#i don't hate you if you do like it but i LOATHE it

[alipeeps]

Hah!! I knew it!! (I'm onto your storytelling tricks now GJM!!)

Yeeeah you coulda acted a little quicker though Zhuo Yichen... like before Pei Sijing got thrown into a pillar... (although on second thoughts, no, fuck her traitorous ass, as you were Zhuo Yichen, you're good....)

Oh god, the angst of it all...

If he were to die, the burden would just be passed to someone else. He would be condemning someone else to the pain and self-loathing that he feels.

Oh dang, the bottle he drinks from all the time is a liquid that helps suppress malicious energy!! He's literally dosing himself all day every day to try and stay in control!!

Shit, he is visibly shaking with effort, struggle to keep even a smidgen of control, and begging Ying Zhao to kill him before it's too late

Wait, what's grandpa gonna do? Why's he telling Ying Lei goodbye?!!

Did he... did he just fucking sacrifice himself to help suppress Zhu Yan?! Did he put his... spirit?... into Zhu Yan to help suppress the malicious qi?

That might save everyone's lives but jfc that is NOT going to help Zhu Yan's guilt/self-loathing problem!!

Oh GOD the usually carefree and silly Ying Lei outright SOBBING over his grandpa is fucking killing me!

Good god, his FACE. He looks happy at first... I guess that the blood moon is over and he is in control? But then he looks up and sees... sees the aftermath... of what HE has done...

My poor fucking boy. He is so tormented. 😭

He is indeed grandpa

So they've got a month where the malicious qi won't affect him...

I'm still not sure I understand what it is he's done to himself to get those scars? Was he being literal about lightning strikes? And secluding himself *after* the blood moon... why? To let the malicious qi levels lessen?

God the visuals of this show!!

Sure ya do buddy.

Why are you no match for Li Lun? I thought you were badass demon? Oooh wait up though... the subs on iQiyi said "I'm no match for Li Lun"... but the subs on the my downloaded file say "I can't kill Li Lun". Which is it? Because one is can't as in not able to... and the other might mean can't as in can't bring myself to...

Oh wait what? It can?

Oh god Ying Lei's grief has me genuinely crying.

No she hasn't, they're having to take turns at the scenic moping spot and Zhu Yan had it most of the night...

Yeah you DESERVE to be hated girl cos Zhu Yan didn't have a choice... you did. He was literally being controlled by malicious energy. Regardless of what Chongwu camp used to get you to spy for them, you made the choice to.

WHO? Who should have almost completed his great mission by now? Cos that did not sound like you were talking about Zhao Yunzhou there...

I STG if you fuckers pull the rug out from under me by making Xiao Bai be a fucking spy too I will cut a bitch...

Aaaaand the next scene jumps straight to Xiao Bai. Don't you do it. Don't you fucking dare!!

Oooh they've somehow all magically got furry winter clothes now...

Oh dang, my boy's had a mountain god makeover.

Awww he's leaving the gang to stay there?

Oh god damn don't give the magic travel device to the fucking spy. She'll land you all straight into the middle of Chongwu camp instead of where you want to go...

Yeeeeeaaaah that ain't all it means mate... 😂

They're all having protracted heartfelt goodbyes... and where is my poor Zhu Yan?

Group hug!! For everybody except the Great Demon Zhu Yan... 😭

Ugh that was an emotional rollercoaster and I am exhausted.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Obsolete

cw: nsfw themes/implications, abuse, manipulation, fear, brief emeto mention, choking. (this chapter can be skipped without losing out on plot, it's a bit heavy)

previous // T$$ Masterlist

~ ~ ~

Sahota slouches on the bed, both feet planted firmly on the tile floor as if that’s enough to keep him tethered, keep his thoughts from drifting too far. He holds the gag in both hands, turning it over and over and over, watching the metal sections that make up most of its structure catch the light. 

He doesn't know long Harbor had been there when he arrived, already shaking from the stress on his body, tension to his shoulders and core brought on by the heavy leather cuffs that secured him to the foot of the bed.

He'd tried to pull away when Sahota knelt to remove the gag.

“F-fuck off.”

“This isn't what you want, Harbor.”

“It's what Vic wants.”

He'd cursed and insulted and tried to elicit a reaction that wasn't get out from him, but in the end he'd left.

“You're jealous,” he'd spat as Sahota closed the door behind him. There was something desperate in his tone, like he hoped if he said it with enough fervor he'd believe it, like he wished a rivalry was the only thing to worry about.

Like he was willing to thrust his hand into a fire just to feel the warmth. 

“You're just fucking jealous.”

He isn't. Is he? Jealous is too simple a way of putting it. He wants Vic's gaze to linger on him the way it does Harbor, he wants the idle touches as they pass in the hall, the I'm proud of you's and I know you can do it's.

He needs his attention as much as he loathes it.

Shouldn't he be grateful his master's lust is being directed elsewhere? 

Doesn't it mean he isn't enough anymore? What then? If Vic is finally tired of him, what does that mean? Will he be thrown out, abandoned? Or will he become another loose end that needs to be tied up?

It felt like that during their mock interrogation. It's been months since he's seen Vic that angry, much less at him, he's been far too careful for that. He never should've tried, never should've given the others the hope that they could take an alternate path. He's the reason they're trying to salvage control, he's the reason Vic’s tightening his fist around them.

If he hadn't gone behind his back with the challenge, would they have been allowed to to go after Manak?

Would Manak even be lost in the first place?

Sahota can't fight a grimace. He's learned this lesson a thousand times over already; he should know better. 

You can't say no to Vic.

He knows that, knows the consequences, and yet here he is. He can only hope it won't be Harbor that suffers for it.

The handle turns. Sahota half expects it to be the belligerent trainee, back with more choice words and arguments. When the door reveals Vic, a part of him wants to curl up and hide, reduced once again to a terrified kid who should fucking know better.

He wants to shrink under Vic’s gaze as they meet eyes, silence drawing out between them, but he doesn’t, instead stiffening his spine against the fear that curdles in his stomach, instead daring to open his mouth.

“How long would you have left him here?” A safe enough place to start. Not an accusation, He lets his hands fall into his lap, the gag still held between them. 

Vic leans against the doorframe, arms crossing his chest. “Would've been going on six hours now, if you hadn't cut him loose.”

“Six hours,” Sahota repeats flatly.

“I've kept you for thrice that.”

“He isn't me.”

“And you hate that, don't you?” He pushes himself up from the wall, moving into the room, closing in. “Why? I know you don't care for him.”

Because Vic always knows everything, because Sahota can never hide things from him. He doesn’t care for Harbor. He doesn’t let himself care for anyone these days. Still, under the envy and the fear there’s a stark horror at the thought that someone else will take his place, will suffer as Vic's plaything, will render him pointless.

“Am I not enough for you?” he says.

Vic clicks his tongue, cupping Sahota’s cheek with a warm hand. “Is that what you're afraid of, little spy? Being replaced?”

Yes. No. “Why do you want him?”

“He's a flashy thing. Caught my eye.” Vic chuckles. “So desperate for any human interaction he'd disembowel himself for a pat on the head.”

Is that what it comes down to? Another person for Vic to hurt, another body in his control. He shakes his head. “Vic—”

He's silenced with a kiss. There's something foreign in it. A new excitement, amusement that he cares about this, that he's scared.

“He won't replace you. He'd make a good dog though, don't you think?” He nuzzles into Sahota's neck. “Once you warm up to the idea, maybe I'll even let you play with him.”

Sahota jerks away, a breath lodging in his throat. He couldn't, he couldn’t. The idea of Vic dragging Harbor into this stings enough. The thought of playing along—of holding the younger man down, hurting him, controlling him—is too much to hold. He wants to throw up.

“Is that a no?”

“Whatever you want to do to him, you know I can take,” Sahota says, his voice low and insistent. He’s nearly pleading. He doesn’t know why he’s pleading for this.

It should feel good, shouldn't it? To know he may never again take the brunt of Vic's affections, to be elevated to a place of control.

It doesn't. It burns like bile.

“I know.” Vic’s hand strokes his cheek, thumb coming to rest on his lower lip. “When's the last time you cried for me?” It seems more a musing than a question he wants answered, but even if it were, Sahota doesn’t think he can speak to it.

He can’t remember the last time himself.

No, that's not true. Just days ago, he was crying, but not for Vic. It feels like such a potent secret he’s nearly purged it from his mind, and now he's afraid his master will see it on his face, the weakness he dared to show to these outsiders.

Ander, my name is Ander.

His own words echo back to him in a way that makes him shudder. By some stroke of luck, Vic doesn't notice, his eyes on the gag in Sahota's lap.

His hand falls away from his face, and he fixes him with a searching gaze. “Are you afraid he makes you obsolete?”

Sahota drops his eyes. “I… Yes.” It seems too simple an answer, but it’s the easiest explanation. One that might satisfy Vic.

“And you’d prefer it if I left him alone?” He tips his chin up with a finger. “If it stays just you and me?”

“Yes.” His answer is quieter this time. Vic hmms, and the silence seems to stretch for a long moment, every wordless breath drawing more fear into Sahota, pulling tension into his body. Then, Vic suddenly pushes him back onto the mattress, one hand curling in his hair, the other cupping his chin as he kisses him, hot and fierce. Sahota returns the kiss until he’s breathless.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeys without much thought. It’s been a while since Vic’s tied him up for this. Months, at least. Silky rope winds around his wrists, and then he’s rolled onto his back, heart hammering with anticipation. There’s fear there too, but he tries to shove it down. Isn’t this what he wants? Isn’t this what he just begged for?

He opens his mouth to say something, but Vic’s hands shoot out, locking around his throat, squeezing, cutting off air. Panic floods through him, but he has Vic's touch memorized. His body knows not to respond, to take it, no matter how much his mind wants to rebel.

“What if I did want to replace you, Ander?”

Sahota’s eyes widen at the words, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. His body spasms from the lack of air, heels digging into the mattress, but Vic doesn't let up.

“What if I am tired of you, hm? What can you do about it?”

His wrists burn, the rope digging into them as his arms shake involuntarily, reaching to remove the pressure. No… No, he can’t mean it, Vic can’t mean it, he’s his. He’s been his for twelve years, he can’t just be replaced, he can’t just let the fucking cycle start all over again. Tears sting his eyes but refuse to shed, his mouth opening wide, making soundless pleas.

It can’t end this way, it can’t end this way, Vic, sir, Shepard, please—

“You are everything I made you. Without me, you'd be nothing. If I want someone new, you'd better just be fucking grateful you still have a seat at the table.”

His lungs burn, body shuddering, vision blackening at the corners, closing in—

—And then Vic’s hands relax, slipping away from his throat. The spy gasps for breath, rolling onto his side and curling his knees in, unsure whether he’s shaking from the lack of air or the sheer fear, the knowledge that Vic could’ve done it, would've done it. He would’ve done it and not even batted an eye.

He's not allowed to hold the thought for long before Vic seizes him by the hair, jerking him into a half-sitting position, his face stony and empty when the spy looks up at him through blurring vision.

Something almost like satisfaction crosses his master’s face.

“There's the tears.”

~

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000 , @neverthelass

[strawberry-jellicle]

Rip to anyone who thinks this blog is cats 2019 safe u thought wrong

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Okay but also because I'm a pedantic bitch...in relation to that post I just reblogged explaining part of gay-on-gay bigotry...what if some people are just assholes who happen to be gay, or bi or trans? And they're all for oppression or just plain cruelty as long as it's aimed at other people? Like that's also something to consider.

I don't actually think, any longer, that "internalized self-hate projected outward and also suppressed envy for someone who's doing and being all the things you were convinced into not allowing yourself" is...all there is to this phenonemon. And I wish we'd stop fixating on that quite so much just because we want to be frankly, nicer than some of these people have ever deserved. It's always more satisfying on some level, to imagine your enemies as Tortured deep inside (whether it's because you feel a bit malicious or you just want to believe that there's a way to reach out and heal them with kindness.) than to admit that Sometimes They're Just a Shithead.

Now, do I think that complex can be a big part of it? Oh yeah. And of COURSE, different people have different motivations in different amounts and yadda yadda yadda. No group of people, ethnic, gender, political or otherwise is a Monolith. (For one thing, when it comes to these Pick-Me Gay/Trans pundits and Influencers, money and clout should never be left out as an explanation. Just saying.) But that's the point, isn't it? Any ONE explanation can't explain them all completely.

Tbh, I think we need to consider some people are just bullies who happened to be born not cis or straight. And even if they were bullied at one point for their identity, they learned absolutely nothing from the experience except Don't Be On the Social Reject Side. So they moved their thinking just enough that "woman who likes women" "man who likes men" "I just happened o want to be a woman instead, or a man instead despite how I was born" could be put in the Safe category and they fight for that. Everyone else though, is still fair game and even a fair target. Some people don't just want power to escape oppression and live their lives in peace, they WANT to BE the ones oppressing. Like, do we ACTUALLY understand that LGBT people are humans too and that that includes the bad side?

It tracks a lot better too, when you consider that a lot of people like the masc4masc gays are openly racist and fatphobic. "No fems" Yes but also "No fats. No Asians." Christ, I could think of countless examples of white thin (and sometimes but not necessary cis) queer people doing that sort of thing. I'm sure y'all can too. This idea of some poor lost soul Tormented by Self Hate and Envy of the Freedom of Others doesn't do shit to explain that. Like, even if the two things coexist and they can, it doesn't explain that part.

I honestly just think the uglier but more accurate truth is that lot of queer people aren't all Hashtag Gay or Trans Rights or aren't Liberal out of any sense of justice AT ALL but only self-interest. Being an activist because you're a member of an oppressed group is like, entirely normal and fine of course BUT it becomes real clear when someone's framework of ethics and politics is PURELY "I think me (and people I personally like and approve of) being oppressed is bad" and literally not one inch deeper.

You can tell because if it was deeper, why would they find it so easy to turn around to a fellow queer/trans person to jeer at and humiliate and throw them under the bus if they think they're a Deadweight to the group by being a Weirdo I Don't Want to Stand Next to, Eww...or if they just don't personally like them? Why have you clearly spent absolutely no time unpacking any of the prejudice and biases around gender sexuality (or GOD FORBID race) that society throws at you.. at least no more time than it takes to rationalize yourself out of the category of Should Be Destroyed and Oppressed?

We are not immune from this sort of terminally self-interested activism. I just feel like we'd get a lot further as a society, as a community, if sometimes our analysis of bullies and assholes didn't fixate on finding some deep pain and trauma inside them, to explain their actions in a way that makes them look more tortured and less malicious (even if we say, even mean, that it's not supposed to be an excuse). Sometimes people are just racist, or fatphobic. Sometimes lesbians or gay men or bi or trans people just want to be judgmental bullies too.

Sometimes the reality isn't Tragic Villain Backstory. Sometimes, its just a selfish, deeply pathetic person refusing to become any less, because it's easier not to; even if you had a unique chance to see how the other side lives, a chance your straight cis bully peers didn't get by virtue of their identities.

[notmoreflippingelves]

It's dawned on me suddenly

And for no obvious reason

That I can't go on

Living as I am.

[essektheylyss]

ngl, mentioning one of my hyperfixations does not necessarily activate my trap card. mentioning a book or media that I LOATHED, on the other hand,

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

jjk is about a lot of things but most of all with regard to Shoko Satoru and Suguru it's about how if you don't interact with people who aren't in your weird fucked up school with like 10 ppl total on a regular basis you WILL become an incredibly interesting adult in a way that makes people pity you

[jessicas-pi]

it's actually, genuinely, honestly hilarious that in a fandom where popular ships include characters who are biologically related, characters with a 10+ year age gap who met when one was a teenager or even a child, and characters who have tried to kill each other, people hate on a friends-to-lovers ship with a <2 year age gap where the characters have a deep emotional bond and plenty of romantic subtext, because "they're siblings". my brother in the force they are literally not.

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[nebulainatree]

Ohhhh Folly my beloved. I understand you like no one else does. I get it. Cycles of self hatred and not forgiving your inner child. I get you Folly AUGH IM SO ILL IM FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS FOREVER. AUGHHHH. FOLLYYYY

[loserboyfriendrjl]

jegulily in a library ?? fluff or angst or both idm

"i'm just saying, the gargoyle strike is something that people think it's both unimportant and worthy of knowing, and i could not tell you, for the life of me, which one of the crowds is right!" lily sighed, throwing her history of magic book on the table. "it's a fascinating subject, really, we studied it last year. however i don't think an essay the size of my bloody leg is needed on it."

"my point exactly!" remus exclaimed, letting his head hit the table with a faint thump. "haven't we read about it in class? is it really needed to write essays on it?"

"hello, starshines!" james exclaimed, coming in a light jog towards them, still in his quidditch uniform. "mind if i stop by at the loo and come back to you after? we've just had practice, and i don't know if you'd like me sitting down next to you right now." he laughed. "i needa change."

"by all means," regulus started, showing him towards the small bathroom next to the restricted section, "go and never come back."

"a sweetheart you are, reg," lily snickered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "go, we'll be waiting for you here. now, as i was saying, i think these essays are stupid. if professor binns wouldn't be dead, his lessons would probably not be so... dead." she smiled at her own joke. "if he'd he would be a bit more lively during class, and not doze off, i think the essays would be unnecessary—"

"alright, i'm back!" james announced, ruffling regulus' hair with his left hand; the other boy looked irritated, but his eyes gave him away. he put his right one around lily, and kissed her cheek. "what do we have here?"

"regulus' history of magic essay that he is procrastinating from doing, because he thinks it's useless and that binns is a bloody awful thing." lily smiled. "i think he didn't pay attention in class—"

"i did!" regulus gasped, indignantly.

"—and now he doesn't know what to do. but we'll help him, right, darling?" lily asked, elongating the words, leaning agaibst her boyfriend.

"of course!" he grinned. "now, let's see, the gargoyle strike of 1911..."

[batsplat]

deeply compelled by this photo

[lale-txt]

i know it's like an unwritten law in writer spaces not to throw away your WIPs and just return to them another time, but honestly i'm feeling such a relief after simply deleting roughly 20 pages of various drafts in my docs, knowing they'll never see the light again

[essektheylyss]

I am obsessed with how narratively convenient Lark's divinatory abilities are. She's the only one of the protagonists who is both pragmatic and has a working sense of self-preservation, so having some internal impulse that is actually the guiding hand of the cosmos pushing her into doing the REALLY stupid shit is both necessary and really useful.

Like, I am the type of writer who kind of scoffs at the idea that characters are beyond the writer's control and will completely screw over your outline, because on one hand, a sensible outline will follow the characters' personalities and tendencies anyway. Obviously in an ensemble cast you will need to do some wrangling, but in theory your characters are responding to varying degrees of stimuli in order to maneuver them into the places you need them to be for things to all come together in the end.

But more importantly, "curse from god" is the funniest and easiest way to push any character to do things beyond the realm of reason when necessary, and frankly, what the fuck is the point of playing god if you don't embrace that?

[docholligay]

Trying not to murder my darling sister who, I remind myself, I love very much, as I attempt to help her plan a trip to the UK.