#keep it out of your feeds suggestions and algorithms

[yaytomhiddlestonyay]

Rakka - Involved Nut / Connected Nut (fruit of labours)

Reki - Stepping Stone

[jmdbjk]

Jungkook telling it like it is...

He did tell Spotify that he'd use the blanket they gave him. Just not the way they probably thought he would: Jungkook's glossy black marble floor shows his bare feet prints on it and he used his Spotify blanket to clean the floor. He says he'll have to always wear socks or slippers. I can see him leaving a pile of toe socks at the door just for him to put on when he's in that room...

He says he briefly and unseriously considered quitting the business to be a full time cook. (JK, you can't do that, you have to make enough money to pay for the utilities and property taxes on your new fortress...) But that's his introvert kicking in, the routine, the comfort zone, the way his job holds his interest enough to make him want to keep doing it. But he is aware and he knows this about himself and knows he has to return to his "spot" as he called it.

He seems to accept the fact his place of residence is going to be known by the fans just like many other aspects of his life such as details of his military service. He seems to take it in stride but he also sets boundaries by asking fans to not come to his house and do not send packages, not only to his house but to his army base. He explains why, that he cannot accept them and that packages containing food are restricted. He clearly instructs to send letters to the company.

How do people know where he lives? Here's the answer, or at least part of it:

We all know if you spend time on Youtube the algorithm will feed you videos and channels similar to what you've watched. If you are restrained enough to limit your viewing to only BangtanTV I applaud you. But if you watch anything else, youtube will serve you similar. We all know that through the anecdotes of Armys talking about being flooded with edited, slo-mo shipping videos.

Personally, I like watching youtube channels that show walking tours of Seoul. The city captured my attention and I've learned so much about it. But because of this interest I have in Seoul and Korea, more "walking tour" and Korean travel type channels are suggested to me. Some are better than others. Some are actually run by K-Army. I am very interested in K-Armys' perspective about life in Seoul so I watch. We get to see the birthday cafe events and such that I'm probably never going to experience.

Inevitably one of these channels is going to walk by the members' homes... because they are Army and can. Streets are public. And this is how other people find out where the members live. The videos show that none of the homes are accessible. They are all behind walls and gates. None of the videos show hoards of fans congregated in front of the homes. The only place you ever see that is in front of the Hybe building.

Yes, it is controversial knowing these things but it is also one of those things that is almost unavoidable. What do I do with the information I gain by watching? Nothing. I satisfy my curiosity and move on.

Jungkook knows we are curious. He knows with his position in life there are things he cannot control and he's aware of it. It's pointless for him to pretend he isn't aware of this. That's why he sets boundaries. And he's very kind about it when he does set boundaries.

Are there bad actors out there who will take advantage of the knowledge? Of course. But that's on them. Are there people who will post every detail they learn? Of course. That's how the information spreads to other social media platforms.

Anyway... the Weverse translations are sort of skimming over what he says. There's a little bit of nuance being left out sometimes.

The Weverse English subs say "We'd sing it every day while taking showers." But Jungkook more accurately said: "We always sing together while taking a shower." (begins at 1:00:00)

The Weverse English subs say "Recently, with Jimin, now during our clean up time I finished up in the kitchen and came back up we talked a lot about music and we'd always be humming (he hums) and I'd go far away and sing songs (he gestures away from him). I'll try to practice more when I have time." But more accurately he said: "So these days I'm with Jimin and now when its personal maintenance time I go upstairs after finishing kitchen work. We talk a lot about singing and we're humming along to each other all the time (he hums) like that and we go far away and sing and stuff (he gestures away from him). I'll practice more in my spare time." (begins at 36:48)

The Weverse English subs say "I've been doing well with Jimin in my military life. I've been well." More accurately he said: "I'm/we are working hard and doing well in military life together with Jiminie-hyung. I'm doing well." (at 8:18)

He showed us his entertainment room, he clearly states he can't show us the upstairs but he does not give a reason why but as he talks he explains he has not "organized" his house. Maybe he won't show it because he doesn't want to or maybe he won't show it because in his opinion, its a mess right now. Regardless, its his choice what he wants to show us and we are privileged when he does so. I'd bet that at some point, we'll see his kitchen because he's Jungkook.

He talked about his job as a cook in the Army. He said he prepares many Korean dishes and they are either boiled or braised. He mentions that they cannot grill food. He says its not easy making large amounts of food. He says he does his best to make them tasty. I've noticed on the timeline the accounts that post military menus that on most days, meals include stews and soups so he is definitely learning how to cook a wide variety of dishes.

He sang about 30 songs including several off Golden. He sounded really good singing Standing Next to You, in fact, his off the cuff live singing of all the songs from his album was pretty exquisite even if he didn't sing most of the songs to the end.

He spoke with a slight reverence regarding only singing BTS songs with the rest of the members. It gave me the impression he knows it will be a special moment for them as well as us.

He picked at his lip, bit his cuticles, touched his lips, scratched his head under his beanie and yawned many times before finally telling us good night. Until we see you again soon, Kookie! Be safe and keep practicing with Jimin!

[bennyboyfics]

What’s on my phone || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

Summary: as the title suggests, Ben participating in the what’s on my phone interview :)

Wc: 1,788

Warnings: not proofread

MASTERLIST

-

The camera crew is bustling around, adjusting the lighting and checking sound levels as Ben lounges comfortably in a chair, his phone in hand. There’s an easy grin on his face as he leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. The ATP Tour’s What’s on My Phone? segment is a fan favourite, and Ben knows the drill—unlock his phone, reveal a little too much, and probably get roasted for it.

“I’m Ben Shelton and this is What’s on My Phone?”Ben chuckles, dimples flashing. “Alright, let’s do this.” The screen behind him mirrors his phone in real-time, and the moment he turns on his phone, the lock screen is revealed—prompting an immediate reaction from the crew. A few awws and some teasing whistles fill the room, making Ben shake his head with a laugh.

On his screen is a photo of you. It’s not just any photo—it’s a candid his photographer took during one of his matches, when you were sitting courtside wearing a cap and one of his oversized hoodies, completely caught up in the game. You weren��t even looking at the camera, just watching him, biting your lip in concentration like you were the one playing.

The way the sunlight hit your face, the way your expression softened ever so slightly—it was a moment he knew he wanted to keep with him. Ben rubs the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, uh… that’s my girl.” His voice is warm, casual, but there’s something deeper in it—an unmistakable fondness.

“She’s kinda my good luck charm, so…” He shrugs, like it’s obvious, like there’s no other option but for you to be the face he sees every time he picks up his phone. He swipes up to unlock it, bringing up his home screen—an organised but slightly chaotic layout, with notifications from Instagram, Twitter, and iMessage sitting unread.

“Alright, first question—what’s your most used app?” Ben hums, opening his screen time stats. “Probably Instagram,” he admits, tapping into the app. And that’s when the real fun begins. Because the second his feed loads, it completely betrays him. The algorithm doesn’t lie. His entire recommended feed is flooded with you.

There are fan edits, paparazzi shots, even a few tagged posts from your fan accounts. One video is a slow-motion montage of you in the players lounge ar Miami open, your arm looped through his, smiling at him like he hung the moon. Another is a courtside clip of you watching his match, your expression unreadable—until he wins a point, and you break into the proudest smile.

Ben lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “Man, y’all are really gonna do me like this?” he teases. “Okay, yeah, I look at her fan pages. So what? Y’all are fast with the edits, too. Some of these are from, like, yesterday.” The producer laughs from off-camera. “Do you have a favourite post you’ve seen recently?”

Ben scrolls for a second, then pauses on a familiar photo. It’s a candid someone took of you standing up mid-match, clapping after a particularly good point. You’re wearing one of his hoodies—again—this time layered over a tennis skirt, your expression a mix of excitement and relief.

“This one,” he says, holding his phone up to the camera. “She swears she’s not a sports person, but she’ll be up yelling at the umpire if they make a bad call.” The crew chuckles, and Ben smiles down at the image before backing out of the app. “Alright, next question—what’s the last photo in your camera roll?”

He taps into his photos, scrolling to the most recent one, and his lips curve into a grin. “Oh, this is good.” He turns the screen toward the camera. It’s a blurry selfie from the night before—you kissing his cheek while he laughs, his dimples deep and his face slightly flushed. There’s a laziness to it, the kind of picture taken when neither of you cared about the angle, just capturing a moment.

Ben chuckles. “I think she was making fun of me for something, but I don’t remember what.” He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “Probably for losing at Mario Kart. She swears she’s better than me.” The producer smirks. “Is she?” Ben scoffs. “Absolutely not.” Ben shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders as he exits out of Instagram.

“Alright, what’s next?” The producer smiles, glancing at the list of questions. “What’s your most used emoji?” Ben doesn’t even have to think. He swipes down to his recently used emojis, and right at the top—unsurprisingly—is the red heart. He tilts the screen toward the camera, raising an eyebrow.“Yeah, it’s the heart,” he confirms, smirking slightly.

“Not shocking, I know.” Someone off-camera chuckles. “Who gets the most heart emojis from you?” Ben grins, already knowing the answer. “Oh, definitely her,” he says without hesitation, referring to you. “I’m a heart emoji kinda guy. She’ll text me something random, and I’ll just respond with like, three of these.” He taps the red heart for emphasis.

The crew laughs, shaking their heads as the producer moves on. “Alright, next up—what’s the last text you sent?” Ben swipes into his messages, and immediately, your name is pinned at the top. He clicks on your chat, scanning for the most recent message. A soft chuckle escapes him as he reads it. “Oh man,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Okay, so the last thing I sent was—‘I swear I didn’t forget, don’t be mad.’” There’s a beat of silence before the producer asks, “Forget what?” Ben drags a hand down his face, laughing sheepishly. “She wanted me to call her before I left for practice this morning. And, uh… I kinda forgot,” he admits. “But in my defense, it was early and I was half asleep.”

There’s some playful teasing from the crew, and Ben holds his hands up in surrender. “Look, I remembered eventually! I FaceTimed her as soon as I got to the courts. She answered with the biggest side-eye, too. I was like, ‘Babe, please, I’m sorry,’ and she just—” He mimics a deadpan expression, pursing his lips and crossing his arms.

“Did she forgive you?” someone asks. Ben snorts. “Eventually. But she made me suffer for like, a solid ten minutes first. She just sat there, all quiet, making me work for it.” He shakes his head, grinning. “She’s too good at that, man.” The producer chuckles before moving to the next question. “What’s the last note you wrote in your phone?”

Ben pulls up his Notes app, scrolling through a mix of training reminders, random song lyrics, and half-finished grocery lists before landing on the most recent one. A smile tugs at his lips. “Oh, this one’s cute,” he says, turning his phone slightly to the camera. “It’s just—‘Don’t forget to grab her snacks before the flight.’”

There’s a collective aww from the crew, and Ben shakes his head with a fond chuckle. “Okay, listen, she has very specific snack preferences, alright? Like, if I come home empty-handed, it’s over for me.” The producer laughs. “So, what’s the go-to snack order?” Ben counts on his fingers.

“Sour candy, specifically the extreme kind—like, the ones that make your face pucker. Then, these little mini chocolate croissants she likes, and a very specific brand of iced tea that’s weirdly hard to find.” “Do you ever forget?” Ben scoffs. “Oh, I forgot once. And she gave me the most disappointed look. Like, not angry—just disappointed. Which is way worse.”

He shudders dramatically, making the crew laugh. “So now,” he continues, tapping the note on his phone, “I set reminders. Because I am not going through that again.” He locks his phone, shaking his head as he chuckles. “She’s got me trained, man.” Then comes the final question. “What’s your favourite saved TikTok?”

He taps into his favourites, scrolling past a mix of funny clips, tennis highlights, and a lot of dog videos before landing on the one he’s been waiting for. The second the video thumbnail appears, his smirk deepens. “Oh, this one’s good,” he says, already biting back a laugh as he clicks play.

The familiar beats of Baby by Quality Control and Lil Baby immediately blast through the speakers, and the screen fills with clips of you—from the same tournament where he took home the title. But it’s not just any edit. It’s a thirst trap edit. The producer is laughing. “Does she know about this edit?”

“Oh, she knows,” Ben says, grinning. “She sent it to me before I even saw it.” He watches the final few seconds of the video. Ben locks his phone, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. “Yeah, this is my favourite TikTok right now. No contest.” He looks straight into the camera, smirking. The crew laughs as the interview wraps up, and Ben locks his phone, bringing your smiling face back onto his screen.

His eyes linger on it for a second, his expression softening, before he tucks it into his pocket. “Alright, that’s it for What’s on My Phone?,” the producer says. “Ben, any final words?” “Yeah—babe, if you’re watching this, don’t be mad about the Mario Kart thing.” He smirks. “You got lucky.” The crew laughs as the video cuts to black.

[taffywabbit]

"why not just make your own website?"

with the announcement of cohost's death and amidst all the other tumultuous shit currently going on with social media as a concept (i am AMAZED twitter has survived this long given the circumstances), one suggestion that i've been hearing a lot is "we should just go back to the good old days of personal websites. let's all just make neocities pages!!"

(this is gonna be a long one sorry)

and like. idk! it's certainly something i've considered, i think it would be a fun thing to have, but it also feels like the equivalent of "capitalism sucks so let's all just run off into the woods and live in a cabin outside of society" to me. like it would be nice, it would be fun, but it doesn't ultimately solve the actual problems that are present with the modern internet, it just evades them. more importantly in my case and many others, it does not really help people who rely on the modern internet and the connections they're able to make there for their income. sure i can make a website and host my art and blog posts there, but who's going to see it? i can't build a consistent audience and make a living off of random passersby who peek at my website once, say "huh, neat!" and MAYBE add it to an RSS feed or whatever if they really like it. there's minimal potential for meeting and impressing new people outside my existing circles if i don't ALSO still have some manner of social media platform to promote the website on.

a lot of the "solutions" i see people proposing for the slow, painful decline of social media as a user experience keep coming back to old-fashioned, more isolated/insular systems. we miss forums, we miss personal webpages, we miss newsletters, etc etc. but like... those things were ideal in the "old web" because the old web was more about sharing hobbies and interests with whoever happened to pass by and check them out, and even just USING the internet was a niche hobby in and of itself for a lot of people. if you wanna be kinda cynical about it (and not unjustifiably so), web 2.0 is much more blatantly business-oriented, and its algorithms and carefully crafted UX's are primarily meant to funnel you towards viewing ads and spending money on products. looking at it that way, it sure does suck and Everything Was Better Before! but the modern web is ALSO more powerful than anything before it for just like. connecting people. spreading information and news. showing your art/music/writing/thoughts/etc to strangers who never knew you existed an hour ago. putting the tools to reach out to someone and tell them you think they're cool right there on the same website where their art is hosted, just a comment or a message away.

if you're able to avoid patterns of engagement-bait and obsessing over follower counts as a measure of self-worth (a big "if", i realize, but i view it like installing an adblocker - it's just kind of a basic prerequisite for modern internet safety and survival), a lot of these systems can genuinely be really positive and life-changing in ways that were simply not possible 20 years ago! almost all of my current closest friends are people I met through sharing our art on platforms like Twitter who were complete strangers at the time. all of the art clients that regularly pay my bills and support my work came from places like that too! the "social" part of "social media" is really what makes it ultimately worth keeping around in any form, and makes the pursuit of a Good social media platform still valuable.

there's a lot to love about the old web - its aesthetics, simplicity and freedom for personal expression - but every time someone says "just delete your socials and make a personal website" i am forced to confront the fact that i could never do what i currently do or be the person i am on the old web. if i was stuck hanging out in my own little space and only ever interacting with people who openly and loudly share my interests, i couldn't support myself with art full-time, i probably would never have met the kind and quiet strangers who are now my best friends and have made me who i am, and i'd just generally get a lot less insight into the vast range of experiences and perspectives that exist outside of my own. my life would be on a fundamentally different trajectory in countless ways without the advent of web 2.0.

and that's not to say "well twitter and facebook and tumblr all suck but you kinda still have to hand it to them" cuz you don't, obviously. they're corporations, and their job is to take the personalities and thoughts and art of the people who use their products and try to scrunch it all into something uninform and marketable that generates profit and pleases their shareholders. but like, you CAN still make a good thing out of them! these websites are tools just as much as geocities or myspace or IRC used to be. and the one thing these newer tools are pretty much all REALLY good at is discoverability. if you're just a hobbyist at the things you wanna share on the internet, then you likely don't have a lot of use for those tools, and perhaps you WOULD genuinely be happier just keeping a personal blog site or hanging out in private groupchats or sticking to specialized federated Mastodon instances or whatever. it just isn't feasible for me, and there are a LOT of people in my same situation. my entire industry of online freelance artists barely existed 20 years ago, and the web culture of that era is largely incompatible with my continued survival in the mid-2020s. i would LOVE to run off and live in the woods in concept, but all my survival skills are adapted for city living and i would just eat the wrong berry and die out there. i want- i NEED people to try and improve the spaces we're in, and support better forms of social media (like what cohost was trying and largely succeeding to do!) instead of just complaining that it all sucks, everything was better when we were kids, and digging ourselves little holes to hide in. much like all the other problems and frustrations and systemic issues of the world we live in, the modern web isn't going to go away if you just ignore it, so we may as well try to make it better for everyone.

anyways tl;dr i probably WILL make a neocities at some point. it could be fun, even if it doesn't help my career stability or whatever. but i do also need ALL THE SOCIAL PLATFORMS I USE FOR MY JOB TO STOP EXPLODING PRETTY PLEASE, and failing that, some actual half-decent alternatives that aren't going to fizzle out in a month would also be great thanks ✌

[mariacallous]

If you’ve rented an apartment in the US in the past several years, you may have had the sense that the game was rigged: Prices creep up not only at your building but at others throughout the city, seemingly in lockstep. A new civil lawsuit brought by the US Department of Justice today alleges that in many cases it’s not just in your head—and that a single company’s algorithm is to blame.

That company is RealPage, a Texas-based firm that provides commercial revenue management software for landlords. In other words, it helps set the prices of apartments. But it does so, the DOJ alleges in its lawsuit, by effectively helping its clients cheat; landlords feed rental rate and lease terms into the system, and the RealPage algorithm in turn spits out a suggested price that enables coordination and hinders competition.

“By feeding sensitive data into a sophisticated algorithm powered by artificial intelligence, RealPage has found a modern way to violate a century-old law through systematic coordination of rental housing prices,” deputy attorney general Lisa Monaco said in a statement.

RealPage’s reach is broad. It controls 80 percent of the market for software of its kind, which in turn is used to set prices of around 3 million units across the country, according to the DOJ. It already faces multiple lawsuits, including one from the state of Arizona and another in Washington, DC, where RealPage software is allegedly used to price more than 90 percent of units in large apartment buildings. RealPage’s algorithmic pricing first gained broader attention when a 2022 ProPublica investigation detailed how the company’s YieldStar software works.

The DOJ civil lawsuit, which was joined by the attorneys general of eight states, is a significant escalation in legal action against the company. It’s also a first for the DOJ, according to officials speaking on background during a call to discuss the complaint. While the government had previously filed criminal charges against an Amazon seller for algorithm-enabled price-fixing, this is the first civil action in which the algorithm itself, the Justice Department official says, was effectively the means of the violation.

The complaint itself quotes RealPage executives allegedly acknowledging anticompetitive aspects of its product. “There is greater good in everybody succeeding versus essentially trying to compete against one another in a way that actually keeps the entire industry down,” one RealPage executive allegedly wrote.

RealPage has repeatedly denied any allegations of antitrust violations, going so far as to publish a six-page digital pamphlet that claims to tell “the Real Story” about its products, along with an extensive FAQ page on a dedicated public policy website. The company did not immediately respond to a request for comment. “Attacks on the industry’s revenue management are based on demonstrably false information,” one section of that site reads. “RealPage revenue management software benefits both housing providers and residents.”

“We are disappointed that, after multiple years of education and cooperation on the antitrust matters concerning RealPage, the DOJ has chosen this moment to pursue a lawsuit that seeks to scapegoat pro-competitive technology that has been used responsibly for years,” said Jennifer Bowcock, senior vice president of communications and creative at RealPage, in an emailed statement. “RealPage’s revenue management software is purposely built to be legally compliant, and we have a long history of working constructively with the DOJ to show that."

The DOJ disagrees. “Algorithms don’t exist in a law-free zone,” said Monaco in a press conference to discuss the case. “Training a machine to break the law is still breaking the law.”

In this case, the complaint alleges that those algorithms consistently drove rental prices upward. “RealPage’s software tends to maximize price increases, minimize price decreases, and maximize landlords’ pricing power,” said the DOJ in a press release. RealPage also doesn’t just recommend prices; in many cases, it actively sets them.

“RealPage actively polices landlords’ compliance with those recommendations,” said US attorney general Merrick Garland in today’s press conference. “A large number of landlords effectively agree to outsource their pricing decisions to RealPage by using an ��auto-accept’ setting that effectively permits RealPage to determine the price a renter will pay.”

The DOJ also claims RealPage has created a “self-reinforcing feedback loop” with its data intake and pricing recommendations structure that also gives it an alleged monopoly in the apartment revenue management software industry. Any competitor who plays by the rules, the DOJ claims, is at a distinct disadvantage.

The Justice Department has spent the past several years staffing up with technologists and data scientists, better enabling them to “interrogate the code,” as multiple officials described the investigative process. While this is the first major algorithmic collusion case, DOJ officials suggested it would be far from the last.

[adumbratrapedme]

streamer!kenma x reader - secret relationship

Synopsis. kenma, in the peak of his career neglected y/n, but dont worry! our pudding head knows exactly how to fix things!

wc. 2,9k words | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. streamer!kenma x reader, angst to fluff, post time skip, neglect.

important ! Please if the content was of ur enjoyment dont doubt following me, liking and sharing ;D! maybe i'll make this a little series of streamer!kenma and his girlfriend lives, i have nothing else to say so, enojey! !

Kozume Kenma, or "kodzuken" to his online legion, had finally reached the apex of his streaming career. Years of relentless grinding had paid off, but success often comes with a price. Especially for a relationship... and a sometimes insecure girlfriend.

Y/N, once the undisputed star of Kenma's social media and life, felt a pang of loneliness. She was undeniably happy for her boyfriend, but ever since his rise to influencer status, things had changed. Gone were the days of their selfies plastered across his feeds. Now, his past posts, brimming with her face, were archived – a digital ghost town. Kenma, wary of online scrutiny, decided to keep their relationship private. While Y/N understood the logic, it gnawed at her. Five years together, built on trust and shared experiences, felt invisible to the world. Unknown to Kenma, sleepless nights plagued Y/N.

His phone buzzed incessantly, a constant barrage of love comments, fan messages professing love, and even DMs from other streamers seeking collaboration. Despite knowing Kenma's loyalty, a seed of doubt sprouted – a fear of being overshadowed by his online fame.

Today wasn't any different. Y/N woke to an empty space beside her, the familiar chill a stark contrast to Kenma's usual warmth. He was probably hunched over his computer again, another night sacrificed to the algorithm gods. A pang of sympathy stabbed at her. How could she blame him? Reaching the peak of streaming was his dream, and his excitement over the recent growth was infectious. All she wanted to do was support him, even if it meant sacrificing their mornings together.

Treading softly towards the studio, the faint glow of the monitor spilling into the hallway. Inside, Kenma was indeed sprawled on the worn couch, exhaustion etched on his face. She knelt beside him, her touch feather-light as she ran her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

"Ken… sweetheart," she whispered, her voice a gentle nudge. "Why didn't you join me in bed? Your back will hate you later."

Kenma stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. "Just… so tired, Y/N. Almost beat my viewer record last night." A hint of pride snuck into his voice despite the fatigue.

"Amazing, babe! That's fantastic news," Y/N beamed. "But sleep is important too. Come on, let's get you some proper rest. Breakfast is ready, I made your favorite – [insert Kenma's favorite food]."

His response was a mumbled curse, a stark contrast to his usual cheer. A frown tugged at Y/N's lips. Was he annoyed? She knew he was exhausted, but his reaction felt harsher than usual. Maybe she was overthinking it. Taking a deep breath, she nudged him again, this time a little more firmly.

"Up you get, sleepyhead. We can talk more after breakfast."

Moments later, Kenma shuffled out of the studio, a mix of exhaustion and… something else clouding his features. Y/N followed, her smile strained. Breakfast was ready, but the air between them felt thick, a potential storm brewing beneath the surface.

The breakfast was a tense affair. Kenma scrolled through his phone, barely picking at his food. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the clinking of his fork. Finally, Y/N decided to break the ice.

"Hey," she started cautiously, "I was thinking… we haven't really had any quality time together lately. Don't you think it would be nice to… maybe go somewhere tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

Before she could finish her suggestion, Kenma let out a heavy sigh. "Y/N, I can't tomorrow, or today for that matter. I'm swamped. There's this charity stream thing with some new, up-and-coming streamer. My manager practically forced me to do it."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Y/N's face, but she quickly plastered on a smile. "Oh, I see. No worries, I understand completely. You're busy, that's perfectly fine." Her voice held a hint of forced cheerfulness.

A beat of silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Of course I understand," Y/N continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur. Maybe a little too low. "My name isn't Kozume 'Always Understanding' Y/N, after all."

Kenma finally looked up from his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? What are you getting at?"

Y/N's carefully constructed smile faltered. A surge of frustration bubbled within her. "Maybe," she said, her voice tight, "you should consider what being 'Kozume Understanding' actually costs sometimes."

Kenma pushed back from the table, barely touching his breakfast. "Look, I appreciate you trying to be supportive, but I have a lot on my plate right now. I gotta get everything set up for today's stream." He mumbled something about needing more coffee and practically bolted out of the room.

Y/N sat alone at the table, the untouched food mocking her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Understanding was one thing, but feeling invisible was a whole other story. The air crackled with unspoken resentment, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

A few hours had crawled by since the breakfast debacle. Y/N found herself folding warm laundry in the bedroom, the rhythmic whoosh of the dryer a monotonous lullaby. In an attempt to bridge the gap, she turned on the TV, pulling up Kenma's stream. He was just a few rooms away, physically close yet emotionally distant. Tuning in had always been a source of comfort, a way to connect even when they were apart.

But today, the comfort was replaced by a gnawing emptiness. The stream displayed two camera feeds: Kenma on one side, and a girl on the other. The unfamiliar face sent a jolt through Y/N. So, this was the "new streamer" Kenma mentioned. Y/N hadn't expected a girl.

They were playing Minecraft, a stark contrast to the usual high-octane games Kenma gravitated towards. The girl was chirping cheerfully, gathering flowers, while Kenma focused on mining deep underground. A humorless chuckle escaped Y/N's lips. How predictable.

Despite his focus, the chat box buzzed with activity. "Great duo!" "Shipping them so hard!" "You two should collab more often!" The girl, clearly enjoying the attention, punctuated her flower-picking with playful glances towards Kenma and flirtatious comments. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, a mix of annoyance and feigned disinterest etched on his features. He muttered a few sarcastic replies, clearly trying to deflect her advances.

But Y/N wasn't convinced. The way the girl preened, the way the chat reacted, it all felt… intrusive. A subtle shift began to gnaw at her. Maybe it wasn't just the lack of quality time that bothered her. Maybe it was the realization that this new reality, this world Kenma inhabited, wasn't one she felt comfortable sharing.

With a decisive click, Y/N shut off the TV. Enough boyfriend content for one day, she thought bitterly. Intellectually, she knew there was nothing wrong with Kenma collaborating with another streamer, especially a girl. Yet, a suffocating tightness constricted her chest.

It wasn't just the girl's undeniable beauty – the cascading hair, the infectious voice, the effortless charm that seemed to captivate the chat. It was the way the internet, that ever-hungry beast, latched onto the situation.

Four hours. That's all it took for the fandom to erupt. Fan art depicting them as a couple flooded Twitter. A dedicated hashtag, #KenmaAndQueen (Queen being the other streamer's username, no doubt), trended at an alarming rate. The internet worked in mysterious ways, Y/N thought, a humorless laugh escaping her lips.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she scrolled through clips people had already made of the stream. The girl's relentless flirting, the forced interactions designed to fuel speculation – it all felt like a cruel parody of their own relationship. Y/N couldn't hold back any longer. Fat tears streamed down her face, blurring the screen.

The last few months of loneliness and neglect had taken their toll. The trickle of tears transformed into a torrent, sobs wracking Y/N's body. The sound was probably louder than she'd intended, echoing through the house.

A few minutes later, Kenma appeared at the bedroom door, his face etched with concern. "Y/N? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Y/N's sobs intensified, her voice barely a whisper. "Kenma," she managed to choke out, "do you like Queen?"

Kenma's brow furrowed in confusion. "Queen? What do you mean?"

"The streamer you were with today," Y/N explained, her voice trembling. "Do you like her? Is she better than me? Prettier? Funnier?"

Her words hung in the air, heavy with insecurity. She felt like a shadow compared to Queen's radiant presence, her own worth diminishing with each passing moment.

Kenma's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y/N, what are you talking about? Queen is just a colleague. I don't like her in that way. And you're the most amazing, beautiful, and intelligent person I know. Don't ever compare yourself to anyone else."

He gently pulled her into a hug, his warmth radiating through her. "I love you, Y/N. More than words can say. You're the only one for me."

Y/N's tears subsided, replaced by a sense of relief. Kenma's words were like a balm to her wounded soul. She nuzzled into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice still laced with emotion. "I just felt so insecure watching you with her. The fans, the comments, the whole situation just got to me."

Kenma chuckled softly. "I understand, love. But you have nothing to worry about. You're my everything, and no one could ever replace you."

He held her tighter, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for this man who saw her for who she truly was, insecurities and all.

As they sat in silence, enveloped in each other's embrace, a sense of peace settled over Y/N. Kenma's words had not magically erased her insecurities, but they had offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that their love was strong enough to weather any storm. An idea sparked in Kenma's eyes. He reached for Y/N's hand, his expression a mix of determination and nervousness. "Come on," he said gently, pulling her towards his streaming room.

Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn't sure what Kenma was planning, but a sliver of hope flickered within her. They entered the room, the familiar hum of the computer the only sound. Kenma settled back into his gaming chair, gesturing for Y/N to stand beside him, just out of frame.

He took a deep breath and addressed the chat. "Hey everyone, sorry for the sudden break. Thanks to some attentive viewers, it seems you might have heard some… background noise." He glanced at Y/N, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yep, those cries were from my amazing girlfriend here."

A collective gasp, presumably from Queen, erupted from the speakers. Y/N felt a wave of heat flush her cheeks. Kenma ignored it, his focus laser-sharp.

"The truth is," he continued, his voice low and sincere, "I haven't been the best boyfriend lately. I let my career take priority, neglecting the most important person in my life." Y/N's breath caught in her throat.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "This is me, publicly apologizing. Y/N, I've been a jerk, and I want to change that." He squeezed her hand, his eyes locking with hers, conveying a wealth of emotions that transcended words.

A beat of silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Then, with a swift movement, Kenma pulled Y/N closer, framing her face in the camera's view. "This," he declared, his voice husky, "is the most amazing, supportive, and thankfully, understanding girlfriend a guy could ask for." He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

"Isn't she the prettiest?" Kenma murmured against her skin, a playful glint in his eyes. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face, his gaze holding hers. A blush bloomed across Y/N's cheeks, a mixture of relief, surprise, and a flicker of possessiveness aimed at the unseen Queen.

Kenma chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright everyone, enough mush for one day. We'll be back with the stream shortly, but for now, I have some serious apologizing to do." He winked at Y/N, a silent promise hanging in the air.

[eddiernunson]

The Taste of You | Modern Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader | 18 +

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: after attending a successful and rather sweaty concert from Corroded Coffin, you send the front man a rather thirsty DM on his instagram. You wake up to his response...and an offer to go backstage to follow through.

Warnings: lowkey unrealistic, alcohol, oral (f + m receiving), marking, begging (both), no protection, cream pie, use of aftercare

MINORS DNI

Based on my friend @bebe07011 going to a concert and DM'ing one of the band members (who looks a lot like Eddie) about how much she was enthralled by his performance and him responding back. This one's for you <3

Thank you so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you again for editing, you're my lifesaver.

-

You lean on the counter at work, distracted by your Instagram feed. Well, not distracted, per se. There are several more productive things you could be doing, but with your manager out on an errand and no customers to serve, there isn’t really anything stopping you. A post from Corroded Coffin comes up, a few images from their latest stop on tour. You can hardly prevent an excited squeal from escaping your lips, scrolling through their images, and rereading the end of the post over and over. ‘See you next, Indiana!’

You’ve been looking forward to this since buying tickets at the announcement of their tour nearly four months ago. It’s been a summer of anticipation; each post a countdown to your own concert date.

You discovered Corroded Coffin through suggestions from Spotify, the algorithm having picked up on your tastes in rock music and suggested a more modern band. Their music is good, you discovered. Their first album Freaks in the Streets came out about two years ago, and it’s raw in its talent but their latest album, Hell’s on Fire (And So Are You) shot them into stardom. You had it on repeat for months, and their lead guitarist being hot as he was had nothing to do with your fixation.

Okay, discovering Eddie Munson, (said lead guitarist) the main lyricist on the album, had everything to do with your fixation. Every late-night TV host offered a slot for them to play their music and Eddie’s charisma as he cheekily answers questions about his off-putting lyrics drove you into over-excitement mode. You can still hardly believe you're going to be able to watch his sweaty chest perform live.

Your concert date is tomorrow, and you have everything set up. You booked it off from work, got the perfect outfit, and the tickets are waiting on your apple wallet. You set your phone down, locking it. As always, the phone lights up when it faces up and you catch the image of the glistening sweat on Eddie’s chest during a performance from a tweet that went viral a few weeks ago, a photo you immediately saved for your phone. God, he’s mouthwatering. There were several hundred women in the retweets praising him as well, so, of course, there’s no chance in hell.

But it’s nice to fantasize.

-

You sit comfortably in the level 100 seats, dressed in a somewhat alternative outfit, high waisted black shorts with a fringe hanging off them, a chain on your belt loops, and a ripped crop top with the bands logo you found in an urban clothing store. You hold a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, recording the opening act as they sing to an audience that is only half paying attention.

Luckily, you know some of their songs on their short 8-song setlist, half-heartedly singing along but saving your voice for the main act. Though, you know your heart isn’t in it when you notice the placement of the jewels you glued to your temple is awkward. When you squint your eyes in a certain way they seem to threaten to fall off. Whatever, they were dollar store jewels, anyway.

The band finishes their less than overwhelming act, thanking the audience, and teasing them with the fact that the main act is backstage and apparently excited to put a show on for their home state. Somehow, it keeps escaping you that you happen to live about 60 miles away from where Eddie Munson grew up, Hawkins, Indiana. That place certainly had a reputation for itself.

You make small talk with your best friend, who is as excited as ever, if anything, to see your face when you melt to the floor. Natalie isn’t into their music like you are, but she can admit that their music is objectively good. Free concert and the power to tease you? Natalie is SO in. “What outfit you think he’s gonna wear tonight?” You shrug, sipping some wheat water. You don’t like beer, but the venue’s options when it comes to alcohol are…limited to say the least. Natalie leans in to you. “You think he’s gonna wear a shirt this time?”

You elbow her, your cheeks heating up. Some places he wears a shirt, and it’s a day of tragedy. Some places he comes out with his chest already bare, and it’s pure heaven. Although, he is known to rip a shirt off occasionally, and you have far too many videos of that saved on your phone. “I don’t know. We’ll find out when he comes out.”

You’re in the middle of a conversation about the politics of the latest show you’re watching together and the lights go down. An electric guitar is heard but out of sight. Subconsciously, you grab your friend’s forearm as your eyes widen in anticipation, your ass literally hovering on your chair as you’re at the edge of your seat. You hear her laugh, but you can’t focus as the lights on stage dramatically light up two at a time, and out of nowhere you can see the four band members, Eddie second to the left. Oh god, he’s wearing an open jacket with a metal chain. Holy shit.

You’re on your feet and screaming lyrics before you even know it.

The night goes by in a blur, and none of the videos you’ve seen online do Corroded Coffin any justice. Their online stage presence is unstoppable. And while Eddie was a large part of the crowd draw in, you watch as he interacts with each band member, using their energy to amplify his own. He really couldn’t do this without them, which is why he’s so insistent in every interview he’s given. Halfway through the show, Eddie does a quick run backstage, claiming his jacket was ‘too fucking hot’ and when he comes out in a fishnet shirt, the crowd goes absolutely nuts.

You sit in the back of a cab, buzzed and rewatching the multiple videos you’ve taken repeatedly, smiling giddily to yourself. “That was such a good show.” You mumble to yourself, sipping from the drink you promised to the cab driver you wouldn’t spill from. You’re so drunk you barely even notice the taste of the beer anymore.

The cab driver pulls up to the hotel and you drunkenly climb out, handing him four 20-dollar bills on the way, making sure he’s tipped well for having to put up with your drunk ass. He doesn’t seem to mind too much, but then again, you’re too busy rewatching your thirst caught in 4K to even notice. God damn, the video really doesn’t put his glistening chest any justice. It was even better in person. If you could just lick up his chest, you knew every problem in your life would be solved.

Your best friend laughs behind you, escorting you to the hotel room. As the hotel room door opens you just want to climb into bed and scroll through your phone, but Natalie makes you wipe off your make up and get dressed into some pajamas. You check your Instagram, Corroded Coffin’s post from tonight at the top of the feed. There were some high-quality shots of him in his fishnet shirt that you immediately save, going over to Eddie Munson’s personal Instagram from where he’s tagged in the post.

God, he must get hundreds of DMs in a day. One raindrop doesn’t affect the ocean. I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance. Your thumb hovers over the send button, but you’ve sent several messages to celebrities before, and they never respond. So, you hit send, and you’re asleep within minutes, your lamp still lit next to you as the water from the shower in the bathroom less than ten feet away from you lulls you into a deep sleep.

-

Your 10AM alarm rings, yanking you out of a deep sleep.  If you could, you’d spend the next ten hours sleeping to shake off the hangover, but you've gotta get up to have time to pack up and get changed before check out. You can shower tonight at home. As you sit up on your bed, dismissing the alarm, the headache kicks in, making you groan. Oh, fuck, are you hungover.

You check your phone quickly, and as you scroll down your notifications, you triple check a notification just to make sure you’re reading it right. At first, you’re confused. Why would he be messaging you? Your eyes widen as you promptly yeet your phone to your friend's bed when you remember what the fuck you sent to him last night. You curl in on yourself with your knees up against your chest and your hands over your mouth in disbelief.

Natalie comes out of the bathroom after hearing your phone bounce off the bed and land on the floor. “Whoa,” Natalie breathes, seeing your stunned stature. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, shellshocked.

“Okay, can you at least tell me what happened? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“I sent a really, really thirsty message to Eddie Munson last night and I saw a notification saying he responded.” You admit, no higher than a whisper.

“What?!” Natalie nearly shouts, a bit loud in the quiet morning of the small hotel. “Well then open it and read it! What did he say?”

“I’m scared too look!” You admit, grabbing a pillow and holding it close to your chest.

Natalie grabs your pillow and tosses it to the side, her wet blonde hair shining prettily in the morning sun. “Get up, you big baby! Open the goddamn message!”

Fuck, Natalie’s right. Doesn’t mean you liked it. You bend to pick your phone up, sitting next to her on the bed as you open your Instagram notification. Fuck, he responded only fifteen minutes after your message. “Oh you sent him a very thirsty message.”

“Look what the fuck he wrote back.” You whisper, eyes wide as your heart pounds out of your chest.

apricothamster147: I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance.

eddiemunson: Well, damn baby, are you still in town for tonight’s show? Come backstage and we’ll see about making that happen. (Send me ur email for tix)

“Holy shit.” Natalie mutters out loud, her eyes bugging to his response as well. “Well? Are you gonna accept?”

You chortle, holding your hand out to her comically. “Do you have enough money for another night?”

Natalie shrugs. “I have my dad’s credit card.”

“Are you allowed to use it?”

“Only when I need it.”

“Shit.”

“Honestly, girl, you need it. Go ahead, send him your email, I’ll get us another night.”

Your thumbs move fast, hoping his offer wasn’t due to a lack of sobriety or a glitch in the Matrix. If you’re still accepting my offer, my email is apricothamster417@gmail.com. You add a heart emoji just to be safe and send off a message to him.

Your best friend is in the middle of a phone call with her father to get him to call the front desk. They would only accept the credit card if they could speak to him. “Thank you!” Natalie hangs the phone up, looking at you. “Hotel is taken care of!”

You’re lying on your bed at this point, still in your pajamas with your palms stacked on your forehead. “What the fuck am I even gonna wear?”

“You brought multiple outfits, right?” Natalie asks you, sitting on her bed and laying down now that she no longer has to get ready to leave.

“Yeah, I brought some back-ups.” You sit up quickly, eyes wide. “I need your expertise in styling it, though. I have to look hot.”  

Natalie sits up as well, serious as she can be. “Oh sweetheart, he won’t know what hit him.”

-

An hour into her crusade, styling your hair, your phone lights up in a notification. Your phone is closer to her, so you ask her to check it, Natalie knows your passcode, anyway. You know what it is immediately based on the expression you see on her face in the mirror. “Did he respond?”

“Yes!” Natalie answers, placing the hot tool down and putting the freed hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, gimme that!” You respond, too impatient to wait for her to calm down.

eddiemunson: See you tonight (with a winky emoji)

“Oh my fucking god.” You let out, and suddenly it occurs to you that you’re seeing him in concert again. There’s even a slight possibility of you meeting him, however slim that he may remember to even do it.

A notification from your gmail rings, and you see ticketmaster. You hit it hard, seeing First Name, ‘Unknown’ Last Name, ‘Stranger’ has gifted you two VIP Floor Tickets with Back Stage passes, apparently just scanning the barcode will get you backstage. No. It wasn’t…no. This isn’t real. You stared off into the distance, eyes up from your phone. This doesn’t happen…

“Babe!”

You’re snapped out of it, realizing you zoned out in disbelief. “I’m just…a little in shock.”

Natalie smirks at you, tilting your chin on her fingertips gracefully. “Well now we know it’s fucking real, so let’s party hard, babe!”

Your eyes roll at her antics, but you love them. “Thanks for asking your dad.”

“Bitch, what’s a rich daddy good for if not for my friends?” Natalie laughs, starting to use the iron on your hair again.

Your makeup is done, rhinestones on the inner corners of your eyes, and you're wearing fishnet tights under a jean skirt and an oversized Corroded Coffin band tee. You usually used it as a sleep shirt, but Natalie insists it would work its magic.

Butterflies invade your stomach as soon as your black boots hit the pavement outside the hotel, the sunset cascading across the sky in a beautiful haze of orange and pink. As your thighs feel uncomfortable against the fabric of the cab, you hope your insides will feel as nice as the outside looks right now.

You pay your cab, all on the card, and get out, your stomach in knots. Well, it's now or never. Hesitantly, you hold your phone out for your ticket scanner on the main floor and she approves, giving you the thumbs up. “Wait.” the ticket scanner holds her hands out when she notices the big red letters, BACKSTAGE PASSES. You think you’re in trouble when you’re both handed the Backstage Pass Lanyards, decorated with the Corroded Coffin logo.

This is where you start to believe that you might’ve died last night with alcohol poisoning because there’s no way in Gods’ Green Earth is this real.

You both thank the attendant and walk to your seats, front and center, third row back. You could see the scratches on the sticker on the speakers from the inspector in the factory. Damn, were you close. “We’re going to go deaf.” Natalie comments, a half smile on your face. “Need a drink?”

“Please.” You answer, eyes wide. Natalie laughs and gets up to walk towards the bar, which is much less crowded around in the VIP section of the floor. Fucking wild.

You hold your phone and sing along to some more of the opening act's songs tonight, now gaining some familiarity with it. They’re great musicians, but they’re just not on Corroded Coffin’s level yet. They definitely have the potential to get there.

Their set list ends, and you notice that the lead singer is close enough for you to see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Oh god, you’re going to die.

Natalie tries to keep you entertained by chatting about anything she can, but it does so little to prevent time from crawling by at a snail's pace.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it’s a message from him. Wish Me Luck! You swear up and down it’s immediately after when the lights go down and the guitar starts playing off stage. Did he really just text you right before he started his show? Did that really just happen?

If there’s one thing about being in the third row with little to no one to block your view, it’s that no amount of high quality photos on twitter will ever amount to the real thing less than ten feet away. The sweat that drips down his leather vest for the night is mouth watering, the dark eyes in his expression as he performs hypnotizes you. You sing the lyrics, and jump and dance and occasionally drink, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t tear your gaze away from him.

And for a few moments, it’s like he holds your eye contact. No, that’s crazy. Nothing is happening. He has a million other girls to choose from, why would he choose you?

The concert happens in a blur, Eddie flings off the vest about halfway through the show, splashing some of his hair with his sweat. Your friend laughs at the sharp inhale that leaves your chest as you watch it. Man, he really had you in his clutches.

Eddie holds his arms out for his band as they close off the last song, all bowing together. “Thank you, Indiana! You’ve been a fucking fantastic crowd, thank you!”

“You ready?” Natalie asks you, holding out her lanyard cheekily.

“Nope.” You admit, taking a large gulp of the beer you barely touched. “After another beer I might be.”

“You really wanna meet him tipsy?” Natalie asks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“I don’t wanna be afraid to say anything!” You shoot back, leading her to the bar. You buy another one, and it’s down your throat within five minutes. You inhale deeply, wiping your face off from the excess beer around your mouth. “Does my mouth smell like beer?” You ask, suddenly worried.

“If you have to ask, I think you already know.” Natalie tells you, patting your back and leading you to the sign that says BACKSTAGE in all caps with an arrow pointing left.

A big security personnel blocks the big black curtain to the backstage area. You hold out your lanyard to him, and he gruffs as he holds his hand out for it. He takes a scanner to check out its legitimacy, and once both lanyards are in the clear, his face breaks into a smile, stepping aside to allow you through. It's almost comical.

The backstage area is busier than you had expected, arrows pointing you to where the visitors go, narrowly avoiding the crew as they bustle around. You both walk into a large area where several band members talk to friends or family, all sporting towels to dab their sweat away.

“Oh my god thank you for sending that DM.” Natalie whispers to you, looking around while starstruck. “I’m sure half these people aren’t even celebrities, but this is so cool! I’m going to go and mingle, you stick around for—”

You grab her by the collar, “Don’t you dare leave me alone here.”

“Ok, how bout we both grab some food? Maybe sober up?”

“Only because I’m hungry and free food tastes the best.”

You’re slowly picking at the fruit tray when you hear someone near you call out, “Eddie! My man!” You turn around to face him, the half-eaten strawberry you drop landing on the plastic tray loudly. You quickly finish the fruit and watch as he hugs his bandmate. “What, no shower, bro? You stink!”

The room echoes in laughter, and you join them. He does stink, and he stinks marvelously. The very scent makes you salivate. His laughter, it’s even better in person. He’s never laughed like this in any interview, all calm and toned down for the camera. This is genuine, heartfelt laughter.

You turn around to lean on the table, Jesus you need to calm yourself. Seeing him up close is sending a heat to your center that you're going to need to resolve quickly.

“Fancy seeing you, here.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, barely five feet away. You turn and face him, your breath knocking out of your chest. Words cannot describe how little all of the photos in the world do him any justice. He is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks for i-inviting me.” You answer, gulping at the slight shine his sweat still gives him. “You’re a really great performer…” You find yourself distracted by his chest. He’s probably going to get all sticky soon… he smelled even better up close…

“I’m gonna go mingle.” Natalie says, pointing towards a crowd of people talking to the band members. “Text me to let me know if you’re meeting me at the hotel.” Natalie gives a shy smile to Eddie and walks away before you could answer.

“Thank you.” He nods his head, giving you a smirk. Then, the unthinkable happens as he uses his thumb and pointer finger to lift your chin to capture your eyes with his own. How are they so pretty? “Are you going to make do on your promise?”

You gulp, your eyes flickering down to his pink lips. You’ve stared at his lips, how many times now? You nod slowly, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet, then.” He offers, extending his hand for you.

You take it silently, his rough hands feeling warm and rough, but perfect. He leads you about ten steps down the hall, a doorway marked with his name over the words Dressing Room. As the door shuts behind him, he locks it, flinging his towel across the room. “C’mere.” He offers, extending his hand to you. You follow his instructions, sitting next to him on the couch. “You haven’t said a goddamn word, yet your message said fucking everything. Is the pretty girl shy?” He asks, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod your head, gulping as his touch lights your skin on fire. “I—I was six drinks in when I sent you that message. …I wouldn’t have even remembered unless you replied.” You admit, leaning into his touch.

“C’mon baby, let’s see it.” You raise your eyebrows, inquisitively, wondering what he meant. “Your message! Couldn’t stop thinking about my after-show treat all day, a pretty girl begging to lick up my sweat. Show me.”

You nod to him, your near trembling hands reaching out for his chest. Eddie nods, a wild look in his eyes that nearly has you passing out. A loud exhale leaves your body as your hands reach out and reach contact with his chiseled, tattooed, chest, some sweat beads still lingering. How, you weren’t sure. Your eyes rake across his chest, taking in every tattoo you can, your heartbeat racing faster as you lean in, to finally, finally, rake your tongue up from his stomach to his chest, breathing heavily when the taste of the salt and his pure essence is even better than you imagined.

“Holy shit, she’s a fucking freak.” Eddie mutters, you feel his breath getting shallower under your mouth working on him.

You lean in again, nails digging into his skin as you give another long stripe across his skin, the taste of salt and delicious B.O. on your tongue and you let out a sigh of contentment. You crawl up to his collarbones, having noticed a pool of his sweat there gathered while he was performing.

Your tongue slides into the dip, moaning at the salty taste. Your teeth graze the bone, nibbling a little to leave little tiny bruises. You can’t wait to save the HQ pictures with these marks.

You leave one last long stripe on his treasure trail, having stared at many photos where his pants sit low. You’re nuzzling at it, breathing it in when you can feel him. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s cock is only inches from your face.

You look up at him, and the back of his palms are connected to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and his chest heavily breathing. He looks down to meet your gaze, and suddenly he sits up, grabs your face and plants a wet kiss to your lips. Your entire body tenses up, barely able to believe that it's real. Your brain eventually catches up, responding in kind, crawling so your bodies fit closer. Eddie pushes you back lightly before you get too close, having you lie down on his couch.

“Can I, sweetheart?” He asks, moving down to where your cunt has been begging for attention.

“A-are you sure? I don’t mind just sucking you off.”

He chuckles, leaning in for another kiss. “Oh baby, you just earned so much more than that.”

Eddie trails down your body, placing kisses on your exposed neck, lifting your shirt lightly as his hands move to cup your tits. You whimper in kind. “Baby, do you know what it’s like having the most gorgeous woman in the world offer to lick sweat off you? If you just give her a chance? I saw your picture you posted from the concert and fuck, you’re a goddamn smoke show. Those eyes, your gorgeous tits, your thighs, oh my god, baby, your thighs.” He talks through wet kisses trailing down your body until he’s face to face with your jean skirt.

He pulls twice, asking permission. You place your hands on your button to undo it and Eddie playfully swats your hands away. Your skirt is pulled off your body, leaving the fishnet tights and your thoroughly soaked panties. He leans in between your thighs, and your thigh muscles slightly convulse as you feel his hot breath against it. “Shh, haven’t even touched you yet, baby.” He hushes you, his big hands gracing your thighs gently. He leans in and you can’t tell what he’s doing until he starts pulling down, and you notice one of the strings from the tights in his mouth. He can’t seem to pull them off like he wants to, and after a last try he gets frustrated, ripping them off, instead. “There, that’s fucking better.”

You let out a tiny giggle, and then you feel so exposed to him, your lacy panties drenched as he stares between your legs.

If you told yourself this would be happening 24 hours ago you’d call yourself insane…or a silly goose. You were incredibly inebriated.

He flings the fishnets across the room and reaches out to touch your soaked panties, the touch inducing a whimper from you. “You’re soaked, huh, baby?” He murmurs, petting along your panties gingerly. You whimper in response, your hips lifting to meet his delicate touch more firmly. He chuckles, watching your face all scrunched up. “If you want me to touch you, beg for it.”

“Eddie, fucking touch me please, want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you with my fingers, baby?”

You nod, starting to hopelessly grind your hips up. “So fucking bad, please.”

He smiles, watching the outline of your pussy as you get wetter. Without warning, he hooks his fingers around your waist band and tugs it down, and suddenly you find yourself exposing your pussy to the man who took most of your gallery's storage space on your phone. The way he looks at your pussy is damn divine. His eyes darken with lust, pink lips shine with spit, and his cheeks flush; it makes you want to close your legs in embarrassment.

They stay open, because you’re afraid to move, this must be a dream. This is too fucking good to be real.

“Fuck, I knew your pussy would be pretty, but I didn’t know a pussy could be this fucking gorgeous, look at you.” He rambles, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. He places a thumb gently on your slick, stroking lightly up and down, the sensation sending fire rippling across your skin. He sees your thigh shake the littlest bit. “Feel good?”

It does, but you want so much more from him. “Mmm hmm.” You answer, toes flexing with anticipation.

“Do you need something?” He asks, stroking your lips too lightly, not necessarily getting closer to anything. He just narrowly avoids your clit, watching you squirm as your eyebrows furrow lightly.

“I need more-I need more.” You choke out, your hips desperately rutting against his fingers. “I want you to touch me harder, or move faster, I need more.”

Eddie chuckles, hardly believing how much better you had turned out to be. “You need more? Okay, sure. I can give more.” He leans in to lick a stripe right on your neglected clit, and your hips rut up in surprise, a yelp of pleasure jumping out of your throat. It doesn’t even phase Eddie, now that he's tasted you, he doesn’t want to let go. “How do you taste so fucking good?” He asks, his voice low and husky. “Doesn’t make any fucking sense, this should be a fucking crime.”

You moan, hips grinding up against him, head back in pure ecstasy. “Your sweat shouldn't taste so good. I could bottle it like ketchup and eat it on everything.” You admit, your fingers flexing as a wave of heat runs right through you.

Eddie barely lets up, even as the sentence makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. He pumps one of his digits into you, a ringed finger, no less. Your jaw drops as he fucks into you, the hot pool of pleasure in your stomach starting to form. It's the best this has ever felt by a long shot.

Eddie continues to attack you, adding a second finger as his tongue swirls over your clit repeatedly. “Eddie…fuck…so good.” You can barely talk, your bliss radiating in every extremity. “K…Keep doi’ tha’…”

He stares up at pride at your cocked out expression, panting heavily as you feel yourself on the brink. Out of nowhere Eddie picks up his speed into hyperdrive, and you fucking keel over him, high whines escaping your throat as one hand flies into his hair and the other on the couch’s arm rest to keep you grounded.

The orgasm hits you slowly but leaves your thighs shaking underneath him in its wake. It's the best goddamn orgasm you’ve ever had. Eddie continues to place kisses on your pussy, licking up your cum from your entrance, seemingly quite satisfied with his hard work.

You're breathing heavily, looking up at him desperately through half open eyes. “You have to let me suck your cock, please Ed.”

He gives you a half smirk, you’re barely recovered and you’re begging to suck his dick? Did he win the lottery? “No, I need to feel that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock before I cum from the sounds you’re making, alone.”

You lift your heavy head up in confusion. “Sounds?”

“Have you heard what you sound like when you cum? If I had the patience, I’d be making you cum here, all night, but I fucking don’t. I need to know what the fuck your pussy feels like.” Eddie admits, and his voice sounds desperate.

You let your head fall back down, your legs falling down in unison, spread eagle. You shoot a smirk at him. “What if I told you to beg for it?”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, and you see a light flicker on in his eyes.

“Beg for my pussy, Eddie. Wanna hear that pretty voice.”

Eddie grins widely, fuck, you just keep getting better. “Please, baby. Please. Let me fuck that tight, perfect pussy of yours. Please let me feel those hot, warm walls fucking pulse around me while I give it to you hard and well, just like she deserves.”

It's more than you could ever hope for, but you find yourself feeling greedy. “Hmm…not desperate enough. You don’t really sound like you want to fuck me all that badly.”

To this Eddie actually whines and groans in frustration. “C’mon, baby, please. Let me fuck you, I will do anything to feel that perfect cunt around my cock.”

Your legs hitch around his hips, pulling him in so his hard on in his jeans meets your bare pussy. You lean into his ear, inhaling his shampoo. “If you let me mark up your neck so I can have all those petty bitches be jealous of me at your next show, then go right ahead.”

“Oh, fuck, deal.” Eddie yanks his belt and his jeans and underwear off in one fell swoop, and the sight of his cock is better than anything you could’ve imagined. He kicks them off smoothly, lining himself up with you again in a matter of minutes. “Shit, you want a condom?” He asks, used to fucking bare back.

“I’m on birth control.” You tell him as he hovers over you.

“Oh that’s a good girl.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss at your neck. “You ready?”

“Fuck me, already, Ed, I’ve been ready since this morning.” Eddie chuckles and he slides himself in, the head of his cock burning only slightly, but feeling fantastic. “Oh, oh my god.”

“Fuck…” He grunts, waiting for your go ahead. “Better than I thought you’d feel. God, is this heaven?”

You giggle in response, your pussy pulsating around him in beat. “Your cock…so fucking full.” Eddie lifts his hips experimentally, and you let out a gasp at the burn and the pure pleasure it sends through you. “More.” You choke out when he doesn’t continue right away.  

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to listen to your request, your arms wrapped around his back as you clutch onto him for dear life. He ruts into you harshly, his hips snapping as it hits your g spot intentionally at every rut.

Your mouth seems like it’s trying to form words, but your head is so foggy by the time you open your mouth, the sentence is nowhere to be found. “Look at this cock drunk little slut.” Eddie laughs, watching your fucked out face.

Your hands tug on him, forcing his chest closer to your mouth. He lets his arms buckle down, slowing his pace down as his face finds refuge in the smell of your hair, while you start sucking lightly on his chest, leaving little bite marks. As you suck on his chest, your pussy sucks him in simultaneously, causing Eddie to moan from both sensations you were giving him.

Eventually, you have purpled your way across his chest, admiring your hard work as he continues moving slowly over you. “Eddie, can you go faster again?”

“Sure, baby. Be a good girl and turn onto your hands and knees.” You listen and turn around, tilting your ass up so it’s easy for him to slide in. “Oh, thank you, baby. Now lift your head up.” You do and he yanks on your hair, pulling a good chunk at the root. “That’s good.” He puts himself back in you, causing a guttural moan to leave your lips.

“Eddie…” You gasp out, the first hit surprisingly harsh against your hips. Not a part of you remotely minds, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as Eddie seemingly fucks you as hard as he can.

“You wanna still blow me, baby? Because I’m about to blow…” Eddie doesn’t have to say another word, you getting up and onto your knees on his animal carpet to wrap your lips around his cock and bob your head. “Use that pretty mouth…”

The feeling of you choking on it, your mouth desperately trying to take his whole length sends him over the edge. Eddie moans loudly, and you do everything you can to memorize this moment for the rest of your life, because nothing will top this.

Your mouth is overloaded with his thick cum, and one last load shoots out of him onto your face as your mouth pops off him, and ok, now nothing will top this.

He’s breathing heavily, staring down at the white shiny substance that made it’s way all over your nose and lips, some dripping down your chin to land on your tits. You start to gather it on your fingers, dipping it onto your tongue like it’s donut frosting. You hum to yourself at the salty taste, looking up at him through your eyelashes for approval.

“Shit, ain’t that a sight.” Eddie mutters, watching as you hopelessly attempt to clean yourself up before his cum goes everywhere. “Here, hold on.” Eddie yanks on a pair of low sweats and grabs something, walking towards the sink in the dressing room. He walks up to you and cleans his mess off your face and your tits, his hands behind the warm cloth gentle. He tosses it to god knows where and grabs one of the waters from his mini fridge.

He hands you the water and watches you as you slowly come back to yourself, the haze in your eyes raising. Your phone buzzes on the table next to the couch, and Eddie picks up the phone to give it to you and you call out to stop him a moment too late.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at your choice of wallpaper, it couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than thirst. The sweat glistening, his hand holding the microphone delicately, his face looking rather passionate about what he was singing about. Damn, that's a good photo, Eddie thinks. “So, did I just check something off your bucket list?” He asks, holding your phone out before tossing it to you.

You get up from your knees on wobbly legs, still needing some water, apparently. “Uh,” you take a sip, wondering how to answer as a wide smile settles on your face. On the one hand, you’re embarrassed. On the other, he had to know how viscerally thirsty you were after him. “No. I just did my bucket list.” You answer, taking another sip of your water as you stand in front of him, still head to toe naked. “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Eddie laughs at this, the same genuine laughter you heard from earlier.

You walk around the couch, bending over to locate your skirt.

“Lookin' for something?” Eddie asks, playfully pushing your buttons.

“My skirt…” you answer, peering across the room at this point.

“Can I be honest?” He asks, peering over your shoulder comically as you look around.

“Hmm?”

Eddie’s hands land your bare hips, tugging them backward so his boner hits your ass. “I could go for round 2.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” You whisper, turning around to face him. Eddie guides you, your steps messy as you back up to his vanity, a few brushes and the eyeliner he sports scattered. He lifts you easily onto it, your legs wrapping around his torso, pulling him in. You can’t tell when he removed his sweats, but the head of his cock unexpectedly against your heat already pulls a high whine out of you, sighing in relief. “Put it back in.”

“Fuck, don’t need to ask me twice.” He mumbles, lining himself up.

Your jaw drops as he pushes himself in, watching with a heavy chest as Eddie stares down at the sight of his cock entering your slick, a gulp leaving his mouth. “Holy shit, baby.” He mutters, exhaling as he bottoms out, his eyes closing. “How have I already forgotten how good your pussy is around me?”

Your breathing is shallow, watching with heavy eyelids as Eddie closes his eyes to seemingly gain his composure. “Eddie.” You whimper, your legs around his torso tightening. “You’re the…the hottest person I’ve literally ever seen in my life. Nothing will compare to this.”

You can feel his cock twitch in response, and you flutter around him as if to second it.

“Good.” Eddie grunts out, moving ever so slowly, eliciting a whimper from you. “Nothing better fucking compare, your pussy is too good for that shit.” His tongue sweeps a long lick in the crook of your neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as it feels dirty, in the best way. “May I return the favour?”

You’re about to ask when you realize his question is rhetorical, and you feel his teeth start to nibble, bite, and suck hard at your throat. He feels you suck him in as you breathe out little whimpers, the relief of his tongue against your skin followed by more stinging of his teeth working on you was everything, your nails scratching down his back in an involuntary response.

“Eddie…” you moan, head tilted back in ecstasy, nearly colliding with his mirror. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Baby, fuck.” He mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “I wanna mark you up everywhere.” You fucking tighten up in response, drawing a nearly cruel laugh from him. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Uh huh…” You admit, the feeling of his hips slowly drawing in and out of you and his hot breath on your chest becoming too much, but perfect at the same time.

His tongue makes its way further down to your tit, one hand rubbing your sternum desperately as his teeth work expertly on your bud. He’s not too harsh with it, knows the exact amount of pressure to make it hurt in the best fucking way. “So fucking pretty, baby.” He mutters, his hips starting at a faster rate. He lets off your tit with a pop after sucking on it gently, admiring the bruising that’s starting to take shape across your sweaty form.

You can do nothing but cling to him, all coherent thoughts gone the moment he started sucking on your collarbone sharply.

“Got any…any summer plans?” Eddie asks, out of breath. He moves a leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, deeper than before.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, the sound nearly feral. “Y-you.”

Eddie laughs, his ringed hand rough as he grabs at your thigh on his chest. “Oh fuck baby, I’m close again, your pussy is so fucking good.”

“Cum in me.” It almost sounds like you're begging. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, his jaw dropping comically as he takes in your request. “Fuck, you sure?”

“Want you to fill me up, Eddie. Please.” You plead, and who is he to deny such a pretty girl?

“Gonna cum with me, pretty girl?” He asks, watching in marvel as you look more and more cocked out. You pull on him, yanking his lips to yours. You kiss him wantonly, deeply, all teeth and tongue as you do your best to express what you cannot with words. You don’t have a big enough vocabulary for the moment, anyhow. Eddie takes the lead and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a high whine out of you. “Gonna answer me?”

The edge is so close, an all encompassing heat invading your lower stomach as a palm of his hand toys with one of your nipples. Suddenly you’re aware this could be the last time you ever get the chance, so you sweep one last lick on his chest, lapping at the fresh coat of sweat like it was your first drink of water after a long week in the desert.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, his hips stuttering as you feel his sticky ropes of cum fill you up so deliciously.

In his haze, his fingers latch to your clit, expertly working on it in small circles to send you over your edge as well, your pussy fluttering perfectly around him.

The smell of sex in his dressing room is evident, the air thick as you both catch your breath. Your leg falls down off his shoulder like a weight is stored in it, your foot landing harshly on the linoleum tiles of the stadium. Your head rests against his chest, eyes closed as you breathe in the stench of his sweat. You need to memorize everything you can, sure you’re about to be escorted back to the main party.

Eddie surprises you, his hands soft as they cup your face, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. His mouth is gentle as he works it against yours, the light taste of pre-show alcohol on his breath. He methodically uses the kiss to distract you as he pulls out, but you still whine desperately into his mouth from the loss. A laugh escapes his lips, and you swallow it, still needing his gentle kiss. He finally separates from you, kissing your forehead as his thumb caresses your cheek.

“So…are you?” He asks, taking in your fucked-out face. Maybe you’ll let him take a post sex selfie if you reject him to remember you by.

If. There’s no way on this earth you would ever reject him, but of course, Eddie doesn’t know you’ve been stalking his Instagram.

“Hmm?” You ask, not a thought in your head for the moment.

“Doing anything this summer?”

You shake your head no, gulping. Eddie saunters around his dressing room, grabbing his sweats and another white cloth. He returns to situate himself between your legs, sporting his sweats, the hot cloth causing you to yelp in surprise.

He laughs quietly, a fond smile on his face as he continues to clean up the mess he left in you. At least, you think it’s fond. “You feel like following a ragtag band of misfits around for the summer?” He asks you, voice soft as he holds your eye contact while his hand moves idly.

“Ragtag?” You ask, remembering their electric energy. They’re rockstars, no doubt about it. There’s not one person who can deny that they earned their spot on the stage.

Eddie breathes another laugh, tossing his cloth to the side. “We are as ragtag as it gets, doll.”

You sigh, searching those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes for any signs he was joking. “I-I will quit my job…are you serious?”

He laughs, caressing your forearm. It occurs to him you’re still naked, so he walks to the couch to gather your shirt and skirt. “Dead serious. I can’t let a face like yours and a pussy like that go very easily.”

“Okay…” you answer, your heartbeat loud in your chest. You were so sure this was just a one-time (two rounds) thing that the idea of him wanting more of you never even occurred to you. It’s just too good to be true, no one is this lucky. “If I quit my job, I can’t afford to pay my own way…”

Eddie smiles, handing you your clothes. “If you don’t want to wear that skirt, I can get you some sweats from the merch table.” He offers, before sitting on the chair a few feet down from you. “Baby, I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone. You’ll be fine.”

Your jaw drops open, staring openly at the man as he watches your facial expression. “I’ll need to go and pack up…”

“Babe.” He stops you, getting up to hold your shoulders with his hands. “I don’t even know your name, yet.”

“Y/N”

He lets out an exhale, fuck, that makes sense. “I didn’t even know your name, and all I know is if I let you go then I will never be able to get you out of my mind. Whatever is stopping you, I can throw some money at it or call someone to get it done. Do you want to stay with me?”

“Yes.” It leaves your body in a sigh of relief, like coming home. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead; you can feel his lips moving upward into a smile. “Also, sweatpants sound really nice.”

Eddie saunters over to a walkie you hadn’t noticed. In fact, you start to look around his dressing room, noticing a duffle bag by a rack with empty hangers, half opened bottles of water, and his phone sitting faced down at a table nearby. When he asks for your size, you provide it, putting the graphic tee over your head. He plops down on the couch, waving you over to sit right next to him. “Need to text your friend?” He asks, teasing you.

“Actually, can I invite her in? Natalie’s my best friend and she won’t let me live this down if I send her back without bringing her in to introduce you.”

Eddie shrugs, starting to pat his pockets for his phone. You grab it on your way to sit next to him, falling easily into his arm. “Yeah, sure, if you’re ready for her to tease the shit out of you.”

“Are you kidding?” You ask, somewhat giddy. “I’m about to go on twitter after your next show and see dozens of people asking where the hell you got your hickeys. Nothing can bring me down from that right now.”

Eddie chuckles, crossing one leg over the other in an L shape. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue sweeping against yours delicately. “Fuck, I’m so glad you fucking DM’ed me.” There’s a knock on the door, your sweatpants from the merch stand are delivered.

“You have no idea how much I keep thinking I’m about to wake up.” You confess, your fingers playing with the light stubble on his chin. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.” The laugh that escapes him is melodic and gorgeous. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

One massive difference between the western vs JP TWST fandoms that I haven't seen anyone else talk about is that the Japanese fandom seems to dwell in "grimdark" territory while the western one tries to see the best in these characters. From my glimpses into the Japanese fandom, they seem to see these character's darkness as the main appeal. That's reflected in their fanworks, since yandere works or things that dive into their dark sides are more popular there. While there is plenty of yandere content in the west, it seems more like a niche than the most popular way to portray the characters in fics where as in Japan that seems to be the norm on Pixiv. The JP seem to LOVE their grim dark fan theories WAY more than the western one. The western fandom seems like the opposite. Works seeing their humanity, them being decent partners, etc is the norm. Thought?

“I can fix him” vs “I can make him worse”—

Mmm, I have many thoughts on this but before I get into them I want to clarify some things. This is so everyone reading is running with the same definitions and thus can better understand (and perhaps contribute to) the discussion.

Firstly, “grimdark” can refer to any and all materials which people may find disturbing, amoral, and/or violent. Grimdark is NOT just yandere content. Although yandere content is an example of grimdark, not all grimdark is yandere.

Secondly, I want to dispel the notion that “grimdark” and “seeing the best in the characters” are opposites. They are actually not mutually exclusive; it is entirely possible to have the two overlap. For example, it is common for assassins to be after Kalim’s life (which is dark). However, Kalim himself is very cheery despite being cognizant of this (which is not dark, he is able to see the nest of this situation and is often praised for being a spot of sunshine in the cast). There are also much darker takes while staying true to Kalim’s caring nature, such as fandom works which portray his big heart (a strength) as a detriment, causing him to fall into deep paranoia and/or guilt. For the purposes of this discussion, I will still refer back to those two original viewpoints, just be aware that they are not truly “opposites”.

Lastly, the ask is phrased such that it suggests that dark content is “the norm” in Japanese circles. In actuality, the content you see is dependent on personal biases and what the algorithms feed you based on your likes and communities. While it’s true that perhaps Japanese fandoms have more dark content than the western fandoms, that doesn’t necessarily mean it is “the norm”. It is still considered niche, it is just that the fandom culture of Japan is more open-minded about these depictions, as well as fans’ choices to filter out dark content if they do not wish to encounter it. Western fandoms are very different in this regard. Rather than ignoring content they dislike or find disturbing, western fans tend to adopt an attitude of openly renouncing that which they dislike and, at times, calling out those that do enjoy that kind of thing. It is this social stigma and pressure within western fandoms which creates a less welcoming space for dark content to exist and to be publicly shared. Rather than saying one type of content is “the norm”, I think it’s more accurate to say certain types of content are deemed as being “acceptable” or “unacceptable” depending on the fandom culture.

Now then, as to why the western fandom in particular tends to favor works that show the TWST characters in a favorable light rather than focus on their darker aspects? There are many possible explanations for this:

Cultural differences in fandom spaces. I already mentioned this in the opening paragraphs, but it warrants repeating here. Japanese fans are much more reserved in how they express themselves and tend to keep quiet relating to content they dislike or don’t care for. Western fans are more outspoken and may actively “call out” what they dislike. This is typically observed in collectivist vs individualist countries, as conformity with the group/not causing disruptions to the group harmony and standing out and being one’s own individual are opposing ideologies and values.

Japan’s culture is one that stresses the importance of politeness and being proper. The country has strict social expectations of people and especially women (which makes up the majority of TWST’s fanbase). It is only in the realm of fiction where Japanese women are able to freely express themselves and to explore subject matter deemed socially inappropriate, however dark it may be. Fandom is their creative outlet. Meanwhile in the west, it’s the opposite. Overt uniqueness is more acceptable overall, but there is also a present effort of policing online content, often in the name of social activism and inclusion. This makes sense for western countries, many of which sport much more diverse populations than Japan.

Going in with the certain expectations of the game. Many western fans mistook Twisted Wonderland for a dating sim when its marketing materials first released, maybe due to a language barrier. This set them up for the wrong expectations about romancing and potentially “fixing” a villain, even when the game finally came out (due to residual feelings; I know for a fact there are still a handful of fans who want TWST to have a dating sim spinoff or wish the game had been a dating sim from the start).

Changes made in the localization.

I’m not sure what the ratio of westerners playing EN to JP, but the official localization made several changes which “blunted” some details or changed the context of some characters’ stories. For example, Jamil is no longer a “servant” but an “employee”, Kalim is his “employer”, not “master”, and Jamil complains that his parents will be “so mad at him” when he is asked why he doesn’t rebel against the Asims whole the consequences are made much more explicit in JP (his family will be thrown out onto the streets). Cater, Floyd, and Idia have also notably gotten a lot more memey dialogue that was not there in the original. These softened versions the characters may make western fans more likely to see the a less severe backstory or have goofier interpretation of certain characters.

Popular western media’s interpretations of villains. A lot of western media nowadays tries to redeem the bad guys. For example, in many young adult and adult romance fantasy novels, the love interest is often presented as a misunderstood bad boy that has a change of heart because of the protagonist. Disney themselves is also guilty of “softening” many of their more recent villains and giving new backstories to older villains to make them more sympathetic (Maleficent, Cruella, etc). Compare this to “classic” era Disney villains, who are just evil for the sake of being evil. These will naturally inform the general public’s views on villains. (It is also to be noted that Disney villains and specifically their evilness are extremely popular in Japan. They are adored for being fun characters, not necessarily admired for being bad.)

Disney’s reputation, especially in the west. The company is closely associated with fairy tales —and, more importantly, with magic and happy endings. This, too, may contribute to western fans wanting to look on the “bright side” of things and wish for happy endings for characters that are, in fact, part of the Disney brand. The Disney message is perhaps strongest in the west due to having its origins there:

The age differences between the Japanese and the western fandoms. The western TWST fandom skews young overall whereas the Japanese TWST fandom is older (which is why a lot of TWST merch you’ll see is expensive household goods and fashion; this is to appeal to working Japanese women). As I mentioned in the previous point, this means younger audiences in the west may mostly encounter media which presents villains in a more sympathetic light, or at least much earlier (which leaves a stronger impression). This makes them more inclined to view other media in a way which is more flattering for the villains even when they are dark or morally ambiguous in canon.

Younger fans may also be not as informed and thus lack some perspective, which means they may have more limited views. A 15 year old wouldn’t have as much life experience as a 20 year old—that’s not a bad thing, it’s an objective truth that has an impact on their perspective. They may see things more simplistically or see easier solutions to complex problems. Younger fans may, for example, be able to identify circumstances as being traumatic or unfair (such as the case with Jamil’s past and Leona’s desire to introduce new technologies to his home country) but may not understand the full ramifications (ie why Jamil cannot just leave or have Kalim to speak with his dad about it, how difficult Leona’s plans would be to implement as well as the social pushback due to the harm the advances could pose to the environment). This leads to more of a lean to positive content, as dark content would inherently mean problems are much more difficult to resolve and have more factors to them than what was originally considered.

I want to also point out that younger fans are especially concerned with what their peers may think of them, and so they may feel too embarrassed to dabble in darker content. Some dark content may also not be perceived as appropriate depending on the fan’s age. Alternatively, some fans may just not feel comfortable exploring those ideas (and that’s totally fine!).

Western fans project onto/relate to the characters they love. I’m not saying that Japanese fans don’t do this, but I feel like western fans tend to do this to a VERY strong and sometimes parasocial degree (which has its roots in comfort character and kinning culture, things which largely do not exist in east Asian fandoms). Like… western fans can relate to a character so deeply that any criticism of that character can feel like a personal attack on them, the fan. Likewise, if that character is presented as having flaws or doing questionable things (even if it is canon), the fans that are strongly projecting onto the character may feel that they themselves are flawed or somehow “bad” too. This can lead into trying to defend or justify the character’s flaws or actions. Maybe a fan that has shared trauma with a character sees them as a proxy and want to see the character (and thus, themselves) in a positive way or in good situations. In eastern fandoms, it is more appropriate to consider the character a separate entity rather than relating to or projecting onto them.

The western rise in moral justification for the content one consumes. This is a big one, and it has been alluded to in some of the other points. There is this belief circulating in western fandom spaces that “the content you consume reflects your real world values and morals”. So… if you believe that (or are in a social space where it is believed) and happen to like evil or morally grey characters, what does that imply about your own character? Does that mean you are morally bankrupt or that you condone bad things? Personally, I don’t think so but I understand why this way of thinking could make people feel ashamed. They may avoid looking at “dark” interpretations of a character and instead focus on wholesome feel-good content so that the content they consume reflects “well” on themselves. In other cases, fans may try to twist the bad points of a character to make it “morally okay” to like them.

That’s everything I could come up with off the top of my head!! I hope this was interesting to read and maybe helped you see the international TWST fandom from a new perspective. With that, I’ll leave you with this relevant Wreck-It Ralph quote: “I’m bad, and that’s good. I will never be good, and that’s not bad. There’s no one I’d rather be than me.”

[kairiscorner]

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf

[sixamese-simblr]

I use instagram for communications reasons because it's the easiest way to keep up with the local bars and local artists but god damn are instagram shorts the absolute worst form of slop. The worst part is that the app will pull up a suggested feed whenever you want to search something, and the algorithm seems finetuned to show you the worst slop to rot your brain specifically. At least youtube shorts had the decency to just show me people reading Tumblr posts out loud and Dropout clips until I blocked it with a browser extension. I follow gay bars and drag queens so instagram shows me almost exclusively gay thirst traps, until I finaly bite and click a thirst trap by an attractive fat guy (don't judge, we've all fallen for a thirst trap at some point), and the algorithm immediately sends me down the AI generated weight loss compilation pipeline. Why the fuck is my search page now exclusively compilations of people with morphing facial features losing hundreds of pounds? Is this app trying to give me an eating disorder? Hello? I just wanted to know what time drag bingo starts I don't need this.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

i finally decided to get off instagram (for the most part, still working on it) and twitter and last night i realized i didn't need to go on either after the grammys and it was SO freeing! highly suggest it to anyone still on twitter/instagram! i have just been focusing on how exciting the grammys are and taylor looked like she was having so much fun :D

this is just it.

I won't deny that I occasionally get the impulse to re-download Twitter because it used to be the easiest way to keep up with current events like the news, so when we're in a time of tumult, it was a good aggregate of reporting sources. But that has gone downhill since it was bought out, and it's certainly been a dumpster fire since the election. I had made the mistake of re-downloading it after the inauguration to kind of keep up with what was going on (and dipped my toes in the Swiftie waters again) but I finally deleted it again last week because it's just so, so bad. The algorithm is designed to enrage and it's designed to make you addicted and react to everything. Every single thing because an Issue but it's a tempest in a teapot.

(And candidly I think the revelations in a certain legal complaint about how social media is deliberately manipulated to flood feeds with certain opinions to cause harm should be eye-opening to everyone if it hadn't already been about how these platforms use your eyeballs to do their dirty work and recognize when it's happening.)

No discourse on twitter ever actually makes it to real life, and everything is replaced by a new scandal in 24 hours. Like I've said before, if online discourse had any measurable impact on real life, there would have been a much different election result. So I think folks need to take that same principle and apply it to their fandom stanning as well. Any perceived issue that arises against their fave (whether it's Taylor or Beyonce or whoever) never really matters, so why bother arguing with strangers on the internet? Just focus on what you love. Now, obviously there are some things that breach containment and become Real Issues, but... there are also people whose jobs it is to deal with those.

I had to back off Instagram in the last year because it was making me feel like shit -- I know Instagram isn't real life, but seeing my friends and acquaintances' lives (or even creators) while I'm feeling increasingly stuck in mine was making me feel even worse about myself than usual. And it sucks because as someone who loves content creation and photography it was such a fun way to be inspired and see creative work, just like it was a great way to keep up with what my friends are up to. And now that Meta has said the quiet part out loud and proudly, I'm not interested in giving its platform more of my time than needed. (I still occasionally use it, but I can't scroll like I used to.)

If you're into social media for fandom stuff, honestly, I can't implore people enough to consider eliminating or at least reducing the use of places like Twitter or TikTok in particular. They're preying on your attention and it's only going to get worse from now on. Stop worrying about what other fans or even antis are saying, and just focus on what you actually *like*. It's as simple as that.

Anyway that's a long-winded way of saying I'm so happy you enjoyed last night!!! May we all find such pockets of joy in these extremely bleak times!

[cripplerage]

One of my foster brothers started showing signs of being in the early stages of going down the "right wing pipeline" on YouTube. For those that don't know, it basically means that the algorithm is slowly transitioning him to slightly harmful content that could eventually lead to him being mysoginistic, racist, antisemitic, etc. It generally starts with basic "alpha male" content. He started referring to himself as a "sigma male," talking about "rizzing up girls," and he's started "mewing," a trend that he thinks will give him a stronger jawline.

He's 12.

So what to do, and why post about it on Tumblr?

In Australia, the prime minister has decided he wants to ban social media for anyone under the age of 16 and potentially also make Australian social media start requiring photo ID for ages verification. Do I think this will happen? Not really. But there are a lot of adults that think that a full ban is the only way to go, without ever fully understanding what the problems with children being on the internet even were in the first place.

A ban will not work. Do we need child safe spaces online? Do we need more internet security and data collection protections? Do we need internet safety training for both parents and kids? Absolutely. But not a ban.

So this is what we're doing instead of banning him from YouTube. Maybe it'll help you know what to do for the kids in your life, or maybe you'll have suggestions to help us.

First off: we're switching to NewPipe. It's ad free, got better privacy, and we can turn off recommendations, comment sections, mature content, and the trending page. Essentially, he's getting switched to a subscriber-only feed. Here's the link.

https://newpipe.net/

Then, we're going to sit down with him, judgement free. We'll ask him to show us what he watches on YouTube and ask him what he likes about it. We'll encourage the good stuff and gently explain to him why we don't want him watching the bad stuff.

Then we'll start building the subscriber feed together. He can make requests and we'll do a basic check to make sure they're safe before adding them, and I'll also show him a bunch of random kid friendly channels he might like so that his subscriber tab can look as full and varied as a home page would. I'll show him how to make folders for his favorite YouTubers so he can check just those ones first.

And that's about it, really. I'm aiming to reblog this with a list of what we're letting him watch so that anyone out there can look for recommendations, but keep in mind that what we think is appropriate for our kid might not be what's appropriate for yours.

Remember: The pipeline is a slippery slope. My brother is a lovely kid, and certainly not mysoginistic or anything like that. He doesn't know he watched anything wrong. But even just repeating the words, accidentally internalizing that toxic masculinity, that is a very dangerous first step. It's a lot easier to break them out of it early.

But don't take this as fear mongering either. The internet is important, and just like it would be difficult for adults to suddenly transition to no internet access, so would it be for children. We've simply gone too far. The internet, when done right, is a place that children can go to for education, community, and self discovery. It's where a lot of young people learn about being gay, or that they're being abused, or about injustices in the world.

Cutting that lifeline will put a lot of children in isolation, and isolation makes them vulnerable. We just need to put safety measures in place and take a normal amount of interest in our children's lives, that's all.

Feel free to leave some child friendly YouTube recommendations in the notes!

[hillbillyoracle]

The Algorithm is AI Art

Last year, I used DALL-E to create a series of images for a digital tarot card deck I was making for my personal use. When I shared some of those images here on my blog, I got a massive amount of push back and even threats in my inbox. I'm still putting my thoughts together on that experience but it did make me realize that most people don't seem to realize they're supporting the AI art they hate so much - to the tune of millions and even billions of dollars per year depending on the platform - almost everyday through the algorithms they use.

So if you genuinely hate AI art, I'm here to tell you that you've got to do what you can to get rid of and not use the algorithms in your life. That kind of support is more materially complicit with AI's intrusion on art than someone making a few images for themself ever could be.

Yes It's Possible

For many platforms, especially when they're accessed on desktop, it is possible to greatly reduce your contact with the algorithm. I use browser extensions to cut out the AI curated feeds on YouTube, Facebook, and Reddit. I mostly use Instagram on desktop to answer messages.

I generally do not use Instagram, Facebook, and other apps that do not allow users to control their feed on mobile. I know Instagram is mobile only - when I use it on mobile, I download it, upload what I want, then delete the app again.

I am considering cutting these out entirely again once this phase of my experiment for a zine I'm writing is over because honestly, they're not worth it, but that's a different post...

I also really recommend either making a separate email account or getting ruthlessly organized in your current one, so that you can sign up for artist's newsletters and other forms of human centered curation. RSS readers like Feedly can also be a good alternative.

The point here isn't perfection - the point is doing what you can. Not because it will change companies - but because it's better for you and the artists you care about.

Why?

Algorithms in these spaces determine who's work gets shown and more importantly - who gets paid enough to continue making their art.

AI has consistently been shown to reproduce and even exaggerate biases already present in society. This video by Ann Reardon of How to Cook That talks about YouTube's lack of transparency about the potential for a sexist bias in YouTube's algorithm and shows that in the top views at least, there's a clear slant toward male creators. The only woman in the top 10 does not show her face in her videos - unlike most of the men in the top 10. This discrepancy is even larger the further down the list you go.

Who gets shown is who gets paid enough to keep making their content/art. Less pay means people can afford to put out less content/art and can't scale - meaning less diversity in content/art.

What art gets shown influences what inspires new art and content to be made. You are seeing art directly shaped by AI everyday - and more than that - by continuing to click on what it serves up to you, you support it.

This AI influence on real world art has become so normalized that people consider it as natural a force of nature as wind. It's not. This was designed - and it can be redesigned.

I want to be careful not to overstate the influence of a click either - your clicking on something you choose is not a form of activism. Your clicks cannot retrain the algorithm at scale. A lot of people have the misconception that you can train "your" algorithm but what the algorithm on your feeds is doing is actually comparing your clicks to it's database of similar user profiles and their behaviors to decide what to suggest to you. Your clicks don't retrain the AI as a whole, they just match you with a different user type.

The real reason I think those concerned about AI in art need to find ways to take control of their feeds is because it ensures you're able to support a diverse array of creators through your views and it ensures that what you're taking your inspiration from isn't what the AI decides is worthy of attention.

I realize there are those who are reading this who either might not have been old enough to remember or even weren't born when YouTube basically took your Subscriptions off the front page. It used to be they would pop up at the top of the front page. Then it got knocked down on the front page. When it got shoved into it's own sidebar link and then that link progressively minimized through redesigns - there was actually an outcry about it.

People warned that this would lead to a watering down effect, where smaller channels didn't get the chance to grow like already established ones would. Creators of marginalized identities saw their views drop dramatically. Similar things happened when Facebook and Instagram fully took away a user's ability to have a chronological feed (this was possible in the early days). I know of more than a few creators who fully had to step away from their work because of the change over. I miss their art.

And then the outcry petered out. The companies didn't lose users over it so nothing changed. Eventually people got used to it and the protests went away. These companies now know they're "too big to fail" and can ignore user outcry until people acclimate the new normal that serves them. This normal serves them because it does actually increase engagement and keeps you on the platform for longer - which means less time spent on your own creative activities, yet another way they impact what art gets made.

TL;DR: if you hate AI's impact on artists and their employment opportunities, take control of your feeds. Make your own. Choose what you click. Take back your time and make more art.

[creature-wizard]

Man, witchtok and witchbook sure do love the narrative that Christianity stole everything from them, huh?

So I see that you asked a mutual of mine the same question, while also asking what can be done about this problem. Since said mutual suggested that you come to me for advice here, that's what I'll post.

First of all, understand that this is nothing new. this has always been a popular narrative among neopagans, because it gives people a narrative in which they can frame and talk about their grievances with society. "The Catholic Church stole Christmas" isn't factually true, but it's easier to learn and spread than advanced socioeconomics. People believing this stuff is not a personal failing. It's a consequence of systemic failure. We live in an information crisis, with conservatives effectively sabotaging education at every turn and algorithmic feeds designed to serve up whatever will get the most clicks, not what's most accurate.

The problem, therefore, must be addressed systemically. This means participating in politics, voting on whatever elections you can vote on, spreading relative political news, whatever. Do whatever you can do keep the GOP out of power or from gaining more power. Get involved in political activism circles if you aren't already.

You can also put out your own information to counter the misinformation, and boost or promote good info. Work with the limitations of social media - short, memeable content is always more likely to spread.

When you catch yourself wanting to complain about something you hate, try to find a way to transform it into praise for something you love. Like instead of complaining about people who post misinformation about the goddess Aphrodite, find some cool facts about Aphrodite to post instead.

When you're creating educational content of any kind, follow this very simple guideline: don't shit on the dinner table. That is, don't mix big ranting gripes in with content meant to educate the masses. If you got a big gripe to get out of your system, put that gripe in its own space.

When you do have to address incorrect beliefs specifically, try to avoid shaming believers, because not only does it not work, it's just unnecessary cruelty. Nobody misinforms themselves on purpose. Nobody wants to be a bad person. What we have are a lot of people suffering from systemic fuckery and just want to not feel sad, scared, and helpless, because feeling that way hurts.

(This post is an example of how I took something frustrating and put a positive spin on it. I wrote it when I was feeling pissy about the kinds of problems you mention in your message.)

Prepare to deal with the same misinformation a lot. Like not just intellectually and emotionally, but physically - create FAQs, masterposts, whatever. It can get really frustrating trying to deal with that stuff a million times, but the reality is that there are billions of people in the world and they're making new ones every day.

Keep a list of resources on hand that you can share with people you're talking to, depending on what they're searching for. The fewer steps/resources that are needed to access said resource, the better. Keep a list of podcasts, scholars with YouTube channels, blogs with good information, whatever, that you can just suggest to people looking for info.

And finally, take care of yourself. If you find yourself wanting to rip people's throats out or something, it's time to take a break and focus on yourself.

[mariacallous]

A few years ago I wrote about how, when planning my wedding, I’d signaled to the Pinterest app that I was interested in hairstyles and tablescapes, and I was suddenly flooded with suggestions for more of the same. Which was all well and fine until—whoops—I canceled the wedding and it seemed Pinterest pins would haunt me until the end of days. Pinterest wasn’t the only offender. All of social media wanted to recommend stuff that was no longer relevant, and the stench of this stale buffet of content lingered long after the non-event had ended.

So in this new era of artificial intelligence—when machines can perceive and understand the world, when a chatbot presents itself as uncannily human, when trillion-dollar tech companies use powerful AI systems to boost their ad revenue—surely those recommendation engines are getting smarter, too. Right?

Maybe not.

Recommendation engines are some of the earliest algorithms on the consumer web, and they use a variety of filtering techniques to try to surface the stuff you’ll most likely want to interact with—and in many cases, buy—online. When done well, they’re helpful. In the earliest days of photo sharing, like with Flickr, a simple algorithm made sure you saw the latest photos your friend had shared the next time you logged in. Now, advanced versions of those algorithms are aggressively deployed to keep you engaged and make their owners money.

More than three years after reporting on what Pinterest internally called its “miscarriage” problem, I’m sorry to say my Pinterest suggestions are still dismal. In a strange leap, Pinterest now has me pegged as a 60- to 70-year-old, silver fox of a woman who is seeking a stylish haircut. That and a sage green kitchen. Every day, like clockwork, I receive marketing emails from the social media company filled with photos suggesting I might enjoy cosplaying as a coastal grandmother.

I was seeking paint #inspo online at one point. But I’m long past the paint phase, which only underscores that some recommendation engines may be smart, but not temporal. They still don’t always know when the event has passed. Similarly, the suggestion that I might like to see “hairstyles for women over 60” is premature. (I’m a millennial.)

Pinterest has an explanation for these emails, which I’ll get to. But it’s important to note—so I’m not just singling out Pinterest, which over the past two years has instituted new leadership and put more resources into fine-tuning the product so people actually want to shop on it—that this happens on other platforms, too.

Take Threads, which is owned by Meta and collects much of the same user data that Facebook and Instagram do. Threads is by design a very different social app than Pinterest. It’s a scroll of mostly text updates, with an algorithmic “For You” tab and a “Following” tab. I actively open Threads every day; I don’t stumble into it, the way I do from Google Image Search to images on Pinterest. In my Following tab, Threads shows me updates from the journalists and techies I follow. In my For You tab, Threads thinks I’m in menopause.

Wait, what? Laboratorially, I’m not. But over the past several months Threads has led me to believe I might be. Just now, opening the mobile app, I’m seeing posts about perimenopause; women in their forties struggling to shrink their midsections, regulate their nervous systems, or medicate for late-onset ADHD; husbands hiring escorts; and Ali Wong’s latest standup bit about divorce. It’s a Real Housewives-meets-elder-millennial-ennui bizarro world, not entirely reflective of the accounts I choose to follow or my expressed interests.

Meta gave a boilerplate response when I asked how Threads weights its algorithm and determines what people want to see. Spokesperson Seine Kim said what I’m seeing is personalized to me based on a number of signals, “such as accounts and posts you have interacted with in the past on both Threads and Instagram. We also consider factors like how recently a post was made and how many interactions it has received.” (A better explanation might be that Threads has a rage-bait problem, as this intrepid reporter learned.)

What scares me most about this is not that Meta has a shitbucket of data on me (old news) or that the health hacks I’m being shown might be completely illegitimate. It’s that I might be lingering on these posts more than I realize, unconsciously shoveling more signals in and anxiously spiraling around my own identity in the process. For those of us who came of age on the internet some 20 to 30 years ago, the way these recommendation systems work now represents a fundamental shift to how we long thought of our lives online. We used to log on to tell people who we were, or who we wanted to be; now the machines tell us who we are, and sometimes, we might even believe them.

As for Pinterest, I granted the company access to my account so they could investigate why the app recommends ageist, AARP-grade content to me in its emails. It turns out I hadn’t actively logged in to the app in over a year, which means the data it has one me is, ironically, old. Back then I was researching paint, so the app thinks I’m still into that.

Then there’s the grandma hair: Not only had I searched on Pinterest for skincare products and hairstyles in the long-ago past, but Pinterest gives a lot of weight to data from other users who have searched for similar items. So perhaps those other, non-identifiable users are into these hairstyles. The company claims its perceived relevance for recommendations has improved over the past year.

Pinterest’s suggested solution for me? Use Pinterest more. Un-pin stuff I don’t like. Threads also suggested I can fine-tune my own feed by swiping left to hide a post or tapping a three-dot menu to indicate I’m not interested. It’s on me, young buck. In both cases, I’m supposed to tell the algorithms who I am.

I’m supposed to do the work. I’m supposed to swipe more. I’ll be so much better off if I do. And so will they.

[imagineanime2022]

The Variable *Part 8*

Caspian Keyes X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2035

Requested: @twilight5139

Request: next part pls i love it keep it up

*Part 7*

“Can you go any faster!?” Maddie asked the cab driver as he sped through the streets of London. “Actually I wouldn’t have to swap networks so quickly if he didn’t.” MIST said as a list of networks that she had been hopping between. “We’ll lose Caspian.” Maddie voiced the thoughts that ran through your head. “To lose Caspian we have to find him and his face isn’t showing up on any feeds.” MIST said. “Miss, should I take you both to the police?” The driver asked as he looked into the back where you were all sitting. “No, no, just keep going please. Fast.” You answered as Maddie transferred a large tip to the driver. “Alright then.” He answered. “We’re going to keep looking.” Maddie said as she plugged in her headset. “Be careful, I’ll keep an eye out here.” You nodded as you kept your eyes trained out the window. “Take us to the nearest airport.” Only 15 minutes later Maddie pulled the head set off and disconnected MIST. “What happened?” “SafeSurf almost got us.” Maddie answered “we might have lost him.” “Let’s take this one step at a time, we’ll find him and then when we do we go get him.” You hoped your voice sounded steady, strong because you were about 3 seconds away from breaking down. This was not something you could fix, you needed him here with you if you were going to stop Stephen Holstrom. “Where are we?” Maddie asked. “It’s the nearest airport, it’s a public place and there’s a lot of people here, we can at least stay here for a while in case anyone else is following us.” You explained as you climbed out helping her out, with MIST before making your way in.

You found a seat near the windows and placed MIST on the bench “There are some pictures, maybe you guys will recognise one of them.” MIST suggested, as hse started cycling through pictures. “No, no, next.” Maddie was getting more and more fed up as time went on, finally turning away from the screen. “I told you that we could find him, I thought that at least one face would stand out.” “Please keep looking.” MIST pleaded as you looked crouching in front of her, glancing at the screen before shaking your head as well. “Please don’t give up again.” “Again? I’m giving up for the first time.” Maddie said as she looked at her. “You disconnected me in the middle of a scan.” MIST answered. “I was trying to protect you.” Maddie answered as she started swiping through the photos again. “I had at least 300 cycles before the antiviral reached my core.” MIST answered. “The swarm was coming and you're not invincible.” Maddie argued. “I didn’t say I was.” MIST answered. “She’s right MIST.” You said “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” “Wait!” Maddie said, she pointed at the picture that she was looking at “did he change hats?” You looked at the screen, eyes focusing on the man next to him, the man that you had hit when they successfully abducted your boyfriend. “Well he looks like the one I hit.” You said pointing at the guy next to him. “Great, is it okay if I run some facial recognition algorithms or are you going to turn me off again?” MIST teased as she turned away from the both of you. “Don’t use too much power-” “Just kidding I already did it.” MIST interrupted Maddie as you rolled your eyes “The cab is registered to a Peter Meaken but he’s on vacation in Spain, this man’s face doesn’t come up on any government, or criminal database or social media.” “Not on any?” You asked, you remembered back before all this when Caspian used to look into people, he told you that everyone would have a digital footprint. If someone didn’t have one then they were actively trying to hide most of the time. “If you think that’s weird I got the same results from the other two faces in the car.” MIST explained. “They’re the ones that we’re looking for.” You said. “Who are these guys?” Maddie asked, an eye brow raised in confusion. “Process of elimination. Olivia told us that Caspian’s identity was leaked to the intelligence agencies of the six cyber superpowers.” MIST reminded us. “The same ones Chanda sent the upload tech to.” Maddie whispered. “Ghosts.” “No, they’re alive.” MIST corrected her. “Then let’s find them.” You smiled. “I used to surf all these dark web conspiracy boards. That’s where I met Caspian in the first place.” Maddie explained. “Simpler times.” You said softly. “The crazies there would talk about guys who went to extreme lengths to erase any photo evidence of them on the internet, even school photos, family Facebook posts.” Maddie recited. “Right Caspian told me about this too, The Massad ghosts right?” You asked. “So we should start with Israel.” “There’s someone who can help with that.” Maddie leaned forward. “There is?” You asked. “Olivia’s boyfriend is still alive, he’s the UI uploaded by Iran, they have to have information on their enemies UI.” Maddie answered, you nodded. “Do what you need to, I'll make sure that we’re okay out here.” You promised as you sat on the bench “lean against me as if you fell asleep.”

It had been a few hours before the airport security walked over to you “Are you okay?” She asked, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re fine, my sister fell asleep, do you need us to move?” You asked politely and she shook her head. “Where are your parents?” She looked around trying to catch a glimpse of anyone who looked like they might be with you. “Oh they aren’t with us. We’re travelling before I go to college, we’ve always been close.” You explained. “Right, well be sure to keep an eye on the flights, you’ve been here for a while, don't miss your flight.” She said. “Of course. Thank you.” She walked away just as Maddie started talking, you took a deep breath as she disappeared into the crowd, attention drawn to Maddie as she started to get a little louder. “Careful Maddie, you're drawing attention.” You said lowly as the security lady looked back at you. She tore the head set off her face. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.” She said as she grabbed MIST.

You managed with the help of MIST to catch a flight to Cyprus, we’d found a gas station with a small field next to it, while you waited for the truck with everything that you needed for your plan to save Caspian, where some girls were playing football. “You used to play soccer.” MIST said. “Yeah a little.” Maddie answered. “I could not think of anything worse.” You muttered with your head leant back against the wall, Maddie giggled softly. “Feeling nostalgia?” MIST asked. “Not for the past, just for the normal, boring life I used to hate.” Maddie answered. “Playing soccer, listening to music, talking about boys,” MIST listened. “You sum up humanity so well.” Maddie laughed. “What about you (Y/N) did you have other friends?” MIST asked. “No, not really, people talked to me more than they talked to Caspian but he was always the first choice so people ended up steering clear of us because they didn’t want the package deal.” You explained “people called me his guard dog.” “That’s not nice.” MIST frowned and you shrugged. “Not everyone is nice.” You shrugged “I learned to stay away from people like that.” “Did you and Caspian go on dates before?” MIST asked. “MIST!” Maddie scolded her and you smiled. “No we didn’t, but I’m hoping that we might go on some after this.” You answered. “Can I observe?” MIST asked. “I don’t know about that.” She said softly. “Maybe we should wait until he’s not kidnapped.” MIST suggested. “Well I can’t guarantee that anything will have changed but we can definitely wait until then.” You agreed. “I’ll save my relationship questions for after then.” MIST said as you shook your head with a small smile on your face. The truck pulled up and as the man got out and looked at us he frowned. “What are you going to do with all this stuff?” He asked. “Keys please.” Maddie pleaded as she showed him her license. “You aren’t driving?” He asked. “I never learned to. My little sister has got this.” You said taking the keys from his before climbing in, you threw them to Maddie as she settled in the drivers seat. “Just so you know I’ve only driven like 5 times.” You shrugged but MIST looked concerned. “Better than my zero.” MIST gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t worry she’s got this.”

You helped Maddie set everything up, once the drones were up and running “Go fast and remember plan B.” Maddie ordered as she sat in the truck next to you putting on the visor. “They’re here! Hurry!” Maddie said, your eyes were on the road waiting for any movement “Plan B! Plan B!” She flung the visor off pulling her legs up to her chest. “The swarm was faster than before.” “It’s okay, I know that they’ll be back.” You smiled. “Do you think so?” Maddie asked. “I do.” You nodded. “They’ll be back here, it might take a while but they’ll be back, I’ve not known Caspian to ever give up.” “You’ve known him longer.” Maddie leaned back against the wall of the cargo bed to look at you. “Mmm, he has a downward spiral that makes him reckless but he doesn’t stop until he has achieved the main goal whatever that is.” You explained. “That happened before?” Maddie asked. “It happens all the time.” You answered. “We due a reckless move of two.” Before anything else could be said, you heard the car, you didn’t let Maddie move until Caspian actually got out of the car, she ran up to him and gave him a hug before turning his attention to you. “Are you okay?” He asked when he was finally close enough. “Yeah, I think so, I haven't really had time to look.” You answered assuming that he was referring to the fall you took trying to save him. “There’s no pain.” “Mm.” He hummed, pulling you into a tight hug and holding you there for a long while. “We have to get out of here before they come looking for you.” You said softly. “Yeah you're right.” He said, talking your hand and walking towards the front of the truck.

Once you deemed it far enough away you all got out to stretch your legs and talk about your next steps, you were sat on the hood of the truck behind Caspian while Maddie stood next to him “Everyone thinks that the world is going back to normal but it’s not is it?” Maddie asked. “Probably not.” You answered “Things are changing so fast that they can’t even see it.” Maddie added. “Yair was too unstable. I think that he could have had a shot at Holstrom, but… he couldn’t be the Guardian.” Caspian looked down at the floor as you gently ran your hands through his hair. “Farhad wasn’t doing so good either, the cure might have given him his strength back but his heart is broken… He is broken.” Maddie admitted. Caspian’s hand found your knee. “There’s no one left and we can’t leave Holstrom in charge, so it’s gotta be me.” You blood run cold, you physically froze before you pushed yourself back away from him and swung your legs over the side. “I told you due a reckless, self destructive decision.” You hopped off the truck. “I have to upload.” Maddie stepped towards you as if trying to offer support, you appreciated that but you weren’t about to waste your energy arguing, Caspian was going to do this no matter what you said now. “Let’s just go find somewhere to stay.” You turned back to the truck climbing in and gently moving MIST to your lap, angry at yourself yet again, for not being smart enough to see another solution.

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