After his ex-boyfriend Josh left him, Jake comes up with the perfect revenge plan.
Part 1
Part 2
"Remember when I called you the pettiest motherfucker I've ever met?"
No matter what Nat might claim later, Bradley swore he didn't jump at the sound of her voice right next to his ear. It was a minimal movement of his body at most and it was purely instinct stemming from his profession to react to a possible attack. And okay, maybe he should have noticed her before she got this close, but unwrapping the tape from his hands after training, had always been weirdly soothing to him. The movements methodical and practiced after all those years.
Turning his body so he would face her instead of his open locker, he couldn't help but tease her about jumping straight into the deep end of the conversation. "Hello to you too, Nat. Morning practice with Steve went well. Thank you for asking."
"Oh fuck off, Bradshaw. We already texted today, so this was already an ongoing conversation."
"Sure, Jan."
"You are too old to talk in Memes."
"I'm in my late twenties."
"Emphasis on the late, with the big thirty looming over your head in — remind me again — how many days?"
"Keep the attitude up and you won't get an invitation to join me in my bouncy castle."
"This leads us right back to my opening question. I'm therefore asking again: Do you remember when I called you the pettiest motherfucker I've ever met?"
Bradley's smile dropped a little, but before he could lose himself in the chaotic feelings that still surrounded this part of his past, he motioned for Nat to go on. He was in a way too good mood to let those memories ruin his day.
"I went through your DMs and well, looks like you have a contender for the position."
That told him everything he needed to know. Whoever the person was, they had managed to do the impossible. Very few people or things had the ability to impress Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace — Bradley would know this, since he and his skills in the boxing ring hade made it onto the very short list, and yet somehow this mysterious person had done it in one message.
"If I wasn't in the middle of championship prep, I would get out the wine, but alas we will have to make do without it. Now tell me everything." Ignoring the tangy feeling of drying sweat, he decided his shower could wait until after he had gotten all the information from his best friend. Clearly this was more important.
Looking incredibly pleased with his reaction, Nat sat down next to him and leaned in conspiratorially. "So, you remember the boyfriend Ambers had before he started dating the 'secret lives of Mormon wives' girly."
"Vaguely. Wasn't he some country singer?" There had been something about a queer 'Swift & Kelce' story in Bob's debrief about Ambers. Though Bradley couldn’t for the life of him remember anything else about it.
"Yep, apparently he is releasing a music video in 5 days."
"And that's important to us why?"
By now, Natasha was grinning like the cat who was about to get the cream. It was an alarming mix of delight, anticipation and lunacy that usually promised a good time. Bradley simultaneously hated and loved that look on her.
He could practically feel how much she enjoyed the build-up to her own answer. Dragging out the moment until she finally cracked under her own impatience.
"Because he wants you to make a cameo as his love interest."
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I know we make jokes about the proverbial asexual pervert who has written hundreds of thousands of words of smut on ao3, but also shoutout to the aces who aren’t perverts. to the aces who skip the sex scenes and wince at sex jokes and awkwardly leave the conversation when your friends start talking about sex. your boundaries aren’t childish and fuck anyone who says otherwise.
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture.
All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line?
The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy?
Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess.
I want the fat left it.
I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence.
Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."
Chuck Palahniuk is one of the worlds best authors of all time there was absolutely no reason for him to be mentioned in this post lol. Have you even read RANT? If you think his writing is anything like how people write on tiktok you clearly haven't read his work.
His name absolutely belongs mentioned in this post, as he's the one who gave the advice that OP is directly talking about:
Which is advice written directly by Chuck Palahniuk about how to write like Chuck Palahniuk, which is a style that OP doesn't want to emulate.
Popularity ("one of the world's best authors") isn't necessarily the same thing as writing well. Eragon was popular. I couldn't make it past the first few pages because it was poorly written. Anne McCaffrey told beautiful stories about Pern, but I always found her writing itself to be dry and difficult to swallow. Steven King is hugely popular, but his writing can also be dry at times. James Patterson has his name on a lot, a LOT, of popular stories that.... Well. Aren't really his, or at least weren't actually written by him. Would I take advice from any of them about how to write? No, probably not, unless it actually suited my style.
It's common right now for TV series to have 8-12 episode seasons, when we used to have 22-24 episode seasons. To tell the story in the shorter period of time, a lot of the "fat" gets trimmed, but if you've ever cooked meat you know that the fat is where the FLAVOR is. I desperately miss 22-24 episode seasons. I miss the trope episodes that don't particularly affect the plot. I miss that style of storytelling, and it's largely been sacrificed for the go go go trim the fat style OP references.
And the thing is, their advice isn't necessarily bad advice. But the message often comes out like OP says: "this is the only good way to write, and if you do x or y or z, it's bad writing."
And that's not necessarily the case. Maybe it's writing you don't like, and that's fine! Not every piece of writing is for every single person. But there are people who enjoy styles that aren't necessarily popular. That don't do what that advice orders them to do.
And those other styles, the slower and more expensive are fun and good and popular with many people still. The advice to cut things out is only good advice if that's the style you're looking to emulate. OP clearly isn't. And clearly there are plenty of people who agree that that style is not for them, either.
fantastic. i love it. i posted this after my wife said it yesterday and as i was doing it i was like "this can't be an original thought. as soon as i hit post someone's going to say 'you stole this from a tweet from 2014' and i'll say 'no, i stole it from my beautiful wife.'"
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It is really important to me that all of you learn about Al Bean, astronaut on Apollo 12 and the fourth man to walk on the moon, who after 20 years in the US Navy and 18 years with NASA during which he spent 69 days in space and more than 10 hours doing EVAs on the moon , retired to become a painter.
He is my favorite astronaut for any number of reasons, but he’s also one of my favorite visual artists.
Like, look at this stuff????
It’s all so expressive and textured and colorful! He literally painted his own experience on the moon! And that's just really fucking cool to me!
Just look at this! This is one of my absolute favorite emotions of all time. Is Anyone Out There? is like the ultimate reaction image. Any time I have an existential crisis, this is how I picture myself.
And then there's this one:
The Fantasy
For all of the six Apollo missions to land on the moon, there was no spare time. Every second of their time on the surface was budgeted to perfection: sleeping, eating, putting on the suits, entering and exiting the LEM, rock collection, setting up longterm experiments to transmit data back to Earth, everything. These timetables usually got screwed over by something, but for the most part the astronauts stuck to them.
The crew of Apollo 12 (Pete Conrad, Al Bean, and Dick Gordon) had other plans. Conrad and Bean had snuck a small camera with a timer into the LEM to take a couple pictures together on the moon throughout the mission. They had hidden the key for the timer in one of the rock collection bags, with the idea being to grab the key soon after landing, take some fun photos here and there, and then sneak the camera back to Earth to develop them. They had practiced where they would hide the key and how to get it out from under the collected rocks back on Earth dozens of times.
But when they got to the moon, the key was nowhere to be found. Al Bean spent precious time digging through the collection bags before he called it off. The camera had been pushing their luck anyways, he couldn't afford to spend anymore time not on the mission objectives. Conrad and Bean continued the mission as per the NASA plan while Dick Gordon orbited overhead.
Fast forward to the very end of the mission. Bean and Conrad are doing last checks of the LEM before they enter for the last time and depart from the moon. As Bean is stowing one of the collection bags, the camera key falls out. The unofficially planned photo time has come and gone, and he tosses the key over his shoulder to rest forever on the surface of the moon.
This painting, The Fantasy, is that moment. There have never been three people on the moon at the same time, there was never an unofficial photo shoot on the moon, this picture could never have happened.
"The most experienced astronaut was designated commander, in charge of all aspects of the mission, including flying the lunar module. Prudent thinking suggested that the next-most-experienced crew member be assigned to take care of the command module, since it was our only way back home. Pete had flown two Gemini flights, the second with Dick as his crewmate. This left the least experienced - me - to accompany the commander on the lunar surface.
"I was the rookie. I had not flown at all; yet I got the prize assignment. But not once during the three years of training which preceded our mission did Dick say that it wasn't fair and that he wished he could walk on the moon, too. I do not have his unwavering discipline or strength of character.
"We often fantasized about Dick's joining us on the moon but we never found a way. In my paintings, though, I can have it my way. Now, at last, our best friend has come the last sixty miles." - Al Bean, about The Fantasy.
I love it. Something about it feels so incredibly human. The emotion on display, even without a face to show it. This is magnificent. Truly magnificent. I feel it in my soul.
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so youre telling me that some asshole can just throw together meaningless shit and get notes and attention yet when i put actual thought into the things i say nothing happens i am so fucking done with this bullshit god damn fuck
The burning question: When she has her hands on either side of her face, right at the start, is this the moment she realized, “I’m gonna have to marry this guy” ?
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Did I just employ the "Treat Them Like You are A Kindergarten Teacher Again" method with my insurance company today? I surely did. Did it work? Probably better than intended because I made an actual doctor feel contrite.
So, my insurance has been trying to not cover my SNRI because it is new on the market and no generic available yet, so pricey.
I apply for a refill and the request gets locked for review. Again. For the 3rd time.
This time I call and immediately ask to speak to the actual doctor making these clinical decisions. Very politely. Must be a slow day because they allow it.
ME: [Teacher voice] I'm calling in regards to the SNRI you have placed a lock on. Why was this decision made?
DOC: Well, there are dozens of other medications on the market in that tier, and far cheaper for you and [insurer]. We have sent a request to your doctor to consider alternatives.
ME: I am aware of that. So, can you do me a HUGE favor and look up my prescription history really quickly and tell me how many SSRIs and SNRIs were only filled once in 2022 for me, showing they were poorly tolerated?
DOC: It looks like eight.
ME: Great job! Now, can you please look at my genetic test for psychiatric drug tolerance and tell me how many medications are listed in the safe category?
DOC: Two.
ME: Awesome! Now, can you tell me what type that other drug is that I'm not taking?
DOC: Yeah, totally, it's an MAOI.
ME: That's correct, you're really knowledgeable! Should I be taking something as dangerous as an MAOI with my other medications, or even just in general?
DOC: It's contraindicated for sure.
ME: It is! So true! So, last question since you've been incredibly smart and helpful. Is it less expensive for [insurer] to pay out for the medication knowing they already get a huge manufacturer discount anyway, or is it more expensive for them to pay for me to need potentially long-term inpatient psychiatric care?
DOC: I'll clear the code, ma'am and flag it as medically necessary. I'm sorry about this.
ME: I appreciate you SO MUCH. You have a great day now.
WALGREENS PHARMACY TECH WITH 5 NOSE RINGS AND PURPLE HAIR STARING AT ME: ........... OKAY! It'll be ready in five minutes. You wanna come work here?
used to think it terribly silly (and kinda funny) when fantasy or sci-fi stories would have people refer to major recent historical events as The Flood or The Incident or The Revolution, and im sure historians fucking hate that because it's not helpful or descriptive, but we sure do be calling it The Pandemic
