#i want him to be nasty i want him to be vitriolic i want him to be extremely off putting

[redstrewn]

Yes to be evil but i hope we cry w how much of a bitch leanders real personality is

[elliotski]

I know that this has probably already been said before, but I just need to say how dear Hua Cheng’s ‘San Lang’ form is to me.

Like, I don’t think it’s ever explicit stated why Hua Cheng chose to appear before Xie Lian as he did on the ox cart, but I think that there are many reasons.

The first being that he just really wanted to get close to his god without the fear of being rejected because he was a ghost king. Hua Cheng’s low self esteem (at least in regards to his looks) is something that is very explicitly stated in the novels and is an important factor how he chooses to present himself to Xie Lian.

Hua Cheng has spent his entire life hearing vitriol being spit at him, being told that he is monstrous and deformed. Undoubtedly, he had to do some pretty nasty things in order to firmly establish and maintain his rank as a ghost king. I wonder if he’s still haunted by the things said to him and if the things that he had to do ever made him feel like he’s proving those things to be true.

In being ‘San Lang’ Hua Cheng was able to shed all things that he has done as a ghost king and that past that haunts him and just exist as a companion to his beloved.

‘San Lang’ is who Hua Cheng would be if everything was perfect. He is a smart lordling who has run away from home. He is someone who had a home to run away from and the money to have a proper education. He is not the street rat that was run out of a family that should have loved him because of a superstitious belief and economic stress.

It’s the idea that Hua Cheng has specifically created that body with a vision of a kinder past—a vision of what should have been—that really gets me.

[biancadoes1]

FAVE ANON HERE 😏

It’s been a minute since I’ve submitted but after the vitriol I have seen on Twitter this weekend, I felt the need to speak…

First things first, all of us are brought here with one definitive common thread - we are all fans of Bridgerton. If we were not, we would probably not find ourselves in this fandom at all.

With that being said, if you’re on this blog you are probably a fan of both Nicola AND Luke. More than likely, you want them to be together romantically or believe they already are. And if you don’t want any of that, I don’t know why you’re here reading this posts. This is how you become a troll.

You are allowed to be a fan of one and not the other. This is not a dictatorship and no one is holding a gun to your heads. But this is the point where it is VITAL for me to remind you how many times Nic and Luke have a real love for each other and at the core are best friends. WHAT THIS MEANS IS you cannot call yourself a fan of one of them while simultaneously spreading hate and contempt and overall nastiness about the other one all over social media.

Now I have approached the topic of the RUMORED insignificant others. Did you know that there is no general rule of fandom that states if you are a fan of a character performer that you must also become a fan of any performers they may date now or in the future? WHAT THIS MEANS IS THAT no one is required to become Jake’s #1 fan just because the rumor mill wants to say Nic is dating him. Hell no one has to become his #1 fan if Nic herself came out and said she was dating him. Again, there is no need to speak with malice about his looks or his talent all over the internet but you do not have to be a fan. Same goes for the dancer who shall not be named (I know it’s a trigger for many around here). And if they act in deplorable ways - such as the dancer has displayed in the past - you are allowed to speak out on it while using decorum.

This is ultimately bringing me back to why I wrote this today. Tell me why I’m seeing tweets talking about how Jake is a more successful and more talented actor than Luke. Tweets saying Luke can’t act and how amazing Jake is. These tweets are from Bridgerton “fans”. These tweets are from Nicola “fans”. Based on everything I’ve written up until now, the math ain’t mathing on the word “fan”.

I’m not spreading hate to Jake. Fact of the matter, he’s a 24 year old kid almost fresh out of drama school. He has had one season of a failed show on a streaming network riddled with failed shows. He now has a small part in a movie that probably is not even recognized yet out of this fandom and extreme movie fans - if we’re being honest. Luke is 31 and is on his 4th season of one of Netflix’s top shows. He was the male lead last season and the season broke records. He was on a Disney channel show when he was younger. He was on multiple stage shows on the West End. He’s had many other roles in smaller projects and just picked up a lead role in a new film. While it is considered an independent film, it is a LEAD role.

With that evidence laid out, how can anyone actually say with their full chest that Jake is the better and more successful actor? Oh right they can’t. What it comes down to is the fact that the “Jakola shipping” movement is not based on anything more than being an Anti-Luke Newton movement and it is GROSS. No matter what they tell you, there was no “relationship” being universally talked about prior to late summer. On August 25 those festival pictures were released and some very twisted narcissistic people in this fandom took them and ran with them. They created a narrative to help dictate what and who people in this fandom are allowed to discuss online. They’ve bullied creators off of TikTok and Twitter and gaslight the hell out of everyone when called on it. A 24 year old gay man (OMG I SAID IT) is being bullied on the internet and the blame is fully being put on “Lukolas” when the truth is that no one would be paying any attention to him if this narrative wasn’t perpetuated in the first place. (Side note: if you’re sending hate to Jake on behalf of being a Lukola, please stop. Please treat him like you treat every other one of Nic’s male friends. No one should be getting hate.)

The majority of the hate and toxicity in this fandom stems with the Jakolas Jackholes and those who blindly follow and defend a certain creator. I’m not going to say her name because I know how much she gets off on people talking about her (even when it’s bad) AHAH. This is the shit that everyone else is afraid to say out loud but it’s true. And for those of you in that discord reading this to report back, hiiii!

Oh and if anyone has a problem with this and wants to call me out for being on Anon, let me know and I’ll DM you because I’m not afraid. I’m grownup.

Xx

Finally seeing people with common sense!

My fave anon pulls through yet again.

Everyone say thank you fave anon.

[cherryxblossxms]

OKAY WAIT WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

endeavor?? and all might??? at the same time?????

endeavor is desperately aggressively greedily fucking you, degrading you, spouting all the filth known to mankind as his breeding instinct takes over. he has to be number one. he has to be the one in your tight pussy. hissing cruel words at his rival, making fun of him bc his cock isn't as impressive as his muscles... you like him best, baby, yeah?

meanwhile all might is sensual. intimate. he doesn't need to prove anything but god if that bastard isn't pissing him off a little. so he starts to get riled up and aggressive too, it's just his competitive nature. he's fine with your mouth. your ass. wherever you want him. but if he gets a little rough, don't take it personally. he spits vitriol at endeavor but you? you're his sweet angel and you deserve better cock (his cock to be specific)

sobbing crying i need to be sandwiched between these two hunks of meat for real...

BABE YOU DID THIS TO ME FIRST

RIP to my holes after taking them both, it'll be a week before I can walk again 😩😵‍💫

Like just imagining their competitive nature against each other. Endeavor showing you All Might isn't shit compared to him, knows you like it rough and nasty, knows you like it when he turns you into his filthy little toy and fucks you dumb. Gets so hard when he sees the tears rolling down your face but he knows it's from all the pleasure he's giving you. When you cum, he wants it to be his name you cry out. He's the bad cop with you, you'd think he hates you if he didn't seem to love your pussy so much.

And oooh yes I can see it both ways.... his need for a powerful heir and breeding instinct having him claim your pussy first, especially making sure to fill you with his seed first too. BUT, I can also see him wanting to be the first to claim other firsts for you. All Might might play it safe with just your pussy or maybe your mouth, he's a romantic in sex and likes being close to your face (though if you ask him for something, he certainly wont refuse you). Endeavor doesn't give a shit about that, he just wants to prove a point. If All Might wants to be sappy with you up front, that's fine by him. He's happy to be the first to claim your ass, and even if he's not truly the first, he's going to mould you to his specifications.

And then All Might is acting as good cop the whole time. For every degrading term Endeavor uses for you, All Might is praising you, calling you sweet names that warm you up, cooing at you as you choke on his cock, as you struggle to fit him, fit both of them. As mentioned above, he loves having you in the most intimate position, having you facing him is his favorite. But if you ask him for something, even if it's dirty, he's happy to make your dreams come true. And agreed, he might get a little rough and heavy as he competes with Endeavor, but he'll take care of you and your sore, fluids-covered body afterwards. <3

[earth-to-lottie]

Okay I gotta get something off my chest because the amount of horrible, nasty and mean comments directed Lando’s way are so beyond what is reasonable it’s unbelievable😭

people are whinging that Lando doesn’t have a winning mentality, sounds demoralised and is such a cry baby…but then if you take a look through any comment section of ANY Lando related content across all social media it’s easy to see why!! He can do absolutely nothing right for people!!! He’s been open and honest about his mental health struggles and how much pressure he’s been under since he was 17 and starting with McLaren. The nasty words and vitriolic sentiments sent his way consistently do that to a person!! No matter how well he drives, how well he conducts himself in the paddock, how kind he is to fans and how many times he consistently proves how much he wants this championship on and off the track, the vast majority of comments directed at him are vile. The fact he is still driving constantly at the front of the grid and letting that roll off his shoulders so well is a feat on its own. Oscar is not perfect. Oscar is not infallible. Oscar is not and has not been consistently faster than Lando like some would like to believe. I’ve watched every race while he’s been at McLaren and he’s constantly improving, but Lando has been the faster car week in and week out until just before this summer break. He’s a fantastic driver and yes McLaren haven’t always given him the best strategy, but he will have his success one day, but that does not mean Lando should be demolished by people the way he is. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Lando has had his fair share of shit calls that favour his teammates from his first year so it’s hardly like he’s been the number 1 driver from day 1. He definitely hasn’t had the special treatment Oscar seems to be getting. No other McLaren driver has in a long time. If you don’t like Lando, that is absolutely fine and your preference but for Christ sake there is no need to be so outright nasty about/to him. Just because he’s been in the sport as long as he has, people forget he’s barely a year older than Oscar and is only just getting a race winning car (down to his hard work and loyalty that Oscar is reaping the benefits of might I add) so people might just want to bare that in mind before claiming Oscar as the next messiah of F1 and tearing Lando to shreds week in and week out. Its abhorrent and I hope to god above Lando stays away from social media and the media in general. I hope he has his friends and family around him because I’d absolutely HATE to be in his head at the moment😔

Ps, before all you Oscar girlies come after me, this is NOT an attack on Oscar; more of a reality to check for people that think being so beyond nasty about Lando is how you get across your support for Oscar. It ISNT.

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

well students,

i really thought we might get have a nice quiet weekend without the resident wannabe-queen-bees trying to make a play for the kingdom. but here we are with grassy checking in for duty posting their harangue against the 'opinions everyone is entitled to, but cling to the pr angle and isn't it weird...'. normally i write this fool off to another wannabe-mean-girl who thinks they're doing something while no one actually cares about them. but, they've made posts policing this fandom (and me, but i'm more focused on the fandom) and i feel the need to share my piece. since everyone is entitled to their opinion and all.

this person made an account to purely give attention to the 'delulus' they can't stand and call out 'bad behavior'. yes, those delulus are fucking insane and need to be called out; but isn't what you're doing giving them the attention they want? it's all you talk about. this constant back and forth, launching thought turds to try start a fandom war is played out. but now you are going after the people who think this might be pr and lumping them in with the crazies? i hope you are including yourself with the crazies, because you sure are one. everyone is entitled to their opinion, right? just not these people who are discussing a celebrity's relationship on their blogs or in group chats. and probably not my opinion when you read this (hi!) and start using terms you don't understand to call me names. imo you are trash just like the rest of them. you and your friends are deeply concerned about those group chats, aren't you? odd. but i digress.

why do you care so much what these mods think, when by your own accord, they aren't harming anyone or sending nasty notes or hate? sorry, i added that last part, but it is implied by your other posts. you spend so much time fighting to confirm a marriage that isn't yours. you give the 'delulus' airtime time and time again. are you that bothered by people disagreeing with you? and why does it automatically have to be jealousy if someone doesn't believe the bill of goods they are being sold? fyi, seeing the awkwardness or plot holes is not confirmation bias. maybe these fans are trying to grapple with the upset of their favorite actor not living up to ideals he has claimed to hold. maybe they are just trying to continue to enjoy his projects without associating her in them. we do not have to bring her into absolutely every conversation about him, but both dumb ass 'teams' sure try. and yes, his wife is plenty problematic. she may not have directly said the horrible things her friends have and then tried to throw (at least one of) those friends under the bus, but you know what is said: when someone sits down at a table with three nazis, and if they don't call them out, there are four nazis at the table.

so what's the real reason for your constant vitriol and desperate attempt to make people 'see the truth'? why are you fighting so hard for a relationship that isn't yours? do you, just like those 'delulus', think you'll get some big prize for being his biggest defender? you don't want to have genuine conversation with anyone, you just want to argue your point of view time and time again. you want everyone to see things through your lens and agree with your confirmation bias.

yes, you, your friends, and the delulus all just love to police the fandom. i thought it was a joke when i was told about the constant policing, but here you all are, over and over, day after day. telling people what to think, telling people what to post, cruising around tumblr to comment on posts that have nothing to do with you. for what? i'm starting to believe the rumblings that you all are part of the plot to advance a certain narrative and keep the nunemployed at the forefront of the discussion. i can't prove it, but again, it's rumored.

i'll close with some words you might recognize, grassy.

these two people do not know you. they don’t care how you feel about them. you will likely never meet or know them in your lifetime. therefore it is really weird to INSIST you are right about certain things happening in their lives and/or behind the scenes when absolutely none of his fandom knows anything beyond what he presents to us.

think about it for a while. why do you care so much if someone doesn't believe this narrative? are you getting paid for this? because if not, it is very strange to be this invested in someone else's marriage. maybe you are jealous because you aren't married. i don't know. but jealousy is your go to.

from the archives: you once told people they would be accepted by you and your ilk if they admitted they were wrong. that announcement and offer gave very strange, cult leader- like vibes. so fucking odd. so here's this -if you can admit you're just a bitch who wants tumblr notoriety (HA) and has an axe to grind, we'll accept you. there's no prize for being an asshole online. ce will never care if you were his greatest warrior on the world wide web. you're just another asshole existing on the same coin with the others and think you are better than everyone else.

i will definitely be using tags on this. i will continue to use them. and as you say: most people are doing no harm. they are discussing things in private chats, but i understand that you all are so upset about not being invited. i promise, being honest with yourself will set you free.

and grassy? shove your dollar store, rip off musing up your ass.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Give me your most controversial dc opinions!!!

HA YES GLADLY I WOULD LOVE TO (added a read more because i had a lot of words oopsie)

The Titans Tower Incident was in character for Jason Todd. at worst, it's a *bit* over-dramatic and a little cringey, but if you consider his actions, his motivations, and what he *actually* does, i honestly don't think it's OOC for him. he's just kind of a dramatic asshole in that era and i stand by that comic. the issue isn't the comic itself, it's how people interpret it.

i think the DC fandom, specifically the Batfamily fandom, really likes to claim to be progressive for brownie points, but then will have the one token woman that everyone decides is acceptable to hate. like, it's one thing if you dislike Carrie Kelley, i get it. Frank Miller isn't a great writer of women and she can be a lack of a character in the original Dark Knight Returns. but if you go out of your way making constant edits and posts shitting on her, it's *weird*. especially when most of the people shitting on her haven't even consumed her source, and their reasons for disliking her can apply to any other Robin, especially Tim. but as long as you put say, Steph or Cass on a pedestal, you can talk on and on about how you want to kill Carrie for the crime of existing. it feels like acceptable misogyny. i also think this extends to writers. if you put say, Gail Simone on a pedestal, you're free to blame everything under the sun on Devin Grayson. (to be clear i think you can and should hate Devin Grayson for a lot of things, but most rumors about her are untrue and if you look at every badly written comic and go "sounds like something Devin Grayson would write" that's really weird bc everything she's done, men like Chuck Dixon, Tom King, Tom Taylor, Marv Wolfman, etc have done in tenfold.) like, misogyny = bad unless it's That One Woman We've All Agreed To Hate. it's weird and i keep noticing it. and no one seems to unpack it. (i mostly see this on TikTok, not Tumblr tbf)

i don't care if you ship BruDick or not, but it's not weird for canon content to imply or state Dick had a crush on Bruce when he was first taken in. even in canon where Dick sees Bruce as a "father figure" in the most generous sense, that bond took years to build and when Dick was freshly orphaned, he *had* the memory of loving parents and didn't want Bruce to fill that role. you don't have to ship BruDick, you don't even have to like batcest, but if you're vitriolic toward just the idea that "hey maybe a young kid on the cusp of puberty might have some weird feelings to work out about the canonically very attractive mysterious playboy who took him in before seeing him as family because that bond took years to build" is nasty and terrible and wrong to you, you don't like the Batfamily, you just like the nuclear "neat" version of it in your head

the Batfamily characters are *all* too hypercompetent. like all of them are just *too* good at what they do that in order to write them in interesting arcs together, you have to willingly make some of them OOC in order to not immediately have the Problem wrapped up. i get it, Bruce is the greatest detective, Tim is wicked smart, Jason's a heavy hitting brawler, but we've reached a point where all of these characters have so many buffs they're not *fun* anymore. especially not in a group setting where you need to justify them needing each other's help. and even worse-so when they interact outside of the Gotham, you end up making every non-Batfam character seem useless just to make the Batfamily look cool. it's exhausting. i want to see these characters lose fights, look stupid, and not be the best for once. they're all getting so good they're just kind of. boring. which is the worst sin for a character, IMO.

i think we should go like. a good year of all Justice League-related teams not having a single Bat on the roster. just as a cleanse so *someone else* can shine. i get why non-Batfam DC fans are sick of the Batfamily bc jesus. it's oversaturation of the market.

power scaling "who would win" fights are fucking boring and i don't care. that's the least interesting thing about the fandom. you're missing the point of all of these characters if you only care about who could win a brawl. also it's just a stupid debate because the answer will *always* be: whoever the author of the comic wants to win.

the Batfamily is too damn big. i love every single one of them do not get me wrong. i'd die for the little niche characters who are likely never going to be relevant again like Julia Pennyworth or Kate Spencer. but it's too fucking big at this point. it's insisted to us that these characters are family but like. half of them have barely existed on the same page together more than once. it's ridiculous and it cannot sustain itself. none of these characters are allowed proper shine because they'll just get dropped for the next new shiny character. i think Maps Mizoguchi is a cool lil lady, but i know in my soul in like. three years she will fade into comics limbo and we'll have a new shiny character to fawn over. it's a brutal cycle bc DC doesn't know how to give any of these characters follow through, just wants to wave around cool new concepts.

both Under The Red Hood and Death In The Family are mediocre adaptations and strip the most important emotional elements of Jason's story from the plot. you can't properly adapt Jason's death if you leave his mother out of it. like they're phenomenal movies as their own pieces of media, but they lack the necessary emotional weight for Jason.

on the note of adaptations: the Young Justice cartoon is i think the best case study of "how do you react to a piece of media that's amazing on it's own, but is a fucking horrible adaptation?" because like, i can't discredit it. it's a good show. but it's a bad adaptation and i think people using it as an entry point for DC can make their views of certain characters and teams *very* warped. the Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey movie falls into a similar vein for me. if that movie was it's own thing with original characters, it'd likely be a top five movie for me. but because it's *such a fucking bad adaptation* i can't help but hate it for brutalizing the characters and the general concept of the BoP. it should've been a Gotham Sirens movie, and Young Justice should've been a Teen Titans show. and sure, adaptations don't owe us accuracy, but they have negative effects on the comics when they gain popularity. so i struggle to like Young Justice bc of how badly it's affected certain characters.

also on the note of adaptations: the best adaptation of how comic media operates is the Sandman tv show. adapting comics to tv shows or movies is difficult bc comic arcs don't operate the way show/movie arcs do, but the Sandman show proves it's absolutely doable to adapt the storytelling style while still making the typical adjustments you need for an adaptation.

DC needs more Deaf representation. in most areas, DC either matches Marvel or outperforms Marvel with representation of marginalized identities, but it's fucking tragic we have no deal Deaf rep in DC whereas Marvel has quite a few to pick from. this one is personal bc i'm Deaf but it does fuck me up the only option we have is a side character from Tim Drake: Robin who doesn't appear anywhere else and isn't a great character overall. DC i'm in your walls.

on the note of representation, if i see one more person say Titans had "perfect casting" while in the same breath admitting Dick was whitewashed, you are weird and i dislike you. it's really fucking weird that whitewashing is permissable to this fandom if the actor cast/fancast is hot. Dick should've been a Roma actor. Damian should not be fancast as a white actor. it's the bare minimum.

i have so many more but i will end with this especially controversial one: Dan Mora's art is overhyped. that man has the worst same face syndrome i've ever seen and i will not lie half the time i can't tell which Robin he's drawing. his art is technically gorgeous and it's so pretty to look at, but begging for every comic series to be drawn by him is boring and terrible. the art style of a comic reflects it's genre. wanting all comic art to look like Dan Mora's art is sucking the style out of comics. i miss art styles like Todd Nauck's that clearly reflected the genre of the comic.

i lied i have one more i'm REALLY passionate about: Tim's vigilante name after Red Robin should not be bird-themed. naming him Sparrow or Cardinal is *just* as bad as naming him Red Robin longterm. they're *just* as derivative and they *sound* cool but don't hold any real unique identity for Tim outside of Robin. like it baffles me we all agree he needs to move on from Robin and then decided "let's name him Robin Lite". if he has a bird name, it should be Jackdaw so at the very least, he's not red anymore. and Jackdaw could be a fun callback to Drake, in that it uses part of Tim's real name (his middle name, Jackson) while standing out a bit. but if i really had creative control i'd give him a completely unique name. if it has to be Batfamily related, Gray Ghost. but in my head, his name should be Conspiracy. i could write a lengthy meta on why and tbh it is based in my love for the Question and wanting Tim to have a similar detective noir-esque gritty solo, but i genuinely don't think he should be Cardinal or Sparrow. those names only continue his identity issues of being trapped as either Robin or a Robin knockoff.

[sufrimientilia]

"It didn’t have to be this way."

Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch @juneofdoom Day 2

cw: violence, beating, living weapon whumpee, implied captivity, see above

“You dumb, stupid girl,” Handler said, razor-sharp with disdain. This one always had a nasty look on his face, and he wasn’t particularly fond of her. Probably because mouthing off to him and his dumb lackeys had become muscle memory by now. “You just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?”

She crossed her arms. It didn’t matter how many people were watching her— Handler and another handler, some of their lackeys and some of their minutemen, and Asset. The bodyguard that had been assigned to her. They always had this whole entourage with them, and these days she preferred it when it was just her and Asset. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? Beat me, drug me, do whatever the fuck else you do to control the rest of them?” She laughed in his face. ”Try me. I know it’s all empty threats.”

Asset gave her a hardened look. One of warning. It was hard to think about how he was included in them— how he already had years and years of being beaten, drugged, so conditioned into place. Into being one of their best.

She probably shouldn’t have ignored that look.

“I don’t need to make empty threats,” Handler assured her, so dry and unconcerned that it made her want to turn into a spitfire, spewing flame and vitriol, a maelstrom too violent to contain even with all these fucking men around. “That’s what you don’t understand. Control is an easy thing.” He pulled out one of those fucking batons, so sleek and easy to extend. It slipped right into place. “Asset.”

She steeled her shoulders as Asset stepped forward. Her heart pounded and pounded anyways, a betrayal to her big stupid ego and all the false confidence that got her into this. What was Handler going to do, really? Force her own bodyguard to beat the shit out of her? Yeah, right.

“I don't need to touch you to make you suffer,” Handler continued. “You’ve already made it too easy for me.”

Asset gave a preemptive grimace. He saw it coming way before she did.

The baton cracked off of Asset’s face in one violent swing. Handler struck again and Asset stumbled back, shielding an arm across his head, but it didn’t matter. The baton struck him across the ribs next, and then his back, and then his face again. Again, and again.

She cried out. “No! Stop! What the fuck are you doing?!”

Asset desperately tried to stay on his feet, but then it was an onslaught. Three, four more batons extended, and suddenly all those damn minutemen were going at it. Strike after strike, each one more merciless than the next, metal cracking against muscle and bone until there were welts and blood.

It didn’t matter if Asset fought back, briefly, overwhelmed by violent instinct and blocking with a forearm, grappling a baton, swinging— only for one hard hit to land right up between his shoulders and send him crashing to the ground.

“Stop!” She screamed. It didn’t matter if she rushed forward, blind with desperation, caught in arms too strong even as she fought and kicked. “Get off him! This has nothing to do with him!”

“No, it doesn’t,” Handler agreed, standing back as his entourage took over the beating. “This is about you. This is your punishment. A reminder about actions and consequences.”

Asset grunted and cursed, trying in vain to shield himself curled up on the ground until a hard kick to the ribs had him sprawling onto his back. The batons landed again and again. At some point he stopped even defending himself, going slack all at once.

She kicked and flailed and screamed again. “Asset!”

“You’re just as simple as the rest. Forming attachments that make you weak,” Handler said, and he sounded so damn pleased. This was certainly playing out nicely for him. “Even worse for you to form attachments with things that don’t even belong to you.”

One of the men grabbed Asset by the collar and jostled him hard. Like he needed to wake up before the beating could continue. Asset’s eyes fluttered, dazed and already so swollen, a hand weakly grasping at the man’s as he sputtered out blood and saliva and a breathy broken, ”Fff-f’cker…”

The man yanked him right into his fist. Droplets of blood scattered once, then twice. He had to stop to shake Asset around again, and a horrible sound left him as he came to— like a groan and a whimper all twisted up in one broken jagged breath, like the next one would be too hard to come. His gaze wasn’t even tracking anymore, hazy and half-lidded, hands fumbling and slipping aside.

Another strike. And another.

“Stop,” she begged, everything blurred between tears. ”Asset.”

They had forced her onto her knees now, forced her to sit there and watch. Like some waking nightmare. Handler leaned in close and spoke gently. “It didn’t have to be this way, but I want you to remember this moment. This is what control feels like.”

Asset couldn’t even be roused. The man gave him a good shake and he just lolled, all deadweight, his head hanging back. The man let go and he hit the tile in one ugly heap. Blood smeared all over his face, blood slipping from his lips. So limp and lifeless.

“Powerlessness, cruel and swift. Doesn’t it seem effective?”

She sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

[gor3sigil]

Detransition - My Story

[CW for Domestic Abuse, S*xual Abuse, Social Detransition, Misgendering, Alcoholism]

Recently, I watched “I Saw the TV Glow”, and it blew me away.

The ending really made me want to tell a story that happened to me.

Between the end of 2020 until the end of 2021, I detransitionned, mostly socially as I hadn’t started transitionning medically at the time. I did so because of many factors, and I never really wrote about it in details or reflected on it deeply as it was a very hard time for me. But I think that I now have enough hindsight as to why it happened and how it affected me to be comfortable sharing.

So, 2020 was a crazy year for everyone. I was in a T4T poly relationship, living with my partner of almost 5 years and started to go out with another trans dude. Long story short, because this isn’t about this, but I got into a physical altercation with my living partner during quarantine after years of emotional and verbal abuse, financial manipulation and isolation. I had to flee and live with my boyfriend for almost 8 months after leaving. And it was hell on earth.

I tried to not make a big deal out of what happened, but the fact of the matter was I had no place to call home, I was separated from my cat because she couldn’t live with us as my boyfriend’s place was a one room student flat and we struggled to live both of us here, and I had very little money due to not being able to work because of Covid.

What happened next to me leaving was constant harassment for weeks, the people whom I called friends siding with my abusive ex, and I felt so defeated. I couldn’t go back to my local trans community out of fear, and the community that I still had I struggled to trust again. I was supposed to start HRT before Covid hit, but it was cancelled. I got so much shit for just telling my story because so many people treated it as “slander” to accuse a trans woman of abusing me. I had receipts but never showed them, to protect her and myself. While she hurt me, she still was in a vulnerable position and it was out of the question to put her in danger. Let’s just say that I didn’t receive the same treatment in return and got lied about, harassed and bullied by people who thought she could do no wrong.

I started to totally lose trust in the community I used to feel safe in. And one day, I met a cis man. I talked to him, we got a coffee, he invited me to his place later, he got drunk and SAd me.

Two weeks passed, two excruciating weeks during which I felt so far away from everything and everyone, I coped by smoking a lot, I was in a deep dissociative state. I was disgusted, I felt so betrayed, I felt like I had no safe space. I still can’t explain why I did what I did, but after these two weeks, I still had the hoodie he handed me to go home, and I decided to meet him to give it back and talk.

He gaslighted me, using the fact that I was mentally ill to prove that I must have imagined what happened, and I believed him.

Meanwhile, I started getting nasty comments from my boyfriend and his friends for going out with a cis man.

Let me say that again.

My boyfriend was not upset that I was putting myself in danger, that I was starting a relationship with someone who had abused me, that I was in deep distress and not trusting anyone from my community anymore so I basically ran the other way, in the polar opposite way, with someone who treated me like a woman and called my desire for top surgery “mutilation”. What he was the most upset about was that I was going out with a cis man.

I became a running joke.

And when I told him that I had slept with my new boyfriend, he told me that I had “slept with the enemy”.

We had a two weeks break, after which I broke up with him for good. I had my own flat, and I was so fucking traumatized about what had happened with my ex and the vitriol I received for my new relationship that I decided it was enough. I was trying so hard to fit in my local trans community, that barely supported me when I got abused, and now what was left of it shat on me for going out with a cis man, it was the last straw.

For a year, I was having the most isolated relationship I ever had.

J, my new boyfriend, was my world. He told me that I thought I was trans out of fear. That it was a lie. That I just was scared of being abused again so I decided that to become a man was to be safe, but it was not. That all I felt was internalized misogyny I could work on, find my inner feminine self again and be happy as a woman. And I believed him. Oh, how I trusted him. I was not even in my mid twenties yet and he was in his early thirties, he must know better. I started using my deadname and feminine pronouns again. I bought dresses, skirts, even wore make up on occasions.

For a year, I killed myself. Slowly but surely. I was a full blown alcoholic, the relationship was becoming more and more abusive and isolating, I spent most of my time with him, most of the time we were drunk, most of the time things weren’t consensual, and it became my new normal.

I was retraumatizing myself. Relieving things I lived in the past because I felt so betrayed.

I had no friends left, the only one I still had didn’t hear about me until the end of my relationship with J. One time I saw her in the street, I was drunk, and J corrected her when she called me “he”. Said it was “she” now. And I said nothing.

We were in a poly relationship, and after the one year mark, after a few traumatizing hookups with random dudes on Tinder, I found my current partner. And when I started to get treated like I deserved to be, I started to snap back. I started fighting back when J acted out, I started seeing the dark place I was in.

Two things made me realize how bad I had been lying to myself.

The first one was a TikTok trend, the one with the song “My Little Dark Age”. The first time I saw a trans man doing this trend with photos of him being himself, then going back to the closet, and in present times, out. “Just know that if you hide, it doesn’t go away”. I sobbed uncontrollably for hours after seeing it.

The second one was one time, drunk, with my partner, I was telling them about the “time where I was trans”. And I was telling them about binders, and offered to show them how it was when I was wearing it. I had thrown away everything I had related to being trans in a cardboard box. I took it out and put it on. Looked at myself in the mirror. And burst out in tears. My partner hold me while I said in between sobs: “how could I do this to myself ?”, “it feels so right, why does it feels so right ? I though I’d be happy as a woman !”. And I cried and cried and cried.

Two weeks later I changed my name again. 2 months after, I broke up with J.

I wanted to tell this story as a cautionnary one. I know that I failed myself. But I can’t help but think that I was also failed in a way. By my community, by the spaces I was in both online and IRL. I am not blaming the individuals. This isn’t about “detransition”. This is about care.

This is a reminder to care. To be kind.

I don’t regret what happened. It’s part of me now. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder how things would’ve turned out if, instead of making fun of me for going out with a cis man, my then friends would’ve asked me kindly why I decided to go out with him. What changed in my mind between the night he SAd me and now. Or just offered a shoulder to cry on. What would’ve happened if I had been offered support for the trauma I was going through, if I hadn’t been told that in the end, J had won, he “have gotten what he wanted”.

“Why is it always so easy for cis men, to get what they want ?”

And in these statements, I became an object. A “want”. And I think that’s one of the main reason I lost every ounce of trust I had left in people who swore they were on my side and had my back.

You may not understand why people make some decisions. But please, before any politics get involved, remember than whose around you are people. Human. With complicated and sometimes conflicting feelings. Flawed. And worthy of your understanding.

This is about not letting politics and theories make you forget to care for one another, to protect each other, and to be here. It can change everything.

[persephoneflouwers]

My sisters informed me of the news and my reaction was similar to yours. I’d been so worried for Liam for ages and he seemed very unwell recently. The stuff with Maya of course did not help but he seemed to be in a really bad place for awhile now. So I just said to my sisters that it was extremely sad news but not a shock. In some ways I guess I was expecting something awful to happen but I didn’t know what exactly. I was really hoping to be wrong, it was hard to watch him clearly struggling so publicly. And I don’t like how so many people are still fighting for the most morally correct and pure hot take: he’s dead. He died, he fucking died and it was horrible how much he suffered even as he died. Now I simply hope he has found peace. 🤍

Yeah uhm I’m crying all over again.

I think so many things at once…

I want to block every single one of them that hated on him for every thing he did, spitting vitriol and bullying and just not giving him a fucking break. And when you look back, you sort of see he’s was trying to get attention, he wanted to be seen as part of the band, as part of something. He constantly seek solace in 1D and their fans because he knew they would have his back somehow.

But even they had turned on him, around the book publication sort of I guess and obviously lately with hate train that lost all the control. That hate was sooo much. So much. I genuinely feel sick thinking about some nasty things people have said (I barely knew anything because I was busy with my father’s heart surgery and stuff) and oh my fucking god. If you think how little it takes to people on X or tiktok to deactivate after a stupid thing they say or do, can you imagine what such pressure and negativity all the hate for many many many years now can do to a celebrity who is struggling with depression and anxiety and addiction and alcoholism?

And I hate that those people are now either pretending they were never nasty or being all woke with the morality takes of this is not on the abusers victim, this is not anyone’s fault, he didn’t want help or whatever lie they tell themselves to excuse their vitriolic rhetoric.

Sorry I’m ranting. I am just so incredibly mad. I wonder how much time is going to take me to work on my anger. There’s so much of it. I keep blocking any blog/acc that I see talking about Liam the way I cant understand.

Take care, angel anon. I hope you’re trying the best you can to be safe 🌷

[roadkillxd]

if you’re still looking for requests could i please ask for smutshot of price w power bottom m!reader and price being a subby hubby just an absolute simp for reader like the kind of simping that he’d kneel before him if asked, he worships the ground his husband walks upon and obviously worships his body during the dirty, please just.. i’ve got a thing for big, strong and capable men kneeling at the feet of their partner, it’s a dynamic that got me by the fucking throat— thank 🫶

This got out of control honestly... it's kind of sad so I apologize for that. Hope you enjoy either way!

Price x M!Reader ↪ 1844 words — 18+ / SMUT & ANGST.

Content tags — cis male power bottom (combat medic) reader, cis male service top/dominant Price, unsafe sex, referenced/implied Ghost x Soap, crying, hospitals, description of injuries, referenced/implied character death, established relationship, penetrative sex, anal sex, fingering, oral sex, hand jobs, semi-public sex, tantric sex, body worship, probably inaccurate medical stuff. 

Soap’s stuck in the infirmary. Unconscious half the time and miserable. Fucking sepsis, blood poisoning, from toxic shock—some gas he inhaled too much of when his mask got shattered in CQC. Idiot didn’t remember the wet cloth advice you’d given him, obviously. You have nurses on shifts giving him blood transfusions every hour on the dot. The bloody bastard hates needles.

Ghost won’t leave his side—not since you told him the mortality rate for sepsis is anywhere from 30% to 50%. You had to pull the shrapnel from his leg and ribs while he sat in the bedside chair, hand twitching on the bed like he was keeping himself from grabbing for Johnny.

Gaz is the most well off. Just a nasty concussion from having his shit rocked by a juggernaut, though you still had to sit and check him over for wounds with how he was caked in mud and still high on adrenaline. He was more than happy to go take a hot shower and collapse into a medical bed (softer than the quarter’s beds) to let the nurses watch over him.

Price hasn’t spoken to you outside of barking orders since he pulled Soap heaving and choking out of the helo, Gaz barely supporting Ghost’s limping weight behind him. Since then you’ve caught glimpses of him moving around the infirmary like a shadow, watching over his team but never sticking around long once you catch his eye. 

He had a gash on his forehead leaking blood into his eye when he got off that helicopter. It was stitched up by the time you saw him again. You could tell from the shoddy craftsmanship that he did it himself, probably in one of the bathroom mirrors.

You gently swipe your thumb over it now, as he stands in front of you, looming ever so slightly. He winces at the sting, but doesn’t move away. You’re frowning, staring at the scar, and he won’t stop looking at you.

“I wouldn’t have changed your orders,” he says, voice firm.

“John—” you huff out, eyes rolling.

“Not for any of them.”

He’d made you stay. For the first time since you’d join the task force as the combat medic, he’d made you sit this mission out. Because it was too dangerous he’d said. Well, that was the bloody point, wasn’t it? If you’d been there you could’ve treated the sepsis earlier, reduced the severity, or you could’ve patched Ghost up properly so he wouldn’t have lost so much fucking blood, half-dazed as he was in that chair. Christ, you could've at least have given Gaz some ibuprofen, the poor fuck.

But Price made you stay.

“You would’ve been killed,” Price says, sounding almost offended as you glare at him.

“I would’ve been hurt, like them, but they’d be better off. That’s my job, Captain.”

The vitriol behind the title has Price caught off guard. You only ever call him by rank in private moments like this lightheartedly. 

“You almost got Johnny killed,” you whisper, and Price’s eyes squeeze close for a mere moment. When he opens them again he’s not looking at you anymore. He takes your hands in his and stares at them instead.

“I don’t want to argue,” he says, sounding so soft. So defeated. 

You don’t need an apology, or an admittance. You know that tone is as good as it gets with him, pride wounded as it is. Heart too. He knows he made a bad call, and yet you know he still wouldn’t have changed it. Not if it met sacrificing you.

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek to get him to look back up at you. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a short moment, searching. You don’t find anything other than blue. His eyes flutter shut and he leans in to kiss you. So, so soft. Chaste, almost, and slow. 

You know what he needs. What you both need.

You move your hand from his cheek to his short hair, petting him lovingly, encouragingly. He trails gentle kisses to the corner of your lips, your cheek and jawline, down to your throat and shoulder.

"Kneel," you whisper.

He lowers slowly with a low groan, knees resting carefully on the fatigue mat beneath you, looking like he’s about to pray. His head is level with your stomach, and he buries his face against the softness there. Both your hands comb gently through his hair now, nails scratching at his scalp, his noise of contentment so deep and rumbly like a purr.

His thick arms move from wrapped around your waist, loosening so he can glide his big hands up and down your legs, spreading wide over your thighs and squeezing before he leans back enough to unbutton your fatigue pants and zip them down.

He lowers to nuzzle against your bulge, pressing kisses through your boxers until he can feel you half hard and twitching beneath his lips. Your soft, rattling breaths above him make him content, humming and sending soft vibrations through your crotch. 

You lean back against the desk behind you, ass perched on the edge of it. You fumble through the drawers as he frees your cock and takes into his hot, wet mouth with another hum. You moan, fingers wrapping around a half-empty tube of lube that you set into his waiting hand.

He so slowly bobs up and down your prick, eyes caught between staring up at you half-lidded and fluttering shut in focus. He doesn’t even have his hands on you, both of them working open the lube with a click before squirting some onto his fingers. You push your pants further down your legs, careful not to jostle him, allowing him the access he works towards.

His thick fingers tease between your cheeks and against your hole. He stops moving his head, just acting as a gentle suction as he works the first slick digit into you. You moan softly, aware you’re still both in the infirmary—in your office, sure, but it’s thin glass and drawn blinds separating you from your nursing staff.

He pulls off of you completely, the cold air of the room causing you to gasp as his saliva rapidly cools around your cock. He sucks kisses into the fat of your thighs, nuzzling his furry cheek against you like an affectionate cat whenever he gets the chance. 

He slips a second finger into you, the angle too awkward for him to focus on your prostate, but pleasurable nonetheless, the feeling of being filled. The stretch feels good, grounds you like your groans do to him. Remind him he’s alive after the day he’s had, that he’s living and breathing and you’re still a warm body waiting for him to come home.

“Where do you want me?” you ask lowly, getting impatient. You can feel his smile against your thigh before he looks up at you, scans the office a bit before slipping his fingers free.

You let out a soft breath at the emptiness as he stands, his hands, one still slick, resting on your hips as he kisses you slow and deep, tongue licking into your mouth to explore. You moan around him, sucking on the intruding muscle. 

He helps you to kick the rest of your pants off before lifting you ever so slightly further onto the desk, and you don’t miss the way he winces. You break the kiss, eyeing him warily.

“Don’t—” he starts.

“Take your shirt off,” you cut him off, already pulling on the hem. He sighs, raising his arms with a grunt so you can slip it off and over his head.

He’s got bandages wrapped around his upper chest, looping over his shoulder. The center of the cloth is stained a light pink from what blood still waits to clot. You let a breath out through your nose, hands so gently skating over the covered plains of his chest.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he rumbles, pressing closer, picking your legs up to wrap them around his wide waist as your crotches grind slowly against each other. You are worried, but the blood doesn’t leave the south. 

“Who fixed you?” You ask, and Price sighs again.

“Love—”

“Who?”

“Monroe, I think.”

You nod approvingly. You trust Monroe, he knows what he’s doing. There’s no point in arguing, not when Price is pulling his cock free, hanging heavy, blood flow not enough to keep it tall and proud like usual. He strokes himself a few times with his lubed hand, pressing the tip to your pucker and rubbing as he kisses you again. 

You want to cry, want to pull him close and never let him leave again. You want to tie yourself to him so he can’t go without you again. You wish you outranked him or, something, something. You know it’s too much for you to ask for him to be safe, but you wish he’d let you be there to keep him safe. That’s your entire goddamn job.

He can feel how tense you’re getting, hole resisting against him trying to slide in, your arms tight around his neck. He kisses the corner of your mouth, and realizes at the taste of bitter salt that you’re crying. 

“Breathe for me, love,” he swipes his thumb across your cheek and trails soft kisses along your neck.

You do so, and he slips into you on the exhale, making you moan and cling tighter to him. 

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, holding you close to him as he slowly rocks his hips, making you whimper, “I love you,” he says, and you sob.

“Love you—love you,” you say back, rambling, rocking your hips down onto his cock as he slowly takes you apart. Neither of you are going to last long, not with how pent up you both are, and the heartstring vibrating between you two—deep, deep connection.

"Harder," you growl, and he complies with only the slightest hesitation, hips slamming into you.

You pant against each other’s mouths, breathing each other’s air. He smells like smoke and lavender and whiskey and a fire in the summer and it feels like coming home. 

His big hand wraps around your dick, pumping you in time with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long for him to get you there, his thick cock grinding so perfectly against your prostate. You cum, wet hot splatters onto his stomach and dribbles down his fist. 

You clench so tight around him, flexing in waves around his cock. He groans so loud as he cums, grabbing the back of your head to pull you into a heated kiss, desperate and heavy as he fills you up, makes your insides all warm and sticky.

You whimper against his mouth, the two of you breaking free for air, catching your breaths. His head is on your shoulder and you try not to think about how his shoulders are shaking as you pet through his hair, the two of you still connected.

You’ll both be okay.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Lured to the Light on Accident

Ok, all you Jedi, Sith, and Force Nulls (and anyone who is none of the above), here we go again. Just a warning, Palpatine gets off far more lightly than he probably should. Also I keep having deja vu as I write this, but can’t find any indication I have posted it before. If someone knows different, please tell me.  It makes me wonder if I thought about this one so hard I thought I wrote it…

It starts at the end of the Naboo crisis.  Sheev Palpatine, Darth Sidious, is all too aware that a man of his power requesting the company of a young boy, without his guardian, from a group of people he has an unbelievable amount of control over is not a good look on anyone.  Even with that young boy being a hero on his planet, particularly since there were two living Jedi heroes of the Naboo Crisis. 

So he invites both Obi Wan and Anakin to meet with him. Obi Wan, though he does have some suspicion around most politicians, is also grieving, hurting, too young, and trying to keep up with a nine year olds energy without letting on that he is struggling. He thinks, incorrectly, that even implying he might need help from anyone in the Jedi temple means that Anakin would be taken from him (this belief is preyed on by Palpatine, who is very good at making people doubt each other). And frankly Palpatine can get Anakin to sit quietly for an entire hour, even take a nap occasionally. 

There are days that Obi Wan would have nominated Palpatine for sainthood on that alone. 

Of course Palpatine sees a chance to corrupt another Jedi, plus corrupting this particular Jedi would pave the way for him to take control of Anakin, and he could just kill him later if need be.   So he starts these ‘devil's advocate’ debates with Obi Wan where he picks qualities of the Jedi and Sith (as he perceives them) and tries to make Obi Wan choose one or the other and defend it. As far as Palptine is concerned he can work with whichever choice Obi Wan chooses, can refer back to the debate if he wants to make Obi Wan seem hidebound or a hypocrite when the time comes to break the relationship between Obi Wan and Anakin.

Only…Obi Wan does not quite cooperate. No matter what the ‘qualities’ that Palpatine chooses (always geared to be backhanded insults to the Jedi Order), Obi Wan always, always, always argues that the key is to act with compassion.  And he’s good at it. Obi Wan thinks that Palpatine is helping him teach Anakin how to disagree with someone without getting nasty, how to debate for fun and games, so goes into each debate with all of his focus and energy and effort but no vitriol.  By the time Palptine even thinks to make an argument to make compassion seem like a weakness, he is intrigued by these debates. By this argument of acting with compassion first and foremost. 

It should be noted that, for all that Palpatine was working toward the genocide of the Jedi and was creating all kinds of vaguely plausible propaganda, he had actually rarely interacted with the Jedi beyond the superficial, until Obi Wan and Anakin, (even with Yan Dooku, since the focus was on corrupting the Jedi, not understanding him) so does not actually know what what is and is not a Jedi trait outside of rumors.  

These debates change Palpatine. Oh, not at once, not in weeks or months or even years. But with such a creeping slowness that it is unnoticeable, Palpatine changes. The compassion Obi Wan talks about so enthusiastically sinks into his bones. Of course, every time Palpatine finds himself acting with compassion, he has a ready excuse for himself (to gain an ally, hurting that person would be more effort than it was worth, etc.). He also finds that he genuinely begins to enjoy Obi Wan and Anakin’s company (and begins to feel somewhat paternal toward them), and can genuinely call both master and padawan his friends. 

This does not stop Dooku’s corruption, though Palpatine is more careful not to let the Jedi know he is a Sith. It doesn't even stop the clone wars.  The first large effect that this infusion of compassion has is with the Coruscant Guard. These were the first beings that Palpatine interacted with that were, without a doubt, innocent. In Palpatine's mind he could make an argument that every other being or group has some responsibility, no matter how small for what is coming. But the Clones do not. What’s more, Palpatine perceives the Coruscant Guard as his. They were his personal clones. Palpatine is still undoubtedly a Sith, and though Compassion has infected him, he is obsessively protective of what he considered his. 

Palpatine quickly manufactures reasons to do away with, by death or other means, many of his more odious allies. All of them for the crime of laying a hand on his Coruscant Guard. He treats the CG with all the compassion that he had, instead of just paying lip service when cameras are on.  And in return the CG are as loving and loyal to him as the rest of the GAR is to the Jedi generals.  In fact, for every act of compassion he performs, he finds that he is rewarded with admiration and later love (and not just from the clones). It becomes a cycle of reinforcement drawing him from the depths of the evil he has sunk to.  

Do not get me wrong, Palpatine is not a good person. For the first two years of the war he is still actively working toward the death of the Jedi and the enslavement of the clones.  He is still leading both sides of the war, if a little more hands off from the Separatists. He may consider Obi Wan a friend, but that mainly means he intends to make sure his death is painless (as even now he could see how Operation Knightfall and Order 66 would hurt Obi Wan immensely and wanted to spare him that). 

Then comes the day when Obi Wan brings his Commander to meet the Chancellor. They have come to, among other things, announce their engagement and their intention to marry after the war was over.  Obi Wan wants Palptine to officiate. In this world the Anidala elopement is well known, and accepted, and both Obi Wan and Palpatine have playfully bitched to each other (and to Anakin and Padme) about not getting to be there for the wedding. 

Palpatine is beyond flattered, and ecstatic for his friend and the love that he had found. In his head he begins to plan the outfit he would wear as the officiant. It is two hours later, in his apartment, that it hits him. He had been thinking about how Fox, one of his commanders, had talked about his brother Cody. How much Cody loved Obi Wan and how happy Fox was that they were getting married. Palpatine realized that if things go as planned, there will be no wedding, as both the grooms would be dead, or as good as. That epiphany it trailed into the realization that his clones, even if they remain free, would have to face their enslaved brothers. The brothers he enslaved. Somehow that shakes him as nothing else, the thought that the Coruscant Guard might lose their regard for him for enslaving their brothers.

In that instant he decided that the love he could feel from the clones was more important than any Sith plan. (Frankly, I can think of few things more Sithlike than deciding their own wants mean more than the 1000 year plan that is almost complete) Which meant that he would need to dismantle the plan without giving away what he was. 

Luckily he has always had a patsy around, just in case the great Sith plan was discovered too early. 

His first step is to arrange the deaths of anyone who knows that Sheev Palpatine is Darth Sidious (frankly there aren’t many).  Then he pulls out the fake correspondence he has on hand for this kind of occasion (Not for nothing Palpatine is a planner, I have no doubt he has a plan to frame someone else as Sidious) that does a very good job of implying that Sidious had control of Palpatine, and would use him to enact Order 66 and a report about the chips by the Kamionoans to Dooku.  He uses the same techniques he had employed to hide his Dark presence, to create a facade in his mind. 

Then he has Commander Fox, and a handful of other CG, to escort him to the Jedi temple.  He makes a show of acting strangely, closing in on frantic one moment, dazed the next, saying strange things about needing to tell the Jedi and ‘forgetting’ he said anything a moment later.  Generally do an excellent job of appearing as if he was breaking through some kind of control. They get him in front of the Jedi High Council, the members still on planet (Mace Windu, Obi Wan Kenobie, Yoda, Ki Adi Mundi) and he hands over the information. In between ‘fits’ (at one point letting his darkness out to change his eyes, then having it change back) he describes waking up in his office to see the documents on the Padd he handed over. Realizing first what it meant for the Guard, then what it meant for his friends in the Jedi.  Feeling like he is fighting against something to even bring the documents this far but knowing that it was critical, to protect the Coruscant Guard. 

His act is bought. The trail he leaves (with just enough hints of evidence that doesn’t fit to keep it seem like it is frame-up) leads the Jedi exactly where he wanted them, to an aide in his office that has been with him since his earliest days.  This Aide (who is little more than a mindless puppet, with enough Force sensitivity to fool whatever tests the Jedi will do) claims to be Darth Sidious, does the villain’s monologue, shoots Sith lightning, and is killed by some very angry members of the Coruscant Guard. 

With the ‘Sith Master’ dead, the war ends swiftly.  Dooku surrenders for the Separatists on the condition that he gets an invitation to Obi Wan’s wedding.  The Clones begin the process of dechipping, and are given citizenship (with all the rights and back pay and a planet of their own) spearheaded by Palpatine, which wins him major points with the delegation of 2000. 

Palpatine is ‘cleared’ by the Jedi mindhealers (who contrary to their name do not actually look into anyone’s mind) and the small amount of darkness that lets show is listed as a side effect of being puppeted by a Sith for so long.  It is eventually decided, encouraged by Palpatine, that is was Palptine’s love for the clones that gave him a chance to fight back against Darth Sidious, but it was his friendship with Obi Wan and Anakin that gave him the strength to even break free enough to love the clones. Both Obi Wan and Anakin are required to go to mind healers as well, just in case Sidious did anything to them in the form of Palpatine. Because Palpatine chose, fairly early on, to not corrupt either of them but the natural damages of being at war were also discovered and worked on (In this universe Anakin did not slaughter the Tuskans. Without Palpatine actively sabotaging his and Obi Wan’s relationship, they were able to discuss his vision a bit more openly and Obi Wan got Vos to go save Shmi. Ironically her time held by the Tuskans, who were deeply impressed by her kindness even in the face of torture, let her learn enough that she was able to a major part of a treaty between the Tuskans and the Moisture Farmers).

Palpatine gracefully retires, making sure to give back all the emergency powers (so that the next Chancellor cannot use them) and steps into an advisory role, discovering that he has almost all the influence he had as Chancellor and none of the responsibility or blame. The death of his patsy gave Palpatine a reputation for being nigh on incorruptible, because all of of the small, infrequent acts of compassion or kindness throughout his time a Chancellor were seen as his true self breaking through the control of the horrible Sith (who was considered to have taken control of him as a child). In addition the Jedi made it extremely clear how rare it was to have the mental fortitude to break through Sith control.   

With all of the accolades, his all but legendary hero status through the Republic, the way his advice is accepted practically as law and good, Palpatine quickly realizes that he actually got everything most of his Sith Ancestors would have wanted.  Yes, the Jedi still live but he is welcomed among them (the perfect position to, should he decide to, corrupt the order from the inside out), and any darkness on his part will be ignored and remnants of ‘Darth Sidious’. He may not have an outright empire, but his advice continues to be sought out and implemented (99% he advocates for compassion, whatever is the most compassionate answer to the problem) and his influence is near universal. It did not matter how long a feud or argument had been going on, both sides would accept whatever compromise he suggested. 

He does get to be the officiant at the CodyWan wedding, most of the beings there are using the ceremony as another reason to roast Anidala for their elopement.  

Somehow everyone does get a happily ever after.

[lavenderprose]

The thing about fandom is like. Okay here's an example. I broadly dislike Calico Jack. I don't ship him with anybody (Aside from Anne&Mary because I enjoy the Problems they would cause) and while I do like nuance for him in fic, I have no wish to read any interpretation of his in-show character that is not 'Dirtbag man from dirtbag land.' But if you're a Calico Jack apologist and want to see him in a different light and ship him with people, I'm glad for you and hope you enjoy your activities. I'll be over here with my Barbie dolls and you'll be over there with your Barbie dolls and we don't HAVE to talk about how I think one of your Barbie dolls is wearing an ugly shirt. Or whatever.

That is literally what 'don't tag your hate' means, and it's been a core fandom tenet FOREVER. It's been a thing since before TAGS were a thing. Back during the Internet heyday of forums, best practice was to not seek out forums that were discussing topics you personally found objectionable. If Our Flag Means Death aired on network television in 2003, I guarantee you that there would be a forum dedicated to Calico Jack and it would be MY job to never go in there because I wouldn't like what I saw. And if I did go in there and make a nuisance of myself, it would be my own damn fault when someone came after me about it.

We don't have forums anymore. What we have are tags. And, generally speaking, people are going to be in the tags of certain topics because they ENJOY them. I don't go in the Homelander tag for The Boys because that's where the people who are horny about him hang out and that's not me. When I was in the Yuuri on Ice fandom, there were certain popular side pairings that I didn't enjoy and I NEVER went in the tags and talked about how I disliked those pairings. Because that would have been rude.

It just reads as. I don't know, childish? To make very vitriolic posts and tag those posts with the tags that you KNOW enjoyers of that thing use and frequent. Like, at a certain point you have to admit to even yourself that that's not the intended function of the tag. And I'm not sure if it's for attention (Like, signal boosting) or if it's just general misbehavior. TBH, it's something that's been happening for a long time. The McKirk tag was regularly inundated with hate (Tho less actual meta and more just straight up trolling) right after Star Trek Into Darkness came out and McKirk exploded weirdly in popularity. So even very old fandoms are engaging in this kind of behavior.

Honestly I'm not sure what the solution is because as we've all seen by now, asking nicely and asking...not so nicely both do not work. I think it starts somewhere from a place of just respecting your fellow fans and understanding that it's okay to dislike or disagree with a person or character or ship or plot without being nasty about it. A little respect and tolerance could go a long way.

[alice-after-dark]

Sir Pentious Character Discussion for @xxx-sir-pentious-xxx (ft. Vox)

So I've actually been meaning to make this post for a while now. I love the idea of these two. They're both innovators and inventors with a love for technology.

We know that Sir Pentious views the Vees in very high regard, but I think he idolizes Vox in particular. It's why Vox is the one who thinks of him and is the one in charge of sending him to the hotel. He's aware of Pentious because I don't doubt that Pentious has sought out Vox's attention specifically. I bet you anything he owns every VoxTech product in existence, has maybe even taken some of them apart to learn how they work, studies his idol's work.

Something I even kind of like to imagine is that there's a parallel between their relationship and Vox and Alastor's - Vox is Sir Pentious' Alastor. He idolizes him, wants to be just like him, wants his attention and approval, heck they even share distinct similarities in their clothing (though if I'm being honest with myself, this is probably just because Viv likes that design).

I think that's also why it hurts Pentious to badly to hear Vox say such nasty things to him. Like, he's been insulted many times and it never pushed him to react the way he does to Vox's vitriol. It's because it's someone whose opinion matters to him. And to be used and thrown aside by them? It's excruciating. He literally doesn't care if the others at the hotel kill him because his world has been utterly crushed.

Honestly, come season 2, I would love to see a friendship between these two. Maybe Pentious comes down from Heaven to try and help with the hotel and during the conflict with Vox, he tries to get through to him and maybe kinda sorta succeeds. Or at least starts the process. Like Vox is not used to the idea that he means something to someone. Sure he's popular, but it's always about pleasing the public, giving them what they want. And then seeing his old self in Pentious? That wide-eyed guy who just loved to create and had a million ideas and wasn't this burnt out CEO? Probably would make him mad at first because he's all about progress and moving forward so feeling nostalgic for his old self and being upset about how different he's become would make him super uncomfortable, but maybe it gets the ball rolling to something better?

And maybe it's Sir Pentious' turn to be the one extending the hand?

(This got out of control and I'm not sorry, pun fucking intended)

[sourcreammachine]

fuck it, let’s die on this hill

FAIRYTALE OF NEW YORK IS THE ULTIMATE QUEER YULETIDE SONG

the straights have been getting increasingly uncomfortable with it in the last few years. you’re going to see a big resurgence of the censored version this year because Shane MacGowan died last week, but it has been well on the decline - meaning a wide open gulf is forming to allow the cheap, lousy faggots to swoop in and continue colonising it. here’s why we should

firstly it’s an absolute banger. traditional irish music combined with modern drums into a sound that fits the yule aesthetic perfectly whilst bringing drama and emotion. it’s cozied up by the fire, but alive and dramatic

the biggest source of discomfort for most people is that it’s MacGowan and MacColl aggressively arguing at each other, rattling off textbook sexist vitriol. and MacColl calls MacGowan a faggot, with total sincere usage of the slur, hatred and all. putting the slur aside, the nastiness of the song gets people’s ire. it’s a couple having a stereotypical domestic and they seem to kiss and make up in the final act, all unacceptable behaviour forgiven. it’s everything modern straights want to put in the past. so let them. it’s a het couple being toxic, cool. queer celebration has attached the bandwagon to worse things and it’s always taking up the castoffs of heteronormative society. queer love can be made of FONY all the same:

MacGowan’s first verse stings, does it not? sadness, desperation, and longing. in queer society, we have all been MacGowan’s character and we have all been the Old Man, even if it’s not the bottle and the drunk tank. we’re survivors, we’re bloodied and bruised, we refuse to go away no matter how many AIDS-genocides, moral panics, and hate-murders they do to us. there are nights where we think by all mercy we Won’t See Another One, and we turn our face away and Dream About You. there’s always hope. there’s always reasons to continue the fight, and they don’t have to be abstract

when the sobbing’s over, the Pogues immediately come to life for the main body. we go up and down the rollercoaster of emotions while the band keeps playing, while the air is always jubilant. the wonder, the delight, the hope, the madlove, the melodrama, the bile, the hatred. for a song making allusions of broadway, it sounds fresh from broadway - our story is painted through feelings, not words. and when it’s over, MacColl’s character (seems to, judging by the tonal finality of MacGowan’s lines and her participation in the final chorus) forgives her abusive partner and reattaches her hopes to him, her drunkard patriarch. but we’re queer, remember - we’re not celebrating these straggot pieces of shit. we find identity in the feelings. we have all been MacColl’s character, finding wonder and hope and the chance to become who we want to be, and being given false promises by false starts. and if you’ll forgive me for entertaining MacGowan’s character’s bastard misogynist perspective for a second, we’ve all found ourselves having to defend our queer communities, having to stand by our old sluts on junk, even as doing so takes its toll and sometimes feels like a burden. those feelings happen. they are irrational, they are bad, and they happen. and a new day comes and we’re thankful we stood by. it’s a melodramatic broadway banger - we can find meaning in all places, even the ‘b*tch-wife’ slurrings of a misogynist

it’s that power that lets a queer reading of FONY stick the fucking landing. again i repeat myself, from a surface reading the ending is toxic as shit. but queer reading is in the feeling. this lament, this mournful lament, of misplaced hopes, of lost dreams, and a commitment to what we have, and looking forward despite unbearable challenge. you’d scream ‘leave him!’ to every straight MacColl in the world, that’s like, feminism 101 - but queer life is nothing if not complicated. the queer-read MacGowan isn’t a toxic gay lover. he is queer life itself. he took our dreams from us when we first found him, so it may appear. the hatred we feel inside, the emptiness, the pain, it’s all there with the phantasmic joy, the discovery, the love, the everything. and the band always keeps playing. straight MacColls returning to their straight MacGowans is stupid, but we don’t have a choice. our community is everything, our support is everything. it’s rough. it can almost kill you. but would any of us trade it for anything else? we are MacColls and MacGowans all at once - we are the ones with fragile hopes, we are the ones who damage it, and shepherd it still. we’re our own worst enemy and we’re all we have

when Shane MacGowan adapted the original lyrics of a lonely seafarer, he did not turn it into a queer song. in fact, he wrote a character yelling the f-slur. there is not a gramme of queercoding here. but exactly what is the difference between the actual faggots finding commonality in the villain songs penned to mock us, or old broadway songs that have nothing to do with us, and the yuletide song that actively hates us? fucking little, i would argue. queer celebration’s power is its ability to reconstrue. they call us faggot every month of the year with nary a second thought, and we spit it right back at them with reclamation and solidarity. we should do the same in december. we dance to the tune of their bigotry and we sing along at the top of our lungs. they are quietening down out of embarrassment - long may our party reign. FONY, a bigoted song, is a queer anthem because it has been made so. the madness. the love. the sadness. the dreams. that is queerness. and queer revolution is not giving one single, solitary shite about straight people’s discomfort about what the cheap, lousy faggots choose to celebrate. the way the ending instrumental tapers off into beautiful emotion - the straights have abandoned it: that feeling of love, that feeling of joy, that feeling belongs to us now

sing it like you would all queer songs. hold your friends close and celebrate them. love everyone around you. and when the naughty word comes around, scream it

[inkbybambi]

dbf!joel miller when the fallout arrives —

words: 1k rating: there are allusions to smut but nothing explicit. however, my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, no happy ending, brief mentions of smut, picking cuticles and biting nails. if i miss anything, please let me know! notes: sorry in advance.

the fallout had been nothing less than catastrophic.

your father — you've never seen him so blind with rage, before. spewing vitriol and venom, mainly towards joel. it's unfair, you want to cry, you were part of it too. joel tried to be reasonable and rational at the beginning and you — you kissed him anyway.

you can't blame him, not really. some part of you knew it was always going to end like this.

it's been weeks since you've spoken with either of them. maybe a month, maybe a little more. you don't want to know, and you're not keeping track. time blurs together when you're barely making it one moment to the next.

joel hasn't reached out. you can’t blame him, either, but you can't deny that it hurts.

you thought that he might’ve fought back, stood his ground about your relationship. telling your father how much the relationship meant to him, how much you meant to him. anything that made it seem like he was doing something, anything he could to keep you.

you thought wrong, apparently.

the truth fucking hurts.

it's hard to eat, hard to sleep. you keep worrying about him. is he able to sleep okay? is he reading over your messages, wanting to type an olive branch out, remembering everything he said to you? is it eating him up at fucking all?

did it even mean anything to him?

"hey."

your father, surprisingly, was the one to reach out first. far too long after the entire ordeal happened. it makes your heart ache at the thought that it's been that long. that he's been able to — somewhat — come to terms with it and he's willing to talk. he offered to have you over one evening after work. not for dinner or anything, just to talk.

you should take what you can get, you suppose.

there isn't anything left for you to lose.

his voice is rough as you sit across from him at the table. you can't find the courage to say anything back.

the silence stretches.

you pick at your cuticles, blood seeping into the open wounds when you pull back your skin too far.

"he hasn't talked to me," you offer, chancing a look at him, after a few moments of silence that hang too heavy, a weight ready to drop and crush whatever is beneath it. "since..." you trail off, swallowing hard as you beg yourself to not cry. "i haven't... haven't tried, either."

your father nods, fingers tapping on the wood. if he's even a little bit happy about that, he doesn't show.

"it's better this way," you continue, voice weaker, unsure who you're trying to convince.

you bite at your nail. it's a nasty habit you've never been able to break.

"he'll find someone — " you inhale hard, let it out shaky. you don't want to think of him with someone else, someone who's not you. you don't want to think of him kissing someone else, holding them at night like he'll protect them from everything, whisper the sweetest promises in their ear while he takes them apart piece by piece with his mouth and fingers and —

"someone better," you manage to finish, if not a little pained.

you should've kissed him more. lingered in his arms a little longer in the mornings, in the evenings after he cleaned you up from the mess between your legs. you wish you had burned the memory of his smile into your veins — into your blood, into the smallest pieces of yourself that mattered — the one reserved for you, lighting you up like fire, keeping you warm in the unbearable moments you weren't with him.

all that's left is ash.

your father still says nothing. still won't look at you.

"it wasn't him." your father needs to understand. when you thought of the fallout — and you thought it inevitable, as it was — you never thought joel would lose everything too.

you don't know why you didn't think that. your father is understanding, but not that understanding.

you don't know why you're trying to defend joel, either. he doesn't seem to have tried the same, and he sure as shit didn't try when everything was being doused in kerosene and left to ignite.

"do you want him to find someone else?" you don't know why he asks, and you don't want to answer.

a bit of your nail came loose when you were biting it, and now you pick at it, tearing it off. destroying yourself in these small manners so there's less of you left to drag home when it's all over. glass lines your throat, making it hard to swallow, harder to breathe.

"it doesn't matter," you answer, and now he is looking at you, eyes dark and unforgiving. your heart shatters at the thought, but you never were particularly good at letting things go, letting them leave.

"no," he agrees, and it grates like broken steel, palm flat on the table as he leans back, monitoring your every movement. "it doesn't."

"i'm sorry," you offer, weak. tears burn your eyes, and you dig your fingers into your palms, biting at the skin, trying to focus the pain on anything other than your heart.

it beats, uncomfortable and heavy like lead, as it has for the past few weeks, as you fear it will until you die.

"you wouldn't have done it in the first place if you were," he bites out.

you bite the inside of your cheek, eyes closing as the tears begin to fall. he pushes back from the table — you hear the scrape of his chair. you sniffle, trying to hold back the sob that wants to break free.

you should say something — cry, beg, something to make him understand. you can't. your voice is locked, stuck in your throat as you fight to keep breathing.

your father wants to say something too, you can feel it.

but he never does, and he leaves you in the kitchen with a single light on, leaving you to the silence of blood thrumming uncomfortably in your veins and your heart beating like it's going to stop.