#please add to this if you have more evidence!!!!

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[ihrthoney]

no grave can hold my body down

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, a lil bit of suicidal thoughts but nothing too major

word count: 1.8k

an: this is a more detailed version of this post! please request jason todd fic ideas pls pls pls. sorry if theres any mistakes it’s almost midnight lol

Almost two years had passed since Bruce Wayne came to your door and revealed who he was. Nearly 730 days since your boyfriend "died". Gotham was a city full of awful crimes and even worse people but you've never hated anyone like you hated Batman.

You can understand that he tried, the guilt he must feel probably consumes him and a sick part of you is glad. Not only was your boyfriend killed, with video evidence might you add, but his body was never recovered.

Jason would hate it if you saw the video of the Joker killing him but you needed to know. It was all for naught though, you never buried a body so your brain fully believes he isn't dead.

Whether or not it was the grief of having the love of your life ripped away from you or the feeling in your gut, you know Jason isn't dead. Until there is a body in front of you, you will do anything that you can to find him.

-

It started with swallowing your pride and asking the person you loathed for help.

Bruce obviously refused, he wanted to avoid another young person's death. You caught him by surprise with how you begged for his help, he fully expected you to be mad at him, to threaten him for answers. But no, instead you got on your hands and knees and begged him for help, which somehow made it worse.

For weeks you kept reaching out to him, asking him for any clues or hints, anything at all! He has all the resources a person could ever need, he's known as the greatest detective in the world but he can't find his son?

"I've told you, Jason is... Jason is dead. You saw the video. Get out of Gotham and move on, there is nothing more I can do for you." You didn’t stop there though.

You knew of Nightwing, that he was the robin before Jason. So you reached out to him when he was on patrol. Unlike Bruce, you actually felt bad for asking for help, especially since he was working and was grieving himself.

Even through the domino mask, his face scrunched in sympathy, and as gently as he could he told you he couldn't consciously help you. He couldn't let a civilian rope themself into business they wouldn't be able to walk out of.

Understanding of his reasoning, you started going against the law. You started to sneak into offices at different police stations in Gotham (they were sloppier than you could've ever thought, no wonder people love Batman).

Given Jason's at the time profession, he taught you how to defend yourself. There was never a time you didn't carry a knife on you, but you always left your gun at home. Living in Gotham, it was best to take all and every necessary safety precautions.

Using the very low-level skills you had, you searched places that were abandoned and discarded, anywhere that Joker was ever near in the past few years. A part of you knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that if Batman had found anything he would've done so already.

But you couldn't just go to work and pretend your boyfriend wasn't out there somewhere, alive or not you had to be absolutely sure. If you died trying then so be it, it's better than living in the reality of Jason not coming home.

-

A year went by, 365 days of feeling your sanity drain out of your body. You've been caught a few times by the police for trespassing and once by Batman himself who scolded and lectured you about your activities. He was livid, upset at you willingly putting yourself in danger. You were at a higher risk of dying than he was and yet you go out in nothing but black clothes and a few weapons. He's genuinely shocked you're still alive.

After Bruce catches you, he makes sure to keep tabs on you which prevents you from going out. Even if he's busy, if he sees your tag too far out he will drag you back to your place.

There's a part of you that wants to give up, to actually take his advice and move away. But you know deep down inside nothing will put out the fire of finding Jason. Even if you moved to a different country, you know you would still look for his hair, to listen for his voice in the crowd.

Months of gaslighting yourself that he'll knock on your door and say it's just one big prank, that he was on a big mission far away and couldn't tell you to keep you safe.

Millions of excuses rolled around in your head day and night, work was a blur. Bruce even tried to compensate by offering to pay for your rent, to help you seek medical help like a therapist. You know it would do you good to rest but the guilt of leaving Jason behind was too strong. He's been through so much in his life, you wouldn't dare abandon him.

You still stayed in the apartment you were looking at with Jason, "a safehouse" he called it, you weren't even 18 at the time but you both allowed yourselves to think ahead.

Every piece of furniture you bought it with him in mind, "This would be convenient for him to hide his gear," "He likes this color, plus the blanket is soft so it'll help him sleep." Jason consumed you, call it unhealthy but he was your night in this dark city.

There was a spare bedroom, you were going to originally use it as an office/workspace but instead, it's covered in all the papers you've stolen to find him. The floor, walls and even the door were covered, overlapped, and written on with any possible clue you could've stumbled upon. It's been months since you've been able to add something that wasn't already on there. So instead, you sat in the room and just stared at it, cried, ripped things down, and put them back up with tears streaming down your face. It didn’t help that you would hear Jason’s voice soothing you whenever you cried, reassuring you whenever you were down. You knew it was your subconscious trying to console you but you liked to believe he was really there.

Then there were the hallucinations, they started back when you stumbled upon a hostage situation in an old arcade at the end of Gotham, you swear it was Jason but when the guy looked up at you all you saw was a stranger. You were stuck in the police station for hours, yelled at for stupidly interfering in a dangerous situation. The cops looked at you with annoyance now, you were nothing more than a crazy love-sick girl.

-

Lately, work has been exhausting, learning there was a new robin made your stomach swirl. It was like Batman just moved on, how is that fair? How could he move on while you were stuck chasing dead ends? Why couldn't you just accept his death?

Instead of eating dinner, you let yourself boil in whatever hot water Gotham could provide and scrubbed layers of guilt off of your skin. You put on an old shirt of his, which was horribly faded by how much you wore and washed it then curled up in bed; The bed was too big but you didn't want a smaller one in case he came back.

Usually, you triple check that your windows and doors are bolted shut but for tonight you just trusted your brain. Sometimes, it felt like it would be easier if you didn't wake up anymore, at least when you closed your eyes you could see the Jason you knew and loved.

Tonight was one of those nights where sleep was in and out, so when you felt a hand push back some hair behind your ear, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and lunged forward though there were no sounds of anyone in pain, in fact you heard the knife hit the floor.

"You have to be faster than that, sweetheart."

That voice. You would know that voice anywhere.

You blink your eyes open, slowly revealing the man you love in front of you. Except, he wasn't in front of you. This wasn't the first time he's appeared in front of you, it broke your heart all the same.

The exhaustion creeped up your throat and tears started to slip down your face, "No don't cry baby, it's okay." 'Jason' attempted to reach his hand toward you but you shook your head, backing into the corner of the bed,

"This isn't real. Go away, please. Not tonight."

The ache Jason felt in his chest at the sound of your distress hurt him in a way he's never yet experienced. His poor girl crying, thinking he wasn't real.

"I'm real baby, I promise." He calmly approaches you, kneeling on the bed, a hand reaches out towards you again,

Your head was buried on your knees as you hugged yourself into a ball, "You're not! I haven't found you! This can't be real!"

"Please look at me sweetheart."

You noticed his voice sounded different, deeper, more matured. It caused you to slowly look up, "There you are."

That's when you see him. The scars, the tired look in his eyes, the rage he's hiding behind it; There’s a difference in color in his eyes but they're beautiful all the same. They still look at you with love.

None of your hallucinations were this detailed, to be honest you couldn't imagine what he would look like after the years have passed. So to see this, you knew it was real. (Or some villain was damn good at illusions.)

He was caught off guard as you hugged him tight, he had to swallow down the feeling to pull you off. You were the exception to everything, so for now he could stomach the feeling of being held in place because he (is trying to convince himself) knows it's out of love.

You sobbed in his chest, apologizing over and over and over again, "It's okay baby, take deep breaths please."

Again, you started to shake your head, "It's not okay, I should have found you. I tried to find you, I'm so sorry!"

"I saw the room baby, I know you tried but that wasn't your responsibility." He tried to reason with you, doing what he could to calm you down. It's been years since he's seen you, years since he's dealt with anything normal, his mind is all over the place.

"Don't say that, I love you Jace. I would rather die than stop looking."

Jason tensed at the phrase, after everything it's hard to believe you, to believe any of this but he wanted to see you. He had to.

A hand found its way in your hair, holding you close to his chest, "You did good honey, thank you for trying."

Lifting your head from his chest, you looked into his eyes, "I would do anything for you, I need you to know that."

He can only offer a small smile, he knows you did and there's a small piece of his heart that can rest knowing you didn't forget him, that you still loved him.

He hopes he can learn to love you again, too.

part 2? lmk down below :)

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[justobsessedwithvic]

hello lovely people in the tbhk fandom! how are we all doing today?

"......."

Great! So in the chapter 112 leaks, we see this panel with shijima!

here she is! our favorite supernatural artist, looking perfectly alive and healthy! so pretty!

Unlike the other students, she's not wearing a uniform, or a tracksuit like Aoi is. Instead, she's dressed like an adult. I would say a teacher. (also shes lowkey buff now look at her arms) Anyways, she seems really tall, and she's holding a clipboard.

In addition, the students near her are holding up a poster they made, and they look really proud of it. You know what teacher I would show a poster I made to first? an art teacher.

Shijima died years ago, so her current age makes sense, becuase in this reset world, she probably didn't die. (thank god because shes so pretty ajwhgskajshg)

Anyways yeah Shijima is the art teacher at the school. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

im gonna try not to talk about anything else because if i do i might start sobbing

[llyfrenfys]

"Rule Britannia is out of bounds" - How England invented Great Britain

("Rule Britannia is out of bounds"- Life on Mars, David Bowie, 1971)

As promised, here is a more in-depth exploration of Wales' relationship to indigeneity or colonised status. And how England created the (political) concept of Great Britain when it formally annexed Wales in 1542. This is a long post but I will try and be brief where possible to do so. I graduated with a degree in Celtic Studies last year from Aberystwyth University so it's time to put that to use.

In my last post, I went over the groundwork for this conversation - so if you haven't read that one yet I strongly suggest you read that one first then come back to this one. In that first post, I establish the stickiness in claiming or applying the status of colonised onto the modern nation and people of Wales. I also explore how claims of indigeneity (intended to legitimise Welsh nativism through dubious claims of descent from the Iron Age Britons) are weaponised in modern political contexts.

With all that said - how does one categorise the suffering of Wales/its culture and language without straying into the language of the colonised?

Early Medieval English Imperial desire for Wales:

Very often, you will hear people make the claim that Wales was 'England's first colony' and that the other nations bordering England were guinea pigs for Britain's later colonial empire. My previous writing on this topic has established the difficulty in applying colonised as a term to Wales and its context. Which leads to the question of what do we describe it as instead?

For this, we need to make a distinction between colonialism and imperialism.

The two concepts are very similar (and do overlap slightly) but they have crucial differences which allow us to be more precise and succinct with our wording which aids both communication of the subject and quells misunderstanding through language which doesn't fit the situation.

Put simply, Imperialism is when one country, people or nation desires to extend power over another (usually a close-by or neighbouring territory) - especially (but not solely) through the means of expansionism.

Colonialism is also when a country, people or nation wants to extend power over another - but primarily through invasion and typically (but not always) against territories that are further afield and not immediate neighbours).

A lot of the way in which we view early British history in Wales is tinged with a kind of exceptionalism for what happened between England and Wales. Very often, what was done is framed as uniquely terrible for the time and held up as a poster child for the unique evil of England's expansionist desires. Yet all over Europe at the same time this was happening - other European nations and peoples were engaging in the same subjugator-subjugatee relationship. The exceptionalism present in framing Wales as uniquely suffering in this period is, unfortunately, borne out of the same British imperial culture which was thrust upon it and has become irrevocably entwined with culturally. It is a kind of British arrogance (which ironically crops up in anti-British arguments in Welsh independence activism) which presupposes nobody could have suffered the same or worse than they have, which demands the active ignorance of other, contemporary examples of that which they claim to oppose.

Wales was the first victim of English (later British) Imperialism - not its first colonial victim.

The build-up to and annexation of Wales by England:

Wales was annexed twice - once before the age of states and once shortly before that age dawned. The concept of states (as in, sovereign countries) didn't really exist until after the Treaties of Westphalia (1648). In which the concept of non-interference in the religious affairs of other countries (and other domestic affairs) was established and international relations was born. This is relevant to Wales' situation - as what England did to Wales happened long before the age of states began.

There was the Conquest of Wales by Edward I between 1277 and 1283. (Before that, the Norman Conquest of Wales by 1081). (However, the latter being conducted by the Normans is not necessarily equatable to the actions of England the country, which itself had only just been invaded by the Normans). And then the Laws in Wales Acts which formally incorporated Wales into the realm of the Kingdom of England in 1542.

The Conquest of Wales by Edward I overran the territories of the last Prince of Wales (from the Welsh monarchic tradition), Llywelyn the Last and divided the territories into Welsh Principalities and Marcher Lordships. This setup remained until 1542, when Henry VIII passed the Laws in Wales Acts and formally annexed Wales and made it (in all the legal senses) a part of England.

By the time international relations was in its infancy (i.e. shortly after the Peace of Westphalia) Wales had been absorbed into England for just over 100 years. The relevancy of this is that Westphalia had been about religious liberty - Henry VIII's incorporation of Wales into the Kingdom of England was partly informed by religion. Henry VIII had just broken away from Rome and established the Protestant Church of England, whereas Wales was still largely Catholic. The Laws in Wales Acts also replaced the language of the courts in Wales with English, cutting off monolingual Welsh speakers from legal representation. The language of worship became English instead of Latin. Wales was culturally assimilated into England over a long period of time. And that meant ensuring Wales followed the 'correct' religion and spoke the 'correct' language. After the Peace of Westphalia, these actions by Henry VIII to bend Wales to his new religion and to assimilate Wales into England would have been in poor taste or decried in light of the new Westphalian system that was developing in Europe. Alas, these events took place before then and temporally speaking, Wales was locked out of this recourse.

By contrast, Scotland was unified with England into the Kingdom of Great Britain in 1707 (after the Peace of Westphalia). England committed numerous acts of cultural erosion and destruction against Wales and Scotland at this time - but its Union with Scotland differs to that with Wales. Wales was incorporated into England, whereas Scotland was 'invited' to join a union between England (which then included Wales) and itself. Simplifying it greatly - like a marriage proposal in which the two spouses are *supposed* to be equals. After the Act of Union with Scotland, the whole island of Great Britain was 'unified' and thus the Kingdom of Great Britain was formed from two states - England (inc. Wales) and Scotland into one state.

Welsh Nationalism and Nationhood as separate from Statehood:

Wales and Scotland were the victims of English imperialism in many similar, but also many different ways.

Wales, having never been a 'state' was unable to acquire this status since it had long been incorporated into England by the time the concept of states had developed. Wales was unlucky in this way, because other nations on this island such as Scotland had managed to establish themselves long enough to survive into the age of states and thus became one. Because of this, Welsh nationalism cannot look to an era in which it was a free state because that did not happen. Instead, Welsh nationalism very often looks back with rose-tinted spectacles to Wales prior to Edward I's conquest and/or prior to Henry VIII's Laws in Wales Acts.

But nationhood and statehood are not the same thing - and it is the conflation of these two concepts (like the conflation of colonialism and imperialism) which has led to much of the confusion on these topics. Nationhood is acquired by a group of people who share several of these things: a common language, history, culture and (usually) territory. Not all of these things are required, but most nations have all or almost all of these qualities. Wales has a language (Welsh), a common history, culture and territory (Wales). Statehood is acquired by an association of people who have most or all of these things: formal institutions of government, laws, permanent territorial boundaries and sovereignty. Wales before 1283 very loosely had government and laws (monarchy and Laws of Hywel Dda) but had no permanent territory due to the conquest and lost some sovereignty in 1283 and total sovereignty in 1542.

Even if Wales had met all the criteria for a state in 1283, it would not have been eligible to become one - no nation in the world was able to do that yet because the concept (or proto-concept) for it would only be invented in 1648. Even England did not qualify for state status yet. Put simply, Wales got very unlucky with history and geography in such a way which prevented it from having a historical statehood post-1648 like neighbouring England and Scotland.

Naturally, when Welsh nationalism attempts to recall a past in which it was a 'state' - it is always an imagined and romanticised history. A fantasied history which generates ideas of the persecuted 'indigenous' Cymro where it shouldn't really be (in all seriousness, the injustices inflicted upon Wales by England are enough - extra additional injustices reliant upon a claim to to 'nativeness' do not need to be invented in order to be taken seriously). In the modern world, claims of nativeness in a European context are fraught, misguided, in poor taste and often copy the homework of the indigenous peoples those same European powers marginalised or colonised. In the modern world, a white Welshman claiming indigeneity is doing so in a postcolonial world and there really is no escaping that. Succinctly - the Welsh nationalist who relies upon a created sense of nativeness can only do so by drawing upon the work of marginalised native peoples living in parts of the world formerly colonised by Great Britain. To claim native status as a Welshman is to misunderstand and misappropriate history while wielding the language of the genuinely colonised while contributing nothing to it. It is purely extractive and a slap in the face of non-European native peoples everywhere. The pining for this return* to a prior point in Wales' history where it was a fully functional, sovereign nation populated only by 'native' or 'indigenous' Cymry is an alarming and ahistorical fantasy that all too easily slides into ethnonationalism and nativism -ancient or modern.

(*the choice of the word 'return' here is no accident - the desire to 'return' is inextricably linked to the alt-right dogwhistle 'retvrn' and it it is frighteningly common to see elements of that subculture crop up in Welsh nationalist calls to return to a point in Wales' history where it was 'sovreign'.)

Welsh nationalism which isn't vigilant to this kind of thinking very often will find itself arguing blatant untruths. For example, on the milder side of fake history, I've come across Welsh nationalist groups claiming symbolism from Owain ap Gruffydd's coat of arms - despite the fact he lived before the age of heraldry and he never used these arms because they were attributed to him later.

What next for Wales after 1542?:

Since Wales was fully and formally incorporated into the Kingdom of England by 1542, English colonisation of the Americas prior to 1707 naturally included Welsh colonists as well as English colonists. After 1707 Scots joined in with the now British colonisation of the Americas (both as/for/on the side of the Brits and as Scots fleeing Scotland after the Act of Union decimated Scottish Gaelic traditional culture). The Welsh, on the other hand, were more intimately involved with the colonisation of the Americas before that.

Though England spearheaded its colonisation of the Americas, Wales was not an unwilling participant dragged along by its association with and incorporation into England - Welsh colonisation, like Scottish colonisation, was often motivated by religious or cultural persecution - of which colonisation of another land was a possible solution to cultural loss in their home countries. Pennsylvania was settled by many Welsh Quakers and the idea of a Welsh Tract was floated to the Welsh settlers in 1684. The idea was to create a county which would operate in the Welsh language and serve as a vehicle for the preservation of the Welsh language. This attempt was not as successful as Wales' colony in Patagonia, Argentina in which native populations there were displaced at the behest of the Argentinian government - who needed the land settled and cleared. Welsh colonists took up this mantle and created Y Wladfa colony there in 1865.

Returning to the 17th Century - Welsh people were active colonists in the Americas during this time - motivated by saving the Welsh language and freedom of religion (especially the developing Nonconformist denominations of Protestant Christianity developing at this time). It was not so much that England was forcing Wales to participate in its colonialism, but that Wales has its own wants and ends for colonialism and was motivated entirely on its own grounds.

Back at home, Wales was still hard-done-by due to England - but two things can be true at once. Wales was a victim of English imperialism, but was also a perpetrator itself of colonial violence against Native Americans. England was no such victim of imperialism of any kind and the power dynamic for England had always been one rooted in absolute expansionism.

Summary and Conclusion:

With all of that said - if you were to ask point blank if I feel it is appropriate or okay for Wales to claim it was colonised by England and that Welsh people are in some way, more indigenous to the island than any other people living here - my answer would be no, I don't think it's okay.

I can't stop people from thinking otherwise, but I can reason that perhaps we shouldn't appropriate the struggles of people marginalised by the very nation we are talking about in order to craft a victimhood which is entirely unnecessary. Wales was a victim of English imperialism - but Wales was also an active colonising European nation. In the modern world, people are thankfully more willing to listen to the wants and needs of victims of colonialism - particularly victims of British colonialism in the Americas, Oceania and Asia. But I would warn against Welsh nationalism which seeks to capitalise on that increase in indigenous visibility in order to add legitimacy to itself (necessitating the crafting of an 'indigenous' narrative which did not exist there before). We live in the modern world where indigenous peoples are being taken more seriously than in centuries past - but that does not mean the only peoples hard-done by being taken seriously are colonised indigenous populations.

I believe it comes from a deep seated insecurity within Wales in which it is not uncommon to feel like Wales is being left behind because of all of this advancement. And this insecurity manifests as rejection of anything not obviously Welsh or demonstrably 'home-grown'. It's the national equivalent of a survival mechanism - but this is detrimental not only to the cause of Welsh nationalism, but to Wales itself. I've had people say to me (and I have read in historical sources from the last 100 years in Welsh) that the LGBTQ+ movement is actually an English invention created to erode Welsh traditional culture. Or variations on that rhetoric in which it is immigrants or other minorities which are made into this boogeyman come to destroy Wales and all Welsh ways of life. And it is so demonstrably not true but also bitter to see from the hearts and minds of my fellow Welsh speakers/Welsh people. Who have been hurt so much by the historical erosion of their culture that they confuse non-threats for threats and can only resolve to obtain some more legitimacy by appropriating the language of nativeness and colonisation in this ever changing world which, right now, is listening to native peoples for once.

It's difficult to put into words, even with all of the background knowledge above - but Wales is valuable and legitimate all on its own and doesn't need to rely upon things which isn't serving it - like ethnonationalism and nativism.

I want to live in a Wales which is uncompromising not only in its own fight for recognition and respect - but for other nations and peoples' fights for the same as well. I want to live in an independent Wales which is an ally to all those who share Wales' struggle and a Wales which rights the wrongs of its past without hesitation or compromise.

Would you rather a Wales for the few or a Wales for all who call it home?

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Evidence thread of Leia’s stans being racist,xenophobic, and being generally awful human beings to and about Fatou:

Trigger Warning: Antiblackness, Racism, Xenophobia

[deiscension]

I've mentioned before that S.hi Q.ingxuan has codependent tendencies and usually said so in a light-hearted "haha yeah watch out she'll latch onto your muse like a leech" manner but it really is a major problem that sets her up for nothing but failure.

Everything she does, from the way she dresses to the way she handles her responsibilities, cries "look at me, look at me!" Some of it has to do with vanity and having been spoiled by her ge's attention, yes; she's pretty, she's kind, she's the lady wind master, so why shouldn't she be admired and adored? A good majority of it is just naturally how she is; even when keeping face, she's never once thought to hide the heart she so openly wears on her sleeve. If it were just those two facets of her personality, it wouldn't be so debilitating. But it's not. She does not know how to exist without being seen. It's not a lack of confidence in who she is as a person (she knows who she is- she thinks she knows -and she's so very confident in who she believes herself to be). But that confidence has a foundation based in there always being a hand to hold, always a back to hide behind, always a pair of arms to catch her when she falls, and if there's just one thing she knows how to do it's to be a persistent presence. Everyone needs someone else around, so it all works out quite nicely, doesn't it? She has no reason to believe otherwise.

[watery-melon-baller]

whoooooos willing to go into the toh discord server and plop my silly little fandom survey in there because im too much of a pussy to do it myself <3

[hypocritic-trash-baby]

If somehow you haven’t seen by now, while the Super Bowl is being aired, Israel is striking Rafah.

The people of Palestine had been told to go there, they were promised it was safe.

And while this is happening, even though earlier several tags on Palestine were trending, only one or two are now.

I haven’t written any posts personally on Palestine myself. I didn’t feel I had anything to add here aside from reblogging and boosting whatever I can but please. We can’t forget Palestine or its people especially now.

This has gone on too long and gone much much too far MANY times and now is when we need to push harder.

Many of the heads of Western countries are either beating around the bush and wasting time, or outright denying the things the Palestinian people don’t have the privilege to ignore. They don’t have the choice to look away from their pain, or the pain of friends, family, neighbors, their country. And even through all of this they’re still trying their damn hardest just to live. And we all need to listen.

So now, especially if you live in a western country like I do, now we step it up a notch. Now is the time if you haven’t already to read up on Palestinian history. Listen to what the people of Palestine are saying. Hold firm on the boycott like never before. Any and every way you can donate, do it. eSIMs, aid, anything that will reach. Save as much evidence as you can. Videos, articles. Don’t let Zionists pretend all of this never happened.

Even if you think there’s nothing you can do, I’m telling you, keep going. Even if you feel you can only give a little, if we all give a little together it becomes much more.

Hit imperialism where it hurts. In the wallet. Follow the BDS instructions, find protests in your area if you can, boost as much information about Palestine as you can find, call your reps, and do not lose hope. The people of Palestine are not dead. They are holding on even through all this and we all owe it to them to do the same.

A Free Palestine will happen in our lifetimes. But it will be hard fought. So go out there and fight hard! The governments can’t hide from their own people forever. The companies can’t bleed cash forever. The people will win. So push until we do. Do not look away. Free Palestine

[readwritealldayallnight]

“But what if you hate it?”

“I can tell ya I wouldn’t, because it’d be yours.”

“Okay but what if you actually do really hate it, and you can’t tell me because you just said that?”

“Love, ya don’ have to do this. I didn’t wan’ this to stress ya-”

“No! No, Simon I want to do it. It’s such a sweet idea you had, I’ll do another one.” You finally decide, putting the pen back to paper, unable to bring yourself to actually draw.

“Could always take any o’ the ones from the bin.” He offers, nodding his head over towards the overflowing waste basket surrounded by crumbled up pieces of paper, evidence of your many previous attempts.

When SImon had brought up the idea of you drawing something for him to add to his sleeve to represent you, you’d jumped at the opportunity, loving the idea. However, you’d all too quickly discovered that you were having issues committing to the idea of what to draw, and Simon was refusing to offer any ideas, wanting the idea and design to be entirely yours.

Appropriate to his call sign, your first instinct had been to try drawing different versions of ghosts, but each one felt too cartoony, too childish, and you passed on that idea.

Then you thought you would draw your own little skull, something that could more easily be incorporated into the images and not be totally out of theme. But the next issue to come to light though, was when the connection between you brain and your hand apparently forgot entirely how to draw a skull, and you hated everything that came up on paper.

“S’that a lightbulb?” He’d asked at one point, and the skull idea was quickly out the window too.

From there, you were worried he wouldn’t like any of your drawings, as you couldn’t bring yourself to like any them either. You’d both agreed to put a pin in it for the time being, and as the weeks passed, you nearly forgot about his request.

That was until, he came home with a plastic wrapping around his forearm.

“You hurt?” You ask him, immediately spotting the darker bandages peeking out from the edges of his sleeve as he removes his jacket.

“Nah, just got somethin’ done.” He replies, sauntering over to you, slowly folding up his sleeve to reveal more of his pale skin.

“Huh?

Instead of answering, he carefully unravels the outer layer of bandages, before slowly peeling back the bandage to show you the skin underneath, an overly pleased grin stretching across his face, chuckle bursting through as your stunned gasp echoes through your shared flat.

Forever on his skin, Simon has tattooed something you’d drawn in the first birthday card you ever gave him. In your handwriting, he can always glance down at himself and see both your and his initial with a plus sign between them, surrounded by a little heart with an arrow going through it. When you’d drawn it for him, never in a million years had you thought he would be etching the corny doodle onto himself permanently, but now, that same doodle is his favourite thing to look at when away on deployment.

[thebibliosphere]

I've had a couple of messages over the last few days from folks saying things like, "Sorry, I can only afford to get your book through the library," and I need you to know I am gripping you by the shoulders, I am shaking you gently, and I am begging you stop apologizing for using library services.

After Amazon and Payhip, the quarterly checks I get from Overdrive/Libby are my biggest and most reliable source of income.

My readers have been nothing but feral in their quest to get Hunger Pangs into as many libraries as possible, and while library lending pays an exceptionally modest amount, if enough people do it (which many of you evidently are), those pennies add up.

I am guaranteed at least $20 a month in library lending royalties. That might not sound like much to some folks, but to me, that's my b12 supplements covered for the month. That's the thing I need to keep me alive paid for.

I will never resent anyone who uses libraries instead of buying books.

I'm a disabled author who lives month to month at the mercy of my medical expenses. Even though I have incredibly generous patrons and supporters, I know what it's like to not be able to afford things.

Use the library. Please.

Use it guilt-free. You're helping the library and the authors, probably more than you realize.

And if you're in the US and haven't signed up for a @queerliblib free library card yet, you should! it doesn't matter what state you're in, the Queer Liberation Library offers free access to their catalogue of queer media across the US.

And if you've got the means, maybe help them out with a little donation. They're only able to expand their collection via the support of their patrons, and the work they're doing is hugely important.

[keithbutgay]

So I don't know if anyone has been keeping up on this case, but I tried looking for posts on it and I've only found transphobic rants and comments. So just... spreading awareness.

There is an ongoing case in Australia currently (the hearing has concluded but the ruling has not been announced) where Roxy Tickle, a trans woman, is suing the Giggle for Girls app and its founder for $100,000, plus another $100,000. Giggle for Girls is a platform exclusively for women, and Roxy was banned from the app after joining.

The app already has a lot of problematic features on it. For example, any new user is required to submit a selfie-- a photo which is then analyzed by ai to determine whether or not the user is a woman. For Roxy, the ai wasn't the issue, however-- in fact, she used the app for several months with no problem. Instead, the owner of the app manually and purposefully overrode the ai, revoking Roxy's access to the app, because she saw her profile. She then refused to reinstate her account and blocked her.

The founder of the app, Sall Grover, has knowingly and persistently misgendered Roxy dozens of times in interviews, articles and posts. I have a chrome extension that shows if a website is queerphobic or not, and when I look up Roxy's name there are only two results not in red.

As well as this, the additional $100,000 dollars Roxy is suing for? That's because of an online campaign waged against her by Grover, who has a large platform on Twitter. Katherine Deves, who had been representing Giggle in court tried to get the case thrown out. And Grover quite literally called in evolutionary biologist Colin Wright to advocate for her case. He's giving evidence for the trial.

There is a fundraiser to "reclaim sex based rights and protections for all women and girls" created specifically for this case. It has raised over $500,000, and that number is still growing.

Anyways. I don't know if I was just the last one to know about this, but the fact that I even found out about this case was because of a post a terf made scares me.

If anyone else has any more information, please add onto this post! And if I missed anything, or said anything wrong, please correct me.

Thank you for taking this time out of your day.

If you want to read more about the case, I would check out these articles:

[mstase]

— VENUS ASPECTS & your attractive features 🦢

these are just based on my observations and experience. don’t take it seriously, and take what resonates. [more applicable with the easy aspects]

☀️ sun-venus: you have an easygoing and likeable aura that makes it easy for people to connect with you. your sincere love for making connections with others is evident, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. the natural charm you possess is a noticeable aspect of your personality, adding to your social popularity. when interacting with others, you show tolerance and acceptance, always striving to maintain a harmonious environment for everyone. also, your graceful manner and excellent sense of style are prominent, leaving a lasting impression on people you come across.

🌙 moon-venus: you have a motherly, comforting energy, regardless of gender. you are kind and nurturing, making the atmosphere around you calm and peaceful. there’s something unique about how you make others feel safe and cared for, showing that you naturally understand and respond to their needs. you are known for being warm and loving, making connections with others through friendliness and genuine affection. you work hard to have positive relationships, and your charming personality makes others feel comfortable around you effortlessly.

🗣️ mercury-venus: you have a calming voice, and you’re skilled at speaking with the right words and have a good sense of how language flows. your way of communicating is marked by being polite and diplomatic, and you express your ideas thoughtfully. your sociable nature and excellent social skills make it easy for you to connect with others. also, your artistic talents are evident, and you’re good at giving compliments and advice. your expertise in literary works adds depth to your communication skills, making you a well-rounded and engaging communicator.

🔥 mars-venus: your allure goes beyond mere appearance; it’s genuinely charming. the way you move, whether it’s dancing or engaging in sports, adds to your appeal. you possess a pleasing figure and athletic prowess, showcasing noticeable muscles. your enthusiasm for connecting with others shows a vibrant and fun-loving personality. adventure is a constant companion as you actively seek it out. there’s a natural inclination for artistic endeavors in you, passionately engaging with them. overall, there’s an intriguing quality about you that captures attention, making you popular.

⭐ jupiter-venus: your upbeat and friendly personality has a way of making people feel drawn to your positive energy. you warmly welcome others with your generous and honest nature, and your big-heartedness leads you to give a lot to those you care about. what makes you even more charming is your great sense of humor and love for fun, which make you naturally attractive to those in your social circle. your ability to share positivity and connect with others, combined with your giving nature, creates strong and memorable bonds with the people around you.

🪐 saturn-venus: you carry yourself with composure and respect in your interactions, demonstrating maturity and creating a sense of security for others. people place their trust in you due to your reliable and grounded nature. you are loyal and dedicated, making you a trustworthy and committed person. your sense of elegance and sophistication is evident in your appreciation for aesthetics and good taste. there is a blend of grace and softness in your beauty, marking you with a distinctive and appealing charm that sets you apart.

🌀 uranus-venus: your natural inclination for spontaneity and unpredictability brings a lively and dynamic vibe to those around you. this ability to embrace the unexpected not only keeps things interesting but also injects excitement and different perspectives into situations. your love for change is another aspect of your character, enabling you to infuse a sense of freshness into people and spark their curiosity about you. your personality, marked by its erratic nature, adds to an electrifying and eye-catching presence, making you stand out easily.

🌊 neptune-venus: you are a talented person who thrives in a variety of creative pursuits. your gentle and kind nature has a calming impact on those around you. imagination and sensitivity play crucial roles in shaping your character as you perceive the world through a dreamy and idealistic lens, consistently recognizing the best in everyone. your compassionate and empathetic nature makes you approachable, and you often go out of your way to help others. your energy is particularly captivating, exuding a soft and tender beauty that reflects your personality.

🕷️ pluto-venus: your character is marked by passion and depth, as you wholeheartedly give, creating an unforgettable presence. your intensity is palpable, and your emotions resonate strongly, impacting not only yourself but also those you encounter. you may naturally come across as upfront and confident, leaving a strong impression on others. your distinct and captivating features shine, especially when embracing a fierce and darker style. very charming; there’s a magnetic quality about you, surrounded by an aura of mystery that captivates and entices those around you.

[kaijutegu]

Beating the Heat while Fat: A Summer Survival Guide

Summer is (almost) here and it’s going to be hotter than ever. If you’re fat (like me), you know how much hot weather sucks. Specifically, we get to deal with fun issues like underboob sweat, chub rub, skin fold sunburn, and more. And while I like to take a body neutral approach to everything, this can be hard in summer thanks to exclusion and neglect.

The thing is that not a lot of people really... talk about these things, though, because that would interfere with our image of summer. Not a lot of companies are marketing their stuff as a solution to fat people’s problems, because that would be acknowledging that fat people might actually want to go outside during summer.

Having been fat for many a summer now, I want to share some of my resources for enjoying summer! These are all based on personal recommendations and things I have directly experienced. Please feel free to reblog and add on with your experiences and recommendations!

However, if your commentary is even remotely fatphobic, you will be blocked and your comments will be deleted. This post is not for you, and nobody is actually interested in what you have to say!

Back and Underboob Sweat

Two words: Gold Bond. Gold Bond fixes this. It comes in powder, stick, and spray form. I’ve used the powder in shoes, but not on my body. They’ve recently released an invisible form of the spray, which I’m very excited about.

Spray this under your breast tissue or other skin folds, or on flat areas of skin like your lower back that tend to sweat. Some of their powders have aloe in them, which is delightfully soothing for the skin.

Make sure that if you’re sensitive to scent, you buy one of the unscented versions. The “fresh” scent is nice, but it is a scent!

When you’re using this type of spray, do it clean but dry. Don’t do it right after a shower- give your skin a chance to dry off. Lift your breast or skin fold, spray underneath, and then hold it for a couple of seconds to let the spray dry down.

You can also use other types of powder, like body powder or baby powder. There’s mixed evidence about talc-containing powder and its link to cancer, but some people do find talcum powder more irritating than talc-free powder, so whether or not you use this is up to you.

Do keep in mind that this is NOT sunscreen! Apply your sunscreen first for areas of exposed skin.

Chub Rub

Dealing with the tops of your thighs rubbing together is extremely unfun. There are a couple of ways I like to deal with this!

Slip Shorts

I actually reviewed a bunch of these a few years ago. Slip shorts or bike shorts are perfect for wearing under dresses or loose-fitting rompers as a way to stop your thighs from rubbing. As a bonus, if you’re using bike shorts, sometimes they come with extra pockets to stash stuff in.

Friction Sticks

If you’re wearing a swimsuit and don’t want to wear shorts, or just don’t want to wear shorts, period, then a friction stick is another good way to avoid chub rub! I have a couple, Bodyglide and Gold Bond.

If you’re buying Bodyglide, they have one that’s just as good, Bodyglide Outdoor, that is sometimes cheaper. There’s a Bodyglide “For Her” which I’ve never tried, but that’s usually more expensive and let’s be real, do you really need to moisturize your inner thighs? I think not!

There’s also creams you can use but I find those messy and less effective than the sticks. You might like them, though! Experiment with products to find the one(s) that work for you.

Friction sticks can also stop foot blisters. Rub a little on your heel, toe, or wherever you get hot spots. 

Dealing With Sweat

I sweat, you sweat, we all sweat. Humans were meant to sweat. Sweating’s a good thing. But that doesn’t mean it’s fun, and frankly I hate being sweaty. Typically, fat people sweat more than thin people, for several reasons related to the way we thermoregulate.

Fortunately, there are lots of ways to make summer sweating less annoying. I’ve written about this before, so you can check out that post for some of my favorite tips for dealing with sweat. Here’s some of the highlights.

Evaporative Cooling

A bandanna or other wrap filled with water crystals can do AMAZING things. You can make this yourself really easily- if you can’t find water crystals, you can just use Orbeez. They sell little 99 cent packs of those in the checkout lines at some stores and at the dollar store, and you can make several cooling wraps with one packet.

You can also get evaporative cooling towels, like Frogg Toggs. I don’t like those as much because they tend to start smelling a little funny, but they’re great for larger area coverage.

Using these will help cool you down and will do the same thing that sweat does– without being sticky.

Hair

If you have long hair, get it off the back of your neck. I used to put it up in a bun with a bun former, but now I just use claw clips. They’re cuter and easier! Seriously, this will help you so much. Get the hair up and away from your skin, you’ll feel so much better.

Hand Fans

I always have a hand fan with me, but not one of the little battery operated ones. I’ve tried a lot of those! I even took one up a mountain once, and it was the only reason I survived. But they never provide the same level of breeze that my folding fan does.

I use this one because it’s cute, and you can get cute ones for a couple bucks on Amazon. I do prefer fabric to the stiff paper ones, just because they’re a bit more durable- I’ve had mine for years now. It’s good.

I’m also not a huge fan of those fans that go around your neck, but I’ve seen many people enjoying them. If they work for you, great!

Hydration and Electrolytes

Carry water with you when you go places, and if you’re gonna be out for a while doing anything strenuous, take some electrolyte tablets with you. I like Nuun because I think they taste good, but there’s lots of brands out there.

There’s no one mineral called electrolyte, just so you know. Electrolytes are a group of minerals that includes sodium, potassium, and chloride as the primary (or significant) electrolytes. Electrolytes are important because they have a natural positive or negative electrical charge when dissolved in water. This electricity is how your nerves transmit information and how your cells make your muscles contract, so low levels of electrolytes can cause some serious issues. Different electrolyte imbalances have different symptoms, but common symptoms include nausea, fatigue, confusion, tremors, muscle spasms (cramps), and dizziness.

If you’re feeling those as you’re moving around outside, get somewhere cool, drink some water, and either eat some food or add electrolyte tablets to your water. This will help stabilize you quickly!

Skin Fold Sunburn Prevention

Everybody should wear sunscreen, period. End of story.

But if you’re applying sunscreen by yourself and you have skin folds, it can be a pain to reach them! This is especially true for any folds that form on your upper back or around your upper arm.

These areas can burn and be very painful, especially if you’re in swimwear or a sleeveless top. It’s also VERY easy to forget that these areas need sunscreen!

If you don’t want or don’t have someone to help you apply those areas you can’t reach, spray sunscreen can be a way to get those areas. If you don’t like the spray or want heavier coverage with a cream, then use a lotion applicator!

If the stick style doesn’t work for you (like if you have shoulder mobility issues), the strap style asks for a different range of motion. If you can’t find one that works for you at a big box store, look at a pharmacy. These are often sold as disability aids or for elderly people with a reduced range of motion.

But honestly, one of the most important things about this is just knowing your body. Know where your skin folds are and think about how they move as you’re applying sunscreen. Get underneath them- as you move, those areas can be exposed to the sun, too.

So yeah, that’s my best advice for beating the heat while fat. If you’ve got other tips, feel free to share them!

[chlorinecake]

✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot

pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader

🇨​​💿 ​​🇳​​🇹​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​​🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?

a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!

You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.

Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.

“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”

He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”

“And then?…”

“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.

“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”

Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”

You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.

“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.

“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.

Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.

You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.

So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.

That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.

Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”

You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.

“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”

“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.

Was it nerves?

Was he horny?…

Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—

“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.

“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…

You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.

His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.

“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”

You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”

“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”

His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.

Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.

“Anton—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.

“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.

“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.

Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.

By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.

You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.

His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.

Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…

The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.

You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.

The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.

The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…

However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…

“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.

“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”

His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…

“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.

“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”

He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.

And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.

Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.

He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.

It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.

There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…

Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.

The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.

“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.

His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.

He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.

The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.

Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.

His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.

And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”

He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.

You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.

Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.

It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.

The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…

Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.

“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.

Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”

“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…

✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!

[jaythes1mp]

This is my first official post, and idk how to feel about it. So any and all comments & reblogs are really appreciated. If it’s bad please comment so I know I have to delete it🙏

Your secrets are ours, Kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH1 -> CH2 -> CH3 -> CH4 -> CH5 -> CH6 -> CH7 -> CH8 -> CH9 -> CH10

Nightwing, who’s known for his impressive acrobatic skills and crime-fighting abilities, has become a prominent figure in the city of Blüdhaven. Renowned for his fearless approach to taking down criminals and has gained a notable reputation among the superhero community.

The guy's identity is a complete mystery, though. Nightwing works alone, leaving many of us to wonder who the man behind the mask really is. — Some say he has connections to Gotham City’s own famous vigilante, Batman.

When the young hero is seen in action, he can be often spotted leaping from rooftops and engaging in daring acts of superheroism, leaving criminals and citizens alike in awe of his skill and courage. Some question if he's a human or something more, while others simply look on in admiration. Despite the secrecy surrounding his identity, Nightwing's reputation seems to grow endlessly.

Then there’s Red Hood, the dark and brooding vigilante of Gotham City, a fearsome sight to behold. His red mask and signature pistols make him easily recognizable, and his actions leave criminals trembling in terror.

Some have speculated him being a former criminal reforming his ways while I believe that he too has ties to our one and only Batman. Despite his dark demeanor and ruthless tactics, it seems clear to me that there is a connection between the two. There has been a lot of evidence submitted for their collaboration, even if they choose to deny it publicly. Though, Batman, known for his strict code of ethics, would not typically associate himself with someone as morally ambiguous as Red Hood. But the circumstantial evidence is too compelling to ignore.

Regardless, Red Hood's impact on the criminal underworld is undeniable. He uses violence and intimidation to enforce his own brand of justice, which is rather admirable, yet causing many to question his brutal methods.

Next up is our one and only Batman himself, the dark knight of Gotham City. He’s a mystery in itself. His tall, imposing stature is enough to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, and his reputation as a master detective and fighter only enhances his mystique.

I have been trying to piece together the puzzle that is Batman's identity. Who is the man under the mask? What drives him to take on Gotham's criminals with such determination?

Though the billionaire Bruce Wayne has long been suspected as the man behind the mask, no concrete evidence has ever been presented. His true identity remains a puzzle, something that adds to his allure and intrigue. Every lead I follow seems to hit a dead end. The playboy is too obvious, too niche. What would motivate a Wayne, someone brought up into filthy wealth, who wastes his money on grand galas and prostitutes, into defending this city? The theory is too far reached.

Next are Red Robin and Robin. Batman’s sidekick-associates. Their partnership with Batman has been evident in their actions and fighting style. However, a rumour has been running around, theorising that the newer Robin was a young child when he had first joined Batman at his side.

Would our beloved hero really force a minor into sighting the dark dangerous streets of Gotham? Would he_

As you sat uncomfortably at the countertop of your kitchen, typing away on your laptop, you were suddenly interrupted by the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat. You look up from the bright screen to see your roommate standing in the doorway, arms crossed. You raise an amused brow, a grin tugging at your lips at the sight of the other male in pyjamas rather than the usual broody black clothes and leather jacket. You click save and shut off the computer, turning fully to face him. “Yes, Jayson dear?”

Jason’s nose scrunches at the name, even as he stands in the doorway wearing nothing but a thin, well-worn shirt and pants. He looks like a child, which is somehow more than a little endearing. His eyes flickering up and down your frame as he appraises you. Despite the relaxed state his attire provides, his expression is as serious as ever. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of the worn flannel pants he’s sporting, but it does little to make him look anything other than intimidating.

He raises a brow, tilting his head as he looks at you, watching you save your work and then turn to face him. “Don’t ‘yes, Jayson dear’ me, smartass.”

You snort, moving off of the chair and stretching out, the cracks in your back loud enough for him to purse his lips at. “Well aren’t you sour this fine morning.”

Jason scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “It’s four am.” He mutters, crossing the kitchen to get to the coffee pot. He doesn’t really need the caffeine, but he likes the routine. He grabs a mug from one of the cabinets, filling it up with black coffee. He’d just snuck back in after his patrol, not expecting to see you up.

“And I’m not sour,” he says a bit petulantly, taking a sip of the coffee before setting it aside. “I’m concerned.”

Your brow raises higher, turning to the worn down clock practically glued to the wall from all the times you’ve both hit it to get the ticking sound to shut off. It’s a digital, why does it need to make such an annoying sound? “Huh. I guess it is.”

He rolls his eyes, not at all surprise that you would lose track of time so easily when you got lost in your writing. “Yeah, you do that sometimes,” he grumbles, taking another sip of coffee.

He looks you over, studying you intently as he crosses his arms. “How long have you been working?”

You hum, looking out the window into the polluted skies of Gotham. The sun had risen. “What answer will make you the least angry?”

“None of them,” Jason says, a scoff escaping his lips. His jaw twitches slightly as he watches you stare out the window, and he can’t help noticing how tired you look. He’s seen you like this before, pushing yourself to the brink just to finish a project, just to get everything perfect.

“How long?” he asks again, his voice a little softer this time.

“...” you sigh, looking away from the window to face him once more. “All night.” Before he can open his mouth to reprimand you, you cut in. “But! My project is due today. And Tim will decapitate me if I’m late on another assignment...” You rub the side of your face tiredly, displaying an uneven smile.

Jason’s annoyance melts away into concern as you speak. He can tell you’re exhausted, and the thought of you pushing yourself so hard for so long makes him want to wrap you up in a blanket and force you to take a nap.

But he can’t do that. Not when you’re an adult, not when you’re not actually his little sibling. Yet. He settles for crossing the kitchen and putting a hand on your shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself,” he says firmly. “You won’t be any good to your professor if you pass out from exhaustion.”

You grin softly and give a tired nod, fishing out your phone to check the university’s time table. “I only have to go in at nine forty.”

“And then you only have to endure a full day of classes,” Jason says dryly, narrowing his eyes. He gently takes your phone out of your hand and tucks it into his pocket. “No more work until then.”

Your eyes widen at the action, quickly scrambling to get the device back. “You– Jay!” You huff, leaning back against the hard counter. His gaze set sternly on you. You feel small under his gaze, as if he’s your father disappointed in you for stealing a tenner.

Jason crosses his arms once more, his eyes never leaving your face. Looking like the definition of a disapproving older brother. “No,” he says firmly, his voice stern. “You need to rest. I can’t have you passing out in the middle of class.”

He takes a step closer, looming over you as he stares you down. “You’re gonna take a nap, and then you’re gonna eat a proper breakfast. Got it?”

You can do nothing but glare. Cursing under your breath and walking past him. You’ll have to complain to Tim about this later.

He watches you stalk past him, a smirk on his face. He can practically hear you swearing at him in your head. He takes a moment to finish off his coffee before following you into the living room.

“What, no clever comeback? No witty remark?” he teases, leaning against the wall and watching you storm into the living room. “Are you actually listening to me for once?”

You make a show of laying down on his red beanbag, tugging the blanket off of the couch to drape over your form and throwing up the middle finger at him.

Jason can’t help but chuckle at your childish display. He moves towards you slowly, stopping when he’s close enough to look down at your face. He crouches down beside you, a smirk on his lips. He places your laptop on the table opposite you and your phone next to it.

“Real mature, kid.” He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He ruffles your hair then stands, descending back into the kitchen. “I’ll wake you up an hour before you gotta leave, don’t worry.”

You sigh, mimicking him in an exaggeratedly high pitched voice. “I’ll wake you up an hour before you have to leave, mehmeheh.”

No use of y/n, currently gn leaning towards male.

Things to note: reader is unaware that the Batfamily members are related yet, age is young adult (19-20), everyone is aged up.

Any questions or feedback is appreciated.

[jasmineoolongtea]

it turns out, gojo satoru hates silence. to be more accurate, he hates the sound of total nothing when it comes to you.

that's not to say that he wants you to scream at him like all hell's breaking loose but he just wants something from you, good or bad he doesn't care, over this suffocating silence. you don't even look at him; instead, you focus on attempting to secure the sterile white bandages on top of his injuries. you pretend like you don't see the crimson red of his blood seeping through them as you do.

"baby..." his voice is barely above a whisper, a rare occurrence for someone who's always been the loudest in any room he's in. he gets no response from you, only the sight of your jaw tensing up as you grit your teeth. satoru tries and fails to meet your eyes.

"baby. please, talk to me." he pleads softly, using his other unoccupied hand to reach out to you. you freeze slightly at the feeling of his fingertips upon your arm.

a small sigh of defeat escapes him. "see? i'm fine, nothing's gonna hurt me alright? it's just a scratch, that's all." as if to emphasise his point, he raises his arms up in a show of goodwill, swallowing the harsh wince of pain that threatens to escape his lips.

for what feels like the first time in forever, you look back at him, your eyes meeting his cerulean ones. "that's not the point, satoru." you state, finishing up your bandaging of him. "what if one day you do get hurt badly?" the clang of your tools hitting the metal tray table echoes within the walls of the infirmary.

he brushes off your concerns with a wave. "that's not going to hap-"

"okay, but what if it does?" you cut him off bluntly. your expression is serious, deadly serious with your unwavering gaze and slightly furrowed brows, to the point where he's rendered speechless for the first time.

"have you ever thought about what would happen to the people you leave behind... about me?" your words trail off at the end of your sentence, your voice faltering slightly as well. maybe it's a trick of the light but satoru swears that tears are welling up in the corner of your eyes.

his chest tightens with an uncomfortable squeeze, his gaze falling to the floor. no one dares to speak for a moment, whatever words and phrases of reassurance satoru would typically throw your way now suddenly seem shallow and lack any sort of weight behind them. the air is tense around the both of you.

you don't even need him to respond to know the answer to your own question as it would be a resounding no. for most of his life, satoru lives and breathes like he's untouchable, detached from most things including other people. being someone who has been leagues above everyone else since birth does that to a person.

however, it seems that this has caused him to forget that others around him don't share his fate and that no matter how detached he still believes himself to be, there are still ones who crave his connection and see past his facade of godhood and more as the human he truly is underneath it all.

"...i'm sorry, baby." he murmurs under his breath as he looks back up at you, sincerity and raw vulnerability evident in his expression. "i promise that i'll be more careful next time." he brings your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss against your skin, letting himself bask in the warmth, your warmth, that is radiating off of you.

"there shouldn't be a next time." you huff half-heartedly, trying to stand strong in light of his previous behaviour which led to this moment but you feel your knees start to turn into jelly the moment his lips graze your hands.

a faint laugh escapes him. "i'll make a promise on that too." he adds, spreading his legs slightly just so he can pull you against his chest and into his arms.

gojo satoru is used to living only for himself but now, he has to remember that he has someone to come home to and he's going to make sure that he starts living like he did. only a shame he didn't see this earlier.