#sartre escaped

[fieriframes]

[AND IS THIS THE FAVORITE SO FAR? YOU BET. I LIKE IT. GOOD EATS, MAN. WANT TO SEE A MAGIC TRICK? AND SARTRE ESCAPED. NEXT STOP, AUSTIN... "SORRY, WE'RE OPEN"? A 24/7 JOINT... OKAY, GUYS, THE POLENTA...]

[fierifiction]

undefined

AND IS THIS THE FAVORITE SO FAR? YOU BET. I LIKE IT. GOOD EATS, MAN. WANT TO SEE A MAGIC TRICK? AND SARTRE ESCAPED. NEXT STOP, AUSTIN... SORRY, WE'RE OPEN? A 24/7 JOINT... OKAY, GUYS, THE POLENTA... IT'S THE REAL MAGIC CUTS, ALL GONE TO THE NEXT PLACE. ALL FOR ONLY $28.99. WE ALL WANT IT. YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP THE HOUR, WEEP THE CRUSH FROM THIS HOUR, BEND IT UP, AND BUY AND RE-COLL DOWN THE HOUR. NOW, THE BRAWL HAS BEEN SOLD OUT... WHICH IS GOOD NEWS, RIGHT? BECAUSE THEN HE IS SURE (BESIDES IN HANDS), THE BRAWL WILL BE FREE EVERYONE.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

bad wolf soda <3

[thirdity]

The given language is power because it compels me to use already formulated stereotypes, including words themselves, and that it is structured so fatally that, slaves inside it, we cannot free ourselves outside it, because outside the given language there is nothing. How can we escape what Barthes calls, Sartre-like, this huis clos? By cheating. You can cheat the given language. This dishonest and healthy and liberating trick is called literature.

Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyperreality

[thealexandriaarchives]

The Season's Been Laid Out in the Cards...

The above are a direct depiction of the editing of the show:

Lou views the wall of evidence with Sam Dalton, and says 'So it seems like it's about Objects. Do we have these things? Do we put them on the numbers? (This is correct to escape the step)

The lore provided for Sam Dalton's disappearance reads: "SAMUEL DALTON PRESUMED DEAD Friends and Colleagues gathered this past Saturday to mourn the passing of Samuel Dalton, who disappeared during his magic act last July. Dalton had encircled himself with household objects over the numbers of a clock when a bolt of lightning struck a magnet overhead leaving behind only his smoldering footprints. He is survived by his two sons, Ray and Bolt Dalton, who have since denounced the magical arts."

Brennan suggests someone goes out to start collecting the objects they need, and someone else "stay in here and see if they exist in this space". Sam looks shocked and delighted, looking offstage at someone, and biting his hand to stay quiet. Brennan notices, and asks "What are you biting your hand about?" suspiciously. Sam dramatically mimes zipping his lip and says nothing.

A couple of things that are not in the editing but personal theory notes:

This editing compared to the fairly clear and concise wrap-up on rewatch, especially Sam's over the top reaction to this bit, and the multiple maintained clips that carefully compare the red room to hell/purgatory (Siobhan calls it Sartre-esque, etc) while we are now seeing a decay makes me fairly sure it's foreshadowing.

Escape the Room aired in March, but if we have a 13 episode season again the finale will be in July, when Samuel Dalton disappeared.

I do not know if the episodes are meant to be in order, or if they're exact #s, but there are many things Sam has given this season (Plant, Watch, Jacket) as either prizes or challenges directly, OR episodes could be more metaphorically interpreted (Ace of Cheetos - the single episode designed to torture the snacker, Two of Pillows for the Newlyweds)

Episodes like 6x03 the Three of Coats for Sam Says 3 with a wardrobe challenge or 6x06 Deja Vu with a with a watch prize and time theme have all of the above etc

The Playing Card Items: Ace - Cheeto, 2 - Pillows, 3 - Coats, 4 - Lint Rollers, 5 - Plants, 6 - Clocks, 7 - Vases, 8 - Shoe, 9 - Fire Extinguisher, 10 - Guitar, Jack - Smoke Detector, Queen - Surge Protector, King - Paper Clip

The Other Items Surrounding Samuel Dalton: Scales, Phonograph, Typewriter, Rotary Phone, Photo Camera, Video Camera, Pocket Watch, Bowler Hat

[funeral]

Consciousness is thus constantly surrounded by a retinue of phantom objects. These objects, although at first sight possessing a sensible aspect, are not the same as those of perception...Soon as we try to observe one of them we find ourselves confronted with strange creatures beyond the laws of the world of realities. They always occur as indivisible wholes, as absolutes. At once ambiguous, impoverished and dry, appearing and disappearing in a disjointed manner, they invariably occur as a perpetual "elsewhere," as a perpetual evasion. But the evasion to which they invite is not only of the sort which is an escape from actuality, from our preoccupations, our boredoms, they offer us an escape from all worldly constraints, they seem to present themselves as a negation of the condition of being in the world as an anti-world.

Jean-Paul Sartre, The Psychology of Imagination

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Escapism

The philosophy of escapism explores the human tendency to seek distraction and relief from reality, often through activities that provide temporary respite from the pressures, challenges, or monotony of everyday life. Escapism can take many forms, from engaging in entertainment, such as movies, books, or video games, to indulging in fantasies or even using substances. The philosophical examination of escapism raises questions about its ethical implications, its effects on the human condition, and its potential as a coping mechanism.

Key Concepts in the Philosophy of Escapism:

Definition of Escapism:

Seeking Relief from Reality: Escapism is generally understood as the act of diverting oneself from the realities of life, especially when those realities are unpleasant or stressful. It often involves engaging in activities that provide a temporary sense of comfort, pleasure, or detachment.

Positive and Negative Aspects: While escapism can offer a necessary and healthy break from stress, it can also lead to avoidance behavior, where individuals neglect important aspects of their lives or responsibilities.

Psychological and Existential Dimensions:

Coping Mechanism: Psychologically, escapism can serve as a coping mechanism to deal with stress, anxiety, or trauma. It allows individuals to take a mental break, which can be rejuvenating in moderation.

Existential Escapism: Philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus have explored the concept of existential escapism, where individuals avoid confronting the inherent meaninglessness or absurdity of life. In this context, escapism can be seen as a way to evade existential angst or the responsibility of authentic living.

Ethical Considerations:

Balance and Moderation: Philosophers often debate the ethical implications of escapism, particularly whether it is a morally acceptable way to deal with life's difficulties. While some argue that moderate escapism is necessary for mental health and well-being, others caution against excessive escapism that leads to neglect of one's duties or relationships.

Authenticity vs. Illusion: There is an ethical tension between living authentically—facing reality as it is—and retreating into illusion or distraction. Some philosophical traditions, such as existentialism, emphasize the importance of confronting reality and finding meaning within it, rather than escaping from it.

Cultural and Social Aspects:

Escapism in Popular Culture: Escapism is deeply embedded in popular culture, with entire industries, such as cinema, literature, and gaming, dedicated to providing forms of escape. The cultural significance of these activities raises questions about their role in society and their impact on collective consciousness.

Societal Escapism: On a broader scale, escapism can also be viewed as a societal phenomenon, where entire groups or cultures may turn to escapist practices as a way of coping with social or economic pressures. For example, during times of war or economic hardship, the popularity of escapist entertainment often increases.

Philosophical Critiques of Escapism:

Stoicism and Escapism: Stoic philosophy advocates for facing reality with courage and rationality, suggesting that escapism is a form of avoidance that prevents individuals from developing resilience and wisdom.

Existentialism: Existentialists, particularly Sartre, criticize escapism as a form of bad faith, where individuals deny their freedom and responsibility by fleeing from reality. For existentialists, true freedom comes from acknowledging and embracing the absurdity of life, rather than escaping from it.

Escapism and Art:

Art as Escape: Art has historically been a means of escape, offering individuals the opportunity to experience alternative realities, explore new perspectives, and express emotions that might be difficult to confront in everyday life.

Aesthetic Experience: Some philosophers, such as Friedrich Nietzsche, have celebrated art and aesthetic experience as a vital and life-affirming form of escapism that transcends mundane reality and offers deeper insights into the human condition.

Escapism and Technology:

Digital Escapism: In the modern era, technology has significantly expanded the possibilities for escapism. The internet, social media, virtual reality, and video games offer immersive experiences that allow individuals to escape from reality in unprecedented ways.

Virtual Reality and Ethics: The rise of virtual reality and other immersive technologies raises ethical questions about the boundaries between reality and escape, and the potential consequences of living increasingly in digital or simulated environments.

The philosophy of escapism examines the complex motivations behind the human desire to escape from reality and the various forms this escape can take. While escapism can provide necessary relief and even foster creativity, it also presents ethical and existential challenges, particularly concerning the balance between facing reality and seeking refuge from it. The ongoing philosophical exploration of escapism helps us understand its role in the human experience and its impact on our lives, both individually and collectively.

[tylostoma]

i haven't touched sartre since i was reading nausea in college and a sociology teacher came up and ranted to me about how great it was to see a young person reading proper literature and he was going on and on about how stupid kids are for ages. i just could not finish the book afterwards because whenever i tried i would remember how badly i wanted to escape that interaction

[franklyshipping]

A Tale Of Tickles ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

WOOO NEXT PROMPT HERE WE GO, THIS IS ANOTHER LOVELY ANON ONE WITH OUR FAVE MOUSTACHE BOI! LET'S DO THIS!

Though the library within the ego manor was known to be predominantly the Host’s domain, there was a section of it that belonged to someone else – the Author didn’t find himself needing shelves upon shelves, but he just liked having a quiet, dark place with the scents of leather binding and papyrus to help get his creative brain functioning. Author prided himself on keeping his space organised and pristine, banishing all dust and using the traditional Dewey Decimal Classification for organising his books. But lately… the Author had noticed that a few of his books were not in the spots they should be in. Sartre was tucked amongst Dickens, Wollstonecraft among Austen, and there was even Neil Gaiman among the cookbooks! It was then that Author realised there was someone causing mischief, and he was damn determined to find out who… and make them pay.

Author was hiding subtly in the shadows, eyes keen and vocal chords stilled. He was patient and determined, two very dangerous traits when combined. An hour passed, then two, but before the clock struck past the third the door opened… and in sauntered Wilford Warfstache. Author grinned. Oh he should have known! Author watched Wilford look about, and waited for him to commit his mischief. Wilford didn’t spot Author one bit. He giggled, rubbed his hands together, and moved to a shelf to start moving things around. He reached out… but before he could touch a single book, Author stepped up right behind him.

‘Well well well, now what are you up to?”

Wilford squeaked and whirled around, and before he could get a word out Author snapped his fingers. Summoned from the room emerged some filigree covered leather, the sort that looked perfect for book-binding. In an instant they wrapped around Wilford limbs and bound him comfortably to one of the bookcases. Wilford went bright pink, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

‘I-I was just having a little browse old boy, nothing more!’

Wilford squirmed, and from the way Author’s smile twitched he knew there was no convincing him of anything.

‘Oh come now Wilford, you can drop the act. I know what you’ve been doing…’

Author leaned in close, and Wilford’s breath hitched as the man’s whisper tickled his ear.

‘… did you really think you could get away with it?’

Wilford shivered, and a wobbly smile appeared on his face as Author’s tone lowered to a familiar one. He knew he was in BIG trouble. Author reached out and casually dragged his fingers down Wilford’s sides, prompting him to flinch and let out a nervous giggle.

‘I was just hahaving a bit of fuhun!’

Author narrowed his eyes at him.

‘Oh… so it’s fun you want, is it?’

Wilford gulped, his chocolate brown eyes gleaming with all the surges of giddiness and shyness and nerves that were bubbling in him right now. One moment Author’s fingers had dragged oh so slowly down to the dips of his sides… and then they were suddenly digging into his stomach with a vengeance. Wilford yelped and tried to struggle against the bindings, but quickly realised he was well and truly stuck.

‘Waitwaitwahahait thehere’s noho neheheheed fohor thihihis!’

Wilford spluttered, making Author chuckle and shake his head with amusement.

‘Oh but I think there is. I want an apology. A very, very sincere apology…’

Wilford’s giggles were wild and bubbly as Author’s blunt nails slipped under his shirt to scratch away mercilessly at his bare stomach, sending sporadic, tickly shocks through the moustached man. Wilford’s mind was getting more and more frazzled as he tried to figure out what on earth he could do or say, but it was so hard to focus – not just because of the tickling… but because it was Author’s tickling.

‘Buhuhut ihihit wahahasn’t eheven thahat bahahad!’

Wilford tried to reason… and Author’s eyes widened as he exclaimed.

‘Not that bad? Not that bad? You put Dracula next to Northanger Abbey!’

Author was so affronted that it made Wilford giggle even louder, he couldn’t help it! He got so genuinely flushed with literary frustration and it was hilarious… but unfortunately Author noticed that amusement. His darker brown eyes narrowed, and gleamed with a sadistic edge as his fingers dug harder into Wilford’s stomach, particularly at the soft spot below his navel.

‘Oh so this is funny to you? What’s with all the laughter huh?’

Wilford giggles and cackles were filled with yelps as he cried out embarrassedly.

‘Yohohohohou’re tihihihickling mehehe!’

‘Tickling? I have no idea what you’re talking about, if anything this is a massage! You should be thanking me right now!’

Author replied indignantly, unable to hide the shit-eating grin on his face as he enjoyed how his teasing made Wilford go beet red and get even more embarrassed. Wilford was squirmed to no avail, his face the same hue as his moustache as his warbling voice went up an octave.

‘Thihihihis ihihis mehehean yohou’re beheing mehehean!’

Author chuckled, and his eyes flashed with even more sadistic light.

‘Ohh you think this is mean?’

‘Yehehehes!’

‘My my… it seems someone needs to find out what a real tickling feels like.’

Wilford got chills, wondering what the heck Author meant by that. And he very quickly found out. Wilford was truly realising that Author, though he was tickling him for fun, was very much looking for that apology. He wanted it, and he was going to damn well get it. Author’s blunt nails softly walked up to his bare armpits beneath his shirt… then stopped. As they stayed still in Wilford’s hollows, the Author just smiled.

Wilford let out a shy whine after one minute went by. Then two. Wilford’s heart was racing more and more every second and he and Author’s gazes were locked. The anticipation was the most intense thing Wilford had felt for a while. His every flinch and twitch made his think Author’s fingers were starting to move, even though they weren’t. Wilford tried to calm himself, not let his flusteredness dull the sense in his head… but when it came to Wilford, his sense was always overcome pretty easily.

‘O-Oh come o-on this is just–EEEE!’

As soon as he blurted out his words, Author started vigorously scratching his armpits, making him howl with immediate laughter. Wilford let out an explosion of noise as Author smirked and chuckled.

‘Oh sorry were you saying something?’

‘OHMYGOHOHOD OH MY GOHOHOD STAHAHAP!’

Author laughed, keeping up his scratches as he leaned in again to whisper in his ear.

‘It tickles so much worse after that build up, doesn’t it? After all that twitching, all that wondering, your mind playing tricks on you thinking the tickles were starting…’

Wilford thrashed helplessly in the bindings, squeezing his eyes shut desperately as Author’s words entered his head and tickled his ear. He could feel the power of Author’s teasing language dancing in his head, making his heart race more as he filled with butterflies.

‘OKAHAHAY OKAHAHAY IHIHI GIHIHIVE I GIHIVE!’

Author chuckled, continuing his scratching.

‘Give? Give what? If it’s not an apology then I’m afraid we’ll be here for some time yet…’

Wilford’s eyes were watery as he let out little squeals and squeaks through his laughter. Wriggling in the soft leather bonds he knew there was no point in resisting, because lord knows what other teasing, mind-invading powers Author might unleash on him.

‘IHIHI’M SAHAHARRY IHI’M SAHARRY!’

Wilford babbled, and Author chuckled with pleased satisfaction as he let his scratches slow down, until they were reduced to the merest of strokes in Wilford’s hollows. He was grinning fro ear to ear as he nuzzled Wilford’s ear gently, making him squeak as another tickly whisper teased him.

‘Very good Wilford, now doesn’t that feel good to say?’

Wilford giggled nervously, his breath hitching every few seconds as his bombastic voice quietened to an almost childish whine.

‘A-Ahare you gohonna lehet me go now?’

Author chuckled, and Wilford squeaked cutely when Author slid his fingers out of Wilford’s shirt… but stayed nice and close.

‘Hmm… I want some other things first…’

Wilford gulped, and after taking a deep breath just immediately started babbling.

‘I-I’ll do whatever chore you so choose my friend! I’ll do hoovering or your laundry, anything you wish!’

Author snorted out a laugh of amusement, humming playfully.

‘Ooh you have no idea how tempting that is…’

Wilford shivered, and nibbled his lip to hide a giggle when Author’s lips brushed against his ear again.

‘…but what I want, first and foremost, is your promise.’

The moment after he said promise, Author took in a deep, deep breath… and blew a long, rippling, tickly raspberry right against his ear. The shock of it brought out the loveliest, most satisfying ticklish shriek from Wilford’s lips, whilst Author purred to him.

‘Promise. You. Will. Never. Move. My Books. Again.’

Each word was punctuated by a raspberry of similarly tickly proportions against Wilford’s ears, Author playfully alternating between each as Wilford let out bouts of squeals and giggles, his words coming out of him as a breathless splutter.

‘IHIHI PROMIHIHISE IPROMISEIPROMISEIPROMISE!’

Author chuckled, and then leaned back with a satisfied grin on his face.

‘Excellent. And there’s one other thing I want…’

Author snapped his fingers, and the bindings on Wilford receded back into the bookshelves so that he was freed. Panting and giggling residually Wilford rubbed his ears and straightened his shirt, whilst Author folded his arms and leant his hip against his desk. His eyes flicked over Wilford with curiosity, and then he asked.

‘Mine is not the only collection of books in this manor… so tell me Wilford, why me?’

To Author’s slight surprise, Wilford’s cheeks went a little pink as he looked at the Author. If Wilford had been asked this a few weeks ago, he might honestly have not had an answer. Wilford and Author hadn’t had as many interactions as perhaps they’d had with other egos, so Author wondered what had made Wilford focus his attention like this. In truth, for Wilford there was just something so… familiar about Author’s chaos and boundless imagination. Something in Wilford felt similar to him in a way he couldn’t explain, and he’d felt drawn to him in a way he at first couldn’t quite explain even to himself. But now a little time had passed… Wilford knew what that feeling was.

‘Well I uh… well I… I just… your books are uh… more interesting…’

He said. But Author knew well the power of words, and what meanings could hide within them. Wilford’s fidgeting alone revealed to him what was going on in Wilford’s beautifully wild mind, which Author truly had a great appreciation for. He appreciated Wilford in general, and hearing Wilford now… Author was reminded just how often he thought about Wilford and his reckless consciousness. His beautifully reckless consciousness… and the fact that there were few others who Author could connect with in that kind of way. Author watched how Wilford fidgeted with his bowtie and braces occasionally, how his blush persisted, and how his eyes were flicking about with that very particular kind of nervousness. Author knew what Wilford was telling him… and he slowly smiled at him.

‘Well in that case… how about I read one to you?’

He knew he could have called it out in a more blatant way… but that didn’t feel quite right somehow. Instead he used a soft voice he usually kept private on the day today, and got to watch Wilford’s face light up as his flusteredness was immediately overcome by his sudden excitement.

‘O-Oh why yes, yes I would love that!’

Author grinned… and what followed was a beautifully unexpected evening, where Author ended up reading Wilford more than one story (whilst at the same time explaining to him precisely why all his books had their special places). Wilford’s attention was rapt, and though the Author was more ordered and organised than he was by a mile, they still shared that true core of chaos. Wilford’s heart was made full by that, whilst Author’s was made fuller by Wilford’s every question and curiosity and verbal quirks. Like truly called to like when it came to these two… and I think it’s safe to say that in this tale of tickling, they both lived happily ever after.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOO LUV YOUS!!

[weil-weil-lautre]

The lover describes her tears and her tortures, but she asserts that she loves this unhappiness. It is also a source of delight for her. She likes the other to appear as another through her separation. It pleases her to exalt, by her very suffering, that strange existence which she chooses to set up as worthy of any sacrifice. It is only as something strange, forbidden, as something free, that the other is revealed as an other. And to love him genuinely is to love him in his otherness and in that freedom by which he escapes. Love is then renunciation of all possession, of all confusion. One renounces being in order that there may be that being which one is not. 

Simone de Beauvoir, The Ethics of Ambiguity, p. 72

The tyrant does not care about love; he is content with fear. If he seeks the love of his subjects it is for political reasons and, if he can find a more economic way of subjugating them, he will adopt it at once. Contrary to this, the person who wants to be loved does not desire to subjugate the being he loves. He does not want to become the object of a boundless, mechanical passion. He does not want to possess an automatism, and if you want to humiliate him, you need only portray for him his loved one’s passion as the outcome of psychological determinism: the lover will feel devalued in his love and his being. His goal has been overshot: if the loved one is transformed into an automaton, the lover finds himself on his own. Thus the lover does not desire to possess his loved one in the way we can possess a thing: he demands a special type of appropriation. He wants to possess a freedom as freedom.

Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness, 407/486

[derangedrhythms]

do you take requests? any quotes about the harshness of being truthful to oneself, about sharp realizations about oneself’s or another’s interiority?

"Nothing is so difficult as not deceiving oneself."

— Ludwig Wittgenstein, Culture and Value, tr. Peter Winch

"The intensity of the inner resistance against full self-knowledge is unfathomable."

— Brian Masters, from ‘The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer’

“In self-deception I am maneuvering to escape a truth about myself. I am a self divided against itself. This is the meaning of Kierkegaard's term “double-mindedness”. The opposite of self-deception, of willing obscurity about oneself, is to be transparent to oneself. It is to will one thing. To be transparent to oneself requires insight and courage. Not to will transparency is to be a fool and a coward.”

— John Mullen, from 'Kierkegaard's Philosophy: Self Deception and Cowardice in the Present Age'

"I look down into myself and shudder."

— Nikos Kazantzakis, from ‘Report to Greco’, tr. P. A. Bien

"And though he knows the mirror he so desperately needs to look into exists, the thought of looking into it fills him with mortal dread."

— Hermann Hesse, from ‘Steppenwolf’, tr. David Horrocks

"For it is towards oneself that one has the strongest resistances."

— Carl Gustav Jung, The Collected Works of C. G. Jung Volume 4: Freud & Psychoanalysis; from ‘The Analysis of Dreams’, tr. R. F. C. Hull

"People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls."

— Carl Gustav Jung, The Collected Works of C. G. Jung Volume 12: Psychology & Alchemy; from ‘Individual Dream Symbolism in Relation to Alchemy’, tr. R. F. C. Hull

"—growing in and out of situations, gaining control of inner confusions or losing control, overcoming inner resistances or succumbing to them, exploring more of inner darkness and appropriating it as ‘personality’ or actually losing some personality to encroaching darkness."

— Ted Hughes, from 'Letters of Ted Hughes’ ⁠—Anne-Lorraine Bujon, 16th December 1992

"This was the dark cave of what she didn’t know about herself."

— Janet Fitch, from ‘Chimes of a Lost Cathedral’

"…as if the act of self-regarding was not as subtle, fraught and ever-changing as any bond between twin souls."

— Eleanor Catton, from ‘The Luminaries’

"There were days when you peered into yourself, into the secret places of your heart, and what you saw there made you faint with horror."

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from ‘No Exit’, tr. Stuart Gilbert

"No satisfaction based upon self-deception is solid, and, however unpleasant the truth may be, it is better to face it once and for all, to get used to it, and to proceed to build your life in accordance with it."

— Bertrand Russell, from 'The Conquest of Happiness'

"You say you live in pain. Let it be the pain of the death of the old false self, and the life-movement of the new real truthful self. We are all wrapped in silky layers of illusion which we instinctively feel to be necessary to our existence. Often these illusions are harmless, in the sense that we can still go on being reasonably good and reasonably happy. Sometimes, because of a catastrophe, a bereavement or some total loss of self-esteem, our falsehoods become pernicious, and we are forced to choose between some painful recognition of truth and an ever more frenzied and aggressive manufacturing of lies […] If you keep checking any lie and resisting the anger which deforms the world you will gradually realise that the poor old wounded self, with its furious whining and its hatred of itself and everything else, is not you at all. That self is dying, but another self is watching it die.”

— Iris Murdoch, from 'The Good Apprentice'

[biitchcakes]

H E A D C A N O N .

She's a BOOKWORM ! Reading is an activity that's not only stimulating and relaxing at the same time, but can also be an avenue for KNOWLEDGE ⸺ and Jessica's always down to learn.

P A T H O S.

Her first nemesis is Morgan Le Fay, though Jess already knows about the woman from legends when she first encounters her. I feel as though she grew up reading FANTASY books, as most children do, and would dream about going on such fantastic adventures, about being rescued from her locked up tower like the princesses always are. . .

L O G O S.

Once she is awoken from stasis, Hydra manipulates her into believing that they are an organisation that fights for the rights of the little guy, taking down the evils of big corporations and others that wish to do harm. But, learning the truth about her captors and watching the terrorism they wrought upon others certainly brings the ETHICS they taught her into question once she escapes. Due to her extensive research to not only learn new, but also unlearn Hydra's lessons, Jess becomes quite knowledge when it comes to PHILOSOPHY. Kant's empirical self vs transcendental self, the concept of Dasein and specifically Heidegger's exploration of it, and a load of Sartre's teachings are some examples I can think of that would stand out to Jessica the most as she not only enters society after escaping, but as she explores herself for the first time as well. She also reads a good few basic biology and biochemistry books, mostly as an attempt to learn how humans actually work since she never learned ⸺ but also to find out how she differs from the rest of them. Her innate thirst for SCIENCE is always there, and early on it easily manifests through her choice to read these sorts of books. ( Yes her best friend is literally The Space Hero™️ and yes she may love Star Trek more than almost anything. . . No she has not read nonfiction books about space. "I've learned all I need to know about it through Carol and by going there myself. And that's more than enough, thanks." )

E T H O S.

It doesn't take long for her to get into mystery and DETECTIVE novels, quickly striking up a love for the genre. Agatha Christie novels in particular are her favourite, really enjoying any good whodunit? story. Reading these sorts of books is one of the things that initially puts the idea of becoming a Private Investigator into her mind. These days, her favourite remains detective novels ⸺ go figure. But other favourites include SCIENCE FICTION and ROMANCE novels. She doesn't mind the normal romances, but she'd prefer to have one with a vampire or something of the like in it. And, while she may not like being in space, nor care to read about the real life ins and outs, she does enjoy it as a background for her escapism. Also, I don't know where else to add this in but ⸺ you give her an instruction guide ? If she's interested in whatever the subject matter is, she'll read the damn thing cover to cover. Unless it's a MASSIVE manual, like the giant gd one for autoCAD ( i do not picture her using CAD btw it's just the first thing that came to mind hgjksdg ). She wouldn't read something like that page by page, c'mon now.

[dickwheelie]

confession time, i kept getting 'severance' and 'succession' mixed up in my head and seeing posts abt the new succession season and being like goddamn did they get out of the horrors?? they seem to be vibing significantly more. good for them ig. i only today realized i had the entire wrong show

Bestie my beloved this is so funny they escape the Underground Corporate Horror Tunnels(tm) and immediately get trapped in Jean-Paul Sartre Branded One Percenter Hell. Ur right Severance and Succession are like sisters to me. Girlboss twins who would undermine each other for the approval of their shitty dad. Two sides of the same bitcoin if u will

[ewingstan]

Philosophy: Rain O'Fire Frazier

You want to fuck The Small Locked Room of the Afterlife from Sartre's No Exit!

They're watching you. You can't escape their glares, their knowing looks, their expectant glances. Even in your sleep you see them watching you. You've been looked at lovingly, tenderly, eyes caressing and molding you into shapes you don't recognize. You've been looked at with scorn, haughty faces sneering how you'll always disappoint them, even as you shape yourself to be what they want you to be. Their faces are the closest thing to a mirror you'll find here, after all. Do you even exist, outside their gaze? You feel small enough you're not sure. You know you are damned. You know this is hell.

[bylertruther]

WILL & VECNA QUOTES —

In this gathering place, where violence is rife, at the boundary of that which escapes cohesion, he who reflects within cohesion realizes that there is no longer any room for him. (Theory of Religion, Georges Bataille) Anguish is what makes humankind, it seems; not anguish alone, but anguish transcended and the act of transcending it. (Erotism: Death and Sensuality, Georges Bataille) Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed; perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad. (Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke) Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned. The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity. (The Second Coming, W. B. Yeats) And there God is waiting to eat him. Later he will go out again, but he will be changed, he will have become different, after being eaten and digested by God. (Waiting for God, Simone Weil) What's requisite for communication is a defect or "fault." Communication enters like death through a chink in the armor. What's required is an overlapping of two lacerations, mine, yours. (Guilty, Georges Bataille) I stood there. There was a hole in my head where the thing stepped in. The hole grew wider. (The Dream of the Unified Field, Jorie Graham) I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside. (The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson) If I thus consume immoderately, I reveal to my fellow beings that which I am intimately: Consumption is the way in which separate beings communicate. […] Everything shows through, everything is open and infinite between those who consume intensely. But nothing counts then; violence is released and it breaks forth without limits, as the heat increases. (The Accursed Share, Georges Bataille) Cannibalism, the most elementary act of exploitation, that of turning the other directly into a comestible; of seeing the other in the most primitive terms of use. (The Sadeian Woman and the Ideology of Pornography, Angela Carter) I feel quite strange. I feel as though I were some other person, in a kingdom of shadows, and can't believe I'll ever return to being a creature of flesh and blood. (Letters to Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir) Some things take root in the brain and just don’t let go. (Slow Dance, Tim Seibles)