#practicing asking myself if this is really what I want to be doing

[atlabeth]

i crumble completely (when you cry)

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem ravenclaw reader

summary: there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.

a/n: hogwarts legacy was 70% off, i bought it and it's good but not good enough in all the ways that matter so im fixing it for myself. no i dont know why this is where my inspo is when i have so much unfinished stuff but just go with it

wc: 2.1k

warning(s): angst but hurt/comfort angst! a more in depth scriptorium scene so crucio is used but this is from seb's pov so lighter descriptions of all that fun stuff

“Ominis, you have to.”

“I’m not doing it!” he exclaimed. “What do you not get?”

“Would you rather die here?” Sebastian spat. “Because if you don’t, that’s what will happen. And I’ve become rather fond of my life over these past few minutes.” 

“I refuse to use dark magic,” Ominis seethed. “You of all people should understand, Sebastian!” 

“I don’t understand why you’d let us die instead of casting one spell!”

He barked an incredulous laugh. “It is not just one spell! God, you—”

“Can you do it?” 

Sebastian’s anger faltered for a moment when you spoke up, and he frowned when he saw you were looking at him. “What?” 

“Can you do it?” you repeated. “Can you cast the curse?” 

“I—” His mouth fell open and shut as he looked between you and Ominis, before they finally settled on you. “—I think so. Not well, but—”

“Then you can do it,” you said. “Cast it on me, and we’ll be out of this mess.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he said your name in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”

You stared at him. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ominis cut in. “I know what it feels like—you’re not putting yourself through that. We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way.” You gestured at the letters on the ground, his aunt’s last mark on the world. “You’ve got the answer right here, and a willing victim. What are you waiting for?”

Sebastian grimaced. “Calling yourself a victim isn’t helping.”

“The only reason you’re willing is because you don’t know what you’re signing up for.” Ominis’s blank gaze pointed at the ground, but his sharp words hit you all the same. “It’s unimaginable, excruciating pain. Every one of your nerves exploding, your bones being crushed to dust, your blood turning to fire. You will never forget what it feels like.”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the chill settling over you. “Well, it’s either that or we sit around here until we die.”

“Even if he wanted to—”

“Which I don’t!” Sebastian cut in. 

“He would have to really mean it,” Ominis finished. 

“Again, which I don’t!” he exclaimed. 

“That just means it won’t hurt as much,” you said. “Should take away some of your reservations.”

Sebastian huffed. “There is something wrong with you.”

“And you were all for this when it would be Ominis casting it on me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I— I figured he would cast it on me!” His eyes widened. “I— I could teach it to you, and you could cast it on me!”

“Will the two of you stop bickering?” Ominis asked. “It’s not making this any better.” 

“Of course,” you nodded. “Sebastian will cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, and we’ll be out of here. Okay?” 

Sebastian stared at you, your steely gaze having already met his. You’d always been stubborn, unyielding—he’d known it since you bested him in a duel in your first ever meeting. 

Ravenclaw hardheadedness, he figured. Always assuming you knew best (you usually did), that you were right (you usually were), that you could handle whatever ended up in your path (you usually could). 

And here you were, standing right in front of him, those determined eyes unwavering as you practically begged him to cast an Unforgivable Curse on you. 

Did you know that he wasn’t even sure he could cast it on you? Not just because it was near unthinkable, but because he had no idea if he could scrounge up enough ill will towards you to even partially want to hurt you. 

Did you know that you were the reason he’d started doing better in classes? That, no matter how much he complained about your study sessions together, that he could have been doing something much more productive, he treasured every moment with you? 

Did you even know that the mere thought of causing you pain made him want to retch? That, yes, he may very well choose death over imparting the torture curse on you? 

Did you even know how he felt about you? 

Sebastian pulled his wand out his robes, his grip tightening in an effort to stop his hand from shaking. “You’re sure about this.” 

You nodded. “It won’t leave any physical wounds. It’ll be over sooner than you know it.” 

He huffed as he glanced away. “You shouldn’t be the one reassuring me.” 

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged. “Just… buy me a pint of butterbeer when we get out of here. Then we’ll be square.” 

“You’re not exactly aiming high,” Sebastian said wryly. 

You smiled. “My mum always told me it was the simple things. Now, do it before I lose my nerve.” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, once, twice, three times as he adjusted his hold on his wand. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember the wand movement, but instead, he saw your face. 

The first time he met you, when you embarrassed him in front of the whole class by beating him ina duel. When you asked him to take you to Hogsmeade for the first time, and you ended up taking down a troll—how beautiful you looked with the glow of exertion beneath your skin, when you turned to him with the widest (and maybe first) smile he’d ever seen from you in the wake of your efforts. 

How could he do something like this to you?

He pushed the doubt down. There was no other way. You wanted him to do it—wanted him to save them all from a very boring, very preventable death. 

Something in the scriptorium could save Anne. That was worth anything. 

Sebastian took in a deep breath. He brought forth every negative thought—the goblin that cursed his sister, his housemates that believed in nothing but blood purity, his uncle that refused to believe in him, refused to even try to save Anne. 

None of it to do with you, who had done nothing but support him since you helped him up from the ground after pummeling him into it, but he tried to project it onto you anyways. 

He raised his wand. 

He opened his eyes—your gaze hadn’t moved. They showed no fear, no anger, no emotion at all but steely determination. 

“Crucio!” 

Red light arced from his wand to your body. You crumpled to your knees the instant the spell reached you, skull-splintering screams echoing throughout the small room as the curse wrapped its way around you. 

Your scarf fell from your neck, your robes pooled around you, your knees and palms scraped the stone as you tried to support yourself in any way. Your agonized wails were deafening, and Sebastian nearly lost it right then and there, nausea rising in his throat. Ominis’s blank, widened gaze fell on the wall, his hands clenched into fists as he fought to keep his expression even. 

You were one of the strongest people Sebastian knew. Always infallible, always so smart, so level headed in the face of his impulsivity. Naturally gifted at magic, and somehow willing to tolerate him. And he’d been forced to reduce you to this. 

But it worked. Your screams of pure torment unlocked something in Salazar Slytherin’s sick design, and the door of tortured faces pulsed with red energy before sliding into the stone. 

Sebastian rushed over the moment the door started to open, his wand falling from his grasp in his haste and his eyes wide with fear and concern. He went to touch you, but stopped just before he could—he didn’t want to hurt you more. Your entire body rose and fell with your beleaguered breaths as you rolled on your side, your every movement labored. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I— I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You couldn’t respond, the pain still arcing its way through your body despite the curse being done. You inhaled sharply as your eyes screwed shut, and you nodded. 

“You’re clearly not okay.” The slight waver in Ominis’s voice betrayed his unaffected stature. “That was remarkably stupid.”

“Ominis—” Sebastian started, but you shook your head. 

“It worked,” you interrupted as you lifted a shaky hand to point at the now revealed scriptorium. “Couldn’t… couldn’t be too stupid… could it?”

“There is something wrong with you,” he whispered. You could only manage a pained laugh at his words. 

Sebastian stayed there with you as you fought through the last few convulsions—he said nothing when you grabbed his hand, bit back his wince when you squeezed tighter than a vice. After what you just went through, he could bear something so small. 

Your breathing was still labored when he finally helped you up. Your legs nearly collapsed beneath you, but he kept you upright. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, desperate to reassure you. “You— you’re okay.”

“I told you I would be,” you said. 

“You did,” he conceded. “I keep forgetting you’re always right.” 

He got the slightest smile from you at that. Sebastian glanced over when he heard footsteps, and he saw Ominis approaching. His whole body still held a tenseness, but he was sure it was for a different reason this time. 

“…You took that well,” he finally said, and he held out your scarf. 

Again, another laugh and another wince. “I really didn’t. But thank you.” 

You reached for the scarf, but Sebastian got to it first. He gently draped it around your neck, taking special care to keep the Ravenclaw emblem in the front. You had a lot of pride in your house. 

“How’s that?” he asked softly. 

“Perfect,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 

He nodded too, and Ominis cleared his throat. Sebastian turned back to him, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. Ominis held his wand, and he took it back before shoving it back into his robes. Casting any sort of spell felt dirtied right now. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I… I’m sorry about all this.” 

“…Thank you,” Ominis echoed. “Let’s just get out of here before any more of Slytherin’s tricks find us.” 

“No arguments here,” you mumbled. 

Ominis walked in, and though your eyes followed him, you lingered back with Sebastian. He still supported you, one of his arms interlocked with yours. A part of him was worried that you would collapse again the second he stepped away. He could feel your chilled skin even through your robes—no wonder you always wore your scarf. You ran colder than a mermaid. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. 

“You already said that.” 

“Because it’s true,” he said. “These curses are unforgivable for a reason. You never should have had to go through this.” 

“Well, I forgive you,” you said. “We had no choice, and I asked you to do it. And,” you gave him a wry look, “it didn’t hurt that much, so you clearly didn’t mean it.” 

He couldn’t even laugh at that—he kept hearing your piercing screams, agony beyond all reason. He would surely hear them for weeks to come in his sleep, see your prone form every time he closed his eyes. 

He felt you nudge him in the side. “Hey. Perk up. I’m okay. Besides,” you gave him a sideways smile, “Rowena would be proud. Anything in the name of knowledge, eh?” 

That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and he shook his head. “There’s—” 

“Something wrong with me, I know. That’s the third time today.” You tilted your head towards the scriptorium. “Now, shall we get what we suffered for?” 

Sebastian nodded, and the two of you walked in, him still supporting you. Ominis had already made his way up the stairs—he really did want to get out as soon as possible. You had your wand in your free hand and had already murmured a quick Revelio, eyes darting around in an effort to unearth any secrets. 

“That brain of yours never stops, does it?” 

Your lips quirked. “Never.” 

Another beat of silence as you searched the alcoves together. He couldn’t help but watch you—you were a Ravenclaw in her natural habitat. Your brow creased just so, your pretty features honed to a single point of focus, cycling through all your thoughts at breakneck speed despite what you just went through. It made his heart swell with something he couldn’t quite name, right beside a gnawing hole filled with guilt.  

“I really do owe you a pint,” Sebastian murmured.  

You laughed. Lighter, this time, and with only the slightest grimace. “Make that two.” 

A smile crossed his lips without him even thinking. Sebastian was so glad he had you in his life—he was only sorry he had to wait until fifth year. 

“Deal.”

[introvertedandscared]

i was recently given a writing prompt simply titled 'blue' on an online forum i use, and wanted to try my hand at doing something for it.

i'm actually really proud of it- i dont know if its my best work, it always feels that way after i make something new, but it was really therapeutic to write and hey, practice makes perfect. ill never be any good if i dont work towards it.

this piece is an expression of my gender and identity, told through a narrative perspective. most of these events are either heavily fictionalised or not actual events in my life, and i'm unsure if the main character is actually me or not, but it is heavily related to my personal thoughts, feelings, and history.

its about 959 words, a short read, enjoy! and keep an eye out for more writing on this blog if you liked this ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

Blue

My favourite shirt is blue. Not a bright, attention-catching blue, but a soft one. Like blue hydrangeas. That’s not why it’s my favourite—I don’t even like the colour blue all that much—but it’s what everyone notices about it. When my mother comes into my room and asks for the laundry, she’ll point out ‘the blue one that you wear all the time’. When my friends and I are coordinating our Halloween plans, they ask to borrow my blue shirt for their costume. My brother will tell me that my blue shirt has somehow ended up in his closet. I’ve come to think of it more as a title than anything else. My Blue Shirt. All words capitalised, because they are important.

The reason it’s my favourite shirt is because it’s mine. I bought it with my own money—I had a whole 15 bucks I’d earned from babysitting—at the small thrift store on the corner after school on a Tuesday. It had been the first thing I’d picked up off the rack, not even checking the price or size. I had a curfew, and I knew that if I didn’t buy something that afternoon, I never would. I was 12, and the shirt I grabbed was 3 sizes too large, but I didn't care. I wanted it.

I still remember the woman behind the counter that day. She was probably middle-aged. At the time, I was transfixed by strands of her greying hair. She seemed radiant and wise. Untouchable. She was beautiful.

When I laid the shirt out in front of her, she looked directly at me for the first time since I’d entered the store, an amused expression playing across her face.

“You know this is for a man, right?” She asked, taking in my short stature, my girlish pigtails and sport shorts. My t-shirt that had recently started clinging to all the wrong places on me. I hated my clothes; my mother bought them all. She asked me for my opinion, sometimes, but I was only ever given the option to choose between the lesser of two evils. This shirt or that one. Those skirts or these jeans. Lately, I’d just let her take over completely, letting my eyes wander through the aisles while she shopped. No matter what store we were in, my gaze would always land on the men's section. I always let it linger for a second too long.

“It’s… for my brother. Last minute costume change for his, um, dance team. He needs something blue,” I mumbled through my excuse, terrified the woman would question me more, but she’d already started ringing my purchase up. The bubble of hope that had been growing in my chest ever since I’d ridden my bike out of the school gates that afternoon finally burst, into something bright and fiery and right. Something completely new. 

Later, at home, I tried the shirt on in front of my mirror. It reached down to my knees and looked utterly ridiculous, but it also didn’t hug my torso and hips trying to accentuate not yet existent curves. It made my body little more than a formless mass of cloth.

Five minutes after I put it on, my brother walked by my bedroom door. He took one look at me and laughed, and I laughed with him. He said I looked ‘stupid as shit’—words I still found scandalous at that time—and I’d agreed, but once he left I couldn’t bring myself to reach my own eyes in my reflection. I was scared of what I’d see. 

It’s been four years, and I still have that shirt. I’m wearing it now, bent low over the bathroom sink, scissors clutched tightly in my left hand, watching my hair swirl down the drain. I feel bile rising up in my throat at the sight, but it’s not from… disgust or panic. It’s- fear. I am scared to see myself. I am scared to know, because once I do there is no going back. It may not seem like it, but I am not one to dwell on the past. I live in the now. The now where I have just sheared away all of my hair at 3 AM, in the house my great-grandparents built with their own two hands. I wonder if they would be disappointed in me.

I don’t know if my mother will be mad—it’s hard to tell with her—maybe she’ll scold me, or laugh and schedule an appointment to get the mess I’ve made fixed, or maybe she’ll reach out, eyes soft. Maybe she’ll finally see me.

But I need to see myself first. I have been blind for far too long.

I steel myself—taking a sharp, shuddering inhale of air—and look up into the face of the mirror before me. I look up, and it feels like the final piece slots into place. The final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve for four years. For my whole life. 

The face staring back at me is no longer a reflection but a reality; the burning feeling in the centre of me flaring to life, consuming everything I thought I was.

I press a gentle hand to my chest, pressing down the two masses of fat and connective tissue that have always seemed to burden me more than my peers. I let the folds of blue obscure them until it almost looks as though they are not there. I wish more than anything that they weren’t.

I take myself in, gaze reverent and disbelieving.

My blue shirt is my favourite shirt, because unlike all my others, it fits perfectly. Ever since I first bought it, it has fit perfectly.

[lamb-bait]

good morning,

my little lambs, i hope you're doing well. it's almost nostalgic when I post here, thinking back to better times, but lingering in the past doesn't do anyone any good - right? right.

today's topic is a controversial one, 'omorashi'.

now, as we dive deeper into my depraved desires, I'm sure curiosity may be on the rise. 'what does that mean? how does it apply to me? is this something I can picture my Shepard doing to me without his actual presence?'

and it's something you can follow along to as you read this thought of mine. first things first, you have to have a need to go to the bathroom. to pee, specially. good, good. now that you're there, this is where the scenario actually starts. the act of omorashi is controlling when and where one's submissive partner (you, specifically) is allowed to utilize their bodily function.

now, how can we picture this?

simple. this is a lot more personal than you might imagine, more control than forcing my body ontop of you, more submissive than you might think you actually are. so let's put ourselves in this position, you and me, and no one else. my sweet little lamb, just like you ~ you have to go pee. it's normal, it's understandable, but your Shepard needs to give you permission to do so. so you look for me in the house, it's not normal that I don't take you out myself - conditioning you for when you normally relieve yourself. and when you find me, it's clear that I expected you to be ready to go.

of course, it's not going to be that easy. making you lay down on the bed, to spread your legs and lean back. I'd wonder how you felt, how your cunt feels when you have to go, when it'll start feeling bad. and there's the first touch, pressing my fingers against your panties, grinding my surprisingly soft touch against you. we all know you've tried it little lamb, touching yourself while you have to pee, if felt good - didn't it? we both know how disgusting you really are, digging my fingers against your panties, as if wanting to shove them in your cunt and ignoring the fabric concealing your body. using two fingers to spread your cunt open, my other arm forcing your legs to stay apart, smiling as I ask you, "you're not going to go until I let you, right little lamb?"

of course you're going to nod, you're barely able to think - focused more on holding it in than you are on the words coming out of my mouth. pulling your panties off and leaning over your cunt, opening my mouth and letting my warm breath brush over your sensitive little parts. moving down more to press my tongue against your clit, moaning against your body as I do - my fingers that were once desperately trying to push inside you, now unrestricted and rubbing against your cunt, slowly pushing in as I lap my tongue against your clit.

feeling you squirm, to let out pathetic moans and whines, a mixture of grinding your cunt against my face and wanting to pull away from the stimulation. only for me to stop abruptly and pulling fingers out from inside you, to move my head back and get up. Will you finally get to pee? of course not. you'll see me taking my boxers off, stroking my cock as I move over you, grinding the tip of it against your clit, rubbing it down to your cunt and pushing it inside you with each slow throb.

fucking you, while I look down at your face - the mixture of worry and pleasure, gasps of air you're desperately taking, my hands wrapping around your cheek as I force you to look up at me, getting close to that perfect climax, telling you that you have to do it - right as I feeling you tightening up for your own release, moving my hand down to your clit and rubbing it as I urge my cock in as deep as it'll fit in your cunt, forcing you to piss while I practice breeding you.

--

as you can see, it's not all sunshine and flowers. im sure my interests will start getting more, and more depraved. i haven't even talked about me pissing on/in you yet. but that's for another time, as we fall deeper into the void I call my mind.

and c~𝜗𝜚, you're not being ignored. my precious little lambs, if you have something to say message me yourself, anonymity doesn't get you my attention.

With abhorrent lust,

Your loving Shepard

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part five (chapter 13-15) previous part • next part

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: none!

Lily

Thursday through Saturday dragged by as if it was three weeks rather than three days and my upcoming date with Paige sat like the light at the end of the tunnel.

We were both equally as busy with classes, homework and Paige with basketball and me with work that we had gone the entirety of Thursday and Friday without seeing each other. Of course, we'd spoken on the phone but it wasn't the same so by the time Saturday arrived I was practically craving Paige.

Kelsey and I had picked up an afternoon coffee and I walked her to her shift at one of the cafès on campus. I was on my walk back to my apartment when my phone rang, it was Paige.

"Hello pretty girl."

"Hi Paige."

"I'll pick you up at six thirty, so be ready."

"You don't have to pick me up, I can meet you at your apartment if that's easier."

"I'll be picking you up, Lily."

"Yes ma'am."

Paige had still refused to give me even the smallest clue as to what our date would consist of but I did manage to get a 'casual' dress code out her, although what that meant - I don't know.

I spent the short walk home going through casual outfit options in my head that could be acceptable to wear on a date and came to one conclusion:

I needed to consult Hannah.

"And she's not even hinted at where you could be going?" Hannah asked and I shook my head, "Nope."

"Oh, this is fun though! Paige Bueckers - the romantic." She squealed as she rifled through my closet. "Are you excited?"

I nodded, a huge smile spreading on my face, "So excited."

"You seem really happy Lily." Hannah said turning to me, her hands full of clothes.

"I feel really happy." I say honestly because I do. This is the best I've felt since before everything happened but unfortunately I know my brain and I know this feeling isn't forever but I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

"Show me my options then." I say to Hannah and she brings multiple sets of clothes over to me and lays them out on my bed.

"Casual is a broad spectrum, your girlfriend left us with a lot of choice."

"She's not my girlfr-"

Hannah cuts me off with a wave of her hand, "Tomayto, tomahto." She says.

"Theres a jeans, skirt and yoga pants option." She explains pointing to each pile of clothes.

Mom jeans were a staple of almost all my outfits so naturally that's what I strayed to. Hannah had choosen a light denim wash pair of jeans with a long sleeve white off the shoulder top.

"I think I'll go with that." I say picking up the other two outfits and putting them back in my closet.

"Good choice! I'll leave you to get ready." She says walking out of my bedroom.

I take my time getting ready because a rushed Lily is a stressed Lily and a stressed Lily is grumpy and I wanted tonight to be perfect.

I decided to curl my hair instead of straightening it for once and hoped Paige would like it, she's never seen with curls before. I did my usual simple makeup and before I knew it, I had checked the time at it was 6:20PM. Paige would be here in ten minutes.

I gathered my necessities and stuffed them into my hand bag: wallet, keys, lipbalm.

I snapped a picture of myself and sent it to Emma and she replied instantly with a series of immature, teenage boy-esque emojis, I giggled out loud at my best friend.

At 6:30PM on the dot, there was a knock on our apartment door, "I think that's for you." Madison said peeking her head round my bedroom door before her, Hannah and Kelsey all retreated into her room.

My stomach fluttered as if I was on a blind date and I was about to see the person I was going out with for the first time. But when I opened the door to reveal Paige, my Paige, that I know so well, my stomach settled and any nerves were replaced with warmth.

Paige was wearing black cargo pants and a hot pink sweater, she had a bag slung across her body and her hair was sleek and straight, tucked behind her ears.

Her blue eyes shone bright against the pink of her sweater and I was speechless for a second.

"Hi Lils." She says a small smirk playing on her lips, "These are for you." She produces a large bunch of pale pink peonies from behind her back.

"P, they're beautiful." I gush taking the bouquet from her and admiring the flowers.

We quickly step inside so I can put them in a vase with water, "Ready?" I turn to Paige once my flowers are neatly displayed.

"Ready, pretty girl." She says and follows me out of the apartment.

"You look so good." I compliment her as we get into her car, "I think pinks your colour."

"Thank you." She says a small shy smile on her face.

Paige refuses to answer my hundreds of questions about where we're going, she practically drives in silence ignoring my pleads for 'just one clue'.

"Lily, has anyone ever told you 'patience is a virtue'?" She asks turning to look at me as we stop at a stop sign.

"Paige, I'm a passenger princess, not a patient princess." I tell her as we begin to drive again.

"Well princess, you don't have to be patient anymore. We're here." She says taking one more turn before bringing the car to a stop outside of a church.

To say I was confused was an understatement. Paige was very open about her faith and she would often tell me how important it was to her but I struggled to see how this would be a date setting.

"You tryna make me your wife already?" I joke as Paige opens my door for me and I step out into the cool, New England fall air.

She just laughs, slipping her hand into mine and begins walking us towards the perfectly sculpted building.

"No, seriously Paige." I stop us in our tracks. I had a complicated relationship with my religion and Paige knew that.

"Just trust me." She says and begins walking again and I do trust Paige so I followed her.

As we got closer to the entrance, I could see someone at the door as if they were checking tickets, this only deepened my confusion.

I watched intently as Paige opened her emails on her phone and scrolled a little before clicking on one, revealing two barcodes ready to be scanned.

"Good evening." The woman at the door smiled and sweet smile before scanning the codes and handing us a pamphlet each.

Looking down at the paper in my hand, my confusion disappeared but tears prickled in my waterlines, "Paige..." I breathed out looking up at her, the tears threatening to spill.

The pamphlet showed the interior of a chuch, lit entirely by candles with an orchestra in the middle with the title,

Candlelight Concerts:

Lana Del Rey

I was in shock as we walked through the dark church illuminated by, what must be hundreds if not thousands of candles.

Paige lead us to an empty row of seats and we sat side by side, our hands still firmly in each others.

"How did you find this?" I ask her in awe of what I was seeing.

"I have my ways." She responds smiling as the orchestra begins playing Young and Beautiful.

The entire concert was instrumental, played solely by the orchestra and I had goosebumps the entire time.

Lana was my favourite artist ever. Her music had helped me and shaped me in so many ways and to hear it in a way I've never heard it before, so stripped back, so raw was incredibly special to me. And the fact that Paige had thought of me, found this event and brought me here made my entire body tingle with a feeling I'd never felt before.

The orchestra finished with National Anthem and the tears that had been threatening to fall the entire night could no longer be held back.

"You wasn't supposed to cry, pretty girl." Paige says to me as she gently wipes my cheeks.

"They're happy tears." I choke out, "Paige, that was beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it." She says as we walk out of the church and back to her car.

"I feel like anything I say won't properly articulate how I feel. That meant so much to me, I don't think you understand." I ramble out wanting Paige to know how I felt but not knowing how to express myself.

"I wanted to do something special for you, something you'd remember." She tells me.

"I'll never forget that, P. Never, ever."

We ended our 'first' date paying homage to our actual first date and got frozen yogurt. I had to physically battle Paige to pay for our orders but of course she won.

In one swift movement she had swiped my card out of my hand and held it above her head out of my reach while she tapped her own.

A chill ran over me as we finished our Fro-Yo, I had underestimated the New England weather, I should have brought a jacket.

Paige must have noticed me shiver because she reached round behind my seat and pulled out a hoodie.

A grey UConn Huskies hoodie.

"Here." she says handing it to me and I immediately pull it over my head and down my body, instantly feeling warmer.

Paiges signature vanilla musk wafted up from the sweater and it took me back to that night in bar when I smelt her scent for the first time.

I spent the car ride home focused on how I was going to orchestrate what I wanted to do and after a quick text to Kelsey, by the time we pulled up to my apartment block, I had it figured out.

I began to pull off Paiges hoodie to hand it back to her, "Keep it." She says stopping me, "I've been meaning to give it to you."

"This won't stop me from wearing my UMass one." I tell her, pulling the hoodie back down.

"But this one suits you so much better. You look good in my clothes." She says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "You also look good with curls." She adds, running her fingers through the ends of my hair.

As always, Paige walked me to my front door, "Come in for a second?" I ask hoping her answer would be yes and it was.

We walked into the living room to my roommates watching Netflix, Rachel Greens voice playing out loud through the apartment. We said quick hello's before going into my bedroom.

"It looks like a bomb exploded in here." Paige laughs looking around my messy bedroom, the mess I had created while getting ready.

"I was trying to look my best for you." I say quickly tidying stray makeup products away as I searched for what I needed.

"You do that without trying, Lils."

"Here." I spin around to Paige, a pair of scissors clutched in my grasp and I extend them out to her.

She takes them from me, even though I know she's confused from the way her brows are scrunched, "What are these for?"

I don't say anything, knowing that my actions will speak louder than my words. I roll up my sleeve uncovering the thread bracelet Kelsey had tied round my wrist mere months ago, "I'm over this club." I say.

Paiges eyes widened slightly in realisation, "For real?" She asks stepping closer to me.

I nod, "For real." And I watch as Paige takes the braided bracelet between two fingers and holds it off my wrist before closing the scissors on it, cutting the thread clean of my arm.

"Lily, will you be my girlfriend?" She asks unable to hide her smile.

My expression mirrors hers, "Yes. I'll be your girlfriend." I say and she drops the scissors so both her hands are free to cup my face as she leans down to kiss me.

Muffled cheers and whoops come from the living room and Kelsey yells out 'finally!' and I silently curse the thin walls of our student accommodation as I continue to kiss Paige, my girlfriend.

My girlfriend, Paige.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

"What do you want for your birthday?" I asked Paige as we sat side by side in a booth at, what had become our favourite Italian restaurant to get dinner at.

"You." She flirts, slipping her arm around my waist and squeezing my hip, heat rushing to my cheeks at her touch.

"You've already got me." I tell her just as our food begins to arrive.

Paige had gone for an alfredo and I ordered my all time favourite, lasagna.

"Are you excited for your party?" I ask Paige.

Paiges birthday was exactly a week away and her party was a day later on the Saturday. Her dad, stepmom and brother Drew were coming into town to spend the weekend and I was excited to meet them in real life after many FaceTime calls.

"Yes, I can't wait to have a weekend off with all my favourite people." She says as she sips on her, you guessed it, Shirley Temple.

"Azzi has planned this party as if it's your bachelorette." I laughed thinking of Azzis endless lists and frantic shopping trips to get everything into place.

"She's the queen of planning, I said I'd help but she said I'd just get in the way." Paige responds shrugging her shoulders as if there's no valid reason her best friend had come to that conclusion.

I drove us back to Paiges apartment after dinner, "Are you not coming up?" She asks me as I pull up, stopping the car but not turning it off.

I reach for my phone and text Azzi, letting her know I'm downstairs.

I shake my head, "I have plans." I say suspiciously.

"Which are?" She asks furrowing her brows, Paige knew what I was doing and what I had planned at almost all times, that's just how we were.

I tapped the side of my nose indicating it was a secret.

"Well, I'm coming." She says adamantly, not moving from her place in my car.

"Paige, you can't." I say as the main entrance to the apartment building opens and out walks Azzi, Caroline, Nika and KK.

"Why?" She huffs not noticing her friends and teammates approaching.

"Because we may or may not be getting your birthday gifts."

"We?"

"Move it, Bueckers." Azzi says opening the door and practically dragging Paige out of the car.

"Oh, I see how it is." Paige nods as her friends bundle into my car.

"Don't miss us too much." I call out of my window and Paige walks round to me pressing a kiss to my lips.

"OK, I know we call you our parents but enough with the PDA." KK groans and fake gags from her seat behind me.

"Enough of that or you'll come home to all your Trü Frü eaten." Paige quips.

"Don't you dare, Paige!" KK yells as I drive off laughing.

Nika controls the aux on our journey to the mall and it really shows me why her and Paige call each other 'twin', she could have easily been playing Paiges playlist - thats how similar their music taste is.

We strolled around the mall, trailing into store after store all looking for the perfect gift for Paige.

"What about these?" Nika says holding up a pair of white Nike sneakers with lavender accents, Azzi and I nod immediately, "Yes! She'd love those." I encourage and Nika calls over the sales assistant to ask if they have Paiges size.

"Are you really not going to show us what you got in that jewellery store?" KK asks me as we wait and I shake my head, "No, not yet. I mean Paige will probably show you anyway." I say to the girl.

"It's not an engagement ring is it?" She asks eyebrows raised and I laugh, "No KK, it's not an engagement ring."

"Did I hear engagement ring?" Caroline asks joining us on the couch in the store.

"Yes, but I also said not in that sentence too. I'm not proposing to Paige guys, we've been girlfriends for like two weeks."

"She'd probably say yes, you know." Azzi says matter of factly, catching me off guard.

"I don't think so." I reply.

"Lily are you kidding? She's so down bad for you." Her best friends assures.

"Like down bad, down bad." KK agrees.

"Really?" I ask. I know Paige likes me obviously, we wouldn't be dating if not, we've never really spoken about it but I assume Paige has had her fair share girlfriends in her time and I'm just one of many.

"She never stops talking about you. It's always Lily this and Lily that."

"And you practically live at our place." Azzi says, "In our time at UConn, she's never had a girl stay over for..more than one night." And she makes a face at the fact she just exposed her friends hook ups.

"But since you've been around, it's only been you." Caroline says putting an arm over my shoulder, "You've locked her down."

"I hope so." I say.

I don't care what Paige did before we got together, I had a life too but I smile at the fact that she's changed for me and suddenly my sentimental gift doesn't seem so cringy so I show the girls what I bought.

"She's going to love that Lils." Nika says as she joins us with Paiges present in her hand.

"She's actually going to be insufferable about it." Azzi fake groaned as we left the sneaker store.

"It's not...too much?" I ask still feeling slightly insecure about my gift.

"Have you met Paige?" KK says, "It's perfect. Stop overthinking."

"Have you met me? Overthinking is my middle name." I half joke because obviously it isn't but the girls know me well enough now to know about my turbulent mental health and how much I otherthink almost everything.

Once we all have our gifts for Paige, the last thing we pick up at the mall is ingredients for a cake. After a lot of persuasion, Azzi finally agreed to allow me to bake Paiges cake and I was taking the task very seriously.

"$150 on ingredients for a cake is insane." Nika says as we pile back into my car ready to head home. "That would have been like €30 in Croatia."

I drove us all back to campus with Nika on aux again and dropped the girls off at their apartment before driving to mine.

"I'm back." I call as I enter the apartment letting my roommates know I was home.

"Hey Lils." Madison greets me from the kitchen, "How was the shopping trip?"

"Successful!" I say placing my bags on the table.

"Show us what you got your girlfriend." Kelsey says in a sing-song voice.

For the president of Single Sisters, I must say, Kelsey is mine and Paiges number one fan. She even goes as far to call us Pily - she was stuck between that or Laige but apparently that 'didn't sound right'.

I show my roommates what I got Paige and they reassured me that she would love it.

"I kinda got her a present too." Kelsey says.

"Really?" I ask confused. Sure, Kelsey and Paige were friends through me but I never imagined they'd be friends to the point of buying each other birthday gifts.

Kelseys skips off to her bedroom and returns seconds later with a small organza bag in her hand.

"Here, look." She says handing me the bag.

I open it and peak inside, I immediately laugh.

"What club are these for?" I ask pulling out the two thread bracelets, similar to the ones Kelsey and I had, just a different colour way.

"No more clubs." She waves her hand in dismissal, "I just thought it would be a funny gift, you guys don't have to wear them if you don't want to."

"I love them Kels and I know Paige will too. You should give them to her." I hand her back the bracelets.

"Good idea. I'm yet to have the 'you better not hurt my best friend' chat so that'll be the perfect time." She laughs.

"Play nice." I joke before taking Paiges gift to my bedroom to wrap and write out her card.

I like to think words are my speciality. I've spent my life writing in journals and expressing my thoughts that I could never put into words and I intend to do the same for Paige.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

Azzi really had gone above and beyond for her best friends birthday. Paige's celebrations were starting with a dinner tomorrow tonight with the team and her family before going to a karaoke bar. Then the day after was her party. Azzi had hired a private room in the back of Huskies and had invited everyone they knew on campus.

My apartment had been used as storage for the endless amount of decorations and balloons that Azzi had ordered meaning Paige had been temporarily banned as to not spoil anything.

"It's seriously messed up that I have to wait outside." Paige huffed as I bundled out of my front door simultaneously pulling a sweater over my head, Connecticut was getting cold.

"Azzi has put a lot of thought into this and she wants you to be surprised." I say stretching up on my tip toes to kiss my girlfriend hello.

"It's not like its a surprise party, I know it's happening." She continued to argue as we took the elevator down.

"I'm changing the subject now." I say getting into the passenger seat, "How was your workout?"

Paige nods and like clockwork flexes her biceps, "What do you think?" She smirks.

"I think we should get going, your family has been at their hotel for an hour already." I say to her. Paiges family flew in from Minnesota earlier today and we were going to meet them so Paige could introduce me before tonight.

“Just feel them." She persists, arm still flexed.

"Paige..."

"You know how many people would pay to feel my guns and you get them for free, pretty girl."

I reach out and wrap my hand around her arm - admittedly my hand doesn't wrap all the way around - and I press down slightly on the hard muscle.

"So strong." I say sarcastically but my red cheeks are far from sarcastic.

"Do you need to pee or something?" Paige asks me as I shuffle from foot to foot as we wait for the elevator to take us up to her family.

"No, just..." I look up into her big blue eyes, "just nervous." I admit and she giggles softly.

"Don't be nervous Lils. You've spoke to them a million times on FaceTime and they love you already." She says wrapping me in a hug as the elevator dings open.

There was an audible gasp from the other side of the door as we knocked and I smiled at Drews excitement to see his sister.

The door swung open and before I had a moment to compute what was happening, Drew had his arms wrapped around my waist, "Lilyyy." He beemed up at me with the cheesiest grin.

"Hi Drew." I smile and crouch down slightly to hug him. I look to Paige and she has an equally cheesy grin on her face, you could definitely tell they were siblings.

We stay with Paiges family for a while just sitting and talking and Paige catches them up on basketball and just life in general and I realise there was no need to be nervous at all. I felt like I'd known these people my whole life.

"I hope she's treating you good." Paiges dad, Bob says to me with a serious expression.

"She is," I say blushing slightly, "you raised her well."

"I never thought I'd see the day, Paige being in a serious relationship." He says.

"Okayyy." Paige drags out the word as she stands up, "That's our cue to leave." She holds out a hand, I take it and she pulls me up off the couch we were sitting on.

We say quick goodbyes before leaving, knowing that we'd see each other later that evening.

"I'm coming to the realisation that you're quite the player." I joke to Paige as we take the elevator down the the hotel exit.

She laughs, "Really, why?" She asks as she stretches in front of me to the press the button.

"Just what your dad said and Azzi may have implied something too." I say slightly awkwardly my eyes not daring to look in Paiges direction.

"What did Azzi say?"

"Just that I was the first girl you'd had stay more than one night."

"Does that bother you?"

I shake my head, "No, I just can't imagine you being like that."

"I wasn't always like that." Paige says as we walk through the hotel lobby back to her parked car.

"What does that mean?" I ask only now looking towards her but she isn't looking at me.

"It doesn't matter." She says walking a few steps ahead.

I speed up my steps so I'm next to her again, "Paige," I grab her arm to stop her walking, "you can tell me. I won't judge you."

"I know you won't, it's not that. It was so long ago, I feel like it doesn't matter anymore."

"But it's still something that happened to you and if you want to tell me, I'd like to know." I say to her genuinely. I've never seen Paige so awkward and uncomfortable, she can't even look at me.

"Let's get in the car." She says and I follow her to her car, getting into the passenger seat as she gets into the drivers seat.

I half expect Paige to just begin driving and ignore my offer to speak about this but she doesn't turn the car on, instead she focuses her eyes on the steering wheel, hands placed firmly at each side.

I stay silent not wanting to push her, clearly this is a difficult conversation for her to have but I want her to know I'm here so I reach over tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, my hand falling to the back of her neck and resting there.

"It was my freshman year," She begins and I'm grateful that she's comfortable to speak, "I had finally come to terms with who I was and who I loved and there was this girl and we were just friends at first but it became more than that pretty quickly and to me, it was obvious what we were..." She pauses shuffling in her seat to look at me for the first time. My eyes lock onto hers and I nod for her to carry on.

"But I guess it wasn't as obvious to her because we went home for Christmas and she came back with a boyfriend and acted like she never knew who I was. Never spoke to me again. I was so confused and hurt and I never wanted to give myself to a person the way I gave myself to her ever again..." She trails off.

I want to say fuck that girl, she never deserved you but I choose my words wisely.

"Paige, I'm so sorry that happened. That's unfair, so unfair. You didn't deserve that."

"It was like she was embarrassed of me and I never wanted that to happen again so everything and everyone since then has been casual. Nothing serious enough for me to get hurt again."

"You know I'd never do that to you right? I'd never hurt you. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time and I want everyone to know it. I'd shout it from the rooftops. You're not embarrassing to me, Paige. You're everything to me." I tell my girlfriend, my hand now secured in hers.

"I know Lily, I can feel it. We wouldn't be here if I didn't. You just met my family, the most important people in my life. Meeting you made me realise that whatever I had with Marianna wasn't real. This is real." She says and I can see her shoulders relax like a weight has been lifted and I just get the sudden urge to say what I've been feeling for a while now.

"I love you, Paige. I am in love with you and I'll tell you that everyday just so you know how much I mean it."

Paiges eye widen then soften immediately, I don't care if she doesn't say it back. It's how I feel and I wanted her know and now felt like the time to do that.

"Lily." Paiges voice is soft and sweet and I prepare myself for her to not say it back and I avert my gaze.

"Lily," Paige starts again and her hand moves my face to look back at her, "I love you. Of course I love you. I hoped that was obvious." She says smiling now and I can't help but smile back.

It was obvious, Paige loves so deeply and openly with no holding back that it's impossible to not feel it.

"It is." I say still smiling.

"Good." She replies before kissing me and it feels different than usual. It feels like the first time we kissed on the basketball court. My stomach flutters as her hand caresses my jaw, her lips on mine moving in perfect synchrony.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[gamingavickreyauction]

I'm not sure if this is meant to relate to my thought experiment- I will assume it isn't.

I am a preference utilitarian, so I don't have an issue with the starving artist- if they value a sense of achievement over pleasure and absence of discomfort, that is entirely their prerogative. I'm not trying to force people into pleasure machines when I'm not horny. If the artist prefers creating their work, then by definition that is a higher utility for them than slutting out. If the artist thinks they are sacrificing preference utility for achievement, they just don't understand preference utility. The only situation I can think where that's arguably not true is an addiction, where there is a conflict between the decision someone wants to make in the moment and their enduring goals.

Well… what the hell does "net satisfied" mean? How do you measure the strength of a preference?

There are two questions here, one of ontology, one of empirical application, but I agree that they are very related. I don't think of preference as a neural state- again I am not a hedonic utilitarian. Preference may be a neural phenomenon, but no one understands how exactly, so I don't think that's a helpful way to think of them, and define them in terms of this counterfactual, as is standard. Perhaps if neurobiologists get really good I'll have an answer to how to translate a neurological state into a strength of preference- but probably not.

For x to have more utility than y just means you will choose x over y. This means you can't necessarily work out total utility by summing up utility over time, because it is possible that e.g. someone might prefer slutting out to completing artwork B if they already created artwork A 30 years earlier, so you can't necessarily just assign utilities to individual activities and sum them up- although in most cases you basically can, I think.

What this means for Bob is that the sum total of utility across an entire lifetime isn't necessarily a coherent concept- and doesn't need to be for utilitarianism to work. Utility takes values in an affine space, not a vector space. If you were to try and give a zero to this affine space, in my view the only logical choice would be the state of nonexistence. In which case whether the state of Bob living out his life is prefered to zero is by definition whether Bob would choose to exist (in possession full understanding, etc.).

This raises several more difficult questions- whose preferences matter? the artist now or the artist 30 years ago? I struggle with these non-identity problems, but I think every ethical system does, and it doesn't usually throw up problems in the day-to-day.

So far this only gives ordinal utility. To put numbers to it- get a strength of preference- the standard answer comes from lotteries: you can't tell if someone wants an orange twice as much as they want an apple by asking if they would prefer one orange to two apples, because the second apple is worth less to them than the first. But you can ask if they would prefer a guaranteed apple to a 1/2 probability of getting an orange. In practice people are bad at making decisions about probability, so you say it's what they would choose if they thought about it for a while, and maybe change the scenario to a 1% chance of an orange vs a 2% chance of an apple, so that distaste for uncertainty doesn't enter into the picture.

I think this works fine for most things- this is how I think about my own utility, and is a thought experiment I sometimes pose myself when I am unsure what to do. However for some people, such as you, they may have preferences over lotteries that don't fit this mold, so what answer you would get depends on the specific choice of lotteries to compare, making this not work as a measurement. There are heuristics, like looking at how much someone will pay for something, that can be used for these cases, and maybe 'would you like an orange on one day or apples on two days' would work for some people. But I don't really have a good account of cardinal utility for these odd individuals, and have to hope no questions come up about them that ordinal utility can't answer.

if you pick the wrong way of getting a fungible quantity out of a fundamentally non-numerical arrangement of matter, then what you have doesn't correspond to "ethics" anymore, right, it lacks normative force. It's just some number.

This is something that worries me, and I tend to think there is something 'real' that these questions about choices over lotteries are getting at. I cannot claim to understand others' minds, so maybe it is too bold of me to claim this applies to everyone, but it seems clear that everyone has preferences of different strengths, and it seems absurd to me that numbers couldn't describe these strengths, even if in practice people can't work out which numbers.

I think ordinal utilities are on quite solid footing, except where non-identity problems occurs (including people changing over time). Fundamentally, I'm saying try to give people whatever they ask for, so this is compatible with whatever view people take about what is valuable in their own lives. Maybe this is what addresses the core of your question- that utilitarianism doesn't really need to understand why people want what they want. It's just something that can be slotted in as an input to the system, and slotted out again when they change their mind.

When you're trading people's interests off against each other you do need to put numbers to things, and I've already admitted there are reasonable ontological concerns with cardinal utility. However at my core those concerns don't ring true with me, and they don't seem to matter much in practice. People seem to largely behave as if the strength of their preferences can be described by numbers, certainly in aggregate, so I'm quietly optimistic about the ability of the more rigorous empirical social cost benefit analysis methods to accurately measure something real about what the ethical thing to do is.

I think we are in agreement in having concerns about some of the ways preferences are empirically measured- willingness to pay measures count rich people's preferences as stronger than poor people's. They think Bezos is a utility monster when he's just a monster. I think even after adjusting for income (which you can approximately do) there can be issues with e.g. measuring the value of natural beauty this way, because natural beauty is something people don't expect to have pay for, which perhaps leads them to give lower numbers than if they really thought about it. I don't know a good fix for that one.

But these are just methodological problems with implementing policy based on utilitarianism, and people will over time devise better methods. So I don't take these to be problems with utiltarianism as a model of what our goal as a (global) society should be, but a problem with particular policies, or methodologies, to be cautious about.

@deaths-accountant I will, if I remember, think carefully about your thought experiment and respond to it soon (although I will probably change some details so that it is less similar to current events because I don't want people to misunderstand the nature of the discussion and get mad at me), but, in the mean time, here is a counter-thought-experiment for you:

Suppose there is a guy Bob, currently hanging out in the heavenly realm or whatever, and he is presented by an angel with the following choice:

Bob will be born into the world, and live an ordinary-seeming life. Over the course of his life, the net utility (under whatever form of utilitarianism you endorse; hedonic, preferential, etc.) which he contributes to everyone else in the world besides himself will be 0. In other words, the people of the world (not including him) will be no better off nor worse off for his being born. However, he himself, under the same conception of utility, will receive -ε net utils. He will have N (for reasonable large N) utils worth of joys, triumphs, etc., and -(N+ε) utils worth of pains, failures and so on. Thus, he will live a net-negative life.

Bob will not be born into the world, he will cease to exist.

Implicitly I'm discounting here all the thoughts and feelings that Bob experiences here in the heavenly realm before he is born (or not) as irrelevant, but if you don't feel comfortable with this you can just adjust the numbers so that the net utility of each choice comes out as intended above.

It is possible, I think, that in light of the above choice, Bob would select (2) and cease to exist. But I think it's also possible that Bob would say "no, I'll take (1), I want to have the joys and triumphs even if there turn out also to be a greater number of failures and losses". In particular, I am almost certain that I would choose (1), and not just for fear of death (the above scenario is an abstraction of choices that I have actually made, where no risk of death was involved).

The question is: would it be moral for the angel to override Bob here, "for his own good", and choose (2) for him?

By construction a utilitarian has to say yes. If ε is small the utilitarian might say "well, it's not a very big deal; the normative force behind overriding Bob and choosing (2) is low". But I can think of scenarios in which I would chose (1) even if (I believed that) ε was pretty significant, where this excuse doesn't work.

Also consider for instance... the archetype of the starving artist. The man who is committed to producing his Great Work even at significant cost to himself. Suppose that he has made many sacrifices in order to hone his craft, he's given up financial success and a social life, he lives in the mountains and, you know, carves statue after statue in pursuit of perfection. Suppose that he can rationally conclude that, when (if) he does complete his masterpiece, the satisfaction will be relatively small in the face of all the sacrifices he's made. I mean, yeah, he'll be happy, he'll feel fulfilled and genuinely, deeply satisfied. But on a literal, summative level, that just won't add up to the lifetime of late nights, missed opportunities for social connection, etc., either in terms of net pleasure or net preference satisfaction or whatever. But suppose also that on the day to day level he doesn't feel miserable, he's not suffering. He's toiling in pursuit of a deeply held personal goal, and it feels... well, "good" isn't always the word. But he is plenty motivated to keep going; he's out here in the mountains of his own accord. The fact that he judges that at the end of his life the utility tally won't come up positive for him doesn't weigh on him much. "Why should I care about some number?" he says. "Maybe I'd be net happier if I went out on the town and found a wife and settled down, but I don't want to do that. I want to complete my Great Work."

Is this artist doing something immoral by living his life the way he has? Would it be moral for a third party to step in and prevent him from pursuing his endeavors?

In both of these thought experiments, my extremely strong intuition is that the answer is "no", making choices for other people "for their own good" in this way is not moral. But this seems like a necessary consequence of any kind of utilitarianism, so I can't get behind utilitarianism.

The starving artist example gets to a more fundamental issue, too. I kept saying things like "he really wants to complete his Great Work, and it will make him very satisfied, but he will be more net satisfied if he gives up on that and lives a normal life". Well... what the hell does "net satisfied" mean? How do you measure the strength of a preference? He "really wants" to complete his Great Work, and materially that corresponds to a certain neural state, but how do you put a number on that neural state which is fungible with the numbers you put on all the other neural states of human life? You run into this problem in both hedonic and preference utilitarianism, because "preference" is a neural phenomenon. Is there even a well-defined abstraction here, is there even a coherent thing to which "preference strength" can possibly refer? Maybe, but I don't know that there is. And the problem is that if you pick the wrong abstraction, if you pick the wrong way of getting a fungible quantity out of a fundamentally non-numerical arrangement of matter, then what you have doesn't correspond to "ethics" anymore, right, it lacks normative force. It's just some number.

This is why I say that utilitarian-ish ethics are fine on the large scale, they're fine for the policy maker or the economist, who for methodological reasons simply needs to pick an ok enough abstraction on run with it. But on the scale of individual humans, individual minds, and what it "really means" to treat people right, I don't think utilitarianism can possibly hold up.

I might have made this exact post before somewhere, if so apologies for repeating myself.

[brinnanza]

sometimes i like to research the treatment protocols for my various Issues and Problems and it is always very gratifying to find psychiatrists recommend something I am already doing today's rabbit hole was alexithymia because it's very much a the top fell off of the sprinkles container and now my bowl is all sprinkles at the autism sundae bar and it turns out the thing they're doing for that is basically just thinking about how you feel about stuff and practicing untangling it so you can do it faster on the fly and lo and behold that is precisely what my weed fueled self therapy sessions have been about lately

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just popping in to say i LOVE UR ART SO MUCH WAUGH!!!! Its soooooooo exoressive and u get across emotion and movement SO WELL!! I love ...littlr apple ...so much.....u imbue this donkey with Such Chaos

I love this little chaos creature, we should all forfeit our mortal possessions to her.

[iraprince]

Hiii, i love your stuff and kinda from a distance really look up at you for, in my perception, being able to express yourself without giving a fuck. Thats sick dude, Im so so afraid, of absolutely everything, its nice to think like i might grow into someone less apologetic of my existence. Nice to see people just being yknow

hey, thank you, this is really really nice. the secret that is probably not a secret is that i am also deeply afraid a lot of the time lmao -- but less than i used to be, and in ways that feel less stifling and self-suffocating, if that makes sense.

like, it used to be "i'm scared that if i express myself the way i want to, everyone will find me obnoxious, so let's just sand those edges down to be safe" -- now my fears are more like "now that i'm expressing myself in a way that feels natural and real, i'm afraid that it's all stupid/vapid/not worthwhile or meaningful" (<- specifically abt my art) or "i'm happy that i talk and act the way i want to now, but what if it makes me impossible to befriend," etc etc etc. which still feels bad and puts me in a funk a lot of the time but at least it's a fear that comes After/in reaction to doing stuff, rather than a fear that STOPS me from doing stuff, you know? like, it's evolved into a kind of fear that's less in my way.

anyway. i believe you'll experience something like this, because wanting to grow is the first step of growing. the fact that u hope or wish for something different means you're already on your way. to fewer fucks!! or at least distributing the fucks u give in a way that serves u better

[muttsandmustelidae]

i regret to inform all of my fellow socially awkward kings that Practicing Talking Good actually helps. u have to make small talk at the grocery store sometimes to get better at speaking to people u don’t know very well. it sucks but if u keep trying it will eventually NOT suck and will in fact be fun and nice

[yourqueenb]

Feeling another random burst of self confidence (probably due to lack of sleep honestly) so have a heavily made-up eye reveal I guess? 😂

[brittlebutch]

actually, having a kind of revelatory moment here of if HRT was something i have been considering for this long, but has remained inaccessible to me, then that means i Do actually have opinions about my appearance/presentation, so just because i can't take That Particular step doesn't mean that there aren't plenty of other avenues i could be pursuing (ie, clothing/accessories/etc.) that i just haven't let myself up until this point. like i don't have to shove it All aside just because there's one thing i can't get -- I'd probably still wind up a lot happier if I took those other steps I've spent all these years ignoring

[tamaharu]

to meee :3 akechi and sumire arent exactly friends throughout january, (they only get really close several years later) but as a side effect of neither having anything better to do and the two constantly haunting kichijoji i think they inevitably fall together more often than not. ren takes sumire out for darts and shes weirdly better than she was last time (sidebar but the fact that sumire and akechi both mimic your throws but sumire sucks shit at darts too much for it to do any good is so cute) and shes like oh yeah akechi-san has been teaching me. oh wow i got a forty! unaware of the way she just blew rens mind.

[iluvbabycows]

being a girl is getting a lil high and turning on music that you can cry sing to while thinking about your ex who did you so wrong even though you’re literally the happiest you’ve ever been and don’t miss him at all at all at allllll!!!!!

[daz4i]

someone please send me sleepy vibes i need to sleep but i don't . wanna 💔

[tears-of-boredom]

day 3: unnecessarily complex fit

ii gotta be honest, they were originally gonna have two feet but then i couldn't figure out the perspective of their right one so i decided to just not draw it

[scattered-winter]

horrifying self recognition through the other aside this has been an actually not terrible start to The Family Gathering tbh