#And even if I could as far as I know there is no treatment for it so like. Whatever

[theminecraftbee]

so i've been seeing this occasionally in the tags lately and i thought i'd bring up:

if you want someone to click or reblog your fic link you cannot simply post a link to the fic with either no description or a single sentence of description. if you do not put something beyond a link and a sentence, no one is going to click it.

part of this is basic internet safety (don't click links if you don't know where they're supposed to go), but a large part of this is that you have to catch someone's attention to make them click and leave the page they're on! people, in general, aren't going to click a link that doesn't interest them. you should interest them! so, how do you do that?

put some kind of image above your link in your post. this is BY FAR the most certain way to get reblogs and catch people's eye, but it's also the most time-consuming if you aren't already good at edits or art yourself. moodboards, little edited headers, or gifs can help you here (depending on fandom). art you've made yourself or have permission to use is absolutely the best option here, but it's by far the most time-intensive and difficult. full disclosure: i don't do this! that's because i am absolutely pants as a visual artist, even in the realm of editing or selecting gifsets. but if you have this skill and are sad your fics aren't getting attention on tumblr, this could be a potential answer!

write a summary and some kind of note with the link. there's a slightly cluttered cheat way to do this later in the list, but personally i find that formatting your fic post yourself is the best way to make these posts look good. i normally go fic link (making sure the link embed has the title) - summary of fic beneath that in a blockquote - an author's note about what to expect beneath that summary. however, everyone has different standards for how to do this! some people i know like to make sure tags and rating are present; some do not. some put some of this information beneath a cut; some do not. the main key here is to make sure there's just enough information above the cut in the main post that if i, a stranger, am browsing the tag and find your fic, i have enough information to know if it's something i might be interested in! i can always click to see the ao3 tags if i am intrigued, so it doesn't need to be all the information. just enough to catch my eye!

just post the whole fic to tumblr, including a link at the top or bottom. this is the most efficient non-art way to get notes on a fic you post, since, unlike a link with a description, a tumblr user doesn't have to leave the website to read and decide if they're interested or like it enough to reblog. however, there are two downsides. the first is that the fic almost always has to be short (~2k words if you use a cut, less if you don't), since most tumblr users aren't using the website expecting to read a bunch. the second is that doing this will mean most of your fic's readers likely will read it from tumblr, rather than following the fic to ao3. which, you may not care! i certainly don't when it comes to the ficlets i write directly to tumblr. however, it means i really don't recommend doing this with a multichapter fic.

use ao3's share button to automatically make a tumblr post. fics on ao3 have a "share" button, located above the tags and summary. this has a tumblr option, which you can then use to automatically post the fic link to tumblr. this is a bit cluttered since it includes all of the tags from the fic, alongside the full summary, rating, wordcount, etc. personally, i would then edit a little to remove some of that information so that it's more eyecatching and less overwhelming, but if you don't want to, that's also fine! that is still almost always going to be better than posting the link by itself with a single sentence to describe it, and isn't half-bad formatting-wise.

finally, you'll note my posts for ongoing chapters aren't normally given this treatment or fandom tags (although i almost always include a summary of some kind on them). this is because i generally don't want people finding my fic for the first time from a random chapter in the middle. i don't mind if they do, but i'm not going to spam the tag and i'm not going to make THAT much of an effort to make the post appealing. new chapters are things that might tell one of my followers that there's an ongoing fic they should look out for, and tell my current readers and followers that there's, well, a new chapter, but generally they aren't going to hook people. however, if you post chapters a lot more infrequently than i do, or if you simply have the energy to, there's nothing stopping you from applying these to chapter posts as well!

the thing is: look, at the end of the day, i agree with people who say you should write for yourself. how many notes you get isn't a big deal, i promise; the most important feeling is, ultimately, the feeling you get when you finish something and know you made it with your own hands. some of my favorite writing achievements are NOT my most popular, but are my favorites for reasons entirely unrelated to popularity. however, i see a lot of writers bemoaning how badly their fic posts do, when their fic posts are the ao3 embed and a single sentence that reads "this is my new fic enjoy"; the thing is, there are things you can do to make that link into something that someone is more likely to read and/or reblog! (i know i personally don't like reblogging links if i don't know their contents for the aforementioned internet safety reasons.)

just because you write for yourself doesn't mean that you can't give yourself a little leg up in finding your audience. it's worth it both for yourself and your readers, i promise.

[susicheng]

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ dm for prices      l.mk

chapter 10 markie?

you expected to be nervous. this was teetering the line between date territory and the casual friend hangouts you and mark had been having before you went home for a month. not to mention, you hadn’t seen mark in person for so long (not counting yesterday when he surprised you at the airport). being alone with him again might be completely foreign territory again, after all of the talking you had been doing over break.

somehow, though, seeing mark only eased your nerves. as he opened the passenger side door, you could only look at his face and smile, serotonin rushing through your system.

“hey.” he climbed in awkwardly, as endearing as ever. “you look really good.” you could tell he wasn’t used to being provided the princess treatment from others. good thing you were here now to change that.

“just good?” you teased.

“beautiful. you look beautiful.”

“thank you markie. you look gorgeous yourself.”

“gorgeous?” the flush on his cheeks was evident, even from your peripheral vision as you began to drive, focusing more on the road than his face.

“yeah. you’re gorgeous.”

“can’t say anyone has ever called me that before.”

“really?” you glanced over at him, only for a second, to witness the shy nod he produced. “then i’m happy to be the first.”

he seemed to appreciate the lull in the conversation, taking this time to compose himself after your comment.

“you’re a good driver.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at changing the topic, trying to regain control of the situation to avoid become more flustered. too bad you had contradicting plans. “thanks, i try. wouldn’t want my princess to be harmed under my watch.”

“i thought you said you were leaning towards ‘babygirl’?” his reply was playful. confident, even. but the reappearance of redness on his cheeks gave him away.

“we’ll see where the night takes us, yeah?” maybe you were implying something sexual. maybe not. who could really dictate that call.

“oh. yeah, okay.” you pulled into a parking spot, finally able to fully turn and appreciate his (adorable) reactions to your words.

“you’re cute mark.” his face was only getting redder. you really wanted to bite him, he was too cute. who knew mark lee was a sucker for being pampered.. (you had a feeling he had somewhat of a praise kink. nice to know your theory was closer to becoming true).

“thanks.”

you had been parked for a minute, watching mark expectantly as he seemed at a loss for what to do.

“are you going to get out of the car, or do you want me to get the door for you?” you giggled, watching the realization dawn on his expression and send him into panic mode.

“oh! oh, i can get out by myself. hahaha. thank you. i can get out by myself.” the way he moved reminded you a bit of a baby deer, unsteady and nervous. maybe you weren’t the only one that was nervous about seeing the other in real life after so long of being hundreds of miles apart.

“baby, you’re so nervous. why?” you were both out of the car now, mark getting particularly jumpy every time you got too close, like he was afraid to make the wrong move around you.

“oh. um. no reason, it’s just exciting for you to be back.” 

“that’s all?”

“yeah! yeah that’s all.”

the mall was as exciting as it usually is. despite window shopping time and time again, you still laugh every single time at the candy dicks in that one store. and the obnoxious animal masks in the one diagonal from it. nothing beats taking stupid pictures together wearing realistic wolf masks in a mall.

as you were walking around with mark, hands brushing together every few steps, you noticed him zero in on a particular display in the window of a clothing store. there were matching spiderman shirts displayed. of course that nerd noticed them from so far away.

“you want those?” you gestured to the shirts, a smile on your face.

“well. isn’t it kind of…” he trailed off, cheeks reddening again. you could get used to that, he looked unnervingly cute when he was embarrassed. 

“kind of?” 

“it’s kind of couple-y.” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. he was just so cute.

“what’s the problem with that? if it’s cute, it’s cute.” you grabbed onto his hand, tugging him towards the store.

“you don’t think it’s weird?” stupid question for him to ask, as you’re dragging him in to buy them, but you digress.

“no, i don’t think it’s weird to buy matching shirts with you mark. i think it’s cute.” 

it took no time to find the shirts in the store, quickly picking out your respective sizes and taking them up to the counter. when the time came to pay, you saw mark reaching into his wallet to pull out his own money, but not before you levelled him with a stern look and pushed his hands back down.

“hey hey hey, you are not paying. remember, you’re my princess today, mark lee. put your wallet away.”

his eyes widened (cute). he obediently pocketed his wallet, watching in stunned silence as you paid and thanked the cashier, grabbing mark’s hand again to direct him out of the store.

“i kind of like it when you’re assertive..” he was quiet when he said it, almost like he didn’t quite want you to hear it. his bad, though, because you were far too observant about anything he did.

“yeah? you like getting bossed around?” you shot him a wink, laughing when he tore his hand out of your grip in shock.

“i didn’t mean it like that.” the shock in his tone was evident, only causing you to laugh harder.

“you didn’t?”

he stared at you, seeming to be building up confidence. “maybe i did. maybe i didn’t. there’s only one way to find out i guess.” he schooled his tone into nonchalance. he was blushing (again) though. he really was an open book, at least to you.

“look who’s being bold now! mark lee, i didn’t know you had it in you!” you hit his shoulder lightly, smiling widely as you two made your way to the food court. 

“i’m a surprising person.” he shrugged. 

“are you saying there’s more where that came from?” you glanced over at him, grinning at this newfound confidence.

“that’s exactly what i’m saying.” there was a challenge in his eyes, one that you were about to mirror. that is, until the sound of mark’s phone buzzing in his pocket suddenly cuts through the conversation. 

you raise an eyebrow but brush it off, figuring it’s just an unimportant call. but when the buzzing persists, you can see the way he hesitates, eyes flicking to the phone in his pocket. it's not like him to avoid a call to this extent. you wait for him to take it, but something in his demeanor feels off.

you glance at him. "you gonna get that?"

mark hesitates, his hand hovering over his pocket, before he quickly reaches for his phone. it’s almost too fast. but before he can even pull it out, it rings again, louder this time. his face visibly tightens, and for a split second, you see him struggle with whether to answer or not. you watch his fingers curl into a fist, then release, as he takes the phone from his pocket.

"are you not going to answer it?" you ask, trying to sound casual, but there’s an edge in your voice now. something feels wrong.

"i’ll just—" he mutters, his voice faltering. "it’s not important."

you raise an eyebrow, a little taken aback by his sudden nervousness. you try to suppress the sharp, uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine, but something isn’t sitting right. "who is it? you’re acting weird. are you sure you’re okay?"

the phone buzzes again, and this time, his face pales. he immediately silences it, but not before you catch a glimpse of a message notification from jaemin. your breath catches. 

“you said you’d call me tonight. you can’t keep avoiding me, mark. we need to talk.”

a chill runs down your spine as the words echo in your mind. we need to talk… what does that mean?

mark quickly shoves the phone into his pocket, his hands visibly trembling now. you can see the guilt and discomfort flashing in his eyes. “it’s nothing. please, just forget about it.”

but you can’t just forget it. the message, the urgency, the way he’s been avoiding the call—it’s all wrong. your thoughts race, and suddenly, all the doubts you had been pushing aside start to surface. you thought things were going well, but now... everything feels like it might be falling apart before it even started.

“mark,” you say, your voice soft but firm, “who is that? why does he keep calling you like this?”

mark opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. his jaw tightens, and for a moment, it’s like he’s completely frozen. you can feel the space between you two growing, like a wall slowly building.

“i just…” he finally says, his voice strained, “i didn’t want to complicate things. we’re going in a really good direction. i really like you. i didn’t want you to think—” his words falter. 

you feel your chest tighten, the pieces clicking together in an uncomfortable way. of course now he tries to save himself with a confession. the moment you had been building up for, achieved after an ex(?) is trying to reach out to mark.

you take a step back, your hand instinctively pulling away from his. “i can’t do this right now, mark. i thought we were going in a good direction too."

his face crumples, his eyes widening with a mix of panic and guilt. “i didn’t mean to keep things from you. i swear. it’s just… complicated. jaemin and i—”

you raise your hand, cutting him off before he can finish “no. you don’t get to do this, mark. you don’t get to confess and then go on about your relationship with someone else. it’s not fair.”

mark’s eyes are filled with regret, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re standing there, feeling betrayed, alone in your confusion.

the phone buzzes one last time, and this time, you don’t even look at it. you’ve seen enough.

“i think i need some space,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. you turn away from him, your stomach churning, heart aching. you can feel the weight of the unspoken words in the air, and you can’t breathe under it anymore.

mark doesn’t stop you. he doesn’t even try to reach for you this time.

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[velvetvexations]

Note: I discuss CSA and rape towards the end.

Indeed. To say trans women are killed because we're trans women is a true statement that is also deeply misleading. We are killed for the same reason gay men are killed, and gay men are killed less now because of massive social change, but they're still killed and historically they were killed by the bushel. The animus towards trans women is an extension of the same morality and base instincts that lead to it being open season on gay cis men in the past. We are trans women and we are killed for that reason theoretically, but this does not mean that the internal motivation is not the same when it comes to killing queers AMAB.

The disconnect between rates of murder for trans women and gay men were similar in the past, and the disconnect now exists because they've only just started to separate the two categories at all, and while gay men have become more socially accepted, trans women are still struggling for even the limited acceptance gay men have gotten.

The reason why the two categories did not achieve this at the same time is largely because being trans is more of an imposition on others - using the correct pronouns, placing the ASAB you're not attracted to in the category you are, more visibly departing from norms when someone that was clearly AMAB is wearing women's clothing, and it actively requiring medical treatment for children in most cases. It's not like you have to watch two gay men have sex, though Lord knows some still act like that. Also, cis gay people are far greater in number, and have relatively more power and security as a result.

TRFs will take this and say I'm claiming it's all just "misandry," and to be clear, I'm not. To interpret it that way is, if not deliberately malicious, and it is but let's just be generous, not seeing the forest for the trees. Gay men and trans women are killed for being AMAB and queer. It's the queerness. That interacts with being AMAB, whether it be cis gay men or trans women. Queers AMAB provoke the most visceral and loud disgust because it's a direct assault on cis men's insecurity that they, too, could be fags.

Just look at sexual assault statistics. While they're fairly close overall, and both leagues above cis people, the fact of the matter is that if they saw us as women the SA stats for trans women WOULD be higher. But it isn't. Because cishet men generally don't want to fuck people they see as men.

Let me tell you a story. My aunt was sexually abused as a child by her father. For as long as my mom lived, she resented her for it. She also had NPD as I do, and she saw it as her sister being chosen over her. It's deeply sad. That's how my mother took it and it colored their relationship forever.

It's an especially pathetic and sad example of wanting desperately to be taken as a woman when a transradfem insists that the data is simply lying. Given how little they think of transmasc's status as trans people, it comes off as a weird fucked up jealousy similar to my mother and aunt, who were, of course, cis. It's not unique to trans women, but the fact that trans men are seen as women by cis society to the point of their rate of sexual abuse being higher twists the knife for some of them.

Trans women are murdered more often because they're seen as men and trans men are raped more often because they're seen as women. If we can't accept that baseline fact about why people get in their heads to hate us we're all going to die.

Okay first off please don't take this the wrong way I promise I'm not trying to say trans women all have male privilege or something. I think it is perhaps important to consider that while trans women do make up the majority of trans homicide victims, generally (cis) men make up the majority of homicide victims. In 2020 in the US, men made up 82% of victims.

I think trans women being killed more than trans men isn't necessarily because of transmisogyny being so strong or w/e, but a combination of people being more okay with killing people *they view as* men, and because transfems are much more likely to be sex workers than transmascs (though that may be caused by transmisogyny). Gay men are also killed at much higher rates than lesbians, and usually most homophobic rhetoric and laws and tropes are targeting gay men specifically, but I haven't seen this used to say lesbians have it significantly better, or have structural power over gay men, the way I have seen the same used to say that about trans men

Obviously, trans women are not men and trans men are not women, but to transphobes enacting violence, they are. Imo, it's important to keep in mind that transphobes do not actually view trans people as the gender that they are, and this means that the mistreatment of us will mirror the mistreatment of the gender we are transitioning away from, not towards.

I'm not saying that trans men have it worse, or that trans women all secretly have male privilege or something, just that less overt obvious violence towards trans men does not mean we have it significantly better, just as lesbians facing less overt obvious violence does not mean they have it much better than gay men. If you argue that gay cis men have it worse than lesbian cis women because of this, fair enough, that's consistent, but you can't define male privilege as "the privilege men of any group will always have over women of the same group all else being equal" if you do. (Or you could argue cis gay men are also affected by transmisogyny, I guess?)

Genuinely please don't bite my head off for saying transphobes don't actually view trans women as women (and vice versa) and that affects how they're treated skdkfkdjxhd if you have a good faith criticism of this post I'm all ears

[psycheetamore]

Punish me (part 1 of 2) – learning how to succumb to Feyd-Rautha’s process of redemption

Summary: you, a young Fremen woman, have not adhered to tradition. As punishment, your tribe sends you off to seek penance with Arrakis governor Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Since his rulership started, he has been all too happy to take the role to help redeem Fremen, as it has allowed him to create a symbiosis with the local population (and also sooth his own urges). Not really knowing what to expect, but having heard some stories relayed, you decide to follow through, in the hope of being accepted by your tribe again. But the process of redemption does not go as anticipated, not being kept as a mere slave for manual work. The na-Baron has taken interest in you, and decides to see how far he can push you, break you and rebuild you to his own corrupted liking through manipulation and deprivation. Split in 2 chapters as it got too long.

Notes: I was listening to my favourite song Bestrafe Mich from Rammstein on repeat, and thought to myself ‘I need to write this story’. The content was inspired by the ‘transformative process’ of Winston Smith of 1984, the will to live from Jigsaw and the lyrics of Kerosine (please treat this as a tag/trigger warning).

Tags for this chapter – additional tags in chapter 2: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha is his own trigger warning, manipulative Feyd, talkative Feyd, dominant Feyd, physically imposing Feyd, humiliating Feyd, oral demanding Feyd (as a tool of near-daily conditioning), nutritious black cum giving/weaponizing cum Feyd, food depriving Feyd, attention depriving Feyd, drugging Feyd, dubcon/noncon Feyd, no beta we die like duke leto. The author may actually start to have regrets looking at the tags (and the tags will get worse in the 2nd chapter)– I trust I do not need to add ‘dead dove don’t eat’ with all these tags. Tbh, this is absolute fey foul filth no-one should read

Word count: 5.3k

+++

You were disposed off at the steps to the palace of Carthag, used by Harkonnen rulership. You had two options: go back to the desert, where you would need to fend for yourself for the rest of your short life, or redeem yourself by entering this building where he ruled.

Your stubbornness had brought you here. Consequences not unknown, and willingly accepted, you had decided not to slay your fellow Fremen warrior after an altercation. Tradition dictated you should have. It was a way to plenish the subterrain water storages to make Arrakis green one day. By not fulfilling your task, you robbed your people from their future. You opened the door to unnecessary fights taunting hierarchy and tradition. You forced a fellow fighter to a life in shame rather than to die in honour. Still, at this moment you did not feel regret. Not yet.

Confident you made the right decision, you needed to follow through on the aftermath and went in. How bad could it be, what the imposed governor of this planet had to offer you? Already familiar and comfortable with hardship, the worst he could do was put you at work as a slave. Work in the spice refinement factories. You have heard stories of other Fremen having undergone his treatment, coming back salvaged and redeemed. They were not taken care of that badly, with regular food, shelter and even good access to water for Fremen standards. You knew not everybody returned, some choosing to stay in the employ of the na-Baron.

Your life would never be the same again.

Stepping into the fort, you were immediately surrounded by guards. It was still not an event that occurred every day: a Fremen partisan walking into the lion’s den.

After you were frisked and deprived from your weapons, you followed their path into the belly of the building: the throne room.

In this spacious room, filled with stone materials and beige colours, sitting at the top of imposing stairs leading to a throne, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen governed over Arrakis.

As you were pushed down with a sudden blow against the back of your knees, falling on all fours, he purred: “what brings you here, young woman?”

A deep, smoky voice. You hardly had a chance to look at him, as your head was pushed down by a guard shouting at you to avert your eyes. A voice, resonating from deep within what sounded like a powerful body, that was your first impression of him.

You gulped, followed by a blow against your shoulder from the guard for not answering quickly enough.

“Sir, I am here to repent” you answered.

Another blow on your ribs followed. “You will address the na-Baron with his correct title” the guard screamed at you.

“You are here to repent? Why?” he asked.

“I failed to follow traditions. I did not kill when required.” You reach for breath, long enough to justify a kick against your ribs. “Lord na-Baron” was what hastily left your voice.

“Hmm. Ancient, outdated traditions. But girl, if you need to kill, you need to kill” he said smoothly. He clearly enjoyed himself. “Do you want to be here?”

“Yes sir. Lord na-Baron” your answer replied, being somewhat startled by the question.

“I will offer you one chance to leave before your repentance commences. I will allow you to leave, now, with the clothes on your back and one day worth of water. You will receive your weapons and I will not hunt you down. Not before the day ends in any case. But you only get this offer now. Now, and, after your penance ends, if you survive.”

You briefly looked up, to see a pale smiling man with a tilted head. He was observing you. Looking at your reactions. Trying to read you. Trying to understand you.

“You see. You are not the first, nor the last being sent here to atone. You would not be the first to leave, nor the last, within minutes after having set foot in my house. However, you can only achieve forgiveness from your tribe through me. I am willing to offer this, which is reserved for the strongest.”

Perhaps ten seconds past. Ten long seconds. Ten long seconds during which you were gazing into his eyes, as he was gazing into yours. Mesmerised. Something in the whole situation, in addition to your choice to seek forgiveness, triggered a masochistic interest in you.

The smile slowly left his face, as sternness entered. “I did not allow you to look up. Guard.” This invited the guard to place his knee on your back, put all his weight on your frame, causing you to fall on your belly, barely allowing you to prevent your face from hitting the stone floor.

“I see you have made your decision. Guards” he instructed, as he waived his hand to have you taken away.

Another guard joined. With both of them clamping an arm under your armpit you were dragged away.

You did not know it yet, but this was the last time in a period of three standard-months that you would see any other living person than Feyd-Rautha.

+++

As if going through a light-barren maze, you finally reached your destination. Being carried through several adjacent rooms which were fitted out opulently, with carvings of the sacred worms on the walls, you were thrown into one of the few rooms that neighboured what appeared to be a place for night rest. The click of the lock was your cue to stand up and start exploring. Even if you had submitted yourself to servitude, you would not end up a reactive victim.

Getting up on your feet, you explored your new home. It was decorated scarcely, with a small bed, a table and a chair, and an adjacent small bathroom holding only a pit to the ground covered by a box with an opening, a pipe through which sand could be taken for cleaning purposes and a pile of rags. In total perhaps 15 or 20 square meters. There was one small window, looking out on training grounds.

The table held a few bits of food, in the form of dried meats and fruits, and a small container of water. As if your presence was expected.

Hours passed.

The night fell.

You could not catch sleep, the uncertainty being unnerving.

While the moons were at their highest peak, you decided to look outside. Think about you comrades and how they were doing. Whether they were gazing at the same stars as you.

Movement caught your eye. Several stories below you, you heard fighting. It appeared to be the na-Baron in close combat with another person, but you could only ever so often catch a glimpse of your host. After the young lord was worked to the ground, it appeared the other person extended their hand to help him up. A training, not a fight. They continued till dawn.

+++

As the star had hit its highest point, you were still to encounter any other person. You had succumbed to hunger and eaten half of what was provided.

+++

Before dusk you had submitted to sleep. Still unclear on what was to come, but no longer able to fight your fatigue.

+++

In the middle of the night, you woke up. Strange sounds were coming through the door. Panting. Gasping. Growling. Flesh hitting flesh. Signs of copulation. Screeches of pain. The sounds of hands and whips forcefully hitting bodily mass.

Suddenly you heard someone plead. A woman. Begging for mercy. Naming the person for whom the supplication was attended, the na-Baron.  A simple answer followed: “no”, spoken by him, “you have lost the right for redemption”. Succeeded by a blunt sound, as if a body hit the ground.

A few minutes later a door opened, and something entered the room next to yours. He spoke: “fresh meat my darlings.”

For what seemed an eternity sloppy sounds and animalistic growls creeped through the door to hit your ears. However, you tried to block the sounds of what appeared to be feasting, you failed.

It had you frozen in your bed, not making any sound or any movement, until hours had gone by in silence and you felt safe enough to get up.

That night you decided you would do everything to live. The gruelling end that you had heard taking place would not befall you.

+++

Another day passed, food and water depleted, physical drain setting in.

The evening started to set in, as the lock turned. Your visitor would find you in the comfort of your bed, where you had laid your tired body, not being quick enough to get up on your feet.

It was the owner of this very building that came in, carrying a basket and a second chair. Solemnly he walked to the table, where he placed the basket, as you sat hurdled up, protecting your legs with your arms, making yourself small. The chair was put near the other chair, at an angle of 90 degrees.

“Come here” he said, as he started to remove the items from the basket. He did not make any attempts to close the door.

Recalling how tardiness was treated just a few days earlier, bruises on your body being proof of that, you stood up immediately and approached with cautious steps. On the table food was displayed, plates, cups to hold drinks, cutlery. He drew one of the chairs out, to invite you to take a seat.

As he pushed you seated towards the table, he settled himself as well, and started to divide the food over the two plates between both of you.

“Do you know why you are sent here?” he asked.

You looked at him, as he pushed one of the plates towards you. “Eat”. Your eyes scanned him quickly, followed by your hand moving to gather some much-needed replenishment. “After you answer my question” he said with a smirk.

Itching with hunger, you quickly explained what had happened. Your answer ended with: “it could never be as bad as living with knowing I robbed children from their parent over an irrelevant discussion that got out of hand.”

He chuckled and nodded towards the plate, allowing you to dig in.

“I will explain why I am here, now, in this very room, Fremen women. It is all about symbiosis.”

You looked up at him, questioningly, while continuing to chew.

“Symbiosis. A cooperative relationship between me and the Fremen. I do not know whether it existed when my brother was still here. If I were Fremen, I would in any case not trust him enough for it” he grinned. “I also don’t know whether it existed before him, or when the Richese were in charge. When I was holding court, on an ordinary day, the first Fremen was sent to me. I first thought it was a trap. But as I continued to torture him, I started to be convinced it was true. It makes sense, for the superstitious people you are. I had thought about it, and decided to honour the request. It is an easy task for me, and ever since, the raids on my spice production have gone down. We have reached an equilibrium.”

“Sir…”

His face started to display his menacing side.

“Lord Harkonnen…”

“Better.”

“My lord Harkonnen, if I may ask? What happened to the man?”

“Aah. Muriz. I will never forget his name” he said, his pupils dilating as he stared in the distance.

With energy starting to fuel your blood and limbs, you started to have room to be more observant. The man in front of you was wearing clothing made of a thin, flowy and black fabric, covering his entire body. A wide shirt that was tucked into high wasted trousers, that seemed to be tied together by a broad belt of the same material also holding two daggers. The broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist were accentuated. Through the tailoring of the shirt, that was tied together at the waist with hidden buttons, it gave the impression that he was even broader than he was. He had left his shirt partially unbuttoned, showing the harsh curves from his sculpted body. You had heard the stories before. What a brute his brother was, how sophisticated the man in front of you was. In intellect, in political acumen, and also in his physical state. The legs of the pants were wide, while consisting of overlaying parts - they could be mistaken for a skirt. His feet were adorned with simple indoor-shoes.

This was an outfit to relax in, despite the weapons, while still presenting himself in a thought-through manner. Quite an attractive manner, showcasing him in all his manliness, you thought. As your eyes glanced over his body, you could not help but think what he was hiding under his robes. How he looked when not covered. Whether his entire body was so pale. Whether his body was as stern and deliberate as he was in words. What you would find. Thoughts quite foreign to you. Perhaps the result on the sudden influx of fuel.

“Muriz. He was a strong man. I subjected him to quite something. I thought about what to do with him. Destroy him for pleasure, keep him for entertainment – he turned out to be a funny guy, or send him back. I decided to do the latter. I felt he had redeemed himself for the crimes he had committed. Well, in my eyes again not crimes, but silly altercations. You people know no fun. You are way too sacred about life. I allowed him to strengthen in our sickbay before sending him off. Clearly did the right thing, because ever since I have had a steady flow of guests.”

He chuckled as he thought about Muriz. Fear wrapped your mind as you started to understand the gravity of the situation. You tried to shift your focus from the thoughts that were crossing through your head: “I have never heard of Muriz. He must have been of another sietch.” His eyes flared up, easily triggered to be filled with anger. “My lord Harkonnen.”

“That is right. You will address me always with my title.” He chuckled again. “Unless I am fucking you. In such case you may also address me by my given name.”

These words got you startled. The abruptness of this comment, understated it was, yet if felt like he was inside your brain. You were still swallowing food when that happened, causing you to breath some into your lunges. A simple cough was not enough to get it out of you, but you did not want to let yourself go in front of this man. With airflow being restricted, you quickly stood up while glancing up to him with a guilty look on your eyes, and retreated to the bathroom. There you started to cough violently. But it didn’t come out. You fell to your hands and knees, as your back arched more relentlessly.

Steady arms grabbed around your midriff, easily picking you up from the floor and drawing your back against his chest while digging their way into your belly with repeated force. A few tugs were needed to have your body expel the food that would have allowed you a fairly pain-free way out of the ordeal that was to come. You would not be given such exit. You needed to deserve redemption.

Gasping for breath, he did not leave you to fall back on the ground. He supported you. Continued to hold you against him. You felt the hardness of his chest, the hardness of his abdomen, the hardness of his groin. Once that awareness hit you, you turned around and tried to get away from him. Pushing against his front, trying to find enough room to push your knee in between the both of you, but he was not having that. As if he did not register your efforts, he spoke: “such a greedy little girl. Hmm, what else would you be greedy for? What else would you be able to choke on?” he said, as he pushed hairs that covered your face to be fitted behind your ears.

A menacing look was on his face. He tilted his face and uncovered the true blackness of his teeth through a wide smile. You wanted to get away, but every time you pushed, you somehow managed to touch his warm skin, with his manhood being pushed against you harder and harder. Your breathing increased, as you wanted to avert his gaze. It was mesmerizing. One of his hands found its way towards your neck, forcing you to present it for him feast on.

For a moment the thought of compliance fell over you.

But you could not. Not with him, not here.

He must have felt your internal battle, as he picked you up with one arm and placed you on the counter in this little bathroom. His hips forcing their way in between your legs, he did what he was set to do; feast on your neck. As he lapsed his tongue, he growled: “I can taste your fear.” A moan followed. “It is precious.” He licked all across your neck, forcing you to succumb to hidden desires that had found their way up and throw your head back, exposing yourself in all your vulnerability. “You are reacting well. Better than I had anticipated. Better than the others. I had planned to take more time with these first steps. But you are adopting so good, we might as well speed up.”

“No, please” you pleaded, “don’t”, as his words had snapped you out of your debilitation.

His hand found your neck, pressing with intense strength. “What… did… I… tell… you?” he spoke, extremely slow.

Gasping for air you spit out: “lord, lord Harkonnen.”

“How much punishment and threats do you need to learn such a simple thing?” he huffed in your ear. “It seems your body responds better to what I require than your brain. Let’s see whether your mouth is more part of your body or your brain” as he let you go and took a step back.

“On your knees” his smoky voice said.

It was an order. Not a request, not a proposal. Knowing you should not keep him waiting, you anxiously got of the counter and took the position required. You did not dare to look up.

“Do I need to explain every step to you? I thought you were smarter than this” he said, with discontent in his voice. As if he meant it. As if he was genuinely disappointed. 

Before you had looked up high enough to see his eyes, yours were caught staring straight at his length. Within seconds he had uncovered himself, allowing it to spring free in all its awe. You would not have much time to gasp at its unprecedented size, its terrifying girth or its pearl colour, as he had used the opening you had involuntarily created between your lips to be able to gasp to push himself in.

You tried to temper his speed and depth by pushing against his groin, which only enticed him to go deeper.

“I will show you how you can find hidden treasures of liquid inside yourself” he moaned, as he thrashed himself repeatedly in your mouth, finding the depths of your throat. “A valuable lesson for a Fremen.”

Saliva came rising up from your throat. You wanted to swallow it, but were prevented by his cock. The same cock that was preventing you from breathing.

Just in time to save you from passing out, he removed himself sufficiently for you to recuperate.

Never did he leave you entirely though. Through the entire ordeal he filled your mouth.

“You see how much your body wants me? Wet, your mouth is so wet. I will show you another place that is wet”, as he removed himself for the first time. He kneeled in front of you, pushed his hand into your pants, into your underwear and digged straight into you. A pang of pain shot through you, causing you to release a scream.

His fingers did not leave you though, as they started to twirl around: “so wet, yet so tight. I believe I am the first to explore you. But you see, your body adapts so quickly, it is such a good student” as he finally removed his fingers with a curl. He knew what he was doing. He knew the placed he would touch inside your walls with that small little motion. He knew he was alternating pain with pleasure.

He played with the viscous liquid between his fingers in front of your eyes. “Do you see this? Your pussy is filled with it. It is preparing to have me. It wants to have me. It wants to have my cock, my sperm, my offspring. Isn’t it beautiful?”

You closed your eyes, but he was not having that. Feyd-Rautha slapped you in the face as he ordered: “answer me when I am talking to you.”

With big terrified eyes you responded: “yes, lord Harkonnen.”

“Good” as he stood up and presented himself again. “Where were we?”

Fearful of his response, you opened your mouth again to welcome this powerful man. He grabbed the back of your head and started to thrust again.

Before long he had found depths in your throat so deep that you could not even choke.

But he would not give you the grace of coming in the back of your throat. No, this man withdrew, keeping just the tip of his cock in your mouth, as he came. Every drop spilled on your tongue, filling you with his precious black liquid.

You looked up and just knew spitting it out would be a death sentence. It would have already be reason for significant backlash in your sietch, spilling liquids, but this man would be insulted to his deepest core.

So you swallowed this gift. Together with all the saliva you had produced. Liquid, even some calories and vitamins. Nothing went to waste. He did not require you to share, he benevolently gave you everything.

As he held your head in his hands, he looked down on you and seemed pleased: “I will reward your progress with lessons. Should you ever leave the warmth of my embrace, you will go back a more mature and studied person.”

He helped you to your feet and guided you back to your room.

After you joined him at the table, you wanted to take a sip from the cup in front of you. “No” he said with a dark voice. “You will taste me for the hours to come. You will learn to love it, if you don’t already do. To crave it. One of the lessons I will teach that will aid your survival.”

You could not help but wonder what the benefit was of learning something like that. How this would make you into a more mature person. How this would make you fit into your Fremen society better. But you knew better than to waste precious liquids.

“Now, eat. Replenish. You do not know when the next meal will come” he chuckled.

As you continued eating, scared for any sudden eruptions, you listened to what he had to say.

“It is all about symbiosis as I said. It helps to create stability on this planet. You wanted to salvage the parent, the children. How do you believe they now feel?”

Having switched to tiny bits of food, it was easy to swallow what was left and answer: “my lord, I would believe they feel relief. Relief that they are still together. That the children can be taken care of.”

“Hmm. How do you think your fellow warriors look upon them?”

“Lord Harkonnen, I would believe they would have otherwise pitied them. In absence of which they would feel they have gotten out with a lot of luck.”

“Considering that argumentation, why are you not hailed in by the Fremen as a benevolent saviour, but rather thrown at my mercy?”

“My lord…” you now understood what you had done, your heart dropping to your feet, all pangs of hunger suddenly disappearing. You dropped your face onto your hands and could not help but start to shiver. Crying had been something you had learned not to show, as it caused a loss of precious water. This had been your alternative.

“It is interesting how all Fremen show this emotion in a different way. None of you seem to cry. Not initially. And this is what you do. How quaint” he commented.

You did not know what to do with that comment. You decided to just keep to the position you had chosen, and silently weep in your hands.

“We as rulers need to be strict on our people. It is the only way to prevent anarchy. I rule with an iron hand on Giedi Prime, and I rule with equal sternness on this planet. Strong people require strong leadership” he explained. “Look at me” while removing one of your hands and forcing your face up. “I am disappointed you failed to see this. You failed to see the reasons behind your own traditions” he said in a humiliating way with a tilted head.

He must have seen your shame grow, your feelings of guilt, as his look started to soften. This evening had been very successful for him, starting to break you down. He stood up with a smile exposing some of his black teeth again and walked to the door, leaving the chair, the food and the drinks he had brought.

But he did not leave without a last word.

Looking at you, at the table and at you again, he said: “I know you will not abuse my trust by drinking anything before dawn.” You nodded, and he left.

Upon his departure you felt you had said a lot and your feelings had been soaring through your body. Perhaps too much. You had never been so loosed-lipped, nor full of spirit.

It was only after his departure that you noticed he had not eaten anything on his own plate. The thought rushed through your head whether you should try to throw up. On second thought you decided against it. You were already at his will. Either you would die through whatever he had contemplated for you, or you would die from hunger. But if he had not intended for you to die, throwing up could entice him to show his wrath. You came to the conclusion, for the sanity of your own mind, that he had left that food for you to eat at a later moment.

Deep inside of you, you knew that the food had been laced with something to bring you to open yourself up to him, mentally and physically. And you would continue to do so, if you wanted to survive, needing the food in front of you for that very purpose.

+++

Another day past. At the end of the day, you had consumed everything he had brought, somehow trusting he would bring you more despite the hunger that had started to set in.

And he did.

As night started to fall, the door was opened again, and the young lord stepped in. You flew up from your chair to greet him. “Good evening lord na-Baron.”

“Very good. You are learning” he complimented. “But you are not there yet entirely. The next time I enter that door, I expect you to already be kneeling.” A rush of blood flew through your body, unasked for filling your nether regions with energy. “I apologise, lord Harkonnen” as you dropped yourself to the ground.

“Very good” he repeated. “You are not a quick learner, but you may get there. I can work with that for the time being.”

He walked to the table, placed his basket on the table and went to stand in front of you. “I have decided that from now on, every time that you want to eat, you first need to drink” as he fiddled with his trousers and presented his cock, already fully erect and menacing.

You knew what to do, as you opened your mouth and drew him in.

Famished as you were, you started sucking him as hard as your mouth would allow you to.

“Hungry girl, aren’t you? Hungry for my cock, for my black nutritious semen. I have started to condition you just fine. You should be grateful for my teachings. This is what will keep you alive.” He moaned as he grabbed your head and said: “let me help you, little Fremen student.”

Continuing to moan he released himself in your throat this time. After a couple of seconds, he moved himself to the beginning of your mouth. “Suck me dry, you should not let any drop go to waste” he suggested. A suggestion you followed. If you knew drops were left, he would not even need to ask you to collect these; you would have done so out of sheer will and need. For the first time, you touched him, held him, to pull his folds back and salvage any last bit of what he had to offer to you.

Before long he started to get hard again. You thought he wanted you to repeat, causing you to guide him deeper in. It happened automatically, you did not even think about it. But, that was not what he had planned as he removed himself from you: “you have earned your right for food. Eat. It is still warm.”

Again, the basket contained to sets of plates and cutlery. Now you were tasked to split the food. Again, he did not eat or drink anything. Again, you were not allowed to drink. Again, a conversation ensued. A conversation about your history, your upbringing.

A conversation that turned into discussing your fears, trauma’s. No-one, apart from your mother, had ever learned about your fear of water. A near-death experience when you fell in one of the wells as a toddler, had been kept buried deep inside. but here you were spilling it in great detail to your host, who seemed pleased to learn of it. Within Fremen society you had managed to avoid large bodies of water since, by referring to tradition and the fear of wasting any drop.

As he left for the night, he stood still in the door again, looking at the drinks on the table and at you again. Wanting to receive his praise again, you stated: “I will salvage your taste until dawn, my lord Harkonnen.” With a confirming nod he left and locked the door.

+++

During the day, you saw Feyd-Rautha train on the grounds again. And it felt as if it was a present given to you, for your compliance and increased understanding. For hours you looked at him, mesmerized.

+++

That night he did not visit you.

You could not catch sleep as your mind started to go in overdrive on what you should have done differently.

+++

Another day past. Another day without food, water or attention. A day laced with guilt, and fear.

+++

This night, he called on you again. Upon hearing the lock being turned, your heart jumped. You knew what you needed to do, not wanting to risk anything to be left alone for more than a day again. Hurling out of bed, on your knees, ready to receive him.

+++

[Link to chapter 2 / 2 to follow - Punish me (part 2 of 2): the story on how you became one of Feyd-Rautha’s concubines]

@kasagia - a tag as requested

[brucestalia]

talia al ghul: relationships // platonic ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

this is the start of a 3-ish part series consisting of a collection of drabbles and headcanons exploring talia’s character in relation to relationships that canon (and fanon) have barely touched. ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈•✦

diana prince

i briefly mentioned this in a previous post, but let’s dive deeper. i’m a huge fan of museum curator mlle. prince, and talia, ever the patron of the arts, must have crossed paths with her during one of her many visits to paris.

ra’s al ghul might be an international eco-terrorist and cult leader, but he also operates under (and eventually abandons) the alias of henri ducard: eccentric billionaire and environmental activist. (yes, this is a nod to nolanverse ra’s. while i’m not a fan of how the al ghuls were handled in nolan’s films, there are a few elements i’ll be borrowing for my brutalia worldbuilding.)

following in her father’s footsteps, talia adopts the alias of henrietta ducard, a french socialite and heiress. of course, she knows diana—who wouldn’t know the wonder woman, teammate to her beloved and “aunt” to jason?

their paths cross at the louvre, where diana is overjoyed to host such a cultured guest. the two end up touring the museum well past closing hours, completely engrossed in their conversation. diana’s younger colleagues are far too intimidated to interrupt the two women who seem entirely in a world of their own.

oh, and jason? he 100% calls diana “dad” whenever he’s mad at bruce.

add in girls’ nights with barbara minerva and occasional appearances from the gotham city sirens, and you’ve got a dynamic i cannot wait to explore further. 2. the birds of prey; a) dinah lance

the “i’m married to a total himbo-billionaire” club.

their interactions mostly consist of knowing looks exchanged across lavishly decorated ballrooms during charity galas hosted by wayne enterprises and q-corp—always trying to outdo the other. they sneak out for smoke breaks, share a quiet camaraderie, and occasionally spar together.

considering the plotline about ra’s almost marrying black canary (or was that just a fever dream?), i’d say they know each other by association and share a mutual understanding. not quite friendship, but something close—born from shared experiences and a begrudging respect.

when it comes to training, with lady shiva now part of the birds of prey, i can see talia attempting to cooperate with the ladies. she’s clearly got a lot of history with the group, which brings us to the next duo: b) barbara gordon and helena bertinelli

talia can be good when she wants to be.

i like the idea of talia taking on a maternal role for cassandra during her time with the league of assassins. she has the capacity for genuine care, even in the shadowy corners of the league’s operations. similarly, i can see her stepping into a similar role for a younger helena kyle (or wayne), particularly if selina is no longer in the picture (possibly dead).

talia would likely oppose bruce’s treatment of the huntress, siding with the family members who sympathise with helena’s cause—especially during the events of the hush storyline. she could even act as a mentor of sorts, helping helena find her place in the dark knight’s world, while providing the kind of guidance bruce often withholds.

for all her similarities to helena, barbara stands apart in one key way: she grew up within the dimly-lit walls of the batcave, immersed in batman’s world. over the years, talia has quietly observed the commissioner’s daughter, often alongside one very pouty dick grayson. these observations, layered with her own sense of justice, only deepen her fury against the joker after the events of the killing joke.

barbara and helena are probably the first batfamily members to know whenever talia is in gotham—after jason and damian, of course. oracle’s network would almost certainly keep tabs on talia, especially during her prolonged, unexplained absences. 3. the gotham city sirens; a) pamela isley

ivy—or rather, dr. pamela isley—superpowered eco-terrorist extraordinaire, would have been a subject of keen interest to the league of assassins. from her controversial tenure at wayne enterprises to her involvement in woodrue's experiments, talia would have kept a watchful eye on pamela’s journey.

when isley became poison ivy, the demon’s head would have undoubtedly reached out to her. sharing similar values—and at times, equally extreme methods—talia and pamela would have initially maintained a professional relationship. however, the nature of their shared work, coupled with the undeniable chaos that is harley quinn, would have eventually evolved their dynamic into a close, if unconventional, friendship.

at some point, talia becomes an honorary gotham city siren. she doesn't hesitate to crash at harley and ivy’s place when things with her detective aren’t going so well. b) harleen quinzel

harley is one of the rare individuals (alfred being the other, obviously) whom talia would truly trust with damian. over time, harley earns the title of “aunt,” though it’s anyone’s guess which side of the family she’s from.

their friendship didn’t stem from any significant shared history, allegiance, or grand cause. harley just showed up one day, decided they were friends, and that was that. talia nodded hesitantly, chalking it up to just being the gotham way of things.

unsurprisingly, dr. quinn has tried (and perhaps succeeded?) in scheduling talia and bruce for marriage counseling on multiple occasions.

c) selina kyle

without bruce in the equation, talia and selina’s relationship becomes infinitely less strained. talia might envy selina, but only in the sense that love has been far kinder to her questionable morals with a partner like kate.

in this scenario, talia is definitely closest to selina—whether it’s due to genuine fondness or simply their frequent proximity is unclear. either way, they seem to understand each other on a level few others can, especially over shared indulgences, like extravagant shopping sprees.

the moment they move into wayne manor, it’s inevitable: the place will be overrun by animals of every kind, much to the amusement (or exasperation) of the other residents.

4. john constantine & zatanna zatara

i love the idea of melisande being homo magi, which would mean talia inherits that lineage as well. being part homo magi, combined with her access to the powers of the lazarus pits and mastery of incantations, would make talia uniquely positioned to bridge gaps between her world and the other side. talia’s connection to magic would make her better suited to collaborate with heroes like those in the justice league dark, creating opportunities for uneasy alliances and reluctant partnerships that bring out the best (and worst) in everyone involved, with her being someone who walks the thin line between antihero and ally.

5. lois lane and clark kent

double dates!! :D

lois would come to like talia a lot more after the unforgettable spectacle with president luthor, and clark would absolutely demand every last detail of his definitely-not-best-friend's relationship with talia.

after jason's resurrection, talia would entrust him to the kents' care, enrolling him in metropolis university before the big reveal to bruce.

additionally, damian and jon’s friendship (though damian insists it’s more of an alliance between the supers and the bats) would require them to meet up at least once a week.

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[hawkins-batman]

hey dude um so i saw the post you made replying to someone else's post about noah and, while i do agree with you, i don't think that you or any of the anons should be specifically finding noah antis. that just kind of starts discourse and people are allowed to express their opinions, even if they differ from yours.

i know this happened to one of my good friends recently (noihavenosanitythanksforasking) and they were kind of shook up from what happened. i'm glad that you try to educate people, and it also comes across as a bit more personal and rude than someone who just wants to help.

i'm very sorry if any of this has come across as rude, i promise that is not my intention and i'm just trying to show that those people are also just people and its not their fault that they don't have all the information. i dont know if "kindness is the key" sounds cheesy, but it is very true.

blocking them and not interacting is probably the best thing to do instead of finding them just to disagree and having anons find posts and send them to you. if you or anyone else doesn't like what someone else posts, it's best just to scroll (and even block! that is definitely an option and i see you're doing that already so good job 👍)

sorry about this ramble and when you reply to this, if you do, i just want you to know that this was sent with the best intentions and also this is not about noah, anything that happened with him, or other people's views on it. this is just about how you could deal with people with differing views from you a bit better than what you have done in the past.

kisses kisses and byler endgame, love, anon

You weren’t rude — so don’t worry! However, I am going to push back (kindly - since you were kind).

First, I suppose I should say that I don’t seek these people out. Most of them I find during my daily scrolls of socials. Other times, mutuals will link me to them, and sometimes people will send them via Ask. But I don’t go looking for “Noah antis.”

Second, and more importantly, I want you to do a hypothetical with me. You saw someone getting viciously bullied. Not a friend, but nevertheless, other people were threatening them, calling them slurs, and harassing their family. They were also spreading lies to continue to inflame others to bully them.

With me so far? You’d want to stick up for them, right? Because there’s really no pretext before which any of that behavior is okay, right?

Now imagine, a year in to this relentless bullying campaign, you STILL see people spreading the lies, getting others inflamed, reigniting the bullying again and again. Imagine you KNOW that this endless bombardment has sent them to therapy and driven them from any place that gives them joy.

Would you just ignore that? Would you turn a blind eye? Would you chalk that up to just a “different opinion”?

I hope not. Because I won’t.

I’m sorry your friend was shaken up. But I’m one person. Noah gets the treatment I just described to you from HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of people. There are hate accounts with 40K+ followers solely dedicated to posting things like this bit of homophobia:

Look at the likes on that.

And that’s one post. That doesn’t even show the ones wanting to kill him. Or do viler things.

Or how about these cheering for his suicide (EDIT —> see the bottom of the post)

He can’t just log off and ignore them or block theee people either because they send it to his home. His family. They track him in public and send his location to big accounts that will tweet it out hoping someone will hurt him.

So, I mean this with sincerity: Good. I’m glad your friend was shaken up. I hope to shake up more people before I’m done. Maybe they’ll think twice before spreading lies that inflame people to post shit like that 👆🏻

That’s not a difference of opinion. I don’t mind if people simply don’t like Noah. But be honest. Do you post about people you don’t like? No. This is not simply disliking Noah. It’s contributing to homophobia and antisemitism and it’s wrong.

And until people get their senses back, I carry on.

[ohitslen]

Something other about his eyes

Bonus! Based on this quick thing I did this afternoon and the idea took a bit more shape and turned into that thing from above uEK

[necrotic-nephilim]

I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.

But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.

As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?

oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be

Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot

Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)

Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.

Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up

Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.

Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.

Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.

[supercantaloupe]

okay don giovanni review from last night. under the cut bc it's me. tldr the vocal performances were great, leporello carried the show, one of the most insane productions i've seen thus far but somehow in a new bizarre direction from normal. good snacks.

first of all i don't care how much wine you offer i think it's kind of ridiculous to charge $165 for a base ticket price for a performance that 1. isn't even in a concert hall or theater 2. is a concert performance rather than a staged performance (which was not advertised ahead of time) and 3. was not even a full production because they made the absolutely mind boggling decision to cut 100% of the recitative and replace it with Some Guy sitting on the stage narrating the plot between every 1-3 numbers

i did not pay that much gd bless. the student ticket was way cheaper.

the narration wasn't even good it was weirdly ungenerous to the women (like how do you even make elvira out be a "women, amirite" thing and also vaguely imply anna was into it in a production with zero acting? well they figured something out) and i don't think it even explained well enough what happens between each number to truly give a first time watcher a good idea of what's actually going on. not to mention that it absolutely kills any sense of momentum in the plot and makes the entire show drag like hell, because you have to wait between every single aria for either Some Guy to talk at you for three minutes straight, or wait awkwardly while people onstage walk off and people offstage walk on. it was so painfully clunky

they had a piano up there but since there was no recit it's not like she was accompanying much of anything. in practice what it ended up being used for was 1. the mandolin part for deh vieni (acceptable in the absence of a mandolin player; they were working with a limited chamber ensemble of musicians so i get it) 2. the party music at the end of act i (egregious fault imo because it absolutely kills the vibe of the scene and completely obfuscates the way the music is supposed to be adding to the tension and chaos with its different instrumental groups playing in different meters)

and 3. used to give singers their notes when the vocal line of their arias start on beat 1 measure 1, which they otherwise would have been able to get from the preceding recits (which is imo painfully amateurish for an ostensibly professional production)

all the numbers in act i were there although the narration was so bad i got jumpscared by fin ch'han dal vino because i forgot it was supposed to be there and thought we had skipped over that point in the plot. act ii had some really bizarre additional cuts made, notably they just entirely skipped over meta di voi and vedrai carino. it was like masetto and zerlina fuck off for the entirety of act ii save for, like, mille torbidi (they VERY briefly mentioned masetto getting beat up in the narration and i don't think they mentioned vedrai carino at all, they just skipped straight from deh vieni to sola sola. and also there was a painful awkward pause before deh vieni because i think the pianist forgot she was supposed to play there and the narrator jumped ahead to the next chunk of plot explanation too early). kept both dalla and tesoro (i'm fine with this ottavio was quite good though could've used a bit of ornamentation imo), kept mi tradi, kept non mi dir (more on that in a bit). no per queste which is probably a good thing not only for the show itself but also my head would have absolutely and irreversibly exploded if they had, probably

the whole thing kind of felt underrehearsed. like a quarter of the time it seemed like people didn't know what they were doing or had to be reminded where to be at that point in the show. and there were a few moments throughout where the orchestra struggled to keep up with the singers, but i really don't think they had much time to rehearse together, honestly.

and then, to my utter shock, the finale was actually really good?? like. insane compared to the rest of the show thus far. though it helps that 1. i absolutely love the harmonieband arrangements of cosa rara/i litiganti/non piu andrai, after possibly the draggiest non mi dir i've yet experienced it was like a breath of fresh air to hear that (and non mi dir was actually well performed i liked this anna but considering how much the Entire Show was dragging, the fact that they cut meta di voi and vedrai carino, AND the fact that they promised this act would be short, it felt crazy to me to keep it at that point.)

2. leporello and the don were by far the best performers of the night. so much so that i sought them out during the post show reception to tell them how great they were and enjoyed their performance. which i usually do not do, but in this like, high school recital ass production value. unbelievable relief that the final scene is dominated by the two actors in the show who most remembered that they can, and in fact Should, be acting. so much more movement and physicality and expression from those two compared to most everyone else. leporello especially, his actor apparently specializes in comedic bass roles and it shows, he was the standout all night

and 3. for the first time in the entire production they made an interesting decision regarding the physical space and staging! they had the commendatore sing from up on a balcony overlooking the audience in the foyer. the bar admittedly was set very low in the previous act and a half but the finale reminded me that i actually like this show again which is appreciated

though they then threw another curveball at me by Cutting the sextet at the end. which like didn't even piss me off at that point i was just baffled. like the don sinks down in agony and leporello sinks down whimpering in fear and the orchestra cuts off. and i'm expecting an awkward pause while they quietly get up and shuffle off so the rest of the cast can come back but nope. big orange title slate appears on the big screen behind them and the audience breaks into a roaring applause and the announcement of the wine and dessert reception. felt like i was in a fever dream

i will say the desserts were very nearly almost worth the bullshit that was the preceding show. they were so good. thank you austria for your dedication to pastry. and because i don't drink and couldn't appreciate the free wine offered i had to indulge in my own manner. spread contained chocolate oat bites (tasted as much like espresso powder as chocolate and coated in coconut, 4/10), almond sponge cake (classic, 7/10), cardamom apple bread pudding with caramel cream (not enough cardamom but otherwise very tasty and autumnal, 8.5/10) and honey cake (11/10. i don't know how they made this so good. i want more right now so much). i take both my mozart opera and my desserts very seriously.

anyway overall the production was. i would say frustrating. the singing quality was Really Good (leporello was the clear standout, probably followed by the don though i prefer my dons with a lighter voice but technically he was very good, then probably ottavio, then maybe masetto or anna. the commendatore was great but he's in it so little it's hard to compare)

i just wish they could have, like, actually done a full production. it would have been so great if they had gotten to tell the actual story and had been fully allowed to act. when there Was acting were the best moments of the show, and it's really unsurprising that most of that came from leporello, the absolute legend.

[anthromimicry]

the duality of misao being one of the few psychiatrists in arkham that has actually made progress with some of their patients and treats them like human beings, but also someone who does a complete 180° later + EATS her patients and gaslights people who ask about them into thinking they were never committed there is currently making me go feral. like girlll why are you like this JSJSJ

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[harrylights]

.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

All I can do until we see what happens with this election is hope, distract myself, and try to get others to vote, because if I think too hard about it my anxiety and depression gets worse and the voice in the back of my head that tells me to hurt myself and go hide in the woods or something gets louder

[the-sera]

My name is Sera, you may not know me but you know my past work behind the scenes here and there, such as the Mass Effect trilogy, Dragon Age, Silent Hills, and more.

I am an agoraphobic indigenous Kanienʼkehá:ka (Mohawk) mixed lesbian who has fought for several years a worsening health condition that is currently killing me. The point of no return is not that far away. I have spent years exhausting any paths and means to get help, enduring extreme and near endless pain. I have sold all I have, spent every dime to my name. I have received various forms of help over the years in this battle, but I have reached the critical point I have feared all this time. And to make matters worst, the family responsible for inflicting a lifetime of abuse on me is stalking me very heavily online, which has not only exacerbated my agoraphobia, but has also made the efforts to build this harder than I could describe. Know that I share as many details as I can while seeking to avoid undermining my immediate safety, I hope you understand. This post is a highly abridged version of the content in the link, the full version is available there ❤

If you have been following me for a while, you are familiar with my struggle and saw me talking about it throughout the years. There are no other options or help besides this, besides you. I need your help or I'm going to die, this is the last chance I have left. I'm afraid to my core, I still have a life in front of me, dreams to pursue. If you read this far, I know you may be inclined to share and move on, but I am asking you to pause and think if you have a dollar that could make all the difference. I know it can be troublesome to stop and actually do it, I am asking you to please consider doing it.

If you yourself have a health condition, I salute you for fighting your own battle. Regardless of whether you donate or not, if you read this far, know that you are loved.

A warm thank you to @transmechanicus , the kind soul who made this possible. I would be lost and doomed without your help. Erika did not believe thank yous were necessary, but they are. Attempting to save a human being's life is no small act. Whether it succeeds or fail, no thank yous will ever be enough. Even as the pain consumes my body, I am able to feel hope thanks to this.

(Please don't put tags on this unless it is to actually talk or comment something. As always, kind words are appreciated.)

[leebrontide]

Here's a funny little story about disability accommodation.

So I'm a bit deaf. Like...I have a prescription for a hearing aide but don't own one kind of a bit deaf. And I used to work at this noisy ass addiction treatment clinic. So even in my office I relied a lot on lipreading.

So one day I'm working with this client, and she's getting more and more upset and shut down, no matter how I try to steer us onto a calm, relaxed subject of conversation. And I can't figure out why the conversation has gone so far south.

And then I realize I am sitting at a buckwild angle in my chair, leaning waaaay over to the side. I'm almost falling off this chair. I look like a total goober.

And then I realize I'm doing that because I'm trying to lipread this client, who keeps turning further and further down and away from me. I probably would have noticed sooner but lipreading is actually kind of hard and I was focusing on noticing her upset rather than my body language.

And then it clicks.

She thinks I'm leaning like this because I am being a passive-aggressive asshole who is trying to force/shame her into making eye contact with me. I'd known this client enough to know she hates eye contact- possibly autism, possibly anxiety. Always possible it's both or something else.

I sit up straight and say. "Oh! Hey, I don't give a shit about eye contact, I'm trying to read your lips so I can understand what you're saying to me."

Instant vibe change. She relaxes, and sits upright comfortably in her chair, looking about a foot to the left of my head, so I can see her face clearly but she doesn't have to either fake or evade unwanted eye contact.

From then on things go a lot smoother, and we can get some good work done.

One side benefit from normalizing accommodations and reducing barriers to them is that it allows for low-stress conversations about what everybody needs in order to fully participate in an interaction. If I hadn't named the need I was trying to meet, she wouldn't have realized she could have her need met as well.

[not-so-superheroine]

for the rant in the tags.

martin luther king junior speech I was talking about

I saw someone make a point that if any official polling company were to ask this question, the results would wildly shock the small percentage that said "No", so I'm taking it upon myself to ask: