with the rules and everything

Remember Patty?

That’s the new girl. She knows a lot of the rules already, got her name picked out and everything. Patty, come over here, say hi! Make her feel welcome, yeah? Oh, a couple of you might know her from that party right after New Year's - y'know, when Danger Dude was off his head and wanted to dive into the river? Yeah, Patty was one of the people trying to hold him back. She also punched Yellow’s ex in the face. So basically, she’s a handy gal to have around, ain’t that right Patty? Ha, yeah she’s good people. Oh, could you ple-ah-I mean - do you mind grabbing me some chips from the table? Thanks Patty. See what I mean? Good people.

Okay, thanks for being cool guys. I know most of you were at that party - Ginger, I know it was you who punched Yellow’s ex. We all do. But Patty - she just introduced herself, told me those stories like I wasn’t there, so I had to play along. I’m not the only one getting - y'know - vibes, right? Aw man, she’s coming back. Have any of you seen her around before? No-one’s heard of her? Does nobody remember Patty?

No? Thank god. Because I sure as hell don’t.

x

Yongguk\Reader\Namjoon | So, You Don’t Love Her? (M)

Originally posted by missbaptan

Originally posted by rapnamu

Request: Namjoon + reader + yongguk daddy kink smut??

Genre: smut. daddy kink. poly!relationship. the tinest itty bitty pinch of angst, i can’t stress the smallness more.

Warning: dirty talk. overstimulation. oral. praise kink. orgasm fixation.
Length: 4.5k

Summary: After meeting Namjoon and Yongguk and being proposed to join a poly relationship with them, you all started a happy life.

(not proofread)


Namjoon was a cold man. Not in a cruel way, just in the way that he didn’t like to let his emotions show. He was only 22 but he was wildly successful. He had a head position at the company he worked at.

The thing about Namjoon is, he likes control. Everything must be done the way he wants, and he expects his rules to be followed. He was a tickler for rules and order. He plans everything out and gets it done.

Yongguk is the clear opposite. He was a warm man with a gummy smile that lit up the room. He was the oldest of the three of you, 27. He was a mechanic, well he owned the shop, so he often came home a mess. His curly hair matted to his face from sweat, and blotches of grease and oil on his clothes and skin.

Yongguk was a free spirit. He was spontaneous, often going out in the middle of the night for a random food run. He was a soft, kind man. He never lost his temper and he was always gentle to those he loved.

And then there’s you. The girl who has both these men wrapped around your finger.

-

You had met Namjoon first. You two met in a coffee shop in the winter time. He had been sitting in the corner, working on his laptop. His blonde hair had been pushed back off his forehead, showing the deep furrow in his brows. He had been gnawing on his lip in concentration. He was incredibly handsome.

You had just gotten your hair done that day and were feeling confident, so you approached him. He had greeted you with a brow raised, leaning back in his seat with his hands folded over his stomach.

“What can I help you with, darling?” He had asked in a smooth voice. It had sent shivers down your spine. You quickly lost your confidence and began to flounder.

He had smirked, “Have a seat then.”

So, you did. And the two of you hit it off quickly. You talked for a while, drinking your coffees and enjoying each other company. By the end, you had exchanged numbers and began meeting casually.

-

It wasn’t long afterwards that you met Yongguk. Your car had been having troubles so you had been advised to take it in to the local mechanic’s shop, a suggestion by Namjoon himself. The one Bang Yongguk worked in. What a dream meeting.

He had come out from the back, a ratty wife-beater on his slender frame that was grease stains all over it. A large chest tattoo was on full display along with various arm tattoos. He came to the reception desk, wiping his hands off on a rag.

“Hey sweetheart, something I can help with?” His voice was so deep it shocked you. He looked at you, breaking out into a kind, gummy smile. God, he was beautiful.

“U-Um…yeah…my car’s been making a rattling noise for the past week…I was advised to come get it checked…” You said, your voice had trailed off as he lifted his wife-beater to wipe the sweat off his face. It revealed his toned abdomen and left a smudge of grease on his face.

“Sure honey, let me get some forms for you to fill out.”

He had checked out your car and given the proper care. As you were leaving, he had suddenly asked you on a date. You had quickly agreed.

-

It was only a couple months later that you found out the two of them were actually friends. At first you had been embarrassed about having been caught chatting with two men. But they assured you that there was nothing wrong with it.

“You’re a beautiful single woman, ____.” Yongguk had said, a shy smile on his face.

“We don’t mind if you see us both, darling.” Namjoon had added after taking a sip of some expensive champagne.

After seeing them both for a while, they had suddenly sat you down.

“_____, there’s something we should tell you.” He took off a pair of glasses he was wearing and placed them on the table, before folding his hands in front of him. He always looked like he was in a business meeting, not that you complained because he looked sexy as hell doing it.

Yongguk on the other hand, was lounging back in the seat drinking a coke. His chocolate eyes darted between the two of you.

“What is it?” You asked, frowning.

“Yongguk and I have a…proposition for you. Something that would surely benefit all three of us.” Namjoon liked to draw things out. He took forever to get to the point.

You guessed Yongguk got tired of it too because he blurted out, “What do you think about polyamory?”

Namjoon heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have you no finesse, Yongguk?”

The tattooed man had only giggled as he sipped his coke.

“Polyamory? You mean having multiple partners?” You asked, earning a nod from Namjoon. Yongguk had almost finished his coke by now, never even putting the cup down.

“You see, ____, Yongguk and I have an agreement. We both willingly share a woman if she consents to it. And since we both like you a considerable amount, we figured we should ask what you think. I know you like both of us too, that’s what we were hoping for.”  He took a soft breath, glancing at Yongguk. “We both completely understand if you want no part of this, a lot of people find this…arrangement…to be rather strange.”

Yongguk, finishing his drink and putting his cup down, spoke up again. “We just need a yes or no from you, sweetheart.”

“But we won’t rush you. Take all the time you need to think about this. Research it if you must, or contact us if you have any questions about it.”

“Joon, why do you have to make everything sound like you’re closing a business deal?”

“I am a business man.”

“But ____ isn’t a business partner!”

“Are you really going to argue with me on this Yongguk?”

You giggled, their bickering always made you laugh. Mostly because of the opposite dynamic between the two of them.

“I will think about it, guys.” You had assured.

-

And it took about 2 weeks before you had contacted Namjoon to tell him you wanted to meet again to give them your answer.

You three met at a fancy restaurant. Yongguk was there first and you sat down with him while you both waiting for Namjoon to show up.

“Whatever your answer is, _____, I just want you to know that both of us have really enjoyed having you around. It’s…been a while since our last relationship. We’ve both been hoping that we’d meet someone.” Yongguk was speaking seriously, looking out the window. Probably looking for Namjoon’s car.

“How long’s it been?” You asked, watching him purse his lips at the question.

“Eh…I’d say 2 and a half years.” He mumbled. “It didn’t end well last time. The girl we were with…she cheated on us. Some post British guy. Namjoon was furious and refused to try again even though I was down to searching again. It took him a while to get over her.” Suddenly, his eyes widened. “B-But he’s over her now. I- We both are, I mean. W-We wouldn’t be asking you to do this if we weren’t you know-“

You gigged, about to assure the man when Namjoon approached to table with a sigh.

“Meeting took longer than expected, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. We were just having a nice talk.” You smiled, watching him discard his blazer and put it on the back of the chair beside him.

“So, I don’t think there’s any point in postponing it. What’s your answer, ____?”

“Joon! Be more gentle about it! You’ll scare her off if you keep up this cold-guy façade!”

“It’s not a façade.”

“You- “

“I agree to it.” You giggled out before they could begin bickering more.

“You do?” Yongguk asked, a big guy smile spreading across his face.

You nodded, your hair bouncing around your face as Yongguk heaved a sigh of relief.

“Waiter, a bottle of your finest champagne please!” Namjoon bustled, with a smile on his face that showed off his dimples.

-

A year passed. The relationship between the two of you was going smoothly. You had moved in with them, as it turned out they had been living together for years. Both men had opened their door to you with open arms. You all quickly fell into a routine.

Yongguk left in the morning at 5 to open up shop and get everything ready for the day. Then Namjoon left at 9 to get to the office. You stayed home, doing some house work and spending the day cooking for both men for when they got home.

At the beginning of the relationship you tried to convince them to let you keep your job waitressing, and they did. Until they realized how run down you had become. Then they began to raise their protests. But when you came home crying because of a rude customer and your boss screaming at you for how you responded, they officially told you to quit.

You felt bad because you didn’t want to depend on them like that, but they assured you they both made enough money. And they said if you managed to find another job that wasn’t waitressing, to go for it. But you didn’t, so you’ve remained like this.

You couldn’t complain, it was a nice way to spend your days.

Unfortunately, during your time alone at the apartment one day, you got a visitor. You had been washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Heaving a sigh, you wiped your hands off on a rag while walking to the door to answer.

When you opened the door, there was a girl there. She was probably a little older than you. Her brown hair was curled and fell around her shoulders, her lips were painted red and she wore an expensive pair of sunglasses. Judging by her Gucci purse, you could only assume the skin tight red dress and 6 inch black heels she wore were also designer.

When she heard the door open, she smiled brightly only to see it was you and the smile faded.

“Oh…who are you? Where are Joon and Guk?” Her voice held some degree of malice.

Joon and Guk? They must be close. You thought.

“They’re not home yet. Yongguk should be home in about 15 minutes.”

“Oh, I know when he’ll be home honey.” She said, eying you up and down. “I guess I’ll come back another day. What a pain.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a sigh.

“I can take your name and give it to them if you’d like.”

She furrowed her brows and spoke again. “Who are you anyway? A house sitter?”

You chuckled. “Ah, no. I’m their…uh…roommate.”

“I see. Anyway, don’t bother telling them I was here I’ll just come by again when one of them’s home.”

With that, she turned around and clicked her way down the hallway. The oven timer started going off so you shut the door and hurried over to get the food out.

Right on time, Yongguk strode through the door with a loud greeting.

“Dinner ready, babygirl? Joon should be home soon, he called to say he needed to pick up some wine or something, you know him.”

“Yeah, it’s ready. You can start eating if you’d like.” You didn’t bother telling him about the visitor, as she told you not too. To be honest, you didn’t really care enough.

“Nah, I’ll wait.”

And Namjoon came home with two bottles of wine, sat down for dinner with you two. You stayed up together for a little while before you all headed to bed.

To be honest, you completely forgot about the female visitor until she showed up again on a Sunday a month and a half later.

This time she was wearing a babypink graphic tee over a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of nude heels. Her brown hair was up and she didn’t have any sunglasses on. She was…incredibly beautiful. Model material.

“Oh, you again. They home?” She asked, forsaking a greeting.

“Um…Yongguk is.” You said.

“Cool,” you sputtered in surprise as she barged her way into the house. “Gukkie, baby!”

Baby?

Yongguk came wandering out of the bedroom with a confused look on his face but it changed into a glare. You’d never seen such a nasty look on that man’s face.

“Keiko…” He clicked his jaw in annoyance. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t act like that, baby. I came to talk to you and Joonie. I want to explain everythi-“ Yongguk held up his hand.

“Save it, Keiko. Neither of us care anymore.”

“Well obviously you do, or else you wouldn’t look so angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry that you have the balls to show up here after what you did.” Yongguk stormed through the living room towards the door. “I suggest you leave before Namjoon gets here.”

“No, I’m going to wait for him. We both know he’s always been the sensible one.”

There was a pregnant pause that Yongguk took to glare a hole through the girl.

“Um…what’s going on?” You asked softly, drawing their attention to you.

She was about to say something when the door opened, bumping Yongguks shoulder.

“Shit, sorry.” Namjoon said, patting his shoulder before shutting the door. He hadn’t noticed Keiko’s presence yet. But when he did, he straightened up.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Keiko?” He repeated the same thing Yongguk did earlier. “Get the fuck out of this house right now or I’ll throw you out myself.”

“Joonie, baby…”

“Don’t call me that. You lost that privilege years ago. To show up here isn’t only stupid but disrespectful.” He seethed.

“Disrespectful?” The other girl ground out. “To who! I’m just trying to fix things.”

“To me and Yongguk and most importantly _____.” He shouted, gesturing angrily to you, making you jump.

“It’s been 3 and half years since you cheated on us Keiko. We’ve moved on. We have _____ now.” Yongguk said, pulling you against his side.

“We don’t need you. We don’t want you, Keiko.” Namjoon snarled, getting into her face. “Leave.”

Keiko scoffed, her eyes tearing up. You didn’t know if it was in humiliation or if she was really upset she lost them. Either way, she stormed out of the house and slammed the door, making you jump.

“What the heck was that about…?” You whispered.

“Who the fuck cares.” Namjoon snarled before storming out of the living room to his office.

Yongguk sighed, wandering to the couch to sit down.

“Guk, what-“

“I don’t want talk about it _____.”

“But-“

“No, _____. Drop it.” Yongguk hissed, before he too disappeared. This time to the bedroom.

You sighed, sinking into the spot Yongguk just vacated.

-

You huffed softly, sitting on the couch watching an old drama rerun. Things have been tense in the house since Keiko came around to stir the pot. Namjoon’s barely been home, picking up extra hours at the office to avoid the house. And Yongguk has been angrier, losing his temper on the smallest shit.

You’d basically been walking on eggshells, and quite frankly you were growing tired of it.

Yongguk was holed away in the bedroom, doing god knows what.

Probably sulking you mused.

It was 11:45 before Namjoon strode through the door. He looked a mess. His tie was pulled down and his hair was everywhere like he had been messing with it all day. And moreso, he smelled like he’d been drinking.

That wasn’t unusual, but he never drank to get drunk.

“What are you doing up?” He snapped, throwing his blazer on a coat hook.

“Just…can’t sleep…” You mumbled, careful not to say something to piss him off.

“Well go to bed. I don’t want you up.”

You scoffed, “That’s a bit rude.”

“Don’t test me _____.” He growled.

“What’s going on with you Namjoon?” You ground out. “You’ve been acting like this ever since Keiko came. You and Yongguk. Why are you both doing this?” Your voice had slowly risen throughout your questioning. You could hear Yongguk open the bedroom door, signaling he was joining the scene.

“Don’t talk to me like that _____. Watch your mouth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop the act Namjoon. You’re the one acting like an asshole. You and Yongguk. I get you’re both upset about her showing up, but I don’t deserve to be treated like this! Why are you even so bothered by this, she cheated on you! She doesn’t deserve you acting so upset over this!”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that, _____?!” Namjoon shouted, getting into your face. “And don’t you fucking talk about her like that.”

Yongguk was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall watching it all unfold.

“What, are you still in love with her? Is that what the problem is?” You whispered.

You watched Namjoon still and swallow sharply, obviously hesitating. “I’m going to shower.” Is all he said before he stormed to the bathroom.

You scoffed in disbelief, sitting back down as you felt the sting of tears.

“Don’t mind that, sweetheart. I’ll talk to him.” Yongguks baritone reverberated through the room before he left you alone with your thoughts.

“…she cheated on us. Some post British guy. Namjoon was furious and refused to try again even though I was down to searching again. It took him a while to get over her.”

Yongguks words passed through your mind.

Did Keiko showing back up make Namjoon’s feelings come back?

You decided to sleep on the couch that night. You couldn’t stomach sleeping with them after what just happened. You fell asleep watching nighttime television and holding in your tears.

A few days passed before they finally sat you down to talk to you about it all.

“I know if you’re angry with us _____, I completely understand…” Namjoon mumbled, dropping his face into his hands. You kept your eyes on Yongguk who sat across from you in the arm chair, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Why’d you behave like that?” You asked, biting your lip to stop the quiver in your voice from showing too much.

Namjoon sighed. “_____, it’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not Namjoon.” Yongguk grumbled.

“I was just…hurt I guess.” Namjoon whispered, looking up at you. “Being cheated on after devoting yourself to a relationship like that…I was so hurt afterwards. I didn’t have to deal with her all this time. Then she just showed up acting like we were the ones who wanted her. Like we would wait for her after what she did? It pissed me off so much. I just…took it out on you. On both of you.”

“Dumbass.” Yongguk grumbled.

Namjoon chuckled. “I know…____…don’t you have anything to say?”

You sighed. “I guess I can understand that, Namjoon…”

“Atta girl.” Yongguk praised. “Now, what do you say we take this to the bedroom for some passionate, hot make-up sex?”

“Real subtle Guk.”

“I am who I am, Joon.”

“You’re a joke.”

“Tell me that while ____ choking on my dick.”

-

Your bare back hit the bed, making you bounce slightly. In an instant, Namjoon was over you with his lips attached to your neck. He was creating little red marks all over the sensitive skin, drawing tiny whimpers from your lips.

Yongguk, who had shed his shirt, climbed in behind you so you could lean against his lap.

“Joon’s got a treat for you, babygirl.” He ground out, feeling your weight against his hard on in his jeans.

Namjoon’s rough hands spread your legs, exposing your wet pussy to his eyes for the first time in a long while.

“Shit babygirl, look at that…so fucking wet…”

“You want Joonie to eat your little cunt, baby?” Yongguk asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Yes!” You cried out, feeling Namjoon’s breath against your wetness.

“Yes, what baby?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Fuck, that’s it. Call me that again.” Namjoon commanded, you could see him grinding against the bed.

Then, in a flash he was eating your cunt for all he was worth. His tongue slid desperately against your clit, drawing cries from you. He was slurping up every drop you gave him. He was moaning like a madman into your cunt as he tasted you.

“Fuck, that’s it Joon. Does our babygirl taste good? Huh? How’s her cunt taste?”

Namjoon pulled back with a groan to look at Yongguk over your shoulder.

“So fucking good. She’s so fucking sweet.” Namjoon suddenly introduced his fingers, sliding in two slender digits into your gripping pussy. “God, _____, I’m gonna make you cum so hard.”

“Ah, Daddy, that feels suh-so good!” You whined, gripping Yongguk’s biceps behind you, trying to keep yourself grounded while Namjoon dove back in to swirl his tongue around your clit.

“Joonie eating your pussy good baby?” Yongguk asked with a groan, feeling his cock throb in its confinement.

Namjoon’s tongue was a work of magic. His tongue swirling wildly against the pulsing nub of your clit. His fingers sliding in and out of you, kissing your g-spot with every pass, causing your hips to jerk. Yongguk’s hands weren’t idle either, their cupped your breasts and pinched your sensitive nipples between his fingers.

“She’s gonna cum.” Namjoon announced, feeling your cunt hugging his intruding fingers.

“Fuck yeah she is. Cum baby.” Yongguk growled. “Cum for your Daddies.”

Your back arched, your nails sinking into Yongguk’s tan skin. Your cunt convulsed around Namjoon’s fingers and his tongue continued to swirl around your clit, making your legs shake around his head. Namjoon spent a moment after your orgasm subsided cleaning you up, drinking up every drop of cum you gave him. Then, he slid his fingers out of your and left a fleeting kiss on your clit.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.” Namjoon ground out, discarding his black boxers on the floor somewhere.

Yongguk sat behind you, the picture of self-control, lightly petting your hair as your body continued to lightly tremble from the force of your orgasm.

“Fuck, look at that pretty little cunt, Guk.”

“So pink and wet…” Yongguk rasped, licking his lips as his fingers trailed down your body to lightly pet your pulsing heat. He spread your lips open with his fingers, letting Namjoon watch as a drop of your cum dripped out, making the younger man groan.

“That’s it, I need to fuck you babygirl.”

Namjoon pinned your legs open before guiding his cock into your entrance. You both shared a moan of pleasure at the feeling of him stretching your walls. He didn’t pause for a second before pulling out and slamming back into you. Yongguk pinned your hips down to keep you from grinding against Namjoon’s cock.

“You’re so fucking tight around me, Princess.” Namjoon ground out. “I want you to cum again, baby.”

Yongguk took that initiative by using his fingers to attack your clit. The cry you let out caused both men to groan. Namjoon increased his pace, driving his cock into your clutching pussy. It didn’t take long before you are erupting in orgasm again, the last one you had making you sensitive to both men’s touches.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum too.” Namjoon gasped out, his hips faltering before driving into you faster. The sound of his hips meeting your skin filled the room. You continued to write underneath Namjoon, desperately trying to dislodge Yongguks fingers from your oversensitive clit that he continued to circle despite your orgasm having passed.

“She’s holding my cock so tight. Keep doing that Guk.” Namjoon encouraged, ignoring your whines of overstimulation.

Suddenly, Namjoon drove his cock into you to the hilt, letting his cum fill you up with a loud groan of your name. His head fell backwards while his body trembled from the force of his orgasm. His cock began to soften inside you before he pulled it out.

“Shit, so fucking good babygirl.” He whispered, panting against your lips as he planted a delicate kiss on them.

Then, he switched places with Yongguk.

You leaned your back against Namjoon’s chest while Yongguk took his place between your legs. He quickly discarded his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock out.

“Fuck I’m so hard, I’m not gonna last long at all sweetheart.” Yongguk’s strong hands, callused from years of working on cars, pinned your legs together and up against your chest. “Hold her there, Joon.”

Namjoon wrapped his hand around your legs so you couldn’t get out of the position. You whimpered softly, feeling exposed to Yongguk’s gaze as he watched your pussy drip for him.

“Shh babygirl, Daddy’s here.” Namjoon whispered, leaning down to kiss your head.

Without warning, you felt the hot head of Yongguk’s dick against the wet lips of your cunt. Then, he was sliding in and you were crying out. The position allowed him to hammer directly into your g-spot, never failing in making your body twitch at the onslaught of pleasure it offered. His thrusts were a little sloppy, probably because of how desperate he was to cum. But, he would never dare neglect you.

His punishing thrusts were bringing you closer to orgasm, already sensitive to his touches.

“Play with her clit, Joon. Make her cum around my cock.”

Namjoon chuckled at the little squeal you emitted at his soft fingers on your sensitive button. His finger was cupped between your folds, not allowing you to wiggle away from the sensation. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you began to cum.

“Daddy!” You cried out. “Fuck, Daddy! That feels so good.”

“That’s a good girl. Cumming so fucking good for your Daddies. Shit, I’m gonna cum too.” Yongguk was letting out raspy moans, keeping a steady pace with his hips, fucking you through the orgasm that flowed through your body making you tremble and tear up with pleasure.

A shock of heat in your pussy made you whimper, loving the feeling of your Daddy’s cum filling you up. Yongguk gave a couple more thrusts, letting his orgasm ride into slight overstimulation, something he loved. After a few trembles, he pulled out and Namjoon dropped your legs, letting them fall to the bed.

“Shit, that was good.” Yongguk sighed, falling to the bed beside you and Namjoon who was lightly petting your hair as you calmed down.

After a moment of silence, you spoke.

“So…you don’t love her?”

Yongguk chuckled and Namjoon groaned.

“No baby. I don’t love her. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You giggled, nuzzling his bare tummy.

“Hey, what about me!” Yongguk whined.

“Who invited you?”

“Hey!”


it’s shit im sorry but ive been working on it for like a week so here it is.

No Kiss List

@lapidot-anniversary-week and @jenhedgehog

prompt: first kiss

words: 3k

genre: childhood friends/enemies to sweethearts, human AU

summary: Peridot is the only person in the fourth grade that is on Lapis’s ‘no kiss list’ for a kind of underground kissing booth and Peridot is not happy about it, they grow older together and things begin to shift, Ao3

Keep reading

twisted-noose  asked:

What determines if someone deserves to be killed? Is it all a matter of opinion?

Of course. Isn’t everything? The only set rules in life belong to the realm of physics, and physics can’t tell us who to kill.

  • reviewer: breath of the wild is a game millenials relate to because everyone is thirsty for link ;)
  • zelda: self-doubting, overwhelmed, keeping her shit and entire kingdom together with Anxiety and Sheer Determination
  • link: gets his ass kicked every two (2) seconds, bullshits his way through everything with a paperclip and a garden hoe, still ready to Fight someone at all times
  • hyrule: in ruins, everything overpriced, no money anywhere, ruled by Actual Satan
  • me: yeah dude link's hot af
3

Gandalf did you realise that the transition from ranger to King of Gondor was a PRETTY FREAKING BIG ONE

EDIT: guys please stop leaving snide comments trying to educate me on whether or not he was ready, this was just a bit of fun, sheesh. Can’t believe I actually had to say that)

Thing #1 you learn as a writers:

You know those lists we all see on how to writer *insert character type here* full of dos and don’ts?

Yeah, forget everything single and replace with a much simpler rule sheet that applies as a universal.

1)No matter the character type, writing people as people above all else is the number one rule. The number one way to avoid stereotypes is to write everyone in a three-dimensional human. 

2)People do stereotypical things because stereotypes are created from exaggerating and generalizing reality. The difference between a stereotype and and a character that does stereotypical things is that for the later those traits do not define them. The stereotypical behavior is just facet of a complex personality.

A good example of this for people from the lower-class or Southern US is Finn on Bones. He has a lot of traits from his place of upbringing like his accent, southerisms, and tastes but isn’t defined by them. He’s still just as smart and well educated as any of his co-workers and people stereotyping him as “dumb white trash” is actually shown to be something he struggles with in an educated environment full of city folk.

Trying to hard to avoid stereotypes completely often results in alien and unrealistic characters that come off as cold and inhuman because they have no particular personality traits people from their real life demographic can relate to. 

As someone from a lower-class area in Southern-Iowa, I relate to Finn because he likes “down-home” things like Country Music and Fishing while still trying his best to be educated and respectable. I relate to that more than i would someone having a generic intern college-kid intern and claiming he’s from a lower-class, American upbringing with no traits that actually show it.

3)Anyone can be a villain, the key just avoiding implying things like a certain minority status are the root of a characters evil. It can be a tricky dance because sometimes cultural things can lead to certain extremes, but for real people it’s often a case of a violent personality type twisting their beliefs around their evil desires to justify it.      

4)No matter what people tell you: Tropes are not bad and in the hands of a skilled writer about anything can be done well. Some of the most beloved media is often built on the back of a well-used cliche.

That’s it, that’s literally the backbone of writing good characters that don’t come off as cardboard cut-outs or paper-thin stereotypes. 

if you want to be more accessible to dyslexic people

don’t

  • write in large chunks
  • use italics
  • use completely white and completely black contrast
  • write too tiny
  • write in all caps or use more capital letters than necessary
  • use confusing fonts (serif fonts are a no-no)
  • double-space words or use justified text
  • blur words

do

  • make each paragraph short (1 idea or concept per paragraph should be fine)
  • use bold instead of italics to highlight ideas
  • use off-white and dark grey instead of pure black and white contrasting colors
  • keep the font size above 12 or 14
  • use lists (like these) to simplify ideas
  • stick to sans-serif fonts
  • use left-aligned text

what can happen to dyslexic people if you ignore this

  • they cannot read what you’re saying
  • they can read it but it is a struggle
  • they misread and take a while to grasp what was actually said
  • they misread but don’t realize they misunderstood and respond to what they thought you wrote when you wrote something else
  • they can read it at first but are exhausted by it and stop reading in the middle
  • they read it through but afterwards make more errors due to using up their energy
  • etc.

conclusion

why be accessible? because it’s the right thing to do, and more people will be able to access your content

apply these rules to everything from a research paper to a tumblr post to a group chat. it won’t be perfect but it’ll help.

A white guy’s thoughts on “Get Out” and racism

This weekend, I went to see a horror movie. It got stuck in my head, and now I can’t stop thinking about it—but not for any of the reasons you might think.

The movie was Jordan Peele’s new hit Get Out, which has gotten rave reviews from critics—an incredible 99% on Rotten Tomatoes—and has a lot of people talking about its themes.

First of all, I should tell you that I hate horror movies. As a general rule, I stay far, far away from them, but after everything I’d read, I felt like this was an important film for me to see. This trailer might give you some inkling as to why:

Creepy, huh? You might know writer/director Jordan Peele as part of the comedy duo Key & Peele, known for smartly tackling societal issues through sketch comedy. Get Out is a horror movie, but it’s also a film about race in America, and it’s impressively multilayered.

I left the theater feeling deeply disturbed but glad this movie was made. I can’t say any more without revealing spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the movie yet and you don’t want to have the plot spoiled for you, stop reading now and come back later.

Seriously, this is your last chance before I give away what happens.

Okay, you were warned. Here we go.

Our protagonist is Chris Washington, a young black man who has been dating Rose Armitage, a young white woman, for the last four months. She wants him to meet her family, but he’s hesitant. She acknowledges that her dad can be a little awkward on the subject of race, but assures Chris that he means well.

After unnerving encounters with a deer (echoes of The Invitation) and a racist cop, Chris and Rose arrive at the Armitages’ estate. On the surface, the Armitages are very friendly, but the conversation (brilliantly scripted by Peele) includes a lot of the little, everyday, get-under-your-skin moments of racism that people of color have to contend with: Rose’s dad going on about how he voted for Obama, for instance, and asking how long “this thang” has been going on. Chris laughs it off to be polite, though he clearly feels uncomfortable.

There’s a fantastic moment here, by the way, when Rose’s dad offhandedly mentions that they had to close off the basement because of “black mold.” In the midst of the racially charged atmosphere of the conversation, it’s nearly impossible not to take this as a racial remark, and Chris certainly notices, but what could he possibly say about it? Black mold is a real thing; his girlfriend would surely think he was crazy and oversensitive if he said it sounded racist. Chris never reacts to the remark, but that one tiny moment is a reminder to the audience of a real problem people of color often face, when racism can’t be called out without being accused of “playing the race card” or seeing things that aren’t there. (Incidentally, it turns out that the basement is actually used for molding of a different sort.)

There are other reasons for Chris to be unsettled: The only other black people on the estate are two servants, Georgina and Walter (Rose’s dad says he knows how bad it looks, but that it’s not what it seems), and something is clearly “off” about them. Later, more white people show up—and one more black character, and he, too, feels “off.”

By the end of the film, we learn the horrible secret: Rose’s family is kidnapping and luring black people to their estate, where they’re being hypnotized and psychologically trapped inside themselves—Rose’s mom calls it “the sunken place”—so that old or disabled white people’s consciousnesses can be transplanted into their bodies. The white people are then able to move about, controlling their new black bodies, with the black person’s consciousness along for the ride as a mere “passenger.” In a shocking twist, it turns out that even apparently-sweet Rose is in on the plot, and Chris must fight her and the rest of her family to escape.

This isn’t a “white people are evil” film, although it may sound that way at first, but it is a film about racism. I know many of my friends of color will connect with this movie in a way I can’t, so I won’t try to say what I think they’ll get out of it. I do want to say how I connected with it, though, because I think what Jordan Peele has done here is really important for white audiences. 

If you look beyond the surface horror-movie plot, this film actually gives white people a tiny peek at the reality of racism—not the epithet-shouting neo-Nazi kind of racism that white people normally imagine when we hear “racism,” but the “Oh it’s so nice to meet you; I voted for Obama” kind of racism, the subtle othering that expects people of color to smile and get along and adopt white culture as their own whenever they’re around white people.

So many of the moments in Get Out are clearly intended to work on multiple levels. When Chris confronts Georgina about something being wrong and she smiles and says, “No, no no no no no,” with tears streaming down her cheeks, the symbolism is blatant. How often do people of color have to ignore the subtle indignities they face and hide their true emotions in order to avoid coming across as, for example, “the angry black woman/man”? How many times do they find themselves in social situations—even with their closest white friends!—where people make little comments tying them to an “exotic,” supposedly monolithic culture, where they have to respond with a smile and a laugh instead of telling people how stupid and offensive they’re being? 

I can’t tell you the number of these stories I’ve heard from my friends, and I’m quite sure that the stories I’ve heard are only a tiny fraction of the stories that could be told. So there’s something in that moment that speaks volumes about the experiences of people of color in America.

The same is true for so many other moments. The black characters Chris meets at the Armitages’ have all symbolically given up their identities and conformed to white culture; when Chris meets one character, he turns out to be going under a new name, with new clothes and new mannerisms; when Chris offers him a fist bump, he tries to shake Chris’s fist. Again, within the story, there’s an explanation for all this, but every moment here is also about assimilation and culture differences. 

For me as a white audience member, all of these moments did something remarkable: They showed me my own culture—a culture I’m often blissfully unaware of because it’s all around me—as something alien. They reminded me that I, too, have a culture, and that expecting everyone else to assimilate to my culture is just as much an erasing of their identities as it would be to expect me to assimilate to someone else’s culture.

And that’s a big part of what Get Out is about—the erasing of identities, and the power of racism to destroy people. I think it’s really significant that racism is portrayed here very differently from how it’s normally portrayed in movies written by white people. In most Hollywood movies, you know a character is racist because they shout racial epithets or make blatant statements about a certain race’s inferiority. That allows white audiences to say, “I would never do/say that, so I’m not racist!” We really don’t want to think we are.

But notice something important about Get Out’s treatment of racism: This is a film about the literal enslavement of black people—racism doesn’t get more extreme than that—and yet Peele doesn’t go for the obvious by having the white characters admit that they think black people are inferior; instead, they subjugate and dehumanize people by claiming to admire things about them. They turn them into fashion accessories. 

When Chris asks why only black people are being targeted for this procedure, the response is telling: It’s not (supposedly) because the white characters think African Americans are bad, but rather, because they like certain things about them and they want “a change” for themselves. They want to become black—it’s trendy, we’re told!—but without having had any of the actual life experiences or history of African Americans. White people need to see this: to experience the ways in which Chris is othered by people who tell him all the things they like about him—isn’t he strong? Look at those muscles! Does he play golf like Tiger Woods? And he must be well-endowed and have such sexual prowess, right, Rose?

The white people in the audience need to be reminded that just because you’re saying positive things about someone doesn’t mean you’re not being racist, that turning someone into an exotic “other” may not be the same as shouting an epithet, but it’s still taking away someone’s identity and treating them as a commodity.

The film is filled with these kinds of moments. When we realize that Rose’s white grandmother has inhabited the body of Georgina, the fact that she keeps touching her own hair and admiring herself in the mirror takes on a whole new level of significance. (White people, please don’t ask to touch your black friends’ hair.) When Chris connects with a dying deer on the side of the road and later sees a deer head mounted on the wall at the Armitages’ estate, the symbolism is hard to miss. Black people are being turned into trophies in this house. And, oh yeah, they’re being literally auctioned off—as they were in real life in the not-too-distant past.

One day, I’d like to see the film again to pick up on all the ways things read differently the second time through. I noticed several things in retrospect that gain new significance once you know the ending, and I’m sure there’s a lot I didn’t notice. For example, Rose’s dad says he hired Walter and Georgina to care for his parents, and when his parents died, “I couldn’t bear to let them go.” The first time you see the film, it sounds like the “them” is Walter and Georgina. But in retrospect, it’s clear the “them” he couldn’t bear to let go was his parents, so he sacrificed Walter and Georgina for them. Which, again, is an example of how the supposed care of the white characters for the black characters (his care for Walter and Georgina, Rose’s care for Chris) is really all about caring for themselves and treating the black characters as completely interchangeable objects.

The message of the film isn’t simply that the black characters are “good” and the white characters are “bad.” There are presumably—hopefully—many good white people in the world of this film, and many others who wouldn’t do what the Armitages are doing but also probably wouldn’t believe Chris or make the effort to stop it. Peele’s mother and wife are both white, so he’s clearly not trying to paint all white people as villains. 

But I admit, as a white guy, I really, really wanted Rose to be good. I’ve been the white person in an interracial relationship introducing my black boyfriend to my family. I’ve been that. So I related to Rose, and I really wanted to believe that she was well-intentioned and just oblivious; even though she misses the mark on several occasions, there are times that she seems like she gets it and she really does listen to Chris. When a cop asks to see Chris’s ID early in the film even though he wasn’t driving, Rose stands up against the obvious racism, showing us all what it looks like for white people to do the right thing. “That was hot,” Chris says to her later, and I thought, yeah, that’s who I want to be.

So I have to admit, it was really upsetting to me to see Rose, the only good white character left in the film, turn out to be evil. But I realized that part of that is that I really wanted her to represent me, and that’s really the point. Just think how often horror films have only one black character who dies early on, and how many films of all genres have no significant black characters for audience members to look up to or identify with. I think it’s really important for white audiences to experience that.

As I’ve reflected on the film, it seems to me like there are three kinds of popular movies about people of color. There are those that feature POC characters that are essentially indistinguishable from the white characters—as if they just decided to cast Morgan Freeman instead of Tom Hanks without giving any thought to the character’s race. Then there are the movies that deal with racism, but in a way that allows white people to feel good about ourselves, because we’re not like the characters in the film. (This is especially true for movies about racism in the past; some of them are very important films, like Hidden Figures, which I loved, but we need to be aware that it’s still easy for white America to treat it as a feel-good film and think that we’re off the hook because we no longer have separate restrooms.) And finally, there are movies that focus more directly on the lives of people of color but tend to draw largely audiences of color; not many white people go see them, because we think they’re not “for us” (even though we assume films about white people are for everyone).

Get Out isn’t any of those. It’s drawing a broad audience but it’s not afraid to make white people uncomfortable. And if you can give me, a white guy, a chance to have even a momentary fraction of an experience of the real-life, modern-day, casual racism facing people of color in America, I think that’s a very good thing.

When you read a shoujo manga that heroine and hero love each other, and everything is fine, but according to shoujo manga rules second boy shows up:

Originally posted by leatherjacketrenegade67