#this is what real allyship looks like!

[crystalmethanie]

WIP… nothing to see here. just 2 friends in the desert…

[matoitech]

i rly did not think this was as complicated as ppl r potentially missing the post to be

[inazuma-fulgur]

I will also defend trans men here, I see vitriol about both just by different people.

Men, and women keeping proximity to men in media/political circles, target trans women for being predators and for mutilating themselves

Same for trans men actually, just by women and men keeping a proximity to those women. This one is a little weird though, because trans men post transition are predators and trans men pre transition are always victims who are tricked into mutilating themselves.

This isn't just on tv, this is stuff my neighbors and coworkers tell me. Austensibly, in my experience, cis women are negative towards trans men and largely neutral or positive towards trans women, whereass cis men are negative towards both

Non binary people don't even exist because they don't touch on the framework people use to understand themselves, so they can just be denied and don't require any arguments beyond "lmao silly"

[vintage-bentley]

David Tennant is a perfect example of how gender ideologists are their own worst enemy. Repeatedly, it’s their own awful behaviour that turns people against them. Look at JK Rowling: it wasn’t just what she said that got people siding with her, it was the reaction from gender ideologists. If they had just brushed her off and ignored her, I don’t think she’d be as relevant in the debate as she is now.

So now we have Tennant, hailed as an amazing trans ally to the point that he wins an ally award for textbook performative allyship. And he decided to call gender critical feminists “little whinging f------” (no idea what the f word is, this is from the Telegraph), continuing with “who’re on the wrong side of history and they’ll all go away soon”.

Women who are simply concerned about our sex-based rights. About the protection of women as a class in law. About the ability to organise together without the presence of male people, which is crucial for class consciousness and therefore feminist progress. Lesbians who are being told we’re bigoted for not being attracted to males, and that we need to change (who I mention because lesbians have been very vocal in this debate for this reason).

This is a heterosexual male who is looking at these women, and deciding that our very real concerns are just “whinging”. Because of course he is, our concerns don’t affect him. Of course he claims we’ll “go away soon”, presumably because men like him will silence us. This is the same shit that was being said about the suffragettes. About the Me Too movement. About any kind of feminist movement. That we just need to shut up and go away.

And we’re supposed to believe that this typical male view of women is super progressive this time, because it’s in the name of trans activism?

Less and less people are willing to believe that. More are starting to see the misogyny and homophobia that fuels gender ideology, all because the people who advocate for it are always so quick to let it show.

They are always so quick to claim that their biggest enemies are feminists, and not the violent men that actually wish them harm. They are always so quick to attack women first and foremost.

And people are noticing. They noticed when JK Rowling started to speak up, and they’re noticing now that a male celebrity has gone on record voicing hatred for feminists in the name of gender ideology. They’ll notice again when the next celebrity either speaks up or bashes women.

I hope Tennant enjoys his shiny ally award, all while his actions are causing women to turn against him and his cause.

[serpentface]

Classic nechoi spear-hunting scene.

One of the few activities Hibrides and Janeys do alone together entirely of their own free will is hunting.

Hunting is a common pastime of nobility, most significantly in the form of extravagant multi-day social events (of which the hunt itself is only a partial component) carried out by men and dozens of dogs and attended by their wives, children, servants, as well as musicians and cooks. These hunts have functions in social networking and political maneuvering, showing off wives and dogs and khait and wealth, forging ties, maintaining allyships, and slighting rivals (particularly in the division and distribution of any captured game).

Janeys periodically attends these hunts when invited (it's rude to decline) and Hibrides is obligated to come along, and both are rather private people and not particularly fond of these high pressure, highly performative events in the public eye. Janeys DOES like hunting in of itself and frequently goes out by himself, and Hibrides often comes with him. Bringing her along started as a way to make going out alone look more normal (ie 'you bring your wife along on hunts that's what you do I'm not just going out by myself because I'm intimidated by other people this is a normal activity'), but it’s not really about that at this point.

Hibrides likes being able to get outside far away from her day to day life, being both away from the home and away from other people. Janeys just doesn't like being around most people but hates being alone. There's also a level of catharsis for both of them in doing an activity that would normally require tremendous amounts of social performance on their part, but instead being able to be completely straightforward and real with everything: their marriage is bullshit, they don't like each other at all, and they DO both like the killing of mid-sized animals with spears. In this specific situation, both of them kind of Do enjoy each other's company (in a sort of complicated way).

(Hibrides is also fairly certain that at some point Janeys is going to get maimed or killed while trying to take down boar nechoi alone, and would love to be there to see it.)

[germiyahu]

For years on this website specifically, the ruling order of the day was "it's impossible not to be a racist (etc.) when you grew up in a racist society... that doesn't mean you violently hate poc, just that you benefit from those systems."

I remember when theamazingatheist started a harassment campaign against a teenager for making a YouTube video explaining this concept.

This idea was admirable for what it was, an attempt to wash some of the sting out of terms like "racist" "misogynist" "homophobe," make these terms have a more sober applicable meaning. They weren't pejoratives but calls to action, to look within yourself and start dismantling ideas you never questioned. Hopefully it would inspire genuine activism. It was tied to "not speaking over marginalized groups," in that no matter how much of a good person you thought you were, your experiences and thus your ideas were clouded by these systems. Better not to eat your foot because you're not as anti-racist (etc.) as you think you are.

Well all that is gone now! Because progressives applying their own semi-condescending theory to themselves? Never! And employing these ideas to foster better allyship to Jews? Never!

They can't be the baddies, so they'll come up with any reason they can think of to deflect criticism. Whether it's No True Scotsman, or outrageous claims that antisemitism is not a real phenomenon (any more), gone are the days when you're supposed to humble yourself and look inward and admit that you're antisemitic by default, and that that's okay as long as you try to be better.

Because they're so fucking mad that the term "antisemitic" could be applied to them at all, they froth at the mouth. They don't want to learn and improve their rhetoric and their relations, they just want to expulse this pent up rage inside them and Jews protesting their conduct is getting in the way. It's a buzzkill.

Or they see Jews bringing up antisemitism as no different than conservative pundits bringing up "anti-Christian sentiment," that is, not something to take seriously. But they get more mad at accusations of antisemitism than accusations of "anti-Christian sentiment," I wonder why.

I think they know deep down that this is getting out of hand, and is a bad look, and deeply cringe and embarrassing for them, their movement, and the Left as a whole. But they're too proud and too disdainful of Jews to do anything about it except try to reframe the whole thing as aggression against them by Zionist Supremacists. They're being silenced, their characters are being smeared, how could the sneaky conniving ungrateful cowardly all powerful Zionist sex trafficking genocidal cabal pull the wool over everyone's eyes like this!

[coffeegnomee]

Saw a post about trying to understand "new player behavior" from a new viewer standpoint and I thought, let me try and take a stab at explaining it. Anyone who's been around for a while and wants to weigh in, please do.

New player mentality is mostly like running from fights instead of taking them especially if you're good enough or have enough hearts, being absolutely unwilling to die, being unwilling to see if you can survive something you know is a trap, refusing to show up to something because you thought it was suspicious, being paranoid when there is nothing to be paranoid about. Trying to defuse conflict instead of embracing it, not understanding the cycles (even though everyone had their own interpretation of the cycles).

These reflect the unspoken gentlemen's code of honor that exist on the server, though it is notable to note that the main players that care about this are just Mapicc Zam and Clown. Not everyone cares about this, though the older the member, generally the more it is understood and accepted.

But with Mapicc and Zam being consistently two of the only handful of active members at any given time, their opinion will ring loud and with Zam being The most active streamer and the one with The most play time every season, as Zam goes so does the audience go. Creating, admittedly, a feedback loop where we all complain about those dang youngins.

However the mentality is real, and some members, most notably Minute, have genuinely changed from how he was at the start of s5 to who he is now. s5 minute would have NEVER taken a 1v1 he knew he would have lost for the sake of the server.

This risky mentality, story-motivated, picking a side and caring deeply about it, showing up to something you know you have a 30% chance of survival, dying and then retaliating against whoever killed you in that thing you just showed up to (this is the easiest explanation of the cycles), picking a nerf and seeing how it will affect the story, loosing all your hearts willingly, saying yes when someone approaches you for a project and putting your all into supporting this new allyship (despite old teammates or despite old feuds), being loyal to the new teammates because progress forward is better than clinging to the past (betrayal in s1-4 is interesting and can be talked about below), coming up with a plot that will involve the whole server at a risk to yourself, achieving the impossible.

These are all hallmarks of the old members.

Now, there is a layer of nuance here because while all new members fall prey to new member mentality, there have always, always been old members who fall prey to it, no matter how long they've been on lifesteal. The easiest example you'd find looking back at s4 is Pangi and Red running from every single fight even though they had 20 hearts. Red being from s1 and rejoining in s3 and Pangi joining in s2! Hardly new members at the time of infraction.

But that's because, at its core, new member mentality is the fear of death. It's the fear of failure. It's clinging to your hearts for fear of what will happen to you if you loose them.

And what each member needs is time, and experience in difficult situations that challenge their perspective on the server. We call that their Lifesteal Trauma. It's never fun for them and it genuinely challenges everything that they thought they understood about lifesteal. And depending on how it happens it either strengthens their bond to the server and shows them they can withstand anything and everything even abject failure and total betrayal and still be okay, or they take a step back from being as active. It's always different for every player and depends on how they even want to play. I could go through the list of members, but it's primarily and internal belief that they don't articulate and every way of playing the server is okay. And mostly they just need time and a new idea to try.

A final note about betrayals. Lifesteal has always, always been filled with people getting on a team and betraying that team to get the win. So many times a member has been invited to a team and they join and then betray that team. So what do I mean about loyalty to a new team over old teams?

This is something that is growing and changing as the server progresses and isn't as clean cut, also maybe wrong because my memory of everything before s4 is the most shoddy, but in general, those who betrayed a new team had been inactive for a period, were approached by a different new team, and then infiltrated the other new team that was forming,

s1 that was terry being on mapicc's side and then conveniently being in the right place to join the other side and betray them.

I remember nothing from s2 other than MOB and the withers.

s3 that was parrot being added to the resistance group chat while being in a call with decimation and betraying the resistance.

s3 that was leo joining the revive side but being on spoke's side and killing zam and pangi right after the successful getaway.

The betrayals of s4 sparked a new brutality (maybe just because i actually watched the streams and the streams of all those older times are lost) where Spoke did the long con on Parrot before betraying, being loyal to the original wormholers over Parrot.

That was mapicc adding zam to his side of the crown battle against pangi and then betraying him after the fight.

Then there's all the zam betrayals which were ideological differences about the purpose and goals of the teams rather than thought out betrayals that he orchestrated with others. (and in a way his choice of leaving team awesome was an experiment in a what-if that was very enticing)

But the time honored old player mentality towards betrayals is "first come first serve" combined with "old attachments don't matter in the face of new content".

This is why ro betraying the foundation in s5 was a pure act of old player mindset. mapicc is asking? bet.

whereas jumper's betrayal was much closer to spoke's betrayal of parrot: clinging to an original (and secret/non official) team over the new teammates and only after months and months, betraying them.

It's a secret third thing that doesn't fit anywhere into how lifesteal functions and is more a facet of the player themself; are they willing to do that plot.

And yet, because i heaven't yapped enough yet, Jumper's betrayal to me reads far closer to new player mentality because she saved her own skin and her own hearts and never risked anything through her betrayal. she has said multiple times that she likes being on both sides because she never has to worry about dying. If she had gotten caught earlier the worst that would have happened is she lost a single heart because they never knew where her bed was and she could have called minute in as backup in an instant and be protected by the most powerful member under his batman wings. and after she was protected by him at all times.

Whereas Spoke's betrayal of Parrot was The Riskiest thing he could have done. He could have been banned from the server and never completed the impossible task he was trying to do. There was real risk to his own ability to play the game in pulling it off successfully.

[akajustmerry]

why are you equating movies that have to do with israel with movies that are about holocaust? i don’t know how the brutalist or a real pain suits what you are trying to say

okay so I really recommend you look into reading the works of people like Norman Finkelstein, Edward Said, Giora Goodman, and Isabella Hammad - all of whom have written extensively about cinema and storytelling in the US mainstream and how it is incentivised to vilify Arabs and justify the US's allyship with Israel. Here's a video essay about it too, if that's more your speed:

As with all forms of communication analysis, it's important to not just think about what's happening but WHEN it's happening. All the films mentioned are about the holocaust or Israel in some way. Zionists have repeatedly weaponised the Holocaust and the genocide of Jewish people in WW2 to justify the colonisation of Palestine and the genocide of Palestinians. Another thing, any film made in the US that has anything to do with the US military, even historically, must be approved by the US military. And another thing, Hollywood has always produced propaganda. Always. That's not to say everything is propaganda but anything could be propaganda and when you understand the influence the military has on funding in Hollywood, it can't be overstated how much insensitive there is for films to align with military policy.

What the movies like Lee, The Brutalist, and A Real Pain have in common is how they centre the Holocaust in one way or another. By virtue, you see these movies and you're reminded very pointedly of how horrible the Holocaust was. What movies like Emilia Perez and September 5 have in common is that they position Israel as an unlikely heroic underdog.

With that in mind, Why do you think these movies came out now and are being spoken about at this time specifically? Do you think it's an accident that these movies all came out and are being acclaimed in Hollywood almost 18 months into a US backed genocide in Palestine perpetrated by a state who's justification for its existence is the Holocaust?

Again, I'm not saying these stories aren't important or valid. But think about the timing of these stories and how they might be weaponised as soft propaganda for justifying Israel's existence, which is by extent, justifying the genocide of Palestinians.

[grandlinedreams]

|| uhh i forgot the mating bond is just kind of a feelings/vibe pathway rather than talking so just assume reader is Daemati or smthing idk i'm too lazy to fix it and it's part of the fic

|| warnings: enemies(ish?) To lovers, mating bond fic, angst, some pining, cursing, nsfw ㅡ oral (f & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, piv unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), breeding kink

You'd always been a sucker for fairytales.

You'd grown up on a healthy dose of them, tales repeated over and over with the weary affection of your mother as you clamored for them again. 

And what young child wouldn't enjoy stories of knights and dragons and damsels in towers? Where the villain was always clear cut, good and bad measured in black and white.

Too bad the real world never dealt with such things. No, there was no prince to kiss you from a death-like slumber, no knight to rescue you from a tower.

But there is a Cauldron, the Mother ㅡ and whatever gods exist to laugh at the hand that they've dealt you.

That's the only reason you can think of as to why you, part of Rhysand's Inner Circle, can only stare in mute disbelief at Eris Vanserra as the mating bond, mocking you with the idea of shimmering gold, snaps into place. 

“Are you done moping yet?” 

“For the last time, Mor,” you huff as you turn the page of your book, “I'm not moping. I'm busy.” 

“Busy,” Mor mocks. “Looks like moping to me. You need to stop hanging out with Az so much.” 

She waits all of two minutes before she's moving towards you, knocking the book out of your hands to drape herself across you like a contented housecat. “Come on, you need to live a little.”

“I'm four hundred and fifty years old,” you counter, hating the way a smile twitches at the corners of your lips. “I think I've lived quite a lot so far.”

“Being a bore with books and training isn't living,” Mor protests with a huff. “You've been acting weird for the last two decades, don't deny it.” 

You freeze. “I have not.”

Honey brown eyes meet yours. “Have too. You've been acting weird ever since that run in withㅡ” 

You slap a hand over her mouth. “Don't,” you hiss, then recoil. “Did you just lick my hand?” 

Mor grins as you wipe your hand on the couch before she eyes you, brow furrowing.

“Seriously,” she says, her expression sobering. “Did he do something? Because you know Rhys would want to knowㅡ” 

“No, Mor.” You push her off of you and stand. “He didn't do anything.” 

Left, right, dodgeㅡ

“Somebody's in a mood,” Cassian pants as he narrowly avoids your fist to his jaw, his eyes gleaming as he studies you. “Normally I have to drag you out here to train.”

“You don't have to drag me anywhere,” you fire back, pushing hair out of your eyes. “Just felt like it was time for a tune up of hand to hand.”

“And I get to be the lucky punching bag? I'm honored.” Cassian straightens, and you hate the way he studies you ㅡ the way Mor did, equal parts concern and curiosity. “Are you okaㅡ”

“Cauldron boil me, I said I'm fine!” You know it isn't fair to snap at Cassian, but you've felt off kilter all morning ㅡ since Rhysand had told you of the impending arrival of Eris ㅡ presumably to discuss the ever shifting agreements in the tentative allyship with him. 

Just hearing his name had put you off of your breakfast ㅡ not out of indignant disgust, though you wished it were. Anything but the traitorous lurch of the bond you'd hoped would bury itself and remain forgotten. 

Mate, it whispers, an adder coiled in the back of your mind. Your mate. 

Only if it snapped in place for him too, you remind yourself viciously. Only if you accepted it. 

And you won't. Not now, not ever.

“There you are.”

You force yourself not to freeze, turning slowly to lock eyes with the one person you'd been doing your best to pretend wasn't staying in your home. 

Eris eyes you, and the lazy trace over your legs and back up makes you want to slug him and preen in equal measure, the latter only adding to your mounting irritation. “What do you want, Eris?” 

He huffs, eyes gleaming. “Now, is that any way to talk to a guest?”

Pretentious asshole. Your teeth clench hard enough you think something might pop as you exhale. “My apologies,” you grit out, “how can I help you?” 

Eris’ eyes gleam, and you get the distinct impression that he's laughing at you. Not just at you, but at the shimmering coil in your head that sings in his proximity. 

He approaches and you take one wary step back after the other until your back meets smooth wall ㅡ and Eris is in front of you. He's devastatingly handsome, staring at you with an intensity that makes you want to punch him.

It also makes you want to ㅡ no. No. 

“Back off,” you hiss. 

“Or what?” He's taunting you. “If i were a lesser male, I'd think you'd been avoiding me.” His eyes glitter as he leans in. To anyone who could stumble upon the scene, it'd look…intimate. “But that can't possibly be what you're doing, right?” 

You should hit him. Tell him to fuck off, to get away from you ㅡ to leave entirely. You hate how he eyes you, the simmering song that your veins respond with in kind.

“Come on, little rabbit,” he exhales, voice low and almost a purr. “Where are those teeth you showed me last time?” 

You snarl, hand fisting into his shirt ㅡ and you yank him to meet your lips. It's an aggressive kiss across the board, teeth and tongue as he shoves you further against the wall, and you hate how something in you purrs at the pressure. 

This, at the very least, is horribly familiar. His touch is not unknown on your body, the snake of warm fingers against your sides so eerily similar to the handful of rendezvous so many years ago, a lifetime ago, before ㅡ 

Mate. A bond untethered, unanswered ㅡ and icy water douses the ignition of flame in your lower belly, sours the warm lips against your neck. 

“Get off me,” you rasp, ripping yourself free. “The next time you touch me, I'll cut your hands off.” 

“I want to get drunk.” 

“Hello to you too,” Mor blinks up at you, studying the tension in your shoulders. “Any special occasion or…? I feel like I should intervene if this is going to be a bad idea.” 

“Since when have you turned down a reason to go to Rita's?” 

Mor only frowns at you, then gentles her tone as she sets a hand on your shoulder with a call of your name. “Tell me what's going on,” she murmurs. “You've got us all worried, babe. Talk to me.” 

You debate telling her to forget it, to take it out in the training ring or to simply take a good, long walk along the Sidra ㅡ and then Mor presses gently, “Is it Eris?” 

You tense further, and she looses a curse. “I knew it was a bad idea to have him stay here. If he put his hands on youㅡ” 

“Mor,” you cut in. “It's not…not like that. Not anymore.” One eyebrow raises at the anymore, curious as she watches you. You exhale slowly. “My mating bond snapped into place.” 

Her eyes widen, and you can't stand the sympathy in her eyes ㅡ the idea that you're a star-crossed lover, helplessly in love with someone you aren't Cauldron-bound to. If only ㅡ perhaps you could handle that a little better than being bound to the person you are in love with. 

Who's never shown a hint that the bond has snapped into place for him. Never wanted you for more than the intervals of hands and teeth, murmured filth and promises that'd made your toes curl ㅡ and been all too happy to pretend you didn't exist except for those moments. 

“Oh,” Mor says, and your chest aches. She, of all people, knows how Eris is ㅡ and the way she stares at you makes it worse. “Oh, honey.”

She doesn't coddle you, because there are no tears to shed ㅡ you buried those along with your end of the bond, thrown a shield around it, tried to forget. You had no Prince, no Knight. 

(You'd never been good at being a damsel, anyways.)

You don't know what Mor says to the others, but you don't really care when it lands you at Rita's, snug between Cassian and Azriel and all too happy to drown your woes in the sharp tang of alcohol. 

You don't need coddling or pampering ㅡ you know what you need, and it drives you from the safety of your brothers, joining Mor to chase the pounding thrum of music. 

You're not sure when you end up with an unfamiliar Fae male's hands on you, only that you simply grin and welcome the advance, the simmering promise in his eyes to give you what you need to forget the ache in your chest ㅡ at least for tonight. 

And maybe tomorrow. And perhaps the next ㅡ whatever and however long it took for Eris to leave, to let you bury that bond back down where it belongs. 

It's as his lips are brushing over your neck that he's wrenched away from you and you blink, admonishment on your lips ㅡ and it dies a quiet, quick death at the absolute fury blazing in Eris Vanserra's eyes. Not at you, no ㅡ at the male who'd been touching you.

“Get your rutting hands off of what isn't yours,” he all but snarls, and you watch as the male disappears back into the crowd before Eris is focusing on you. “And you. Come with me. Now.” 

Some of the drowsy edge of alcohol is beginning to wear off, and you blink before your eyes narrow. “No.” 

A muscle in Eris’ jaw jumps. “We need to talk.” 

Defiance ignites in your veins, fueled by alcohol, the ruined distraction (from the very male before you), and the irritation that he won't just leave you alone. 

But maybe this is what you need ㅡ that final nail in the coffin, the claws to finally dig the bond out by the roots and get rid of it once and for all. 

So you grit your teeth, shoving hard against the ache of your chest as you bite out a flat, “Fine.” 

The trip back to the House of Wind is silent, tension rolling off both of you in waves. Eris doesn't so much as look at you, but the set of his jaw says he's still pissed. About what, you don't know ㅡ he's the one who came to crash your little party, acting as though he has a right to you.

He doesn't. The only claim he can say he has is the times he's made you cum on his fingers. You refuse to look at him, to entertain whatever self-righteous game he thinks he deserves to play. 

This is your home, not his. Regardless of how tonight ends, you will not be the one leaving. 

Somehow, be it for better or worse, you end up in your room. Eris surveys it, taking in all the little pieces that make this yours, then turns towards you.

Arms crossed over your chest, you raise an eyebrow. “Well? Talk, or get out. I don't appreciate you ruining my night.”

Anger flares, smoldering as Eris offers a terse, “I don't appreciate you letting other males touch you like that.” 

You scoff. “You don't get to boss me around, Eris,” you hiss. Your voice is sharp. “You make it sound as if you're my mate.” 

Eris’ eyes blaze, the flicker of flame at his fingertips as he snaps back, “Because I am, damn it!” 

You freeze. 

Eris, so much like the wildfire he embodies, keeps going. “I'm trying not to act like some feral animal, but you make it so hard not to when you parade around like that, it makes me want toㅡ” He cuts himself off. 

The silence between you is brittle, cracking under the strain of things unsaid ㅡ and then you break the silence.

“Makes you want to do what, Eris?” A gentle, tentative tug at that bond ㅡ reeling at the presence on the other side, an answer after decades of silence. 

His eyes lock with yours as he steps towards you. This time, you don't take a step back. “It almost makes me want to apologize to everyone who's about to hear you scream my name.”

You don't respond, but you don't have to. The shiver ripples through the bond, the blown quality of Eris’ pupils before he pounces. 

His mouth is hot against yours, demanding in ways both familiar and not as you moan, fingers digging at your hip before you're backed against the wall next to your dresser. Something clatters to the floor, but you can't bring yourself to care about anything but the wedge of Eris’ leg between your own. 

He licks into your mouth, muffling the choked sound as he grinds his thigh up against your core. You shudder at the spark of pleasure that ignites, a reflexive jerk of your hips to chase it as Eris nips at your jaw. 

“Tell me how many others have seen you like this,” he murmurs darkly against your skin, “so I know how many times to make you come so you'll forget anyone but me.”

You want to answer, you truly do ㅡ but he takes your beat of silence as a prompt to tense his thigh, and it wipes your mind blissfully clear of anything but the molten warmth pooling between your legs. 

It should be embarrassing, rutting against his thigh like some desperate animal in heat, but Eris meets every tiny noise that leaves your lips with approving nips of teeth in your skin and the wander of his hands to pull at your clothing until he meets bare skin. 

His fingers work from your hips to your navel, then to your ribs ㅡ and then he's pinching at your nipples, turning them to achingly stiff peaks as you groan and rock your hips harder against his thigh. 

And then he's slipping it away, leaving you to tremble and pant as you watch him. He could leave you like this, desperate and aching ㅡ and his eyes darken in answer before he's backing you against the dresser. More things clatter to the floor, but Eris doesn't give you time to care with the way he lifts you onto the now empty surface.

His mouth is hot against your neck, drifting to your collarbone, then to your chest ㅡ nipping and sucking marks you're sure will bruise ㅡ and then your abdomen, your core clenching around nothing when you realize his intent.

Lacquered wood creaks in protest beneath the hard curl of your hands on the dresser, fighting the urge to dig your hand into Eris’ hair as he takes his sweet time sucking marks into your thighs. “Eris,” you huff, head spinning with heady arousal and the remnants of alcohol, “please.” 

That deceptively soft mouth pauses as he looks up at you, eyes wildfire-bright. “Oh,” he murmurs, “say that again.” 

You blink before there's the barest drag of his tongue against your folds, prompting a sharp gasp and a whine when he doesn't repeat it.

“Come on,” he coaxes, watching you in a way that makes you want to smack him. Your frustration must echo down the bond, because all he does is laugh. “Manners, darling. Manners.” 

You squirm as he nips just shy of where you want him, and you groan. “Please,” you exhale, and Eris smirks.

“Much better.” 

And then his tongue is on you before you can curse at him, lips parting around a moan as he begins to work at your aching core. Your hand finds his hair at the same time that he flicks his tongue over your clit, and the answering groan that you get makes your eyes roll. 

Despite never having had his mouth on you like this before (not for lack of want, truly), Eris seems to know how to get the loudest sounds from you. Your head thumps against the mirror behind you, fingers curled tight in his hair as he works you steadily towards orgasm. 

His eyes don't miss anything, locked on your face and the way it contorts in pleasure, lips parted as you writhe and pant. It feeds his own pleasure, the steady ache of his cock in his pants as he renews his efforts. 

Your orgasm builds like a storm cloud, the ever tightening knot in your lower belly that has you at the mercy of the male between your legs. Eris knows how close you are ㅡ how can he not, with the way your thighs tremble, the steady leak of arousal against his tongue ㅡ and there's no small amount of pride to have you this desperate with just his mouth. 

The knot snaps when Eris digs the tip of his tongue against your swollen bundle of nerves and you arch with a sharp cry. He follows the shudder and jerk of your hips as you come, tongue rolling over your hot, pulsing core to swallow everything you have to offer. 

You whine as he works you through your orgasm until you're pulling him away, panting as he presses damp kisses to your thigh. “I certainly hope I haven't worn you out already,” he murmurs, and your breath hitches as warmth simmers between your legs again. 

Part of you wants to tell him that this is nowhere near the kind of talking the two of you need to do, to discuss the bond, to decide if you accept it or not. But you're shoving at him, single minded intent in the way you back him against the wall and sink to your knees.

If Eris is surprised at the way you shove at him, he hides it well, dark eyes tracking as you as you thumb at his hip bones, popping the button of his pants and tugging ㅡ leaving him bare before you. And then your mouth is on him, and it's hard to think about anything at all. 

There's pride to be had in watching his face contort with pleasure as you lick precum from his tip, sliding your tongue against the underside and feeling him throb in answer before you take him into your mouth. 

Eris groans as you envelop him in the wet warmth of your mouth, the deliberate press of your tongue against the underside of his shaft as you suck. 

“Fuck,” Eris swears, voice rough and hips jerking with a hiss when you hum around him. You can feel him throbbing, the steady leak of precum that slides down your throat as you swallow. 

His hand finds your hair, an echo of your own just moments ago and you let him guide you along his length. His chest rises and falls unsteadily, the glisten of sweat at his neck and chest, the soft grunt that leaves his throat when you suck harder. 

You watch his head hit the wall with a muffled thump as you curl your tongue against his underside, hips jerking once, twice ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a groan that borders on obscene. 

You swallow before you pull back, and Eris pants as you bring a hand up to wipe at your lips. He watches you, tracking the way you slide your finger into your mouth to clean it ㅡ and then he's yanking you up, pinning you against the wall once more to kiss you.

It's an all encompassing kiss, sounds muffled as he presses into you hard enough that you can feel the stir of his cock against the apex of your thigh.  

“Eris,” you gasp against his mouth. “Eris, stop.”

He pulls away, eyes on yours ㅡ and the flicker of genuine concern makes your chest ache. “We need to talk,” you say, as if you aren't both in varied states of undress ㅡ or your mouth wasn't around his cock just a moment ago. “Actually talk.” 

You almost expect him to ignore you, to press for this ㅡ but his expression sobers, and it almost hurts to watch that desire for you snuff out like candlelight. “Okay.” 

Part of you wonders if Mor and the others are home yet, or if they'd heard the two of you ㅡ and wisely decided to make themselves scarce, because the house is as quiet as it's ever been.

Eris still looks far more composed than you feel, and you take a steadying breath as you wrap your fingers around the comforting warmth of the mug of tea before you. “...How long have you known?” 

You don't have to clarify, the gentle tug on the bond that's answered in kind on the other. “A while,” Eris answers, and it hurts that he seems focused on anything but you as he exhales. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you to stay last time you were in Autumn Court.” 

Something dangerously soft unfurls in your chest, renders you mute as you study the curl of steam from your mug. You could have.

Eris’ eyes flick to you, then away. We both know that isn't true.

He's right. You never would have, and he would never have asked ㅡ you love Velaris, you love your family too much to ever stray too far. Perhaps that was also why you'd spent so long shoving the mating bond down, pretending it didn't exist ㅡ so that if it did snap in place for Eris, you wouldn't have to confront what you are now.

All you can feel is the ache, echoed in tandem, the way you almost wish that it wasn't there at all ㅡ and you recoil from the hurt on his end. He exhales. “Do you really…”

You curl in on yourself. “No,” you mumble, “I just ㅡ I'm terrified, Eris. We both know what we won't give up, and I don't…I don't know how we're expecting this to work.”

Eris is silent for several long moments before he moves, and there's the press of warm fingers against your jaw, coaxing you to look up ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

It's sweet, gentle ㅡ and it only makes you hurt worse as he pulls away to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your forehead. “We'll figure it out.” 

ㅡ

When I said we'd figure it out, this is not what I thought we'd be doing. 

You can feel his annoyance, the flare of it at your answering amusement. It's what's working right now. 

So you say. He falls silent, and you resume tying your leathers. What exactly are you up to, anyways? 

Training. You finish, making sure that they're in place properly before you exit your room. 

Such a shame I'm not there to admire you. 

Your heart, the stupid thing, gives a soft flutter that you know Eris is undoubtedly aware of. More like distract me.

Would that be so bad? You roll your eyes, shaking your head. You're the one who's holding out on me, love. Don't think I've forgotten.

That you haven't technically accepted the bond, that you'd instead offered what the two of you have been doing for the last few weeks since Eris returned to Autumn Court. Which was, in truth, perhaps, a coward's way out. 

Because for all your jabs and steady ebb and flow through the bond, you're still terrified. That though the Cauldron had given you him, he could still be taken away. 

There's the distinct feeling of warm fingers against your mind, stroking ㅡ trying to settle you. I've waited this long for you, you know.

Sunlight warms your skin. I bet I have you beat in terms of waiting. 

We'll see about that.

“There you are,” Cassian calls as you approach. “Thought I was going to have to drag your lazy ass out of bed.”

“As if,” you snap back, but you're grinning as you stretch. Cassian smirks, eyes gleaming ㅡ relieved that you're back to normal, if not perhaps a little cheerier than you have been in a while. 

No doubt in large part to me, right? You almost drop your practice dagger, rolling your eyes as you square off in front of Cassian. 

Not everything has to involve you, you answer, knowing that the barb isn't anywhere near as vicious as it could be. 

But it could, Eris answers. As I said, such a shame I'm not there to admire you. He pauses. Shall I tell you? Or let you imagine on your own?

Your movement stutters for a second as you swing too wide, rolling backwards to avoid Cassian's own lunge at you. I'm busy. 

So you're not imagining my head between your legs again? He sounds all too pleased with himself, with the way you fall silent ㅡ abruptly thinking of that exact thing, much to his amusement. Because I am. You're so cruel, not allowing me the pleasure of fucking you with my tongue again.

You block a blow meant for your middle, swinging your leg out. Sweat drips down your temple, the familiar ache of your body that sparring always gives you ㅡ and more, the curl of warmth at Eris’ words. 

Or maybe I should have let you finish on my thigh first. You certainly were eager. Your breath stutters. Or perhaps my fingers next? I wonder how many you can take. Last time it was two, yes? Should we try for a third? He pauses, ever the satisfied fox for how your end of the bond goes silent still. Or perhaps you'd prefer my coㅡ 

Eris. He's laughing at you now, amusement echoing even as you throw up the barrier, blocking him out. 

Across from you, Cassian eyes you. He's aware of that far-away look, the snap to clarity once more before your eyes narrow on him. “Don't,” you intone in warning, and he grins.

“What? I didn't say anything.” He straightens, dusting off one of his bracers, the gleam of the siphons in mid-day sun before he approaches to clap you on the shoulder. “I'd pay to watch you shut him up in person, though.” 

“That,” you murmur, “could probably be arranged.”

ㅡ

To be fair, you don't bake a lot. And it'd taken an inordinate amount of courage to ask Elain to help you, the soft, knowing look she'd shot you that'd made your cheeks color. 

But she'd helped you knead dough, rolling it out and crimping it into place so that now you had a pie. 

A pie that mocks you with the simplicity of it, the last minute effort of adding coarse sugar to the top so that it glitters like the frozen crests of the mountains. Simple ㅡ perhaps too simple. 

Nothing like the elaborate things you've seen in windows of bakeries, in glossy magazines ㅡ you've never been good at that. Decent yes, but never so to recreate anything so elaborate.

You groan, pillowing your head into your arms ㅡ only to lift it a moment later at the crisp, Autumnal scent that invades your senses. As if you'd need even that ㅡ there's the familiar tug at the bond that has you watching as Eris strolls through the door. 

You don't leap into his arms. You don't even tackle him ㅡ but there is a swiftness to your gait that has you against him in a heartbeat, face tucked into his neck. 

“Well,” he murmurs, “was my presence missed that badly?”

“Shut up,” you huff, but there's no venom ㅡ not when the knotted tension in your chest is easing, made quicker for the arms that wind around you, tucking you tighter against him. 

“Here I thought you'd be so glad to have me back,” Eris sighs in mock-lament. “Your beloved mate had to find a believable enough excuse as to why I had to come here. Don't you think that deserves a kiss?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, even as the little bit of truth to your situation sinks home. Autumn Court is beautiful ㅡ but there's good reasons as to why Eris doesn't want you there more than absolutely necessary. Reasons that you forcefully shut out, instead studying his face ㅡ just as he spots the pie.

“What,” he murmurs, “is that?”

Your cheeks warm, even as you scoff. “A pie.” 

“Obviously,” Eris says, arm still slung around your waist. “But where did it come from?”

You study the wood paneling, the carefully detailed artwork from Feyre when she'd stayed here. The cabin isn't often used ㅡ and when you'd asked for usage of it, Rhysand had the audacity to smirk at you. Eris prompts you with a call of your name, and you almost contemplate winnowing and trying again later. 

“Me,” you answer finally. “I made it. For you.” 

Eris freezes against you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you before there are warm fingers on your chin, coaxing you to look at him ㅡ the only warning that you get before he's kissing you. 

You can feel the grip he has at your waist as he backs you until you meet the counter, your noise of surprise muffled by his mouth. “Eris,” you manage when he pulls away for a moment, “I worked hard on that pieㅡ” 

“And I'll happily eat it,” he huffs against your neck, voice low and rough as he lifts you onto the counter, slotting himself between your legs. “I'm busy right now.” 

You want to protest, but his teeth are bruising over your pulse, making you shudder and lean away, giving him more room to work. It earns you a low growl of approval as he busies himself with sucking marks into the column of your throat. 

One hand curls against his shoulder as the other slides into his hair, earning a groan when your nails curl against his scalp. Warm fingers slide up beneath your shirt to yank it upwards, contact of his mouth broken long enough to toss your shirt somewhere else ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your chest, tongue sliding over one achingly stiff nipple and then the other.

“Eris,” you exhale, “godㅡ” 

He nips sharply at the underside of your breast. “There are no gods here, love. Only me, and I don't share.” 

It's spoken in the tone you know is that primal edge of the bond, the innate need to take you ㅡ that'll have him near feral for days if another male so much as looks at you. It thrums in your veins, feeding your need to answer in kind as he grinds down against you, hard pressure against your core making your eyes flutter. 

And then he's pulling away to tug at your pants, kissing his way down one leg and then the other ㅡ and then that sinful mouth is on your core, just as he'd promised. The roll of his tongue has you moaning, hand in his hair to keep him from pulling away ㅡ even though you know he won't. 

You have no doubts that you're absolutely soaking as he presses into you like a man starved, keeping your legs parted as he fucks you with his tongue. Your back arches as he sucks at your clit, the sharp, broken cry that makes him smirk against your aching core. 

Your orgasm is looming, brought ever closer by every curl and roll of Eris’ tongue as you pant and writhe, fingers of the hand not occupied in his hair scrabbles for purchase against the counter beneath you.

As he'd done weeks ago, Eris works you through your orgasm as it washes over you like a thunderclap, letting up only once your noises have been reduced to whimpers and you're tugging at his hair.

Warm, damp kisses trail up your abdomen to your chest before Eris kisses you, and you moan at both the taste of yourself on his tongue and the fingers that he slides into you. 

You're slick enough that the slip of them is easy, and Eris groans at the way you tighten around him as he works you open. The stretch of his fingers has you keening and arching into him as his thumb finds your clit. 

“I told you,” he murmurs, “how I intended to admire you. But you making all of these infernal noisesㅡ” He curls his fingers and you keen, hips jerking against his hand. “And it makes it hard to stay focused.” 

You wish you could answer, you really do ㅡ but the way he's working you towards a second orgasm has robbed you of any eloquence beyond shuddering gasps and hiccuped moans. 

“My pretty mate,” Eris groans into your neck. He can feel the way you tighten as your orgasm nears, the lewd sound of his fingers as they thrust in and out of you. His cock throbs in his pants, and it's self-control alone that keeps him from spilling into his pants as you soak his hand as you come for the second time, making such pretty noises that Eris swears it's all he wants to hear for the rest of his immortal life.

He finally has the courtesy to lift you off of the counter, a slick mess left behind that he entertains the idea of making you clean up later with a hand in your hair and his cock in you as he takes you from behind ㅡ and the answering flare of arousal from you almost makes him want to do it now. 

But it's the soft plush of a bed that meets your bare back, legs parted to welcome the settle of Eris between them ㅡ deliciously bare, erection just shy of where you want him.

And despite the two orgasms he's coaxed from you, you have no qualms in telling him as you rock your hips up, head tipping back against the bed. “Fuck me properly, Eris.”

He raises an eyebrow, a Cauldron-sent menace as he tongues at the marks he's left on you, strawberry blossoms he's made sure will get the point across. “Ask nicely, love.”

You huff, then knock your leg against his hip, rolling so that you're straddling him now, hands planted against his chest. “You need to put that mouth to better use than pissing me off.”

“I already did,” Eris answers, cocky gleam to his eyes that makes you roll your own before he's hissing as you take him into your hand, guiding him to your slick entrance before you sink down.

“Being my mate doesn't excuse you annoying me,” you say, tone shaky for the way pleasure spiderwebs at the stretch of him inside you, the golden whisper of finally, finally, finally.

Eris’ expression is also taut as you clench around him before he offers a rough, “Say it again.” 

You stare down at him, aware of the way his pupils have blown so far you can't tell the color of his eyes anymore, the steady throb of his cock inside you. You don't have to ask what he wants you to say.

 You stretch over him, the slow roll of your hips that has him gripping at you even as your lips meet the delicate arch of his ear and you offer a breathy sigh. “My mate.” 

Eris snaps. You can't even yelp as you're flipped back into the sheets, moan leaving your hips as he bucks into you. The pace is aggressive enough that the bed creaks in protest beneath you, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

Nothing matters beyond the hard thrust of him inside you, tip knocking against that spot inside you that has you making sounds that'd put a pleasure-hall to shame. Your fingers curl against his back, rewarded with a groan that makes you tighten around him further as his hips roll steadily against yours. 

“Mine,” Eris huffs against your hair, then your temple, then your neck, the graze of his teeth making you shudder and arch into him. “Mine.”

Yours,” you gasp, choked cry ripped from you at the sink of his teeth against your skin.

One hand anchors him over you as the other skims over your breasts and down your abdomen to rub tight circles into your swollen clit. The contact makes you keen, and Eris huffs a rough laugh as you clench around him.

“Gonna come already, love?” You offer something that might be words, garbled and incoherent for the way pleasure is overloading your brain. It amuses Eris further as he watches your expression contort, the part of those pretty, kiss-swollen lips of yours as you mewl and moan.

“Two orgasms and still so needy…” He offers a playful click of his tongue. “Insatiable.”

As if he's faring better given that he's opted to simply grind his pelvis against yours now, intent on staving off his own orgasm for as long as he can in order to continue tormenting you with the pleasurable sink of his cock inside you. 

“Want you to come in me,” you rasp, a moment of clarity that makes Eris freeze above you for all of ten seconds ㅡ and then he's moving again, groaning as he fucks into you with renewed vigor.

“My pretty mate wants me to fill her up, huh?” He goads, slick fingers pinching at your nipple and tugging until you're crying out. “Want me to fuck you full of my seed? Go ahead and put a baby in you so everyone knows who you belong to?”

You don't get to respond because you're cumming hard, clamped hard around him as he manages one, two, three unsteady thrusts before Eris is pushing as deep into you as he can and groaning your name into your neck as he spills into you. The warmth of it makes you almost squeal, arching into him before he's settling over you, sweat slick-skin and a heartbeat to match yours. 

The next several moments are silent save for heavy breathing and the soft noise Eris makes as you drift your hand up and down his back. 

“Worth the wait?” Eris asks at last, and you pretend to think long enough that Eris pinches at your side in protest. “If you don't answer me, I'll just have to keep outdoing myself until you say otherwise.” 

“Is that so bad?” You challenge, and you can feel the twitch of him inside you, the way he's stiffening as his eyes flash.

“No,” he growls, “not at all.”

[fangbanger3000]

a last note on the ai-fic bullshit

a couple days ago, a person i had never spoken to before shared my call-out post on x with the earnest intention of spreading awareness of the issue. she was attacked and harrassed so harshly by the same group of people who have been dragging my friends and i through the mud that she ended up having to deactivate.

this group of perpetrators then did their very best to turn this whole conversation on its head by accusing the poster of being anti-solavellan, of sharing the post with malicious intentions of dividing the fandom and tearing down amateur writers, and grouping her and i/my friends as antis and what not.

my thoughts on that development aren't any that i can express with any diplomacy or maturity whatsoever, but @drakonmo herself did a wonderful job at gracefully carving out the very important conversation we, as fans, need to have within our communities. whether you observed or participated in the conversation surrounding the silence and the song and the following shitstorm, i strongly urge you to read her post (here) (on x).

tldr/to those who might be in a rush, let me pull out some highlights:

by deleting the evidence and refusing to acknowledge the public claims were ever made, these people who despise me and wanted to foment discourse could succeed, armed with the trust and respect of loyal followers.

suddenly, the entire wall of text of explanations, of signs, of concerns were reduced to nothing but one portion of the whole. people began to attack OP and me and write threads, posts, etc, saying we were insulting all creators everywhere and we were - singlehandedly - the reason people didn't share their artwork.

clearly, these people argued, this insult and injury to all writers everywhere was a sign of these posts being a hate campaign. suddenly people could completely ignore the fact that the OP is a HUGE shipper, and i have been the world's most vocal proponent of shipping the particular character with anyone and/ or everyone.

i saw some people ask questions - what's happening, what's the drama, what's the situation? and they believed blindly the first things said to them without even trying to seek the truth or sources for themselves - and i truly mean this was an issue on both sides, for both people who ultimately agreed with me and people who did not.

the people that deliberately misrepresented what was being said, who nitpicked so that they could justify choosing "us versus them" - i ask that you consider, if you can and you would like to, to internalize and reflect how you may be susceptible to situations like this happening OFFLINE.

if ONLINE FANDOM misinformation can rouse such a level of discourse, hatred, fear, and anger over a fanfiction or ship ...what are the implications for REAL LIFE?

are you possibly reading a headline and believing it without reading the full article?

are your political and personal opinions swayed heavily by your peers, rather than being shaped by information and political education?

are you well informed and checking for bias from your chosen news sources?

do you exist in an echo chamber that has actively harmed your ability to understand other perspectives and worsened your capacity for allyship?

we best fight FASCISM when we recognize how we approach the people and issues around us, no matter how small. supporting artistic integrity in your fandom is a low rung on the ladder, but your approach to a sense of community and how news, conflict, and opinions form and spread IS vital.

thank you for reading, and thank you to those who have stuck by me (and by mo) despite the backlash it might have caused you. this has been insane and i look forward to never discussing that fucking fic again, but that doesn't mean we get to turn our heads to how this all turned to shit in the first place.

as a self-proclaimed safe space often characterised by escapism, we owe it to one another to make sure this community is as safe as can be and remains one where we care for one another despite which fictional characters we think should kiss.

[genderisareligion]

are you anti-terfs?

"TERFs" aren't real. It's a nonsensical term popularized within the last decade that allegedly includes plenty of women who aren't even feminists let alone radical given how carelessly it's applied, usually it just means lesbian (homosexual) or transphobic woman in general. Technically radical feminism is "trans inclusive" because it "includes" all members of the female sex regardless of how they identify, so really everyone just means "male exclusive," but the language of "exclude/include" is disingenuous to even use in this situation, as if any of us controls that there are only two gametes (despite there being more than two combinations of those) and you're given what you're given before you're born.

Radical feminism is real, and males of all political leanings hate it because it gives them no credit or easy allyship points or places to hide, and males of all political leanings even those who claim to hate each other (such as far right conservatives and trans identified "leftists") are currently involved in a recent, massive misinformation campaign against it.

Compared to

Just look at all the contradicting claims about what a "TERF" is even supposed to be and you'll see what I'm talking about, but the biggest lie that's always stood out to me as someone who discovered online radfem spaces before this little trend began in 2013 is "TERFs/radfems are all Western white supremacists."

Not even Google agrees with that lol. Notice how dark the white Western nations are in the "TERF" search map, how they're all the top 5? You can't even argue that people searching for "TERF" are "TERFs" themselves because the majority of women I've seen called it don't think it's real either, or aren't feminists and proud, and try Googling "TERF" right now and seeing how many if any positive references show up.

I'm anti gender, like the "fuck gender roles just do what you want!" nonbinaries are always saying but for real lol

[givemearmstopraywith]

this is the last thing im going to say about taylor swift because now i keep getting messages in varying degrees of outrage about off-the-cuff comments i've made about her. the problem i have with taylor swift and her fanbase is not with her as a person or really with the art she creates: all art is art even if i don't personally like it. what i have a problem with is that taylor swift has kind of became a very palatable, very white, very upper class foil on which people can plaster "morally correct" opinions, like being a feminist or a lesbian ally, without actually having to engage with the real, more difficult side of those issues. it is much easier, both socially and personally (especially if you are centrist) to hold up taylor swift's alleged bisexuality or the conspiracy about her being a lesbian as a sign of your allyship than it is to engage with real-life lesbians, who are frequently not pretty, thin, white, and upper middle class.

additionally, it is easier to pinion your feminism on someone like taylor swift than it is to engage with feminism in a world where now being feminist requires you to, for instance, speak out in support palestinians who do not have access to basic menstrual hygiene and are at risk of disease as a result, or think critically about women working outside of the home in the midst of a very prevalent movement touting the lucrative values of "traditional womanhood" to thinly disguise misogyny and chattel marriage, or engage in the very real and extraordinarily detrimental exclusion of trans women. taylor swift is easy: most women are not.

i think taylor swift is fine: i grew up with her and a lot of her music still holds value for me. but touting her as some feminist vanguard is a bit hollow to me: she's really not radical, because she looks out for her interests first and foremost (which is not a bad thing: everyone, especially women, have to be self-preservative- accusations of self interest are not automatically negative nor even really accusations) and then is treated by her fanbase as the model for all women. its a matter, i guess, of public perception, and how much easier it is to engage in white feminism than it is to delve into the real grit and heart of what feminism is or ought to be. however, if she wants to gone girl that jock she's dating, i will support her.

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

not to think too much about disabled Cyrus, but let’s think too much about disabled Cyrus

firstly the evidence: 1, it would be rad. 2, there's a whole song making way for her, where at her own party she needs time to get where she's going. 3, "Cyrus said you can't survive alone, you need your team"

now here's how i've been thinking about how it affects everything. i think there's a tendency in non-disabled folk to unconsciously discriminate right up until the disabled person passes some threshold of afforded humanity, at which point all of these folk's unhomed theoretical allyship gets over-attributed to this one disabled person. they're put on a pedestal, usually metaphorical, Cyrus's happens to be real. now since Cyrus didn't ask for this, and since she's been around long enough and has worked hard enough to tell her own accomplishments from the sainthood her crew has invested in, what she chooses to do with her power is share.

but at the end of the day, she's still a Black disabled woman, and for all everyone says about how much they believe her, their narrative about her as a victim is just so perennially hair trigger. the reason it's so hard for a lot of them to even reconcile what happened is all that "look at this proof i don't hate Black disabled women" they wear is gone. for them it's like what was the point of those few seconds' patience they put in for her using mobility aids or needing sign language translation or whatever. and they take it out on the other women of color (maybe also disabled!)

a lot of this power to me is in the moment of a person used to their disability essentially saying hey, i know what we need, but i also know you're not gonna really listen to me yet, not the actual essence of what i'm saying, and that's ok but here's the practical stuff we need first and when you're ready to put in the work, my words are right here

[cupcraft]

It's at times like this when more comes out I ask "what will be enough for you to drop dream?" to dream stans. What will be the line in the sand for you?

You've proven your allyship to victims is non-existent, especially in the way Amanda's victim Mascara was treated as a way for you to bolster Dream (and not treated as a victim who deserved to be listened to and believed), especially in the way you invalidated victims in the fandom who said you were causing irreparable harm. You've proven you will ignore bigotry, a bigotry that continues on (to one that dream admits to! His music video for everest was supposed to misogynistic!) You've proven you will be complicit in or friends with or in fandom with people who have doxxed what you name "anti's", have sent them threats, bigotry, harm not just on twitter but on tumblr too, to often people in the fandom who are minors BY adults who stand by dream. You have used bad faith arguments, you have defended the police and the anti-victim laws in the US. You have done everything you can to defend one guy. Are you that spineless?

So what is the line in the sand for you? How can you fucking look yourselves in the mirror? How can you say you support "real victims" and believe dream supports "real victims". What the fuck is wrong with you

[equalperson]

things to do if you're looking to unlearn anti-PD sanism

as advised by an avoidant narcissist.

understand why phrases like "narcissistic abuse" are sanist: despite society encouraging anti-abuse morals on the surface, many of the things that motivate abuse--such as sexism, childism, queerphobia, ableism, and other forms of oppression--are normalized. most abusers aren't persodivergent, and most persodivergent people aren't abusers. yes, you can vent your trauma however you like, but not at the expense of other victims.

stop using PDs as insults: "narcissistic" is an obvious one, but this shouldn't just end at narcissism. stop calling people "paranoid," "antisocial/sociopathic/psychopathic," "borderline," "histrionic," or any other diagnosis to belittle or attack them. even if you aren't claiming that they really have these diagnoses, these words are so closely associated with PDs that it will inevitably reflect back on us.

find alternatives to PD-related insults: think about what specific behavior you're criticizing. more likely than not, it can be better described as "abusive," "toxic," "violent," "dangerous," "manipulative," "hateful," or any variety of real insults.

think about why you see PD behavior as worthy of belittlement: it's not enough to just replace one word with another, you should think about why you used PDs as insults in the first place. what's so wrong with being grandiose, hyper- or hypoemotional, insecure, or attention-seeking, especially to make them need "extreme" insults like "narcissistic" or "psychopathic?" addressing oppressive attitudes is a thousand times more important than addressing oppressive language alone.

stop insulting, ostracizing, or otherwise discriminating against people who show signs of PDs: diagnosis or no diagnosis, to see someone as worse than you for their cognitive or emotional functioning is ableist. there's no wrong way to think or feel. question why you see intense or shallow feelings (along with other persodivergent traits) as necessarily obnoxious, malicious, or dangerous.

learn about sanism, especially from persodivergent people: sanism is extremely normalized, yet it's very obscure as a concept. learning about sanism can make it easier for you to identify it, both in yourself and others.

question how psychiatry treats PDs, but not PDs as a whole: psychiatry is objectively biased against persodivergent people. the names are shallow, the diagnostic process is biased, and the treatments are far less proven than most therapists would have you think. however, persodivergent experiences are real. we do experience the world differently. the issue is how our experiences are treated, not whether or not they actually exist.

at the same time, know your place: if you're persotypical, don't speak over us. if a narcissist says they like the term "NPD," don't correct their terminology. if someone talks about being diagnosed as borderline, don't assert that it was a misdiagnosis. so on and so forth. claims of allyship mean nothing if you see yourself as more of an authority than we are.

don't defend us with sanist rhetoric: saying that we're "valid" because we're traumatized, selfless, loyal, or suffering just encourages the belief that our existence needs to be justified. we deserve not to be oppressed because we're people, not because we're necessarily "virtuous." many of us are callous, selfish, manipulative, or have no history of childhood maltreatment, but that doesn't make us any more deserving of how society treats us.

[olderthannetfic]

This week has been a perfect example of why im never fucking coming out about being plural in fandom spaces. All you heartless fakeclaiming sanist chucklefucks coming out of the woodwork to attack children who dare be a little cringe and too honest about their neurodiversity and blame the actions of a couple assholes who ignore community mandates about system responsibility to be examples of the whole community have just proved you can't trust fucking singlets with any authentic bit of yourself oh my god.

You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Where is the 'cringe culture is dead' now? Where is 'believe people about their experiences'? Wheres the mad pride allies?

Because this? This is not allyship. This is not ~defending real DID havers~ from those yucky roleplaying kids who report large fictive-heavy systems with frequent restructuring who are too dumb to know what they are talking about. This is attacking the most vulnerable members of our community like rabid kiwifarm cringe subreddit losers because they are an acceptable target for your ire.

Disappointed but not surprised. The only people who can be trusted to look after the plural community and support us is the community itself- a fact proven time and time again.

At least these posts are a free blocklist.

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