#and not to be a boot-licker or anything

[coockie8]

how do you feel about the idea that roy is completely useless without his gloves??

While I understand the humour behind that concept, as a legitimate theory, it bothers me.

Unlike Ed, who joined the Military through the State Alchemy Exam, Roy is a trained soldier; he's canonically been through the military academy. Obviously he knows how to defend himself without his alchemy, or he never would have made it through basic training :/

[pondpossum]

if you're transgender or you care about transgender people and you live in the US, you need to vote.

all those 1000+ anti trans legislation that have been introduced these past three years have not stopped, and they aren't going to just stop. they might not affect you now, but they will if republicans win the presidency and the majority in the house and senate. federal laws will be passed. that is their goal. their goal is to eradicate us.

it is February of 2024, and there have already been 495 anti trans bills considered. there were 588 total in 2023. this cannot go under the radar.

talk about this. VOTE this November.

do not be complicit in your eradication

[fandom-hoarder-official]

Some people are antisemitic, and don't care about their fellow queers. Don't forget that.

If you are playing a game that funds the removal of human rights that's about oppressing a Jewish coded race, you are a bad person, full stop. Sorry not sorry.

Blocking all the Hogwarts Legacy haters, DNI, I am a trans man and I do not care about your virtue signalling, I want to have an rpg game where I can be myself in the world that shaped my childhood and I will 😊 if you have problems with it, go back to twitter from whence you came or block me or something, I don't care

[joseline-woodhouse]

The inherent misunderstanding of Ianthe's character as the constant second fiddle.

I see many posts about how Ianthe must be oh so devastated to always be number two. I also see so many posts calling Ianthe pathetic and a lot of them don't sound ironic about it.

Did anyone else here notice how every single character in the books who thought Ianthe was pathetic at some point has either converted to thinking she's probably one of the most dangerous lyctors to have ever existed or is just straight up dead now? What a coincidence. Or maybe, just maybe, having the common sense to survive until the end of Nona and realising Ianthe is to be handled with caution go hand in hand.

Even Pyrrha Dve says that Ianthe freaks her out.

Ianthe could have ended the jig with Corona at any point, proven the world that she is the golden child, not her sister. But why would she? She would have given up a good portion of her control over Corona for a little appreciation from people she doesn't care about. She would become the "crown princess of Ida as she never wanted". Having Corona see her as the only reason she ever manages anything is simply so much more valuable to her.

Harrow called Ianthe a boot licker and asked her how she isn't ashamed of groveling to Augustine like that. The woman straight up told her she simply understands that "being ashamed is a privilege". A couple hundred pages later Augustine dies by Ianthe's choice and Ianthe takes his place at God's side. Weird. Another funny coincidence. Or maybe Ianthe just understood that sticking close to Augustine no matter the cost would open a gate to promotion eventually?

Asides Alecto waking up, this Woman has thus far achieved every single one of her goals or is still on her way to doing so. She did not suffer a single major setback. The only people who ever managed to give her minor setbacks were people who understood exactly how dangerous she is and how serious she is to be taken as an adversary, people who understood that her main if not only weaknesses are a) that she cares too much about the people she loves and that the gaslighting is simply a desperate attempt to make sure they never leave her. (see Coronabeth and the gun) b) she has no patience and gets bored easily, thus will take short cuts whenever she can rather than doing a job correctly from the start.

I firmly believe she'll either suffer a terrible fait in Alecto or take god's place. Or both.

[skyx-the-witch]

There are a lot of people who still like Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel and even post fanfics or fanarts of these shows BUT they clearly dont support Vivziepop and dont want to interact with the fans that do because we all know how annoying they can be.

So, my question is if there is any community or tag for people who wants to keep posting about those shows or their AUs and fanarts and shit without using the main tags so they dont get harassed by active Hellaverse fanboys and Vivziepop boot lickers?

Because i have an idea for a Helluva Boss fanfic that i MAY (cuz im not sure) post here but im scared i will accidentely attract the Vivziepop fans who will follow me thinking im one of them and then harass me every time i say anything bad about her shows. Like i wanna make it VERY clear that im not one of them to avoid confusions

So, what clould i do?

[monayen]

U SHOULD DO NYEN NEXT!! ^^

Catfight | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, violence/aggression, injuries, degradation, dacryphilla, face slapping, scratching, face-fucking, breathplay. surprisingly no knives :0

a/n - was supposed to come out earlier today but tumblr gets picky about my internet connection and doesn’t work sometimes </3 this fic is just a leedle more longer so i hope you enjoy !! i’ve been appreciating all the support, as always requests are open :) another nyen fic was requested so expect that soon!!

Cats are territorial creatures. It takes a while for a cat to get used to a new pet in the house. Give it time. You should expect some aggression. Well, that's what Luther said anyways after Nyen scoffed and completely ignored you when you were introduced as Luther’s new catwoman pet. 

It's not like you did anything to him, actually trying to be nice in the beginning. It didn't matter how many times you wished him good morning or small talked. He’d still shove past you, saying the same thing,

“Don’t care. Die.”

Admittedly, It hurt your feelings at first. Nobody else had a problem with you. Luther’s other catman, Nyon, actually got along with you quite well. He already shared his “territory” so were you really intruding that much?

Or maybe it was because Luther spoiled you at first, buying you a cute dark blue skirt and dark top that dawned the word “cookie” (He chose it—of course.) along with your cat-hat that sported a floppy cat ear. However, it's been weeks since that. You’re sure whatever “new pet” jealousy he had would've died down by now.

It was concluded that after all that trying, at the end of the day, you aren't an ass-kisser. He wanted to be an asshole with you? You can be one back.

So you stopped being polite. You acted like he wasn't there, leaving the room instead of sticking it out whenever you two just happened to be alone. Simply rolling your eyes whenever he throws a stupid comment towards you. 

Sure, it was more tame than him literally shoving you and telling you he wanted you dead but it was clear that this got him livid. He wasn't worth trying to get along with, he wasn't worth your effort. 

Finally, after several more weeks of pettiness and frustration, he confronted you once you actually talked back to him after a snarky remark on a bad day. Cornering you in a lonesome room in the confusing house. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He stood tall in front of you, eyeing with a strong glare.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes like you always did, exasperated at his nerve to even ask you that, “My problem? You think I have a problem?” A chort leaves your lips, “If there's anyone with a problem—it's you.” With crossed arms, you return the glare. “Leave me alone now, asshat.” Heels turn to leave, not wanting to hear any more from him. However, you don't get a chance to even step a foot before Nyen harshly SLAMS you into the nearby wall.

“What—what the fuck!” The breath is taken out of your lungs, leaving you to slide down onto the floor in order to collect yourself in that split second. Nyen looms, not bothering to get on your level to speak to you, “Watch who you're talking to, I'll gut you right now.”

You're shaking, pain from the impact still vibrating throughout your body. Still, you futility keep yourself together and sharpen your gaze back at him. “Even if you wanted to—you can't. Luther likes me, and you're too much of an boot-licker to do anything—”

A swift kick meets your ribs causing you to hunch over in more pain. Nyen then crouches, grabbing a tuft of hair to force you to look at him. “Don't forget who’s higher on the hierarchy poster. You aren't worth anything besides sauntering around in a small skirt and cleaning after us like a maid.”

He lets go harshly, shoving your head in the process before getting up. Still feeling the burn in your chest, you begin to fester with anger. He can't just treat you like this. Just as he begins to walk away, you muster strength to get up and tackle him. 

“Huh—”

You straddle him while he tries to kick you off but you stay firmly put. Sharp nails scratch at his face, causing shallow lines of blood to pool. You're cursing at him furiously, hitting and scratching continuously. Nyen hisses— “You bitch!”

Just as fast as you had him down, he quickly shoves you off of him and topples you. You both trash against each other, now he's able to return some painful hits. After basically rolling around on the floor, he's able to overpower you once he BONKS your head against the carpeted ground.

Dizzy and hurt, you feel him keep you down with his body weight, crushing your legs and causing you to hiss in over growing ache. “Get off of me!” With hoarse breath, you attempt to flail around and scream but Nyen doesn't relent. 

Instead, he laughs maniacally as he shifts more of his weight and smacks your face. “Oh, no. I think you need to be reminded where the fuck you stand here.” He huffs and lifts the hem of your skirt, showing your underwear. Followed by flipping your shirt up above your bra, exposing yourself to him. 

You see a malicious grin spread across his rough, shaven face. You should smack yourself for not realizing the hardness you felt while you both tackled was something else. Well, if he wasn't smacking you around already.

His black, dagger-like nails trail your exposed skin, not scared to dig down and cause you to yelp—only to swipe across your thighs and do it again. Nyen then moves his hand beneath your underwear, rubbing his fingers against your heat. You push back a gasp, gritting your teeth and desperately trying to shut your pinned legs. 

He doesn't wait to stick a pair of fingers deep into you, staring intensely at your stressed reaction. “C’mon, don't got anything to say now?” You clench, you don't want to give him that satisfaction of your reactions. You seethe, because it feels good.

You try to keep it together when his fingers move in and out of you, but you can't ignore it when his thumb makes its way to rub your clit. He's harsh and fast, nails scratch your insides ever so slightly, causing you to clamp up around him. You can't let go of the feeling of his thumb circling your sensitive clit, a moan escapes you.

“You like that, slut?” Nyen speeds up and relishes on your hushed whines, cursing at him to just stop. He sees how your back arches slightly, and how your pretty tits are starting to spill from your bra. It's a nice sight, he likes how you were at each other's throat a few minutes ago, now he has you squirming around from a little fingering. You really are a slut.

Before you can reach your peak, Nyen pulls away. You breathe heavily, a pounding heartbeat reverberates in your ears. Once again, he towers over your hurt figure with furrowed brows before he snaps at you, “Get on your knees.” 

He stares at you intensely, and though his dark pupils stay stoic on your hunched over body, you clearly spot the pure anger in his eyes towards you. It says so much. You knew Nyen didn't like you, but you really are starting to think he hates you. This is beyond jealousy or distain. He just wants you to suffer because you are below him.

It seems he's sick of waiting for you to act, he scoffs before wrapping your hair around his strong hand, yanking you into a kneeling position. “You really don't listen.” SMACK. 

Overwhelmed tears stream down your cheeks, wincing at the impact. Nyen still grips your hair, forcing your face against the dark denim of his pants. His clothed hardness pokes at your cheek, tears staining his crotch. “Take it out, whore. Don't make me do it.” You scowl, still feeling his claws digging into your scalp. 

With shaky hands, you pull down his fly and fish out his hard length. Veins trail along the side of it and his base flushes red against your hands, big and intimidating. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Put that dirty mouth of yours to use.” Nyen scorns, noticing your flaring eyes, hesitating. “Bite me. I dare you, slut.” With a furrowed face, you take his pulsing dick and gently place it in your mouth. Your tongue awkwardly sliding over his engorged tip. 

Nyen narrows his eyes at you, they're kitten licks, too shaky and soft to feel substantial. He observes the concept spread on your face, so uncomfortable and pathetic. It didn't matter that you were giving a sad excuse of a blowjob. He could get off on the fat tears that pooled down your face and the pure messiness of you.

Your hair and clothes are so disheveled it looks as if you just walked through the forest. You're bruising ever so slightly red on the side of your forehead, hits adorn your body, and he could chuckle at the matching scratches that sweep across both your faces. He thinks about how you would've looked even better if he had his knife with him. 

Twisting the hair he’s holding behind your head, he waits once you take his tip fully in your mouth and without warning—he snaps his hips up and pushes his cock down your throat.

You gag harshly as Nyen lets out a long groan, forcing your mouth to fully take him. Still, he never stops looking at you through half lidded eyes, grinning at how you struggle to even breathe now.

He doesn't waste time to start thrusting roughly into your mouth, clutching onto the back of your head to fully abuse your throat. You try to gasp in between thrusts but it's impossible. He’s blocking your airways. You continue to let out strangled noises, digging your nails into the denim of his jeans to let him know to give you some type of mercy.

Nyen doesn't listen—he continues to feverishly fuck your face for a grueling however long. Long enough for you to start to feel dizzy and see dots collect in your vision. For a second, you truly panic that he’s going to suffocate you with his dick.

He only pulls back when he visibly sees you start to turn blue and feel the sharpness on his thigh weaken. You gasp for air like a fish out of water, aching lungs finally filling with much needed oxygen before Nyen greedily forces his way into you again.

He’s enjoying how your continued strained whines and gags vibrate around his dick. He won't admit it… but shit, you feel so addictive. Nyen wants to just melt into you.

He genuinely has to keep reminding himself to not let you die by pulling out of your mouth every so often. Taking some joy in how you scramble for air before he inevitably slams back into your poor throat.

Large hands grip at the sides of your head now, hip movements become more and more sloppy. He’s grunting louder, the sensation of twitching in your mouth becoming more evident of how close he is now. “Fuck—this really is all you’re good for, huh? You're going to swallow all my cum like the useless slut you are.”

With a final snap from his hips, Nyen forces your head all the way down, nuzzling your nose into his crotch before he spurts salty cum deep down your esophagus. He doesn't give you any leniency, purposely making you choke as he empties into you. “All of it, whore.” 

Finally, once he's satisfied that you’ve tasted enough of him, he harshly pulls out his pulsating cock. Air feels like a commodity now, you almost feel as if he's going to shove his dick inside your mouth again in a few seconds. He doesn't though, instead he removes his hand from your hair and grabs his flushed length. 

Your vision is blurry and your knees are weak, barely able to focus. Still, you manage to see the smug look spread across his face. Suddenly, you feel a warm, quick smack on the side of your cheek. You blink and realize he’s dick slapping you. What fucking nerve.

Still aching, you don't bother to fight back or say something like you should. Everything truly hurts. Instead, you allow yourself to loll back and cover yourself as Nyen zips himself back into his pants. 

It's quiet. Nyen stands by and over you as you sit on the carpet, not sure what to do. Tears would be flowing if you had any left to cry. Both your eyes finally meet, and you can properly see the red scratches you left on his face. Nyen finally spits, “Get up. You look pathetic.” He then opens the door and leaves you to wallow.

It's like another slap to your face.

[eldritch-spouse]

I think in a relationship with Primin it'd be sort of like a mistress/servant thing going on. Maybe being her modeling assistant sometimes

TW: Mild toxic body checking.

Correct!

You're her dog. But you're also her emotional rock to lean on when her incredibly busy life gets to her.

A modeling career is never truly easy, be it on the surface or in Hell, Primin has to be extremely careful with the state or her body and her beauty must always be impeccable so she can not only compete but destroy her rivals. Primin thankfully taps into a youthful, elegant aesthetic that's highly sought after in a society that's afraid of aging and natural blemishes. This is very stressful to her, even if she doesn't outwardly show it.

Which is why she needs someone like you to tell her that little zit that popped up is not the end of the world, that it's okay if she has a slightly rougher patch of skin, that a scar is nothing to obsess over. No, her face isn't too wide and her hands aren't brutish.

She treats you like a spoiled pet more than anything, if you behave that is. You always eat with her, but Primin allows you to eat sweeter stuff that she "can't", she dresses you in all sorts of fashion trends, including sets she's modeled before (in your own size of course), you sleep next to her, you listen to her ramble about her chaotic days, and you have to sit on the couch so she can hop on your lap while you stroke her hair during movie time.

Paying her compliments is a morning boost Primin almost forces you to do, because she needs it. At the same time that people perceive you as a boot licker, Primin makes it very clear you're to be extended the same kind of princess treatment she gets, because you're with her, and she wants her loved ones to be pampered.

Speaking of princess, you're about the only person who can call her that without getting claws to the face. So use that privilege wisely and fluster her frequently.

[icyg4l]

PAC: Sister-to-Sister Messages

As promised, I said that I would post messages this weekend in regard to Women’s History Month based on the results of yesterday’s poll. This reading will be all about sister-to-sister dynamics. I am so thankful for the support that I have been receiving for these readings. It’s much appreciated! 🤌🤌 Anyway, today is the last day of the five dollar flash sale!! All readings will be $5 today! Come get it if you want it!!! Without further ado, choose your sister duo.

*** Disclaimer: These readings are meant to uplift, relate to, and/or inspire women!

Left-to-Right (1-3): Chloe and Halle, Beyoncé and Solange, Tia & Tamera.

Pile 1: If you resonate with the photo of Chloe and Halle, then this is your pile. First of all, your potential hasn’t even peaked yet, Pile One. Your sister wants you to know that you should continue to pursue your dreams. I feel like you have the tendency to start stuff but not finish it. What’s that about? She’s noticed this since yall were young but probably thought you would’ve grown out of it. But she still thinks that you will prosper. Those who resonate with this pile seem to be the baby in the family. You may feel like your sister acts too much like your mother, but she just wants what’s best for you. I feel like your sister is very successful/accomplished & you may feel that pressure to follow her footsteps. But in reality, she just wants you to be you. Be an individual, babe. And the last message that I got from this pile was kind of funny. Your sister feels like you work too hard. Where’s your boo thang? You need to let some stress off with a sexual partner chile, especially if someone’s been putting in effort to talk to you. Give them a chance! Maybe you can find a creative spark from messing around with them! In the end, your sister is supportive of your creative pursuits. She just wants you to put in more effort.

Cards Used: The Star: King of Wands, Four of Cups, Prince of Wands, Page of Discs (RX), 3 of Discs.

extras: “you’re being uptight.” “i’d put my life on the line for you.” spotlight. errands. ADD. chronic lip licker. “you stole my clothes.” new wardrobe. a kiss on the cheek. pillows. voluptuous. chanel. argan oil. tree climbing. golf. tennis. pierced earlobe. “i didn’t get you anything, sorry.”

Pile 2: If you resonate with the photo of Beyoncé and Solange, this is your pile. Damn Pile Two, you’re quite the looker aren’t you? Your sister sees the physical growth that you’ve made in the past two years and she is in awe of it! You’re absolutely flawless dear! But don’t forget to hold onto your vision. I feel like this pile is in high school? Maybe a freshman in college. But you have a lot of admirers. I feel like your sister is younger than you & they feel like you’re not paying attention to her as you as you used to. She feels like you mistreat her, not necessarily on purpose. It may be because you’re so busy. She wants you to not forget about them. Your sister is proud of your pursuit of higher learning (if you’re in college). She is going to follow in your footsteps because of this. But make sure you keep your promises, babe. Go to that yogurt shop with her. Go shopping with her at the mall. Go to the movies. Hell, go to the park with her. Paint with her. Spend quality time with your sister so she can stop feeling this way!

Cards Used: Nine of Cups, Ace of Discs, Four of Discs, Five of Swords, 7 of Cups (RX), Princess of Cups, 10 of Discs.

extras: strawberry & banana smoothie. teenage dirtbag. furry boots. sweet treats. calming down after nightmare. salad. elephant lover. french tips. sparkles. ribbons. bows. “speak up, honey”. abbott elementary. “i want more you.” “honesty is everything.” “keep my secret.” conceited by remy ma.

Pile 3: Last but not least, if you resonate with the photo of Tia and Tamera, then this your pile. Aw, Pile Three, your sister regrets the last conversation y’all had. I feel like this conversation could have been about how personal choices affect loved ones, i.e. bringing around terrible dating partners/friends, not paying off debts in time. It also could have been a conversation about codependency or feeling smothered. It feels like your sister understands why you left; you wanted to put yourself first. It took her some time to realize that y’all can be separate and still have love for you. Y’all need time apart to grow. Do you have a twin, Pile Three? Or were you extremely connected to your sister on a soul level at some point? There will be some time for y’all to reconnect but just not right now. There’s some stubborn energy between the both of you but y’all will reconnect once there is momentum in the both of you guys’ lives. She doesn’t hate you for being independent, but she does hate the way things ended, Pile Three.

Cards Used: Eight of Cups, The World, Five of Swords, Four of Discs, Two of Wands, Nine of Discs, Strength, 7 of Wands.

extras: “i have the balls, you don’t.” “it’s my prerogative.” oil and vinegar. liv and maddie. perfectionism. credit card debt. “drink up.” doodlebob. responsibilities. the old days. unplugged cords. cauliflower. fake vegan. bad eyesight. chloe bailey. drinking water. messy bedroom.

[your-regular-toast-enjoyer]

Damian Wayne x League of assassins reader

Damian Wayne x reader or Damian Wayne/reader

Word count: 3468 words

TW: GN reader, Damian might be a TW himself, angst, mentions of kidnapping, nothing super bad really, kinda fluffy at the end.

You and him probably met as kids. I imagine that you might have been kidnapped by the league as a part of a mission to indoctrinate randomly selected children from around the world into the League of Assassins. It might have been a mission orchestrated by Ra’s to get a wider selection of soldiers under him. He would like to ideally always have the perfect person at hand for any type of mission. That means at least one soldier from every single country in the world… there are only 195 after all, less than a fraction of his total army of assassins, so it was an easy goal to complete.

I can imagine that you must have stood out to either Ra’s or Talia. Perhaps you were much stronger than the other kids? Perhaps you were smarter? Perhaps you were more dedicated to Ra’s cause than the rest? The reason honestly doesn’t matter. What matters is that you were better in some significant regard and, as such, gained the role of Talia’s protégé… Right alongside Damian.

As Talia’s trainee, you will be pushed to your limit. There will be times when you’ll seriously doubt whether or not you’ll survive whatever mission she has set out for you. Being scared for your life will become the norm and you’ll under no circumstances show your fear. As the years go on, Talia will be more caring towards you in her own twisted way. She’ll remember your birthday and give you her own homemade cream-filled Harissa or a small plate of Atayek as a gift, but she will never hug you or be unduly doting on you. You will doubt her care towards you every day, but when you see how she treats the other assassins, (especially the other children who you were kidnapped alongside), you’ll realise that she’s exceptionally gentle towards you, in comparison. Still, it doesn’t mean that she’ll show you any mercy in training, which, in a way, could also be considered a show of affection, because if you ever slip up, even the slightest bit, there’s a good chance that you won’t survive it.

This is the environment in which you grow up. It’s harsh and you often consider if death is a better alternative. You might have given in if it wasn’t for the boy who trained right alongside you… Damian. 

At first, Damian will remain sceptical of you. You were just thrown in alongside him during training one day and now you’re both training under his mother… Something seems off about the whole situation in Damian’s mind.

Damian might actually be jealous of you in the beginning. Who are you?! And why are you taking his mother’s attention away from him? Why did she just pet you on the head and not him?! That’s so unfair! She’s his mother! Not yours!

Damian might actually try to kill you in your sleep once or twice, which you manage to escape… He isn’t the first who’s jealous of your role. The other kidnapped kids whisper your name along the words “Traitor” and “Boot licker”. 

After a while, Damian’s jealousy dims. In its place, a sense of camaraderie slowly crawls in and inhabits. By your second year as Talia’s pupil, Damian will start to acknowledge you as more than just his training partner… You’re his first friend. The word is foreign to him. Friends aren’t a thing in the league of assassins… at least not openly, but it’s hard to describe you as anything except for his friend.

You’re probably the person he cares the most about, right after his mother. He’ll let you sleep in his huge silk-covered bed, right next to him. That way you can for once have a nice sleep without worrying about one of your fellow kidnap victims coming for your throat at night. Besides that, (whether or not you like the feeling of silk), you can’t deny that his large and soft bed is much more comfortable than the standard issue linen cot you’ve been provided with. Damian's bed is also residing within a large room that the two of you have all to yourself, not a piece of fabric hung alongside hundreds of others in a room smaller than that of the Al Ghul heir.

Damian likes having you next to him at night as well. Not only does he feel like he can better protect you, but it also helps with the nightmares that he’s been having since he was five. It helps to have someone that he trusts next to him.

As you grow even closer, you might seek each other out to deal with your dreadfully touch-starved selves. You might end up having a tradition of hugging each other for at least ten minutes every day before you’re called down for your morning meal.

Talia will certainly be aware of you and Damian’s growing relationship, but she decides to allow it. As stated before, she does care about both of you, and she can’t bring herself to separate you two. She’ll even keep the growing friendship a secret from her father. Ra’s wouldn’t approve of his grandson fraternising with a common assassin, especially one that wasn’t born in 'Eth Alth'eban.

Damian and you will make promises to never leave the other’s side. You will be inseparable and a deadly duo. Even though you weren’t even ten yet, you fought as if you were a single organism and were pretty much unstoppable against anyone who came up against you. Ra’s was impressed by your combined skills and briefly considered making you Damian’s future right hand. 

I can see Damian and you doing something stupid like attempting to form a blood oath by cutting up each of your palms so that a long thin line of blood peeps out, and then immediately press your hands tightly together. Damian swears that he’ll keep you by his side forever and you swear that you’d rather die than have your loyalty to him waver.

When Damian turns ten, the league is attacked, and Ra’s is either killed or mortally wounded, incapable of continuing to lead. Damian is forced to go to Gotham and reside with his father. He despises being removed from you, but he has no choice. It’s a decision made by his mother and he both respects and fears her too much to go against her direct orders. 

…Does anyone remember that uncomfortable boat scene from Son of Batman… Yeah, the one where Talia is flirting with Bruce while Damian is hiding behind a curtain less than five steps away… I can imagine that you’re standing next to the boy and you’re both sending each other disgusted looks.

When Talia reveals that Damian is Bruce’s son. Bruce might ask if he should take you as well. You’re around Damian’s age and he knows how the league treats children, he trained under the same trainer utilised by Ra’s Al Ghul, and he has surveillanced 'Eth Alth'eban multiple times. Talia refuses to give up her most trusted student though. She’s only giving Damian to Bruce to protect him. She needs you to be her right hand while she rebuilds the league. She only fully trusts you, no one else will do, despite you still being a child. 

Aiding in the process of reconstructing an organisation as large as the League is a lot of responsibility to be put on a child, but it ultimately helps you forget your sorrows of being away from the person you cared about the very most. Talia will work you hard, with no more than five minutes of downtime per day, for years. However, you get much closer to her, and she almost treats you like she used to treat Damian. (I can imagine that it’s her coping mechanism. It’s hard for her to be away from her son, so, she treats you like a kind of substitute child in his stead). Slowly, as you grow older, you’ll start to rise within the ranks of the newly rebuilt and much improved, (skill- and security-wise), League of Assassins. When you finally turn eighteen, you’ll have reached the rank of high general and the right hand of Talia, (who serves as the de facto leader until Damian returns).  

Damian, on the other hand, will sulk for weeks after being separated from you. If Bruce or anyone else mentions you, (by name or physical description), Damian will be at their throat. They don’t know you! They don’t know how you were the only friend he had! Everything has just been ripped from him! His mother, his grandfather, his home and, most importantly, his closest companion, you! His father could never begin to understand. This goes beyond just losing those you care about. It’s the uncertainty of whether he’ll ever see any of you again that tears him apart on the inside. He feels so alone in this foreign, and strange, new environment, where everyone seems to have forgotten the title and power he was born with. His entire world has crumbled in less than a week, and all he wants is for you to come so that you can give him one of those long hugs the two of you used to share in the mornings.

As Damian grows up, he won’t forget you like you were partially forced to do with him. However, he will attempt to distract himself from his yearning towards a nostalgia fuelled vision of his young childhood, with you being the main component. He’ll dive head first into his position as Robin, his friends at the Teen Titans, American high school life and so on. He’ll oftentimes think of what became of you, wonder whether or not, and deep down pray, you’re still alive. At the league, you never know which day might be your last, after all.

I imagine that Damian gets into a huge fight with his father, as he has countless times. However, this time it’s different. Damian killed again. Whether it was an accident or not doesn’t matter. We all know Batman’s golden rule of “No Killing”, and perhaps it was a high-profile rogue whose life Damian snuffed out… like the Joker? Scarecrow? Or maybe even Poison Ivy? Someone whose death would spread over the news like wildfire.

Whoever it was… It was dire enough for Bruce to remove Damian’s title as Robin, and suddenly the green-eyed boy’s world is crashing down again. He’s lost everything again. The image of your face, or at least what he imagines your face to look like now, pops into his head, and as a retaliation against his father’s iron rule, Damian flees back to the League. 

Talia is immediately made aware of this. She probably has an assassin trailing Damian at all times, just to make sure that he’s safe. When the mother hears of her son’s intentions of returning home, she’s overjoyed, even though she doesn’t show it outwardly. She sends for transport measures to get her son back to her in relative comfort, no son of hers will hitchhike across the globe. 

You’d probably be the first person Talia informs about Damian’s return. You can’t even remember his face, let alone have any idea of how he looks now, but you nonetheless share your mentor’s silent excitement. You still have that scar across your palm from that stupid blood oath you made as a kid. A permanent reminder of your loyalty to the Al Ghuls.

When Damian returns, you’re the one who greets him first. He’s been flown to the closest regular city near 'Eth Alth'eban, and you’ve been sent to guide him back to his old home, (in case he had forgotten the hours-long trip). 

When Damian sees you again, he’s baffled. You grew up to be so beautiful and enchanting. Your loyalty truly never wavered, he thinks. Still there to greet him after all those years.

Damian might unintentionally blush at the sight of you, which is very unlike him. But it’s so surreal to see you again, and he just wants to embrace you for days to make up for the lost time. His natural self-restraint stops him from ever pursuing such unrefined dreams, but that doesn’t change how his arms long to just wrap around your shoulders and see if you still smell like the strong incense they used to burn around the barracks within 'Eth Alth'eban.

But you seem colder than he remembers you. You’ve both grown to be different. You’re now much quieter and more reserved than when you were a child. You’re not rude in any way, just more distant... It scares him a little, did he lose you too? However, as he talks with you on the way back to the sacred city, you slowly start throwing out the regular sarcastic jabs/funny one-liners/whatever, that he remembers you for. It makes him hopeful that the two of you can return to what you had when you were ten. Wishful thinking? Definitely. But Damian has always been an ambitious man.

Once Damian is back with the league, he takes over the position of leader. You remain one of the highest-ranked generals, and you’re the one that Damian sees as his “get out of jail free” card. You work exceptionally well under any circumstances, a result of Talia’s thorough tutoring, no doubt, and he employs you in all the missions that no one else can complete. Damian is in awe of your skills, and he slowly develops what might be seen as a relatively passionate crush.

No one would ever know of his feelings if they didn’t understand him completely as his mother does. Talia spots the light blush on his nose and cheeks as you’re trying to explain some geographical advantage you might have over your enemies. She also notices how Damian will give you fewer dangerous missions to complete, or how he moved from his old childhood room to one that’s closer to yours. Yeah, Talia notices it all, and I believe this might be the only scenario where she approves of you fully. She tells Damian as much. He almost tries to deny the butterflies in his stomach but finds himself unable to let the words, “I harbour no such feelings for them”, leave his mouth.

Damian still has nightmares. They actually got much worse when he left 'Eth Alth'eban and started to live in Gotham. One night, he has a particularly gruesome one. Visions of his favourite brother, Grayson, dying. Of his grandfather’s death and his mother and you mourning so deeply it hurts to look at. He wakes up with a deafening deep and brass shout.

You’re quickly by his side, having recognised his voice as it rang out in the shared hall leading to both of your bedrooms. “You were yelling in your sleep, What’s wrong?” You inquire, concerned. He tries to brush it off, but you don’t budge. So, he explains his nightmare to you, apologising for appearing so pathetic. You don’t think he does and reassure him that he’s doing nothing wrong.

Maybe, in a fit of nostalgic yearning, Damian asks you if you want to stay for the night, like when you were little kids. And even though your current bed is almost as comfortable as his, (no longer are you chewed off with a flea-infested linen cot), you reluctantly accept. If you two were caught sharing a bed, it’d be scandalous. However, Damian is no longer just the grandson of the Demon’s Head. He is the Demon's Head. What he says, goes. And currently, he is saying that you can sleep next to him like in the good old days.

Neither of you has slept as peacefully as you do that night. You wake up before Damian, tangled in his arms and legs, and you’re rendered frozen. Damian’s green silk robes hang loose and you almost feel like you’re doing something wildly illegal by having him hold you so close to his chest.

When Damian wakes up not too long after, (no one is able to sleep late at the league), he doesn’t instantly let go of you as you expected he would. No. Damian starts to gently untangle the knots in your hair, (if you have any), and then lets his large calloused hand wipe over your cheek. You can still feel the scar on his palm from your old blood oath. It’s oddly comforting. 

You both lay down as long as you’re able to and then you must go back to your own room, undetected, to change and get ready.

The day goes by and nightfall arrives once more, and as you’re about to go to sleep in your own bed, you hear a knock on your door. It’s Damian. You instantly attempt to bow to show respect, but he stops you. “Come join me in bed.” It’s not necessarily a question, nor is it a direct command. It’s as if he already knew that you wouldn’t refuse and he was simply reminding you to come sleep next to him, as you’re supposed to.

This becomes a rather common tradition. The two of you sleeping next to each other. You mask it as you needing to better protect him from possible attacks at night, even though he’s a much lighter sleeper than you. It becomes common knowledge around the barracks that you two share a bed, but none mention a word, too busy with their own training.

Soon, Damian may spot that you like to spend whatever free time you have in the library, or that you look longingly after the stray cats sometimes found around 'Eth Alth'eban. In this case, he’ll gift you a large set of books/a little kitten which he has already named after himself, (you’ve got to remember who gave it to you). Whatever it is that he has noticed caught your eye, he’ll gift it to you.

Now, the Al Ghuls are quite traditional folk. So, Damian will court in the traditional way: 

He might gift you a bouquet of flowers native to the surrounding flora in and around  'Eth Alth'eban.

He’d definitely invite you to sit model for him as he paints your portrait, which will portray you in such a remarkable way that you can’t help but be at least a little flattered.

He might even get his fingers on an old gramophone and a vinyl album of an old song like “Put your head on my shoulder” or “Can’t take my eyes off of you”. Then, he gently guides you in a slow dance. It’s fine if you’re bad at dancing, as long as you keep close to him, he’ll make sure that you won’t step on his feet too much. He will make his feelings so clear to you that even if you’re the most oblivious person in the world, you won’t be in doubt that he adores you. While slow dancing he might lean in very close, your lips barely grazing each other as he sings along to the song playing in the background, his eyes focused on yours. When the song is finally about to end and you haven't pulled away, he’ll finally connect your lips.

(for Phone users) connect your lips

Damian is an intense guy. He is 100% or 0%, borderline obsessive love or none at all. The kiss will be confirmation of the two of you “dating”, I suppose. Al Ghuls don’t really do dating, though… So you will quickly have Damian on one knee, asking for your hand… even though he sounded like he was commanding you to elope immediately. “Marry me, y/n. Soon. I’ll give you all I have and own, if only you’ll give me your heart”.

He will marry you in all the ways that make sense. One wedding won’t be enough for him. Four weddings? Five weddings? Maybe more? Damian is on board. His brothers will all be invited, even Tim, as well as all of his previous friends, and yours, (if you’ve made any during the rebuilding of the League of Assassins). Bruce won't be welcome though, no matter how much his mother argues for his case.

If you prefer for your wedding to be small… I’m sorry, but there are certain League-traditions which Damian refuses to not obey. (He’s not particularly superstitious. However, the idea of the old wedding tales holding any validity scares him off not keeping with traditions).

Your married life will change very little in terms of his passion and your day-to-day conduct. If you’re willing and able to have children, Damian would adore them… But also be jealous of the amount of attention you give them.

If you’re either not willing or able to conceive children, Damian won’t force you. Actually… Damian might prefer to be child-free since he doesn’t want to share your love with anyone else… He’ll accept you caring for his mother deeply though, if that’s even the case, but that's about it.

Whether or not Damian makes up with his father doesn’t matter. He’ll forever stay with the League and you… After all, he promised you he’d keep you by his side forever.

In conclusion? LoA general reader and Damian make for a strangely fitting pair. Also, one of the few scenarios where Talia will actually support the relationship, Bruce though? Probably not. He’ll likely think that you’ve turned his youngest son evil, but he won’t attempt to split the two of you. Not that Damian would let him.

[damned-punk]

I’ve heard about the storms hitting your island lately, and I know how much they scare you. I wish I could be there to hold you tight and keep you safe. Know that even though I’m far away, my thoughts are with you. Thunder and lightning is terrifying but try to find some peace knowing that these storms will pass. They always do. You’ve got a resilient heart, and you can get through this just like everything else. I know it’s been a while since I wrote, and I’m sorry for that but things have been wild out here. Killer and I have been pushing forward with our plans, taking on more challenges than ever. The New World isn’t for the faint-hearted, but you know that already. We been through some intense battles recently, and we’re still standing strong. The crew’s morale is high, and our bounty keeps climbing. Just the other day, we took on some Marines and sent them running with their tails between their legs. We must have made some boot licker mad. My newest bounty is 3,000,000,000 berries! Imagen that! I miss you more than words can say, and I can’t wait for you to be back by my side. Until then, stay strong for me. Keep your chin up and remember that you’re never alone. I’m out here fighting for our future, and I won’t let anything keep us apart for long.

I’ll stake Kidd’s Jolly Roger on each corner of my house as a personal fuck you to any and all inclimate weather 🏴‍☠️

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Too many people seem to forget that Rainwings and Skywings are supposed to look somewhat similar, not too bad when they headcanon them with different designs then in canon but I'm still surprised by all the canon boot-licker type of people who also forget that ?

Like feathered Skywings doesn't mean that feathered Rainwings can't exist, if anything, those two headcanons go talon in talon with each others

Both headcanons are cool, can we just stop arguing about headcanons, especially if they aren't hurtful ?

This fandom has a big problem with understanding that you don't need to hate stuff you don't like

.

[prodigal-explorer]

specific things i’ve seen tss fans do that make me hate this fandom:

(disclaimer: a lot of this fandom is great but oh my lord i just have to show some of y’all how your behavior affects others because it’s atrocious)

please read this guys because chances are you or someone you know has done at least one of these things because they’re so rampant in this fandom it’s crazy-

1. sending death threats and calling somebody a “boot licker” and a “d-rider” for defending thomas’ silence about the war. like he shouldn’t be saying anything about the war unless he knows enough to have authority on it??? he’s a privileged white man who lives in a place where the war is not taking place. what productive thing would he be able to say about the war?? leave the man alone, he’s not a politician or a military general. if he did say something, it would probably be misinformation. stop acting like you’re some saint because you’re using bullying tactics to make yourself feel more woke.

2. writing aggressive posts about stuff thomas does that is not an issue. what i mean is that he does deserve to be called out if he fucks up (like the whole thing with underpaying his employees), but i saw a post where someone was using super aggressive language because thomas said he was “being delusional” in a short and someone was on their high horse about how thomas was “being insensitive to people who have mental disorders that involve delusions.” like…please go outside. anyone can have a delusion. and if thomas does make a REAL mistake that actually matters, there are better ways to go about it than spewing hate and name calling. he tries very hard and actively patches up mistakes as well as he can, which is more than what can be said about most cis white male celebrities.

3. blatant racism. i’ve been told by white people that my views on poc headcanons are wrong. like i’m a poc??? i would know more than you??? and i try to be nice about it?? so don’t attack me for saying that there’s nothing wrong with race headcanons as long as they’re done in a respectful way? or that just because roman speaks spanish one time doesn’t automatically make him latino and that’s actually a pretty racist assumption? just trust poc fanders. WE KNOW WHAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE WE EXPERIENCE RACISM ON A DAILY BASIS. white people will never know what it’s like. so stop acting like it. that’s a huge issue in this fandom.

4. a LOT of aphobia. there’s this concept going around that’s like “oh the sides could be ace because they’re not human so they don’t get romance!” like…babes let’s step back and look that over…cuz ace people aren’t ace because they don’t “understand” sex. that’s infantilizing and dehumanizing. it’s possible to be ace just because you don’t want sex in a conventional way. the sides are not a vessel for your aphobia.

5. SO MUCH RUDENESS WHEN IT COMES TO CHARACTER CRITICISM. the amount of death threats i’ve gotten just because i hate patton??? like PLEASE. i’m allowed to hate a character!! i have trauma and patton reminds me of horrible people in my life who did horrible things to me! he’s like a carbon copy of them in my mind! and even if i didn’t have trauma, it would still be valid because patton is a flawed character! there is nothing bad or wrong about dissecting a character’s unkind actions??? that’s just basic analysis. like i ADORE roman and you don’t see me wishing death upon people who don’t like him??? i just block and move on or i hear them out!! because discussion about the flaws of a character you like isn’t a personal attack!!! people NEED to get that in their heads cuz it’s so frustrating when people take it so personally and actively seek it out just to get mad at it.

[yanteetle]

How do you think the yandere turtles would be if they were raised by draxum? Like how would their yandere tendencies be different? (Totally not asking this bc I have a request around the draxum au and I have no idea what to do)

Okay i sometimes wonder about the same thing actually. Like sure, their violent tendencies would be increased tenfold (or even more, who knows) but they might face their human darling with a little disdain and condescension. It would take quite a bit to get them to not only want to protect a human, but love and cherish them despite having been raised to want to destroy them wholly.

Raph would definitely be more temperamental and violent, but he'd have a stronger love for yokai-kind and animals in general. Instead of wrestling, he might end up being very invested in the Battle Nexus and the violence that goes on in there, being the most likely to partake in tournaments for the 'glory and victory' aspect of it, but also because he thinks fighting in general is fun. His darling might either be a yokai or generally, a really weak human. He's the most likely to infantilize his darling, oftentimes babying them and insisting they can't do anything without his help (this applies especially if y/n is a human) He would respect them a little more if they were a yokai, but he'd get overprotective and jealous rather quickly.

Donnie would be the most invested in Draxum's work. He easily grows to become his lab partner, and his ego is only worsened by Draxum's praise and validation. (I secretly think that Draxum would be a slightly better parent than Splinter but I digress) His brothers hate him being quote on quote, Draxum's boot licker. but eventually he grows out of Draxum's validation and tries to find it from other sources. So when he finds y/n, he's pretty desperate for recognition, and even more so if they're a human. He doesn't imagine a human could ever be as capable, smart or talented as him or his kind, and he believes they should act accordingly. He essentially tries to get his darling to be his boot-licker (figuratively and maybe literally :3) He's a pretty patient yandere as well, but he becomes rather sadistic and violent when he's constantly having to force his darling to love him. Overall, an unpleasant yandere unless you're a total masochist.

Leo however... he is still the voice of reason in the team, but he's more likely to venture out into the human realm to 'know more about what he's going to wipe out' compared to the others. He's of course, the least favourite but we all know that. Draxum hates his cockiness, and so he'll tone it up to the extreme just to spite him. He is however, very compliant and lenient to his darling. In the Draxum au, he'd be the most bearable and highly recommended yandere out of the four brothers (imo) He'd purposely treat his darling well and keep them alive all for the sake of going against Draxum, so it's best if his darling manages to pit the two against each other.

Mikey? He's still a ball of sunshine and the loosest cannon in the family, probably being the reason why Draxum hasn't killed Leo yet. Knows how to get on Draxum's good side, and ultimately takes advantage of this when he obtains a darling. He's the most confident in bringing his darling home knowing that somehow, one way or another, the family will just accept it. The kidnapping would happen pretty quickly, and he's just as delusional as he'd be with splinter. He's somewhat tolerable as a yandere, but he is the most likely to dish out the worst punishments if his darling ever misbehaves. He did learn from Draxum after all.

That's all I got for now, I think I could expand more on it, but my shoulder is sore from my massage appointment earlier and I'm going to need a teeny tiny break for that :))

[whump-in-the-closet]

The Shadows Under Their Eyes

Leslie-- weapon-in-training--completed a mission that left her rattled. With her world falling out from under her feet, she confronted the Organizer and now faces the consequences of her actions.

cw: death mention, that trope where a character keeps pulling weapons out of their pockets, broken bones and crowbars, severe beating because Leslie punched the Organizer (Sage) as she had every right to

Leslie, living weapon whumpee, reluctant to do her job (she/her)

Sage, whumper (they/them)

Kaspian, works for Sage, trains Leslie (he/him)

Locked in her room, Leslie had time to think. Too much time.

Between the racing thoughts, she’d see Swift’s eyes.

Hopeless. Blank. An expression she recognized. Those hopeless eyes. 

Her hands shook. Leslie clenched them, opened them, remembered the blood–bright, vivid, not her own–closed them again. 

Swift had slumped against Leslie as she died, like a deer folding to the forest floor, eyes wide and dark. Leslie sobbed, pressing her shaking hands against her mouth to stifle the sound. 

Oh god.

All that training, and for what? 

Oh fuck. 

Leslie muffled a strangled cry in her throat. 

Then she heard voices outside her door. Frantic for a distraction, she pressed an ear against the wood. It would have been better if she hadn’t. 

She recognized Kaspian’s voice first. “Sage, with all due respect, I won’t allow it.” 

The punishment. Right. Sage had threatened to make her regret her actions last night. 

Leslie shuddered. Kaspian better get her out of this. He had to. 

Sage’s response was curt. “Do you want to be reprimanded alongside your apprentice?” 

There was only soft hesitation. “No.” 

Kaspian was not getting her out of this.

All she had said was…

What had she said? Oh, right, she had entered Luca’s so-called important meeting with clients and punched Sage with her blood-drenched hands. 

She may have said something along the lines of “Sick asshole,” and left. But she hadn’t done any real damage to Sage's face or anything. They still had all their teeth. 

Leslie turned back to the conversation in time to hear Sage say: 

“Then your apprentice will take the reprimanding and thank me for it. She needs to learn what it means to be an Elite.” 

Leslie couldn’t take it. “You mean I need to learn to be a boot-licker?” She shouted the words through the door, uncaring. 

Sage wrenched the door open and Leslie fell back, but not quickly enough. They grabbed her by her shirt collar and hauled her into the corridor. 

Kaspian only shook his head. He gave her a look that said, you got yourself into this, get out of it yourself. 

Fine then. If Kaspian wanted her to Leslie-style this, then she would. “Personally, I’m disappointed in the both of you–” Leslie began to mock Sage. 

Sage slapped her across the mouth. “Not a word.” To Kaspian, they snapped, “Send her to Room 359. And then we will be speaking about additional training.” 

Leslie could only stare, mouth dry. 

Those hopeless eyes. 

Kaspian only paled slightly. “You’ll…you’ll kill her.” 

“I’m not that lucky.” 

Kaspian glanced at Leslie, then at Sage. Back to Leslie. He mouthed I’m sorry, then spoke up, voice cold. “You have to provide medical care after.” 

That snapped Leslie out of it. “Kaspian!” 

Cruel, cruel, cruel. 

Sage smiled.  “I knew you would come to see reason” They paused, and Leslie knew it was for effect, and added, “Agreed. I’d forgotten you’re an Elite after my own heart.” 

“For Christ’s sake,” said Leslie.

“What’s that?” said Sage. 

“I said–” 

Kaspian grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him, “Nothing. She said nothing, my liege.”  

“Boot-licker,” whispered Leslie, for only Kaspian to hear. 

Kaspian made no motion of hearing her. 

Sage pointed at her, expression stern, “You’ll learn the hard way not to cross me.” They left the hallway.

 “Oh, sorry, I’ll take notes this time,” Leslie shouted after them. She didn’t stop there. Her face was still red where Sage had slapped her. “God knows who they think they are.” 

Kaspian lifted an eyebrow. “Sage holds our lives in their hands.” He gestured to her room. “Get back in there. The guards will pick you up tomorrow morning.” 

“Aw, are you still pissed at me?” 

“Go to your room.” 

“Okay, dad.” Leslie’s voice was sharp with sarcasm. If her voice cracked, they both pretended they didn’t notice.  As she stepped inside, she turned around with the final word, “Dad this, and Dad that, and fuck you, by the way.” 

Kaspian shut the door and locked it. He couldn’t look her in the face. 

Leslie was back with the racing thoughts and Swift’s dead eyes. 

Great. 

***

The guard kicked Leslie awake. He only had to kick once. She grabbed his ankle and twisted as he drew his leg back a second time. 

The guard hit the floor with a satisfying thud and Leslie had a blade to his throat, and a knee on his chest– that was even more satisfying. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked from her, red hair matted around sharp features and a dead light in her eyes, to the twitching blade. He exhaled shakily, “Don’t try anything. I’m to bring you down to the 359. The Liege’s orders.” 

Something inside Leslie twitched. 

359. 

The white room. With its tiled floor and dried stains that they never cleaned off. 

Her head suddenly began to throb. 

The guard regained his confidence. “Get off me!” 

Leslie stepped off him. “Yeah, cry about it.” 

The guard stood, with as much dignity as he could. With his eyes on her blade, he said, “Hand over your jacket and your weapons.” 

Leslie twirled the knife, watching the guard’s nervous twitch. After a small pause, she handed it to him. Then she surrendered her jacket. 

The early morning sun hit her arms, cold and sharp. Her posture slumped.

“Your other weapons,” said the guard. 

She took three more knives out of various pockets with slow, exaggerated movements and dropped them to the floor. 

“Is that all?” 

“No, I have an arsenal on me. I always plan to start international wars on a fucking Tuesday.” But she pulled out a small explosive and a vial of poison from her boot. 

The guard fumbled with both and she laughed at him. 

She stopped laughing when the guard shoved her into the hall with a rough, ’Get moving’, and the reality of it all became far too crushing, far too soon. 

Oh, fuck it all. 

He took her up several flights of stairs and into a long hallway with bright fluorescent lighting. No windows. 

Leslie felt her throat constrict. She didn’t say anything because she knew her voice would crack if she tried. 

It had been so long since Room 359. 

They stopped at the door, the numbers on a plate beside it. 

The guard unlocked it and shoved her in. “Should have kept your mouth shut,” he said with a shake of his head. 

“Go to hell,” Leslie snapped at him as the door closed. Her voice shook on the last word. 

She took in the room, with its iron-red stains and not-so-white walls. Someone had smeared a bloody handprint on the floor. It smelled faintly of ammonia and vomit. 

Oh. 

She tried not to think of how many people had cracked and begged and sobbed in this room. And how soon she would be one of them– 

She didn’t have to turn around to know three guards had entered the room. She could hear their footsteps just fine. 

They circled her, in masks and tightly-stitched armor. 

Leslie closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander. 

To Swift– 

She exhaled sharply. 

No. 

Not to Swift. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Leslie saw one of the guards swing a crowbar with a slow methodical flick of their wrist. 

They brought it across the back of her knees.

Leslie muffled a scream and it came out as a strangled sound. Her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor. 

The smell of vomit became overwhelming. 

She saw white– splintering across her vision– bright and malignant. 

One of the guards hauled her to her feet by her shirt collar and Leslie tried to yank out of their grip, but they punched her, hard, in her stomach. 

She doubled over, coughing. 

The guard let her go with a disgusted sound. 

For a moment, she lay on the cold tiles, aching with an all-consuming hurt. Like it was something inside her, and alive. 

To the floor, she whispered, “I could take you any day.” 

“Smartass,” said the third guard. And brought the heel of their boot down on Leslie’s extended hand. 

She didn’t mean to cry out. But the pain curled up her wrist and exploded in her arm in a brilliant swath of murderous throbbing. 

Viscous and burning and she couldn’t think— 

The guard ground his boot into her hand. “You want to say that again?” 

Leslie screamed through a clenched jaw. 

The other guards laughed. 

One kicked her in the ribs and she curled up instinctively. 

Through her distorted vision, she could make out the vague outline of the crowbar, ticking back and forth.  

They took their boot off her hand and she knew, with the wrenching kind of sound her limp wrist made, it was broken. They dragged Leslie to her feet, again. 

Again. 

And again. 

The crowbar, the fists, the boots. 

Again. 

And again. 

She wasn’t conscious when they left the room. 

[leodoriya]

people go wrong with neogenders and pronouns when they’re like “but it doesn’t make any sense!!” that’s some fuckin boot licker shit bro. i see a nya/it person with 17 genders like sparklecatgender and skullgender and i’m like that’s the coolest fucking shit i’ve ever seen. i salute you with more umph than i’ve ever saluted anything else in my life, besides older queer folk. i may not know what’s going on but i know transphobes’ brains explode when they see you and no matter how many people hate you you keep going on with pride anyways. that’s some powerful shit there. some real queer shit. right on.

[raayllum]

cannot fucking imagine applying a “the customer is always right” capitalist hellscape mindset to “the audience is always right” when audiences are as varied as anything else. just say you’re a boot licker to your own sense of edgy superiority amplified by your lack of media literacy and the fact your ‘hot takes’ don’t get traction and go.