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garfunklefield · 3 months

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Pools and Honey

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/Kento Nanami Warnings: reader has a temperature kink, pool .. fondling? outdoor sex but it's in his backyard, creampie, grinding, fondling, intense sexual tension, Nanami is the consent king, praise, dilf!Nanami, there is like a twenty year age gap, Nanami is divorced and also wears glasses again :P, Yuji and Sukuna are his kids, fluff, there is plot to this porn Word count: 4857 DESC: You become the live-in maid and babysitter for the hot dilf Kento Nanami.

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You got a match. It had been several days since you had put your resume up on a babysitting website, in hopes of someone swiping yes on you. All you needed was somebody to say “Yes of course watch my child, you stranger!” But it wasn’t looking good. You wanted to give up and continue going to your dead-end job, giving up your dream of raising children in hopes of being a good mother someday.

But then you got a match. It was a man older than you, about his forties, with two young boys. He was polite in his message, detailing how pay would work even the boys’ temperament. They were twins, ages 7. Ryomen and Yuji. Yuji was a blessing to the world with a habit of forgetting stranger danger, whereas Ryomen seemed to be … spunky as his dad put it. You knew it was another word for a problem child. They looked adorable in their photos, although you found yourself staring more at their father than anything else.

Kento Nanami… From the way he dressed in that selfie with him and his boys, the background of a few other photos, and the pay he was offering you could tell he was rich. A rich dilf who was offering a higher salary than what you were getting at your current job. It made your mouth water thinking about how all your bills would be paid.

Then you got to read his message more. It was polite and well-structured, with good grammar. Formal, a bit too formal if you thought about it but you didn’t mind. He was looking for a live-in maid and babysitter, who could watch his children 24/7 without hesitation.

He wanted you to move in? Well not entirely. He wanted to ease into the live-in maid situation and get the boys accustomed to you. If the first meet-up didn’t work you knew there wouldn’t be any hope for the future. It wasn’t looking too grim, and you were elated at the thought of living in a big house for free with a rich older man. You shot him back a simple reply and soon the date was set to meet the Nanami’s.

It was hard to pick out what to wear and you decided on something more conservative than you’d typically go for. It was about the boys today and you wanted to make sure you didn’t scare off their father either by dressing too scandalously. You wore a big black turtleneck and some loose-fitting jeans, all to cover your figure.

Walking up the steps of his house it was hard to stare. Ivory walls that shot up off the ground and about three stories from what you could gauge. Who really needed all of that house? No one! Nonetheless, you quickly moved through the driveway and the maze of plants, approaching the front door. It was black with a large gold doorknob. Inside you heard nothing with no sign of life from the outside of the house either. But once you touched the ring doorbell, because of course what rich person doesn’t have that, you saw lights flick on. Not just lights but you heard a loud crash, followed by clambering to get to the door.

Two boys, you knew it. There was some commotion between the two of them before you heard a man’s deep and soothing voice break their tension, followed by a “Yes Dad” from the boys. God, he looked and sounded hot? You were completely and utterly done for. Dating your boss was a complete no in this field, something you knew from experience. But you couldn't help it! You had a type. Dilfs.

The door opened and you were met with a man who you soon realized was much taller than you anticipated. He was blonde, hollow cheekbones filled his face, and he stared at you with dead tired eyes. Kento, as you remembered, had on the same pair of thick aviator glasses that were perched upon his thin nose. He wore a simple outfit of a button-up shirt and some slacks, and you noticed a fancy watch on the wrist of the hand he moved to shake yours with.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he spoke politely, not bothering to gaze at you as intensely as you were staring at him. You reminded yourself to blink and you quickly returned his handshake, trying not to grip him too firmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two, Mr. Nanami. I’m very excited to meet Yuji and Ryomen,” you smiled, tilting your head a bit. You mainly did that to see a bit of the inside better, and to gauge where the boys were.

You heard another loud crash and Kento retracted his hand, turning his head to find where the noise was coming from, “Speak of the devil. Boys,” he warned, his voice edging a faint shout. You heard some scrambling and you saw two of the cutest boys in the world scurry up to their father.

You could instantly tell who was who, even though they were practically identical. Yuji had wide eyes full of wonder, with a green dinosaur shirt on and pink spiky hair pushed downwards against his forehead. His cheeks were plump and fat, bouncing upwards into a smile when he saw you. Then there was Ryomen. He looked agitated, with his hair spiked upwards and a plain black shirt adorned on his small body. He looked at you for a moment and his eyes widened before he averted his gaze quickly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you turned your attention to the both of them, bending down and resting your hands on your knees to meet their eye level. You spoke your name and then smiled, first at the boy who wasn’t looking at you, “You’re Ryomen, right? I like your hair. My brother likes to make his all messy like that too.”

The little boy looked back at you with a sheepish expression, before nodding, “S’nothing,” was all he said, looking over to his brother. It was as if he expected Yuji to be the center of attention once you were done talking to him and you felt your heart squeeze. You knew why. Problem children never got looked at the same as well-behaved children, especially if the two were side by side. From the way Ryomen looked at you, he knew you’d become busy with Yuji. He was always cast aside, compared to his brother, probably even ridiculed for it. All he needed was attention. And it didn’t seem Yuji cared if you paid attention to him either way, as he was now busy trying to get his father to pick him up.

“Yuji, why don’t you say hi to your babysitter?” Kento asked blankly, his voice remaining flat as he spoke.

Yuji glanced at you and waved, smiling widely, “Hi!” Before turning back to his dad and making grabby hands.

You smiled and waved back, turning your head to Ryomen again, “Is your favorite color black? Mine’s dark red, it’s kinda similar if you think about it,” you spoke calmly and delicately, in a way you knew he hadn’t experienced very often.

He nodded, cracking a toothy smile, “Mhm. And green. I like green … cause it’s like leaves,” Ryomen motioned to the plants behind you.

Kento cleared his throat and you gazed back at him, “Why don’t you come inside? Make yourself comfortable.” You nodded and followed suit, coming inside.

Yuji and Ryomen played on the floor, wrestling around or using their action figures. You sat on the couch a few feet away from their gorgeous father, who spoke occasionally to you. You thought it would go a bit differently, with more questions on your qualifications or your flexibility. But instead, he seemed to be observing how you acted with his children. The boys seemed instantly comfortable, Yuji it wasn’t surprising, but for Ryomen, you felt slightly surprised. From the way he was described, you were expecting a boy who was too bratty to even look at you respectfully. Instead, he was polite and soft-spoken. Every time he accidentally stepped on your foot or chucked a toy in your direction he’d apologize quickly and go back to doing his activity, nothing malicious about him.

“They’re cute,” you murmured, getting lost in just watching them be kids. God your ovaries just hurt at the sight of them, it made you wonder why it was taking you so long to find someone to settle down with. Well maybe…

You shook your head. No. You couldn’t date your boss, especially with his kids in the mix. Not to mention, he probably had a wife. This big of a house, and with his looks? There was no way he was single. He had to be married and you let out a sigh as you accepted this dilf was out of reach.

“They’re very comfortable with you. With the last babysitter, they were too shy,” Kento nodded as he spoke, using his left hand to motion to his kids. You glanced and your heart sped up. He didn’t have a ring. His hand was completely bare aside from the watch. Was he actually single? There was no way in hell he was single.

“I’m glad. Ryomen’s such a sweetheart and so is Yuji, of course,” a small smile bit on your lips as you watched the two boys wrestle around on the floor without a care in the world. God they were cute and god did your uterus hurt.

“People don’t typically say that about Ryomen,” he sighed, pressing his index finger against the middle of his glasses to push them up, “I’m glad to hear something different for once.”

It was sad but you knew it was true. Before you could reply, Kento spoke again, “I think I want to hire you right away as a full-time maid, if you’re willing to accept. I have a good feeling about this.”

You quickly learned the status of your boss's romance life after overhearing a few too many phone calls. He was divorced with a wife who had a thing for younger men. They’d often talk on the phone in a way that made your skin crawl. So tense and so passive-aggressive. You picked up the fact that she must’ve cheated or done something to push him over the edge, but none of it was confirmed.

The boys would spend every weekend with their mother and whatever boyfriend she had then. He didn’t mind being alone with you, he seemed to enjoy it. Kento would speak casually about a book he was reading, or just about something random that had happened to him that day. As if he was a friend or polite coworker, rather than your actual boss. It didn’t help either that your attraction for him grew. Every time his hand would accidentally brush against yours or his eyes would graze against your skin, you felt yourself become as light as a feather.

You wanted to feel his cold hands rake up and down your body, grabbing you in ways you knew he never would. You wanted to feel him become hard underneath your touch and revel in the fact you could make such a man bend to your will. But you had no hopes of him ever liking you like that. His glances were long, sure, but very PG. You never caught him once staring at your ass or a bit of cleavage through your shirt. His eyes were always on your face, with a polite faint smile ghosting his lips.

Today was Saturday. The two young boys were gone and it was you and Kento alone, sitting on his long white couch. He was a few feet across from you, legs casually crossed as he read some book you weren’t too familiar with. It was growing increasingly hot in the room and you couldn’t tell if it was your hormones or the fact the AC hadn’t been lowered in a few hours. It was almost summer so the fact it was getting warmer wasn’t too surprising. It was maybe mid-afternoon, with the sun shining through his back screen door.

You had eyed it for a long time before even asking him about the pool in the back. He didn’t typically use it as you soon learned, instead opting to sit and read. Always read. But it felt different. You tugged at the collar of your shirt and made some comment about how it was becoming too hot to handle.

Kento’s eyes glanced from one of the pages to your face, before setting down the book on his lap, “You’re hot?” He raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

You nodded, “I might grab some ice to eat if that’s okay,” you motioned to the kitchen in the other room, separated by a half wall.

“You can go swimming,” he suggested, nodding his head over to the glass door, “It’ll cool you down.” A different look filled your boss’s eye as he then added, “I’ll join you.”

With that, Kento stood up and headed upstairs to his room. The way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had always been. You couldn’t tell if it was just a playful glance or perhaps a lustful gleam filling his eyes. You couldn’t tell if he wanted this evening to turn into something more than just a casual swim in his pool.

You weren’t sure which bathing suit to wear. You had a suit you’d wear in front of your family, it was a red one-piece that practically covered everything. But if it was going where you thought it was going you didn’t want to cover up. Instead, you opted for a pink two-piece with ribbons and bows on the sides. It was cute and innocent, the total opposite of your mind at that moment. God you could just picture his big hands on your ass, grinding you against the bulge in his pants while you two stayed in the water. It turned you on to think of how warm he’d be in contrast to the icy cool water against your skin. And you hoped he’d stare at you with some ounce of perversion in his gaze. Some ounce of pure unbridled lust.

Once you finished changing and put your hair up into something you considered fashionable, you made your way onto the back patio. It didn’t take you very long to find Kento sitting poolside, with his legs in the water. God just the sight of his back was enough to make the tender spot between your legs melt. He was toned and muscular, practically sculpted by god. You wanted so desperately to run your hands down his back and up his front, just tracing each muscle to feel him squirm.

“Kento,” you began, closing the screen door behind you. He turned his head and let his dull eyes rake up your body ever so slowly. There was a new kind of tension that wasn’t there the day you first met. It was as if he was looking at you from a whole new lens. It was as if he finally thought he had a chance.

“I like it. Is it new?” He inquired, motioning with his right hand for you to sit beside him. You followed quietly, making sure to keep a few inches of space in between you two as you perched beside the pool and felt the cold water run up your legs.

You bit your lip at the sensation of prickling cold and closed your eyes. Who wasn’t into a bit of temperature play, right? You had completely forgotten to answer Nanami, getting lost in the sensation of cold water against your skin. The mixture of that and the fact you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of your boss made you wetter beyond belief.

He cleared his throat and you looked at him through rows of thick eyelashes, “Hm?” Your head lazily tilted to the side, with a hazy blush forming at the temples of your cheeks. He was godly. His chest was made from the finest of marble and cut just to suit your perverted gaze. It made him seem unnaturally beautiful if that was even possible.

“I like your bathing suit,” Kento repeated, with his voice turning to a silky low tone. You could practically hear him groaning and moaning in your ear.

You nodded and turned away, staring down into the blue water. It was so clear you could see the bottom below you, which was painted a stark white. You could also see Kento’s legs, which were (just like his back) completely toned and rippled with muscles.

“I like yours,” you replied before dipping down into the water. You bit back a moan at the incredibly cold feeling shooting up your back and in between your legs, gripping onto the edge to steady yourself. Now if it just got incredibly hot… god that would be perfect. You looked up at him with a sheepish grin, noting the fact his eyes were completely glued on you. Not your face though.

Kento hadn’t had a chance to fully take in your form, seeing as you only wore baggy clothes in front of him. And now he had a perfect view of your breasts and it turned you on from how he stared. You could tell he wanted to fondle them and make them his. Bite along the skin and suck your nipples until they are sensitive to the touch. You bit your bottom lip again, feeling a throb pulsate through your swollen clit. Just any sort of friction would’ve been nice at that moment.

He hopped down into the water a few moments later, keeping his distance. It was as if he stood too close he’d lose all control and do something he’d regret in the morning. But you wanted so badly for him to lose control and fuck you senseless in the water. You wanted him to take your wet pussy and brand it with his cock until he was milked dry.

“Thank you,” Kento whispered, eyes staring up into the sky which was beginning to turn an orange color in the distance, “The boys really like you. And I really like you… is that odd to you?” He looked back at you with an intense gaze.

You shook your head, “I like you. It’s not weird. I…” You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t confess that you had been having those thoughts to him. You couldn’t tell your boss you wanted him to fuck you. You couldn’t.

He took one slow step towards you, big hands coming and resting against the small of your back, “Tell me. Does this make you uncomfortable?” His voice was a low purr, with his eyes boring holes into yours.

You felt your cheeks heat up and prickle a warm shade of pink, “...No.”

“Can I continue?” The blonde man tilted his head to the side, begging to inch closer to your perfect body. His hands moved from your back to grip onto your side, molding against your love handles and massaging them with a circular motion.

You couldn’t help yourself and you nodded quickly, bringing your hands to rest on his chest, “Please,” was all you had to whisper, because then his hands moved from your love handles to cradle your ass. One hand rubbed large circles while the other squeezed and prodded at it, just to get a rise out of you. You inhaled sharply and groaned into the sensation, pressing yourself against his stiff body, feeling the tent in his swimsuit press against your front.

“You tease me… walking around with those outfits, to make me wonder what body you have underneath,” Kento cooed, resting his chin against your head, “I could fuck you into apologizing, hm? I could make you sorry for teasing me like that if I was mean…”

A whimper came tumbling out of your mouth just at his words. God his voice was heavenly. You wanted him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you from behind, forcing your back into an arch and pulling you by your hair.

“You like that, I’m not surprised,” you could practically hear the smile biting at his lips as he pulled you back by your hips. He stared down at your face before pulling one of his hands from your lower half to touch your cheek, “May I kiss you?”

Your legs melted then and there. What a gentleman. What a fucking gentleman. Every single time he asked, even when he could gauge the answer from the look on your dumbstruck face, he asked. It made you hornier to just think he cared about how you felt in that moment. He cared about you in a way that wasn’t just sexual. I mean he entrusted you with his kids 24/7 of course he cared!

“Kiss me,” you whispered, resting your hand against his own on your face. A nurturing smile formed on his soft mouth and you felt it press against your own. It was chaste and sweet, just to test the waters. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

He pressed shallow kisses against your lips just to build up the sensation before englonging them ever so slightly. They got longer and longer until his mouth wasn’t moving from yours, but instead molding to become one. He sucked against your bottom lip and kissed you with passion. It was delicate and gentle, but you could tell he wanted to go crazy. You could tell he was holding back and it drove you crazy!

Kento tilted his head and slowly deepened the kiss, bringing your bodies closer together. His hands were underneath your thighs, pulling you up until your feet were no longer touching the bottom of the pool. Instead of bringing you to sit on the edge of the pool as you thought he was going to do, he put his leg in between yours and pressed you against his knee. Friction.

You moaned into the kiss and began to rock your hips back and forth, anything to get off to elevate the throbbing in your pussy. The man’s hands didn’t stay PG for long, one staying on your ass to prop you up as the other moved to untie your swimsuit top from behind. You needed to cum, it was a primal urge in your gut. You had to cum, you couldn’t stand not being able to anymore. And you needed to cum with Kento, on Kento, anywhere.

“May I?” Kento asked, looking down at you as he messed with the string of your bikini top. You nodded and moaned out an exacerbated please and he followed suit.

Your swimsuit top was off within a few seconds and he didn’t take long to attack one of your nipples, sticking your breast inside his mouth. He knew exactly what to do, using his tongue to roll over the nub and his teeth to grade against the sensitive area. You didn’t even realize you liked having your nipples sucked until he just … did it.

“F-fuck… me m-m..fuck me pl..please,” you breathed out, aching for some form of release. You had never needed it this bad in your entire life. It was starting to hurt from how badly you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted his girthy cock to stretch your holes and pump you with load after a load of his warm cum.

Kento didn’t have to be told twice. You found yourself now perched on the side of the pool, dazed and horny as he pulled himself out to sit beside you. The concrete ground was hard against your ass but you weren’t on there for long. He grabbed you delicately and picked you up, cradling you close to his chest. It was almost familiar, leaning your head against his pecs as he walked over to one of the many couches on the patio.

“Out here…?” You murmured as he set you on your stomach, prepping a pillow underneath you beforehand.

You felt a large and hard hand rub a circle against your ass cheek, “I have a fence,” was all he said as he pulled down your swimsuit bottoms and tossed them to the side. You heard some shuffling then a warm and bulbous head pressed against your slit, “May I?”

“P-please,” you whined, bracing yourself for the stretch. Nanami put both hands on your hips and slowly inserted himself. He was gentle and careful, stopping every few seconds to check in to make sure you weren’t hurting. The way he filled you out made you almost cum then and there.

“I’ll start slow so you can adjust to th-” He had begun but you promptly cut him off with another whine.

“No… just go,” you turned your head to look at him with a pout forming on your lips, “I’m beyond ready, Kento.”

He blinked a few times, and an air of surprise hinted on his face. He hadn’t expected you to be so eager to be railed by his cock, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Your stares were obvious from the beginning. You bit your lip and stared back at him, just waiting for him to begin.

Kento sighed and nodded, “Very well,” was all he said. He reached down, one hand on your hip and the other grabbing one of yours, “I’ll start now.”

He patted your hip and then began. You didn’t have time to brace yourself as he started rough. His hips snapped into your cunt and you felt his tip kiss your G-spot within seconds. You tensed and curled your back inwards, feeling the sensation grow with every thrust. Nanami was just a god at everything he did, easily fucking you as if it was second nature. His cock thrust in and out of you in perfect rhythm, plapping against your ass loudly. But you both didn’t seem to care.

“F-fuck!” You gasped, burying your head against the couch cushion, “A-ah.. I- mm ha- f-f-..fuck.” Not exactly a sentence but it was music to his ears. You couldn’t help it. You’d never been one to be loud typically when you were fucked, but this was different. There wasn’t any build-up and god was it just better. The fact he was going and going and going, without a care for how sensitive you were turned you on beyond belief.

Nanami’s hand brushed against your hip and pressed down at the small of your back, pushing your back from curling inwards to arching back again, “There we go… good girl. I want you to stay arched for me, okay pretty girl?” You whimpered and nodded a few times, looking back to see him intensely staring at your form. He rubbed small circles into your back and held you there, keeping you arched for his big cock.

He continued to fuck you, ramming his girthy length deep in your cunt, practically asking you to squirt down his shaft. And god you were so close to cumming. You hadn’t even noticed but Kento was getting close. You began to tell from how his thrusts got sloppier, or how his hand pressed deeper into your back, forcing your arch lower and lower.

“Fuck…” He breathed out, leaning forward to rest his head against your mid back. You felt his ball smack against your cunt, with his body pressing down against yours as you two became one. He could tell you were close, muttering, “You’re going to cum… huh?”

You let out a loud moan as a response, with your hips jerking up. It felt so good to the point where you couldn’t control your bodily movements anymore. Kento sat back up, groaning and then stiffening. You didn’t realize what was happening until you felt a warm load shoot deep into your pussy, causing you to cum as well. Load after load shot into your walls and coated you in white, milking him completely dry. His hand pressed into your back again, keeping you arched as he rode out his high.

Kento slowly came to a stop, letting go of your hand to hold your hips delicately. He used his fingers to brush along the skin and rub small circles on the areas he grabbed or pressed too hard, looking you over with an intense gaze.

“I…” You slowly began, turning your head to glance sheepishly at your boss. He looked down at you, breathing quickly. He blinked a few times, with his expression softening when he began to read the tone of your face. “I should quit, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, eyes fluttering close.

The blonde let out a sigh followed by a breathless laugh, “I thought that was going differently,” he mused, before clearing his throat and adding, “I don’t mind if you quit as long as you stay in my house … with me.”

You opened your eyes, “Of course, Kento. Of course.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 29 days

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The tax sharks are back and they’re coming for your home

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TODAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

One of my weirder and more rewarding hobbies is collecting definitions of "conservativism," and one of the jewels of that collection comes from Corey Robin's must-read book The Reactionary Mind:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Reactionary_Mind

Robin's definition of conservativism has enormous explanatory power and I'm always finding fresh ways in which it clarifies my understand of events in the world: a conservative is someone who believes that a minority of people were born to rule, and that everyone else was born to follow their rules, and that the world is in harmony when the born rulers are in charge.

This definition unifies the otherwise very odd grab-bag of ideologies that we identify with conservativism: a Christian Dominionist believes in the rule of Christians over others; a "men's rights advocate" thinks men should rule over women; a US imperialist thinks America should rule over the world; a white nationalist thinks white people should rule over racialized people; a libertarian believes in bosses dominating workers and a Hindu nationalist believes in Hindu domination over Muslims.

These people all disagree about who should be in charge, but they all agree that some people are ordained to rule, and that any "artificial" attempt to overturn the "natural" order throws society into chaos. This is the entire basis of the panic over DEI, and the brainless reflex to blame the Francis Scott Key bridge disaster on the possibility that someone had been unjustly promoted to ship's captain due to their membership in a disfavored racial group or gender.

This definition is also useful because it cleanly cleaves progressives from conservatives. If conservatives think there's a natural order in which the few dominate the many, progressivism is a belief in pluralism and inclusion, the idea that disparate perspectives and experiences all have something to contribute to society. Progressives see a world in which only a small number of people rise to public life, rarified professions, and cultural prominence and assume that this is terrible waste of the talents and contributions of people whose accidents of birth keep them from participating in the same way.

This is why progressives are committed to class mobility, broad access to education, and active programs to bring traditionally underrepresented groups into arenas that once excluded them. The "some are born to rule, and most to be ruled over" conservative credo rejects this as not just wrong, but dangerous, the kind of thing that leads to bridges being demolished by cargo ships.

The progressive reforms from the New Deal until the Reagan revolution were a series of efforts to broaden participation in every part of society by successively broader groups of people. A movement that started with inclusive housing and education for white men and votes for white women grew to encompass universal suffrage, racial struggles for equality, workplace protections for a widening group of people, rights for people with disabilities, truth and reconciliation with indigenous people and so on.

The conservative project of the past 40 years has been to reverse this: to return the great majority of us to the status of desperate, forelock-tugging plebs who know our places. Hence the return of child labor, the tradwife movement, and of course the attacks on labor unions and voting rights:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

Arguably the most potent symbol of this struggle is the fight over homes. The New Deal offered (some) working people a twofold path to prosperity: subsidized home-ownership and strong labor protections. This insulated (mostly white) workers from the two most potent threats to working peoples' lives and wellbeing: the cruel boss and the greedy landlord.

But the neoliberal era dispensed with labor rights, leaving the descendants of those lucky workers with just one tool for securing their American dream: home-ownership. As wages stagnated, your home – so essential to your ability to simply live – became your most important asset first, and a home second. So long as property values rose – and property taxes didn't – your home could be the backstop for debt-fueled consumption that filled the gap left by stagnating wages. Liquidating your family home might someday provide for your retirement, your kids' college loans and your emergency medical bills.

For conservatives who want to restore Gilded Age class rule, this was a very canny move. It pitted lucky workers with homes against their unlucky brethren – the more housing supply there was, the less your house was worth. The more protections tenants had, the less your house was worth. The more equitably municipal services (like schools) were distributed, the less your house was worth:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

And now that the long game is over, they're coming for your house. It started with the foreclosure epidemic after the 2008 financial crisis, first under GW Bush, but then in earnest under Obama, who accepted the advice of his Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner, who insisted that homeowners should be liquidated to "foam the runways" for the crashing banks:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

Then there are scams like "We Buy Ugly Houses," a nationwide mass-fraud outfit that steals houses out from under elderly, vulnerable and desperate people:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

The more we lose our houses, the more single-family homes Wall Street gets to snap up and convert into slum properties, aslosh with a toxic stew of black mold, junk fees and eviction threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Now there's a new way for finance barons the steal our houses out from under us – or rather, a very old way that had lain dormant since the last time child labor was legal – "tax lien investing."

Across the country, counties and cities have programs that allow investment funds to buy up overdue tax-bills from homeowners in financial hardship. These "investors" are entitled to be paid the missing property taxes, and if the homeowner can't afford to make that payment, the "investor" gets to kick them out of their homes and take possession of them, for a tiny fraction of their value.

As Andrew Kahrl writes for The American Prospect, tax lien investing was common in the 19th century, until the fundamental ugliness of the business made it unattractive even to the robber barons of the day:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-26-investing-in-distress-tax-liens/

The "tax sharks" of Chicago and New York were deemed "too merciless" by their peers. One exec who got out of the business compared it to "picking pennies off a dead man’s eyes." The very idea of outsourcing municipal tax collection to merciless debt-hounds fell aroused public ire.

Today – as the conservative project to restore the "natural" order of the ruled and the ruled-over builds momentum – tax lien investing is attracting some of America's most rapacious investors – and they're making a killing. In Chicago, Alden Capital just spent a measly $1.75m to acquire the tax liens on 600 family homes in Cook County. They now get to charge escalating fees and penalties and usurious interest to those unlucky homeowners. Any homeowner that can't pay loses their home.

The first targets for tax-lien investing are the people who were the last people to benefit from the New Deal and its successors: Black and Latino families, elderly and disabled people and others who got the smallest share of America's experiment in shared prosperity are the first to lose the small slice of the American dream that they were grudgingly given.

This is the very definition of "structural racism." Redlining meant that families of color were shut out of the federal loan guarantees that benefited white workers. Rather than building intergenerational wealth, these families were forced to rent (building some other family's intergenerational wealth), and had a harder time saving for downpayments. That meant that they went into homeownership with "nontraditional" or "nonconforming" mortgages with higher interest rates and penalties, which made them more vulnerable to economic volatility, and thus more likely to fall behind on their taxes. Now that they're delinquent on their property taxes, they're in hock to a private equity fund that's charging them even more to live in their family home, and the second they fail to pay, they'll be evicted, rendered homeless and dispossessed of all the equity they built in their (former) home.

It's very on-brand for Alden Capital to be destroying the lives of Chicagoans. Alden is most notorious for buying up and destroying America's most beloved newspapers. It was Alden who bought up the Chicago Tribune, gutted its workforce, sold off its iconic downtown tower, and moved its few remaining reporters to an outer suburban, windowless brick building "the size of a Chipotle":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/16/sociopathic-monsters/#all-the-news-thats-fit-to-print

Before the ghastly hotel baroness Leona Helmsley went to prison for tax evasion, she famously said, "We don't pay taxes; only the little people pay taxes." Helmsley wasn't wrong – she was just a little ahead of schedule. As Propublica's IRS Files taught us, America's 400 richest people pay less tax than you do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/13/for-the-little-people/#leona-helmsley-2022

When billionaires don't pay their taxes, they get to buy sports franchises. When poor people don't pay their taxes, billionaires get to steal their houses after paying the local government an insultingly small amount of money.

It's all going according to plan. We weren't meant to have houses, or job security, or retirement funds. We weren't meant to go to university, or even high school, and our kids were always supposed to be in harness at a local meat-packer or fast food kitchen, not wasting time with their high school chess club or sports team. They don't need high school: that's for the people who were born to rule. They – we – were meant to be ruled over.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/26/taxes-are-for-the-little-people/#alden-capital

#pluralistic #chicago #illinois #alden capital #the rents too damned high #debt #immiseration #chicago tribune #private equity #vulture capital #cook county #liens #tax evasion #taxes are for the little people #tax lien certificates #tax sharks #race #racial capitalism #predatory lending

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 2 months

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#397

“Are you Terry? Good. The pics you sent are a little… outdated. Still, you are honest when it comes to your size. C’mere….

“You are the right size. Five foot seven?... Five six! Now boy, I told you to address me as Boss. I am not your Sir or your Master.

“I see you followed orders with what you wore. I know it’s a bit cool, but it’s very important that you wear a T-shirt and gym shorts that you don’t care if they are stained or torn. See I can reach in and feel for your nipples. I can tell you are smooth, which is good. And I can reach into your shorts to feel no hair around your pecker. Very good. And your pecker… It’s definitely a micro-penis.

“Now your pussy… Hairless. Pre-lubed? That’s a nice surprise. And let’s see if you cleaned out. Quit squirming. It’s just my finger. I don’t feel anything. Now for the visual. No brown streaks. This would have ended right here if my finger found any mud.

“You get the weekend off?... Good. If I think you warrant more than this evening, then I’ll keep you around.

“Walk with me. But first. Bitch boys like you should dress like bitch boys…. I told you that your shirt could get torn, and with one yank, most of it is torn off. Here, take the piece in my hand and throw it and what remains of your shirt in the garbage.

“It might be cold, but you look more appropriate like that. And don’t worry about the cold, my van is up ahead. And it’s Friday at six, the factory and loading dock workers are long gone.

“OK, we are past where this can be viewed from the street. Hold still…. Well, those shorts came off way easier than your shirt. They tore up much faster. So, I guess when I’m done with you, you’ll have to find some new clothes. If you do good—I mean really good—I’ll dump you by your house.

“Too bad some of my co-workers aren’t still working the loading dock to see a scrawny-assed pussy boy walking next to a real man. They would have known that you were going to get used. So many cat call whistles would have been made. I miss those days when shit like that happened with regularity.

“Many years ago, when I started working here, after the almost all the men have left, men and boys would come out as the dark set in. I remember hitting the pub down the street for a few hours after getting off work along with some of my buds some of which were also waiting for the right time. We all knew what we were up to; no one said anything.

“I would come back here to the dark alleys and really plow some boy’s hole. I loved it when I drew a crowd. Sometimes a train would start, and I would just leave that boy get plowed by some other worker and go back to the pub. Hours later after I left, I would see the same bitch boy still getting railed in the alley, only to join in and get my second or third nut.

“There was about a dozen of us guys—not all at the same time—who would frequent it as our way of blowing of the day’s stress.

“I miss those days. The conservative police chief cracked down hard. There’s no public anything. So, my buds either go without or they spend their hard-earned money on motels for a five-minute fuck with a third-rate whore.

“The apps seem to make things easier, but shittier at the same time. I’m glad you responded to me.

“Here’s my van. I like to call it my Shaggin’ Wagon. Blacked out windows and a curtain between the front and the cargo area, means it was made for fucking, anywhere I go.

“Come to the side door. Look inside. Everything you need for a good time. Mattress, toolchest full of toys, restraints, rimseat… all the goodies. The foam on the walls act as some soundproofing.

“No, don’t get in yet. Bend over first. I need to bust my nut, and I want to stand for it. Reach behind you and feel me. No, no. Don’t look. In fact, I should do this….

“…Hold still. Quit squirming… That hood is not coming off for a long time. I don’t want you to see anything. Now grab a hold of my cock. Hard isn’t it? I was hard ever since I saw that clitty of yours.

“Feel it at your back door? It’s coming in. Open your mouth first. This is a pair of my dirty underwear. You are going to scream, and that should shut you up.

“Ready? On the count of three. One…. FUCK your pussy feels good. Ha! I never make it to three. For a small boy like you, you have one deep puss. It’s gonna go far.

“…And you can take a power slam. Bitch, I am loving your hole. You are going to go far with me this weekend.

“…My cock however is not going to last long. It’s like silk in here and it fucking feels great. Your puss is going to be put to the test this weekend. I’m a multiple cummer, and you are going to be full.

“Do that again. Clamp down. Fuck! I’m already close. Boy, I’m going to flood your guts with a two-week load. Here it cums. Here it cums pussy boy! Uhh, ahh, fuck, ahhhh! Ahhhhhh. Fuck yeah.

“Bitch. You know how to work that hole. I’m going to pull out. Clamp down….

“Jesus! I haven’t cum that fast in a long time. I would love to say it was all your hole. No, it’s that there are two on-lookers, I got two of my closest buds standing beside me.

“Hey! You guys are going to like this hole. I haven’t tried out the boy’s mouth. Why don’t you guys climb in, and we will be off.

“Boy, climb up. These two men are managers on my shift. We go way back to those after-work fuck days. They get first crack at you. Treat them with the utmost respect they deserve even though they are going to treat you like shit. After they are done, I have a number of other guys lined up at another few spots. You are going to perform for all of them as well as you did me.

“Gentlemen, while this is a new boy, the old rules still apply. You can get as wild as you want, just no permanent or long-lasting damage, no shit, no blood. I don’t need a bloody mess back here.

“Get your leg in bitch. I need to close the door. The Shaggin’ Wagon needs to move, and your pussy needs to be turned into one hell of a sloppy gaping cunt. I’ll be up front drivin’ and chillin’ and smokin’ my cigar with the sounds of men using a cum dump bitch boy. Let’s roll!”

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femscottlang · 1 year

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S & M

Part Two

Aaron Hotchner X Fem! Reader

Summary: The new BAU agent has been very reserved. You rejected the offer to go out with the team on a friday, already promising your friends you’d go out with them. Turns out you all ended up in the same club and Hotch sees a completely different side of you

Warnings: 18+, suggestive language, drinking

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This is completely inspired by the song S&M by Rhianna and fleabag, I hope u enjoy the reference

my suggestions are open !

Sitting at your desk, finishing up the last bit of the paperwork that you had to get done today, Emily approached you and leaned against the side of your desk. “Hey, the whole team is going out tonight, you in?” she asked, giving a kind smile. The team hasn’t pushed you to open up yet, giving you time to understand the different dynamics and where you fit in. You enjoy the team's company, but getting drunk around them before you're able to have a non-work related conversation with them that isn’t small talk sounds like your worst nightmare.

Especially being drunk around your very stoic, extremely attractive boss. You gave her an apologetic smile “I promise my girlfriends I’d go out with them tonight, but next time it's a yes” you said

She nodded and pushed herself back onto her feet “Im holding you to that, newbie” she said, giving you a wink before walking over to morgan shaking her head to tell him that you said no. you let out a sigh and stretched your arms above your head, shutting off your computer and packing up your briefcase. You waved goodbye “have fun guys!” you said before making your way to your apartment

You traded your conservative turtleneck, slacks, and courthouse heels for a tight backless mini dress and black stiletto pumps. You took out the low bun and shook your head before looking in the mirror and deciding it looked fine after running a brush through it. You looked in the mirror with a smile on your face.

This was the first time you got to go out and destress since joining the team 6 months ago and it was desperately needed, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what hotch would be like drunk. Relaxed? never. You thought about the rare moments that he smiles and lets his dry humor shine.

Now you kinda wish you went so you could see what he would do. Maybe he’d wear that quarter-zip he wore in Alaska. Maybe a tight polo, or even better, a tight button-up without a tie, sleeves rolled up to show his arms. You bit your lip to hold back a smile and shook the thought out of your head, slapping your cheeks as you heard your friends knock on your door.

After pregaming at your place, you and two of your friends took an uber to a club you had never heard of before, but the girls hyped it up so you gave in and agreed to go. “I'm so glad we got you to go out. We thought we would never see you again” one of them said, dramatically leaning against you in the cramped backseat.

You scoffed and pushed her back up giggling “I work at the FBI, your office is like ten minutes from HQ,” you said “still” she pouted before you put a hand over her face “This is the first time I’ve even been home on a Friday night and haven't been completely exhausted! So stop complaining and let's have fun,” you said

The three of you walked in, immediately heading to the bar and ordering a round of shots after deciding that you needed a little bit more liquid courage before hitting the dance floor. Scrunching your face and letting out a huff, you relaxed and let the heat spread from the apples of your cheeks to the tips of your ears and down the rest of your body.

You closed your eyes, trying not to cringe at the taste as you were grabbed and dragged out to the crowded dance floor as S & M by Rhianna came on over the speakers.

You grinned, swaying along to the music and running your hands over your body, glaring at the guys who dared to try and approach you. You lost interest in one-night stands a while ago, knowing you just get too attached too quickly.

“I might be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it, sex in the air I don't care I love the smell of it” you and your girls sang to each other, grinning. One of them spun you around as she did you made eye contact with the last person you expected to see, Aaron Hotchner.

“sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me” Once you were able to drag your eyes away from his you saw the whole team looking at you with amused smiles. Your eyes went wide like a deer in headlights, your stomach dropping “oh no.” you turned back around immediately, suddenly feeling sober

“Okay don't look at the same time but my entire team is here. Like. everyone.” you said as their heads both snapped to your team, “I said not at the same time!” you hissed, putting your hands on your face “This is my literal worst nightmare. We gotta go to a different club, they cannot see me drunk,” you said, pacing in your small space of the dance floor

“is that the boss that you were talking about? I understand why you have a crush on him” you looked at her with wide-eyed “shush! I told you that in confidence!”

“Whos the one with the long hair and the sweater vest? Can you introduce me?” the other said. That pulled a laugh out of you

“Dr. Spencer Reid. and absolutely not keep your paws off my colleagues, you minx” you joked before looking at them again, seeing them smile at you and whisper to each other.

“Stay here, I'm gonna close our tab,” you said, walking back towards the bar. The worst part was that Hotch was wearing a tighter button-down with no tie, switching his usual white one for black. No one should look that good. It's unfair to the other guys at the club.

Aaron wasn’t keen on the idea of being in a club, claiming he was too old for it, but Jessica had Jack for the weekend and he didn't want to go back to an empty apartment right away. He sipped on his second neat bourbon of the night, knowing that the rest of the team would be drinking more and he’d have to make sure none of them did anything too stupid.

“Oh my god.” He heard Penelope screech “Look! Newbie!” she said, pointing at you on the floor. Hotch followed her finger and watched you move to the music completely relaxed and smiling, a complete 180 of your usual professional rigidness and tightlipped smile. His lips parted as he watched you, not looking away once you met his eye. His ears burned as you sang along to the suggestive lyrics. He coughed and looked away, finishing off his drink and getting up to get another silently.

You stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish making his drinks as you reached in your bra for your card, tapping it against the counter to the beat of the music. You looked back at your friends to make sure nothing happened to them and they looked at you with shit-eating grins, pointing behind you.

You gave them a confused look before you looked to your right, seeing Hotch inches away from you. He waved over the bartender and you prayed that he didn’t see you standing there. “I'll get another bourbon neat and” he looked at you “what would you like?” he gave a small smile.

A rare sight that sent shivers down your spine as you pulled down the short hem of your dress to try to appear a little more modest.

“Oh no worries, Sir, I-I was just going to close my tab.” you explained, reaching over to hand your card to the bartender, he grabbed your wrist and put on back against your chest “you don't have to leave because we’re here. You deserve to relax with your friends.” You looked down at his large hand wrapped around your wrist and trailed your eyes from his hand to his rolled up sleeves displaying his veiny arms and across his chest, the shirt emphasizing his physique with the first few buttons left undone. Your breathing sped up as you finally made eye contact with him again.

Give it to me strong, meet me in my boudoir make my body say-

“Alright, uh I'll just take a whiskey ginger,” you said, finally breaking eye contact, he nodded at the bartender, who just set down hotch’s bourbon. He released your wrist “and a whiskey ginger for the lady” he gave him a curt smile and picked up his drink.

"you look nice with your hair down, you should wear it that way more often.” he said, his eyes looking over your figure in a way that you'd never seen him do before as he brought his drink to his lips. You reached up and touched your hair, looking down at it “Thank you, sir” you said, twirling a strand around her finger in a nervous manner

He scoffed and shook his head “oh fuck you calling me Sir like it doesn't turn you on just to say it.” he chuckled. You let your mouth fall open, the corners of your mouth turning up as you looked at the team and then your friends to see if they are watching what was happening. The only person seemed to be Rossi, who gave you a thumbs up which only added to your confusion.

"Sir, how much have you had tonight?” you asked, nodding a thank you to the bartender as you picked up your drink. You held the straw and took a sip, not breaking eye contact with him.

He looked away, sucking in his bottom lip to stifle a smile “I see the way you look at me. Cmon. we’re all profilers” you studied his face for a second to see if there was even an ounce of anger.

There wasn’t.

“I thought we didn’t profile each other.” you said, smirking at him. He leaned against the counter, his forearms holding him up “We always profile the Newbies a little bit. You’re lucky no one else has caught on. You’re not exactly subtle.” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

You leaned in closer “And? Go ahead. Profile me. Tell me how I look at you.” you taunted.

He looked back at you, his eyelids hooded. “It's not how you look at me. It's what you look at. I see you looking at my arms. Especially when I am not wearing a blazer. I would have assumed you just didn’t to make eye contact because of my position of authority but you have no problem looking Rossi in the eye. Then I thought maybe you just like strong arms, but you rarely look at Morgan’s, whose arms are bigger than mine.” he said, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours.

“Everyone else calls me Hotch but you only call me sir.” you ran your tongue over your teeth and titled your head, feigning innocence “So?” you said, tilting your head.

“Doll, you’re smart enough to piece it together,” he said, not daring to move any closer.

“What are you gonna do about it, sir ?”

#hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner #cocky! hotch is my favorite #aaronhotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch fanfiction

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tocomplainfriend · 6 months

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YOU DIDN'T WRITE ANYTHING SIMILAR TO BOJACK BRO! BH has so much structure and essence, it is insane. Specially after S1, the intelligence in those BH scripts is nowhere to be found in HB. In helluva, There are these tiny good things that get murdered every other episode. Things that sound better as concept-than how you developed it. There are so many great jokes that aren't based on saying "dick dick whore fuck", so many of their animal characters work for actually smart animal jokes. Or the tongue twisters! YOU BARELY LET CHARACTER BE BAD PEOPLE. Every social issue they suddenly have a sad pass and their dad was mean and that JUSTIFIES EVERYTHING? Bojack H literally goes against that so hard is impossible you think this way if you understood Todd's speech, or Bojack's interview or the last two fucking episodes of the series. All the main cast also feels almost empty of bad qualities that aren't uwu justified by the plot and writing. Certain things stop just being explanation of characters and how they came to be. It sounds more like you gave your characters a bunch of shitty we are in hell traits + things that you didn't even recognize as problematic. AND TRIED TO SAVE THEM IN THE WRITING as just flaws- or making something else happen to the character to be like "Oh they have it so difficult! They just didn't get taught how to love right" When they are being abusive toxic fucks instead.

I legit believe all of Herb story had something so strong to say about queer issues, then Helluva. Like he literally comes out to BJ, kisses him later on and immediately dismiss it. -And then he gets arrested by the police for having gay sex -as public indecency. Many conservatives complain about it cause Herb ran the Horsing around show, saying "it is a show for children people like him shouldn't flaunt around their alternative lifestyle and ruining America"

(Read the sings LMAO) All of this in the 80s to 90s

Also, this guy's comments

"So, here I am, being your mother, which I know is giving you all sorts of mixed-up ideas about gender, while your brain is still loose and stupid. Just remember, if you become a queer later in life, this isn't my fault! Don't you sing no songs in your nightclub act called, "My Daddy was My Mommy," while gazing longingly at a tangled string of pearls... Pearls are for ladies, Bojack. Pearls are for ladies."

AND THIS GUYYYYY HELLO? They have multiple episodes, including Todd's sexuality- but not all the episodes nor his personality revolve around that! He even made a dating app for Ace people with his girlfriend!

I already have 3 "Bojack Horseman > Helluva Boss" post in this account!

#vivziepop critique #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique

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hanjsquokka · 7 months

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It's Okay To Not Be Okay - [ Han Jisung ]

🐿 SUMMARY : Your boyfriend had a bad day and you give him exactly what he needs

GENRE : established relationship, fluff, angst

PAIRING : han jisung × gn! reader

CONTENT WARNING : none

WORD COUNT : 1K

When Jisung texted saying he wanted to come over, you replied in no time telling him it was okay and that you would be home soon. You did come home a few hours, exhausted from your long day at work, but it all was worth it seeing Jisung's face in your house. He was seated on your couch, eyebrows furrowed as he watched anime on your TV.

You smiled softly, taking off your shoes and surprising him slightly by sitting down next to him with no heads up. His surprise soon disappears and a smile forms on his face. "How was your day?" You didn't answer right away. You were too busy noticing that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, or the way he hasn't completely smothered you in kisses or wrapped you in a bear hug.

"Jisung, you okay?" You asked quietly, holding onto his hand that he was fidgeting with.

Jisung sighed. He knew there was no way of hiding himself from you. No matter how convincing his attitude could be for everyone else, you just seemed to see right through him. He stopped bouncing his leg, unable to make eye contact with you. "It's been... it's been a rough day." He muttered after a few moments on silence, his thumb starting to graze over your knuckles. There was more than he was letting on, but you decided to not push him.

Over the course of your nearly one year relationship, you found new sides to Jisung that you've never noticed before. His anxiety being one of them. It surprised you at first because he seemed so open with his members. He was very conserved about it in the beginning, refusing any sort of help or acknowledging it when he was with you. Soon you began to deal with it in a way that he was comfortable with — not asking too much and just going at his pace. Slowly he would open up to you piece by piece and you would find a way to bring back the Jisung you loved so dearly from that dark place in his mind.

"You don't have to say anything. We can just... sit here for a while." You told him, giving a comforting smile while opening your arms to him. He moved closer to you, laying his head on your shoulder, a soft sigh escaping his lips. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pressing a kiss on his temple. "My day was okay. My boss made me work an extra hour though."

"Your boss is mean." He mumbled against your neck.

"I know right! He thinks he can do anything and that I have no right to question him." I pouted. "But at least I got to see you today." Jisung hummed in response. You started to play with his silver hair — a hair color you were absolutely obsessed with on him. "You wanna take a warm shower? I'll order anything you'd like in the mean time and we can cuddle on the couch and watch a nice movie... like Sweet and Sour! My friend said it was nice. Sounds good?"

"Yeah. It sounds really nice." Jisung looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept quiet, getting off of you.

While he showered in your bathroom, you ordered his favorite food. Once you were done with that, you went to your room to change into pajamas and pick out a pair of clothes for Jisung that he left at your house. You softly knocked on the bathroom door and only after hearing a faint come in did you open the door. Placing his clothes on the counter, you tried to not gawk at him. Jisung was a very beautiful person to look and it was normally very hard to not look him, but now with him dressed in a towel, it made it very difficult.

"Thank you." He gave you a smile. You returned it and went back to your room to give him some space to change into fresh clothes. You sat at the edge of your bed near a bedside table and did some light skincare when he walked into the room and sat next to you. Jisung looked adorable with his wet silver hair and he smelled like you. It was almost enough to completely melt you. "Your hair's so wet." You said, getting a hairdryer and plugging it into a socket and switching it on. You began drying his hair, combing through it with your hands. Once you were done, it was very fluffy and soft. "It looks perfect. You look perfect."

Jisung blushed, wrapping his hand around you and pulling close so he could hide his face. "Stop teasing me."

You laughed. "Okay, I'm sorry baby. You're just so cute. Let’s eat something, yeah?" Jisung nodded. The two of you went back into the living room. Your takeaway was on the dinner table, freshly delivered. "I didn't know what you wanted to eat, so I just ordered some cheesecake for you. If you want something else, I can make something —"

"This is enough." That was the first time that day he spoke in a firmer tone, firm but affectionate. "You're enough. I don't know what I ever did to deserve you...." Jisung swallowed hard. It was clear he was holding back tears. It felt like a stab straight into your heart. Seeing him hurt so much. He silently plead to come closer to you and the second you nodded, he collapsed into your arms. You rubbed his back soothingly as he let out his sobs, quiet but they rang loudly in your ears. "You're the only one... who never pushes me for anything. You're so patient. and I'm just —"

"Don't say anything." You cupped his face, making eye contact with him. "You're amazing, Han Jisung. It's okay to not be okay. We all have bad days. And I'm here to help you through yours, got that? And if what you need is just someone by your side, then that's what I'll be. I never want to hear you say you're not good enough for me because you are. You’re so amazing. You shine brighter than all the stars. you're the brightest star of all. I just wish... I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Jisung was quiet for a while and you were scared you overstepped. Before you could apologize, he held onto your hands, squeezing them. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I try."

"I love you, so damn much." He kissed you softly.

"I love you too baby."

"Now can we eat cheesecake?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE : soft jisung melts my heart 🥺 he's so amazing, he deserves the whole world. also sweet and sour is my new comfort movie, you should go check it out <3

#han jisung #skz #stray kids #skz imagines #han jisung fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #han jisung scenarios #han imagines #han fic #skz fluff #han jisung x you #han x reader #han x you #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / han jisung )

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anthurak · 7 months

Text

Continuing my analysis and theorizing on Asmodeus, Mammon and the rest of the Deadly Sins of Helluva Boss and their backgrounds, characterization and where the show might be taking them, I’ve been thinking about what their expressions of their respective ‘Sins’ might truly represent for their characters. Both in the way they express it and even the whole reason they express a ‘Sin’ in the first place.

Now assuming that all of the Sins are Fallen Angels just like Lucifer, and their presence in Hell is a result of their expulsion from Heaven, and Hell being the new home they’ve built for themselves;

What if their expression of each of their ‘sins’ is a metaphorical or even outright literal trauma coping mechanism?

Like given what we’ve seen so far of how Vivzie and her team approach and interpret the ideas of Hell and Heaven, I think it’s all too easy to imagine them framing the ‘fall’ of the seven sins to be a truly horrific event that left all of them with massive emotional and mental scars and trauma. Like getting kicked out by the universe’s most controlling, rigid, conservative and violently judgmental family.

So what if the whole reason that Asmodeus, Mammon, Beelzebub and the rest started expressing and embodying their respective ‘sin’ was as a way of processing and coping with their trauma?

And of course, there are healthy ways of dealing with trauma, and unhealthy ways as well. Which I think is the true difference between the Sins.

Basically, Ozzie and Bee found healthy ways of processing and coping with their trauma, while Mammon DIDN’T.

More specifically, we see with both Ozzie and Bee that they are able to manage their ‘sin’ (ie; coping mechanism) so that it doesn’t become harmful to themselves or others: Bee is acutely aware of and concerned when someone is overindulging to the point of self-harm, while Ozzie strongly stresses the importance of consent when it comes to sex.

Mammon meanwhile, clearly has zero management or restraint over his ‘sin’. I think it’s all too plausible that Mammon’s obsession with wealth and attention for his ‘brand’ is deep-down a way for him to distract himself from some deeply repressed pain and trauma. Thereby showing how a coping mechanism can become harmful not just for oneself, but others as well.

And the best part is that even with the little we know of them at this point, I think we can already guess that Belphagor, Satan and Leviathan could display/represent other means of coping with trauma, either healthy or harmful.

We know that Belphagor runs Hell’s pharmaceutical business, so I think we can all agree that could easily be a way to show how medication can either help or harm in dealing with trauma. Satan being the Sin of Wrath could represent how anger can be used as a coping mechanism, while he apparently running a workout app could hint to him using fitness as a coping mechanism. And Leviathan being associated with social media of course has all kinds of potential to the show the good and bad ways THAT can be used to deal with trauma.

Over the course of its run thus far, Helluva Boss has shown itself to be in large part a story about dealing with trauma, with practically all of the primary and secondary characters having arcs heavily influenced or even outright defined by their struggles with past trauma. Blitzo, Moxxie, Loona, Stolas, Fizzerolli, Barbie Wire, even more minor or antagonistic characters like Octavia, Verosika and Striker. ALL of these characters have been shown grappling with past pain and trauma, with almost all showing that they are coping with their trauma in either a healthy or unhealthy manner.

Whether Moxxie recognizing that it is his father who is at fault for all the pain he went through and not himself, Fizzerolli finding a loved one who has helped him cope or Barbie Wire simply spending a long time in therapy to show the positive ways people can deal with their trauma. Or conversely, Loona’s closed-off, angry and generally anti-social defense mechanism, Stolas trying to throw himself into a relationship he doesn’t fully understand, or just… EVERYTHING that Blitzo has going on to show the harmful ways people can deal with trauma.

So I’d say it really only makes sense that with how the show has also taken steps to ‘humanize’ the Sins, that this theme of exploring how people deal with deep-seeded pain and trauma would likewise extend to them as well.

#helluva boss #helluva boss analysis #helluva boss theory #mammon #helluva mammon #asmodeus #helluva asmodeus #beelzebub #helluva beelzebub #analyzing the sins of helluva boss #healthy and unhealthy coping mechanisms

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heathersdesk · 8 months

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How would I describe my religious beliefs?

I'm a revolutionary socialist Latter-day Saint who is reconnecting with historical worship and practice that was anti-racist, feminist, and inclusive, while simultaneously decolonizing later contributions that were either xenophobic trauma responses brought about by polygamy or exports from Protestant evangelical Christianity; in partnership with other Latter-day Saints who are expanding that definition of inclusion to embrace our LGBTQ+ community and history, together with interfaith leaders who are engaged in similar processes with their congregations.

But that doesn't fit in a bio, so I just keep calling myself LDS and Mormon interchangeably as a shorthand for "I may be religious, but no one is the boss of me," which is perfectly understood within my own community because our leadership is on a "Don't say Mormon" kick right now, but it means nothing to interfaith people who hear Mormon and instantly think "radically conservative, sheltered door knocking dorks, possibly a polygamist," which is valid while still being unreliable in its accuracy because it represents many, MANY different schisms and communities that most people don't know about. Not unlike the Hicksite or Mennonite distinctions for Quakers and Anabaptists, respectively, for those who are familiar.

I'm a chaos of theology that I've ferreted from Mormonism, which is already a maximalist stuff room full of trinkets and doodads, as well as those from other faiths because I enjoy experiencing the sacred with anyone who is also seeking it, but in a way that respectfully Leaves No Trace and honors the dignity in absolutely everyone.

So yeah. Original sin can eat my shorts. God is the title of my Daddy AND Mommy. Scripture has no inherent authority. There is no hell and one of my biggest motivations for the afterlife is to be reunited with all of my cats. The heavens are open and God speaks to all, bitches! Brigham Young was a racist and he owes me a fight in a Wendy's parking lot. Let's gooooooo!

#mormon #lds #mormonism #tumblrstake #religion #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #faith #queerstake #feminism #christianity #interfaith

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ganondoodle · 2 months

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Since you said it's ok to send you random ask, i've always found your "monsters" design to be really really gorgeous, and I wanted to know : in any form of media you've interacted with, what's PEAK monster design for you ?

i have been thinking about this ask alot bc ... i dont ... know? theres a problem with what counts as a monster really too, most are either some sort of anthro/furry or the horror gore type of monster that instills you more with disgust than awe

i guess theres some i really like but idk if thats what id call 'peak' (though its rarely JUST the design but their vibe and stuff too);

(its a lot of zelda.. sorry)

Eldra, Farodra and Naydra (engl Dinraal, Farosh(?)) though Eldra is def my fav one of them, i like how they are a little more less typical dragon- with the fur around the neck the floppy ears and kinda goofy face yet manage to be the most ethereal, awe inspiring creature i have ever seen in a game with how they act and are presented as (in BOTW!!! do not mention anythign sonau/zonai with stupid magic pebbles to me about them i will manifest worms into your tea)

Leunen (Lynels) (botw) -i could not find a better picture wtf, fav are white and silver ones) FINE they had some pretty neat new horn designs in totk- idk i just like them alot, rather simple if you think about it, horse lion plus horns- but its so well put together it just kinda scratches my brain in a good way (also how intelligent they clearly are, like the way they fight and act and also even their death animation is so??? huh?? you are just gonna treat them like any other mindless monste- *remmbers they treat ganondorf even even worse all things considered* .. nevermind you're good)

'Beast' Ganondorf (twilight princess) its my favorite beast ganon design (even if it technically is just kinda a man boar .. again) though if ww gan had a non puppet beast form that one would most definitely be my fav lol (i will not get over the fact that some descriptions call this a hideous beast EXCUSE ME???? WHERE???) (honorable mention here, darkbest ganon from botw, pig on fire but it looks cool as fuck)

Nimbusgarde (ww) .. (engl .. darknuts?) do i need to say anything? (i could throw alot of ww design here) not sure if it counts as monster but they are not human so ????

the pathless bosses- (here in order, Cernos, the Godslayer, and Kumo) all of them are rad as hell (except for the final version of the godslayer ... liek im sorry but it looks to boring compared to any other one lol) again not just the design but man do i love them

since i dont know what would count as a monster or no i could just list my fav characters here bfmjbfmjsbmj like radahn (elden ring) is just kinda a zombie, aurelion sol (league of legends) is a space dragon, the forest god in princess mononoke, Narisha (skyward sword- sky whale)- i could go on but this post is long already (honorable mention to Omus in nausicäa, weird bugs but also something divine, though it is much more how they are treated and the vibe etc)

in all honesty though i cant think of one that i would describe as perfect, what i want of a monster design is to be ... cool but also a little weird, big hulking monsters that have something off about them and something that makes them 'other', but also not, as much as i like bloodborne, just bloody gory messes of rotting flesh, AND not just as a monster to kill, i just crave a game or otherwiese piece of media where the cool monsters arent just there for you to kill- the perfect one i guess would be something kinda big scary weird and off but while non verbal clearly not a mindless beast?

and here is the thing; my own characters do not furfill that, my designs are really rather conservative, much to my dismay, anthro of a mix of animals, maybe an extra arm thrown in- Eadrya, one of my favorites, is really just a blueish furry (yes they have fur) and their demon form is a mix of seals and catfish with some extra arms, too many teeth and a mouth that goas wayy to far (if they want) - Shargon is a feather dude with extra arms and his demon form is really just a chinese type dragon crossed with a bird, throw some darts at the color wheel, done

together with my problem of my monster characters losing their 'otherness' vibe within the story rather fast bc the majority of my characters are non human and speak and you see them in all sorts of emotions and parts of life- they lose that divine, unknown vibe and i HATE that that happens, i want them more akin to the forest god in mononoke but thats not possible unless i start from scratch

and i really dont mean to make myself look bad to sound self depre- ... however you spell that; i really am rather dissatisfied with my own designs but mostly just roll with what i got bc i never seem to be able to actually achieve what i want

even my redesigns often really make things LESS interesting (unless maybe the og was just ... human, but they are blue eyed with golden hair and white so that makes them divine you seE-), the skyward sword dragons as i redesigned them made them much more classical dragon, in part intentional bc i was drawing a connection of them becoming the botw dragons at some point, but by all means the canon design is much more weird and unusual than what i did with them, you could apply the same to even demise, his canon design might seem a little uninspired but really what did i do? inject him with some classic satan spice like that makes it in any way less stereotypical evil demon ??? lol

im sorry this post devolved into whatever this is but i really am trying to answer sincerely, i am confused about it myself, what counts as a monster, what doesnt, there must be more that i really loved but why cant i think of them, why do i design characters like this when i really want something much more different, i dont know, i feel like my brain is in a cage, why do i keep making things less interesting in an effort to make it interesting, am i falling into the corporate trap of cool sells who am i what am i doing

(theres a zelda artist with a style so strikingly genuis in shape, color and just .. DESIGN that i want to chew my nails off bc i cannot design like them, their designs and redesigns are so different yet sensical and so full of crisp shapes i have never seen before it drives me nuts and i would want to give them a shoutout but i think they dont like me so aaaaarhekjbfhgdknbgdfklbg)

#ganondoodles answers #hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #this ask was so innocent and nice #what did i do to it #me trying to think of my favorite monster design spiraling into me realizing i am making things often more boring than the og #and in general just dont achieve what i want to even with my own creations #i have infinite possiblities of creativity at my fingertips and yet what to i draw #blue furry :)#i feel like an ant that just experienced cosmic horrors of realization #(to be clear- having infinte possibilites and yet deciding to just draw furries is FINE AND VALID if thats what you want #(do -I- want that though??????????????????????

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celluloidbroomcloset · 4 months

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I've seen it floating around a bit that the numbers Bloys was talking about were demographics, not actual viewing numbers. I...do not think this is accurate.

"Numbers" is a catch-all term that's an easy excuse—and he cannot say "yeah, it was cancelled at the last minute because my boss is a fucking asshole." Every streamer has used "numbers" as an excuse for cancellations, but it's getting harder for them to do so because things are getting more transparent.

Now, there may be an argument in terms of longevity of numbers, because a show that doesn't go on and on is going to dip. Our Flag Means Death is essentially a limited series, and was always intended to be (I doubt anyone thought that especially Taika and Rhys were going to go on making it for ten seasons or whatever). But there are very few fictional shows that are going to be watched forever and ever, and even fewer that would consistently rate at the top of any list. Shows spike and then another show comes along and people watch that. Quite a few streamers and networks already know this—we see limited series like Ted Lasso and Good Omens, which will never keep going beyond a few seasons. That's actually something HBO used to specialize in.

What about demographics? If the argument is that OFMD's only, or major, appeal is to the LGBTQ+ community, I don't think this one holds water either. You don't get to be the most-watched show on Max by appealing solely to one demographic, and there's no evidence that the viewership is only made up of queer people. It is a queer show; it's also a comedy about pirates. It's a queer comedy about pirates. Yes, the first season was practically straight-bait (oh, haha, a pirate comedy! Wait...those pirates are...they are super gay), but the second season proved to retain and even expand viewers. Just anecdotally, I can't tell you how many straight people I've sold on this show in part because it's not queer-bait-y.

Rainbow capitalism is an actual thing and the reason behind it is because queerness does indeed sell. It's profitable. One of the reasons for the intense cultural backlash against queerness is that it's profitable and conservatives see themselves losing even more of their grip. This has been a marked shift from the 90s and 2010s. This is not just because queer people exist and buy things, but because straight allies exist and buy things too. Companies have scrambled to try to package and sell queerness. It's a problem in a lot of ways, but it also indicates that it's a sound investment.

So, no. I think the numbers comment is exactly what it looks like—a dodge to try to explain cancelling a very popular show at the last minute, without giving the real reasons behind it. I doubt Bloys could've say anything else to that question, really, but he's going to bear the public brunt of it.

#ofmd

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leclsrc · 1 year

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Just saw the last Carlos fic and I LIVED for it… but can never get enough of my manz… Carlos x driver!reader (friends to lovers) where it’s hard to be a female f1 driver because everyone is waiting to brand you as overly emotional and dramatic. What if the reader has a bad crash and she claims to everyone including her driver friends that she is completely fine, only to collapse later because of an injury she hid from everyone

silver lining – cs55

genre: drabble, angst?, fluff, yearning

auds here... whatta painful req anon! am trying to get reqs done so i start anew for 2023 but i write painfully slow. anyway i hope you enjoy this. title from silver lining by the nbhd :)

Silverstone is cold and windy when you snag P2 beside Carlos.

Immediately, you’re ushered into the media pen to answer questions, after the usual physical check-up and initial celebrations. Something tugs at your leg, a dull pain that seems to grow, but you clear your throat and put on a smile for the interviewer. With drivers, the questions are an endless cliche: what was your strategy, did it go down well with Max, your teammate, were there prior discussions of how to handle this and that and conserve that and this.

But with you, the cliche reaches a whole new level. Apart from the usual, it’s: how do you keep your hair so shiny even when racing, any favorite workouts, what’s the female F1 driver diet. It’s tiring, draining to constantly overhear your male coworkers answer more objective, driver-oriented questions.

It never helps to speak up against it. You’ve got most of the Internet on your side, but there’s the occasional semi-viral tweet that brands you as emotional and dramatic, sometimes backed up by so-called F1 experts. You’ve been the topic of multiple TikToks, podcast episodes, and think pieces that all bring you down.

“Did you feel nervous at all going into Q3, considering there’d been a minor complication with the car?” You feel for the interviewers, though, knowing they have to repeat all these for hours. You swallow your nerves and spout an answer of your own. The pain grows sharp.

The man pauses and reviews his notepad, then. “Did you maybe wish you could’ve gotten P1 today instead of Sainz? Prove the whole ‘girl boss’ notion?”

“My desire to win has nothing to do with ‘girl boss’-ing,” you clarify. “I’m very happy for Carlos, but at the end of the day this is my career, so obviously I’d say yes to wanting to get first place. It’s not an odd answer.”

Your gut churns with dread, knowing this will be spun into a nasty headline later. But you flex your leg, and it sends you into a silent fit of pain—something’s wrong, a muscle pulled or trapped. The interviewer thanks you after a few more questions, and you swallow the rest of your water in hopes of being distracted, albeit momentarily.

Seb bumps into you, notices the grimace on your flushed face. “Everything alright?”

“Tired,” you say, wanting nothing more than to be done with it and sleep the leg pain off. It increases with every step you take, but if you start showing signs of it here, the headlines will only worsen.

You pass the rest of the pen and wobble back to your motorhome. Much to your surprise, Carlos waits there, a towel slung over his shoulder. Like Seb, he notices the dull, dry pain written on your eyes.

Unlike Seb, he doesn’t leave the issue alone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say. You and Carlos have always been close, harboring the same age gap as he and Charles but a more levelheaded relationship. “Are we celebrating tonight?”

“You definitely aren’t with the way you’re walking,” he says pointedly. “En serio?”

“I said nothing,” you say, sharpening your voice. “Leave it.”

He follows you slowly, until you’re both isolated by the door of your room. It’s quiet when you let him in, your irritance and standoffish behavior still evident.

He tries again, because if he’s learned anything from years of knowing and loving you, it’s that you’re a truly stubborn son of a bitch. “Tell me,” he says, solemn. His loud mood always tones down with you, not because you bore him, but because he feels more comfortable with himself.

Inversely, you’re always louder around him, more bubbly, unlike your typically stoic self. It’s the kind of connection neither of you can label, or explain. It’s the both of you, always. “I think my leg’s injured,” you say, letting the confession leave you in one breathless sentence. “It really, really hurts, Carlos.”

You lean against the wall and exhale. “I’ll get it checked,” you tack onto it, so he doesn’t worry even more. He worries a lot. Especially with you.

“Why didn’t you say anything at first,” he says, voice aghast with concern. He mumbles something in Spanish. When he’s caught in fits of emotion, you notice, his English is always the first to go.

“It wouldn’t have been taken seriously,” you reason, wincing. “I never am.”

“Fuck that,” he says. “You need to say these things.”

“Carlos,” you say.

He takes his hand in yours. “You make me worry. I worry.”

You nod along, gripping his hand with whatever energy you have left. You know as early as now that you’ll be okay, that this annoying leg will be taped up and rested tonight, because that’s Carlos—always caring, always there. You have so much of him in your heart.

There’s a glimmer of something there, just in the undergrowth. You can’t wait to find out what it is.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

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