#goth isn’t corporate

[mallgothchloe97]

It’s a real shame that goth has become nothing but mere aesthetic now when there is so much more than aesthetic. Which I am not judging anyone on how they fell in love with the subculture, if the aesthetic is what drew you in, that’s absolutely ok, people’s experience is different and hey times have changed over the years and people probably didn’t have any goth people in their corner to show them the ropes.

But it’s a fucking shame how corporate it’s become almost.

Goth is a music based subculture and this is coming from someone who claims to be a Mall Goth and Vampire Goth.

The goth subculture developed from the creation of gothic rock, an offshoot of the Post-Punk music genre.

What is Post-Punk?

Post-punk is very similar to Punk in regards to ideologies and mentality, but they differ in their musical influences.

Punk is mostly influences by elements of Rock, whereas Post-punk is all about breaking away from Rock cliches and experimenting with different musical styles.

Anarchism: The belief in the dismantling of all forms of authority, unnecessary coercion and hierarchy, i.e. capitalism.

• Non-Conformity: Not conforming or adhering to generally accepted standards or customs.

• Anti-Corporatism: A movement targeted against major international and global corporations, particularly those believed to be using unethical or unsustainable methods to create their products.

• Individual Freedom: The belief in the rights and autonomy of individuals to make decisions Without undue interference from external forces.

Goth is so much more than killstar hauls and thirst traps and makeup. Which don’t get me wrong if you do those things, I ain’t stopping you and it’s fine to do them every once in awhile, but please just keep that in mind.

But yeah.

Like I said there really isn’t any rules to being goth.

Just be you.

Be authentic.

That’s all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Walking on Sunshine 3

Sister series to Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows

Warnings: non/dubcon, antisocial behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: God The Bounty Hunter x reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stare at the muffin, pondering it as if it holds the meaning of life. Where did it come from? Who could know of your secret longing? Or could it be a lucky guess?

Surely, it isn’t your prospective friend from the break room. Too fast, despite your hopes. You really can’t figure who would do this. As far as you know, you’re more of a name on a roster than an actual person in this office. That grumpy goth guy made that clear on your first day when he ran diagnostics on your machine.

You huff. Do you let temptation take over? A muffin, that’s a nice gesture, but it could also be a trap. Maybe your seat neighbour is trying to poison you for all your squeaking. The cinnamon makes your mouth water and you put the crumbly dessert back in the bag.

You put it in the corner of your desk and try to ignore it. There it is, taunting you with its deliciousness. You really should have eaten something. Now your stomach is growling at you angrily.

You sip your hot chocolate to suppress the cravings. You click and tap keys and zone out as you go through the usual corporate monotony. You feel like a robot just going through the motions. The same thing over and over.

You sit up and rub your eyes, leaning back so your chair squeaks, so high it hurts your ears. Ugh, curse this chair. But don’t really, it’s cursed enough.

Your neighbour mutters and makes a noise as if to mimic your chair. You whisper an apology. You drop your hands and a dark shape above the wall of your cubicle catches your attention. Your eyes round as they meet two others, vibrantly blue but dark at the same time.

It’s that man again. He just sits there, watching you. He peels the wrapper away from a muffin and pinches away a piece of the top. He’s expressionless as he puts it between his lips. He lets his fingers drag slightly as he seals his mouth and chews, still watching you.

Your mouth falls open and you look at the paper bag then back to him. His brows twitch just a little. Oh, wow. That’s strange. Who is this man and why is he so quiet and mysterious? You wheel your chair out slowly, careful not to make too much noise. You stand but hit the desk with your hip, jolting your cubicle and the next.

“I swear…” the slither rolls from your neighbours tight throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you look over as your neighbour hunches down but doesn’t acknowledge you further. Maybe you could be relocated.

You look up and the man is gone. What? How? He’s like a ghost. Are you imagining him? Are you cracking from this office purgatory and blacking out to buy sweet desserts? What’s real and what’s not? That’s a question better left to Descartes.

You sit back down and reach for your cup. There’s nothing that can be cured with sugary goodness. And there’s some things that can’t be forgotten, like that muffin and its sinister aura.

🌞

The muffin stays in its habitat. You let the sugar crumble fester, fighting not to let the cinnamon tempt you to err. Your work is made even more tedious by the paper bag sat not far from your mouse. Tear up the planks! It is the beating of his hideous heart!

Not exactly a Poe horror, only a muffin. You sigh as you log out for the day, packing up slowly as you ponder the weight of a single baked good. Your desk neighbour is gone swiftly, striding off with another mutter. They can’t even be happy about quitting time.

You pull your jacket on and sling your bag on your shoulder. One last look at the paper bag. You don’t have the heart to dump it in the bin. It’s a problem for tomorrow, another line on the list.

You take the stairs like you always do. The elevator is too crowded for you. It lurches terribly and gives you vertigo. Besides, you sit at a desk all day, you need to stretch your legs.

You get to the bottom floor and pop your earbuds in. Time to finish the saga of the tragic marriage. Your walk home isn’t far. It��s depressingly close. It feels like your entire life revolves around the soulless office building.

You tuck your hands into your pocket and dip your chin down. The narrator’s voice fills your ears, blocking out the impatient honking of rush hour and the noise of pedestrians shuffling by. You stop at the light, waiting for it to change.

A figure comes up next to you. You inch away, giving them space. They get closer. You stare ahead of you, your neck hot as the shadow hovers over you. The light changes but before you can set across the street, a paper bag greets you and has you stepping back.

You gasp and reach for your earbuds, turning to face the man as he holds out the paper bag. It’s him! The office ghost. He’s real!

“Oh, uh, it was… you?” You eke out as he says nothing. “Um…” you look back to the bag, almost crosseyed for how close he holds it. “That’s so kind of you but I don’t know if I should.”

He blinks and his brow ripples. He looks at the paper bag quizzically then at you. You flinch as he steps closer, reaching for you. You’re frozen in shock as he takes your wrist and turns your hand up. He places the bag firmly against your palm. You close your fingers around the bottom of the bag so it crinkles.

He lets you go, a curt nod before he brushes by you, leaving you speechless and confused as he marches down the perpendicular lane. You turn to watch his broad shoulders stalk down the pavement, oblivious to those who sidle out of his way. You adjust your grasp on the muffin as your mind races.

The mystery of the muffin is cracked but a million more questions flurry in your head. You don't even know his name.

[raccoonfallsharder]

hii! i just wanted to say i love your blog sm. your fics are amazing and your fanart as well😩 your work has such a good emotional depth that’s so nice to read/see. you have a way like the movies did of showing the attention to detail with their worlds and other worldly cultures and shit it’s so interesting to read <3. i didn’t know if your taking requests but this was just a random thought that would be so cool to see you write. no pressure ofc but i thought it’d be so cool to see rocket more introduced to like more music/Terran pop culture references😭. i feel like rocket would like goth music like the cure and shit and tbh lady gaga i feel like also😭😭. it’s so cute to think of him getting shown like classic horror and stuff, he’d probably think a lot of them as comedies or shit😭. i jsut had these thoughts to share lol. your writing has me daydreaming i swear <3. i hope you are having a good day <33 : D

you are absolutely the sweetest little bundle of love nonnie. cups of tea, midnight bonfires, and golden autumn leaves. that's you. thank you so much for the kind words. they truly made my last two weeks. and i'm so sorry for the delay - the start of the schoolyear has been kicking my ass to knowhere and back, and then this… got away from me. it’s really unforgivably fucken long for mostly just being a list ~

but i hope you enjoy it anyway ♡♡

oh btw i linked some related headcanons that might interest you at the end!

to be honest i don't think i go through a single commute to or from work without thinking about how rocket would respond to the latest bit of terran culture you're showing him. when he was spending time on terra during the snap, he noticed steve’s little pocket-journal checklist of movies and books and shows to get caught up on. well, he didn’t just notice it — he might’ve maybe possibly swiped it — and once he trusted you enough to know you weren’t gonna fuckin narc on him, he decided to show it to you. he asks questions about the various titles, and steve’s notes scrawled in the margins. the two of you started there.

rocket isn’t quite as prejudiced against actors as many of his fellow guardians, but he does approach the idea of movies and tv with a healthy dose of skepticism. you probably start out with some documentaries, and he loves those. he’s enthralled by the ones about outer space — appreciating what they’ve gotten right and snickering about what they got wrong, getting a little weepy when the narrator makes some poignant philosophical observation. he stares at the screen with something that wrenches at your heart when you turn on the nature docs, those cut-ruby eyes turning into something soft and molten, silvered over with a yearning you’re sure he doesn’t even recognize inside himself.

you might think he’d be a fan of true crime, but no — not unless it’s someone scamming a big corporation or stealing from some hubristic rich bastard, or maybe the occasional murderer who accidentally confesses his crimes on a hot mic. the truth is that rocket’s already personally familiar with some of the worst true crime in the galaxy and he just sort of assumes that’s how things operate at large. why’s he need to watch people talk about?

it’s this kind of thinking that impacts the kind of fictional shows and movies he ends up liking, too — once you finally convince him that acting is more about storytelling, and less about lying or trying to wear someone else’s skin. you’d think he’d be super-into horror but he’s very — selective about it. murderers, slashers, and body horror (especially of the medical variety) are not in his wheelhouse. he gets anxious in the worst sort of way: impatiently twitching on the couch next to you, chewing on his claws. he rolls his eyes but his shoulders stay tense and his tail is puffs up three times it’s normal size. he might occasionally snort and scoff at how fake things look but again, that’s only because he knows.

and he wishes he didn’t.

supernatural horror is much more palatable to him, and alien-based horror is usually hilarious as far as he’s concerned. space dramas and adventures have an unpredictable impact. he says star wars is too dramatic (wild coming from someone who has since decided he loves reality dating shows) and gets weirdly emotional about star trek. and you have to repeatedly remind him that neither the aliens franchise nor killer clowns from outer space are documentary series (he has some weird hang-ups about terran clowns and will dryly tell you that he’s pretty sure they’ve tried to kill him in another life). he’s extremely and overly fascinated by some of the weirder terran horror and horror-adjacent media: cult classics from the 80s and 90s, Tales from the Crypt, Twilight Zone — some of those weird old fantasy movies too, like the labyrinth and company of wolves. you always indulge him, trying to remind him of what’s fiction and what’s not, and what loosely straddles the line of being based on a true story (even though sometimes you have to fight with the urge to roll your eyes when he points at the screen and says, no, that’s real, i been to a planet like that!).

you learn he has an uncanny eye for CGI. looks weird, he grunts every time something rendered crosses the screen. very into practical effects, though. he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make a claymation sequence of the collapse of ego — the living planet, that is; not some great philosophical metaphor — and took over your kitchen for two months to do it. you’d expected him to get bored of it quickly, but you’d misunderstood just how fixated he’d been. he’d stopped taking pete’s comms for the entire last three weeks and had barely slept at all till it had been done.

he’s equally selective about games. classic shooters bore him — why bother when you can go do the real thing with any despot-of-the-week? — but he kind of loves cozy games. he enjoys horror games as long as they follow his horror movie rules, too — minimal lifeform-on-lifeform torture, heavy on the supernatural or other weirdness. poppy’s playtime is a current fave. he loves dnd, of course. once he figures out the mechanics he always wants to dm because he’s got more control issues than a freighter full of ravagers, but you haven’t missed the fact that that he’s got a recurring favorite character that he pulls out regardless of which side of the dm screen he’s on — a shockingly wise and kind aquatic sorceress named lylla, with the gentlest healing vibes. it rattles you the first time he plays her — so at odds with his normal snark — but you decide it’s just his way of letting his soft side shine through when he normally tries to hide it under prickly defensiveness.

it might surprise you (or maybe not), but he’s far less picky about music, to be honest. sure, he’s got preferences — certain songs he’ll play on repeat, or jam out to, or weep over. but he’s just as excited to clone a taylor swift record as he is to get his hands on some iron maiden. he’s got something surprisingly positive to say about every single song you ask after.

that one’s real catchy, he’ll say, bopping along to dolly’s 9 to 5 — only to then croon his way through the lingering notes of jolene. then the next time you see him he’s asking how he can secure more tupac albums.

he gets all teary-eyed over the sweeping strings of sometime around midnight, then later tilts his head, ears flickering, to drink in the light starlit notes of single acoustic guitars and lonely pianos. he’s as greedy for 90s grunge as he is for screamo and post-rock. sometimes he steals your phone and it’s usually just to download a nirvana album you once had him listen to, but just last week you realize he’d blown a sizable portion of your grocery budget by buying the entire babymetal discography.

he explains it to you one late autumn evening when you’re in your room with him, introducing him to seventeen seconds. the two of you are just chilling. he’s traded in his jumpsuit for the kids’ sweatpants and the hoodie you bought him — the one with the ears — and of course you very wisely don’t tell him how stupidly cute it is. the sun’s going down and the room is slanting and pooling with blue-and-gold shadows slowly deepening into purple, and you’ve lit a couple caramel-apple candles for the vibe. maybe you’ve got mugs of warm spiced apple cider or cocoa or something. he’s sprawled on the rug on your floor and you’re leaning over the edge of the bed, with the entire musical archive of the cure, woven liberally with a random joy division album, some merciful nuns, and other collections from your personal library of favorites.

he’s super-into it, of course.

this sound is somethin’ else, he tells you as he stares up at the shadows. The candlelight is reflecting off some unknown surface in your room, casting flecks of fractured light across the deepening dark of the ceiling. his blunted claws tap a steady rhythm on the floor beside him.

you say that about every song, you tell him drily, and he shrugs.

but i mean it, he tells you in the gold-flickering darkness. there’s a long silence, and you think he’s just listening to the music — but halfway through dope, he suddenly breaks his silence.

i ain’t exactly the most emotionalistically-intelligent, he says quietly into the room. don’t trust myself to know when someone’s good or bad. there was a guy, when i was a kid — well. anyway. it’s frickin hard to trust anybody, myself most of all.

you wait to see if he’ll go on — but he doesn’t. at least not till you say, i get that. there’s good people out there, but the worst are usually so good at tricking us. and then it’s easy to second-guess ourselves — forever.

from the corner of your eye, you see him nod emphatically.

not in music, though, he says quietly. you hear him swallow — painfully hard. i think — music’s when people tell you most about what they are. even when it’s hard to understand at first. when there ain’t any words.

you tilt your head, allowing him the privacy of not looking directly at him. instead, you study the flickering candlelight and shadow, painting amber and dark-velvet patterns on the ceiling. that’s why you like every song? you ask at last.

that swallow again, hard as a rock in his throat. i dunno. maybe it means something, when someone gives a part of ‘emselves like that. to you — a stranger. just — serve themselves up like a gift for your judgement.

ah, you think. the vulnerability.

as if he’d heard you, he snorts. me personally? i’d never risk it.

even now, you can feel him watching you uneasily from the corner of his eye — waiting for you to mock him, maybe. but you only hum an agreeable note.

i never thought of it that way, you admit, but it’s true. you smile at the ceiling. and you said you weren’t emotionally intelligent.

he huffs, but the sound is more relieved than annoyed. i ain’t, he snipes. and then — more tentatively — maybe that’s part of it too.

you feel your eyebrows raise, but you still don’t look his way — cradling the back of your head with your hands while the music continues in around you, and smell of warm caramel apples fills the soft shadows between you. what do you mean?

softer now — almost nervous — he confesses to the darkness and the gold light and the sound of lady gaga’s voice. every time i listen to a new song, s’like I find something in myself i didn’t have before. or didn’t know i had before. or that i thought had died.

your heart stills in your chest and your breath catches, and everything in you suddenly aches. before you can say a word — before you can think — he spits a scoff into the air.

never mind. i was kidding. that’s fuckin’ stupid—

no, you interrupt quickly, and it takes everything in you not to turn over and catch his eyes and hold them. not to reach out and hold his hands, because you know he’s not willing to accept that level of comfort.

not yet. but soon.

so instead, you make your voice into the softest thing you’ve ever imagined. no sharp edges, no corners to cut himself on. just downy well-worn blankets and soft crumpled love-notes, happy welcome homes and the warm caramel of autumn apples. you will it go wrap around him and give him all the comfort he won’t let himself accept any other way.

no, you repeat. i get that.

i get that.

headcanons & imagines masterlist | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

related headcanons: rocket's movie & television tastes ✶ what if rocket finds the mcu movies? ✶ music and rocket & adam, pete & jason ✶ rocket & coloring ✶ rocket & origami ✶ rocket & lava lamps ✶ rocket & sudoku, crosswords & word-searches ✶ rocket & hanayama puzzles ✶ rocket sings

raccoon & star dividers by @/thecutestgrotto support banners by @/saradika-graphics

[wrathofrats]

i’ve been obsessed with sub styles of goth fashion so im just gonna assign ones to ghoulettes

Sunshine - hippie goth

Mist - corporate goth or southern goth

Cirrus - victorian goth or traditional

Cumulus - Whimsigoth

Aurora - romantic goth

Hi hi hi I’ve been doing research and ohhh GOTH GHOULETTES

(Forgive me if this isn’t terribly accurate, I am trying LMAO)

But here’s some outfits for each sub culture I think would fit each ghoulette (:

Sunny:

Mist:

Cirrus (with a bonus that I’m thinking too hard about)

Cumulus:

Aurora

[devilfic]

uh..hi, I see you are accepting requests; Bruce wayne (battinson) with a gothic s/o? I leave everything to your discretion ( I'm a little new here on tumblr and this is my first request so sorry if I did something wrong,sorry :(

❝bruce wayne with a gothic s/o❞

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: mentions of/use of blood. words: 1.1k.

a/n: you're perfectly fine!! dw bub. also, I hope my representation of the goth community is adequate. I am a fan of the music but am still very much a baby bat ;-;

for all intents and purposes, bruce IS a goth

but to be honest, he isn't really in the culture

he definitely went through a modest phase as a teenager but because of the public eye, he probably wasn't allowed to lean into it in regard to looks

but music has always been a way for him to express himself

and come on, the guy lives in goth-am. the archetypes write themselves

I could see him having a steady rotation of grunge rock, alternative, and goth rock on his playlists

alfred has never really understood the ominous choirs or the skull-shaking bass but “go off, master bruce” as he would say

he would not say that

and let’s face it, take bruce to a goth club or something and no one will be able to tell that he’s not familiar

in the event that bruce ends up with a gothic s/o, I think he would be quietly fascinated over you

you would catch him watching as you put together outfits, do your hair or makeup, etc. with this slightly unnerving stare that you’re unfortunately used to, but the difference between bruce’s stare and others’ is that you can tell he’s fascinated

whenever he finds something that appeals to him, he tends to get a little lost watching it

it’s really endearing when you happen to catch him doing it to you all the time ;-;

asking him what he’s thinking about when he looks at you usually helps get him out of the trance

he sometimes asks if you can try looks on him that he otherwise wouldn’t do himself

he doesn’t really like to do this, but he does have to keep up the image of a squeaky clean ceo that definitely doesn’t dress up as a giant bat every night, so whatever you do to him has to come off in one hot shower

the first time you ever took a tub of gel to his hair and drew on some elaborate eyeliner and eyeshadow, he’d stared at the mirror as if he was trapped inside someone else’s body

he was used to caking black paint on his eyes in a messy, undone up way of course, so he’d never looked this… deliberately pretty

he really couldn’t begin to consider wearing looks like this out with you because, again, squeaky clean ceo

but you’ve gotten plenty of pictures of him in the privacy of wayne tower to make up for it

but wouldn’t he just look darling in a corporate goth getup? ;-;

he would. because that’s literally his fashion style right now

as for music, I mentioned in my headcanons for bruce making you a playlist that he absolutely loves taking recommendations from you and playing them in the batcave at a deafening volume

it’s his love language: including bits of you into his routine

now I said that he’s not able to dress up with you when you go out, but that doesn’t by any means mean that he feels you shouldn’t either

bruce is a secretive, possessive lover anyway. it’s very rare you two are spotted together outside of the tower, especially in his early days as batman

when he starts getting back into the swing of being Bruce Wayne, there are plenty of public events that he’s asked to attend

of which he usually just goes to by himself

but once you two have been together long enough, I think bruce would start asking if you’d be okay being his date to things

like he knows that some of this stuff isn’t your cup of tea, and he knows better than any one that gotham high society is brutal to anyone who doesn’t “fit in”, so he would never want to put you into a position where you felt uncomfortable or ostracized

but he also genuinely is proud to have you by his side, and he’s a little tired of bringing alfred as his date to things LMAO

he makes it painstakingly clear that you’re free to be yourself. he doesn’t want you to put on some facade just to appeal to people that bruce doesn’t actually care about

if you want to go all out at galas, he’s all for it

hell, he’ll even don a few accessories (your choice) to match you

speaking of

I know that not every goth is into this BUT I am

if you and bruce were to get even more serious (or married!), I think that he would be interested in exchanging blood jewelry with you

it’d come up one night as you’re patching him up, pressing a cloth to a cut in his cheek that he got on patrol

he’d be a bit unsure about how to go about asking you since he has no idea if it’d freak you out

but he proposes it carefully, “I’ve seen these... rings. unique rings. I thought about getting us a pair”

when you ask for further explanation, he tells you about artisans who take your blood and fashion them into beautiful bands of silver

they’re minimalist, subtle, and mean something

“I’d like to carry you with me, in a way. what do you think?”

if you’re down, he is excited to get the actual rings done

he has alfred draw the blood for both of you, sending it off to get made, and when the rings come back he immediately finds you to try them on

your matching rings are stunning, a trick of the light that makes others think they’re made of garnet or stained, tempered glass

and if anyone asks, that’s what he might say

it’s your little secret ^^

ALSO

YOU CAN’T STOP ME

if you happen to show him the crow (1994), he is super gonna wanna dress up as eric for halloween with you

I’m talking full face of white paint and black eyeliner/lipstick, tight leather pants, ripped muscle shirt, the WORKS

like, LOOK at the material

you cannot tell me bruce wouldn’t be made for this look

it’d be a few steps out of his comfort zone with the elaborate makeup and the tight-fitting clothing, but I think he’d do it just to have you compliment him

god forbid you tell him that the look suits him and he should wear it more often

I said bruce has to play the role of the squeaky clean ceo but he loves you, public image be damned

I would give anything to be a citizen of gotham experiencing eric!bruce

I would be the biggest pick me ever, I’m sorry dear reader

but all jokes aside, I think bruce would really enjoy having a gothic s/o! he would think ur really cool and hot wear your blood as a priceless accessory (if you’re down) <3

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649

[bee-saucee]

Meeting the Friends | Kaminari Denki Character Study

pairing: ShinKami

cw: self doubt/mild anxiety and intimacy

words: 1,002

summary: Kaminari meets Shinsou's friends for the first time. Despite pressure to please his boyfriend's friend group, Denki does his best to show up as himself with the help of Shinsou.

Meeting the friends almost seemed more daunting than meeting the parents. Denki knew how to wear parents down like it was nothing. But not-parents and specifically Shinsou’s friends were much harder to read.

“I have a lot going for me, but being all cool and having opinions about 90s punk rock isn’t really one of them. I just think maybe we should meet another day after I’ve done some more homework on Iron Maiden or whatever.”

Shinsou’s fingers pause in their perusal of Denki’s hair. “Punk rock is really more of a mid 70s to 80s thing and Iron Maiden is more heavy metal–” pillow smack because Denki really didn’t need to hear he was hopeless in posing as alt. “Okay, that was deserved, but I was going to finish that you don’t have to be punk. Just lay on your Denki charm and you’ll be just fine.”

“Goths hate Denki charm!”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because they hate happiness?”

“If anything they want too much of it.” Denki groans gutterally and pulls Shinsou to straddle over top of him. “I’m seriously loving this whole boyfriend thing, but this was easier when we were friends with bens so I didn’t have to meet your friends.”

“You’re overthinking,” Shinsou says and places a soft kiss on Denki’s lips.

He never thought Shinsou would be so…charming. As Denki peeled away the layers of stoic anxiety and insecurities, he was left with an incredibly empathetic and doting partner.

Shinsou had insisted that he was a loner, yet he had a handful of unique people he fell right into step with. He never wanted Shinsou to lose his friends but damn did Denki wish that Hitoshi's friends were easier for him to understand.

“I know, like, two Nirvana songs,” Denki grumbles.

“That’s amazing, baby,” Shinsou says before peeling himself off an opposed Denki.

Denki didn’t want to be clingy with uncomfortable public displays of affection but he couldn’t think of another way to get through this whole ordeal. Maybe he’d just try to stay close enough to Shinsou’s side so he could smell the particular mix of coffee and vanilla bean that lingered from his hours at the cafe and his affinity for sweet cologne.

Denki hops up off his bed and goes for few jumps to hype himself up. It was go time. By the time they made the very anxiously talkative drive to the small diner, Jirou and Tokoyami already had a table at the back where the seats looked particularly sticky and grimey in a people have definitely had sex here kind of way.

Big smiles, and…”It’s so nice to finally meet you both! I’ve heard so much about you both. Not to be that embarrassing guy, but Jirou, Hitoshi loves your new music and so do I. Tokoyami, gotta get a tarot reading from you sometime. I’ve never gotten one but you unlocked a new need in me,” Denki says.

Jirou tilts her head to the side with a slight smile while Tokoyami shuts his eyes and nods simply. He wasn’t expecting the two to be particularly expressive so he could work with this. These were Hitoshi’s closest friends, though. More charm, more charisma.

“So, any reason for this place in particular? Not that it’s bad! It just seems like a very particular spot to pick,“ Denki says as he slides into the booth after Shinsou.

Gosh, he just insulted the restaurant they picked. Maybe the food was fantastic and he was being overly judgemental.

“The decrepit atmosphere makes the dining experience feel less corporate. We can support a failing business that needs it rather than lubricate the cogs of industrial agriculture and dining.”

Okay…so Kaminari had almost no clue what that meant. He never knew what he was talking about though so this was like any other conversation. Deep breath, he could deal.

“I’ma be honest, I never think about…industrial agriculture while I’m eating but that is the definition wicked. Hopefully I’ll be more justice driven the longer I’m with Toshi.”

He looks over and dear God, Hitoshi looked like he’d been stabbed in the knee with how tightly he was clutching it under the table and the sallow look of his pale skin. He was so focused on his own nerves he completely forgot that adding Denki into the mix meant that this was a new social situation and that always led Hitoshi to overthink. Poor thing was probably running through 20 different potential reactions for the first thing he said.

Denki takes Hitoshi’s hand under the table and runs slow circles against his thumb. Boyfriend first, boyfriend’s friends second.

“My sweet pea pod, I think I saw they have burgers for me and grilled cheese for you. Plus,” he taps his foot against Hitoshi’s under the table, “We could share a milkshake if you want. I’ll be so fine to get vanilla if it means I can share thick, sweet, cow piss with you.”

Shinsou’s shoulders slowly lower and the glazed look over his eyes quickly settles with each of Denki’s words.

“Is this now the fifth time we’ve had the milk is not cow piss discussion?” Shinsou says with that exasperatedly fond smile he reserves just for Denki.

“Six. And I don’t wanna hear anything until you go to agriculture school. Or, actually! I trust your friends, they seem wicked smart. Is milk just sussed up cow piss?”

Jirou slides over a paper crane she was folding. “I like you, Denki.”

“I want to say no, but I also don’t know where cows pee from,” Tokoyami admits.

“And I love you Tokoyami. At least someone gets me here.”

Shinsou turns fully to Denki with a slight cock to his head from the side. He taps the tip of Denki’s fingernail lightly before pecking him on the cheek.

“I love you like crazy. Thanks for being here,” Shinsou whispers.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“You’re doing great by the way.”

“I want you to rail me so hard when we get home,” Denki gushes.

“Sure.”

Thanks for reading! Check out my masterlist for more.

[aplliwrites]

|◁ II RISOTTO HATES TIK TOK II ▷|

Just a silly head canon that fits him tbqh. All in good fun. Don’t take this too seriously.

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ ≫ ᴺᴱˣᵀ ˢᴼᴺᴳ

He hates Tik Tok so much because he HATES mainstream stuff, but also because of the way they treat anything alternative over there. “They rip the soul and passion from it! They turn it into a trend that dies in a month! Tik Tok is a plague on society!” He says, banging his fists on the table.

Risotto is one of those metal fans that HATES nu metal. “Tik tok metal,” he calls it. Little does he know, he listens to nu metal bands.

He never installed Tik Tok or any other social media, so when he found out Metallica had been taken over by Eddie Munson fans it broke his fucking heart. He now HATES Stranger Things AND Eddie Munson. Don’t tell him you like Stranger Things. He will give you the stink eye.

He also HATES modern pop punk (understandable honestly). To him, it’s just a mockery of actual pop punk. To him, it’s Tik Tok men have never struggled in their lives complaining about how shitty their ex is. And to him, all pop punk fans are 14-17 year old e-girls that trend surf and think black eye liner is goth. “It’s all so corporate,” he says, “no feeling, no meaning. Just some relatable words and bad notes meant to make money.” He became a devoted Christian to pray away Machine Gun Kelly and his fans from the alternative music community.

He doesn’t listen to a lot of goth music and isn’t very submerged in the goth community, but he’s so aggressive about Wednesday and people that like it. He hasn’t even watched it!! “I don’t need to watch it to know it’s mainstream crap!” He says.

The rest of La Squadra thinks it’s hilarious the way he gets so heated. Except Ghiaccio. He’s not even alternative, but he’s a hater. He loves hating on everyone and everything, but especially popular things AND Gen z.

Illuso purposely alerts Risotto when there’s new drama on the Tik Tok alt community. He frames it as concern and awareness, but we all know he does it because he thinks it’s funny seeing Risotto so pissed off over something so small.

Prosciutto thinks it’s pathetic. He admires Risotto for his strength, his stoicism, and his level head. Risotto is the leader of la fucking squadra di esecuzione, yet cannot handle some people he will never meet enjoying something that isn’t hurting anyone.

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ ≫ ᴺᴱˣᵀ ˢᴼᴺᴳ

[mekanikaltrifle]

best thing about having a fem Ventrue fledgling in VtM:B: the leather trench coat vibes right at the end. Like somehow the character has one of the most striking transitions from armour 0 being ‘I died in my lingerie’ through 1 being ‘finally some fucking CLOTHES’ and the armour 4 being Deadly Corporate Goth, completely bypassing the usual association of leather trench coats with uh. Well incels and shool shooters. I love corporate goth/business goth as a look, and I love writing total bastards who you are only rooting for because the other guy is worse.

And that’s why I chose a Ventrue as my canon fledgling and would not have had it any other way. Like, sure, there’s pathos to be had with a Nosferatu or a Toreador, and that’s fine. That is also well trodden ground in the fandom.

Ventrues? They’re every bit as ugly and as artistic as the Nossies or the Roses, but they’re also power and death, limited at the core but holding the freedom of everyone else in their hands. A catastrophic interplay of force, will, violence and boardroom statistics. Kings and Kingmakers, the ones who roll their sleeves up and gun down the opposition not simply because they have to... but because they want to. Cruel bastards. I play VtM for just that, to play with the darkness, and they are every bit the emblems of what’s wrong with the world.

And yet, like everyone... isn’t there the hope they can do better? After all ‘the world is bleak... but the promise of escape is ever present. perhaps too present’. 

[ibuprofen-exe]

WIP Introductions Part Two

Nuclear Fanfare

This is the second of several posts dedicated to introducing my dearly beloved original characters so that I may talk about the more in the future.

Part One

Warning: The post below the cut has mentions of car accidents and medical malpractice. There isn’t anything particularly graphic, but please stay safe.

Status: planning

Medium: script

In an America where creative expression is stifled and monopolized by self-serving corporations, breaking into the scene as an independent is no small task. Tank Kim O'neel, along with his band Nuclear Fanfare, must navigate the perils of the entertainment industry with only the music in their hearts.

Characters:

Tank Kim O’neel, demigender (he/him, zey/zem), bisexual, disabled (Deafness and autism), Korean Irish American, Buddhist (4033-40??)

She’s A Rebel by Green Day Tank held a steadfast dream of becoming a musician, even after being blacklisted from the industry for hosting an alien parasite. He founded Nuclear Fanfare with the intention of realizing his dream with like-minded individuals. Fact: Tank has had cystic acne on zeir face since zey were a teenager. He used to hate himself for it, but has come to terms with his appearance.

Siren Rosenberg, demigender (she/her, they/them), bisexual, disabled (mute), Black American, Jewish (4032-4???)

Art-I-Fical by X Ray Spex Siren had long been an independent visual artist, but after a corporation experimented on her comatose body without her consent, she vowed to cause as much trouble for them as possible. She joined Nuclear Fanafre after tagging Tank’s studio, thinking it was an abandoned building. Fact: In their youth, Siren was a part of a fairly infamous graffiti duo.

Muhammad Lestari, transgender (she/her), heteroace, disabled (type one diabetes), Indonesian American, Muslim (4033-4???)

Transgender Dysphoria Blues by Against Me! Ever since Lestari was young, she understood that fast fashion had no intention of catering to people like her, so she sought to create her own fashion brand to express her style. She joined Nuclear Fanfare after Tank commissioned custom clothes from her. Fact: Lestari’s dream is to own her own boutique on the coast.

Yu Mi Lee, cisgender (she/her), lesbian, disabled (autism), Korean American, Agnostic (4032-4???)

Kiss Them for Me by Siouxsie and the Banshees Yu Mi was raised a Hollywood starlet, acting in films alongside her brother Howard, but a series of increasingly demanding projects wore down her health, forcing her into an early retirement. She joined Nuclear Fanfare after answering a call for a cinematographer for the band’s music videos. Fact: Yu Mi loves goth music and dances at goth nightclubs to unwind.

Howard Truman, transgender (he/him), biace, disabled (autism and ASPD), Korean American, Agnostic (4032-4???) 

Hollywood by Car Seat Headrest Howard was raised a Hollywood starlet but from a young age rejected the lifestyle, eventually culminating in him stabbing a director and being blacklisted for his attitude. He joined Nuclear Fanfare after Lestari convinced him to try music as an outlet for his frustrations with the entertainment industry. Fact: Howard legally changed his last name as a rejection of his parents, who he views as responsible for his childhood trauma.

Dalisay Fontana, butch (she/her), lesbian, disabled (surgical amputee), Filipino American, Catholic (4031-4???)

Cilantro by Patricia Taxxon After an accident stole her best friend and her dominant hand, Dalisay began to obsess over her artistic work as a way to cope, which earned her a fine arts scholarship and a gallery position. She learned of Nuclear Fanfare after a one night stand with Yu Mi. Fact: While pink is publicly her signature color, Dalisay actually prefers teal.

Settings:

Radio Valley

Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles A quiet town in the state of New Mexico that was once a hub for punk musicians. Vibes: long lines of telephone polls, tin barns, fine sand, fresh air, and towering mountains

Thank your for again for reading (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[cityvirgo]

Notes on Online Aesthetics

What makes me happy, and what makes me me? It’s something I think about a lot. I’m a daughter of the internet age, born in 1998, raised on online subculture ‘aesthetics’ and monitored twenty-four hours a day by corporations who know my tastes better than I do. I’m not original, but neither is anyone else.

‘Aesthetics’ have become such a strange kind of tribal signifier; a sort of self-imposed limitation on expression, manufactured completely by advertising execs and corporations. “Gamer girl”, “clean girl”, “Instagram baddie”, “booktok”, “Tumblr girl”, “dark academia”, “soft grunge”, “indie”, “pilates princess”, “cottage core”, etc. What do they all have in common? They make someone, somewhere, a lot of money, and they place boundaries on how we express ourselves. 

Isn’t it interesting how we ‘brand’ ourselves this way? We even call it that. (i.e.,“That’s so on brand for me.”) Capitalism has completely taken over how we present ourselves, and it has taken over our language. It demands that we place ourselves into one of these archetypes, or at least that we present ourselves as one. Why? So we can continue purchasing things that fit the look and lifestyle of that archetype. 

As Guy Debord wrote in Society of the Spectacle, “Passive identification with the spectacle supplants genuine activity…The spectacle is not a collection of images, rather, it is a social relation among people mediated by images.” 

That was written in 1967, before capitalist interests had fully coopted subculture movements like hippies, punks, or goths. Much later in 2009, in the book Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher describes how capitalist interests eat radical subcultures, take away any ideological component that makes them radical, and dwindles them down to their marketable “aesthetic.” Think, punk going from an anarchist community to a clothing style one can purchase at Hot Topic. ‘Punk’ is not thought of as a political identity marker; it’s a clothing style. 

I also think of drag as possibly the newest version, and maybe the last version, of this capitalist appropriation. That’s another piece of writing in of itself though, but I’ll leave this thought with the wise words of Jasmine Masters, “RuPaul’s Drag Race done fucked up drag.” 

Internet aesthetics have taken this to a new level. Now, these subcultures are no longer just coopted from once radical movements. These ‘subcultures’ are now created by and for capitalist interests. They are created by influencers, in partnerships with companies, to sell products. 

In Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher asks the question, “What happens to a society, to an upcoming generation, when there is no new?” That is to say, when all of the subcultures that were created to rebel against capitalist interests are coopted by capitalists, and used to benefit those at the top, and the new generation have no ‘new’ thing to create because it’s all been done before and appropriated by capitalists…. what happens? Subcultures are a natural, artistic, peaceful way for younger people to release their building frustrations. Without that outlet, or space, free from capitalist control…. what happens? 

I don’t know the answer to this, but I do know I’m not the only one thinking about it. I think about the song Strange by the BTS rappers Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon, when Namjoon asks the questions, “You think you got taste?/Well, baby, how do you know?/I mean, for God’s sake/Everything’s under control.” 

I really love this line. This questioning of, “You think your tastes, your thoughts, your style is your own? How can that be, when we’re all influenced by this over saturated, capitalist hell scape?” The rest of Namjoon’s verse goes into more detail, in Korean lyrics, discussing the influence of social media and he even explicitly states, “Our taste is controlled by the capital.” Safe to say, this is one of my favorite songs and one I think about quite often. 

I think it’s a song reflective of Guy Debord in 1967’s Society of the Spectacle, or Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism. Or, the 1990s tv show Daria, when Daria states, “Edgy occurs when middle-brow, middle-aged profiteers are looking to suck the energy, not to mention spending money, out of the ‘youth culture.’ So they come up with this fake concept of seeming to be dangerous, when every move they make is the result of market research and a corporate master plan.” 

Swap ‘edgy’ or ‘dangerous’ with any adjective you’d like for any online ‘aesthetic’ we have today, and it remains true. What’s left for me, personally, is a constant questioning of my sense of self. How do I know what I genuinely like, and what I connect to, in an environment like this? Who’s to say? Like usual, when I’m connecting dots, I’m left with more uncertainty. I guess the best I can do is just to like whatever I like, and be mindful or more critical of why I like that thing. 

[epaulettesharks]

i find it kind of funny when people act like the commercialization of alt subcultures is a super new phenomenon that started with tiktok and killstar. the first hot topic oppened in 1989. “mall goth” was a pejorative term for tripp nyc clad teenagers who hung out at malls. the problem isn’t that today’s young goths are too lazy to learn how to diy their own clothes, or even that the mall goths of the 90s were too lazy to diy. the problem is that corporations will do everything they can to establish themselves in alternative subcultures. it’s bigger than individual people shopping at punkrave. the problem is, and always has been capitalism.

[mallgothchloe97]

Thank You Angela Benedict!👏🥀🖤

[ragnars-tooth]

okay here are the ratings of chris dlaceys casting :D!! but only david zanna liz and tam because thats as far as i got and i dont have my book on me to check the rest of the casting 👍 

okay so first up! ben barnes as david (thankfully not young johnny depp): i see it but i just dont think he really works for david, a little too chiselled imo

i think that they should just time travel and get young chris dlacey to play david honestly 😎 like ben barnes is very davidcoded in these pictures i’ll admit but somethings kinda just off?? anyway he could play david but there could be better actors for him anyway I DIGRESS. ONTO ZANNA!

alright so for zanna he chose either gemma arterton or gemima rooper! and what can i say i disagree. but also agree. like they both have some of the general zanna feel but theyre just kinda off like

sort of like if you put zanna thru a pressure washer?? anyway they both work pretty well ig but honestly its hard to tell without zannas typical style (goth and stuff) to really hammer in the zanna feel so i remain neutral

NEXT UP- emma thompson as liz! honestly a pretty good choice overall but her features feel a little idk. sharper than i see liz with

also i think shes skinnier than liz would be, she’d be chubby at LEAST in my opinion,, i also feel like she would have a lot of freckles but i mean thats flexible

last up for now is a quick review of tams casting! my opinion has changed since when i first did this im now a colin farrell tam truther

so tam was cast as colin farrell, who im guessing his appearance was based off of a lot because,,, same last name and they look very similar. colins a bit more idk square? than i picture tam but honestly he fits quite well i mean look at this 👇 

like he doesnt necessarily look quite how i imagine tam but i think he has enough of the vibes that he could definitely play him and also there are a lot of silly pictures of him that i think its funny to imagine tam in lol

AND THATS ALL because i cant check for the other casting since im in class </3 and also should probably get back to my work fghjgfdghjgfdsfgh

hope you enjoyed my review 😎 please feel free to say your own opinions on the cast >:) (also iirc this casting was from the back of fire world or fire eternal? cant rllly remember tbh)

HELLO! I got stuck in corporate hell for a bit there soz but I made notes and realised I had more opinions about this than I thought lmao

(Disclaimer off the top: I’m quite faceblind so characters are mostly disembodied vibes to me but I Tried to find actors to fit my points)

Ok so:

David – Ben Barnes (I am so glad I was wrong about the Johnny Depp thing you have no idea)

I wrote exactly one thing about this and it is as follows: ‘he looks like he knows too many things’. I’m a Ben Barnes boy at the best of times but fr he looks too put together and like he could name more than five countries. I think I’m a bit too used to him playing badass characters too and sorry but david just isn’t </3

Zanna – Gemma Arterton/Gemima Rooper

Both of these women look like they would host bake off (this does not disqualify someone from playing zanna) It’s so hard to tell when they’re not all gothed up, zanna through a pressure washer fr 😭😭

Gemma Arterton feels closeish for me I think! She needs grunging up though. Zanna is a henry cavil kinda thing where whatever actress plays her needs to get hotter when fucked up (affectionate) yknow? The opposite of ‘she polishes up nice’

In googling her though I did realise why d’lacey thought of her for sure:

Him and his one goth girl reference fr

Liz – Emma Thompson

I think personality-wise she would be soo good as liz but fr there’s probably someone out there who would be a better visual match

Weirdly enough my first proper exposure to Emma Thompson was when she was Mrs Lovett in sweeney todd so initially I was thinking maybe she’s a good Gwillanna?? But now I just think she’d be a funny cameo as like… Agatha Bacon, or Mrs Gee or something?

Tam – Collin Farrell

This is literally hilarious to me. I am losing my mind. Tidy him up a little and whack some glasses on him and I’ll take it.

(I am now legally obligated to draw tam as obscure collin farrell images)

[crissiebaby]

Growing Into Diapers: Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, sissification, humiliation, forced drug use, domination, masturbation/diaper sex, hypermessing, anal play, mental regression, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: BlossomBitchDolly

-------------------------------------------------------------

“What the hell is this company thinking?”

Sitting at his desk, Edan couldn’t believe his eyes when he opened the new company email. It read: “Attention all CrissBaby Marketing Employees! Starting today, there will be a new dress code for all employees. Diapers and/or pull-ups must be worn at all times to ensure office safety and sanitation. Talk to your supervisor to receive your weekly package of complimentary padding.”

Working at a diaper company was one thing, but having to wear your company's product was something entirely different. Slumping back in his chair, Edan couldn’t believe this was real. However, as he watched his fellow employees get up one at a time to collect their padding from Aubrey, who was the head of the marketing department, it slowly dawned on him that this was far from a joke.

Begrudgingly, Edan stood up from his desk and made his way over to his boss's office. Since her door was already open, he knocked on the side of the door frame to announce his presence. “Um…hello?” he said, instantly capturing the attention of Aubrey, as well as her two best marketing employees who were both chilling in the guest chairs of Aubrey’s office.

Given any other circumstance, Edan wouldn’t have minded spending a bit of extra time with the lovely ladies that were gathered in this room. First, there was Rita, who was as sporty as they came. Her well-built physique eclipsed Edan’s male strength by a country mile, a fact that always gave him butterflies in his stomach when he talked to her.

Next to her was Malorie, a dark-haired vixen with the largest pair of boobs in the group who clearly had never fully grown out of her goth phase due to the several pounds of eyeliner and near-black lipstick that she went through on a daily basis. Not that Edan minded. Who didn’t want a big titty goth GF?

Last, but certainly not least, there was his boss, Aubrey, who had to be the living embodiment of womanhood. From the way she dressed herself to the decor of her office, she was a girl’s girl without a doubt. Despite the overt femininity she exuded, her voice was quite the opposite, possessing a sultry pitch that threatened to melt any man within earshot.

On their own, any one of these women would be Edan’s dream girl. In spite of their differences, they all had one thing in common. They were total MILFs! Tall, voluptuous, and domineering. If he was given the chance, he would do just about anything to spend a passionate evening with any one of them. 

“Oh, if it isn’t Edan Roberts! I was wondering when I would catch you. Please, come in. We were just finishing up,” said Aubrey, waving Edan through her doorway, “Rita, Malorie, keep me updated on the Grow-With-Me Diaper marketing campaign. We’ll need to work double time if we want it ready by the holidays.”

Nodding to their boss and thanking her for her time, Rita and Malorie made a swift exit from Aubrey’s office, though not before giving Edan some serious bedroom eyes as they walked past him. Edan’s head whipped in their direction as he watched them return to their cubicles, wondering if what he saw was real or just his sex-riddled brain playing tricks on him.

Stifling a small chuckle, Aubrey allowed him to drool over her two best employees for a little while longer before deciding to pull him back to reality. “Edan? Was there something you needed?” she asked, delighting in Edan’s panicked behavior as he was made aware of his ogling.

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, I was lost in thought,” said Edan, a touch of pink filling his cheeks, “I’m here because of the email that corporate sent…about the uh…dress code?”

Casually standing up from behind her desk, Aubrey moved to a corner of her office where several cardboard boxes were neatly stacked. “Yes, of course. Such a silly rule to impose, isn’t it?” she said, as she looked Edan up and down before turning back toward the boxes, “You look to be about a medium. Would you prefer diapers or pull-ups?”“Pull-ups!” blurted out Edan, unaware of how enthusiastic he sounded. It was already bad enough that he’d have to be padded while at work. He didn’t need to make his new underwear any thicker than it was going to be.

Scoffing lightheartedly at Edan’s bashfulness, Aubrey pulled the topmost cardboard box off of the stack and set it aside before digging into the next box down. “You’re in luck. We’ve got only a pack of medium pull-ups left,” she said, scooping the pack of nappies out of the box and presenting it to Edan, “And do let me know if you require anything bigger…or thicker.” She winked at her subby male employee, relishing in the way his knees wobbled as if he was about to keel over.

“Um…th-thank you,” stuttered Edan, his once pink cheeks now taking on a shiny, crimson hue. Without another word, he turned and rushed out of his boss's office with the pack of diapers tucked under his arm.

Observing as Edan dashed toward the men’s bathroom, presumably to change into his new “uniform”, Aubrey bit her lip with fervent excitement. With a smug smile and a narrowing glance, she muttered to herself, “Oh, girls, I never should’ve doubted you. He’ll be perfect.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

*crinkle*

Shifting in his chair, Edan was finding it difficult to get used to his new undergarments, especially when he needed to focus on boring busy work. While he certainly didn’t hate his job, it was menial days like today that caused him to crave a life away from the stress of a corporate ladder. Attempting to shift the fact that he was wearing pull-ups out of the forefront of his mind, he put on his headphones and tried to drown out his embarrassing thoughts with music.

Edan’s mental peace wouldn’t last, however, as one of his fellow employees came up behind him. “Edan? Eeeeeedan?” said Malorie, unaware that he couldn’t hear her. She tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump in his seat, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

Yanking the headphones from his ears, Edan took a deep breath to calm down before addressing his co-worker, “Malorie, hey! No worries. What can I help you with?” He placed a hand on his heart as his rapid pulse began to subside.

“I was wondering if you could look over this proposal for me. As much as I trust Rita, I was hoping for a male perspective, ya know?” Malorie said with the same peppy, upbeat attitude that a cheerleader would possess. She handed off a small stack of papers for Edan to pursue.

Taking a quick glance at her proposal, Edan was more than happy to help a fellow coworker in need. “Sure, I’ll take a look and get back to you in a bit,” he said, moving to set the papers down on the side of his desk.

“Actually, I was hoping to get your opinion sooner rather than later, if you wouldn’t mind,” said Malorie, making sure to lean forward over Edan’s chair so that he got a good look at her cleavage. All the while, she kept an eye on her partner in crime, Rita, as she stealthily snatched the water bottle off of his desk. 

Lost in the chasm of Malorie’s bountiful bosom, Edan’s brain scrambled to find the words to merely agree to help her. “Um…yes, I’ll do my breast-BEST! I-I mean…I’ll do my…best,” he said, burying his face in the papers Malorie had handed him.

Meanwhile, Rita went to work on prepping Edan’s water bottle. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small, cylindrical container with the words, “CrissBaby Baby Brain Mix,” written in bold on the side. “Now both odorless and tasteless,” she whispered to herself, snickering as she poured in the recommended amount. There was no need to overdose him on the stuff, at least not yet.

Peeking her head back up over Edan’s cubicle wall, she noticed she still had plenty of time to get the bottle back into position. Feeling cheeky, she ran her tongue along the mouthpiece of the water bottle in the most seductive way possible, leaving her bestie, Malorie, to helplessly watch as she tried to remain stone-faced. After a few seconds of taunting, she wiped off the excess spit so it wasn’t too noticeable and set the bottle back in the same spot on Edan’s desk.

“Hmmm…everything’s looking good as far as I can tell, though I must admit that I’m not really the target audience for this,” said Edan, passing the papers back to Malorie, “The design looks aesthetically pleasing and it should attract both men and women. At least that’s my perspective.”

Presenting Edan with a warm smile, Malorie tucked the papers under her arm and leaned in toward him, planting a small kiss on his cheek. “Thanks a bunch, Edan! I knew I could count on you,” she said before skipping back to her desk.

Edan remained frozen, his brain refusing to process what the hell had just happened. He raised his hand to his cheek, feeling the embers of her smooch still burning. Shaking his head, he rotated in his chair to face his computer once again, breathing a bit heavier than usual. As the dry air filled his lungs, he instinctively reached for his bottle, taking a large swig of the refreshing liquid it contained.

Within the hour, Edan had fully drained his water bottle and was back at work, having successfully put his shamefully new underwear in the back of his mind. It wasn’t until he felt a small ping in his bladder that his attention hyperfocus on work broke. Usually, he had no issue holding in his pee until he found a good stopping point in his work but today, for some reason, the need to urinate came on fast and strong.

Hopping to his feet, Edan fast walked over to the uni-sex bathroom since, as luck would have it, the men’s restrooms had been out of order for days, forcing all male employees to share the single-use toilet. Sadly, as he arrived at the bathroom door, he found it was occupied.

*KNOCK KNOCK!*

“Is anyone in there?” said Edan, trying his best not to sound at all panicked as he pressed his hands to his aching crotch. After a moment of silence, he tried the door handle again, this time wiggling it up and down frantically.

“Ocupado! I’ll be out in a sec,” said a female voice that Edan instantly recognized as Rita’s. No one else would casually drop Spanish words like that. The fact that she was taking up the only bathroom the men could use when there was a perfectly good women’s bathroom was a tad frustrating, to say the least. He began to hop back and forth as his patience wore thin.

*FLUUUUUUSH!*

Hearing the whirring of a toilet was like sweet music in Edan’s ears. Soon, his coworker would be out of the bathroom. While the sound of swirling toilet water, which was quickly followed up by the whooshing of water coming out of the bathroom sink, did little to curb his need to pee, it was still relieving to know that his pain would be over soon. His bouncing halted as his body started to relax, feeling a lot less strain on his bladder than he did before.

Seconds later, the bathroom door opened and Rita stepped out, still drying her hands off with a bunch of paper towels. “All yours Edan,” she said, before stopping dead in her tracks and looking Edan up and down, “-er, well, I guess you don’t really need it anymore, do you?”

Confused, Edan cocked his head to the side, failing to understand what Rita meant. It was only when he felt a strange warmth trickling down his leg that he realized what was going on.

*GASP!*

Edan’s hands quickly shot down to the crotch of his pull-up yet again as steaks of liquid ran down his khakis, soaking the front of his pants in fresh urine. The pull-up he had on posed a minuscule threat to the sheer amount of piss that was rushing out of his penis, drenching the thin padding and leaking out in all directions. “I…I…” was all Edan could muster the strength to say, feeling as though he might pass out at any second.

Rushing to his aid, Rita placed a hand on Edan’s back and grabbed onto one of his arms, pulling him in close to her. “Oh my, you poor thing!” she said, doing her darndest not to appear thrilled by his predicament. Everything that she, Malorie, and Aubrey had planned was beginning to fall into place, “Why don’t we get you cleaned up, sweetie?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT »

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Edited by AllySmolShork

[eek-a-tron]

Q&A: The Current MCU

a.k.a. my thoughts on God Seeks Thief-related stuff

What do you think about the current state of the MCU?

Like many, I have lost much of my enthusiasm for the MCU. (Not all, just much.) I thoroughly enjoyed Phase One and Two, and I really enjoyed Daredevil, Jessica Jones, and Luke Cage (such halcyon Netflix days, man) — and thennnnnnnnn, I felt more than a bit let down by the end of Phase Three. I’ve caught some new/current offerings here and there, obviously, and I’m mildly intrigued for Blade (mostly because I was there, Gandalf: a super-youngling in the 90s goth times, and because I still find this very old Tumblr joke incredibly funny). For me, it comes down to an ongoing pessimism about the money-machine process by which most movies are ground down into “Wow, what a twist!!!!” content nowadays. Sure, comics regularly kill off beloved characters for drama, and they’re loaded with endless reboots and one-shots and special guest artists and re-envisioned tropes … but look, movies are a different medium, much to the great capitalist machine’s dismay. And ultimately, I think general audiences — and I, too! — dislike a Whedon-style, character-teams-and-fandom-breaking axe. It sours the fun juice, if you will.  (So does Whedon, ugh; what a can of worms.) I just think that if you build up beloved characters over the course of a decade and then systematically murder them simply to raise the stakes — particularly if they are, you know, women — I think the audience may start to feel that things aren’t, you know, fun.

To further illustrate what I mean, let’s imagine the general MCU plotting scenario with the Batverse. Let’s say the Batverse characters were relatively unknown to general movie audiences, and then they got built up over ten years via a plethora of films. Then, after ten years, they kill off Batman, they push Catwoman off of a cliff, they strangle the Joker, the beloved actor playing Nightwing dies, and we’re left with … Jason Todd/Red Hood and a time travel machine. (Sorry, ol' pouty buddy, you know I love you, but you’re here to make a point.) Doesn’t that sound awful? Especially if you felt that most of the lost characters would never really return, for either “stakes” or “corporate synergy?” I do realize that this sort of thing both does and doesn’t happen with the Batverse; the Batworld is constantly rebooted and the characters change around, only to return later in a different iteration. The characters themselves are tropes on tropes by now. They can have stakes, or not have them at all; it varies unendingly, like the sea. Their narratives can be as silly or as serious as one likes. It’s not that it’s better — because it isn’t? in fact, sometimes it’s really tiresome? — it’s just different. Longer-lived, if you will. More reliable? Maybe.

So uh, TLDR: Yes, I know my MCU shit is old shit. (Except for the parts scribbled around the Loki TV series, of course, which is only a couple of months old. Yes, the fic gets there eventually.) For awhile, I thought, Eek, who the hell wants to read old shit?! And then I decided, I do! If I want to see any GodCat content in the world, especially any bickery-bantery HEA content — my jam, my jones, my bread and my butter — I must go to the mountain and write it myself. Because the mountain, alas, will certainly never write it for me.

[elongated-twink]

GOD I hate all those posts that are like “this is what goth/punk/grunge/emo/other “alt” subculture is ACTUALLY about” because they all refuse to engage with the idea that our communities are actually? Communities?? That we’re individual people with wildly different political motivations and goals and fashion sensibilities. That theres people in alternative music scenes who don’t even LIKE the music, but who are fantastic techies/bookers/producers/illustrators/event planners and are still welcomed to shows with open arms because theyre chill and helpful. That the hardest band I’ve ever heard is fronted by a woman in a plain grey t shirt and blue jeans and I’ve heard beautiful soft acoustic music from a greasy leather-clad metalhead. That being punk doesn’t stop you from being a shithead and we have to actually protect our scene instead of no true Scotsmaning them away. Every explanation of what alternative is serves to gloss over the stunning and beautiful nuances of these communities for an image that is also corporate and misrepresentative. Alternative is just what isn’t mainstream. That’s a lot of people. We interact. It’s a community.