Angelbornaltruist - Certified Tweaker

rewatching violet evergarden with my mom and I am desperately trying to remember whether gilbert was a pedo or not

Mushoku tensei was legit one of the most messed up and disgusting shows I've ever seen. I managed to get through three episodes before quitting, it made me legitimately ill. Isekai has so much potential for meaningful storytelling and I hate how it's all just "basic mcblandboy: reborn into a world of teenage powerfantasy and pedophilia."

I hate how every season we get several shitty power fantasy isekais for the bros to jerk off to that are basically just “reincarnated dude is not strong until he suddenly is by the end of episode 1 also he has like 43 girls in his harem one of them is an actual child and the other is a cat girl and they all wanna bang him bc ofc they do” like come on😭😭😭😭 if you gonna release something shitty at least release a knk anime 😭😭😭

*takes a bite of my double chocolate all natural 16g of protein kosher no artificial sweetener certified vegan no soy cookie i won as a bet* at least it removes all moisture from my mouth and doesn't taste good at all

i won a bet with a friend and have been owed a cookie for the last week. i finally got my cookie today.

it's a protein cookie.

Do not punish the behaviour you want to see

I mean, it seems pretty obvious when you put it like that, right?

But how many families, when an introvert sibling or child makes an effort to socialize,  snarkily say, “So, you’ve decided to join us”?

Or when someone does something they’ve had trouble doing, say, “Why can’t you do that all the time?” (Happened to me, too often.)

Or any sentence containing the word “finally”. 

If someone makes a step, a small step, in a direction you want to encourage, encourage it. Don’t complain about how it’s not enough. Don’t bring up previous stuff. Encourage it.

Because I swear to fucking god there is nothing more soul-killing, more motivation-crushing, than struggling to succeed and finding out that success and failure are both punished.

I have a political thought experiment that I would like to share with you all that I call "Persuading the serial killer," which is really just about how you'd persuade someone who exists outside of your moral framework.

This is inspired by the fact that I watch too much true crime, but the thought experiment goes like this: If you were faced with a serial killer trying to kill you or someone else, how would you convince them not to? Serial killers do not conform to common morals like "killing is wrong," so arguing "You shouldn't kill me because killing is immoral!" is not going to help you. They don't recognize your moral system as real or valuable, so you cannot use it to persuade them. I, personally, would argue like so: "I have a very regular schedule, and people have already noticed that I'm missing. My mother and I talk almost constantly. She alone is probably already panicking that I'm gone and has called the police. I also have serious medical issues on record, so they won't wait the regular 24 hrs to start searching for me. You have a chance to get away now, but not if you spend time murdering me and hiding my body." Straight practical reasons why doing what they want to do will bring about something they absolutely don't want, i.e. if you waste time on murdering me, a high-priorty missing person, you'll get caught and never kill again.

The way this applies to politics is that you're gonna encounter people who do not completely overlap with your morals - probably not serial killers though. Like most Republicans and most Democrats would agree that unprovoked homicide is wrong and bad. No one is trying to pass a bill to get murder blanket-legalized. But obviously, conservatives have different moral views on things like abortion.

You cannot argue with a conservative that abortion isn't wrong. Your opinion that life does not begin at conception or that the right to choose should be in the pregnant person's hands no matter what exists outside of their moral framework just like "murder is wrong" exists outside the moral framework of a serial killer. So if I'm trying to argue against abortion legislation with someone I know is anti-abortion, I argue that abortion laws don't reduce abortions or abortion-related deaths. That the real way to reduce abortions is to make birth control over-the-counter and available to teenagers without parental permission like in the U.K. That if they think that is bad because it "promotes" premarital sex, they need to choose which is worse to them: teenagers having sex or abortions happening because teenagers are still going to have sex. That more support networks for pregnant people who want to keep the pregnancy but worry about their ability to financially support the child would do more good, and that there are several run by churches (but not enough, perhaps they should start one at their church)! That anti-abortion organizations in Europe who crusade against abortion in these ways are more successful at reducing abortion than any country with laws on the books to stop it.

You can apply this with a lot of things, but in short, when arguing with someone with different political views or morals that are mutually exclusive with yours, it's a bad bet to appeal to "but that's wrong! but that's bad! but that's immoral!" Jump straight to the practicalities, i.e. "That won't get you what you want, and here's why," not "You shouldn't want this." This won't always work (ex: you might run through all those abortion arguments, not satisfy the conservative you're arguing with, and in the process figure out that they really just want to legally punish people for premarital sex and don't actually care about abortion). However, leaving your morals out of an argument is your best bet at getting through to another person who may not share them.

*Updated to remove use of the term "psychopath" because I'm told that's an outdated concept.

So. I'm almost done with The Wingfeather Saga.

I'm reading the 88 chapter ("Sailing Home") from The Warden And The Wolf King and I feel inexplicably uneasy. Please God, I just want Janner, Kalmar and Leeli to have a happy ending and live together with their friends and family on Anniera 😭😭😭😭 no more worries, no more trauma for them. I just want them to get to be kids once again and play on the castle grounds.

Please, can anyone encourage me to keep reading? I'M SO TENSE AND I DON'T KNOW WHY.

shoutout to the color red

watching zeke annihilate hundreds of teenaged scouts 😇😇😇😇🥹🥹🥹☺️☺️☺️🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😘

Watching Annie obliterate the Levi squad 🥰🥰

The Ballad of the Two Travelers, Chapter Two

Chapter Two: First Steps to Friendship

Lyra was having a nightmare. She dreamed of an endless war, a pointless battle fueled by a rivalry fueled by things that should have been forgotten long ago. She dreamed of fire and lightning, clashing eternally in the heavens while the world broke. She dreamed of destruction and chaos, of decay and disease that festered and bred in the cracks of the world caused by that endless, pointless, hopeless war.

She dreamed of the cracks growing, laughing, spreading wider and wider still as hatred seeped within and drove everything further apart, a dark, tentacled miasma, reaching ever further in its will to consume all; this great evil Blight which threatened to consume the whole world.

She dreamed of the cracks already forming among her own people; the bitter, hurting wives, sisters, and daughters who in their hurt chose to hurt others, spreading their hate as they wreaked destruction upon the humans; and the few who begged for peace and were dubbed traitors by their kind. She dreamed of the great dark cavern between giantkin and humankind, a yawning abyss that would surely consume them all if they could not learn to cross it–

“L-Lyra? Lyra! Wake up, please!”

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the anxious cries of her charge. She sat up quickly, looking around for any signs of obvious danger.

“What troubles thee, little one?” she asked after a moment. “I can sense no danger. Why dost thou cry out? Art thou hurt?”

Tristan shook his small head, and Lyra realized with a start he was quivering.

“I-I'm not hurt,” he said after a moment. “But....”

The human boy glanced at something just behind her. Lyra turned, and realized with a chill that the trees near her feet had been split and knocked over. She realized she must have kicked unconsciously in the throes of her nightmare, and had put the human boy in great danger.

“N-Nightmare?” The small voice of the human boy shook her from her disturbed thoughts. She looked down. His face held a look of such fear and apprehension, her heart nearly broke as her eyes met his.

I offer thee my most humble apologies if I have caused thee any distress. It is the duty of one such as I, who layeth claim to the role of maiden, to ensure that her charge is safe no matter what.”

She gently laid her hand in grass before him, a heavy feeling settling over her heart as he took a half-step backwards.

“Y-You don't have to apologize,” Tristan said with a smile that was clearly forced. His bright blue eyes were wide with poorly-concealed fear.

“Little one...” Lyra wanted to comfort him, to say the right words or do the right thing to reassure her little charge that she wished no harm towards him, but she could think of nothing.

She retracted her hand and laid on her side awkwardly, aware of an uneasy silence between them now. Again she wished she knew what to say, how to overcome the inevitable fear and anxiety on the small boy's part, but but her lips remained shut, and she remained silent.

It had been a little over a week since their meeting in the Misted Vales, and they'd made some progress on their journey. They were a day or so away from a human settlement Tristan had pointed out on his map, at which Lyra hoped to speak to the locals and tell them of their quest. She had hoped that Tristan's presence would inspire a call for peace, but she had to be sure that Tristan really trusted her, which had proven to be easier said than done.

Tensions were high on both their parts. Despite the lack of confrontation from either of them, there was a constant sense of disquiet between them both, a fact which maddened Lyra to no end.

It didn't help that traveling alongside a human was somewhat difficult, at least in the physical sense.

Tristan had at first tried to walk alongside Lyra as they made their way, claiming he was quick enough to keep up (he was not) and nimble enough to keep safe (he was not). Lyra, unconvinced, was therefore constantly on edge, afraid that she'd take one wrong step or careless motion and crush her little charge underfoot. She'd insisted upon carrying Tristan as they traveled, either in the palm of her hand, upon her shoulder, or within her pockets, much to the little one's chagrin. Though Tristan concealed his fear whenever they spoke, Lyra could tell he was just as nervous as she was, if not more. She could see it in the way he cast furtive glances whenever he thought she wasn't looking, and in his high-strung, stuttering manner of speech.

Lyra couldn't blame him. Tristan was barely the size of her middle finger, and was somewhat small and slight in build even for a human. To him, every little movement she made must have been terrifying, let alone the sight of her reaching for him, leaning close, or inspecting his body for wounds. Lyra herself felt nervous whenever her fingers brushed against the human's warm skin, feeling for broken bones or bruises. How easily she could bring him to harm with little more than a thought.... it frightened her just as it frightened him.

Lyra understood it would take time for her companion to get used to her, regardless of how desperately she wanted to connect with him. She would be patient, and gentle, and reassuring, as she always did, but she couldn't help but wonder if too gentle was a thing. Lyra had caught a few embarrassed looks and flushed expressions from Tristan as well as the nervous glances. She had considered that Tristan fancied her, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. To be sure, she found feelings of a kind blossoming towards Tristan; his small size concealed a kindhearted, curious spirit and a recklessness that seemed rather disproportional to his height (it was a miracle Lyra had only found him with a broken arm, she thought. Only four days ago had she caught Tristan attempting to steal the eggs from a blight-touched vulture, nearly falling from a withered tree at least thrice before running towards her screaming as the monstrous bird swooped down at him). All of this was wrapped up by a cute face framed by dark curls and a smile that, even when marred by fear, melted Lyra's heart every time she saw it. She'd come across many humans in her travels before, but Tristan was the cutest by far.

It was a bit of a conundrum for Lyra. On one hand, it was completely normal for a hero and a maiden to share feelings towards each other (if Tristan held any feelings for her at all, that is). Yet it was certainly unusual for a maiden to be able to pluck up her hero between two fingers and cup him in the palm of her hand. What's more, she wasn't sure she had a crush on her little companion, more of an admiration or appreciation. How desperately she wished to get to know him, for their companionship to become a true friendship!

Yet instead they sat in silence, a bridge of unease between them and neither of them brave enough to take the steps to cross it.

Well, Lyra thought. If I am to change anything, I must take that first step.

Tristan looked so small to her; even as she lay on her side she could have rolled over and smothered him with her waist alone. But she had to try.

“Um,” she said in a quiet voice, as not to scare the boy too badly. “Tristan.... I would ask something of thee.”

The human boy glanced at her but said nothing. Lyra took this as a cue, and pressed on. “Um....well.... if we are to be companions on this journey, I would hope that there would be no tension between us. Thou countenance has been laden with fear since we first met,” she said in a gentle tone as a shadow came over Tristan's face. “I would hope to relieve thee of thy worries as we travel on–”

“Have I been being weird?”

The outburst startled Lyra a little, but she smiled when she saw the bashful expression on Tristan's face. The question confused her a bit, however.

“I-I've been trying to get used to it, I really have,” Tristan said, his voice nervous and shaky. “I know we pledged ourselves to the quest, and that I've been an awful companion, and I'm sorry, it's just so strange to have spent so much time alone on a quest everyone said was a foolish endeavor and a naive, stupid dream, and boom, suddenly someone shows up out of the blue and not only says she'd like to accompany you, but actually wants to serve as a maiden? And I know I'm starting to ramble but really, Lyra, this has been a very strange few days for me, especially because you're a – well, you're a....” Tristan suddenly paused, and Lyra noticed a slight blush come over his face.

“A giantess,” she prompted.

“Yeah,” the human said, nodding hastily. “That.”

There was something in his voice, something he was hiding, but Lyra chose not to pry. She had gotten him to open up a bit. That was promising enough.

“Do not feel ashamed, little one,” she said in a comforting voice, slowly moving her hand closer towards him. “This has been strange for me as well. The path of one who pursues hope is always fraught with uncertainty and confusion. To encounter one such as thee, a human of such young age who would willingly leave his home and all he knew, and would willingly travel alongside the age-old enemy of his people, is astonishing to me. I consider myself blessed to have encountered thee, little one.”

Slowly, gently, she brushed her index finger down his tiny back, figuring it was the best she could do for a reassuring pat. She felt Tristan's body tense up, and her heart froze. Did he still feel such fear, even now? But then, to her joy, she realized Tristan was slowly relaxing, his shoulders slumping and his breathing slowing. Their eyes met, and Lyra saw fear, yes, but also a quiet sort of hope, peaking through all fear and uncertainty.

“Blessed?” he asked quietly, and Lyra's heart sang as a tiny, shy smile came over his lips.

“Yes,” Lyra replied quietly, nodding earnestly. “Blessed, little companion of mine. So please, do not be afraid. I swore an oath, to protect thee and guide thee. I would not let any human come to harm in my presence. Especially not thyself.” She allowed herself a grin. “Thou art mine, in a sense. My companion, my partner.... my friend.”

She gently rested her index and middle fingers over the boy's shoulders, figuring it was the best she could do for a comforting embrace. A warmth spread through her as she felt Tristan reciprocate, hugging her fingers against his cheek.

“Friends,” he said after a moment. “I... well, I like the sound of that. Friends.”

“Tis a simple sort of beauty in the word, no?” Lyra agreed.

They remained like that for some time, enjoying each what little touch of warmth they shared against the coldness of the Misted Vales. Then, Lyra sat up, and gently laid her palm out before him once more.

“Come hither,” she said. “Let us embark once more.”

Her hand was at least twice as long as Tristan was tall. Lyra still marveled at how there could be an entire race of beings that were so small. Yet Tristan had hesitated once more, his eyes looking downward at the palm and fingers that dwarfed him.

There was a moment of silence, long enough that Lyra had just resolved to retract her hand, cursing herself for moving too fast – then Tristan took a step forward, meeting her gaze with a excited sort of nervousness upon his face.

His steps were light, almost imperceptible against the flesh of Lyra's palm. It almost tickled her, but that may have merely been her excitement tickling her instead of the sensation of little feet walking against her hand.

Tristan slowly bent down until he sat, neatly snuggled in her palm. She had an entire life, in the palm of her hand... and what was more, that little life had placed himself there willingly. She hadn't scooped him up hastily, she hadn't plucked him up despite his protests, no, he had taken his life, and placed it Lyra's hands – literally.

She felt a soft tapping sensation upon her palm, and looked directly at the little traveler, forcing herself from her thoughts.

“If we're to be friends,” Tristan said, now wearing a mischievous grin, “I'll have to teach you to speak like a normal person. All those thee's and thou's are giving me a headache.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, and lightly prodded him in the ribs, but she was smiling all the same.

“We shall see, little one. I am happy to see that thou hast developed a sense of wit in learning to trust me.”

Tristan grinned. Lyra grinned back, and she felt it in her spirit, something ancient and unknowable. She couldn't explain it even if she tried. But there was something in sharing a smile with a friend, something that she would protect as fiercely as she would protect the little life she held in her hand.