#what can i say i have good taste and make good niches!!!!!!

[svndaysaweek]

You Don’t Even Know My Name, Do You? — {Feat. Minji}

3.1k words

A/N: Hi! It’s me, back in 6 months! I had the idea for this one since last summer, but never really made it a fic. But now I post it…! It’s a rushed fic, no editing, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or typos. Thank you @praeluxius for help and advice in making the conversation better and more natural! Thanks for 1.6k followers and most importantly 1k notes for ‘Niche’!!! Enjoy reading this and luv you all…!

******

Subways late at night are dangerous, and you can’t deny it’s because of you. Drunken bodies swaying along the rail, left and right, back and forth, grasping up on their wasted balance not to embarrass themselves by falling on the floor. Less than an hour left from waving away the day, you can tell where others in the train came from—bars, karaokes, or anywhere with entertainment and alcohol. Returning home after having some fun to wrap up the day and live the following day. Victims of society, some say, but that’s what all people are. We work, get paid. Victims don’t get to enjoy themselves, do they? But to be honest, you’re not the one to care for them, the victims, when you’re one of the victimizers.

You’re standing next to the door, the best position to scan the people in and out, empirically certified by yourself. There are quite a few people in the car—only a few seats available and half of the people chose to spare the seats empty. You’re holding onto a steel bar and slightly leaning your weight on it, eyeing thoroughly for your prey. But there’s no one yet to suit your taste, no one looking good and wealthy.

The mechanical female voice informs the next stop and a few dozens of seconds later the train halts for another group of people to be added to your menu.

“Alright, alright! I’m not that stupid to let someone just, like, snatch my purse away, huh?”

You hear a girl talking to her phone, laughing like she just heard the dumbest advice ever. A crop top for her defined belly to be open, relatively baggy jeans hinting the sculpted curve of her hips and full-blown outlines of legs. Within a second that girl has made everyone in the car latch their eyes on her doing nothing.

“What the fuck? I didn’t drink that much tonight I swear, and fuck, even an alcoholic won’t forget his own name,”

The girl, however, certainly looks drunk, sounds drunk, and acts drunk. Her eyes barely stay open, her tongue hardly makes her words clear. You can even smell how much she poured down her throat. It’s becoming more and more fit for your ideal condition.

Her talk goes on for a few more minutes then she puts her phone in her handbag and looks into the dark, mirror-like window. Her blinks become lazier and slower by the second, alcohol weighing her eyelids, but she does her best to stay up. She looks around to shake off the fatigue and meets your eyes, which have been on her since the moment she walked in. Three seconds is enough to make her look away in shyness, but it isn’t enough for her to examine you as her eyes lock with yours again.

She lets her eyes travel down your body to your toes slowly through(in) the window, alcohol erasing the fact that the subway is public. You pretend to neglect as she keeps eyeing you, head to toe several times, and the next stop the stumbly girl is forced to stand next to you by the crowd gushing in. Unavoidable contacts add leads to your eyes awkwardly meeting, which draws out mirrored smiles from each.

“Sorr-oh!”

A slight rattle of the train almost tackles her down but your arms are there to hold her from meeting the floor. 

"Careful, you almost hit your head, could have ended up like our friend over there." You nod and gesture at old man asleep at the other end of the carriage

"He looks peaceful though."

"You think you can stand up by yourself now?"

"Of Course! I'm not even that drunk."

"The last time my friend said that, he ended up face down in a bush." As soon as you’re done talking she stumbles again to her embarrassment. And of course you keep her standing.

"So you didn't catch him?"

"He's not as cute as you." She laughs and blushes, palm on her mouth and the tone a bit too high for a laughter in a subway. 

“Where do you live?” Change of topic, and you’re surprised that it’s her asking you, not the other way around as it used to be.

“Two stops before the terminus.” She checks where the train currently is, and stares at the map for a few dozen seconds as if her brain is still soaked with drinks, before looking back at you and pointing to the map.

“I’m getting off two stops later,” She blushes again, this time there’s even an awkward smile on her face. As if trying to say something shameful.

“And…” Her fidgety fingers dig into the arm of your shirt and her eyes are fixed on your shoes to never climb up. “And?” You repeat her, grin on your face because of her being so bashful and how overt her real intention is.

“And my name’s Minji by the way. Kim Minji.” It's trickery. A decoy. You almost burst into laughter but keep it down to a debonair ‘mhmm’ instead, hoping to bail Minji out of her own struggle to let the real words out.

And her phone rings. “No, not yet. Only two stops left. No, I don’t sound slurry at all, thanks. Oh my god, Hanni. I said I’m not that drunk! Yeah, I met a guy and maybe he’s taking me to my place-oh my god.” A brief moment of soberness washes through her body but her face is even rosier than ever. Over her phone you hear a woman shouting ‘hey’s and her name, but soon Minji hangs up. The train halts, and she just rushes between the crowd to get off out of shame but you catch her arm.

“Hey, it’s the wrong station.” She can’t look at your smirking face even facing you, face still red and fumbles the hem of her top. “Sorry for that… That was a total mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Minji raises her head, looks at you. “You’re drunk like hell, and you were going to say that anyways.” She's left speechless for a moment, then she opens her mouth to say something but frowns ignorantly.

“Why are you laughing? I was so embarrassed!” She's overtly trying to act cute and it's so working on you. With drunken red cheeks, slurry, lethargic pronunciation and on top of everything, her mesmerizing face. Even your most prior purpose is being threatened to melt by her exhilarating cuteness. 

“It’s nothing.” But your lips just can’t hide your smile, and there is more than one reason; Minji’s being so clingy, which is what usually happens when alcohol infiltrates people’s brains, and it is an aid for you as always. And when the announcement informs you of the next stop, her babyish grumbles are gone and shyness permeates again.

“So… Are you going to take me to my place…?” You hold out our arms and guide the groggy girl out of the train. “After you.” Minji can’t subdue the chuckles from the dizzy liquor, how sensible you are, at least in her opinion, and the fact that you two are going to stay the night together in her place. 

On the other hand, for you the reasons are somewhat different; it’s because tonight you made it, will see some pennies in your pocket and will be able to keep your stomach filled for a few more days. And she’s completely blind for that, giggling so innocently like what she’d do with her lover.

It must be her first time flirting with a guy. She can’t just follow anybody she likes. It’s dangerous. She can’t just trust anybody because he’s amiable. There could be a vice in his mind, transgressions at the tips of his fingers. Somebody should warn her about this, you think. How paradoxical. Maybe you won’t be doing this for long. But that’s something to worry about later.

All these thoughts pass through your mind in less than a second, and when you look back at her you see the green, innocent girl fluttered with excitement. “Lead the way please.” And she does.

******

“This is my place, it might be a little bit messy but-“ Minji opens the door and you close. “It’s okay. No one cares.” She sounds like the soberness has returned, but when you catch her ridiculously stumbling changing her shoes into slippers, ask if she’s okay, and she answers back that she’s alright, you just find yourself tentative about what’s in your mind.

“Are we going to kiss?” You know it’s a tipsy whim. You know she might not know what she’s doing. But it’s her asking you, not the opposite, she has no one to blame but herself, and you also know that she won’t. So you give it a go.

Her lips feel soft. You kiss her lips in a gingerly manner, eyes closed to focus all your senses to your lips. It feels like forever, but it’s obviously provisional so you do your best to find the perfect angle of your head, the right position of your hands, and the exact moment for your tongue to engage. A brief detach and then smoothly latch onto again, and a several times more, and in no time you two are completely submerged in the sensation, in the atmosphere and the feeling.

You open her lips with your tongue, and the key works so well you don’t even have to put any more effort to meet hers; she’s been waiting for it. When you taste her mouth, the alcoholic air hits your gustation and the olfactory sense—Jesus, how many glasses did she empty?—and you swallow it down to your body. Her tongue jockeys in your mouth, on your palate, around your tongue, everywhere it can reach. She’s so needy that when you try to withdraw for some air her arms lock you up and pull you in for a longer liplock.

But that doesn’t last long, before Minji herself pulls back to breathe.

“Minji,” Gasping, you call her name. She doesn’t respond. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom. It’s tidied up well unlike what she warned you about, but you don’t have any time to be infatuated with how neat her bedroom is, when her hasty tongue knocks on your lips to open up.

She really can’t hold it back as she redoubles the whirl inside your mouth. At this point you’re a bit shocked at how aggressive she has become—or, she might’ve been like this from the very start—but god, what a joy to reciprocate. But this desire is not a genital one, rather more like a sheer indulgence of the feeling itself as if it’s her first time.

“Minji, no one’s chasing you. You don’t have to rush.” Hands on her shoulders you say, in an assuring tone, to the panting girl in front of you. Regardless she dives in yet again, this time her hands dragging her jeans down, totally ignoring what you said. She doesn’t feel sorry, but neither do you when you can in fact enjoy what’s going to unfold.

You find it kinda cute to see that talkative girl in the subway all silent and busy with her hands with heavy breaths. It’s as if you have unbound her from the straitjacket—or the alcohol did—and her actual self inside was in need of some rabid lovemaking. No denial that she���s getting what she wants.

It’s hammy but a pleasure to watch. Her hands move to your top and hastily take it off of you, a sigh when it blocks the kiss. You’re overwhelmed as you take your pants yourself but Minji pulls it down to your ankles. Stepping out of them you push her onto her bed and crawl up to be parallel with her, eyes to eyes. When your erect cock brushes on her tummy she squints her eyes with a flinch. Her nerves are so worked up, whether it be from the intoxication she’s been in for hours or the anticipation. Or both.

“Minji, are you alright?” Her face is so red, her breaths are shallow and her teeth keep on biting her own fist. She just nods, eyes still filled with unrest; in fact you can’t tell if it’s concern or anticipation, but either way it’s your job to relax her. 

And putting her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with your lips is what you come up with as a solution. As if you want to absorb the turmoil out of her. When your tongues meet and intertwine her hands climb up to the back of your head and pull you deeper into the trance. Time passes like that. Minji’s so lost in the sensation, and when you lightly put your hand on her breasts she moans into your mouth. The size is just unblemished for you to leisurely fondle, so you keep doing that until she detaches from the kiss, asks you to take her top off with a coo.

“You look so beautiful. Just relax, Minji.” She bites on your under lip when your hand softly squeezes her breast and plays with her nipple. The pain is an approval you’d gratefully take.

You slide down to her neck, collarbone, chest, stomach and finally to her crotch, peppering everywhere on your way with pecks and licks and making it glisten. And oh, her pussy lips are already glistening—dripping, soaking wet—with her own water, nectar so dense with desire. You glimpse at her and she nods desperately, underside of her lips bitten hard, as if when you latch your tongue on her sex it’ll bleed. 

And when you do she yelps, sharp yet gutty, with her back involuntarily arching upward. “Ah, please…!” Is what follows her scream when you flick your tongue on her sensitive nub. You cherish her response and repeat it, eyeing her facial expressions and enjoying every furrow of her brows, every grasp on your hair and every squish of her thighs on your ears. It doesn’t take a while to reach the point where she loses control of herself. Where she loses her mind and cums with a scream. Your skull gets crushed between Minji’s fleshy thighs and your tongue drowns in her juices gushing into your mouth. It’s too saccharine, too flashy, beyond what you expected from her. 

“You’re so good at that… I’ve never squirted like that before.” Minji looks spent. Chest heaving up and down quickly, eyes almost teary and her tongue barely pronouncing correctly. You climb up again and lock lips with her, letting her taste her own liquid.

“Nngh…” You coat your cock with her prevailing girlcum, scrub it on her entrance a few times and slowly, slowly enter her first with only the head. That summons the clingy girl into her again as her arms lock around your neck and she screams into your shoulder. It’s enrapturing to feel the head of your cock slowly discover deeper parts of her, to hear her material moans permeating into your bones.

“God, you feel amazing!” Is what she says when you are halfway inside her. You withdraw a little bit, and put in even more, to make your entire cock disappear inside her. Her arms almost choke you when she hugs you tighter and shouts ‘yes’s and ‘oh my god’s right next to your ear.

“Minji, I’m going to move. I’m going to fuck you.” You groan. It’s finally the time to unleash everything in you, all too stacked up from the agonizing foreplays. “Yes, fuck me. Make me cum please-oh my god it feels so good!” You’re not going slow at all. The smacking sound is music to your ears, and her moans melt your brain. So you go brainless. Hitting the right spot and making her cry every time. It's soft no more, and Minji finds it crazy. Her arms can't settle down but intermittently darts about on the bed.

“Minji, fuck…” You doubt that she can hear you in the room full of her orgasmic yelps and moans. “Fuck, I love it! So deep inside me, don't stop…!” Her legs flutter, eyes roll back and fingers dig into your arms helplessly when she cums on your cock hard. “God, I can't… I can't-” The girl shyly asking for a kiss is now gone, beautifully degraded to a girl enjoying, loving and getting overtaken by the pleasure teeming into her. 

Overstimulated, Minji wriggles as if the sensations are throttling her. A few minutes you were caring about her more than you, but now your priorities are reset; you’re reminded of your purpose here, it's not for her sake, it's for you. And regardless of her condition you just push in, harder and deeper than each thrust, to the finish line. Her torso is turned red and at some point she's looking into your eyes, those subtle muscles beckoning for you to go for it, to cum.

“Minji, I'm cumming…! Fuck!” You splatter your seed all over her tummy and tits. The icing on the cake, an eye candy you're never going to be tired looking at.

“It was… Incredible.” Minji has a satisfied smile on her face. “Good to know you enjoyed it.” You nestle on the bed next to her, rearranging the wet strands of her hair out of her face.

******

Minji is asleep. Like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Like you're not in the bed with her. That's not an unexpected thing for you. You dress up, wipe your cum off her body. She's so pretty when sleeping, you think to yourself.

But right after that you take her purse; there are a few bucks and a credit card. And in the dressing table you find some fancy jewelry boxes.

It's bad, immoral. It's what you do for a living. Can't say you feel proud but not much of a guilt in your mind either. Maybe a little though. But only for this time. You actually liked Minji. Not that much, but you felt something different. Maybe you two can run into each other someday. And maybe you're hoping that happens, even though you know it won't help you in any ways. You can't explain it but there's something in your mind about what happened tonight. 

But you carry on, find a pen and a post-it, write something down and stick it on her empty purse on the nightstand.

‘You don't even know my name, do you?’

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #minji smut #newjeans smut

[angel-of-the-moons]

hi!! i’ve recently been struggling with my eating disorder, and i was wondering if you could do a hobie x gf!reader where reader is having a really hard time eating and he comforts her and helps her eat? lots of physical touch and words of affirmation if possible - and if this req is uncomfy i get it !!

Awww hon I hope this helps you feel a bit better!

Let Them Eat Cake (Or Something)

Soft!Hobie x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Eating Disorders/Anorexia, hints of depression, bullying, some mental trauma, back at it again with the fluffy bullshit (Hobie also makes an inappropriate promise but nothing is detailed lol)

A/N: I myself struggle with eating disorders brought on by financial strains and mental issues (still do) so I totally understand this kinda thing!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

It was the little things Hobie did to take care of you that most people probably couldn't imagine someone of his niche to do.

Things like peeling off the nutrition labels to things you'd buy at the grocery store so you couldn't stress over the calories (or lack thereof), buying those meal replacer shakes for you to try when you didn't want to eat; hovering over (respectfully) when you prepared your meals, saying little things to encourage you to fill your plate more.

"Ay, you should try this. Saw it online and heard it tastes pretty good with that, yeah?"

"Jus' a bit more, I can still see some on ya plate there. Almost done and it's less stuff wasted, right?"

He would even call or text you to eat one of the little snack baggies he'd prepped you full of healthy snacks. Even if it wasn't a full meal, helping you eat throughout the day brought him peace of mind so he wouldn't worry about you wasting away.

He'd read up on eating disorders and didn't like it one bit, so he devoted half his time with you around meals more focusing on you, even while he scarfed down his own portions.

Hobie had an insane metabolism, it was like he was constantly eating something in some way or another to keep himself going, and at some point you'd joked he had a black hole for a gullet.

But still, he would watch you out of the corner of his eye, taking your little mouse nibbles here and there, sipping your drink...

He knew that bringing it up front would only upset you, so he'd do little things to distract you from your thoughts of your food. He'd play little games with you. Like 20 questions. If you got one wrong, you'd have to eat another bite of your food. It would continue like that until your food was gone and you didn't realize it.

A punk with a heart of gold, Hobie Brown was. Though he'd never admit it out loud, even the members of his band would snort and laugh at how soft he was with you; though they understood completely why.

Today, you and Hobie went out for lunch, and you two attracted more than a few curious glances at your contrast in styles when you sat down to order. People just loved to stare, didn't they?

You idly played with your chips, pushing them around on your plate, your chicken sandwich sitting with just a few bites taken out of it.

"Ay, luv. Eyes bigger than your stomach, again?" Hobie asked, sipping his pop.

"Yeah... I just didn't think there'd be so much of it. I just..." You sigh, feeling defeated.

You'd had this problem since you were barely a teenager, and it only got worse after time. At least you stopped making yourself vomit up all your food.

You remember how badly it went when your mother caught you doing that.

In truth, you only started starving because... well. In school you were always insulted by the "prettier" girls. You'd always assumed you were pretty too, that's what your parents and relatives would always say. But being in the face of a gaggle of obnoxiously made-up girls rag on you in the lavatory, in gym class, or lunch... the pressure to be "thin" was hammered into you. If you looked like them, they would leave you alone.

And from there it went. You'd tried dating before, but none of your partners ever took care of you. Hell, one of them practically encouraged it and showed you diet pills online. You broke it off pretty quick after that.

Hobie was honestly the first to not automatically suggest you get locked in a mental ward, or just force yourself to scarf portions that were too much for your shrunken stomach to handle. Hobie was gentle and sweet, understanding with you.

Like he was right now.

"Well we can box it up and you can toast it up for later, alright?" He suggested.

His own plate was empty and your still practically full one wasn't lost on him. But he knew that directly pointing at the elephant in the room would only upset you.

His boot nudged your foot under the table and he gave you a smile, his eyes lighting up.

"Yeah.... yeah I can do that." You smile back sheepishly, letting Hobie flag down the server so he could pay (his treat, after all) and get you a to-go box.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Later that night, Hobie had reheated some leftovers from the night previous and toasted your chips and sandwich for you to finish off again; because ugh, nobody enjoyed soggy microwaved chicken and chips. And if they did they were a complete loon.

You sat snuggled up on the sofa, your food in your lap as Hobie's characteristically empty plate lay on the coffee table next to his propped up feet as the program droned on the television in front of you.

His hand rubbed your arm lazily up and down in a soothing motion as his eyes flicked down to your plate.

"You gon'a finish that, luv?" He hummed softly, kissing the top of your head.

"I..." You sighed down at the plate in your hands.

"'S all right." He mumbled into your hair. "But ya do worry me, baby. How about this... if you finish your food.... hm."

He looked at the ceiling and you could tell that he was faking thinking of something serious.

You knew it especially when he gave you a cocky smirk.

"If you finish your food, I'll do that thing you really like, for you, eh?"

"Hobie!" You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

"Oh? Not what you want, hm? How about..." He tapped his chin with his free hand, once again making a grand gesture of "deep" thought.

"Fine fine... how about we go to that li'le art museum you've been goin' on about?"

Your eyes light up and you look at him.

"Really?"

"Yep! Really. But only if you finish your food." He put a finger under your chin and kissed your nose.

"And eat breakfast tomorrow."

"Deal!"

Hobie smiled to himself as you tore into your food with motivation.

Being Spider-Man didn't always mean fighting the oppressive regime they were stuck with. It wasn't always about thwarting criminals in the streets.

Sometimes it was about coming home and making sure his girlfriend had enough to eat.

And that was plenty for him.

#answered #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader

[obae-me]

Hello, and welcome to another installment of niche content containing another mash of my two special interests. Written out of boredom at the airport. Today's edition, fueled with my excitement of being able to go to none other than Miku Expo 2024, I give:

The Brothers As My Favorite Vocaloid Songs!

Yes, I know, please, quell your excitement. I know everyone was waiting for this one. I will take no criticisms or judgments, only enthusiastic additions.

Warning: While nothing stated in this post needs a full content warning, if anyone decides to look up these songs, many songs themselves have plenty of individual warnings, so please search with caution.

Lucifer:

Now, the song I think he'd actually enjoy listening to is Daughter of Evil. It's got tragedy behind it, the song is a bit more classical/waltzy, exactly the kind of thing he likes. However based off his vibes alone, I'm gonna say Honey I'm Home. Mostly because I love Ghost and Pals but also because religious trauma. And I know other people agree with me because I've seen fanart of it.

Mammon:

I think Mammon would listen to Sand Planet. Oo, or Bring it On. Do I have a detailed explanation as to why? Not really in so many words, but it just seems like something he'd listen to, I feel it in my bones. I will not be taking any questions. Now the song I think he embodies? Wildcard. I mean, the whole motif is about playing cards, it's upbeat and fast paced and I love it and I love Kasane Teto even more.

Levi:

I will physically fight anyone who doesn't think Levi listens to Rolling Girl at least once a day (I won't actually fight anyone but I feel very strongly on this matter). It helps him get through hard times but it also makes him cry. Which...same, Levi, same. But if Leviathan were to be a song itself, I'd have to pass it over to Volt Tackle by Deco*27. Pokémon, talking about fighting and struggling at first to capture someone's love? Oo, or Digital Girl. It's got him written all over it. (Or if I want to be sad, give him Anthropophobia)

Satan:

See, Satan is hard because I never know if I envision him listening to heavy metal or if he prefers soft melodies. And, I mean, I know he can like more than one genre at once, but picking THE song I think he'd listen to is hard... but if I'm going off of what I like as well as gut instinct... Abstract Nonsense. Now, selected off his character, I'd have to pick Hikari Yo. It's just very emotional and desperate and the poor demon boi is like that on the inside quite a lot. WAIT or Pathalogical Facade! Oo, lots of options for Good Ol Satan.

Asmo:

Easy, he'd love Gimmie×Gimmie and I don't think I need any further explanation on this opinion. I actually think Asmo would unironically like a lot of vocaloid songs, personally. And as for his songification, I handpick Aishite, Aishite, Aishite. And I know there's a lot of different people's interpretations to this song and everything and people get very... I guess territorial when it comes to this song (at least from specific corners I've seen) but it makes sense to me. It's a really popular song and it's hauntingly beautiful and it's about wanting to be loved and adored and this is MY post so I can say whatever I want about it.

Beel:

Beel is another one that's hard for me to pin down... I think his music taste (joke not intended) is rather eclectic. He probably actually has no real preference other than more upbeat songs to make it easier to work out to. In which case I get to pick whatever I wish. For him I would make him listen to Happy Halloween. I don't care what time of year it is, it's cute and upbeat and about getting treats and it's one of my favorite songs ever. Now one to embody him?... Goodness that's even harder. I would love to say Appetite of a People Pleaser, but Beel's not a people pleaser... I actually don't know! Maybe I am a sham of a fan. I am open to suggestions for my baby Beel.

Belphie:

You know I have to pick Tokyo Teddy Bear. This mans is too edgy not to listen to it all too often. Plus, it's a classic. And, you know I have to make this all even sadder by giving him the song Error. Because I like to make myself cry. And Belphie needs a good cry, let's be honest with ourselves.

I'm also going to add the Distortanist as an honorable mention for unhinged Lesson 16 Belphie.

#legitimately so worried about posting this for some reason #oh my god #but im gonna do it anyway #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons

[corroded-hellfire]

Attend the Tale - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie proclaims to theatre nerd!reader that musicals are too happy for him. You then tell him the tale of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Note: This is partially because Gaten is currently in the show on broadway, yes, but also because it is one of my favorite musicals of all time and I myself am a huge theatre nerd.

Warnings: spoilers for Sweeney Todd, which has dark themes including bloody violence, murder, and cannibalism.

Words: 2.3k

Hawkins High School likes conventional. It likes when things make sense. For instance, it made sense when Chrissy Cunningham was nominated for Prom Queen, and Jason Carver for Prom King. It made sense that Nancy Wheeler was on track to give the valedictorian speech at graduation at the end of the year. What didn’t make sense—at least from an outsider's perspective—is you and Eddie.

Eddie Munson was all metal, band t-shirts, chunky silver rings, long wild mane, and tattoos. You are not metal. You are costumes, makeup, rehearsing lines and practicing songs for an audition. A theatre nerd, essentially. At night, Eddie blasts Metallica in his room, while you’re playing Andrew Lloyd Webber and attempting to hit the high notes in Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. The two of you looked like opposite sides of the spectrum. But in reality, you were two sides of the same coin. Both passionate about the music that moves you, embodying the looks of your respective niches. 

When you met, there was an initial clash between the two of you over use of the drama room. Yes, it was used for Hellfire meetings, but it was the drama room and Eddie shouldn’t have thrown a fuss if you had to come in and grab a costume that had been left in there earlier. Once the original ire cooled, the two of you found you gelled together quite nicely. Only someone else who has that deep appreciation for music can understand what it’s like to feel the music in your very soul, in every beat of your heart, and every breath you take. 

Though there wasn’t a crossover appeal with each other’s music, both you and Eddie could appreciate and respect the other’s taste. Eddie would blast metal in the van on the way home from school, so you’d come to learn some of the songs and point out your favorites to your boyfriend. When the two of you were at your house, a Sondheim or a Rodgers & Hammerstein record would be playing in the background as you makeout on your bed. 

Eddie had seen you in the last musical Hawkins High had put on—Into the Woods. The dark take on multiple fairy tales had drawn Eddie in more than he thought it would. Obviously, he had only gone to see you—dragging Dustin along because the curly haired boy was the only one willing to accompany him—but he ended up being honestly impressed by the talent and hard work it takes to put on a show. Hearing you sing as Cinderella had almost moved Eddie to tears, something he would never admit to a soul. But Dustin had noticed and told you when Eddie had gone to the bathroom after the show. You recognized the same dedication and effort in Eddie when you saw him performing with Corroded Coffin.

After you begged Eddie to play The Sound of Music cassette you just bought while you’re driving around one weekend, he comes up with a thought that astounds you.

“You know, musicals are just too happy for me. Everything is always okay in the end, and everyone sings and dances and it’s happily ever after.”

You’re staring at him for a good minute before he notices. He raises an eyebrow at you in question.

“That is so not true!”

“Babe,” Eddie says, knocking the rings of his right hand against the van’s radio. “We’re literally listening to a show that has singing nuns and nazis. And guess what? Everything ends tied up with a bow.”

“First of all,” you say, flopping back in your seat with a huff. “This is based on a true story. So, sorry that the real Von Trapp family escaped the nazis. Secondly, there are plenty of dark musicals. You saw Into the Woods!”

“Yeah, it was dark for fairy tales. I listen to metal. The witch cursing a family doesn’t quite cut it as ‘dark’ for me.”

“West Side Story? It’s tragic!”

“Tragedy and darkness aren’t really the same thing,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I mean, they can be. But they literally have gangs prancing down the street. Sad story, sure. But I wouldn’t say dark.”

You purse your lips in the way that Eddie finds adorable as you look out the window. A cheery song about favorite things playing isn’t helping you come up with any dark musicals.

“Aha! Phantom of the Opera,” you say, turning towards Eddie. “Kidnapping, murder, disfigured character. Dark enough for you?”

“Eh,” Eddie says with a shrug. “The opera part kinda cancels it out for me.”

Just as Eddie’s pulling into your driveway, your face lights up with an idea. Eddie notices it as he pulls the keys out of the ignition, the jingling of them breaking you out of your mini trance.

“Sweeney Todd.”

“Who?” Eddie asks.

“Sweeney Todd!” you repeat, as if just hearing it again will make everything clear to Eddie. Both of you get out of the car and you fumble to get your house keys out of your bag. “The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”

“Did we switch subjects, or…? Should I know this Todd dude?” Eddie asks as he follows you inside. He kicks his shoes off next to the door just as you do, and you toss your bag onto the closest chair.

“It’s a Stephen Sondheim musical,” you say. “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”

“A demon barber?” Eddie asks with a laugh. 

Spinning away from him and his dismissive chuckle, you stroll over to your collections of records. Nimble fingers pick through them until you find the one you’re looking for. Eddie just watches as you move to the record player and load up the album. The opening notes start slow at first, then gaining volume, with a haunting quality to the melody. It sounds eerily like music you would hear at a funeral. Then a piercing noise—a scream? a scrape? —slices through the air, startling Eddie. He won’t let you know it just yet, but this already has him intrigued. 

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd

His skin was pale and his eye was odd

He shaved the faces of gentlemen

Who never thereafter were heard of again

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, a smile curling on his lips. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.”

“It’s bloody and gory,” you say, jumping onto your couch. Eddie chuckles as he watches your socked feet move over the gray overstuffed cushions. You hold your hands out in front of you, fingers splayed as you begin to summarize the show in a melodramatic voice. “Sweeney Todd—who is actually named Benjamin Barker—returns to London after being wronged by a judge many years ago. Judge Turpin stole his wife and daughter. Like, literally stole. Not like he seduced her or something, he straight up took her and had her husband sent away.”

Eddie wrinkles up his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s creepy as hell.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” you say with a devious smile. As you continue on with the tale, the music playing in the background, you keep walking across the couch, jumping to the adjacent couch as well when you come to the edge. Eddie watches you, an adoring look in his eyes. “So, Sweeney stays with this lady, Mrs. Lovett, who has a pie shop. And he starts up as a barber again, with the goal of getting the judge to come in so he can…” You run your finger across your neck, imitating the slitting of your throat. 

“Does he stick the bastard?” Eddie asks, jumping up on the couch you just vacated. 

“Hold on, hold on,” you say, shooting him a smirk. “This other dude comes in and recognizes Sweeney back from when he was Barker, so Sweeney kills him. When he and Mrs. Lovett are trying to figure out what to do with the body, she comes up with an idea! But is it too much? Never, for this twisted pair!”

Eddie laughs as he listens and watches. Your eyes are wide, a crazed look there as you describe the warped tale. Even if he wasn’t genuinely enjoying this debauched plot, he would’ve been thoroughly amused by your performance. 

“They decide to get rid of the body by grinding him up and putting him in the meat pies!”  

“Ugh,” Eddie groans, face full of disgust. “That’s morbid.”

“Told ya,” you say with a proud smirk. “But they don’t stop there. Every man who comes to Sweeney’s shop becomes the new flavor of the day. And the people love the meat pies. They keep selling out of them.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, holding his hands up in front of him. “I concede. This is a dark musical.”

“Thank you,” you say, offering him a dramatic bow. “The dead bodies do not just come out tap dancing or some other cliche, cheesy shit you accuse musicals of. Although now that I’m thinking about that, it would’ve been cool.”  

“So, how’s it end?” Eddie asks, jumping over to the couch you’re on.

“Oh, no, no, no,” you say, shaking your head and backing a step away from him. “You’ll have to listen. Wait! See! They’re about to tell you.” You hold your finger to your lips, telling Eddie to be silent so he can hear the final lyrics of the song.

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd

He served a dark and a vengeful god

What happened then, well, that's the play

And he wouldn't want us to give it away

Not Sweeney

Not Sweeney Todd

The demon barber of Fleet street

Eddie steps forward and tugs on your waist until you’re flush up against him. “You seem to really enjoy this creepy shit.”

“I haven’t even told you the rest,” you say, cupping his face in your hands. “There’s the judge wanting to marry the daughter he stole as well. A beggar woman who goes around asking men if they wanna fuck her. And then there’s Antony and Toby who are precious boys.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Might just have to borrow this record.”

“I thought you’d like it,” you say, a satisfied smirk on your lips. “I know my boyfriend’s taste.”

“Yes, you do,” he mumbles as he leans in and presses his lips against yours. The two of you share lazy kisses for a few minutes, just standing there on your couch in the middle of your living room. When you finally break for air, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and lets out a small laugh. “Who would’ve thought I’d find a girlfriend who can match my theatrics?”

“I think I outdo your theatrics, thank you very much,” you say. “In private, anyway. I know I can be my true, authentic weird self with you.”

“I love your weird self,” Eddie says, hands roaming down to your ass. 

“And I love you.”

Eddie grins and presses a few more kisses to your mouth. 

“Are there any duets in the show?” Eddie asks. “Could learn it and we could sing it together.”

The way your eyes light up at his words has his heart stuttering in his chest. He’d never admit it, but he’d memorize all of Sondheim’s compositions if you wanted him to. Anything for you. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice the quietest it’s been this whole time. Before continuing, you clear your throat and blink your eyes a few times. “My favorite song from it is a duet. It’s the one where they decide to put the men into the pies. It’s called A Little Priest.”

You quickly hop off the couch and stop the record. Carefully, you turn it over and place it back down. Your eyes scan the track list printed on the record’s jacket to find the right spot. Placing the needle back down, a surge of pride flows through you as you hear it start playing exactly where you want it to. 

Seems a downright shame…

Turning back towards Eddie, you try to emulate Mrs. Lovett. Kind of crazy, but even crazier for the man in front of her. That part you have down perfectly. The fond look Eddie is giving you makes your tummy all fuzzy and your head all light. Knowing that not only can you be completely and unabashedly yourself around Eddie, but that he actually loves you like that still boggles your mind. 

The song is funny, filled with puns and jokes, and you sing through the lyrics with ease. As the long song comes to its end, you step up on the coffee table and use it as your stage. Closing your eyes, you throw your arms in the air dramatically as if you’re riding a roller coaster. 

We'll not discriminate great from small! 

No, we'll serve anyone, 

Meaning anyone, 

And to anyone

At all!

Eddie claps as you finish belting the last note, and your face warms at his praise. A shy giggle escapes you as you curtsy on top of the table. Your boyfriend hops down from the couch and wraps both of his arms around your legs. He flops backwards so he’s lying on the couch, pulling you along so you’re on top of him. 

“You’re so damn cute,” Eddie says.

“Takes one to know one, Munson,” you say, finger coming up to boop the tip of his nose. 

“I feel like I’m gonna have to take you to Broadway as a graduation gift,” Eddie muses.

“Baby,” you whine, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t wanna take a trip with me?” he asks, jutting out his bottom lip in his most adorable pout. The big cow eyes only add to it. 

“Of course I do,” you say. “Not letting you buy me a trip for graduation, though!”

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “What if it’s a gift for both of us? We go up together over the summer? Huh?” He grins and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You, me, whatever shows you want, then a nice big hotel bed at night. I won’t pay for everything, I promise.”

A giggle bubbles out of you and you rest your head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Sounds perfect, Eddie.” 

“I love you, my little theatre nerd.”

“I love you, my adorable metal head.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson x theatre nerd!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction

[bigboysfalldeep]

who's in charge? - Body Swap

"On your knees." Dimitri grunts when he enters my apartment. Right away, I go down on my knees. A well-known position for me.

He would visit me nearly every day after work, after hitting the gym, or whenever he felt like it.

It all started when he caught me staring at his bare chest two months ago. As my neighbor for two years, I had seen him a lot. But I was able to hide my crush. Wearing shorts one day, which couldn't hide my erection, changed that, however.

Since then, he has entered my apartment whenever he wants, demanding a blow job. Oh, how much I enjoy this. But some part of me wants more. It wants to be like him or be him. I crave to be in control, to have a strong body and a deep, manly voice.

I searched the internet for any way to make it happen. And after weeks of desperation and a few posts on niche websites, I was approached by a man claiming to be a doctor. After talking for a while, he persuaded me to try out his latest recipe.

It's basically a smoothie-like drink that tastes disgusting and looks that way. But I didn't have to pay for it yet. The doctor told me there was one missing piece—the essential piece.

I need something from the person I want to become. In anticipation of me sucking his dick and swallowing his cum—he would always demand to cum into my mouth, some sort of power move—I drank it whole.

I can feel it inside my stomach as I steady myself against his big thighs. Dimitri won't let me touch him more than necessary, so when I let my hands run from his waistline down to his thighs, he angrily yanks my head back by my hair.

"You are not to touch me." He grunts angrily, and his accent comes through. As much as I love him being feisty, I am even more excited to see if this drink will help me. "Understood?" He pulls at my hair again, causing me to whimper.

"Yes sir." I growl, and for a second, he just watches me closely. "Good." He says and spits on my cheek before letting go of my hair.

My eyes land on his now-thick bulge forming inside his trousers. This always turns him on—so exciting.

"Now get to work." He presses my face against his bulge, and I feel his dick hit my face. Dimitri's cock is larger than average, just like his ego.

I can tell he went to the gym right before coming to me. His clothes are wet and stick to his skin; he reeks of sweat, alcohol, and smoke. His typical afternoon.

As he lets go of my head, he touches himself and his cock before pulling his pants down. To my surprise, he isn't even wearing underwear. His wet cock is dangling right in front of my face.

This is it. 

I open my mouth and move in slowly but steadily, but Dimitri is not as patient. 

"Come one." He grunts and forces me to take his entire length into my mouth. Instinctively, I start to move my mouth and tongue, enjoying his musky taste and smell.

"Fuck. Yeah. Thats right." Dimitri groans loudly and moves his hips rhythmically. 

I gag once in a while due to his cock demanding more and more space, and soon enough, I feel the first drops of pre-cum run down my throat.

It feels amazing, but I don't know what will happen next.

My stomach feels weird, bloated almost as I feel my whole body stiffening. I've never felt like this before. My body is so hard, all of me, and my dick is tenting against my pants.

"Fuuuck." Dimitri growls, and when I look up at him, I catch him stroking his chest, clawing at his drenched shirt. Does he feel the same?

His face twists in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and he looks at me and grunts like a wild animal.

"Dont fucking.." Dimitri moans loudly. "Dont stop." His accent is even more coming through, which turns me on even more.

I try to steady us and wrap my arms around his thighs, still sucking him off and edging him on.

"What is this?" He groans, his hands now underneath his shirt. I feel something similar. My entire chest is twisting and turning, but something keeps me from pulling away. I know I need more of him.

I never sucked so well before, as I use my tongue to encourage him to finally give me what I desire most.

Dimitri looks at me, and thrusts into my mouth, hard. That makes me gag, but he's reaching his limits.

He stops, and I can tell he's about to reach his limit. I look at his tortured face as I go in for the win. My tongue encompasses the tip of his delicious cock, and he can't take it anymore.

With a loud moan, he cums into my mouth again and again. His taste spreads across my mouth and slides down my throat.

Right away, the weird feeling wanders through my whole chest, engulfing me in a comforting warmth.

My mind is getting overwhelmed, but I keep sucking him dry. I need every single drop of him.

I feel myself growing bigger the more of his precious cream I swallow. At the same time, his thighs are seemingly shrinking. It gets easier to hold him in place.

"What is happening?" Dimitri panics; I can see it in his eyes. "Are you doing this?" He grabs me by my hair again, trying his best to pull me off of him, but it's futile.

Like a parasite, I'm attached to his cock, and I won't let go now. To my horror, I can see the effect on his body now.

His chest, his arms, his muscles—all of them are shrinking rapidly. He gets even tinier now.

I don't know why he keeps shooting load after load into my mouth, but I crave even more.

"GET OFF ME." His voice is pitched now, and to my horror, it has become my old voice. His whole appearance changes too.

The more I drink his cum, the more his body becomes mine. I can just tell that I grow bigger, much bigger. It doesn't hurt; instead, it feels like flying through empty space. I'm light as a feather now.

My eyes roll back into my skull, and for a moment, I lose consciousness.

When I wake up, I don't see a sign of Dimitri at first. But as I get up from the floor, I can feel something different. I look down at myself, and I am wearing his drenched clothes. They stick to my skin, and I run a hand across my now well-formed chest.

"Thats amazing." I say this using Dimitri's manly voice, including his Serbian accent. I pull out my phone and open the camera. 

It worked! I am Dimitri now.

I admire myself and start to explore my new body when I see him. Dimitri, or my old self, is standing in the corner of the room. He's scared; obviously, all of this must be surreal.

I approach him, and he acts like a coward. "Please. What have you done?" He says this with anger in his voice before he attacks me.

But my body is much stronger now. "I've taken what's mine." I grunt and block him easily.

Wrapping an arm around his neck, I start to choke him firmly.

"Please. Give it back." He cries breathlessly. This makes me chuckle. "Fuck you." I say and release him, pushing him to the floor.

"This is much better now." I say, and I start to explore my new body even more. 

It feels so good when my muscles get hard, just as my cock is already leaking again. Subconciously, I touch myself and stroke myself, making me moan deeply with Dimitris voice.

"Stop!" He says it weakly, but I proceed to smell the heavy scent of musk coming from my pits. "This is mine now." I grab my cock and walk toward the door. 

My old body cries out, but I don't care.

It's all I ever wanted.

#tf story #male transformation #male tf #male body switch #male body possession #male body transformation #male body swap #male body suit

[iznsfw]

Adult Happy Meal

Kep1er's Shen Xiaoting x Ronald McDonald

1091 words

Categories | NOT SPONSORED BY/AFFILIATED TO/PROMOTED BY MCDONALD'S WHATSOEVER, exhibitionism, cunnilingus

Dedicated to everyone who ships Xiaoting with McDonald.

Ronald McDonald has never felt unsure about himself in his life.

It's a truth that many don't dare to believe. People would think a clown, complete with the red wig and balled nose who stood outside the branch of his diner, would feel more than inferior. If they were put in his place, they would feel exactly that. However, McDonald argues that if you ran a fast food chain that remained relevant even after all those years, which brought you money that's more than enough to take over the world itself, you wouldn't feel any bit of low self-esteem. Even if he does have to wear and keep up his clown persona, it's better than running a niche café nobody ever went to.

For fuck's sake, it's better than being Pennywise.

Besides, when the job brings him a pretty sight like that tall girl looking excitedly at the red-themed restaurant, he won't complain.

Xiaoting sticks out like a sore thumb in every place you put her in. You can put her in a museum rather than a McDonald's and she'd be photographed more than the Mona Lisa. Her quiet kind of beauty and slim body make him want to honk something other than the ball on his face.

There she is, dressed beautifully in a white tube top and skirt, looking like a goddess among men. Then you have him in a ridiculous clown suit and makeup. Will she even notice him this way? Will she just disregard him like every other customer does? He's never felt this low before.

"You can talk to me, you know."

The goddess has spoken. He blinks his shadowed eyes twice. "What?"

She laughs prettily. "You know," she says, raising an eyebrow, "talk to me instead of staring at me like I'm one of your spicy fried chickens."

McDonald is flustered, to say the least. She looks innocent; her eyes hold a silent, doe-like quality to their irises, and her smile is small. But if she's the type to let a clown flirt with her, then she's probably anything other than innocent.

Will she let a clown fuck her? he wonders.

"Fine." Two can play this game. "You know who I am. Your name?"

"Xiaoting," says she.

McDonald is tempted to make a pun about her name, but it's probably another thing she hears too often. Considering this, he remains silent.

Fortunately, she keeps the conversation going.

"I have an offer to make you," Xiaoting tells him.

Suddenly, she's got her hands smoothing down the white collars of his suit while a tiny, smug smile plays on her kissable lips.

McDonald can feel a lump in his throat. He's suddenly thankful the white clown makeup covers his heavy blush. "And what can that be?"

"I can give you another meal that'll make you happy," Xiaoting tells the clown with a wink.

Ronald doesn't know what to say, but his eyes showed all that was necessary.

Xiaoting brings her hand downwards, undoing the zipper of her skirt. It falls to the floor, promptly along with her underwear.

"I may not be KFC, McDonald," she says, "but this pussy is finger-lickin good."

"Don't say something you can't back up, Xiaoting," Ronald tells her, laughing to mask his surprise.

Xiaoting looks around. The crowds of customers inside the restaurant who can see the shenanigans she's making with him don't stop her from sitting down on the brown, convenience bench, spreading her legs, and parting her folds with her fingers for McDonald.

"You can see for yourself, if you want," she says cheekily.

All hesitation melts from his body. He's had offers made to him before—proposed collaborations from supposedly big artists, new recipes made in secret, etcetera etcetera—but none of those sound as good as what Xiaoting's giving him right now.

(Or taste as good.)

He's on his knees, wrapping his white gloved hands around Xiaoting's full thighs. He then begins to eat the girl's cunt. Her juices drip on his tongue, and he collects more of it in his mouth as he plunges his tongue in and out of her. Instantly, he realizes that Xiaoting tastes better than any frappe he's had his staff made. Surely those trendy beverages don't taste as sweet as she does?

"Ahh, I'm loving it!" Xiaoting moans. Her fingers curl into his red wig and pull, hard. She removes one hand from the clown's head to squeeze her own boob.

He grips her ass tightly, spanking her, while she squirms in his hands. Her dancer's hips create a dazed choreography not even one of his mascots can perform perfectly at a child's birthday party his restaurant would sponsor.

Her nipples perk through the fabric of her tube top. Is she braless? He knew it. He makes sure to bring them to full hardness, just like her sensitive nub, by drawing random patterns inside her slick pussy. Xiaoting's lounging in paradise; her legs feel weak, but she can see stars. That's exsctly why McDonald's is open 24 hours a day.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she screams. Each spank he throws at her bouncy bubble butt brings her closer to the edge. Every pair of eyes that look her way with shock makes her cheeks almost as red as the restaurnat's color scheme. "Yes, eat my pussy so good that I'll want to go here everyday!"

McDonald releases her clit from between his suckling lips. "No."

"What?" Xiaoting asks, shocked.

"Work for me. Work for my mouth. Do you really want me, Xiaoting?"

"Yes!" she screams. She locks her legs around his neck and pushes his head down on her pussy to make him resume. "Yes, I love you, McDonald! I love McDonald's! I'll work for you everyday here and cater to all the rude customers if you fuck me like this! Please make me cum!"

That's what he wants to hear. That's all he ever wanted to hear—not the good feedback or reviews, not the remarks of his customers, but this: Xiaoting's passive moans.

In response, he raises her legs upward and flicks his tongue on her clit madly. He dares to lick at her tempting asshole, causing her to scream rather loudly, before returning to tongue-fucking her. Xiaoting's legs curl in a way that makes them look like they're recreating the M logo of his restaurant. They're truly meant to be together.

He continues eating Xiaoting's pussy, which tastes better than any Big Mac or chicken meal, until she cums. After that, she lies broken on the bench, just like his ice cream machine.

#kpop smut #shen xiaoting smut #kepler smut #kep1er smut #gp999 smut #girls planet 999 smut #xiaoting smut #kepler xiaoting smut #kep1er xiaoting smut

[brsb4hls]

Good Omens Spoilers:

I'm off work now and can sort my thoughts a bit.

So far I've seen only positive reactions and some posts complaining about criticism (which I have not seen in itself).

I very much feel there's something missing in the discussion.

I'm not gonna spoil people's fun and I certainly will enjoy fan stuff, but I cannot stop being pissed.

And it's not about wether Aziraphale reciprocates Crowley's feelings and if they are a canon romantic couple or not.

That's not the point. The point also isn't dolphins, it is that I feel that Gaiman perverted the original core of Good Omens.

He might have done it for angst and a dramatic build up and he might resolve it if there will be a third season (which cannot be guaranteed, so THAT ending could be what we have to live with), but whatever the reasons, he did it and it leaves a bad taste.

To me the point of Good Omens always was that heaven and hell as a strict and rigid concept were equally horrible.

The 'good place' so to say was always earth.

And being a human on earth was about being accepted with all one's quirks and also making one's own decisions.

If I remember correctly those points are mostly made by Adam (who actually is the main character of the book, it just has so many colourful supports you wouldn't notice).

So Aziraphale and Crowley fit way better on earth, because they're both too unique for a rigid corporate structure.

They already are their own little team even if Aziraphale sometimes displays a holier-than- thou attitude and needs Crowley to remind him what he would loose, if earth were gone.

So they both defy their respective bosses to keep the niche they carved.

The first season of the show manages to keep that core statement despite changing the characters up a bit.

And it ends like in the book, with Aziraphale and Crowley fighting the system and winning, being free.

And now it's all set back and actually made worse by Aziraphale willingly going back, as long as he's in charge.

In the show, Aziraphale was bullied by his superior and now takes his job. He thinks he can change the oppressive system from the inside instead of abolishing it altogether, or staying clear of it, because it is 'toxic'.

And yes, I did notice that tiny bit of blackmail from Metatron regarding Crowley, but after all that happened THAT should have given Aziraphale a clue about what he is getting into again.

He also doesn't seem to suddenly know his best friend of 6000 years anymore.

Crowley never had a problem with being a demon. He had a problem with how hell treated him.

And a problem with how heaven reacted to asking questions, which is a thing he loves, so why would he want to go back?

On earth, Crowley was completely ok with doing minor mischief and performing demonic magic.

And Aziraphale technically knows that, but he tries to drag Crowley along for purely selfish reasons. And on top he seems to think that as a demon Crowley is not good enough anymore.

And that completely goes against the point.

The point that has been made very clear before and made book and parts of the first season so great.

Gaiman let the system win.

(and pull Aziraphale back in after he successfully got out. That's like someone taking back their horrible job at the factory that pays minimum wages and pollutes the environment as long as they're forman).

#good omens 2 spoilers #good omens 2 #book omens #good omens critical #and I really miss people pointing that out #this is tumblr #why is everybody ok with that message just because they get 'angst' and 'feels' #that's not worth it for me #or maybe I missed smth #I would very much like to discuss #or find people who feel similar about that #long post

[lakesbian]

alright this one is getting its own post instead of a reblog on a post that is Entirely Not About That. presenting the 'what if we put amy and alec in a room together' manifesto because the thing is that it is interesting but not in the way amy/alec shippers think

Amy shook her head, talking over her, “She’s always been emotional, passionate, unrestrained, and she’s channeling all this new emotion into hate, because it’s the closest equivalent.” “New emotion?” Regent asked.  “You mean you mindraped her.” Amy looked like she’d been slapped across the face.  I wasn’t surprised, but hearing it said out loud was unsettling.

“Nice,” Regent said.  “She could be a human-spider hybrid.  Add some insult to injury with the mindrape thing.” I could see Amy tense.

it is relevant to his character that he's the first person to cut through amy's euphemisms (and everyone else's avoidance of saying the unsettling part out loud) and outright say "you mindraped her." he calls the euphemistic language out and then intentionally repeats it a second time for no other reason than to bug her about it. it's vaguely reminiscent of something he says to sophia during his interlude:

“You and I are more alike than you’d suspect, I think,” he said. “We’re both arrogant assholes, yeah?  Difference is, I admit it, I don’t dress it up and tell myself that I’m a bitch and that that’s a good thing.”  He burned Emma’s face out of another photo.

he has a repeated habit of making people uncomfortable by calling something out for exactly what it is, whether it be "yeah sure cape groupies, my dad's girls, people i used my power on towards the end" or "you mean you mindraped her." he's desensitized enough to really all forms of violence to be unbothered by committing or witnessing them, but he seems to harbor a genuine pet peeve for people who obscure or unreasonably justify what they're actually doing. as uncomfortable as he can make taylor, it's often not that he's doing things worse than the other undersiders, but that he's the person most willing to openly admit what he's doing--or to pettily call out what someone else is doing.

i think it more or less boils down to the fact that he's never gotten to be the person on the peripherals of violence making up neat and tidy ways to talk about it: he spent his entire childhood being hurt in every way imaginable & being coerced into doing the same to others. i think it left him with a sort of genuine distaste for being expected to talk in circles around the viscerally awful things he had done to him or did to others, and subsequently, for people who have done similar things but can't fucking fess up to the reality of it. it's like he's been walking around his entire life just absolutely drenched in blood, witnessing so much else get covered in it, and he's starting to get legitimately bothered over people standing around twiddling their thumbs and pretending it's red paint. he knows it's blood. he's been tasting it since he was 6. he would really like if everyone else could also grow up and admit it's fucking blood.

it's always funny to me that amy/alec shipping is, like, a Thing--a niche thing, but a Thing, because i could not think of a rapist more hand-crafted to piss amy dallon off than alec vasil. he cannot go Three seconds in her presence without going "oh you raped her? you mean you raped her? with your mind? like she doesn't just have new feelings you specifically mean you mindraped her?"

she, on some level, views herself as someone who did harm because she's irrevocably, ontologically evil, and is sort of desperately obsessed with minimalizing or half-justifying her actions to herself so that she can avoid recognizing that she feels like she can't be better. she's clinging to the idea that she can be "redeemed" if she does something of equal measure in the opposite direction (e.g 'spending the rest of her life healing people' as she mentions), but because she can't even directly acknowledge how bad her actions actually were without crumbling under the weight of the idea that she's doomed to be that bad, she's fundamentally incapable of looking directly at what she did at this point in the story.

alec, on the other hand, is really fucking upfront and fairly objective about his actions--he never ties them into some Inarguable Truth About His Soul, and he's pretty honest about whether or not he thinks they're justifiable. in 14.1, he has this dialogue with cherie:

“When daddy had you practicing your powers, you ‘hijacked’ a few people at a time, used their bodies to get high with no consequences for you, you threw orgies for yourself…” “Again.  I was a kid.”

but despite the fact that sophia is, on some level, justified in his mind by his "eye for an eye, this is a favor for taylor" rhetoric--he's fine with admitting that he's also just doing it because, yeah, he's an arrogant asshole and he feels like it. some of it was because he was a kid being groomed, and some of it was because He Felt Like It.*

*sure, he only Felt Like It because he has a comically large cocktail of unpacked psychological issues--but he doesn't know that, he just knows he felt like it.

in other words, he doesn't subscribe to the idea that any of his actions are, like, Ontologically Predetermined By His Inner Being or even necessarily all related. he's like the fuckin' "might do it again, prolly not" dude from the sex offender shuffle. okay, sorry for saying that in my seriouspost. but his philosophies would clash hilariously badly with amy--he insists on accepting his own & others actions for exactly what they are, he's generally very invested in not being his father (being asked if he intends to turn out like his dad is one of the only times something briefly upsets him), and he's actually doing pretty okay at that. he's like...shockingly well-adjusted given the circumstances. his entire arc is more or less a slow upward climb.

i think having to be around someone who both believes and would outright admit "yeah i raped people, no i dunno if i feel that bad, no i'm not raking myself over the coals for it, yeah some of it was because i was a kid, yeah some of the other stuff wasn't, no i'm not Predestined To Suck," would like. clash with her beliefs abt 'ontologically evil' being a real thing, abt punishment as justice, etc. in a way that would really bother her. she spends a lot of her time in her head trying to twist things around until they feel salvageable to her, but alec is 0 amount concerned with rationalizing to make him feel alright--he just does things, some bad, most shitty attempts to be better.

it's, funnily enough, far more functional for improving than what amy has going on--he operates on material actions as opposed to her Self-Flagellating Thought Labyrinths, and the fact that he's busier moving on from things he can't materially change than he is kicking himself in the face means he can actually achieve some form of progress towards more functional approaches wrt human interaction. i think if amy had an extended conversation w/ him about the subject, she'd both be disgusted with him for not thinking thoughtcrime is real and deeply resentful that this fellow ontologically evil villain is doing better at moving forwards as a person than her despite not 24/7 flagellating himself + yearning for "redemption" like she is. it'd throw a disturbingly large wrench in her worldview, and she would not be happy about it.

oh, and alec would think she's weird and mopey and dumb and annoying and "why do it if you can't even admit it." and he would probably tell her as much. which is the point where i unlock the door to the room so alec can sprint out to escape amy's attempt to put tastebuds on his asshole.

#worm spoilers #scarf don't look #hmm. i'll maintag #parahumans #alec vasil #massive massive loss for the reading pact department tonight #sorry blake. im so sorry my pathetic boy i havent met yet #i need someone w more formed opinions abt amy to tell me if i have any idea what i'm talking abt #TURNED OFF REBLOGS BECAUSE PEOPLE WERE STILL REBLOGGING EVEN THOUGH ITS NOT TRUE #SORRY. HAVE TO MAKE A BETTER VERSION

[netherworldpost]

the business of small business is good business

I remember when I left college, I had an interview at an extremely tiny, extremely prestigious design firm. They weren't hiring (they made that clear) but I was able to convince them to do a portfolio review.

"You could go into accounts, you're great at it. But you'll be miserable. You could go into advertising but you'll be even more miserable. You'll make more money in either of these."

"What should I do?"

"Great question, you're going to have to figure that out, your skills and personality don't fit each other."

(Accounts are largely the sales folks in advertising agencies -- they handle clients, they are part of a pitch team, etc. If you've watched Mad Men -- Ken Cosgrove, Pete Campbell, Roger Stirling were accounts).

This was... many years ago.

I ordered dinner tonight, from my favorite restaurant, and had it delivered.

In the intervening years from that conversation, I doubled-down on my tiny businesses. It's been a good life.

I'm in the elevator with my favorite restaurant food in a bag and someone who lives in my building, whom I don't know, gets on.

"{Name of the restaurant]," I offer as way of greeting. "Fantastic food, I always get [name of dish]. Ever been there?"

"No but it smells great."

(Hands the person the menu from the bag)

On one hand -- I know I need to slow down, focus, tighten the ship.

Four years of transitioning Evil Supply Co. (which operated like a mad scientist lab / mad engineer's lab) into Netherworld Post Office (an extremely focused greeting card, printable downloads, and zine company) have taught me a lot of lessons.

On some level though

I can't/won't stop.

With the very depths of my soul, I love small business. I love the diner down the street, I love my suppliers for the Post -- I purposefully scoped them out and chosen the ones independently owned.

I. Love. Small. Business.

It's so hard, it is so rewarding, it takes so much, it gives so much more.

Every time you shop at a small, independently owned whatever, you're helping your community (we pay taxes locally).

You're helping the community -- be it your neighborhood or a niche interest online -- stay, grow, thrive.

There is a time and a place for Giant Corporation Things and I'll never argue that. I'm not here to nay-say.

I am here to remind you, regularly, constantly -- and maybe too often -- the width of the line between everything looking the same, sounding the same, reading the same, tasting the same -- because it is mass produced to the palette of a wide audience --

the width of that line is relative pocket change in price difference and/or a few extra days shipping time between a big box shop and your weird fav whatever.

If you want the world to be weird and shaped to your specific interests?

Shop small when you can.

[randomprose]

“Can you make this?”

Mo Guan Shan frowns at He Tian’s phone when he angles it in his direction. It’s a video of someone making cute rectangular layered cakes. 

He tilts his head a little, lower jaw jutting out in consideration, and He Tian knows Mo Guan Shan will make it anyway regardless of whatever he’s gonna say next.

"You into this shit?"

He Tian just shrugs. It's cute. He's into cute shit and he's not afraid to admit it. "It looks tasty."

"Hm," Mo Guan Shan hums with a non-committal shrug. "I'll try I guess."

'Try' he said as if that isn't as good as a yes. He Tian knows Mo Guan Shan won't just try. The second the question left He Tian’s lips Mo Guan Shan already took it as a challenge. He'll fucking do it and blow He Tian's mind in the process at how way better and prettier his version will be than the one in the video. Just like all the other times He Tian has shown him foods he thinks are interesting. It's as good as done at this point.  

See, it’s like this. Outside of work, the foods Mo Guan Shan cooks are just a rotation of his and He Tian’s favorite or any dish He Tian has mentioned even in passing that he likes. Mo Guan Shan has picked up on He Tian's picky eating habits and developed an instinct to mentally cataloguing He Tian’s niche food preferences and all the subtle ways he’s let them known. In his published cookbooks, at least half of the foods featured are a variation of what suits He Tian’s tastes and all of them have ‘For 贺天’ printed on the first page.

God. He Tian loves him so much. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve such devotion?

The weekend rolls around and Mo Guan Shan presents He Tian with his own version of the cakes. 

He Tian, as he expected, is floored by how pretty they are that he doesn’t even say anything. He just stares at the little rectangular cakes in pastels decorated with intricate shapes made of fondant and meticulously piped icing.

"What's wrong?" There's worry in Mo Guang Shan’s voice seeping into defensive. "What? You don't like it?"

"No, its..." He Tian looks up at him, brows furrowed and a look of genuine conflict on his face. "They're too pretty. I kinda don't wanna eat them."

“Idiot,” Mo Guan Shan just scoffs and rolls of his eyes but the slight quirk at the corner of his lips lets He Tian know he’s pleased. "Just eat it. Food is meant to be consumed. I can always make more."

"These are definitely way, waaaay cuter than the ones in the video I showed you."

"They're okay. You're just exaggerating."

"No, I'm not," He Tian insists. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Mo Guan Shan stares at him. He looks to be considering He Tian's words for a moment before nodding curtly.

He Tian takes what seems like a thousand pictures and sends them to their group chat with Jian Yi and Zhang Zheng Xi, to his brother, and then to Brother Qiu with a very proud caption of 'Momo made these for me~. They’re pretty AND they taste great~.’'

He revels in Jian Yi exploding in the group chat and demanding Mo Guan Shan make some for him and Zhan Zheng Xi too.

‘Heh,’ He Tian types with a smug smile, ‘Eat your heart out, bitch.’

(He Cheng thumbs-upped his message while Brother Qiu’s reply was to tell Mo Guan Shang to bring some over the next time they come to the mansion. To which He Tian replies a very empathic ‘No <3’).

When he’s done gloating, He Tian turns back to Mo Guan Shan and knows by the look on his face that he’s already thinking about including the cakes in his next cookbook. He thinks that if Mo Guan Shan ever gets his own restaurant, he’ll make it so at least half of the menu will be to He Tian’s liking. 

"I love you," He Tian says and means it. Because he really does and because he doesn’t know any other way of saying it. 

"Wha—" Mo Guan Shan blinks, a flower fondant halfway to his mouth, and looks at He Tian weirdly. "Just because of this? You're too easy."

For Mo Guan Shan? He really is. Always has been and always will be.

"You take care of me so well." Mo Guan Shan's loudest love language has always been food and He Tian still can't believe how lucky he is that he gets to have this. “I’ve gotten spoiled.”

“You’ve always been spoiled,” Mo Guan Shan retorts as he bumps a forkful of chiffon against He Tian’s lips. "Shut up and eat your damn cake." 

I love you too.

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #food as a love language #writing #if there is one thing MGS will do for HT it's to cook for him #cooking is some high level shit show of love ok #it's not even a 'labor' of love it's just is #it's not something he 'does eventhough it's hard' it's something he truly wants to do for HT ok #at least in my head #cooking for someone is just another way to say you love them

[ellestra]

Farming content James Somerton style

Edited: I cleaned up sentences, removed typos and added some links

You've probably seen the latest hbomberguy video that highlights plagiarism problem on youtube. He gives several examples many I never heard about but I've been recommended iilluminaughtii before and watched some of her stuff before getting tired of seemingly endless volume (now I know why). But then he gets to the real subject of the video and I did watch a lot of James Somerton videos. And I liked many of them. I liked them a lot.

I didn't give him any money and, as much as it came as relief, I kept thinking how this must feel so much worse for people who did. I thought about supporting him for a moment when he posted (in April this year!) how his videos are getting less views because youtube algorithm and demonetisation of gay creators (it's a real thing so it was easy to believe) and he will be forced to stop creating if people don't sign up to his patreon. But I was casual viewer and he seemed big enough so I didn't. It must feel like such a betrayal to those who created a real community around him. Just like his film production company it's clear now it was another of his scams. It's infuriating how well it worked.

Somerton deleted his patreon now (along with his twitter and discord server) so there is probably no recourse for those affected. The only good thing is that someone big enough highlighted what he did (and brought receipts) so he had to stop. When smaller creators called him out it either went unnoticed or he managed to make himself a victim (and send his fans after them). He actually did what Anita Sarkeesian was accused of and gaslighted his followers about it. His misogyny just adds an extra bitter taste to this.

At the end hbomberguy talks about how if Somerton was open about what he was doing this could've been his niche. He said it just as I was thinking basically the same thing. I'm sure there is a market for field review type of videos. Not review like movie or book review but in academic sense when you take other people articles on the subject and compare to show the state of research on the subject on at the moment.

This kind of reviews doesn't need any original research. The value is in giving people overview of where the field is at and pointing them to the actual research so they can read more in depth about the results. If you already did the search for all the sources this is a perfect format to use them. Most people don't have time or resources to comb through all the resources themselves but they like to learn about it and this is why videos like that are popular. That's why iilluminaughtii, Somerton and al. were able to cash in on it.

But of course this kind of things have to properly cited. And they cannot be just all quotes. You have to make coherent points not just make stuff up for the transitions (lies that actually made Todd in the Shadows make a video not about music). I suppose that's too much work. Too much effort when you need to crank out content to satisfy all the sponsors.

I was glad to find out I already watch most of the queer creators recommended in the hbomberguy's video (and put on this watch list) as an alternative (I would add Caelan Conrad to it - funnily enough I found them through their video about antivax movement). I trained my youtube recommendations well in which way it skews but it's easier to kick out all the obviously awful when you know what talking points to avoid. It's much harder to spot grift when it pretends to care about the same things you care about. Somerton was saying all the right things. It just wasn't his words.

Did he even believe any of it? I bet he'll insist on yes but the laziness says otherwise. It seems like it was all just for the money and fans this angle gave him. That he enjoyed being cool to the audience he built and the stuff it bought him. Be gay do crime for real. Only he didn't write that one either.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #youtube drama #youtube plagiarism #todd in the shadows #archeology tube #james somerton conman #james somerton scam #youtube #plagiarism

[herb10]

What are your personal favorite facts about justin? Like little niches and sweet little things about him? This is my favorite question to ask blogs since it’s so sweet so i hope it makes sense!

This is such a great question! Thank you so much for sending this ask 🥰

The following is a non-comprehensive list of some facts & stories about Justin that I find poignant and contribute to why I think he's a great person:

He's got a dry, sarcastic sense of humour. One of my favourite Justin quips came during a post-practice presser. Interviewer: "How is Zion fitting into your Offense?" Justin: "...hopefully at Right Guard".

Honorable mention: that time a reporter asked Justin during a presser if he lifts weights and Justin replied "Does it not look like it?" after a hilariously awkward silence. 😂

He seems to love and care for animals. I love the story of him rescuing two kittens whilst at Oregon and nursing them back to health before rehoming them. He did that all whilst seemingly juggling his academics and football which I think is pretty darn incredible and shows his nurturing side.

Also, according to his Mum, Holly, as a kid Justin would try to bring various animals home as pets. I just find it super adorable to imagine a little Justin eagerly presenting some creature to his Mum asking if he can keep it, promising to take care of it. This is even more cute to me knowing how he rescued those kittens.

He cares deeply for his family and seems very family-oriented. I absolutely love that during a PAC-12 Media Day interview where he was asked about some of the things he wanted in life, the first thing he said was "get married, be a great father, take care of my family". No mention of wealth or any materialistic things - only love and relationships.

He puts his shopping trolley back, which is the ultimate human goodness litmus test. I also find it hilarious that he straight up made Gabe his son by scolding him and telling him to go get his trolley and put it back after seeing Gabe try to abandon it in the car park. Justin just appreciates when things are in order and people do the right thing, as do I.

Also see that bit of Justin's mic'd up video where he calls out Cortez Broughton for his shitty parking lmaooo.

The fact that he moans softly after every throw and you all know damn well why I love that 👀.

He has an eclectic taste in music but favours Classic Rock which is due to his Dad's influence. I love this bc I too have a soft spot for Classic Rock bc of my Dad. Basically what I'm saying is that we're soulmates.

The fact that he's a literal millionaire and still thinks that Whole Foods is too expensive 🫰

Also that time Justin said fuck it to getting a professional haircut during his rookie year bc he deemed that "too expensive" too. Someone take this man to an ATM and show him his account balance please!

His penchant for movie quotes. I relate to this seeing as my entire sense of humour consists of pop culture references and silly movie quotes. I grew up with 3 brothers, can you tell?

He loves fishing. I love fishing. In fact, I spent my entire childhood in waders fishing Scottish rivers with my dad. I'm also dating a man whose father runs a successful fishing tackle business so you could say that I'm a bit obsessed.

So that's just a few things that I love about Justin with a few facts to go with. I hope that was along the lines of what you were hoping for 🩵

#elle asks #justin herbert

[gerrystamour]

Gerry★30s★He/Him/His★AO3★Main

Taglist: OPEN

All fics are STRANGER THINGS and/or STEDDIE unless otherwise stated.

★At A Glance★

Updated on February 8, 2024

★My Niches★

Transmasculine Steve Harrington★#TransmascSteve.

Good Boy Eddie Munson★#GoodBoyEddie.

★Highlights★

Newest: you are my destroyer★E★OMC Ship★1.9k

Greatest Hit: i could be honest, i could be human★E★48k

Writer's Fave: here i have found some peace of mind★E★60k

★Full Fic List★

title★rating★[one word description]★word count★ao3 link

★Series★

i could become the silver bullet in your head icbh, icbh!verse

i could be honest, i could be human★E ★48k★Ao3

i can't tell where you end and where i start★E★11k★Ao3

because no one can break my heart like i can★E★2.4k★ Ao3

we were tangled up like branches in a flood★M★2.3k★Ao3

at the sunrise the stones and stars align [Transmasc!Steve] peace of mind, pom!verse

here i have found some peace of mind★E★60k★Ao3

bite through these wires [Transmasc!Steve] strap!verse

grow back your sharpest teeth★E★5.6k★Ao3

you leave me with that grace★E★2.4k★Ao3

push down into membranes and layers★E★4.1k★Ao3

Steve Thot Jobs thot jobs

when heaven falls, i will be your light★E★876★Ao3

just one more drink, please come inside★E★1.4k★Ao3

i've got a ghost in the hallway grinning...

run it back (give me five whole minutes)★T★1.7k★Ao3

i am thick tar on the inside burning★G★1.6k★Ao3

★One-Shots★

nothing to say, and nowhere to go★E★1.9k★Ao3

so touch me again...★E★1.2k★Ao3

won't you come and dance in the dark with me?★T★2.9k★Ao3

i know you've got a taste, so...★E★2k★Ao3

would you find me in the stars?★T★1.2k★Ao3

suspended in the ether★E★7.4k+★Ao3

cut the lights and make me your oblivion★E★2.2k★Ao3

be the first to the feast...★E★2.1k★Ao3

that's the kind of love...★E★2.7k+★Ao3

you're in the walls that i made...★E★7.6k★Ao3

the fire is so delightful★E★5.5k★Ao3

★Drabbles★

"Can I sit here...?"★G★Modern!AU★854★Ao3

"I'm not going to stop poking you..."★G★Pre-Steddie★679★Ao3

"When I picture myself happy..."★G★Getting together★1.1k★Ao3

i belong to all of your mysteries★E★Transmasc Steve★442★Ao3

our hearts are racing, captivated★E★PWP★311★Ao3

nice.★E★PWP★69★Ao3

"What did you do this time?"★T★Jeff/Eddie

"I almost lost you."★T★Jeff/Eddie

but whisper your love...★G★Modern!AU★392★Ao3

★OC Fics★

"If we weren't in public..."★T★pom!verse★Tig/Gareth

"How have you survived this long..."★E★pom!verse★Freak/Dom

"There is no way this much stupid..."★T★pom!verse★Tig/Gareth

"God, I love you."★T★pom!verse★Charlie/Roger

"Tell me again..."★E★pom!verse★Charlie/Roger

"I've been thinking about you..."★T★pom!verse★Charlie/Roger

"Please, never stop smiling."★G★pom!verse★Charlie/Eric

"Let me do this. Please."★M★Mafia!AU★Vinny/Kez

"You need to wake up..."★T★Mafia!AU★Vinny/Kez

on and on...★T★Mafia!AU★Sam/Dom

you are my destroyer★E★Mafia!AU★Sam/Dom

dividers & header by @/saradika

[olderthannetfic]

I feel like people won't like this question but not knowing the answer bothers me, so here goes. I'm part of a small writing community and in my category (original m/m) I'm a really small author, getting one comment per chapter, while others have 100+ comments for the same amount of chapters. These are usually the type of stories that are darker with elements of rape and seme/uke dynamics and feature maffia bosses, sex slaves, hybrids, A/B/O and the like. These are not my cup of tea but I understand the id explanation and fully support it, I just don't understand how my id can be so different from the majority's.

My favourite dynamic is bad boy with a golden heart/fairly normal guy, so that's what I write most often and I thought this was a popular dynamic. Within that dynamic, my stories are pretty eclectic, I've got old butler/young groom, prince/court painter, ghost hunter youtuber/ghost, PE teacher/math teacher, I write about adults, teenagers, boys, girls, etc. What is it that's so appealing in maffia stories but not in mine?

Obviously I'm motivated by jealousy in asking this, but I hope I don't come off as too unpleasant or pretentious. I just don't understand what the barrier is that I can't step over, what it is that makes these other authors so popular. It's disheartening to realise I will never be as popular as them, and not knowing why. (Of course I know the obvious answer is to just write whatever makes me happy and don't think about popularity and numbers, find friends with similar tastes, etc., but I do that most of the time and in asking this, I'm just interested in how other people see the issue, what might be the reason behind the majority's taste.)

I think all of the writers in question can tell a story fairly well, me included, so I can only think the difference is in the topics we choose. (Also in sappy declarations of love and the characters constantly calling each other "sweetheart" and "my love" that sounds kind of cringey in my native language but I can't imagine people are not interested in my stories because they don't contain tearful love confessions. There's plenty of romance there, though less and less explicit sex.) So can anybody tell me what makes these darker topics so much more appealing? Maybe if I understood, I would be less bothered by it.

(You're also free to tell me I'm a wanker and to come off it, of course.)

--

Haha. Well... I think a certain amount of professional jealousy or at least insecurity is common, especially if you're hoping to pay your rent or gain clout or something and it isn't happening for you (yet). (I'm unclear if your original m/m niche is one where people are seeking money or not.)

I don't feel bad when other people are more popular because I know my shit is good. If it hasn't found an audience, it's partly because my marketing isn't good (or existent) or because it just takes time to find an audience. But a lot of it has to do with my native personality. I'm just not a jealous person, and I find jealousy odd and confusing most of the time. (Cue a bunch of fiction exploring jealous characters. Haha.)

There are some interesting side topics to discuss here, but your question, taken exactly as phrased, is basically about your own emotions and not about external reality.

--

It sounds to me from what you wrote here like maybe you're writing in your native language?

But if you are writing in English, watch out for little pitfalls like "heart of gold" vs. "golden heart".

--

Second... what do you mean "majority"? Do you honestly think that everyone, everywhere likes runny assholes and mafia rape?

If the community you hang out in all prefers a/b/o to what you like to write, your answer is right there: You have chosen to hang out with the wrong people, courting the wrong audience.

That says nothing about whether somebody somewhere else prefers lighthearted bad boy stories.

In the professional m/m novelist circles I've seen (the type where people only publish complete books, not serialized things), contemporary romance is one of the categories that sells best. I'm not an authority since I loathe contemporary, but it's so very, very popular, probably much more so than any given dark kink trope.

--

Third, Wattpad-style mafia stories, a/b/o, hybrids, and suchlike are easy to market.

They have very specific keywords that make it easy for aficionados to find that exact subgenre in order to consume five thousand more of the exact same thing.

Look at conventional romance novels: The most popular and enduring individual books are by Names and are often a little harder to tag, but a lot of what sells at the lower tiers is that "The Greek Billionaire's Virgin Bride" stuff where you figure the actual prose is terrible but it will deliver exactly the tropes you expect and want with no wasting time on shit you don't care about.

'Bad boy with a heart of gold' is fairly easy to tag too, but if that's the only keyword-y bit of your stories, that could be an issue.

If you're writing the sorts of things that live or die by tropes and you don't write explicit sex, that can also be a hindrance.

It's not that everyone wants explicit sex in their books, but if I'm looking for a high volume of average-quality stuff by kink or trope, I probably do.

--

This one's more idiosyncratic, but for me personally, if I'm picking up something that's less about delivering specific sex scenes or kink experiences, I probably care more about quality of prose and plot.

I absolutely have a double standard here, and that does extend to iddy-but-not-porny stories in many cases because something like really intense hurt/comfort just won't hit home well enough for me if it isn't up to a certain writing standard.

I also do not tolerate serialization for this type of thing very well where I probably would for a story that has a different fucked up kinky sex scene in every chapter.

Yes, I believe you that you can write a decent story. Can you write a great one?

Lots of the most popular books of all time have some romance without having a lot of soppy pet names or explicit sex, but they're also often a hell of a lot better at mystery or action or sweeping historical epic or charming sense of place or some other thing than I'm guessing these circles you run in are.

I could be wrong. You could be a brilliant writer. But I do wonder if you're hanging out in the right place or comparing yourself to the right authors to achieve whatever your goals actually are.

--

A related thing that occurs to me here is that writing about all categories of person is terrible branding.

It works if your selling point is your brilliant plots and prose, especially if you are traditionally published.

It works a hell of a lot less well if your selling point is tropey original m/m with easy keywords in an online context. Why would that audience suddenly want a f/f version of the same thing? They might, but they very well might not. If they like young protagonists, maybe they don't also like old ones. etc.

When people are filtering down and down and down by keywords, having a diverse oeuvre is not an asset unless you are head and shoulders above all the other writers around.

--

We can also talk about why people like darker tropes over lighter ones, but I think you have some assumptions and some marketing!fail to unpack here.

But the short version of my answer is that some of the darker tropes still have a lot of zing and inherent drama even in the hands of a mediocre writer, while a fairly banal contemporary romance setup needs a higher degree of skill to inject life into it.

--

Anyone else have thoughts?

[tokiro07]

Undead Unlcuk ch.186 thoughts

[Just Like Mama Used to Make]

(Contents: thematic analysis - artistic expression)

Before I say anything else, I just want to note how hard that one bystander saying "what the fuck?" made me laugh. That killed me. With how much wild shit the Union gets up to, it's refreshing to see someone not only witness it, but actually acknowledge it. I still wonder how the audience for Feng's martial arts tournament reacted to all of the weird fights

I also want to point out that in this loop, Enjin's iconic ripped hat look is created from him being thrown through the wall of his mother's hospital room. I'm sure there was some cool story to it originally, but nope, this time he just...biffed a landing, s'all. As usual, no dignity in this series

Onto the chapter, I figured that this chapter was going to continue to expand on the idea of togetherness using food as a symbol like last week, but nope! We're movin' on! Instead of examining how the act of eating can deepen bonds, this week we're examining the difference between mass appeal and individual experience

Enjin's ramen, made with refined technique, is "objectively" good food that pretty much anyone will say is tasty, but aside from the opportunity for custom orders like "extra toppings" or "light on the X," the overall dish is always the same. Without any direct input, Enjin will always produce the same meal, with the expectation that it's so high quality that no one could possibly dislike it. This approach is not necessarily wrong, as consistency is an important factor in food service, but it does mean that if there's any one factor that any one customer doesn't like, they won't end up enjoying it because it doesn't match with their personal taste

It's kind of like if a manga starts out with one of the main leads sexually harassing the other. Sure, the manga as a whole may be great, possibly even the best among its contemporaries, but some people just aren't going to be able to get past that initial bad taste in their mouth. No matter how good the end product is, someone is going to slip through the cracks

Someone isn't going to be able to stand how hot the broth is, someone isn't going to like the mushrooms or the bamboo shoots, and someone isn't going to appreciate seeing a girl get groped by a man whose dick is flopping in the wind. This is an unavoidable truth in the creative process: there is no such thing as perfect. There will always be flaws, and there will always be detractors, but there will also always be fans willing to stand by the art and declare that it's their absolute favorite

This is where Fuuko's ramen comes in: even if only two people out of...what, fifty people(?) liked it, what matters is that the person it was meant for liked it. The point was to show Enjin that no amount of refinement would be able to capture everyone's hearts, but any amount of consideration would capture the heart of the one person it's meant to. Luckily there was another person present who fit in that same niche to drive the point home, but even without that child, I think Enjin would have gotten the point

When it comes to art, you sometimes need to ignore the instinct to try to appeal to anyone and instead focus on creating the thing that you want, the thing that will make you happy. You will run the risk of alienating basically everyone, but by being honest and forthright in how you express yourself, you'll eventually find someone who your work truly resonates with

Fuuko's touch-starved isolation, Andy's hedonistic depression, Billy's stoic responsibility, Rip's dual loves...these aren't things that everyone can relate to, even if they can sympathize. But to someone who feels isolated, who tries to fight against crushing despair with a plastered smile, who bears the weight of the world on their shoulders, or knows what it's like to love more than others say they should, these things will all ring true, and make that reader feel like someone, somewhere finally understands, like someone said all the things they wish they could if they only had the talent or the time

To me, this chapter isn't about cooking, it's about the act of creation. It's about the act of sharing your soul with the world around you and knowing that you resonated with even just one person, and knowing that that one person's world has changed for the better. It's about the act of receiving a piece of someone and being able to smile back at them, telling them that the message has been received

Maybe this won't be what anyone else sees. Maybe this chapter will come across as lukewarm to somebody, maybe even to most people. Maybe it was mediocre at best to someone and they'd prefer something with a bit more of a kick. But someone, maybe just one person, was able to really sink their teeth into this one and savor all of the ingredients, the love and the care that went into creating this piece. Someone was moved to tears, and someone looks at the world just a little differently now thanks to this chapter

Until next time, let's enjoy life

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

[venacoeurva]

I will be opening 2 slots for this style! Please specify if you want the regular cel shaded one or the old print style one (Wren threateningly in his undies is the best example of the textures and inking I have 🥲), prices are the same. One image per person sans minor alterations. Please read the rules below.

They’re first come, first serve--Contact via IMs only, asks are tedious and difficult to navigate back to to get refs, and idk if asks still get eaten but I'd rather not give it the chance.

RULES

These commissions are NOT permitted for commercial use, use in training AI, NFTs or any involvement in cryptocurrency, campaigns, or promotion that contributes to financial gain. This includes assets such as icons, banners, character art, and similar for streaming, Youtube, blogs that make a profit, and other websites. If there’s a chance you will profit financially from its use, that falls under commercial.

You will get 2 minor to moderate fixes in your commission past the sketch phase. Be prepared and have your resources and ideas ahead of time and if you remember any changes please tell me all of them at one time as one fix. I will not practically or actually redraw or recolor a commission due to customer negligence.

You are not permitted to remove watermarks on the pieces.

I must know ahead of time if you intend on creating physical objects using the piece.

There is not a contractual forfeiture of rights from me to you, I extend them to you. I retain a right to use commissions for promotional and portfolio reasons.

Payment must be up front in full via Paypal invoices (so I need your associated email, NOT a paypal.me link).

When describing things such as the poses and scene, please break the text up into smaller chunks. Also, please don’t tell me to just do whatever, that isn’t helpful at all, stressful, and odds are you know these characters more than I do!

Must have a visual reference for any OCs or character who are difficult to find good references for (such as for a very niche series). I need as neutral lighting in screenshots as you can manage, if you want color accuracy I need accurate colors for colored pieces or the ability to infer what they would be in the lighting of the commission. If the screenshots are too bad I will say no until you can get a better one.

Keep it SFW, suggestive at most for adult characters only (vulgar dialogue or text allowed as long as it's not bigoted or in poor taste). Upper nudity is fine for adults. You must be an adult for that. Fetish content that wouldn’t be clocked from an outside perspective is not allowed. I can also tell when people try to stealth fetish art out of me.

I will not emulate other online artists’ styles, and this commission opening is for the above style only.

If you want me to illustrate part of your fic, do not expect me to read it. Give me a description of the scene as you would any other illustration. If you try this, I will reject your commission.

Shipping is fine (OCXCanon, OCXOC, CanonxCanon) provided it isn't incest or adult/minor. If I'm skeeved out by a particular one you bring up I'll also let you know if I won't do that one.

I won't draw other peoples' OCs that are not yours unless you know each other. People do that without consent, it's weird!

Nonhuman/elf/other humanoid characters are fine, including furries or monsters.

No real people other than cases such as your fursona, etc. and no real person shipping/fanfiction or fanart.

If you're being unprofessional via playful rudeness, flirting, bigotry, demanding I prioritize your comm in the queue or to work faster I will refund you and immediately stop working on your commission. You will be blacklisted.

No politics, no bigoted content (including transphobia and exclusion), no shitty tired jokes like farm tools, rape jokes, pedophilia jokes, or anything involving F/yr unless it’s him getting being obliterated into a fine paste. You get the gist, he makes me uncomfortable and I refuse to draw him, and poor enough taste concepts will get you rejected and blacklisted.

There are some series I refuse to draw for full stop. If you ask for one, I’ll let you know.

I can say no to any commission for any reason.

#commissions #tes #artsyfartsyness