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#they don’t care about Us they care about the target audience
whatohitsonfirewelp · 2 years
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Okay, I know many of you are upset, and rightfully so about many things. Still think many of you need to read the definition on queer baiting but also
Y’all, us on tumblr or Reddit and even Twitter, we are not the target audience. The target audience, the casual viewers who don’t watch and read every interview or are always looking at the trailers. Who don’t really come up with theories like us, who simply watch for a good story and move on with their life
They are the target audience.
Ships like ronance, or steddie and more and how they were spoken about or implied are ships that the target audience won’t even think about m. Many of them only watch the show and frankly, while I ship many of the ships (including the two mentioned) to the average viewer they wouldn’t expect a romantic or sexual relationship.
Things like with Robin and her crush (I’m so sorry I forgot her name) are someone they see easily and by whatever reactions they have will probably decide if it becomes a relationship or not. Or for instance Will, it’s so incredibly easy for many to see he’s queer, sure we have those who deny it those who refuse to accept it but the average viewer who’s not homophobic will see it clearly but they may not see blyer.
It sucks and it’s not fair because they know we’re the ones watching the interviews. We’re the ones bringing the popularity despite being the minority. We are the one who spend hours, weeks, months, years on this show and the characters. We are the ones who see ourselves in these characters and end up knowing them more than the actual writers in the end half the time.
But we are not the target audience despite all of that. So stop watching or whatever, it’ll change nothing. Because we are the minority in this case. The views won’t drop hugely because some of us stop watching. At the end of the day while we may have gotten them attention we are not needed for them to be successful. Especially with one one more season left.
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curiosity-killed · 1 year
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Not to be like a crotchety old grandpa waving my cane at middle school hooligans but I do wish (especially) young, very online queer folks would take a sec to learn a little more about like political movements and social change
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sundrop-writes · 2 months
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Careful - Chapter Two
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(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter Two: Liar
Why should I deny what's all at once, so crystal clear?
Summary:
Spencer is eager to talk to you - to find out if your son is actually his. But there are more important matters at hand, like the fact that you might be the next target of a serial killer who is actively stalking single mothers.
The two of you get locked in a battle of wills when you stubbornly refuse his protection and Spencer remains determined to keep you safe.
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst and Smut.
Word Count: 8,900
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of killing/murder, mentions of the reader being a target for a killer; mentions of the reader buying and using a vibrator (does not take place during the fic, more so mentioned as the reality of the ‘sex life’ of a single mom); the reader and Spencer parted on very bad terms (but the details of the situation are not yet revealed); the reader is very angry towards Spencer; the reader and Spencer argue; the reader is in denial that she is the target of a killer; there is some mention of Sebastian having similar hair to Spencer - but I don’t want that to describe or exclude the reader’s race because in the next chapter, there is a mention of Sebastian having the reader’s skin tone; mention of the reader ‘shoving’ Spencer out of anger (not hard enough to cause harm); mention of the reader owning a gun (registered with gun training) as a form of self defense; mention of the reader character celebrating a birthday - but there is no mentions of specific dates or months when the fic is set, so you can easily imagine that this takes place around your birthday (aside from mentions of holidays or seasonal weather); mentions of JJ x Will; JJ talks about her trauma regarding dogs after being attacked in 2x15; this ends in another flashback, this time including flashback sex (smut); Spencer cuts off foreplay to give the reader a birthday present - mentions of heated kissing and some groping; Spencer calls the reader ‘Princess’ (not during sex - in the context of ‘I am here to serve you like royalty’); the smut basically consists of Spencer eating the reader out. And I think that’s it for this chapter. 
A/N: Okay so something I did not intend to happen - a lot of this chapter is from JJ's perspective. It just naturally started happening while I was writing it, and it was really interesting to me to write about Spencer and the reader's relationship through her eyes (especially to keep the conflict between them vague to the audience, because JJ doesn't know the details of what happened), and it's not something I did intentionally, but I really loved how it shaped the chapter, so I kept it in. Also, I really wanted to include a lot of JJ x Spencer friendship and comfort moments in the fic because (as a lot of people in the fandom have discussed) - the writers love to have the characters say that JJ and Spencer are best friends, but they don't often show it. They just show a lot of conflict between them. So I wanted to show the potential of their friendship. And I had a lot of fun exploring that. So - I hope you guys enjoy the second chapter, and definitely hope to see you come back for chapter three!!!
...
When you heard someone knock on your door, you thought it was a delivery. 
You had ordered Sebastian some new educational coloring books, and some new CDs with Mozart concertos to fall asleep to, because he was getting bored of his current ones. You often felt like you couldn’t keep up with him - Sebastian was so damn smart, and you always tried to provide him with the best resources to learn. Even if he was getting to a point where he was asking for high school level chemistry text books and actually seemed to understand the material in them and you were confused about how he could comprehend any of it. 
The package also could have been the new vibrator you had ordered. You weren’t sure if that package was small enough to be left in the mailbox or not. You had to roll your eyes when you thought about how pathetic your sex life had been since having Sebastian. But you couldn’t risk bringing random men through the house just for sex when you had Seb around. So battery power and smut novels, it was.
“Sorry!” 
You called out, hoping the delivery person would wait, as you raced to get to the door. You hoped they wouldn’t just slip one of those ‘failed to deliver’ notes into your door handle and force you to run an extra errand with a kid under your arm. You tripped over a toy truck and cursed yourself for procrastinating cleaning up (again). 
“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-” 
‘I was in my office, in the back of the house.’ 
The sentence died off on your tongue when you finally fumbled the door open - your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him. 
Spencer Reid. 
The father of your child, the man you had once loved. 
Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion. 
Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief. 
Shock. 
You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? 
Was he here because of Sebastian? Was he angry? He had to be angry that you hadn’t told him about Sebastian for all of these years. He had to be angry that you had given birth to his child and not told him about it. 
You flickered back to lust for a moment as your eyes traced over him. 
He looked good.
Somehow, he had grown up so much in just four years. He had gone from a gangly, boyish man to a full blown man. But he was somehow still so much the same. His hair had grown out a lot since you had last seen him - instead of the neatly combed, short cut you had last seen him with, it was downright wild. The chocolate brown locks were sprawling out into the thick curls that you had come to see sprouting from your own son’s head. It wasn’t a look that you were used to on Spencer, but it looked damn good on him. 
He was wearing his usual leather messenger bag - probably the exact same one from years ago. And he clearly had the same dress sense, but these clothes in particular made you want to jump his bones. A lavender cardigan that complimented his skin tone so well - and his usual button up shirt and tie, along with his usual gray slacks. 
You desperately wanted to blame the sting of attraction that you felt for him on the recent lack of male suitors in your life; the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. But you knew it was something else, too. Your previous attraction to him - the fact that because you had slept with Spencer before, you could still feel the ghost of his hands and tongue on your body. 
How did he look so good? 
He made you feel like a slob in your casual ‘work from home on a random Tuesday’ Mom clothes. If it had been your choice, he definitely wouldn’t be seeing you for the first time in years while you were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that you were sure had raspberry juice stained on it somewhere, and eyeliner that you had slopped in between traffic lights in the car that morning. 
(You hated it.) 
“Y/N,” 
He finally broke the silence, speaking your name in that honey-sweet way. 
Unfortunately, it brought you rocketing back to that night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over. 
This chased out that tiny splash of lust and brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions. 
Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. More longing. Regret. 
Like your brain was a spin wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage. 
And that was when you finally spoke. 
“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom, your neck aching as the blood pumped hard through your aorta. 
Immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and fear took over his face. 
“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked fiercely, this question rocketing back to the forefront of your mind. 
Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that suddenly, you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say. 
You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch. Without even thinking, you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended. 
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched. 
You let your emotions carry your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was resentment and heartache that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time. 
“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You screamed. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?” 
You gave him another hard shove. Perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, even you weren’t sure. 
Spencer just looked at you with wide-eyed shock. Clearly, for once in his life, at a loss for words. 
“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat. 
“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out. 
“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.” 
You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless. 
He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception. 
The two of you became locked in an icy staring contest, neither of you speaking. Spencer found his throat too dry, and for once, his head far too empty. You were simply too angry and too stubborn to speak in those moments. 
This stalemate was only broken up when JJ walked around the corner. 
“Spence, Hotch just told me that the first woman doesn’t even match the-” 
“JJ!” You cried out her name happily, your entire demeanor changing when you saw her. 
She grinned, completely forgetting whatever news she had to report to Reid as you practically flew off the porch and ran to meet her. JJ eagerly opened her arms to hug you, and you squeezed her with all the warmth and kindness of an old friend. 
Spencer felt a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t being greeted with as much affection. He knew that the last argument between the two of you had been bad, but he didn’t know it had left such a distinct impression on you. He didn’t know it had been enough to make you hate him. 
When you pulled away from JJ, you looked between her and Spencer, and then it suddenly struck you. 
If Spencer wasn’t here alone, that meant this wasn’t personal. He wasn’t just here to see you over some lost love, or - maybe he didn’t know about Sebastian at all. You felt a pang of guilt twist your gut because of that. 
“What - what are you guys doing here?” You asked, now entirely confused, directing the question toward JJ. 
JJ looked toward Spencer, and according to his ill-concealed frown, his reunion with you had not gone well. She doubted that you would take the news that you were possibly being hunted by a killer well on top of that. 
“Is it alright if we come inside?” JJ asked, her voice tentative and soft. It was the same voice she usually used with victims and their families. 
“Yeah.” You said, knowing there must be something big that you were missing, and hoping that you would be filled in soon enough. “I’ll put some coffee on.” 
You walked back up the few steps of the porch and breezed right past Reid. You didn’t even spare a glance in his direction as you went back in through the open front door, leaving it open for the two of them with the expectation that they would close it behind themselves. 
“So - I take it things didn’t go well?” JJ whispered to Spencer as she moved up onto the porch. 
“Not quite.” Spencer mumbled in return before moving into the house, waiting for her to follow. 
This made JJ even more curious about what had gone down between you and Spencer all those years ago. 
What could have possibly made you so cold and distant toward him? 
But she couldn’t just come out and ask. They had a job to do. They were there to ensure your safety against a man who had already killed five women and orphaned five children. 
JJ walked into the house and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t surprised that she nearly tripped over a plastic toy truck in the entryway. Even though your son didn’t seem to be here (it was far too quiet for a small boy to be around), this was definitely a house where a child lived. 
The first space that was visible to her eye - the living room, was clearly a space that belonged to a young child. There was a large, colorful play mat underneath the coffee table, and a few toys scattered over across the floor, showing that he clearly liked to have hands on play. In the corner, there was a child-sized desk with a small chair, which seemed to be surrounded by art supplies, and advanced textbooks? Some of them opened and were dotted with bright, colorful stickers. One glance told JJ that the reading material very advanced for his age clearly belonged to him. 
So he very likely was Spencer’s son. 
She wasn’t sure why, but that did bring a cluster of joy through her. Likely because she knew he would be so excited to have a child of his own. 
JJ couldn’t help but to notice that many of the toys were Paw Patrol themed - it was a favorite show of Henry’s, too. In the back of her mind, she wondered if your son and Henry might be friends. 
“Ugh, I’m so sorry.” You huffed, rushing around with your arms half full of toys now - distracted from getting the coffee, as you had mentioned. You were clearly rushing to pick up some of the mess now that you had realized how it appeared in the eyes of your ‘guests’. “All the - stuff.” 
You hesitated to say ‘toys’. Clearly, you didn’t want to bring up the subject of your son, even though the evidence of him was so visible all around. You didn’t want to give Spencer the smallest opening to start asking questions about him. It was something you wanted to avoid speaking about for as long as possible. 
Spencer looked at you with a mournful look on his face as you dodged around him, purposefully avoiding eye contact while you picked up a coloring book and a handful of crayons off the couch. You still refused to look his way at all as you rushed off to stash the items away somewhere. 
Clearly, he wanted to ask you more about your son, and simply ask that penultimate question: was he the father? 
But now wasn’t the right time. 
“It’s alright.” JJ assured you. “You can just come sit down. We really need to talk to you.” 
You heaved out a sigh, defeated in your effort to clean up, and then came back from one of the other rooms. (JJ could only assume you had stashed the toys in a playroom or a closet, because much like her own home, all areas had become a domain for toys and playtime). You motioned for them to sit on the couch, and you scooted over a rocking chair from the other side of the room to sit in front of them, blocking the shut-off TV on the other side. 
“So, what is it?” You asked, clearly eager and curious to know what they were doing in your home - why they had contacted you now after so many years apart. 
JJ and Spencer exchanged a look, and with a gentle nod from him, JJ took the lead. 
“Well, um… there’s no easy way to say this, but we believe that you might be in danger.” She told you, introducing the topic gently, while wanting to be honest and direct. “Perhaps you’ve seen it on the news? But if you haven’t… several single mothers have been killed in the area recently, and we have reason to believe that you might be the killer’s next target.” 
You looked at her, entirely observant, quietly taking in her words. Your face was still and expressionless, and JJ was unsure if you were going to take this calmly and logically - if you were going to panic after you had fully absorbed the news, if you were going to cry. 
After a moment of silence - you burst out laughing. Your laughter was harsh and nervous, a sound that cut through the air like the rip of a chainsaw. Clearly, it was the stark opposite of someone taking the news with tears. 
“Oh my god.” You sighed, taking a breath from the non-humorous laughter. “You know that you didn’t have to make up some excuse just to come and see me, right?” 
Spencer’s face curled into a deep frown. He was upset that you weren’t taking this seriously. JJ found herself in shock. Usually when people found out they were potentially on the radar of a killer, they were paranoid, afraid, questioning why. 
But it was very rare to see denial. 
She did take notice of the fact that you didn’t immediately ask about what kind of evidence or reasoning they had to believe that you were the killer’s next target. Perhaps if your brain let you assess that reasoning for yourself and found it to be valid, then fear would take over. And you couldn’t let that happen. So this laughter, this posturing and not taking things seriously - it was an unconscious way to protect yourself from that fear. 
But JJ could only theorize about that. 
“I did miss you, JJ.” You said, very pointedly looking at her while you said it. “But you could have just sent me an email or something.” 
You continued avoiding Spencer’s harsh gaze as he bored holes into the side of your face with his intense, intrusive eyes. 
“Look, this is serious-” Spencer began, and you cut him off. 
“Okay.” You shrugged. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that there is someone trying to kill me,” 
You spoke of this lightly, the words entirely condescending on your lips, as though Spencer’s theory was entirely wild and imaginative to begin with. 
JJ saw the movement in his jaw as he grinded his teeth out of the corner of her eye, and she was surprised that he let you continue. 
“I have an alarm system that I set every night before I go to bed.” You informed them. “I am a proud gun owner. I have a registered revolver that I keep in a lock box beside my bed and I renew my gun training every single spring.” You told them, not seeming the least bit worried at the idea of a killer hunting you down. “If someone wants to kill me, let them try. I’m sure you guys have much better ways to spend your time than sitting around here, chatting with me when there are people out there, actually in danger. People who probably need your help.” 
You said this, trying to dismiss them. And then you moved to get up from your seat, looking to escape the conversation entirely. But once again, Spencer stopped you. 
“That’s it?” He fired back, entirely indignant, standing from his place on the couch. 
This caused you to roll your eyes and let out a hiss, your lungs deflating like an annoyed balloon as you paused in the middle of the room. 
“Yes, that’s it.” You groaned back. “Look, I know it’s your job to see problems everywhere, but-” 
“It’s my job to protect people.” Spencer replied, cutting you off. “And-” 
“Funny!” You scoffed, your voice escalating in volume. It had turned into a full-blown argument now - you were entirely uncaring that JJ was there to witness it; Spencer was locked in your sight like the crosshairs of a scope, and you were ready to fire. “You give a shit about ‘protecting’ me now, but what the fuck happened four years ago?”
You glared harshly at Spencer, and he locked his jaw, staring right back. It turned into a poisonous silence as neither of you spoke - he didn’t have a good answer for this question. And it made JJ all the more horribly curious about what had happened between the two of you. But she didn’t need to be a psychic to sense that the two of you needed some privacy. 
“Do… do you mind if I go get myself a glass of water?” She asked, tentatively standing up from her place on the couch. 
“I’ll get it.” You huffed out, moving to leave the room. 
“It’s okay.” JJ told you. “I can get it for myself. Just point me in the right direction.” 
You motioned toward the kitchen and JJ left, and she heard Spencer hiss out something about you being stubborn, which turned into another cluster of voices. The argument turned even more personal and sour now that the both of you didn’t have a witness. 
When JJ made her way into the kitchen, she was happy to see that your backyard was full of toys. A pair of sliding glass doors let her peek out to see a colorful swing set and a large playhouse, and a scattering of other toys meant that your son obviously spent a lot of time outside. She smiled to herself, trying to ignore the rising, angered sound of voices from the other room as she found a glass in one of the cabinets. When she moved to the refrigerator’s water dispenser, something along the way caught her eye. 
A vase of fresh flowers was sitting on the counter. 
White carnations. 
It made her stomach churn ominously. It felt too perfect to be a coincidence. 
She abandoned her half-full glass and grabbed the vase, walking back to the living room with it. 
“You just can’t accept help from anybody, can you? How can you not understand that your life is in danger here? This man is not going to stop until-” Spencer ranted on. 
He was still trying to convince you to take the threat seriously - but you were still boiling with rage over the past, blind to anything else. 
“I can’t accept anyone’s help?” You scoffed, crowding into his personal space to hiss the words closer to him. “That is so rich coming from someone who-” 
JJ cleared her throat loudly, cutting you off. 
“Spence.” She got his attention from the intense gaze he was keeping on you - anger hot in his eyes even though he was staring heavily at your lips. 
When Spencer looked over and saw the vase in JJ’s hands, his entire face shifted in a blink. His expression went from tight-knit anger and annoyance to ‘shit-your-pants’ worry. The danger went from being theoretical to being very real in that moment. 
“Where did these flowers come from?” Spencer asked. 
“What?” You gaped, so entirely confused. 
“Where did you get the flowers?” He asked, rephrasing the question, his tone more urgent and demanding now. 
“Why does that matter?” You replied, exasperated. You didn’t see how it was at all relevant. 
“All of the women who were killed received these exact same kind of flowers within days of their death.” JJ told you. “Do you have any idea who sent them?” 
“I thought my mother did.” You shrugged. “There was no name on the card. It just said ‘Happy Birthday’. She didn’t get to see me in person for my birthday, she’s traveling right now. She’s one of the only people who would send me flowers for my birthday.” 
“Yes, but your mother knows that your favorite flowers are lavender and baby’s breath. Why would she send these?” Spencer replied. 
Naturally, he remembered your favorite flowers. 
You couldn’t get stuck on that, though. Instead, you pondered the question he posed. 
Why would your mother send you white carnations without even signing the card? 
It wasn’t something you had thought about. At the time, you had just thought it was considerate, and sweet. When you had called her to thank her for the flowers, you had gotten her voicemail. You had left her a message thanking her. She was away on a singles cruise with shoddy reception and she hadn’t gotten back to you yet. 
“They’re just flowers.” You said, letting out another nervous chuckle - but your voice broke over this one. 
Obviously the reality of things was truly starting to set in with you. 
“We need to set up protective custody for you.” Spencer said, taking out his phone in order to get this done. 
“No!” You snapped. “I am not having some random cops follow me around because you think I might be in danger.” You hissed angrily. 
Spencer paused and stared you down, debating if he was going to go against your wishes or not, his phone still in hand. 
JJ hated the look in Spencer’s eyes. That deep, bitter fear. Whatever had happened between the two of you, there was still enough care lingering there that he would fight for you no matter what. He was terrified for you. He wasn’t going to let you meet the same fate as the other victims. She knew he wasn’t going to let this go. 
JJ put the vase down on the coffee table, and turned to you. 
“It doesn’t have to be random cops. We can stay with you, in order to-” She started to explain, only to be disrupted by the digital ringtone of your home phone echoing through the house. 
You rushed to grab the phone, and JJ heard some of the quiet conversation from you on one end. 
“Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. It’s no problem. Thank you so much. Yeah, twenty minutes. Bye.” 
You hung up and then rushed back into the living room - and before either of them could speak further on the matter, you rushed past them. You went to the entryway, taking off your slippers to exchange them for sneakers. 
“Look, guys, I would love to stay and hang out, but I have somewhere important to be.” You huffed out. 
“Seriously?” Spencer replied, entirely frustrated with you. “This isn’t some tea party. We aren’t just hanging around here for fun. Call whoever that was and tell them that you’re gonna be late. Or call and cancel, or-” 
“No!” You yelled back, entirely frustrated with him. “Dammit, Spencer! People have responsibilities, you know! I have responsibilities. I am an adult, I’m not some child you can talk down to. Now get the fuck out of my house so I can lock up, and get to the important things that I have to do. Things that don’t involve wasting my time talking to you.” 
You said the last part so snidely, resenting that Spencer’s unexpected visit had been part of your day. 
He opened his mouth to argue against this, but JJ put a gentle hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the door. He sighed and flexed to this movement. He angrily stormed past you to leave through the front door, which he left wide open like a toddler having a tantrum. 
You grabbed your keys and your purse from a side table near the door and JJ moved to leave as well. On her way along, she put a gentle hand on your shoulder, capturing your attention. 
“We’ll check back in with you later, okay?” She said, using her most gentle, non-confrontational voice. 
“Sure.” You easily agreed, unable to be angry with her. “But just call, or something. There’s no need to bang down my door over some stupid flowers. It’s nothing.” 
She stepped through the door and you followed. As you used your keys to lock up, you added on: 
“I would give you my number, but I’m sure Penelope can find it for you in five minutes flat.” 
JJ chuckled at this. 
“More like two and a half, I’d say.” She replied - it was a joking tone, but she did truly think this highly of Penelope’s skills. 
You smiled over your shoulder at her and she nodded before she began to walk back to the car, where Spencer was already sitting in the passenger’s seat, stewing in his anger. 
When she got in beside him, they watched you pull out of the driveway and drive off before either of them spoke. 
“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips. 
“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply, tired. 
In order to distract himself from all of it, he was staring down at some files in his lap - some of the case files of the other murders that he had pulled out of his bag. He needed something to do to keep his mind from churning more on the fact that you seemed to hate him. He wanted to find a way to protect you now, instead of focusing on the past. 
But JJ seemed hellbent on walking backward - getting him to look back on what happened between the two of you. 
“I can do complicated.” She said. “We’ve got plenty of time. We should just sit here and wait for her to come back.” 
“You should go check in with Hotch.” Spencer told her, dodging around the question once again. “I’ll come back after.” 
“After what?” JJ questioned, finding this wording particularly strange. 
JJ started the car and pulled away, hoping that you would be safe during the time they didn’t have eyes on you. The UnSub had a particular routine - he liked to stalk his victims for a few weeks before he broke into their homes and killed them. So she hoped that he wasn’t ready to make contact with you yet. She hoped that if he did, your gun and your alarm system would be enough to deter him. 
“I - I wanted to get her something nice.” He answered, sounding rather shy about this proclamation. “Like she mentioned, her birthday just passed. And, according to the preschool forms, her son’s birthday was a week ago. I want to get something for him too.” 
“They have the same birthday?” JJ asked. 
“Not exactly the same, but their birthdays are only five days apart.” Spencer replied. “I missed his birth.” He added on, a quiet sigh, entirely melancholic. “I missed the whole pregnancy. I - I missed everything.” 
“You still didn’t answer my question.” JJ reminded him. “What happened?” 
Spencer knew she was asking as a friend. He knew that of all people - she was the one to talk to about this. 
“It - it was right after Hankel.” He admitted quietly. “That was when Y/N and I broke up.” 
“Oh.” JJ said quietly. 
The air in the car became thick as the heaviness truly overtook her. 
So, it was complicated. 
But she definitely couldn’t understand your rage toward Spencer. 
“When I came back from Atlanta, she knew I wasn’t the same. And things - we - we fell apart.” He admitted this barely above a whisper, hesitant to even voice the words as a reality. “You knew what kind of person I was back then. I wasn’t good to her. I wasn’t good to anybody.” 
Spencer let out a harsh chuckle - a defense to all the hurt he was feeling about it. 
JJ spotted a sign for a shopping center, and pulled into the parking lot. She knew that Spencer likely had a good idea about buying into your good graces with a late birthday gift. Even if it wouldn’t instantly make up for everything that had happened all those years ago. 
“Yeah, but you’re sober now.” She reminded him. 
“She doesn’t know that.” Spencer replied. 
JJ ruminated in thought for a moment. 
“You know, I met Will afterwards, right?” She said. 
Out of the corner of her eye, Spencer nodded. 
“It was only a few weeks after everything happened, when we were working that case in New Orleans.” She explained. “And he looked at me like I was a hero. Because I helped him finish what his father couldn’t. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile or broken. He didn’t tip-toe around me. He didn’t see me as some ghost. And that is part of the reason why I fell for him. He always saw me as this goddess. Like Superwoman.” 
Spencer smiled at this. 
He wanted to be that person for you. He wanted to be your Superman. (But he feared that he couldn’t live up to that. That he would fail you when the time came.) 
JJ found a parking spot, and parked, but Spencer lingered - sensing there was more to the conversation. 
“You know… Henry wants a puppy.” JJ’s voice shook, her throat clenching up around these words. 
Spencer’s stomach shook. 
He hadn’t been there, but he had seen the scars on JJ’s arms. He had seen the footage of the other poor woman being torn apart by those dogs. 
“And I had to tell Will everything. How I was chased down, how I had to shoot two innocent animals - the stupid fact that I still feel guilty about it, even though they would have killed me if I hadn’t done it.” She said, her throat becoming more closed off with each word. She cleared it before she spoke again. “How I lost you, how it was all my fault.” 
“What happened to me wasn’t your fault.” Spencer felt the need to say this aloud, reaching over and putting a gentle hand on her knee. She nodded at him before she continued. 
“Just - it was all so overwhelming. The idea of having a dog in our house. But… I told him that I wanted to try, at least. For Henry.” JJ explained. “But when we went to the animal shelter - the sound of dogs barking… I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. And next thing I know, I’m sitting on the curb outside with my head between my knees and Will is putting a bottle of water to my lips.” 
“Henry seems more like a cat person anyway.” Spencer replied, hoping this slightly humorous comment would offer some comfort to his friend. 
JJ let out a tired laugh. 
“He’s three and a half, I think we’re still in the stage where a goldfish is more than enough for him.” She added on. 
“I - I never told Y/N.” Spencer said, suddenly shifting the conversation. JJ raised her brow, prompting further explanation of this. “I never told her what happened to me. What happened with Hankel.” 
JJ gave him a sad look. 
“Why not?” 
“I - I didn’t want her to view me as weak. I couldn’t fight him off. I accepted the drugs. At certain points, I…. I even pitied him.” Spencer replied. “I didn’t want things to change between us. Even though they did anyway.” 
“Do you still wanna be with her?” JJ asked. 
“What?” Spencer gaped, not expecting the question. 
“If the kid is yours, obviously you wanna be in his life. But co-parenting as separate, single people is one thing.” JJ explained herself. “Do you still want to be with Y/N? Do you still love her?” 
“Yes.” Spencer replied shyly. 
“Then you have to tell her everything.” JJ said firmly. “Being with someone for the long term isn’t about creating some fantasy. I fell in love with Will because he looked at me like I was Superwoman, but I stayed in love because he takes care of me when I’m powerless. You have to be weak in front of her and let her take care of you, so that you can be strong everywhere else.” 
Spencer sighed - letting this wisdom fully penetrate him. 
He knew that being a genius sometimes meant that he wasn’t the smartest person in the room. Apparently, this was one of those times. 
“You’re right.” 
Then, he reached for the car door’s handle, feeling like JJ had taught him a lot with that conversation and he needed some time to think alone. 
“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked. “You might need a woman’s opinion on what to get,” 
“No thanks, I know Y/N pretty well.” He replied. “At least I hope I still do.” He opened the door fully and stepped out. “And I wanted some alone time, to… think all of this over. To think about what I’m gonna say to Y/N. I’m gonna walk back afterwards, the house is only a few blocks away.” 
JJ nodded. 
“I should check back in with Hotch.” She noted. “See if they found anything with the other women on the list. Otherwise, all we’ve got is the flowers.” 
Just as he moved to close the door again, JJ spoke up one last time. 
“Rubble.” She said suddenly - which sounded very strange with no context. 
“What?” Spencer asked, ducking his head down to see inside the car to potentially hear her words better. 
“Rubble - it’s a character from the kids’ TV show, Paw Patrol.” She explained. “There was about five action figures of him sitting on the living room floor back there. So I would assume that he’s your son’s favorite character.” 
Spencer’s chest jumped at the way she said ‘your son’ - so casually. 
He could really have a child in his life. This could really be his future. 
If he played his cards right, this could be his future with you. 
“Thank you, JJ.” Spencer grinned at her. 
She smiled back and he stood up to his full height and closed the car door, walking off into the shopping center by himself. 
And of course, his thoughts drifted back to you. 
He thought back to the last time he had spent your birthday with you. Before Hankel, before all the madness. Before everything good in his life slipped through his fingers and he was left feeling so alone. 
… 
For someone with basically no serious relationships under his belt before you came along, Spencer was excellent when it came to romance. 
Perhaps it was because he spent his time reading the classics - he could recite Elizabethan poetry off by heart, he could whisper epic romantic ballads in your ear before kissing you with such intense passion that it left your head spinning. He had such a perfect picture of what romance should be, and it meant that he knew how to plan a date that left you feeling like a queen. 
Every single time he took you out, he made you feel like you were the only woman on earth - like he would move the seas and the sky just to show you how much he cared. 
And because he insisted that your birthday should be a day all about you - a day dedicated to celebrating you - then this was certainly no different. 
The night had been a whirlwind of perfection. 
After dinner at a gorgeous fine dining restaurant downtown, Spencer then drove the two of you to an art gallery to stroll around. He cited that he wanted you to have some down time for your food to settle before he gave you your present. From the spark in his eye, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what that present would be. The whole evening was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. And like everything with Spencer - it was a pleasant enrichment of the mind, looking at art while he told you things about the artists or the origins of the paintings. 
Before you got halfway through the gallery, he checked his watch and told you that it was ‘just about time’ for your present, and then he drove you back to his apartment. 
The two of you barely made it through the door before you had him pinned against it, your mouth enveloping his in a hot, desperate kiss. You were so utterly grateful to have such a romantic, thoughtful man in your life. 
The entire evening had been nothing but a reminder of that - the way he looked at you with love so pure in his eyes. Him opening doors for you, keeping his hand on your lower back to usher you gently around, speaking lowly to you as though his words were precious and only meant to be yours. 
You needed him. You needed to show him how much you appreciated all of it. You needed him to know how much of a treasure he was in your life. 
You reached for his belt and Spencer let out a choked off moan into your mouth. 
You were surprised when he reached for your wrist, gently pulling your touch back - stopping you from unfastening the belt as he pulled his now slightly swollen lips away from your kiss. 
“As - as much as I want to,” He huffed out against your mouth. “I - I still have to give you your present.” He noted, flashing you a smile. 
“I thought this was my present.” You replied, reaching down to grope Spencer’s half hard cock through his pants. 
He let out a groan; but then he reached for your wrist again, pulling your touch back. 
“I - I promise - later - afterwards? Later tonight.” He stuttered out, hard pressed to focus as more blood rushed to his cock. 
Spencer puzzled you. You had never known any other man to interrupt foreplay for something other than sex, unless it was life or death. But it made you very curious about what your present was and why he was so desperate to give it to you. 
And sex was still on the table, so that panging need between your legs would be taken care of eventually. 
You hummed in ascent and stepped back, releasing Spencer from where you had him pressed against the door. He gulped in a large breath of air before he moved across the room. 
You were surprised when he didn’t move to turn on any lights in the apartment, leaving the two of you settled in comfortable darkness. The only lights being the light from the bathroom that he had left on before leaving, shining down the hall, and the dim lighting coming in the windows - some street lights and the occasional passing car’s headlights. 
Spencer shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over the back of the couch on his way toward the window. He yanked up the blinds in front of the space where he had set up a very expensive, advanced, gorgeous telescope - one that had been there the last few times you had visited. Astronomy was one of his many hobbies, and he often invited you to view different stars or passing comets. It was just one of the many things you learned from him - knowledge you absorbed from being around him that made you feel infinitely smarter. 
You always indulged in the joy of feeling smarter just from being in his presence. You loved that Spencer was someone so gifted who loved to share his knowledge, rather than gatekeeping it or being snide toward others who weren’t as privileged as him. It was just another thing to love about him - the fact that he was so kind in sharing his big brain with others. 
You watched him with intrigue while you took your wrap off your shoulders and tossed your purse onto the couch. Enjoying the quiet and the peaceful darkness and watching him work, you moved to sit on the arm of the couch to begin unstrapping your heels. 
He checked his watch again, and then looked to a small side table he had near the telescope. He flipped open a notebook that he had there, and you supposed that the minimal light coming in through the window was enough for him to see whatever it was that he had written there. He adjusted the telescope slightly, then looked at the notebook again, then adjusted the telescope again. 
Then he said ‘aha, there you are’ under his breath, grinning widely to himself. 
The entire thing made your insides glow with curiosity. 
Spencer then turned back to you, still grinning widely. When he noticed your shoe half-hanging off your foot, he stepped over to you and softly grabbed your ankle, sliding your shoe off the entire way before gently rubbing the sole of your foot. 
“Let me help you with that, Princess.” He said quietly, before moving to take the shoe off your other foot. 
Again, your insides tingled as he made you feel like you were the most important woman on earth. 
“Thank you.” You replied, almost speechless at the action. 
“If you’ll step right this way, I can show you your present.” He said, motioning toward the telescope with a dramatic flare. 
You let out a giggle as you stepped over your abandoned shoes and moved to look into the telescope. 
You wondered if he had written some poem and taped it onto the other end of the lens or something like that (it was Spencer, it must have been something epically romantic). But as you bent down and closed one eye to get a good look, it was entirely ordinary. 
The telescope was focused on a single, tiny star. 
It was beautiful, but it was very… plain. And more than anything, it was confusing. 
Your present was… a star? 
“Spencer, I don’t really get it?” You sighed, standing up to your full height once again. 
“I got you a star.” He said proudly, grinning even wider now. 
When you stared at him with more intense confusion, Spencer reached over to the notebook and pulled something out. After he handed it to you, you leaned into the light of the window and studied it carefully. 
It was a certificate stating that Spencer had paid to name the star after you. 
He had literally changed the night sky for you. 
“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly. 
You felt so overwhelmed. 
If he had made you feel like the most important woman in the world before, then now - you felt like the most important woman in the galaxy. 
“Spencer, this is - this is too much.” You said, your throat clenching up slightly due to the intensity of the emotions. 
“No, it’s not.” He said firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on your jaw, tilting your face up from looking at the certificate to look at him. 
There it was again, all of it spelled out in his eyes - the adoration, the pure, overwhelming affection that he felt for you. It bloomed nothing but those same feelings in return from you. It was almost so overwhelming that you felt like you could have exploded from how much love you felt for this man, all of it swelling inside of you so quickly that you felt like your body couldn’t contain it. Like it was a sickness that was going to overrun your body if you weren’t careful. 
“Spencer.” 
His name swelled in your throat like that throbbing love, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss. Because of course, words weren’t enough. You smothered him with your mouth, trying desperately to communicate every ounce of passion and gratefulness you were feeling with the heat of that kiss. 
Spencer held you, engulfing both your cheeks with his large, warm hands, kissing you back with just as much intensity. 
Both of you lingered there for a few moments, savoring each other’s lips, mingling in each other’s breath. 
You were disappointed when Spencer pulled away. 
“There is something else.” He told you, a bit of glee edging on his voice. 
“What?” You gaped, shocked by this. 
“There’s something else I have to give you. Another part of your present.” He clarified, pulling back completely - likely in order to fetch this thing. 
You let out a breath. You weren’t sure how this magnificent man could possibly do more. 
You placed the certificate for the star down on the table where Spencer had kept it. Later, you would take it home and have it framed, wanting to display it proudly. You could imagine yourself putting it up in the front of your home when you eventually moved in with Spencer. You could put it next to your marriage certificate; eventually, put next to wedding photos when the two of you eventually got married. (And sometime later, it would be hanging alongside photos of you and Spencer with your kids. You tingled, realizing that this was the first time you had ever thought of having kids with him, but it fit so well. It seemed right.) 
The thought made you tingle. 
You could truly imagine yourself having a life with Spencer. Standing proudly because this was just the beginning of it. He truly felt like ‘the one’ you had always been waiting for. 
“Here.” 
Spencer’s voice pulled you from your plethora of dreamy thoughts, and you turned to see him holding a velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat at the passing thought that it might be the box - but no. Now wasn’t the time. The two of you had only been dating for a year and a half. And while you were so deeply in love, you knew that it was a bit haste to assume that he was ready for marriage when you were his first serious girlfriend. You were still both so young. 
He opened the lid and you let out a small gasp when you saw it. 
It was a simple, elegant silver necklace. The pendant was a four pointed star, with a small, dainty stone in the middle. You easily recognized it as your birthstone, meant to represent the fact that he had given it to you on your birthday. And obviously the star pendant as a whole represented that he had also gifted you a literal star in the sky on that same day. 
“Spencer, it’s so beautiful.” You said, utterly breathless. 
“Traditionally, the four pointed star is believed to represent the designation of a goal. It marks one’s great endeavors, because it seems to point to the four cardinal directions. This star is meant to guide someone, like a map - the way that sailors used the stars to guide their path.” 
Spencer explained, knowledgeable as he always was. 
“I - I chose this for you because… well, because when I met you, I felt as though I had accomplished great things in all areas of my life, except for one. Academically, I was satisfied. In my career, I was happy. But when it came to matters of the heart… I was utterly clueless. And when I found you… it felt like you were my guiding star. Like you were the person I had been waiting for to finally show me - show me the meaning of love.” 
“Oh, Spencer.” Your voice cracked around these words, barely able to form them. “Oh, honey. I love you so much. Thank you.” 
It was all your mind could gather at the moment. It wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, but it was certainly one of the most intense. 
“I love you too.” He replied. Through the dimness, you could almost see tears forming in his eyes. “You truly make me so happy.” 
Spencer then cleared his throat harshly, wanting to clear away his intensely emotional tears. 
“Can - can I put it on you?” He asked shyly, motioning with the necklace in its box. 
“Of course.” You grinned. “I’d love that.” 
You turned around and Spencer took it out of the box, fiddling with the dainty clasp for a moment before he put it around your neck and then did it up for you. It felt so right around your neck. It felt like his love was being carried with you. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t want to take it off anytime soon. You could easily imagine yourself feeling so proud to answer whenever random strangers or your co-workers asked where it was from. 
When it was secured around your neck, Spencer leaned in and laid a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the chain. This simple act reminded you of that needy throb between your thighs; of what you had been wanting so badly the moment you had come in the door. 
“So…” He whispered against your neck. “What else does the birthday girl want?” 
“I can think of a few things.” 
That was how you ended up with your back pressed against the softness of the couch - too impatient to even make it to the bed - with your dress pushed up around your waist, your panties tossed somewhere in the middle of the living room rug. Spencer’s glasses were pressed up onto his forehead while his knees dug into that same rug, his fingers splayed across your thighs, holding you open to makeway for his tongue. 
He ate you out with all of the intensity and passion that he had kissed you with - moaning into your pussy as though he was singing directly to the gods. 
“Fuck, Spence.” You moaned, raking your hands through his hair, holding him close - not that he would want to pull away for even a second. 
He loved your taste more than anything in the world, and he savored every second that he got the privilege of being on his knees for you. He moaned into your pussy, loudly, almost pathetically - hot echoes coming from his lungs as though he was the one being pleasured. He laved his tongue across you with an open jaw, drinking in as much of you as possible while your thighs quaked around his head. Your nails dug into his scalp and he only moaned harder, loving the sound of your needy whines and your gasping breaths as your clit throbbed under his tongue. 
Spencer hummed in delight while he bounced your clit on his tongue, loving the feeling of that sweet little bead throbbing against him; loving your taste, loving your echoing moans. Loving how much he could bring you pleasure. 
“Fuck, Spence, so close!” 
He put his lips around you and sucked then, holding you gently against him by the hips. He couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of your body quaking against his face while your orgasm overtook you. It was overwhelming and beautiful and warmed your whole body - just like the love you felt for him. 
He pulled away after a moment, when he was sure that he had seen you through to the satisfying end, and he grinned against the mound of your pussy. 
“Happy birthday, pretty girl.” 
… 
After the break-up, Spencer often looked up to the sky and thought about you. 
On the nights when your star was in place overhead, he felt a particular pang in his chest. He wondered where you were and what you were doing. He wondered if you were safe. He spent many nights staring out his telescope, wondering if you were happy, blanketed under that inky sky. 
You thought about the star sometimes, too. 
You thought it was a lot like your relationship with Spencer. Placing all of your hopes and dreams onto something already dead - something where the light had died out long ago.
...
Continue reading: Chapter Three - Turn It Off
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csuitebitches · 6 months
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Things I Have to do for My Sanity
1. Wake up at the first alarm - no snoozing and no going lying around in bed. Getting up straight away and head to the bathroom. It’s going to suck initially but you’ll get used to it in a few days.
2. Mental self care: 30 minute meditation, brain games mental math, reading, news. Knowledge is sexy and don’t deny yourself sexiness.
3. Daily review in my diary at the beginning and end of my day: what went well, what didn’t, what I need to accomplish to achieve my goals. This has tremendously helped my goals and keeping my motivation more consistent, especially at work. Analysing and correcting incremental changes creates long term success.
4. Cleaning up before bed - clothes, shoes, organising my bag, etc. I set a timer for 5 minutes and try to get as much done as possible.
5. Pick out my clothes the night before and steam iron them for the next day.
6. Face masks twice a week, a hair mask once a week, I scrub the soles of my feet with that foot scrubbing thingy once a week. Manicures every month because my nail beds are too sensitive to do it biweekly, iron supplements so that I’m not a moody bitch. Matching underwear to feel good about myself. Lavender spray on my pillow before sleeping so that I don’t get weird dreams.
7. Reading biographies and autobiographies. My mentor had suggested this to me and it’s amazing how literally I don’t have a single original experience - everything I’ve felt or mistakes I’ve made have already been done by someone else.
I’m going to curate a list of business books that I feel that have helped me the most recently.
8. I write a short essay everyday in the language I’m currently learning. I also end my day by talking about my day for at least 2 minutes in that language and I record it in voice memos to keep a track of my progress. I want to be fluent to a level where I can think in this language.
I don’t generally share a lot about my personal life - none of you know my name or where I’m based and I feel comfortable doing that. But I do want to start giving out more insights to what I’m doing personally in my career - the good, the bad, the ugly.
Being self aware and honest to myself has helped me improve a lot. I know that shame is my Achilles heel, so now I’m reading books to combat that. I’ve caved in and decided to try therapy for a bit to see if what I’m doing is useful or not. My first session is tomorrow. Staying disciplined was my initial hurdle but the systems I’ve set (waking up early + habit stacking) have helped me slowly overcome that.
Work side, I’ve started establishing myself publicly more. I don’t want to reveal too much about what I do exactly but the good news is that our biggest competitor has noticed my progress (a former employee of that company came to us for an interview and directly asked our top management about me). It’s been 4 months that I’ve been working here but I know that next year I really have to swing the bat and hit a home run. I’ve decided to work on the field more and less in the office to really understand people’s needs and create unique solutions.
The daily/weekly/quarterly diary is definitely credited to my recent wins. That’s the biggest change I’ve made in my routine and i can already see that it’s working well. I’m going to continue refining and implementing that method.
Recent work methods I’ve decided to start working on (I’m not required to do these but I do it for my growth):
1. I’ve started studying popular companies’ business and revenue models in detail. Everything is adoptable and adaptable, you just have to figure out how to tweak something for your company’s clients and needs. Now I’ve decided that I want to keep a track of our competitors, their business models, their owners names, pricing strategy, their target audience etc etc on an excel sheet so that I’m aware with what’s happening in the market. 
2. I’ve started making client profiles. Every time I meet a client, I note down their name, the company name, what they were like, anything specific they seemed to like or want, how much they had paid us for a service, what their paying capacity could be, etc. 
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coffeebeanwriting · 1 year
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Reasons your Novel Might get Rejected
Thinking of publishing traditionally? Here are some reasons why a publishing agency might reject your book. Don’t let any of these reasons keep you from writing, but rather help you strengthen your craft!
1) Your target audience is unclear. Are you writing for middle-grade boys or adult females? Suburban single mothers or war-enthusiast who love everything weaponry and explosive? Of course, your story can end up appealing to multiple categories of people (take Harry Potter for example). But if you know who your prime reader is, you’ll be able to use the correct language, voice, and reading level for them.
2) Your query letter or synopsis is lacking and doesn’t hook the agency. A query letter and synopsis are two different things presented to an agent or publishing company. You must be able to properly sum up your  book in an interesting way for an agency to want to peruse your novel. You have to pique their interest.
A query letter is a brief summary used to capture the attention of an agent/publishing company. A sales pitch one might say. It typically contains your story's main hook, some details about the book (genre, similar books, etc.), and some facts about yourself. If the query letter is successful, the agency will go on to read your synopsis/pages.
A synopsis is a summary of your entire book from start to finish and what happens in it (including character arcs and plot). This is all done in less than two pages.
3) Predictability. It may be predictable characters, or the plot itself. Either way, predictability isn't good. What's the point of reading a book if you can already predict the events? Conflict is the heart of all stories and if your book lacks conflict/stakes, it can become predictable. Give your characters inner conflict just as much as you do physical. Make it difficult for readers to know what your character will do.
4) Your story starts way too early. From what I’ve researched, a huge reason why books get declined is that they start wayyy before anything happens. You’re revealing tons of background information or your character is doing pointless things when they should be approaching the inciting incident. The inciting incident is the scene that launches your character on their journey and should happen sooner than later! 
5) You aren’t balancing showing vs. telling. Contrary to popular belief, a novel should have a bit of both (but... probably more showing). If you spend every scene in extreme detail, you risk slowing your story down. If you tell everything, you aren’t immersing your reader.
6) You’re spending too much time in Act 1. A story consists of three Acts. The beginning, middle, and end. The rising action/set-up, the middle/climax, and the resolution. Don’t spend too much time in Act 1 setting things up. You’ll want to properly pace your story so that it doesn't drag on too long before hitting the heart of the story.
7) Simply... bad writing/grammar. Also, consistent POV is important. This one is self-explanatory, but if you care about what happens in your story, you should also care about the grammar and prose! Typically, hiring editors is a step you must do before taking your novel to a publishing agency.
Instagram: coffeebeanwriting
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ohimsummer · 4 months
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✎ . . .❝…YOU LITTLE THIEF! ❞
—poly! stsgverse, some light shoko x reader, implied stsg x reader (?), ntm just some goofy silly antics
⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ reader is able to skate like this during their getaway >:3 ( read the sequel! )
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The Jaws theme is playing on the soundtrack within your mind. They’re both clueless, none the wiser to the incoming threat that slowly creeps up behind them. Whatever is on Gojo’s phone must be life changing, the way he and Geto are so transfixed, smiling and laughing as if they’re not about to be pulled into the depths. The perfect opportunity reveals itself when they part, leaving a gap just big enough for you to squeeze through. Locked on the target, you pick up speed, careful to avoid any stragglers between you and your prize, until…
“Hey!’” Gojo exclaims as you zoom between them, gaping at the bare hand that just held his phone. “Give that back!”
Twirling around, you stick out a tongue in reply, still gliding away as both men try and fail to run after you on their own skates. Both are stuck fumbling through groups of people, pros or others clinging to the rail just to stay upright. Your escape is swift, efficient, and they haven’t even covered half the distance by the time you’ve kicked off your skates and scurried over to the booth Shoko has claimed.
“Lookie!” Your squeal is eager, victorious, mischievous. She squeezes in next to you as you switch on Gojo’s phone, unfortunately having locked during your get away, but lucky for you, opening his camera doesn’t require a password. “Say cheese!” And Shoko leans in close, hand braced on your thigh, as you snap the first photo. And then another. And another. Picture after picture, photo after photo in rapid succession. A video of you and Shoko faux pouting, before bursting into laughter. Your selfie. Her selfie. A short clip of you puckering your lips, holding up a peace sign and blinking your lashes. You’re doing another where you and Shoko’s hands are forming a heart when something catches her eye.
“Move, move!,” she warns, and tugs you away from the wall of the booth, shared with the roller rink. You don’t question her, having spotted the tuft of white during the frantic turns of your head, and Gojo’s fingertips just brush the collar of your jacket as you settle into Shoko’s lap, mere inches out of his reach.
“Hand that over, you little thief!,” he pouts. Geto, leaning on the rail, mutters aloud ‘And how the hell were you running in roller skates…?’ but it’s mostly drowned out by Gojo’s next exclamation. “What do you think you’re doing with my property?”
You switch the camera, holding it up to snap a quick photo of them both. “I’m taking pictures, duh. Souvenirs. Something to remember us by.”
“Oh, are we dead?” Shoko squeezes her arms around your waist, and then answers her own question. “I suppose we will be, for this, right?”
The two of you share a girlish giggle, before Gojo, unamused, holds out his palm. “Phone, now.”
You don’t think you like this tone. “Why don’t you get out of the rink and come take it from me?”
Shoko, ever the instigator, mumbles an ‘oooh!’. She and Suguru are audience to the brief standoff between you and Gojo, before he straightens up, nibbles his lips in contemplation, narrows darkening blue eyes at you.
“Oh, just wait, you are gonna be in for it.” And you three watch him roll off towards the nearest rink exit.
Geto lingers a second longer, and so he spots you tucking his friend’s phone beneath your shirt, before leaping from Shoko’s lap. Gojo reaches one of the openings where the rink ends and black carpet begins, making eye contact with your fleeing figure and running for his shoes as you disappear into the darkness outside. Shortly afterward comes Geto. He leisurely slips off his skates, replaces them with his boots, and strolls over to join Shoko at the booth.
“Those idiots.,” she laughs as he slides in opposite of her. “How’d he let her steal his phone anyway? Thought Gojo had spidey senses?”
“We were…looking at something.” Geto hesitates on his words.
“Something?” Shoko sends you a text that goes unread and unanswered. “As in another picture of some model?”
A selfie of you, specifically. But Geto will never admit that, especially not to Shoko. “It was.”
She gives him a teasing grin. If she knows, he can’t tell. “Must’ve been quite the looker, huh?”
He props a hand under his chin. “Oh, yeah. You have no idea.”
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tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis
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etaleah · 4 months
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The reason everyone was expecting Nine to take Shadow prisoner and use him as leverage for Sonic’s energy isn’t just because of Sonadow. It’s because that’s the story that would have been the most engaging and made the most narrative sense to tell.
Batten Rouge, Sails, and Catfish are perfectly fine characters, but I don’t think viewers are ever going to care about them as much as we care about Shadow, for a couple of reasons. (1) Shadow has been part of the franchise for much longer and so there’s much more of a history with him, (2) Sonic spent entire episodes with Shadow and had just been saved by him several times whereas he maybe had a few seconds of dialogue with each of those pirates, (3) Shadow is the very last part of Green Hill that remains, and (4) Shadow is his own character and not just one out of multiple versions of the same character like the pirates are. I understand they’re all supposed to be different characters, but I still found myself not feeling all that concerned about what would happen to Batten Rouge because hey, even if she goes down, we still have two more Rouge’s! But there’s only one Shadow. Using him as leverage would have been the smarter choice because the audience is more invested in what will happen to him.
It also would have kept Nine sympathetic. If he goes after Shadow, then he’s defending himself against someone who threatened to attack him first, and who has made it very clear that he doesn’t plan on holding back. But if he goes after the pirates, then he’s targeting innocent people who haven’t done anything to him, and that makes it harder to sympathize with him.
Not to mention it would have added actual purpose to Shadow being knocked down a hole and could have played with the cliffhanger of “Oh no, Shadow’s hurt, will he be okay?” instead of it just being a temporary inconvenience to take Shadow out of the action for no reason and an emotional bait-and-switch where we’re meant to think that he’s been hurt only to then have it be revealed that he’s fine.
It isn’t just about shipping. Audiences are good at knowing what needs to happen in a story for the narrative to make the most sense. So when it doesn’t, it’s…puzzling, to say the least.
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physalian · 2 months
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What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)
Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
*This list contains mentions of assault, #4
1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing
I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.
Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.
Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.
2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”
It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.
When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.
3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring
Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.
There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.
4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick
Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.
If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?
5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach
Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.
To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).
When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.
6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it
This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.
The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.
7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s
Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).
You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.
8. Your characters don’t age with you
Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.
I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.
If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 
Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!
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amourlyns · 4 months
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❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾
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✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which the reader meets bruce wayne at a gala, the riddler is rampant in the city. and this gala is his next target. part one of two.
✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of alcohol consumption, and drugs. bruce is vv emotionally repressed, he’s got problems ok?
✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 🦦 this is pattison’s batman influenced by matt reeves (the batman.) no use of y/n, pov switches to bruce twice in this fic. listen to 〞thank god for the rain 〞 by bernard herrman for ambiance.
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⟡ ⠀ | Gotham is well (…) an odd city. An odd city with slick—tongued alley cats who roam and lurk at each corner, merging with the shadow and watching passerby dance and speak in hypnotic tongues.
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You liked to call it the Gotham effect, it comes with the city of sin and crime. It’s odd, like you stated before. There’s the occasional glitz and glamor of wealthy Gothamites, galas laced with cocaine pearls and wine filled bottles (…)
Accompanied by champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvre’s to indulge in for the night.
And within this false sense of normalcy and entitlement, there’s the night. The Gotham better known for its crime and vigilantes. You see, everyone in Gotham is acting. The key to understanding it all in Gotham is the rhythm.
The people are the rhythm, the day is the rhythm. The night is the rhythm. And within this element of rhythmic chaos, there’s always something lurking. Watching the city underneath light polluted skies and charcoal clouds. When the smog seems to clog up your lungs and choke your breathing, there’s always something else to worry about.
The Batman, of course.
If anything, he highlights what Gotham is at the core. A broken city, deeply scarred and angry. Scratching at its surface to be heard. To be healed. Has Gotham always been seeking justice and light? Or is it seeking something much more carnal and sinister (…) Vengeance? A certain greed?
Whatever it was, it spoke to Gothamites. Hate the Bat, or love the Bat. He spoke for the city of Gotham, and he would always be there at every corner, watching.
Gotham is sick and venal.
You hope for the day of a real rain to come and wash off the scum from the streets. For now, it’s the Bat who takes care of the illness. Could 〞 it 〞 save Gotham?
Maybe.
It’s silly thought anyways, Gotham has been plagued with crime for decades. Some masked vigilante wouldn’t be able to stop that regardless. The thought is flimsy and useless. Something made out of hope and optimism, the kind of thing you consume in dreams. Not only that, but the Batman is more of a fable, a myth.
Besides, there was no use in consuming yourself with thoughts of Gotham and its nightly specter. For now, you’re here, at another Gala— with the same diluted faces and the same twisted smiles. Then night moves on in an odd distorted way, a blur even.
The man who snaps you out of this daze is Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s Prince, the man of the hour. You could only wonder what caused this recluse to emerge out of the manor he calls home. Unlike other notable people in Gotham, Bruce Wayne chooses to live a quiet life shrouded in mystery.
When he does remove himself from the confines of the manor, and the tabloids simply go into a frenzy. Like sharks during a feeding. It feels like everyone in Gotham wanted a piece of Bruce Wayne. Craving a flesh they surely don’t deserve.
Something tells you to draw closer to the oddity, like this would be the only time you’d be able to lay your eyes on Bruce Wayne in the flesh. So, you might as well take the opportunity to really take him all in.
Wayne eventually loses the limelight. The audience dies and you decide to pass through the sea of bodies that separate you two. He notices this of course, ever so vigilant. Some part of you expects him to flee and avoid the confrontation all together. Wary hues remain fixated on your figure slipping through the crowd.
Surely he isn't waiting (…) Right ?
Apparently he wasn’t, not like you knew of course. Bruce Wayne was a hard man to decipher after all, you couldn't tell if something compelled him to stay or if that kept him still.
For the first time tonight, you're accompanied by someone else. It'd off to say the least, Bruce is certainly a presence to behold, sure. But he wouldn't even spare a glance at you, you gaze eventually follows his line of sight.
Now? Now, all eyes are set on beacon in the sky now. The symbol of the night.
Batman is called by the city tonight, needed in the shadows once more. You could only wonder what for. You’re not one for new and tabloids but, there has been some discussion about the 〞 Riddler. 〞
Gotham’s newest deranged lunatic villain.
The man was terrifying, you’ve seen the footage. You've seen the terror and heard the screams. So how was the Batman going to save the city now? The thought of Gotham coming to its own demise (…) it was bound to, the city hasn’t had hope in a long time. You knew that very well.
Now what was he thinking? Did the Wayne believe in the Bat? In Vengeance, and his own crusade. Before you can even ask the question, he’s turning away. Maybe he’s had enough of your company for tonight.
❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜
Bruce does not turn back around to face you, instead he turns his head. Adjusting his gaze to you and the symbol in the night, it shifts. Once, twice than thrice. His face is unreadable. Typical.
He wants to speak, you know that much. Yet he doesn’t, for whatever reason. Bruce chooses to stare right through you.
You let him.
He doesn’t owe you a response, you know that much. Before you know it, he’s gone.
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𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙲𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴’𝚂 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝙻𝙰. A FEW HOURS BEFORE YOUR ENCOUNTER (…)
⟡ ⠀ | THE CITY IS QUIET TONIGHT. Unlike any another night, the city streets are deserted, emptied if you will. It’s all because of the recent attacks by the Riddler. There’s a few stranglers of course, sticking near the shaded roads and corners.
There’s a gala tonight, Alfred informed me on that. He wanted to me to attend because I needed to 〞 maintain 〞 my appearances for the sake of my family’s reputation and legacy. I only agreed because it would be the perfect opportunity to watch the city through civilian eyes. And give me an advantage.
The suit is less than ideal. Tight, stuffy and constricting.
Alfred is in the middle of fixing my tie when he tells me I look like my father.
I do not reply to that.
I stare into the mirror. Taking the time to analyze my polished appearance, Alfred fixes my tie and hands me my father’s cuff links once more. Now he’s watching me closely, too closely. Like I’ll break and shatter because he mentioned my father.
My face must’ve given my thoughts away, Alfred is quick to place his hand on my shoulder. Giving it a squeeze. My eyes dart between his hand and his face.
There’s that (…) sympathy again, or was it regret? Sometimes the two emotions blur and mix, all into one.
I should be kinder to Alfred.
If I could vocalize it, I would. But it comes out all raw, sore and achy. Like I’m forcing the kindness out of me. If only I could— could verbalize this gratitude. I would—
My chest throbs at the guilt. I grimace. Alfred seems to get it somehow, he can see the apology in my eyes. He lets me go for the time being, I insist to drive myself. He obliges.
The arrival is dreadful. The lights are too bright and there’s too many eyes on me. Voices ring out, calling out my name— Gothams Prince, Wayne, Mister Wayne, Bruce Wayne. They chant to me. The media swarms me like flies, and questions flood after.
I hardly keep my head above the water, I’m practically drowning. The only thing that keeps me going is that light in the sky.
The signal.
The media disperses, shifting towards the beacon of light that brands the sky tonight. From my peripheral view, I see something moving closer to me. Slipping through the sea of people. Their destination is to me. My gaze remains fixated on the bat-signal.
I have to go.
The figure besides me shifts, eyeing me down every now and then. I decide to take my leave.
❛ ❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜ ❜
Their words capture me for a few moments. I still. Letting the words settle into my mind. I can’t find it in me to look at them.
WHEN I LEAVE, it seems like the city mocks me. It feels like the rain corrodes my kevlar. The frigid rain seems to sink through bone marrow and nip away at skin. There’s a ferocious wind in Gotham tonight, the rain drenches everything in a torrential downpour.
Storm drains are filled and plugged, creating miniature oceans in the road.
When I arrive, the commissioner informs me on the recent developments of the Riddler. He has plans for tonight, and another letter written for me.
An explosion goes off that night.
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artful-aries · 1 year
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Genshin Men: How They Show Affection (Cyno, Thoma, Kaeya)
Mobile sucks so bad for trying to find gifs for some characters I said fuck it and used still images instead. Anyway, enjoy!
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Cyno:
​​His affection primarily comes in the form of spending time with you. As the General Mahamatra, he doesn’t have a lot of spare time. It’s significant that what little free time he does have, he spends it with you without a second thought.
​​He doesn’t like going out too much; his job keeps him constantly moving, and being the General Mahamatra he always has a target on his back. Cyno likes to finally slow down when he’s with you. This isn’t to say he wouldn’t take you to get a nice dinner or anything, but he is at his happiest when it’s just you and him.
​​He will teach you how to play Genius Invocation TCG, but he will always go easy on you when you play, admiring how your face lights up when you win. He also wants an excuse to show off the card art he commissioned from Albedo
​​On the rare occasion that he has more downtime than usual and he’s feeling particularly affectionate, his favorite thing to do is just lie down and hold you for hours on end
​​This seems like a blessing; his warm, strong arms wrapped around you, the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat in your ear, his lips occasionally ghosting over your exposed skin….that is, until he breaks out his jokes
​​For Cyno, this is the perfect opportunity to try out some new material, and you’re his unwilling audience
​​Cyno: I have a joke that I would like to tell you, (Y/n). Waking up this morning was an eye-opening experience.
​​Y/N: …
​​Cyno: No? How about this one: Never discuss infinity with a mathematician, they can go on about it forever.
​​You have to kiss him as a distraction if you want him to stop, otherwise he will literally go on all day with his jokes
​​After the first couple of times, Cyno learned that telling jokes to you won him kisses. He totally doesn’t use this fact to his advantage
​​
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​​Thoma:
​​This man is the walking definition of acts of service
​​Need help reaching something? Thoma is doing it before you even ask. Hungry? He’ll have a five course meal prepared for you with all of your favorite things. Tired from work? Don’t worry, he’ll have all your chores taken care of so that you can relax
​​He likes giving physical affection too, but in public it’ll just be a gentle squeeze of your hand or a kiss on the cheek. In private, he’s a bit more touchy; holding you by your waist, peppering kisses anywhere that you will allow, etc
​​Thoma’s work with the Yashiro Comission always comes first, but he’s very good about balancing his work and your relationship. He never makes you feel like a second choice
​​He’ll love being able to take you to his favorite spots in Inazuma (that is, if he can go a minute without someone asking him for a favor). He shows you all of the well known sights as well as the unknown ones as well. When he shows you special places that only he knows about is how you know that this man is so in love with you
Thoma will definitely take you to feed the stray animals of Inazuma City weekly. You really get to see his nurturing side come out then with the animals. It almost hurts to watch him, he’s just so sweet.
​​
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​​Kaeya
​​Despite his flirtatious behavior, Kaeya is a little reserved in his affections with you. A lot of it stems from his own personal trust issues
​​Even so, in public he WILL have an arm around your shoulder or waist, and straight up pout if you won’t let him
​​In private he’s more carefree with his physical affection, but you can tell that some of it is just surface level actions, a force of habit as he is a natural flirt
​​It’s not until you manage to melt the icy wall around his heart that you see the real depth of his affection; his eyes linger on you, smoldering. He gives gentle caresses to your hair, and holds you against his chest as though he were scared of you disappearing if he let go
​​Despite is initial reserved nature, Kaeya always gives you words of affirmation, although they often come in the form of incessant teasing
​​Dates with him are actually pretty common. Being the Calvary Captain without calvary, his schedule is pretty flexible. This isn’t to say he doesn’t work hard, but his hard work is always done behind the scenes. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to worry about him anymore than he already does
​​His favorite thing to do with you is to go to the Angel’s Share and gossip. Yes, gossip, and you two are like old ladies together in the thrill of unravelling the drama around Mondstat, and there is a lot of it to go around.
​​You two never bring about any harm with this, but it’s fun for him to teach you ways on how to read people and collect information, and he gets to have both work and pleasure rolled into one as he listens into conversations for any intel he may need
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It is not even that Mlvns are homophobic. I mean, many of the toxic ones are. We’ve all seen them and interacted with them and received hate anons from them. When Noah’s article officially confirming Will’s sexuality dropped during the summer, people were literally tweeting slurs and fantasizing about him being hate-crimed or dying from AIDS. (It’s probably unfair to group Mlvns in with these people, as lots of them weren’t even Mlvns, just bigoted GA members and trolls). But still. It was bleak. There’s a deep darkness within the ST fandom undeniably.
But I’m sure many Mlvns/Byler-antis are the types of people who genuinely have no problem with queer people in real life. When we call them out on their bigotry and homophobia, they get confused and say, “But I have gay friends! How am I homophobic for not liking Byler?” And they mean it 100%. They really do have gay friends. They probably consider themselves allies and yada yada.
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The issue is that A) they are deeply heteronormative without realizing it, and B) they simply aren’t the target audience for the show, and as such, they don’t really understand or connect to the themes of the show. The thing is, lots of people, many Milkvans included, are simply normies. Now I love Steve as a character, so this is literally no hate to Steve, but lots of people are Steves. And people who are like Steve: popular, straight, attractive, used to dating the types of people they want, into ‘normal’ interests like sports (not that Steve is hyper into sports, but you know what I mean), likely to go down ‘normal’ paths and live fairly conventional lives like their parents, etc. are simply not the target audience for the show.
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Obviously, the show centers on outcasts, nerds, queer characters, characters with disabilities, black characters, etc. Most people recognize this on some level, but they recognize it in more of a general sense like, “Of course the protagonists are nerds/outcasts, just like all the classic 80s teen protagonists. I just love how nostalgic ST is!” And they leave it at that. Because they are normies, they don’t really connect to the themes of the show other than a surface-level, power of friendship sense. They don’t see how Byler is more aligned with the show’s message than Milkvan at this point. They don’t see that the outcast status of most of the characters is more than just a throwaway personality trait… its deeply integral to the point of the show itself and closely connected to the supernatural storyline.
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This is because nerd culture is somewhat mainstream now, and lots of “normies” like it too. Star Wars, Marvel, LOTR, Harry Potter, etc. These are all major parts of society and billion dollar franchises, even more so than they were in the 80s. Because of this, people don’t realize that in the context of the world of the show, they wouldn’t have been friends with the Party most likely. It is far more statistically likely that they would’ve rolled with Angela’s friend group or joined Jason’s human hunting squad. Or even if they weren’t outright bullies, it’s far more likely that they would’ve been one of the nameless background characters in Hawkins High, just kind of floating by in a conventionally comfortable existence, entirely oblivious to government lab conspiracies and alternate dimensions. The characters in ST are outcasts in a deeper, existential sense. Society is against them.
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And so many people can’t relate, especially to the queer themes. They can’t even see the queer themes. Because the show is not for them. That’s why you see so many baffling takes on the show:
“Will is so whiny all the time, and I don’t like him!”
“Mike was right in the rain fight! S3 is about growing up, and Will was acting like a baby.”
“Tbh I don’t care that much about the Party dynamics. My favorite part of the show is Steve and Dustin being funny together. And my second favorite part is Hopper being a cool action hero.”
“B*lly is overhated! I mean, he’s so hot and misunderstood! He could’ve redeemed himself.”
“I don’t get Byler. It barely seems like Mike and Will are even friends.”
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To be clear, it doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy the genre of the show. Being horror/sci-fi, its core fans are a smaller pool of people than, say, fans of The Office or Friends or other popular sitcoms. So the Mlvns who watched it since the beginning probably do have some avant-garde tastes in terms of genre-preferences, since lots of people wouldn’t touch horror with a ten-foot pole. But it does mean they don’t pick up on the themes of the show and the arc of the characters.
(Of course, many newer fans now are just watching it cause it’s popular, regardless of which genres they typically prefer. This opens the show up to lots of people who don’t connect to anything about the show, not just its themes but also its darker content. A lot of newer fans sound like this: “Like, I just love that Mike was in love with El from the day he found her in the woods, and it’s so cute that El is Mike’s superhero, and Eddie is so cool and badass; I wish he could’ve told Chrissy how he felt, and I’m anxiously awaiting S5 to see who Nancy chooses but I hope she chooses Steve… Stancy 4ever!” This is because Stancy is like every other conventionally attractive couple in media).
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I’m rambling, but a lot of people are into Milkvan because of their expectations that “pretty boy and pretty girl go together,” and that’s all there is to it. Finn is attractive and Millie is attractive, and they play the protagonists, so of course Mike and El are endgame. Why wouldn’t they be? This is true for the girls who project themselves onto Millie and see Finn/Mike as a dream boyfriend, and it’s true for the guys who project themselves onto Finn and who would want nothing more than to have a cool, superpowered girlfriend.
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This is the way of nature. In a normie worldview, there’s no deviation from this path. A lot of fans basically take The Kissing Booth/To All the Boys I Loved Before and slap a sci-fi/horror filter on it, and they think that’s what Stranger Things is. It’s a cool show where kids fight monsters, and there are normal, heterosexual romances like Mlvn to root for, and there’s a badass superhero main character at the center.
Oh, there’s a gay character too? Well, that’s weird. I mean, y’all already have Robin, but whatever. I’m not homophobic! I’m cool with Will being gay… as long as he stays over there. Oh, he’s in love with Mike? Well, that’s even weirder. Why would the writers do that? I suppose that’s fine, as long as it’s just a little crush, and as long as it doesn’t get in the way of “the main storyline” and my OTP. I’m not homophobic, I swear! I have gay friends!
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And they do. And they might not actively be against LGBTQ+ people in real life. They may really be telling the truth. But because they are Steves, this is where heteronormativity comes into play and blinds them. Main couples in shows are always straight, so the cool sci-fi, monster show they love must also be. They’re fine with Kevin Kellers, but queer Mike doesn’t fit the box that they allot to gay characters. So Mike must be the straightest character of all time to fight back against “weird delusional Byler theories” that would “come out of nowhere.” It’s not that they’re actively anti-gay; it’s that they are profoundly closed-minded and have a very myopic view of sexuality/storytelling/their favorite characters/their favorite shows. This is very similar to the XO, Kitty situation and people who were upset that Kitty was ‘suddenly’ bi and had a crush on Yuri.
WHAT?! Where did this come from? I thought I was watching a normal rom-com! I was fine with the gay characters on it who were clearly televised from the beginning! But Kitty? No! Kitty’s my self-insert. How can she like girls too? It must be a phase and be “less real” than her male love interests. This isn’t Heartstopper. The same weird energy is present in the ST fandom.
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Byler being semi-canon isn’t seen as confirmation of a love triangle; it’s seen as a disruption to the norm and the foregone conclusion that Mike and El will be together forever and get married and have telekinetic children because the show owes that to them for all they’ve been through. “But why is Will inserted into their scenes?” we ask them, begging them to see reason. “Idk, but he should know his place and stop being a homewrecker and go find a new boy to like. Just leave the soulmates alone. Mike has already made clear he’s straight and that Will is nothing more than a friend. He said it in the roller rink!” This is how heteronormativity works.
That’s why Byler endgame will be so important because it will shatter preconceived notions and open people’s eyes to the beautiful tapestry of humanity. And they will see that this powerful, queer, coming-of-age, love story was right there, under their noses, in their “fun sci-fi monster show” this whole time. *Mind Blown*
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salty-croissants · 4 months
Note
A male reader gets into a bar fight after someone insults bullfrog, the aftermath has the frog taking care of his bruises while worrying about his careless attitude towards his own life.
((Sorry, my first time ever requesting so a bit nervous. 😅))
Thank you for the request !
I gotta say , I really love this concept for a Bullfrog story : it’s just so neat and creative , so honestly thank you for sending this :D 
Hope it turned out okay ! 
Details : use of male reader ; 
established relationships ; 
presence of violence , mild swearing and blood 
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That night was supposed to be … well , like any other night , with you accompanying your boyfriend to one of his missions and waiting for him in a nearby bar .
Before he left , Bullfrog didn’t miss the opportunity to give you a goodbye kiss ( you had to get on your knees to allow him to do that , which never failed to make him adorably flustered ) , and as he gave you one last tender caress on your cheek he also left you with a reminder : 
< Please stay safe , mon choux !
 I should be back soon , if you need me don’t be afraid to call me , and make sure to - > 
< Hey , don’t worry , I’m gonna be careful … besides , you know I can handle myself just fine if something doesn’t go right . > 
< Je sais , je sais … still , I’ll be here as fast as I can : I did promise you we’d spend some time together when we get home , and let’s just say I’m really looking forward to it , my love ~ > 
You couldn’t help but smile while watching him rush off and quickly disappear in the darkness .
He was such a sweetheart , no one would’ve been able to guess how lethal he was on the job and how quickly he could end the lives of the targets unfortunate enough to meet him … 
As you sat on one of the bar’s chairs , lost in thought with a drink in your hand , time went by surprisingly quickly , and when you begun to glance at the door to see if Bullfrog had arrived you felt a presence next to you …
< Well hello there , good to see such a pretty face here at this hour … >
You turned around to find a … quite sketchy looking man staring at you :
since the place was pretty crowded you hadn’t paid much attention to him , but now it seemed like he had made the decision to engage in conversation … something that was a bit unsettling , given that he was a complete stranger trying to randomly flirt with you . 
< Uh … > 
You took a sip of what was left of your drink , making sure to avoid hehe contact to reinforce the fact that you weren’t interested . 
… but he didn’t seem to take the hint , and was it just your impression or did he move closer … ? 
Well , if he even dared to try anything you were more than ready to make good use of your fighting skills . 
After some more uncomfortable silence , the man spoke again , this time a clear disgust in his tone …
< Y’know , I’ve seen you talking to that … thing before you came in .
Honestly I can’t help but wonder how you can feel something positive for a hybrid :
I mean - they’re all such pathetic , worthless creatures , am I right ? > 
The more he talked , the more you felt your blood boil …
< I’ll have you know that that “thing” you’re referring to is my boyfriend . > 
, you coldly replied , giving him a warning glare .
< … 
Pfft - wait you’re serious ? Holy shit ! > 
He laughed loudly in response , causing some of the people around to give you both their attention .
The last thing you would’ve wanted was an audience … but you knew that you couldn’t let that massive douchebag get away with saying those things . There was no way you would let it slide .
< You - you mean to tell me that you’d rather be with a fucking frog than an actual person ? 
C’mon , don’t be ridiculous … that little monster doesn’t deserve a guy as cute as you , you can do so much better th - > 
It all happened in a few seconds … 
You suddenly stood up , and before you could even stop to think about what you were doing punched the man on the face hard enough to knock him down on the floor , the terrified and excited screams of the small crowd ringing in your head .
< Don’t you DARE say that shit about him ever fucking again , YOU HEAR ME !? > 
He slowly stood up , wiping a few drips of blood that had fallen from his nose after the impact , and the way he furiously looked at you made it clear that he was mad … very mad . 
< Gh … you … I’M GONNA KILL YOU !!! > 
Everyone who was left quickly fled from the bar , leaving you and him furiously fighting without giving the other a chance to breathe .
While you were definitely better trained , the man was unfortunately a lot bigger than you , and every successful hit he landed on you was starting to hurt … but you couldn’t give up , not after what you heard him say . 
Eventually , a well-directed punch in the stomach caused you to fall on your knees , the pain making your vision become blurry .
< Heh - that’s what you get you bitch !! > 
His eyes were clouded with a terrifying euphoria as he grabbed you by the hair …
< Oh I’m gonna enjoy this … > 
You shut your eyes , trying to prepare yourself to receive your worst beating in years … but that’s when you felt his grip loosening , letting you fall down on the floor . 
< y/n ! > 
That voice … could it really be … ? 
< B … Bullfrog … ? > 
You slowly opened your eyes again to find him on top of the man’s body , whose throat had been cut open by the assassin’s blades .
< I’m … *cough* …
I’m sorry … I know , this is a mess , but - agh — > 
< Careful - don’t stand up too fast … 
Here , let’s just … let’s just go . > 
Without another word , your boyfriend helped you up , and the two of you walked away as quickly as you could , the distant sound of sirens getting more and more far with each step .
Some time later …
< Now … can you tell me what happened back there , s'il te plaît ? > 
There it was … the question you knew would come sooner or later . 
You looked down , feeling Bullfrog’s eyes on you while he patched you up .
< I … that guy , he said such awful stuff about you while being a creep and trying to hit on me …
Called you a monster …
I just - I couldn’t let him get away with it so I … punched him . > 
You felt his hand gently lifting up your chin as he stared at you .
< y/n … I appreciate you wanting to defend me , but you know I don’t want you to get hurt because of me . We’ve talked about this . > 
< So what , I was supposed to just stand by and let that asshole call you names ?
How is that fair ? > 
< Non , it’s not fair , but almost getting yourself killed to prevent that won’t help .
Did you even stop to think about what could’ve happened to you ? 
What if I didn’t make it in time to stop him ? What if you died tonight ?
My chéri , my partner , the one I love most in the entire world … gone . > 
He wiped away some of the blood on your face , and you could feel his hand shake slightly as he did … a sign of how troubled he was while imagining that scenario .
< … Je … je ne peux pas … I just can’t afford to lose you , y/n . You’re too important to me . > 
The dark alleyway in which you were hiding remained completely silent after that , until you sighed while placing a kiss on his palm .
< Bullfrog … that’s not gonna happen , I promise . 
You’re right , I … really didn’t think this through . I just … every time I hear someone talking about you like that I lose it … > 
Bullfrog’s expression softened , and as he placed his forehead against yours all the bad experiences of that night seemed to vanish …
< I know … you’re always looking out for me mon amour , and I love you so much for that ~ 
… just , maybe next time don’t punch anyone , alright ? > 
< Heh … I’ll try not to . > 
He chuckled in response , while slowly getting back on his feet .
< Now then … as soon as you feel ready we can try to head back home : I think it’s safe to say it’s been quite a long night for both of us . > 
< Yeah , that sounds like a plan . 
… plus I do need to thank you properly for saving my life don’t I ? ~ > 
< Oh , you know you don’t have to thank me , my dear … but it would be crazy to pass up that offer ~ > 
71 notes · View notes
aphidclan-clangen · 24 days
Note
you don't have to post this, but I thought it would be funny!!!
Nimblekit: I just scream a lot... I just, scream... a lot
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Goldshine: With all due respect, which is none,
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Sparkspeckle: You know how someone can say “I respectfully disagree”? What about “I disrespectfully agree” for when you hate someone but they are unfortunately correct.
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Shadebreak: I am always up for potential rule breaking.
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Goldshine: Don’t be afraid to make a fool of yourself, I do it regularly.
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Nimblekit: 80% of people are actually ugly because of their face, you know.
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Pearlstar: Trans people? In my clan? It’s more likely than you think.
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Blisswhistle: For the last time, you can’t die of adhd.
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Sparkspeckle: You can do whatever you want forever :D
Stormwhisper: I love you, but that is not helpful.
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Stormwhisper, too nervous to ask for emotional support: Man, it smells like wrongdog in here.
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Gravel: Aren’t you like 5’2?
Firebeetle: I self identify as tall.
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Pearlstar: Every day my joints are shocked and disgusted that I would use them for their intended purpose.
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Sparkspeckle: You can never lose an argument if you say “shut up nerd” at the end.
Icesheep: Yes you can.
Sparkspeckle: Shut up nerd.
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Goldshine: In my defense, your honor, I simply do not care enough.
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Nimblekit: Your honor, in my defense, who cares like omfgggggggg who cares????????? Like come onnn.
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Skykit: Are you a girl or a boy?
Shadebreak: Uhh, well some people aren’t girls or boys!
Skykit: Wow, just like snails...
Shadebreak: ???
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Straight Man: Hey
Titania: That’s enough.
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Lilacpaw: I respect perfume commercials being like, we can’t show you a smell, mind if we just go insane for 30 seconds?
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Shadekit: Hey we are all really small, do you wanna sleep in a pile.
Icekit, Stormkit and Sparkkit: Yes.
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Blisswhistle: “Fuck it, we ball” (Malnourished, heavy eye bags, dehydrated, on the verge of insanity.)
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Goldshine: Evil infodumping where you just tell lies.
Sparkspeckle: Tiktok
Icesheep: 5-minute crafts
Shadebreak: Resume
Stormwhisper: Men
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Nimblekit: I fucking hate the hand that feeds me, I think i’ll do something fucked up to it.
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Nimblekit: Sick injury bro, would be a shame if i added insult to it.
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Pearlstar: I laugh at my own jokes because I am my target audience. Y’all just happen to be there fr.
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Gravel: I wish they sold offbrand cars, get me a damn honder.
Firebeetle: Pulling up in the revolver.
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Shadebreak: When two buses pass each other and the bus drivers don’t wave at each other, like omg... did you guys break up...
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Blisswhistle: I can still crack a joke mid-breakdown, that’s why everyone is lucky to have me in their lives.
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Gravel: They don’t kill the presidents like they used to.
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Berrykit: The LMAO+ community.
Nimblekit: It’s LMFAO+ this is party rock erasure.
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Sparkspeckle: It’s harder than you think to communicate with someone who isn’t familiar with the world of spongebob.
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Goldshine: Pipe down your honor, you weren’t even there.
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Goldshine: JFK?? Like from umbrella academy?? Haha... you know he’s not... real, right?
Stormwhisper: Wait, I though JFK was from clone high??
Sparkspeckle: JFK, as in Jesus Fucking Khrist, from the bible?
Icesheep: Isn’t JFK that fried chicken fast food chain.
Shadebreak: Guys cmon, it’s Jennedy Fennedy Kennedy, you gotta know this.
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Goldshine: Mfs be named “James” and it only be one dude.
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Nimblekit: Does violence have to be the last resort, can’t it be like third.
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Lilacpaw: Free my man, he did all of it but I don’t care.
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Pearlstar: Let me get this straight. Grabs the nearest heterosexual. Now, where were we. (He is holding nobody)
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Blisswhistle: I’m so done with self care, it’s time for others harm.
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Shadebreak: Fun fact. Shut the fuck-
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Sparkspeckle: Nuh uh
Icesheep: FYM “NUH UH”???
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-⚡ anon
Genuinely made me laugh, I love these
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fotibrit · 22 days
Note
what's your opinion on steves 'ending' in endgame? i generally feel like it sort of goes against a character arc of his, and a bit conflicting how much he did to not lose bucky and then sorta ditched it all the second he could actually exist with him once more, kinda also feels like a plot hole in some scenarios for his character and the future but i'm probably talking with some form of bias, I'm not too sure!! so I wanted to know another persons perspective on it!!
opinion: Was Bad
credentials: My very first introduction to Marvel was my best friend (hardcore Steve Rogers fan, called me “her Bucky”, was as insane abt Steve as i currently am abt tony) bringing me to see Endgame, and then her talking MAD SHIT about the ending for the next few months. I have heard every criticism. I learned that the ending was character assassination before i even know what character was being assassinated.
So. i don’t think it’s good. Getting into the Meta of the MCU for a sec, the MCY movies are partially paid for by the USA military etc etc so they reflect some political targets of the country. You gotta watch for propoganda in the movies. and in endgame, it was the happy little family. There was the family together in Wakanda, Tony being all domestic with his wife and daughter, Clint finally got to be back with his family. The snap brought back other family members, including don’t remember enough but generally… they were pushing the happy family thing. The US birth rate is down, and i imagine that part of the funding included some sort of push for more family imagery, in order to influence people to settle down together.
And then there’s Steve. Who has always had a found family, he’s out of time, away from his legal family. He doesn’t have any way to be included in this push for a family. My guess for what happened in the writers room is that they assumed everyone would fall for it hook line and sinker. that people would start believing, somehow, that birth family and nuclear family structures are most important.
If you look at it from the framework of their imagined audience, who thinks a nucular familg reunited is the happiest structure of all, Steve got a happy ending! He got to be with a hetero romantic partner!
Where they went wrong, is that nobody fuckin fell for it. Because it wasn’t convincing in the slightest. They spent hours after hours showing how desperately Steve cares for Bucky, and then they betray Steve’s primary motivation (keeping friends safe) in order to fit into their Nuclear Family Initiative.
they accidentally created a character who was the perfect encapsulation of an audience member who would NOT care most about a nuclear family unit. They made a character who cares most about a non-romantic partner. And then, they had to try to convince us that it was the same guy, while actively betraying his core values.
Bad ending. Wrong ending. Betrayed the audience and the character.
And it’s due to propoganda.
(side note: as far as i can tell, they’ve moved from “family unit” to “parenting is important”. Most blatant example i saw of this was in the last GotG, but it’s all over. they’re making everyone parents.)
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physalian · 29 days
Text
The Pronoun Game
*This is not about preferred pronouns, this is writing advice.
I don’t actually know if this is the official term but it’s what we’re going with, otherwise known as contrived vagueness on a character’s identity to keep the secret from the audience.
“You know… ~him~.” “Who?” “HIM.” “One more time.” “HIIIIIIIM!” “…”
Stop doing this. No one talks like this. Or at least come up with a better in-universe code name even if it’s just “the client” or “the target.” Anything is better than this glaring contrivance.
It’s not so much the secret name, it’s how clunky the dialogue becomes without it (ignoring when this is done for humor and supposed to be a little ridiculous).
This is a partner post to how to introduce new characters’ names and the point I’ll be making there applies here: exposition, including new character names, should tell us more about your story than just the information within the text.
But first: just stop doing this. Just name the character. Do it. Audiences will be as confused as if you use a vague “he/him they/them she/her,” but at least they have a name to keep track of, even if it’s faceless at the time they hear it.
It doesn’t even work as a mystery. Characters only play when they’re obfuscating the villain. It’s almost never a red herring. Sure you didn’t say the name, but by deliberately hiding it, you’ve shown your hand.
Real people don’t play the pronoun game unless it’s motivated. So? Make it motivated.
Best example in history: He-who-shall-not-be-named
Why? It’s not just a pronoun, it’s got lore and myths and mystery baked into it. There’s a plot-based reason to be vague. Everyone who says this moniker admits they’re at worst terrified of and at best spiteful of its owner.
I have my own "he who shan't be named" and, can confirm, it's born from glorious spite and satisfying to use every time it comes up.
You can’t copy the epithet, but you can learn from it. Give your characters a reason to be vague beyond preserving the secret for the audience.
Names have power, speaking theirs draws too much attention or bad vibes
Character f*cking hates them, and pronouns them out of spite
Character is being vague to mess with the narrator on purpose
Character fears eavesdroppers and is being careful
Character is testing whether they can trust another by being vague and checking if they’re in on the secret
Character is drunk/high/exhausted and cannot remember the name or care about it to save their life
Optional substitutes here can get quite creative, my personal favorite is “what’s-his-nuts” because I like the cadence but you get the idea
All of these reflect back on the story and the world you’ve built, to give an in-universe reason for the obfuscation.
Now stop playing the pronoun game.
Thoughts on the shorter format? I can’t tell if #longpost is supposed to be an insult or not. I have a few of these coming.
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kooktrash · 7 months
Text
just an insight on what writers have to deal with in regards to inclusivity for everyone:
I’ll start off by saying I’m obvi hiding their username for anonymity but I just wanna show yall what it’s like to be a writer these days on tumblr 💀
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I’ve never explicitly said my writing is only for poc or only for white. I purposely try and leave that out of my writing bc I want everyone to feel included. the sugar daddy fic this user is referring to is I believe Lace & Luxury where I never once said it was a black character. does this mean I would never write a black/poc character? ofc not, it just means that I don’t specify race/ethnicity, etc or how will it be inclusive for all? and the immediate jumping to conclusions bc a character in my fic has y2k style or bc of a moodboard pic [of a white person with a heavy tan I found off pinterest] leads the idea that it’s poc is weeeiiiiirrrrrddddd bc even if it was, i don’t see how it would be such a problem to read the tags
if anything I feel like there should be MORE writing for poc
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this person is talking about wanting “inclusivity” but they’re upset that a character might be a poc or overweight bc it doesn’t describe them?
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finally this strange need to be a victim by saying “do you have a grudge against skinny people” literally BAFFLED ME, bc I went on their blog where they reblogged a post about how skinny people are ignored LIKE WHATTTTT
I’ve been reading fanfiction since I was 13 in 2014 and I could never read a story about a brown character but there were a billion carbon copy fics of a blonde/ginger, skinny main character. I would read them bc what other option did I have? that’s why this upsets me because one)
I don’t ever specify my character’s race/color/weight so for someone to make assumptions and then message me trying to ask me to change the way I write is weeeeeirrrrdddd. I’m not a professional, I write for fun and if there are blogs out there that only specifically write for poc or heavier set people, DONT READ THEM IF YOU DONT LIKE THEM
suddenly all these readers want to delegate how a writer creates a story when it used to be that we had readers BECAUSE they liked the way we wrote, not bc they want to change it
this is what poc people have gone through for yearrrrrrrrrrrrrsssssssss:
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and like I said, I try and be inclusive and never describe someone’s physical traits unless it’s in the most indirect way but I completely respect and acknowledge writers who do specifically make works for poc readers or readers with a certain type of body type [that was never written before in fanfics]
I also don’t care if people think I’m rude, I’m literally Mexican with tan skin and black hair and if I wanted to write works that’s “not inclusive to white/skinny people” I would’ve done that by now, but that’s not my goal so pls don’t try and paint my writing to be for one target audience
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