#it's the underlying assumption that any of this matters

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Somebody (okay like a lot of people) said being attracted to a character makes it hard to be objective about them. So, for science (eh, for fun) I have interviewed a lesbian with nearly 3000 hours in Baldur's Gate 3 with questions about Astarion:

Q: Hi. I know you are a lesbian, but that doesn't preclude being attracted to Astarion, so let's also establish objectivity according to the experts. Are you attracted to Astarion at all?

A: No. It's kind of devastating to me because I love vampires. But apparently they do have to be lady vampires.

Q: Perfect. Have you ever tried to romance him anyway?

A: I started a couple of games with the intention of romancing him. It never worked out. I always end up with Shadowheart. Or Lae'zel.

Q: Do you like him, as a character?

A: Yeah. He's great.

Q: Ever kill him in any of your playthroughs?

A: Only to resurrect him, to see his lines. But I've never permanently killed him.

Q: Why not?

A: Because I like his story. I don't always enjoy talking to him about his story, because he's a bit much. But I want him to have that development and see it through. Be happy and free! Fuck Cazador. What a bitch.

Q: Is he an asshole?

A: Yes, but he's a lovable asshole. As much any of the others. Well, some of the others. Let's be fair.

Q: What's his alignment like?

A: I don't understand DnD alignment.

Q: For the record, have you played DnD?

A: Yes. I still don't get it. I have played for years now and this is all I know: lawful tends to equal "the worst in your group." There are exceptions though, like obviously I love Shadowheart, even though she starts off pretty strictly obeying Sharran dogma. Chaotic means "fun." Most party members in any given campaign say they are one thing but then act as true neutrals. And if you participate in a torture session with a DM controlled NPC and you forget to ask any questions, then your alignment will get shifted mid campaign. I learned that recently.

Q: I have no comment on that besides that maybe you should have listened to the bard in your party telling you this was stupid and pointless?

A: I wasn't running the torture session, I just held her still! I'm an accessory. I'm a barbarian, I can't be expected to think shit through or pay any attention to you when you speak.

Q: ...So can Astarion fall in love?

A: He's perfectly capable of that.

Q: If you had to guess his sperm count...?

A: Why would anyone ever care about that? Even if he were a real person? Why would anyone give a shit? Is this really a talking point? Fuck. I hate you guys. Just play the game.

Q: Whose your favorite companion?

A: Shadowheart.

Q: Tell me what you like about her?

A: The process of getting to know her, delving underneath that shell of secrets. She's so strong and sweet even through she can't easily show it right away because of all the bullshit she's been taught. In early access, when I couldn't get her out of the pod, either because that wasn't an option in the game yet, or I was too stupid, I've never figured it out, I was devastated. I didn't even know her yet, but I was so in love from the very beginning.

Q: Aww, that's really nice. What character do you think you are most like?

A: Karlach and Lae'zel. Maybe more Karlach, but definitely both. Not that Karlach isn't great, but I wish I was more like Lae'zel.

Q: And I should probably end on an Astarion question again since that was kind of the point. What about him do you find relatable, assuming that's anything?

A: I totally relate to wanting to put up a front to protect yourself. Can't relate to the method at all but the motivation is solid. Also, even though I have never romanced him, I have seen his DTR dialogue, and I really love it. I love how honest he is about his feelings. It's not romantic to be uncertain, but he doesn't care about that anymore, because he's just being totally transparent. It might seem weird that I would say that while being down bad for the least transparent character in the game, but that's a trait I personally value in myself more than a partner. Don't get me wrong, it would be nice, but for me I really try to be honest about what I am feeling. You can't DTR with Shadowheart really, the equivalent would be the stupid "you've never been in a relationship like this have you?" dialogue option which is never what I would say irl, but it's all I get in the game, and I think she's telling the truth when you have that conversation. With Astarion, it's so obvious. He's so obvious. I'm like that. I think it's very cool that you see that development in him, going from lying to survive to just being totally readable. Whether you're romancing him or not, by act three you know exactly what he's really about. Or if you don't, you haven't been talking to him, or like failed all your insight checks or something.

Q: Thanks! You were great. Anything to add?

A: Shadowzel forever.

[communistkenobi]

I believe it was the work of legal scholar Florence Ashley where I first encountered this term (it might have also been Serano), but I’m becoming more and more committed to saying “degender” as opposed to “misgender.” like I think the term ‘misgender’ fails to properly identify the mechanism behind the process it describes: misgendering is not an act of attributing the wrong gender characteristics to a trans person, it is an act of dehumanisation. I think the term ‘misgender’ especially gives people much easier rhetorical cover to argue that trans women are hurt by misandry by being ‘mislabeled as men,’ or that they are in fact ‘actually men’ and benefit from male privilege, because the (incorrect) assumption underlying this is that when trans women are ‘misgendered’ they are being treated like men - to follow this line of thinking to its natural conclusion, this denies the existence of transmisogyny altogether, because any ‘misgendering’ of trans women is done only with the intent, conscious or otherwise, to inscribe the social position (and the privileges this position affords) of men onto them, as opposed to stripping them of their womanhood (and thus, their humanity).

The term degendering, however, I think more accurately describes this dehumanising process. Pulling from the work of both Judith Butler and Maria Lugones, gender mediates access to personhood - Lugones says in the Coloniality of Gender that in the colonial imaginary, animals have no gender, they only have (a) sex, and so who gets ‘sexed’ and who gets ‘gendered’ is a matter of who counts as human. She describes this gendering process as fundamentally colonial and emerging as a colonial technology of power - who is gendered is who gets to be considered human, and so the construction of binary sex is a way of ‘speciating’ or rendering non-human the Indigenous and African people of colonized America, justifying and systematising the brutal use of their land and/or their labour until their death by equating them to animals. Sylvia Wynter likewise describes in 1492: A New World View that a popular term used by Spanish colonizers to describe the indigenous people was “heads of Indian men and women,” as in heads of cattle. By the same token, white men are granted the high status of human, worthy of governance, wealth, and knowledge production, and white women are afforded the subordinate though still very high responsibility of reproducing these men by raising and educating children. Appeals to a person’s sex as something more real, more obvious, or ‘poorly concealed’ by their gender is to deny them their gender outright, and therefore is a mechanism to render them non-human. Likewise, for Butler, gender produces the human subject - to be outside gender is to be considered “unthinkable” as a human being, a being in “unliveable” space.

Therefore the process of trans women going from women -> “male” is not “being gendered as a man,” it is being positioned as non-human. when people deny the gender of trans women, most especially trans women of colour, they invariably do this through reference to their genitals, to their ‘sex,’ as something inescapable, incapable of being concealed - again, this is not a process of rendering them as men, it is the exact opposite: it is a process of rendering them as non-human. there is not a misidentification process happening, they are not being “misgendered as men,” there is a de-identification of them as human beings. Hence, they are not misgendered, they are degendered, stripped of gender, stripped of their humanity

[metanarrates]

escapist media in general is an ongoing fascination for me. media written with escapism as a main priority typically requires very little thought from the reader - the whole point is to kick back and live vicariously through a fun story, after all. they're narratives written to prioritize reader comfort.

but because they are written to be as unchallenging as possible, they often come with a set of underlying assumptions that can be just fucking fascinating to unpick. like yeah, why IS it assumed to be escapist and indulgent to enjoy colonial wealth without thinking about it in regency fiction. why IS the self inserty female protagonist, who is assumed to be as universally relatable as possible, written to be sweetly naive and sexually inexperienced. why does this "queernorm" contemporary world replicate patriarchial structures exactly but just with Gay People Allowed. why are these ideas assumed to be easy and comforting? can the writers not imagine anything better than the status quo but except maybe with more gay people and poc if you're lucky?

the fact of the matter is that "unchallenging" fiction tends to just simply replicate dominant cultural narratives as a point of comfort. we won't challenge the reader, so we won't think about the way we write certain things. everything we think of as comforting and safe are, of course, universal, and could not be founded on any harmful ideological assumptions. there is nobody who could be alienated by this.

and that's the sticking point to me, in terms of escapist fiction: it's always necessary to ask whose comfort is being prioritized. you've got to interrogate who gets to escape and the mechanisms by which that escape happens. escapism can be good and necessary to survive the current world, but it does not exist in a vacuum separate from the real world, even if it pretends it does!

[aro-barrel]

one of the first things any aro wants to know on their journey of discovery is, “what the fuck is romantic love?” so we end up reading alloromantic accounts of romance, just so we can try to understand. and it’s often a failed journey, simply because people describe different experiences or describe sensations that don’t necessarily equate to romantic attraction. sure, people get a warm fuzzy feeling when they look at their spouse, but alloplatonics might describe their platonic feelings the same. and sure, people are struck with a desire to hold someone close and kiss them, but is that really exclusive to romance? after a while, it becomes clear. love filled with subjectivity.

the question then becomes, what do we do with subjectivity? it’s the first step in disassembling "love." when we choose to investigate further, we may come to realize the subjectivities are (too often) conveniently erased to suit popular notions of love—these stem from dominant depictions of love that don’t reflect reality or practice. put simply: people are told how their love is. yes, they're told how to love, but there is the very real assumption that the same feelings underlie every expression of romantic love, no matter who you are. it's in all the tv shows and books, it's parroted by well-meaning people who wish for your happiness, it's sliced ragged until it's a narrow, "correct" form. but no one loves that singular way, even if they warp their own experiences to fit the narrative. if "love" is pared down, concentrated into an impossibly specific expression, we get awful tunnel vision when we try to conceptualize it. the lived, subjective experiences of love elude us.

so as aromantics, we take the abandoned subjectivities and play around with them. we might attempt to separate components of "love" and poke them with a stick, dissect them, take parts out, Frankenstein them. we might heave "love" into a jumbo garbage bin forever or build our own thing from scratch. when people write of love as a law of nature, we tear it to fucking shreds. there are no rules, it's not a sacred thing, not immutable. we fuck around with "love" on purpose. we carve our own space in a society that insists on myopia.

[eamour]

method · using subliminals

today, we are talking about subliminals. believe it or not, subliminals are what actually brought me to the law of attraction and later on the law of assumption. they are already used by a large number of people, even those who don’t necessarily believe in any law.

definition

subliminal (adjective) refers to something that cannot be recognised or understood by the conscious mind but still manages to influence the subconscious. a subliminal message, for example, can only be perceived by you without you having notice or being aware of it.

in a spiritual context, subliminals (noun) signify sounds, often music with underlying positive affirmations.

intention

the purpose of subliminals is to sway your beliefs in a certain direction or change them entirely. a subliminal that purposely tries to persuade you subconsciously into believing something which you find hard to believe in consciously. in short, listening to subliminals helps you "reprogram" your mind.

how to listen

you can listen to a subliminal with your headphones, your earphones, on your phone, on your laptop, on your tablet,… all variants are just as influential.

when and where to listen

when and where you listen to a subliminal is entirely up to you. it depends on your beliefs. the moment you think you need to listen to them for them to help you manifest or materliase your desire, that’s when you should listen to them. there is no fixed time or place. you can listen whenever you want, wherever you want.

how often to listen

how often you listen to a subliminal is also entirely up to you. you can listen to one subliminal the entire a day, two subliminals at the same time, listen overnight, while doing your chores, make a playlist for the day, create a time frame for when to listen or listen to it only once — you decide! again, there is no fixed amount of times. you listen as many times as you wish to.

what to listen to

you can find subliminals on various platforms! mostly, they are free and on youtube. there, you can follow your favourite subliminal channels, create playlists and listen/loop them. you may also find subliminals on spotify, apple music, soundcloud, etc.

why it works

it doesn’t matter how many times you listen to a subliminal, how intense you listen to it or where you do it. the only thing that matters is your overall mental attitude. while listening to the sub, all you have to do is to accept its promised results to make it "work" for you. keyword: belief. belief creates and helps creating. your only job is to decide you have your desire and persist in that. for example, you could assume that you get your desires while listening to the sub and full results after listening to the entire playlist. or maybe you get full results by just listening to the first second of the sub? your rules apply only.

with love, ella.

[familyabolisher]

you said that you don’t take lines of questioning / thought about “romanticizing” dark topics (SA, incest, etc.) seriously. would you mind elaborating on that? what does it mean, if anything, to romanticize? i think i get why it’s a fundamentally reactionary (or just silly?) thing to be concerned about, but would you mind elaborating on why?

thanks! your posts have been very illuminating on this sort of thing.

okay so let's talk about "romanticise" as a literary discourse for a second because there are a handful of things happening with its usage:

is the assumption that there exists a state of non-'romantic' discursive matter from which something 'romantic' is being created, and the content of the text in question is the process by which that creation is happening;

is the use of 'romantic' to describe something that appears to the viewer as desirable and attractive, thus obscuring the ways in which it is harmful/abusive/violent/&c.;

is the idea that this 'romantic' state represents something morally odious due to the ideas it might impress upon the audience about the nature of the discursive matter made 'romantic' in question.

i think it's worth breaking each of these assumptions down because i don't believe that any of them actually hold water, and i find that they in fact telegraph some pretty reactionary paradigms around literary criticism.

first is the idea that there exists discursive matter that is not "romantic," here to mean suffused with cultural narratives that render it desirable, and that the matter in question only takes on these desirable qualities after undergoing this process of "romanticisation." by this logic, the matter is in fact prediscursive; the onus of constructing a “romantic” discourse lies solely with the cultural response. when in practice, normative cultural assumptions and the media that interacts with them exist in a feedback loop relative to one another, and it surely makes more productive sense to engage with the apparently objectionable material not as an object that creates or even necessarily reifies a normative cultural standard, but that interfaces with that standard in what could potentially be any number of variant forms. this widens the scope of our response as an audience—we might well say that a depiction of XYZ was tasteless, clichéd, voyeuristic, lacked interest in the interiority of its subjects, &c. &c., just as easily as we might say that it engaged with extant cultural narratives in compelling, thoughtful, meaningful ways. we're not taking the cultural object as the didactic “creation” of a social norm—we're situating it within the norms from which it already emerged.

the second is the idea that this ‘romantic,’ aesthetically desirable construction must necessarily obscure the ways in which the subject matter is harmful (however we define ‘harmful’). i find this position v condescending, towards creator and audience alike—one way of crafting horror that can be really exceptional when done right is the total sealing-off of the narrative from any didactic intervention, any suggestion that what's being depicted is morally “wrong.” the dissonance between subject matter and audience—and/or between subject matter and creator—can be brilliant when you can have faith that that dissonance exists. audiences aren't little babies who learn our morals from our media; we're prepared to critically engage with and respond to a discourse presented to us. as i said above, doing away with this whole “romantic” sheen as an obfuscator of violence opens us up to new, more precise, more compelling readings.

the third – and imo, the most damnatory – is the suggestion that the narrative itself represents a potential site of harm due to the underlying ideology that it imposes on those who engage with it. like, we're still adopting this approach whereby we construct and engage with narratives for instructive purposes; if we see a depiction of sexual abuse that renders the abuse pleasurable, aesthetically pleasing, desirable, then we absorb this idea that sexual abuse is pleasurable and aesthetically pleasing and desirable and thus covet the position of the subject in question. i don't think this is necessarily true! i'm obviously not suggesting that we don't absorb and reproduce our cultural narratives in media – as i said in the first point, there exists a feedback loop between the two – but i think we as audiences and critics ought to think more highly of ourselves than to imagine that we are incapable of seeing some fucked up shit given an aesthetic gloss without asking why the aesthetic gloss is being used, how the creator is making use of perspective, how we might respond to it, etc. and i just don't think narratives ought to be instructive or didactic; nor do i think creators bear responsibility for how their work is received to the extent that they are obliged to orient their discourse towards a presumed impressionable individual for whom every action or aesthetic contrivance is a categorical imperative. this is the oldest and honestly the most boring debate in the book; the question of "moralism" in fiction has been done half to death by now, and i don't see any use in rehashing it to any significant extent. suffice it to say that the “moralist” approach is stultified and limited and intellectually dull.

note that nowhere in this did i say that there are never narratives that ought to be called into question for their depiction of X, Y, or Z; just that i think we need better, more precise language to defer to do when we do so. simply put, i think it's possible to make a piece of art that holds these “romantic” qualities, and doesn't have a guy walk in midway through and go “by the way, abuse is Bad/age gaps are Problematic/mental illness is Unsexy,” &c., and still greatly compel me wrt its subject matter. & that is a statement which exists in straightforward contradiction to the idea that the term “romanticise” communicates anything necessarily and inherently condemnatory about a text, so, i don't use it.

[angelwheat]

TF2 ; Demoman X Reader

Author's Note: Frankly, I projected a lot of myself into this as I've been pretty down bad myself these days... I just thought I'd write some angst with my favourite man for a change. (gif not mine)

Topics: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Pronouns: She/Her | Words: 4085

“Anybody seen that cyclops?”

“Where is that drunk son of a gun?”

“He’s probably passed out somewhere as usual. I’m sure he’s fine.”

She bowed her head and expressed her disapproval, exhibiting a small gesture of exasperation upon hearing her teammates’ jest about the widely held assumption of the Demoman.

Despite the disconcerting remark directed towards the Scotsman, the underlying question persisted in the mind of only one throughout the evening, prompting various conjectures regarding the whereabouts of him. Notwithstanding her diligent efforts to locate him, neither the rooms she meticulously searched, nor the crates of alcohol indicated by another yielded any answer to where he was.

Their team’s third consecutive victory brought about a celebration, characterized by the customary revelry of beer, friendly banter, and perhaps engaging in a drunken game of cards. That night, even the more reserved members of the team emerged from their usual seclusion to mingle amongst the rowdy ones, people like Spy and Sniper, or perhaps even Heavy, who often resided in the contentment of their own company.

With an empty glass in hand, the lady discreetly proceeded towards the kitchen, refraining from interrupting the lively discussion among the men engrossed in their game at the table.

Seeking to replenish her glass with another generous serving of wine, believing it is well-deserved after such a challenging and exhausting battle. As she entered the room, she encountered the Spy reaching for a bottle of wine stashed away in a hidden spot in the cupboard, before engaging in pouring himself a serving of one of his cherished and refined wines.

Hearing the gentle footsteps behind him, the Frenchman turned around, holding the tall wine bottle in one hand. The bottle was half empty already, and his glass had a perfectly measured pour of wine.

“Care for another drink?” He chuckled softly, seemingly slightly intoxicated as he smiled in a manner uncharacteristic of his typically serious demeanour.

“Well, if you’re offering.” She laughed, extending her glass towards him.

As she watched Spy elegantly pour the crimson liquid from the bottle, the girl took a moment to think.

“You never share your wine with anyone, Spy.” She pointed out, observing him as he withdrew the bottle.

Spy raised his eyes and spoke briefly. “We are celebrating, mon ami.”

She took a sip of her beverage, expressing her distaste for the strong berry flavour, as opposed to the rather bland wine she had previously.

“And it would be ungentlemanly of me not to offer.” He remarked, smoothing his suit with his free hand before resting against the counter.

Observing the Spy, she noticed his refined demeanour despite being tipsy. The Frenchman maintained an upright posture, although his distinguished manner showed a hint of decline. He stood casually and took a sip of his drink, savouring the exquisite taste of such a delicacy.

The lady imitated him by leaning against the counter a short distance away, lowering her gaze as she subtly shifted her footing. She gracefully crossed one arm over her body, while the other elegantly supported her wine glass, gently swirling the liquid within as she sighed.

Spy noticed her sudden change in mood and asked genuinely, “Something the matter?”

She gently brought her glass to her lips before lazily responding, “I’m just thinking.”

“About what, may I ask?” He hummed, his speech slightly slurring his accent.

Just as she opened her mouth a sudden boisterous commotion emanated from the game room, leading to the swift assumption that one, possibly Scout, had met defeat in their game of cards. Despite being initially startled, the girl soon found herself laughing quietly as a series of insulted followed in that recognisable Bostonian twang.

She watched the Frenchman simply roll his eyes in response to the boy’s fiery temper, while a hint of amusement played at the corners of his lips.

However, her laughter quickly subsided as a fleeting thought entered her mind, causing her gaze to lower towards the ground while her grin faded.

“Have you seen Demo?” She inquired, glancing at Spy.

The Frenchman looked to her, his brows knitting as he asked, sounding confused, “He’s not with the others?”

Amidst the throng, the girl would undoubtedly recognise the sound of his laughter, and on this occasion, it was curiously absent.

Demoman was generally a vivacious man, quite boisterous, some would say, but unique in all aspects of himself. He would never let go of an opportunity to have a drink and commemorate a triumph with his teammates. He possessed the ability to make every celebration unforgettable, yet he was missing this one.

“I haven’t seen him all night,” She responded, her face reflecting a concerned expression. “It’s not like him to miss a party.”

The Spy responded with a small nod, for she was correct as he recalled every occasion the Scotsman had been present.

Fully engrossed in solving the whereabouts of her teammate, she found herself neglecting her drink, her concern becoming overwhelming.

“The others don’t seem to care.” She mumbled once another roar of laughter erupted.

Spy maintained his silence, yet his attentive gaze conveyed a thorough analysis of her. It was evident from her somewhat closed-off demeanour, particularly her lack of eye contact, that a significant level of anxiety ran through her.

“I’m sorry, Spy.” She turned swiftly, placing her glass firmly to the counter. “I’m gonna go find him.”

With a humble nod, the Spy watched her as she left the room. He then calmly plucked a cigarette from his trusty case and continued his way, preferring to spend the remainder of the evening alone.

--

With a sense of urgency, the girl swiftly made her way through the corridors of the base, eventually arriving at the living quarters. She composed herself before reaching Demoman’s room, where a steel medallion depicting his class symbol adorned the centre of the door.

She paused for a moment, standing in silence. Leaning in gently, she hoped to hear any signs of movement from the other side of the door. When she heard nothing, she raised her hand and knocked nervously.

Taking a moment to quell the anxiety that was building within her, once again she listened for any subtle sounds coming from inside the room, visibly perking up when she heard faint shuffling.

“Lad I told ya to get lost.” Demoman grumbled, albeit muffled from the opposite side of the door.

A noticeable creaking sound filled the silent hallway as the door opened gradually, revealing a very sleepy looking Scotsman. As the bright light struck his eye, he squinted, adjusting to the contrast as his own room was shrouded with darkness.

With a sudden surge of alertness, Demoman’s grogginess vanished as he opened the door wider once he realised who stood before him. The Scotsman offered a prompt apology, to which she merely responded with a warm smile.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” She said with an embarrassed chuckle.

“No, you didn’t. I-“ He cut himself off awkwardly. “You need something, lass?”

It was evident that he lacked his usual expression. Typically, his tone is cheerful, and he often smiled while he speaks. However, he appeared devoid of any emotion.

“I just wondered where you were.” She admitted. “You haven’t been around all evening.”

Observing the direction of his gaze as it lowered to the floor, the lady examined his slightly unkempt appearance. Short strands of hair emerged from beneath his beanie hat. The sleeves of his high-neck sweater were rolled up to his elbows, differing from his usual preference for long sleeves. However, what truly captured her attention was his eye, which appeared slightly bloodshot.

“Just busy.” He reassured simply, his voice quieter than usual, but the smile he gave was clearly not genuine.

She immediately noticed the way he nervously swallowed, and she could sense that something was amiss.

“We’re all celebrating.” She told, eyeing him attentively. “Do you want to join us?”

The way Demoman was not fully visible in the doorway already suggested what his response would be. His apparent detachment from reality was evident in the way he seemed to stare blankly at her.

“Maybe later.” He replied almost in a whisper, glancing over his shoulder at something she couldn’t see.

Demoman’s hand rested on the edge of the door as he stood slightly hunched beside it, as if he was seeking support from it. She perceived that he was keen to seclude himself once again.

“Do you want some company?” She fidgeted with her thumbs nervously, eyebrows arching in a polite inquiry.

The Scotsman paused for a moment before nodding slowly, almost sorrowfully.

He stepped aside to allow her entry into his personal quarters. She had only visited his space on a few occasions but was familiar with the assortment of components and papers related to his craft that were scattered around the room in boxes.

Behind her, the door closed with a soft click, and Demoman walked past her towards his workbench, where only a bright lamp illuminated the room.

“Make yourself comfortable, lass.” He lazily gestured to the rest of the room.

Swiftly glancing around the room for a moment, the girl politely sat on the edge of his bed just a few steps away from where Demoman had slumped himself at his desk. She crossed her leg over the other, sitting quietly as she observed his hands reaching for small materials and tools, guessing that he was constructing something new.

Her head tilted with curiosity as he worked with delicacy and caution, something almost no one got to witness. Watching him work had her unable to restrain from asking a question.

“What’re you working on?” She spoke softly as to not startle him.

“Just making a few changes to some of these.” He replied, sounding rather unenthusiastic as he reached for one of his well-known inventions placed nearby.

Held delicately between his fingers was one of his most remarkable inventions, an explosive invention indeed. Despite being aware that it was merely and empty shell of one of his prototypes, she politely nodded in acknowledgment, although it appeared that her subtle gesture went unnoticed, as the Scotsman scarcely directed his gaze towards her.

Subconsciously, she tapped her thighs, chewing her cheek as she surveyed the room with genuine curiosity. Her gaze settled on the photographs neatly displayed on his bedside cabinet, alongside what she presumed to be familial heirlooms and cherished keepsakes.

She had to refrain from cooing as she gazed upon a photograph of what seemed to be a young Demoman standing proudly with his parents.

The unexpected burst of laughter from the floor below startled them both, causing Demo to shake his head and huff in disapproval as he regained his composure.

“The others are wondering where you are.” She told, her tone gentle.

She swore she heard a faint sniffle from him before her responded.

“It doesn’t sound like it.” He retorted harshly.

Pressing her lips into a line, the girl pondered.

It’s blatantly obvious that Demoman is not his usual cheerful self. His tone has a strong tint of bitterness, which is extremely uncharacteristic of him. He’s suddenly so short-tempered and blunt, a harsh contrast to his typical easy-going and lively self. He’s certainly never been known to be a grumbler or someone who resorts to such snappiness unless he’s in the heat of a tough battle.

While observing the Scotsman with rapt attention, she noticed a sudden change in the way his hands began to tremble and shake vigorously, almost struggling to maintain control of his tools.

Her eyes landed upon an opened bottle of drink, the label of which she couldn’t read under the dim light, but it was seemingly abandoned rather promptly as its contents remained virtually untouched.

“Is everything okay, Demo?” She asked cautiously.

The Scotsman let his tools slip from his hands, hearing them clatter as they bounced onto the counter. He sank back into the chair, resting his head on the back.

“Aye, call me Tavish, please.” He drowned out, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

She was aware of the Scotsman’s preference to be addressed by his first name, but she had developed a habit of primarily using his class name over the years, and so she politely apologised.

She furrowed her brows in a deep frown as she watched intently, seemingly lost in his own little bubble of emotions.

Tavish remained with his gaze averted from hers, directing his attention towards the ceiling as his hand slowly fell to his lap.

With a huff, the girl promptly rose from where she perched on his bed and walked towards him.

His gaze fixated on her as she stood before him, her hand gently pressing against the tabletop as she leaned against it.

“What’s going on with you?” She began, drawing in a breath. “You’re so snappy all of a sudden.”

Tavish simply blinked, his face reflecting a hint of sadness as his eyebrows lowered and the corners of his mouth turned down. He reached out with one hand and began to idly play with one of his tools, avoiding her direct gaze. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down noticeably as if he was struggling to hold back his words.

“Do ye hear the things they say about me?” Tavish blurted out; his words laced with upset.

The lady maintained a neutral expression, fully comprehending the implications of his words. She folded her arms across her chest, her shoulders drooping as she let out a sorrowful sigh,

“I do hear what they say.” She replied truthfully, watching him cautiously.

Very soon, she came to regret her words, for Tavish’s face visibly contoured with hurt.

His hand brushed across his face, as if attempting to erase the traces of his melancholy expression. “There’s only so many times you can take hearing the word ‘cyclops’ in a day.”

She sighed, her tone becoming more cheerful in the hopes of seeing him smile even a little. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t see you that way.”

However, it seemed that Tavish was far too engrossed in the depths of his own despair, as her words appeared to have no effect on him.

“Thanks, lass.” Tavish breathed a heavy sigh. “But it doesn’t change what the rest of ‘em think o’ me.”

The girl moved closer to him, noticing the gentle touch of his palm against his forehead as he winced slightly when the light caught his eye. She assumed that he had given himself a headache after spiralling into such a deep bout of self-depreciation, and on this occasion, it was not due to being drunk.

“You alright?” She asked gently, her eyebrows arching in concern.

Tavish nodded as he grumbled. “I’m just fine.”

Looking away briefly, the lady casually surveyed the room, merely glancing over the numerous belongings he had on display.

Every corner of his room held something that reflected the man Tavish was. His collection of components, chemicals, and materials for his craft, as well as his diverse array of family keepsakes, might raise questions for some, but he didn’t mind as they were all things he was deeply devoted to.

Her gaze settled upon a familiar memento of him – his trusty knight’s sword. It was respectfully placed against a cabinet that housed a meticulously organized collection of whisky. Beneath the sword hung a half-sized tapestry depicting what appeared to be a Celtic family crest, a distinct symbol of his cultural heritage and pride in his homeland. She couldn’t resist admiring it, taking in the intricate details with appreciation.

As her gaze continued to drift, she failed to notice the manner in which Tavish discreetly observed her from his seat. Throughout the duration of her silent presence beside him, Demoman experienced a sense of tranquillity, as her amicable demeanour alleviated some of the stressors that burdened his thoughts.

However, Tavish couldn’t help but wonder if she were admiring, or silently scrutinising as she remained avidly engrossed in her surroundings.

“Excuse the mess.” He piped up faintly, sounding embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t worry there’s no mess.” The girl hummed as she turned her attention back to him. “Trust me, your room’s immaculate compared to Scouts.”

A bashful smile graced her face as she cast a glance at the Scotsman, who, in turn, appeared perplexed as he observed her, his brows furrowed, and his head tilted in curiosity. Intent on lifting his spirits, she continued to speak.

“Well, I was just thinking actually.” She stated, making a gentle gesture towards her surroundings. “Your room says a lot about you.”

Tavish’s continued perplexed expression conveyed his unspoken words.

“It’s obvious that family is your biggest value.” She told with genuine sincerity.

The Scotsman’s eye scanned his room, admiring his decorations as if they were brand new. However, his gaze inevitably settled upon the photograph by his bedside, his most treasured possession, and he couldn’t help the sad sigh that fell from his lips.

“Aye, it is.” He answered, nodding softly. “But it feels like I only put shame on me family name.”

She noticed his hunched posture.

“Even for having not lost both me eyes yet.” Tavish grumbled.

Certainly, Tavish encountered a look of confusion from the lady. He made a casual gesture with his hand, silently conveying to her that she should disregard his words.

“I’ve a lot of expectations to live up to.” Tavish admitted, glancing back at the unfinished prototype on his desktop.

She nodded slowly, lowering her head.

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by the faint sounds of a ruckus emanating from downstairs. It seemed that Tavish’s decision to seclude himself in his room was frustrating him, as evidenced by his huffing.

“So, that’s why you’re cooped up tonight.” She deduced. “You’re trying to improve these.”

The girl gave a quick nod to the small construction in front of him.

“Aye.” He responded shortly, his hands continuing to fiddle with the delicate materials.

Her lips pursed for a moment as she considered her words.

“But, as a team, we don’t have any expectations of you.” She reassured him, hoping to lift his spirits. “And these don’t need improving in my opinion.”

Tavish reached up to remove his hat, running his hand though his unkempt hair, some of which fell over his face, partially covering his eyepatch.

“But that’s just it, lass.” He stated, raising his hands to make a gesture. “So long as these go kaboom they work just fine in your eyes.”

For a fleeting moment, a gentle smile graced the Scotsman’s face as he emitted a soft chuckle while playfully imitating an explosion with his hands. The light-hearted gesture, in turn, elicited a corresponding smile upon the girl’s face. However, his smile swiftly dissipated as a contemplative thought crossed his mind.

“But I see the faults all the time.” He added, letting his hands fall into his lap.

At that moment, the girl could only stare at him, her face contoured with hurt upon hearing him persistently berate himself and diminish his own value to the team. Seeing the true fragility of his self-esteem surprised her, as his vulnerability was rarely full displayed, especially when he was completely sober. One would truly need to share a strong bond with the Scotsman.

“I can’t stand being known as nothin’ but a ‘drunk cyclops’ ‘round here.” Tavish admitted, his tone tinged with a profound sense of dejection as his words effortlessly escaped his lips without restraint.

His words interrupted her line of thought, causing her to shake her head disapprovingly. The lady straightened up from where she had been leaning against his workbench and stood directly in front of him. However, he avoided making eye contact with her, preferring to sit and be consumed by his own sadness.

“Tavish, get up.” She instructed, her voice gentle yet firm.

The Scotsman turned to her, momentarily puzzled, but complied when she made an impatient gesture with her hands.

Wearily, he ran a hand through his hair and rose from his seat, standing slightly hunched before her, as if the weight of stress could topple him at any moment. Before Tavish could ask a question, the girl moved towards him and gently enveloped him in a hug.

Taken aback by her sudden action, Tavish was startled by the unexpected contact, his eyes widening in surprise. However, he quickly regained his composure and instinctively wrapped his arms around her. As soon as he felt himself settle in the comforting embrace, Tavish relaxed completely, practically melting in her arms.

The girl sensed the way in which Tavish gently pulled her closer, almost pressing against him, feeling his curly hair brush against her neck as he rested his head tiredly on her shoulder.

“I just wish you’d value yourself the same way as all this around you…” She said with sincerity.

Her gaze fell upon his family photo once more as she looked over his shoulder, gently caressing his back.

“I’m sure your mum is proud of you, Tavish.” She spoke, her gaze still fixated on the photograph.

Tavish shifted his position and gently pulled away, maintaining a loose hold around her waist, still yearning for her closeness.

The girl noticed the prominent frown on his face.

“Aye, but there’s always better for her.” He told bluntly.

She patted his shoulder reassuringly and smiled warmly. “I think that’s just what parents are like. They always want to see their kids succeed, right?.”

Surprisingly, Tavish’s smile turned up slightly, greatly contrasting the dismal expression he withheld.

“I’ve come to realise that you can’t work yourself into the ground to please others.” She admitted, subconsciously placing her hand on her chest.

Nevertheless, Tavish appeared visibly touched by her words, as he seemed to have become more animated and relieved of his weighty stress, even if only slightly. The girl couldn’t resist smiling with him.

“Thanks, lass.” Tavish breathed, running his hand through his hair once more. “I think I owe you one.”

She shook her head and replied, “You don’t own me anything. You’re my friend, and I’d be here for you anytime.”

Taking a step back, she let out a contended sigh and placed her hands on her hips, but she couldn’t help but notice how Tavish remained close by.

Perhaps it was simply because he had only one eye, or maybe it was genuine, but Tavish appeared to be observing her attentively with his head tilted down, gazing at her through his brows: much like a puppy yearning for attention. His hands were placed in his pockets as he began to chew his cheek sheepishly, shifting his weight on his heels a few times.

“Don’t give me that look.” She told, her tone playfully stern as she smiled broadly.

She heard the soft chuckle that escaped his lips, and a bashful smile quickly spread across his face.

With a playful roll of her eyes and a gentle click of her tongue, the lady extended her hand to draw him into another embrace. Tavish responded promptly, drawing her near and offering a friendly squeeze around her shoulders.

Just before she withdrew, she gently patted his back once again. At that moment, her gaze happened to fall upon the clock on the wall, and an idea suddenly came to her mind.

“Tavish, the night’s still young. I’d say there’s still plenty of time to celebrate today’s win.” She suggested. “Shall we put this behind us for tonight and share a drink?”

The girl raised her hand up before her, anticipating him to accept her friendly proposal. Without hesitation, Tavish grasped her hand, unable to suppress the smile on his face as they shook hand in agreement.

“Sure. Why not?” He agreed.

Without delay, the girl practically skipped towards the door, gesturing for Tavish to join her with a wave of her hand.

“Come on then.” She spoke over her shoulder “I think the boys have got some drink left.”

As she pulled the door open, she paused in the doorway and turned to the Scotsman who stood a step behind, her hand gracefully raising to cover her mouth from the side.

“But I know where Spy keeps his fancy wine if we really can’t find any.” She snickered mischievously.

Tavish’s face mirrored the same expression of mischief that of the woman before him, and they both shared a light-hearted laugh as they made their way down the corridor, eager to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

[ashela-ley]

Jealous Kyle, my beloved... A short Kyman fic.

Who exactly is that guy Cartman's always on the phone with? Kyle has answers. Unfortunately this is how Stan and Kenny must learn that their friend is completely insane.

“...so now I’m not allowed at the ‘Kesha’s Career’-memorial site anymore.” Cartman finishes telling them about his Sunday afternoon. “But why was the queen of Denmark there?” Stan asks with mild interest and a mouth full of peas. “Because-” Cartman begins but is interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Oh, that must be Lawrence!” Excitedly, he jumps up from his seat and quickly heads towards the hallway to take the call away from the noise of the cafeteria, leaving his three friends behind. Kyle briefly looks up from his English homework to watch him exit the room and rolls his eyes. “What do they have to talk about that’s so private?” Stan slightly frowns at him in confusion. “Well, you were the one who told him you’d break his phone if he didn’t stop talking on it at the lunch table.” “Yeah but”, Kyle waves him off with a dismissive noise, “you know.” Stan does not, in fact, know and neither does Kenny for that matter. However, neither are in the mood to spend another lunch period listening to one of Kyle’s tirades and so they decide not to ask for clarification. “Mhhmm mmh mm.” Kenny instead remarks. “Yeah, they talk like everyday now.” Stan agrees as he picks at his food, visibly uninvested in the topic but going along with it for the sake of small-talk. “Who even is that Lawrence-kid?” “They met in some online game.” Kyle explains somewhat absent-mindedly yet audibly annoyed, his eyes once again fixed on his homework. “His name is Lawrence Friedmann. He isn’t from South Park, though – he lives in a place called Crofton but goes to school in Norfolk because he’s part of some kind of gifted program there and he’s apparently kind of a big deal on their volleyball team.” Stan doesn’t say anything and Kyle notices that his dishes have stopped clinking. When he looks up his friend is raising an eyebrow at him in a confused expression. “What?” Kyle asks defensively. “How do you know all that?” Stan questions him perplexed. With a huff Kyle picks up his milk carton, shakes it around briefly and places it back down without drinking. “I had to make sure Cartman wasn’t, like, trying to make him eat his parents or something!” “So, what?” Stan attempts to piece the information together. “You stalked the guy’s social media to warn him?” Kyle frowns slightly. “He's really into conspiracy theories so he actually doesn’t really have any social media. Only a twitter account where all he does is retweet posts about the ‘Cornhuskers’.” Stan also frowns, visibly thinking. “Then how the hell do you know all that?” Biting his lips, Kyle concentrates on a particularly interesting sentence in his essay on the underlying themes of Hegelian determinism in ‘Young Sheldon’. “Kyle?” Stan insistently presses but he attempts to ignore his friend for a moment longer, deeply regretting having spoken up about this at all. “Kyle??” “He has no photos of himself online – no information whatsoever!” he eventually defends himself. “I even only found out his address by pulling an envelope from Cartman’s trash.” Stan stares at him in disbelief, visibly awaiting an explanation differing from the assumption that is forming in his head. When he’s certain that Kyle isn’t going to provide one, his eyes widen and he shouts: “You actually went to fucking Nebraska?!” Kyle urgently shushes him, quickly looking around to make sure that nobody is listening in on their conversation. He does not need Cartman to know that!

It’s a good thing that their table is routinely so loud during lunch that the other pupils don’t pay them any mind. Still, Kyle is thankful that Stan manages to calm himself down enough to lower his voice as he continues: “Isn’t Norfolk like ten hours from here? When did you even do that?” “Nine.” Kyle corrects him. “I went over the weekend when my parents had to take Ike to Ottawa for Canadian molting day. I took the Greyhound directly after school on Friday, stayed at the ‘Motel 6’ and was back by Sunday afternoon. It’s not a big deal!” He says the last sentence with much emphasis, as if it should suffice to end the conversation. Stan and Kenny make eye contact and a silent agreement that it actually is kind of a big deal. “So let me get this straight…” Stan turns his full attention back to Kyle and folds his hands on the table. “You rummaged through Cartman’s trash, drove a combined nineteen hours with the bus and spent a weekend alone in some shady motel just to tell some kid he likes to talk on the phone with that he’s a dick?” “I had to make sure that guy’s not actually a pedophile or a serial killer or something!” Kyle cries out, his voice the same volume he had admonished Stan for just a moment ago. “Wait, I thought you said you were worried about Cartman doing something to him, not the other way around.” Stan questions him.

Kyle looks at him silently, still frowning, and blinks a couple of times. “The point is-” he begins, scoffing as his eyes dart around the room. “If Cartman’s talking to strangers from the internet it’s our duty as his friends to care about his safety!” “I don’t.” Stan retorts bluntly. “Mmm hmm.” Kenny agrees. Kyle growls in frustration as he feels his face begin to heat up. “Yeah, well, it’s not my fault you two have no concept of common human decency!” he chides. “Dude, it’s Cartman. I’m sure even if the kid did turn out to be some kind of serial killer he’d be able to take care of it himself.” Stan takes a bite of his food and chews slowly before continuing with a full mouth: “Also, what are the odd that they’re both psychos?” Kyle grits his teeth. “Look, can we just drop it?!” “Mmmh mmmmhp mmph?” Kenny ignores his plea. “I didn’t… necessarily speak to him directly.” Kyle mumbles, avoiding his gaze. “You went all that way and then you didn’t even talk to the guy?” Stan asks baffled. “Then what did you do? Just watch him from the bushes all weekend?” Kyle doesn’t answer. “Kyle, what the fuck?!” Stan gestures his hands wildly. “I thought he might take it the wrong way if he knew some kid came all the way from Colorado just to tell him something!” Kyle attempts to justify himself. “You think?” Stan says dryly but his sarcasm gets ignored. “I left a letter in his mailbox instead.” “Mmmh mm?” Kenny asks curiously. Kyle awkwardly rubs a hand against his face, mumbling into his palm as he answers: “Mmmmmhm mphm mmmm…” “Mmh? Mph mm hhmm!” Kenny complains. “Yeah man, speak up.” Stan agrees. “We can’t understand you.” “It said...” he discloses through clenched teeth, “…‘Stay away from Eric Cartman if you know what’s good for you!’” “Mmmhmm.” Kenny states matter-of-factly with a slight shake of his head. Stan squints his eyes and presses his lips together tightly before speaking: “Kyle, I think-” “Shhh!” he shushes his best friend sharply as he spots Cartman making his way back to their table, then glares at both both boys across from him as he seriously urges them: “Don’t. Say. Anything.” They have no time to reply as Cartman is already plopping his ass back down onto the bench, causing the trays on the attached table to rattle. “Oh my God, you guys!” he exclaims enthusiastically, “Lawrence just told me the funniest-” “Nobody gives a shit about Lawrence!” Kyle interrupts him with unwarranted volume. Stan and Kenny exchange a wordless glance.

[vladdyissues]

Yeah sorry if my question was a bit confusing. But that question was meant for you. Let me try to rephrase my blabber.

When it comes to the few times you've drawn Danny as trans is it because you found the idea to be hot instead of thinking of danny as a character? if it wasn't only sexual when it comes to T-Danny then what do you think of the Trans Danny headcannon?

That is as literal as I could try to phrase it 😓. Sorry if that might sound accusatory but I mean this question with no malice, just curiosity. Since to only times you have drawn him as trans are sexually I was wondering. lastly, I felt the need to clarify that I am trans because the times I have said I don't like a trans danny someone has always bashed me for it, either calling me transphobic or don't appreciate any kind of representation when the “representation” in your case is just porn. I trans headcannon characters all the time, I do in fact think your art of trans danny is really good. But Danny as a character just doesn't hit my trans-dar as it does for many others. Because for me he's square is not going to fit into the circle hole.

You may be asking these questions with no malice, anon, but I'm detecting a strong tone of disapproval. I could be mistaken—it might just be a language barrier and words getting muddled—but nevertheless, please allow me to respond with some questions of my own:

Why does it matter what I think of the trans Danny headcanon? I'm no authority figure. I'm just some goofball on the internet. My opinion is no more (or less) valid that the next person's. If I prefer Danny as cis, that's just my personal view. I'm not intimidated by other people having a different opinion than me, nor am I going to force them to see things my way. I'm not a missionary. I don't proselytize. Live and let live, that's my golden rule.

Since to only times you have drawn him as trans are sexually I was wondering.

I like drawing erotic art. I decided at the last moment to challenge myself and draw a trans variation of Danny having sex with Vlad. I thought it would be cool to try something different. It's really no deeper than that.

I felt the need to clarify that I am trans because the times I have said I don't like a trans danny someone has always bashed me for it

I'm sorry you've received backlash over an opinion, anon. No one should ever feel the need—be forced, in other words—to disclose private, personal information about their sexuality or gender in order to justify something as silly as a headcanon about a cartoon character. I find that kind of behavior detestable. It's only a few degrees' difference from forcing a person to expose their genitals and "prove their gender" before they're allowed to use the restroom.

You said "times" in the above quote, so I gather this has happened more than once. Do you regularly find yourself mentioning that you don't like trans Danny to other people in the fandom? Are they asking you point blank, or are you offering your opinion freely? Could it be your choice of words is causing others to get the wrong impression of you? Because in my experience, a simple "trans Danny is okay, it's just not my thing because of personal gender reasons" is a perfectly valid explanation, and I don't know anybody (other than haters) who would call a trans person transphobic over something like that.

[...] when the “representation” in your case is just porn

The phrase "just porn" raises a lot of big red SWERF flags, anon, I can't lie. What's wrong with porn? Does it have any less merit than other forms of media?

I don't like making assumptions, and please correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems that the real issue here—indeed, the underlying essence of this ask and the previous one—is not that I drew Danny as trans exactly one time, but that I drew him having sex (enthusiastic, consensual, and clearly pleasurable sex) as a trans man.

I will not apologize for that.

Closing thoughts: One person's representation is another person's dysphoria. I get it. If you don't like trans Danny content, anon, don't go looking for it. Block the #trans danny tag. Don't go around asking people what they think about the trans Danny headcanon. You've already established that you don't like it, so why should it matter what someone else thinks? Are you looking for approval? Someone with a similar view? Why risk getting angry, or bashed again, or possibly triggering yourself? It's better to just avoid bringing it up. Focus on the things you do enjoy.

This fandom is big enough for all of us and our many different headcanons. Trans Danny, cis Danny, intersex Danny, eldritch monster Danny with questionable anatomy, there's plenty of room for them all. I don't have to agree with every single person's opinion, but I can certainly respect that opinion and quietly, gracefully step away from conversations and content that doesn't pertain to my interests.

This is fandom. We're all here voluntarily.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Handle Rude People & Insulting Comments With Class

Table of Contents:

Stop taking things personally

Seek clarity, not competition

(Calmly) Share your truth when necessary

De-escalate, disengage, and/or redirect the interaction

How To Handle Insults & Rude People With Class:

Stop taking things personally. Other people's hostility is a coping mechanism for their lack of inner work and healing.

Seek clarity, not competition. Most of the time, people's insults are intentional. They usually want to get an emotional reaction out of you. They want to feed their ego and underlying needs for validation rather than seek to add value or facilitate connection through their words and conversations. Rather than get defensive, call out the behavior by asking the perpetrator of the negative comment to explain the implication of their statement. Play a little dumb and ask "What did you mean by that?" Allow those with bad intentions to tell on themselves. Most people with some degree of self-awareness will either try to gloss over and move on from their comment after seeing that you're too secure with yourself to entertain these low-value comments. Individuals who use this desire for clarity as an opportunity to overexplain their rude commentary almost always tell on themselves – their motives, insecurities, and deep need for self-acceptance and social validation.

(Calmly) Share your truth when necessary. If someone is trying to spread lies about you, discredit your reputation, or defame your character, state the facts about the situation without bringing emotions into the discussion or conflict. Remember: Remaining unbothered does not equate to being a doormat. Stand up for yourself –speak using a neutral tone and only state facts about yourself, your actions, conversations, or any logistics related to the given situation. Do not make accusations or assumptions about the person or the rude commentary they've made. Present their words and actions in a clinical, matter-of-fact manner to show the faulty of their logic rather than firing back with an equally-detrimental attempt to defame their character or give them the social spotlight and attention they're looking for in the moment.

De-escalate, disengage, and/or redirect the interaction. Don't allow their rude behavior to affect your external presence. Try your absolute best to not appear frustrated, raise your voice, or throw back any negative comments. Agree to disagree. Express the pettiness of this conflict. Either walk away or move on to another topic of conversation. Remind yourself that you're dealing with a wounded person. Feeding into their rude commentary is only deepening the cracks and encouraging these negative patterns of behavior.

Validate your emotions. Seek emotional support if necessary. Dealing with combative people can be draining, so remember that it is okay to feel hurt, depleted, sad, or any other negative emotions after the interaction. Schedule a therapy appointment or confide in a trusted member of your support system if you need to talk these matters out to release some of the emotional stress or tension.

[divinearchitect]

looking within: the root substance of all manifestation.

✧.* I know we don't wanna hear this, but sometimes you really have to evaluate your underlying negative assumptions and look within in order to feel worthy of your desires.

I'll use myself an an example. I want more followers on social media, specifically Twitter. Throughout my time on the internet I never had a lot of followers, but with my knowledge with the law I decided that I have thousands of them.

But in the process of deciding I have more followers, I realized that it's not necessarily the number that I seek. It is the desire to be seen.

I wanted to feel validated. I craved connection. I wanted to be noticed and acknowledged.

Growing up, I had a deep-rooted belief that I am "slept on," as in unworthy, invisible. Very little friends in real life and on the internet. I used to go on social media and complain how I was lonelier on there than I was in my everyday life. And unfortunately, because that is what I believed to be true, it became my experience on social media.

I would have accounts that amassed no more than 100 followers, majority of which were inactive, and it made me insecure and messed with my self worth. It sounds pathetic because it was. I would even delete accounts because I was miserable. It was a blow to my self-esteem.

It made me think: if I woke up tomorrow to having over 1k followers on social media, how would I feel? With the awareness of being unworthy, I would likely feel a momentary excitement, but it would not last because of the beliefs I still held. I wouldn't know what to do with myself after that. I wouldn't feel fulfilled. It's like feeling lonely while being surrounded by others.

But because I looked within and found the true root of my desire, I began to affirm that I am valued, I am enough, I am worthy with or without the followers. I sought validation within. Not only did it change my awareness, it also changed the way I manifest, because I'm not holding myself back and I am giving myself permission to have what I want simply because I know I am worthy of it.

This can apply to all aspects of your desires. It is often our own ego and deeply rooted feelings of insecurity holding us back from truly living in the end. This is not a limiting belief — it is a silent and pervasive unconscious state that needs to be addressed so you can call upon your desires effortlessly.

Because sometimes we desire things but don't understand why it will truly fulfill us, or we desire out of a place of insecurity. We want the material fruits of our labor, but a rotten seed grows rotten fruit.

When you affirm worthiness, of being enough no matter what, you are planting seeds that grow into fruitful trees. Its branches are the extensions of your feeling of being worthy, and you may find that manifesting SP, money, followers on social media and all of your desires are seamless because your root substance is able to sustain it well. Within, so without. Right?

While this isn't necessarily groundbreaking and can be lumped in with self-concept, I truly believe this will help those of us who might have manifested something that didn't last, or they're not seeing their outer world change even after affirming for it. While yes, you can manifest in any state, in order to truly become that which you decide to be, you must free yourself of any inner feelings of doubt and unworthiness. It takes a certain amount of self-examination to detect these beliefs and renounce them to make room for what you desire.

Sometimes what we truly need —that is, evaluating and altering how you really feel towards yourself— is in the way of what we want. And addressing the first makes receiving the second a million times easier.

[fairyminnie444]

hi bookie first off happy holidays to u second off so i was manifesting all A's for fall semester and i was persisting and consistent and i didn't waver no matter what and i was even having dreams about it like i was confident, my affirmation was "no matter how and what, i have all A's" but alas i did in fact not get all A's. i'm not bummed cus ik the 3D be lagging n shi but i just wanna know what u would do in this situation/any advice or tips u can give me. I know it's up to me at the end of the day cus it's my reality but im just curious

and also i'm curious why do u think the 3D showed like ... not all A's , if that's sum u can tell me:) thank u so much bookie boo

Hi baby! Happy holidays to you too! Here’s some advice and insights for your situation:

Why the 3D Showed Not All A’s

1. Lag Time: Sometimes the 3D hasn’t fully caught up to your assumptions yet. This doesn’t mean your manifestation failed—it’s just in transition.

2. Underlying Assumptions: Even if you were confident, there could have been subtle, unnoticed doubts or fears, such as “What if I don’t get all A’s?” lingering beneath the surface.

3. Over-focusing on Results: While your affirmation was strong, sometimes focusing too much on the outcome creates resistance. Letting go allows the 3D to reflect your assumption faster.

What I’d Do Now

1. Reaffirm Your Reality

• Don’t accept what you see now as final. Continue affirming: “I always get all A’s, and it’s already done.” Assume that this situation is simply a step toward your full manifestation.

2. Revise the Situation

• Use revision. Imagine receiving your grades and seeing all A’s instead. Replay this scene until it feels natural and real.

3. Stay Detached

• Trust that it’s already done. Avoid obsessing over the timeline or how it will unfold. Focus on the feeling of success and keep moving forward.

4. Persist in Your New Story

• Even if the current grades are showing something different, hold your belief: “I’m the kind of person who always gets all A’s, no matter what.”

Final Tips

• Don’t Analyze the “How”: The 3D is malleable, and the “how” doesn’t matter. Trust your assumption over the external world.

• Celebrate Progress: Recognize that your confidence and persistence are already signs that you’re mastering this skill.

• Keep It Light: Treat manifesting as fun and inevitable. It’s done, so there’s no need to stress.

Your power hasn’t diminished—this is just an opportunity to fine-tune your practice. Keep going!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mary L. Trump at The Good in Us Substack:

Normally, my issue with the corporate media is their failure to shine a light on stories that matter. But in this case, it seems some segments of the corporate media, primarily Fox, is hellbent on helping Donald interfere with his trial through jury intimidation. It’s a disturbing reality that we must confront. Last night, Donald Trump posted the following on social media: “They are catching undercover liberal activists lying to the judge,” Jesse Watters.

Lawyers and legal analysts like Ryan Goodman and Andrew Weissman made it clear that this was a serious breach, the most serious to date, of Judge Merchan’s gag order – one that should be dressed immediately.  The fact that Donald was quoting somebody else is irrelevant. This seemed to be a blatant case of jury tampering, especially since, at the time of this was posted, five jurors and all six alternates remained to be chosen. I fully expected today’s proceedings to begin with the judge announcing that the so-called Sandoval hearing, which he originally scheduled, would be held today before any other court business. This seemed to be a reasonable assumption considering the purpose of that hearing was so the judge can rule on the prosecution’s contention that Donald should be held in contempt and sanctioned accordingly.

Juror Number 2 dismissed

It’s not uncommon for a juror to be chosen and subsequently let go during the selection process. That was the case with Juror Four after the prosecution discovered the man may have been untruthful in some of his answers. Juror Two’s circumstances were different. She was excused after telling the court that she’d become concerned that her identity might be discovered after her family and  friends questioned her about her possible involvement in the trial following media coverage. The fact that the judge felt the need to keep the identities of jurors anonymous is a damning indictment of the criminal defendant. And clearly the jurors understand the inherent danger of being seated on this jury. 

To put this in perspective, my friend and former U.S. Attorney, Joyce White Vance explained, “Typically, you would only see that happen in a case involving violent organized crime.” Following the juror’s feedback, Judge Merchan reprimanded the press for reporting far too much information about the jurors. [Out of an abundance of caution, I deleted the section about the jurors from last night’s post.]

[...] In a disturbing display of media influence, Fox host Jesse Watters went through the list of jurors, with identifying characteristics like employment, gender, place of residence, and commented on each one. 

Watters then singled out any jurors who didn’t align with his idea of what a juror should be (pro-Donald) and cast doubt on their ability to be fair and impartial. This is not just unethical, it’s dangerous. Fox, on Donald’s behalf, is actively helping Donald create an atmosphere of fear among the jurors. In a just world, Watters would be fired for his irresponsible behavior, but Fox has no interest in justice. Consider what Josh Kovensky of Talking Points Memo, pointed out: “Instead of operating within the process of jury selection, which assumes that people are capable of setting aside whatever political beliefs or biases they may have in order to render a good faith judgment on the evidence, it casts the assumptions underlying that process as Trump’s enemy to be defeated, implying that the jurors themselves are incapable of both being impartial in their judgment of him and participating in a political system in which he is a main actor.”

[...]

Donald amplifies Fox, scares a juror, and breaks his gag order

So far, here’s the pattern: A Fox personality attacks the judge or jury, and then Donald shares it on Truth Social as a way to give himself plausible deniability: He can distance himself from the quote by saying it doesn’t represent what he actually believes. This is exactly what he did last night when he quoted Jesse Watters. Regardless of Donald’s attempts to pretend otherwise, this is a clear violation of his gag order and shows a blatant disregard for the legal process. He needs to be punished or this will spiral out of control quickly. We’re already seeing that his disrespectful behavior in the courtroom and flouting of norms — like refusing to stand when the prospective jurors enter the room or using his phone when nobody else is —has already gone too far. The gag order was imposed to prevent Donald from publicly speaking about witnesses, jurors, court staff and their families outside of the courtroom. Donald has run out of chances and his downfall will be of his own making.

[...]

Judge Merchan must lay the smackdown on Donald

Prosecutors have accused Donald of violating the court-imposed gag order SEVEN times since the commencement of the trial. And they will have a chance to make the case for Donald to be held accountable during a hearing next week. They have pointed to public statements and social media posts made by Donald over the past few days as evidence of these violations. They have described the situation as “ridiculous” and have called for it to stop, expressing frustration over Donald’s repeated breaches of the order. Former federal prosecutor Shannon Wu has now called on Merchan to strengthen the gag order to any communication about the trial beyond Donald saying he’s innocent and plans to defend himself. At the very least, Judge Merchan needs to be unequivocal in telling Donald and defense counsel that enough is enough. The repeated violations of the gag order and Donald’s attempts to interfere with the trial warrant serious repercussions. He cannot keep getting away with it.

Mary L. Trump writes in her Substack on how right-wing media outlets (esp. Fox's Jesse Watters) and Donald Trump are conducting witness tampering on the jury for the Trump falsification of business records trial. Trump Trial

[bimbinis]

the trouble with critiquing transandrophobia and associated tendencies as a trans man is that what it feels like is that you’re being put in the position of arguing that you’re defending yourself from accusations of Not being privileged, that you are in fact privileged, which in a discussion that is explicitly a matter of oppression olympics is automatically a theoretical lost position. how do you even express the fact that transandrophobia is an incredibly lackluster category, that not only relies on incorrect, hurtful underlying assumptions about how the oppression of other groups work, but on top of that doesn’t even actually speak truth to your actual goddamn lived experience, when you’re the very person it purports to be about, when saying “my life does not look like this bc I’m viewed as a man by society” sounds like bragging?

and because the ghost of transmedicalism yet looms high over the land perpetually haunting us all, it very quickly gets warped by transandrophobia truthers into us saying that they’re not really trans bc they don’t take hormones or men bc they don’t pass (even though to me their tendencies towards 1. transmisogyny and 2. making those godawful, out of touch positivity posts reassuring men they’re allowed to be masculine or whatever, both tendencies I frequently observed in my circle during my time as a transmed, seem just as worthy of the accusation). meanwhile they impose on us a false ubiquitous experience of living in a world where people view us as women and measure us by the standards set for women, and any oppression we experience has nothing to do with being viewed on some level as men bc you see, cis men don’t experience oppression for being men but we very much do, we’re the specialest non-toxic boys in the world who will redeem masculinity bc we’re not actually subject to true social existence as men. if you suggest you are that’s you saying that you wanna be just like a cis man which is transphobic and misogynistic bc cis men are misogynists and trans men aren’t. so stay in your lane and let us speak about your experiences for you :)

it’s just such utterly exhausting shite. and bc these people always have these insufferably woobified personas, these performatively inoffensive, “pure cinammon roll”-esque public identities, that makes it all the more infuriating when they engage in such blatant imposition of their own outlook on other people and act like they’re not doing it. but if you call them out on it and tell them to at least have the decency to own up to it they start whining that you’re a toxic male telling them to man up. these people will say to your face that everyone in your life will always view you as a woman and there’s nothing you can do about it but if you reply with “ok aiden” or smth they’ll cry that they’re being hatecrimed. deeply unserious people

[rosetintedchainsaw]

Name: Courtney Hazel Dellian

Username: courtneydarkangel6 (the L is an i on Roblox, I made an acc with an L but I forgot the pswrd because my brain turned to mush)

Nicknames/Aliases: Court, Witch-hazel, Rosalyn

Age: 21

Birthday: October 31st, 1995

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual (“As long as they know how to hop a fence, I’ll keep them around.”)

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Addictions: (“Whenever something stops working, I try something else…”)

Religion: Atheist (“He never saved me when I needed him.”)

Lives in: Seems to never stay in one place for too long. (“Nowhere’s safe enough…”)

Occupation: (“Whatever I can find.”)

Weapons: Keeps a taser, gun, and various axes hidden in her van. (“I have to.”)

Alignment: True Neutral

Text Color: Orange

Main Hobbies: Painting, Playing her guitar, Joyriding, Taking care of her cat Daze, Blasting shitty divorced-dad rock on her MP3, Stargazing near the ocean (“Only on good days.”)

Favorite Food: Jimmy John’s (“When I can afford it.”)

Favorite Flower: (“...”)

Scent: Avril Lavigne's Black Star perfume (“I’ve made it last.”)

Handedness: Ambidextrous (“As long as they both work.”)

Blood Color: Red (How could I forget?)

Themes:

Playlist:

Fun Fact: “I’ve been banned from every single bar in Wisconsin all in one night... And no, I don't remember why.”

Special Interests: Creepypasta, Medieval Torture, Biblical and Pagan Imagery, Cryptids, etc. (“I’d list more, but these were all from so long ago… I haven't had time to get into anything new.”)

Stims: Pacing, Fidgeting with whatever object she can get her hands on.

Stimboard: WIP

Moodboard: WIP

Fashion Board: WIP

Comfort Objects: Her guitar, The few CD’s she has left, her MP3 player, her weighted blanket, a giant caterpillar stuffie she won at a carnival ages ago, and her daisy chain bracelet. (I can't stand to look at it, but it's always there on my wrist. It feels like I’m punishing myself forever.)

Family: Sandra Dellian (“Mom, but not really.”), Leonard Copeland (“Pig bastard who left us to rot.”), Lindsay Dellian (“...I miss you.”)

Friends: Daisy Daisy Bell (...I'm sorry I failed you.), Alex Davis (“I don't know why you still try.”), José (“I learned a few basic words for him. He was nice.”)

Romance: (“I’d rather not talk about any of them.”)

Enemies: (sighhhhhhhhhhh “Well I have one constantly on my trail. All the time. No matter where I go. So that's something.”)

Pets: (“I had two cats, but my baby Alexander’s gone now. Now all I have is Daze. I don't say her name out loud often. I just snap my fingers and she comes up to me.”)

Brief Personality: Courtney may seem like a jaded, exhausted, and terminally troubled person. And that assumption would be correct. Nowadays, she barely speaks unless it's to Daze or one of her few old friends online. She goes through life in a dreadfully slow and dazed stumble, and sometimes doesn't seem all the way there. When she isn't in a depressive and almost bitterly-mournful state, she’s usually caught up in some sort of trouble, usually her previous ex, who has been stalking her and sending her threats for quite some time. She tends to move around often, mostly to escape him, but he somehow always manages to track her down. There’s also the underlying feeling she may be subconsciously searching for something.

Backstory: Courtney and Lindsay Dellian were both born on October 31st 1995, their parents being Sandra Dellian and Leonard Copeland. Early on the family had been stricken with turbulence. Sandra had been smoking and using drugs during her pregnancy, which therefore caused complications that endangered both her and her unborn children’s health greatly. Her husband, Leonard, had also been battling a long line of addiction for most of his life, but had been twelve months sober before the twin’s birth. The two had been in deep financial debt, and were both dreading having to take care of their children once they were brought home. They knew they couldn't.

It soon became clear with the twins that Courtney was the brash and defiant problem child, while Lindsay had been born mute. She never spoke or played with any other children, while Courtney lashed out at the other kids, and regularly mouthed off at her teachers and parents. Despite their differences, Courtney was wildly protective of Lindsay, and would keep her out of any trouble she herself caused.

Both children were severely neglected by their parents, mainly left to fend for themselves as they grew up. Eventually, Courtney’s parents had started taking her to various child psychologists, after her behavioral issues had become “too much” for them to handle. When Courtney had turned eleven years old, Sandra and Leonard filed for divorce, and Leonard took Lindsay with him. Leonard simply couldn't deal with Courtney’s attitude, and had started regularly snapping at both his wife and children. His addiction had finally returned as well, causing him to spiral. Courtney suffered a horrible nervous breakdown after being separated from her twin sister, and soon her mother placed her into the Morning Star Institute for the Homeless and Troubled Youth.

After being released for “good behavior”, Courtney spent the rest of her adolescence causing more problems, and overall growing more and more reckless and defiant. Around that time, her mother had started dating a new boyfriend, who quickly became abusive to both Courtney and her mother. After attempting to run away from home multiple times, Courtney soon became involved with various friend groups as she went through middle school and eventually transitioned into high school. For her, sneaking out with them late at night to the skatepark was her only escape. It was around that time when one of her friends introduced her to online websites, one of them being Roblox.

Courtney mainly saw the sites as fun and stupid distractions, but soon her attitude changed when she met a user named Daisy Bell. They almost reminded her of Lindsay in a way. Her and Daisy soon grew close, and Courtney developed an almost “older-sister” attitude towards Daisy, fending off anyone that messed with her. She started growing more and more addicted to the Internet, using it as a form of escapism as her home life fell apart rapidly. Eventually, Sandra and her boyfriend got into a violent altercation, and Courtney herself had to physically restrain her mother’s boyfriend from attacking them. Courtney soon mentally spiraled, and her drug addiction, which had already been bad before, soon became out of control, to the point of nearly overdosing in her room numerous times.

Daisy Bell eventually stopped coming online, and Courtney grew desperate, putting up posters around town and making posts on forums asking anyone if they knew anything about her online friend, but no information came about. Courtney soon suffered a complete mental breakdown, and started ripping out her own hair before her mother’s boyfriend called the police, claiming she had physically attacked him. Courtney spent a few months in a juvenile center, before being released. A few years had passed, and Courtney eventually graduated high school.

Courtney kept in touch with a few of Daisy’s old friends, but eventually disappeared off the web for a while after her mother’s boyfriend threatened to shoot her and her mother, which caused Courtney to finally snap and run away from home. She began couch surfing with a few of her skating friends, before moving in with Toby Bayers, a friend of hers who she soon began dating. She and Toby began experimenting with drugs, before she eventually became pregnant with his child. She unwillingly kept the child, but soon left Toby after he became physically violent towards her. She arranged one of her closest friends from school to look after the child, and help her possibly file a restraining order against Toby. She continued to couch surf with many of her friends, before eventually stealing all of her mother’s money and fleeing to Italy under the pseudo-name Rosalyn to remain safe after Toby relentlessly stalked her after their breakup.

Around 2015, Courtney eventually sent a message to Daisy’s inactive account. Even after five years, Daisy remained a deep and dark subject in her mind, that tirelessly haunted her every waking moment. If only she had kept in touch. If only she had done something. She knew Camilla was responsible. Either partly or fully. The thought that something horrible happened to Daisy ate away at her, and continued to chip away at her psyche. Courtney soon moved out of Italy after one of Toby’s friends who lived over there had located her. She moved back to America, and has spent pretty much then up until now moving from motel to motel, and sometimes even opts to sleep inside of her stolen van, which has pretty much become her safe haven. She had been taking care of two cats she had adopted in Italy, one of which she named Daze, after her old friend, and Alexander, after the stuffed dog toy her sister Lindsay used to always carry around with her.

Courtney spends most of her time nowadays either doing various odd-jobs to keep herself from starving, or keeping herself on the move from Toby, who still attempts to contact her to this day. Despite her life being one long string of misfortune after misfortune, she feels she cannot give up, no matter how much the option tugs at her each day. She still regularly keeps in contact with Alex Davis, and Toby can't chase after her forever. One day, everything will get better.

It couldn't get any worse, right?

[apompkwrites]

Fluttershy!Younger!Clover (Based on Equestrian Girls Fluttershy)

Fluttershy!Clover is meek, shy, and sweet. A timid human, Fluttershy!Clover might not be too self-assured, but their friends know to rely on them in a pinch. More than any of their friends, Fluttershy!Clover is willing to see the best in everyone, a trait that has won over many enemies. Fluttershy!Clover has a deep adoration for animals; they instantly opens up to Yuu once they sees Grim for the first time, they regularly sneaks their pets to Heartslabyul in their backpack, and they volunteers at an animal shelter.

Toji!Crewel

Toji!Crewel is a cool-headed, confident man who makes a living using his skills and does not sweat the small stuff. He appears to enjoy insightful conversation with others as long as it somehow pertains to himself and can trade witty banter. Upon meeting, Crowley asked Toji!Crewel if they had met before. Toji!Crewel, on the other hand, reassured him that he was not the type to recall a random man either. In battle, Toji!Crewel has a crazed expression as if he's lost in the thrill of the fight, but he's always maintaining a cool and calculated head and plotting his next move. Toji!Crewel is proof that you don't need Magic to be successful and that something he teaches to Yuu when he decides to train them.

Punk!Peach!Hunt

Despite their punk appearance, Peach!Hunt is sweet, classy, kind, clever, sociable, and adventurous. They have a warm heart and often acts unselfishly, putting their friends, loved ones, and other students ahead of themselves, and apologizes excessively for getting into trouble with delinquent. While gentle by nature, Peach!Hunt is also strong-willed and can hold their own in sports competitions and battle. Peach!Hunt is slightly more flirty, mischievous, and have a confident attitude. Peach!Hunt transferred from Pomefiore to Ramshackle due to Vil's outrageous Beauty standards and the fact that they had to cover up their tattoos. In comparison to Ramshackle, they actually felt more freedom as a result.

(What they looked like during their First Year)

(What they look during their Second Year)

Alhaitham!Trappola

Alhaitham!Trappola is a scholar who is fueled by a desire to understand the underlying principles of the world around him He greatly values the pursuit of knowledge and dislikes meaningless noise and matters that distract or divert him from his chosen pursuits. To this end, while he is unambitious and enjoys leisure, he will do what he deems necessary to maintain a comfortable life. As a result, he is not fond of being a leader, refusing the position of Heartslabyul's Dorm Leader and became a permanent Ramshackle dorm member. Alhaitham!Trappola focuses greatly on himself at all times. However, he does not do so out of a disregard for others; instead, it is a result of his rationality. For example, he believes that as it is impossible to save everyone, it is important to focus on one's own well-being first. As a result, he frequently squabbles with Ace due to their contrasting ideals and personalities. Contrary to what his peers think, Alhaitham!Trappola does not look down upon anyone and tends to give equal weight to everyone, be they human or god. He also places great importance in the value of humanity and has astute insight into human nature.While he does not keep this a secret, he rarely bothers to correct others' unfavorable assumptions unless it would prove more troublesome to allow them to persist.

Oh, Trey would 100% do his best to protect Fluttershy!Clover from Riddle's anger about bringing their animal friends. As much as he respects Riddle and the rules in Heartslabyul, family comes first. Trey's room probably smells like animals since that's their second home if Fluttershy!Clover needs to hide them.

Oooh Toji!Crewel who sees Yuu as the child they couldn't keep safe..... Thinking about that scene where Toji recognizes Megumi, mhm mhm.

Rook would definitely support Punk!Peach!Hunt in whatever they choose to do. It's their own unique beauty after all ^^

And I am LIVING for the idea that Alhaitham!Trappola and Ace fight all the time. And everyone on campus is like "how are they even related" BAHAHAHA