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smmpanelindias-blog · 2 years ago

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Building a Fruitful Social Media Presence Is Like Growing a Garden

Many individuals believe that when they send off a web-based entertainment promoting effort, they will have huge numbers of companions and devotees, develop their email list by thousands and out of nowhere procure a six figure pay inside an exceptionally short measure of time. I've had numerous clients and potential clients who accept that in something like 3 months, they should be in that classification and think that on the off chance that I can't get that going for them, I personally do not merit my weight in salt.

This kind of reasoning is the shortcoming of purported on-line masters who make such crazy commitments and neglect to specify the measures of cash and time they put resources into request to think of these numbers (which might be produced).

ALSO VISIT:-How and When to Use Social Media Channels

Valid, there are a few characters who have developed their followings and records rapidly however they have worked resolutely to do as such. They don't simply put out 3 tweets per day, post once on their Facebook page, add something to their LinkedIn stream and become complacent. They don't go through 20 minutes daily via virtual entertainment.

Building a virtual entertainment presence resembles growing a nursery. It takes an arrangement, devices, expansion of supplements, expulsion of weeds, compost, and managing bugs and other nursery hunters to procure a decent collect of natural products, veggies or blossoms. I love cultivating and I love online entertainment so it simply seems OK that they require comparable methodologies.

The Arrangement

Indeed, even now (in the northern half of the globe where it is still winter), nursery workers are looking over their seed lists, deciding their requirements and requesting their seeds. They may as of now have collected, dried and put away seeds from last year's reap (think legacy tomatoes) that will be utilized in the current year's nursery. Those in the southern half of the globe may be requesting tubers, bulbs and trees.

On the off chance that these people don't yet have a nursery, they should arrange for where to put it so it gets the expected measure of sun, has great seepage and is helpful. They'll have to figure out which plants, trees or shrubs fill well in their environment and what kinds of food sources they like to eat so their work isn't without remuneration.

The main thing isn't to design anything over you can deal with.

In web-based entertainment terms, this implies analyzing every virtual entertainment stage, its subtleties and what kind of organizations will generally hang out there. As such, who is your ideal client and which web-based entertainment stages do they use the most?

Which virtual entertainment stages impact you and are bound to be utilized? A few people are befuddled by Twitter; others are exhausted by LinkedIn and others are irritated by Facebook's many changes. So pick the one(s) that you'll utilize.

Once more, the main thing isn't to design anything over you can deal with. Pick 2 and no more and focus on learning and developing those web-based entertainment stages first. Then you can add one more as you see fit.

The Apparatuses

As we as a whole realize there are many cultivating instruments out there however there are a couple of dependable devices that simply work better compared to other. A pitchfork, a digging tool, a rake, a cultivator, a post opening digger, and so on are great planting instruments.

There are additionally apparatuses that can be utilized in Online Entertainment.

Other than the essential locales and their relating cell phone applications there are Hootsuite, Market Me Suite, Tweetdeck, Support, Fledgling Social, and a bunch of different devices that you can use to use your experience via online entertainment. Do an examination to see which one(s) impact you.

Expansion of Supplements

Very much like most soil needs added supplements, for example, peet, sand (on the off chance that it has a ton of dirt) and treated the soil materials to create an incredible yield, so does your web-based entertainment.

Setting up your virtual entertainment profiles accurately using your watchwords, your site and other online entertainment joins (as space licenses), adding your photograph and a few intriguing goodies about you is an incredible nourishment for your web-based entertainment stages.

Web-based entertainment supplements likewise come as satisfied (both your own and arranged content).

Your own substance can be tips for progress in your specific specialty or blog entries that offer significant data to your perusers.

Arranged content will be content that you find and offer from confided in people in your industry (or who have given general interest data). It could try and be motivation quotes.

You might have seen that I did exclude attempts to close the deal in the supplement class However assuming you have developed (one more planting word) an extraordinary relationship with your devotees, your contributions will without a doubt be viewed as a supplement.

Manure

All plants need manure to assist them with developing.

Online entertainment needs compost, also.

I trust that this comes as clans, twibes, Tweet circles, sharing circles, for example, Social Buzz Club, Facebook share gatherings, and so on. Additionally included would be accommodation of your articles to article locales like EzineArticles and posting and remarking on other people's blog entries.

Expulsion of Weeds

Weeding is something that I despise yet it is a means to an end. It was particularly abhorrent when I lived on 10 sections of land of recently recovered land that was totally brimming with napweed. I probably burned through 16 hours seven days simply pulling weeds! Therefore, I came to comprehend the reason why God made winter - to give weed-pullers a rest!

In web-based entertainment, expulsion of weeds is important however fortunately considerably more handily achieved.

I have seen a great deal of my countrymen downsizing on their Facebook companions since they have lost contact with those with whom they need to stay in contact or they have become worried about who really sees what they are sharing (you don't be guaranteed to need outsiders taking a gander at photographs of your children or residence, however yet you need to be genuine and share a touch of what your identity is).

Numerous ladies have decided not to be associated with Foursquare because of safety concerns - don't bother empowering stalkers.

On Twitter, it's somewhat of an alternate situation. Twitter just permits you to follow 10% over how much individuals who are following YOU. On the off chance that you follow somebody who doesn't follow back, and it's not somebody whose content is that critical to you, you might need to end that follow.

There are two or three apparatuses that can be utilized to find and unfollow Tweeps who are not responding your follow. JustUnfollow.com is one source. Manageflitter.com and FriendorFollow.com are a couple more.

With LinkedIn, it's really clear who has not acknowledged your challenge to associate.

Managing Bugs and Different Hunters

Beside the bugs, we have a ton of deer, elk and moose in our space. And keeping in mind that they are delightful to watch, they can gobble up my whole harvest of treasure tomatoes or bed of tulips (which they aren't even expected to like) in 5 minutes or less. Therefore, we have needed to set up walls… TALL walls. The canines can't remain outside on account of the coyotes and the chicken yard is canvassed in netting for a similar explanation. You figure out how to adjust.

There will continuously be spammers, con artists, phishing abuses, infections and different dangers to your online entertainment accounts so you might have to raise your very own few walls.

In the web-based entertainment world, you couldn't in fact trust your genuine companions or regarded counsels on the grounds that THEIR records might have been hacked, also.

Be incredibly cautious about the connections you decide to click. Unfortunately, the connections that you get in regular postal mail on Twitter or confidential Facebook messages are likely the most risky ones of all. I never click on a solitary connection that I get in a Twitter direct message (which might be an interesting point while developing your own Twitter DMs - don't add interfaces; nobody will click them. The vast majority could do without Twitter direct messages by any means, truth be told.)

There are likewise a ton of phony records out there in the virtual entertainment world so don't naturally follow everybody back. Be separating - it's actually not necessary to focus on the numbers; it's about the nature of your associations. You need companions, fans and adherents that add to the development of your business (yield), or that you can serve here and there. (I will express this about counterfeit Twitter supporters - they frequently have extraordinary statements and I have been known to rehash them on occasion - yet not as a retweet.)

Reaping your Yield

Indeed, this appears as though a ton of work and it very well may be. Yet, very much like a nursery, the work is more troublesome initially and the prize of new blossoms, vegetables and the your rewards for so much hard work merits all of it.

Individuals that you meet, the connections that you create, the business training that you might find priceless, the feelings that you share with others along this excursion and the long lasting companionships that you might make because of developing an online entertainment presence are surely worth over 90 days and 20 minutes per day.

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that-disabled-radfem · 3 years ago

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Happy back-to-school y’all

I’ve attended and worked at a couple of super liberal universities. I avoid the gender studies departments for obvious reasons and I still had a lecture in which the female prof gave a brief overview of TERFs and proclaimed her hatred of JKR. Being openly critical of gender ideology, the porn industry, kinks, and ‘sex work’ are the kind of things that can ruin your future in academia. Not to mention the fact that any speech or actions that could be labelled transphobic (ie. defining woman as adult human female) can get you a suspension according to many universities anti-hate-speech policies.

So, here’s a list of small and smallish (small in terms of overt TERFery, some may require more effort than others) radical feminist actions you can take as a university student:

(this is a liberal arts perspective so if you’re a stem gal this may not apply. but also if you’re in stem maybe you can actually acknowledge that women are oppressed as a sex class without getting kicked out of school. idk)

(Note for TRAs hate reading this: One of the core actions of radical feminism is creating female networks. This is not so that we can brainwash people into being anti-trans. This is because female solidarity is necessary for creating class consciousness and overturning patriarchy. It is harder to subjugate the female sex when we stand together.)

Take classes with female profs. Multiple sections of a class? Pick the one taught by a woman. Have to chose an elective? Only look at electives offered by women. When classes have low numbers they get cancelled. When classes are super popular, universities are forced to consider promoting the faculty that teach them

Make relationships with these female profs. Go to office hours. Chat after class. Ask them about their research. Building female networks is sooooo important!

Actually fill in your end of year course feedback forms. Profs often need these when applying for tenure or applying for a job at another university so it is very important (especially with young and/or new profs) that you fill out these forms and give specific examples of how great these women are. Go off about what you love about them! Give her a brilliant review because you know the idiot boy in that class who won’t shut up even though he knows nothing is going to give her only negative feedback because he thinks any woman who leaves the house is a feminazi b*tch.

(note: obviously don’t go praising any prof - female or male - who is blatantly racist, homophobic, etc.)

(Also if you have shitty male profs write down all the horrible things they have done and said and put it in these forms because once a shitty man gets tenure they are virtually untouchable)

(also also, leave a good review on rate my profs or whatever other thing students use to figure out if they want to take classes. idc if you copy paste your feedback from the formal review. rave about the class to your friends. do what you can to get good enrolment for that prof for reasons above.)

Participate in class. Talk over the male students. Say what you mean and mean it. Call out the boys when they say dumb shit

Write about women. If you have the option to make a text written by a woman your primary text in an essay, do it. Pick the female-centred option if you’re writing an exam-essay with multiple prompts. (Profs often look at what works on their syllabus are being written about/engaged with as a marker of whether to keep those texts the next time they teach the class. If there are badass women on your syllabus, write about them to keep them on the syllabus) Use female-written secondary sources whenever possible.

(pro tip: many women in academia are more than happy to talk to you about their papers. expand your female networks by reaching out to article authors through email and asking them about their cool shit)

Get your essays published! Many departments have undergrad journals you can publish in. This will ensure more people read about the women you write about and will demonstrate to the department that people like learning about women

Consider trying to publish your undergrad essay with a legit peer-reviewed journal. If you can do it, your use of female-written secondary sources boosts the reputations of the women who wrote those secondary sources. Also this helps generally to increase scholarship about women’s writing!

Present your papers at conferences! Many schools have their own undergraduate/departmental conferences that you can present at. Push yourself by submitting to outside conferences. Bring attention to women’s works by presenting your papers. Take a space at a conference that would otherwise be reserved for mediocre men

Talk to your profs and/or your department and/or your university about mandating the inclusion of female works in classes if this isn’t something they do already

Sit next to other women in your classes. Talk to them. Make friends. Form study groups. Proofread each other’s essays. Give each other knowing looks when the boys are being dumb. Just interact with other women! Build those female networks!

Be generous with your compliments. A female classmate and I were talking to a prof after class and the classmate told me (out of the blue) that I always have such interesting things to say. I think about that whenever I’m lacking confidence about my academic skills. Compliment the women in your classes for speaking up, for sharing their opinions, for challenging your classmates/profs, for doing cool presentations, etc.

Talk to other women about sexist things going on on campus. Make everyone aware of the sexist profs. Complain about how there are many more tenured men than tenured women. Go on rate my professor and be explicit about how the sexist profs are sexist

Be active on campus and in societies. If a society has an all male executive or is male-dominated, any women who join that society make it less intimidating for more women to join. Run for executive positions! Bring in more women!

(Pro tip: Many societies’ elections are super gameable. You can be eligible to vote in a society election sometimes just by being a student at that university — even without having done anything with the society before. Other societies might just require that you’ve taken a class in a particular department or attended a society event. (Check the society’s governing documents.) Use those female networks you’ve been building. If you can bring three or four random people to vote for you, that might be enough for you to win. Societies have trouble meeting quorum (the minimum number of people in attendance to do votes) so it is really super achievable to rig an election with a few friends. And don’t feel bad about this. The system is rigged against women so you have every right to exploit loopholes!)

(Also feel free to go vote “non-confidence”/“re-open election” if only shitty men are running. Too often people see that only candidates they don’t like are running and so they give up. But you can actually stop them getting elected)

Your campus may have a LGBTQIA+alphabetsoup society. That society definitely needs more L and B women representation. It may be tedious to argue with the nb straight dudes who insist that it’s fine to use “q***r” in the society’s posters and that attraction has nothing to do with genitals, but just imagine what could happen if we could make these sorts of societies actually safe spaces for same-sex attracted women and advocated for our concerns

Attend random societies’ election meetings. Get women elected and peace out. (or actually get involved but I’m trying to emphasize the lowest commitment option with this one)

Write for the campus newspaper. Write about what women are doing - women’s sports, cool society activities, whatever. Review female movies, books, tv shows, local theatre productions. Write about sexism on campus. We need more female by-lines and more stories about women

Get involved with your campus’s sexual assault & r*pe hotline/sexual assault survivor’s centre/whatever similar organization your campus has if you can. This is hard work and definitely not for everyone (pls take care of yourself first, especially if you are a survivor)

(If your campus doesn’t have an organization for supporting survivor’s of sexualized violence, start one! This is probably going to be a lot of hard work though, so don’t do it alone)

Talk to your student council about providing free menstrual hygiene products on campus if your campus doesn’t already do this. If your campus provides free condoms (which they probs do), use that as leverage (ie. ‘sex is optional, menstruation is not. so why do we have free condoms and no free pads?’)

If you’re an older student, get involved with younger students (orientation week and such activities are good for this). Show the freshman that you can be a successful and well-liked woman without shaving your legs, wearing heels, wearing make-up, etc. Mentor these young women. Offer to go for coffee or proofread essays.

Come to class looking like a human being. Be visibly make-up less, unshaven, unfeminine, etc. to show off the many different ways of being a woman

Talk to the custodial staff and learn their names. (I know there are men who work in this profession, but it is dominated by low-income women) Say hi in the hallways, ask them about their lives, show them they’re appreciated

Be explicit with your language. When you are talking about sex-based oppression, say it. Don’t say ‘sex worker’ when you mean survivor of human trafficking. This tip is obviously a bit tricky in terms of overt TERFyness, so use your best judgement

That’s all from me for now! Feel free to add your suggestions and remember that feminism is about action

#back to school #university #terf safe #terfs DO interact #feminist action

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junos-office-drama · 3 years ago

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From fanfic to paycheck: Getting a job as a copywriter

You understand what a copywriter does, you know you'd enjoy the work, and now you're ready to find a job.

But how do you do that? This time, we're focusing on in-house and agency jobs (freelancing will be next).

Searching for copywriter jobs

If you're new to copywriting, you want to look for jobs with titles like "junior copywriter" or "entry-level copywriter." You may also want to look for "marketing copywriter," "marketing writer," "advertising copywriter," or "advertising writer." Look specifically for jobs that don't require previous experience, or jobs that require commensurate experience. Avoid any jobs that require you to pay for any type of training; these are scams.

Search local job sites, as well as national ones like indeed.com, monster.com, etc. LinkedIn is also a great source to find job openings.

It will help if you have a degree – especially if it's in English, writing, journalism, marketing, communications, public relations, psychology, sociology, or a similar field. However, degrees are not required to become a copywriter. I have known many successful copywriters who only have a high school diploma. Ultimately, your writing skills will matter more than your education.

Remember, you do not need to meet all the requirements of a job to apply. If you're interested in the job and you meet at least half the requirements, apply!

Carefully read job ads to determine if they're for an in-house team, an agency, or a staffing/talent agency, so you know what type of role you're applying for (see my previous post for the differences between these employer types).

Once you've found a few jobs you're interested in applying to, it's time to prep your resume!

Drafting the perfect resume

To get a copywriter job, you will want to write a resume specifically targeted for the role.

This year alone I was on five hiring committees for copywriters, interviewed dozens of candidates, and reviewed hundreds of resumes: these tips are what will help your resume stand out from the crowd.

If you have less than 10 years of work experience, your copywriter resume should likely fit on a single page. No matter how much experience you have, your copywriter resume should never be more than two pages.

At the top of your resume should be your name, phone number, email address, city and state, and a link to a professional website or LinkedIn page (if you have one). Do not link to personal sites, ao3 or FFN accounts, personal social media, etc.

Next should be a short summary of why you're awesome – this is like a fic summary. The purpose here is to entice the reader to continue! This shouldn't be more than 3-5 lines in total. If you've worked in retail or customer service, your summary might read something like this:

Prolific, grammar-obsessed writer with a passion for finding the right words to excite and engage her audience. Extensive experience working directly with customers to understand their wants, needs, and motivators. Collaborative team player who excels at independent projects. Skilled at developing long-form, short-form, and social media content.

After that should be a listing of prior jobs, under the heading "Experience" or "Work History." I usually format this as follows:

JOB TITLE, Company Name, 2019 – 2021

First accomplishment

Second accomplishment

Etc.

Please note that your bullet points should be your accomplishments and not your job duties. Never use the words "responsible for." This phrase is banned from your resume!

Think of your resume as your first copywriting assignment, and the product you're selling is you! Now is the time to get creative (but not untruthful) about your work history. In general, for a copywriting job, you want to emphasize your: understanding of customers, attention to detail, project/time management, and writing skills.

How you describe your work history will be almost as important was your actual work history. Remember, you're applying for a copywriter job – your resume is an opportunity to show you can write compelling copy.

For example, have you ever processed returns in a retail situation? Great! You've "Worked with consumers to understand and resolve complaints, and refund or replace unsatisfactory merchandise."

Have you ever had to walk through a store to take down old sales signs and put up new ones? Awesome! You've "Proactively updated sales labels and quality-checked display signage."

Worked in a call center, tech support, or otherwise answered phones? "Responded to incoming customer inquiries, feedback, and concerns, following company procedures to document and resolve issues."

Made drinks at Starbucks during the morning rush? "Maintained high levels of customer engagement while coordinating with the team to accurately complete complex orders in a fast-moving environment."

After your work history, list your education (heading: "Education" or "Education Achievements"). If you are a recent graduate (high school or college) and had good grades, include your GPA. Skip listing your graduation unless it was very recent (in the past 2-3 years). In this section, you can also list any awards you've won, scholarships you earned, training you've completed, or certifications you hold.

At the very bottom, if you have extra accomplishments – such as your fanfic – that you want to include, this is your space to do so. You can label these "Personal Accomplishments" or "Personal Achievements." Again, do not link to or list your ao3, FFN, or other fanfic accounts. Do not state that you write fanfiction (your future employer may not know what it is, or may not realize it's legal). Here are accomplishments that would be valid to list:

Achieved a 30% user engagement ratio with ongoing creative fiction series (FYI: your "user engagement ratio" is your total number of kudos + total number of comment threads, divided by your total number of hits. If this is 20% or above, it's brag-worthy.)

Tripled personal social media following in 3 months (if you went from 100 Twitter followers to 300 followers, that is "tripling" your following)

Wrote creative fiction series that attracted 10,000 visitors in 5 months (use your "hits" as proxy for "visitors"; don't list numbers like these unless they're 5,000 or higher, and better is 10,000+)

Independently researched, drafted, and posted 50,000-word creative fiction series over 12-month period

Note two things about all of these: they have hard numbers and a time period. If you can't include those two elements, don't include it in your personal accomplishments.

Do not list your references on your resume.

When you're finished writing your resume, proof it. Then proof it again. Then proof it again. Your resume should be grammatically flawless. Major errors, issues with punctuation, or other mistakes can be very costly when you're applying for a writing job.

Writing the perfect cover letter

You may have heard that cover letters are no longer necessary – and, for most jobs, they are not. But you are trying to get a writing job! Why would you turn down the opportunity to show off your writing skills?

The ideal cover page is rather short, only a few paragraphs. At the top should be the same information as on your resume: your name, phone number, email address, city and state, and a link to a professional website or LinkedIn page (if you have one).

Hit the enter key a few times, type the date, then hit enter a few more times. If you're not sure who the recruiter or hiring manager is, you can start it with "Dear Hiring Manager." Another good option would be "Dear [Company Name] Marketing Team." Do not use "To whom it may concern."

Your first paragraph is super short, one or two sentences at most. This is to express excitement for the opening. Something along the lines of "When I saw the opening for [Job Title] on [Website], I immediately knew I had to apply. I would be thrilled to bring my [short list of talents, e.g., passion for writing and strong time management skills] to [Company Name] as your [Job Title]."

For paragraphs two and three, look at the job ad. Choose requirements where you have particular strengths. For example, if the job ad says that they're looking for someone with a customer-first attitude, you might describe how you went out of your way to make customers happy in your current or previous job. If they say attention to detail is a key skill, talk about a time you caught a small but important error that helped save your company money or improved the customer experience. Keep these paragraphs short – don't go into too much detail.

Paragraph four is your closing, where you re-iterate how interested you are in the job. Close with a sentence saying you're looking forward to speaking soon.

Finish with "Sincerely" or "Best regards," followed by your full name.

Phew, your cover letter all is done! Best of all, you can keep using it over and over, just revise it each time to make it fit the job you're applying for.

Making (or faking) your portfolio

Having a portfolio is extremely helpful when it comes to getting a job as a copywriter.

But how could you possibly have a portfolio if you've never worked as a copywriter before?

Honestly: You fake it. You can either choose an existing company or you can make up a company; both are fine. Don't choose large, well-known companies like Nike, McDonalds, Toyota, etc. Instead, look at local or regional companies in your area (or make one up).

If you're asked about the examples in your portfolio, simply be truthful. Say "I didn't work for [Company], but I wanted to practice my copywriting skills and I was very impressed with their [product/service]." The hiring manager will not care that your work is "fake;" they will only care about the quality of writing that they see.

All copywriting portfolios should include:

A marketing email, promoting a product or service

Three to five social media posts

A short blog – "how to do X" are always good options

In addition to these core elements, you may also want to consider:

A direct mail piece, such as a postcard or sales letter

A campaign landing page for a website

A billboard

A script for a TV or radio commercial

A print ad

A digital pop-up ad

Remember, you don't actually have to create these things – you just need to write them. If you have design skills, adding some graphic elements will jazz your portfolio up, but it's not necessary.

For example, your "campaign landing page" might be a Word document where you've simply written out all the elements that would appear on the real webpage. This is the type of work actual copywriters do – they hand those Word documents off to someone else for actual production/design work – and most hiring managers will recognize that.

You should save each element of your portfolio as a PDF and be ready to share them if a hiring manager asks for your portfolio or writing samples.

If you have a short piece of original fiction (under 2,000 words) that is completely work safe (no sex, no graphic violence, no controversial themes), you can include that in your portfolio, too.

Bonus tip: Many professional copywriters keep an online portfolio. Spend some time in LinkedIn searching for copywriters, and you'll see many link straight to their online portfolios from their LinkedIn profiles. Never written a marketing email before? Not sure what makes a great billboard? Go check out a few professional portfolios for inspiration (but never copy another's work).

Writing assignments

Some employers will ask you to complete a writing assignment as part of the hiring process.

Do not do any writing assignments unless you've reached the interview stage – either they ask you to bring the finished assignment to the interview or it is a follow-up assignment to complete after an interview. If the writing assignment is required as part of the application, this is a red flag and not an employer you want to work for.

Writing assignments should not take more than 1-2 hours. If the potential employer is asking for a writing assignment that takes longer than 2 hours and the work is not compensated (i.e., paid), this is a red flag and not an employer you want to work for.

If the potential employer springs a surprise writing assignment on you during the interview, feel free to end the interview and leave. This is a huge red flag and not an employer you want to work for.

You generally will not be compensated for your writing assignments. However, you retain full ownership and copyright of any assignment you create during the hiring process. You can add these to your portfolio if you wish.

Acing the interview

There is a ton of advice out in the world about preparing for interviews, so I'm not going to dig into this topic too deeply

Most employers are huge fans of behavior interviews right now. These are the "tell me about a time when you…" questions. Prepare a half-dozen stories you can tell during your interview. For copywriting roles, focus on stories that illustrate your dedication to customer service, attention to detail, project/time management, and writing skills. I find it helpful to actually write these stories out and practice telling them in advance, so the come instantly to mind when I'm in an interview.

Before your interview, you may want to make sure you understand these common copywriting terms:

SEO: Search engine optimization. The skills and strategies used to make a webpage rank higher on a search results page.

SERP: Search engine results page.

Direct mail/direct marketing: A piece of marketing targeted at a single individual. Junk mail and email are the most common forms of direct mail/direct marketing.

CTA: Call to action. In a marketing piece, this is the part that asks the reader to do something. "Buy now!" is a call to action. So is "Sign up today!" and "Learn more."

Chicago Style and AP Style: These are the two most common writing style guides used by professional copywriters. It will help your job prospects if you are familiar with one (or both) of these style guides.

B2B: Business to business. Companies that sell to other businesses (Boeing is an example of a B2B; they typically sell airplanes to other businesses).

B2C: Business to consumer. Companies that sell directly to consumers (Target and Reebook are B2C).

B2G: Business to government. Companies that sell primarily to the federal or state government.

Persona: This is a description of the type of customer a company is targeting. For example, a persona might be "30-40 years, married with kids, renting, trying to save up for a house, loves watching sports."

UX: User experience. UX writing focuses on writing short copy for websites, apps, and software programs.

If you can speak fluently about these terms if they come up during an interview, they will improve your chances as a candidate. But don't worry if your interview asks about a term you've never heard before! I'd been writing for over a decade when an interviewer asked me about RTBs and I honestly had to stop and ask what that was, because I never heard the term before (later I learned it stands for Reasons to Believe). And I still got the job!

Hopefully, at this point, you're feeling like you have what you needed to start finding (and getting) your first copywriting job.

However, if you feel like corporate America isn't the right choice for you, the next topic will be earning income as an independent freelance copywriter.

Previously: How do I know if a copywriting job is actually a good fit for me?

Next time: How to make money as an independent freelance copywriter

#from fanfic to paycheck #fanfiction #fanfic #career advice #writing jobs #copywriting #copywriter #resume #resume advice #writing #writing career #professional writers #writing advice

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naryrising · 1 year ago

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I'm going to piggyback on this post and tell you how to help your friendly local AO3 Support volunteer (me) if you do submit a support ticket about tags!

Wait at least a month after the tag has first been used on a work before contacting us, please! You don't need to contact us 2 days after the tag was first used - our tag wranglers need time to do their work. If it's been a month and the tag remains unwrangled, go ahead and contact us at that point.

Submit one report per fandom, OR at least clearly indicate the fandoms in your report. A long list of tags like "Please canonize Jane Parker/Mary Smith, Peter Jones/Sally Williams, Nathan Walker/Phil Davis, Wizard Danny Jacobson, Catboy Alex Harris..." from a bunch of different fandoms, none of which are indicated in the report, will make my work take 10x as long, because now I have to look up each of those tags and figure out what fandom's wranglers need to be contacted about fixing the issue. I do not know all tags in all fandoms, so give me a hand and tell me what fandom you're talking about!

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Some "Did you know"s about AO3 tags from a tag wrangler volunteer

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#ao3 support #ao3 tags

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sukirichi · 3 years ago

Text

earned it [07]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. explicit smut, pool sex, slight angst, i miss naoya :(, mafia business, mentions of blood, lots of drama, mentions of death and murder

note. IDEK ANYMORE. lmao anyways do you guys want faster updates or do you guys want to wait? i can finish the series next week and then we can move on to white lies 😈

series masterlist

The three of you were seated back at your tables, where the whole dancing fiasco had thankfully ended. Satoru noticed nothing of your behavior – either he was really clueless, or you were a damn good actor – the guy was much too invested with the files Nanami was currently showing.

For a moment, you let yourself loosen as you took a deep breath. The account was much more important than whatever Nanami was scheming.

“I think I may have found where the real money is, or treasure, we should say, since none of us can really figure out what the Zen’ins might be hiding. And from the looks of it, considering Naoya had no idea about what his family kept prior to his death, this is something only his elders wanted to know about,” Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding a photo of an unsuspecting white manor that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “And it’s been right under our nose the whole time.”

“That’s one of our islands,” you replied with a furrowed brow, “Are you saying you traced the source back there? But that’s impossible, we haven’t used that island for years and even Naoya told me he was going to sell it because it was of no use to us. It’s not on commercial waters and there’s no local people around either. That island is in the middle of nowhere.”

“This is exactly why it’s the best place to hide things – because no one would ever suspect this seemingly harmless middle of nowhere could contain their assets.”

Satoru, who’d kept silent the whole time, inched closer to you. His cologne wafting off to you eased you for a moment – purely because it was familiar – and even though you despised saying it, you were thankful he was here. Currently, the blond man posed a bigger threat, the difference being that Nanami actually had leverage against you while you had more control over Satoru.

You sighed. If Naoya was here, things would’ve been so much better. He never lost his composure in figuring things out on his own. But now that he was gone, now that he’d never be coming back, you had be responsible for his sake, but mostly for yours.

“Take a look at this. The nearest land is a small, uncharted city from Brazil’s outskirts. I’ve been illegally transporting weaponry and firearms somewhere near there since our family started the business – it’s the easiest place to sneak in things without getting caught. All you need to do is pay a few fishermen and they’ll easily transport our load from one place to another, no questions asked,” Satoru announced, seemingly deep in thought as he rubbed his chin. “It would make sense if the Zen’in clan elders found this place useful too. It’s basically a hot site for criminals.”

“But we don’t operate this way. The Zen’in elders are too prideful to handle transactions like this. They would’ve chosen a more…discreet yet formal way of handling things.”

“How does an underwater passage sound?” Nanami pushed the other photo aside to reveal a blurry snap of what seemed like a tunnel under the sea. On the surface, it looked just like an abandoned rig, but it stretched too long, the exterior already covered in mold and seaweed. “About 80 years ago, the Zen’in Clan leader at that time was often heavily targeted by their enemies in business that they preferred to travel under the sea. If my theory is correct, right under that island would be another base of some sort that allows the clan leaders move from one country to another while remaining undetected.”

“So that’s how they easily sent their own shit overseas…”

“It would be a very sound conclusion to assume so,” Nanami crossed his arms at Satoru’s musings, “However, that’s all I know. All I can tell you is where I last got the signal for the source – which is about seven years ago, and a few months right after Toji Zen’in was disowned by his family when Naobito took over. It would also be near around the time he met his wife and had his child, which would increase the possibilities that he may have stored something in this island for his son’s future. Again, it could be money, gold – we don’t really know,” he nodded your way, a sense of finality behind those blue eyes that had now looked so menacing when once it brought you comfort – reassurance. “How you get there is all up to you.”

Something didn’t feel right.

“If the elders really wanted to hide this place, they wouldn’t have passed the rights of the island into my inheritance when Naoya died. They surely wouldn’t have wanted me to find out about this.”

“I could think of two things,” Satoru proposed, “It’s either they trust your potential enough as the clan leader to replace Naoya, or they didn’t think you’d care anyway.”

You let his words sink in. The clan elders have never bothered much with you. They were too prideful about “saving face” and “keeping up images” that they couldn’t even let a word of insult slip past their lips under the belief they were above that. But you weren’t stupid; they had never approved of your marriage to Naoya. An outsider like you, suddenly becoming a part of their family when they could’ve had your husband marry a family friend?

They may have kept silent about their dislike to you, but one way or another, they were going to take action for it.

Knowing the Zen’ins, being a Zen’in, you knew there was one thing they hated the most: not being in control.

“Neither,” you finally concluded while mumbling down at your lap. The theory was hazy, incomplete, based only on mere emotions but slowly, you were coming together to piece it. You felt Satoru turn your way, his large hand caressing your knee as if coaxing the words out of you. “It’s neither. Naoya’s elders…they never liked me. It’s been made pretty clear to me that I’m dispensable without my husband, and I will never be a Zen’in in their eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked me to give up all my inheritance from Naoya because I’m not related to them by blood.”

The silence in the table stretched.

No matter how grandiose the hotel restaurant may be, you felt suffocated in that seat. How didn’t you realize it sooner? You were in a land that stretched past your territory, with both men accompanying you people you couldn’t wholeheartedly trust, while your husband rotted away back at home – probably covered in dust and not even given a proper burial like he deserved.

There was only one way out of this, to put an end to everything. It would prove to be a daunting task, but you didn’t have a choice. No, in fact, this was your only choice if you wanted to survive.

Satoru’s voice softened upon seeing the grimness of how you turned mum. “I’ll follow you wherever you go. I promise to help you in finding out whatever is in there,” he met your eyes; yours filled with contempt, with fear, with desperation, and his filled with regret. “It’s the least I could do…after everything I’ve done to you.”

You took a deep breath.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. There was no way you could trust him with his empty promises. He’d shown enough times that he wasn’t a man of his word, and you’d be a fool to fall for it again. However, Nanami’s glance was curious and suspecting, hiding his true colors with an innocent gesture of sipping his wine. He may seem unbothered and only here to ‘help’, but this man was cunning, possibly more so than Naoya could ever be, and one wrong move would be similar to stepping on a land mine.

Satoru received no response from you, and soon the three of you were standing outside the hotel’s lobby to escort Nanami back where he came from. The dinner was tense, so much so that you’d unknowingly been clutching Satoru’s bicep the whole time.

He tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to life as he gestured to his phone. “Sorry, it’s Geto.”

“Oh,” you muttered and stepped away from him, feeling your heart sink in your chest as you watched him retreat behind the glass doors. Beside you, Nanami snickered.

“Made up your mind, agent?” he taunted, “This is your final chance to prove yourself. Gather enough intel for us to intrude whatever that mighty clan is hiding underneath that island, surrender Gojo to us, and we’ll give you everything as promised.”

You faced him with fiery eyes, prepared for whatever he’d throw your way when he showed you that cursed red coin again. Realizing its power, the true meaning it held, you immediately shut your lips. It must’ve satisfied to know he was the one in charge here, and how could he not be when your life was literally at the palm of his hands, your days growing more numbered if you didn’t follow everything he asked for?

If you had just…if you had just done everything the Organization had asked you for, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have felt this torn.

Nanami flipped the coin before tucking it into his pocket, sending one last salute your way. He hailed a cab and disappeared afterwards, leaving you alone to ponder over the consequences of your actions, your emotions. For the first time in his life, Naoya had lied to you.

He wasn’t correct when he said you were strong.

Because after all this time, you still held onto something that you should’ve let go of a long time ago, and you had nothing but your weak, sensitive, hopeless heart to blame for. Said hurdle appeared not long afterwards, his touch warm on your shoulder as he gazed at the empty spot beside you.

“Oh, Nanami left,” he noted, turning your shoulders to him until you were completely exposed. There was no more hiding from him, or more like you didn’t have enough energy to. You felt dull, tiredness lining your eyes and lips pressed into a flat line. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Ten days. That was how much you’ve wasted your time here in Milan, and you weren’t even remotely close to figuring things out. Your resources were much more limited the farther you were from the Zen’in Estate, and your lawyer was a family one, meaning they held more loyalty to the actual Zen’ins instead of law-affiliated people like you were.

Simply put, you were all alone to solve this by yourself.

Satoru promised to help, but he kept disappearing in the morning along with Geto. You never asked where they went or what they did; it simply didn’t matter anymore.

You would only spend hours locked in your room as you researched everything you could on your private island near Brazil. Just like Satoru said, it seemed like the perfect place to hide things for the spot seemed remote enough to offer privacy for the family’s getaway. You could somewhat recall Naoya proposing once to take you there for your honeymoon, but business got in the way, and it wasn’t like you truly trusted him then to spend such an intimate with him that you said no.

Sighing, you put all the papers away. Not even a single clue led you to what could be possibly be there, but there was an underwater passage. The fact the Zen’ins was capable of building that made you wonder just what the extent of their powers and influence stretched to, and you contemplated for a bit if you could hold that same ability now that you had his name.

Whatever was there, you would look for it.

Your mission was clear – the success of it would determine the fate of your life. Find out what they’re hiding, surrender Satoru Gojo to the Organization, and then everything would be over.

It sounded simple, yet your heart knew it wasn’t. Naoya died with the confidence of his trust over you, the trust you worked so hard to earn. But wasn’t that point? You needed him to trust you for you to be able to pull this mission off, but things happened, emotions and conscience got in the way, and you banged your knuckles on the table until your ring throbbed on your finger.

You just wanted it all to end. You never meant to hurt Naoya, never meant to betray anyone, but it fucking pissed you off that Naoya wasn’t the real problem. He wasn’t the one holding you back.

With not much thought to your next actions, you slipped past the guards and into the pool that had long been closed since 10PM. Being at your room’s tub reminded you of memories you’d rather forget, and you slowly undid your robe and stepped out of your underwear before dipping in the cold, freezing water.

It felt good. It may have been temporary, but the numbing bite of the water helped you feel more placated. Even for a little while, it was nice to not worry about anything. There were no titles, no mafia drama, no anything, just you and the water that you would’ve easily fooled yourself to be simply enjoying your little trip in Milan until –

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You had me worried sick,” You sighed. Of course. Opening your eyes, you raised a brow as Satoru towered over you, a standard hotel towel in his arms. He’d change out of his suit and into cotton shorts and a shirt this time around, possibly on his way to sleep when he realized the room was empty. With no energy to deal with him, you swam away from the man, earning a groan in response. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve been acting weird ever since Nanami came. Listen, if this is about that island, you don’t have to worry too much about anything. I have enough people and resources to help you in every step of the way.”

You ignored him. After everything that happened, what was there to talk about anymore? Even if you told him everything, he might not understand.

So you swam in the middle of the pool, thankful that it was dark enough from the maintenance shutting the lights off that Satoru struggled to find you. However, you’d underestimated him because soon you heard the splashing of the water, and you were harshly tugged by the wrist before Satoru cornered you at the edge of the pool.

He was breathing hard; both of you were, and tried to push past his chest, only to be met with a solid plane of muscle that wouldn’t budge. You sighed and turned away from him, covering your exposed chest with your arms.

“Whatever Naoya is looking for…you’ll find it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious,” the scorn in his tone had been so biting you turned back to him, about to hit him with something, scold him for something, but your words died down in your throat before you even had the chance to.

Satoru hadn’t been demanding. His face, illuminated by the moonlight, made his azure eyes twinkle like stardust exploding. Once in your life, you found so much comfort into staring at such beauty, but that was when everything was still a perfect lie. Funny how the truth ruined everything for its darkness, and you could only look back at him weakly, throat running dry from all the emotions that threatened to pour out of you.

Regret and desperation was written all over his face.

“Please,” he rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he mumbled, “You’re not alone in this. I don’t want to ask for much because I know I don’t deserve it, but please at least understand you don’t have to solve everything on your own. You’re not…you’re not alone. I’m here now.”

“When you left me,” your voice cracked, “It’s because you thought I wouldn’t love you anymore if I found out your true nature,” Satoru opened his eyes, anxiety swimming in those eyes that had once been so sweet. Perhaps he still held that sweetness now, albeit it was less tender and more cautious as he waited for you to continue. “If I told you about every sin I’ve committed, the name of each person I killed and everything I’ve done, would you stay with me? Or would you leave me again, only this time it’s because you think I’m no longer someone you could love?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” was all you said before you felt a tear prick the back of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see, god, you wanted to disappear in that moment you couldn’t think of anything else. Crashing your lips to his, you brought him down by the back of his neck to hide the tears freely falling from your face.

He froze for a split second before he eagerly pushed back, clenching the pool edges with his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. You were panting, moaning in his mouth as he pressed you harder against the edge, skin to skin, breath to breath, soul to soul.

Threading your hands to his hair, you grinded down on his shorts where he was already beginning to grow hard. Satoru groaned inside your mouth from your teasing but made no move to stop to – after all, why would he want to stop? It had been years, seven fucking years, and even you wouldn’t want to stop. It was wrong, it was dirty, it was immoral – but you needed this. You needed this more than ever.

Satoru’s hands tickled your waist as he squeezed them harsher than he intended, his calloused fingers travelling until he was kneading your breasts. You pulled away from him, head thrown back to rest on the edge.

And it was romantic.

The moon had never been so big, sprinkles of star shining in the vast darkness, the scene just perfect for two lovers in a getaway from the harshness of life. You knew it wasn’t real and the spell would break sooner than later, but did it matter? He rolled your beaded nipples into his fingers before he ducked down, lips suctioned to suck heavy bruises on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck that had you twitching in his hold.

Along with your moans, you cried harder. From heartbreak, from regret, from guilt; there was no turning back from this.

“Satoru, please, please, please. Make me feel better, make me feel good, I just want to forget everything.”

He nodded eagerly against your neck, letting your eager hands help him push his shorts down before his cock sprang free. His length grazed your lower abdomen for a moment, though he didn’t waste any time in entering your hole. You gritted your teeth at the intrusion, nails dug so hard in his shoulders that he bled.

The both of you had your foreheads connected, noses brushing and breaths mixing as you moaned and he sighed, eyes shut tight from finally being engulfed in your warmth.

“Right there, ‘Toru, oh fuck.”

“F-fuck,” he hitched one of your legs to wrap around his waist, “You’re still so tight after all this time,” Satoru praised, molding his lips with yours once again. He picked up his pace and watched as you desperately clung from one surface to another – his shoulders, his hair, the edge of the pool, flailing your arms each time his deep thrusts knocked the wind out of you – breasts bouncing as he bounced you on his cock.

“You look so fucking beautiful – my sweet, sweet angel. I missed you, missed you so fucking much.”

You didn’t say anything. No words were needed to be exchanged; actions spoke louder than words. At least right now, you could promise you wouldn’t lie.

Pulling him down for another kiss, you bit down on his bottom lip to muffle your moans, too speechless at each movement of his dick grazing past your walls. Fuck, he still felt so good, still knew your body way too well and your pussy hugged him so tight like you didn’t ever want to let go.

But you knew you had to, even as he came inside you and brought you back to your room, uncaring of the dripping mess you’ve both made before he locked the door.

You forgot how many hours you spent underneath him writhing in his bed. He took you each way he wanted – knees folded beside your head, on your side where he whispered all the filthy things he’d been wanting to do to you while he took you from behind, or your head squished on the pillow as he repeatedly smacked your ass, pulling your ass cheeks apart to praise you on how you took him so well. Satoru didn’t stop; you knew what you were getting into the moment you pulled him into you, that his sex drive was insane and he’d take long to tire himself out.

By the time the first shy fingertips of the sunlight extending across the horizon arrived, you were emptily staring at the window, Satoru fast asleep beside you.

It was time.

Silently, you pulled his arm away from you and quickly got dressed. He seemed to still be deep in slumber, and you carried the only bag previously packed with everything you might need. You were on the process of wearing your stilettos when he stirred awake, sleepily eyeing you from the bed you both devoted yourselves to in pleasuring one another.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” you answered, tight-lipped. “From you.”

“Why?”

“Because…I lied,” you inhaled sharply, gloved hands frozen on the golden knobs.

Just open it, you screamed at yourself, walk away before it’s too late.

But you couldn’t move, pathetic that even after everything Naoya had worked so hard for, you still remained a slave to your past.

“No matter how much I hate everything you’ve done to me, I can’t bring myself to forget I once loved you. Maybe I still do – I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not as strong as I thought I was,” you cried, losing grip on the bag before it fell. You watched emptily as all the contents poured out – your money, your clothes, your phone, your ring – it all served as a reminder of who you were, of who you’d forgotten to be, of who you were supposed to be.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I don’t have enough strength to kill you.”

“Hey, angel,” he cooed, reaching you in three long strides before he caged you in his arms. Satoru was so warm, so strong, and the safety he provided you with only made you cry harder. You wanted to hate him, wanted to keep lying yourself since you’d been doing a great job at doing that for the past seven years, but it wasn’t that easy. Deep down…you still harbored the most miniscule affection, and that enough was capable of destroying you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you whispered brokenly as you banged a weak fist to his chest, “Everything is wrong.”

Finavice Pharmaceuticals didn’t disappoint.

You were beyond impressed the moment you stepped through the door, a horde of eager chemists guiding you through the upper floors. Finavice was one of the biggest – if not the biggest – companies that were known for harboring the rarest or hard to get elements that not even you and Naoya could get your hands on.

Not by yourselves, anyway, so you took it upon yourself to strike a sponsorship to their research program in developing a cure to cancer under the guise of being an advocate to the improvement of the medical field.

Truthfully, you just wanted to please Naoya, show him you were useful and that he didn’t need to kill you. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and there you were, your prettiest smile plastered on as you scanned the towering buildings with unmasked interest.

“Here is the laboratory for the Finavice Pharmaceuticals where we test…”

“Mrs. Zen’in?”

The entire team stopped as a tall man, cloaked in a beige suit instead of a lab coat appearhed out of nowhere. Judging by how everyone had ducked their heads down and turned silent, you could only guess he must be the boss. Flashing your most charming smile, you hitched your bag higher up your arm. “Yes?”

“May I have a word with you?”

You fought the urge to sigh. His question was spoken much more of a statement that you weren’t really given a room to decline, and the young chemists gazed at you curiously under their lashes.

Not wanting to create a commotion that would lead into unwanted attention, you nodded, following the man through a set of double doors, guarded by two heavily armed men from the outside.

The man, who was Kento Nanami, the founder of Finavice himself leaned back into his seat as he made himself comfortable. “So you signed a contract with us two weeks ago to partner on our latest medicine, am I right? I’ve read over your proposals and I must say, they are rather interesting and innovative. I didn’t expect that a businessman’s wife would be a chemist who is interested in expanding to the pharmaceuticals as well. The Zen’ins has never been much invested in that.”

Gladly accepting the tea he’d slid your way, you made sure to clink the teaspoon against the porcelain as you played along. “People change, Mr. Kento. My husband and I’s goals are rather different from their former, traditional ones. Surely, steel exchange couldn’t support us for the rest of our lives.”

“I can’t say no to that. Kudos to you and your husband for your rather…ambitious shared goals then.”

Your hand froze on the utensil, and you narrowed your eyes at him in warning. “Are you implying we should not have trusted you with this, Mr. Kento?”

“No, I am merely letting you know that your act won’t fool me,” he chuckled, leaning forwards to rest his chin on his clasped knuckles, his blue eyes growing dark and serious. “I know what you and your husband’s family does. The Organization knows a lot more about your actions than you think you know we do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re only here because we’re the only company who has access to an element you need for your drug, isn’t that the case, Mrs. Zen’in?”

Well…this was certainly unexpected. You’ve been effortlessly deceiving countless businessmen, government leaders and officials even, that this took you by your surprise. Two could play at this game.

Even if he saw through you long ago, it wouldn’t take much to grab his letter opener that was right beside you and puncture it through a jugular vein. If his guards came, you could easily take them down too. Today was one of those few moments you were thankful for Naoya’s hellish training.

But you didn’t want him to feel satisfied, so you leaned back into your seat and crossed your leg over the other.

“If you knew this whole time, why didn’t you kill me already? A lot of people wouldn’t miss the chance to do so.”

Nanami chuckled. “It’s because like you, I’m not just a pioneer. I, too, have my goals and loyalty laid out for someone else. Most specifically, the Organization, an international collaborative effort of stopping and reducing mafia movement for the safety of our people. Obviously, I’ve been assigned in the Yakuza Division, and it’s no coincidence I read through your file. You are, after all, one of our precious targets.”

You stared at him boredly. Why couldn’t he just get straight to the point?

“Is this a threat? I’m not sure it’s working.”

“Oh, no, I’m not threatening you,” he snatched your tea and took a long sip from it, and it was the first time you learned of his habit of concealing his curious gaze through drinking; a perfect act to seem inconspicuous.

“I am offering you a path to redemption. You may fool everyone, but I know an unhappy woman when I see one, Mrs. Zen’in, and I can tell you find no pleasure in the life you live – running errands for your criminal husband, constantly fearing for your life, wishing you’d just been a regular person like everyone else…” At the lack of response, he took it a gesture for him to continue, and he set the cup down, pushing his glasses right back up his nose. “The Organization has labeled you a target, but I think you’re more of a victim caught in a series of unfortunate events. I merely wish to save you from it.”

You guffawed in laughter at his last statement.

“You men really are ridiculous!” you slapped your palm on his table, losing every bit of that elegant composure to be perfected by a Zen’in wife. “Always preaching about saving me and protecting me – what actually are you pathetic losers even capable of?”

Much to your dismay, Nanami didn’t seem the least bit affected by your mockery.

“Please, don’t group me in with your husband and your former lover. Unlike them, I harbor no interest in you as a woman, I only want to fulfill my duty as an Agent and save you not because you’re a damsel in distress, but rather because…I could kill two birds with one stone,” his eyes shone in mischief, and you swallowed in discomfort as he gazed you up and down.

You’ve had enough experience with being seen as a meal, but this was different. Nanami was viewing you like you were a secret weapon he intended on using as much as he could to achieve his goals.

“You are a very convenient woman, Mrs. Zen’in. Similar to how your husband adores your abilities, I would like to take advantage of your connections. The only difference between me and them is that I can actually give you something money can’t even buy.”

“Such as?”

“A second chance at a normal life.”

“What makes you think I’ll accept your offer? I’m the wife of a mafia leader – my loyalty resides in him.”

“Only because you fear for your life,” he flashed you a red coin, crescents of a Latin quote scripted inside. Mori quam foedari – death before dishonor.

“Join the Organization, Y/N. With your connections, we could easily take down these families and protect the country. Hand over Satoru Gojo and Naoya Zen’in to us, and I promise the Organization will do everything in its power to give you the life you always wanted. A safe, normal one. No more worrying about being killed as you ride your car, no more beating yourself up as you make drugs to promise your usefulness to your husband and no more pretending you are someone who you’re not,” he flipped the coin between his fingers, and tantalized, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. “Don’t you want that? You’d be able to live freely if you cooperate with us.”

You could hear the gears in your head turning. Part of you would’ve assumed this was a trap had you not known better, but Naoya taught you that if something was a trap, it would sound too easy, too good.

None of this was easy. It would require facing a demon from your past and handling things differently than what Naoya had planned, but that wasn’t the worst.

It was the fact that if you accepted, you’d have to come home tonight and lie in the face of your husband who could easily read through you. He smelled lies and treachery before you could realize you were even thinking of doing something, and knowing Naoya, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes the instant he felt something was off.

But his offer… it was a risk you had to take. You wouldn’t ever get an opportunity like this again.

“Do you promise…that I’ll really go back to normal after this? That I won’t be involved in this mess anymore?”

“I can only promise that if you also promise to do your part. You see, I strongly believe you are the one that can put an end to this all. All you have to do is join us, and soon it’ll feel like this nightmare never happened at all. You’ll be free from Naoya Zen’in and Gojo Satoru before you realize it.”

You stared at his coin harder. Death before dishonor. This Organization he was a part of obviously didn’t fuck around, and it seemed scarier because they had their eyes on you for a while now. What were the odds they offered a deal instead of outright killing you, even going as far as to provide you a second chance at life, one that you genuinely wanted to enjoy? It would be a shame to say no, and even if the chances of this turning out well were low, you would damn well take it. A small chance was better than nothing.

“What do I have to do?”

Nanami grinned and pocketed his coin. “A very wise decision, Mrs. Zen’in,” he congratulated, “Please, meet me at my office tomorrow, eight on the dot. Oh, and remember, the Organization will now be watching you wherever you go. You’re one of us now.”

The next day, Nanami had cut your palm.

He spilled your blood into an empty metal casing with engraved letters, mori quam foedari, the phrase both comforting and ominous. Soon, you came home with your blood solidified into a coin to prove your membership and loyalty, that they quite owned you in more ways than one. Your blood meant your loyalty, and the coin felt heavy in your pocket with the implication it was also your blood they wouldn’t hesitate to spill should you betray them.

Mori quam foedari.

Death before dishonor.

Your life over Naoya’s, your future over Gojo’s.

The next few days had been tense. After telling Satoru everything down from the smallest detail, things had shifted between you. Quite frankly, you expected that maybe he’d kill you right then and there after explicitly stating that just because you couldn’t kill him, didn’t mean you wouldn’t turn him in.

“Angel,” he begged, “Will you never really give me the chance to do everything right this time around?”

However, you were too firm on your plans. You originally wanted to leave and go to the island yourself; it was easier to leave Satoru open and vulnerable for the Organization to attack him in your absence. He loved you, that was much clear, and if he looked for you, he’d make himself vulnerable to the Organization, but recent plans had to be altered now that he wasn’t willing to let go of you. Though no matter what he said, you valued your life and future more than you could ever love him.

It was an act of kindness to yourself.

“I don’t want this life anymore, Satoru. Either way, I don’t have a choice, not when I could die literally anytime before I could even say goodbye.”

It had been hours since ‘that’ talk and now you were on a plane back to Tokyo. You had to pull out some archives from Naoya’s files to know more about the island before you could visit it, and it was important for Satoru to know details such as security measures over there.

You’d long fallen asleep from exhaustion, bundled up in a fleece blanket while Geto glared at you.

“Are you sure about this, Sir? I think we should just keep her with us even if she doesn’t want to. The Gojo clan is powerful enough that no one would dare cross us. Not even this Organization she speaks of has ever done anything to us. Without her, they stand no chance against us,” he sat in front his boss and kept sending wary glances your way. “Letting her go like you did before wasn’t a good idea. She knows too much about everyone to live normally now. Do you really believe the Organization will protect her?”

“Knowing the strings the government could pull – and add on to the fact Nanami Kento, one of the richest men in this country works for them that it’s safe to assume each figure in them is a powerhouse – I don’t doubt their promise one bit.”

“But you’ll go to jail if you let her surrender you. Or worse, they’ll destroy the clan from the bottom up.”

“I know that, Geto.”

Geto groaned, brushing his hands through his hair from how indifferent his boss was being, drinking champagne as if he wasn’t willingly walking into his own death. “Then why aren’t you thinking more clearly about this? I understand you love her and you want to make it up to her, but we can’t let her do whatever she pleases! In order to keep herself safe, she’s going to sacrifice you! She’s dangerous, Sir, she’s been lying to her husband the whole time and who’s to say she isn’t capable of doing something worse to a stranger like you?”

“I told you already, Geto,” Satoru swirled the pink liquid in his flute, his face empty and unreadable. “I know.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t agree with your decision. The clan would fall without you and you don’t have siblings or an heir. No one is powerful to hold the clan together aside from you so if you leave – there’s no more hope for us,” he sighed when Satoru didn’t budge. “I at least want you to reconsider your actions. She’s just a woman, Sir. It’s either we kill her or we imprison her. You let her go before because you believed she would be your downfall, and quite frankly, it’s happening all over again.”

Satoru gazed out the window, bringing the flute to his lips with a dark glint in his eye that Geto recognized meant trouble, or worse, an actual solution to this hellish situation.

“Which is why we’re going to pay an old friend a visit, Geto. There’s only one person who could turn the tables around.”

ADDITIONAL NOTE: TOJI IS COMING SOON!!! what are your theories on what might be on that island and *drum roll* WHO IS GOJO’S OLD FRIEND?!

taglist open:

@tete027 @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant @mikiminaccch @riri-marley | bolded users cannot be tagged

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petri808 · 3 years ago

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Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

The tit for tat game was well known to both of their top confidants and lieutenants because it had been going on ever since Natsu and Lucy broke up. Plus, it was hard to get around such knowledge considering most of them came from the same neighborhoods. These intrigues ebbed and flowed like waves. Months could pass by without any interactions between the two, at other times they’d go back and forth continuously until one of them finally gave up, and on the odd occasion ended in a huge fight that led to another round of ignoring each other. Up until now, it had been kind of amusing to watch them torture each other because it was better than a drama shows on television. But that didn’t mean Natsu, and Lucy’s friends didn’t worry about one or both being truly hurt one day because of it.

“It’s fine,” Natsu rolled his eyes as Gray chastised him after the soapland incident. The two men were at Natsu’s home after work hours and supposed to be relaxing. But clearly his friend didn’t want to drop the subject. “What’s the big deal?”

“Dude, you let yourself be blindfolded in a public space! Have you forgotten what kind of business we’re in? What if it had been an assassin instead?”

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous. We’re talking about Lucy’s company, and I trust their security measures because she has just as much to lose if a hit took place there.”

“Still, you should be more careful, at least take a bodyguard with you…”

Natsu’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “And what, so they can watch the show? We got any voyeurs on the payroll? Cause I can’t think of anyone here who’d wanna see another guy getting his balls fondled!”

Gray ran a hand down his face. “So not the mental image I wanted. You’re missing the point.” He sighed. “Natsu you are the head of this clan, and your safety is my top priority.”

“I get it, I get it,” Natsu drawled.

“And frankly,” Gray continued, “you’ve become distracted by her lately.”

“Tch! No, I haven’t!”

“Yeah, you are. You think I haven’t noticed? I know you drive by her place sometimes. I know you’ve followed her to that coffee shop she likes to frequent. But ever since her employee was robbed, things have escalated again.”

“You’re imagining things and apparently spying on me. I’m just keeping an eye on the competition.”

“Watching over you is my job! That’s not spying.” Gray crossed his arms. “And oh, it’s no doubt that you’re keeping an eye on her. That’s why you went to Katsunuma’s party and to soapland too. The problem is you’re getting sloppy and sloppy gets people killed.”

Natsu groaned. “Are you done yet? We’re supposed to be enjoying the baseball game, not psychoanalyzing my life.”

“Almost.” Gray placed a hand on his friends’ knee and leaned in. “Natsu, you’ve been chasing that tail since high school, just lock her down and convince her to work together already.”

Natsu snorted a laugh. “Gray we all grew up together, so what in all these years makes you think that’s a possibility? You know damn well Lucy’s not a woman you can control without her consent.” Natsu knew that, and frankly he loved that part of her. In fact, it made him even more fired up whenever he thought about it, just like a treasure you don’t just find but must win at the end of a game. “I’ll find a way, some day.”

“Well until that day arrives, could you promise me you’ll be more cautious?”

“Fine, fine,” Natsu waved his hand. “I’ll back off of Lucy for now.”

“Good.” Gray relaxed back onto his recliner thinking the drama was over.

“However, there is a new guy I want surveillance placed on.”

“Who?”

“The bartender from the party.”

Gray groaned. “Seriously? Why? He’s just a bartender!”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Was he spiking the drinks or something? Dealing drugs at the party?”

“Maybe.”

Gray huffed. “You really gonna try that? Do I look like an idiot? This is just straight jealousy talking.”

“I don’t care! I want someone to dig up what they can on the guy!”

“No, what you wanna know is if he fucked Lucy that night!”

Natsu jumped up with his fists clenched. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too!” Gray stood up and matched his boss’s energy. “Unless you give me a damn good reason to check into him, I’m not wasting my guy’s time! You might be the boss, but don’t you fucking forget who you’re talking to! I’m not some punk off the streets!”

Realizing he was taking things too far, Natsu sat back down. “Sorry.”

Gray sighed and plopped back down too. “I only joined because you asked me to and you’re my best friend, then I helped you build this new empire, so I’m just as invested in protecting it as you are. But Natsu, personal emotions have led to the downfall of many in this business, and as a friend, I’ll check you any time I think you’re going to far.”

“You’re right…” Natsu sighed too. “She just gets me so worked up.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gray laughed, but stopped when Natsu glared at him. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

“But I swear, there’s something suspicious about him. When he saw me, I thought he just reacted because he thought I was Lucy’s boyfriend or something, but the more I think about it, he might have recognized me.”

“Well, that wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious either.”

“True. But the look in his eyes just made me wonder.”

“Alright…” Gray groaned, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have someone do some digging. So, you said he has orange hair and glasses, and the name on his tag was Loke?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s an unusual name, shouldn’t be too hard to check on.”

Over the course of a couple of weeks, Gray sent out feelers for any information on this Loke guy. Katsunuma junior gave them their first small lead that the bartender had worked the party through a local food catering company. That catering company was a legitimate business who had both full-time staff as well as independent contractors brought in per event as needed. Loke had been one of the latter. From there Gray obtained a last name, de Lioncourt.

According to his sources at the local precinct, Loke de Lioncourt had no rap sheet, no prior dealings with police, and for all they knew was an average citizen. The man’s Line blog profile listed him as a 28-year-old, Japanese/French American, model and bartender, and it was filled with pictures from events, parties, as well as many gorgeous women— none of which contained Lucy. But as Gray trolled through the man’s feed, he did come across one person he recognized and passed the information along to Natsu.

“Wow, she’s in a bunch of photos,” Natsu mumbled as he scrolled through the blog.

“Well, considering Cana’s reputation are you surprised. Parties and alcohol are the two things that woman lives for.” Gray laughed. “Now see, this makes sense to me. Lucy and him, not so much.”

“Tch… still pisses me off he even tried.”

“Lucy’s a free woman, she can go out with whoever she wants to.”

“We’ll see about that,” Natsu mumbled low.

“What was that?” Gray asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing.”

“Better be nothing, cause this is a dead end. He’s just a flirty bartender. It’s how they make tips.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Natsu sat back in his chair. “So, back to business. What this I heard about some missing stock?”

“Oh, right. One of the warehouse clerks noticed a shortage, but when I checked with Yura, he said the books were fine. I had him show it to me, and it appears the numbers were just inverted by accident. So, instead of 185 kilos, it’s supposed to be 158 kilos.”

“Did you talk to the clerk again? Does he have any history of messing up like this?”

“Nah, he’s one of our better clerks.”

“Just keep an eye on it.”

“Sure thing, boss. By the way, have you seen Gajeel today?” Gray questioned. “I haven’t seen him.”

“He called me this morning said he wasn’t feeling well, thinks he ate something bad for dinner last night.”

“Tch, seriously? Thought he had an iron stomach?”

Natsu shrugged. “Must’a been some bad sushi or something. We ain’t got much happening today, so it’s fine. Anything else? I got some stuff I need to finish.”

Gray tapped his chin. “Just a reminder you have an appointment with our tech guy dropping by later this week to go over some upgrades on the system.”

“Like I’m supposed to know anything about that stuff, it’s what I pay him for.”

“You still gotta approve it,” Gray shrugged and took his leave.

Once the man was completely out of the office, Natsu opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a nondescript box he’d hidden inside. He grinned to himself. It was time to make another special delivery. Even though he’d told Gray he was backing off the whole Lucy and Loke subject, there was no way he was gonna let it slide. Natsu didn’t care if the man seemed legit, and he wasn’t the first nor would probably be the last that he’d eventually scared away. And besides, being a Yakuza boss had a lot of down times too, easily filled with having a little fun.

Today’s little care package was being sent to Lucy by a courier service and Natsu just had to drop it off to the delivery company. Just a normal company like Kuroneko Yamato so it wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions. It was turning into a fun game for him just coming up with ideas of what he could do to rile Lucy up or irritate this Loke guy. Natsu chuckled to himself. So far, his favorite prank was a box of small sized condoms and a bottle of enhancement pills that he’d had delivered to Loke while on the job at another party. He’d even snuck in to watch it delivered, gaining a good laugh when the man took a peek in the box and frowned at its contents.

It was childish, but Natsu didn’t care. Every day for two weeks now, something new was sent to Loke. Random gifts like children’s candy to a toy gun, a big bottle of lubricant wrapped in a bow, a week’s worth of meals sent for lunch one day, even an empty box with rocks inside it just to drive the man crazy wondering who in the world was sending them. Lucy too wasn’t immune to his pranks, though hers had a different feel to them. Flowers with no note attached. Tickets to a canceled show he made up. A supposed dinner invite from Loke that wasn’t real— okay that was to test her, but she didn’t fall for it. And today’s little care package fit right into his prank scheme.

Natsu dropped off the package at a Kuroneko Yamato office with the address instructions already filled out and paid the company’s employee extra to keep their mouths shut. ‘She’s gonna kill me one day,’ he laughed to himself as he rode back to his office. ‘If it’s suffocation by her boobs it wouldn’t be a bad way to go!’

“Anymore stops sir?” The driver asked Natsu.

“Nope. Back to the office.”

He looked at his watch. The package should be arriving at Lucy’s office within the hour. Give or take another to open it, and by 4pm he would be receiving another phone call. Maybe he won’t answer it. Oh, that would piss her off even more! ‘Well, if she’d just take the hint...’

The afternoon was supposed to be mellow at headquarters that day. No shipments, and no appointments. But when Natsu got back, another general in the organization named Jellal Fernandez came to his office to inform him of a problem. One of the new local restaurants in their territory was refusing to cooperate and he wanted to know how Natsu wanted it handled. They were right in the middle of discussing it, when Natsu’s office door flew open with a loud bang!

In stomped Lucy who immediately threw a box at his head, causing Natsu to duck and Jellal to pull his gun.

“Don’t!” Natsu screamed at his general and motioned for him to stand down, to which the man complied. “Do you have a death wish Lucy!”

“Get. Out.” She snapped at the general. “Get out! This is between me and your boss!”

Jellal looked to Natsu, who nodded his head to scram. “I got this, don’t worry.” The man holstered his gun and left, but Natsu could see he’d stayed right outside of the now closed door.

“I take it you didn’t like the gift,” Natsu pretended to stay calm.

“Gee, me throwing it at you give you that impression? I know it’s you sending all these damn deliveries to me and Loke. That needs to stop now!”

He crossed his arms and scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Play dumb all you want. Just stop! Why are you even doing this?!”

“Take a guess,” he sneered back.

“I could’ve sworn we were adults now, but apparently I’m the only one who grew up. Stay out of my love life Natsu!”

“So, you admit you’re sleeping with the guy!”

“That’s none of your damn business! I can fuck whoever I want!”

“Not as long as I’m alive,” Natsu growled back.

Lucy crossed her arms. “That could be arranged.”

“Is that a threat?!”

“Yes! If you don’t stay out of my love life!”

“A woman shouldn’t be sleepi—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence!” Lucy grabbed a stapler that was within reach and chucked it at Natsu’s head. “Stop trying to control me!”

“Are you crazy?!”

At that moment, Gray barged into the room. He’d heard the screaming from the other side of the office, and when he got close enough to see Jellal standing outside the door, he became alarmed. Why would a general leave Natsu vulnerable! The man told him their boss told him to leave, but as the sounds inside escalated, Gray couldn’t wait anymore.

“Stop it!!” Gray got between them. “What are you two doing! Lucy you shouldn’t be here!”

“Then tell your damn boss to leave me the fuck alone!” Lucy spat back. “Ask him how he’s been harassing Loke and me!”

Gray turned to his boss with a groan. “Natsu, we talked about this!”

“Tell Gray what you been doing!” Lucy pressed. “Show him the stupid packages you send!”

“What packages?” Gray looked to Lucy, then repeated the question as he stared at his boss. “What packages?”

“Tch,” Natsu crossed his arms, “it’s not even that bad.”

Lucy stomped over to where the box fell and picked it up, pulling the contents out. “Bullshit!” She snapped as she held up a very racy, red nightie with flame prints, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, and a large dildo. “See this shit?!” Lucy shook the floppy latex toy at Gray before chucking it to the ground again. “He includes messages too,” then handed the man a folded piece of paper.

Gray read it aloud, “to make up for what playboy lacks. Had it custom made to my size wink wink. Ugh, seriously man,” he tossed the letter.

Natsu shrugged. “I was just having fun.”

“This is the yakuza, not a daycare!” Gray snaps. “I’m not here to babysit the boss so he stops harassing the competition! There’s more important business to worry about!”

“That’s right listen to Gray,” Lucy sneered.

Gray turned to her. “Oh, you ain’t innocent either, so don’t even try it. You both do things to purposely rile the other up and get mad when there’s consequences. Stop it!” He looked back and forth between the two. “Just stop it already!”

Natsu and Lucy looked away from the man with scowls on their faces. Neither wanted to admit he was right.

“Jellal,” Gray called out. When the man entered, he instructed him to escort Lucy out of there. “Next time, just call me instead. It’s best you two just stay away from each other. Got it?!”

“Yeah,” Lucy grumped.

“Got it?!” Gray questioned his boss.

“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled.

“Fucking like high school,” Gray ran a hand down his face in irritation. “You two need therapy.”

#nalu #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #ch 6 #we'll take back heaven #petri808

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xo-alie-xo · 3 years ago

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PORTWELL LONG GAME OR RINA SLOWBURN.

You can only choose one poison.🍷

Listen up my Wildcats.🐱

We all ship each character with happiness. No matter how much you love to hate them, a majority of us simply adores the characters and want the best for them. Then comes relationships and it's okay to ship our favorites.⛴

I'm a diehard Rina shipper and I know in my heart that they are series endgame. The set up, the natural chemistry, their mutual understanding, the surprises and angst literally put me on chokehold. So I'm 100% a Rina shipper till the end. I'm here for the slowburn and their development rather than one shots. They are worth the pain. 😭❤

Let me start with Ricky Bowen now.

Ricky shouldn't to be with Gina because he's hurting her mentality. He's not insensitive on purpose. Like when he tried to stop Big Red from telling her his message to Nina because he KNOWS it'll hurt her.

If you think, that Ricky didn't understand clearly when Gina confessed, think again. He shushed her. Kept their thing a secret from everyone. He knows he feels some type of way and she feels something too. But this boy is so used to safeguarding his childhood norms and has very little adaptability. Hence, he pretended to ignore everything between them because his home stability was falling apart and he clinged on to Nina, his constant childhood love.

He's a traumatised 16-17 year old boy that needs to heal and grow. This episode was heartbreaking because he had to accept that he had to let Nina go because their once upon a time fairytale had become toxic.

People change. I'm not the same person I was when I was 16 lmao. Being together as childhood lovers means growing together and accepting each other's growth. Which Ricky couldn't. He clutched to the idea of Nini. Even his love confession. It was sooo sweet but all he did was focus on their history.

This boy needs time to heal and maybe seek professional therapy. It would be so DAMN HISTORIC if Disney decides to take psychological issues seriously and show how he's dealing with his anxiety, pills and psychotherapy. He needs to breathe before he can be with any girl for that matter. He's hurting and isn't trying to hurt anyone on purpose. Including Gina.

Him asking her for advice on Nini was a dumb, insensitive move. But he's trying to find a way to build some supportive friendship that they shared in early season one.

As for now, this boy needs to get his own grip on life and heal.

As for our Queen Gina

In Gina's confession, she focuses on their future. She basically said, "I wouldn't quit on a possible future of us being together despite obstacles. Because I never quit. But moving away isn't in my control." Ricky deep down knows this, encouraged her to say it, teary eyed, despite right after getting back together with Nini. Gina is his future. She went to his new house. And I also have this feeling that when she was given a chance to stay, she stayed partly because of Ricky. She left a chance to be with her mom because she prioritised their relationship. Because she never quits. 💪🏼

But she came back and found out Ricky has gotten back together with Nini.😭 What she doesn't know is Ricky got together with Nina before her confession, and after Gina kept dodging his messages. She's hurt and questions why she returned because she isn't particularly close to anyone. Hence, she was so silent at the after party. She thinks it'll be fine, "she'll live", and finds other reasons to find permanence. Her arc this season has been settling down in East High, despite the pain of losing and being 'betrayed' by Ricky, she finds other reasons to stay. 🏡

This kind of contrasts her with Nina. Nina left her dream school and came to Salt Lake because she missed her established home, and not just because of Ricky. Nina returned and was loved and embraced by Ricky Bowen.💕 Gina came back to a semi new place called Salt Lake because of her promise of a future to Ricky. But she got stabbed and she bled. 💔🗡

Think about her situation. She feels confused, alone, heartbroken, out of place and seperated from her mom. She's broken and hurting too. And she doesn't need more from Ricky's accidental or intentional 'sick burns'. That's the one line where he was such a jerk and I can't defend him here. 😠

Here comes the Caswells.

Her second family. A place of healthy stability. A home that accepted her. Ashlyn, her roomie and her confidante. EJ, the misunderstood boy who saw her value and bought her plane ticket.

Let's get to EJ.

At first, I wasn't too keen on seeing Portwell's development. But then that video chat where they talk about the possibility of her staying and him convincing her. Had me sold for a solid brother-sister relationship. Few episodes later, when Gina's pain seemed to be oblivious to everyone, he was the only one who asked her how she was, and saw her glow. The comfort she must've felt.

Not that she needs a man's validation, but she must be feeling like a second choice and feeling a little insecure because of Ricky. But EJ lifts her up and I genuinely saw her smile. This boy has her back whenever. The man she can lean on and truly sees how special she is. She no longer feels alone now that she has his entire fam and other friends. She genuinely feels a place of belonging and happiness when she's the apple of his eye. Notice how happy she is? How happy this boy is? She's going through her own issues and she has found ground with EJ.

I was very doubtful when they started hinting at a romantic direction. Because EJ would be used as plot device again for a girl to get to Ricky.😤 This man doesn't deserve to be second best to anyone, just like Gina.😑 That's why I'm still hesitant on shipping them at least temporarily. EJ needs to be something even more special to Gina. They need to show each other how special and treasured they are to each other despite feeling like rejects. They are each other's source of comfort.

I'm sure they can keep EJ at East High for the next season. Whether it's the drama club, or the AV club or going to a local college. So he will be there for Gina. I don't know how they can work out a relationship with much distance as Rini's fell out when she moved away. So, if EJ leaves again, it'll again shake up Gina. Her being worried whether he'll date college girls, second thoughts, etc. I don't want them to go through that. And if they do move on to romantic Portwell, make sure it's not plot device for Rina. So you can either have Portwell endgame or Rina Endgame.

Basically I want Gina to be treated so right that she understands she doesn't need Ricky. And when he does ask her out, and he makes her feel like a second choice or a rebound, she says NO. Because EJ has helped regain her self assurance. Eventually I want Gina to confide in EJ about her and Ricky. EJ is jealous but also angry about how Ricky has been hurting her. And becomes damn protective of his 'babe'. Ricky gets jealous of their relationship, restarting Ricky and EJ's old rivalry. But this time, it's not because Gina is his girlfriend, but because she's EJ's best friend who he has a crush on and wants what's best for her.

If it's meant to be Rina endgame

EJ- RICKY, YOU IDIOT! You have no clue how to treat her right. You don't put her first. You mislead her. Get the hell away from her! She's too powerful and beautiful, she doesn't deserve your scraps. I know how she feels for you. I wish I were you. I would treat her like a queen. I don't mind even waiting years till she's ready. She deserves that. You're so lucky you have even a small chance that I may never have. So get your act together, prove you're worth it to win her over. All I want is for her to be happy. Even if it's with someone else. And maybe then I'll stop threatening you to stay away from her.😠

Ricky- .....I don't know what I'm more scared of. Change, or losing the girl I fell for or YOU. Okay, losing her but you're a close second.😬

If it's Portwell endgame.

Ricky- I messed up. Make sure you don't mess up with her. You'll regret it forever.

EJ- I'd rather get hit by thousand basketballs than ever hurt her. I'll be her plus one and her best friend until she's ready to be with me. I know she's ready now too. But I want her to know I'm willing to wait till she graduates before we make it official. I'm in it for the long game.

As for their age gap. I'm 100% sure Portwell won't kiss this season. If they do, it'll be next when Sofia turns 18. They are professional actors who are cast because they are the perfect fit for the role and are expected to carry out the storyline. But I suppose fearing some outbursts, they might delay Sofia kissing anyone till next season. It's so weird because Olivia was maybe 17 when Matt was 21-22 when they kissed in season one. But no one had a problem with that. But for this, they do. Remember, they are professional actors. They are acting! Sometimes, actors are over 10 years apart (but above 18) and act as romantic partners.

As for their characters, they are only two years apart. That's hardly any difference once you're over the age of 18. Age of consent is 16. But adults above 18 are only allowed to have sex with adults above 18. So, age isn't a problem here because EJ is a gentleman and is genuinely interested in her and isn't trying to get in her pants. So age isn't the issue when it comes to dating. It's the maturity. Gina is very mature and gives very sound advice. But I can see EJ being patient enough till she turns 18 just to kiss her because he loves her. 😚

As for the Ashlyn remark, "You look like a kid to me rn". He was JOKING.😂 Don't take things out of context. I tell my cousin sister that all the time. But she's three years younger than me and a grown adult. I don't see her as a kid but it's just a cousin teasing her younger cousin that's she's a little immature. I'm Matt's age and I'm very mature for my age and since I was a teenager, I always matched up with boys a little older than me. Now that I'm in my early 20s, I've dated boys even close to 30. So age is just a number.

EJ dating Gina and giving her quick kisses is fine. But to have a strong sexual element in their relationship (including making out), he'll have to wait till she's 18+. And I'm sure for that he'll wait till she's ready even past her early 20s. Age is really just a number and we can't help who we fall in love with. Trust me, I've been there.😂 So I can see EJ feeling conflicted about his feelings that are clear at this point.

They might not be a perfect fit, but they make each other sooo happy. They deserve a lot more than a short lived fling.😟 They are either endgame or Rina is. You can't have both as a Rina unless you're an EJ hater who wants him to exist as plot device. Nope! He's sooo much more precious than that.

But Jack on the other hand....I'm okay if he's the one to make Ricky or EJ jealous. Because he's just been introduced and it's okay if a character is used, but only once, for someone else to realize their feelings. 💁🏽‍♀️

In short.

Ricky needs help and needs to be on his own. No girlfriends allowed.🙅🏽‍♀️🚫

Needs to give both Gina and Nina space for them to grow on their own too.🌳

Ricky needs to understand the core of his problems and become more adaptable via therapy. Maybe the psychologist will point out his unresolved feelings for Gina, or he will conclude it himself. And in comes Ricky-pining-for-Gina season three.

Ricky needs to fully get over Nina before he moves on to anyone. Same for Gina if Portwell were to happen. No one deserves to be second choice.

Gina isn't Ricky's cushion. She's a living person with strong feelings for him and shouldn't be subjected to share his pain. She already struggles with her own issues.

Ricky needs to stay single till he wins back Gina and prove he's worth it. He needs to show even if another girl wants him, he'll never quit on Gina ever again. Even if he has to watch her be with someone else. *cough parallels*.

It's either romantic Rina then Portwell endgame OR Portwell flirty besties but Rina endgame. You and I can choose only one because my boy EJ shouldn't be used as plot device for a girl to leave for Ricky ever again.

Portwell's age difference can be practically solved and isn't much of an issue unless they get hot and heavy before Gina turns 18 which is impossible considering this is Disney. 🤣🤣

Jack and Gina will be plot device material and purely so sentimental to us OG Andi Mack fans. More than any ship, this is what I'm looking for. Sort of an Andi Mack crack ship for season 3a. It's gonna be soooo funny. 😍😂

I respect everyone's ship. I see what you're seeing. And I'm not going to invalidate your ship. But unless it's done right, I won't jump from the Rina ship. I liked Rini. I like Portwell. I like AU Juffy crackship haha.😂 But as for me, I'm still holding on to Rina slowburn.

Preparing myself for the pain. 😭🔥

(But if I had to pair two characters without Disney getting in the way, it would be Gini. The power duo. Undeniable chemistry. They can be written so well because of their layered relationship and contrasting personalities.🤩 The classic rivals to friends to lovers. But that's a talk for another day lmao.)

Thanks for reading my opinion, Wildcat!🐱❤

#hsmtmts #gina x ricky #rina #ricky bowen #gina porter #ricky x gina #portwell #ej caswell #jack hsmtmts #juffy #jonah beck #andi mack

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trini-trin-trin · 3 years ago

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Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

#andre aciman #CMBYK Book #call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver

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