#most recent meme I could find is of good taste as per usual

[mbm-artist]

perfect, no notes

(open tags, ion feel like going thru my moot list rn sksjdjsjdnjdkdn)

Picrew chain! Make yourself with this picrew and the most recent meme on your phone

Tags: @dracosleftarsecheek @yourlocalbadgerscales @forensic-b1tch-aiden @names-confuse-me @agathokakolog1cal @yourlocalxiaosimp and open tags! <33 have fun

[sinsbymanka]

A Drabble to Celebrate 100+ followers?!

I recently noticed that somehow this humble little dragon age blog managed to obtain one hundred followers. Which is just insane to me. I can’t believe y’all like me. I’m going to assume that most of you are here for the memes (as you should be - they’re hilarious) BUT I wanted to give you something to celebrate anyway. It’s not a meme, but it’s an adorable Papa!Varric piece that is pure fluff and domestic bliss. Enjoy!

I also posted this at AO3 cause I really like it

The Perks of Being the Viscount

Being Viscount had remarkably few perks. 

In fact, Varric thought, the perks were usually nearly as bad as the job duties itself. He wasn’t particularly interested in the choice society invitations, didn’t care for the gaudy gifts or sizable bribes that kept showing up, and if he had to accept one more honor at one more boring ceremony, he’d fall asleep into his overcooked chicken dinner. 

But moments like this, when he had a room full of shocked, pompous assholes who could do nothing but stare, agog, nearly made it all worth it. 

As usual, his daughter had started the whole debacle. 

Marguerite Cadash-Tethras sat beside him, book discarded. She told him she was reading one of Brother Genitivi’s histories for her tutors, but now that she’d abandoned the tome to satisfy her own curiosity, he could see she had a copy of the latest popular ballad shoved between the pages. She could be bored with Genetivi and her lessons, but Varric thought it was more likely she’d finished the damn thing a week ago and her tutor had been too daft to notice. 

Clearly, she needed something more challenging. And maybe a tiny lecture about not fleecing her tutors on the regular. 

But, first, he was going to sit back and enjoy the show. He let his eyes flick from his daughter’s profile to the redhead beside her who was suddenly very engrossed in her tea, cheerfully stirring it with far too much vigor. Varric couldn’t miss the mischievous glimmer in Maria’s eyes after all these years, though, and it only meant one thing.

They were both on the same page. This meeting was going to get a hell of a lot more interesting, and they were definitely both just going to let it happen. 

Their daughter stared down the merchant princes from Antiva on the other end of the table like she’d been doing it all of her twelve years on Thedas. And, really, that wasn’t too far off the mark. When Maria was gone, which was far too often for his taste, Mags hated to be separated from Varric. To be honest, he rested a bit easier with his daughter only an arm’s length away too. It became just one more of the Viscount’s eccentricities, that the daughter sat in on so many of his meetings, accompanied him on his duties, and was generally allowed to ask as many impertinent questions as she wished.

Clearly, nobody had warned the Antivans. 

“I’m sorry, milord?” One of the men turned his attention from Mags’s piercing gray eyes to Varric, clearly confused about who had asked the question. Varric fought back his chuckle. Barely.

“Sunshine.” He inclined his head towards Mags, indulgent and amused. “I don’t think the gentleman heard your question. Go ahead and ask again.” 

“If he doesn’t answer you this time, Magpie, we can write it down. Or do a dramatic reenactment. Maybe that’ll do the trick.” Maria whispered theatrically, the words carrying across the table. The ears on several of the merchants began to turn interesting shades of red. 

This, Varric thought fondly, was the only real perk of this job. Bringing one and a half unmanageable women to boring meetings just to see what trouble they stirred up. 

“I asked,” Mags raised her voice, young face quite serious and earnest. “Why are they so cheap?” 

The object of her question, a long broadsword, lay in front of one of the merchant princes. He pulled a practiced, false smile onto his face. One that managed to be just the right amount of patronizing. His daughter pulled her shoulders back immediately, seriousness becoming irritation. “Why, milady, what a clever question. I’d heard you had your father’s mind and your mother’s beauty. How pleased I am to find it so.” 

“But you’re not answering it.” She stated stubbornly, flicking her eyes uncertainly to Varric. He nodded, reassuring, and waved at her to continue. She did. “Why are they so cheap?” 

“We have recently been able to refine our smelting process, milady.” The man droned, eloquent and practiced. “With less waste, we…” 

“But Orzammar has the best smiths, and their blades cost twice as much.” Mags argued, her own color rising, looking helplessly to her mother. “How much is iron ore? Aveline said it was more expensive ‘cause of a flood.” 

“40 silvers per pound right now, love.” Maria answered deftly, lips twitching at the corners as she struggled to hide her own smile. 

“How much do you swords weigh?” Mags asked the merchant. 

The man sputtered, helpless. “Milady, I’m uncertain…” 

Mags sighed, impatient, twisting in her chair to pierce one of the guards at the door with her bright gaze. “Kallen? How much does your sword weigh?” 

Kallen tipped his head to the side, considering. “About three pounds, miss. Give or take.” 

“Thank you.” Mags said quickly, twisting back in her seat. “If a broadsword weighs three pounds, that sword costs over a sovereign alone in materials, assuming your smelting produces no waste. You’re only charging two sovereigns per piece. Why?” 

“As a special offer to the Viscount and his lady…” The merchant began nervously, pointing his eyes back at Varric in a silent plea to end the interrogation. 

“Oh, leave me out of this mess.” Maria muttered into her tea. “I don’t want your bleedin’ swords. The ones Aveline has are fine.” 

“Well, Sunshine.” Varric jumped in, resting his arm on the back of Mags’s chair. “I think you’ve pointed out a bit of a problem.” 

“Milord, you cannot seriously be considering allowing a child to…” The man stepped forward, face growing thunderous with anger. Maria shifted in her own chair, always alert for danger, gently setting her cup down on the saucer and sending a cold, commanding gaze across the room. 

“I think, perhaps.” Maria said pointedly. “You’ve overstayed your welcome.” 

“I couldn’t agree more, Princess. But it’s your call, Sunshine.” He winked down at his daughter’s pinkening face, her temper coloring her skin the same way Maria’s always did. “You wanna make him squirm a bit more?” 

“No.” Mags said petulantly, picking her book back up and curling into her chair. “He can go.” 

“You heard the lady.” Varric jerked his thumb over his chair. “I trust you can find the exit.” 

The merchant and his entourage stalked out of the room, complaining in Antivan the whole time. Maria caught some of it, most likely the curse words, because she laughed softly as the door slammed shut behind them. 

“Nicely done, Magpie.” Maria praised, winding one of their daughter’s curls around her finger. 

“What do you think the issue is with the swords?” Varric asked, curious. Mags scowled into her book moodily, wrenching away from Maria’s clever hand. 

“They’re not iron or they’re not payin’ anyone to forge them.” She grumbled. “Which you two knew before we even got in here, didn’t you?” 

“Guilty.” Varric admitted. “But we needed to give Aveline time to raid the warehouse.” 

“Why couldn’t I go with Aveline to raid the warehouse?” Mags asked, frowning. Maria and Varric shared a tender, amused look over her head. 

“Well.” Maria began, half-laughing. “You are only twelve and we’re trying to get you to eighteen with minimal bloodshed.” 

“And…” Varric quickly reached into the book, pulling the loose papers of the story from within and shaking them pointedly. “Someone has some apologizing to do to at least one tutor.” 

Mags’s sullen expression quickly lightened into something contrite. “I can explain.”

“Make it a good one, Sunshine.” Varric said, settling into his chair. “And I may let you off easy.”

[neokollection]

Kissing Out of Jealousy

NCT U + Yuta

‘Can I request a NCT U kissing you out of jealousy?’

A/N: I’m sure there’s already a reaction of this, but I’m here to add another :^) This is assuming you’re dating for some members, but for some you’re not dating, they like you- THIS IS LONG BTW!! [Kinda more like a mini drabble per each member]

** Language, some suggestive themes, but nothing explicit ** ik some ppl don't find jealousy cute so don't read if you not into that..

Taeil:

Taeil wasn’t the type to get jealous easily or behave pettily- Rather, he was just protective at times and would feel he’d have to interject to save you from situations... Whether you were feeling uncomfortable or not- Yet a part of your boyfriend also felt slightly neglected, a faithful dog waiting on the other side of the fence with it’s tail wagging at the sight of it’s owner, even though it’s owner was petting the neighbor’s cat.

He called out your name in the hopes of getting your attention as he watched you and Ten staring at your screens before nudging each other continuously with a laugh to show the other a recent entertaining Tweet. He was all for you bonding with the other boys, but he’d missed you this week and throughout the day constantly stuck by your side. Placing the bowl of steaming popcorn upon the coffee table, he took his seat beside you on the couch, hand patting around for the remote he’d dropped there moments before.

“OMG- You have to show that to Mark,” Ten gasped, covering his mouth to conceal his wicked grin as he looked at the meme you’d stumbled upon of Mark’s shorts.

“Let me see,” Taeil added, not wanting to miss out and curious as to what was so funny.

He leant in, eyes flickering to Ten as he watched the younger lean back into the couch, thumbs moving rapidly upon his screen. Taeil listened amusedly as he heard your small chuckle in his ear, a smile gracing his lips as he saw your screen before drawing back partially.

“You’re amused so easily,” he chuckled, nose nearly brushing your own as he leant nearer, a hand shooting to your waist to tickle you gently.

“Says you,” you squirmed with a bright smile.

Finally, his forehead rest upon your own, his antics stilling as he closed the gap between the two of you for a quick kiss. Embarrassed about kissing so openly with Ten by your side, you felt a blush creep upon your cheeks as you pulled away shyly. You could have sworn Taeil’s gaze jumped from your lips to your eyes to Ten before he closed the gap once more- You let out a muffled chuckle against his lips as your hands went to the front of his shirt to slow him down and steady yourself.

“Ew- God- Could you not?” Ten whined in disapproval, scooting away.

You could feel Taeil’s smile against your lips before he drew back, eyes as lively as ever.

Smothering you and being that cute couple to show off and make others wanna gag, but not let you think it’s a jealousy thing-

Taeyong:

Easily, one of the most jealous man you’d ever dated. He had his share of insecurities that make him question whether he’s worthy of love and attention, and an anxiety about losing the person he cherishes the most... So, seeing your interactions with your old classmates made him feel even more insecure in the moment. He’d had a stressful and busy week and hadn’t gotten to see you much, merely late calls that usually didn’t last long because he’d coax you to go to sleep early since you’re busy as well. Meeting a few of your old high school classmates, totally coincidentally at Gong Cha was all it took for him to have a small internal freak out. He already didn’t like that they were guys, even more so that they’d known you longer than he had technically... He felt excluded- He always wanted to be a part of every part of your life and have you in every part of his- To him your soulmates and he didn’t like feeling as though someone had a leg up on him in regards to you.

“You look great! Wow- It’s been a minute, but wow-” one of your old classmates gushed, stunned by how you’d matured and glowed up through the years spent apart.

You gave a small chuckle in return, “I’m surprised you recognized me-”

“I mean how could I forget (Y/n)?” he joked, gesturing towards you, followed by a few hums of the other classmates beside him.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that- You didn’t think of yourself as too memorable of a person during high school. You’re boyfriend disliked it even more, a scowl etched into his features- He didn’t like not being in the know or what exactly the man meant.

“Well, it’s a small world I guess,” you wrapped up awkwardly, “It was nice to see you,” you added, able to feel Taeyong’s calculating gaze.

Sighing to yourself, you took a sip of your tea, inviting Taeyong to ask whatever he was going to ask.

“Were you popular in high school?”

“No,” you huffed, “Not really anyway- I’ve already told you about my high school- I wasn’t even friends with those guys... I can’t believe he recognized me.”

‘You’re just too pretty to be forgettable’ was what Taeyong had been thinking, but decided to keep it in. He could still feel their fleeting gazes glancing towards you as they sat down in laughter- He didn’t like that... What were they talking about? You? Were they laughing about you? Who knew what prude remarks they were making.

“I’d have dated her back in junior year if I knew she was gonna turn out like this-”

Feeling jealous, protective, and anxious he stood, causing you to look up at him, “Where are you going..?”

“Bathroom,” he informed before bending down, his hand coming to cradle your jaw as he sealed your lips together in a sweet kiss- Lips tasting of caramel.

Your lips followed his own as he drew back, swiping his thumb endearingly across your cheek before giving it a gentle pinch. You pulled your face from his grasp at the action, playfully pouting at your cup of tea as he left the table.

“I know right-”

The voices got louder as he approached.

“Could you keep your voices down?” he asked, yet it wasn’t really a question- His tone and gaze icy and curt before he brushed past their table to the restroom.

Yuta:

Tossing in jealous Yuta because that’s hot-

You didn’t have to be dating Nakamoto Yuta for him to feel as strongly as he did. He felt like you were already his, his sweet, his dear, his precious- And he wasn’t going to let the world or anyone else take that away from him. You loved him as a friend- The two of you had crossed the boundary of friendship a few times with late night kisses and drunken texts- But there was something about his possessive nature that made you hesitant to progress any further with him. Just being his friend you felt like a prisoner-

“I have to drop by my brothers’ dorm to give him back his battery pack-” you began, halting as you remembered.

“I’ll go with you,” Yuta chimed, slinging an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as his other hand pulled the drawstrings of the hoodie harshly, causing it to close around your face.

You stumbled into him mid-step as he did so, whining dramatically as your hands attempted to shove him aside.

“My brother doesn’t like you,” you interjected, pulling the hood free from your mess of hair as Yuta released you.

With a shrug he focused his attention on taming your hair, the action causing your face to heat.

“You shouldn’t go into the boys dorm alone,” he reprimanded, motherly as ever.

Jaehyun. Your brother’s roommate and soccer teammate of Yuta- was coming down the very path you were on the quad.

“Jaehyun!” you called out suddenly, happy to find a delivery man.

His eyes darted from his phone to you, his brows knitting together seconds later-

“Hey,” he began, slowly letting his gaze drift between the two of you before to your hoodie.

“Uh... Is that your hoodie?”

“I stole it from my brother- Don’t tell,” you chuckled.

Letting out a soft chuckle of amusement, Jaehyun shook his head, “That’s not your brother’s- That’s mine. I’d been looking for it all week-”

“Oh my God!” you gasped, dropping the tote bag from your shoulder, “I’m so sorry! I- It was on his side of the room... So I thought-”

“It’s fine,” he interjected, “It looks good on you-”

Yuta’s gaze narrowed at that remark and before he even had a moment to stop you, you were peeling off the hoodie and offering it to an astonished Jaehyun. You saw no issue with it, you were wearing a t-shirt underneath.

“I’m so so sorry! Also...” you began, picking up your bag, “Could you give this to my brother?”

“Sure-” Jaehyun nodded, scratching the nape of his neck as you pushed the goods into his hands before whipping around and grabbing the side of Yuta’s plaid jacket to bring him in tow with you-

“O my God... That was so embarrassing-” you rambled, feeling your face hot in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Yuta’s feet stopped moving, causing you to stop. He removed his phone from the pocket of his jacket before slipping it into his jeans, removing his coat.

“What are you doing?” you asked dumbly before catching on, “N-No, I’m not cold or anything-”

Silently, he draped it over your shoulders before his hands slid to the open front of it, grasping it before pulling you closer by the collar. His lips melded with your own, needy and passionate, jealousy brewing in his heart at even a simple encounter. His hands slid down to the zipper, zipping it quickly as he pulled away, your arms constricted, a smug expression on his face before he began walking again.

“H-Hey! GET THIS off me!” empty sleeves flopping by your sides as you hobbled after him.

The type to give you a little taste of his cold shoulder and reprimanding you for being careless [about making him jealous basically].

Kun:

Respectful and mature bub who wouldn’t do anything unless the two of you were dating, and for a while.

He couldn’t understand why Xioajun was so clingy towards you- I mean... He understood it in a sense since he was also in a way- But it was different. You were taken- Xiaojun should have taken a hint from him by now. Kun was constantly swooping in to interrupt the too of you, the hint of a small grin gracing his features each time to hide his unkindly thoughts towards the younger.

“Does Xiaojun bother you?” he questioned, watching as you pulled on your socks from the doorway of your bedroom, his shoulder resting against the frame.

“No?”

Cocking your head to the side, you couldn’t understand what Kun was hinting at or why he was asking.

“He’s always around you...”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “We’re friends.”

You stood, ready to pass by your boyfriend and slip on your shoes by the doorway, yet he didn’t budge.

“Well...” he began, “I don’t want to sound ...clingy, but I don’t like it-”

“There’s nothing to worr-”

You were mid-roll of your eyes, when he cut you off, his warm hand enveloping around your own, “You’re mine, right?”

There was a hint of something swimming in his chocolate gaze, as if a saddened part of him needed reassurance.

“O-Of course,” you admitted, blushing to yourself from feeling caught off guard.

“Then I have a right to be like this,” he added, voice softer.

You open and shut your mouth dumbly, not sure what to say in response. Yes? He to a degree had a right to feel jealous- But... There was really no reason to be jealous over Xiaojun- Tugging your hand forward gently, he drew you to meet his lips, lilting his neck down. His kiss was delicate, lips plush and substantial, but movements gentle and loving. Your knees felt weak, as if it was your first kiss again.

“Don’t worry about it,” you nearly whispered as he drew back, “I’ll try to be mindful,” you added, referring to distancing yourself a bit so Kun wouldn’t get the wrong impression again.

“We’re going to be late...”

Doyoung:

You drew back to take a breath before your lips were smothered again, his nostrils flaring in anger and also the need for oxygen. You whined gently against his lips, attempting to pull back once more. You panted, out of breath before placing a hand on Doyoung’s chest to keep him at bay.

He leant back over the center console, resting his head back against the padded seat. Finished clicking in your seat belt you looked at him.

“When you dress like that,” he began, nodding forward, “guys get the wrong idea.”

“N-”

“Like thinking you’re single and something for them to ogle at,” he added, cutting you off, “You have no idea what kind of sleaze bags were looking at you and what they were thinking-”

His fox-like eyes flickered back to you, taking a moment to glance at the obvious cleavage you’d put on display.

“I dressed up for you- I just… I wanted to feel sexy and make you-”

“Make me what? Upset?”

“No! Proud to be with me- To be attractive to you…”

Raking a hand through his hair he let his gaze fall upon your own.

“Don’t you get it?” he began, jabbing the keys into the ignition, “You’re always attractive to me- I always want you- I’m always proud of you- But I want to be the only one to see.. You don’t deserve them looking at you like that and it makes me sick,” he trailed off, quickly casting his gaze forward as he pulled away from the curb.

You felt a tingle jolt along your spine at his words.

Ten:

He’d been giving you a snarky attitude all day; curt remarks and dismissive glances. Sighing for the final time as he pretended to ignore you, you let your tongue poke at your cheek in annoyance.

“Look at me,” you probed.

His fingers halted before smashing the pause button on his game, tossing the controller aside him on the sofa as he let out his own sigh, his gaze continuing to be fixed upon the TV screen.

“Why are you being like this?”

You hated how beautiful his profile was, the slope of his sharp nose and outline of his soft lips.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?” you added, raising your tone.

“If you want someone to talk to why don’t you ask Taeyong?” he quipped, voice laced with venom.

Huffing in exasperation, you let your hands fall to your hips.

“Are you serious?”

Finally… he turned his dark gaze towards you.

“Yeah,” he nearly shrugged, attitude as petty as ever.

“You’re such a child!” you shouted, unable to control your emotions as you stormed away, frustrated and wanting to cry.

He paused for a moment before standing.

“I’m childish?” he asked, tone brazen and perplexed.

You stopped, turning on your heel-

“Then what?” he questioned, “Is Taeyong the man?”

Before you could spit out a reply he grabbed onto your elbow.

“I’m the only man you should see,” he barked.

“You are my only man…” you murmured, hurt he thought otherwise.

Cupping your face, he pulled you into him, lips messily finding one other before passionately embracing.

Omg I hate this one…

Jaehyun:

Far enough. Was what Jaehyun had been thinking.

His jaw was set, his lips pursing each time his eyes narrowed slightly, causing one of his dimples to gently show.

Sure, it was Taeyong’s birthday, but that didn’t mean he had the right to flirt with you-

“Is that right?” you giggled, after listening to one of Taeyong’s stories.

Your fork idly toyed with the pasta in your dish as you gave Taeyong your attention. The rest of the lunch table seemed chatty, side for Jaehyun whom pouted by your side. His silence was slowly steeling your attention away from Taeyong as you began to worry.

“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” you interjected, glancing towards the bathroom.

Your plan was simple, take a break from Taeyong by using the restroom before retuning and turning to Jae to give your attention and ask what was up. As you stood Johnny began speaking to Taeyong, allowing you the perfect cover to escape. As you did, someone snagged you by your belt loop. Your forlorn boyfriend looking up at you with eyes you couldn’t place.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” you whispered, your brows furrowing in concern at his oddness.

He released you, standing himself to follow you.

“Why are you being so weird?” you inquired, rounding a corner with him.

“I’m jealous,” he admitted.

“Wh- How? What’s there to be jealous about?” you stumbled.

Instead of answering or explaining, he cornered you against the wall once the two of you were hidden from sight in the hall of the bathroom.

“Babe,” you began, your voice lowering.

Being under his gaze in such close quarters you felt trapped, trying to think of what he’d want to hear to be reassured. You bit your lip in thought. Warm lips clashed with your own, not too aggressive, nor gently. The breath that had gotten caught in your throat came out as a sigh against his lips as his hands slid from the wall on either side of your shoulders to your hips.

“We can’t do this here,” you nearly whispered, your lips brushing his own in temptation.

Ignoring you, his hasty lips met yours again, causing you to let out a small moan of protest.

“Oh- God-” Ten sputtered, shielding his eyes from the entrance of the hallway as he saw the two of you.

Your fist came in contact with Jae’s pec as he broke away from you.

...When you came back to the table you could feel everyone’s gaze upon the two of you, lowering your gaze in embarrassment as Jaehyun wore a smug grin.

Win:

Cold shoulders were never fun, especially when dealing with your best friend Sicheng. He sat several rows in front of you in the lecture hall instead of beside you, scrolling through his phone and clearly avoiding your texts. You bit your pen cap in annoyance as you stared at the back of his head.

“Maybe they broke up-”

It was a hushed whisper, but you were able to here it.

“Just go talk to her-”

Evidently Sicheng heard it too, his thumb having stopped scrolling and his ears perked.

“Hey,” a gentle voice said, taking the seat beside you.

“H-Hi,” you fumbled, baffled as to why Mark Lee was sitting next to you.

“This seat’s not taken, is it?”

“No,” you enunciated, making sure it was clearly loud enough for Sicheng to hear in an attempt to be petty.

“Cool- Well, uh, there’s this party at Alpha Delta Si later,” he began, “If you wanted to go, you could be my plus one- Honestly, we’ve had this class together all semester and I thought you were cute-”

You were flattered by his invitation, but frat parties weren’t really your scene.

Glancing over his shoulder at the encounter, Sicheng was caught by your gaze.

“Oh- Uh, I’ll have to think about it, parties like that aren’t really my thing-” you declined politely.

“O-Oh,” Mark nodded, retracting to his seat in thought as the professor entered.

The entire lesson you and Sicheng fumed with thoughts of each other, unable to concentrate. The lesson seemed to end in record time, not that you were paying attention.

“So, um, if parties aren’t your thing we could do something like uh... get ice cream, or-”

Once you’d stood to stuff your belongings in your bag, Mark was back at it again. However, your sleeve was yanked by the ever so thoughtful Sicheng, pulling you from the row and tugging you up the stairs of the lecture hall. You stumbled after him dumbly until he shoved the door open with such force you were scared for a moment.

“Stop-” you shot, pulling from his grip.

“Was I interrupting something?” he asked bitterly.

“What the fuck is your problem? I thought you-”

You could feel the gaze of several classmates in the hallway, feeling embarrassed. Behind you, Sicheng saw the door of the lecture hall swing open with none other than Mark and Jeno, his eyes narrowing as he caught Mark’s gaze. Swooping in, his hand clamped over your forearm to pull you to meet his lips, his blunt nails digging into your sweater. He was overwhelming, figure looming over your own, hasty lips pushing against your own, you felt lost in your shock.

Jungwoo:

“Let me up,” you huffed for what felt like the fifth time.

A hum of disapproval left the boy who’d constricted himself around you.

“Woo- I’ll be late for my shift...” you tried, sighing to yourself.

“Don’t go,” he murmured.

“I have to go- My supervisor will be mad if I’m late again...”

“Your supervisor,” he began, sitting up, his fluff of hair bouncing, unfit of his narrowing eyes, “I don’t like him.”

“It doesn’t matter if you like him or not-”

You struggled in his hold, but he draped a leg over your hips to bar your escape, hugging you closer.

“He’s creepy.”

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed with an airy chuckle, “But that doesn’t matter, I need to keep my wage-”

Rolling on top of you, you let out a whine under his weight. Cutely, he blew the hair out of your face, not daring to remove his hands from wrapped around you for fear of you escaping. You giggled and writhed at his actions, shaking the hair from your face. He plopped a soft kiss upon your lips, smothering your own before drawing back momentarily.

“Don’t go.”

His lips didn’t give yours time to spit out a retort, softly melding with yours with passion. Had it been any other day or any other occasion, you would have skipped whatever event there was to stay with him, but you couldn’t miss today... Shaking your head to shake his lips off your own, he groaned against your lips, unrelenting. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of anguish against his lips, following it with a low whine. He bit your lip in retaliation gently, shifting on top of you as you squealed and wiggled beneath him.

“You’re being childish,” you gasped, nostrils flaring with the need for air.

Lucas:

“Baby-”

Yukhei’s deep voice reverberated through your being as his lips brushed your ear.

“Why are you watching that?”

In your defense, you hadn’t searched for it, rather it was in your suggestions and you just so happened to be curious by the amount of views it had. A Doyoung, Boss focus cam- Nor were you expecting your friend-with-benefits to be up so early... He usually slept well past ten.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you partially lied.

“Do you like him?”

“Uh,” you stalled, glancing over your bare shoulder, “It’s not like I know him-”

“I mean,” he corrected, “Do you think he’s sexy?”

Your expression morphed into one of confusion at his most likely horny what-the-fuckery.  If you said yes would he set up a threesome?

“Yeah.”

A warm hand slid over your bare arm, trailing to your shoulder before moving to your throat. He didn’t like that answer- Though the two of you weren’t official, he had real feelings for you- Which is why he called you baby, and told you to stay the night when you’d start searching for your clothes the night before...

“What about me?” he groaned gently.

Dropping your phone aside, you rolled over to your side, your hand going to his wrist to stop the growing pressure he applied.

“Yeah, you’re sexy,” you rolled your eyes, knowing he was immaturely jealous.

“Am I sexier?”

He drew you closer, his nose brushing against your own as he awaited your answer.

“I’m not sure,” you teased, withholding a giggled at how his eyes widened.

He let out a chuckle too, able to catch onto your teasing attitude.

“I must be since I’m the one with you and not him,” he muttered with a smile, rolling over on top.

His lips claimed your own in an arduously slow kiss, his hand fumbling to reach over and turn off your phone.

Mark:

Alone, in bed, on his phone- Mark’s evening was rather bland. He’d been on a call with you while you’d been getting ready to come over, content with just listening to your voice.

“Why do you take so long to get ready?” he questioned with a sigh, “Just come over already.”

“I have to look good,” you countered, “You said Johnny was home...”

And here it was, the recent reason for Mark’s despise of Johnny Suh, one of his closest friends.

“Bro- So what... You’re coming over to see me, not him-”

That was true-

“Yeah, but if I do see him-”

“Whatever, just hurry up,” Mark complained, his tone snappish as he hung up.

It was hard getting friend-zoned, let alone having the girl you like be into your best friend instead.

Fifteen minutes later you were checking your reflection on your phone before the door, collecting yourself before ringing the doorbell.

Answering it, Mark felt his heart clench- You looked ridiculously cute, glossy lips, curled lashes, slight wind-blown hair, and the oversized Puma hoodie you’ d bought last week to match your leggings. He wish you were getting all dolled up for him, causing a pang of jealousy to stab him.

“I’ll pay for delivery since you paid last time,” you remarked, stepping through the doorway to remove your shoes as your eyes searched for the giant of your affection.

Yet he was nowhere in sight... Making your way to Mark’s room with your bag, dropping it to his bed and plugging your phone into his charger. You heard the distinct sound of the refrigerator opening, bottles rattling- Perhaps it was Johnny. Turning on your heel, you planned upon seeing whom it was, but a Mark Lee was blocking your path, having just entered the threshold of his room.

“Lemme see,” you pried, your brows furrowing as he closed the door behind himself.

“It’s Taeil,” he lied, knowing what you were after.

You still wanted to check for yourself, even give the senior a greeting.

“Uh, let me through,” you paused as Mark remained in his spot.

“Why’s it always go to be about him?”

“I- What do you-”

“You know what I mean,” he interjected, raising his voice, “All of a sudden everything’s about him-”

“That’s not true,” you tried, folding your arms defensively.

“Yes it is,” he retorted, taking a step toward you, his bad attitude and mood nearly radiating off his figure, “We can’t even hang out like we used to because you’re always preoccupied with him-”

“I can’t help that I like him!” you shot back.

It took only another step and Mark was in front of you, his hands flying to grip your shoulders as his nose brushed yours for only a millisecond- You couldn’t contemplate what was taking place and before it registered, his lips were on your own, sticky lip gloss transferring.

[arecomicsevengood]

A YEAR OF READING ACKNOWLEDGED MASTERPIECES #3: E.C. SEGAR’S POPEYE

So, while the original idea behind this series was for me to read an acclaimed comic I expect I’ll like but had not yet actually read, or to read something I’d read a little of but not its entirety, covering E.C. Segar’s Popeye is something of a cheat. When Fantagraphics began their reprint series, a roommate had the first volume, of what would eventually be six, and I read that; I later ordered my own copy of volume 3, and I own a copy of The Smithsonian Collection Of Newspaper Comics, which reprints the “Plunder Island” series of Sunday strips covered in volume 4. I enjoyed all of it, but didn’t feel a pressing need to acquire more, and now Volumes 4 and 5 are out of print and command high prices on the secondary market. This motivated me to get a copy of the still-available volume 6, which might seem less appealing because it’s the last stuff Segar did before he died, and health issues led there to be periods of time where the strip was entrusted to his assistants, in sequences not included.

The editors say those strips aren’t good, I’ll take their word for it. Other people have tried to sell other Popeye product, and I’m sure some of it is quite good: There are some people who take pains to point out that the Segar comic strips are not similar to the Fleischer brothers cartoons, but I’m sure those cartoons are good fun, I generally like the stuff that studio produced. I have seen the 1980 Robert Altman movie, starring Robin Williams and Shelley Duvall, with a screenplay by Jules Feiffer and songs by Harry Nilsson, which is a notorious flop, but with some admirers: Still, it’s a slog, which the comic strip never is. IDW’s comic strip reprint line put out books collection the late eighties/early nineties run of former underground cartoonist Bobby London, what I’ve read of that stuff (just previews online) is unfunny garbage. I think they also were behind reprints of comic books by Bud Sagendorf, and a revival written by Roger Langridge, neither of which I’ve read, though Langridge’s work is always ok; good enough for me to think it’s good, not compelling or transcendent enough for me to spend money on it. It’s all work done by those who have rights to the license, which makes me view it as essentially merchandise, like a pinball game or something. The Segar stuff is where it all comes from.

While other masterpieces of the first half of the twentieth century comics page, like George Herriman’s Krazy Kat or Winsor McKay’s Little Nemo are definitely acquired tastes, Popeye was not only popular enough to make its creator a rich man back in the day, it remains functional as populist entertainment today. I feel pretty “what’s not to like?” about it, and would recommend it to whoever. It’s funny, the characters are good, there’s adventures. The humor is three quarters sitcom style character work and one quarter the sort of silliness that verges on absurdism.

This light touch separates it from the first half of the twentieth century’s “adventure strips” that didn’t age as well, despite having well-done art that would influence generations of superhero artists. Segar’s art isn’t particularly impressive, but every strip tells a joke or two, and even if you don’t laugh at every joke, you’ll appreciate its readability, especially if you’ve ever tried to read a Roy Crane comic, or even Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy. I don’t want to praise E.C. Segar by merely listing works his comics read better than, but it really is notable how many people today are basically trying to do what he did, but are failing at least in part due to not understanding that’s what they’re trying to do. If you want to do a comedic adventure story that becomes popular enough for you to be financially successful, it might be worth reading a volume of Popeye and observing its rhythms. When I was reviewing Perdy a few weeks ago, I was thinking “This basically just wants to be a R-rated Popeye.” I recently found 3/4 of the issues of the Troy Nixey-drawn comic Vinegar Teeth for a quarter each; despite that comic’s high-concept pitch involving Lovecraftian monsters, it would probably have been better if it thought of itself as being a descendant of Popeye, rather than something that could be adapted into a movie. I’ll just phrase it in the format of a popular Twitter meme: Some of you have never read Popeye, and it shows.

Lesson number one, which just sort of emerges naturally from the format of the daily strip, is you’ve got to make jokes, and they can’t just be the same one, over and over again. To that end, you need a cast of characters, who each have their own bit, and who play off each other in various ways. It is easy to see why people don’t do this: Large ensembles grow organically, and most people start telling a story with either a central character or something precisely in mind they want to chronicle. The comic strip, with its long runs originating from a practitioner’s ability to tell a joke, can be a bit freer to stumble onto something that works, without even necessarily having a title character to return to.  The collections might be named after Popeye, but the comic strip being collected in these books was called Thimble Theater, which ran for a decade before Popeye showed up and circulation sky-rocketed. For a while, I think the consensus on the early stuff was it was pretty boring and hard to read before Popeye came in and livened the whole thing up, but recently there was a reprint of this earlier material, and I know the dude who reviewed it for The Comics Journal liked it, though I’m sure it’s easy to find someone at The Comics Journal who will like an old comic strip even if it’s bad. Either way, modern cartoonists don’t have Segar’s luxury, or having their work run for a half-disinterested audience until something clicks so much word spreads.

The gag-a-day pace, built around getting into new situations and adventures, itself creates a pressure to be inventive today’s graphic novelists can’t really match. After Popeye is established as a good character, prone to getting into scrapes, Segar can show us the comedy of him caring for a baby. He can also introduce Popeye’s dad, Poopdeck Pappy, that this character looks basically exactly like Popeye but is a piece of shit is a funny idea that would not occur in the early days of planning a project.

One reason why you wouldn’t necessarily do such a design choice is because, if you’re thinking of different media as a way to success, having characters with the exact same silhouette runs counter to the generally accepted rules of animation. Thimble Theatre, as per its name, is based on theater staging, rather than the more expressionist angles of film: We’re looking at characters from the side, usually seeing whoever’s talking in the same panel unless one of them is out of the room. These characters tend to have the same height, basically. Someone once said that looking at Popeye, printed six strips to a page, is kind of like looking at a page of sheet music. It’s not a particularly visually dynamic strip, the amount of black and white on a page is close to unvarying.

This is why I don’t believe in prescriptivism, or a suggestion of rules: I’m pretty sure that Popeye works because it’s not working super-hard to be visually interesting. This would be the number two lesson of what there is to learn from Popeye. I think this transparency in style is what allows this comedy/adventure hybrid to work, though I know others would blanch at this. It’s going for a big audience, and while I think this visual approach serves that end, I know why others, especially those who’ve been struck by later superhero comics or manga, would see visual excitement as the best way to achieve that goal. The audience that read newspaper comics wasn’t necessarily adept at following visual storytelling, and the sort of relationship that newspaper strips could have with a wider readership is not going to be achievable now. The folks that ride for Segar these days are mostly alt-comics people, like Sammy Harkham or Kevin Huizenga, who aren’t attempting the sort of popular entertainment extravaganzas he trafficked in.

Reading Popeye feels like reading, basically, which is a nice, contemplative experience, that not all comics can capture. I read a few pages of it before bed. Obviously, this pace is not how people consumed it in its heyday, but the pace people took it in at, a strip a day, is even more deliberate and steady, and I think, was crucial to its popularity. For a comic to be popular, it has to have characters that are interesting, obviously; there is probably no better way for an audience to build a relationship with fictional characters than over extended periods of time. This speed corresponds to the pace it was created at, one that now seems insanely luxurious to anyone whose workflow is dictated by the internet’s demand for content. It’s a total crowdpleaser, but it existed at a time where crowds could slowly gather. Popeye’s a popular entertainment from an era of reading, listening to the radio, going to plays or movies. It holds up, owing to a basic pleasantness we can understand as low stakes, and that’s helped along by the restraint of the art. It’s telling a story. It’s not a farce, crowded with visual jokes, and it’s not dictated by characters’ emoting either. I love a visually expressive art style, but here it’s important that the visuals remain “on-model,” reinforcing the stability of the characterizations. This sort of thing is also evident in Chris Onstad’s Achewood, which I would argue is the preeminent 21st century character-driven comic strip, with an audience that feels relatively “wide” rather than pointedly “niche.”

Lesson number three to how to make a popular comic is the thought I find myself thinking all the time, which is “Everyone needs to chill out.” The number one impediment to making entertainment that just quietly works is the desire to stand out and make a name for yourself as quickly as possible. This is similar to how the number one impediment to a peaceful and contented life is the demands of a failing capitalism where we are all competing for a shrinking pile of resources. To read these books now is a luxury, an indulgence, and while I don’t much go in for those, reading older comic strips carries with it this sort of nostalgic appeal for an era where it didn’t feel like everything was screaming at you for your attention all the time. As broad as Popeye is, it now possesses a certain dignity, owing to this dislocation in time from its origin. I don’t know if this felt like a feature at the time. I do think that if you are an artist that wants to be successful now, you should do what you can for the sort of circumstances that allow for genuine, long-lasting success to build, which involves a certain degree of permission to fail. Mainstream comics companies, with their mentality of “we’re going to print hundreds of comics a month, in hopes some find a niche large enough to be briefly profitable we can then try to milk for their last dollar and they quickly become exhausted,” act against this. As in a garden, there needs to be space for things to take root and grow.

[thelmasirby32]

12 Email marketing best practices for sales

Everybody may be talking about witty tweets, quick-tip videos, and memorable memes, but there is one marketing tool that remains powerful after all these years: emails.

But an effective email marketing strategy in the 2000s may not work in 2019 anymore. Chances are, sales offer sent to inboxes will be marked as spam and forever left unopened. In March 2019, spam messages accounted for 56% percent of global email traffic. The challenge is to develop email campaigns that are as appealing and informative as other marketing tools heavily consumed in this age of social media and apps.

Times have changed, and so are email marketing trends. Know what works and what does not. Here is a roundup of 12 effective email marketing tactics you should know about.

1. Truly connect with your audience

At one point in your online life, you may have received tons of offers to buy to join a matchmaking community for veterans or something that’s not even remotely connected to you or your interests. Random mass email blasts like these don’t benefit anyone.

Create an email marketing campaign that connects with your readers. You can do this by dividing your email list into more targeted groups. The Annual Email Optimizer Report by Lyris found numerous benefits of email list segmentation including increased open rates, greater email relevance, and lower opt-out or unsubscribe rates.

You may segment the readers based on age, gender, and location. This will help ensure that you’re sending the right communication to the right people.

Check out this example of a geographically segmented email by UBER for Chicago

2. Customize your blasts

Email marketing tools, like tweets and Instagram ads, should speak directly to a specific reader. There is no better way of doing this than by customizing the content of your emails.

After segmenting your email recipients, get to know them better. What appeals to them? What are they looking for when browsing for products and services? How do they define good customer service? What made them visit a website and subscribe? By familiarizing yourself with your readers, it’ll be easier to customize your emails, follow-ups, and reminders.

For instance, your millennial recipients would love to receive informative yet concise messages with appealing images. The best way to do this is via infographics, which they can also easily share with their circle.

3. Grab your audience’s attention, and keep them interested

Today’s consumers are multi-taskers. They are scrolling their news feeds and checking for work-related emails in between. You are in for a cutthroat competition for your reader’s attention.

Craft creative ways to grab their attention, and hold it until you have delivered your message. You can use witty headlines, visually-appealing images, and straightforward emails. Strictly no click-baits.

You can create urgency, tapping on today’s culture of “FOMO” (fear of missing out). Try using “You’re missing out on amazing rewards”, or “[URGENT] You’ve got ONE DAY to read this…”.

Humor never fails. The Muse has used the subject, “We like being used” while OpenTable cracked “Licking your phone never tasted so good” in one of its email campaigns.

Source: Artem Beliaikin via Pexels

4. State a clear call-to-action

So you have successfully earned the attention of your target audience. They also read your message in its entirety. Now what?

Your emails should have a clear purpose which you could achieve with a call-to-action. Do you want your readers to visit your website or subscribe to your newsletter? Do you want them to “Like” your Facebook page or make a purchase in your online store? Lead them to these goals with an effective CTA.

Researchers at Marketing Experiments recommend offering your visitors value at low or no costs in exchange for a click. Avoid asking too much too soon. The researchers found that tweaking commonly-used CTAs have amazing benefits. By changing “Find your solution” to “Learn more”, the clickthrough rate rose by 77%. Using “Subscribe and save” instead of  “View subscription options” led to a +181% clickthrough rate increase.

To encourage a purchase, you can use these CTAs like the ones given below

Shop now

Save today

Yes! I want one

Claim your coupon

Get 20% off now

To promote content, here are sample CTAs

Curious? Read on

Read the full story

Download now

5. Limit your email blasts

Do you know that an average office worker receives 121 emails per day? That’s a lot. You wouldn’t want your message to be sent to the infamous spam folder for sending too many emails to your subscribers.

People signed up for your updates and newsletters because they are interested in your brand, products or services. They want to stay connected. But this doesn’t give you permission to bombard them with emails. Limit your messages once a week.

6. Craft catchy subject lines or headlines

Email subjects or headlines are deal-breakers. Readers can easily ignore or delete your email with a boring or clickbaity headline. MailChimp conducted an email marketing study and found that short and descriptive subject lines could entice readers.

You can include words that suggest urgency, ask a question or challenge a common notion. Use your segmented email list to craft direct and catchy headlines customized to your readers.

7. Make sure your emails are mobile-friendly

A recent study suggests that the number of mobile Internet users will hit five billion in 2025. More people are browsing the web, scrolling through social media pages and checking their emails via their handheld devices. Make sure that your email promotions are mobile-optimized. To create a mobile-friendly digital asset, consider the length of texts and visuals. Some image files may not display on smartphones, and others may slow downloading time.

8. Write professional emails

How would you perceive a business that sends out emails fraught with typos and grammar errors? These mistakes will definitely reflect badly on the sender. Always prepare your messages well. Email promotion is no different from any other marketing campaign. Take the time to plan out and draft an outline. Write a copy and proofread it several times. Use a voice that is consistent with your brand.

9. Build an inclusive community

People no longer surf the internet to just get quick information online. They meet others, join groups, and essentially create a world that is as real as their offline sphere. Go the extra mile with your email marketing campaign by letting your readers in an inclusive community. You can share personal updates about your life that don’t necessarily relate to your usual promotions. Perhaps a sneak peek into your work routine or a photo of your puppy or cat? Make your audience feel at home.

Another tip is to keep the conversation going by sending email notifications to users every time someone replied to their comments or whenever a new topic of interest is opened. You can also send updates on community stats such as a list of top users, top comments and most popular topics. These can encourage your users to play a more active role in the community.

10. Giveaway rewards

Giveaway rewards keep subscribers excited for your next blasts and increases the chances of them even sharing your promotions with their network. Budget airline companies are a great example of this as they’re winning the email marketing game through amazing rewards and promos. Their email subscribers get the latest updates on promos and the chance of winning all-expenses-paid trips. Giving away rewards and gifts is a smart way of acknowledging your loyal subscribers.

11. Stay consistent

You may not hit your target email subscribers right away, but that shouldn’t put off your email marketing campaign. Run your campaigns according to schedule. If you promised a special promo to your current list, make sure you deliver on time.

You may get 50 new subscribers this week and only 10 the next, but that should be no reason for you to hold off. Stick with your schedule and the effort will pay off.

12. Run a regular assessment of your campaigns

Know what’s working and what’s not by running a regular assessment of your email marketing campaigns. Wield the power of analytics in deciding how to proceed. You can choose the appropriate metrics, based on your goals. You may measure the clickthrough rate or the rate of readers who clicked on links in an email promotion or the conversion rate or the percentage of readers who completed the desired action such as purchasing a product.

Consider using analytics tools such as EmailAnalytics, Sortd, or Todoist. EmailAnalytics provides pertinent data such as the number of emails received in all your Gmail folders, the number of emails you send every day, who you email and how the conversations proceed. Sortd primarily helps organize email inboxes. It allows you to create categories and set priorities for each. The email workflow you can make in Sortd gives info on how you are performing at each stage of the email campaign. With Todoist, you may convert your inbox into a to-do list in relation to your campaign. It allows you to identify, organize and complete tasks, and run reports on your daily performance.

For sure, email marketing isn’t dead. It just evolved over time. As an entrepreneur or a marketer, it is your task to keep abreast of trends in digital marketing. Consumers today want you to speak to them on a more personal level. Get to know them. Engage them. Reward their loyalty. Remember that your email recipients are people, so connect with them in the most natural way possible.

The post 12 Email marketing best practices for sales appeared first on Search Engine Watch.

from Digital Marketing News https://www.searchenginewatch.com/2019/11/11/email-marketing-best-practices-for-sales/

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

Roll your eyes all you like, but Instagram poets are redefining the genre for millennials

We millennials like our poetry typed out in neat fonts on rustic pastel backgrounds, centred in a tiny square on a small screen. We read short, simple, and relatable poems which may strike a chord with us for a second before we scroll on to the next Timothée Chalamet appreciation post or #brunch pic.

I'm talking, of course, about poetry native to Instagram. A budding genre scoffed by the literary community but loved by millions of young readers. 

SEE ALSO: This Instagram poet is rewriting fairy tales with modern gender roles

This Insta-friendly verse, with its distinct tone and aesthetic, is serving sincerity and feeling in the place we need it the most: the ever ironic, cynical internet. It’s this vulnerability on a platform that’s more-often-than-not replete with inauthenticity and polished veneers that makes it so striking. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by R. M. Drake (@rmdrk) on Aug 6, 2018 at 3:29pm PDT

Roll your eyes all you like, but Instagram poets are defining the genre for the millennial generation with a radical democratisation and push for diversity in the poetry world. Their work is accessible in more than one sense of the word, and while the critics may not always like it, their work is now being celebrated as "gateway poetry" — and that can only be a good thing. 

Household names in the Instagram poetry realm are now also recognised names in bookstores and the literary world in general. The most famous poet of Instagram is 25-year-old Rupi Kaur, whose poetry has — apart from securing seven-figure sales numbers — reached the level of popularity and recognisability where it is now a (frankly hilarious) meme. R.M. Drake, or Robert Macias, is perhaps best known for being reposted by the Kardashians, but he is also the author of several bestsellers. British poets Charly Cox (read her poem about kale) and queer poet Yrsa Daley Ward are making strides in Europe. Not to mention Nayyirah Waheed (read up on her plagiarism dispute with Kaur for real-life Insta poet drama), Tyler Knott Gregson, Amanda Lovelace, and Lang Leav. 

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poem. from salt. by nayyirah waheed. 2013. . . . . . . . #salt #nejma #literature #nayyirahwaheed

A post shared by @ nayyirah.waheed on Aug 8, 2018 at 9:05am PDT

This is a diverse group of poets, many of whom have long since graduated from Instagram to print poetry, causing some to argue that the term"Instagram poet" is a lazy one, that their medium is the least interesting thing about them. But these poets do have more in common than their platform of choice, poetry experts say. The Instagram poets have given birth to a genre of their own.

"What the poets of Instagram tend to have in common is what I would call emotional relatability or accessibility, and a tone and vocabulary that is reminiscent of the self-help or self-improvement movement — many read like motivational quotes," says Dr Eleanor Spencer-Regan, digital director of the Institute of Poetry and Poetics at Durham University.

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A post shared by Tyler Knott Gregson (@tylerknott) on Jul 16, 2018 at 5:24pm PDT

It is precisely this relatability that makes Instagram poetry so resonant among millennials. Rather than alienating a young audience with convoluted language or complicated form, the ultimate goal of the Insta poets is always to connect directly with their audience. 

Judith Palmer, Director of the Poetry Society, says that one of the defining characteristics of Instagram poetry is that it's less about flexing your linguistic muscles and more about gaining instant understanding from readers. "The language isn’t often being pushed and I don’t see a complex vocabulary," says Palmer. "It is not really about complex language, it is more about easily translatable universal emotions."

While short form diary-style writing has been an internet culture staple pretty much since the days of LiveJournal, Insta poets are breaking new ground by insisting that their writing is poetry and demanding it be viewed and respected as such.

According to Martha Sprackland, Associate Editor at Poetry London, that's one of the things that sets high profile Insta poets apart from your average inspirational quote account. 

"There has long been light verse, slogans, inspirational quotes, whatever else; what's more recent is their determination to be included in the bounds of 'poetry,'" Sprackland tells Mashable. Per Sprackland, their dedication to belonging in the poetry genre is part of what has helped them gather an eager young audience around poetry. "I know that the rise of Instagram poetry has changed the perception of 'poetry' as a whole for large numbers of young people," says Sprackland. 

While Instagram poets have achieved great mainstream commercial success, literary critics have unsparingly criticised them and their supposedly "amateur" writing. With their style and medium of choice, they are leading a commercialisation of the poetry genre and diluting the quality of poetry, a once high-brow literary genre. 

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A post shared by rupi kaur (@rupikaur_) on Dec 10, 2017 at 1:10pm PST

Poet Rebecca Watts argues in the poetry journal PN Review that Instagram poets are ruining poetry as an art form. "In the redefinition of poetry as ‘short-form communication’ the floodgates have been opened, writes Watts. "The reader is dead: long live consumer-driven content and the 'instant gratification' this affords," Watts writes in the piece entitled 'The Cult of the Noble Amateur.' 

Watts wants the literary community to "stop celebrating amateurism and ignorance in our poetry, " and insists that the size of one's following says nothing of the quality of the writing (Watts even goes as far as to make a comparison to Donald Trump).

There is of course some truth to the point that a massive following does not ensure quality, as one trickster poet attempted to prove when he obtained thousands of followers writing four word poems on Instagram. 

But, according to the poetry experts, we're looking at emerging poetry the wrong way. The exposure that Instagram has brought to the genre is a good thing, despite the fact that they're taking the genre in a direction that the critics might not like. 

"What are those critics doing over there?" Sprackland asks. "It's not for them. It's a different genre, and it's daft to try and approach it bristling with all the usual tools of the 'contemporary page poetry' critic," Sprackland says. "It's not a case of merit, but of misfiling, of mislabelling, and then a wilful refusal to admit that mislabelling for fear of either causing offence or appearing snobbish.”

But, this critical snobbery to newcomers to a genre isn't exactly a new thing. Spencer-Regan points out that frowning upon art in a new more accessible medium it is "definitely not a new response." 

"The emergence of this new kind of poetry can really make us question what poetry is and what makes it good. But these poets do reach large audiences, and their work clearly resonates with a lot of people — though it may not be to the personal taste of many academics and literary critics,” says Spencer-Regan. 

Spencer-Regan argues that the Instagram poets have, in fact, succeeded at securing more diversity in a genre traditionally perceived to be dominated by white, straight people (both when it comes to both readers and writers). Spencer-Regan argues that these poets and their strategic use of social platforms have in fact reinvigorated and democratised the poetry world. 

"This is a radically democratic method of publishing that is giving opportunities to many women, people of colour, members of the LGBTQ+ community, and people who publicly disclose mental illnesses," says Spencer-Regan. "These people are rejecting the old rules of a literary world that they feel may have rejected them."

According to Palmer of The Poetry Society, the Insta poets have successfully managed to bring poetry into people’s everyday life. Many poems deal with topics found in all sorts of Instagram content, such as body image, sexuality and gender. 

"What we’re seeing is contemporary life reflected and that is the big appeal. People have for too long had this idea that poetry is a small world, and that poetry is one thing. This is an unnecessary narrowing," says Palmer. 

And, like it or not, Instagram poetry has introduced young people to a genre that, in the recent years, hasn't had much of a hold on them. 

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A post shared by Yrsa Daley-Ward (@yrsadaleyward) on Oct 14, 2018 at 7:20pm PDT

The poetry of Instagram may not be to the critics' likings, or the likings of some adult readers, but that shouldn't make us write it off as meaningless, trivial diary scribbles.

"You could argue that some of the poetry is trite, clichéd, bland or derivative. But we're coming to it as more mature, more sophisticated readers," says Spencer-Regan. "I can imagine being 14 and then finding these pages — they would speak to me in a whole other way, giving voice to feelings and experiences that I perhaps couldn't have articulated for myself at that age." 

Spencer-Regan sees Instagram poetry as a harnessing of the power of social media to get young people excited about verse. 

"We talk about Harry Potter as a 'gateway' book, and I suspect that these poems can work in the same way — to make young people curious about poe," Spencer-Regan says. "Poetry will no longer be something remote or intimidating, but an art form that these young readers feel they can claim as their own."

Whether you like or dislike the poetry in your feed, or you relate to the minimalist relatability of the Insta poets, their influence must be acknowledged. After all, if you have haters, you must be doing something right. 

WATCH: Saint Hoax's addictive Instagram account puts a wicked twist on pop culture

[prosenkhans]

Your body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.

It had to be the Salt Fish & Ackee. And the fried chicken. Of course the fuckin’ fried chicken.

Bourdain called Miss Ollie’s a taste of the “shiny, new Oakland”. You don’t see many tourists here, thank goodness, but the air of gentrification is present. Considered “Downtown Oakland”, you got the not-so-middle-class 20-30s something transplants messing about, bumping head long into 5th generation locals with A’s paraphernalia dangling from twin strollers. You’re just as likely to have a conversation with a person drinking craft IPA out of a laser etched glass to a person brown bagging a St. Ides 40 oz, chasing it with a Hennessy flat bottle they bury deep in their back pocket. It’s a normal thing here. The modern pressing against the traditional. “New money” and the “old school” of things. The social and economic divide that is prevalent so much here in the Bay Area. And still, the willingness by most to close that gap. The whole idea of “who’s town is this” will not be settled tonight. No. There is fish to be eaten. Chicken to be dunked in batter, fried golden, and devoured without utensils. People seem happy enough. Why not? The game is about to start.

It’s about 5:15 PM. The restaurant has yet to open for their dinner shift. And that is where I find myself, in an awkward situation as per usual, waiting in front of a door and peering into a kitchen staff hastily prepping for a Friday night. The idea was to order food and get the fuck home. I did not want to be around IF the Dubs won game 4 (they did). Not that I don’t enjoy a rowdy drunken crowd. Well I don’t actually. Not any more. Besides it wasn’t my victory, it wasn’t my team. Celebrating another’s victory just didn’t seem right, lighting fireworks and screaming in glee whilst turning over cars. Those aren’t my fireworks. I didn’t earn the drunken mob mentality to vandalize vehicles. I just didn’t want to be a buzz kill. No no. No, the only reason I stood there was because I wanted that damn salt fish and chicken! It had been a long day, made longer and mentally uncomfortable by learning that Bourdain had killed himself. No. Get the food, go home, take my pants off and sit on the couch and not so gently devour this stuff. Call it a half ass homage to the man whilst giving me some quiet time to really come to terms with all the thoughts running in my head. Oh and there was whiskey there. Pre-bought whiskey. Lots of it. Which undoubtedly has lead to this ranting essay.

When one writes shit like this it's impossible to avoid IT. The cliches, the flowery anecdotes, the over simplifications, and the glorifications of the recently passed individual. The stuff comes up because it's what we think about. However, I will say this. It a given family and friends are impacted most by a loss. Duh. Condolences, prayers up, what have you. It’s stating the obvious. What I think is escaping a lot of people is maybe we are never as close to someone we would like to think. We may love them. We may relate, appreciate, respect, and even be exceptionally close to them. But it’s becoming more and more evident to me that that UNDERSTANDING is a solo endeavor practiced by individuals specifically for their own self awareness.

We share only what we want people to see of us.

The word I most associate with Bourdain is “natural”. I know most people will go on and talk about his knowledge of the culinary world and his appreciation for amazing food. They’ll talk about his worldy travels and his willingness to immerse himself in the truest space of a city/country’s culture. People applaud and as well they should. Bourdain became the totem for all people with an ever growing sense of wanderlust. The question is why? There are plenty of who know food and culture and travel the world. Hell there are TONS of people on TV that do it and are dull as shit. So why Bourdain? Why is he, now that he is gone, ever so much more deified by those who wish to see our lives as 1/17th compelling as what he lived on screen? He was a natural. Or better yet, a “compelling natural asshole”. Yeah, that’s better.

First and foremost Bourdain was an artist. All of his shows went WELL beyond the norm of his contemporaries. In hindsight, his OG shows and the times in which he filmed them, they were damn near revolutionary. As budgets increased and skills got better, it became less so of an educational eating/travel show but more so of a docu-series of a man living in various moments. A man given the opportunity to perform a “dream job” and knowing fully well how damn lucky he was. Secondly, he was a writer. A good one. People will try to quote him in eulogy these days, but I find it hard to really pare it down. His shows were written so well that it felt like a never ending fount of inspiration meme fodder. Just Google it, you’ll see. And last, he was “cool”. And in the non pretentious type way. We just seemed like what he said, what he wore, what music was playing, hell what type of pop-cultural factoids he would equally praise and lacerate came not from a “marketing analysis report”, but a genuine opinion from a man who seemed unconcerned about the camera in his face.

What I can say is the dude gave off a vibe that drew people in. Or at least thats what he wanted to put out in the world.

I had to wait 15 minutes before I could order. Fuck. Hungry. I was starving at that moment. So even though I was annoyed and rather irritable after such a long and mentally draining day, I made my normally anti-social self do something Bourdain may have approved of. I mingled with strangers. Oh and I bought a beer. And a sausage. Of course a sausage.

Rosamunde’s was getting more crowded as the start of the game grew closer. People in their blue and gold, some with NBA Champion 2018 hats already on, even though the game hadn’t even started yet. Weird. But I made my way up to the shop keep and got my tube of meet and glass of malted hops. Yum. So with 10 minutes to kill I engaged in polite conversation with 2 gents hugging the wall. They were cousins, one local and other from LA. Of course naturally the conversation lead to basketball and the probability that all the people in this restaurant would be drunk off victory and tequila by nights end. They would be. It was a consensus. I wont prattle on about the specifics of the conversation, but within that short 10 minutes I found myself bouyed by their energy. They knew the good times to come, and they were eager to get there. And in that moment, they seemed genuinely happy. As the clock drew closer to the half hour, I started to excuse myself from the conversation. “Just stay, man! We gunna win, and then we’re gunna celebrate!” But I couldn’t. So with one last “Salanche!” (I had to teach them that Irish word), I bid them good evening and their team good luck. It wasn’t my place. Not right now. Besides, fried chicken awaited!

As I stepped away, a smile on my face, a thought in my head. Its natural when someone you admire leaves, especially in such a manner. People will focus more the WHY than anything else. I’ve resigned myself to a simple truth. We DO NOT know what anyone else is thinking. To say we UNDERSTAND another individual so completely that we can approximate their feelings, intent, and mannerism is foolhardy. It's arrogant. If there is anything that I’ve learned from Bourdain is this simple truth.......You don’t know shit. So stop guessing. Try and actually gain knowledge of, well everything. It simple requires effort and openness. And sometimes the willingness to look foolish and fall on your face.

I place my order with the lovely lady. No menu required. I knows what I want. I order a Mauby for the wait. “It’ll be like 10 minutes. You’re the first to order,” she says with a smile. I’m pretty sure she thinks my fatass is ordering for 2. Ha, oh well. I drink my weird soda and wait. And try not to dwell on the WHY.

I’ll simply state that I appreciate what Bourdain CHOSE to show us. All of it. Watch an episode of any of his shows, there is something unique about it. In every episode, Bourdain will turn from cocky asshat, to worldly listener, to foody goofball, to hipster hating old man, to a poetic soul, to an appreciated world travel, to an unwilling celebrity. There will be a facet of all those personas in each show. Every. Single. One. Now I can say that what he CHOSE to show us was a 61 year old man, full of success within a career that any of us would envy. A father of an 11 year old girl who did seemed truly proud of her developing into a full fledged human. A man who found passion and love in this “late” phase of life. A man who has grown healthier and wiser. A man, while still driven, seemed content with it all. And it apparently wasn’t. At all. So people can keep asking WHY all they want. I choose to look at it in a much more cynical view. If Bourdain, the master of the world, chose to exit it in such a state, where does that leave us?

It’s a sad thought that unicorns don’t exist.

7 swigs into my cane sugar soda, all the tables are filled. The room is bustling and the noise level increases. Smiling faces, happy banter. There is an energy in the air. But even in this moment, surrounded by the humanity, I felt alone. Lost in my own thoughts.

Bourdain once said he was “addicted to celebrity”. He wouldn’t have been as successful as he was did he not have the drive and arrogance to achieve it. Still, one would think that being placed upon a pedestal as a cultural and generational icon would become waring. On top of the 250 days of travel, he was Anthony fuckin’ Bourdain all the damn time. People see you and may potentially be expecting a life altering moment, a chance to be inspired by a simple word or action. They think they know you. And that’s with the cameras off. Even when they were rolling there are times where it is evident Bourdain was uncomfortable in his own skin. That he was crossing the velvet rope where he knew he shouldn’t. Where he was torn between enjoying a meal given to him by custom and his reluctance to be so decadent when there are impoverished families just feet away. We see a misfit become potentially what he never saw himself being. A standard bearer, a bougee VIP. A man who inspired a legion, a world of people to open their minds and hearts to other cultures through food and drink, through conversation over a meal. To take the back alley, and skip the IHOP on Main St. Ask a stranger where to get a drink instead of a guide book. To eat something you can’t pronounce. To let go of forethought and allow yourself to take the moment in. By doing so he became accepted as the norm, as how a utopian world should be. And while I hope he is proud to some degree for showing the world a new way to think, a part of me questions that by becoming a living legend, he lost that “outsider rebel” aspect of himself, his persona. That misfit.

The bell rings. My order is ready. The young lady puts everything in a bag. 2 sets of utensils. “I knew it,” I mutter to myself. “Did you say something honey?” she asks. “No,” I chuckle slightly. She smiles and turns her head to give me the inquisitive side eye. “Are you happy with everything,” she asks whimsically. I look down, and smell the food. I smile. “Yeah. Right now I am.”

So as I sit at home writing this, the last of the Ackee scrambled across my plate, I do feel a sense of sadness, but certainly appreciation. To Mr. Anthony Bourdain. I can only say “thanks”. I truly doubt we will know his full impact on society until years, generations later. But in this moment, I thank you. I probably wouldn’t have eaten this fish and chicken without him. And that in itself is worth a toast. Solanche, mutha fucker.