#they aren't neutral

[uncanny-tranny]

I love you, trans people with intellectual disabilities. You deserve to have the same opportunities as everybody else, and that's because you are a person. You deserve to be happy. Intellectually disabled trans people deserve the exact same respect, recognition, and love that (should be) afforded to everybody else.

Intellectually disabled trans people, you deserve to make your own decisions about your transness. You are allowed to want for transition or to change your name, clothes, hair, pronouns, or anything else. You deserve support and understanding. I hope you are able to receive that. You belong in this world as your true self. Your transness and your disability/disabilities are not bad things - they are good, and they are important.

[strangerstilinski]

hiii my dear <333

would love if you could combine [heal] and [kiss] with steve 🫶

love u n have the bestest day

[HEAL] sender ends up in the receiver's lap trying to tend to their wounds to the best of their abilities. [KISS] the sender lowers themselves into the receiver's lap in order to kiss them properly.

Steve is bleeding. Again.

And why is it that Steve always seems to be fucking bleeding? If it's not a fistfight, it's inter-dimensional monsters. And if it's not monsters, it's foreign governments who hold no qualms against beating and torturing minimum-wage mall employees in the hopes that it might yield answers.

This isn't like any of those times. You know that. And yet, watching the slow trail of blood ooze from the gash at Steve's hairline, crimson dripping slow down his temple and smearing into his brow — It makes your stomach turn. Makes your knees wobble just slightly. The floor suddenly feeling decidedly unsteady beneath your feet.

You'd asked him to find a casserole dish and he'd practically crawled his way inside one of the lower kitchen cabinets in his search. Wide shoulders crowded into the space, his narrow waist on display as he reached even farther and prompted his shirt to ride up. Your eyes had been glued to the dimples at the base of his spine, objectifying gaze too stuck on the way his jeans pulled on his backside and thighs, the way the elastic waistband of his briefs cut into the softness of his hips-

He'd yelled triumphantly as he re-emerged, and you'd been too distracted to warn him to watch his head when he turned a bit too early and bashed against the edge of the opening with a resounding thunk.

You couldn't care less about cooking dinner, now. You're entirely too consumed with worry at the sight of the blood pouring from Steve's head. And, alright, pouring might be a bit dramatic. But your boyfriend is bleeding, and it's slightly your fault.

You push him from the kitchen and he drops dutifully into a chair when you give his shoulder a pointed shove. Both of your hands find their way to his face, warmth bleeding into your palms as you try to angle his head into the light a bit.

He only winces a little when you push his hair up out of the way so you can see where his skin is split. Your fingers tighten around his jaw, biting into his cheek as you turn his head this way and that in an attempt to get a better look. A frown pulls at your lips as you note the swelling that's already building into a sizable lump, and no sooner have your lips quirked downward when Steve's hands find the backs of your thighs.

"Hey, pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be pouting, pouty." His hands tighten, dragging you forward until you're standing slotted between his legs.

Warm, honeyed brown eyes peer up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs in a comforting motion. The way he looks after you, even now, when he's the one who's injured — It sends your heart thrumming wildly.

You snatch some paper towel from the tabletop and dab at his head lightly, frown sinking further when blood immediately wells back up and begins to follow that same path down his forehead and into his eyebrow.

"It seems like it's bleeding a lot," You tell him, blotting at the growing egg on his head again, "I don't think it should be bleeding this much. Should it be bleeding this much?"

"It's a head wound, they bleed a lot." He shrugs, like it's no big deal.

You repeat his words back, mockingly, putting a little more pressure on the towel to his head. And then, "How much is 'a lot'?"

To your frustration, Steve just shrugs again, "I dunno, should stop in the next few minutes, I guess. If it does, we're good. If not, I guess I'm probably a goner-"

The pressure you're applying to the towel increases enough to have Steve wincing again, but you refuse to feel bad.

"That isn't funny." Your eyes drift as Steve's lower lip juts out, soft and plush and not even remotely portraying genuine apology. "Now who's pouting?" You grumble quietly.

"The guy who just came within an inch of braining himself to find your casserole dish, actually." Steve returns your snark all-too easily, "You know what'd really help, though?"

Your eyes narrow just slightly at the sweet edge to his voice, at the way his palms press with a little more intent into the backs of your legs. He's still looking up at you, lips quirked up now into that flirty grin of his, chin jutting out like he's expecting you to just bend down to kiss him already.

"What?" You ask, infuriatingly breathless in the wake of his touch, the gentle rumble of his voice.

"C'mere."

He pulls at your thighs again and you realize he's trying to get you to sit down. You smile softly, stepping back from between his legs and settling into place in his lap. Your thighs frame his hips, towel still pressed firmly to his head all the while.

"Better?" You ask, nosing at the space between his brows before placing a fleeting peck to his forehead.

Steve hums, "No, no, not quite. Think you could spare another kiss?"

"Oh, I suppose," You sigh woefully, like it's a big ask, though you both know it isn't. Your lips find the bridge of his nose, "Like this?"

Steve hums again, "Not quite. Little lower, honey."

You lean back just a bit to look at him, the way his eyes have clouded over with something like adoration. It still makes your head spin, that he looks at you like that-

Your thumb strokes his cheek, lips finding the tip of his nose and just staying there for a moment — waiting.

"Lower." He orders softly, his nose nudging up against you as he tips his chin up toward you.

Your lips brush his cupids bow, faint stubble scratching softly when you press the faintest kiss to his mouth. "Here?" You whisper against his lips, breath mingling warmly with his own, "Does this help?"

He knocks the bloodied paper towel from your hands and ignores your protests as he drags you back down for another kiss, this one deeper.

You're breathless when you pull back again, your eyes glued to the shine of spit on Steve's lips before your gaze flicks up to the drying blood at his hairline, the cut clotted and no longer bleeding.

"Hey, you stopped bleeding." You tell him, relieved.

"Yeah, that's great-" He says blankly, already sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you back in, "Now, c'mere-"

[eriklehnsherrific]

in case you need to hear this

workout because its good for your heart, lungs, releases endorphins, and you want to get stronger. not because it’ll make you skinny or make your body look a certain way.

wear sunscreen every day in order to protect yourself from easily preventable and deadly skin cancer, not with the goal of preventing aging (there is nothing wrong with aging or wrinkles; it is a natural part of life and reflection of the life you live).

eat more vegetables because you need the fiber to make you more regular, they help lower your risk of eye and digestive problems, and they help in nutrient re-uptake. not because eating only carbs is “bad” for you. you need a combination of carbs, fruit/veg, protein, fiber, fat, etc for a full balanced diet. 

cut out dairy from your diet if it makes you shit your brains out every single time without fail, not because it will “make you fat”.

drink more water because, despite how annoying it is to be told “just drink water”, it does actually make you feel better if you’re anxious or your head hurts or you don’t have any energy. not because it’ll “flush out your immune system uwu” or it will make your skin clear.

drink green tea because its delicious, not because it’s a “natural detox”. ( “detoxes” aren’t real. your kidneys detoxify your blood for you)

not everything “natural” is automatically healthy for you. not everything “unnatural” is automatically unhealthy/dangerous

cutting out whole food groups and labeling them as “bad for you” in any form is restrictive. if you aren’t allergic to gluten, you don’t need to cut gluten from your diet in order to be healthy. if you were not specifically instructed by a doctor to go keto in order to aid treatment for a disease (such as cancer or epilepsy), you do not and should not go keto. 

do “healthy” things because you deserve to live a long, healthy life. yes, you. your weight doesn’t matter and it has never mattered. you deserve to keep yourself safe. 

[curiositypolling]

okay I don't want too much discourse here, I'm just curious where the numbers are (re tumblr), considering how much there is about it

also apologies to the uhhh rest of the world I'm sure youre sick of hearing about this stuff

pls reblog for sample size etc

(before anyone makes any ‘no trump option’ jokes, I figured on the gay communism webbed site it would just get troll votes)

[little-pup-pip]

hellololo! could I request an androgynous/gender neutral selkie themed agere moodboard? could just be seal themed if selkie is too hard!

Here you go!!

[lodium]

So I finally started to play Dark Souls recently and

[yeehawbvby]

Safe (Sebastian x GN!Reader)

Rating: Teen+

Summary: You run into Sebastian on your way into town from the bathhouse, and he invites you to go for a ride with him. The thing is, you’re terrified of motorcycles.

Luckily, he helps you feel safe while you prepare to accompany him.

Author's Note: This was 100% wholeheartedly inspired by these images by sinsydia.. when I say I have been rotating that last one in particular in my brain for DAYS I'm not exaggerating!! ;;w;; Hope y'all like this x

Check it out on ao3!

It was a rough day. 

A new season had just started so you spent more time than usual tending to your crops, and then had to delve into the mines for a good few hours to fulfill a bulletin board request. 

Got your ass kicked by some bugs and bats all for a stupid topaz… Elliot better need it for something good.

After dinner, you felt awful, but didn’t want to go to bed just yet; you figured you at least deserved a nice dip at the bathhouse first to relax. So after cleaning the dishes, you trudged through the backwoods, up the mountain, and then across the broken, dirty tiles of the worn-down building feeling half-dead; wondering, Is this really worth the hike? 

About 20 minutes into your soak, you realized that it totally was worth it. You found yourself shoving your swimsuit back into your locker with a second wind that only a nap could usually supply, ready to enjoy the rest of your night.

Rather than turning right into the backwoods, you made your way further down the hill with an extra pep in your step, deciding to take the long way home. A round headlight stopped you in your tracks, though.

You squinted through the beam and smiled, noticing a tall, hooded figure resting against the bike that beam came from, with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Had to try your best not to ogle at how good he looked. As much as motorcycles freaked you out, you couldn’t deny the appeal of seeing Sebastian leaning so coolly against his own.

As you approached, he turned to you, nodding his head once in greeting. “Hey,” he offered before turning for a moment to breathe out some smoke.

“What’s up?” 

“I was just about to head out.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back his hood in the process. 

“Oh, cool,” you nodded, sparing a glance south towards the town. He probably wants me to leave, then. “I won’t keep y—“ you stopped yourself at the sight of a goofy and mischievous — albeit very handsome — grin staring down at you when you faced him again.

A nervous laugh slipped its way past your lips while you looked around at the scenery once more to distract yourself. Hopefully your cheeks didn’t look as warm as they felt…

Through some residual giggles, you asked, “What’s with the face?” 

He flashed you a toothier smile. “Wanna come with?”

You took a deep breath in. On one hand, a night out with your crush sounded amazing. On the other… 

You puffed your cheeks, still holding your breath while you stared down Sebastian’s vehicle.

Finally letting that air escape your lungs, you hesitantly responded with a question of your own. “You… you mentioned a while back that you'd keep me safe if I ever rode with you, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course.”

“You promise you will?”

“I’ll do ya one better.” He held out a pinky, his face softening as he wiggled it at you.

You could’ve sworn your heart melted a little when you linked your little finger through his. The two of you remained comfortably intertwined for a few beats while you decided what to do.

You knew you’d be wondering about what you were missing out on all night if you didn’t go with him… well, wherever he was going. 

Fuck it.

With a sigh, you nodded. “Alright, yeah.” The words came out airy, your nerves putting themselves on full display. 

Sebastian’s grin grew wide and genuine while he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray he kept near the garage door. 

“Sick.” He nodded towards the bike, “You get on first. I’ve gotta grab a few things.”

Nodding at the instructions he gave you, you padded over to the motorcycle, inspecting it a little before straddling the seat. 

Your heart raced thinking of what was to come. You trusted Sebastian, of course, but you didn’t trust other drivers on the road. Weren’t sure how you felt about being a passenger without a roof or doors to shield you, either. 

Your friend came back with two helmets in hand — one very clearly old and worn, and the other sleek and new, as if recently polished. He handed you the fancier one.

There was a noticeable shake to your hands while you took the protective gear from him. 

“Hm…” he hummed at that observation, his mouth crooked. “Scoot forward. I wanna try something.”

With the helmet in your lap and your view plastered to the instrument panel, you did just that. Then, you stiffened as you felt Sebastian climb on behind you, reaching around your frame to hold the handlebars.

He hummed pensively again, his baritone reverberating through your back and sending a shiver down your spine, before nodding. “I can work with this.”

“Is this even legal?” you asked, looking behind yourself and up at him. 

Yoba above you’ve never been this close to him. As if your anxiety regarding the motorcycle wasn’t enough stress on your poor heart…

He shrugged and looked down at you, grinning. “Probably not.” His breath was minty and smokey as it brushed your face. He winked as he tacked on, “That’s what the backroads are for.” The small gesture had your stomach doing flips.

You nodded, still unsure, but again trusting his judgment; and after putting his own helmet on, he put a large hand on your shoulder and leaned down, getting close to your ear.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll take it slow, yeah?”

Too nervous to look at his eyes this closely through the polycarbonate between you, you kept your view on his knee, nodding. 

After a pat where his hand was, he reached around you and grabbed the other helmet, plopping it down over your head. The action made you laugh. Definitely helped to lighten the mood.

“Alright, a few things,” he went on while you adjusted the headgear, pointing towards some metal bars near the front wheels of the vehicle. “You see those crash bars there?” 

“Yup.”

“Keep your feet on ‘em. Any dangling when we’re in motion could get dangerous.” Next, while you heeded his words, Sebastian brought both hands around you and grasped the handlebars near where they met. “If you need to grab anything, which you should if you want to really feel secure, hold onto this. Any higher,” he slid his hands towards the grips, “and you could mess with my steering.” You could hear a sly smile in his voice as he suggested, “Unless you wanna steer—“

You cut him off, your own tone amused. “No way in hell.”

He barked out a quick laugh. “Whatever you say. Now, one more thing.”

“Hm?”

“Let me know if you feel too spooked at any point and I’ll pull over, or we can just turn back, or whatever.” 

Your anxiety had already been washing away, but that suggestion solidified how safe he really made you feel. 

You breathed deeply.

He really would keep you safe.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you nodded. “I trust you, though. I think I’ll be okay.”

Braving the closeness, you turned your head towards his again. He was looking down at you already, so your helmets bumped in the middle, leaving both of you chuckling as a result. 

“Thanks, Seb.”

“What for?”

You shrugged. “For looking out for me, I guess, I dunno.” You could see his eyes grin through the lens of his helmet before he headbutted your own with it. You stifled a giggle.

“No problem, ya sap.” He started up the bike before looking down at you again. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Let’s do this.”

[sonik-kun]

"I think us JC antis are too nice. We should be a bit more insufferable 🥺🥺"

Honey, y'all literally steal fanfics, suibait JC fans, obsess over characters you supposedly hate, harrass JC artists/writers, relentlessly bully people off this app, and then act all holier than thou about it. Y'all are already insufferable xoxo.

[cringeandproudx3]

we are alive.

there is nothing punk about being anti-endo. and there never has been.

endogenic systems are not "an internet trend created to mock people". we are alive. we wake up in the morning, we talk to loved ones, we sleep and eat and drink and watch stupid cat memes. we play video games, we go take walks, we LIVE.

we aren't an online thing. we never have been.

we are creatures, people, humans, nonhumans, LIVING BEINGS that you can encounter in public.

and you know what? it doesn't matter. none of this matters.

plurals, collectives, systems worldwide are being locked up and discriminated against. this shouldn't be a fight against endos, this should be a fight against pluralmisia. against pluralphobia, antiplurals, psych wards. we need to be fighting against plural oppression, not someone's different origins.

we need to fight against oppression. we need to stop siding with them.

[uncanny-tranny]

Men, it's fucking normal to have stretch marks and even cellulite. It's normal to not have a flat stomach, to have body acne (especially because of hormones/puberty), to have unbalanced hair distribution along all parts of your body. It's normal to have deep hair lines, to have thin hair, for hair to regrow odd.

Very, very few of us will live in this world unscathed. You owe nobody the conformity of man. So many problems that are seen as "womens-only" occur in men, too, because it is a part of the human condition to have weird bodies.

[wooyoungisbaby]

ateez pride icons for pride month! :) feel free to use them without credit, but please don't claim them as you own lol

woosang ace · yungi bi · jonggi genderqueer sanhwa lesbian · woojoong nb · sanhwa pan woohwa pride · yunjoong polyamory · jongsang trans

please reblog that'd be cool :)

[yandere-kokeshi]

your yandere price was sooo good 😭

can i please request some yandere ghost? maybe reader is a young spec ops soldier who’s really damn good at their job and the typical obsessive behavior ensues but reader is a really stubborn and prideful person so they just fight against him at every turn

— Stubborn

Warnings: slight violence at the start, Ghost being angry, intense makeout scene (I tried!) And love confession.

A/N: Thank you!! Please enjoy this fic, and I may or may not be barking for this man ^^! This is also male reader. Hope that's okay :].

You're code-name is Cobra. While I thought it fit, in future fics, I may change it to a more gn name.

“I told you to stay in the goddamn post!”

His exploding voice echoed throughout the entire room. You flinched at his suddenly changed voice, watching the invisible steam come out of his back like a dragon ready to set fire to a poor village.

Angered. That was his emotion. He was shooting a sharp, repetitive scowl. He’s holding back, cracking his knuckles, hands clenching against one another before uttering something under his breath now and again.

It’s chilling — terrifying even.

Normally, he was quiet and nice with you — at least to some degree. But today you fucked up.

You watched him turn around, facing the big window in the room, admiring the midnight sky and moon. To some degree, it helps cool off the sweat on your body.

Or try to. It certainly did not help with the anger in the room.

Rolling your eyes, you got up from the chair beside the desk in the room, standing up behind him.

“I’m completely fine.” You raised your arms, dangling them around to show him that no cuts or even bruises were forming on your body. “We finished the mission. That’s all that matters, yeah?”

You heard him scoff, “All that matters?” He shifts on his feet, turning to look at you with a glare.

“I gave you an order. ” He stepped closer towards your direction. “A specific — detailed order to not engage unless I worded!”

With each word, he came forward until he was right in front of you, intimidating you with his darkened-brown eyes.

“I–” You started, before flopping your arms to the side in defeat. You looked at the ground before looking back at him.

“I’m sorry.” You offered pathetically. You saw his eyes twitch — clearly not believing the word you gave out. “I did a stupid stunt. I’m sorry, Ghost.”

“Cobra!” You heard him scream at you, demanding you to turn back and return to your hidden spot. “Cobra! Get your bloody ass out of there!”

Indeed, Ghost ran a tight mission. But when it came out of line, he got extremely serious and violent.

“Keep them off my trail!” You yelled at the radio, hearing Soap curse on the other end. You fired your gun, emptying bullet after bullet into their skulls with near-perfect aim.

Although, without moving a muscle, you could hear his footsteps — thundering right behind you.

Before you knew it, you were pulled away into a random room with a very angry Simon. Legs growing in pain and a yelling leader in your face;

You were simply doing your job, right?

“Yet, you didn’t back out.” He growled, pointing a finger in your face harshly. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.” You sneered back. “You should be grateful I took them down — killed them all before they killed the hostages!”

“Shut it.” He snapped.

“Really? Why should I? I mean—” You scoffed, “Your the one who decided to come and grab me, push me away when I was alright!” You growled, poking a finger into his chest.

“Then fucking listen. It’s my job to make sure you’re breathing.”

“Really?” You ushered. “Cause if I didn’t do that, there would have been a bullet between all of their eyes!”

Suddenly, you were forced against the wall, watching his gaze tighten and his tattooed arm being pushed up against your neck. You jumped at the loud bang in your ears, mouth going dry.

You could practically hear Simon’s heartbeat — flaming in waves like lava rushing over land.

Your blood was boiling. Fists and legs tingling in frustration. Eyes narrowing in.

“I’m not scared of you, Simon,” You answered, “Wanna hit me? Don’t be a bitch about it.”

You stared into his eyes, hearing him breathe heavily before feeling his arm release you, resting right beside him. “You need to understand that you should come first.”

Your chest heaved, head pounding in adrenaline and annoyance.

“Then, we have two different views.” You rasped. Watching him lean back, his eyes staring into your soul. “My job is protecting people. And I’m damn good at it, so I’m not gonna stand here and let you shit me down.”

You heard him scoff. “Doing it stupidly isn’t protecting people.”

“Then why are you here, Simon?” You snarled, leaning forward to him. Though, you didn’t see him flinch or move an inch. Rather than letting you challenge him by getting in his personal space.

“You’re on some real thin ice, Cobra” He snapped.

You snickered, digging a finger at his chest. “Or what? You gonna hit me, L.T.? Go ahead, I’d love to see you try.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” He angrily blurted out.

“Wha–”

He gripped your shoulders, forcing you to make direct eye contact with him. “You can congratulate yourself all you want. But you need to realize the team almost — I… almost lost you”

You couldn’t think, nor anticipate his next move. What did he mean by that damn sentence?

But when his hand on your shoulder was removed, rolling his mask upward, and revealing his scarred face. You were hotly flustered and surprised.

His chapped lips — scarred nose, eyebrows, and greased smoked paint around his eyes. His soulless, brown-marked eyes were staring down at you. Hell, even his browned hair was somehow styled and perfectly cleaned. What the actual fuck.

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered face, “Cat got your tongue?”

His other hand gripped your jaw, thumb caressing your chin, pulling you into a hypnotic haze.

Pulling his face closer to yours, you didn’t expect to see or feel his skin — his stubbled jaw, his lips against yours, swallowing your fury.

He tasted sweet, almost too sweet for an angry and dangerous man.

Moaning into the kiss, you felt a smirking plaster against his face. Fuckin’ teaser.

You couldn’t breathe — think properly by his addictive smell and taste. His scent was calming, a calm that wasn’t needed now.

His free hand grabbed your side, pulling you closer into the touched makeout, making you feel his chest heave into yours. Slowly, your hand raised, dragging your fingertips into his slick and semi-wet hair, locking them between your fingers.

Kissing him tenderly, you felt him stiffen — slightly unsure how to proceed with this… ‘debrief’

But, he welcomed it a second later, grasping your jaw as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring your cavern. Earning a small whine, he departed himself from you with a trail of saliva.

Pulling away, you both looked like a mess; the two of you acted like you had an intense wrestling match, with hair slightly messed up, ragged breathing, and shaky gasps that certainly would be heard from outside the room.

Suddenly, Ghost grabs you, pulling you into his chest as your head rested against him, hearing his pounding heart and heavy breathing.

“I know you’re bloody good at your job. Jus’... never fucking do that again.”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling butterflies form in your stomach. “Didn't expect you to love me.”

You heard him mumble something, but from the shift on his feet, you already knew the answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

Content belongs to ©️ yandere-kokeshi only.

[menlove]

should honest to god start a "fact checking mclennon" blog I think I'd have so much fun... take requests and everything

[hauxicrook]

I think I've forgotten how to love

[litnerdwrites]

About the dancing chapter...

I agree 100% with this comment by the amazing @deathbealady (no seriously, I didn't even realise how similar this situation was to Mor's) and I wanted to use it as a jumping off point to talk about Eris Vansera. To be clear though, I like fanon Eris and am currently undecided about canon Eris, for reasons I'll explain later.

For now, we can start with the IC asking Nesta to try and seduce Eris. I refuse to believe they weren't given this idea by Elain, either because she volunteered Nesta outright, or because she put the idea of using Nesta's artistic passions that, at this point, they know were effectively weaponised by her mother, to seduce an older male with the idea of marriage.

Either way, the fact that the IC knew what Nesta's mother had done, and decided to take advantage of it without ever asking what she thought of it, or what she might like, despite it being the same thing done to Mor when she was Nesta's age, if not younger. It's made especially worse given that Nesta likely feels unable say 'no' to the IC, because if she does, she'd likely be threatened with Elain being made to do it.

If that isn't bad enough, and I wouldn't be sure if it could get worse if I wasn't about to tell you why, then we can take a look at the age gap between Eris and Nesta. I've heard people argue that it's fine, since they're both consenting adults, but I think that the term 'adults' needs to be redefined. Humans are considered adults at the age of 18 or so, but only have a fully developed frontal love at 25. Meanwhile, fae are considered adults by the age of about 50 to 80 (with the latter being the age that a High Lord can be named such, but some people say it's 50). This has some pretty serious implications.

Starting with the fact that if females in Illyria and the CON are married off/wings clipped when they have their first period, which seems to be from around the same time human women have theirs, to 18 if they try to prevent it through medication, then they aren't adults themselves. They aren't even half way there in the (I don't want to say mild, best case, better or anything like that case because it's all messed up) cases where the woman is 18 or so. It also implies that a fae female's frontal lobe isn't developed until she's over fifty, since we don't have evidence to suggest the contrary.

Just because Nesta was almost 25 when she became fae doesn't make it alright either. Given that her aging must have slowed astronomically when she was turned, it's fair to assume it would have a huge impact on maturity and brain development. Which means the Archeron sister's in general might have serious gaps in the way their brains develop, especially Feyre, since she was resurrected and her body changed. It might even be slightly different for Nesta and Elain since they were killed, pulled apart and put back together in the cauldron.

Since it was the cauldron, there's a chance that their brains were also changed to be like fae, but either way, both possibilities and scenarios come back to the same answer: The Archeron Sisters are still mentally children, and will likely remain so for several decades longer, perhaps even longer than regular fae due to the unprecedented and irregular nature of their existence.

This brings me back to the subject of Nesta and Eris. He is a grown adult many centuries older than Nesta, with frontal lobe development and centuries of experience. Nesta is barely even half way to being an adult, while he is over 500. Moreover, the IC believe that Eris is a monster.

Now, I'm well aware that there's likely more to the issues between Eris and Mor than what we've seen. Between Eris's own words regarding 'circumstances' that he wouldn't explain, to the narrative going out of his way to show us good parts of him. Such as the way he moved to protect his mother at the HL meeting, and how he let his own father torture him but still protected the IC's secrets and took the unnecessary verbal abuse from Cassian. There's even the fact that Eris simply lets others believe him to be the villain, and let's Mor control the narrative for her own comfort, as opposed to spilling whatever happened, even if it would, somehow, absolve him.

Now, to be perfectly clear, there is little Eris could say that would absolve him, truly, of what happened. I acknowledge that he's a victim of his father, however that doesn't mean he can't also be Morrigan's abuser. And yes, even if he didn't touch her, neglect is abuse. Leaving her there for dead, regardless of the reasons, is a messed up thing to do. The categories of victim and abuser are not mutually exclusive.

The narrative wants us, as readers, to question Eri's actions and begin to wonder what happened between him and Lucien and Mor. It wants us to open up to the idea that Eris may not be as bad as he's made out to be, and that there's something more sinister happening, since it puts some level of suspicion on Lucien, Mor and Beron. However, just because that's the story we're being fed as readers, doesn't mean that the characters have the same perspective, or are living the same story, necessarily.

If you think about it, they have no reason to believe that Eris isn't a psycho who abuses woman and would slaughter his brothers to get to the crown. His comment about circumstances does read like an abuser trying to justify his actions with little effort, while giving no real reason, not that one would make up for what the IC believes he did. It's not a good enough reason to absolve him or make him seem like a good person.

He still hunted Feyre down, even though he had no reason to once she and Lucien made it to the Winter Court, and it, logically, would've caused more trouble for Beron if they were caught. Especially since a whole fire fight took place, and it would be easy for Kallias to connect that with autumn citizens, since he didn't know about Feyre's magic. If anything, hunting them at that point would've caused more problems and they'd be better off just telling Beron that Feyre and Lucien were there. A high lady, if Beron acknowledges the title or not, trespassing in foreign lands with a banished son would be enough to raise a fuss about.

He, also, has people who've known him for centuries, from Mor to Lucien (though the latter probably has more accurate info given his connections in various courts, and the fact it's unlikely Mor shared many words with him over 5 centuries) and the fact he's essentially blackmailing the Nc. This is more so an issue of his having certain pieces of information being a cause for the IC to fear what he may do with it, or what might be found out by their enemies if they use torture or a daemati.

I'm not saying, by any means, that I hate him. I think he's actually written better than Rhysand at this point, since unlike Rhysie playing hero, Eris knows he's a terrible person and low key owns it. Whether or not that's subject to change is dependant of SJM's writing in the future. There's a chance she may actually turn him into Rhys 2.0 by pretended he was a good guy all along.

However, regardless of his reasons, he has done so many atrocious things that the IC have no reason to think he's a descent person. Mor clearly hasn't said anything about what happened and, as much as I don't like her, she has no on page motive to antagonise Eris otherwise. That might change later, especially if she's the traitor, but as of now, her behaviour seems understandable, somewhat, based on the version of events that she gives.

Yet, despite all of this, the IC still think that essentially whoring Nesta out to Eris because it suits their goals. Regardless of the risks to Nesta's safety, regardless of how Nesta feels about the matter and and simply going off of Feyre's guesses about how Nesta feels without ever feeling the need to confirm if any of them are accurate to Nesta.

Let me summarise: Rhysand and Feyre, Nesta's own sister, thought it was a good idea to use Nesta's artistic passions to seduce a man that is literally 20 times Nesta's age, letting said man ask for Nesta's hand, and letting Nesta consider accepting despite the IC believing he is a woman torturing psycho that would throw her to the wolves at the first chance if it helped him in the end.

Let's not forget that while Eris may be bit of a grey area for us at the moment, the IC knows that Eris also lives with abusers, like Beron, who'd have no issue using physical violence against Nesta. So even if they thought Eris wasn't a monster for some reason, they'd still be putting Nesta in danger. Especially if Beron is working with the Death God, who wants the trove and is using Bryallin to find it.

Oh, and this was all after Cassian came to the conclusion that Nesta was suicidal, and was sexually assaulted in a vision, if I remember right, while on a life threatening mission in a place the rest of the IC, even Amren, is scared of.

Regardless of what Rhysand says, he allows abusers near enough to his family, or the ones he doesn't care as much about, I suppose, and is seemingly willing to let them marry said abusers if it gets him his goal. Rhysand who was abused. Rhysand who's mother was forced into child marriage.

Rhysand who seems to ignore the fact that the Archeron sisters are children. Children can't consent, if it wasn't clear enough to him already. Also, consent must be informed, and last I checked, Nesta wasn't informed about Eris beyond him being a snake. She isn't given a heads up about how abusive he's believed to be, how he may have to kill/watch you die if his dad decides so, or how he's likely to leave you bleeding out in the woods if you're injured. This is literally what the IC believe he is like and they didn't tell her.

Consent needs to be voluntary. I think it's been well established that Nesta likely doesn't feel like she can make real decisions because of consequences she may face.

He's also completely willing to send a suicidal (you can't argue that he doesn't know since Cassian reports everything to Rhysand, and kind of Feyre, apparently, from her Valkyries to her progress in 'healing'/being brainwashed so there's no reason he wouldn't report that too) into life threatening situations, put them in a place where they could jump to their deaths at any moment, with magic that could provide literally anything but alcohol, and filled with weapons.

To conclude, Eris is a grey area in ACOTAR that, at this point, reads as what Rhysand kind of should've been if SJM didn't make him a good guy for no reason. Meanwhile, this 'good guy' is endangering his sister in law through abuse, emotional blackmail and brainwashing, while putting her in proximity with a known abuser. Might I remind you that she's a minor? With possible developmental gaps. And he's doing it all because her being in danger makes his life easier, and the cousin that the dude abused is going along with this without any issue.

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

Most people don't think about or care about Jason enough to hate him, but you know who everyone does actually hate? Luke.