#tros positivity

[hardware-sparks]

Some silly doodles + a cropping of one because I think it's actually good.

[sabrinaboglund]

Hvorfor virker Loven om Tiltrækning (The Secret) ikke?

Har du forsøgt at prøve at bruge Loven om Tiltrækning, men uden at få det ønsket resultat? Eller har du en klokkeklar holdning om at Loven om Tiltrækning er noget Mojo, som alligevel ikke eksister. Din holdning kan jeg ikke tage væk fra dig, men jeg kan lærer dig, hvordan du bruger Loven om Tiltrækning til at få de resultater du ønsker dig. Loven om Tiltrækning er en Universel Lov, hvilket…

[dameronswife]

literally everyone is so mean to poe in t.ros and for no reason. the fandom likes to claim he's mean in it too but honestly he's only giving as good as he's getting. everyone treats him like their own personal punching bag and I hate it sm...I hope off screen he got a lot of hugs and reassurance from Leia before they left

[slightly-knot-insane]

Gentleman's Cage (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 29 [ Caged Beast ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fem!reader ]

a/n: some regency smut, my first one so please be gentle! i was greatly inspired by @regency-monster-love and they were so kind to help me out too! thank you, dear! content: slightly nsfw

He can’t calm down. He knows you will be there, and he is getting very impatient to see you. Especially since you told him you find his courting very pleasing. It took him a while to reveal that he is a werewolf. But instead of running away screaming, you smiled and touched his hand. You even looked excited.

Just reminiscing about those few minutes put a smile on his face, his sharp canines showing underneath his lips. But thinking about you too much is also dangerous. His body - his lower body, to be more precise - reacts to the mere idea of you as if you're right next to him. Naked.

He groans, feeling his erection pushing against the fabric of his finest trousers. Being born with werewolf blood is both a blessing and a curse. He is aware that people will notice; anyone with eyes will notice the hardness alongside his inner thigh. That's why he hopes his little metal tool will help him. Or else, the scandal will follow him wherever he goes.

***

The fancy gathering is as lovely as he expects. People dance, eat and drink, and converse on various topics that barely interest him. He is looking for you with every sense he has - but they find nothing. He wants to ask someone, but even a mere question would raise suspicion. He doesn’t want anyone to know, not yet, that he fancies you rather intensely.

But he shouldn't think about you too much! He shifts his legs a little bit to position the metal contraption between his legs in a more comfortable way. Cock cage, they called it. Even while flaccid, it was hard to push his manhood inside. But he managed to lock his desire in - physically, at least. Mentally - not so much.

Finally, he catches a whiff of your sweat. You aren’t just fashionably late, you are very late so you were probably rushing down the path and up the stairs. Perhaps you were frustrated and nervous about some mishap, furiously fanning yourself in your carriage. And perhaps - only perhaps - you were thinking of him. Thinking about his eyes and teeth and tall frame. Perhaps you held your knuckle between your lush lips while the fingers of your other hand secretly wandered underneath your skirt and—

The painful jolt underneath his belt wakes him up from his daydreaming. Stop it, you fool! He curses internally and immediately turns toward the window, pretending to observe the night sky. He forces himself to think about what to eat for breakfast and what letters need answering, and then - just as his erection is starting to deflate - he hears your voice:

"Hello, Mr. Werewolf! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

And there is another strong pulse between his legs. While he would love to jump through the window and run, it would be improper and rude not to greet you. With a disturbing mental image of his grandfather bathing in his mind to cool him down, he turns to greet you: "Indeed, and you are..."

But he trails off. You've never looked as beautiful, so elegant. The cut on your dress is so deep he can enjoy your every curve and birthmark. He hopes he will be able to memorize all of them, like constellations. And your skin is so flushed and glowy he can barely stop himself from touching your cheeks, shoulders, or... He swallows hard.

You notice his terrified expression and can't help but giggle a bit. He, on the other hand, is not entertained even the slightest. "I apologize, my lady, I must... get a breath of fresh air!" And he hastily leaves you.

You hide your smile behind your fan and follow his trail carefully.

***

He has to do something! The cage... It's too tight! As he hides inside the hedge maze, he runs to the fountain that was standing just around the corner, hoping that the rush of water will hide his torture. He unbuttons his trousers and is not surprised to see his manhood swollen and pulsating between the metal sheets. The pain is mixed with a strange dose of pleasure edged with anticipation. Even though some other time he might've enjoyed exploring this sensation, now is definitely not a good moment. He needs to get rid of this self-imposed prison before he hurts himself more, but... he left the key... at home.

An exasperated sigh is all he can do right now. And thinking about dead puppies to somehow reduce the painful swelling. 

Just as his mental torture is starting to work, he smells something. Something sweet, potent, and familiar. So familiar. His erection re-emerges. Desperately, he turns around, attempting to hide his shame, and pushes himself (and the cage) into the hedges. He must look absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh my, you're here. Are you well?"

It is you. You followed him here. He takes a deep breath and smiles over his shoulder. "Y-yes, perfectly fine. I just needed some fresh air."

You approach his long tail, admiring his broad back and inhuman muscles. He is very tense - and you think you know why. "I'm sure the air will smell a lot fresher outside those hedges."

The tension struck his spine like lightning - he stands upright, not breathing. He knows he can't keep hiding. Hoping - praying - his shame is not so obvious.

He turns toward you, with a stiff and awkward smile, holding one of his huge hands over his crotch, trying to look relaxed. "Indeed... It's a lot f-fresher."

You can't actually look down since your curiosity would be too obvious then. Luckily, he is towering over you so his abdomen is leveled with your face, and it takes only a deep curtsy to see what you have been curious about since the day you met him. Only to not see what you expected. But you're sure his hand is hiding something scandalous? And delicious.

"Did your claws grow?" you ask him innocently.

The naïve werewolf lifts his hands to check them, uncovering his crotch. There is definitely an interesting and twitching bulge there.

"I don't think so. Are you... worried?" His yellow eyes grow in worry. "I would never lay a finger on you!"

You hum as if you are terribly bored. "Oh. That's a shame."

The beast in front of you looks entirely confused, the poor thing. "Shame?"

You approach him slowly, like you're dancing, and his eyes don't leave your figure. "I would love a bit more than a finger on me. Perhaps an entire hand." You cup his heavy, hairy hand. You feel exceptionally bold - there won't be many opportunities like this in your future. Only a boring life awaits you - if you allow that. "All over me, in fact."

[ part 2 ]

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"TOP OF MY SCHOOL"

SYNOPSIS: How an archer!reader first met Green Arrow and became White Arrow.

You've always been an overachiever, but that's not your fault; most people are underachievers. If your mom ever taught you anything, it was to reach for the stars and aim for the biggest and brightest one there is, and watch it explode into tiny little stars that can inspire the next dreamer and believer. So here you are at this archery tournament; you worked so hard to reach the finals. Your fingers might hate you, but that trophy will be in the manor, shining brighter than all the trophies and medals collected by the rest of the family. It's big, golden, and stunning. You don't care about the prize money—pfft, you're rich. You care about outshining all the Waynes, especially your father. Bruce's awards would look like baby medals compared to yours, and he'll notice you; he'll notice his baby and all the hard work they've done. The damage to your fingers is temporary, but the win is forever; the win is for life.

So there you are, hitting bullseye after bullseye, smirking like never before, perfect position, back straight, eyes forward. Who would you be if you didn't win? You wouldn't deserve the name Wayne if you didn't win; you wouldn't deserve to show your face outside of the manor gates. Ha, you would even say your name. Final game, and you're up next. Oh, you were gonna knock the judges off their feet, and you're gonna play them for fools when this is all said and done. So remember your stance: feet apart, back straight, head forward, elbows straight, bowstring near eye level. You could feel the tip of your fingers slipping with the toughness of the string for the bow, but you won't let it bother you; smile through the pain.

You look up at the stands; you see your judges and the people in the stands. You see Alfred and your school friends, but the seat you left for him is empty. You've been telling him about that tournament for days on end; you didn't shut up about this. You made him write it on his schedule board and his computer, yet he still isn't here. Rage is seeping through you. Bruce, you promised! He went to Damian's soccer game—the one he LOST—went to Jason's spelling bee, and Steph's track meets, but this is the most important moment of your life, and he isn't here. You wouldn't stop talking about it at the table, even when you knew no one was listening. This was your dream; this was your life goal, and he dropped it for what—a stupid ballet recital from Cass?

You're staring up at the stands, that empty chair you left for him. You felt the arrow slip through your fingers, and a loud "WISSH" went past you. Turning back fast, you saw that you hit orange, throwing you off your win streak of only hitting bullseyes. But it's okay, as long as the other kids don't outdo you when it's their turn. But they did; that slip-up was their chance. Every single time the arrow points red, you feel like they are aiming at you, shooting down your pride, your ambition, your hard work—everything you did to get here. You felt each arrow piercing through your very being, leaving you bloody. Your fingers clenched; you could feel the trickle of blood coming from your bandages. You knew you were going to lose when the game was set and match, and you were on the podium.

The judges were handing out the awards, and you closed your eyes, hoping that someway, somehow, you won. You had your hand open for something, but then felt another thing wrapped around your neck. It was a medal—a medal. Maybe it was gold, and the real trophy was coming out. But when you opened your eyes, you saw a silver medal wrapped around your neck. Silver, not gold. Silver. You felt red-hot tears prickle down your face. You wanted gold. You had the best shots each round; you missed just one—just one. You didn't deserve this; you didn't. But if you looked over your shoulder, you could see the kid who won—the tears of happiness that flowed down their face, holding the trophy way up high. That was supposed to be you. You were supposed to be the one highest on the podium. You meant to take this trophy to Bruce, show him what you could do, show that you were worth the time and trouble, and for one moment, he could see you as one of his own. He could see you as his. But no, you let your emotions get the better of you, and you lost.

You saw Alfred and your buddies running over to you, and you wanted to cry even more. You didn't deserve the hugs or their love because you didn't win. You didn't win. Running off the podium, grabbing your bag, you heard them calling you, but you don't stop. Your feet are moving on their own, gasping for air, and you finally stopped running. You're in the middle of Gotham City's streets, and you finally break down crying. How will you win his love? How will you win his affection if you can't win a stupid archery match? Then hell, the Justice League—and you saw him right there, the great archer himself, down on his luck. He was beaten down and bruised just like you; his bow was nowhere to be seen, and you heard so many swooshing sounds that your ears could bleed. Half the Justice League is in Gotham, including Batman. You ran over to him, not running over to Batman—he can handle himself.

"Mr. Arrow, are you okay?" You heard a groan through the sound of buildings crashing down and people screaming and running away. You shouldn't be here on the ground; he shouldn't be here on ground level. But you couldn’t leave him. What kind of fan would you be if your favorite superhero died right in front of you? You have to find his bow. Shit, where is his bow? You're running around like crazy. Still, you saw the green bow. The earth shakes, making you look up; it was some kind of brick monster and he was gonna crush you. You rolled over, grabbing the bow and finding an arrow. You tried to run over to Green Arrow, but the floor was breaking underneath you, and you couldn't reach him. Falling on your back, you had to stop it somehow. If you didn't, Green Arrow is dead and gone.

You have to win. You have to save him. Putting the bow up to your face, back straight, eyes forward, elbow straight, bow near eye level—through a small hole in the beast's chest. If you could hit it, the fool is done for. But what if you lose? What if you don't win? What if this silver medal around your neck proves that you're a loser? You put your arm down just for a moment, but you heard the groan of Green Arrow. If he can lose, so can you. But if he can win every other day, you felt the toughness of his bowstring; it cut your fingertips, making you bleed. The pain makes you want to cry. You stained the bow with blood—your blood. It's gonna be his life on your hand if you don't shoot. Aim, shoot, aim, win, win, win, your brain screamed at you.

Letting the arrow fly, it hit the core, making the monster crumble. You finally won; thank God! You fell to your knees, looking down—blood coating the green bow red. You felt a hand on your shoulder; it was his. "Nice shot, kid!" That gruff voice—his voice. You're a winner, not a loser like the first time and the time before.

[namism]

lost | seishiro nagi

➳ categories: canonverse, breaking up, angst, communication problems, gender neutral reader

➳ word count: 1.7k

➳ summary: Nagi breaks up with you nonchalantly and you're wondering where it all went wrong.

➳ notes: this may or may not have been based on experience and i may or may not have gone through war flashbacks while writing this but it's a-okay!

➳ cross-posted on ao3

You got up from bed 28 hours ago. Nagi broke up with you 5 hours afterward.

Now that the clock strikes 1 in the afternoon, you can't tell whether or not the substance you're drinking out of your personalized coffee mug—which, by the way, was given to you by Nagi on your sixth monthsary—is water, coffee, or Red Bull. You have been officially up for 28 hours with nothing but this mystery substance to fuel your brain, but even not-water, not-coffee, or not-Red Bull can take your mind off the sinking anxiety that floods your system.

Thus comes the sudden urge to walk to the nearest convenience store and buy the first alcoholic drink your eyes land on. Although best boy Yoichi Isagi is already on speaker as he talks you out of doing so, in fear that your insomniac body will crash in the middle of the street with no guidance or a merciful civilian around to rush you to the hospital. He speaks in a hurried tone, almost panting, like he's on his way to your flat so that he can stop you before you ride the elevator four floors down to the building lobby, where the exit doors await your presence—but the sad truth is, he's in München, Germany, for work-related reasons, so all he can do to lend a hand is to stop whatever he's doing and focus on talking you out of doing silly things.

"I just need to sleep, Isagi," you tell him weakly, clutching your wool blanket closer to your chest as you lay on your couch in a fetal position. From the looks of your ongoing FaceTime call, Isagi is in his apartment, well-groomed and dressed in simple house clothes, and fresh out of the shower after a morning gym session. He has an AirPod in his left ear, while the other is probably somewhere in his apartment, wedged between tight spaces or buried under heaps of laundry. You wiggle your toes as the air conditioning restarts, feeling the cool air blow on your feet. "A Strong Zero will do it. They also have a new flavor, ha-ha."

"No, it won't. Sit tight and wait until Chigiri comes," he advises sternly. He called your mutual friend Hyoma Chigiri ten minutes ago upon FaceTiming you and learning about the terrible news that he never would have seen coming. Isagi was terrified by the sight of your bloodshot eyes, deepened eye bags, and unruly hair that spread on your couch pillow. When you began to cry, he knew that calling for backup was the best route. "I just… don't understand. Why did you break up?"

"He broke up with me," you correct. He mumbles a passive apology. "I don't understand it either. I mean, I kinda do, but my brain isn't making any sense of it, or maybe it just doesn't want to."

"Nagi is unreadable. I get it."

You groan.

"You see, it's not even that."

You turn on your side and lay flat on your back. You situate the phone on your chest, so that Isagi has a rather unpleasant view of your chin. He mimics your actions by flopping on his bed and lying on his back, inclining his phone perpendicular to his torso.

"Most people can't read him, but I can. I can tell if he's bothered or hungry, if he's annoyed or upset. We were doing okay until yesterday."

"Maybe there's a part of him that you can't read after all," Isagi suggests, then he realizes his indifferent tone. "Crud. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," you mumble with a frown. "I might as well get used to reality."

You fear that Isagi might be right. While you were always confident that Nagi was more loose around you (save for his childhood friend Reo), there could have been some part of himself that he kept hidden.

In that case, you wonder why. As far as you can remember, Nagi never had any trouble voicing out his feelings to you.

"What did he even say?" asks Isagi.

"He said some things," you answer.

"I'm going to assume that he didn't elaborate." He sighs, disappointed in the turn of events. "How did it sound to you?"

You think about it deeply. Nagi, a man of a few words, in fact, did not elaborate much on his breakup speech, but from the many years you knew him, you caught on to his reasoning. The way it happened and how it turned into a breakup just didn't make sense.

"Let's break up," he said out of nowhere as you were getting yourself a glass of lemon tea. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you put down the glass on the counter. "Sorry. It's random."

"Are you serious?" you asked quietly. When you turned around, Nagi was already looking at you.

He nodded.

"I think," you begin, "I think he fell out of love."

Isagi stares at the virtual image of you on his screen, jaw slightly ajar as he finds the right words to say. You beat him to it, though.

"He didn't say much, but he could have been embarrassed to admit it because all this time, I've-I've been..."

"You've been loving him for God knows how long," Isagi finishes.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you turn to your side again. Your whole body hurts as you're hit with a new wave of emotions. Falling out of love? It happens to couples all the time, for many reasons. Usually one gets fed up by the other, or one ends up not being good enough for the relationship to move forward in the long run. Your heart sinks.

Suddenly, you're finding certain moments in your relationship with Nagi that can support this thought, and they don't stop coming even when Chigiri is knocking repeatedly on your apartment door.

Isagi is the one who alerts you of your friend's presence, but you're bundled up under the blanket as the shitty feeling resides in you. You need alcohol. Badly.

Chigiri manages to break into your apartment using a key that you have hidden on the upper ledge of your door. When he finds you rotting on the couch, he embraces you in a warm hug and uses a couple of back pats to snap you out of your senses, but they don't work.

Isagi has to go to work, so he hangs up the call after bidding you goodbye and giving an empathetic look that you don't notice. Chigiri sits with you in silence until you're ready to speak.

"Chigiri," you croak.

"Hm?" he hums.

"Did Nagi ever think I was horrible?"

He sighs.

"Of course not."

You snuggle your head into your hands.

"Then why are we in this situation right now?"

"As much as I want to help, you're the only one who can truly answer that," he explains.

"Could it be because I don't play the games he plays?" you mutter. Chigiri is quiet. "Or maybe because I wasn't too big on football when we met?"

He shakes his head.

"That's stupid. Nagi didn't even get into football until high school."

"But when we started out, I learned that we were much more different than I thought we were, so I was always catching up with him and his friends," you admit. "I didn't know how to play his games, so I tried to get into them just so we could spend time together even though I sucked and he looked happier playing with Reo and his girl. I couldn't understand football language until a few months of dating, either. No offense, Chigiri, but I couldn't understand any of your lingo and I would just sit and stand in your celebrations while nodding my head just to fit in!"

"You can't doubt your relationship because you don't game the way he does," Chigiri reasons, "and Nagi never expected you to know football like that."

"But wouldn't those be reasons to get tired of someone?" you ask. "What if... just what if he thought that it would have been nicer if he had someone who had the same interests as him?"

Chigiri sighs.

"Look. You've been awake for more than a day, so your brain isn't braining correctly. How about you get some sleep and we can talk about this again when you wake up?"

"But—"

"No buts!"

Standing up from the couch, Chigiri tugs the wool blanket off your body to force you up on your feet. Once successful, he drags you to your bedroom, where your pillows and comforter are sprawled on the mattress, just the way you left them a day ago. He forces you under the comforter, which you obey pretty quickly.

He fetches your water bottle from the kitchen and cranks up the room temperature. He doesn't leave until he's sure that you're asleep, but your mind stays running long enough for Chigiri to doze off first in your mini sofa bed by the door.

With the background sound of Chigiri's faint snores, you're left with even more time to think about what went wrong with your relationship with Nagi and how you can possibly move on. Every aspect of your life for the past few years that you've been together has had Nagi involved in it in some way. With the presence of the man you're no longer with appearing in every recent memory you have, how is letting go anywhere achievable?

By the looks of it (and your personal gut feeling), perhaps Nagi did get tired. Although the extent of this certainty falls a little below 50% because he didn't explain his reasons as well as you wanted him to.

Using the strength you have left in your drained body, you grab your phone from the nightstand and open your messages. You type a message that comes to mind as soon as you see his contact.

You hey, can we talk? Read 1:43 PM

Nagi reads the message fairly quickly. You're nervous upon realization. A few minutes pass, and the read receipt stays as it is until a small bubble pops up.

Nagi okay can we talk later?

The same nonchalant Nagi that you love is the same person who just replied.

You sure. as long as we get to talk, please

Nagi mhm of course

Whatever is about to happen, will happen. If he can explain as well as you want him to, then you're happy to accept it and move on. If he's sure of losing you, then maybe you should, too.

[calder]

Firstly its awful what you've been through at the hands of the people in nukapedia, and I agree that things need to change. Fallout is so important to many of us here.

In regards to your recent posts any suggestions to new people wanting to edit and participate as a voice against the damage like you suggested?

(context: 4/28 Nukapedia PSA) after making an account, it would be constructive and lovely for you to attempt to add any piece of information you find interesting that is missing from the wiki, or simply improve the way something is written. if it gets removed, try asking how you can do better.

be social. use talk pages. hopefully your established peers will help you workshop your contribution into something fitting the content and style guidelines.

go grass roots. ask your passionate Fallout friends to come participate.

being in the room at all by attending announced conversations is a big deal. no specific plan, just go there, be normal, and don't enable weirdos. when an authority figure says something vague, insist they explain it and provide some kind of evidence if applicable.

you are never "too small" to speak in any conversation. speak up like you belong there. many of them are non-editors and do not even talk about fallout. you are a fallout fan. speak up when you see something wrong or concerning. your voice makes a difference and your silence does not. if you're doing your best to promote safety and transparency then you are helping even if you get swarmed by weird angry men.

the problem we're addressing is bad actors with special protections, who maintain narrative control through intimidation, abusive distortion of information, and mob mentality.

the inner-circle consists of people who are comfortable with coordinated lying and coded hate speech. they surround themselves with favored libs eager to demonstrate their apolitical loyalty to the concept of authority. The first group are overall cynical bigoted manipulators, and the second group is trained to completely fucking freak out when anyone tries to address the behavior of the first group. ("They're calling ALL OF US racist, you guys! ALL OF US!")

learn how to spot and resist emotional blackmail: Emotional blackmailers use fear, obligation and guilt in their relationships, ensuring that others feel afraid to cross them, obligated to give them their way and swamped by guilt if they resist. People WILL do this to you AGGRESSIVELY. Do not let them convince you you're actually the problem. Know that you can absolutely be punished at Nukapedia in front of everyone for failing to kneel to a cruel falsehood. Demand explanations. Demand evidence. Stand up for each other. They will try to break up and attack new groups forming in their echo chamber, so their "in-group" will remain the only source of legitimacy.

if authority figures imply you are somehow being bad by questioning their vague declarations and rhetorical justifications, do not concede to avoid conflict, do not validate them for bullying you, do not convey hesitation to speak. Curtly disagree and refuse to allow them to frame the conversation outside your terms. Be extremely wary of the admins who use passive language as if their decisions come from space.

if a user who's been there for years suddenly becomes CONSPICUOUSLY interested in you, positively or negatively, the inner circle is deciding what to make of you. Be wary of ppl who lovebomb you or launch in to overly positive shallow conversations. Play along with their vibes until you cannot. Don't become indignant when they cross a line, just treat them like they're embarrassing themselves. They prey on sincerity and they respect casual assertiveness.

If you think someone is fucking with you do not give them the benefit of the doubt especially if they are pushy about deserving it

if a person with a fancyboy typing style is pretending to be stupid so they can neg you, you are talking to a shadow person.

if u meet some1 who type like a 2000s trol you are talking to a shadow person.

If you meet someone on the discord 😂 who cant stop 😂 using emojis 😂 to show how happy and unphased 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️ they are 🤷‍♂️ that person is trying to spit on you through the internet because you are not a secret racist.

Maintain composure as a matter of safety. If you become upset or act phased by disrespect for any reason you will added to the legends of woke demons who they valiantly slew. Navigate weird confrontations with weird jokes or dismissal, anything else makes you a mark.

people will say "you violated policy," this will just happen. SIMPLY DO NOT ENGAGE unless you're sure you're prepared to get Lawyer about it. never agree to the premise that "you violated policy," that is all they need to permanently mark you for limitless abuse. additionally, never imply that your approach to ANYTHING is "subjective" rather than "objective" or they will permanently mark you for limitless abuse.

i know this is very specific. there are at most 20 of these problem users who actually participate on the site at all--and half of them only show up to occasional forums. theyve been doing the same shit for a long time

many blessings

[mtnman451]

TDA!

Anyone who knows anything and has been paying attention these days knows that those initials are an abbreviation for the words Tren de Aragua. The name of a Venezuelan Narco/Terrorist Organization. Well that's not what I will think about every time I hear them anymore. We have watched as The Democrats and their allies have tried at every turn to thwart The President's attempts to deport these violent Illegal Aliens let in to our country under fraudulent means by The Biden/Harris Administration out of the country fulfilling a promise he made while campaigning for President last year. Democrats are using "Lawfare" and "Judge Shopping" to file their lawsuits to get TRO's in attempts to get a win ANY Win over The President. They don't care what these people are doing to the country and it's citizens. They don't care about the drugs, sex trafficking , or murders perpetrated by these people. All Democrats care about are the supposed "rights to due process" of these ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS who shouldn't be here in the first place) they think The President and his administration have violated. Poll after poll has shown this to be what's called an 80%-20% issue. That means that 80% of The American People support what The President and his administration are doing and 20% don't. Can you guess which side The Democrats and their allies are on? That's correct. The 20% side. One would think that Sane people would look at those percentages and reconsider their position on such an issue but not The Democrats and their Allies. Nope, they just continue to double down on their present stance like Gambling Anonymous Patrons who mistakenly walked into a Casino and who are now in the grips of full blown relapses. So, in conclusion and from now on, whenever I hear those initials TDA on the news in the newspaper the only thing I will think of is that TDA now stands for:

THE DEMOCRATS APPROVE!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

There’s a lot of talk of the “guardrails” failing these days. We see it in the cowardice and capitulation of our legacy media, which is shamelessly self-censoring and even settling bogus defamation cases with Trump to appease him and gain favor.

Big corporations have kissed the Orange One’s ass too, with many of the richest CEOs seated by him at his inauguration, resulting in an abject public display of subjugation. And it’s quite distressingly apparent, at least to anyone paying attention, that the GOP majority in Congress is no check at all upon Trump’s power. Indeed, they continue to fall over themselves to confirm his nominees and win his favor, with many terrified to oppose him and the MAGA mob. That leaves as our last and best defense the federal judiciary. These are lifetime appointees who still wield considerable power to slow, alter or even halt some of the worst excesses of the new administration. And over the last two weeks, they have proven themselves ready to exercise that power and demand compliance. In the wake of a slew of executive orders and a brazen takeover of government computer systems by DOGE, plaintiffs—including labor unions, nonprofits and blue state attorneys general—sued. And sued. And sued. The number of lawsuits is fast approaching 50.

The plaintiffs demanded an immediate halt to illegal and unconstitutional acts by the White House, the new cabinet and DOGE members within several key departments and agencies. And the judges listened. Contrary to MAGA claims of “liberal activist judges” inserting themselves into these disputes, the jurists hearing these cases were appointed by both Republican and Democratic presidents, including by Trump himself. Not long after the cases were filed, these same judges began issuing restraining orders and temporary injunctions ordering the Trump administration to lift freezes on federal payments, to stop firing civil employees, and to limit DOGE’s access to critical systems, among other things. In response, MAGA began threatening open defiance of their orders. This puts us very near to a constitutional Rubicon. And it raises some important questions. For example, what power does the federal judiciary have to actually enforce its orders? Is the Trump White House preparing to openly defy the orders anyway? And what happens if it does?

[...]

Defying gravitas

Elon Musk really hates judges. In fact, like our current toddler of a president, Musk hates anything and anyone who tells him that he can’t do what he wants to do. Musk feels zero accountability to anyone, and he believes he can act with impunity at all times. To underscore this, Musk retweeted a post by a MAGA account that walked through a recent judicial ruling against the Treasury, all while making numerous inaccurate statements. It concluded with these chilling words: “I don’t like the precedent it sets when you defy a judicial ruling, but I’m just wondering what other options are these judges leaving us.” Musk wasn’t the highest level “official” in the Trump White House to take this position. Vice President JD Vance went a step farther, tweeting, “Judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power.”

[...]

So the courts have issued orders. Can they enforce them?

As Democracy Docket’s Marc Elias explained recently, courts can order many kinds of relief, the most immediate being a temporary restraining order (TRO). Think of a fire burning near the house. A court can order the fire be put out right away (that’s the TRO) so that it doesn’t cause “irreparable harm” before it gets to the question of whose fault the fire was. A party has to obey an order to put out the fire, even if the judge later determines that it wasn’t in the wrong.

The courts, imperfect as they are, are the last guardrail left to rein in the tyrannical impulses of the Trump-Vance-Musk triumvirate.

See Also:

Daily Kos: Courts are keeping Trump's attempts at being a dictator in check—for now

The JGibson Report: The Trump-Musk-Vance triumvirate's Project 2025-inspired power grab threatens all Americans

Mother Jones: Ignoring Court Orders Would Make Trump a King

[nikaizkool]

How they’d cuddle you 😻😻😻😘

Beanie trio + oxey duo

•George

Literally cradle you, wrapping his arms and legs around you like one of those hair claws practically trapping you in his grasp with his head tucked in your neck. If you try to get up he’d mumble into your neck/shoulder “mmmmmnoooooo stayyyyyy” and if you managed to escape he’d kiss your cheek and try to get you to come back to his comfort. “Mmmmmmmmm—love come back” he’d pull you back and cuddle you.

• Sapnap

He’d lay his head in your chest with his torso on your thighs and his hands cuddling your waist. If you tried to pull away he’d squeeze you to him groaning into your chest “nononononono—stay please” he’d low key just trap you by switching the position between you two where your head is in his chest and your torso is on his thighs. Eventually he’d let you go but he’d follow you around everywhere.

• Quackity 😻

His knees bent up between your stomach his head above yours and your head in his chest and your knees cradled up next to his, his arms around the small of your back and your hands closing the gap between you two by holding onto his chest. If you tried to get up he’d just slowly pull away from you looking back up at you “no more? :(“ you’d nod and he’d get up with you, following you around by your hand leading him around like a lost puppy.

• Wilbur

His lanky arms gently laying on top of you while your in fetal position with his head laying gently in the crook of your neck he’d smile into your neck whenever you made the slightest movement. Lowkey would probably lay his head in your thighs and fall asleep while you massage his hair but if you tried to get up from any position he’d groan “mnoooo come back— my love.” He’d put his hands on each side of your face and press a kiss to your forehead letting you leave and do whatever

•Charlie

He’d let you rest your head on his chest while his arm is wrapped around your shoulder with your hand resting on his stomach. If you’d troed to get up he’d lean down to kiss your forehead “why are you leaving? D:” he’d change position to where you were wrapped in both his arms and your head is tucked in his neck. If he let you get up he’d give you one last kiss before falling back to sleep.

[suzannahnatters]

Wellp. The Rings of Power season 2 ep 8 has come. There are many eulogies to deliver in the coming days (and trust me I will) but for now, there is a certain someone who requires a proper sendoff. SPOILERS BELOW

They fulfilled my one true wish: we got to see Fair Form Adar (and my goodness he did not disappoint). And then they exploded my insane crack theory, sunk my ship, and killed him off. Oh well. At the same time, I'm so grateful for what we got. Adar wasn't Celeborn, but they didn't try to make him some other Big Name from the Sil that only 0.04% of the audience would recognise. It was a bit rushed, but the entire episode was sadly rushed and I felt that his sendoff was one of the few moments that did get sufficient screentime. He didn't get the redemption arc I was trying to manifest through sheer willpower, but the way he died fit the story while also extending a moment of grace and hope for the character. This was not Ben Solo in TROS; it was not the Darkling in Shadow and Bone, being gutted as his killer hisses "there is no redemption". And for that, I'll always be grateful. Meanwhile I'm going to spend the next week just staring into the distance, thinking about how the orcs recapture Galadriel and drag her into the presence of their lord, and he's down on his knees giving her his back in a posture of utter vulnerability. I'll be lying on the carpet thinking about how she was the only person he could show his face to. (I may have been wrong on Adarborn but I DID correctly predict that we'd get to see his fair-form). I'll be chewing on broken glass thinking about how when Sauron offered Galadriel a ring and a position healing Middle Earth at his side, she tried to stab him, but when Adar offered Galadriel her ring back and proposed a partnership...she accepted. SHE ACCEPTED. Oh, and? the probability that in all likelihood Sauron saw that happen. (and yep, I also predicted a callback to s1).

*high-pitched fangirl keening*

Anyway, my chums tell me that in the BTS segment for this episode, Adar was originally slated to die much sooner, but Simon Tolkien advocated for the character to be continued. Let's all raise a glass to Simon Tolkien, who is obviously continuing the Lord's work here. And let's admit that even though Galadriel seems to be stuck in the worst possible version of Middle Earth Bachelorette, in which her actual husband is lost and her boyfriends are a hit parade of Middle Earth's Most Wanted (stay tuned for s3, when we all watch in mind-boggled fascination while Galadriel romances Ar-Pharazon!) in hindsight the fact is that this was supposed to be a supporting character who ended up dominating much of the show almost by mistake. I can't imagine how they'll manage to outdo Adar when they bring along Actual Celeborn (unless they cast Dev Patel! I'm sure he's not got anything important scheduled!!!! THE PEOPLE DEMAND A HOT DESI CELEBORN), but if Adar was a mistake, he's a mistake I wish many more shows would make.

In conclusion: yes, I will be writing an Adariel fix fic, filing off the serial numbers, and self-publishing it. It will be titled AUTUMNTHRALL. Stay tuned.

[mxchibomb]

content. mdni 18+

excalibur umbra ! cw. dubcon.

 stalking down a rogue frame was truly not an easy task. a difficult game of tag. your dead warframe with no pilot stood somewhere else, in a random corner of the circular room. everywhere you went, he chased after with a beam that was doing practically no damage.

 running around for however long, using your beam just to do nothing but encourage him in the chase was getting exhausting. not only was it tiring out your amp, but your body was slowing down as well. you heaved softly in your spot on your tired legs, preparing to sling yourself across the floor once more. he was right in front of you, like he had read your mind before you could even perform the action.

 just barely dodging an attack from the sentient frame had your heart leaping out of your chest. the attack hadn't landed but you landed flat on the cold ground due to a misstep. a slip up that could possibly be even lethal with the power umbra held within him. you couldn't form a single thought before your wrists locked above your head by a single hand, his hips between your legs. your heart dropped to your stomach and your breathing picked up. panicked, you began thrashing.

 wiggling your body, pulling at your arms in his grip, kicking your legs. warframes were a lot heavier when you weren't the one piloting it. deep down you knew this wouldn't do anything. and it showed as a completely still and unmoving umbra just stared at you despite having no visible eye sockets.

 the blue lights on his face flashed as he watched you struggle, emitting a gurgle like purr. a purr that stopped your squirming. your worn out body ached against the hard floor as the frame observed you, leaving you in confusion. nothing had happened. your current situation had high expectations of possible fatality. yet nothing.

 as much as you wanted to fight to abort the mission, you couldn't get out of his hold and you feared if you tried any harder you'd be testing your luck. he released another purr, same to the last one and you could feel him shift between your legs. the edges of his hips pressed up against your inner thighs, pushing them forward. only then had you realized something was off. a mysterious weight rested against your lower stomach. but it was much too small to be a leg and he wouldn't have had a chance to move it in this position regardless. it couldn't have been a weapon because you could only recall a blade, of which was too long and sharp.

 you could barely breathe with the force of your heart against your chest. nervous yet curious, you took a glance down and you practically choked on nothing.

 unsheathed from the pelvic area, a black and twitching cock weighed heavy on your stomach. made of the same material of the armored suit and intricate lines to match the rest of his body, leaking a glowing blue liquid out of the tip and onto your covered belly button. you've never heard of warframe with genitalia. did all warframes have hidden genitalia? and you've never heard of a sexually competent warframe before.

 with your scared stare, he took your silence as acceptance, fat cock rubbing up and down against your clothed pussy. with a startled squeak, you tugged at your wrists still encapsulated but to no avail. a smooth gyrate of his rough hips, he leaned down to nuzzle your neck with his decorative gold plated horned mask. he was gentle, leaving you unsure of what to think about the current situation. your cunt began to pulse and your inner temperature rises in contrast to your conflicting mind. you couldn't decide if this was wrong to do, but your pussy was saying it was. you panted softly, the surprising heft of his cock could be felt even through your operator suit. your hips unwillingly met his rhythm, dull pleasure arising from within your pants as your hips met in a sensual dance.

 distorted heaves could be heard from umbra, an impatient growl as his gentleness faded within seconds. big hands tugging harshly at your thick trousers. the button popped and flung across the room as he roughly undressed you and manhandled your mildly entranced self. your precum soaked clothes flew in different directions and collected randomly in all corners. gasping as the cold, marble like floor hit your naked skin, soft nipples extending outwards as cold air brushed along your body. he greedily asked for friction as his tip continuously bumped at your clit and folds to find the beginning of your hole with his hips alone, dripping slick mixing with blue precum on his textured skin. you could only whine as it teased your pussy with light kisses, thrusting your hips upwards to catch the tip. it snagged against your leaking hole, finally able to make its way inside your weeping walls with a nasty squelch. you could feel the stretch despite the ease of which his fat cock slid inside you, your hole anxiously clenching around his size. his leaking tip nudged against your cervix, poking your soft tummy from the inside to create a small bulge.

 pulling his armored hips back, tip almost leaving your hole, he pushed back in with a force that took the air out of your lungs and made your pussy clench in surprise. and he pulled back once more.. and repeated the same action. a high pitched whine escaped your lips as his hips slammed into yours with ferocity and, eventually, a new speed. your pussy echoed just as loud as your needy whines and whimpers, sloshing with each and every one of his animalistic thrusts into your dewy cunt. with your ankles in his grip, he held your legs above you and pushed your knees to your chest.

 "fffuuccckkk~" he was reaching spots you've never felt anyone else hit so well. you had to place your hands palm down, straight down to the floor on each side of your to stabilize yourself. the new position allowed loud squelches to become louder squelches, syrupy slick dripping down between your ass cheeks to leak down onto the floor and pool in thick, clear arousal.

 "fuck yesss." you could feel your cunt begin to pulse more aggressively as you felt your climax approach, and approach you quickly. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and drool slid down the side of your face. with a silent scream, your tight walls tugged down on the non verbal warframes cock as he continued to pursue his own climax. the horn of his mask pressed against your heels, feverishly chasing after your pussy. his built in sensory receptors couldn't feel pain very well but they could feel every tightening of the soft, gooey walls of your cunt quite well. whenever you'd clench and squeeze and how you were so much tighter after your first orgasm and sucked him back in with your suffocating pussy. his cock began to leak, drops of glowing substance sitting at the edge of your cervix as his fabricated climax caused his large, weighted balls to squeeze.

 "inside! cum inside me!~" you begged as your hips struggled to wiggle in your position, not sure if he was even listening to you. though you could assume he was by the way he pushed his head into the back of your legs like a cat. the speed and power of his hips exceeded the average humans, pushing and pushing until he finally reached his high. his hips stuttered and his strangely human like balls squeezed. while a loud, screeching groan, he slammed fully inside and emptied hot blue cum into your insides.

 he sat still for a few moments and his cock twitched a couple times while he let your greedy cunt soak in every drop. pulling out, he left your pussy stretched and leaking out a bright glow of his semen.

 you hadn't even bothered moving for a good few minutes, your sore and leaking body sat tired on the floor. umbra stared at your unmoving body, his head tilting to the side as he observed you quietly. watching you start to sit up, the frame had offered you a hand. with a blink or two, you debated for a couple seconds before graciously taking it.

 now fully dressed in your suit that required a much needed wash and in your warframe you came to the mission with, a silent excalibur umbra followed after your footsteps from behind. a wordless agreement to come with you.

okay, but why don't people make more warframe smut?

[sabrinaboglund]

Få Universet til at Arbejde For Dig: 5 Måder at Tiltrække Positive og Opløftende Oplevelser.

Er du klar til at træde ind i din styrke og udnytte Universets utrolige potentiale til at tiltrække mere positive og opløftende oplevelser i dit liv? Jeg er begejstret for at introducere dig til en rejse, der vil transformere din måde at opleve verden omkring dig på. Spænd sikkerhedsselen, for vi dykker ned i hemmelighederne bag at få Universet til at arbejde til din fordel og tiltrække de…

[hyptrance1]

Hypnovember Post 1 - Objectification (Trophy)

Hi all. So I wanted to take a crack at doing some Hypnovember stuff, but I didn’t want to do just some more stories (since I do them all the time on twitter) so I thought I should do something new and maybe a little different. Well, I haven’t done a new induction in…months now? So that is my goal, I will not be doing an induction for every day, cause my fingers would fall off and I would go insane, but I thought I’d choose one topic / prompt a week and post it when the day comes around. You’ll get some new inductions, I’ll be having fun and getting back into some form of hypnosis, and we all win. Now today’s topic is objectification, which what a way to start. So this induction will objectify you into a trophy. If you go under you will pose in whatever pose you think looks best for you (doesn’t just have to be a flex, but I’m imagining some of you on your knees for a “best sub” trophy, or, “most gooned out” trophy) and take a picture of yourself. Dont worry, you’re not sending it to anyone, but I thought you’d like to see yourself in your very own trophy pose. As usual, if you dont wanna go under or dont want to follow the post hypnotic suggestion, then dont read this. I hope you do though, and that you enjoy it, but it is entirely up to you. Without further ado. 

I want you to focus on my words. Allow yourself to get into a comfortable position, allow yourself some grace to be a little bit distracted if it happens, a little bit uncomfortable if it happens. Just allow the thoughts that pass through your head to enter and leave as you see fit, allow your body to shift and get more comfortable as you continue reading. You’ll find that the more you read the easier it is to continue. Might be because you committed yourself to finish this, it might be because you just slowly zone a bit as you continue to look at word after words and all the sudden you’re at the end of this paragraph in no time. Either way, you are continuing to get into the groove of reading this, continuing to let yourself shift into more comfortable positions, let your thoughts pop up and allow yourself to recognize them before allowing them to drift off as you continue to refocus on the next word and the next. 

Usually when I do these types of inductions, I focus on your muscles and your breathing first. This is always to allow your body time to relax and to begin calming you down from anything that may have happened to you during your day. For some of you, it’s not needed. You’re already coming into my induction focused, relaxed, and zoning out. For some of you, it’s desperately needed. And I always think that it’s good to give people some calm and comfort before having their thoughts adrift out of their heads. I usually focus on breathing because it’s proven to decrease stress and tension in your body. Usually, you have to breathe in slowly, and then exhale even slower than you inhale, about double the time. It does something to your muscles, your head, your body to destress it. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it does the trick, allowing for your muscles to relax, your body to get just a bit heavier in a comfortable way. It also allows me to continue rambling and having you read my words, which is always a good thing when my words are supposed to help you go under. 

Then after all the relaxing of your muscles, the repetition of “inhale slowly” and “gently exhale”, and the description of your muscles releasing their tension one at a time in probably to fine of detail, I then usually go into the topic of the induction, to allow yourself to be primed into the topic of the induction and have your mind understanding the concept before all of your thoughts leave your head. Not exactly sure if it helps, but I do like doing it, brings a smile to my face. But, trophies. We have all seen the poses that are on the mini figures that are on trophies, but I always thought that there could be so many more options for how trophy figures are posed. I’m sure you can think of one, but for me, I can imagine one on all fours, one on its knees, one with its legs up, really it just depends on what you want the trophy to be fore. Can you imagine, in your probably relaxed state, what you’d want to be a trophy for? Are you the best puppy trophy? The best gooner? Maybe just one for a jock or bodybuilder? Maybe it’s a little meta, best object, best drone or robot. Or just simply best hypnotized guy. Whatever it is once you think of a concept, you probably have a pose that comes to mind quite quickly, even if your mind is slowing down for whatever reason. I’m sure thinking of this is getting you hard. 

That’s another thing I usually do in my inductions. Once you’re nice and relaxed from all the slow inhaling and gentle exhaling, once your muscles and body are comfortable, we add the pleasure portion into it. Obviously you probably expected to be hard, and it is the body’s natural response to relaxing, but I always like to highlight that pleasure, that throbbing inflation pulsing in your pants. It just reinforces that going under, that relaxing to my words, that all of this is just very hot. And then I continue to reinforce it by having that pleasure emanate from your pulsing dick out to the rest of your body, cause why let your dick have all the fun when the rest of your body can be thrumming with pleasure as well. 

This actually helps the last thing that I need to do with an induction, actually get rid of your thoughts. The pleasure does a twofold thing of making you feel good, and also helping me push your thoughts out of your head. I usually say something like, “the pleasure is building in your body so much, that it enters your mind and has to push out your thoughts to make room”. It’s a good phrase because it refocuses your head, which most likely has been losing thoughts already, on just the pleasure you’re feeling going under, which makes it that much easier to have you lose the rest of your thoughts until its completely empty. 

Although nothing helps get you quite completely empty like a countdown. I like. A 10 count because it makes it easier to add just a bit more time into taking you under, and that sweet sensation of losing your thoughts and becoming hypnotized. But you know where this is leading to. When I count to 10, you will be hypnotized and completely blank and ready to follow. 

10

Last thoughts leaving

9

Body completely comfortable

8

Muscles feeling good

7

Breathing slow and steady

6

Pleasure flowing through your body

5

Pleasure flowing through your head

4

Blank

3

And empty

2

Like a trophy

1

Completely hypnotized. 

Now, with that you are hypnotized and ready to follow orders. While under in this state, I want you to remember the trophy pose that you imagined for whatever trophy you would want to be on. When you finish reading this paragraph, you will, while still hypnotized, get into the pose you thought of and take a picture of yourself in that position. You will then come back and sit and finish reading this induction. You will not send the photo you take to anyone until you are awake from this induction. Now I’ll see you when you come back. 

Glad to see you back. Now what I want you to do is begin to wake up from this induction. Feel your mind returning to you and when I count back up to 3 you will fully wake up, feeling great, refreshed, and back to normal. Alright:

1

Thoughts returning to you

2

Waking up

And 

3

Wide awake

Wide wide awake. 

Alright, so enjoy the picture of yourself, and if you feel like it, let me know what you decided to be a trophy for and what pose you did. This is more of my normal induction honestly, but I am hoping for the next induction to try something new. Obviously you can let me know how you felt about this and say hi if you want to. Other than that, see you for the next hypnovember post from me. 

[frumfrumfroo]

Imagine making a film series like Star Wars and framing the triumphant romantic kiss as 'goodbye'... I still can't believe they made that film. Obvs that's probably how Daisy Ridley interprets it, not necessarily how it was framed (which was lacking narrative altogether), but it's still miserable. It's not even Romeo & Juliet vaunted romantic tragedy. It just sucks.

I do pity the poor anons who are waiting for some sort of different outcome with a new ST film. Studio executives will never look at the critical failure of TROS (it was a commercial success though) and think the takeaway was 'maybe we shouldn't have fractured the SW myth', it's 'oh, okay, let's never deviate ever again, damn that blasted TLJ' - just look at how JJ and co. tried to retroject TROS' failures onto the previous film. Course correction, course correction. Rey Film, if it gets made, will be DO YOU REMEMBER THIS? self-flagellating apology. Ben Solo will never return.

Yeah, anyone trying to come up with any positive spin on it, including desperate attempts to see it as effective tragedy, are doomed to failure. Only by completely ignoring the context and taking the moment by itself carried only on the actors' performances as continuity from TLJ without any of the terrible fucking tros script in the way can the kiss actually mean something.

As soon as you try to make tros into any kind of story or draw any kind of sincere message from it, you immediately run into the brick wall of what a soulless, nonsensical piece of trash it is.

I had a whole rant about how it's not Romeo and Juliet and I am still so annoyed how often people draw the comparison, both utterly missing the point of R&J and giving tros credit which it does not deserve by imagining it assigns any meaning to Ben's death whatsoever.

Yep. We've seen them do nothing but triple down. They have no idea why the movie was such an embarrassing wet fart. Rey the sexless eternal child will never be challenged again, she'll go on a worship tour of references, places, and objects to do reverence as the Brand Avatar. She's not a character any more and she's never going to be again.

[steamedbuncollective]

DISCONNECTROJECT

A disconnectroject (dis-co-nect-tro-ject) is an introject who feels little to no connection to their source. This could be due to having no source memories, acting incredibly different to their source, the alter willingly disconnecting themself from their source, or any other reason.

This alter may still feel positively, negatively, or neutral about their source while still being heavily disconnected from it.

The gray and muted brown represent detachment from the introjects source.

The white represents the disconnection the alter may feel towards their source.

no credit needed to use this term/flag!!

endos do not use this flag. make ur own flag/term.