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everythingwasnormalhere · 3 months ago

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« Freedom You Said? »

I'm gonna try to avoid big spoilers, as I plan to write longfics about this au sooner than not :3

The main premise is that some people (very few) are born with powers in this au, and there's a big hero organization, named Freedom Pals, trying to get to them as soon as possible, so they can avoid the evil ones doing... evil stuff

There are two main hero teams, that I guess will be interacting at some point (I don't have the whole plot thought just yet), which would be m4 and catg, since Butters is Prof Chaos there'll be more on him specifically too

The leader of the first team would be Mysterion, with the power of immortality. He was born with it, and learnt it was useful to protect his family. FP found him and recruited him, he's one of the few heroes with not only all expenses covered but also a salary, and with permission to see his family. Unlike canonical Kenny (and most Kennys I write), FYS Kenny's immortality is rather a regeneration thing, Deadpool style. As all my Kennys, immortality-caused chronic pain, yet he forces himself to ignore it - the way his suit is pretty tight helps with that a bit, too.

Toolshed would be in Kenny's team. He was recruited after a very bad accident (or was it?), which would have killed him on the spot had FP not done anything. He was one of those already superpowered people, with a slight ability to control metal, nothing too big or useful. Yet, FP had him on their lists before the accident happened, so they rebuilt his body, enhanced his powers, turned him into a weapon. All of his prosthetics are in materials he can control, which is very useful in fights. Another of these is placed on his heart, which he has to consciciosly make beat (or connect to a device at night in order to sleep), as if he stops FP will control it remotely, which is extremely painful to him.

Kite arrived to Earth nobody is quite sure when. He can use his voice to speak most human languages, but he's not the best at learning them, nor can he pronounce many things the way it's done (aka heavy alien accent). As soon as he got to this planet, FP were there to take him with them. He has a FP-assigned family, therefore he can meet up with them relatively often. Oxygen is extremely toxic to him, so he uses an air mask to breathe Earth air.

Cartman is from FP himself. Liane works for them, principally cleaning and making rooms comfortable. She needed money and badly, so she offered to do a little extra job, letting them create her a hybrid child. Cartman was the first successful hybrid by FP, which, combined with the whole superhero mentality, gave him a huge ego. He's quite an ass to his teammates and even some random people, but deep deep down, he's a good guy. He wishes to go by Coon, but his teammates don't allow him to, he goes by Raccoon instead. He's the youngest current hero.

Now onto the others!!!

Craig was also born with superpowers, in a relatively normal family. He wasn't aware of them until he turned sixteen however, having to take part in some weird family prophecy. Soon, FP was onto him. He's very much against being a superhero, he'd rather keep his nice and boring life but he has no other choice. His powers include shooting red energy out of his eyes ("they're not lasers!") and hands, super strenght, and short-distance flying. He despises all of it.

Tweek's powers were between an accident and not. He got struck by lightning, yet was left with no physical mark, and that got attention from FP. After several experiments and drugs, they not only made him immune (CANDY IF YOU SEE THIS THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE WORD YOU SAVED MY LIFE) to electricity, but gave him all storm-related powers. He's, however, not the best at controlling them just yet, and this whole thing increased his already tendency to panic about every little thing. His skin is so cold it burns to the touch, too; between this and plain comfort, his superhero costume is simply an slightly oversized sweater.

Mosquito was the one who inspired FP to keep experimenting with hybrids, which would later on cause Cartman's whole existence. At twelve, he was bitten by - typical - an infected mosquito, which caused his powers to appear. He has mosquito wings that allow him to fly however he wishes (it took him a long time to get there), and he sucks blood with two fangs he has, which he needs to survive. Other physical changes too, but these were the main ones. The FP doctors know damn well he has h-EDS, but they're unsure on whether it was caused by the infection or it was a preexisting condition - they won't let him know about this, though: he thinks it is normal.

[I haven't finished developing Fastpass nor Tupperware just yet, but I will share their info as soon as I do]

People out of these teams now!!!

Scott would be four years older than Mosquito, and he used to be his team captain. They were very close, both as friends and as student - teacher. He has diabetes type 1, and also superstrenght, which FP hasn't found any relationship between - yet he believes they are connected. Deceased.

CallGirl was experimented and given powers by a secret organization, making her a soldier since she was a little kid. FP rescued her, and finding her technology control powers useful, they made her a spy, having her find anyone with powers and get them into FP. She was Stan's girlfriend, and also the one to find out about his powers. They broke up after the accident, though. Stan is still the only one who exclusively calls her Wendy, even knowing about her identity as CallGirl.

Timmy has a similar background as CallGirl, but instead of technology control he received telekinesis and telepathy. FP is unsure on whether he's disabled because of the experiments, or because he was born disabled, nor Timmy wishes to answer. He can technically communicate mentally, but he much prefers to use an AAC device - will only communicate by TP, and reclutantly so, if it's strictly necessary. Such as Wendy, he works as a spy-informant. [Might be changed in the future, as I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with playing into this whole character trope]

Chaos is a villain, therefore, not part of FP, nor he wishes to be. He has had electric powers since he was born, shooting lightning out of his hands. His parents, afraid of and for him, had him locked in a closed room for his whole childhood, until he ran away - killing them in the process - when he was fifteen. He began recruiting Chaos Minions at sixteen, by suggestion of General Disarray, and now he has a quite big army. His electricity used to burn his hands, so now he has low mobility and control in them. He developed a pair of gloves he uses to increase his control over his powers and decrease their negative effects on his body. He got his eye injury from Raccoon, he covers it with an eye patch so the low vision he has in that eye doesn't distract him.

General Disarray joined Chaos soon after he became a villain. He lacks powers, yet he's extremely intelligent in all areas, principally technology. He built the virtual walls around the few Chaos things online, which not even CallGirl can tresspass. He helps Chaos make plans more often than not.

I think that's it lol :3 ask me any questions you have ✨✨

(was asked for this by @l-lawliets-pussy @northernparkservices @fleatomatosauce)

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 4 months ago

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A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 23

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: none

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next few weeks pass by in a whirlwind. Jensen successfully persuades a New York-based production company to hire Mamma Jo’s to cater for their set. Each order is massive, requiring everyone to work a little later to cover the enhanced workload but it provides a steady income that almost entirely covers the rent, even with the added fuel costs for deliveries and the increased salaries. He asks me to officially take on the management position, this time with a pay rise. The added workload makes it harder to keep up with my studies, but the pay rise allows me to comfortably cover my bills for the apartment and help Anna so it’s worth it.

My contact with Jensen falls back to sporadic texts when I’m on break or on the subway but he constantly reassures me that he understands and is busy himself, while also slipping in warnings to look after myself and not burn myself out.

Before I know it, it’s opening night for Grease. I get to the theatre early for final rehearsals, hair, makeup and wardrobe fittings. My first costume consists of a simple white shirt, flowing green skirt and pumps, completed with a cream cardigan. Being in the ensemble, Alyson and I do each other’s makeup, a simple base with a touch of sparkle. I complete the look by styling my hair into a retro pinup bun. My job is just to fit in with the other ladies in the scene, but there’s no harm in trying to look my best.

The wardrobe and hair and makeup department give us a once over, spraying obnoxious amounts of setting spray and hairspray over us as they give us the seal of approval to wait in the wings. We find a tiny crack in the curtains and peak through with excitement and trepidation as we watch the seats fill. While it’s not the largest theatre in New York, it’s by far the biggest I’ve ever performed in. Up until tonight my biggest performance was in a tiny production of Macbeth that I did as part of an assessment for a Performance and Skills class last year in the college’s teaching theatre with just a few other students and professors for an audience. The jump from an approximate 30-top audience to upwards of 1,000 has me sweating. I look over my shoulder and notice that Alyson is fairing no better. I reach for her hand and squeeze, and all of a sudden I’m glad I’m not the lead. As the lights dim and the overture starts playing, I feel a surge of adrenaline course through my veins.

The crowd falls silent as the leads, Mary and Jake, take to the stage fully in character laughing and giggling as ocean sounds fill the theatre. Despite my raging nerves, I just enjoy their performance from the wing. As the lighting changes and the crew seamlessly transform the beach into Rydell High I squeeze Alyson’s hand tighter. Once I hear the school lunch bell trill, us and the rest of the enemble enter the stage and perch on the lunch table and pretend to laugh and talk as the pink ladies and Sandy fill the table front and centre.

The first act passes in a blur of music, dance, and dialogue. Every step, every word, every note is executed with precision, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the performance. As the final notes of the first act fade away and everyone clears the stage back to the dressing room for the intermission, I can't help but feel a sense of pride wash over me. Eventhough I know no one was focusing on me or likely even noticed me in the background, it’s such an accomplishment to just be up on that stage. I know from previous experience in the audience and my classes that every role is essential, even the background actors and ensemble. The show wouldn’t be the same without them. So, I plan to give it my best every time I walk on that stage to help the leads shine and just enjoy every second. Now that I’ve got a real taste, I know there’s no going back.

After the show, as I’m walking out of the big theatre doors along with a couple of other cast and crew members someone tackles me into a hug. It doesn’t take me more than a second to hug back with a giant smile.

“Stella! You made it!”

“There’s no way I’d miss my best friend’s first show on broadway!”

I notice Nick and Anna standing off to the side with a massive bouquet of roses and we move out of the walkway. “Thank you all for coming! It means so much to know you were in the crowd.”

“We’ll always be there to cheer you on,” Stella replies happily and then nods at the bouquet. Nick holds out and I take it graciously, breathing in the intoxicatingly beautiful aroma.

“You didn’t have to do this. Just being here is enough.”

“Uh, we didn’t actually. We’re just the messengers.” She pulls out a card from the side furthest from me and holds it out.

I don’t open it straight away. I know there’s only two options of who would send something so extravagant for my debut, but I already spoke to option one before the show and they apologised for not being able to make it to the debut, but promised that they would fly out during the week. So, knowing exactly who’s name is on that card, I slip it into my bag without opening it.

Stella doesn’t question me. She knows I am working through everything at my own pace. “I could really go for a burger right about now,” she says to change the subject.

“I definitely worked up an appetite,” I agree.

So, the four of us walk to a nearby burger joint, order and then get a booth in the back. Once we sit down I place the flowers on my lap as Stella and Nick take the seat opposite Anna and me

“Did he say anything?” I ask Stella.

“He just asked me to pick up the bouquet and get it to you. It was all already paid for and the card was already in it. I said that he had to fight his own battles. He promised he would.” She then quietly adds, “I may have also mentioned something about castrating him if he ever hurts you again…”

“Stella!”

“What? You’ve been hurt too many times before. But I’m here now. And I’m not scared of a fake monster hunter. Plus, us girls need to stick together.” She winks at Anna and she laughs – it’s a beautiful sound that we’re only just getting to hear.

Nick pats Stella’s knee and says, “She’s a force. But you’ve helped us so much. It’s now our turn to return the favor.” He looks at Stella with a knowing smile.

She looks at him and then back at me. “I think you should read the card.”

“You read it?”

“No, but I just think you should read it.”

As I pull it out of my bag the waitress comes over with our drinks and burgers. I take a sip of my soda before opening the card.

Hey Darlin’, You were amazing up there! You truly are a star! I hope this is the first of many times I get to see you shine. - J

I look up at Stella confused and she just says, “Take the back exit.” I look down at my untouched meal. “We’ve got it. Go!”

Still in shock, I grab the bouquet and my bag and sneak out the back door. I look around and see a black Range Rover parked to one side of the alley. The windows are dark so I can’t see in. I cautiously walk up to it and then the back passenger door pops open. “Jensen?” I call out softly, still unsure.

He slides to the edge of the seat and swings his legs out the door. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Me? What are you doing here?”

“I know things between us are still complicated. But I couldn’t miss your debut.” He offers his hand but doesn’t step closer. He waits for me to make the decision.

I hesitantly step forward and take his hand. “This doesn’t-”

“I know. But, I’ve gotta be back in Vancouver by morning. My flight leaves in a couple of hours, so, can we just…”

I nod and let him lead me into the car, out of the cold night air. “Hey Clif,” I say once I get in.

“I think I’m gonna take a lap. I’ll be back in a bit, Boss. Nice to see you again, Y/N.” He steps out of the car and disappears down the alley.

“I can’t believe you came. And these,” I hold up the oversized bouquet, “It’s too much.”

“I know you’re not the lead, but it’s a big deal. I was gonna get the flowers regardless, but seeing how happy you were up there. Even in the background, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You have a long career ahead of you and I just hope you’ll let me cheer you on from the sidelines, and maybe one day, front row when you’re the lead.”

“I’ve watched enough performances to know how important the ensemble is. I get to make the lead look good. And if I can do that, then maybe one day someone will be just as passionate about doing the same for me. Up on that stage…It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced and I never wanted the show to end.”

“You keep performing like you did tonight and it may never have to. This is just the beginning for you. I know it.” I notice his eyes flick down to my lips but I tun to look through the front windscreen.

“When did you fly in?”

“Last night. But I didn’t want to throw you off before your big night. And I swear I don’t have a big ego, I was just concerned that if you knew I was here you might get stressed and overthink things. And I just wanted you to go out there and give it your all. Exactly like you did.”

“Thank you.” I let myself relax a little and lean back against the cool leather seat as I look back over at him.

He lets out a breathy chuckle and nods. “Yeah…I may kinda suck at playing it cool. But then again I did coerce your best friend into letting me play at her wedding and then used her again to orchestrate tonight, so…”

“You really should leave poor Stella out of this. You’re taking advantage of her love for Dean.” I shake my head with a smile. “No one’s ever gone to so much trouble for me. My parents didn’t even make it tonight…”

“I’m sure they wanted to-”

“Yeah, they called and they’re coming later in the week. Their reasons were sound. It’s just…”

“You’re not used to being put first? I may’ve said a lot of dumb shit in the past, but of everything I’ve said, I did mean one thing with all my heart��I’m gonna prove that you’re my number one. I don’t expect you to believe it right away. But one day you will. I don’t care how long it takes or how much work I need to put in.”

“Jensen…” I smile at him and then teasingly ask, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just a glass of wine during the show. I’m sober enough.”

I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for tonight. For coming, for being honest, for everything.”

“Much like your broadway career, this is just the beginning.” He puts his hand on my cheek softly to guide me to meet his eyes. “I know I’ve got a lot of walls to break through and a lot to prove and make up for. And I hope you hold me accountable for all of it. Give me a high bar. I want to be who you deserve, not someone else that you settle for.”

I nod. “Okay…But, what if I don’t know how?”

“I have a feeling you’re learning. You’re starting to realise your worth. But, really, just follow your heart and your gut. You know your fears and what you don’t like.” His eyes flick back to my lips and this time I don’t turn away. Instead I give him a small nod. He leans in and kisses me softly, his lips are soft and warm against mine. I close my eyes, savoring the moment, feeling a rush of emotions swirling inside me. When he pulls back, I can see the sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability that he's allowing me to see. “I'll be patient, Y/N. I'll wait for you. Just promise me one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“That you won't give up on us before we even have a chance to begin. I know I let you down but-”

I smile, feeling the weight of his words but also the hope that they carry, and I cut him off by pecking his lips softly. “I promise,” I say softly, “But you have to promise to talk to me too. We can’t have a repeat of that night. Especially when it all could have been so easily avoided.”

He nods, “I promise.” He pecks my lips again and then pulls me close to snuggle up in his arms. “We don’t have long and you’ve been so busy. I want to know everything.”

“Jens-”

“No arguments. We don’t have time, just talk. I just want to be close to you and listen to you. Tell me anything.”

As I tell him about the changes at the cafe, my long hours, my upcoming exams and the relentless rehearsal schedule which will now turn into daily shows, he hugs me close. He peppers soft kisses over my head and slowly drifts down to my neck as he offers intermittent hums of agreement or approval. I try not focus on his smile or hot breath against my skin and just keep talking instead.

When I stop talking he pulls away. “Was that okay? Not too much?” I shake my head. “You let me touch you when you’re talking. You’re comfortable, relaxed. Even on those first nights…I love you like that.” He pulls away abruptly when he realises what he said.

I pull him back for a quick peck. “I know what you mean. It’s okay.”

He nods. As he leans in to kiss me again, we’re startled by the front door opening. I pull back abruptly and stare at Clif. “Sorry to interrupt. I gave you as long as I could. We have to get to the airport.”

Jensen looks down at his watch, “Shit, already?”

I gather up the bouquet and my bag that dropped on the floor preparing to get out but Jensen grabs my arm. “We’ll drop you off on the way.” I go to unzip my bag to get my phone but he stops me, “They know. They’ve probably already gone home.” He takes his hand off mine, “But she’s your friend, if you want to check that’s fine.”

“It’s late, Nick would’ve forced her to sleep by now.” I see his slightly worried look at my choice of words and add, “Not in a bad way. She’d stay up all night and then sleep in and be grumpy at work. He does it for her own good. No one could truly make Stella do anything she doesn’t want to do or that she doesn’t know is in her best interests. She’s a force.”

“Yeah…She definitely seems like it,” Jensen says as Clif starts the engine. We both put our seat belts on as he pulls out of the alley.

“Don’t worry, she won’t actually castrate you…unless you hurt me again…”

“Well, good thing I don’t plan on ever doing that again. But uh, thinking of work…Please tell me you don’t have an early start…”

“I’m used to it. Plus, I’d gladly trade a few hours sleep for the time we had tonight. I truly didn’t expect it. But what about you? It’ll be morning by the time you get back, especially with the time difference.”

“I have a late shoot tomorrow. So, don’t worry about me.” He smirks, “Actually…Maybe you can worry about me a little when I’m out there freezing my ass off in the middle of the night.”

Before long, Clif pulls up in front of my building. I don’t bother correcting them and telling them that I’ve been staying at Stella’s house. I don’t want them to go further out of their way for me, plus it would be nice to spend a night in my own bed. I undo my seatbelt and look over at Jensen with a smile. I put my free hand on the handle, but before I pull it open I turn and kiss his cheek again. “Text me when you get back? You came all the way out here for me, I want to know when you get back safe.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” I nod and jump out quickly before I hesitate any longer and make him miss his flight, or make Clif feel awkward. I stand on the sidewalk and wait until the car disappears into the distant traffic before making my way into the building.

As I step out of the cold night air, I can still feel the lingering warmth of Jensen’s touch on my cheek and his lips on mine. It brings a smile to my face as I kick off my heels and place the bouquet of roses in a vase of water on the kitchen counter. The events of the evening replay in my mind like scenes from a movie, each moment etched into my memory.

My phone buzzes with a text message, and I eagerly pick it up to see a message from Jensen:

Thank you for an amazing night Sleep well, beautiful

I can’t help but blush at his words, feeling a rush of emotions flooding back.

Settling onto the couch, I let out a contented sigh and close my eyes, allowing myself to relive the evening once more. Despite the uncertainties and challenges ahead, there is a glimmer of hope blooming in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real and beautiful.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala

@lmg14, @superrey

#jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic

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meiliarotten · 1 year ago

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What's your hcs abt every merc's kinks?

Kink Headcanons (All Mercs!)

🔞Minors DNI🔞

The Masterlist

👟 Scout 👟

Very stereotypical interests, I honestly see Sout as kinda the most vanilla of the mercs

Not completely vanilla though. Not by a long shot

He’s definitely adventurous, and would he willing to try almost anything once as long as he’s with someone he trusts

Plus he’s an addict when it comes to praise

Tell him how good he’s doing while he’s fucking you, and he’ll have a very hard time keeping himself from coming right then and there.

If you’re willing to explore with him, I feel like you would witness quite a few kink awakenings.

Some things I think he would grow to enjoy are pegging, pet play, and femdom, but those are just my opinions!

🦅 Soldier 🦅

America is this man’s kink.

Ok, I’m joking. Kind of.

Soldier likes discipline, and he’ll definitely use his riding crop on you if you let him

However, that discipline goes both ways

He’ll start out with you as the bottom, so prepare to be the receiver of many spankings and swats

Then one day, he comes up to you, uncharacteristically bashful, and hands you the riding crop with a pleading look

He’s too ashamed to say that he wants you to top him, but you get the message real quick.

Once you unlock his switch side, you might even convince him to try pegging. He’s a real “man’s man” though, so make sure you’re delicate about it

🔥 Pyro 🔥

Thankfully, while Pyro is more than eager to play with fire on the battlefield, that fire does not translate into the bedroom (at least, not literally)

While Pyro doesn’t have a mask kink, a partner with a mask kink would be ideal for them, as they don’t like to show their face

However, if you don’t have a mask kink, blindfolds are always an option, and Pyro happens to like those very much

They love watching the way you squirm as the lack of sight enhances all of your other senses

Pyro also has a huge praise kink as well. They like to be told they’re doing a good job.

If they have an especially good day on the battlefield, you could offer to reward them later that night

💥 Demoman 💥

I’m gonna be honest, I was stumped on this one for a while

Eventually I finally settled on pegging

Allow me to explain

Watching the Meet the Demoman I just saw a man who, while he definitely enjoys his job, probably has a shit ton of stress

Add in the comic lore, and you’ve got all these familial expectations he’s gotta live up to as well

Basically, I think a night where he just gets to sit back and get ravished would be good for him

He would also probably have an affinity for oral, as he likes to eat you out in return

🥊 Heavy 🥊

This guy has a size kink. He likes smaller partners, and lucky for him, almost everyone is smaller than him, so he has quite the pool to pick from

There’s almost a kind of protective aspect in it for him. He likes to be able to protect his partner, to shelter them, and most importantly, pamper the absolute hell out of them

Seriously be ready to be waited on hand and foot by your own personal Russian bodyguard

I guess you could almost see it as a kind of service submission

Wow, service sub Heavy was not a take I was prepared to make but it does oddly make sense…

But as for his more dominant side, he doesn’t show it often, especially since he often worries about causing you pain during sex.

Usually you’ll be riding him

However, on the rare occasions when he’s willing, and you’re feeling especially comfortable and receptive, he will allow himself to be rough with you, teasing you about how small you are beneath him

🔧 Engineer 🔧

Toys. Specifically, ridiculously high tech toys.

Say what you will about a mercenary salary, it sure as hell lets you splurge sometimes.

And Engineer has definitely splurged, both on actual toys and on parts that he used to make his own

Yes, you heard (or rather, read) that right, this overachiever is out here making his own sex toys.

You and I both know that the Gunslinger probably has a vibrate function 😏

That said, I think Engie would have a particular kink for the classic “vibrating panties” scenario

Basically you are wearing the panties (or just a bullet vibe inside- it can really be anything that vibrates and stays put, it doesn’t have to be underwear) and Engie gets to press the buttons controlling the vibrations whenever he wants

He likes watching how you squirm and start to talk faster and louder, trying to cover up both the noise and your embarrassment.

He is the king of aftercare though, always letting you know how good you did.

🏥 Medic 🏥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way

I feel like Medic likes a lot of edgeplay. Possibly including blood, scalpels, and a few itty bitty surgeries here and there

Of course, it’s all consensual, but some people could still find it morbid.

On the more chill side, his kinks are actually pretty common.

These include impact play, edging, and sensory deprivation (for example, blindfolds). All of these go for both giving and receiving, btw

However one kink that I think is specific to him is how much he seems to love, and even prefer fucking you in the operating table.

Something about it just seems much more erotic than a normal bed

🦘 Sniper 🦘

Primal play, specifically being the predator in the scenario

Sniper is a pretty outdoorsy guy, so it figures that he would enjoy tracking you through a dense forest while you act as prey

Along with this comes outdoor sex as well

Something about taking you outside just seems so carnal and raw, it really gets him going

Plus, the chase just makes the final capture all the more satisfying, for both of you

Afterwards he’s immediately chill, carrying you back to the van for some much needed aftercare

And I just know someone out there is upset that I didn’t mention piss. I’m sorry. I’m still not gonna mention it.

🌹 Spy 🌹

A weirdly specific idea I’ve always held for Spy is that he likes waxplay

Something about the way the melted wax drips and solidifies in your body is very elegant and erotic to him (I have written a fic about this 👀)

Another big one is knife play. It definitely fits his theme

However, he never uses a sharp knife. The blade is always too dull to actually break the skin. But the way he builds up a scene is effective enough to make you feel as if you’re truly at his mercy

Basically Spy seems like a very formal dom to me, the kind that will lavish you with gifts while also making sure you never act spoiled. Brat tamer Spy, anyone?

Oh, and he likes to be called “sir.”

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #tf2 #rotten asks #tf2 headcanons #headcanon #headcanon requests #request

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vivicantstudy · 4 months ago

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17 Compelling Reasons to Start Learning Mandarin Today!

1. Cultural access: Mandarin opens doors to understanding China’s rich cultural heritage, including literature, philosophy, and art. It’s the key to exploring classical works like Confucian texts and contemporary media without relying on translations.

2. Cognitive benefits: Studies show that learning Mandarin enhances cognitive abilities, such as problem-solving and memory. The complexity of Mandarin characters and tonal distinctions challenges the brain, leading to better mental agility.

3. Future-proofing: As China continues to grow as a global economic powerhouse, being fluent in Mandarin positions you advantageously for future job markets and international business opportunities.

4. Travel convenience: Speaking Mandarin makes traveling in China, Taiwan, and Singapore significantly easier. It helps with navigating public transport, understanding local customs, and accessing services, enhancing your overall travel experience.

5. Business and networking opportunities: With China being home to many of the world’s largest companies, Mandarin can open doors to new business ventures, partnerships, and job opportunities in a wide range of industries.

6. Learn a completely different writing system: Mandarin involves learning thousands of characters, offering a unique cognitive challenge. This skill not only enriches your understanding of the language but also provides insight into Chinese thought processes and cultural nuances.

7. Stand out in the global job market: Fluency in Mandarin is a rare and highly sought-after skill. It can distinguish you from other candidates, making your résumé stand out and potentially leading to higher salary offers and unique career opportunities.

8. Influence of Chinese pop culture: Access China’s booming entertainment industry, including hit movies, music, and television shows. Understanding Mandarin allows you to enjoy these cultural products in their original form, without relying on subtitles or translations.

9. Connect with Chinese heritage: For those with Chinese ancestry or interest, learning Mandarin facilitates a deeper connection with your heritage. It allows you to engage with historical documents and family traditions that are often only accessible in the original language.

10. Enhance travel experiences in Asia: Mandarin proficiency improves your travel experiences across multiple countries in Asia, where Chinese influence is significant. It helps you interact with locals, understand regional dialects, and fully immerse yourself in diverse cultures.

11. Access to advanced technologies: China leads in fields like artificial intelligence and fintech. Understanding Mandarin gives you direct access to cutting-edge research, innovations, and trends emerging from these technology sectors.

12. Build stronger personal relationships: Learning Mandarin allows you to communicate more effectively with Mandarin-speaking friends, colleagues, and partners. It deepens personal connections and shows respect for their language and culture.

13. Tap into Chinese academic resources: China’s academic sector is growing rapidly. Mandarin proficiency enables you to access a wealth of research, academic journals, and educational materials that are increasingly influential on the global stage.

14. Gain insights into global trends: Understanding Mandarin helps you stay informed about global trends and innovations directly from China. This knowledge is valuable for staying ahead in industries like fashion, technology, and social media.

15. Improve cultural sensitivity: Learning Mandarin enhances your understanding of Chinese social norms and etiquette. This cultural insight is crucial for navigating personal and professional interactions with respect and understanding.

16. Develop long-term cognitive benefits: Mandarin’s unique challenges, such as tone recognition and character memorization, promote long-term cognitive development

These were my favorite reasons why I study Mandarin! I’m loving the journey because it connects me deeply with a new culture and opens doors to Chinese technological innovations. Plus, the challenge of learning Mandarin is boosting my cognitive skills and problem-solving abilities. Thanks for reading up to here!

#chnotesbyvi #langblr #study blog #study motivation #study notes #studyblr #writeblr #langblog #language #Chinese #mandarin #learn chinese #learn mandarin #studyspo #study inspiration #study tips #study time

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springsmile · 2 years ago

Text

over my shoulder || 01

18+ | h. shinso x f. reader

series masterlist

warnings: non-con, smut, pre-established trauma (r*pe), extreme anxiety/paranoia, victim blaming/shaming, abuse of prescriptions, self harm, suicidal ideation, disassociation, negativity around hospitalization, violent intrusive thoughts, kidnapping, murder, specific reader characterizations, manipulation, anorexia/bulimia allusions

** reader’s quirk is enhanced senses. upon activation, emotions and sensations are pretty much exacerbated. reader never learns how to channel or control it to its full potential, only to turn it on and off.

you would not walk out that door without a sense of pride toward your makeup application. you could decisively say the wings of your eyeliner were not up to par. if you paused now, the only thoughts your mind would be able to conjure would be ones of how one wing is pointing downward, the other seemingly kissing your brow, one bulky, and the other thin.

you’re late. so, so late. you know you won’t get in trouble, per se, but your pay would dip under what you’d estimated for the week, which was irritating in itself. you tell yourself it’s worth sparing yourself a smidge of the humiliation that accompanies leaving the walls of your apartment.

like every other day, it takes the realization that you have 10 minutes to get to your job that requires a 25 minute commute to narrow your eyes at the mirror on your desk, reflecting some unsightly black smudges framing your plain eyes. you had to admit that it was better than nothing, but nothing was just that— nothing. without the black you were disgusting, but with it… you guess that made you… palatable? nothing worth coveting, yet also not a sight which averted gazes. perfect for you.

beside you, your phone vibrates, and you feel the reverberations through the desk intensely. you jolt, silently cursing yourself and imagine a broken dam, water pouring from each crack and cranny. then, you imagine it all sealed up, halting the circulation… now, the lack thereof. that’s how you shut your quirk off; you’ve returned to your regular state of a hammering heart and sweaty palms.

your apartment complex is exactly what someone would envision upon estimating to them your pathetic salary. you worked at a bookstore, after all. it wasn’t exactly like you were some front-line worker, providing a necessary labor. you couldn’t complain. it was livable, nothing to sneeze at.

it’s cement—cold granite. the railings were once painted black and peeling, and your door had gaping orifices where its wooden fragments once laid. the apartment itself was dinky. you cleaned it consistently and decorated with a modest charm, but the odor of dampness was lingering in every corner. the complex was borderline ancient, built before the invention of the elevator, but it was at least a place you could pleasantly call home. ‘bad neighborhoods’ were hardly ever indicative of the tenants who lived inside the units.

you walk to work, having been fortunate enough to lease somewhere close enough to a place you liked working at. the other jobs were nothing short of disarray— inadequate managers hiring you on the spot during interviews out of desperation, and a disorienting lack of organization. needless to say, you were content at the bookstore.

currently, you’re conjuring scenarios that do nothing to soothe the thrumming of your heart, slamming against the cream cable sweater you’d thrown on in a haste to cover the largest of your insecurities—the vision of a car skidding off the street and plowing into your form, leaving fragments of your brain matter splattered into the pavement. next, you think of the thinnest, fresher piece of paper slicing your eye in two. now, you’re cringing. it’s replying in your mind over and over again. you swallow a wad of glue in your throat, eyes raking in your surroundings for a distraction.

a stray cat. it trills softly at you. you somehow manage a smile, and glance at your phone before deciding you could briefly pet the kitty.

its fur is a pure black, the kind that enveloped your eyes with a stark intensity when you shut the curtains, turned off the tv, and closed your bedroom door with the lights off. you’d always forget to turn on your fairy lights. it would making your eyes hum, an invisible pressure pushing downward, but it was pleasantly dissimilar this time.

its eyes are a gem-like amber, and they glisten in the waxing morning sun. you liked the shape of its pupils. almost a rhombus, softened at the edges, wide and dilated. you assumed it was happy, and that made you a little happy too.

you eventually pass a group of teenage girls, and you inadvertently shrink into yourself, chest seized with panic as they pass. you could’ve sworn they threw you a glance, eyes maliciously narrowed. your mouth goes dry when they crane their necks back and let out a shallow laugh.

you glance down at yourself once they’re out of your peripherals. your opaque tights were suddenly friction against your legs. itchy. you can’t even be upset at your fleeting elation.

with shaky fingers pinching the fabric, hoping for some surface-level relief, you realize you’ve reached the store. you pull on the dangling pieces of your backpack straps—the ones that tighten—and exhale as the padding presses to your armpits. tight and secure.

“morning, (y/n)!” you co-worker flashes you a radiant grin from behind the register, before you can will your lips to curve and feel that uncomfortable stretch in your cheeks, she’s back to bagging a customer’s purchases.

you sigh, locating one of the empty computers to punch your numbers in on.

“excuse me.” someone coughed at you. you raise your eyes ever so slightly, but zero in on the space beneath their eyes and though above the apples of your cheeks. they’re very tanned, and their skin is dry and rough.

“i need help finding a book, it’s called—“

“i’m sorry,” you interject timidly, interlocking your fingers with tight, white knuckles. it’s the only way you knew how to steady your composure. “i’m not clocked in yet, and i need to put my things away. i can grab someone to help you right now, though?”

he stares at you indignantly, with a pompous upward tilt of his chin. he’s looking down at you from his nose. your stomach does a 360 flip, and you’re bloating. absolutely sick.

“you work here, don’t you? you’re supposed to help a paying patron when they ask you for help.” he continues in disdain. you think of several quips, witty remarks that could maybe patch up your dignity that this man was so indelicately chipping away at. “i guess i can’t expect much from people like you. always so lazy. i see you all hanging around, talking. tch, whatever. thanks for nothing.”

he whips around and saunters away. you blink. the exchange hadn’t been fully registered and processed in your brain.

you know with utmost certainty that you’d soon be rendered to a hunched over, teary heap in the break room. and although the cancellation of your quirk hindered all emotions for an unspecified length of time, you could feel the onslaught of twinges racking your heart. and then, you find yourself trudging to break room in lethargy. you had nightmares again last night, having been jolted awake by your own tremors and cold beaded sweat dotting every conceivable part of your body. you’d had to shower. showering wasn’t fun for you.

you tried to relish in the knowledge that your lunch break was within the next two hours! whoopie! you wouldn’t let yourself eat, though. hoisting your achy feet onto those rigid metal chairs would be revitalizing enough.

when you find yourself on the sales floor again, you start for the customer service desk. as you had observed that there’s someone patiently waiting there, their fingers idly drumming on the worn wood. you half smile. maybe they wouldn’t give you an earful of all of their inconveniences that didn’t pertain to you. that’d be nice.

“hi! sorry to keep you waiting.” you flash your well practiced ‘how can i help you today, valued customer?’ smile.

it’s another man, and you instinctively lower your gaze to that spot on his face that quells the exacerbating effects of your quirk. if you’d been taking in the whole of his countenance, perhaps you would have noted the abrupt shift in his eyes, insisted that a manager was calling you on your earpiece. you’d seen that look a lot. and when you did catch sight of it, it reminded you of high school, and that alone was enough to make you bail out— potentially, clock out early.

“hi, i was just looking for books on renting trucks? i’m looking to make a business out if it.” he smiles crookedly.

you pause, lips pressed in a tight, thin line. renting trucks? how the fuck were you supposed to search for a book like that?

“i’ll try, but no promises.” you swallowed, fingers licking the key caps hastily. you wanted to close this exchange as quickly as you could. then you could busy yourself with a task that didn’t require your deteriorating social skills.

“it’s weird, i know.” he chuckled. it felt pernicious in nature to you, and you certainly didn’t appreciate his attempt to revive the conversation. your palms were growing balmier by the second.

“nah, not weird. i’m just not sure how to search for it on here.” you half-lied, furrowing your brows at the search results. there were a myriad of titles relating to trucks, but you couldn’t conceive why someone would write a how-to on renting them to people, let alone why this man would want to reference one, instead of an article online. needless to say, you were having trouble schooling your expression. if that face you spent hours on contorting to perfection in the mirror were to falter, everything would be shot straight to hell. you couldn’t handle a nasty disagreement breaking out at the unbridled twitch of your eye.

“ah, i get’cha. let me see.” and without leaving any room for dissent, or breathing, he’s leant over the counter. very much invading your personal space, and very much violating company policy.

your mouth quivers at the corners, attempting to form phantoms of phrases you should’ve had the spine to utter. the poignance of his cologne has long invaded your nose, a more mature scent, one reserved for a man of his age. perhaps three times that of yours. get away get away get away.

he straightens, offering you a complacent yellowed grin. “i don’t really get that program you use, but i’m guessing you don’t got what i’m looking for?”

“correct, sorry about that.” you tell him stiffly. you swear his breath was sticky, humid, and clinging to the skin of your neck. you suppress a shiver.

“no problem, darlin’. i was just lookin’ for a side hustle, ‘cause i work in law enforcement and i wanted to hop onto that business owner bandwagon.” he’s not rambling, he’s not making small talk—he wants your attention. he wants you to engage, and he wants you to be interested. this is all sickeningly apparent to you as you fumble to select your next words. you know you’d have to humor him only slightly; blatant indifference could be interpreted as aggression and get you a strike. you didn’t need any more of those.

“oh, that’s pretty cool. my dad works in law enforcement.” you reply softly, praying that your inauthentic interest would be apparent to him. though, men are either willingly or inherently stupid, you learned. the gentleman before you was no exception.

“aw, yeah? what city?”

fuck fuck fuck fuck!

you’re left scrambling, mouth gaping, dry and full of sand. you feel every artery in your body painfully pulsate and flush against your skin, pleading to be torn free and relieved, and remind you that you’re alive and you feel like you’re gonna die. you don’t even know if you have the capacity to deactivate your quirk right now—you felt like you deserved this; you practically instigated the conversation—stupid!

it doesn’t occur to you to lie—yet another vulgar display of your absentmindedness. you tell him the truth, and to add further insult to injury, you’re unable to distract yourself from his slippery gaze. they held little regard, and revealed each deplorable thought with the blink of his eye. it was dehumanizing. the way his cheeks were carved into this smile that failed to accentuate his duchenne markers. your next move is a grave error, one that, if your head was in its right place, you wouldn’t have contemplated. looking into his eyes—the skin is flat, his eyes are visible, unobstructed and—you know that much. he’s not really smiling.

“i’m sorry, i can’t stop looking at you. you’re so beautiful.”

twitching uselessly at your sides, your hands come to fist your sweater, now damp from the slickness encasing your hands. the wool catches your sweat and sucks it in. much like the breaths slipping in and out of your aching lungs. the balmy air clings to the walls, perhaps as terrified as you were, before being ripped from their sanctuary and nakedly thrust into the open.

“thank you.” you gushed? you attempted to. the keyboard before you was littered with varying puddles of sweat. you didn’t appreciate the dampened wool prickling your torso. it felt like tv static, the feeling when you’d hover your fingertips in front of, and this inconceivable force would kiss and lick your skin. you’re privy to each and every sensation that your being can house, the overload was almost too much, you’d had to search deeply within yourself and pull out what you could.

“here, take down my number.” he’s offering, that smile never leaves his lips nor meets his eyes, but you could center yourself again. it’s okay. he’s sweating exorbitantly, unabashedly clinging to his armpits. you would laugh in a normal circumstance.

stiffly, you reach for a sticky note and a pen. you’re pushing both toward him with your index finger, deliberately dodging the potential of contact—he’s grasping your hand tightly. you gasp and there’s bile searing your esophagus.

“it’s nice to meet you…” he references your name tag with a brisk glance as though his eyes hadn’t been raking in your entire figure for the duration of your exchange. “(y/n). your name is also beautiful.”

you’re only able to smile and nod.

“it’ll break my heart if you don’t text me, you know?” he chuckles lightly, but his tone is anything but. he anticipates your compliance, he thinks he’s subdued you into contacting him, or perhaps he’s genuinely convinced that he somehow charmed you into pursuing a relationship with him. he’s wrong.

as soon as his dubious eyes leave your vicinity, you take the sticky note into your hand, and with what remains of your strength, squeeze it. the edges are sharpened at the pressure, like thorny rose stems. they press into the joints of your fingers, but you don’t mind. by the time it’s released from your grasp, it’s like paper-mache.

lunch had trudged into your hour slot like an unyielding horse, unwittingly dragged along. your elation is muted, but palpable. it’s not like you were going to use it for its established purpose, anyway. you’d nap in the break room, preparing to flip-flop from position to position in those awful metal chairs, terrified that you’d reclined too deeply and slump onto the floor.

you can never sleep though. not really. it’s this hellish limbo. a plane where it could be argued that you were conscious, or that you were asleep. the sibling of sleep paralysis.

without a single breath between the back of your eyelids and the sudden shrill blaring, your nerves are electrified. and your body, with some newfound cognizance, snaps you upright. eyes blearily darting to and fro for danger, or the subject of your overstimulation, you find nothing but the alarm on your phone. the force of its vibrations have it circling with intense shutters. you hit stop.

your phone jerks to life again, screen flashing your generic wallpaper at you. there’s a notification lingering below the time display, a segment from some big shot newspaper. beneath the headline is some excruciatingly pretentious action shot of a hero; one with indigo tresses that were suspended in the hair, and bandages like tentacles unfurling from around his neck. the headline reads:

Villainous Quirk Saves the Day! 20 Lives Saved With a Single Word.

you can’t say your interest was piqued.

another day, another victim.

you hate leaving from the back exit. while it was designated for employees, some exclusive perk you should be immeasurably grateful for, it wasn’t afforded the same glare from the floodlights the adjacent parking lot was. comparatively, it was doused with light.

you’re one of the last to leave, the manager on duty singled you out and made you count the money in the registers. you’re horrible at keeping track at the tens and twenties, and not to mention your unwavering uneasiness. you hadn’t recovered from that unseemly encounter.

you’ve snugly positioned the various keys slid onto the ring between your fingers. they’re like claws—extracted kitty claws—and you’re prepared to drive it into some sicko’s chest at a moment’s notice.

ensuring the receiving room door had softly clicked shut behind you, you started off into the direction your quaint apartment complex resided. it takes less than a second for the hair on your arms and neck to flare up, and it’s even sooner your skin is forcibly aware of the sinister warmth of a hand—irrefutably larger than your own—locked onto your shoulder.

your instinct is to look over your shoulder. you suppress it, and instead tighten the grip on your the makeshift weapon, jutting out with an unparalleled menace.

you whirl around and swing, right for his sternum. you make contact, but its not hard enough. you’re not sure if it was the velocity that fell short, or if it was the puny strength that accompanied the strike that sealed your blunder. either way, he’s far from incapacitated. in fact, he’s enraged. you can feel the corona of his fury, it’s radiant and extending.

“i know that you had a long day, babe, but you couldn’t sneak a text in at all?”

his own clip is hard enough. it’s aimed straight at your gut, and it makes contact with more than the surface of your stomach. you think your intestines may have just been introduced to your kidneys. you splutter around that familiar acid.

you’re unable to cradle your belly as you’re plunged into another agonizing sensation. the uneven bricks—some ugly, stupid stylistic design—are cutting into the skin on your back.

“we can make this easy, or hard. i’m good either way, so the choice is yours, sweetheart.” this smile, wicked and conscienceless, begins in his eyes instead. they were more terrifying than the split of his lips. his hands, callous and aged, descend down your sides, pushing your panties and waistband of your jeans aside so he can clutch your bare hips. this terror, this terror you know all to well, the one that seized you when you awake from the most heinous dream, the same one almost every night when you’re transported back to high school, back to the shaming and the touching and the crying and—

this.

“please don’t do this.” you mutter, now your tongue is immobile. limp and numb in your mouth. some thick, wet deadweight that pulls you down to the soles of your feet. you wish your punch had been that heavy.

“man, i thought you’d be wrigglin’ by now. looks like you want it just as bad. i didn’t take you for a needy slut, (y/n).”

you flinch, flitting images and snippets of sound rush before you and climb into your muscles; ensuring your helplessness. you were very well-acquainted with that term.

you think it might hurt less, this time, if you pretend you’re not there. shallow-gazed, the darkness of the night blanketing the sky and presenting a comfortingly warm veil over your eyes. chin craning up, pointing to the north star.

he makes quick work of your jeans, they’re crunching around your ankles, as denim and fluid motion do not coincide. you fucking hate it. it’s almost as scratchy as the voices screaming at you from within the steel walls of your head, flailing and slamming on all sides, begging you to cry for help, begging you to turn your quirk back on, so maybe you’ll feel something, some terror, and leap into action. it’s growing weaker by the second, and you’re clamping your thighs shut as he growls a curse at you.

“what do we have here?” a voice from the dark muses. you might even say it held a semblance of amusement. ah, yet another sick fuck to partake in your humiliation.

“fuck off man, we’re just having some fun. we ain’t hurting anybody, isn’t that right, baby?”

the silence spoke for itself, you guess.

the anonymous gentleman, evading your line of sight, effortlessly conquers your assailant. you expect some cringey catchphrase, a declaration of victory or defeat, maybe some name calling, but you can’t hear anything but the boiling hot blood circling your ears.

you don’t need to see him to know from the shuddering groans and shallow gasps of air and pleading and promises of atonement (never directed at you) that tear from his mouth, that your savior was well-versed in combat. you don’t even try to conceal your chuckle, one that ascends your throat wryly and produces some stinging pain. a hero.

“walk down to the police station, and confess.” these words were unlike the ones he posed in his prior inquiry. the contrast, though, couldn’t be placed. the man who nearly became the brand new subject of your nightmares, heeds. face blank, eyes stoney and vacant. there’s no resistance, no more pleading or crying. it reminded you of the instantaneous numbness that sweetly enveloped you when you patched up that dam in your mind. then he’s languidly walking in opposite direction. it’s unsurprising that he knows the route.

now, you’re the object of the hero’s attention. and to your dismay, you quickly discern that he’s the hero with the villainous quirk. the very same that backhandedly glorified him in the article.

“that’s rude.” you mumble.

his staring persists, a muted violet with hollow pupils. you’d always heard that the eyes were the gateway to the soul, but upon your unwitting contact, you were compelled to judge that he was soulless.

the observation was brief enough to settle that the movement couldn’t have been misconstrued for eye contact.

“w-what?” you blurt, eyes cast at the asphalt in shame. you often took solace in the fleetingness of passerby gazes—even that of people your age. regrettably, you could feel the judgement, the assessment, and the heat of his prodding eyes.

“nothing. i was just thinking about how you never screamed once. i never heard you ask for help.” he reveals with an unabashed curiosity seeping into his tone. yet, the sentiment was lost on his eyes.

yeah, well, years of guilt and torment will do that to ya.

“i… didn’t think anyone would come to help.” you admitted quietly, your hand is wrapped around your forearm so tightly, you were beginning to lose feeling. at some point, your quirk had activated inadvertently. the static-y tingles envelope the skin.

“really. how come?”

the shift in his tone was… nothing of note. so slight, so easy to miss, but perceivable, nonetheless, if you willed yourself to observe it. the effort was not something that came naturally to you. most people were none the wiser, and you were no exception. as far as your ears had gathered, he was speaking plainly.

“i don’t expect anyone to act selflessly. not even heroes. no one’s ever helped me when things like… this happen.” things you’d never bothered sharing with anyone were unfiltered as they left your tongue, and you’re flummoxed. where went your restraint and trepidation?

your eyes are still cemented to the floor. and the hero, though intrigued, was growing tired of your hesitance.

“you could look me in the eyes when you thank me, at least.”

your breath escapes you at his unexpected audacious tone. but you know you’re in no position to chastise someone, as unsolicited as it was, who did in fact come to your rescue.

the air staggers in your trachea, slinking upside and downside the membrane as your eyes reorient themselves. they’d been fixed on the asphalt. your mary janes. and the intentional design of the boots strapped to his feet. the light above your ankles was disconcerting—having attrited the cordiality you found in what wasn’t another person.

unwittingly, bound to fulfill what was the edict of gratitude and respect in society, you lift your head, your sight following closely behind.

upon contact, your own vision sways, and you don’t know if the fault lay in the fatigue militating your uprightness, or the interference of cohesion in your head.

all at once, his voice becomes softer, and his face contorts from that laidback, complacent grin and relaxes entirely. almost tranquil. you’re not sure about his eyes though. for all your lack of skill in all areas concerning social reciprocity, you were excellent at avoidance. you could spent a very comfortably and fulfilled lifetime without staring anyone in the eye.

you weren’t sure if you could hold it together if you saw pity swirling around those murky irises.

“that was a joke. a bad one.” he says, it’s an apology without the proper structure. you’d take it. you didn’t know him, and you were set on having it remain that way. you’re hoping you become another faceless civilian in the cloud of enthusiastic praises, extensions of gratitude, love admissions, and just unremarkable people. you hope you’re another random headstone in a cemetery that people pass and never consider the bones beneath the soil, what they were composed of. you want to stop this charade of the assessment of your well-being, one supposedly conducted out of compassion, and go home and scrub your skin raw.

“you can skip the pleasantries. i don’t need any services. i’m going home. thanks for your help.” you say quickly, and when you leant over to scoop the contents of your purse into your hands, you found that the hero had beaten you to the punch.

“i’m shinso hitoshi.” he says as amicably as he can muster. the artificiality isn’t difficult to see through. he offers you your purse, palm outstretched where the strap laid loosely. you watch the mole under his eye as you regard him.

the data is before your eyes, yet you couldn’t construe it one way or another.

the metal toes of his boots point at you, and his eyes flit across the features of your face, mapping the expanse— it’s absolutely unnerving.

you couldn’t read his body language, gauge his facial expression, or even bear to allow the intermingling of your gazes.

“it’s nice to meet you, i’m (y/n).” you weren’t going to disclose any obvious identifiers, leaving you susceptible to a breach of privacy. your last name wasn’t necessary in this introduction— one you prayed would soon reach its conclusion.

he breathes a chuckle; your disinterest is painstakingly apparent, comically so.

“well… (y/n), i really insist; let me take you home. walk you. what just happened was… a lot. i’d bet you’d feel safer if—“

“you’d lose.” you snipped quickly. “i’ll go now. thank you again, sir.”

you now your head, intentionally at a higher decline, avoiding that pain in your lower neck that’s reserved for only the utmost respect. you spin on your heel, and you’re blinking back the fiery pain in your eyes.

you swore to whatever god that refused to heed any of your pleas that your back was scorched from a pair of eyes. but when you looked over your shoulder, the only sight that greeted you was that of flickering floodlights.

194 notes · View notes

beardedmrbean · 11 months ago

Text

Some Gen Zers have grown critical of capitalism in recent years.

Rather than dismiss the whole system, many are embracing an idea one researcher calls "safety capitalism."

Gen Zers are less likely to take certain risks, which could be one reason they want more of a social safety net.

When someone loses their job or can't work for health reasons, how much government support should they receive? If you ask many Gen Zers that question, they'll say the current social safety net is insufficient.

Christina Elson, executive director of the Center for the Study of Capitalism at Wake Forest University, told Business Insider that many young people have embraced an idea she calls "safety capitalism."

The theory behind safety capitalism is that a successful capitalist system can and should provide sufficient protection — or safety — for those who need support following circumstances like a job loss or illness. One of the key questions facing any economic system is, "What should failure look like," Elson asked.

While many Americans receive support from a variety of social programs such as unemployment, food stamps, or disability, some of these have been scaled back since the height of the pandemic. As things stand, many Gen Zers think the US's social safety net is inadequate.

Sixty-five percent of Gen Zers think the government should provide a job to anyone who wants one, according to a Wake Forest survey of 2,000 Gen Zers and millennials conducted with YouGov in 2022. Forty-five percent said they had a positive impression of universal basic income policies. In a 2023 survey conducted by the same group, 65% percent of Gen Zers said unemployment payments should match one's salary.

Most Gen Zers still support capitalist ideas like private home ownership and entrepreneurship, Elson said. But many are frustrated with how the high costs of things like healthcare, housing, and education have taken a financial toll on Americans — and think these systems could benefit from more government intervention.

"You hear about 'billionaires should be outlawed' — that really isn't the issue," Elson previously told BI regarding Gen Zer's concerns. "The issue is the bottom. What is the appropriate bottom living standard for an American citizen, and what role should the government have in ensuring that people don't fall below that?"

Some are even turning away from capitalism altogether. In a Business Insider survey conducted last July of over 1,800 Americans, 28% of Gen Z respondents said they somewhat or strongly preferred the economic system of socialism over capitalism, the most of any generation. Twenty-nine percent of Gen Zers preferred capitalism — the rest didn't have a preference or weren't sure.

Why Gen Z wants an expanded safety net

Compared to past generations, young people today are less likely to drive, drink, have sex, and more likely to live at home, per some surveys. Elson said these examples point to a level of risk aversion that may be unique to Gen Zers.

"Gen Z are 'younger for longer,' — they go out into the world slower," she said, adding, "What is it that this generation needs in order to feel that they're able to go out there and take risks?"

Elson said many Gen Zers seek a "redesign of social safety" to enhance what some feel is an outdated system. For example, unemployment insurance and Social Security were introduced nearly 90 years ago during the Great Depression.

The financial challenges currently facing the Social Security system — due in part to the US's aging population — are arguably further evidence of a system that's in need of reform.

"All of this network has been designed for another time and place," Elson said.

Exactly what, if any, changes the US should make to its social safety net is up for debate. Some young people may look to Europe, where countries generally have a larger social safety net than the US.

In Germany, eligible unemployed individuals receive between 60% and 67% of their previous salary for up to a year. Policies like universal health insurance and guaranteed sick leave are also more common in Europe. Before temporary changes were enacted during the pandemic, most US states offered six months of unemployment benefits, with Americans collecting an average of $372 a week, per PBS.

Regardless, Elson said it's important that the US's entrepreneurial culture — which can reward risk-taking and drive economic progress — remains intact.

Most businesses fail, but as prominent investor Charlie Munger once said — and Elson referenced in a recent post — a level of failure may be necessary to have a thriving economy.

"Capitalism without failure is like religion without hell," Munger said.

#nunyas news

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quarantinedskull · 10 months ago

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Crazy story of the week:

The tragic incident surrounding the Netflix adaptation of the "Three Body Problem" series is not widely known among its fans. Lin Qi, a visionary and brilliant young billionaire, acquired the rights to the "Three Body Problem" with the ambition of creating various products from it. He enlisted the expertise of Xu Yao, a distinguished lawyer, appointing him CEO to spearhead the business operations, including securing a deal with Netflix—a feat for which Lin compensated Xu with a salary of nearly $3 million. However, Xu's performance did not meet expectations beyond the Netflix agreement, leading Lin to reduce his salary to $750,000 and bring in additional executives to enhance business operations. Xu, retaining his CEO title, was reportedly infuriated by this demotion and further aggravated by not being credited as a producer on the Netflix project.

Driven by revenge and inspired by the TV show "Breaking Bad," Xu meticulously planned Lin's murder. He purchased 160 phones and established a company in Japan to acquire the necessary chemicals for his scheme, testing them on animals. Xu then poisoned Lin and his colleagues, disguising the lethal substances as an advanced probiotic. Lin unsuspectingly consumed it and soon after was hospitalized, where it was immediately apparent he had been poisoned, though the specific toxins were unknown. The police quickly suspected Xu, who, had he disclosed the nature of the poisons (later found to have included exotic substances such as pufferfish poison and mercury and at least three other poisons), could have saved Lin's life. However, he chose not to, ensuring Lin's demise. Just a few days ago, as the show was premiering globally, Xu was finally sentenced to death for the murder of Lin and attempted murder of two other colleagues, who survived but with lifelong injuries.

Lin Qi, credited as an executive producer on the Netflix project posthumously, passed away at the age of 39. RIP 🕯️

#three body problem #netflix #3 body problem

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cognitivejustice · 6 months ago

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An International Labour Organization (ILO) report found that:

More than 86% of Indigenous peoples globally work in the informal economy, compared to 66% for their non-Indigenous counterparts.

Indigenous peoples are nearly three times more likely to be living in extreme poverty compared to their non-Indigenous counterparts.

The share of wage and salaried workers is considerably lower among the Indigenous (27.9%) than among the non-Indigenous (49.1%) population.

Globally, Indigenous peoples are earning 18.5% less than non-Indigenous people.

Workers’ unions are enhancing the representation of Indigenous peoples in their organisations and building alliances with Indigenous peoples’ organisations to address mutual concerns, including compliance with ILO C169:

New Zealand: Unions are advocating for legislation to make ethnic and gender pay gap reporting mandatory. This transparency is crucial to closing the significant gender pay gap faced by Indigenous women. While overall the gender pay gap between women and men in New Zealand is 8.6%, Pacific women in New Zealand earn around 26.5% less than non-Indigenous men.

Australia: Unions are working to ensure strong union representation for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander workers, empowering them to achieve just wages, social protection and self-determined, fulfilling employment.

Norway: The Norwegian Trade Union Confederation (LO Norway) promotes Indigenous culture and identity through leadership, cultural outlets and support for the truth and reconciliation process

Latin America: To hold governments to account, trade unions are using the ILO’s supervisory mechanisms. This includes highlighting issues such as occupational safety and forced labour.

#solarpunk #solar punk #indigenous knowledge #informal economy #community #solarpunk granny #africa

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halliescomut · 2 years ago

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Our Dining Table: Costuming Analysis

Alright…week 3..4?? of me begging you to watch Our Dining Table. No spoilers in this one, I actually wanna talk about one of my favorite underrated things in TV shows…wardrobe and costuming.

I’m going to be focused on the wardrobe of Minoru and Yutaka, but I’ll also touch on Tane and Koji (who I may also call Papa).

Wardrobe is one of the most fascinating things to me about film and television, but it is especially important in television (I think) because TV shows more often show a day-to-day story. There may be time jumps, but in general you’re following these characters through daily life. Character costuming is intended to not stand out unless that’s the point (see Tankhun) but instead add additional dimension to each character and enhance the information being presented by the script, actors, and director.

Looking at Yutaka first, what we know about Yutaka is that he is fairly simple, not very gregarious, quite kind, and from a monetarily privileged upbringing. He works a steady job, I would imagine likely has a college degree, and while he may be a mid-level employee, he’s probably making a decent salary. His clothing you see throughout the show is often simple, we don’t see loud patterns or a lot of color, he generally sticks with neutrals across the board, which makes it simpler for him to build perfectly fine outfits. His clothing is generally very neat, seems to most often be natural fibers, making it comfortable to an extent. It also appears to be more on the expensive end, not designer, but not Walmart.

So, what does this tell us about Yutaka? He’s not really interested in appearing fashionable, his clothing allows him to blend in, not be noticed, which we’ve seen is kind of his preference. He takes pride in looking well put together but doesn’t necessarily want to put in a large amount of effort. The natural fibers tell us that comfort matters a bit more than style, but also that he’s not going out of his way to buy something markedly expensive. Touching back on the expense, with his history and being from a fairly privileged family, my interpretation (which is based on experience with friends) is that he’s not seeking out buying expensive clothing for prestige, but more just shopping at the stores he’s used to going to, the stores his parents would have taken him to. A secondary benefit is that he’s buying higher quality clothing that with care is going to last him a fairly long time, which means less having to shop for replacements.

Moving to Minoru, but also the Ueda family as a whole. They’re clearly a working-class family, but may not be financially struggling, but more just coasting to a certain extent. The family as a whole wears some brighter colors, mostly Tane by the simple fact that he’s a child and children’s clothing is often colorful. I’m not going to say their clothing is unfashionable, because that’s too much of a subjective term, but more I’ll say that it’s serviceable, especially the adults. Papa and Minoru both wear comfortable basic clothing items, rarely anything ‘fancy’. We don’t see slacks, or neatly pressed clothing, just comfortable basics. Minoru tends to stick with cargo pants, jeans and sweats, with cotton t-shirts and hoodies. Any of these items could be looked at and seen as well used, or possibly even purchased secondhand. In Minoru’s case specifically, it’s likely that much of the clothing is pieces he’s had for several years, as he’s a young adult and isn’t having to purchase new items to accommodate for regular growth spurts.

So, what does this say about Minoru? Comfort is high on his level of importance with his clothing. While his clothing is always clean, not in need of repair, or clearly mended, which indicates that he takes care of his clothes, but also doesn’t feel pressed to make a single item last as long as possible. Again, with the natural fibers, which promotes the individual comfort of the wearer, but also conveys a sense of comfort and softness to the viewer. We’re far more likely to think of someone as comforting wearing a soft, worn sweatshirt versus an itchy wool sweater. By their ages, which are fairly similar, we do also see Minoru looking slightly more juvenile, which could be indicative of him continuing to wear clothing from his teen years because it’s still in perfectly good condition for wear. What look to be the newest items he wears are his coats and jackets and his uniform at the ramen shop, which you can attribute to a combination of outerwear generally being worn less often, meaning less wear and tear, and the likelihood that his uniform is provided by his employer, and therefore replaced whenever it’s worn to a point where they deem it unwearable.

Looking at Tane, his style matches that of his father and brother in that he’s seen wearing very comfortable clothes. There’s occasionally some mismatching going on, which for his age (I’m guessing around 6) could be just because he’s dressing himself or because Minoru and Papa don’t care if he’s mismatched…or both honestly. His clothes, noticeably to me, look to be slightly better quality than what we see on Minoru. They also obviously look newer, but Tane is likely only just getting to the stage where his growth has plateaued to the point that he might wear out an item of clothing before he grows out of it. I also don’t see much cohesion in the styles or themes of his clothes, which to me implies that they’re letting Tane pick a lot of his clothing in the store, versus them picking it out. Generally, when parents purchase clothing for their kids, they stick to the colors and styles that they themselves feel comfortable in. Going off Minoru that would mean Tane in sportswear like sweatshirts, track pants, etc.; maybe jeans but with limited funds, items with more give, would be preferable. Tane also has some ‘nicer’ clothing as well, not necessarily formal, but whatever the child equivalent of business casual would be (I would call them church clothes).

So, what can we read from Tane’s clothing? It’s in good condition, fits well, contains a few what I would call department store pieces, which are slightly more expensive than what we see on Minoru and Papa. This indicates he’s well cared for and that new good quality clothing for him is prioritized over other members of the household. The mismatching, and not so cohesiveness of the wardrobe overall indicates that he’s probably allowed to pick his own clothing and outfits regularly. In some cases, combined with other things, this could indicate lack of adult involvement, but here it’s mostly likely meant to imply that Minoru and Koji are encouraging Tane’s independence, and helping him learn to be self-sufficient (which is in line with general cultural norms of Japan).

Papa, or Koji, now we get to a little more fun. Of all the characters, Koji’s wardrobe and costuming is the most interesting to me and generally the most interesting to look at. His wardrobe, like the rest of the Ueda family is comfortable, well-worn, but also includes far more traditional Japanese cultural pieces than Minoru and Tane, who wear majority 'western’ styles. His clothing is often mismatched outside of the occasions where we see him wearing a full outfit. The styles we see of western clothing is along more classical lines, as opposed to ‘trendy’ pieces.

Looking at what this information is meant to impart, we see some repetition of course, the desire for comfort over being fashionable, serviceable clothing that shows wear as well as care. The inclusion of traditional Japanese clothing pieces emphasizes the generational divide, but also I think serves as an intentional counterpoint to Papa’s clearly accepting nature. As this is a queer story, the audience would have some concern over the possibility of him not accepting Minoru and Yutaka’s relationship. The mismatching outside of full outfits that don’t require decision-making to match, tells us that Koji doesn’t particularly care about looking ‘good’ especially while at home, as we actually only see him in the Ueda house. The classic styles of his western clothing I think serve a two-fold purpose. The most important is I think an indication of how he is able to be both traditional and modern in his mindset. He can respect and appreciate the traditions and styles of his culture and want to keep those alive without perpetuating outdated discrimination. A common phrase you see in the western vintage clothing community is “Vintage clothing not vintage values”, which I think gets my point across a little better and definitely more succinctly. The second purpose is that it makes it difficult to determine when a piece would have been bought. Take the polo shirt he’s wearing- the viewer would have no way of knowing if it was purchased in 1984, 2006, or 2019 outside of physically inspecting it (and having a remarkably in-depth knowledge of polo shirts). We also wouldn’t know if it was purchased new, at a discount shop, or second-hand.

I’m going to make a brief stopover to talk about Yutaka’s adoptive family, just to give some context. All dress very similarly to Yutaka, expensive, higher-end clothing, but not ostentatious. They follow a similar muted color palette of mostly neutrals as well. I would note that Yuki’s clothing is more well-fitted than Yutaka’s perhaps not tailored, or not always tailored, but probably actively tried on in stores where Yutaka would likely just buy the size he knows usually fits and if it’s a little loose who cares. Bottom line is Yuki is a man who strikes me as someone who knows what his inseam length is while Yutaka may not even know what an inseam is.

The Evolution of Yutaka’s clothing through the series

Yutaka’s sense of fashion doesn’t necessarily change, but you can see a progression in him through his clothing. We get a sense of two Yutaka’s in the beginning: work Yutaka and off-duty Yutaka. His work attire is as expected, your standard salaryman suit with an assortment of bland ties. Occasionally he wears a sweater as well, which makes sense as it’s winter. Off duty Yutaka wears jeans, though nice ones, not worn, no decorative rips, with sweaters and occasionally a button-up as well. We only see him in ‘comfortable’ clothing at home. The first time Minoru sees him in ‘comfortable’ clothing is episode 5, when Tane spills something on his shirt and Minoru gives him a sweatshirt to wear. Seeing Yutaka in that style of clothing is him becoming more comfortable with Minoru. He’s okay with Minoru seeing him at ‘less than his best’. We see it again in the next episode with Minoru coming to take care of a sick Yutaka at his home.

The ‘comfy’ clothes indicate Yutaka’s willingness to be vulnerable in Minoru’s presence. We also see a progression from mostly blacks, whites, and greys to more colors. We start with blue, which makes sense to me, as it’s not outside of Yutaka’s comfort zone, but it’s also a color we see a lot of in the Ueda house. This is a visual indication that Yutaka is not only welcome there, but fits in. He can belong there. I feel it also shows Yutaka becoming a bit braver over the course of the show as well. In our most recent episode, we see our biggest leap-- THE YELLOW SWEATER.

Interestingly he wears this sweater to his parent’s house. Seeing him in that space…he doesn’t fit in there anymore. That house is all cool-tone neutrals, but that’s not Yutaka anymore. He’s come to life. And do we even need to talk about the metaphor of him taking off the neutral greige jacket and showing that sunshine yellow underneath? Right before he reveals to his brother that he’s found his place, that he’s found himself??? He’s not going through the motions of trying to fit in, he’s not attempting to blend into the background. Oh! It’s beautiful!! Not to mention we see Tane in yellow throughout the show, which I believe makes the yellow sweater a little bit of a nod to Tane’s youthful kind spirit helping bring life to Yutaka.

In a final wrap up I want to discuss what is one of my favorite things to see in serialized television and that is outfit repeating…or at least clothing pieces repeating. It’s not something you see a lot of in television, though you see it more in long running or serialized television in the west, because wardrobe and costuming can be expensive. But I specifically appreciate it when you’re dealing with working-class characters. It’s impractical for a character who supposedly depends on their job to live to have an entire new outfit every single day. Having limited wardrobes for characters and showing items worn repeatedly adds to the realism of a show. It also enables you to add personality. As in real life a character would wear their favorite items of clothing a bit more often. We see Yutaka repeat whole outfits, which probably means that he’s not really thinking about making unique fashion choices, but instead just knows what goes together to look presentable. With Minoru you see different items of clothing repeated but never a whole outfit (outside of his work uniform). But you also don’t see anything that looks contrived or like an attempt at a fashionable or cohesive outfit, which indicates a lack of concern about fashion, but also a lack of concern of other’s perception. He doesn’t care what other people think about the way he dresses; it just isn’t something that has occurred to him at all.

Well, I hope you enjoyed. I don’t know if this will have encouraged you to watch the show, but I certainly hope you will.

NOTE: Many pics were pulled from various posts here, and I wanted to give credit. Link 1, Link 2, Link 3, Link 4, Link 5, Link 6, Link 7, Link 8, Link 9, Link 10, Link 11, Link 12, Link 13, Link 14

#Our Dining Table #yutaka x minoru #minoru x yutaka #bokura no shokutaku #Our Dining Table Meta #Wardrobe and Costuming #This post is 2300+ words #Japanese BL

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