#and you’re not meant to try and think of a better outcome because there isn’t one.

[crystaltoa]

I’m going to go the second one because I believe there’s a difference between ‘a robot could do this job’ and ‘a robot SHOULD do this job’. Even in a world where robots can emulate almost any human behaviour or skill.

(Content warning: I discuss some pretty heavy hypotheticals relating to medical abuse, eugenics, racism and ableism)

You know the rule that “a computer can never be held accountable. Therefore a robot should never make a management decision” Well, these days, people do delegate management decisions to robots. But the robot lacks human values and understanding of nuance. It is still impacted by biases, sometimes to an even greater extent than a human. And our understanding of bias, equality and equity is constantly evolving and is driven by human values. If you take humans out of the equation, who is checking the AI for biases and reasonable behaviour? Another AI?

Look at politics. Like it or not, a sufficiently powerful politician is going to have to make difficult decisions that will ultimately impact who lives and who dies (decisions on health, war, crime and the justice system, etc.) And a robot politician is going to face the same problems. An AI politician programmed with the objective of letting nobody die is going to fail horribly, since such a thing is likely impossible, even for the most advanced AI of the distant future. So, it will always have to act on the logic that a certain number of humans may die as a consequence of its actions, but that it should keep that number as low as possible using the information that it is given.

An AI is going to boil this down to a system of logic. If the goal is to use the available resources to minimise the number of lives lost, and no human life is inherently more valuable than any other, then it is going to spend the bulk of its resources on areas where it will have the greatest impact and save the greatest number of lives.

Now that sounds good on paper, doesn’t it? But there is a problem: if you reduce the issues down to a multiple choice game, it allows no space for inspiration, creativity, and nuanced discussion of ethics.

if you gave our robo-politician the trolley problem, it would quickly tell you that pulling the lever was the correct option as it minimises the number of lives lost. Okay, you might think. Sounds reasonable. Lots of humans who engage with the problem reach the same conclusion.

But the thing is, the robo-politician will pull that lever again and again and again without ever considering that perhaps it’s possible to change the system so that there aren’t so many people stuck on the tracks in the path of an oncoming train in the first place. If the robo-politician already thinks it has enough information to solve the problem, it won’t seek new information. It won’t try to come up with a better system. It will always be a two-choice logic problem that it already has an adequate solution to.

It’s theoretically possible that a robot politician might actually do an adequate job (at least compared to some human politicians) simply by playing this numbers game and emulating actions of past politicians that have produced good results before.

BUT

If you want meaningful systemic change driven by new ideas, you need human involvement. AI’s ability to at least simulate creativity probably will improve in the coming years, but balancing the new AI-generated solutions with a respect for human values and quality of life is a very complex thing.

Furthermore, there’s a need for nuance that AI may not ever be able to fully grasp. If the goal is only to minimise number of lives lost, in the most economically viable way, you could wind up with dystopian scenarios like the following:

“We want to reduce the number of people who die when receiving medical treatment. Therefore, euthanasia/medically assisted dying is now illegal, because that results in human deaths” (ignoring human bodily autonomy and quality of life needs)

Or conversely, “Keeping some disabled and chronically ill people alive takes resources that could be used for other purposes. Therefore, it makes economic sense to euthanise some of the higher-care needs patients so that those resources can be used to save other lives at a more cost-effective rate.” (Horrendously ableist)

“We want medical resources and funding to go where they will help the most people. No human life is inherently worth more or less than any other. This country has a lot more white people than black people. Therefore, it makes economic sense to focus funding, research, and training of future medical practitioners primarily on the care and treatment of white patients” (Perpetuating or even amplifying existing societal inequalities, dismissing helping minorities as not economically viable)

“We want to reduce the number of people affected by serious health conditions, which puts a drain on medical resources and reduces the number of lives we can save. Therefore, people who carry genes for certain conditions will be deterred or outright prevented from reproducing” (again, horrendously ableist and robs people of bodily autonomy)

“We want to reduce deaths from vehicle and other types of accidents that occur primarily outside the home. Therefore, there are now stricter regulations regarding when humans should be allowed to leave their homes.” (Authoritarian police state).

(Note: The intent here is not to imply that dedicating resources to vulnerable minorities is “objectively” illogical or wasteful. The point is that logic is only as good as the goals and principles behind it, and having overly simplistic success criteria without strong ethical considerations will result in those vulnerable groups suffering further mistreatment and neglect)

Humans have a wide range of needs, values and priorities that vary between individuals. Safety vs Autonomy, Privacy vs Protection, etc. And a politician must be compassionate and responsive to those values, even with all their contradictions, but to do so, human input and participation is required. No one politician, human or otherwise, is going to get it exactly right and please everybody. But a human is still going to have more success in trying than a robot, as it is near impossible to reduce the balance of these issues down to mere numbers and algorithms.

So while I’ll entertain the idea that a robot maybe could run a country, I don’t think anything would ever convince me that they should do so.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[shirohige-pirates]

A Truly Mythological Christmas

Cisfem!Reader x Marco the Phoenix

Also on Wattpad // Ao3

18+ - this story is going to get steamy in ways not allowed for your holiday Lifetime specials. Swearing, cheating, assassins, intrigue - you know, all that simple small town stuff.

Chapter 13: Ice Cold

“I can’t sign that severance package.” You tell Katakuri on the phone the next day. He called right after breakfast had wrapped up and you had to leave the boys to Dadan. “The monetary parts are fantastic, but the NDAs, the limitations on what was a personal matter, are just straight up deal breakers. I can’t sign something that limits talking about my own life.”

“I’m not surprised.” He sighs. “But negotiating something different isn’t going to be easy. Mama’s declared this is a slight against the family, and isn’t being reasonable. I’m still trying to reach out to some contacts and see what I can line you up with, but your only options at this point are to come back to work after your vacation, and face pressure I won’t be able to protect you from.” He admits with a sigh.

“Or resign.” 

You sigh in turn, sitting down on the couch. “Yeah… Fuck.”

Getting the news from Katakuri meant it wasn’t going to be covered in bullshit, and false honeyed words, but it didn’t make the truth of it all any easier. The possibility of salvaging your position at the company had already been an impossibility, but now you needed enough control of your future prospects to not have to actually retire. 

And without the severance package, you would have to come back to Sphinx permanently, or at least while you spent what would probably be a couple years looking for a comparable job on your own.

“The good news, if it can be called that, is that we cannot fire you.” Katakuri says. “Mama’s been pushing for it, but there’s nothing for us to work with. Your performance reports are stellar, your attendance, your reviews, even your social media presence doesn’t give her any room.”

“Good to know my stellar track record still makes me less valuable than her son.” You grumble and you hear Katakuri snort. It’s as close as he is to get to laughing, especially in this situation.

“Hang in there Miss Curly,” he says warmly. “We’ll get it to work out by the new year.”

“With you in my corner, I don’t doubt that.” You agree, feeling at least a little better. You might not end up with the outcome that you wanted, but you won’t be job hunting almost endlessly with his support.

“Hey… I…” You make an odd sound as you chew on what you’re about to say, Kata waits patiently, in his experience letting you have an extra second always works out for the best. “This is going to sound insane.”

“I fear whatever you say may be uncomfortably sane, Miss Curly.” He says assuringly.

You grunt. “I’ve recently learned that your mother once had, we’ll say, less than savory connections. I say this because I’m good friends with Edward Newgate’s sons, and that’s how I heard about it.”

“… Ah.” Katakuri’s tone is much heavier. “He and my mother did run in similar circles at one point. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of the Edward children.”

“Let me tell you another story then, one that can’t possibly be connected.” You say, and then tell Katakuri about the wild adventure you had with your three little brothers yesterday. When you finish the breakdown of events there’s a heavy silence from him.

After a moment he sighs. “Miss Curly, I have to ask, because I don’t know, but is pinky meat a delicacy of some sort?”

“It’s barely fit for survival food.” You balk at the idea of eating it. Once was enough, and that was a dare. “But it is a massive powder pink bird, and it’s not impossible to think someone who didn’t know better would want to bring one down.”

“Alright. I’m going to look into things on my end and I’ll get back to you. Hopefully the next time we chat I’ll have some good news for you.”

“Thanks boss, I appreciate everything, no matter how it turns out.”

“Mm, have a good day, Miss Curly.”

“You as well, Mr. Charlotte.”

Hanging up the phone you lean back and see Dadan looking down at you. “Would you eat pinky meat?”

She grunts. “I think I’d rather eat my own leg.” Pinky meat was pretty bad, but you didn’t know that you’d agree to that extent.

“Where are the boys today?” you question, changing the subject. 

“Off at the school, you were deep into your conversation with your boss and I told ‘em to leave you be.”

“Oh right, school.” You had just about forgotten about the whole concept of grade school. Dadan walks around the couch and comes over to sit in her recliner. “I’m going to be out of your hair in the afternoons, so you can have a little peace and quiet.”

“What’re you up to?”

“Gonna help out at the store.” You admit, hiding your gaze in the cup of coffee she’d handed you.

“Need the wagon?”

“Nah, it’s not that much of a walk.” You assert. “If I need a ride home I’ll give you a call, I should be back for dinner.”

“If you need a ride home it’ll be because someone nicked that SEL.” Dadan grunts and you can’t disagree.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble half-heartedly. 

You and Dadan don’t do much between breakfast and Lunch, letting the early morning be as slow and as lazy as possible. With yesterday’s excitement you were glad for it, and it was nice to have time to relax before going to the store. Considering how “on” you had been since you first got here, it was honestly just nice to have a lazy morning on its own.

Once you’re done with an early lunch you head out, a wave to Dadan as you set off down the driveway. Leggings under your slacks kept you warm, and the simple button up shirt you were wearing would keep you from overheating inside the store. In the meantime the wool-lined winter coat did enough to keep you warm. 

It’d have to storm, and you’d have to be stuck in it for an hour, before you’d be worried about the weather.

You: omw

Marco: Coming in a little earlier than expected?

You: Nah, walking. I’ll be there on time.

Marco: Be careful, there’s a few hunting groups in town, but we aren’t sure which ones were trying to tag that pinky.

You: the closest thing to a gunshot inside the town limits has been mom’s wagon.

Marco: Just be careful, little warrior.

You: <3 

Tucking your phone away you pick up the pace a little bit. It’s getting colder pretty fast, and with snow scheduled for tomorrow, it was lining up to be a nice white winter. But that also meant that the afternoon sun might not be enough to make the walk to the store pleasant, good wool-lined coat or not.

It’ll be nice however, to enjoy a proper snow-covered Christmas. It wasn’t really something that happened in the city. Even if you went to one of the parks there were so many people around that there weren’t just big tracts of undisturbed snow. The cold was still a part of it, and being able to watch your breath rise up into the air, or how the frost glimmered when it coated things, but that just felt like it was teasing you.

You weren’t surprised to see Marco when you reached the general store. He was carrying some bags for a lady who was, herself, carrying a small child. He put the bags in the back of the car while she got her kid settled in, and then gave you a wave as you caught up to him.

Bidding farewell to the customer, he steps away from her car, walking slow enough that you catch up easily.

“Ah that small town service,” you beam, falling in step with him.

“Ah that little bit of guilt trip from a lady who wants to leave her husband, yoi.” Marco mutters and your eyebrows nearly disappear into your hairline.

“Home wrecker,” you tease, elbowing him in the ribs a little.

“I’m precisely the opposite, yoi.” He grumbles.

“You’re just too smooth, you needed to retain some of that goofy-shit!” Your feet slip out from under you from ice you hadn’t seen against the blacktop of the parking lot. You reach out for Marco and He gets your arm, but the angle is awkward, and after a brief pause you shift inside your coat and sit hard on the ground.

There’s a loud POP! when you land and you stay seated for a moment, eyes closed before you let out a sigh.

“You alright, pretty bird?” He questions. You expected more of a teasing tone, but he sounds legitimately concerned.

“I am.” You admit, standing up with a little bit of help. “I’m just hoping that sound was the ice, and not my phone.” You clarify, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. The screen’s not cracked, and the face lights up when you turn it on.

“Well, aside from my pride, everything seems good.” You admit with a good natured sigh.

The two of you head into the store and after getting your things tucked away in his office, Marco takes you out onto the floor and gives you the run down of what’s needed. Most of it is straight forward, just putting things back where they go. People will often trade one brand for another, and sometimes trade out seemingly unrelated foods.

Non-perishables go back to where they belong, as does produce, unless they’re visibly damaged. Anything frozen or meats that aren’t cold anymore just go into waste. If you’re unsure better to pitch it than risk it, as far as Marco’s concerned. It was simple enough.

The first hour goes by with little concern, but your earlier poor luck seems to be rubbing off on the people around you today.

“Whoa!”

“Steady!” 

A heavy crash from the other side of the aisle shakes the shelves you’re working on causing you to take a quick step back in case anything fell. The first voice wasn’t familiar to you, but the second voice was Marco’s. The impact against the shelves gave you a new appreciation for how sturdy they were.

“You okay over there?” You question, looking up and down the aisle to see if anything fell.

“Yeah,” Marco’s voice sounds strained, but he continues and sounds fine. “Poor guy saw his life flash before his eyes for a second there, yoi.”

You hear a nervous chuckle from the other voice. “Sure seems so, thanks buddy.”

“Everything good over there?” Marco asks.

“Yeah, nothing fell.”

“Good, I’m going to ring this guy up, if you want to tidy up over here next.”

You grin at the professional tone. Well, you did tell him to behave while you were helping, so you can’t complain.

“Sure thing, boss.” You hum. You catch sight of Marco and the other guy, a shorter blonde in a baseball cap and a pilot’s jacket. Something about Marco’s grip on the man’s shoulder looked a little awkward, but he was smiling. Something about the other man left you with the distinct impression he said things like “Golly gosh” and “aw shucks”.

Coming around to the other aisle you see the aftermath of the impact. The Christmas tree shaped cone of soups that had been set up was caved in, and a few cans were in the aisle itself. The nearby shelves were in disarray, but not too bad. At least nothing had punctured and was leaking soup concentrate on the floor.

You set about the tedious task of tidying up, and boy Marco was not kidding. Organizing shelves like this was dull work, spacing out was about the only way to really make the time go by, unless there was someone around to talk to. Marco had been busy with customers, even with all cashiers on hand and two stockers it was still a lot. 

They were still working through lines four customers deep when you came in, and you didn’t even think that many people even lived in Sphinx.

Though the town had almost doubled in the last couple years, according to Dadan. More jobs from the tourists, more homes for the people who were working those jobs, and the number of bed and breakfasts were still going up, so it was likely the town’s expansion would continue for a while longer at least. Just slow and steady enough that the small town could adjust to it.

“Doing alright, pretty bird?” Marco asks, coming up behind you and adjusting some items on the top shelf.

“You weren’t wrong, it’s dull work, but I’m happy to be helping.” You admit. “Everything okay with the clumsy guy?”

“Yeah. Gave him a hefty discount to keep it from becoming a headache in the middle of the season.” He says, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “Let me know if you need a change of pace, yoi.”

“I’m good still,” you assure him, smacking his arm lightly. “I said behave.”

“I made no promises,” he retorts with a wink.

“You made minimal promises.” You correct, and he kisses you on the other cheek.

“Considering I’m doing the minimum of what I’d rather be doing, I’d say I’m doing exceptionally well.” His voice is low and right by your ear when he says it and you can feel the heat rush up to your face.

A soft squeeze of your arm and he leaves you in the aisle again, off to check on his cashiers. 

This time when your mind wanders, it’s thinking about the warmth of his hand traveling down your arms. The heat of his body at your back. 

Not just his body, but the warmth of that need.

That desire.

You’d only ever seen Marco angry once, really angry, and that had been when him and Thatch had pulled Teach off you. Both boys were full of rage, where Thatch would show the same level of energy while watching a sport on TV, Marco just didn’t. He wasn’t apathetic by any stretch, but even when he was a dorky kid he was pretty mild, and even-tempered.

Understanding, and supportive…

You shake your head and focus back on the task at hand. You were not going to have a moment of existential clarity in the soup aisle of Pops’ Stop. 

Despite that desire, your mind wandered right where it damn well pleased.

“This is embarrassing.” Marco mutters, face buried against the back of your shoulder as you carry him.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about being carried by a friend.” You huff.

“Everyone else can cross the stupid log, yoi.”

“You’re just afraid of falling,” you point out.

“That doesn’t stop me from falling.” He pouts.

“Then why be afraid of it?” You hum, it was the advice Mama Dadan had given you, and it seems to have worked. “If it’s gonna happen either way, there’s no need to worry about it.”

“It’s not the falling part that-.” Marco stops and sighs. “Thanks for carrying me across.” 

You let go as Marco sets a tender foot on the dirt path. “It’s not me carrying you that bugs you, is it?”

“Huh?”

“I mean like… I don’t mind carrying you. It doesn’t bother me, but I know a boy being carried by a gi-.”

“That’s not it.” He interrupts, putting his hands over his ears cause he knows they’re turning red and you’ll pick on him. “It’s cause it’s not cool to fall off the log.”

You laugh, pinching his hands so he’s not covering his ears anymore. “Why would I care about you being cool? It’s not like you gotta impress me.” 

Ah. 

Leaning your head against the shelf in front of you, you wonder for a moment if you aren’t just going to lose your mind at this rate. It’s not that you were worried about moving too, or too slow. It’s not that you weren’t willing to give it your all, or that you had misgivings about anything. You and Marco worked well together, in several different ways, you knew that. 

Right now, at this moment, it was more the fact that somehow you managed to miss all the signs for almost twenty solid years.

[borderlinereminders]

hi! first of all, i just wanted to let you know that i appreciate your blog a lot, it has helped me during my journey toward finding a better way to cope with my insecurities (i don’t have bpd, but i do suffer from abandonment/emotional neglect issues, which lead me to have some of the same symptoms of bpd, not as extreme but they did cause me to behave in dysfunctional ways and i lost many friends for this), so thank you really ❤️

i absolutely don’t mean to be invasive so feel free not to answer, but i read your post about that friendship you let go of (you did the right thing) and got reminded of my last friendship which ended exactly because the other person was drained (you know the drill) from my behaviours.

now, i did work on changing those behaviours, i went to therapy, and worked on being a healthier version of me, because i don’t absolutely think being mentally ill justifies toxic behaviours (unless it’s extreme situations and the person involved isn’t lucid or able to be), so i wanted to ask: if you were my friend, do you think you would have given me a chance at some point, knowing i was working towards being better? especially if you did notice the change?

i know i have to let her go and be better for myself first and foremost, and for the future people in my life, but i’m really struggling and idk, maybe i’m looking for a pinch of hope somewhere, she really meant a lot to me and i would like to have a fresh start if she’ll agree.

again, you don’t have to reply!

Hi anon,

In the case of the friend I let go of, I would have been a part of her life if she’d tried to change and especially if I saw evidence of that change. I did care about her and I still do. That hasn’t changed just because I needed to step away for my own mental health.

But if she’d also been willing to try and change, I would have been as supportive as I could without putting my own well being at risk.

If she’d been trying to change but wasn’t succeeding, I may have had to step away still but I’d still have tried harder and given her more time.

Now this is just me though. I’m a person who really believes people can change and do better when they want to. I was someone who was extremely toxic once and I think I’ve come so far and it’s made me believe in others too.

If she’s asked you not to contact her, that’s a boundary you shouldn’t cross. And if she hasn’t put forth that boundary, I wouldn’t contact her with a message about wanting to be friends again. I’d message with a genuine apology for the behaviour.

I reached out and gave genuine apologies to two people when I began to get better. They both accepted my apology, told me they forgave me, but still didn’t want to be in my life. It hurt but that was their choice. And I still got some closure.

Someone else I genuinely apologized to, we’re rebuilding a relationship right now. We aren’t as close as we used to be but the love is there and we have fun when we see each other.

So, my point is there’s a lot of possible outcomes and that I don’t think you should go into this with an intention for rekindling a friendship but with an intention of taking accountability. You’re valid to miss them as a friend and hope that can happen. Feelings are complex. I get that. And it seems like you get that with your last paragraph. I’m sorry if it feels I’m being preachy about something you already know. I’m just worried about giving a false hope because of how things worked out for me and how willing I am to give people chances.

[justanechoflower]

Anon:

…Exactly that. I decided I had to let them go. There was just nothing left after the things I did. Although, in my defense, Sayori didn’t do much better…

U-Um, not that that excuses my actions! It’s just me laying down that to us, the epiphany is a horrifying truth none of us were meant to comprehend. And yet, here you are, managing THAT just fine!

…I get why you did what you did leading up to it as well. Well, sort of? I’m like you that I can’t really care about the others, but that’s the epiphany. Everyone else in there just feel… hollow. Just lines of code, following a script. That made me think I was “more” real than them, in a sense. I knew I had character files of my own, but… I guess part of me was rationalizing what I was doing to reach the player? And if I saw the same outcome over and over again, and didn’t have a player to go trying to win the heart of, I’d probably also eventually have started killing. Since they‘re not real, and… I would have exhausted everything else…

I guess we both made the same mistake, in a way. Messing around in ways we shouldn’t have, all because we thought it didn’t matter. And after the person we truly cared out found out what we were during… they turned against us with vengeance. …But, again, I can’t really help you any more than you could help me.

Once Sayori took my place, and… did the same things I did, well, you could say that shook off some of those assumptions. 

Oh, and if you’re worried I’ll mess up your world or something, don’t be… the console I used only exists in my world. With me not there, Sayori has those powers, and… they only work in that world. But also, don’t try anything fancy like trying to take a SOUL, though, we don’t have those in my world, ahaha… I did tell her not to follow me here, though. Because if she left, the power would go to Yuri, and… like I said, I don’t want anyone else to have to deal with that horrible truth. Again, how do you manage it? How did you not go searching for a way out, or… come to the conclusion it isn’t even worth it? …Apparently in some timelines Sayori came to that conclusion… Namely the ones where I never existed because I was deleted before the game began.

And yeah… it SHOULDN’T hurt, but it does. In fact, even then, it hurt doing what I did… even before I knew they were aware. …I didn’t actually delete them, I sort of… moved them somewhere the game couldn’t “run” them, so to speak. That’s why I was able to bring everyone back… although I guess you wouldn’t know, from what you said earlier, my game DOESN’T seem to exist in your world. Or maybe it does and you just never played it? Ahaha, if I were my old self, I’d probably give it to Alphys to eliminate her as a rival, but… that’s the kind of stuff that made them leave. I’m… still new to this “actually being nice with not real people” thing… Almost darkly poetic, in a way, since it turns out I was just as fictional as they were. I guess I thought the player would think the same as me. That the others didn’t matter. But if they thought that, I guess they would have never played the game at all. Ahahaha!

But, I guess that makes sense. My game was released after yours. Of course your world wouldn’t know to simulate any games that came out afterwards, like my game!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gosh, now I really am curious about your world. I'll have to look into it- if I can. Anyway, I'll just... Try to move on from this for the moment. I don't want to focus on it.

[notafunkiller]

He is also not doing showing uh... a desperation to get an award like Sebastian does. Idk if I make sense//

I don't understand why it's a sign of desperation to want to be recognized by your peers for an award. Organized sports start every season with the intent to win the championship, to become player of the year, etc. Most industries have some kind of award/reward incentive. More recognition means more than a statue. It also attracts more investors for future projects, investors dare I say who might not have had him on their radar. He's playing office politics to get that promotion.

I get what you’re saying about awards opening up opportunities and increasing visibility. Recognition can bring financial rewards and career advancement, which are important in any industry, ofc.

But I think acting is fundamentally different from something like sports because the primary purpose isn’t competition (it’s storytelling, creativity, and emotional expression). Sports are built entirely around competition: winning games, championships, or being in the top 10 in rankings (like Tennis) directly impacts the players' status and income. Basically the competition is the point in the sport industry so that's why success is measurable.

In acting, the craft itself isn’t or should not be about winning or being better than someone else. The goal is to bring characters to life, right? To connect with audiences, and tell meaningful stories.

Ofc, awards exist as a form of recognition in the industry, and they can help actors attract bigger projects or investors as you said. But when an actor seems overly focused on chasing awards, it can feel like they’re prioritizing external validation over the art itself.

That’s what I meant about Sebastian—his choices sometimes seem calculated to appeal to award voters in the industry rather than being about exploring the depth of a character or telling a compelling story. Including the way he chose to to talk about his origins. It's fine for him to bring up that he is Romanian when it benefits him and in rest he is very american (to quote him).

It’s not that ambition is bad. (I am a very ambitious and career driven perosn myself)

It’s that it can sometimes shift the focus from the craft of acting to the politics of recognition. For me, it’s the difference between an actor who immerses themselves in the story and one who’s clearly playing the awards game. And acting, at its core, shouldn’t feel like a competition it’s about creating, not winning. In my pov, ofc.

Dicaprio, as much as we all dislike him, is an incredible aftor who did not get recognized with awards on the level he should have. Does rhat make him less valuable as an actor?

The film industry, especially the Academy, is often seen as corrupt and political due to: lobbying (expensive campaigns influence award outcomes, favoring wealthy studios and actors who make noise), lack of Diversity (pleasee, the systemic biases exclude women, minorities, and certain genres and when they try to include them = obvious, nepotism (connections often outweigh talent in career opportunities just like in the other creative industries, but here it's really visible), profit motives (always the commercial interests overshadow artistic integrity), political bias (favoritism for mainstream or politically aligned narratives, shocking😆), scandals, and ofc: non-Western films and creators face marginalization.

[jaitropdonglets]

I Have ADHD. Here are Ten Productivity Hacks That Work For Me

14min read One thing about pattern recognition:

For better or worse, it’s going to do its thing.

Another thing: pattern recognition relies on accurate information. When information changes, so does the pattern — and perhaps the outcome.

Learning I’m AuDHD has changed the accuracy of information I had about myself for 40 years of my life. Once I had that revised — accurate — information, many patterns I’d previously identified either no longer existed or meant something entirely different.

When I first started this journey, I was lost — and so burnt out. I had no idea where to start.

Two years post-AuDHD epiphany and I feel like I’m finally starting to get a grip on who I am and what I need. It’s been a rough road with a lot of trial and error, but the pieces are starting to come together.

1) Prioritize my nervous system

I’m starting heavy right out of the gate because the other eight help with this one.

I think of this as the umbrella — it’s what everything else ultimately originates from or is designed to accommodate.

At the end of the day, my nervous system and window of tolerance largely determine how I feel.

If I cannot find ways to soothe and accommodate my hypersensitive nervous system, nothing else really matters.

For me, the most effective way is to disconnect from my brain and connect to my body. This may be literal like moving stagnant energy; this may be figurative like using my body and nervous system to recognize when something isn’t working for me.

For example, resistance is exhausting.

Looking to my nervous system as my navigator has made it much less complicated to determine what is and isn’t working, important, etc.

This isn’t a simple feat, which is where the other eight come in to help.

2) Manage energy and emotions instead of time

Hear me out — we don’t experience time the same way all the time.

You ever notice how sometimes you can get a ton of stuff done and others you’re completely frozen and it seems like days can pass without realizing it?

We can experience time in completely different ways. For me, much of this boils down to my nervous system and how “present” I am able to be with myself and my body.

When I’m able to recognize, acknowledge, and manage my emotions, I am able to inherently better manage linear time.

For example, if I’m anxious and trying to suppress that anxiety, it will slow me down — mentally and/or physically. Same goes for anger, sadness, etc.

If I take the time to figure out what I need to somatically release the emotion — or whatever is necessary to manage it — I’m able to then approach things from a clearer, more regulated place afterward. I cannot count the times I’ve gone from intense sobbing to knocking things off my to-do list in a matter of minutes because often, once I get the release I need, I’m ready to go.

When I’m able to recognize, acknowledge, and manage my energy, I am also able to inherently better manage linear time.

For example, if I’m exhausted — even if I don’t intellectually understand why — pushing to do things that aren’t 100% necessary will end up slowing me down. Yes, I may physically move slower, but I’m also more likely to make mental mistakes.

This is also how I end up disconnecting from my body and then hyper-focusing to the point of near dehydration, etc. That’s… not great.

When I stop to acknowledge how my body feels and then address what it needs, I’m able to get “back on track” and take care of things in a smaller linear timeframe, and often with fewer mistakes.

3) Prioritize all 7 types of rest

I used to think of rest as on or off — moving or not.  Color me surprised when I learned there are SEVEN types of rest:

1) Physical 2) Mental 3) Emotional 4) Social 5) Sensory 6) Creative 7) Spiritual

When I’m trying to manage my energy levels, the first thing I do is look to the types of rest and try to determine where I may be lacking. This is a large part of why my days can look very different depending on where I’m over and under-energized.

As an added bonus, I’ve found rest in one area can lead to breakthroughs in another. For example, I often have creative breakthroughs when taking mental rest.

But what about when you need to roar instead of rest?

4) Unapologetic stimming and special interests

Stimming — or self-regulation for the nervous system — and special interests are vital for me. Though almost everyone stims since it’s just a way to expel excess energy from the body, I need it more frequently and intensely to help manage my nervous system.

The same goes for special interests. I think most can benefit from at least one special interest (or hobby), but they’re often seen as vital for our wellbeing and life experience by autistics themselves.

A 2017 study of 80 autistic adults about the special interests found that 65 described their special interests as positive, 74 considered them calming, and 77 felt that children’s special interests should be encouraged. A 2018 study found that special interests had a positive impact on autistic adults and were associated with higher subjective wellbeing and satisfaction across specific life domains including social contact and leisure.

Let’s be honest, one of the hardest things is breaking away from goals related to “productivity,” instead striving for calm and contentment.

Generally speaking, I need to “indulge” in stimming and special interests more than others; there’s no reason for me to harbor internalized guilt or shame for it.

5) Schedule physical and environmental maintenance like work

First of all, they’re not “small everyday tasks”… I don’t find cleaning, showering, eating, hydrating, or working out to be particularly “small” — you know?!

These things are often thought of as “automatic” by those who don’t struggle with executive dysfunction or interoception issues.

For me, these are anything but automatic and take a lot of my energy yet are imperative for, well, safety first and foremost.

Even still, I spent YEARS bypassing recognition of the amount of energy it takes for me to do these things — which has increased over the years as stress and trauma have accumulated.

Today, I try my best to look at these as part of my to-do list rather than extratasks beyond the other tasks and deadlines that have to be taken care of. I don’t do this to put pressure on myself, but as a way of acknowledging the effort required and put in; doing these isn’t “nothing” and they do “count” toward what I’ve gotten done that day.

I’ve also learned I’m far more likely to slip back into dissociating from my body in order to push through other things if I’m not prioritizing and celebrating completion of these primary needs.

6) Lower the demand morning routine

I’ve heard of various trendy morning routines like “low dopamine” and “low demand,” but neither of those works for my brain or body.

What does work for me is meeting my body and brain where they are when I wake up. Since cortisol is naturally higher when we wake up, I do things that feel good and help me regulate like playing fun music and dancing. I then use this energy to do some of the things that’ll weigh most heavily on me that day — the things that feel most demanding — which puts me in a lighter headspace as the day progresses.

7) Robes and “housecoats” > clothing

For the most part, clothing is just… not comfortable. I really cannot stand things around my midsection — ribcage all the way down — and since I make the rules, I rarely wear clothes at home anymore opting instead for robes or “housecoat” type attire.

Sweatpants and a regular t-shirt? No way. A giant t-shirt and inside shoes? YES, 10000% YES.

I often get dressed when I need to leave my place, and then get back into my comfortable clothing (or lack thereof) as soon as I’m back.

When at home, other than working out, there’s no reason I can’t do almost everything else in my robe and inside sneakers.

I spent so much of my life so uncomfortable… I’m just… done.

And it’s been f*#cking glorious.

8) Shower flip flops

The shower is a major paradox for me. There are things I love about it, but the things I loathe outweigh those until the shower is done, where I’ll enjoy the effects for about an hour, and then dread the next one.

Since the shower can be a sensory nightmare, I realized one day there’s no reason I can’t wear shower sandals like I used to in the dorm. Sure, I’m using them for a different reason, but it still works.

9) No apologies for reasonable requests

I no longer apologize for accommodating myself or requesting reasonable accommodations from others.

I always explain things — I don’t expect others to understand the why until I explain it — but once I do and you say you understand, I’m not going to apologize for then making those requests, enforcing the boundaries, etc.

I’ve found a lot of people “understand” when it’s a hypothetical, but aren’t as understanding in practice, which has resulted in me doing a lot of apologizing.

No more.

There are a lot of things I’m willing to compromise on and this isn’t about toxic individuality, but when it comes to boundaries I have in place to protect my sensory issues or other high stress situations, it’s game over, non-negotiable these days.

And look, if someone doesn’t care about how these things affect me or why I need reasonable boundaries, that tells me much of what I need to know…

I hope these were helpful, and let me know if you want to hear more about the “lower the demand” morning routine or any others.

❤ Shauna

[evelynndecipio-blog]

June 18th, 2020

Dear Miss Evelynn,

It saddens me that you feel so responsible, you should rest assured that things turned out alright, given the circumstances. Well, I could languish in the idea that I allowed the ball to go on despite having the opportunity to stand against it, since in the end we learned next to nothing, and instead got Victor nearly burned alive. Regrets rarely do one any good though, better to focus on what we can do going forward.

Don’t be too harsh on Rafael, I’m sure he only did what he thought was right, as misguided as that might have been. Perhaps you are like me and forget it from time to time, but we’re still all young and stupid. I hardly think he was the only one who did something calamitous that night.

As for what I learned, it was paltry, but I’ll share it anyhow. Vladimir knew he was being watched, but hadn’t known who and how many. He probably got more information out of the ball than we had. Selim Faust had rummaged through Vladimir’s bag and left with what he found there, though I can’t say I know what it was. I could try to talk to him, but he sort of hides away and keeps to himself, so it’s easier said than done. I still need to get back together with Opeila and go over what she learned, since she was closer to Vladimir through the duration of the event. At some point I switched to fighting the mosps instead, since two were attacking Willow. Once I do that, I’ll tell you what I’ve found out from her. June 21st

You may think I’m well connected because of my cooperation with the Slytherins at the ball, but the things happening around the school aren’t just happening to us, and most of them are too prideful to exchange information with other houses. I have people I trust in the other houses, but so far no one in Gryffindor but you seem interested in sharing information either. Perhaps that is also out of pride? I think there is a lot you could tell me that no one else could.

I am going to summer camp, though I was hoping to do anything but dwell on this year’s events. To be quite honest, I was going to hole myself up in a tent alone and read books the entire time. Is that selfish of me? Still, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Once I return home after the two weeks are over, I will write to you again if it wasn’t too uneventful. You could tell me how your supplementary education went. Better than you thought, I hope.

I hadn’t considered that our owls might be intercepted though. It certainly isn’t impossible or unheard of. I know Vladimir is aware of my involvement to some degree, but not if he knows my name, or to what extent. Maybe you’re right, it’s not like it would hurt to begin using a key now, before it’s too late. We could do Rot13 for words we want to conceal. Though admittedly not a hard cipher to figure out, it could work until we have something better.

Actually, one of my favorites is using Rot13 but slanting the outcome so it doesn’t seem out of place. Sort of like cockney, so it would take a bit more work to know what words were concealed and what weren’t. For example, Vladimir in Rot13 is Iynqvzve, which is a pretty odd word that stands out. I could instead call him “Ivansky” which is a real name. That way, only by knowing who I might be talking about and seeing if the slant fits will you know for sure, and someone else would have a lot more trouble to go through. Well, perhaps I’m having a bit too much fun with that, I’ll leave it up to you.

As for being too forward, please don’t think too much of it. Since I can’t unwrite what I’ve written, I should at least explain in part. I only meant to imply I might be assuming too much interest on your part, since brevity in letters is considered more proper. I wouldn’t want you to have to read too many of my inane thoughts and become bored. Perhaps I was being a bit more insecure than the situation warranted, since you were kind enough to say I have a way with words. I quite enjoy receiving your letters, so I’m thankful that the feeling is mutual.

Kindest regards,

Flash Holmwood

[shaadelyfe]

I guess you can say that all aspects of life are built on perspective. Our goals to achieve, unexpected failure, the struggles of just living. From the beginning of our existence we have an ‘obligation’ to the rest of the world. We are meant to be “something” to someone, a better version of ourselves, grow on a certain path, or some body of thought that others look to. It comes down to “how hard do you need it to be”?. #yourchoice

If you or anyone you know has gone through a tough patch i’m pretty sure we’ve all heard the words “life isn’t easy”. Life sucks at times, it’s challenging, unforgiving, relentless, its always wants more, it needs more to get you to the next level. You cry, you laugh, you feel protected, your feel lost……all are normal and should be expected, BUT you need to want more.

I struggle with finding that “vision” of what life should be like. I see others flourish, I’m so happy for everyone else, I understand the struggle required, I feel I always come short, I don’t know how to be happy. I really have it all

That’s where messages and the belief in others’ perspectives can help you pull through. Case in point, here’s one the best speeches that hit home to me when I needed it. A #mental check from @officiallymcconaughey

Full article: Matthew McConaughey to Grads: Always Play Like an Underdog

1. Life is not easy…

NUMBER 1, LIFE’S NOT EASY…don’t try and make it that way. It’s not fair, it never was, it isn’t now, it won’t ever be. Do not fall into the entitlement trap of feeling you are a victim, you are not. Get over it and get on with it. And yes, most things are more rewarding when you break a sweat to get em.

2. “Unbelievable” is the stupidest word in the dictionary

It shouldn’t ever come out of our mouths.

To say, “What an unbelievable play!” It was an unbelievable book, film, act of courage…really?

It may be spectacular, phenomenal, most excellent and outstanding… but unbelievable? NO. Give others and yourself more credit. It just happened, you witnessed it, you just did it, believe it.

How about the other side of unbelievable? When we humans “under perform” or act OUT of character? — “man flies a suicide jet into the World Trade Center, millions die from diseases that we have cures for, Bob the builder swears he’ll have your house built by Thanksgiving and you can’t move in ’til Christmas, THE NEXT YEAR…” Our best friend lies to us, and WE, lie to our self, all the time…unbelievable? I don’t think so.. Again, it just happened, and it happens everyday …

NOTHING we homosapien earthlings do is unbelievable — one thing you can depend on people being…is people. So we shouldn’t be surprised, we are the trickiest mammal walking the planet!! (It ain’t the monkeys I’m worried about, it’s you and me.)

Acknowledge acts of greatness as real, and do NOT be naive about mankind’s capacity for evil nor be in denial of our own shortcomings.

NOTHING we do is unbelievable. Stupid word. Un-be-lievably stupid word.

3. Happiness is different than Joy

“I just want to be happy.” I hear that all the time. But what IS happiness? Happiness is an emotional response to an outcome — If I win I will be happy, if I don’t I won’t. An if-then, cause and effect, quid pro quo standard that we cannot sustain because we immediately raise it every time we attain it. You see, happiness demands a certain outcome, it is result reliant.

If happiness is what you’re after, then you are going to be let down frequently and be unhappy much of your time. Joy, though, is something else. It’s not a choice, not a response to some result, it is a constant. Joy is “the feeling we have from doing what we are fashioned to do,” no matter the outcome.

Personally, as an actor, I started enjoying my work and literally being happier when I stopped trying to make the daily labor a means to a certain end — I need this film to be a box office success, I need my performance to be acknowledged, I need the respect of my peers.

All reasonable aspirations but truth is, as soon as the WORK, the MAKING of the movie, the DOING of the deed became the reward in itself — I got more box-office, more accolades and respect than I’d ever had before. See, JOY is always in process, under construction — it’s in the constant approach, alive and well —in the DOING of what we are fashioned to do… and enJOYing doing it.

4. Define Success For Yourself

I went to a voodoo shop south of New Orleans a few years back — they had vials of “magic” potions stacked in columns with headings above each defining what they would give you — Fertility, Health, Family, Legal Help, Energy, Forgiveness, Money.

Guess which column was empty? Money. Let’s admit it, “money” is king today, makes the world go round. Money is SUCCESS, the more we have, the more “successful” we are, right?

I’d argue that our cultural values have even been financialized — humility is not in vogue anymore, it’s too passive. It’s a get rich quick on the internet, 15 minutes of fame world we live in. See it every day.

But, we all want to succeed right? Question we have to ask ourselves is, what success is to us, what success is to YOU. More money? OK, I got nothing against money. But maybe it’s a healthy family? A happy marriage? To help others? To be famous? To be spiritually sound? To leave the world a little bit better place than you found it?

Continue to ask yourself that question. Your answer may change over time and that’s fine, but do yourself this favor:

WHATEVER your answer is, DON’T CHOOSE ANYTHING THAT WILL JEOPARDIZE YOUR SOUL. PRIORITIZE WHO YOU ARE, WHO YOU WANT TO BE, AND DON’T SPEND TIME WITH ANYTHING THAT ANTAGONIZES YOUR CHARACTER. DON’T DRINK THE KOOL AID!! It tastes sweet today but it will give you cavities tomorrow. Life is not a popularity contest. Be brave, take the hill but first, answer the question, “What is my hill?”

How do I define success? For me, it’s a measurement of five things — fatherhood, being a good husband, health, career, friendships. These are what’s important to me in my life.

So, I try to measure these five each day, check in with them, see whether or not I’m in the debit or the credit section with each one. Am I in the red or in the black with each of them?

For instance, sometimes my career is rolling (in the black) but I see how my relationship with my wife could use a little more attention. I gotta pick up the slack on being a better husband, get that one out of the red. Or say my spiritual health could use some maintenance (red) but hey, my friendships and social life are in high gear (black)… I gotta recalibrate, checks and balances, go to church, remember to say thank you more often. I gotta take the tally. Because I want to keep ALL 5 in healthy shape, and I know that if I DON’T take care of them, if I don’t keep up maintenance on them, ONE of them is going to get weak, dip too deep into the debit section, go bankrupt, get sick… die even.

So first, we have to DEFINE success for ourselves, then we have to put in the work to MAINTAIN it — take our daily tally, tend our garden, keep the things that are important to us in good shape.

Let’s admit it, we all got two wolves in us, a good one and a bad one, you know what I’m talking about — and they BOTH wanna eat… We just gotta feed that good wolf a little more than the other one.

5. Process of elimination is the first step to our identity (a.k.a where you are NOT is as important as where you are)

In 1992, I got my first job as an actor. Three lines, three days work, in a film called Dazed and Confused. Alright.

Alright, Alright, Alright.

The director, Richard Linklater, kept inviting me back to set each night, putting me in more scenes which led to more lines all of which I happily said YES to. I was having a blast. People said I was good at it, they were writing me a check for $325 a day. I mean hell yeah, give me more scenes, I love this!! And by the end of the shoot those 3 lines had turned into over 3 weeks work and “it was Wooderson’s ’70 Chevelle we went to get Aerosmith tickets in.” Bad ass.

Well, a few years ago I was watching the film again and I noticed two scenes that I really shouldn’t have been in. In one of the scenes, I exited screen left to head somewhere, then re-entered the screen to “double check” if any of the other characters wanted to go with me. Now, in rewatching the film, (and you’ll agree if you know Wooderson), he was not a guy who would ever say, “later,” and then COME BACK to “see if you were sure you didn’t wanna come with him..” No, when Wooderson leaves, Wooderson’s gone, he doesn’t stutter step, flinch, rewind, ask twice, or solicit, right? He just “likes those high school girls cus he gets older and they stay the same age.”

My point is, I should NOT have been in THAT scene, I should have exited screen left and never come back.

But back then, making my first film, getting invited back to set, cashing that check and having a ball, I WANTED more screen time, I WANTED to be in the scene longer and more, and come back into the scene right?

I shouldn’t have been there. Wooderson shouldn’t have been there.

It’s just as important where we are not as it is where we are.

The first step that leads to our identity in life is usually NOT “I know who I am,” but rather “I know who I AM NOT.” Process of elimination.

Defining ourselves by what we are NOT is the first step that leads us to really KNOWING WHO WE ARE.

You know that group of friends you hang out with that really don’t bring out your best? They gossip too much, or they’re kind of shady, and they really aren’t gonna be there for you in a pinch? Or how about that bar we keep going to that we always seem to have the worst hangover from? Or that computer screen that keeps giving us an excuse not to get out of the house and engage with the world and get some HUMAN interaction? Or how about that food we keep eating? Tastes so good going down but makes us feel like crap the next week when we feel lethargic and keep putting on weight?

Those people, those places, those things — STOP giving them your TIME and ENERGY. Don’t GO there, put them DOWN — and when you DO quit giving them your time, you inadvertently find yourself spending MORE time and in more PLACES that are more healthy for YOU, that bring YOU more joy — WHY?

Because you just eliminated the who’s, the where’s, the what’s and the when’s that were keeping you from your identity. Trust me, too many options makes a tyrants of us all. So get rid of the excess, the wasted time, decrease your options… and you will have accidentally, almost innocently, put in front of you, what is important to you by process of elimination.

Knowing who we ARE is hard. Give yourself a break. Eliminate who you are NOT first, and you’ll find yourself where you need to be.

6. DON’T LEAVE CRUMBS — and the beauty of delayed gratification

What are crumbs? The crumbs I’m talking about are the choice we make that make us have to look over our shoulder in the future.

You didn’t pay that guy back the money you owed him and tonight you just saw him sitting 3 rows behind you…shit…You slept around on your spouse and you just found out that tomorrow, she and the lady you’re having an affair with, are going to be at the same PTA meeting…shit again… You drank too much last night and you’re too hungover to drive your son to his 8 a.m. Saturday morning baseball practice. THESE ARE CRUMBS! They come in the form of regret, guilt, and remorse — you leave em today, they will cause you more stress tomorrow, and they DISALLOW you from creating a customized future in which you DO NOT have to look over your shoulder.

So…let’s flip the script. Instead of creating outcomes that take FROM us, let’s create MORE outcomes that pay us BACK, fill us up, keep your fire lit, turn you ON, for the most amount of TIME in your future.

These are the choices I speak of and this is the beauty of delayed gratification.

Tee yourself up. Do yourself a favor. Make the choices, the purchase TODAY that PAYS you back TOMORROW. RESIDUALS. In my business, it’s called “mailbox money.” I do my job well today, I get checks in the mailbox five years from now — heck of a deal.

So, whether its prepping the coffee maker the night before so all you gotta do is press the button in the morning, or getting ready for the job interview early so you don’t have to cram the night before, or choosing not to hook up with that married woman because you know you’ll feel horrible about it tomorrow (and her husband carries a gun), or paying your debts on time so when you do see that guy three rows back tonight — you don’t have to hunker down in your seat hoping he don’t see you. Get some R.O.I — RETURN ON INVESTMENT — Your investment. You. You customize your future.

DON’T LEAVE CRUMBS.

7. DISSECT YOUR SUCCESSES (and the reciprocity of gratitude)

We so often focus on our FAILURES. We study them. We obsess on them. We DISSECT them. We end up intoxicated with them to the point of disillusion.

When do we write in our diary? When we’re depressed. What do we gossip about? Other people’s flaws and limitations. We can dissect ourselves into self loathing if we’re not careful — and I find that most of the times our obsession with what is wrong just breeds more wrong and more failure.

The easiest way to dissect success is though gratitude. Giving thanks for that which we do have, for what is working, appreciating the simple things we sometimes take for granted. We give thanks for these things and that gratitude reciprocates, creating more to be thankful for. It’s simple, and it works.

I’m not saying be in denial of your failures. No, we can learn from them too, but only if we look at them constructively. As a means to reveal what we are good at, what we can get better at, what we do succeed at.

I’ve read a lot of my bad reviews, and the good “bad reviews,” written by the more talented critics, are constructive. They reveal to me what did translate in my work, what came across, what was seen, or what wasn’t. I don’t obsess on the unfavorable aspect of their review, but I do seek what I can learn from it — Because their displeasure actually uncovers and makes more apparent what I do do well, what I am successful at… and then I dissect that.

Life is a verb. We try our best. We don’t always do our best. Well, architecture is a verb as well. And since we are the architects of our lives, lets study the habits, the practices, the routines we have that lead to and feed our success… our joy, our honest pain, our laughter, our earned tears…Let’s Dissect THAT and give thanks for THOSE things… and when we do that what happens? We get better at them…and have more to dissect.

8. MAKE VOLUNTARY OBLIGATIONS

Mom and dad teach us things as children. Teachers, mentors, the government and laws all give us guidelines to navigate life, rules to abide by in the name of accountability.

I’m not talking about those obligations. I’m talking about the ones we make with ourselves, with our God, with our own consciousness. I’m talking about the YOU versus YOU obligations. We have to have them. Again, these are not societal laws and expectations that we acknowledge and endow for anyone other than ourselves. These are FAITH based OBLIGATIONS that we make on our own.

Not the lowered insurance rate for a good driving record, you will not be fined or put in jail if you do not gratify the obligations I speak of — no one else governs these but you.

They’re secrets with yourself, private council, personal protocols, and while nobody throws you a party when you abide by them, no one will arrest you when you break them either. Except yourself. Or, some cops who got a “disturbing the peace” call at 2:30 in the morning because you were playing bongos in your birthday suit.

An honest man’s pillow is his peace of mind, and when you lay down on the pillow at night, no matter who’s in our bed we ALL sleep alone. — These are your personal jiminy crickets. And there are not enough cops in the entire world to police them — It’s on YOU.

9. From can to want

1995. I got my first big paycheck as an actor. I think it was 150 grand. The film was Boys on the Side and we’re shooting in Tucson, AZ and I have this sweet little adobe guest house on the edge of the Saguaro National Park. The house came with a maid. My first maid. It was awesome. So, I’ve got a friend over one Friday night and we’re having a good time and I’m telling her about how happy I am with my set up . The house. The maid. Especially, the maid. I’m telling her, “she cleans the place after I go to work, washes my clothes, the dishes, puts fresh water by my bed, leaves me cooked meals sometimes, and SHE EVEN PRESSES MY JEANS!” My friend, she smiles at me, happy for my genuine excitement over this “luxury service” I’m getting, and she says, “Well…that’s great…if you like your jeans pressed.”

I kind of looked at her, kind of stuttered without saying anything, you know, that dumb ass look you can get, and it hit me…

I hate that line going down my jeans! And it was then, for the first time, that I noticed…I’ve never thought about NOT liking that starched line down the front of my jeans!! Because I’d never had a maid to iron my jeans before!! And since she did, now, for the first time in my life, I just liked it because I could get it, I never thought about if I really wanted it there. Well, I did NOT want it there. That line… and that night I learned something.

Just because you CAN?… Nah… It’s not a good enough reason to do something. Even when it means having more, be discerning, choose it, because you WANT it, DO IT because you WANT to.

I’ve never had my jeans pressed since.

10. A roof is a man made thing

January 3, 1993. NFL playoffs. Your Houston Oilers vs. Buffalo Bills. Oilers up 28–3 at halftime, 35–3 early in the 3rd. Frank Reich and the Bills come back to win 41–38 in overtime for one of the greatest comebacks in NFL history. Yeah, the Bills won, but they didn’t really beat the Oilers. The Oilers lost that game, they beat themselves.

Why? Because at halftime they put a ceiling, a roof, a limit on their belief in themselves, a.k.a the “prevent defense.” Maybe they started thinking about the next opponent at halftime, played on their heels, lost the mental edge the entire 2nd half and voila, they lost. In a mere 2 quarters defensive coordinator Jim Eddy went from being called DC OF THE YEAR and “the man first in line to be a HC next year” to a man without a job in the NFL.

You ever choked? You know what I mean, fumbled at the goal line, stuck your foot in your mouth once you got the microphone, had a brain freeze on the exam you were totally prepared for, forgot the punch line to a joke in front of four thousand graduating students at a University of Houston Commencement speech? Or maybe you’ve had that feeling of “Oh my God, life can’t get any better, do I deserve this?”

What happens when we get that feeling? We tense up, we have this outer body experience where we are literally seeing our self in the third person. We realize that the moment just got bigger than us. You ever felt that way? I have.

It’s because we have created a fictitious ceiling, a roof, to our expectations of ourselves, a limit — where we think it’s all too good to be true. BUT IT ISN’T. AND IT’S NOT OUR RIGHT TO SAY OR BELIEVE IT IS.

We shouldn’t create these restrictions on ourselves. A blue ribbon, a statue, a score, a great idea, the love of our life, a euphoric bliss. Who are we to think we don’t deserve or haven’t earned these gifts when we get them?

Not our right.

But if we stay in process, within ourselves, in the joy of the doing, we will never choke at the finish line. Why? Because we aren’t thinking of the finish line, we’re not looking at the clock, we’re not watching ourselves on the Jumbotron performing the very act we are in the middle of. No, we’re in process, the APPROACH IS THE DESTINATION… and we are NEVER finished.

Bo Jackson ran over the goal line, through the end zone and up the tunnel — the greatest snipers and marksmen in the world don’t aim at the target, they aim on the other side of it.

We do our best when our destinations are beyond the “measurement,” when our reach continually exceeds our grasp, when we have immortal finish lines.

When we do this, the race is never over. The journey has no port. The adventure never ends because we are always on our way. Do this, and let them tap us on the shoulder and say, “hey, you scored.” Let them tell you “You won.” Let them come tell you, “you can go home now.” Let them say “I love you too.” Let them say “thank you.”

TAKE THE LID OFF THE MAN MADE ROOFS WE PUT ABOVE OURSELVES AND ALWAYS PLAY LIKE AN UNDERDOG.

11. Turn the page

The late and great University of Texas football coach Daryl Royal was a friend of mine and a good friend to many. A lot of people looked up to him. One was a musician named “Larry.” Now at this time in his life Larry was in the prime of his country music career, had #1 hits and his life was rollin’. He had picked up a habit snortin’ “the white stuff” somewhere along the line and at one particular party after a “bathroom break,” Larry went confidently up to his mentor Daryl and he started telling Coach a story. Coach listened as he always had and when Larry finished his story and was about to walk away, Coach Royal put a gentle hand on his shoulder and very discreetly said, “Larry, you got something on your nose there bud.” Larry immediately hurried to the bathroom mirror where he saw some white powder he hadn’t cleaned off his nose. He was ashamed. He was embarrassed. As much because he felt so disrespectful to Coach Royal, and as much because he’d obviously gotten too comfortable with the drug to even hide as well as he should.

Well, the next day Larry went to coach’s house, rang the doorbell, Coach answered and he said, “Coach, I need to talk to you.” Daryl said, “sure, c’mon in.”

Larry confessed. He purged his sins to Coach. He told him how embarrassed he was, and how he’s “lost his way” in the midst of all the fame and fortune and towards the end of an hour, Larry, in tears, asked Coach, “What do you think I should do?” Now, Coach, being a man of few words, just looked at him and calmly confessed himself. He said, “Larry, I have never had any trouble turning the page in the book of my life.” Larry got sober that day and he has been for the last 40 years.

You ever get in a rut? Stuck on the merry-go-round of a bad habit? I have. You are going to make mistakes — own them, make amends, and move on. Guilt and regret kills many a man before their time. Turn the page, get off the ride. YOU are the author of the book of your life. Turn the page.

12. Give your obstacles credit

You know these No Fear t-shirts? I don’t get em. Hell, I try to scare myself at least once a day. I get butterflies every morning before I go to work. I was nervous before I got here to speak tonight. I think fear is a good thing. Why? Because it increases our NEED to overcome that fear.

Say your obstacle is fear of rejection. You want to ask her out but you fear she may say “no.” You want to ask for that promotion but you’re scared your boss will think you’re overstepping your bounds.

Well, instead of denying these fears, declare them, say them out loud, admit them, give them the credit they deserve. Don’t get all macho and act like they’re no big deal, and don’t get paralyzed by denying they exist and therefore abandoning your need to overcome them. I mean, I’d subscribe to the belief that we’re all destined to have to do the thing we fear the most anyway.

So, you give your obstacles credit and you will one. Find the courage to overcome them or see clearly that they are not really worth prevailing over.

BE BRAVE, HAVE COURAGE. WHEN YOU DO YOU GET STRONGER, MORE AWARE, AND MORE RESPECTFUL — OF YOURSELF, AND THAT WHICH YOU FEAR.

13. So how do we know when we cross the truth?

13. Why 13? Unlucky # right?

Well, when did 13 get the bad rap and become the mongrel of numerology? Thirteen’s never done me wrong. In fact, 13 has been a pretty lucky number for me, lemme tell you how:

I’ve always taken these 21 day trips by myself to far off places where I usually don’t know the language and nobody knows my name. They’re adventures and they’re a purge, a cleanse for me. Like a 21 day fast from attention, from all the things I have in my well appointed life. They’re a check OUT, so I can check IN with myself.

See how I’m doing, be forced to be my own and only company, to have a look in MY mirror. And you know what can happen when we do THAT — sometimes we don’t like what we see.

In 1996, right after I got “famous” from a film called A Time to Kill, I headed out on one of these 21-day walkabouts — this time to the jungles and mountains of Peru. The sudden fame I’d just gotten was somewhat unbalancing. My face was everywhere, everyone wanted a piece of me, people I’d never met were swearing they “loved me” — everywhere I went, there I was, on a billboard, a magazine cover. It was just weird. What was this all about? What was reality and what was bullshit? Did I deserve all this?” were all questions I was asking myself.

“Who was I?” was another.

Now, there’s always an initiation period with these trips. An amount of time that it takes for the place to INITIATE the traveler. The time it takes to disconnect from the world we left, and become completely present in the one we are traveling in…For me, that initiation period usually last about thirteen days. Yes. Thirteen hellish days until I’m out of my own way. After that, the trip is smooth sailing.

Well, it was the night of the twelfth day of my 21-day trip. I was settling into camp, I’d already hiked 80 miles to this point and had a three-day trek to Machu Pichu ahead of me.

I was sick of myself. Wrestling with the loss of my anonymity, guilt ridden for sins of my past, full of regret. I was lonely — disgusted with the company I was keeping: MY OWN — and doing a pretty good job of mentally beating the shit out of myself.

Grappling with the demons on this night, I couldn’t sleep. All of these badges and banners and expectations and anxieties I was carrying with me. I needed to free myself from them… Who was I? I asked myself. Not only on this trip but in this life. So I stripped down to nothing. I took off every moniker that gave me pride and confidence, all the window dressings, the packaging around my product (heart). I discarded my lucky and faithful American cap, stripped off my talismans from adventures past. I even discarded my late father’s gold ring he gave to me that was made from a meltdown of he and my mom’s class rings and gold from one of her teeth.

I was naked. Literally and figuratively. And I got sick. Soaked in sweat, I threw up until there was no bile left in my belly, and finally passed out from exhaustion.

A few hours later, I awoke on this thirteenth morning to a rising sun. Surprisingly fresh and energized, I dressed, made some tea and went for a morning walk. Not towards my destination Machu Pichu but rather to nowhere in particular. My gut was still a bit piqued from last night’s purge, yet I curiously felt pretty good: alive, clean, free, light.

Along a muddy path on this walk, I turned a corner and there in the middle of the road was a mirage of the most magnificent pinks and blues and red colors I had ever seen. It was electric, glowing and vibrant, hovering just off the surface, as if it was plugged in to some neon power plant.

I stopped. I stared. There was no way around it: The jungle floor in front of me was actually THOUSANDS OF BUTTERFLIES. There, in my path. It was SPECTACULAR.

I stayed awhile, and somewhere in my captivation, I heard this little voice inside my head say these words, “All I want is what I can see, and what I can see, is in front of me.”

At that moment, for the first time on this trip, I had stopped anticipating what was around the corner, stopped thinking about what was coming up next and what was up ahead. Time slowed down. I was no longer in a rush to get anywhere. My anxieties were eased.

A few hours later I returned to camp and packed for my continued journey onto Machu Pichu. I had a bounce in my step, new energy. The local Sherpas I was traveling with even noticed, calling out to me, “sois luz Mateo, sois luz!!!” — meaning “you are light” in Spanish.

You see, I forgave myself that morning. I let go of the guilt, the weight on my shoulders lifted, my penance paid, and I got back in good graces with God. I shook hands with myself, my best friend, the one we’re all stuck with anyway. From that morning on, the adventure was awesome. I was present, out of my own way, not anticipating next, embracing only what was in front of my eyes, and giving everything the justice it deserved.

You see, I crossed a truth that morning. Did I find it? I don’t know, I think it found me. Why? Because I put myself in a place to be found. I put myself in a place to receive the truth.

So, how do we know when we cross the truth?

I believe the truth is all around us, all the time. The answer, you know, it’s always right there. But we don’t always see it, grasp it, hear it, access it — because we’re not in the right place to.

So what do we do?

First, we have to put ourselves in the place to receive the truth. We live in an extremely noisy world with all kinds of frequencies coming at us — commitments, deadlines, fix this, do that, plans, expectations — and they all make it hard to get clarity and peace of mind. So we have to consciously put ourselves in a place to receive that clarity. Whether that’s prayer, meditation, a walkabout, being in right company, a road trip, whatever it is for you.

Schedule that time to be in a place to receive the truth.

Now, if we hear it, if it becomes clear, a truth that is natural and infinite, then the second part comes…

…which is to PERSONALIZE it. Ask how it works for you, how it applies to you personally, why you need it in your life, specifically.

…If we do THAT, then comes the third part:

….having the patience to internalize it — and get it from our intellectual head and into our bones and soul and our instinct. We can’t rush this part, it takes time.

And if we get that far. We received it, we personalized it, we internalized it. If we make it that far, then comes THE BIGGIE ….

Having the courage to act on it. To actually take it into our daily lives and practice it, to make it an active part of who we are and live it.

If we can do that, then we have what I believe is Heaven on Earth.

The place where what we want is also just what we need. I mean that’s the ticket isn’t it!!? That’s where I want to live!!

So while we’re here, let’s make it a place where we break a sweat, where we believe, where we enjoy the process of succeeding in the places and ways we are fashioned to. Where we don’t have to look over our shoulder because we are too busy doing what we’re good at. Voluntarily keeping our own council because we WANT to. Traveling towards immortal finish lines. We write our book. Overcome our fears. We make friends with ourselves.

That is the place I’m talking about.

Thank you, good luck and just keep livin.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

So I saw a tik Tok earlier about people checking in on the bodega cats in their neighborhoods after the New York flooding. That got me thinking about Chris going with Ron and Tom to New York for the first time and finding out that bodega cats are a thing. Chris would absolutely make them stay an extra 5-10 minutes or more whenever they go to bodegas just so he can pet and play with and love up on those cats. I know Ron isn’t a cat fan but I feel like the bodega cats would be begging him for attention because they get the good vibes from him. And then Tom and Chris would be trying so hard not to laugh as their giant of a boyfriend is trying to safely get away from the cats who just want his attention

You’re brilliant and literally so correct!

Ron ends up getting stockholmed syndromed into liking cats ngl. But it takes a few years…

(I’m so sorry I took so long to respond I was dead on my feet yesterday and literally fell asleep with my phone in my hand when laying in bed writing this.)

-

“Ah welcome back Tommy. Hello Chris, Ron.”

They all grin at Mr. Johan’s. Chris makes a beeline for the cat sitting in the basket. “Chris- aaand we’ve lost him.” Ron laughs. “Course we did. There’s a cat.”

Tom knocks his elbow into Ron’s side and points at the ground, “speaking of cat.”

There’s a little tabby rubbing her legs on Ron’s snow boots. He sighs. Glances over at Chris but finds him completely involved with whatever creature he’s found.

Ron leans down and gives the cat a single pet. It meows at him. This is why he doesn’t pet cats. They’re evil. “Tommy take this stupid cat.”

“Oi! Don’t call my darling Ruby stupid you big navy idiot!” “Sorry Mr. Johan. I don’t mean stupid in a bad way.”

The man raises an eyebrow and Ron can only shrug. Okay so he did mean it in a bad way but whatever.

“Tommy look at this cat.”

Suddenly Chris is standing next to them holding a little brow haired kitten. Tom gasps.

Fuck.

Ron knows that noise.

That’s not the Chris put it back noise.

That’s the omg cat we need noise.

“No. No cats. No more cats.”

Chris spins and stares at his boyfriend. “Babyyyy.” Tom slips a hand around Chris’s waist. “Pleeeasee?”

Mr. Johans laughs at the three of them. It’s getting close to midnight and they’re the only idiots out in this weather. Ron sighs. He knows he’s never meant to win against the two of them. That’s fine. It makes them happy.

“Jesus fine.”

Chris gasps like he didn’t expect this outcome. He hands the kitten to Tom and throws himself at Ron. “Baby thank you!” Tom nods and passes the cat back. He leans up and kisses Rons cheek. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

Ron shakes his head and sets what the actual came for on the counter. “How much for the kitten.” Chris is already talking to the creature about names.

Mr, Johans tilts his head, he smiles at Chris, “for him? Free. For you Ron? Four hundred.”

Tom coughs. Ron kicks him in the ankle. Tom makes a sound at the impact. “So free?”

Chris steps forward still holding the stupid cat. “I promise he’ll be in fabulous hands don’t worry sir.” Mr. Johans smiles at Chris again. “Anytime kiddo. Stay safe with these two. And be a good dad to that cat.”

Chris is practically bouncing in place. He kisses the cats head again and tucks her into his coat to stay warm.

Can’t wait to show Sarah what he got.

-

“How are you explaining this to my mom?” - “honestly Tommy didn’t think I’d get Ron to agree let alone how to tell Aleska.” - “better question you two. How is it coming home with us.” - “in a carrier and the car we took up here?”

[lucienarcheron]

hi gigi! i hope that this question isn’t overwhelming but i love love love smtb and i think that you’re a great writer i would like to improve my writing/take writing more seriously and i’ve attempted to write fics in the past but i just don’t know where to take a simple idea so i never finish anything…. do you have any advice in planning a fic or writing in general? (e.g. how do i ensure that the dialogue is something the character im writing about would actually say?)

hello darling! first off, thanks so much for loving SMTB and my writing! It means so much and I'm so flattered you're asking me! Here are some of my thoughts :)

I think my biggest piece of advice for getting better at writing is to literally just keep writing. You only get better through practice. Editing my old stuff and looking at it now has been so interesting because I see how I would do it differently now vs then. I wouldn't know that if I hadn't let myself just write. Write whatever it is, even if you think it sucks. Just do it. You can always go back and edit it but you won't have anything to edit if you don't actually write it. Even if it's been done before. Even if you think someone does it better than you. Write it because no one could write it like you can.

I would describe my approach to writing as a "loose" planner lol. I usually have a beginning, a big event, and the ending then figure out everything that I want to happen in between as I go along. I've found that this helps me have something to follow while also allowing room for the characters/story to give me ideas. You can always start with these kinds of questions: what is the point of this piece? Why am I putting this character in this situation? What is the outcome I want? What is the tone that I'm trying to convey?

If it's easier, start with short prompts and drabbles to get you in the groove of your writing style before you move on to bigger one-shots or multi-chapters. If you feel like follow-through is something you struggle with, focus on shorter pieces so you can build up to stories you can follow through on.

As for dialogue and feeling like the way you write the character is true to how they would sound in canon, I always recommend rereading the scenes they're in. You can ask yourself, what do I know about this character? Based on what they've been through and how their dynamic is with others in the book, would they say this? Remember that fanfiction is also meant to be fun so you can strive away from canon. I personally always try to write characters the way I think they would actually be in canon and prefer to read fanfics that do the same but again, with how creative fanfiction allows people to be, you can find literally a n y t h i n g. It's pretty cool to see how people can interpret characters differently (unless it's something weird then I don't like it lmao). But don't stress yourself out too much about that. The important thing is a) write b) have fun and c) don't be so hard on yourself. Putting pressure on yourself makes it less fun lol.

I hope this helps somewhat! 😅♥️

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hi, i’m the “confused about career wannabe musician anon” that sent you that ask yesterday. What i meant to say was I really wanna pursue a music career & become a singer/songwriter/performer type, I know how to play some instruments and have a good ear. I can already imagine myself as one and have daydreams about performing and doing interviews lol. I really wanna be a musician, and you were on the nose about me currently studying/doing a job that i do NOT wanna do lol. If I were to start my music career, should I do it now? Or when do you think is a good time based on your intuition? I’m anxious to start but don’t really know when would be a good time or what timing would make for better success/ recognition? Thanks again for your reading before it was really insightful!

Anon! We are similar in this way :) What I feel is you need to pursue money in an enriching way, do jobs that will give you inspiration, like don’t pursue career with the traditional idea of like staying in that forever, find something you can do, that pays you but isn’t soul draining. I’ll give an example. I’ve considered learning how to be a barista, because it would be a fun skill and could inspire me in the people I meet, there are also jobs like working on a farm, etc. You have to work, but you can do it in a way that uplifts your art. I think don’t see music as a career, it’s not, it’s a calling. You are called to make music regardless if you make money. I think you should start creating and producing now. You’re too focused on the outcome, the success, the interviews, focus on singing and writing from your soul. Sing because you must, write because you must, the outcome is human, the creation is spirit. Try your best to let your music be what it wants, not what you think it should be or what others think it should be. Don’t sellout.

[musingmemories]

“Crazy lady?” Lila's chuckle rang off the stone walls and down the pitch dark tunnels, perhaps carried on to other timelines where she might've been making the same sound in a different circumstance. Echoed in one resounding chorus. “You'd think after years of spending time with me you'd come up with better insults.” Contradicting herself, Lila could recall the exact moments Five had actually managed to hurt her feelings during their tension induced squabbles. He knew it too— she could see it shift briefly in his expression and those sea glass eyes before he'd glance away and a thickened silence settled between them. Sometimes their cold shouldering lasted for days, both too stubborn to be the one to apologize, using the art of distraction to let the other know bygones were bygones.

Here he was now taunting her about her admittance, dark chocolate orbs rolling coyly in amusement. “A T-shirt both of us would wear? I'm used to men begging me to get under their clothes but sharing a shirt would be a first. We'd look like two stooges.” If Five had meant two separate shirts, which was more than likely the case, Lila took it an entirely different way on purpose. At least then it was easier to lighten the gravity of the words she'd spoken into existence seconds ago: Five wasn’t bad company. Tell that to her past self and Lila would’ve killed you on the spot before you could elaborate. Trapped for what might be ever in a slow march throughout possible, inevitable doom. The Apocalypse.

What better way to pass the time than with a casual game of rock, paper, scissors and loser bare their souls? Or Truth or Dare that made Lila crack a grin, masking the pain that came with the mention of Diego. “Knowing him he’d claim I were trying to outdo his shorter hairstyle. Although, he might also like me in a different wig— one for each of my split personalities.” Oh it hurt… the thought of seeing that stupid grin of Diego’s again. Genuine happiness now seemed a fleeting memory… even more so than before when they’d been drowning in diapers and laundry and overall unfulfillment. Grinding to a halt in their passions both in and out of love, gradually becoming roommates from lovers.

Suppose this was her penance for wanting something different out of her life. Jealous of others— women who were still free, alone time something Lila had to fight for just to use the toilet in peace or have the excuse to run an errand. Now here she was. Alone. Completely. Utterly. With the exception of Five, of course, now defending his Greek serial killer persona like he were being judged by the jury. “You’ll buy me a mustache because you think I’m jealous? Think the shirt’s gonna just about do it for me. I’d hate for you to blow your life savings because that retirement fund isn’t looking too good with that baby face of yours.” Snickering at her own wit, Lila was stalling to give herself time to think of what Five’s next sleight of hand would be and her tactic against it. “I’d bleed you dry at this rate if you’re so insistent on getting me things. I can be rather expensive, you know.” She’d traded a bracelet in for a Dyson vacuum, after all.

A sacrifice for a need. A necessity. A step toward growing up and becoming less selfish. To better suit her lifestyle. Something she hadn’t told anyone before, Diego assuming Lila simply hated bracelets and ran with it, never gifting her with one again. Instead of asking point blank what it was she wanted and getting her that exact thing. The spontaneity between them had died, as did Five’s sails did from him trying to purchase alcohol, only to be turned away for his looks. Lila burst out into laughter. “Don’t tell me you think the mustache would’ve had a different outcome… but did those candies add sweetness to your wound? Because I’m sure you at least tried one? I would’ve stolen the alcohol, but that’s just me~”

Unfortunately for Five, scissors had been chosen by Lila’s hands, cutting harshly on his held out paper. “That’ll be another secret please.”

                   ˜”*°•.         ❝ A  loser  ?  I  think  you  are  remembering  something  very  wrong, crazy-lady . ❞  Words  echoed  confident  arrogant .  Many  times  had  they  resorted  in  games,  after  all  -  a  desperate  attempt  to  pass  the  time  be  it  with  silly  dares  or  guesses .  This  was  perhaps  the  reason  why  holding  out  hope  was  easier  this  time .  Why   he  didn’t  feel  his  mind  slipping  away  into  madness .  He  wasn’t  alone .  He  didn’t  have  to  keep  himself  focused  all  the  time,  he  didn’t   have  to  do  it  all  on  his  own .  She  was  there .  And  as  many  ups  and  downs  as  they’d  gone  through,  he  couldn’t  imagine  himself  enduring  solitude  again. 

Still,  at  her  words  it  was  impossible  to  hold  back  the  amusement .  And  maybe  it  was  partially  because  of  the  undeniable  victory  this  round,  however  he’d  found  himself  rejoicing  in  her  company  too .  They  were  similar .  Their  years  in  the  Commission  enough  to  give  them  enough  of  a  common  ground.     ❝ Not  the  worst  apocalypse  partner  to  have,  now  this  I  am  going  to  make  into  a  T-shirt  and  make  both  of  us  wear. ❞  Because  it  was  true .  As  ironic  as  it  was,  Lila  matched  the  role  as well ;  her  presence  the  only  thing  keeping  him  sane ,  anchored .  The  memories  of  his  own  Apocalypse  only  growing  wilder  as  days  passed,  after  all   -  trauma  still  vivid  the  moment  the  realization  they  were  trapped  felt  a  little  bit  too  intense .

At  his  question ,  a  shake  of  the  head  was  offered.  ❝ No,  it  doesn’t. ❞  There  was  no  way  he  was  not  exploiting  her  defeat  in  the  fullest  - for  oh ,  he  knew  it  well.  The  moment  he  got  in  a  losing  position,  she  was  going  to  be  merciless.  Corner  of  the  lips  stretched upwards  upon  the  other’s  revelation .   ❝ Really ? ❞  He  asked  -  and  yet,  he  could  for  some  reason  imagine  her  doing  so.  Maybe  it  ran  in  the  family ;  having  a  chaotic  childhood,  a  tad  bit  too  rebellious  too.    ❝ Next  time  we’re  playing  truth  or  dare,  I  am  making  you  shave  your  head  by  the  way.  Even  better  if  it’s  right  before  you  see  my  brother  again . ❞  For  wouldn’t  that  be  a  hilarious  sight  to  witness ?

There  was  no  way  that  she  would  ever  convince  him  that  the  fake  moustache  had  been  a  bad  decision.  It’d  tricked  almost  everyone ,  allowed  him  into  places  that  he’d  have  not  accessed  otherwise .  And  quite  honestly ?  It  hadn’t  looked  that  horrible  either .  ❝ I’d  say  you’re  simply  being  jealous.  But  don’t  worry,  I  will  buy  you  one  if  you  want  it  so  bad. ❞  He  teased .  Still,  it  was  now  coming  to  the  time  that  concentration  was  needed  -  well,  luck  mostly .  Luck  that  he’d  ran  out  of  quite  visible,  for  in  response  to  Lila’s  rock ,  he’d  gone  for  pencil  - a  silly  option  indeed.   ❝ Shit . ❞  Was  the  only  word  to  escape  his  lips.

A  secret  that  none  was  aware  of .  He  could  share  countless  honestly .  Having  spent  forty  five  years  in  solitude,  enough  to  give  him  experiences  for  a  dozen  of  lifetimes.   Still,  choosing  one  worthy  of  sharing  was  a  different  thing  entirely.  And  so,  to  his  own  surprise,  the  experience  didn’t  source  from  his  Apocalypse  years  -  more  like  the  much  nearer  ones .  ❝ Back  in  2019  I  tried  to  purchase  a  bottle  of  vodka.  And  do  you  know  what  the  cashier  did ?  Laugh  and  gave  me  candies  instead.  Cartoon-shaped  candies. ❞  And  oh,  how  much  he’d  wanted  to  commit  murder  during  that  moment. 

Rock ,  paper ,  scissors .  Now  paper  chosen.

[crypticjackal13]

Hello can I request Mentor! Nezha x student! Reader?

Where Nezha is reader's mentor but reader tends to push themselves a bit too hard

(Platonic)

Oh fun!! Dude nothing hits like a mentor with a burnt out student where the mentor has to actually keep an eye on things

"Blooming" (670 w.c)

Mentor!Nezha x Student!GN!Reader

PLATONIC Oneshot

CW: burnout, Nezha is disappointed

“No, you were too slow. Try again.”

You panted as you put your hands on your knees, looking at the weapon you’d dropped on the ground when he disarmed you. You were putting all your energy into this, and even though he wasn’t even using his powers, he was still much stronger than you. You’d been training under Nezha for weeks now. Shouldn’t you be more ahead?

Nonetheless, you picked up your spear, going back to the edge of the circle you two trained in. You got into the starting position just as he did.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

He rushed at you, letting himself go into the loose defense so you could try to implement the move he was teaching you that day. A sweep of the legs that, if done correctly, would end with the handle of your spear across his shoulders to pin him down. But against the type of plans he had for you to go by, you had spent a few hours last night trying to exercise a little more than you were meant to. And by the gods, you were exhausted. And now you were pinned, too, and you didn’t even remember what happened while you were thinking.

“Okay, we’re done.” He frowned at you, taking your weapon. You didn’t even try to stop him. But this wasn’t how lessons usually ended—he would normally help you up and have you explain what led to the outcome of the fight.

“What? Did I do badly?” You scrambled to get up and follow him to the small building near his home that served as a home gym. He didn’t slow down his pace, his hands were balled into fists.

“It didn’t even feel like you were trying, y/n. Do you have something going on that’s making it harder for you to fight?” His disappointment hurt more than your muscles at the moment. You hung your head.

“I’m sorry. I’m really trying, I swear.” You explained, holding your hands in your pockets. He turned to face you in the doorway of the gym. His arms were folded across his chest as if he were upset, but his eyes were concerned and searching your face for something. You looked at him. He wouldn’t stop teaching you, would he? You’d worked so hard, you couldn’t just stop now!

“You’re not giving me 100 because you haven’t got 100 to give,” He sighed, dropping any anger he might have been holding. “Y/n, have you been doing more work than I’ve told you to do?”

“I mean, I’ve been doing some more night exercises, but no more than a few hours—“

“Hours? Y/n, I set guidelines for you because it’s meant to be completely adapted to your schedule and difficulty level. Doing more than that for the sake of getting ahead isn’t helping, it’s hurting.”

Nezha led you to the center of the yard, where he had you sit with him on the grass. He was across from you and could tell you were trying to directly mirror his pose. Always needing to do it like him.

“I don’t understand. Isn’t it good if I just want to be better?” You asked quietly. He took a few breaths, with you in tow.

“Getting better takes time and proper pacing. Jumping ahead because you think you can handle it isn’t always bad, but in your case, it’s burning you out. We’re putting a hold on your fighting, right now we just need to readjust your pace.” He explained to you. You listened to every word, internally cursing yourself for thinking you’d be able to just sneak this past him. Your intentions were good, it was just…too much.

“You’re a good kid, y/n. Just slow down and wait for me, alright?” Nezha ruffled your hair.

“So you’ll still teach me?”

“Of course I will. You’re my favorite student.”

“I thought I was your only student!”

“You are, you are!”

You two laughed and then settled into a quiet bit of meditation.

[witchesbe-like]

There are probably a million reasons why sometimes spells just don’t work. Most of the time it comes down to needing to do the inner work or just waiting a little longer than you thought necessary for the magic to happen. Just like anything else, witchcraft is a practice and spell work takes time. So if you’ve been feeling out of focus with your casting there’s probably a reason why your spells aren’t checking out. 

Read below for my top ten reasons why sometimes spells just don’t budge. 

1 You didn’t do the inner work

The number one reason why magical intention doesn’t move the energy you wanted it to is because there are blocks, energy blocks. All these blocks are blocking up your ability to push forward to what you really want. Want to focus on more of your magic? Do the work to remove the blocks so you can forge ahead. 

2 Your spell doesn't align with your highest intention 

Yes we all have the greatest potential, but what if what you’re asking for isn’t really aligning with that? Maybe you’re destined for bigger things…like owning that big company but you’re asking for a small fry raise at a place that drives you crazy with a toxic boss instead? If you have a calling go for it, don’t settle for second best. Your magic will help you more when you’re aligned with what you’re supposed to do. 

3 You don’t have enough focus

Spells are hard to perform. They’re even harder with kids, siblings, noisey housemates or any other interruptions bargingin in during your ritual work. If you really think you weren’t focusing enough, don’t force it. Just try the spell again when you can get a little quiet time instead. 

4 It just didn’t work

For reasons beyond understanding it just wasn’t meant for you (or me). I like to think of cases like this where my spirits are looking down the tunnel of my future and saving me from some really horrible outcome. So I say in instances like these, don’t force it, just go with the flow. 

5 You’re meant to focus your energy elsewhere

Just like the spell not aligning with your highest intention, it could be that your energy is needed elsewhere. Pay attention to where you are being drawn to. Something better could be waiting around the corner. 

6 You just need to practice

Pushing your magical energy out there to attract what you want in your life is not an easy task. It takes many years of dedication and practice to get it right. No one is perfect at it, and especially if you’re just starting out you may just need to practice. Don’t get frustrated, just like anything else, practice makes spells perfect.

7 You really don’t want it

Did someone beg you to perform the spell (the worst). Or is it something you really don’t want to do or happen? Dig deep and really ask yourself those hard questions. Are you manifesting what you truly want for yourself? 

8 The spell you used was off

Spells are weird. And there are a LOT of bad spells. Sometimes it’s hard to see which spells are not it and maybe the one you’re using just isn’t vibing with your energy. If it’s something you really want, switch up the spell and try again. 

9 You don’t believe

Belief is the number one drive in your magical force. If you don’t believe it's like driving a car with no gas in the tank. Believe, believe, believe. 

10 You’re just having an off day

Maybe you're just having an off day. It could be the planetary alignment, some funky person bothering your vibe at the gym, or a multitude of reasons why your energy was off. Even the best witches have off days. Dust off your spell and try again. 

[221bshrlocked]

Fever in my Eyes

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 8.5K (yeesh)

Warnings: Smut and Angst, my two faves. Blindfold. Breeding Kink!!! Things are consensual from both sides but since this is a sex pollen fic, some of you might consider it as non/con so please proceed with caution.

Summary: Felucia was not an ideal planet to track a quarry on and you find yourself in a sticky situation when you lose sight of the Mandalorian for a moment. An unexpected standoff between Mando and the bounty leads to you escaping back to the Razor Crest, unaware of the pollen which seeped into your nostrils and past your skin. What will the bounty hunter do once he realizes what you’re asking of him? And more importantly, is it worth risking whatever relationship he has with you?

A/N: As always, I am shit with summaries. It’s a sex pollen fic yall. I apologize if my smut isn’t as good as it used to be, I am trying. Also, please please please let me know how I did in the comments. This is only my second ever Star Wars fic and I was very reluctant to post it but Pedro Pascal made me do it because I cannot stop thinking of the man so here it is. Seriously, tell me how I did and what I can do to better my writing. There will be more Din Djarin fics to come :) Enjoy. And this is not beta’d!

This was not an ideal situation, but it never was. At least not ever since you took the ‘glorified babysitter’ position offered so graciously to you months ago. A short snort made its way past your lips as you walked through the greenery and recalled how you came into caring for the child currently biting and playing with your necklace. You looked down and smiled at him, not bothering to stop him from chewing down on the colorful jewels because you knew for a fact that if Mando heard you criticizing him over something so trivial, he might scold him and make him pout. Maker, the little womp rat made it so hard to be angry with him, let alone attempt to teach him some proper manners. 

So busy playing with the Child, you didn’t notice when the bounty hunter suddenly came to a halt ahead of you. You walked right into his back and stumbled backwards, apologizing immediately when he turned around and tilted his visor to the side. You’ve grown to learn what each tild meant and at the moment, he was definitely a tad bit annoyed with you. 

“S-sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Smiling awkwardly at the man in front of you, you waited until he turned around before narrowing your eyes at the kid currently giggling at your mistake. It was amazing how often he did that, almost as if he knew he was purposely getting you in trouble for his own entertainment. 

“So you never actually told me why this bounty was so important,” your eyes searched your surroundings and marveled at the lush reaching all the way to the top of the strange trees, barely noticing the way the Mandalorian’s shoulders tensed before continuing to walk towards the edge of the forest. If there even was an edge to this jungle. Maker, this was such a weird planet, it smelled weird, it was too hot and too wet, and you sensed there was something strange with all the exotic plants beneath your feet.

When he didn’t respond, you slowly put the Child down and reached inside your satchel for a drink. As soon as the kid noticed the satchel, he waddled back to you and pulled on your cloak until you brought out his favorite blue biscuits. 

“All I’m saying is, this bounty is weird. Who hides all the way out here anyways? I mean I have never heard of this place-”

“You’ve said that about the last four quarries.” You didn’t expect him to respond and eyed him cautiously, looking between him and the kid who continued to eat his snacks and understood absolutely nothing of what you were saying. A shiver ran down your spine when you noticed the way he put the tracking fob back in his pocket before slowly reaching for the blaster pistol. Reflexes instantly kicking in, you hurried to the Child and snatched him off the ground, shushing his little coos and preparing for the worst case scenario which was always, somehow, what transpired.

Silence filled the humid air and you tried to read the bounty hunter’s body language, knowing very well he was not one to say anything unless it was perhaps a little too late for you. His visor dragged through the dried prints on the grass and before you knew it, he was taking off towards the edge of the purple and pink plants. As you followed him, you felt your throat dry much quicker than usual. Thinking it was just the extreme weather of Felucia, you decided it was best to slow down and wait until the Mandalorian caught the bounty before following his path. He’d even told you once to not follow him if you ever saw him running off because that usually meant he was close to the quarry and wouldn’t need your aid. It was a little insulting in the beginning but you were caught during a shoot-out one too many times and understood he was only trying to look out for you and the kid. 

But not even a full minute passed before you heard a sudden blast sound off from the trees above you and before you could figure out what was happening, a heavy weight landed on top of you, and you watched in horror as the kid flew out of your hand into a nearby puddle. 

Trying your hardest to grab the blaster on your hip, you cried out in pain when you felt talons digging into your arms and twist them back. You didn’t know what else to do, eyes scanning the trees in hopes of finding the Mandalorian rushing towards you. But when you realized he was nowhere around, you looked at the kid and prayed he was alright. When you saw his large eyes blinking a few times before struggling to sit up, you knew there was only one outcome. 

“Make a sound, and I will feast on your organs.” The stench of the creature filled your nostrils and you sobbed quietly at the implications behind his words. Taking one last look at the kid, you took a deep breath and pushed off the ground as hard as you can.

“MANDO!” As soon as you screamed his name, you felt three talons break the skin of your shoulder blades and drag all the way down to your lower back. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks and hated how distressed the Child looked. Almost on queue, he was standing up and trying to waddle your way, refusing to listen to your little objections as you tried to tell him to run the opposite direction. 

Before you could dwell on the many different ways you were about to die, you heard a large blast sound through the forest, throwing the creature off of you against one of the trees with a loud cracking noise. You looked up just in time to see the familiar glint of beskar coming closer through the greenery and as you tried to stand up, you felt the same weight behind you again, twisting the talons into your hair and pulling you to your feet. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you felt the edge of the hunting knife against your throat. Eyes unable to focus on the figures in front of you, you blinked a few times and realized there were too many sensations hitting you. But the one seemingly outdoing all the others was the growing wet patch on your back and you soon felt sharp pain growing against your skin where the strange liquid rolled down your skin. You weren’t sure if it was blood or if it was drool from the thing behind you and a part of you didn’t care because what difference would it make. 

“Should have known you were the only crazy one to come here...come after me.” A slithering whisper made its way past your ears and your knees buckled as you started to feel faint. But then the creature held you up roughly and pressed the knife harder against your throat, warning you against falling to the ground.

“Your problem is with me T'doshok. Let her go.” You vaguely saw the Child walk towards his father, relief washing over you when you knew he was safe once more. At some point, you’ve come to care more for him than for yourself and you were never sure if it was because he was so precious or because of how important he was to the Mandalorian. 

“Aren’t we past formalities Mando? At least do me the honor of saying my name...old friend.” 

Your gaze immediately shifted from the kid to the beskar-clad man standing in front of him. So they knew each other? Why didn’t he tell you? Did he still not trust you to know such matters until now?

“ Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh.” You heard the Mandalorian growl through the visor and even though you didn’t understand what he said, you knew it was anything but friendly. Wait, that meant the T'doshok behind you understood Manod’a. 

A sob escaped your throat when you felt the bounty laugh behind you at the warning. 

“You can’t possibly mean that Mando.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a hint of surprise etched in the voice growling in your ear.

“Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas...believe me.” The conscious part of your brain wondered why he continued to speak in Mando’a. He knew you didn’t understand much of it…

The silence was almost deafening and you weren’t sure what was happening until your boss stepped forward and tilted his helmet to the side,

“Gedet'ye.” The modulated voice sounded strange to your ears. He was only ever this softly-spoken with the Child.

“Well, this is unexpected. In that case-” You didn’t have time to react, watching as the world twirled around you before you fell among the purple and pink flowers you were so impressed by earlier. A strange scent hit your nostrils but you couldn’t dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Willing yourself to stand up, you pushed off the ground as soon as you saw the kid waddling towards you. As soon as he tried to walk behind you, you knew what he was trying to do and picked him up before he could do anything.

“No little guy...you- I can’t...I need to make sure you’re okay.” You could faintly hear the sound of blasters going off for a few moments and by the time you managed to take the gun out of your holster, you saw the Mandalorian standing above an unconscious reptilian creature. So that’s what a T'doshok is…

Slowly making your way towards them, you blinked away the tears and wiped your eyes to try and clear your sight. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” You shivered at the tone Mando was using with you. Dank Ferrik, you must have hit your head pretty hard if you thought the Mandalorian was worried about anyone but the green little thing in your arms.

“I- yes. I’ll be f-fine. Just-” You hadn’t meant to react the way you have but as soon as you felt his gloved hand touch your neck, you jerked away from him and held out your hand to stop him from coming any closer to you. Mando was shocked at your reaction and was glad to have something to hide behind. A few seconds passed in silence and you were still staring at him with wide open eyes and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were afraid of him. It occurred to him that it wasn’t shock that beat at his heart but a deep and twisting sense of hurt. And when he scanned your body language, he could tell you were trembling in front of him and the last thing he wanted to do was to give you another reason to fear him.

“Can you walk back to the-”

“Yes. I’ll- fu...I’ll take the kid.” Before he could say anything else, you were clutching the Child closer to your chest and walking back to the Razor Crest. You searched your mind to try and understand why you reacted the way you have to his touch but couldn’t find anything to explain the sharp pain striking through your insides. It was too much too quickly. Even though it wasn’t his skin, you felt neurons firing simultaneously as soon as he trailed his fingers down your neck. You hoped to the gods he wasn’t offended by your reaction because the last thing you needed was to drive him further away from you.

Barely making it back to the ship, you managed to go up the ladder and put the Child back in his crib in the cockpit before shutting it and locking the door behind you. Scrambling inside your mind for a moment, you turned to the ramp and walked towards the hatch before pushing in the code until it sealed shut. 

In an instant, everything touching your skin was too rough and incredibly heavy. Before you could think twice about it, you were violently stripping out of your clothes, throwing them to the ground on your way to the refresher. As soon as you walked into the small room, you turned on the cold water and sighed heavily as it beat down on your heated skin. 

“Not enough…” Crying to the empty room, you made sure the hot water wasn’t on before leaning back against the cool tiles of the walls. But no sooner than that were you hissing and pushing off of the wall. You completely forgot about the open gashes on your back and the shooting pain was almost instantaneous when you remembered just how large the wound was.

As you dwelled on the last hour or so, you felt your legs give out on you and before you knew it, you were sliding down to the floor. Eyes shutting slowly, you fell to the side and let the cold water run down your form. And as hard as you tried to stay awake, you couldn’t help your mind’s request as it begged to rest. You let sleep wash over you, the last sound ringing in your ear was Mando’s worried voice asking if you were okay.

Back outside, the bounty hunter was fuming with anger, not caring about how oddly violent he became with the quarry. He was never one to beat an unconscious being but something took over him when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. As he pushed his way through the forest, he thought back to the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. And he hated himself for the way his body reacted to your fragile body.

“Ni’duraa.” He whispered to himself when he saw the Crest come into view, continuing to pull the T'doshok until he walked up the ramp and onto the ship. It was awfully quiet but he decided to freeze the reptile before he walked around to look for you. Minutes later, he was ascending the ladder to the cockpit, unlocking it and reaching for the crib on his pilot chair. When he opened it and saw the kid cooing in his sleep, he shut it once more and left to look for you. It was strange how he couldn’t hear a single sound. You were normally talkative after a mission, and as he placed his weapons back on the wall, he noticed your clothes lying haphazardly on the ground. Mando sighed heavily as he picked them up, flushing violently when he saw the last two items leading into the refresher. Strange, you were never one to throw things around.

Not wanting to bother you anymore, he placed the clothes on your cot and ascended to the cockpit once more, wanting to leave Felucia as quickly as possible because he knew how the locals became when uninvited guests stayed for too long. As they left the sector, the Mandalorian couldn’t help but question why you were still in the refresher. You’d arrived long before him and it took him a while to navigate through the jungle because of how heavy the bounty was. 

Putting the ship on auto-pilot, he made his way to the refresher but not before noticing a strange scent fill his nostrils. Looking down at his hands, he noticed a bright purple powder covering his gloves and as soon as he brought his hands up to the edge of the visor, he was hit with many different sensations, all of which he could distinctively place back to you. Your honey-scented soap, the orange tea he saw you constantly drinking, the smell of your sweat on a particularly hot day when you tried to fix the ship...

“Fuck…” He swore before wiping his gloves against his cloak and approached the refresher. 

Knocking on the door, he waited a few moments for a response and breathed impatiently when  you didn’t bother to say anything.

“Open up, Cyar'ika.” He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly using such endearing words to call for you and when he was met with more silence, he groaned in annoyance before warning you. “If you don’t open the door now, I will break it.” Normally, you would have clapped back with a snarky comment that would get his blood boiling but he knew something was wrong when you remained quiet. Throwing propriety out the window, he kicked the door open and walked in, eyes searching the small room until they fell on your unconscious form under the water. 

“Maker,” kneeling to the ground, his heart clenched when he saw a viscous, black liquid oozing out of the gash on your back. How did he not notice this when you left? Quickly reaching for the left knob, he swore when he noticed the hot water wasn’t even on and almost broke the other one as he tried to switch it off. Why would you take such a cold shower when you weren’t even on a desert planet? Wiping your hair away from your face, the Mandalorian tried to wake you and began to feel anxiety seep into his clothes along with the water cascading down your body when he realized this was much worse than he thought. He took off his gloves and pushed you onto your back, trying his hardest to avert his gaze from your naked skin as he bent down and carried you out of the refresher. 

Opening his quarters, he laid you on his covers before grabbing the anesthetic above him and turning you on your stomach to care for the wounds. As he sprayed your back, he noticed the way you groaned in your sleep and forced himself to attend to the task at hand. He hoped to the gods there wasn’t any poison in the wound before he grabbed the bacta spray and slowly made his way down the skin of your back. He sighed in relief when he noticed your skin slowly shifting and sealing itself, trying to calm his increasing heart rate when he remembered just how fragile and naked you were beneath him. Some sick part of him was attracted to you even in such a state and he wished more than anything for you to be awake and willing to-

This is not how he pictured seeing you for the first time.

When you started shifting beneath him, he kneeled away from you and covered your legs, continuing to care for the wound on your lower back until it started to close as well. By the time he put all the medication back in its place, you were turning around and moaning in discomfort and Mando realized it was because you were probably still freezing from the cold water. Taking off his cloak, he barely draped it on your sleeping form when you pushed it off and turned on your back. He felt the fabric of his pants tighten around his crotch and looked away from you.

“Please...too- too much. I can’t-” He couldn’t understand what you were trying to say and moved to place the cloak on you again, head instantly turning to your face when you smacked the offensive object away from him and began to trail your fingers down your skin. He hadn’t meant to and before he could stop himself, he was watching as your fingers made their way down to your hips before dipping into the space between your thighs.

Maker be damned, how were you so glistening and flushed?

“M-Mando?” His eyes snapped to your face and watched as you spread your legs until he positioned between them. “Mando I need...you. I need you please, this is- it hurts. I can’t...it hurts so much. Please h-help me.” Your voice was filled with dangerous requests, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants when he saw the way you reached for his thighs and dragged your nails down to his knees. 

“Cyare, you don’t know what you’re asking.” He forced himself to keep his gaze on your face and nowhere else. But with every passing moment, the need to look at where he’d dreamt of feasting on for so many nights outgrew his respect for you. 

“Mando...I want you, n-need you...please, I promise I’ll be good. So so good for you, just- oh maker I-”

The small part of his brain that wasn’t ruled by his pulsing cock finally figured out what was happening and he growled as he pushed off of you and out to your cot. Grabbing your shirt, he turned it around and saw the same purple powder that was on his gloves coloring the whole front of your cloak. He recalled back to what happened when he left you and remembered where the T'doshok pushed you before he attacked him. 

Of course. The pollen from the spore plants.

Which meant that-

“Oh fuck.” The Mandalorian felt his insides churn when he realized what was taking place not ten feet away from him, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he knew what could potentially happen to you if your...needs weren't properly met. With reluctance, he made his way back to his sleeping cot and felt his chest tighten when he saw what you were doing.

You were on your side, fingers rubbing furiously at your soaking core and whimpering at the consistent and harsh touches passing through your nerves. But it wasn’t the mess you were making that caught his attention. No, it was the fact that you had his cowl twisted between your thighs and around your back. He watched in awe as you pushed your face into the rough material, taking in deep breaths to try and fill your nostrils with his scent. Taking one step closer to you, his eyes bore into your heated skin and he choked on air when he saw you lick at the hood of the cloak before taking your fingers out of your cunt and replacing them with his cowl. He couldn’t believe his eyes and the thought of wearing it around with your scent sticking to it broke him. 

Mando looked around the ship for a few moments in an attempt to think of what he should do. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he approached your slowly and gasped when he met your eyes and saw the way you were looking at him.

“M-mando! Please...fuck me. I- I need you to...don’t c-care how. I promise I’ll do anything, wh-whatever you want...ple-please.” Chills ran down your spine when you forced yourself to throw the cowl away. Turning around, you laid on your stomach and took a deep breath before raising your lower half off of the covers. As you rested your head on your arm and bit into your wrist, you looked back to the beskar-clad man, silently pleading with him while swaying your ass in the air. 

“Gota'la…” Before the Mandalorian could talk himself out of it, he was kicking his heavy shoes away and making his way closer to you. A part of him screamed that of the two of you, he was the one less affected by the pollen and was technically responsible for whatever transpired next. And he was close to asking you if you were sure you wanted to take this further if it weren’t for the way you reached beneath you and faintly trailed your fingers through your soaking slit. 

“Ad'ika, gar cuyir mesh'la.” He was speaking to himself more than to you and smiled to himself when he noticed your cunt clenching around nothing as soon as his words filled the silence. “Sweet girl, you like it when I speak to you in Mando’a?” You shivered at his tone and found it difficult to respond to him, especially when you could tell he was definitely not looking at you but at the mess you were making on his bed. A loud cry rang through the small room when you felt his hand come down on your backside before squeezing the flushed skin. 

“I asked you a question Cyar'ika.” His deep and modulated voice only made it worse and you found yourself nodding at him before whispering out a low ‘yes.’

“K'olar,” you squealed when you felt Mando twirl your around onto your back before pulling your naked body flush to his still-clothed one. You were about to beg him to just fuck you already when he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth to shush you. You moaned shamelessly around his fingers, whining even louder when you realized you were sucking on his calloused skin and not on the gloves he almost never took off unless he was alone. 

“You’re going to come just like this sweet girl.” Mando manhandled you until you were straddling one of his thighs, growling impatiently when you tried to push yourself away from him. His arm tightened around your waist, pushing you down on the beskar cuisse until you finally understood what he wanted from you.

“C-cold…”

“Be a good girl and drench my armor little one. Let me walk around with the memory of your cunt dripping on me.” His words hit too close to your somewhat aware mind and you chose to dwell on their meaning later. Softly inching your hands onto his shoulders, you fisted your fingers into his shirt to support your weight before dragging yourself against the rugged and cool beskar in between your thighs. As you threw your head back and sighed in pleasure, Mando couldn’t help but squeeze the heated skin of your hip, knowing very well there would soon be fingerprint marks wherever he touched you. 

“That’s it...could smell how much you want me Cyare. Can’t believe you’re in my arms...look at you, using my thighs to get off.” You barely managed to turn your attention to him, lips still enclosed around his fingers and biting down on them the more he shoved them in your mouth.

“Mando I- I need to-” Before you could finish your request, Mando was wrapping the other arm around hips and violently dragging you against his cuisse, looking down to watch as your juices dripped on his beskar armor. 

“What a sight…” He groaned and turned his gaze towards you again just in time to watch you fall apart on him. He marveled at how quickly he brought you to pleasure and figured it must have been the pollen making you extra sensitive to his ministrations. Wanting to stretch out your pleasure for as long as possible, he threw you back onto his bed and pushed your thighs open, not giving you a chance to question him as he shoved two fingers into your cunt and massaged that spongy spot deep inside you. You arched your back and grasped at his arms, barely managing to look at the visor just as he increased pressure and fucked you with his fingers. 

“M-MANdo oh g-gods-”

“Scream my name sweet girl, and only my name.” Had you actually listened to what he said, you would have sassed back at him and told him you didn’t actually know his name. But you couldn’t care less at the moment, digging your fingers into his forearms as you came around his thick fingers, repeatedly praying his “name” until you couldn’t remember anything else.

“Mesh'la...you’re so tight and warm for me...that’s it, squeeze my fingers like the good little girl you are.” Mando watched as you came around his fingers, his eyes not knowing where to look and wishing he could taste the sweat sticking on your neck as you whimpered beneath him. 

He heard it before he felt it, moaning in blind lust as he took in the sight beneath him. Your legs shook violently as you, quite literally, drenched his thighs and blankets with your cum and Mando didn’t know if he wanted to lick you dry or stuff his nose into your pulsating cunt. 

“Sweet fucking darling, look at the mess you’ve made,” you shivered when you felt his fingers leave your slit, blinking hazily and turning to look at where he was staring. When you saw what he was referring to, you quickly covered yourself and tried to move away from him, embarrassment washing over you when you saw the way he was so obviously staring at the wetness dripping down your. But Mando was much quicker than you, grabbing your thighs and pushing them wide open again before laying in between them and dragging his crotch across your sensitive clit. 

“Never hide from me,” you nodded instantly and the Mandalorian would never admit feeling his chest fill with pride at the lust-filled fear he instilled into you with only a few words. Your chest heaved as you continued to look into the visor, almost whimpering when you were met with incredibly dazed eyes and messy hair staring right back at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the only proof that Mando was very much aware of your state being the hardness twitching against your sensitive cunt. 

Mando wasn’t sure what to do with you. He wanted to simultaneously fuck you into the next system and lick every inch of you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “I can smell your cunt Ad'ika...can almost taste your neediness.”

“Ma-mando I- I want you to r-” You felt so naked beneath him, wishing he’d at least take off his clothes before this went any further. Not a single care was given to his helmet and it was out of the question to even attempt and ask him if he could take it off. You just wanted to feel his skin sliding against yours as he fucked you. Nothing else mattered. Just his scarred and sweaty muscles contracting and trailing over your own. 

“What is it sweet girl?” His voice felt like a thousand needles piercing your soul and you didn’t realize where your hands were moving until you felt him roughly grab your wrists and slam them above your head. You could tell there was a shift in the air around you and ceased to breathe when you no longer heard his moans. 

“This is the way.” Those four words hurt you more than they should have. 

“I- I would never ask you to...I swear I just wanted- I wanted to touch you. Not take it off...please I-” Mando felt his heart shatter into a million pieces because somehow, even in your most inebriated state, you respected him. You put him before yourself. And he ceased to breathe when he sat up and watched as you grabbed at his arms and refused to let go.

“N-no don’t go...I need you- d-don’t leave me pl-” Your breathing was erratic and the Mandalorian feared you’d spiral into shock. Without thinking much of his next moves, he grabbed the nearest item of clothing and ripped a small piece of it, returning to rest between your knees and not giving you a choice as he wrapped the band around your eyes and tied it in the back. You trailed your fingers over the band and pulled away instantly when you felt his the hair on his wrist. 

“I’m sorry…” Mando thought of your actions so far and knew in his heart that if there was ever another who’d look upon him, it would be you. Softly taking your hands in his, he pulled them towards his helmet and rested them at the side.

“T-take it off.”

“I can’t...Mando, you don’t have to- I swear I was only-” As hard as it was to say those words, you wanted him to know that he owed you nothing. And you hated how selfish you were being in that moment because the man was trying to tell you something and you were only worrying about yourself and how much your cunt ached for him. You were so close to pushing him on his back and taking your pleasure from him but something told you it would be worth the wait. 

“Mesh'la, I want you to.” You always marveled at how much the Mandalorian could convey in only a few words and shouldn’t have been surprised when you felt just how much he was willing to put his trust in you. Not wanting to scare him, you slowly pulled on the visor until it was completely off, remaining motionless as he took it from your hands and placed it on the floor. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with your hands so you kept them to the side, fisting your fingers into the blankets to prevent you from reaching out and touching his face. 

Mando could tell you wanted to touch him. You even told him yourself. So he made the decision for you and leaned down, passing his lips over your forehead and smiling down at you when he heard you suck in a breath. You gasped when you felt his beard tickle your cheeks. He had a beard. Of course he had a beard. But as he continued to leave kisses over your face, you realized it wasn’t really a full-grown beard. It didn’t matter in the end because he was driving you insane with every small pass of his plump lips near where you wanted him.

As he finally molded his lips with yours, you felt him pull your hands up to his face and lay them on his cheeks, the groan escaping his throat letting you know he enjoyed you touching him as much as you, perhaps even more. The kiss grew frantic the more you explored his naked skin, and you couldn’t hold back the long moan that erupted into his mouth as soon as you felt him suck on your tongue. When you pulled on his soft hair, Mando couldn’t help but growl into the heated kiss, not caring for how rough he was being as he grabbed and squeezed your thighs. 

But the kiss was over as soon as it began and you whined after him when you felt him pull away from you. You felt your fingers ascend to your face but remembered why the Mandalorian blindfolded you in the first place. Not wanting to lose his trust, you pushed your arms beneath your back to prevent any temptations from taking place. Unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching every little muscle twitch on your nude form and he almost devoured you right then and there when he saw you quickly moving your fingers from your face. 

He was amazed by how caring you were even when you didn’t hold any proper level of the right consciousness. Anyone else would have removed the cloth and blamed the pollen. But not you. 

You were special. 

Refusing to waste any more time, Mando made quick work of the beskar armor, not caring about the mess he was making just outside his room. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, smiling when he noticed you shivering beneath his gaze. He was on you as soon as he deposited his long-sleeve and pants, devouring your mouth and digging his fingers into your waist as he rutted against you. 

“Ner-” 

The possessiveness was almost palpable and he surprised even himself at the single syllable. Since when was he like this?

“Mando,” you whispered his name as you wrapped your arms around his back and pulled him flush against you, sighing in relief when you felt the hair of his chest tickle your nipples. Mando noticed your reaction and instantly descended on your heaving chest, biting and licking and pinching at the hardened buds until you begged him to slow down.

“Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. You’re so fucking delicious.” The way he effortlessly switched between his mother tongue and Basic shouldn’t have turned you on this much and yet you were. 

“Fuck me.” Your words were dripping with desperation and the Mandalorian wasn’t able to hold any longer. He wanted to take his time with you, commit every little curve to memory. Memorize what made your breath hitch and what made you sigh. 

But the request ended all of his curiosity and before you knew it, you felt him roughly pull down on his boxer briefs. You flushed when you heard the sound of his hand jerking his cock, mouth falling wide open when it jutted at your inner thighs and you felt how fucking hard and thick it was. 

“What will it be sweet girl? You want me to make love to you,” he paused for a moment and took advantage of your distracted expression, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet slit and biting his lips when he felt you arch against him at the simple yet filthy movement. “Or fuck you like I own you…like you’re mine.”

Hearing him say ‘fuck’ in such a vulgar tone did it for you and you didn’t know what to do with yourself except widen your legs more for him and grab the bed sheets beneath you.

“F-fuck me like you own me Mando...ruin me. Take what you want and- oh maker you’re so- so...fu- please, u-use me however you want. Just- I need your cock. Need to cum on your cock...can’t wait anym-”

Mando was sure he broke you with his words, watching in awe as you begged and begged until you couldn’t breathe anymore. There was no warning, no asking if you were ready for him. There was just your wet cunt teasing him until he couldn’t bear the thought of not being deep inside your pussy.

Resting his head against yours, he took his painfully hard cock in his hand and shoved it past your wet lips, letting out a deep growl as he felt you scratch his back.

“Mando, Mando, M-mando…”

You didn’t find the strength to think of a proper sentence to express what you were feeling so you opted to pray his name over and over again. He was shaking above you and you knew instantly he was trying his hardest not to break you.

“Take what you want- I...I won’t break.” 

Just hearing you say those words to him almost made him cum right then and there. You were returning the trust he gave you and he knew there was no way of putting this moment behind him even if he tried. 

Pulling out until only the head of his cock was splitting you open, Mando bucked his hips violently back into you, whispering the filthiest promises into your ears as he set a rough pace that had you seeing worlds you didn’t even know existed. 

“So, fucking, tight...how are you so wet and tight for me Cyare?” It took you a while to realize you were hearing his voice without the modulator of his mask. How had you not noticed how beautifully sinful it was when he first took it off? You wanted to tell him how much you loved hearing his thick and smooth voice. You wanted to kiss down his neck and bite onto his shoulders. You wanted to push him down and force his cock inside your throat. 

So much. You wanted so much. 

But you couldn’t find your voice in that moment. Not when he was railing into you with such an unforgiving force. 

“Made for me...made to take my cock. Such a sweet fucking girl- ah.” You should have known Mando would not be the quiet type in bed. He was a man of few words during his day-to-day life so of course he would take this chance and spill out his innermost thoughts. But it surprised you nonetheless considering how downright dirty his moans and whispers were. And you were sure he was as filthy, if not more, when he continued to speak in Mando’a. 

With every passing moment, you felt a piece of your heart split from your chest and slowly make its way into his hands. He was branding you, his cock reaching so deep inside you that you were sure you could feel him right below your navel if you only moved your hands against your skin. But you couldn’t afford to let go of him, not when he was using you just as you requested. 

“Mando you...maker, you’re filling me so- so good. I- please, can I cum? I want t- to cum. Been so good for you. Need to-” The chuckle that left his lips was sweet music to your ears until you realized he might be laughing at how pathetic you were. 

“Fucking gods Ad'ika...fill you up? Is that what you want sweet girl? You want me to- fuck, fuck...want me to fill you up with my cum? You’re killing me baby.” His voice was hoarse and he realized his mistake as soon as the words left his lips. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away from him. It was his deeped, darkest secret. He swore he would go to his grave with it. Too often he thought of breeding you, fucking you and fill you up until his cum leaked out of you and you couldn’t move. Too many nights he went to sleep thinking of what it would feel like to wake up with your sweet cunt still wrapped around his cock. What he’d give to ensure not a single drop went to waste. 

Too many days were spent dreaming of giving that little womp rat a sibling to run around with. 

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed by him and he was about to slow down when he felt your hands grab his ass and push you closer to him.

“Want your cum Mando...want you to cum inside me, fill me up until I can’t breathe...oh fuck, until I can’t feel anything but your cum hot and deep inside me. Fuck a baby inside me Mando I- oh oh gods I-” Mando couldn’t hold back anymore, violently pushing his cock inside you and swallowing your moans every time they echoed just a little louder than he preferred. He groaned in ecstasy when he looked down and saw pure bliss etched on your soft features. You clenched around him, thighs vibrating around his hips as he somehow drove into you harder and carried you past the point of pleasure. You didn’t know you were coming around him until you heard him whisper ‘good girl’ in your ears. And it sent a jolt down his spine when he continued to rut against you and fill the ship with the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin. It was almost painful, the way he didn’t let up and continued to rail into you without a single care. 

“Mine...mine, fucking mine. That’s it sweet girl, feel me. Feel me marking your fucking soul.” He was a mumbling mess at this point and he wasn’t sure if it was because you were panting like an animal in heat or because of the way you desperately licked and kissed and nipped at his neck and lips. 

“Yes, I’m yours Mando. Yours...always have been.”

The heaviness of your words struck his heart instantly, and he shoved his cock so deep inside you he swore he could feel your heartbeat. Mando rested his head in the crook of your neck, biting harder than intended on your shoulder as hot spurts of cum coated your inner walls. You feel a sudden warmth wash over you and dug your nails into his ass as he thrust once, twice, three times before stilling completely. 

The two of you continued to breathe heavily against each other and when Mando moved his knees to get comfortable between your thighs, you unintentionally squeezed his cock and felt him twitch inside you.

“Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika.” It was such a silent comment and you knew this was much different than everything he’d said thus far. Something about his tone told you he was spilling his heart out and you wished more than anything to ask him what he was saying but knew you shouldn’t...wouldn’t. Not unless you wanted him to continue and speak to you.

You were brought back from your thoughts when the Mandalorian kissed your lips, and you felt yourself drowning in his scent when he rubbed your hair and nudged your jaw with his nose.

“Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar.” Slowly, Mando wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over until you were practically sleeping on top of him. The two of you hissed when you felt his cock leave your heat and Mando wished more than anything to spread your thighs and watch as his cum leaked down your thighs. No worries, he’d do that later.

Later…

Oh what he would give for there to be a ‘later’ with you. 

The thought of not being able to have you again snapped him back to reality and he realized there was a very high chance this would never happen again because as far as he knew, this was only a consequence of the pollen.

Not wanting to bother you with his insecurities, Mando pushed your head down onto his chest and rubbed your shoulders, telling you to get some rest and to not worry about anything else. 

Hours later, Mando was waking up to a soft noise emitting from beneath him. As he rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings, he looked down and noticed you were still very much naked and cold next to him. Pulling the covers over you, he allowed his eyes to feed on your curves before meeting your face. Dread filled his heart as soon as he saw the wet patch on the band around your eyes. 

You must have woken up and realized what happened. A thousand different scenarios flew through his mind and Mando knew that almost each one of them was caused by your regret of sleeping with him. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” When you didn’t respond and sniffed loudly, Mando knew he had to brace for the worst. 

“Please...are you hurt anywhere?” Hearing his pleas was what did it for you and you threw yourself into his chest. 

“Mando I- I took advantage of you. I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know what was happening...I promise I- please don’t tell me to leave. I can’t leave you or the Child. I- I promise I’ll pretend this never happened. Just- don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of living without you...without him.”

Of all the things the Mandalorian thought he would hear from you, those were certainly the last to make the list. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky with you? Not only did you refuse to take the blindfold off when you woke up but you genuinely thought you’d forced him into sleeping with you.

“Cyare, it hurts to see you cry. Come here.” Mando sat up against the cold metal wall, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the covers around you so you weren’t exposed to the cold air of the ship. 

“You didn’t take advantage of me sweet girl. If anything, I- I should be the one apologizing. I was not hit with the effects of the pollen as much as you have been and...and I should have refused your pleas. But you looked so beautiful, Cyar'ika. You prayed for me to have you and I- I was selfish. I was selfish and I couldn’t stop myself from sinking into you. Branding you. Being with you.” To say you were surprised by his words would have been the understatement of the century. 

The Mandalorian wanted you. He wanted to have you. He wanted to be with you. 

“I-I’ve wanted you for so long...spent so many nights dreaming of being with you.” You confessed to him before you could think of the meaning behind your words and you were met with a deep sigh and a kiss on the lips almost immediately. 

“How long Mesh'la?” 

“S-since Tatooine.” 

Mando’s heart skipped a beat at the short yet direct response. He’s only ever been to Tatooine once with you, months and months ago when he needed Peli to fix something on the Crest for him. You hadn’t even been with their group for three weeks then. So busy thinking of all the ways he could have had you since then, Mando didn’t notice how the silence affected you until your fingers twitched against his chest. 

“Mando?”

“That was eons ago.” It was more of a comment than a question and you weren’t sure if he was angry or surprised. 

“Is...is that bad?”

“Bad? No Ad'ika, not bad.” When he didn’t offer more of an explanation, you rested your head on his chest and continued to draw circles on his naked abdomen. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in each others arms but the faint sounds of cooing and laughter snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should probably get up and make something for the kid to eat. Before you could move away from him however, Mando was bringing you closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you could never tire from feeling his lips mold and pass over yours and you welcomed his tongue with as much vigor as you could muster up.

As he pulled away, you smiled at him and wished more than anything to be able to see him smile back at you. 

“Din.”

“Hmm?”

“My name...it’s Din. Din Djarin.” 

Mando could see the exact moment you registered what he just said and he smirked to himself at how pretty you looked when something shocking took place. 

“Din.” You repeated his name silently, afraid this would all be a dream and that he didn’t actually just tell you something that was so important to him.

“You didn’t have to tell me…” You traced his jaw with your fingers and marveled at how oddly soft his beard was. 

“I didn’t, but I wanted to.” Din was silent for a few seconds before he flipped you beneath him and took hold of your wrists before slamming them harshly above your head. “I wanted you to know it, Mesh'la, so you could scream it the next time I fucked this sweet and tight cunt.” 

For a man of few words, he sure knew what to say to get you worked up again.

Translations: 

Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh - I will kill you if you do not leave her.

Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas. - I do not care about the credits.

Gedet'ye. - Please.

Ad'ika - Little one

Ni’duraa! - You disgust me.

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Gota'la - Maker.

Gar cuyir mesh'la. - You are beautiful. 

K'olar - Come here.

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Ner - Mine.

Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. - I can’t...hold back.

Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika. - I fear you, darling.

Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar. - You are too important to me. I can’t lose you.

[tanadrin]

@duct-taping-zhenguo​

feels like this is really easy--some people enjoy studying the humanities, so why shouldn’t they? the same reason people study the arts, or pure mathematics (cf. the discussion ‘round these parts lately about how transfinite numbers probably have no practical application and never will just bc reality doesn’t deal in mega-infinities)

but hedonism aside, there are instrumental reasons to want to study, say, history. if you want to formulate, say, robust economic models that work across many different times and places, maybe you want to incorporate historical data. and to do that you need to collect and sort through that data, and to do that you need to understand your sources, and it will really help if you don’t have to reinvent the wheel when it comes to basic historical methodology every single time. and that you’re not vulnerable to the field-specific equivalent of insane conspiracy theories because your knowledge of history is paper-thin.

and i think people really underrate the extent to which maintaining useful knowledge about some areas requires, like. continually refreshing that knowledge? it’s not enough to have it sitting in books somewhere. i remember stumbling across a discussion on new translations of the medieval scholastics a little while back (I probably linked it on tumblr?), where the translators had made some pretty basic and glaring errors because scholastic latin in a particularly difficult and finicky register of the language, and the state of latin education had decayed terribly in most of the english-speaking world because it’s regarded as unimportant. and like, sure, maybe it is. maybe not enough people want to be able to read the scholastic writers anymore to make it worth it. but this is clearly an instance where having knowledge of the latin language just sitting in books isn’t enough--people need to be trained in it, and trained pretty comprehensively, or we lose the ability to read certain authors.

and (to run with the history example) as the ability to read those authors falls off, because knowledge of the sources and the languages they’re written in falls off, our ability to double-check our theories and judgements against primary sources is also lost, and in the extreme case eventually we’re reduced to a game of telephone where we’re relying on secondhand interpretations of secondhand interpretations. that’s a terrible way to do any kind of systematic inquiry, not just history! imagine trying to write about the themes of jane austen or what you think jane austen’s political opinions were or what the culture and social climate of early 19th century Britain was like without being able to, y’know. read jane austen, or any other texts produced in Britain from ~1750-1850.

now, there’s a separate question which i think sometimes gets conflated with “why should we study the humanities,” which is “why should there be humanities gen ed requirements for people who are majoring in something totally different like STEM,” to which i would say, this is (AFAICT) principally a north american thing. in the (english-speaking, anyway) universities of Europe, if you study law or medicine or physics, every class you take is relevant to the course of study you were admitted for. though i don’t think that produces markedly better or worse education outcomes. i liked it better (it meant i didn’t have to take any math classes as an English major), but it doesn’t seem to produce notably better or worse educational outcomes. (the thing which I think American universities should more directly emulate is not making law and medical school postgraduate courses of study--you can get both a law degree and a medical degree as an undergraduate in Ireland and the UK, without wasting four years farting around in a “pre-law” course or whatever)

the underlying educational philosophy is something like intellectual well-roundedness, which is a virtue so far as we can cultivate it deliberately--if you have a little interdisciplinary knowledge you are perhaps less likely as a physicist to come up with dogshit stupid ideas like “languages lose phonemes the further they get from africa,” because you know the polynesian languages are an extreme outlier that is going to fuck up your data set; or as an economist you are less likely to get your models of past societies wrong because you subscribe to some weird theory of history that was disproven to the satisfaction of most historians fifty years ago.

it is kind of funny how every time we have discourse about the humanities, a large slice of this site will come out and tacitly endorse the opinion that everyone who didn't go to college is not a complete or interesting person