#[[ there it is. youre welcome. i suffer for you ]]

[bebethsas]

"our love is carved in blood and stone. It is messy, and sometimes harsh, and primal, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you.

They can end my life, burn my body, tear my soul into atomic pieces, and scatter my remains to the four corners of the earth, and they still will never be able to destroy my love for you. Nothing--not death, not betrayal, not warcrimes or an acquired god-complex, not embittered battles, nothing--could make me stop loving you.

You could try to crush me, and I would welcome it. Embrace me, and I will melt into you. You are written into the fabric of my being; if they were to cut me open, they would find strands of your dna inseparably intertwined with mine, in every cell, because we were always the same. You are not my other half of a whole; I am you and you are me and we were always the sole 2 pieces cut from the same cloth, meant to rejoin into something greater than ourselves. I love you.

When I say 'I love you' I mean it in every sense and meaning and tone of the word. If you bled, I would feel it. If you ever felt despair, I would suffer it. If you ever mourned I would carry that burden alongside you, simple as breathing. We were never lonely, we just sat too far apart to see each other. Fate or destiny or pre-determined outcomes...they don't matter. I will choose you whether it's fate or of my own free will, every time. I love you.

When we make love, the stars sing and my blood fizzles with that song, b/c it's the ancient song of the universe and everything within it that started eons ago and never stopped. Since we are all made of stardust, we are like two stars colliding. Making love with you isn't an urge, or a craving, it's a need--a deep, unending need to bend the laws of matter and be as close to you as possible. I need you--we can worry about human needs later, right now I want to completely merge with you until it's impossible to tell us apart. I will worship you with my body and my devotion until the end of time, because not even death and reincarnation could break my infinite continuous love for you.

I know you; I see you. I see into every dusty crevice and crack beyond your polished mask, and I love it. I love all of it. I love you. My love for you is literally too big for my body.

I will love you on days when you are cranky or short-tempered, I will love you when you are sick, I will love you when you are careless and foolish and act frustratingly stupid. On the days when you burn our toast. On the days when you slam a door in my face. On the days when one of us said something stupid or careless or hurtful, and we argued about it for *hours*, so now one of us is sleeping on the couch (even though it's bad for both of our backs), and both of us are lonely and sad and miss the other, but aren't quite ready to swallow our pride and apologize. On the days when you either accidentally or purposefully finished off my leftovers without asking (yes, I know it was you, who else would it have been, the cat?? The cat doesn't have thumbs, how could she have opened the refrigerator?! ...yes, obviously you owe me a replacement now. ...I will accept payment in the form of you cooking my favorite.) (also, on the days when you also steal my bagel for the umpteenth time. It's cute that you think that I don't hear you sneaking up on me, then giggling triumphantly when you sneak away, your heist successful, and prize gripped between your teeth.) On the days when you save 'the last bite' for me, because you know it's my favorite. On the days when life is simply Too Much and one of us (or even both of us) needs to cry, and you hold me or I hold you or we hold each other, and that is Enough. On the day(s) when you don't keep your eyes on the road and we nearly crash, and yes we don't and we didn't, this time, but every time you do that you're gambling on our safety, and it scares me to death (it scares me so much that I demand that you SAFELY pull over just so I can hold you so tightly that I can feel your heartbeat through our clothes.) On the days when you can't bear to leave your bed, because the world is too harsh and cruel and unyielding to your beautiful soul today, and you either need indulgent doting or support to get up. On the days when you are possessed with a new idea and you talk so fast that I can barely understand you, but I still try to keep up because this is important to you (and important to me too). On the days when we are unfair to each other. On the days when we most strongly feel our mutual affection towards one another. Because you are my soul. And how can I not love my soul? I love you."

--(I'm sorry, I think I was temporarily possessed by Jayce for a hot minute or ten.)

the heart shaped locket with a portrait of my nemesis inside stays ON during sex

[fineghkst]

The traveler

When Eris Vanserra finally finds his mate

warnings: mentions of beron (ew); not proofread

Eris Vanserra always had a plan. First: Overthrow his father, avenging his mother and brothers for all the suffering Beron caused. Second: becoming the High Lord. Third: be completely different from Beron.

A mate wasn’t in this list. In fact, Eris never wanted one. Not after knowing what his own father was capable to do with his mother, Lucien’s lover, his bothers and him. The hidden scars on his back were proof of the evil that lived inside of that male. Beron was a monster with no limits, completely paranoid with the thought of a bethayal. He never spared his own children.

The worst part was to think, that even despising Beron in secret, Eris was still his favorite son somehow. So Eris kept playing his part. While he was attending to Beron’s stupid events and dinners, pretending to be a mirror of that monster, he also made alliances with the Night Court, formed a trustful and reliable network of spies, gathered all the harmful information of Beron and waited for the right time to destroy him.

That was until he saw her for the first time. His mate. The felt it right away, like a magnet pulling him into the gravitational field.

That was the first time Eris doubted his own plan and himself.

He saw her during the time of the High Lord Meeting, at a random walk at the Dawn Court. She was reading a book at the bench, while the wind swung a few strands of hair to her face, making her to pull the stubborn strands behind her point ears.

Eris watched her, fascinated with her beauty and with the feeling that filled all his soul. But at the same time, he couldn’t allow himself to approach her, not when his father was so close. He couldn’t put her in risk like that. The most he allowed himself to do was to observe her, day after day, while the meeting lasted. Then, he ended up putting some of his most trusted spies to find out who she was, scared he would never see her ever again.

— A traveler — The spy said during a visit at night — She doesn't seems to belong to a court and will board a ship towards human lands tomorrow.

— Human lands? — Eris asked, surprised — No fae is welcome there. Why she would do that?

— I fear I can’t answer that question. It confuses me as well.

Eris got silent for a couple seconds. All he wanted to do was to go with her in that ship, discover her reasons, her story and every single detail. But Wei’s knew he couldn’t be that selfish and put his desires above his mate’s safety.

— Make sure she’s safe throughout the trip, regardless of how long it lasts. — Eris finally said, feeling his heart ache inside his chest.

— May I ask why this female is so important? — The spy asked, afraid of Eris' reaction to the question. The older Vanserra always thought that the spy was very curious for his own good, but knew he was reliable at least.

— You may not. — Eris said with a cold tone — Fulfill your mission without questions and you will be rewarded for it.

Months have passed. The spy forwarded coded messages to Eris from time to time, informing the female locations. She had gone to human lands, then to the continent and, according to the last update, was returning to Prynthian. Eris had learned some things about her. And, very different from him, she was a free spirit, smart, cheerful and curious.

He wanted to meet her officially so bad. Dance and travel along the world with her. However, Eris knew that Beron was about to exceed all limits by planning to betray Prynthian. It wasn't the time yet, especially now.

Eris sighed, reading the coded message that said she was returning to Prynthian for the thousandth time.

Suddenly, he felt the bond suddenly pull and a loud throat cleaning behind him. Eris turned his back to the sound, seeing the female that haunted his thoughts for months.

— You know, Vanserra. I don’t appreciate being followed. — She said — Nice to finally meet you, my mate.

probably doing a part 2 soon.

[dakusan]

🩸 ANNOUNCEMENT // A LINE IN BLOOD

Let’s talk. Not as creator to audience—but as person to person.

I love angst. I love intensity. I love stories that rip you apart, kiss your scars, and leave you asking if it was ever love or just hunger in disguise. That’s the kind of work I do. That’s the kind of pain I play with. I write dark fantasy—yes. I write supernatural seduction, primal devotion, obsession, madness, lust.

But even in fiction, there is a line. And that line is abuse.

Let me be crystal fucking clear: There is a difference between dark fantasy and romanticising harm.

I’ve been getting more asks lately that walk too close to the edge. Some cross it completely. Whether it’s intentional or not—

“They didn’t mean to” is not a love language. “He only realised after you flinched” is not heartbreak—it’s trauma.

You cannot slap a supernatural excuse on something and call it okay.

Just because they’re a vampire doesn’t mean they get to hurt you. Just because they’re your “mate” doesn’t mean you owe them your safety. Just because it’s fiction doesn’t mean it’s harmless.

Because here’s the reality—and it is real: Some of you have lived this. Some of you are living this. Some of you flinch in real life. Some of you still carry it in your bones.

And I will never write something that could make even one of you think,

“Maybe I deserved it.” “Maybe love means pain.”

NO.

You are not here to be broken and blamed. You are not here to suffer and call it devotion. And listen—because this is where it gets personal, I want to protect you. I WILL protect you. Even if I have to be the one to shake your shoulders and say: Wake up. This isn’t romance. This is a reality check.

If your partner yells at you, shames you, belittles you—leave. If they make you afraid, if you flinch when they raise a hand or a voice—leave. If they touch you in anger and say they didn’t mean to—run. And if you can’t run, if it’s hard or complicated or dangerous—Then let someone help you. Let me be someone who says: You deserve better. You deserve safe.

This space, this blog, this bloodlit universe? It’s built on lust and longing, sure. But it’s also built on love—the kind that doesn’t make you doubt if you’re worthy. I won’t romanticize what hurts you. I won’t dress up trauma and call it a fantasy. I won’t write what makes you forget your worth.

I’m not here to trigger you. I’m here to protect you.

Even if that means drawing the line in blood.

Angst is welcome. Abuse is not. Not in this empire. Not for clicks. Not in the name of “drama.” Not for reblogs, or comments. So if you’re here to be consumed in fiction—beautiful. But never confused.

You are not someone’s chew toy. You are not someone’s fantasy to brutalize. You are not built to flinch and call it fate.

I love you. All of you. I mean that. So let this post stand as both sword and shield. I see you. I got you. And I will protect you. And if I have to light the whole trope on fire to keep you safe, then pass me the match.

— Daku 💋🦇

p.s. tattoo artist!AU coming in later, it's in the works. FOOD FIRST! hydrate, eat, rest

[kotonoba]

Snake Wine (Doflamingo/F!Reader)

Summary: You get "invited" to Doflamingo's family, but with every newbie comes a new hazing ritual.

a/n: First time writing Doffy, honestly, I just think he's a funny guy, walks funny, laughs funny. Saw nothing of it until my IRL friend started talking about him, and then an idea came up. For everyone who likes him, you guys can thank her.

Warning(s): female reader, depiction of violence, possessiveness, slightly ooc

Posted on AO3

------------------------------------------------------

You were his plaything. Doflamingo made sure you knew from the beginning. He used to roam the streets with his family to flaunt his power and wealth; he would pass by the alleyway where you sold your lemonade from the lemonade stand. He was amused by how you fought the unruly customers and won. The wide grin painted on his features showed interest as he passed by the same route every day. And every day, you didn't disappoint, you fought either the same or a different group, and continued to win. 

One day, he passed by your stand, completely demolished, the customers sneering at your wounded stature as you stood your ground. No matter how they wounded you, you got back up to look them in the eye. Doflamingo's smile widened; in one fell swoop, he picked you up by your wrist as you dangled like a rag doll at his mercy, “You're mine now.” He claimed, glancing at the customers that backed away in fear, “You hurt what's mine, I'll hurt you.” he laughed, but in your eyes, he only slapped them on the wrist by slicing off their arms. 

His attention was turned back to you, a ravaged kiss in front of onlookers. You fought back, you bit his lip and drew blood. He pulled away and licked the blood off with a chuckle. He liked your fire. He brought you home with him, and he forced you to stay with him. You were a feral, untamed dog, and he was one filled with insanity. 

As you stayed with him longer, you became more tame. The tamer you became, the more he melted like ice cream in your hands. He gave you his loyalty and his promise in secrecy behind closed doors. Kneeling on one knee like a knight, holding your hand, kissing your fingers lightly with an insufferable smile, “be my queen.” It was a demand that you agreed to and abided by. He was more affectionate with you from then on, but with affection came toxic possessiveness. He gatekept you, Doflamingo's side always saw you, and he saw you by yours. On his rampages of slaughter, you were held in his arms while he massacred countries. His promise of loyalty and affection started by bringing you the heads of the customers that once wounded you; the customers, their families, their friends, the people who turned a blind eye to your suffering. You laughed, and he laughed with you. He invited you to join his inner circle of family, to meet his top executives, but it wasn't much of an invitation; it was a demand that you abide by as his queen. He wanted you to be safe. 

But the hazing ritual began when he had to take a call in another room. The executives didn't know any better when they gave you snake wine and decided to tell you that you had to eat the snake before you took a shot. Color drained from your features as you looked up at them from the snake's colorless body; Doflamingo never forced you to do anything inherently nasty, but he has spoiled you. “Welcome to the real world,” they sneered, memories of the customers that beat you up flooded your memories. Your body reacted negatively and caved under the pressure. 

You fish the snake from the bottom of the jar with fingers that barely tremble now. Numbness has always been easier than fear. It slithers wetly into your palm, its preserved body limp and cold, like something half-forgotten but never forgiven. The skin feels rubbery, pickled in sharp wine and defiance. 

You bring it to your lips, ignoring the way your stomach coils, ignoring the echo of voices that once laughed, mocked, reminded you that you were weak. 

Not today.

Your teeth sink in. The skin resists, then tears with a slick, sinewy snap. Alcohol floods your mouth, burning sharply enough to make your eyes sting. Underneath it, the meat is bitter and metallic—like blood, like rusted coins swallowed in secret. The texture is wrong, too soft and too hard at once, a sickening, jelly-like flesh that clings to your teeth. You chew anyway. Swallow anyway. The nausea rises, but so does something else—something quiet, powerful, and mean. You stare straight ahead as it slides down your throat, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like the one in control.

The illusion of control faded quickly as you were consumed by overwhelming fear. 

You stare straight ahead as it slides down your throat, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like the one in control.

But then, silence. Not outside—inside.

The taste still clings to your tongue, bitter as the words they used to throw at you like stones: weak, pathetic, nothing special. You remember listening to laughter you weren’t part of, joys of your pain and hurt, highlighting your days. You remember how it felt to be small. Powerless. How your voice never mattered until it cracked from trying.

You swore, back then, that you’d never let them make you feel like prey again.

The snake didn’t scream. Neither did you.

And maybe that’s why you ate it, not for strength, not for ritual, but to bury the part of you that still flinches at footsteps behind closed doors.

To prove that you're not scared anymore.

Even if you are.

You took a shot, praying the alcohol would wash away the memories, but it only heightened your fears. You were repulsed at the idea of an alien-like texture in your stomach, the sound of laughing, laughing at your pain once again; and once again, you were reminded. You are weak. Tears welled up in your eyes as you suddenly got up from your position, “Hey, where do you think you're going? This wine is expensive, you should be grateful and finish it,” they mocked. 

You pushed past the executives who tried to push you back down. 

As you opened the door to leave, you walked into Doflamingo, who was returning from his emergency call. His malicious grin soon turned worried as he saw the color drain from your face, sweating profusely, a hand covering your mouth, and another clutching over your heart. You thought you saw his signature grin falter and turn to worry as he spoke, “My queen, what happened?” Instantly, as if he recognized something, an anger vein popped as he whipped his head over at his executives, who snickered and held in their laughter when they realized Doflamingo wasn't laughing. His eyes scanned the room behind his tinted glasses as it lingered on the snakeless wine sitting on the lonesome table. You were always by his side, and he was always by yours, but today, he told you to go back to his room. You obeyed, stumbling through the halls as the door slammed shut. 

Your vision blurred as you leaned against the walls of the cold castle, dragging yourself through the silent halls. At some time, your vision flickered as you collapsed in the hallway, and your vision faded to black as your body dropped in temperature. 

Some time later, you came to in your shared room with Doflamingo, his presence was as loud as ever. Your eyes opened wearily to see him threatening the town's doctor. You didn't feel as sick as before, but you were also exhausted. “Doffy,” you called out. He returned by your side immediately. The worried, affectionate side was reserved for you only, so much so that with a flick of his wrist, the doctor was nothing but a bloodied mush on the ground. 

He picked you up gently, worried that if he even held you too tightly, you would shatter in his arms without hesitation. He buried his face against the nook of your neck, and the smile hadn't returned to his face yet. “How are you feeling, my queen?” He whispered, peppering kisses on your neck.

“I'm doing better, just tired,” you wrapped your arms lazily around his neck. 

“Is your mind sound enough to make some judgment calls?”

“Is my mind ever sound?” You grinned tirelessly. 

His signature grin returned as he walked out the door to his throne room, “Fair enough.” He laughed as he sat on his throne with you in his arms, possessively. He felt your body flinch when you saw the executives all kneeling to the ground, “It's okay, they should know their place with you around.” He reassured you that this was the closest thing to love he showed outside of close quarters. “What do you suggest their punishment be, my queen?”

“I'm feeling generous today,” you were not. Your words and punishment come from a place of hate, and Doflamingo was quite aware of that, “how about letting them eat the snake and drink the wine too? They are your executives, and as they've said,” a glimmer of anger flares in your eyes as you leaned closer to your king. He was eating it up, arms wrapped possessively around your waist, his grin growing wider as you spoke. “It sure is expensive, I'm sure they would love a taste.”

Doflamingo laughed maniacally, “That's a wonderful idea! Since you all love it so much that you had the fucking audacity to act out, then everyone should get to eat and drink!” He proclaimed, with a flick of his wrist, that the servants gathered up some snake wine for them. “Be sure to eat it all, my queen sure is generous with her punishment.” There was an edge to his words and not an ounce of remorse as his executives struggled to eat and drink. “You're too nice to them,” he whispered, as he leaned lazily against his throne. 

“And you're not?” You laughed, and he joined you.

“You saw through me,” you were bad for him, and he was bad for you, but that's what makes the relationship last a lifetime.

------------------------------------------------------

This is actually for one of my IRL friends since I refuse to write Astarion for her, now that she graduated, the least I could do was write her something.

[bestofradblrracism]

"Neither of us are victims of the other" is a wild thing for a settler to say to an indigenous person when your very existence on this continent victimizes us. It is a demonstrated fact that we suffer because you are here. Do you understand that? You simply being here is an act of violence, however unwilling. You have to work and listen to undo that damage while you're here.

But I get it. From your place of privilege, it's easier to reckon with those with which you have more in common: white supremacists. So you wave the flag that represents white supremacy, because to YOU, YOU decided it doesn't represent that. Like historical revisionists waving confederate flags at BLM rallies, you assign your own personal ethos to the flag. Your feelings on what you hold are the only ones that matter. Those who see it and are reminded of the atrocities committed against them, atrocities committed by people holding that same flag, in the NAME of that flag, don't matter. If they get upset with you for it, it's THEIR fault for not interpreting your internal feelings correctly, and in fact, they're being DIVISIVE by being upset by it. "Why can't we all just work together!" you say, "It's not like *I* did anything to YOU!

Because to you, there exists a version of United States that doesn't hurt you like it does now. You want to go back to that time. You want to build a version of America that doesn't hurt people like you.

But there has NEVER been a version of America that doesn't hurt people like me, and there never will, because it's very existence hurts us.

But you don't care about that, clearly. You just want to wave your ugly little flag because "optics" are more important to you than the suffering of minorities. So sure, if the way activists native to this continent feel about the occupation that subjugates us, an occupation that includes YOU, that BENEFITS you, if our trauma BOTHERS you... you are welcome to be a smug settler somewhere else. Preferably back in europe.

“why do you say waving usa flag bad at (supposedly) ‘leftist’ protest is bad… don’t you known usa not start with trump” in the real world we think the usa was evil from inception

[dotthings]

Wonderful interview with Elliot Knight who plays Keyonte Bell on Countdown

Some highlights:

QG: How is navigating Navigating Hollywood as a queer Black British actor?

Knight: Being an actor in Hollywood—being queer, being Black—is not easy for anyone. There’s no path laid before you that offers safety or any guarantee of things going the way you want. What I’ve learned so far is: if you care about the work, if you care about the creative purpose, the best thing you can honor is your truth.

Whether the story reflects your identity or not, you’re not going anywhere if you don’t know where you’re working from, not just knowing it, but accepting it. That’s a real challenge for people: feeling like there’s a place for you where you’re welcome, where you exist, and feel free.

If you don’t have freedom in your work, you can’t play. And if you can’t play, you won’t shine. I’ve had many experiences where I felt stiff, afraid, nervous, or not welcome. And unfortunately, the one who suffers in the end is you, not the people around you who are automatically afforded the gift of comfort.

QG: Do you feel like the industry is finally moving beyond tokenism when it comes to queer characters?

Knight: I feel like the industry is moving beyond tokenism for queer characters. The industry is always moving; that’s the important starting ground. But there is no endpoint with something like this. There’s no full quota of representation that feels organic or natural. That’s not a tangible thing you can grab or achieve. The goal is the motion. As long as we keep it in our minds and inform our actions, we’re doing the right thing.

Is the industry where I and many other queer people would like it to be? No, of course not. There’s also a risk of over-saturating something just to make a point, packing it with every queer theme possible. And it can end up becoming cliché or even borderline offensive. I don’t often see myself in a lot of queer representation and storytelling in L.A. or Hollywood.

If you’re focusing on queerness first, that’s already a mistake. You have to start with humanity. A person being a person. Otherwise, you’re already filtering the story through something that makes it less true.

...

And I'm going to point out, since there are people who speak in bad faith and continue to doubt Jensen's allyship, here is another example to counter those false narratives:

I remember chatting to Jensen [Ackles] on set, talking about why this role meant so much to me, representation, my goals, what I want to prove to myself, and he received it with such a full, open heart and so much encouragement. From that day, I knew he understood what I’m doing here, beyond just being on a TV show. He understood my purpose. And he supported that. Multiple cast members have. We’re doing that for each other. It’s a dream. I think we’d all do this for a while if we’re allowed to.

[aloiradasara]

PondPhuwin Series

Fish upon the sky

First things first: LOOK AT THOSE CUTE CHEEKS! 🥰

The first time I watched this series, I absolutely loved how crazy they were. But this time, I fell in love with their chemistry. (I have a type, and that type needs to have chemistry!)

It's amazing to see Pond being crazy in love with Phuwin and Phuwin falling even harder. Their interactions, arguments and sweet moments are worth it, even if I have to suffer second-hand embarrassment.

I have to admit that the only thing I don't like about FUTS is the whole shipping thing. There's nothing wrong with shipping two people, but there are some limits you can't cross. And in this case, those two crazy people need to back off before I throw a few hands at them. 😠

Also, I think Mork (Pond) should have been more compassionate towards Pi (Phuwin) and tried to stop those two crazy people from saying and doing all those things. And don't invite them to your birthday! 🤦🏼‍♀️

Never let me go

Time for full disclosure: when NLMG was released, I started watching it, but stopped after episode nine. I don't know why. Perhaps I wasn't engaged by the story, or maybe I was preoccupied with other things at the time. This time, however, I stopped watching other series and focused solely on NLMG. Thank goodness I did!

First things first: THE STARING! These two love looking into each other's souls through their eyes. Along with the staring comes a whole host of emotions: longing, jealousy, fear, anger and love. I don't know what led them to express so much through their eyes, but I hope they continue to do so.

Beyond that, I don't have much else to say about NLMG. In terms of chemistry and plot, it was a good series. It delivered everything I expected and left me wanting more.

There is only one scene that stands out for me: the dance and bathroom scenes at the end of episode 9 and the beginning of episode 10. There was something beautiful yet tragic about those scenes that made me realise how wrong everything was. They were just kids who were lost and struggling to keep going, but they did it anyway because they had each other. When Phuwin decided to leave Pond, it was born out of hurt. It came from a boy who had lost too much and was unwilling to lose the love of his life too. I didn't expect it, but it made sense at the time.

Once again, I fell in love with them.

We are

Welcome to one of my favourite shows! I just can't get tired of this series — I think it's simply impossible! I've watched it three times so far and it's still only June (you can call me crazy – my sister certainly does! 😂).

There's just something about this series that touches my heart. Maybe it's the simplicity of the love, or the way they understand each other and want to spend time together, or the teasing and flirting. One thing is certain: they are the reason I keep rewatching this series.

[femalenuclei]

1. Sexism is sex based oppression : men are not oppressed on the basis of their biological sex. Women are. We shall never stop talking about it.

2. Bio essentialism says your sex defines how you behave. This is the opposite of what radical feminists believe.

3. The LGB community has never proclaimed to be an "always accepting" one. Anyone who experiences same sex attraction is welcome to think of themselves as a member of that community. Some don't. That's all it is. "Always accepting" shouldn't be what someone with integrity strives to be.

4. "All men are rapists" We believe men who rape have agency over themselves and are therefore actively choosing to do so. We do not believe men carry a special "rapist" gene on their Y chromosome. So much rape happens in this world because sexism teaches them it is okay and encourages it. They *can* not rape yet they do. We shall never stop talking about it.

4.5 Trans women*

5. "You can't wear dresses as a man" Yes you can. Clothes don't have gender. A skirt isn't female attire.

6. "You can't identify as a lesbian if you're a man" Correct. A lesbian is a woman.

7. "Men don't suffer from sexual abuse" False. 1 in 6 boys will be sexually abused before they turn 18 in the USA. That is many men.

8. "Real men don't cry or show their feelings" is a sentiment created by sexism and reinforced mostly by men. Except for anger, that emotion they feel very free to express.

As you can see, I think all of the statements provided were wrong and I have argued why, like you, I think that they are wrong.

Am I a grown-up then ? Can I go back to putting a star on my forehead for having basic human decency, or was that not the kind of arguments you were looking for from a radfem by using our tags ?

You all are getting too comfortable with sexism and bio-essentialism in trans spaces. A place where it’s supposed to be safe, our own community tears itself apart trying to tell us who/what/how we should be. Isn’t that exactly what conservatives do? The so-called open-minded always accepting lgbtqia+ community doesn’t feel like home anymore thanks to people who practice terf/radfem rhetoric and don't realize it calling themselves woke and progressive in the process. You’re not better saying things like: “All men are rapists, including trans men” “You can’t wear dresses and skirts if you’re a man” “You can’t identify as a lesbian if you’re a man” “Men don’t suffer from sexual abuse” “Real men don’t cry or show their feelings, they man it up”. When you grow up and understand that these statements are wrong, you can go back to put a star on your forehead for having basic human decency.

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[thattheater-kid]

2024 really was the year for the queers huh. We got:

- Interdimensional yaoi (Billford in The Book of Bill)

- Fumbled so bad he started a world war (Rozin in The Reckoning of Roku)

- Sad gay alien hedgehogs (Sonadow in Sonic 3)

- Beautifully tragic doomed yuri (Gelphie in Wicked)

- Cosmic faggotry (Jayvik in Arcane)

- Fumbled so bad she became fascist (Caitvi also in Arcane)

- Mean Girls but old gay Catholic men and also the pope is intersex (Conclave)

- the most soul crushing film I’ve seen to date (I Saw the TV Glow)

They finally learned how to appeal to the gays.

[bennetsbonnet]

Pride and Prejudice might lack some of the dramatic edge and bite that makes other Austen novels such as Persuasion or Mansfield Park so compelling, but that doesn't make it an inherently inferior or simplistic novel. Ultimately, your favourite novel is down to personal taste.

I personally love the fact each Austen novel has scores of people who will passionately defend it at a moment's notice.

So, I think it's dangerous to assume that anyone who names Pride and Prejudice as their favourite doesn't 'understand' Jane Austen and to look for contrarian reasons to hold the others above her most famous novel and to build them up while trying to knock Pride and Prejudice down. Rather, there is something to be said for attempting to build the other five up to the place they deserve, alongside the most acclaimed novel, rather than placing it there at P&P's expense. Sure, Northanger Abbey might require more historical context to be truly enjoyable, but there are many relatable sentiments (particularly about the moral panic of women reading novels) once you have enough knowledge to access it.

I enjoy all of her novels and would happily re-read any of them, and I can admit in some areas I perhaps find other novels more satisfying. For example, I think the greatest love story is that of Captain Wentworth & Anne Elliot and that Henry Tilney is an absolute dream; he's definitely the Austen hero I would most want to encounter irl.

Nonetheless, there is something about Pride and Prejudice that draws me in each time and makes it the novel I reach for, whatever mood I'm in.

Why is it my favourite and the one I always pick up to re-read? There are many factors but, idk... sometimes it isn't for a deeper reason other than a desire to to escape The Horrors and bury myself in a story full of multi-layered yet surprisingly funny characters, while I enjoy experiencing Mr Darcy and Elizabeth finding their way to each other once more.

[zeldalizzy]

Hey everyone!!

I am suffering through severe art block right now lol, but I am pushing through to complete the Disney Princess x LU crossover series (only one left!!). With the busyness of New Years, it might take me a bit longer than usual to finish, but I am determined to complete it!!

That being said, since I have absolutely no idea what to draw, I thought I'd ask you all!! Any ideas for Linked Universe fanart? It can be anything, and you can request it through my ask box! Just make sure it's family friendly 😊 You can find my request policy on my blog!

Thanks so much! Hope you all are doing well!! 🩵

[scuddle-bubble101]

Apologies on slowing down, the red tide has cometh.

Time to add a new member to our suffering.

[missdarhk]

GUESS WHOS FINALLY WRITING AGAIN GUESS WHO GUESS WHO

[sketchy-tour]

Helloo! My name is Lyla and I like your concept of Dandy! I would like to ask, did anything inspire them? Also, which gender are they? (IMO, they look like a girl to me....😊 but if you think otherwise, that's fine❤)

OH HELLO!!! Thank you I'm so glad that people like Dandy so much, it makes me so so giddy!!! Um, Dandy is inspired by a lot of things! Lots of my personal interests soaked into Dandy when I was designing them.

If you don't mind me rambling a little about Dandy's process, Dandy took me 3 months to make! Give or take at least. And they went through three other revisions before I was happy with their look!

THESE WERE ALL THREE GOING TO BE DANDY! I was a little directionless when I made these three. I just knew "flowers" and that was...it. But otherwise I was kinda just throwing things at a wall and seeing what sticked. The last one is the closest to what Dandy ended up as but still wasn't quite right! Eventually I had to put these away and make a sort of inspo board, look at colors and clothes and puppets I liked. BUT YES there is one BIG MAIN INSPIRATION that really cemented Dandy's silly look. And it's THIS GUY!

Boober from Fraggle Rock! Like when I saw him I realized I remembered the show growing up and I just... AUGH it filled me with joy to remember so I picked him up, picked up some color palettes I liked, picked up some clothes images, and ran with it. Eventually they ended up as the little goober we all know today!

OH RIGHT! GENDER! yes yes um. Dandy is androgynous! On purpose! They're inspired by characters I grew up with, like Crona from Soul Eater, where no one could seem to agree what pronouns to give them. So Dandy is meant to be a character the writers couldn't seem to agree was masculine or feminine so the show and physical illustrations flip flopped between he and she. That is to say, all are correct! Dandy goes by any! I use they/them to try and be consistent but otherwise you may call them what you wish! So you may use she/her when addressing them if you so wish!

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

This week’s episode brought me more joy than you can possibly imagine