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kaisers-house-of-desires · 9 months

Note

I'd like to request some spicy time with a rough, yandere Malleus. Pretty please? 🥺👉👈

Oh, dear guest. This was so much fun to write~ I do hope you enjoy!

Title: The King’s New Toy

Characters: Yandere!Malleus x m!Reader, Lilia Vanrouge

Contains: Dark Themes (Yandere), rough sex, bondage/restraints, toy usage(vibrating dildo), sinful magic usage, orgasm denial, orgasm control, Diasomnia has a dungeon, Malleus has two dicks

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Rain gently pelted the tall windows of the castle dorm, keeping Malleus’s attention from the book in his hands. The fireplace he sat by was crackling with flame, warming him and the area with its faint glow. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting like that or how he ended up so distracted. It was Lilia bringing him a nightly cup of tea that shook him out of his thoughts when it was placed onto the table beside his chair.

“How long as it been?” Lilia asked, gazing over at the clock as he wrapped his arms over his chest. “I hadn’t seen you return.”

Malleus checked the same clock, noting the current time while reaching for the tea cup. “Almost two hours. An hour and a half it seems.”

“Kheehee~ My, he must be an absolute mess by now.” A playful smirk resided on Lilia’s face from the mere thought.

“I’ll pay him a visit shortly,” Malleus explained, sipping the warm liquid. “It’s a punishment after all. He will learn that his actions have consequences…”

———

Another thirty minutes had gone by before Malleus descended the dark stone steps of Diasomnia’s dungeon. Reaching the floor, a row of cells were before him, empty and gathering dust and cobwebs. A faint sound echoed toward him, and a sinister, teeth bearing smirk grew on his lips. It sounded like whining, whimpering. Anyone else may not have understood what it was, but Malleus was well aware. Walking down the hall, the sounds only grew until he reached the last cell, and inside was a lovely sight.

Near the back wall sat you, on your knees and riding an enchanted toy that Malleus had conjured himself. Your arms were behind you, wrists shackled with a chain leading to the wall. Your head hung down as the toy vibrated deep inside, your mouth slacked open as your weak moans bounced off the cell’s walls. Malleus gazed over at your twitching erection, how it stood full mast and ached for release. He chuckled darkly, catching your attention.

Your head shut up, and a look of desperation filled your eyes as you leaned your body forward. “M-Malleus! Malleus, please, I can’t take it anymore! This toy, i-it kept stopping when I was about to…p-please just let me finish! I need to cum!”

The toy was something Malleus concocted himself, having taken a standard vibrating toy and projecting a magic onto it that would sense when a person’s body is about to release. It would increase in strength ever so often, only to shut off when it felt the body about to cum. Such a toy drove you wild, as it not only denied you, but has also given you ruined orgasms as well.

Malleus pulled out a ring of keys, deliberately checking each one slow and precisely just to watch you squirm more on that toy. When he found the key he wanted, he opened the lock of the cell, letting the door open with a creak. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

Ah, that’s right. The whole reason you were in here was because he suspected you of seeing the other students behind his back. Though as false as that was, he was adamant on you not choosing him, so he resorted to other methods, methods he were sure would persuade you.

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes! Yes I’ve learned my lesson! I won’t see the others anymore! I promise! I-It’ll just be us s-so please! L-Let me cum, and I’ll be all yours!”

Malleus raised his palm up and slowly lifted his hand. The toy followed the hand placement, increasing in speed and strength. Your moans followed, increasing in pitch and volume as your hips rocked back into the device.

“Y-Yes, yes yesyesyesyesyes!!”

You were so close. So very close—

—until it stopped.

Realizing once again you were robbed of your orgasm, you let out a frustrated cry, leaning forward and tugging at your restraints.

“Malleus! Malleus, please!”

“You poor thing. So desperate for release.” His voice was dark, sounding like it was laced with poison. “What makes you think you deserve it?”

“B-Because I’ll behave! I swear I-I’ll listen!” Your voice was full of panic and desperation. Your body needed to release or you swore you’d go mad.

As Malleus approached you, the sounds of his shoes clicking felt like heavy lead in your stomach, but your heart fluttered when he knelt down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Do you speak the truth?” he asked coldly. “Do you swear to abide by my wishes?”

You swallowed dryly, nodding. “Y-Yes, Malleus. I swear. I-I swear.”

He paused for a moment before looking at the chains restraining you as he stood. With a single flick of a finger, one of the links broke, sending you forward and resting your torso on the ground. Your ass hung in the air, the toy sticking out as if it was begging to be grabbed.

Malleus would do just that, grabbing the base of the toy before slowly moving it in and out. “Two hours of such torment. I’m surprised your body has lasted this long.”

You couldn’t answer. The only you could do was moan into the ground, the friction so much more delightful than the intense vibrating. You gently rocked your hips back, attempting to get more, but Malleus scowled, gripping your hip with one hand to still you before pulling the toy out.

“N-No! P-Please…” You whined into the stone floor. You were about to beg him to put it back when you felt something hot prod at your ass.

“One more time, dear…whose wishes do you abide by?”

You gulped once more, having to wrack through your recently clouded brain. “Y-Yours. Your wishes.” Then, as a, hopefully, bonus, you added, “I-I abide by my king’s wishes. I-I serve King Malleus Draconia.”

That seemed to do it, much to your surprise, as you felt your hole stretch to an unbelievable size. Such an action caused you to let out a shriek as your eyes rolled back, your body visibly trembling from the sensitivity of being played with for hours.

Malleus leaned down over you, his chest flush with your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“O-Oh yes,” he breathed. “Th-This was definitely ready for me~ S-So tight~ Great Seven, I should have grabbed you s-sooner~”

Having waited until you were a bit more adjusted until he began to thrust, his dual cocks grazing all the right spots deep inside of you and riling you up more than you already were. His thrusts, at first, were slow, using the movement to stretch you more before or lost himself to his own desires. Your stomach bulged from his dicks stretching you internally, the stretch of your skin moving in tandem with his movements. Everything was enough to make you scream, which you did when he hit a special spot deep inside.

“There!! Right there!! Please!!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, as when he finally hit that spot, it was all he hit, making your mind turn to mush as you became nothing but a mere toy for the king.

“W-Wanna cum…please…! I-I wanna come, Malleus!”

Having you in that held position, he hoisted you up, one arm around your waist and the other on your neck, supporting your weight as he never once stopped fucking you. His cocks swelled with anticipation, throbbing with his own climax approaching.

“Who do you belong to, child of man?”

“M-Malleus Draconia! I-I belong to the G-Great King, M-Malleus Draconia!”

Satisfied with the answer, Malleus growled in your ear. “Cum, child of man. Cum for your king…~”

You didn’t need to be told twice as almost immediately, ropes of your seed shot out in streams as your mouth hung open in a silent yet strangled scream, body twitching and spasming as it finally saw the release it had been yearning for for so long. White clouded the edges of your vision, until your eyes shut, your body falling limp in his arms as your chest slowly rose and fell.

The guilt that Malleus should have felt was instead pride as he gave your cheek a gentle kiss, feeling more than proud with himself for having ruined you into exhaustion like this.

“You’ll be the best little toy for me, (y/n)~” he said as he gently brushed your hair from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead before magically breaking the rest of the restraints and carrying you toward the steps.

#kaisers house of desires #x male reader #x reader #twisted wonderland #x male smut #x male y/n #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus x y/n #yandere malleus #malleus #male reader #top malleus #bottom male reader

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 2 months

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Was reading over the reverie arc tag and saw that you said to re-ask you about Im after what happened is revealed. (I'd provide the link but tumblr won't let me) So, while not much was revealed, thoughts?

what i think is really interesting about imu is how they compare and contrast to the other characters who have been set up for us as endgame villains, those being blackbeard and akainu. compared to both of them, imu is established quite late in the series, and how they will fit into the unrolling narrative and themes of the story is still somewhat unclear.

both blackbeard and akainu are established firmly well before they enter the main story as primary antagonists. we hear about blackbeard as far back as alabasta and meet him in jaya, while akainu is first seen in robin's enies lobby flashback and mentioned even before that. and they each also embody a strong thematic conflict with the main characters that is going to need to be overcome by the end of the story.

blackbeard mirrors luffy in his pursuit of the pirate king's throne, existing in the same lineage of villains as doflamingo and big mom. it seems almost certain that he will be the final and most difficult fellow challenger for the title of pirate king that luffy will need to face, and the eventual showdown between the blackbeards and strawhats has been telegraphed for quite some time. the question this conflict asks is, what does it mean to be a pirate? what does it mean to be a pirate king?

meanwhile, akainu is the embodiment of authoritarianism. he's the law, brutal and indiscriminate; he represents the order that would stifle freedom. he is much more alike to antagonists like rob lucci and cp-9. while i usually try to avoid speculation on this blog, i think akainu's final defeat will probably not be at luffy's hands; i think a showdown with sabo is much more likely. and the reason i think this is because the question that the conflict with akainu asks is, what does real justice look like? this is ultimately the question of the conflict between the marines and the revolutionaries; they are two armies fighting over whether the current order will be maintained or torn down and built anew.

so, then, imu. we meet them quite late in the game, and still know very little about them. however, i do think this is in itself thematically resonant; we see almost no trace of imu anywhere else until we reach mariejois itself, because they have been deliberately erased from the world. imu is tied, specifically and inextricably, to the mystery of the void century, of the erased history, and we will only learn the truth about them when we learn the truth about everything else.

imu's role in the story seems to be specifically to finally provide a direct antagonist to the overarching myth arc of the void century, the forgotten ancient kingdom, and the will of d; the imperial crimes of the world government, shoved endlessly under the rug. can you build a world-spanning kingdom on a lie? will it stand? for how long? there can be no such thing as an immortal empire no matter how much force you might use to make it so. you can't pin the sun in place in the sky.

while it's impossible to really guess this conflict is going to unfold given how much information we still don't have, my top three guesses for who will be primarily involved are robin (for obvious reasons; unraveling the truth of the void century is her dream, and imu stands directly in the way of that), vivi (also obvious; imu is targeting her directly), and law (both because his new goal is to unravel the meaning of the will of d and because it seems significant that imu is likely a previous recipient of the ope-ope no mi's immortality technique).

#one piece #not japanese #jonny answers #opmeta #character meta #imu #blackbeard #akainu #long post

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txttletale · 9 months

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hi I've been following you for a while and I had some questions about MLism. First, while I think I have a decent understanding of how it works economically, how would a ML government (after the revolution) ensure it doesn't become too powerful? like what systems would be put in place so that it hears public opinion and dissent (should there be any) and not try to maintain power through oppressive means?

Secondly, what would the aftermath of the revolution look like? once the government is overthrown, there will most likely be a period of instability where different factions trying to sieze control. How would the MLs make sure that they get seated in power?

I am genuinely trying to learn more about it, so I'm sorry if those questions are ignorant. Thanks!

i mean, that first part? i'll be completely honest with you and say that in my opinion that's a partially unsolved problem. i think that lenin's prescriptions in state & revolution, based on the actions of the paris commune--that all 'officials' should be subject to democratic recall at any time and paid no more than anyone else--would be a good start.

but of course the USSR did not ossify and see abuses of power because its leaders simply forgot about what lenin wrote--the centralization of power and limiting of worker democracy was a direct result of the newly formed state apparatus having to fight brutal years-long civil war followed as mere decade later by a brutal years-long international invasion. & this is of course a situation that will be faced by any serious socialist government & their newly formed apparatus!

however, on the other hand -- cuba has succesfully maintained an incredible system of participatory democracy. i think that mao's idea of the 'mass line' -- that theory must constantly be in dialogue with the situation on the ground and the situation of the workers -- is vital to maintaining this. in its own time of crisis, during the 90s, instead of 'pulling the ladder up' on workers' councils, cuba expanded and doubled down on its participatory democracy. i think if any nation has succesfully followed lenin's theory and example, it's cuba, and the mass workplace and municipal democracy that the cuban communist party has invited should be the model for any future socialist revolution.

and quite frankly the reason why MLs will 'take power' after the revolution is because marxism-leninism is the only revolutionary socialist ideology with a plan and ability to take and maintain power over the bourgeoisie. i think one thing reading lenin will very much clarify is that the socialist state is not something that is built after the revolution but a continuation of the revolution -- lenin explains aptly the marxist position that, having taken up arms in order to dethrone the bourgeoisie, to not establish a marxist dictatorship of the proletariat is to throw aside those arms that have already been wielded and used. 'not setting up a worker's state' isn't inaction, but a deliberate choice to be disarmed and helpless in the face of foreign intervention or counterrevolution.

and this is also why i think that while solving the (very real and dangerous!) spectres of bureaucracy, of revisionism, of socialist militias becoming police forces "special bodies of men apart from and above" the people instead of "self-acting armed organizations" of the people is a vital and pressing question for marxism-leninism to address in both theory and practice, it is just as vital to note that only marxism-leninism can succeed to the point where this becomes a problem--only marxism-leninism has shown the historical ability to put the workers in a position of political supremacy that they might risk losing to these flaws and missteps.

& seriously, don't be sorry for asking questions. any questions in good faith are welcomed on this blog, because i'm a communist and i do in fact think it is my job to explain communism to people. have a nice day & don't be so down on yourself!

#ask #Anonymous

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wildemaven · 5 months

Text

saturdays with javier : tied together | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> word count: 3489

-> content warning: 18+ blog; talk of food, feelings of nervousness, alluding to spicy time but I decided to give them some privacy, she likes the tie so it stays, established relationship, reader has zero descriptive features, post Colombia life, if I missed anything please let me know and I’ll add it

-> notes: it has taken me so long to finish this, but I’m glad it’s done! I’ve been in such a writing slump and words haven’t been working well for me. I think my lack of sleep is my main reason so I’ve been working on that— it definitely helped me yesterday. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a cheerleader and beta reading this for me!!

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Shit!”

His focus is scattered as he watches his hands work together to secure the tie around his neck, a task he hadn’t done in what felt like years, his nerves not aiding in the dexterous process.

“Cariño, what time do your parents get in again?” He shouts down the hall to you where you’re busy about the kitchen, before refocusing on his reflection in the mirror.

“Their flight lands at 1 pm, and you’re picking them up at Gate 15— Javier, what’s with the tie??” You appear in the doorway, leaning into the frame, your arms crossed watching the nervousness permeate off Javier as he finally settles a knot at the base of his sculpted neck.

“What’s wrong with my tie?” Brows knitted together in question, looking at you then back to his reflection.

“Nothing, it looks good— it’s fine. I just haven’t seen you wear one in, well awhile.” You push off the door frame, maneuvering between Javier and the bathroom counter, your fingers toy with the ends of his tie as you try your best to ease his mind. “It’s just my parents, no need to worry too much. And they love you, with or without a tie.”

“I know, I just—“ He takes in a deep breath, his lungs filling with the calmness you always bring to him, resting his forehead against yours, his hands running the length of your arms. “You’re right. I just get in my head, always thinkin’ they’re gonna find something and decide I’m not enough for you.”

“You’re always enough, Javi— with or without their approval.” Your voice is tentative and soft, dripping in assurance.

His hands find their way under the hem of your skirt, pressing his body ardently into yours. Fingers dancing delicately up your thighs, settling at the curve of your hips. There’s deliberate restraint in his grip on you, wanting nothing more than to haul you onto the counter and slowly pull you apart.

“Javi—“ Breathless and floating. Pulling back just enough to witness the growing want igniting in his eyes. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in his crisp shirt, securing the knot of his tie firmly at the base of his neck. “Hmm. You should probably get going. You don’t want to keep my parents waiting. But we can always revisit this later.”

“Tell me again why you’re not coming with me to pick them up.” His lips desperately chase after yours.

Javi is your weakness. Giving in to him is an effortless choice. Minutes tick by, floating around the two of you. The kiss meanders through a vast range of intensity. Fluid and velvety, as it edges the border of a sensual climb that you both constantly crave. Realization hitting you first has you halting the flow before things progress past the point of no return.

Javi catches on to your stunted movement. His efforts to subconsciously sway you into calling off your parents so he can stay lost in this moment with you were valiant. He removes his hands from under your skirt, allowing the flowy fabric to fall back into place. Taking a step back, boots clicking on the tiled bathroom floor, his hands resting at his waist, while his labored breathing slowly returns to a comfortable steady rhythm.

“Because— I can’t be in two places at once. I need to get dinner prepped and started, so it’s ready when you get back here with them.” You fix the few of his stray hairs that have fallen out of place. Your fingers tracing down the sides of his handsome face, soothing over the tightness of his clenching jaw.

“We could just order something, then you can just ride with me. Your parents love that little Italian place over on San Dario.” He suggests. Reaching for one of your wrists, your hands are still cradling his face, thumb smoothing over your pulse point as he turns and places a kiss to your palm.

The bathroom fills with your boisterous laugh, your body vibrating as your head falls against his chest.

“What? What’s so funny?” You settle yourself back against the counter, pausing your laughter to wipe the tears from your lashes with the backs of your hands.

“The little Italian place? You mean Olive Garden? Javi, you’re going to be fine, I promise. Listen to some music, enjoy the drive and you’ll be home before you know it.” You grab his arm, twisting his watch face in your direction. “Okay, no more stalling Peña. It’s a two hour drive there, plus the wait— you need to get on the road.”

He releases a heavy sigh into the small space. Palm scrubbing down his face, mentally preparing himself for the long drive and your parents. He watches as you head for the kitchen, stopping at the door and resting your head and hand on the wooden frame as you look back at him.

“You’re enough Javi, always will be.”

The drive is easy enough. 165 miles straight up Interstate 35 will drop him into the heart of San Antonio, according to the directions you wrote out for him on the back of the electric bill envelope. A drive he’s taken many times over his life and has no trouble recalling the exact route as your car travels across the Texas countryside. But he likes— loves —that you care enough to make sure he has every exit and turn written in your pristine all-caps writing, keeping them visible and ready just in case there’s a chance he needs them.

An FM classic rock station and bag of peppered sunflower seeds keep him company most of the 2 and a half hour drive. Yet, even with a string of 80’s ballads crooning through the speakers, Javier still finds little pockets of time to get lost in his thoughts.

Blips of his time in Colombia trickle in from the depths of his mind. A wavering feeling of relief that all of it is behind him meshes with the doubt of whether he did enough or not enough, at the same time.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. Anger and frustration resurfacing. A nagging turmoil bleeds through him slowly. His teeth gnaw anxiously at his bottom lip. He’s eyed several gas stations in the last 2 miles that he knows are fully stocked with enough nicotine to burn out every bit of anxiousness nagging at him.

Somehow, while you’re busy making dinner hundreds of miles away, you manage to save him from spiraling.

He thinks of you often, how can he not, but especially in moments when his thoughts start to get heavy and dark. Your smile pops into his head and instantly soothes away any oppressive feelings.

The overwhelming airport traffic takes over his train of thought. Maneuvering your little blue Volvo in and around parked cars, taxis and shuttles is an easy task. He glances down to the envelope, checking he’s in the right lane. The gate numbers boldly displayed above the terminal doors as he drives in the direction of the one you have written down, Gate 15.

He’s grateful there’s an open space to park along the curb when he arrives. Glancing at his watch, it’s a little after the 1 pm arrival time, which means your parents should be headed to pick up their bags and on the lookout for Javier to pick them up.

Javier contemplates whether he should wait by the car or snake his way through the crowd of airport goers to greet your parents, grabbing any bags or luggage to help them to the car.

It’s a quick decision, your father’s stone expression the main deciding factor. Another once over of the gate and time to double check he’s in the right spot, then he’s locking the car and venturing in the direction of where your parents will be arriving from.

He runs through a series of greetings as he waits.

Hello, it's good to see you both. Feels too informal for in-laws.

Oh, I’ve missed you both so much, here let me take your bags. Way too enthusiastic, especially for him.

Hello Sir, I love your daughter very much. I plan to spend the rest of my days loving her and showing her how much she means to me. Over the top? Your dad already gave him the approval before he married you— maybe just in case.

Hug? Handshake? A wave of Hello?

He takes a deep breath. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’s overthinking it. He knows your dad likes him. Your dad’s never been crass or rude towards him ever. The complete opposite actually. He’s treated Javier like family since the day you introduced them. Welcoming him into their home with a hand shake, then pulling into a warm hug. Pushing away the doubt and the fear of not being enough in your fathers eyes.

Your words washing over him— You’re enough Javi, always will be —he believes you.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Javier Peña, in the flesh!”

An all too familiar voice catches him off guard, pulling him from his thoughts of your parents and greeting scenarios.

“Steve?” Steve Murphy. Standing in front of him, shouldering a worn leather duffle bag and a carryon at his feet. He looks like a day hasn’t passed since they had last seen each other years ago. The wedding?

“Thought we did away with the ties and suits, buddy. Ya heading to some kind of meetin’?” Steve, dressed in a polo shirt and blue jeans, flicks at the navy tie you had bought him a few years back.

“No, I’m picking up my in-laws. They should be here any minute.” He nods in the direction of the baggage claim, then looking down as his hands smooth down the tie in a presentable position.

“Is that the story she went with?” Steve says with a hearty laugh, readjusting his bag strap.

“What do you mean? What story?” There’s a flash of confusion in Javier’s eyes. Head tilting and forehead creased as he tries to make sense of what Steve has said.

“You aren’t pickin’ up your in-laws. You’re pickin’ up me— Surprise!” Steve seems thrilled at how stunned Javier must look at the realization of what is happening. “I’ve got some business to do here in Texas for a bit. Connie mentioned it when they were havin’ their weekly phone call. I had a few free days, so she planned for you to pick me up so we can catch up.”

“She didn’t say anything about you coming.” Javier thinks back over the last few weeks, trying to remember if you had and he just forgot.

“No shit. That’s the whole point of a surprise, Javi. Good to see ya partner.” He throws an arm around Javier’s shoulders, giving his back a few good pats. Steve steps back a bit, his hand resting on Javier’s shoulder. “We gonna just stand here and catch up or can we go get somethin’ to eat. The plane food sucks and I’m fuckin’ starvin’.”

Steve pulls the handle up on his wheeled carryon and begins walking towards the exit. Javier turns on his heels, a bit of relief settling in. Smiling at how you were able to not only pull this off, but had him convinced your parents were coming and let him worry about it for weeks.

“Yeah, the cars parked right outside.” He calls out to Steve, shuffling through the bodies that put a little distance between the two of them.

Javier finds Steve leaning against the trunk of your car, having recognized it was yours from the few times he and Connie havevisited over the years.

“How’s Connie and Olivia? We got the pictures— she’s gotten big since we last saw her.” Javier asks as he pops the truck, grabbing Steve’s bags off the sidewalk, moving things around so they’re secure among the other things you store back there.

“They’re good. Connie wants to plan for us all to come out for a visit sometime. Maybe after the holidays or somethin’, when work slows down. Maybe we can go duck hunting? Like old times.” He says watching Javier over his shoulder play Tetris with his bags and the trunk contents.

“I’m not going fuckin’ duck hunting, you goddamn Hillbilly.” Shutting the trunk and making his way to the driver's seat. Steve, amused with himself follows, suit on the other side of the car.

It takes a few minutes to weave the car through the growing traffic and out of the airport madness.

“You gonna wine and dine me all dressed up like that, Peña?” Steve asks comfortably from the passenger seat.

“Yeah, there’s a little Italian place on the way.” Javier chuckles, looking over to Steve who’s wearing a shit-eating grin. He shakes his head, not realizing how much he missed his old friend.

“Oh! Authentic?” Excitement sparks in Steve’s voice.

“No— Olive Garden.”

“Asshole.”

It’s a few hours later when Javier drops Steve off at his hotel across town. Plans to meet up in the morning for breakfast at the little cafe with the best coffee in town. Javier promises to not show up before 9 am, so Steve can sleep in a few extra hours to shake off the jet lag. Javier pockets his sarcastic comment about how old Steve is getting until tomorrow when they’re deep into their breakfast burritos and a few cups of coffees in.

Things look quiet in the house when he parks your car in the driveway. The night sky now prominent and bold, a stark contrast from the harsh sun when he left earlier in the day. The soft glow coming from the bedroom windows must mean you’ve already begun to settle in for the evening, waiting for Javier’s return home.

Javier immediately rids himself of his stuffy suit jack the moment he’s inside, laying it over the back of the couch, a problem for tomorrow morning while he’s killing time waiting to meet up with Steve. He runs through his usual evening routine as he makes his way into the house. Front doors locked, window curtains closed and keys hung on the little hook by the door. The kitchen is clean and quiet, no sign of any cooking you had been talking about anywhere in sight. He fingers through the stack of mail that must have come while he was out, mostly bills he can deal with at a later time in the week.

The soft brilliance radiating from your bedroom pours out into the hallway, guiding the way for Javier. A beacon of light after a long day of driving. You are his final resting place.

Hands settled into his pockets, he shoulders himself quietly against the door frame. Movements still as he watches you, not wanting to announce his arrival right away. You’re bathed in the glow of the table lamp, propped up by the pillows and wrapped in your favorite robe, bare legs crossed over the plush comforter. It looks like you have made a decent dent in the book you had mentioned wanting to read when you found a chance— he can’t wait to hear you tell him your thoughts on it when you finish it.

“How’d it go, Javi.” You’ve already sensed his presence without a glance in his direction. Turning the page, a devilish smirk slides over your face.

“Funny thing about that, Amor. I got to the airport and I ran into an old friend. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He asks as he makes his way to the dresser, discarding his watch and wallet into the small tray, where they are kept for the night.

“Hmmm. Would this old friend resemble someone who is actually a dear friend and answers to Steve?” You fold the corner of the current page you’re on. Closing the book and placing it on your nightstand. You watch Javier loosen the knot of his tie with two fingers, freeing the top button that you know irritates him fiercely. “Were you surprised?”

“Very. A little relieved, too.” You shift your legs over allowing him room to sit. His hand wraps around your ankle before you can move them too far out of his reach. His palm is warm against your cool skin.

“Good. It was hard to keep it a secret. I made Connie and Steve promise me they wouldn’t tip you off. And your dad knows you’ll be busy the next few days while Steve is here, I told him about it when he came over for dinner earlier.”

“It was a great surprise. But you didn’t need to keep it a secret. I’m sure Steve would have loved to have you come along, too.” His hand glides softly up and down the length of your leg, finally settling where your robe stops mid-thigh.

“Well, you work too hard, Javi. I think the last time you took an actual vacation was our honeymoon and that was years ago. I think some time alone with your friend was needed, even if it took me doing a little scheming behind the scenes to make it happen.”

He knows you’re right. It has been a while since he had let himself take some time for himself. He likes staying busy. The weekends are reserved mostly for time with you. Weekdays he’s pushing through the tiredness and running on coffee while he helps his Pop as he transitions into taking over operations of the ranch and cattle— Chucho no longer able to do it himself as he gets older.

Maybe he should take more time off like this. Even in the short time from when he picked Steve up at the airport to dropping him off at the hotel, he enjoyed himself more than he thought he would.

“I can hear you debating with yourself on this. You deserve it, Javier. It’s just a few days, let yourself enjoy them completely. The ranch will be waiting for you when you’re done.” You tell him, all sincere and honest. You shift yourself forward next to where Javier is sitting. Your legs folded under you, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay. I’ll enjoy it.” He releases a heavy sigh into the air.

“I have another surprise for you…” Your lips curl inward, trying to hold back your bubbling laugh as you watch Javier’s eyes roll playfully.

“Querida, I don’t think I can handle any more surprises today.” He groans, pulling you over to him so you're now straddling his lap. His forehead rests on your collarbone, your fingernails running lightly over his scalp.

“My parents are coming at the end of the month. They’re staying for a week. My dad said he wants to take you golfing— something about showing you how good his swing is.” You murmur against the top of his head.

“Baby, I don’t know how to golf. I’m going to have to bullshit my way through it, and I don’t know how convincing it will look.” He pouted. He moans at the sensation of your nails scratching at his scalp a little harder.

“Javi, I’m just kidding.”

“Thank god.” Relieved he doesn’t have to bullshit his way through 18 holes and several hours stuck on a golf course.

“Only about the golfing part— they’re still visiting.”

“That’s enough out of you, Amor.” Grabbing your hips, he’s flipping you both so you're lying beneath him on your bed. Your legs wrap around his narrow waist, drawing him down closer to you, his lips finding yours instantly.

“Let me get these clothes off real quick.” He stands to his full height, beginning to work at the knot of his tie.

“Leave the tie.” You purr as your foot rises up to his chest and presses against his hands, halting his movements. You pull at the belt of your robe, revealing your naked self to him, barely catching the way his breath hitches at the sight of you bared to him. “I get casual Javi every night, seeing you in this tie today was a fun change. I think I want Agent Peña tonight though.”

He’s on you in an instant. Hands roaming over your body, soft and riddled with goosebumps. Hips settling firmly against yours, an experimental thrust has you gasping and tingling with anticipation. The lightest nips to your jaw. His breath is hot across your face as he finds your lips again. Deepening the kiss in a desperate manner. Your whimpers and the way you chant his name like your favorite song nearly takes him out. His grip on your thigh is delicate but demanding in the most intimate way. Your back arching into his touch, craving more. You always crave more.

“Baby, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He whispers into the kiss. And he will give you everything.

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #saturdays with javier #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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ingravinoveritas · 2 months

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Firstly i dont think she adjusted since moving to the UK what do u think?

And secondly this post feels that its all about her again like and the character is based on her in real life but the project was longed talk about in 2017 as michael said on the Graham norton show to which michael was with Sarah at that point. It's again trying to be the centre of attention again and stay irrelevant just cos she not getting it from michael

What ur thoughts on this recent of post of Al

So, apologies that it took me all week to answer this--I feel like the entirety of the month of February has just caught up with me, which essentially feels like a lot of tiredness hitting all at once.

I did see this on Monday, however, and I just...am again at something of a loss. I got a bit down on myself over my response to her Insta story from the first preview of Nye and thinking I was overreacting/reading too much into things...and then this happens.

The first thing I would say is that I agree with you that AL is making it all about her again. The post itself comes across as PR, which it likely was because Georgia also shared the same clip that day--albeit with a caption that was actually about Michael/centered on the show. And the contrast becomes even more stark when you look at this post from Caroline Sheen. Caroline is Michael's cousin and she had a small role in The Way, and her post is much more personal and essentially what you would expect from someone who is close to someone in the production. Which subsequently makes AL's post look even more like PR in comparison.

But I think what irritates me the most about Anna's post is that it's yet another instance of her making a dig at Wales. Talking of patterns as I tend to do, she did this previously in September of last year (the #FromManhattantoTonypandy hashtag), and in both of these cases it's her reminding everyone of where she lived before, and likely where she still wishes she lived. In thinking of your initial question, AL may have adjusted to Wales in some ways, but it's clearly not where she belongs or thinks she belongs. I've written previously on my blog about her likely thinking she would be living the celebrity life in New York or London, and Wales was almost certainly a place she didn't even know existed until Michael. So this entire post feels like it's tinged with passive-aggressive resentment as a result.

Let me be clear: In no way do I think that moving to a new country is an easy thing, and it is more than understandable that someone might not love every single thing about the place in which they live, especially if they are an outsider coming from a completely different culture. But the thing is, The Way is literally about Wales. It is entirely focused on Welsh identity and history, and it is a project into which Michael has poured a tremendous amount of his passion and energy and time, which speaks to what you mentioned about him talking about this since 2017.

Why, then, would you make such a snarky comment on a post promoting a show so centered on Wales? That your own partner directed, no less? At best, it comes across as thoughtless and self-centered, and at worst, as deliberately disrespectful.

I can also fully understand why Michael put out a tweet of his own promoting the second episode less than an hour after Anna posted that story. If we are to say that Georgia is a good representative for David on social media--which she arguably is, most of the time--then Anna, by contrast, is the worst possible representative for Michael. And a post like the one above only further highlights how mismatched and wrong for each other they truly are. I also think it's pained him to refrain from tweeting for this long, and now he finally has a reason to start again, for which both we and Michael can be thankful.

So yes, those are my thoughts on AL's story from earlier this week. Glad to hear from my followers as well about your reactions to this. Thank you for writing in! x

#angel19924 #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #the way #trying to provide a balanced perspective #but what's the old saying: when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time #choices #not all of them good #also does she really expect us to believe there is no coffee anywhere in Wales #and why would you use a PR post to complain about your life #i can't #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #discourse

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justlikemebutsixfootthree · 10 months

Text

ii. one time thing

this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.

a/n: criticism and thoughts are welcomed and encouraged :) there is one use of y/n!

part i. part iii.

1358 words

it’s easy enough, to hide himself away in the kitchen with you and ignore the rest of the party. how george knows so many people, let alone allows them into his home, is beyond him. several minutes ago he saw someone drinking a pina colada out of an old rugby cup trophy.

animals, the lot of them.

“you’re frowning again,” you point out and he reaches for the whisky behind your shoulder. this time, he doesn’t flinch when he sees that stripe of blue this time, though he does wonder what other colours look like painted across your skin. the faint pink of your blush. the bronze and gold in the stretch of your limbs. the richness of your hair curled just so.

“oh, now you’re really frowning.”

he huffs and turns to face you, his hip pressed into the countertop. maybe direct exposure will lessen the impact.

“where’s jake tonight?”

it’s your turn to frown. “i think you mean josh.”

no, he means jake. he refuses to call the man by his name. he looks like a jake – some dreary character that wears muscle tees and snapbacks. he has a goatee, for god’s sake.

when he does nothing but give you a blank look, you frown and pick at your thumb. “that didn’t really go anywhere,” you shrug. “we weren’t a good match.”

“oh?” he does his best to seem uninterested. the last time he saw the two of you together was during ross' birthday. he knew that ross didn't approve of 'josh', but he wanted his baby sister happy, and that night your laugh was loud and unencumbered. you had looked happy.

matty hated it.

you shrug again and he wonders if you keep up with that little movement of your shoulders if they’ll freeze that way. you've given him more shrugs in the span of one evening than perhaps the entire duration of your knowing one another.

“what was it then?”

“what was what?”

“what led you to believe it wasn’t a good match?”

and for whatever reason, this is the question that sets your face aflame. a loud, violent blush light up your cheeks before spreading down your neck, tripping over the jut of your collarbones. he grins in response, and you scrunch your nose.

“oh, now i must know.”

you give him a look, all flushed skin and angry little eyebrows. “no.”

delighted, he crosses his arms over his chest, his forearms brushing your fingers where you hold your glass. “was he married?”

you look personally affronted by the question. “no, he most certainly was not!”

“was it the goatee?”

you deliberate before answering. “no.”

the goatee certainly played a part, then.

“was he bad in bed?” matty gasps in mock theatrics, enjoying the way you shift from foot to foot, flustered and annoyed with that mesmerizing blush heating your skin.

you open your mouth to respond and then slam it shut, eyeing your half-empty glass before tipping the liquor back. you eye his glass, too, and curl your fingers around his, guiding his glass to your mouth and downing his drink in one go. it does something interesting to his chest, that, your fingers tucked between his own. the press of your bottom lip just grazed his thumb. his question, it had been in jest, but the way you were furtively looking at him out of the corner of your eye, fingertips tap tap tapping on you empty glass, he –

“i am not discussing this with you, matty.”

oh, and we have a winner. it lights him up inside. not that you were left without satisfaction, of course. but that he - he knew it. he knew it. he knew that josh was a selfish, bumbling, idiot of a man.

“i see,” he nods sagely and set his glass on the countertop, doing his best to flatten his smile.

“you see nothing,” you seethe. your eyes narrow. “stop smiling, you idiot. this isn’t funny.”

“i’m not smiling,” he says, absolutely, one hundred percent, grinning from ear to ear.

“you are, and you’re terrible,” you huff, frown, and look for more liquor.

“i truly don’t understand the big deal,” you mutter to yourself. “what everyone is always going on about. i find the whole thing rather boring.”

and just like that, everything around him screeches to a halt. his thoughts, blissfully silent. the chatter and the music and the laughter of the party around him sound as if it’s coming from underwater. he watches you through a daze as you pour yourself another finger of something golden, hand shaking slightly as you shoot it back, the back of your hand pressed to your lips. the pieces float together slowly at first, your words arranging and rearranging in his mind before he comes to a sudden, startling revelation.

“y/n,” he whispers, horrified. “have you not had good sex?”

you frown at a spot on the countertop. “i am not discussing this with you. now, tell me where george keeps the vodka.”

it’s not the most graceful of subject changes, but he allows it. you prattle on about george's shit taste in alcohol and what he deems "party music" and things of that nature while matty does his best to keep his brain from imploding. it's one thing to be unsatisfied with a partner, quite another thing to never experience pleasure in bed whatsoever. you had said – you said you found it boring? a series of images flicker across his mind – you, in a variety of positions – and none of them inspire boredom. just what kind of people have you been with? what kind of people have you allowed the privilege of seeing you, being with you?

it feels like the worst sort of travesty. one, that unworthy people were ever allowed into your bed. the second, you not experiencing all that you're meant to. a woman such as you, you deserve – well, he thinks you deserve everything and more.

the idea comes to him suddenly, perfectly, absolutely stunning in its clarity.

“we should have sex,” he blurts, and you freeze in the middle of whatever you were saying. literally freeze, your hand held immobile in front of you mid-gesture.

it’s the perfect solution, really. you would have a night of satisfaction. an education, as it were, on all the benefits to be found in good sex. and he would finally, finally, be able to purge you from his system. one night of incredible, mutual pleasure and his mind would finally get over this bizarre fixation. direct exposure, as he theorized earlier, to lessen the impact.

you gape at him. “i beg your pardon?”

he steps closer, mindful that they are at a crowded party, and this is not the sort of thing you yell across a crowded kitchen. “we should have sex, you and i. i believe i could show you a good time.”

you blink at him, your face pale in the light that dances overhead.

“show me a good time,” you repeat back to him slowly, trying out the words on your tongue. his smile starts to dip on his face. it’s not the – well, it’s not the response he had hoped for, to be sure. you don’t seem to be intrigued by his proposal whatsoever. in fact, you look – you look rather horrified.

“matty, i – “ your big eyes look glassy, muted, a hurt lurking in their depths. you curl your fingers around your elbows, folding in on yourself. “i didn't think you could be more of a dick.”

you barely manage to get the words out before you're brushing past him, slipping from the kitchen to the overcrowded living space, that damned swipe of blue paint on your back the last thing he sees before you disappear into a sea of people.

his heart pounds in his chest, uneasy and unsure, not quite certain where he went wrong. he knows it was a brash decision, perhaps spoken too bluntly, but he always thought of you as a to-the-point type of person. you've always valued – hell, he’s an idiot – you've always valued honesty.

and he hadn’t been honest with you at all.

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naavispider · 11 months

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hey! I've been following you for a while now and i just wanted to say that i absolutely love your writing and check your blog almost everyday 😔🙏🏻

anyways i was wondering if you'd write something fluffy where spider gets the hiccups while out in the forest with the recoms. He acts tough and tries to hide it, but the recoms take notice of course. They take turns suggesting increasingly ridiculous 'cures' (gulping down lots of water, holding your breath + spinning around etc) which don't work, to their amusement and spider's growing embarrassment, and Quaritch ends up having to step in as the Responsible Father before things get out of hand.

+10 for general recom dumbassery

+20 for a cute father-son moment between quaritch and spider

+30 if spider's hiccups actually go away! 🤭

-b

Hi b! Thanks for asking! Sorry it took me a while 💞

"Son of a-"

Spider's curse was drowned out by Wainfleet's booming laughter throughout the clearing.

"Something funny, Baldo?" Spider dared.

Wainfleet tried to dim his guffaws, but was only drawing more attention to himself from Zdog and Prager. "This kid, man!" Wainfleet chuckled, addressing the rest of the recom squad's curious and amused stares. "He's had the hiccups for the last twenty minutes and tried to hide it!"

Instantaneously, the watching recoms' faces burst into matching expressions of mirth.

"Aw, baby Spidey has the hiccups?" Zdog mocked.

Spider seethed. He had been trying to conceal them for this exact reason. He knew the squad would be jerks. He grit his teeth and turned around on the fallen tree trunk, facing out of the clearing and ignoring the squad.

"Hey, kid!" Lopez called. Spider didn't turn around. He knew he was being mocked. "I got a cure." Spider's ears perked up. He slowly twisted around to hear it.

"You gotta hold your breath," Lopez continued, walking over so he didn't have to shout, "and spin around ten times while looking at the sky."

"I'm not doing that, asshat!" Spider yelled. Did they think he was dumb?

Lopez looked offended. Fike stepped in. "It's true Spidey," he said. "Something about..." he looked at Ja, who was smirking from beside the fire. "Stretching your diaphragm! Right, Ja?"

Spider looked at the medic for his opinion. "That's correct," Ja admitted. "You do have to stretch your diaphragm..."

Lopez and Fike cheered, and Zdog had begun to laugh again. "Come on, Spider! Give it a go!"

Spider cussed them all in Na'vi, hating them for their stupid 'cures', but he really was feeling desperate. If he didn't embarrass himself by listening to their suggestions, the humiliation of them all listening to his hiccups would do the job anyway.

"Fine," he growled, getting up and taking a huge gulp of filtered air, throwing his head back to the sky and spinning. The recoms began to count him, and Spider knew they were doing so deliberately slowly.

"... seven, eight, nine, ten!" They cheered, and Spider stopped spinning, letting himself come to a wobbly standstill. The world spun in front of his eyes, and his legs suddenly felt like jelly. "Woah," he said, trying to find his balance as he stepped forwards.

The recoms roared with laughter as he faceplanted a mushroom.

"Shit," he cussed, struggling to get back to his feet and deciding to just sit down with his head between his knees. Only a few seconds later, the next hiccup came.

"You bastards!" he groaned, raising his head to glare at the squad, laughing like a pack of hyenas. Spider cast around, looking for Quaritch, but the Colonel must have been out looking for dinner or securing the perimeter.

"Alright, alright," Wainfleet snickered. "Have some of my water. Just take small gulps." He got up and passed the bottle to Spider, who took it after a second's hesitation.

"Wait, have you tried drinking upside down?" Zdog butted in.

"Upside down?" queried Ja, a skeptical look on his face.

Zdog's face was reminiscent and confident. "Oh yeah, my granny swore by it, bless her heart." Spider couldn't tell if she was being serious.

"Is that gonna-" another hiccup "-stretch my diaphragm, yeah?" Spider asked sarcastically, fed up of her already.

"It will!" she replied earnestly. "If you're constantly taking small gulps without pausing for air, it forces you to hold your breath and stretches your lungs out!

Spider hiccuped again, sealing the nail in his coffin. "How am I gonna drink upside down?" He asked. Seeing the glint in Zdog's eye, and the conspiratorial smirk between Lopez and Fike, he immediately sussed them out. "You are not holding me!"

"You're a right buzzkill, kid," Wainfleet murmured.

"I can do a handstand fine by myself," Spider ignored him. "But how am I gonna drink anything?"

Prager seemed to be two steps ahead of him, already pulling out a straw from one of the recom's gross nutrient shakes that came in cardboard cartons. "Voila."

"Jesus," Spider muttered, eyeing the straw and the devilish gleam in each recom's eye as they stared at him. "You know I'll have to take the mask off?" He hiccuped again, which only strengthened their resolve, making them even more insufferable.

Spider made up his mind. "If any of you dickwads touches me I swear to Eywa..." he warned them, approaching Prager and bringing the bottle with him. "I can only hold it for like, thirty seconds."

"I'm right here with the mask, whenever you give the word," Wainfleet assured him.

"Fuck. Am I really doing this?" Spider muttered to himself stupidly.

"Yeah, baby!" Cried Zdog, who had throughly enjoyed the whole saga, providing nothing but ill-timed sniggers throughout.

Spider got into position, ready to go into a handstand. He addressed Wainfleet. "Once I'm balanced, take the mask off." Hiccup. "When I say, put it back on and not a moment later, you got it? I don't fancy dying."

Prager spoke next. "And I'll hold the bottle up for you, so you don't need to use your hands."

Spider looked around at the group, who were clearly having the time of their lives over his suffering. "I hate every one of you," he muttered, before going down on his hands and pushing himself up into a handstand. He could hold one since he was five - it was just something he was good at. Funnily enough, no Na'vi he'd ever met was able to do it. He'd spent ages trying to teach Kiri and Lo'ak and even Tuk, but they just couldn't. It seemed his useless skill was finally coming in handy.

He waited for the next hiccup to pass, took a few deep breaths, then nodded at Wainfleet. "Okay, take the mask off."

Wainfleet did so, and Prager immediately moved the water within sipping distance of Spider's mouth. He began sipping small sips, without pausing for breath, just like Zdog had said, until-

"PUT YOUR MASK BACK ON!"

Spider immediately fell down from his handstand - somewhat gracefully - and took the mask back that Wainfleet was hurriedly handing out to him.

Quaritch was standing on the edge of the clearing, a yerik slung over his shoulders and staring at the group with murder in his eyes. He deposited the animal down by the fire and stormed across the grass. Spider pressed the seal on the exopack and cool air flowed back into his mask. He took a hesitant step back from the Colonel, the man's anger palpable.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He yelled, addressing the recoms, but mostly, Spider noticed, Wainfleet. Nobody answered. "Taking his mask off! ARE! YOU! INSANE!"

All noise had vanished from the clearing. Spider could have heard a pin drop. He didn't want to even shuffle his feet for fear of making too much noise. Quaritch's roars had rooted everybody in place in shock.

Quaritch looked directly at Spider. "Come here!" he demanded, and Spider hastily obeyed. "Sit down!" Quaritch barked, removing Spider from the line of bollocking. He continued to shout at the recom squad for what felt like half an hour, when in reality it couldn't have been any longer than a minute. He was so angry, even Spider knew better than to snigger at the looks of embarrassment on the recoms' faces. They looked like a line of children that had misbehaved at school.

When Quaritch had finished, he took a moment to catch his breath, then turned back to Spider. Spider automatically flinched away, but there was no need. The Colonel reached out a huge hand and placed it on Spider's shoulder. "You should know better, kid." His tone was feather light compared to the one he'd used on the squad. "What if you'd hiccuped without your mask on?"

Spider hadn't actually considered that. Until Quaritch had mentioned hiccuping, Spider had completely forgotten about it, and only now did he realise... it had worked.

"Sorry," Spider mumbled, only half sarcastically. He looked up and made eyes with Zdog over Quaritch's shoulder. Although the woman was thoroughly scolded, she still maintained that mischievous glint in her eye, and Spider knew in that moment that she was gloating.

She'd won.

Spider's hiccups had been cured.

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steves-strapcollection · 1 year

Text

i could be honest, i could be human [Steddie WIP snippet]

THIS FIC IS NOW COMPLETE

Read it on my writing blog @gerrystamour (see pinned post) or on AO3

Here is a snippet of a fic I'm working on that is kind of a "5 times Eddie asks Steve who hurt him + 1 time he actually does something about it" and takes place over the course of the show and into post-S4 territory. When it's done it'll be 6 chapters and will be rated E. Mostly I need eyes that aren't mine to see it.

Steve Harrington did not feel sorry for himself.

Sorry? Absolutely. For himself? No.

He felt sorry for how he treated Nancy, for what he said to Jonathan, how he let Tommy make a mess of the Hawk’s sign. But not for himself, even if he couldn’t blink without wincing and something smarted when he moved his jaw. Even if his knuckles ached and a molar was wiggling a bit too much for his comfort. The way Steve figured it, all together that was roughly only half of what he deserved.

Getting the shit beat out of him for being an idiot wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to him, though the low-grade agony in his face was.

With a heavy sigh, Steve dipped the rag into the bucket of pink, soapy water and returned to scrubbing the red spray paint off the Hawk’s sign. It was slow-going, and the sun was setting, but he had just a bit of the last letter to clean, and then he would be done. He would be free to go home and figure out his next move.

He didn’t have any more friends, what with his fight with Tommy and Carol, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore. Not after his stunning display of class and conflict resolution.

“Well, well, well,” came a sarcastic, yet excited voice from below. “If it isn’t the King of Hawkins High himself, Steve Harrington.”

Steve groaned, the title bringing a sour taste to his mouth. Some king he supposedly was. He didn’t even recognize the voice, but that didn’t say much; Steve probably wouldn’t recognize the voices of most of the kids he went to school with because he was exactly that sort of asshole.

“Didn’t know you could actually do honest work,” the person continued, and the comment stung a bit, even if it was a fair assumption. “Though is it honest work if you made the mess in the first place?”

“Look man, I get it—” Steve started as he looked down, deliberately angling his face to hide the bruising, and abruptly froze.

Beaming gleefully up at Steve was the Freak. Something-Munson. His first name was escaping Steve, and not for any reason that was good or defensible.

Steve knew him by appearance and reputation alone, and he was pretty sure he could count the facts he knew about him on one hand. He dressed weird, had long hair, listened to shitty music, had an even shittier van, and dealt drugs. He had seen Tommy meet with him before they went to parties enough times to know at least that much. In the end, Steve had almost exclusively only heard him referred to as either the Freak or simply Munson.

“You were saying, Harrington?” Munson urged; his grin was broad but mean.

“What do you want, Munson?” Steve asked instead, returning to his chore.

“Heard from a little birdy that you were reduced to janitorial work. Obviously, I had to see that for myself before I would believe it,” he replied easily, and Steve scoffed.

“You came all the way out here just to watch me clean a sign? I’m honoured,” Steve muttered darkly.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was already in the neighbourhood,” Munson said, and Steve heard the unmistakable sound of a lighter being flicked. When Steve glanced back down, Munson was leaning against the light post and taking a long drag from a cigarette.

“C’mon, man,” Steve practically whined as he scrubbed the last of the graffiti off the sign. He was done his chore and he really didn’t want to deal with Munson’s smug face when he climbed down and revealed his bruised face. “I know I’ve been a douchebag—”

“Been? You’ve been a douchebag? As in past-tense?” Munson asked with a loud, bitter laugh. Steve could hear the eyeroll in Munson’s voice when he added, “I don’t think you get to decide when you aren’t a douchebag anymore, Harrington.”

Steve was at a loss with that, wracking his brain for a single time he was ever rude or mean to Munson. The thing was, Steve was never deliberately mean to people, his fight earlier with Jonathan notwithstanding; he just didn’t care, or tried to seem like he didn’t, as if he was above caring. For fuck’s sake, Steve couldn’t even remember Munson’s first name.

Tommy and Carol were the mean ones, and he did nothing try to stop them. How many times, unbeknown to Steve, had Tommy harassed Munson and his friends? Or how many times had Steve just tuned it out?

“Fine! I know I am a douchebag, but don’t you think this is kinda childish?” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over the top of the ladder and dropping his forehead onto them.

“Oh, it definitely is,” Munson agreed happily, and Steve shouted when the whole ladder shook. Munson had kicked it lightly, just enough to rock it but not so much that it actually fell over. “Gonna stay up there forever, Harrington?”

“Not forever,” Steve replied, shrugging. “Just until you get bored and leave.”

“Then you’ll be up there forever,” Munson sing-songed. “C’mon, Harrington. I don’t bite, promise.”

Steve felt his face heat, his chest and stomach fluttering with an emotion he couldn’t place immediately. Shame? Humiliation? He stopped inspecting those thoughts too closely and climbed down.

When Steve was back on solid ground, he turned to face Munson and stood up straight. He was taller than Steve by just a bit, but it was enough that he had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Oh, Harrington,” Munson laughed—no, practically crooned, his eyes wide and bright as he reached up to touch the bruising. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone downright giddy.

READ THE COMPLETED FIC ON AO3

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic

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doberbutts · 8 months

Note

Can I ask what's making you uneasy? Is it a personal discomfort like, "theres nothing necessarily wrong it just makes me uncomfortable" or like, something actually wrong and you don't have the words/energy to speak up?

It is mostly that right now there is not really any escape in my tracked tags. My trans guy tags are full of transphobia and personal attacks and petty arguments. My fandom tags are filled with racism and sexism and people who seem to be addicted to generating baseless hate for no reason. My dog tags have always been slow since I'm the most active dobe blog on here so other dobe content tends to come as a trickle- and right now the most popular post is yet another crop/dock debate that I refuse to get involved in.

I come on tumblr to have fun, not to raise my blood pressure and be frustrated all the time. I want to talk about dogs, I want to talk about my life, without feeling like I have to defend my every sentence or very existence.

And there is no escape off tumblr either. Facebook is a cesspit of manufactured hate and AI nonsense. AI "news" is all the rage right now and what's not AI is often wank-bait and deliberate pot-stirring. The youtube channels I typically watch are affected by the strike so they're pretty quiet right now (which is fine it just means I can't lean on them). I'm facing some moral dilemmas about the shows I want to watch. So right now it is books and videogames for my late night/early morning entertainment.

People are so mean-spirited and it bums me out. I don't want to be somewhere that people are this mean all the time for no reason. I talk about how an older butch I know came out to me as nonbinary and I get five different asks telling me to kill myself. I post photos of my dog having fun in training and I get three different asks trying to bait me into an argument I've already said I won't have. I post a photo of me and I have to go on a blocking spree due to people insulting my looks and my body. I have a spirited and highly opinionated discussion with someone I thought I was friendly with, only for them to insult and block me and then go on tirades about how awful I am while I can't do anything in my own defense. I talk about something I've personally experienced and people crawl out of the woodwork to either tell me I'm faking it or to tell me that it doesn't matter that it happened to me. I don't like this. I don't like what people have become.

So I am assigning myself some "touch grass" and "go outside" and "hang out in meatspace with people you know you like" and "do activities that make you happy instead" until I can feel happy on social media again.

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communistkenobi · 4 months

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Hey! I really like your blog, and always really enjoy learning more about some of the interesting topics you cover! I was wondering if you have an opinion on people wanting to identify specifically using a lower case spelling of their name, instead of capitalizing the proper noun. This isnt for me, and I'm definitely not looking for a "right or wrong" answer, just genuinely wanted to hear your take on it.

Before I answer I don’t think there’s a single answer or reason why people choose to not capitalise their names. I’m not privy to larger discussions of why people might do this (bell hooks is probably the most famous example), but I’m friends with someone who has chosen not to capitalise her name and it’s made me think about the practice a lot!

I think the first place to start is that a lower case name is meant to be read - you do not pronounce lower capitalisation. this gives context to how and where you encounter a lower capitalised name. They may appear on your legal documents, of course, but also through authorship, online profiles, print media, etc. is there a particular audience or social context that you want to confront with your un-capitalised name?

I use the word confront deliberately, because lower case names challenge people - I don’t think we would be talking about it if it didn’t, but the obvious question is why. My instinct is that it is an attempt to de-centre the individual, and this is what people are reacting to. We do not capitalise pronouns, for example, because they are interchangeable amongst many people - gendered pronouns are used as a standard way to refer to people because the assumption underlying them is that gender is the most important (and only) consideration when referring to someone by something other than their name. Pronouns are not neutral, they are a deeply contested and politically animating part of everyday language. In a similar way, I think choosing not to capitalise your name could be a gesture towards this interchangeability and the contested nature of gendered referral, to emphasise that you are not an individual but a subject within a set of social and political circumstances. A name is a summary of yourself - your deeds, your personality, your art, your beliefs, and so on. It’s why we call it Marxism, it’s why people refer to “Reaganomics,” “the Kubrick stare,” etc - there is a discursive process happening by summarising particular beliefs or actions in the world by a person’s name. Refusing to capitalise your name can be a resistance to this automatic and unremarked upon process of summary, to prompt people to ask why this is the way we do things (as opposed to referring to the effects these actions or beliefs have on the world, their content, their technique, or whatever else - why is the individual given primacy when naming ideologies, policy regimes, and artistic practices when these are all products of historical, political, and social processes far larger than any one person? Did these men make these histories, or are they only the figureheads, and if so, why?)

It also calls attention to the fact that capitalisation is also a choice - one of the first things I thought about when my friend stopped capitalising her name was why I was still choosing to capitalise mine. What conventions am I holding onto, and are they actually important to me? What is it about my name that requires this kind of sacred or authoritative treatment? I refuse to capitalise the word god primarily because I refuse to imbue the word with any sort of authority or respect - what authority would I be resisting or giving up if I were to refuse to capitalise my own name? Is there a kind of self-disrespect happening, or am I disrespecting the linguistic and grammatical conventions where capitalised names arise and are considered normal? What parts of myself and my identity are removed or revealed by refusing to capitalise my name? If something so normal and mundane may be contested in a similarly mundane way, what other linguistic possibilities open up to us?

My familiarity with this practice is one that is deliberately political, in the sense that the uncapitalised name reveals something that is normally hidden - these could be linguistic conventions, societal norms, ideas about individuality, and so on. I think the practice is very cool and prompts a lot of productive discomfort with everyday linguistic and social practices. It also pisses off conservatives and I think that alone is evidence that this is a practice worth pursuing, that this decision is actually not trivial at all and reveals a larger network of political and social ideas about personhood

#asks #book club

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project-sekai-facts · 6 months

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Regarding your post about censorship: I'm like 90% sure most of this is not censorship (they left the entirety of buddy funny as it was. I refuse to believe "partner" is where they draw the line). I've played tons of Japanese video games in official English; the usual standard for translation is, in practice, that it shouldn't be obvious it wasn't originally written in English. Imo, this is the actual difference between "the miles i fell in love with is so cool!" (Not grammatically incorrect but not how actual people speak) and the official. As for it having romantic connotation to begin with, lol you said you got that from looking it up but Google the same thing in English and you will still get only romantic advice because it just assumes you're asking when the appropriate time to say I love you in a relationship is.... It could've been a joke, or a gay allegation, an anime way of speaking, or even nothing. How would you know which? I absolutely do not mean this in a rude way and I'm really sorry if it comes off like that but. I don't think you can comment on the connotations of words or level of casualness without speaking the language yourself.

Same with minoharu; it's (unfortunately) not canon. If she actually said "I love you!!" Regardless of dictionary definitions, it will be read as a romantic confession by most players, and you often say the game likes ambiguity so I take it that's a no. "I like you!" Is rather an awkward thing to yell in english, though. So "you're the best" is what they substitute.

(Please don't blame the translators for stuff this insignificant tbh. Some things in early game may sound clunky, but they've really smoothed out over time in terms of word choice sounding natural (...event names notwithstanding). I've done translations between my first language and English for fun; if you linger on every last word and it's connotations, you will go /insane/ reallyyy quickly. Imo no two words in different languages have the exact same meaning, connotation, use case etc. Ever. Differences of this level are utterly inevitable when games have so much text.)

Anyway. Thanks for all the effort you put into this blog, it's a fantastic one and it's not my intention to be harsh, if it comes off like that please just delete this ask. Don't feel bad about something some stranger on the internet said.

to be honest I don't think it's all censorship either, i just kinda went off on a tangent about things getting removed in translation and i did put in the post reasons why these translations actually are valid (aside from Toya woao because they did leave that one in the card name so it was a deliberate choice to remove it from the story, thereby also removing the reference in the card name). That Asahi post is old and I have done more research into it since, because my JP isn't good so I've gotta make up for it somehow, and literally every dictionary definition and anything I can find for that word frames it as romantic. For the extra mile I checked Japanese dictionaries for languages other than English. It is romantic. Even if he's just talking about the character and not Tsukasa, it is romantic and removing it was a deliberate choice. "The miles i fell in love with is so cool" might sound a bit rough, but it could have still been translated to keep the original context no problem. You could've just done something like "well of course it was cool. i fell in love with miles for a reason" or "it was so cool! as expected of the miles i love". the thing is with writing for a game like this is sometimes people need to say things that in real life you would probably just say in your head. the POV character for this event is Rui so we can't just take a look at the thoughts of the characters, which is why what they're feeling needs to be conveyed through text even if it sacrifices a bit of the realism. especially in a visual novel styled game like this because the characters are limited to a 2D model with limited movement and expression. if this was an anime you could probably get more leeway with what they say because you can convey the character's feelings through various other means (eg: the animated MVs that don't have any dialogue but could convey a story and emotion much better than looking at the in-game version of the scene with no dialogue). Don't worry I don't think you came off as rude and I know I shouldn't really talk about a language I don't speak but I hope the research can at least kind of make up for it.

Minoharu isn't canon I know but it's very obvious that what Minori feels for Haruka goes into romantic territory, whether you like the ship or not. And sure, if you put "I love you" most people would probably read it as romantic by default, but that hasn't stopped the translators before. "You're the best" honestly is a valid localisation that still conveys pretty much the same meaning I just find it odd that "I love you" is removed here, a flashback scene from a point in time where minori and haruka didn't know each other, but is translated with accuracy in multiple interactions between An and Kohane in present day. If Minori and Haruka don't know each other it's slightly less likely that people will interpret it as romantic and slightly more likely that people will interpret it as a simple idolisation but with An an Kohane actually knowing each other and having a close and affectionate relationship the go-to is probably gonna be romantic (which isn't necessarily wrong considering the events of BFST and Wishing for Your Happiness, but still sticks out that they left this in here but change it for another couple with heavy romantic subtext).

I'm not blaming this on the translators, they're just doing their job and obviously with localisation you've gotta lose stuff, it's just that some of these are very specific things to cut (eg: any indication of Asahi feeling romantically towards Tsukasa's character and ambiguously Tsukasa himself is completely absent in the official translation). I'm blaming this on the higher ups at sega who get the final say on what is and isn't included in the translation. You can't translate everything directly because languages don't all work exactly the same, especially english and japanese. obviously due to these differences, you're not going to be able to translate everything directly and localisation is necessary (regardless of language) to make it accessible and easy to read for an audience outside the country of origin. but there are gonna be questions raised when a scene is localised to keep the same nuance as the original text aside from one line that removes notable queer subtext. because if they can keep the rest of toya's speech in line with the original but they specifically remove the part about him wanting to stay side-by-side with akito forever and change it to wanting to perform side-by-side, despite the fact they left in the "now on and always" part in his card name, that was removed from the story intentionally. they kept what asahi says to tsukasa with the same meaning as well, but any indication of asahi feeling romantically towards the other is completely gone. the issue is that sega seems to be intentionally removing queer subtext from the game.

don't worry anon this wasn't harsh, and localisation is something that actually interests me and i've read into quite a bit, so i enjoy the opportunity to talk about it. and thank you as well!

#asks #mod talks

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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unpopular opinion: the fanon reframing of Ashton as a protector and level headed confidante instead of a self loathing, insecure mess of a person is not only weird and frustrating but a symptom of the fandom’s deep discomfort with some of the themes Taliesin’s exploring

(As of 8:14 AM EDT today, April 15th: not answering new questions for this meme that come in but answering the ones already in my inbox)

HARD AGREE and frankly it's really weird because like, what, not two months ago the Ashton conversation was about how dare they say they know a loneliness Laudna doesn't and now they're "team level-headed" and it's like where was the turnaround here, because like, we only saw them for two more episodes after that before the party split and neither had them in significant focus. Like, Taliesin straight-up said that Ashton takes his own justified abandonment issues but then gets mad at Laudna for seemingly not having them (and for what it's worth I also think Laudna hasn't dealt with her issues, ie, Ashton is correct and Laudna's saying things are fine when they're not, but also, dick move on Ashton's behalf). He provokes fights with people because then the pain at least means something instead of being just chronic pain that sucks and happens regardless. They see themself as unfixable and distance themself from people so they can't get hurt again.

All of this is pretty fucking ugly and for reasons apparent to anyone looking through my blog at characters I like, "I put up a facade to hide how much I fucking hate myself and I am deeply principled in a way that isn't necessarily aligned with society around me and also murder is okay" is a character type I strongly gravitate towards in fiction, but tends to be polarizing. For some weird reason with Ashton, instead of them having the usual polarization of "people who get it and love them" and "people who hate them for being kind of a bastard" it's more "people who are deliberately trying to paper over how messed up this is."

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #unpopular opinions ask meme

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

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WAIT THAT ANON WAS ONTO SOMETHING. I NEED MORE BRAT TAMER AARON 😩😩😩. Also your work is gold. finding you after sm time scouring for warner fics felt like i won the lotto. love you!!

-🪷 (i’ll use this as my anon emoji)

HI ANON! omg my first anon emoji LOVE IT !!! and always makes me so happy when someone says they love my blog TYSM!!! happy to provide more brat tamer aaron so here are some quick & brief hcs that are canon bc in my aaron warner universe while i finish pt 3 of the other piece :D (very short so won't label it as a full hc thing)

aaron warner is naturally a brat tamer, it is basically in his genes. he was raised by a supreme commander, how could he not ?

big part of his casual dominance thing.

helping you dress, even choosing your outfits most days, if you’re wearing a dress he’ll make sure it’s not too short, helping tie shoes & strap on heels, making sure you wear a coat if its cold, holding your hand on walks, stopping you when he feels you’d had enough drinks at parties, etc.

you’re normally not bratty, aaron dotes on you so much, it’s hard to want to push his buttons. –but there’s always a time where your brattiness makes a show, intentional or not.

brat tamer aaron is pretty patient, not too strict if you act out a little. it takes quite a bit for him to get fed up with the way your acting.

gives him a little sass? he’ll just smile or even give a quip back. if you complain about something, he’ll accommodate to satisfy you. rolling your eyes would get you a stern look, but he wouldn’t verbally call you out on it.

you get major princess treatment so aaron can easily let a little of your brattiness slide.

he finds it entertaining when you try and rile him up, on the contrary it’s very annoying to you and more you act bolder in your brattiness.

what really makes aaron go full brat tamer mode on you is when you deliberately disobey him.

you ignore the dress he laid out for you and change into one that definitely will have your ass showing if you bend over too much? you’ll get at max five steps into the room before aaron lifts and carries you on his shoulder out back to his room. (he’ll you his coat over you to ensure you dont flash anyone on the way out).

or when you’re really upset at him for an issue he caused, you’ll ignore him. if you see him coming your way - you’ll walk the opposite, you act deaf anytime he calls your names, and show him no form of attention.

this will definitely bother aaron the most, especially since he’s the clingy type. he’s devises a sneak attack plan, and catches you off guard when you’re alone. before you can even digest the situation — he has you against the wall.

he'll apologize for whatever he did, beg for forgiveness, then scold you for ignoring him. you'll get away with little punishment if you end your behavior there, but if you're bent on pretending he doesn't exist - aaron is going to fuck the silence of you. and to be the extra person he is, he's going to handcuff you two together for a day, so you're essentially forced to be with him. leash kid type treatment.

there's even times when you're not even trying to act bratty, and you accidentally set him off.

one particular day you were just looking extra pretty, according to aaron. you were talking to your friends and just doing what you usually did. however, aaron saw it acting out behavior and you obviously were trying to get his attention. he actually just wanted a reason to call you a brat and punish you.

aaron’s punishments vary. he always starts with a warning for you to starts behaving good again. usually it’s enough for you to act like a good girl again. if it exceeds that, then get ready to be dragged back to his room, somewhere private if you’re not close to it. then, you start getting a realization of what you just did.

if it was a rather simple punishment like giving him attitude the entirety of the day, you’ll get bent over his lap and spanked, aaron will keep making you apologize for acting like a brat the entire time.

if it’s something like the dress stunt; you’re going to get ailed on the nearest surface available. you’ll be in teary-eyed and empty-headed by the time he’s done with you.

either way, you won’t be able to sit properly the next day. or even rest of the week.

#𝐳𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 #aaron warner x reader

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