles into your couch, he immediately spots a wrapper that looked like it went into gift boxes—a pretty shade of green, which was his favourite colour. He immediately leans forward and eyes it with furrowed brows before looking up at you.

“My pretty baby got me a gift?” He wiggles said brows as you scoff at him, plopping into the seat next to him as you lean into his embrace.

“See for yourself.” You shrug, face still remaining blank.

Hoseok chuckles, already expecting your reaction even though everything about the placement of the wrapper to the strategic colour scheme of it screamed a gift for Hoseok. He knew you still got flustered when you did nice things for him, even if he’d argue that was on a daily basis because you were just a loud lover in a way that let your actions speak for your affection.

He wants to coddle you further, snuggle you so hard that you’d whine and attempt to shove him away until you decide that you secretly love it and hold him tight. He was so in love. But he placates the shift of your knee in a way he knew was due to your patience wearing thin.

So, he picks up the wrapper and realised that it was much lighter than he’d expected; and lacked the density of a usual present. It almost seemed like you were pulling a prank on him for no apparent reason. But Hoseok trusted you and knew that you weren’t the type to pull shit like that because you just had better things to do.

He unravels each crevice, eyes still searching for the gift that somehow never comes—all until he finally settles on a stick that he vaguely recognises from pharmacies that he never thought would be in his hands, staring up at him with two straight lines.

The silence is loud, but Hoseok is stunned. His mouth falls agape as he cradles the pregnancy test in his palm, eyes not bothering to look at your nervous expression. One that rarely comes from you just because you were an assured person in general and seldom needed validation from others.

But you loved Hoseok and you knew deep down that he’d always have an effect on you, words or actions—presence or not.

“Hobi?” You call softly, voice nervous as you fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he blankly stares at the test.

You’re terrified you made a mistake—or if he’s changed his mind because of your pessimism on the idea of having children. Sometimes you wonder how Hoseok could love you, all edges and harsh lines when you spoke. A woman who was either black and white or purely a grey area. Hoseok was the rainbow on dark days and brightened any environment.

You can’t read Hoseok’s face, and it scares you. Because you usually can since he was an open book. So when he finally turns to you, and you finally get a proper glimpse of his expression—

First, you see tears.

“I-Is this …?” He chokes.

Your eyes widen, immediately reaching out to cradle his cheeks as an involuntary reaction.

“Why are you crying?” You feel yourself tearing up and you try to suppress it. There was something about you being so connected to Hoseok and his feelings that made everything he felt translate to your own conscience.

“Y-You—I-I—you’re pregnant?” He whispers, eyes returning to the stick.

You nod your head slowly. “I am.”

Hoseok nibbles on his lips and you wait patiently for his next response. You can more or less guess that he’s happy yet confused, the conversation of potentially having kids never really showing any progress. But he’s been patient and so loving—and you thought you’d never shake but here you were.

The next thing you know, Hoseok is wrapping his arms around you so tightly that it hurts as you try to gasp for air. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck in a way that makes all your edges turn round, and your heart melt from the stone wall it was into a flurry of emotions that only he can bring out of you.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He asks softly, pulling away to clasp his palms around your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“We are.” You reply, equally as soft; eyes and tone. “You’re going to be a father, Hobi.”

And somehow, that breaks him. He can’t stop the tears nor can you. So you allow him to cry, and you allow yourself to feel too; holding each other close as you feel his hand reach out for your stomach. And you can’t deny the butterflies that erupt.

When he manages to regain his composure, wiping at his eyes; he looks at you so earnestly and gives you a wide smile that drew you in from the moment you met, and grown to love.

“You really want this?” He asks, eyes concerned but tone irrevocably gentle. You knew he wasn’t doubting your choices, but respecting them.

You nod your head.

“For the longest time … I thought kids weren’t for me. That I wouldn’t be a good mother because of how I am.” You tell him, and you see Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow and you know he’s thinking about denying that. But Hoseok has never been the type to interrupt you while talking. “And maybe I won’t be, maybe I will. But having you here with me just reassures me to know that our baby will have the greatest, most loving and most patient father out there.”

Hoseok’s eyes soften, knowing how big of a decision this must’ve been for you.

“I love you.” He whispers when he leans in to give you a slow kiss on your lips, one that wasn’t leading anywhere but was nice enough to feel the emotions pouring through.

You don’t say it back, but you look at him with gentle eyes that only he can recognise—and he knows. He knows your heart like you know his.

“You’ve compromised a lot of things for me, and I know I’m particular about many things. I have a plan ten years down the road of where I’d like to be in my life—and I never thought I’d be planning with a kid in mind.” You chuckle softly, and Hoseok pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head against his chest. “But you make me want to do things I’ve never done. And I really—I really want this baby. I want him or her to grow up thinking about how badass their parents were even though their mom is a total bitch and their dad is the mediator of the family.”

Hoseok snorts, brushing his hands through your hair.

“How long?” He asks.

You grin against his t-shirt, not looking up when you fiddle with the fabric of it.

“I’ve been feeling symptoms for a month now, and the test was from a week ago. I went to the doctor to be sure because I knew from the moment I suspected it that I wanted it to be true, for you, for me—for us.”

Hoseok tilts your chin up, offering you the smile you love so much and you feel so … happy.

“Next thing you know I’ll have you walking down the aisle.” Hoseok sighs, happy and content.

You roll your eyes, narrowing it at him as you push on his chest to sit up.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jung.”

Hoseok wraps his hand around the back of your neck before pulling you close to meet your lips again.

“Let a man dream.” He grins against the kiss.

He can feel your giggle and the way you do the thing that you do when you’re secretly ruffled but adore him way too much to pull away.

“You know this means we have to move in together, right?” You murmur against his lips.

Hoseok snorts. “Duh. But you know you already have a home in my heart, right?”

You expected it, but it doesn’t make it any less cheesy when you groan and shove at his chest. Hoseok cackles, fully loving the way you scrunch your eyebrows in distaste at him.

“I hate you.” You scowl.

“No, you don’t.” Hoseok sings, resting his head against your shoulder while he looks up at you with innocent eyes.

You’re happy, and so is he.

And a few months down the road, Hoseok drops a ring into your palm, no words or expectations. You roll your eyes, as usual; but you slip it onto your ring-ringer anyways.

[maxwell-grant]

What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

[adifferenttime]

Andrew Ryan vs. Robert House

On almost every House post I make, someone in the notes will reliably reference Andrew Ryan. I totally get it - they look similar, they're based on the same guy, the parallels are so clear that the NV dev team added an achievement for killing House with a golf club - but I think these commonalities tend to engulf both characters, blotting out some of their more interesting ideological/personal differences. It's useful to examine them in relation to one another, but part of that is figuring out what distinguishes them, which is just what I’ve attempted to do.

It's difficult for me to talk about Randian objectivism because I don't think it's sound enough to address on its own terms, but considering this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan has adopted, I kind of have to. What I’d identify as the core premise of Randian ethics is this: altruism is a moral wrong. Some Randians have argued that isn't really what they believe - that the real point is anything resembling altruism is self-interest in disguise - but they're departing from the beliefs of their icon when they make those claims. Per Rand:

The irreducible primary of altruism, the basic absolute is self-sacrifice – which means self-immolation, self-abnegation, self-denial, self-destruction – which means the self as a standard of evil, the selfless as a standard of the good.

The way Rand defines altruism is by linking it to self-sacrifice, which she uses to differentiate it from kindness or benevolence. Aiding others at no cost to yourself is benevolent, but not altruistic, and therefore not evil. Sacrificing your happiness to help another human being is, from Rand's perspective, evil, as is any philosophy that prioritizes the other at the cost of the self. This whole idea has been broadly rejected by most scholars on account of it being really fucking stupid. What justifies the leap from "man is naturally selfish" to "selfishness is good"? If selfishness is moral, wouldn't the most moral behavior be to exploit others through whatever means necessary, favoring force over the market? Rand defines happiness as "using your mind’s fullest power," achievable only when you "do not consider the pleasure of others as the goal," but why is this the only definition? What if your only options are self-sacrificial in nature? How do you weigh them if neither sacrifice is linked to values, individual achievement, or "your mind's fullest power" at all? Rand didn't care because she was too busy trying to ethically justify cheating on her man with her best friend's husband, but nonetheless, this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan’s adopted. He claims that "Altruism is the root of all Wickedness," in what's almost a direct quote from Rand herself.

To that end, Ryan builds a system that doesn’t just accept selfishness but actively incentivizes it. Every other principle he expresses is subservient to the ideas that selfishness rules man, and that for Ryan to act on his own selfish impulses is the highest good in the world. His lesser political principles (individual liberties, negative rights, the creation of a stateless society) don’t matter to him as much as the central precept from which they stem: that selfishness is his moral imperative.

What is the greatest lie every created? What is the most vicious obscenity ever perpetrated on mankind? Slavery? The Holocaust? Dictatorship? No. It's the tool with which all that wickedness is built: altruism.

It doesn't come as a particular surprise to me when he starts imprisoning dissidents or executing rivals or banning theft (standard practice in most societies, but not what an egoist would pursue; if you can get away with taking it, you deserve to have it, or so the thinking goes). I’ve seen him described as a hypocrite, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true considering everything he does is in line with his opposition to altruism. He'll adhere to his other principles only if they don’t sabotage his pursuit of personal power. This is evident in the fact that he only adopts a negative perception of Fontaine when his own interests are threatened, but doesn’t give two shits what Fontaine might be doing to sow conflict and harm people before that point. A guy named Gregory asks Ryan to step in against Fontaine early on before Fontaine's fully established himself as a threat to Ryan's power, and Ryan's extremely blase about it.

Don't expect me to punish citizens for showing a little initiative. If you don't like what Fontaine is doing, well, I suggest you find a way to offer a better product.

Contrast this with how he reacts when Fontaine has risen as a genuine business rival. This is from the log titled "Fontaine Must Go."

Something must be done about Fontaine. While I was buying buildings and fish futures, he was cornering the market on genotypes and nucleotide sequences. Rapture is transforming before my eyes. The Great Chain is pulling away from me.

This double standard is the natural outgrowth of his prioritization of self-interest. If your most deeply-held belief is that you should never give up your interests for others, ancillary rules become flexible in times of personal crisis, and Bioshock makes the case that putting someone like that in charge of a city will leave you with a crumbling, monstrous ruin.

Superficially, House has some similarities. Ryan executes political rivals; House has you blow up a bunker of his ideological opponents. Ryan is the highest authority in Rapture; House is the absolute monarch of Vegas. Their goals and moral codes, though, are almost diametrically opposed. When you ask House why you’re expected to trust him when he’s openly admitting to installing himself as the despot of the New Vegas Strip, he says this:

I have no interest in abusing others... Nor have I any interest in being worshipped as some kind of machine-god messiah. I am impervious to such corrupting ambitions.

Most of his resources are devoted to large-scale, impersonal projects, aimed either at building the power of Vegas or securing his long term goal of “progress” as he sees it. He’s rejected selfishness as a moral good because House is very far from Randian objectivism. He's a Hobbesian monarch.

In that respect, he shares an outlook on human nature with Ryan that I deeply disagree with (that human beings are essentially selfish), but in terms of what that means for the structure of a utopian society, House takes a very different position. From his perspective, human nature breeds suffering, not industriousness, and the only way to stamp out conflict - and, in a post-nuclear age, ensure the continued survival of the human race - is through a strong sovereign. The purpose of a state as laid out in Leviathan aligns very, very closely with the one House expresses.

...the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable condition of war which is necessarily consequent, as hath been shown, to the natural passions of men...

The monarch's successes are reflected in his society and the well-being of humanity as a whole. To subvert his goals is to subvert society's goals, and to doom humanity to the war, death, and suffering that exist in a state of nature. When you destroy his Securitrons/kill him, he doesn't plead for himself or get offended on his own behalf. He accuses you of betraying not him, but mankind.

Single-handedly, you've brought mankind's best hopes of forward progress crashing down. No punishment would be too severe. Fool... to let... personalities... derail future... of mankind? ...Stupid! Slavery... the future of... mankind? What... have you... done?

An important corollary of this idea which again distinguishes House from Ryan appears in Leviathan’s description of the political/moral responsibility of a monarch to his subjects:

...that great Leviathan, or rather, to speak more reverently, of that mortal god to which we owe, under the immortal God, our peace and defence. For by this authority... he hath the use of so much power that, by terror thereof, he is enabled to form the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mutual aid against their enemies abroad.

Hobbes and House give the monarch virtually unlimited power but match it to the monarch's duty, which he lives to fulfill. His obligation is to speak for the people, act for them, and protect them from all threats, internal and external. House generally abides by this, orienting his decisions around his goals for society irrespective of the personal cost (the negative consequences of his actions are a product of his fucked evaluations of what’s best for society, not personal greed). It’s not just a departure from Ryan’s philosophy but a complete refutation of it. He's almost died for what he's misidentified as the greatest good.

Given that I had to make do with buggy software, the outcome could have been worse. I nearly died as it was…. I spent the next few decades in a veritable coma.

This is not the behavior of an egoist. This is the behavior of an extremely arrogant but marginally altruistic (from a Randian perspective lmao) guy. This is some distorted “from each according to his ability” shit if you’ve managed to convince yourself your abilities exceed those of everyone else who has ever lived and that you can get the Mandate of Heaven by being really good at statistics.

The reason these guys develop such similar structures and hierarchies despite the ideological gulfs between them is because both of them are elitists who’ve experienced a massive failure of self-consciousness. They’re unable to conceive of other people as being fundamentally like them. Ryan separates people into the clearly-delineated classes of “producer” and “parasite,” ignoring the fact that everything he’s ever “produced” was reliant on a huge, coordinated effort between workers, architects, accountants, middlemen, and others, all of whom, in conjunction, contributed more to the realization of his dreams that he ever could have alone. Rather than realizing his own position is more parasitic and reliant on other people’s labor than that of anyone else in Rapture, he adheres to his doctrine of selfishness even when it’s not reflective of reality and is ruining the the lives of an entire city of people. He deludes himself into believing he’s a superman among ants instead of one flawed man who is reliant on the goodwill of others to help him survive, as are we all.

House, too, thinks he’s exceptional. Unlike Ryan, he acknowledges the necessity of the worker to a functioning society, but while he’ll accept his reliance on that labor, he doesn’t trust the laborer enough to share political power. House knows he’s invested in humanity’s survival and the creation of a better world, but he refuses to consider that he might not be alone in this goal. He chalks up the existence of the Legion to fanaticism/the ambitions of a sultanistic dictator and attributes everything the NCR has done to greed, without it ever occurring to him that the massive harm these nations have done was partially motivated by the same goals he’s devoted himself to - and that the atrocities he’s committed since his rise to power are, in some respects, very similar. House knows himself to be invested in the well-being of humanity, but he’s too arrogant to ask himself if his methods are wrong or trust other people to build a new path, one that doesn’t necessitate his complete control over the land and people of the Mojave. Ryan and House’s worldviews are distinct, and their flaws, as highlighted by their respective narratives, say some interesting things about how each set of devs view power and the pitfalls of elitism.

Anyway. If you put these two men in a room, they would probably try to murder each other, and I think that’s great.