#i should not have to block people over a fucking asterisk
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i am once again begging hockeyblr to stop censoring player names with asterisks
(rant in tags)
#by censoring with asterisks i mean censoring stuff l*ke th*s (i)#seriously it fucks with filters so peoplee that dont wanna see a certain thing will eventually end up seeing it anyway#and thats not even getting into the issues it causes for people with screenreaders#hockeyblr#accessibility#like just say the player's name i promise it's not going to kill you#and if you're really that disgusted with a certain player to the point where you cant say his name use a nickname#either say the name of the player you're talking about or don't mention them at all#im gonna start blocking people for this shit mark my words#ik im coming off as passive aggressive but how can i not be?#tumblr is already inaccessible to folks as is (especially to blind/vision-impaired folks). don't make it worse for them.#i should not have to block people over a fucking asterisk#song:serious#song:rant
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M*A*S*H - Viewguide, S2
Are you interested in the long-running anti-war situation tragicomedy M*A*S*H (1972-1983), but there are simply so many asterisks and so many episodes?
Well I can’t help you with the asterisks, but nor can I help myself: I started watching all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, and bringing back for you my viewing selections, chosen for The Qualities.
— — —
I can tell I’ve really accessed the elder millennial (& elder) demographic with my M*A*S*H posting (doing...numbers? hullo!) by, above all, the 80% consistency rating of those reblogging it also adding tags. My people. We gotta find things later.
Season 2! Absolutely, get in here, loved this one: to bits. I did swing around the order again this time, primarily to pace the Hawkeye runs himself ragged episodes—too much of that at once might cause damage, nearly did me. I am kidding: I did not avoid this. Hi broken, I'm Dad!
M*A*S*H - Season 2
Recommended sequence
2x01 ‘Divided We Stand’ - A reintroduction to the 4077th in our second season together through the psychiatric officer sent to investigate whether they’ve all gone mad out there and should be broken up. Spoiler alert: of course, and of course not.
2x02 ‘5 O’Clock Charlie’ - Every day at 5 o’clock, a North Korean pilot flies overhead and tries* to bomb the nearby ammunition dump (*tries). Just chock-a-block with bits. Fun fact: Alda’s foppy infantry drag routine probably the moment I truly fell in love with him—“That’s about it.” This too would have made a wonderful season opener honestly, but we just get two!
2x04 ‘For the Good of the Outfit’ - And now we sit down with a thump: Hawkeye & Trapper try to get the American military to take responsibility for shelling a peaceful Korean village, and learn that the Army, surprise, has no whistleblower protection. No B-plot, we’re just doing THIS.
2x05 ‘Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde’ - In this hurt/comfort but we nearly forgot part of it fanfiction, Hawkeye Pierce stays awake doing surgery for…possibly 48 hours if I've calculated this right, but then after that another shift, and another…oh jesus. He stays awake for something like three days, all but spare minutes of it pulling bits of metal out of chest wounds, it breaks something in him, and then for the next night & day more he continues to sleeplessly wander the camp spooking and unnerving people like an irreverent broken ghost. This is probably the best episode I’ve seen yet. Every time you hear the sound of choppers, and he just looks up from the shadowed caverns of his eyes… HUGE ohh honey! episode, and also like, ..fuck. Fuucking fuck. “Dear Harry, Who’s responsible?” I could lovingly detail every single thing that happens in this, very up to and including the warm circumstances of the little closing scene, which I ache over.
2x09 ‘Dear Dad…Three’ - That’s WRITE, it’s another letter writing episode, with a number of differently toned scenes strung together with pretty impressive balance. A tense surgery, a goofy home video that accidentally makes everyone verklempt, a perfectly absurdist staff meeting, and meanwhile: The Gang Solves Racism! Well, corrects a racist. Involves ridiculous antics don’t even worry. Ginger has the funniest part and thank god.
2x10 ‘The Sniper’ - There’s a sniper. This is a situation where this episode is so well written and edited, just sterling 25 minute story construction, that I’ve deemed it too good to be sunk by its one too many sexual assault jokes. I mean kinda makes it even more of a peak early season M*A*S*H episode, if you think about it.
2x12 ‘The Incubator’ - One of my favorites of this season to be honest! An eventual sort of Milo Minderbinder riff on byzantine and corrupt Army supply chains, in which Trapper & Hawkeye wear their dress uniforms and at one point stand in as investigative journalists asking tough questions at a military press conference—hot.
2x13 'Deal Me Out' - A wonderfully pitched antics ep, especially memorable for the deep bank of recurring guest players: Sidney Freedman, Sam Pak, and even Colonel Flagg. I have since started playing poker and it is remarkable how many elements of this exact game have already occurred. Minus the surgery.
2x11 ‘Carry On, Hawkeye’ - A flu epidemic sweeps the camp, and if the sight of people wearing masks and looking worried isn’t moving enough for you In Our Current Era, the only folks left standing as the war casualties keep coming in—Hawkeye, Margaret, Radar, and Father Mulcahy—trauma bond about it. Exquisite. I adore this one. Also another for the annals of Hawkeye shouting down the line to a superior officer about finding a husband.
2x24 'A Smattering of Intelligence' - Honestly it's not about these slipshod spies: it's because Marlene Dietrich is back in town.
2x20 ‘As You Were’ - Love that when this started I was thinking eh it was probably not making my list. A whiplash episode par excellence. Hot Take! - I think this does the kind of thing ‘Sometimes You Hear the Bullet’ wants to do better than that one actually does.
2x22 ‘George’ - A scene or two into this one, Hawkeye comments in the mess tent that one of the kids they just sewed up was really bruised, and not in a combat way, like in a someone beat him way, and I idly muse, hey, in the version where we kick it up a notch: he was beat up for being gay, and comes out to Dr. Pierce because of course he comes out to Dr. Pierce, the kind chaotic bisexual energy is palpable even behind the surgical mask, and then self-identified Aunt Hawkeye has to figure out how to save him. I would have signed a statement giving up my blog in the event were this to actually come to pass, and done so laughing. But then in the year of our lord 1974, DO YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED. Good thing my mouth was healing because I yelled.
Oh, and if you’re wondering if Benjamin ‘Homoerotics’ Pierce took this network-granted opportunity to come out as straight—
no.
2x21 ‘Crisis’ - They Were All So Cold, redux, variation: There Was Only One Tent. Not quite like that, although does include Hawkeye and Trap essentially sharing a bed and as many layers of Army surplus as they can scrounge while jibber-jabbering with Klinger as he puts on cold cream and Father Mulcahy does an impromptu stand-up bit in his Loyola sweatshirt, and for this and many reasons, this one about burst my heart in warm coziness. Easily the most endearing & domestic thing this show has done to me yet. I’m compromised. Haha fuck, I’m compromised!
Season 1 • Season 2 • To be continued
#M*A*S*H hours
#if pressed I actually could not tell you which is gayer#Hawkeye's mocking flounce of repulsion#or his exhausted thousand yard stare at Trapper#M*A*S*H#M*A*S*H hours#viewguides#Tarra watches
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Hi baby
Sorry for my late update.
So we went to get those samples. He kept looking at me when we were on the car. Asking me random questions like what type of music I listen to, if I saw that movie on netflix ...
He opened the car door and all doors everytime we went to a store.
He invited me for lunch and took me to eat sushi.
He was very polite and respectful.
He is well mannered well spoken and funny and kind. I mean he work in sales so I'm not surprised because they are supposed to be charming
He talked about his ex. They were together for almost a year. He breaks up with her because of her friend who was in love with her and they talked everyday and basically she choose him over him. It's been 9 months since he is single.
He asked me about my personal life. I didn't have much to say. I didn'twant to mention Casanova. He laughed and said that I look like someone who doesn't have experience and doesn't know how to take compliments.
He talked about his vision of life and relationship.
He told me that I was pretty and patted my head
He called me on Tuesday morning to ask a question that I'm sure he know the answer. He pretexted forgetting which products belong to which category.
I have not seen him since then. So I don't know
The sales assistant and the officer manager came to my department on Thursday afternoon and started gossiping asking questions but I was like there is nothing we just went for work and they were like be careful he likes women attention and to brag about himself. It put me off a little.
So I decided to don't go far with him. I don't like to mix work and relationship
Casanova called me on Wednesday and asked me if I want to hang out with him but I declined. I asked him if he was doing okay because he seemed tired on the phone. He said that he missed me. On Thursday, "The friend" called and asked if I want to go to dinner with crew and said "You know I'm up for a threesome I don't mind we can share him" I was like haha you are funny no thank you you can have all of him". I was thinking about blocking her and him and all the people from that crew. I was so frustrated and confused because I didn't know what I was feeling exactly.
But anyway, I treated myself with a massage this morning since I'm feeling sick and tired. It helped me relax I really enjoyed it 😌
I hope I will find a cute respectful guy. In the meantime I'm going to reread ambivalent and sixth sense Rafe and spend a lazy weekend
Love you ❤️
👽
okay colleague is definitely into you. boys aren't that nice, sadly. and look, obviously you should trust your gut instincts with him, (they've done studies on women's gut instincts and sixth sense and it's actually quite accurate). but i will say this, unless there's clear, objective evidence - outside of your gut - that he's a bad guy, give him a chance. a player is a player until they settle down, and just because someone has slept around in their past does not mean they should not get a chance with someone now.
now there's an obvious asterisk on that statement, there's sleeping around and then there's treating women like shit, and they're not to be confused.
don't write him off too early. statistically we're most likely to meet our partner at work, even more often than through mutual friends. and a cute boy is a cute boy, any way you slice it.
i say all this to say, you should trust your gut, but if you do like him, and your gut is allowing, don't talk yourself out of it. we can logic ourselves out of far too much.
now, to casanova. if your 'friend' is offering a threesome (a pathetic attempt to camaraderie and passing it off as we're all friends sharing i can't stand her) he's not slept with her again. in those situations, people only offer to share as a means to a one-on-one end. which gives me hope for casanova's soul. man knows he fumbled the bag. i'm not saying to forgive him, or that i forgive him, but i'm glad he realises how monumentally he fucked up.
i understand your frustration. i'm not saying to excommunicate all of them, losing a friend because she had a fallout with a boy hurts quite a lot (i speak from experience). but space is required. if you're especially close to anyone, just explain it. and if it's a girl, she'll understand. the heart doth hurt and only time and space can heal it.
MASSAGE IS AN EXCELLENT IDEA BABY. this is the time for self love. massages, manicures, nice dinners, sappy movies, the like. and yes comfort characters and simping over fictional men who would never treat us so appallingly.
darling you deserve the world. i really hope you get it. love you always honey
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i watched your latest stream and when you started talking about chronic pain, i cried,, i have always had issues with my leg joints, and even though your chronic pain might not be in the joints of your legs, its good to know im not alone,, thank you, yuuri
p.s: tell momiji and mochi i said hi :)
- 🌱🐈
Oh gosh, bless your heart. My friend Alice who saved my life with a slice of pizza last night, told me after the stream that she thought it was cool that I talked about my chronic pain and that it probably helped some people to hear an experience like mine shared. It is touching to feel like my story brings someone a little assurance and validation.
Chronic pain sucks, and it sucks that sometimes people can't empathize with how shitty it is.
During the ice storm I was unable to go get important medicine and my legs got so bad that it felt like I had stubbed all of my toes...for days. Just constant pain. It was a combo of the cold in my downstairs of the house where I do most of my existing and being off meds for a week that really fucked me up but it was a bad time.
It fucks with your mood, your energy, your whole routine when on some level your brain is constantly going "ow...ow...ow.....what the fuck ow.....ouchie...this sucks...it hurts to live" so...yeah man.
And I've sprained shit in my knees several times to the point that my meniscus slips if I'm not careful and bent my knees sideways so bad I had to forcefully knock it back into place. That's on top of the vein issues.
I'm a generally unhealthy man, but I have an appreciation for people who struggle like me because no one wakes up and says "today I want to destroy my body and be miserable" simply because they want to. My issues started with mental and physical deficiencies that were left untreated and it's like playing Jenga, you remove one of the foundational building blocks and shit tumbles over. My lack of care for my health was brought on by missing chemicals that made me sad and hate myself so much I didn't care if I did long term damage to my body.
If you're dealing with a disorder, injury, or anything of the sort, my wish for everyone out there is that you are seen and understood. You are valuable because you are alive, you are worthy because you exist. There shouldn't be asterisks or conditions for caring about people. You see it in treatment of fat people, the talking point of "well you can be healthy and big" like...that's true. Does that make people who are unhealthy less valid? Everyone's circumstances are different and we should not withhold care and empathy because someone isn't maintaining another's personal expectation or standards.
People become more willing to fight for themselves when they are shown love without condition, when they are told that they are worth the air they breathe regardless of circumstances. People become less inclined to try when they are met with judgement and cruelty.
Take care of yourself. 💖
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here’s the last part of my Mermay Winteriron AU but I’m gonna be super honest, it’s the end, but with an asterisk for editing. Please read it, but know I’m completely aware of all mistakes.
while we’re devoting full time to floating
chapter three: no time will be better
Rating: T (for now)
Word Count: 4.5K
Relationships: Tony x Bucky
Warnings: Non-graphic violence, Alexander Pierce, implied smut, my poor editing
Read on AO3
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
- - -
As he watches Tony leave the room, Bucky reclines on a nearby boulder, admiring his array of gifts in the mirror. When he’s completely alone, he faces himself in the mirror, closes his eyes, and tries to remember.
He had stopped doing this around Tony a few weeks ago, since every time he focused on the hazy, slippery memories, a sharp and crippling pain would pierce his temples, slamming the door shut on the places in his mind that had seemed so close, so accessible only moments before. Tony thinks it’s residual trauma, but Bucky knows that’s only half of the truth. He knows that something, or someone, is keeping him from his memories. And every time Bucky would clutch his head, riding the waves of pain and agony, Tony would worry and worry and worry.
So now, it’s only when he’s alone that he can try. He starts gradually, retracing his memories with Tony over the past weeks, focusing on the joy and the warmth they bring. Then he follows the warmth, remembering his brother’s smile, the rare laughter from Natasha, Alpine’s soft fur— fuck!
The door slams shut, erasing the feeling and memory completely, shocking the sensation right out of him— until all he can remember is pain, pain, pain. He breathes steadily and slowly comes back to himself, unsure of what led him to the painful recovery in the first place. In the mirror, his eyes are red and cheeks are flushed. Oh, Tony likes the flush.
Tony. Where’s Tony? Bucky looks around— he could have sworn they were just… they were…
As he turns to survey the room again, a dull, throbbing ache radiates from his chest. Oh! When he looks down, he sees… nipple clamps? They’re quite beautiful, floating a few inches in front of him and gently clipped to his already abused nipples. What could they have been getting up to with nipple clamps? Bucky pulls on them and groans— he’s never worn a pair before, but he could get used to this feeling.
Bucky looks into the mirror again. He’s never worn this much jewelry before, even when… when… He should probably take it off. They aren’t practical for…
When he blinks aware, Bucky can tell minutes have passed. There’s a pile of jewels and metals on the dressing table in front of him, but he can’t remember if they belong to him. Or to… Tony. Fuck, where’s Tony?
He tries to walk over to the bed and sit down, but crashes into the wall. Why did his legs— ow, fuck!— his tail…
Bucky settles on the bed and curls up, breathing deeply and wishing that Tony would come back. Maybe they could walk through the gardens together, eat more of the weird fish, forget about… forget…
“Prince James, would you come with us, please?”
Oh, that’s him. Bucky lifts his head and finds a few guards, armed and dangerous, floating near the doorway. They are all holding serrated weapons, and the one who spoke looks serious.
Carefully, he sits up and swims over to the guards, looking around in confusion, “Where… where’s Tony?”
“The Prince is otherwise occupied. It is by the King’s decree that you are to be escorted from the Kingdom, never to return.”
“Oh. Okay, can I just…”
The guard grabs Bucky’s arm, pulling him towards the doorway and motioning for the other armed guards to surround him. They push him forward and swim down the halls— halls that feel familiar, feel important, but are unknown to Bucky.
When they swim out into the courtyard, Bucky can see a group of Merpeople floating together by the gates. As they approach, he catches a glimpse of the two Mer in the center, locked arm in arm, and smiling at each other. They look so happy. The smaller Merman is familiar looking— handsome with dark hair, a glowing ring hanging around his neck and a ruby red tail. The larger Merman also looks familiar, but in a negative way. Bucky can’t place the yellow, almost white, hair and piercing blue eyes. Blue eyes that are reflected in the smaller Mer’s face, causing his irises to light up unnaturally blue where there should be deep chocolate—
Another shove to his back, and his concentration breaks. He glances back over, smiling to see two Mermen embracing, clearly in love. How sweet, how beautiful.
There’s another gap, and Bucky is picking through the sand, curious about the crustaceans underneath...
Another gap, and he’s in a cave, scraping his nails down the wall, digging for…
Another gap, and he’s floating on his back, watching little dots of light in a blackened abyss…
Another gap, and he’s inspecting patterns of soft fabric, woven together and perfectly even…
Another gap, and he can’t get free. His limbs are tangled and caught, and it’s a lot of effort to fight…
Another gap, and there’s a brilliant white figure in front of him, barking loudly and bathing his face with a scratchy pink tongue...
Another gap, and faces swim in his vision, sounds bombard his ears. He touches a face, soft and familiar, but it slips away. He’s lifted up and dropped, touched and turned. Gold and white and fiery red flash in front of him…
He blinks a few times, and feels soft fingers on his temples. There’s a low chanting in front of him, and everything is warm, radiating from his head, just behind his ears. Bucky takes a deep breath for the first time in weeks, sighing as Natasha presses harder, weaving spells of healing and sanctuary.
“James?” her voice stops chanting and speaks his name, finally allowing him to open his eyes and look at her fully. “Are you with me, James?”
There are tears in her eyes, and Bucky tries to smile, soft and reassuring, “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Fuck, thank gods,” Natasha breathes out, pulling him close and kissing his forehead, wiping away quickly falling tears, “Clint—” she calls, pulling her familiar closer, “go get Steve, now.”
Clint shifts, folding down into his animal form and flying into the air. Bucky slumps forward, taking in his surroundings for the first time. It seems like he’s by the sea, half in the ocean and half clinging to the wooden dock above. He does a precursory check of his skin— he still has a Mer tail, Triton.
“Wait, Nat,” he grabs her arm, gasping as he’s suddenly, finally able to access his memories, weeks of romance and joy flooding in along with performing the spell, talking with Wanda, seeing Tony’s eyes for the first time.
Tony, fuck!
He remembers their last day together— Tony offering him jewels of engagement, confessing his love, and dipping forward for a kiss, before he was led away. And those last moments, where he could see Tony, arm and arm with…
“Alexander.” oh, hell no, “Natasha, what does Alexander want with Tony?”
He doesn’t wait for her response, flashes of memories where Tony was beaming up at Alex, the larger man— enemy of state, Alexander Pierce— adorned in courting jewels and transformed into a Merman as well, swimming with a midnight blue tail and all the favor of King Howard himself.
The most concerning memory is what Bucky can recall of Tony’s eyes, unnaturally blue and vibrant instead of dark and brown. His expression was serene, but Bucky knows exactly how powerful the other mage can be, how controlling Alex can be. He shivers remembering his former teacher’s hold on his mind, cold and stifling, years ago before Steve banned him from the Kingdom.
Why is he here? What could he possibly gain by controlling and marrying Tony?
“Buck!”
His head whips up and Steve is barreling towards him, dressed casually and face red with tears, “Bucky, holy shit! I’m so so sorry, Buck— oh my gods, are you okay? I can’t… are you…” his words break apart into sobs as he jumps into the water, throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck and holding him close.
Bucky has never seen his brother broken up like this, and returns the embrace, stroking Steve’s hair while he cries, “Hey, punk— it’s okay, I’m okay,” he soothes, pressing a few kisses into his hairline.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Buck, I had no idea… when Nat came to me weeks ago, saying you disappeared right out of her house, I had the surrounding land absolutely scoured searching for you. I had no idea you were... turned into one of them. What happened? How do we… how do I get you back?”
“Shut up, Steve, gods—” Bucky chuckles, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “I agreed to this.”
“What?”
“Listen to me, for once in your life, Steve. I agreed to this— after you burned down my fucking boat— to show you that Merpeople are people, too. I made a deal with the mage who Natasha was banging, and she told me there was a spell over the sea Kingdom and their people, something blocking their minds from understanding anything above the shoreline. She said if I married the Prince, uniting the Kingdoms, the spell would be broken.”
Steve looks completely lost, so Bucky just continues, “Uh, the catch was I would have to go under their spell and give up my memories. After a few weeks, Tony was going to propose, but Alexander Pierce showed up and enchanted him away. And by that time, I had lost almost all of my memories and couldn’t stop him.”
“And then you washed up here.” Steve finishes, nodding distractedly. “Okay, and how do you change back?” he asks, motioning at the tail between them.
“Uh… I think I have to marry Tony.”
---
He’s never swam faster in his life. On the surface, Bucky can see the naval ships gearing up to sail, and he picks up his pace, diving down to find the underwater Kingdom.
Because of the ban against him, he’s going to need insider help. As he approaches the Kingdom’s Eastern walls, Bucky lifts his fingers to his lips, whistling once, sharp and piercing. He slows to a stop behind a few boulders and waits, hoping that Pepper and Rhodey could hear him from nearby.
“... Tony?” a voice whispers nearby— Pepper, thank the seas.
“Pepper, it’s me,” Bucky puts his hands up in surrender and rounds the stone formation, stopping when he sees her and Rhodey raise their weapons, “please, I need to talk.”
“Bucky?” Pepper calls, swimming closer and shrugging off Rhodey as he tries to stop her, “where have you been? What did you do?”
He shakes his head, keeping his hands raised, “Please, I think Tony’s in trouble. The man with him, Alexander Pierce, is an enemy of the state and powerful mag— witch. I think he has Tony under a spell. Please, I need you to help me—”
“If he’s such a threat,” Rhodey interrupts, lowering his weapon and crossing his arms, “why did you leave?”
“The King forced me out. My memories were almost gone, and by the time I was out of the Kingdom, I couldn’t remember my own name, much less Tony.”
“Triton, Bucky. How did you get back?” Pepper curses, swimming closer and putting a hand on his shoulder, “How are your memories back?”
Bucky looks over her shoulder at Rhodey before turning back to her, grabbing her hand, “I ended up back with my people. They healed me and restored my memories. Look, I don’t know what Alexander wants with Tony, but it’s not good. I think we can stop him.”
Rhodey swims forward to join them, placing a weapon in Bucky’s hand, “We know. Ever since you left, Tony hasn’t talked to us once— always in the company of Alexander and his father. He’s closed down our scheduled explorations and is set to wed the man today. We’ll help you stop him, Bucky. He has never been as happy as when you two were together.”
“Fuck, okay,” Bucky says, feeling the emotion well up within his chest, “show me where they are.”
The three of them swim around the walls, heading to the southmost side of the Kingdom borders. When they approach, Bucky can see a crowd of Merpeople gathered, surrounding a magnificent display of lights and color. The closer they get, the more Bucky can discern. Tony is floating underneath an ornate altar, wearing all the jewels and chains the Bucky dressed him in only days before. He sees red, and turns to Rhodey—
“Cause a distraction. I’ll take Alexander.”
They part, and Bucky aims for where Alexander is leaving the Kingdom gates, flanked by three or four royal guards. He can hear Rhodey and Pepper yelling near the altar, drawing everyone’s attention, and he attacks, diving down and plowing straight into Alexander.
“The hell—” Alexander yelps, drowned out by the commotion up front, and Bucky pins him to the sand, getting in a solid right hook before the guards are on them, pulling Bucky away as he struggles and fights.
“You bastard! The fuck do you want with him Alex?” Bucky screams, kicking hard with his tail to know avail.
Alexander just smiles, vile and knowing, “Oh, James. I thought you were smarter than this.”
As they start to drag Bucky away, he sees a glimmer of blue around Alexander’s neck, separate from the chains and jewels and headdress. Tony’s signet ring. Dammit. The gold of the ring is washed out in a pale, unearthly blue— similar to the blue in Tony’s eyes.
Alexander turns around, ignoring Bucky and heading back to the ceremony, and Bucky takes his chance. He whispers a small enchantment and feels the power run through his body— before clenching his fists, satisfied when all four guards burst away in a wave of light. Alex turns to defend himself, but it’s too late. Bucky lunges forward and rips the ring— chain and all— right off his neck.
The water around them shifts. Stilling and snapping all at once. He feels the power rush back into himself from the ring, stored away from weeks ago when he healed the love of his life. His head snaps up, looking for Tony in the crowd. Rhodey’s cradling his limp body, screaming for help.
With one last look at Alexander, unconscious on the ground, Bucky takes off.
“Tony!” he shouts, slowing down when he reaches the two of them, terrified of how similar this moment is to when Bucky saved him the first time. And similar to then, he takes the ring in hand, sliding it on his finger, before breathing the healing spell and enchantment into it.
“It was you,” Rhodey looks on in awe, pointing at the ring on Bucky’s finger, “you saved him from the shark attack.”
Bucky can’t respond, mouth working quickly as he finishes the spell. He looks down at Tony’s face, taking in his features with fresh eyes. Gorgeous, just as beautiful as before, but thin. Gaunt. Bags that never existed before marr his perfect skin, and Bucky can swear his skin is gray instead of tan and pink. Alexander was killing him, draining the life from him slowly.
“Tony,” he whispers, shaking his love, his friend, his betrothed— dammit, “c’mon, baby, wake up. Tony, look at me sweetheart.”
As he’s begging, he slips the ring off of his finger and onto Tony’s hand, securing it on his ring finger. Tony gasps awake, looking around frantically before his eyes settle on— “Bucky?”
“Fuck, baby,” Bucky chokes, feeling the back of his eyes heat up with unshed tears, “are you okay?”
“I…” he looks around, confusion settling over his features, “are we getting married already?”
Bucky laughs, helping Tony to sit up straighter, “As much as I’d love that— no. We’re not. You’ve been under enchantment by a man named Alexander Pierce. I’m not sure what he wanted, or how he found you, but he’s had you under for a few days. What do you remember last?”
Tony furrows his brow, concentrating, “I— I remember us in my room, putting on the courting jewels, and then… I promised I’d come back to you.”
“You did,” Bucky crowds into Tony’s space, pushing his hair back tenderly, “you did come back to me.”
Their eyes meet, longing and affection traded in a loaded gaze, before Rhodey clears his throat, “Uh, not to ruin the moment completely, but is he supposed to be doing that?”
All three of them turn to look as Alexander’s body unfolds, swelling and popping, bursting with tangled limbs, growing and growling towards the surface of the water. As a long, reptilian head emerges, Bucky’s eyes go wide with understanding.
“It wasn’t about me or you Tony,” he murmurs, reaching for a weapon, “it was always about him.”
The hydra monster screeches, terrible and loud, as it stretches out long limbs and three, snarling heads. One of them zeros in on the crowd, now screaming and swimming away frantically, and smiles deadly, horrifying teeth at them, “It’ sss alway sss been me,” it hisses, snapping just a few feet in front of where they float, huddled together.
Bucky straightens up, “What do you want, Alexander?” he bellows, opening his arms wide, “you’ll never have us, we won’t surrender to you.”
“I never wanted you, sss illy boy,” he sneers, “you were only the di sss traction. A sss we sss peak, my army is preparing to lay sss eige to your preciou sss Kingdom.”
“Steve will stop you,” Bucky yells back, grabbing Tony’s hand as they face the Hydra together.
“Oh, but you sss till don’t get it,” Alexander throws all three heads back and cackles, a sharp, nasty sound, “it was my sss pell that divided the Kingdoms, my enchantment that brought you two together, my plan to turn you to the sss ea.”
“Wanda—”
“My sss ervant, mo sss t effective in getting rid of you, Jame sss.”
Bucky reels back, trying to add everything up. Wanda’s spell— while a lifeline to Bucky— was just a trick to get rid of him. He was too knowing, too curious, and it allowed Alexander to do gods know what in the past month, culminating in taking over the sea Kingdom, enchanting the King and marrying the Prince. Now that everyone is free from his spells, it’s obvious how misled Bucky had been from the beginning.
And now, Steve’s not defending the Kingdom. He’s on his way here, and completely unaware of the threat converging back home.
“Tony,” he turns, urgently grabbing the Prince’s shoulders, “my brother’s on his way here. My Kingdom is vulnerable to attack with him gone. We need to kill Alexander now and stop him here before he’s able to unite land and sea.”
“Okay, okay… wait. Land?” Tony asks, looking confused, and Bucky remembers. Triton, t he spell is still blinding the Merpeople.
Bucky keeps one eye on the Hydra, still growing and thrashing in front of them, and takes Tony’s hand. “Rhodey, can you help me?” he asks, and the other Mer swims closer, looking between them curiously.
“Tony, do you trust me?” Bucky looks into Tony’s eyes, astounded to see only affection shining back at him, his own face reflected in his favorite dark irises.
“With my life, Bucky,” he promises, and Bucky grabs the ring, pulling it off and placing it in Rhodey’s palm.
He covers it with his hand, encouraging the three of them to link arms and put a hand on the ring. It glows brighter, gold and vibrant, and Bucky holds Tony’s gaze, “The only way to break the curse is for us to wed, Tony,” he begins, watch as Tony’s jaw drops in surprise, “we’ve only known each other a few weeks, so this spell will bind us in soul, temporarily husbands as long as my enchantment is on this ring. I can easily break it, so after tonight we don’t… you don’t… anyways,” he lowers his gaze, unable to meet Tony’s anymore, “for now, it will help if I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
Tony hooks a finger under Bucky’s chin, lifting it gently, “I trust you, Bucky, and I would be proud to marry you.”
They share a sweet moment, resting their foreheads together, before Rhodey clears his throat and interrupts them again, “Guys— the Hydra?”
“Fuck, okay. Rhodey, I need you to hold the ring tight— you are the conduit for our soul bond.”
Rhodey looks hesitant, but clenches his fist obediently, gripping the ring in his hands. Bucky clasps a hand on Rhodey’s shoulder, instructing Tony to do the same, and intertwines their fingers together. The chant is simple, short and brief. He feels a tug in his chest as he weaves it, feeling Tony’s soul reach towards him eagerly, until it slides into place, whole and complete.
Their eyes shoot open at the same time, and Bucky can see a golden ring shining around Tony’s iris. He knows his eyes look the same, and he laughs as he feels… whole. Feels certain. Feels Tony, solid and peaceful in his chest. Tony laughs in response, grabbing his chest and throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck.
“Uh guys…” Rhodey gets their attention, holding out his hand. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence— inside his palm are two rings instead of one, shimmering and pulsing with a light of their own.
Bucky hands one to Tony and slips the other on his finder— a perfect fit.
They turn to see the Hydra monster hundreds of feet away, heading back towards the Kingdom of Brooklyn, but the real spectacle is a dark cloud that starts to rise from Howard’s Kingdom. Wispy, black tendrils rise in the water, floating to the surface and releasing the Kingdom below. Bucky looks over the crowd nearby and sees the vapor physically seeping from each Mer, departing from their bodies and rising away.
He feels revelation and realization deep in his chest, and knows it’s coming from Tony. Shocked cries resound and he can hear the Hydra roar, but Tony swims closer to him, mouth open and speechless as he touches Bucky’s face, reverent and careful.
“You saved me.”
Oh, of course, “You remember?”
Tony laughs, bright and loud, “You idiot, of course I remember. You had fucking legs. A boat. Magic. How did I forget?”
Bucky just shakes his head, “Alex had everyone under a spell. We need to stop him, Tony, and later we can talk about everything, okay?”
Tony nods and they start to swim, gathering guards and other members of the royal army as they go. Howard is nowhere to be found, and they learn from a townsperson that the Hydra took him hostage, determined to unite the two Kingdoms under his own rule.
They swim faster. Bucky never lets go of Tony’s hand, anticipation and adrenaline thrumming strong through their bond together. That is, until Bucky starts to choke. He takes a deep breath, confused about the issue, and realizes that the water is flooding his lungs, no longer being converted into oxygen. He sputters, frantically looking to Tony, and clawing towards the surface, desperate for air. And then he starts to sink. It’s unbelievable pain as his scales recede into skin, and his tail rips apart, restructuring and rehealing into two, familiar legs.
No. Tony looks down, watching the transformation in horror, before hugging Bucky close and swimming rapidly for the surface. Bucky’s vision is dimming, oxygen lacking, and his ears pop as they break the surface, finally taking a desperate gulp of air.
Tony holds him still as he heaves, legs wrapped around the Merman’s waist to keep him above the water. They watch the Hydra move quickly away from them, but there’s a large mass in the distance, blocking Alexander from his goal.
“Can you get us there?” Bucky whispers, voice hoarse from the transformation.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” and it’s all the warning he gets before Tony’s shifting them, putting Bucky on his back, and swimming rapidly just below the waterline.
He watches, helplessly, as the Hydra strikes in the distance, smashing what Bucky can only guess is a naval ship. They close in on the fight, and Bucky can see the royal ship, Steve’s ship, sail around the Hydra and approach from behind. There’s a moment where the Hydra seems to avoid the rear attack, but then is caught, trapped between two other ships, and impaled slowly onto the bowsprit, piercing through its heart and ripping a guttural cry from the monster.
“Tony! Tony!” he yells, trying to get the Mer’s attention. “Tony, stop! I think he’s dead, Tony!”
He screeches to a stop and Bucky careens forward, almost losing his grip around Tony’s back, “What? What happened?”
“Look!” Bucky points forward, both of them watching as the Hydra not only falls back into the sea, but starts to shrink and shrink and shrink.
“We… he did it,” Tony says, breathless, and turns to hold Bucky, both of them facing each other again.
“We did it,” Bucky agrees, endless joy vibrating between them.
This time he doesn’t wait. Bucky swoops down and captures Tony’s lips in a kiss, both of them smiling into it, salty and sweet and tender. It tastes like victory. It tastes like relief. It tastes like home.
They stay wrapped up in each other— Bucky quickly aware that he’s completely naked pressed up against Tony— until Steve’s ship arrives, a flag of victory in the air, a symbol of hope on the sea.
---
It takes a while for them to rebuild. Even though Alexander didn’t do much lasting damage, and his troops were easily scattered without him, the wreckage he caused in the minds of both land and sea citizens is hard to heal.
Tony and Bucky are married before both of their people— a large ceremony that takes place in the cove where they first met. They keep the enchantment on their rings, happy to nurture their soul bond, and strengthen it with Natasha’s help.
King Howard was grumpy, but uninjured after the battle. His relationship with King Steve is slow coming, but both of them have plenty to bond over concerning their newly wed Princes. They establish several trading routes between their two Kingdoms, and there’s a quick exchange of several types of raw and baked foods.
Natasha presents Wanda to the King a few weeks later, the girl worse for wear and humble at Steve’s feet. She tells a convincing story of her own manipulation, and with Natasha as her character witness, the King is easily convinced to grant her a pardon.
For their wedding gift, Natasha works a charm into their rings to let them shapeshift at will. They spend the first week on land, showing Tony the joys of walking and baking and intercurral sex— and the second week in the sea, building their own cottage outside the castle and christening it with very adventurous Mer mating.
Pepper commissions a painting, done in the palace and reproduced on land, of their Princes—
Underneath, the inscription reads, “Separated by Ignorance, United by Love, and Victorious in Unity."
It’s a little dramatic, sure. But as they celebrate their marriage and love year after year, it’s decided that no words could be better to honor the two Princes, loved by both land and sea.
#winteriron#mermay#tony/bucky#starkbucks#tony x bucky#mer!tony#mer!bucky#mage!bucky#happy ending#good King Steve#tw: Alexander Pierce#finished wip#fanfic#mcu au
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you know, @bumkeyz, i think it’s very nasty for you to say i have some kind of privilege in all of this. we don’t get to pick and choose who was affected by addy and her actions. just because you see the shit that we posted on tumblr, does not mean you have the full story. and i’m gonna be honest... fuck you and the anon in my inbox for making me feel like i MUST talk about my own trauma because if i didn’t, i was staying silent for her.
when i say my brain couldn’t handle this, it’s because of outside factors that i won’t get into and the fact i had the stark realization that i was in fact manipulated by addy. it’s been hard to come to terms with and all i wanted to do with that ask was highlight that i did not stand by her. but fine, you want the long post of it all, so here ya go.
here’s my story. my side of things. read if you want, or don’t.
tw : manipulation , guilt tripping .
i’m not going to pretend like i remember when addy and i met. all i remember is something was happening in the rpc and i was involved in some discourse and she came into my ims offering support. i was very leery of her at this point, as she had just come back from her stay with rpslayed. tumblr won’t let me reopen those ims now she’s deleted that old blog, but i know that i did reply. it went from that discourse, to the one she was having with B, someone that took advantage of her. and again, i have morals to uphold, so of course i went off about it. through all of this, i started to believe she had changed - which was a large lapse in my own judgement at the time, but we became friends. i wish i hadn’t NOW, but that’s not something i can change now.
i have a terrible memory as i’ve stated, so again, i’m not going to be able to give dates on this one either, but you know how there was an asterisked name in certain posts of her’s? yeah that was my name right up until her current boyfriend. me and addy had this... thing going. more of like a back and forth, will they won’t they. i wish it was as poetic as some wattpad fic because that’s where i begin to realize i was manipulated. the biggest thing i can remember is the whole situation concerning my best friend, who is also my ex-boyfriend. something that was truly one sided occurred between them and soon it was such a big thing that me and him were friends. one time, she did not even talk to me for days and would only add like an emphasis or thumbs down to my imessage texts ( idk what they’re called but you get me ) . i was constantly made to feel bad that my ex was my best friend, i remember once she found out we wanted to make a rp together and was all “im going back to bed”. i once made a post that said “you know it’s real if i send you tiktoks” and tagged him in it and that again, led to her ghosting me because she didn’t feel important enough to me or whatever.
i remember there was this time we didn’t talk for a certain amount of time, so i blocked her thinking we weren’t friends. and then i get this over cashapp.
i won’t lie. addy has given me money. she gave me money when i really needed it and i think that’s why i didn’t want to speak against her. because i didn’t want her to think i had just been using her for money because i know at one point that is what she thought of me. but anyway, at this point, i’m like oh so we ARE friends ? and i’ve just been thrown back and forth so much with her that it was normal to me at this point. so we reconnected. i think the guilt over accepting money from someone kept me by her side and kept me standing up for her.
people who know me know i’m not an active replier sometimes. i sometimes disappear for days at a time and come back. that’s just who i am. addy didn’t like this. i remember once she was mad at me because i posted a screenshot of something my friend said and again, i was ghosted. this is how even part of that went.
the entire thing is that i respect people’s boundaries. but this stemmed from a place of pettiness. this was the aftermath of that btw once i was softblocked.
things like this also occurred.
it felt like i was being PUNISHED for not replying. when i don’t reply, it’s not because i want to make someone not feel as if they’re not important to me, which is something she tried to say me posting a screenshot of someone else was me saying.
on the subject of the sexual jokes / allegations from other people : i had NO idea then that they were being made to everyone, especially minors. i thought it was something that was exclusive to people she liked. it became clear to me that she did make those jokes to everyone, but never, EVER to minors. please do not say i stand with someone whose said that shit to kids, because i would never. i’ve been at the receiving end of those and some were consensual, but not all, but i do digress.
ya know, i was always was to be blame for a failed almost relationship because don’t get me wrong, i did like addy. but i’ll also be the first to admit i am a VERY closed off person, but i still flirt with people a lot. but it was always pointed out to me that it was very clearly my fault, no matter if i apologized. it was always my fault. i always hurt her feelings ( to the point she would delete my number and contact entirely ) . it was just always, ALWAYS salt’s fault, she never let me forget that. i remember indirects were made about me such as this.
btw this right here, was made BEFORE the “who gonna tell me” post, which she ended up deleting and then posting those.
i remember even when i would TRY with her by saying hmu if you want to watch a movie, she would reply with “go ask [ex bf]” or when i reconnected with an flame she would say “whatever go flirt with [name]”. go do this, go do that.
but the kicker? she would always come back and act like nothing happened. and i would always be in such a state of whiplash with this. she would flirt with me again and i would flirt back because that’s what i was used to.
when she got in her newest relationship, it all kind of came to a close, except if i made a joke about it all, she would say i hurt her feelings and lash out about it all. i was STILL made to feel bad about it even when she was in a relationship.
i think at the end of the day, i should and WILL take full accountability for even becoming friends with her in the first place due to her past. i could’ve easily stopped all of this happening to me if i had not made that ONE decision. at the end of the day, i was still manipulated, i was still made to feel like trash over a failed relationship, and i let it happen because i had feelings for her AND she had helped me out when i most needed it. but i’ll be dammed if i let someone say i had a PRIVILEGE in this situation when i felt like i had to stay friends with her because of the money or because she would say some shit about me if i tried to not be friends with her. and while there is so much more i could pull up and show y’all, i do not feel like going through all of that. just know this pattern is what i experienced for upwards of a year or so.
you can believe what you want or feel how you want about me. it doesn’t change a damn thing that happened to me and i’m so, SO tired of being silent.
- salt.
#rpt#rpc#tags it so yall will see it ig#manipulation cw#guilt tripping cw#addy cw#anon is off btw bc of tht one i got while writing this
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A Different Kind; Norman Bates x Male!Reader
Could you please do a Norman Bates x male!reader where the reader doesn’t think that Norman would ever like him because he’s a guy? (Reader is also unaware of Norman’s blackouts, like the half of the town that got straight up murdered)
Warnings: repressed sexuality, homophobia/biphobia, slurs, bullying, profanity, sex, mention of sexual assault/harassment, some minor OC characters for plot
Author/ A/N: this has a long build up, and is kind of bad and angsty until it isn't (and by 'bad' I mean most of the trigger warnings are in the beginning.), in fact, if you are interest in reading this, but don't want to read the parts with all the traditionally bad triggers mentioned, then under the asterisks is the fluffy love stuff. This might be the longest thing I've ever written.
It started when you were young, the toxic air around anything other than heterosexuality. You remember the kids on the playground yelling the godforsaken word at you. The 'g' word. No rhyme, no reason. You didn't understand what it meant until the summer you were fourteen, when you were sitting in the backyard at Jacob Smith's birthday party. By then most kids didn't care what sexuality anyone was, but there were still kids who felt the opposite. You had sheepishly asked what it meant when the discussion was on former president of the mid-1800's James Buchanan's potential homosexuality. It was an odd topic, but somehow that's how the conversation had flowed naturally.
You sat quietly in thought, knowing deep down you had some sort of attraction to boys. Or at least, you weren't repulsed by the thought of kissing one, or marrying one, or... more.
The next school year brought you into the cold grips of highschool, where you found yourself on new, unfamiliar ground. Second semester of freshmen year was your first experience with another boy at a senior's house party. The senior was a Saint of a girl, a cheerleader with the popularity of a popstar, but heart of an elderly neighbor who bakes all the kids on the block cookies.
You had been in the backyard with a sophomore named Connor O'Reilly. The conversation had been fairly deep, you were comfortable talking to him. As you sat in the cool, crisp spring air you dared to look at Connor through the dark. His eyes were on you, and before you knew it you were both leaning in until your lips touched.
Just as you were getting further into the kiss the door slammed open. Out walked the Varsity Quarterback, only a junior. He yelled inside to his friends, then at you and Connor. That was the first time ever being called the 'f' word.
Connor, who happened to live just down the street, bolted, leaving you to deal with the football players on your own. However, the was no way Steph, the cheerleader, would allow one of her freshman babies to deal with the football team on their own. After being ripped a new one by Steph, the jocks shuffled back inside with tails between their legs and blushes stained on their necks and cheeks. You cried in Steph's room the rest of the night.
The next day you were pushed around, but only in places your couldn't be protected. In the lockeroom you were spanked and whipped with damp towels, and one of the seniors made another freshman steal your underwear. The message was clear, so, like any logical kid with nowhere else to turn, you repressed your sexuality.
It didn't stop the abuse.
That summer was one of the best you've ever had. Your family went across the country to visit family, there you met many people like you, forming a few causal relationships. The first time you truly let yourself free, and god it felt great. And when you got back to school you stopped caring. Their words didn't matter to you, didn't cut like they had. You started seeing things for how they were, and how surprising to find that many of you oppressors were people repressing their own issues: sexuality, emotions, homelife. You started responding to their hate with love, and it worked. It worked well on the Quarterback, too.
His name was Mark Thatcher and it was one of his friend's parties where you saw him across the room. Summer had treated him well for his final year in highschool. Earlier in the week he had shoved you into the locker, yelling in your face. You had just muttered back a quiet, calm "It's ok, you'll be ok." He had blinked at you before letting you go and walking away, glancing back once before turning the corner.
He looked good leaned up against the wall, chatting with the coach's son. Mark shifted his eyes around the room before meeting yours and quickly looking to the side. Nearly half an hour later you had walked out of the bathroom and straight into a muscular arm. Mark had stopped you.
"So," he paused "are we doing this or not?"
You looked at him before pulling his face to yours, you let him push you up against the wall and deepen the kiss. It wasn't long before he lead you both into a bedroom. It started off desperate and hot and quick, but as it went on something deep within Mark broke and his actions got rougher. He was muttering slurs that were more self-directed, and you were telling him to stop. You felt tears hit the skin on your back and you pushed him off. He stepped off of the bed and backed himself up against the wall, head in hands and breath erratic as he slid down onto the floor. He was shaky as he sat on the floor and cried.
You got off the bed and walked to him, offering your hand to hold. He pushed you away, not in anger or disgust, but in pain. Pain with himself. You got up and cleaned yourself off, before getting dressed. By the time you were done Mark had calmed down and you helped him clean up and get his clothes on. You offered to let him walk out first and he just shook his head, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the room. He didn't walk back to the crowd with you though.
The next school day there was a rose taped to your locker with a note reading 'I'm sorry". You never hung out with Mark again, and he never bothered you for the rest of high school.
After that senior class had graduated everything began to run smoothly, you had made new friends, paved new roads for the other kids who were different.
It was an overcast day as you walked down the sidewalk in front a couple shops, ducking your head down as your thoughts swirl through. You glance up to catch eyes looking at you.
After realizing it was Norman, you look back down and tense up, trying to ignore the feeling of your stomach twisting and fluttering with butterflies. You keep walking, not letting your head think too much on how his lips curved upwards when you met his eyes. You continue on your way.
There’s no need in longing for something that will never happen.
The next day is when you quite literally run into him. Norman steadied you with a small grin.
“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” he chuckled.
“Oh, no!” you interject “I wasn’t either, its just as much my fault.”
Norman’s smile only grew, “I guess both of our minds are elsewhere, huh?”
You look down and lick your bottom lip, “I guess.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” you hear him say, voice soft.
You bit your lip and look up at him, shaking your head, cheeks pink. “Absolutely not.”
Norman nodded and stepped to the side, releasing his delicate grip on your arms. You moved on, telling him to have a nice day. He wished you the same.
You saw him a week later while he sat on a bench at a park just a town over.
After a day of following Steph around while she was back from University, you finally ended up on a swing with her on another while she talked about her life in higher education.
“And I just don’t understand how he could think we’re the issue when the entire class is doing poorly! You know? Like, I understand you’re considered an expert in your field, Dr. Smith, but no one else in your class is, so maybe you should consider teaching us better.” Steph ranted on as you looked across the landscape to find Norman’s nose tucked in a book.
“Anyway, I’m just ranting, I’m so frustrated! I’m sorry, how are you, Y/n?” Steph’s empathetic voice moved your eyes back to her as she lightly swing back and forth.
You feet were planted under you as you swayed left and right. You nodded to the bench across the way.
“That’s the guy I was telling you about.”
Steph’s head shot to the direction, hair whipping in her face.
“Oh?” her eyes darted to find a person before landing right on Norman, “Oh.”
She slowed her swinging to a stop and stared for a moment, “Okay, I see.”
You snorted, “What does that mean, Steph?”
“I mean he’s cute! I understand why you like him.”
“Yeah, right? It’ll probably never happen, though.” you sigh, kicking a rock to the side.
“Um? Why not?” Steph had her eyebrows raised as she looked at you.
“I don’t think he like guys.” you shrug.
Steph stared at you a moment, slack-jawed before laughing. “Dude, he’s literally been sneaking looks at you since we got here. He definitely like you, at least.”
“Wishful thinking, but thanks.”
“Are you joking?” Steph reached over and pushed you. “Who wouldn’t? You’re fucking hot!”
You leaned forward, giggling as Steph nearly lost her balance and fell out of the swing.
“I’m serious, Y/n! Anyone would be lucky to be with you; you’re a catch.” She said it like it was a straight fact.
“I miss you, Steph, why’d you have to leave me here? My ego misses you even more!” you jape.
Steph rolled her eyes and stood up, walking toward Norman.
“Steph, where are you going!”
“To the car, loser. Luckily, you’ll have to pass the love of your life to get there.” she walked away cackling.
You were able to get back to the car with little issue. In fact, you managed to have a brief, pleasant conversation with Norman along the way. Steph couldn’t stop giggling the entire way back, muttering smug “he likes you”‘s to you throughout the whole ride. You just rolled your eyes until you got home.
Weeks had passed since then and Steph was gone again, but you had managed to have many more pleasant--and not so brief--interactions with Norman in those weeks. You were finally in a place where your face wouldn’t get too red from the interactions. It was fantastic.
Then the day that changed it all happened. The day Norman asked you out. On a date.
You had nearly spit out your drink when he did it, looking over to him with wide eyes.
“Why?” you asked.
Norman’s brow furrowed, “Because I like you. And I thought that maybe you might like me?” He opened his mouth to speak again, but you beat him.
“I do! And I will! Go out with you, I mean.” You look over to Norman and saw his wide grin, brow still furrowed.
“I just,” you pause a moment before continuing “I didn’t think you, you know. I didn’t think you liked men like that.”
Norman moved closer to you, “Well, I like you, Y/n.”
You looked back to him, eyes drifting about his face before smiling back and speaking.
“Okay. So, what are we going to do on our date?”
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So now, Hunter Bishop, one of the Giants outfield prospects, tested positive. What do you want to bet that, by the time they’re supposed to start the “season”, at least one person on every single club will have tested positive? And sure, they’re all supposed to be playing regionally, but let me tell you, our region is a mess. Things are sort of okay here in NoCal and in Seattle, but SoCal and Arizona and Texas? Not so much. And the difference in some of the other regions is even more extreme—like how the Yankees and Mets will go from a city that seems to be recovering somewhat to, you know, Florida.
And all for what? To put out what will be, let’s be honest, low energy, poorly played baseball while seeking a championship that will have more asterisks attaches to it than the 1919 White Sox and Barry Bonds’ batting records combined. Like, if you watch or listen to Spring Training games...well, after one month, it’s still not pretty. I mean, I know the players want to play, it’s their passion, after all, and it’s got to be super hard for young, healthy, fit men to have to sit around doing nothing, especially when you consider the fairly small window of time they have in that career. But I keep thinking about how, “they’re young, so they’ll get over it and not, you know, die,” is a fucking dangerous attitude to take. No, they probably won’t die, but we literally don’t know what the long term effects of this very new disease are. Even now, there are plenty of fit, healthy, young people who got over it months ago and still can’t, you know, go up a flight of stairs without wheezing. I think about Charlie Blackmon trying to play at Coors while battling chronic fatigue, or about Hunter Bishop, whose career could literally be over without ever having started.
Once it became clear that this pandemic was here to stay, MLB should have shut down the season and spent their time in Zoom sessions working things with the MLBPA. Like, you’ve been given all this extra time just before contract negotiations, why not use it to hammer out a really good deal for everyone? They should also have opened up their television and radio archives and offered them on At Bat and MLB.tv for reduced prices. (Also the local networks should be showing full length “classic” games and not truncating them into two hour blocks of time because who wants to see “due to time considerations we now skip ahead in this broadcast” while watching a pitcher’s duel I’m looking at you NBCSN Bay Area but I digress) But no, we got this instead—a league and owners willing to literally sacrifice the health and lives of their players and everyone involved in as well as all their familes just so they can, in the words of Jim Crane, “get some people into the building and sell tickets and merchandise and some cold beer.”
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why do people seem to think i’m a big name blogger
i only have like 1800 followers (or I guess closer to 1900 now?), that’s pocket change compared to some of the people around here
i know there’s people with less, and that doesn’t make you invalid or anything. Because it’s not about size. It’s either about quality or about enjoyment, and really, your latter should come first in fandom. If you have a hobby blog designed to spread enjoyment, then yes, quality. If you positively impact just 5 people’s lives on the regular, you’ve done a good thing.
This falls in line with my “anyone can meta” and moods about who feels comfortable metaing or having those opinions, but it’s become a general sentiment.
And most of all don’t feel like you need to lockstep with me. now, not lockstepping with me doesn’t mean "shit directly on someone’s positive content post like a whole entitled jackass”, but like. I don’t care if you were some little blog with 10 followers that I gave a boost and now you’re kinda popular. you don’t owe me shit.
Because that’s another weird thing and I think people need to practice self-care on this more. Four different people, on four different occasions, that were incensed I wouldn’t fall into borg mind or surrender my opinions, have tried to claim they “made” me. Ironically, none of them did. Like even ignoring my following point, even in the way they meant it -- which is the irony.
When Kelloggs club pounced on my first ever fandom tweet years ago for the sin of having a Cas plushie icon, and I floored them with numbers they had never seen and got blocked by the whole damn hoard in my first hour in fandom like a temporary urban legend, I made me. Sure, they drew attention and made a shitshow. Sure, it led to me being drawn into group chats that expanded my networking and stuff. But I made me. When a big name fan was upset at how much traction I’d gained in a month, because this fandom is obsessed with clout for some goddamn reason, and I stood my ground? They drew attention. But the way I held my ground? I made me.
When TAW went bananas on me for catching him hand in the cookie jar with Misha and my unwillingness to be backed off that turned heads? I made me. Everybody helped with of course blacklisttaw, but I didn’t make blacklisttaw, everyone made blacklisttaw, I just started it. And it worked. Because of everybody. He hasn’t had a non-indie job aside from things being re-re-re-re-reannounced from 2008 plans or things stuck in production purgatory since 2014 releasing late since. That ain’t all my credit. I didn’t MAKE that. I started it, maybe. But you guys made that. I just stood there with a megaphone for those who weren’t positioned to speak, and gave some cornerstones. Everybody else’s work did the rest.
(And ironically, NONE of the people that wanted me to feel like they MADE me were involved in that. I think they all actually came after all of these things.)
The people along the way help. But just because someone helps you doesn’t mean you’re indentured to them, their demands, or even their abuse for life, or touting every single thing they say as truth.
Whatever content you made that got shared? You made that. You made you. Your thoughts, opinions, contributions, choices made you. Someone giving you a digital nickel along the way, or even a digital hundred dolla bill, doesn’t obligate you to them. If they genuinely appreciated your thoughts and content instead of finding it temporarily useful or convenient... then they gained the benefit of your contribution in exchange. If someone had another intent, that’s on them.
(honestly same goes for RL on this point; sure try to repay people but repayment doesn’t mean you’re shackled to them for all eternity and if someone said they wanted to HELP you and then turned around like “ok and the interest accrued is--” or flags it around as some weight? Fuckin’ run. RUN AWAY. “Help” doesn’t come with a leash or a motive. It comes because they want to help. And anyone that spins that around on you -- life lesson -- holy shit. Run. You help people because you care, whether that’s about them as an individual or general human empathy -- not for what you get out of it. And again seriously guys REAL LIFE PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND IF YOU TAKE NOTHING ELSE FROM ANYTHING I EVER SAID. If someone had told me this when I was younger I would have dodged YEARS of receiving violence. It’s like the shittier, less competent version of mob logic, only at least the mob is honest that they’re gonna break your kneecaps if you fuck up before you get started. Y’know what? I value honesty. If you’re gonna demand something, be honest and threaten my kneecaps up front.)
Nobody made you but you. I helped along the way, or some other people helped. But I’m never going to be like HOW DARE YOU HAVE A DIFFERENT OPINION I MADE YOU!!!!!!! because like-- is anybody watching the show right now? Anybody at all? Chuck’s stomping around and throwing hissyfits because hE mAdE thEm AnD hE’Ll ShoW tHEm and like in the end, Chuck didn’t make them. Maybe he influenced things around them. But they’re making themselves.
And I feel like this fandom would do so much better if they abandoned this tribalistic herd mind nonsense for fear of obligation to *whatever* because guys, people who hold you to that? They’re abusers. Like. Literally. No lie. Shit man. Those people online can’t even “make” anyone, because they only make themselves, and then people react to what they’ve made of themselves. Everyone decides they’re too much? Too bitter? Too whatever? Everybody stops spreading their content? Guess what they’ve got. A big ball of Too Much Bitter on their dash and nothing else. But you know what? They made them. They made that. They make that big ball of whatever.
Like congrats guys you temporarily liked my opinions when you liked them and strolled along when I was at like 700 followers already and now that you don’t you’re gonna-- what? Get mad at other opinions? Come on now. People aren’t just tools to be waved around. We’re complex. You’re complex. Hopefully you all treat other people as complex. Never put yourself in a digital collar to jump through digital flaming hoops for fear of some kind of digital retaliation.
Hell, if there’s one moral from How-I-Made-Me in that list above, that’s it, really. Lmao, fuck the borg guys, come on. You do you. My path was essentially “Fuck the bronlies, fuck the extreme con crowd, fuck sexual predators, and fuck extremes of any fandom lane, even if that’s a lane within my own ship.” -- your path doesn’t have to be my path. You make your path. You just share it with people on the way. If they diverge, they don’t get to throw you down whatever hill they’ve declared is the one to go down. And definitely make sure in the land of “all opinions/interpretations are equal” that is said online like a parrot stuck in a loop, you’re not letting them use that to completely ironically steamroll over your own while leaving theirs unchecked of any real compunction.
So no, don’t come shit on my posts directly, don’t come whatever. But don’t ever just lockstep with me, or anyone else, because you feel some weird form of obligation over something as irrelevant as digital clout in the world of a TV fandom that IS ENDING ANYWAY so WHAT THE FUCK. The people you have around you? The views you soak? The follows you have? Good and bad. Those are what are going to paint the rest of your experience for this show you (theoretically) love from here into eternity.
Am I too loud? That’s fine. You do you. Is someone else too perpetually bitter? Don’t tie yourself to them. Pay close attention to what is sculpting your fandom experience in this final hour and into its life beyond. Because that’s gonna be the difference between you keeping love for this show in your heart once it’s off the air or petering off into distressed disfavor for it.
At one point when the show was ending, I thought “I’ma follow every account like in the history of ever” and man was that a bad idea. A few sweeps later and I’ve cleared out bitter bullshit clogging my dash, random cacophony, and have nothing but good shit to reblog again and damn if that isn’t even gonna make the experience of everyone in my proximity better too. Much less my own. And yeah, that matters. It’s called fandom. It’s supposed to be fun. Not obligate chaos.
Either people take you as you are, or they don’t. Fuck the ones that just want parts of you for a time and want to discard the rest. Those people aren’t worth your time. Hell, that even wants to go for people who have dedicated bitter blogs. You wanna be bitter and nasty okay that’s fine, if somebody is just there for some other shit and then gets mad that you’re bitter after goddamn choosing to follow you knowing full god damn and well you’re bitter, they can fuck off too. Stay mad if you want. You do you. I might say it’s probably not the best for mental health and general wellness but in the end that’s still up to you. And put an asterisk that doing shit on tumblr is different than twitter where if you make a bunch of rowdy bitter people in your area and you or they start shit-tagging creatives and doing the above kinda bullshit, no, that doesn’t work the same. Or like the multishipper I saw getting attacked despite making a whole other blogspace to keep their wincest away from impacting other people’s eyes like -- if they’re hunting down that side account just to cause bullshit, fuck them too. Seriously, fuck the borg.
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[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Chapter Seven (Finally!!)
~6,800 words (translated by @weilongfu proofread by @stebeee)
Translation Masterpost can be found here
Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine and Wei’s - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!
***Note: Also I just wanted to explain why Chapter 7 took so long - When I first started this project, Wei offered to help me out even though he’s not fluent in Chinese, and he’s been working so hard at learning AS HE TRANSLATES and that’s mindblowing! So it took a while longer than usual, but it’s amazing that Wei managed to translate a full chapter by himself knowing minimal Chinese, and that’s why I don’t mind waiting for the chapters to be completed. I can safely say after learning a gazillion languages over the years that I CANNOT translate any other language just like that. So you guys have Chapter Seven today because of him!!! And that being said, we’ll try to get the chapters up faster next time! Thanks for waiting guys!!!***
Full chapter below the cut
Meng Shao Fei’s house
Just stepping into the house via the entrance, Tang Yi could already see the side of the wall filled with relevant information on Xing Tian Meng’s boss and related individuals, and also a personally hand-drawn wanted poster, with the height clearly marked.
“Tang Yi, 28 years old, height 182 cm, but… am I that ugly?”
He points at the hand-drawn wanted poster and laughs.
“Yes!”
Shao Fei, who stepped into his house just a moment too late, rushes over quickly as he tries to block the picture and all the information about Tang Yi with his body.
“What are you so nervous for? But…”
Tang Yi deliberately leans in close to the panicking man trying to hide the board and whispers in his ear, “You really do know me.”
All the basic details of height, weight, his dominant right hand, frequently visited places, people he was in contact with, even details he never noticed before were on Shao Fei’s board.
“Don’t change the subject, what did you just say downstairs? Say it again.”
Unafraid of the imposing eyes of the other, Shao Fei looks at the man who just kissed him in the hospital earlier.
Tang Yi takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over his wrist, repeating the words he said earlier, “I said that I’m not sure of your feelings, but we can try.”
“Hey, just now at the hospital everyone found out, and now you come and say you’re not sure? Are you trying to mess with my feelings?”
“It’s because I don’t want to mess with you that I want to make it clear.”
He puts his warm palm gently to Shao Fei’s face, saying seriously, “After all, I’ve never had anyone like you, someone that I care so much about.”
Tang Yi thought he had insulated his life from feelings, that it was impossible to find his rib like Boss Tang had said, but still this person was now put into the most important place in his heart.
He cares, and he is interested in Shao Fei.
“Sure enough, the person who falls in love with the other first loses the most. Forget it. Anyway, the fact that I like you is my business, whether you can like me or not is up to you.”
Shao Fei waves him off in a dismissive gesture and tips his chin up to look at Tang Yi confidently. “But I am really handsome, it’ll be difficult for you to not fall in love with me.”
“Oh really?” Tang Yi smiles, opening his arms after taking a step back and says, “How about, I’ll give you a chance to seduce me.”
“Don’t, don’t think that I won’t dare to do it, I’m afraid you can’t stand it,” Shao Fei retorts, puffing his chest out and showing no signs of weakness.
He didn’t expect the topic to suddenly turn so suggestive and sensual.
“Oh? Come try.”
“Try me, who’s afraid, huh? Anyway, we’re both men so why do we need to talk so much? Let’s just do it.”
“You’re right, then I... ...”
As he speaks, Tang Yi unexpectedly moves forward and puts his arm around Shao Fei’s waist, turning them around and pressing Shao Fei against the wall. He removes Shao Fei’s jacket and unbuttons his own shirt, revealing strong chest muscles.
“Nervous?”
Shao Fei lifts his chin and stutters, “No, no, I’m actually enjoying this, continue, continue!”
He did not know how red his cheeks are and soon, his ears would be too.
Tang Yi’s slender fingers are pressed to Shao Fei’s chest. As he slowly unbuttons Shao Fei’s shirt, one button at a time, he smiles, enjoying the way Shao Fei’s breathing quickens up because of what he’s doing.
"One button left.”
He speaks with a tone filled with want and lust, the words gently drifting into Shao Fei’s ear.
As he just said, although he is not sure what he feels about Shao Fei, there is one thing he is very sure about, and that is, he longs for this person -- he wants Shao Fei.
Tang Yi puts his dry lips to Shao Fei’s already red ears and bites down on the soft earlobes.
“Hurts!”
Before Shao Fei can even protest at that, the bitten area is licked by a moist tongue tip as Tang Yi licks the bitten area and Shao Fei’s wrinkled brow becomes wrinkled for another reason.
"Tang… Tang Yi…”
"Hm?”
The man focused on the ear responds lazily. He then slides down, sniffing at Shao Fei and smelling the faint disinfectant from the hospital. Tang Yi then kisses Shao Fei’s neck.
“Ha… Haaa… Ha…”
The temperature rises.
Tang Yi stares intently at Shao Fei's strong chest muscles and touches with his palms. The two people standing so close to each other and listening to each other's accelerating heartbeat fall into the rhythm of exploring lust.
Suddenly, all the movements stop instantly.
“....”
Tang Yi crouches low to the ground, looking at the wound covered heavily with gauze, and his heart hurts so much that his brows furrow.
Shao Fei also notices the man's gaze, intent on his left abdomen. He says reassuringly, “Don't worry, it doesn't look so serious, it’s the shady doctor. He really went overboard with the dressing.”
“...”
Tang Yi kneels on the ground, then suddenly removes the gauze to reveal the scar left from blocking the bullet for Zuo Hong Ye. First, he touches it carefully with his fingertips, then kisses the wound that almost caused him to lose this person in front of him.
“What are you doing? Hey…”
The still healing wound will ache even if it is touched gently, but because it is Tang Yi’s lips that are on his skin now, so aside from the faint tingle of pain, Shao Fei is also filled with an indescribable sensation.
“This can’t happen a second time, I’ll go crazy.”
The words Tang Yi said on the hospital roof earlier, once again reaches Shao Fei’s ears.
"I... I’m going to the bathroom.”
The burning gaze rakes over Shao Fei’s hot body. Just now, Shao Fei arrogantly asked who was afraid, but now in panic, it is Shao Fei who pushes Tang Yi aside, entering the bathroom, and locking the door after him.
“Fuck! That guy can fucking flirt.”
Gasping as he pulls down his jeans, Shao Fei lowers his head and looks at the already quite stiff lower part of his body, then slaps his forehead. Red-faced, he says, “Meng Shao Fei, you are still too inexperienced.”
Pushed backwards and sitting down on the floor, Tang Yi sits stunned for a few seconds in confusion before returning to himself. He braces himself on his knee and stands up slowly. Chuckling, he looks at the door his host has locked and licks the dry corners of his rough lips.
…
“You can cook?”
“Boss Tang taught me.”
Tang Yi gives Shao Fei the chopsticks he was holding. The two sit at opposite sides of the dining table and dig into the freshly made home-cooked food.
“You should return to Investigation Team Three. It’s safer than being here with me.”
Shao Fei stops and puts down his chopsticks, wondering why Tang Yi would say this suddenly. “Why?”
“The enemy’s target is me.”
Tang Yi opens a can of cola and pours it into their glasses. If he had to say which parts of his life changed the most after getting to know Shao Fei better, then aside from his feelings towards the man, Tang Yi would say that his eating habits have changed the most.
“So do you know who did it?”
The man sitting opposite Tang Yi picks up his cup of cola and drinks a few mouthfuls as he asks.
“You don’t need to deal with this, I will handle it.”
“Shooting at a police officer is a serious crime. How can I possibly ignore that and let you handle this secretly?”
“...”
Tang Yi continues to eat the food in his bowl, and does not answer him.
“Tang Yi, tell me, are there any other issues between you and Chen Wen Hao?”
No matter how much he thinks about it, he just can’t comprehend it. The reforming of Tang Yi’s businesses has been ongoing for years. Why would he suddenly want to turn around and cut off the Cambodian drug lord’s drug routes?
For money?
If it was for money, then continuing to traffick drugs would be the most profitable route.
To contend for territory?
Cambodia and Taiwan are two separate territories. Even if Xing Tian Meng really took over Chen Wen Hao’s Cambodian territory, who would be given that territory to manage and take charge of is another question.
If it isn’t for these two reasons, then there is only one explanation.
Chen Wen Hao and what happened four years ago are connected!
“Promise me that you won’t have anything to do with this anymore and I’ll tell you, otherwise don’t ask questions.”
Shao Fei is dumbfounded as he looks at Tang Yi’s expression, which is telling him that this matter is non-negotiable. He sighs.
“What really happened four years ago for you to have to hide it like this?”
Tang Yi puts down his bowl and chopsticks, and looks at the young police officer who is already aware of all the clues. Unlike before when all he felt was irritation and anger when Shao Fei hounded him with questions, he now responds slowly, his voice soft.
“Have you ever been alone, without anyone in the world to care about you?”
“...”
Shao Fei calmly looks at the man sitting opposite him, waiting since Tang Yi has not finished speaking.
“My childhood passed like this. Nobody loved me. Nobody cared about me. I was like an invisible person who couldn’t be seen. Even if I passed in front of my adoptive father, I couldn’t get any response from him. Until I met Boss Tang.”
“Boss Tang made me realise that someone loved me, but on that day, four years ago, he fell in front of me, fell in a pool of his own blood…”
Tang Yi’s voice is so calm that it’s as if he’s talking about something that happened to someone else. Bit by bit, his voice begins to rise, filling with murderous intent.
“If someone ruined the things that someone else finally attained after so much difficulty, Shao Fei, you tell me, does that person deserve to die?”
Tang Yi says that very last sentence through gritted teeth.
Shao Fei takes a deep breath and after a moment of silence, holds Tang Yi’s tightly held fist on the table and asks, “So these four years, you were unwilling to reveal any clues about the murder case, all because you want to take revenge yourself?”
“That’s all I can say about this. Everything else, I have no comments..”
“But Tang Yi, the best revenge isn’t punishing him illegally, but to bring the murderer to justice.”
“No!”
Tang Yi removes Shao Fei’s hold, pushes back his chair, and suddenly stands up.
“I will not give him to anyone.”
A silence hangs in the air between them.
With reddened eyes, Shao Fei stands up and looks straight at the young Xing Tian Meng leader determined on revenge.
“But, Tang Yi… If you persist in doing this yourself, as a police officer, I can only act according to the law.”
“You do what you have to do. And I will do what I should do,” Tang Yi says, taking his bowl and chopsticks from the table and heads towards the kitchen counter with his back faced to Shao Fei.
Zhao Zi’s House
“You didn’t have to escort me home.”
“How will I have an excuse to come in if I don’t escort you home?”
Jack enters the house behind Zhao Zi, carrying a bag and together they walk through the house door.
“If you want to come over, just tell me directly. Anyway, Ah Fei and the rest often come here to stay.”
Without thinking of the meaning of Jack’s words, Zhao Zi continues the conversation.
He then takes the bag from Jack’s hand and picks out the dirty clothes from inside, moving to stand before the washing machine and dumping all the garments in.
“Lousy Ah Fei, he actually gave me his dirty clothes to wash,” mumbles Zhao Zi.
Jack smiles a little as he watches Zhao Zi grumble as he works and then asks, “Since you don’t want to do it, why didn’t you refuse?”
“But he’s injured! What do we do if he pulls open his wound? Who asked me to be his good brother, so I suppose I just have to help him wash his clothes!”
“Don’t you think you’re very contradictory?”
“Contradictory? How so?”
“Your mind.”
Zhao Zi turns and glares at Jack, while Jack continues to smile and shrugs his shoulders. He asks, “Shorty, what do you think about the relationship between my boss and your bro?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they are both men, but they have fallen in love with someone of the same gender, so…”
“Are you looking down on my bro?”
Once Zhao Zi hears these words, he stops loading the washing machine and looks at Jack the way he would look at an enemy. If Jack dares to show even the slightest bit of dislike or disgust, then Zhao Zi will kick him out immediately.
“No matter who Ah Fei likes, I will stand by his side and support him. If you look down on him, then you aren’t my friend.”
Not expecting that the ordinarily gentle rabbit also has times when he will display such a fit of rage, Jack suddenly reaches out and grips at Zhao Zi’s wrists, holding them over his head against the wall next to the bathroom.
After sticking Zhao Zi’s entire body against the wall, Jack looks at the small police officer who has been constantly making him experience new emotions since the day they met with heated eyes.
“I’m hungry. Can I eat?”
“Huh?”
Unable to comprehend what is going on, Zhao Zi stares at Jack with wide eyes, absolutely dumbfounded.
“If y-you are hungry, there’s instant noodles in the kitchen, you can eat…”
“But what I want to eat is you.”
This time, even someone as slow as Zhao Zi finally understands what he means.
“Y-you, what do you want to do?”
With a roguish smile, Jack shamelessly says, “Didn’t you say you support Meng Shao Fei liking men? Since you support him, you should also support me. Who asked you to attract me to you like this? So. You. Have. To. Take. Responsibility!”
“I do support him, but I never said I would support myself!”
Zhao Zi pushes at the man who has trapped him between the wall and his chest muscles, and runs away from the lustful gaze eyeing his ass.
“Damn!”
Jack pulls the corners of his mouth into a bitter smile, then chases after the fleeing shorty with quick steps.
A few minutes later, Jack successfully catches Zhao Zi, throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him back to the bedroom. After finally catching his prey, Jack throws Zhao Zi down onto the bed and presses his own body over Zhao Zi’s. He does not stop kissing Zhao Zi until he gasps for air and only when Zhao Zi has no more strength to resist does Jack carry the weak-kneed host back downstairs. Jack cooks him a sumptuous dinner, and after, he will continue to “feed” his shorty.
High-class restaurant
“Mr. Zhao, as expected, you are young and full of promise. No wonder Ah Yi praises you.”
Zuo Hong Ye lifts her wine glass and smiles as she looks at the thirty-one year old boss of Peng Cheng Construction, Zhao Ren Guang.
At the other table, Gu Dao Yi takes a sip of coffee as he pays attention to the ongoing situation.
“You don’t need to worry about him. Uncle Dao Yi is only here with me as my bodyguard, nothing more.”
Ren Guang nods his head and says, “Actually, I arranged this dinner with CEO Zuo not only to talk about business, but also to get to know you better.”
“Is that so?”
Hong Ye bright red lips curve up as she smiles.
“As a matter of fact, I admire how resolute and decisive CEO Zuo is in business. Prior to this, I ran into Mr. Tang opportunely at a cocktail party and shamelessly talked to him. I told him that if given the opportunity, I would love to have a meal with you.”
“It sounds like you really like me. But, most men, once they hear about my background, they tend to stay away. Zhao Ren Guang, aren’t you afraid?”
Hearing Hong Ye directly say his name, Ren Guang resolves to immediately explain his feelings and confess to Hong Ye.
“Hong Ye, I like you. I hope to date you under the premise of marriage.”
This confession not only caused the person being confessed to some surprise, and even Dao Yi immediately raises his head at the next table to look at Hong Ye.
Hong Ye lifts the wine glass in her hand, taps it against Ren Guang’s, and boldly answers, “Good! I like straightforward men, I agree with you, let’s date with the intent of marriage.”
Later, after the dinner and on her way back to the company, Hong Ye sits in the back of the car, looking out the window at the scenery with an expressionless face.
“Miss, don’t be impulsive in your decision.” Dao Yi looks at Hong Ye through the rear view mirror and finally breaks his silence to speak.
“I’m just making the best choice for Shi Hai Corporation. Besides, Zhao Ren Guang is also about the same age as me, and he’s so successful. Most importantly, he likes me.”
“But… You don’t love him…”
“What about it? Rather than being so thick-skinned and shameless, pestering a man that will not fall in love with me, I’d rather take it easy, and choose someone who actually likes me. So give me your blessing, Uncle Dao Yi.”
“...”
From the beginning to the end, Hong Ye’s gaze does not turn to Dao Yi.
Dao Yi’s state of mind is complicated. As he looks at the road ahead, he does not know what he should say.
…
Team 3’s office, busy as always.
“I’m going out for a bit.”
Zhou Guan Zhi picks up something wrapped in a brown paper bag and moves around his other coworkers who are currently busy discussing other matters. Two of them reply after with, “Be safe!” before continuing from where they left their conversation.
Under the complete cover and protection of his safety helmet, Ah Zhi rides his motorcycle through the streets and small alleys. As if he is looking for something, he frequently looks around, seemingly looking at every possible surveillance camera’s location as if afraid the cameras would capture his whereabouts, until he is sure there is no one following him. Guan Zhi parks his bike in a parking spot next to a multi-storied building. He removes his helmet, gets up, and tugs on his t-shirt and hat, then enters the building.
Inside the building, in front of a row of storage lockers and after making sure no one has followed him, he then puts the brown paper bag inside a locker and puts in two 10 yuan coins to lock it. Guan Zhi takes the key and puts it into an envelope he prepared beforehand and walks away.
A few hours later, a male with a large build comes to the locked locker and inserts the key from inside an envelope into the keyhole. He takes out a brown paper bag from inside the locker and hides it inside his jacket, then turns to leave.
“Hn.”
A red-haired man comes out from the corner he was hiding in and sends the photo he took of the transaction to a certain someone.
Tang Residence
“Happy birthday,” Shao Fei says to Tang Yi the birthday star who is looking over old memories, while carrying in cake as he enters the study.
Singing off key but very seriously, Shao Fei sings the happy birthday song once in Chinese and once again in English. Then he lights the cake’s six candles and puts it on the table.
Shao Fei picks up his cellphone and continues to read the horoscope description of the person born on this day from the internet, then ridicules.
“Don’t be so touched. No matter what, I did chase you for four years, of course I know today is your birthday. October 21st, Libra. The person born on this day, regardless of personality or opinion, is different from ordinary people, and especially when it comes to your personal affairs, your attitude becomes even more stubborn and difficult to deal with. How true! Accurate!”
“...”
Tang Yi looks at the person in front of him. His eyes tear up.
When Shao Fei entered the room earlier, he didn’t really notice, but Tang Yi has a box placed right in front of him, and inside there’s a birthday hat, cookbook, model airplane, and also a distinctly modeled music box.
Shao Fei points at the music box inside the box and says, “Li Zhen Jie also has a similar music box, what a coincidence!”
“Is it? This is the only thing my mother gave me.”
“...”
Cursing himself in his head for being so insensitive, Shao Fei hastily changes the topic, grabbing two birthday hats. Shao Fei puts one on his head and the other he gives to Tang Yi.
“Come on, put it on, put it on!”
Tang Yi looks at the child sized birthday hat in his hand and says with a bitter laugh, “I wore this when I was little.”
“Wear it and let me see! Just once every year, that’s all!”
Ordinarily, the serious Tang Yi would resist, but at his lover’s request, Tang Yi obliges and places the childish hat on his head. Then he turns to the cake candles, closes his eyes, and makes a wish.
“Tang Yi.”
“Hm?”
“Can I have a wish?”
“Sure.”
Tang Yi opens his eyes to look at the man who suddenly put forth this request. After clasping his hands together, Shao Fei looks at the jumping candle flames and says, “I hope from now on I will be by your side for every birthday. With me around, you’ll never be alone again.”
Then he bends his waist and blows out the candles.
“Meng Shao Fei…”
With red-rimmed eyes, Tang Yi softly calls out Shao Fei’s name.
“What do you want-… hm… hng…”
In this room lit only by a single lamp, Tang Yi’s hands reach for Shao Fei’s waist as he breathes in and then passionately kisses Shao Fei.
“Today… You don’t… Haaa… You, this way… I will…”
“Will what?”
Letting go of his red and swollen lips, Tang Yi looks into Shao Fei’s eyes and ask, even though he already knows the answer.
“I’ll get hard! Idiot!”
He is a normal man, so faced with so much passion from the person he likes, how could there be no physiological reaction? Tang Yi breathes in deeply, then says, “Did Jiang Jin Tang say when you could remove your stitches?”
If it wasn’t because Tang Yi was worried about Shao Fei’s still recovering wound, the two of them would have already taken the next step in their relationship.
“Next month.”
“After your stitches are removed, don’t think about running away again,” Tang Yi says, the sentence phrased almost as a demand, as he tries to repress his lustful gaze on the other man’s face, flushed red due to the increase in body temperature between them.
“Nnn.”
Shao Fei nods and the corners of his mouth curve upwards. Then, he takes the initiative and kisses the birthday boy.
“...”
Standing downstairs is Li Zhi De. He sees the reflection of two shadows on the window curtain, hatefully tightening his fist.
… (WARNING, Attempted sexual assault ahead) ...
Li Zhi De sits in the driver’s seat, constantly watching Tang Yi’s movements through the rearview mirror. Several times, he narrowly escapes being caught by Tang Yi, his gaze moving aside anxiously.
Tang Yi, who’s been busy with work all morning, finally puts down the tablet in his hands and takes a bottle of mineral water from inside the backseat chest. Ah De grips the steering wheel with both hands tightly.
The traffic light changes in his distraction, and it is only when the cars behind them start to impatiently honk that Ah De’s tears his eyes away from the rearview mirror, stepping on the accelerator and continuing the drive.
Tang Yi puts down the water bottle, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Ah De’s back.
After picking up his cell phone and sending a text, he suddenly says, “I want to go to the office, I still have things to do. Turn around and head for the office.”
“Yes.”
A few minutes later, Ah De who has been looking at Tang Yi seated in the back through the rearview mirror, watches as his boss closes his eyes in sleep. With a dark look, Zhi De turns the car around, in a direction bringing them away from the office.
“Boss? Boss?”
Zhi De pulls the car to a stop at the side of a remote street. He goes over to the back seat and gets inside. He grabs Tang Yi’s arm and softly shakes it until he is certain Tang Yi is under the influence of the drugs he put in the mineral water.
Finally, he picks up the courage to caress at Tang Yi’s lips and pours out his intentions.
“I’ve been by your side for so many years… Finally… I can be this close to you, so close that there is no space between us.”
Ah De loves this man. Loves him so painfully. Loves him so bitterly.
On-call practically 24 hours, not only out of obligation as a bodyguard, but more importantly, because he is willing. In the beginning, Ah De and other young Xing Tian Meng members were all the same, reluctant to accept Tang Yi as their new leader. Why was this person so important to Boss Tang? However, the more time they spent together, the more he began to think that Tang Yi should be in this position -- because he is strong enough!
Hence, Ah De’s feelings for Tang Yi gradually went from simple admiration and loyalty as a brother to feelings he could not speak of. Yet, all he could do was to suppress and repress, locking up his true feelings in his heart.
“At first, I thought you only like women, but you also like men.”
Ah De tears away Tang Yi’s necktie and throws it outside the car. He pulls apart Tang Yi’s suit and starts unbuttoning the shirt. Suddenly, a cell phone ringtone plays from inside the suit pocket. Ah De takes out the cell phone and looks at the screen and sees it is a text from Jack. He moodily hangs up the call then leans on Tang Yi’s chest and kisses his neck over and over.
“But why is it Meng Shao Fei? Why isn’t it me? Why?” Ah De asks desperately, crying out and his gaze coloured with madness.
For this man, he has done so many things. He should be the right person for Tang Yi, to stand at Tang Yi’s side and not the damn police officer who never sacrificed as much as Ah De did, but was still so easily able to obtain all of Tang Yi’s affections.
“Why should it be you?”
Ah De freezes immediately at the cold, low tone. Stunned, he looks at the Xing Tian Meng leader who should, in theory be out cold for eight hours, but here he is, glaring at him with contempt.
“I love you so much, in what ways can I not compare with Meng Shao Fei?” Ah De shouts as his hands go to Tang Yi’s neck, tightening his grip.
He pounces on the lips he has yearned for day and night, but Tang Yi pulls his left leg back and strikes at Ah De’s crotch fiercely with his knee. The pain forces Ah De to loosen his grip on Tang Yi’s neck.
“Ah!”
“Li Zhi De! You’re crazy!”
“Yes! I am crazy! I’ve been crazy since the day I found out I was in love with you!”
Enduring the terrible pain from his crotch, Ah De throws himself on Tang Yi again. Although Tang Yi realized there was a problem with the mineral water earlier and was only pretending to be unconscious, he did drink a few sips anyway and before the drugs began to work, Tang Yi pulls on the rear left seatbelt, and winds it around Ah De’s neck, choking him until his face turns purple.
Only then does Tang Yi loosen his hold on the seatbelt and kicks the man who was almost choked to death out of the car.
Tang Yi’s phone lights up with Jack’s caller ID again. After all, Ah De has been at Tang Yi’s side the longest, so he is well aware that the red-haired man is definitely somewhere nearby. Quickly, he unwinds the seat belt from around his neck and flees.
Tang Residence
Eight hours later, Xing Tian Meng brothers escort Li Zhi De back to Tang Yi’s house with his face beaten and covered in fresh blood. He sits securely tied up in the same chair that the man who shot at Shao Fei and Hong Ye once sat at.
“You’re quite bold. Not only did you continue to sell drugs behind my back and send people to assassinate me, you even worked with outsiders to ambush the police.”
Ah De looks away and with trembling lips, says “I… I didn’t! I didn’t…”
Knock knock!
Knocks on the door come unexpectedly.
“Come in.”
The guard in charge of guarding the room on the outside opens the door and lets Jack into the room, in his hands another man. Jack smiles after a quick sweep of his eyes over Ah De and says, “Boss, this man works for He Hang. Not only did he help He Hang get the goods, he is also the person who brought men to attack Officer Meng and Hong Ye.”
“...”
Ah De looks at the person who was caught, and his heart grows cold. Indeed, this man works for He Hang and it is also through him that information on Xing Tian Meng’s key members, as well as both legal and illegal transaction details, were given to Chen Wen Hao through He Hang.
“Li Zhi De, it really was you leaking my whereabouts.”
Following the kidnapping the other day in the mountains, Tang Yi began to suspect that someone close to him was a traitor. So he gave Jack the task to investigate, but he didn’t expect the person closest to him to be the traitor.
“No! I wouldn’t have let He Hang attack you! Don’t you know I love you? Everything I did was for you, was for Xing Tian Meng!”
“Enough!”
Tang Yi angrily interrupts the self-centered explanation. He walks over to the front of the chair, pulling Ah De up by the collar and roaring, “I kept giving you chances, but the more mistakes you make, the more outrageous you get. Li Zhi De, in your eyes, do you still see me as your boss?”
“Boss…”
Ah De lifts his blood-caked face and painfully says, “I know that in order to fulfil Boss Tang’s last wishes, you have to slowly cut off drug distribution and supply. But do you know you have many brothers rely on this to make a living? I wanted to help you soothe the others, but was also worried you would face retaliation from the members. Have you ever considered how I feel?
“Yes, I wanted to kill Meng Shao Fei, but I never wanted to hurt you. I just can’t accept… Just can’t accept that I do so much silently but do not even have the slightest place in your heart.”
“...”
Shao Fei quietly stands in the open doorway, his feelings complicated as he stares at the person tied to the chair. Ah De also sees him observing him from the side, and uses all his strength to struggle and yell, “MENG! SHAO! FEI! Why is it you! If you disappeared, someday Boss would accept me! WOULD ACCEPT ME!”
Seeing Tang Yi attempting to hit Ah De again, Shao Fei immediately steps forward to stop him.
“Tang Yi, let’s hand them over to the police!”
He did not expect Tang Yi to furiously push him away and charge at Ah De, hurling punch after punch, each more vicious than the last, wiishing to kill the traitor who would dare to harm Hong Ye and Shao Fei.
“Tang Yi! Tang Yi!”
In haste, Shao Fei can only desperately hold on to Tang Yi, who is now fully blinded by anger, and drag him out of the room.
“Why did you stop me!”
Outside of the holding room, Tang Yi throws off Shao Fei’s hold and roars at the person he cares for the most.
“Because I’m a police officer, I cannot watch you torture him yourself!”
“This is Xing Tian Meng’s business! It has nothing to do with the police!”
“Sss….”
In the heat of their argument, Shao Fei suddenly bends over, his hand covering the left side of his belly. In the afternoon, because of the attack on Shao Fei, and because he just exerted himself to stop Tang Yi, the aggressive motions is pulling at his still-recovering wound.
Discovering Shao Fei’s condition, Tang Yi’s mind clears instantly.
“Are you okay? Did your wound open?”
He immediately kneels in front of Shao Fei and pulls his shirt up to examine him. Shao Fei inhales and presses the palms of his hands against Tang Yi’s face.
In a soothing tone, he says, “I’m fine. Promise me you’ll give those two men to me to deal with.”
“...”
Tang Yi lifts his head to look at the obvious victim who still persists in upholding the law and remains silent.
Shi Hai Corporations, Underground Parking Lot
Li Zhi De’s actions have allowed the conflict between people for and against Xing Tian Meng’s reforms to come to the surface. In order to protect Hong Ye’s and ensure her safety, Tang Yi makes the decision to let her leave Taiwan temporarily and go abroad.
Knowing that no matter how she argues, Hong Ye cannot change Ah Yi’s mind, and so she agrees to leave Taiwan and proceeds to take up Zhao Ren Guang’s invitation to go to Helsinki with him.
“Just get one ticket to Helinski. I can go over by myself.”
Hong Ye walks out of the elevator, heading for the spot where she parked her car.
“Miss, but I promised Boss Tang that I would be just like your father, and accompany and take care of Miss.”
Dao Yi stopped in his footsteps, startled, staring as he then took a few more steps, then stopped again, turning around to look at Hong Ye.
“I’m not a little girl anymore, so I will go alone. You stay here and help Ah Yi with other things.”
Always a mature man whose emotions never show on his face, Dao Yi agitatedly walks to where Hong Ye stands and firmly says, “I won’t leave you.”
SLAP!
“What do you want me to do?”
Heavily swinging her palm across Dao Yi’s cheek, Hong Ye’s eyes are red with fury as she angrily yells at the man standing in front of her.
“I confess to you, you say these feelings are not real. I finally let go and start to date someone else, but you say you can’t leave me. Gu Dao Yi, why do you give me hope every time I let go? Do you know how cruel you are, to do this to me? Do you that you being like this is painful for me? Do you know that at all?”
“...”
Dao Yi closes his eyes and furrows his brows. Regardless of past or present, her tears always make his heart hurt.
Hong Ye sniffs and says in a self-mocking tone, “Forget it. No matter what, I’ll always be a little girl in your eyes, and not a woman that will ever earn your affections.”
“Gu Dao Yi, from today I release you. I won’t confess and bother you again. So please I’m asking you to let go. Let me choose someone who can give me happiness and not embrace something destined to fail and disappoint me every time.”
Hong Ye turns back and barely takes half a step before she is hugged tightly by Dao Yi.
“I’m sorry. I thought I could watch you be together with a better man. I thought I could accept just being your protector… but I was wrong. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to watch you leave me. I don’t want to let you say you like someone who isn’t me… Hong Ye, I love you. I’ve alwaysm always loved you.”
“...”
Unable to control her tears, they fall down Hong Ye’s face. She struggles to get out of Dao Yi’s arms, then turns around to look at this man who’s finally accepted and faced his own feelings for her. Pulling at his collar, Hong Ye says, fierce, “Gu Dao Yi! If you mess with me again this time, I will definitely kill you! I definitely will!”
The warm and patient man does not answer, only gently wiping away Hong Ye’s tears with his fingertips. And as a man, no longer as a protector, Dao Yi kisses Hong Ye.
Team Three
Shao Fei sits in the office looking over records in the archives again. From the prison visiting records, he can see Chen Wen Hao and Tang Guo Dong had a deep friendship. If not, the leader of Xing Tian Meng would not have visited Chen Wen Hao regularly every week. But the meetings suddenly stopped in the second year. Afterwards, Tang Guo Dong’s name never appears on the prison visiting records signature section again.
Even stranger, later in the year 1990, the records unexpectedly show Li Zhen and Tang Guo Dong’s names at the same time, and the person they both applied to meet was Chen Wen Hao?
“This really is Li Zhen Jie’s handwriting.”
Shao Fei repeatedly checks the handwriting on the records, and he is very sure it is Li Zhen’s signature.
“Are the rumors true?”
The rumors about Li Zhen working together with Xing Tian Meng to traffic drugs have not stopped; however, no one has brought forth clear evidence either. On the other hand, despite his belief and trust in Li Zhen Jie, Shao Fei doesn’t have any evidence in her favour either.
“Ah!”
Suddenly, Shao Fei remembers that there is still someone who might know what happened that year. He then jumps out of his chair and charges straight into the men’s toilet.
“Chief!”
“Fuck! What are you yelling for? My urine has gone back in because of you.”
Captain Shi shivers once in fright while facing the urinal before turning around to curse at Shao Fei.
Shao Fei immediately walks to the captain’s side, grabs his arm, and asks, “Captain, I have a question for you. Did Li Zhen-Jie know Chen Wen Hao?”
“Chen Wen Hao?”
“Chief, think back carefully. Did Li Zhen Jie and Chen Wen Hao ever meet?”
Captain Shi thinks a bit and then says, “When Li Zhen joined Team 3, Chen Wen Hao was already in jail. I don’t think they know each other.”
“But the prison center visiting records have her signature. I verified it. It really is Li Zhen-Jie’s handwriting and she and Tang Guo Dong visited Chen Wen Hao together.”
“Wait, when did this happen?”
“1990.”
Captain Shi pulls the chain, walks over to the sink, and washes his hands. From the mirror, he looks at Shao Fei’s gaze and realises that he looks different, as if he’s testing to see what he really knows.
Unaware of this, Shao Fei furrows his brows and continues, “Chief, do you also think it’s strange? These three people unexpectedly know each other? Could this be related to the case from four years ago?”
In a panic, Captain Shi evades Shao Fei’s interrogating gaze. He flicks the water off his hands and pretending to be calm, he asks, “What else did you find?”
“Nothing else.”
“If you find anything else or some evidence, remember to report to me.”
“Nnn!”
Shao Fei nods and leaves. Captain Shi stands at the sink and looks at his retreating figure, and tightly wrinkles his brows, lost in thought.
#history 3: 圈套#history3圈套#history3: trapped#history3: trap#history3 novel#CHAPTER SEVEN FINALLY <3#HEHEHEHE#history3#translations
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Adventures in Capitalism!
Or Why Trickster had a Panic Attack Today
So I’m a pretty chill person. I realize we live in a capitalist system and that until we fix some things, life is just gonna be like thatTM.
I changed jobs recently to get away from a shitty work environment and to free up some time to go back to school. I now work part time as a funeral home receptionist. It’s a fairly easy job, nothing too crazy, and I think I deal with death better than most with my pagan belief system.
So the place I work for is one of the ones that’s over watched (I hate to say managed...) by a dignified network. They set the sales goals and imho take away from the true mission of a Funeral Home to provide families with comfort and service during the darkest days of their lives. They’re really about them Benjamins....
To the point our sales team is entirely on commission. Yep.... the amount of money they take home is entirely dependent on how many contracts they sell. No base pay, but hey they do get health benefits! 🤮
Honestly, I hate that sort of set up because a) you’re employed by a company that takes the lion’s share from hundreds of sales reps and b) if you’re constantly trying to squeeze the most money possible out of someone are you actually trying to give them the best customer service? Or are you looking for that fat paycheck? Especially in an industry that should be looking to help people, and adding any additional financial hardship after a death is skeevy as hell.
I learn fact this from one of our sales reps who tells me she’s happy with this system. She’s “as red as can be” in terms of politics and thinks that if you’re in sales as a career, you should be able to work entirely off of commission, no base pay...... Gods above...
So I just block her out and ignore her as best I can, she’s young and dumb. But a few weeks after this convo, the lady who worked the front desk during the day either quits or is fired... I’m not 100% because two days before she leaves the company she’s shaking in anger and close to tears because they wrote her up for some stupid shit. She was literally written up for having to take off work to care for her sick kid....
Okay, I smell corporate fuckery there... she literally was doing a little bit of everything, not just working the phones, and they treated her pretty shitty...
So I start picking up day shifts. Fast forward to today, as I’m working an older Hispanic lady comes in asking about our pricing. By law, I have to hand her a list of our services and what they cost. No biggie at first, but Captialist-as-Fuck sales girl approaches and starts inserting herself into the convo as I’m trying to get a clear picture of what this lady wants (she’s asking about Direct Burials, no funeral) because she later reminds me “the sales team works off of commission....” yeah, good for you mate....
But what sets me off is a line about how “(previous front desk worker) used to take floral orders and stuff without giving them to the sales team” and how she hated that after the Hispanic lady goes with sales team member no2 (the less evil one i think....).The fuck? You lost out on small, pidly stuff like flowers? Oh noes! How could your capitalist ass survive?!
For some reason, I nearly shaking. Part of me is scared of retaliation... my mind goes back to how my ex-coworker left and the weird circumstances surrounding it. My extremely anti-capitalist ass is now scared that if I make a wrong move or decision that the salesperson will somehow orchestrate my unemployment.... like, it feels silly to admit but that was my thought process.
I just... ugh... I’m planning to bleed this place dry for a scholarship and then once I get my degree and can be a full-fledged funeral director, kiss this place and the dignified network goodbye. They very nearly own a monopoly on the funeral industry because they keep buying up funeral homes across the country and just adding what equivocates to an asterisk over the place’s original name, making you think they’re all individual places still... Nope....
Trickster needs some vodka....
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some reflections on mental health and public gatherings
Maybe there will be one day when I remember that I do need people, and I’m feeling much, much better after any kind of human contact. Well, not any as in not a negative one, but positive occurrences do snap me out of my general state of steady panic that grows on me like lichen and moss every time I stay in, and work alone for longer periods. That is the dire consequence of good home conditions for working, and living in a remote area, and generally not having to take as much of an interest in daily life management as a person who lives on their own. I just sort of marinate sometimes in my own intellectual juice enough to become a bog body. There’s that picture, you know the one: “When is it Safe to Leave the Bog? → Tuesday”. Sometimes I forget that the Tuesdays of this world exist.
That also makes me wonder, again, again, again and again, in a true Chidi Anagonye style: am I meant for this job? Will I be able to not only execute this four-year feat, but could I possibly exist like this, sustainably? Is a sturdy mental health required to be an academic? Will my mental health become better with time, with some adjustments that I am planning for this aspect of my life? Or will it be degrading, because this job will put a strain on me? (An asterisk here: will any job do that?) Is this the direction of that process, or is it going the other way: because my mental health has been in a rough place, this job is putting a strain on me?
Gods, I really hope it’s the second option, and I am, after all, if not “meant” for this, then at least able to function like that. I sort of really want to. I like my lifestyle that’s not the nine to five kind. I like having time.
And that is, for some reason, not really understandable for most of the people that I know. Not having time is equated to being an adult. Is that really the only way? Am I a worse, immature person, because I’d like my life to be slower than most that I know?
(An asterisk here: when I am making time for a person, because they need to talk and I am their friend, and that’s how I express my feelings, by making time – but they do not do the same for me, and (I assume) just think that I am that lazy of a person/have so much free time that I am always available – am I allowed to be mad at that, or because their life is, in fact, busier than mine, I should not be expecting the same effort for me and not feel sad and disappointed that I feel like they do not value me as much as I value them? Or should I get over it, because actual adult people cannot make time as easily as they once could, when they had more time on their hands and less to care about?
An asterisk to an asterisk: first, I do see all listed points of view as equal possibilities for directing my thoughts, and as much as it would be incredibly easy to just get mad/sad/disappointed, I do very seriously consider that I could very well get over it, because real life knows no mercy. Second, I need to check if I am communicating clearly enough that I need to talk to them and that them making the time is their language of love. To the last one, I think the answer is positive, to the first: entirely unclear, because I often am shit at communicating my distress. However, I’d like sometimes for people to figure it out on their own, when they’ve known me for literal years, so I don’t have to always be the one caring about proper communication. Also, again, I do like having unregulated time. Why should I be regularly busier just to be busier, so my time can be valued as much as anyone else’s?).
Of course, colour me interested in better time management than I have now. The truth I am a downright mess and suffering because of it. It is not that I do nothing, but for the last year I feel like I’ve lost all my ability to focus for long periods, to work in huge blocks of time. I was so efficient once. I knew how to be busy in a way that did not feel like a burden for me. I was existing like that, seeing no problem in it, and not asking questions. Maybe it was better for me, maybe it put the necessity to organise my time and execute things, because I simply had to – and maybe being busy again is the recipe to come back to myself again. If everything will go according to plan, I will be trying that.
Coming back to the starting point: contact with people.
Today, there was a demonstration in my city, in solidarity with the people who were at the march for equality in Białystok (and what they had to go through). There was one earlier this week, but I wasn’t there. I was scared to go, even though allegedly (for all that people are saying and for what I see) my city is considered (one of the) most liberal in whole Poland, and also I had no one to go with – I asked around, and nobody was available. I didn’t want to go by myself. With the fresh memory of the scale of violence that happened in Białystok, I didn’t want to risk – not only myself, but potentially making a target of my family. You never know how things will end and who will suffer. My mother was out of her mind just considering the possibility that I could go and something could, gods forbid, happen. She lived in the times and remembers vividly when going to any kind of demonstration executing civil disobedience was basically asking for trouble, not only for yourself (you could, for example, end up dead), but also for your family. I understand her fear. Times have, thank gods, changed so much.
(It’s the sudden reminiscence that scares.)
I thought, it’s different now. It’s allegedly still a democracy. I want to go. I am scared, but is it because I am always scared of life in general, or is it those particular circumstances? I’ve been on demonstrations before, wouldn’t be my first at all. So, was that the photos of people beaten up and spat at to the accompaniment of “God, Honour, Motherland, get the fuck out!”, or was that the fear of saying: yes, this is how I think, this is what I am convinced of – that all people have the right to love, regardless of orientation and sex/gender, and that nonheteronormative people exist and their existence should not be – not as much as political, because all our existence is, I personally thing – but should not be as politicised as it is.
I still don’t know. It’s not a question that can be answered just like that, ignoring all nuance. All those reasons are rooted in real problems, all are valid. It’s not a made up violence that made me feel fear and anger, it’s not a lack of years of repression of every divergent thought, that made me feel fear and consider things through weirdly shaped categories.
I went, and there was no violence. The counter-demonstration was about fifteen people, surrounded tightly by police cordon. Honestly, the behaviour of the police was so different from what happened in Białystok, and I was so happy it was the counter demo they were watching and keeping in check, not us. And that they were facilitating the “stroll” from one gathering to another – it was too little of a time for the organisers to register a march, so they could only do two separate public gatherings. We had to “stroll” to the next place, risking – because we were not formally protected, as a march would be. The police, however, was really nice about all of that – they were, indeed, doing things they didn’t necessarily have to, if they really didn’t want to. They were patrolling with the cars, stopping the traffic lights at some key crossroads. The friendly blinking orange light protected those, who could be potentially told they were committing an offence of sorts, if they went through, with the crowd, ignoring red lights.
Maybe it was the PR in shambles that the City Council was facing, after incredibly recent assault of an academic and a journalist, who said he didn’t like hate speech on the wall aloud. He got beaten to a pulp in your precious multicultural city, so tolerant for all minorities, welcome everyone! All citizens can feel safe! Ah, my dearest city, how wrong you are about that.
So maybe it was the potential PR disaster that made them make the police compliant, and the vice-president of the Council actually giving a speech at the demonstration. But you know what? I’ll take what I can. I don’t care about their reasons, I just care about support, and safety. It’s not the time to care about motivations.
I went there, and I saw people of many ages – not only young, but also older. People who care, who came here out of solidarity with the people in Białystok, who came because they saw hatred and felt the need to say “NO”. Even though they didn’t always felt it necessary before. The social mobilisation and reactions that I observed throughout this week made me feel something other than fear. When a friend, who could as well set his living up the way that he wouldn’t ever have to care about all of that, because for people like him there is a place in the society as it is, had said he cares about what happened, and he finds it all appalling. When my mother reacted to a person who was quite loud with their hate, when she didn’t have to, and usually just bore whatever was happening around her. When people marched the streets, knowing well they are against the current leading party and the Church hierarchs. What I was feeling was not exactly hope, but a certain bud of happiness that the hatred didn’t consume everything yet, and that for an action there is opposite reaction. Maybe not equal yet, but maybe some day.
#whatever life#please don't reblog#i always forget that writing things down actually makes me feel better not worse
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Initially, I wanted to post this on the 29th, but I figured most people will be gone by that day (and they already are thanks to early copies) so...
Heads up once again, I might be live-blogging my KH3 experience or write summary-like reviews of the worlds. Or both. I don’t know yet. I won’t be able to think straight once I have the game lol I’m already going crazy because my friend got his copy today and keeps sending me impressions and I am barely holding it together right now
I’ll tag my liveblog “KH3 playthrough” in addition to “KH3 spo*ilers” (without the asterisk, I just want peeps who block the tag to see this as well so they’re warned) as I do everything else. And I am warning you, the second Sokai is canon in my copy, I WILL SHOUT IT OUT. I WILL NOT HESITATE TO MAKE 15 SOKAI POSTS IN A ROW IF I FEEL LIKE IT. I WANTED THIS FOR OVER 10 YEARS. FUCK. Of course, I’ll still tag these posts with the above mentioned tags, but yeah, if this annoys/offends you, bow out now, ain’t nobody got time for petty ship wars when we should be excited about KH3.
My queue is empty, it feels weird but it felt weirder to fill it with non-KH3 stuff, so no, I’m not dead yet, I am just playing the game.
Another thing: I will stop tagging spoilers on March 1st 2019, OR when I’m finished with KH3, whichever comes last. So from that point on, this won’t be a spoiler-free blog anymore. You have been warned.
#There's also a chance I will publish one last fanfic today#Gotta get the Soranort feels out before canon destroys them you know?#Also I am tearing up today like crazy#I don't know what I will do tomorrow#I will probably cry and laugh and throw up all at once
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cr ask meme: 1, 7, 17!!
whoo, more meme action! ;)
1. campaign one or campaign two?
I love campaign one dearly, and I still feel like campaign two keeps flirting with plotlines and then dodging out of the way, which is frustrating me. I’m still willing to give it a chance to weave all these threads together, though.
7. percy or mollymauk or caduceus?
…dammit.
i am
conflicted
Here’s the thing: I wanted Molly’s storyline SO BADLY, and the fact that it got cut short over a plot detour I’m still furious about is never going to feel okay. Going by what we did get, I love Molly’s personality, and his story had a ton of potential. Unfortunately, we’re never going to get to see it play out, so it’s hard to fairly or completely judge/rank him here. Meanwhile, Caduceus is an absolute darling, but we haven’t had much chance to focus on him yet, so while I adore him as a character, I have no idea yet where he’s going, story-arc wise. And Molly made me so gunshy that I’m afraid to pin too many hopes there, either.
Meanwhile, I love Percy so much, and I imprinted immediately, since it was obvious from day one that this guy had PLOT. His story was great, and it actually goddamn resolved. I also fell hard (…obviously) for his relationships with various other characters, like Vex, Cassandra, Keyleth, etc. Honestly, the most important people in his life, for good or bad – looking at you, Ripley and Delilah – were almost all women, and that was a major point in his favor. So it’s hard not to hand him the win. Like I said above, though: Taliesin’s other characters just haven’t had time. So, y’know. Little bit of an asterisk here.
Still, it’s hard to beat anyone who can pull out the kind of dialogue he does.
(You really, really should have seen my face when he came out swinging in The Search for Grog. I’d missed his sass SO MUCH.)
(on the other hand: I could really use a hug from Caduceus right about now)
(so, again I say: C O N F L I C T E D)
(and anyway, that was more of an essay than I meant to write. MOVING ON…)
17. the raven queen or the traveler?
Oh god. (no pun intended.) Oh, god. Well. I’m going with the Traveler here, I think, because as much as I loved watching Matt play the Raven Queen and as intriguing as she is, I admit I’m a little on Percy’s side here, and I’ve got a wee bit of a grudge.* ;) Meanwhile: I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THE TRAVELER because he’s both entertaining and very creepy and something is H A P P E N I N G and I want my girl Jester to be safe and happy and so I want aaaaaanswers and come on he’s totally Artagan, isn’t he, Matt? You can tell us. You can totally tell us. Plz tell. So curious. Aaaaah.
*Part of that grudge is against everyone in the party who didn’t do anything about the fact that Percy said he wanted to visit the Raven Queen’s temple before anyone else brought her up, and long before shit went down in the tomb. And they didn’t go. And I’m still so curious what would have happened in the alternate timeline where he hadn’t gotten god-blocked at EVERY SINGLE FUCKING OPPORTUNITY. (Given the timeline we got, though, I am still 110% behind Team Faithless. *raises a toast alongside Percy and Keyleth*)
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answer in the form of an answer, part 25.
Does music have a big influence on your life?
Your answer: Yes
Answers you’ll accept: Yes | No
Importance: Very
This sonofabitch app didn't let me enter an explanation alongside my answer, and I'll be damned if I let something go unexplained. (...Hmm.) ANYWAY: Yes. Not that my ambition is to be a musician or anything. (Although, real talk - I did spend an inordinate amount of time on eBay eying SP404s and MPC 1000s, because I are one.) No, I just like music, and I hope that you do as well. (Aside: I don't necessarily buy into the idea of shared musical interests being the end-all, be-all of things. While I certainly understand that it's useful in some respects (mostly functioning as a proxy in regards to the other person's general likes, dislikes, tastes, etcetera), it does have its limitations. Very specifically, if you and a potential match like all the same things, what incentive is there to explore anything new? (I'm just sayin'.) (That more people should listen to jazz.)
(as of the time of this writing, i have 28 posts in my drafts. however, tumblr only lists 27 of them, and it is bothering me to NO end that i can’t get the 28th one to appear. the first time i noticed it, i legit thought i had skipped over it, and so i added the missing post to the top of my drafts, and then it automagically appeared where it was supposed to be. and yet, i remove the duplicate draft post, and the original one fucking disappears.)
(wordpress is looking better and better by the DAY.)
any other day, i would comment on the whole MPC thing, but i want to go a slightly different direction for tonight, so here’s a (hopefully) really brief comment: i still don’t have a musical bone in my body, still have no real interest in becoming a musician in any real capacity, and yet i still want to buy a MPC, just to fuck around with it. (in all honesty, it would probably be more productive for me to buy a pair of turntables and a mixer, and practice making my own mixes, similar to the ones that i constantly watch on youtube, since listening to mixes is probably more my speed these days, and a not-insubstantial part of me misses the days when i spent hours making mix CDs for myself.) (for the record, it’s worth watching/listening to the whole thing from the start, but the beat that starts at 15:22 has been permanently burned into my mind.)
(...actually, that was pretty brief by my standards, so well done, me!)
the “slightly” different direction: as i mentioned in a previous post (maybe - i no longer have any idea if the thing i’m referencing is in a published post, or in a draft somewhere, because i tend to work on those concurrently), i have a stack of these things queued up so that i can have them ready to go when it’s time to post my two for the day, so that i can keep this train chugging along. most of the time, after posting, i go through my drafts and prewrite commentary on at least two more, just so that that becomes one less thing to worry about on the subsequent days. last night, however, i found myself not as inspired to sit down and prewrite something, because...i honestly don’t know. that happens sometimes - back when i was actually taking writing much more seriously, trying to publish actual novels and shit, i’d encountered the dreaded writer’s block, as one does, and eventually found that the only way through was to sit my ass down and just power through with whatever garbage that i could pass from my mind through my hand through the pen onto the page. (despite my newfound proclivity for writing on a laptop, i’m still a longhand writer at heart - nothing gets me going more than a cute face and cute butt a yellow legal pad and my tactile turn pens..)
(...i mean, also that striked-through thing, but...well, i have said to myself on numerous occasions that masturbation and writing are essentially the same thing, given a long-enough timeline, so...)
ANYWAY. i thought about doing just that (the second thing, not the first thing) (i do the first thing on my own time, thank you very much - mostly when i wake up in the morning, or as part of a midafternoon break from the day job (because working from home is some other shit, my nigga), or right before i go to sleep, or basically whenever the mood strikes me, apparently) (also once in a sleeping bag during a camping trip, but we don’t talk about that), just to have something substantial to post, because...well, it kinda feels like i’ve already set a bar for myself with these things, adding an additional 800-1000 words to each question as commentary, and i felt like i would feel bad if i didn’t continue that.
and yet? yesterday, just couldn’t do it. couldn’t find the motivation. instead, i jumped onto OKC to peruse profiles*, and then i came across two profiles that...well, we’ll get to that. first one goes up tomorrow, i promise. it’s...it’s a thing.
and that thing was probably the most substantial bit of writing (if we can charitably call it that) outside of these individual posts that i’ve done in a long while. it actually wasn’t until today that i realized that i was putting those aforementioned 800-1000 words per post (on average) - i’ve been posting every day since february 21st, and i’ve actually made it a priority to carve out time each night to JUST** sit down at this laptop and bang out these words, and post them, for basically only me to see at this point, but even still - an audience of me is still an audience.
i think i’m kindasorta taking this seriously, in other words.
and i notice that things tend to happen when i take writing seriously. not just*** with the writing itself, but in other aspects of my life.
the universe’s way of telling me something, i guess.
the universe’s way of telling me that i should be DOING something very specific, i suppose.
today, 3.4.21, two interesting things happened to me - one in my professional life, and one in my personal life. now, i’m not quite ready to talk about either one, 1) partly because i’m afraid of jinxing it, as i’m prone to do, and 2) because it honestly would be premature to talk about either before anything of substance occurred (one doesn’t start for two months, while the other just started - i’ll let you decide which is which), but my takeaway for right now is that it’s so incredibly FASCINATING what happens to me when i take writing seriously, because the last time i did so, i moved my entire life to new york, and for the most part, that worked out pretty fucking well.
as i love to say, “let’s see what happens”. wish me luck.
*in another post, i may or may not have mentioned that i use the word “just” a lot. (also “vis-a-vis”, as you’ve probably noticed. now that i see it, i certainly can’t unsee it.) if i didn’t: i use “just” A LOT. this asterisk marks the FIFTH such instance of me removing a “just” from a draft. there’s no real way to have known this without me telling you, or you seeing the original first draft, but good lord - i really DO use the fuck out of “just” when writing. i even accidentally used it when typing out the previous sentence, and it didn’t even make any contextual sense to be there! i just having fucking “just” on the mind!
**fuck it - i’m going to capitalize, bold and italizice every single instance of “just” that i come across moving forward. not sure if i’ll learn anything from it, but i guess we’ll see if shame actually has no real effect on me, or if this JUST (...fuck) becomes another thing that i make into a very unfunny running gag, like i have a habit of doing.
***to clarify, the previous point, ONLY when it makes no contextual sense, and is just a placeholder. it makes sense in this context, so it can stay.
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So What The F*ck is a “Pitch Deck” and How Do I Make One?
What is a Pitch Deck?
A pitch deck (or pitch doc, as I still usually accidentally call it) is the big packet of stuff you give to the person you’re pitching your show too. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a brief, comprehensive look at your idea to prove to prospective buyers that they should invest in it. (It’s also something for those people to be able to show THEIR bosses later on, once your in-person pitch is over.) The pitch deck is also for you; it’s a guide that will help to flesh out your idea entirely, and keep you on track when talking to people about it in the room.
The most basic shape of your pitch deck should look something like:
LOGLINE
SUMMARY
ABOUT ME
THE SHOW
THE TONE
THE WORLD
THE CHARACTERS
THE THEME/WRAP UP
THE PILOT*
THE SERIES*
These can obviously be switched around or modified based on your specific pilot, and the ones asterisked at the end are semi-optional, but the basic building blocks can be used for any project. There are also “One Pagers,” which someone might ask for before an entire deck, or you may want to start there for sake of ease. It’s essentially a truncated pitch deck -- pretty much just the logline and summary. We’ll go over one-pagers and the template for each part of a pitch deck, which is attached below the line.
LOGLINE
One to two sentences outlining the premise of your pilot. Think about the protagonist, conflict, and premise of the show. Your “elevator pitch.”
Examples:
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend: A young woman abandons a choice job at a law firm and her life in New York in an attempt to find happiness in the unlikely locale of West Covina, California.
Rick And Morty: An animated series that follows the exploits of a super scientist and his not-so-bright grandson.
PRACTICE:
Write a logline for four of the six shows provided, or make up four of your own if you don’t watch any of these shows or movies.
30 Rock:
Friday Night Lights:
Scandal:
Harry Potter And The Sorcerer’s Stone:
The Simpsons:
Glee:
The Bachelor:
SUMMARY
A brief, ½-1 page summary of your show, main characters, and world. A step up from the logline, the summary should briefly expand on everything you set up in the logline, and everything you’ll go on to explain in the pitch. The bridge between your logline and more in depth parts of your pitch deck.
IE: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Summary:
To most looking in, Rebecca Bunch has a great life: a high powered job as an attorney in a prestigious New York law firm, great future prospects in her chosen profession, looks, brains, and money. But she has always suffered from anxiety and depression, for which she is on a plethora of pills. Those maladies are largely from being pushed by her overbearing Jewish mother, which also led to Rebecca's father abandoning the family when she was young.
When on the streets of New York Rebecca runs into Josh Chan, her boyfriend from summer camp ten years ago when they were sixteen, she remembers back to that time as the happiest time in her life, happiness which eludes her. When Josh mentions that he is imminently moving back to his hometown of West Covina, California, Rebecca decides to pursue happiness in moving to West Covina herself, telling people it's because she got a fabulous job there, where in reality it's to rekindle a relationship with Josh, which she believes is what will make her happy.
As Rebecca ekes out a life in West Covina with a wide array of new friends, colleagues, allies and enemies - within this collection being Josh and his friends - Rebecca may come to some realizations about her life and what she is trying to achieve. Does this all make her a crazy ex-girlfriend, or is it a little more nuanced than that?
(Thank you to “Huggo” on IMDB for this LOL)
So, if our logline was “A young woman abandons a choice job at a law firm and her life in New York in an attempt to find happiness in the unlikely locale of West Covina, California,” in our summary, we build out from each part. “A young woman,” becomes “Rachel Bloom” -- a hotshot lawyer with a serious depression problem. Her “finding happiness” we now know means following her ex-camp crush to West Covina, California. We’re given a brief intro to the supporting characters who will make up Rebecca’s world.
MOST IMPORTANTLY, and I’ll stress this over and over, everything you write about your show should connect back to your main character(s). If they are the sun of your show, then all the other parts must revolve around, and connect back, to them in some capacity. For instance, Rachel’s mother is introduced in the summary -- but only in how she affects Rachel. If you have a clear focal point for your show, it’ll be easier to build out the world around them.
PRACTICE:
Write a brief summary for one of the shows you’ve written a logline for.
TONE
Tone is what your show sounds, looks, and feels like. This should give the reader an idea of how you want your show to be.
Some words used to describe tone include: Surreal, single-cam, multi-cam, zany, serious, drama, comedy, ensemble, character-driven, situational, dark, light etc.etc.etc. The most important thing about tone is that you clarify it early on, and stick to it.
Ie.: The Mighty Boosh is a visually and situationally surreal comedy with realistic characters.
30 Rock is like an animated show come to life, with quick cutaways and exaggerated comedy balanced out by grounded protagonists.
An easy “tone” statement to help you -- and execs -- out is: It’s this meets this if you added/subtracted/multiplied it by this.
PRACTICE:
Identify the tone of 3 shows you watch, and write 1-2 sentences describing each. Try to brainstorm a word cloud of tonal adjectives for your own idea.
ABOUT ME
Remember how I said, “Write what you know?” This is your chance to prove why you should be the person to make this idea come to life. What in your personal history led you to this story, or what makes you the person uniquely qualified to tell it. Sort of like a college personal statement but you can say “dick” all you want (FINALLY)
PRACTICE:
Write 10 (or as many as you’d like) bullet points on what makes you uniquely fit to tell this story. Again, they don’t have to be extreme: “I’m a woman and this show looks at the dynamic between women” is enough for now.
THE WORLD
Set the scene for your pilot. List anything externally relevant to the pilot and our main characters. This means where and when your show takes place, and how your character(s) fit into it.
IE: Wunderkind, The World:
LOGLINE: A curmudgeonly college freshman happily drops out of school to accept her dream job writing for a tv show, before realizing she only got hired for “being young” in the first place. Now she must straddle both worlds, or risk winding up in neither.
#COLLEGELYFE:
Shelby understands why she’d stay in school to be a doctor or teacher, but doesn’t get why people say college is the best four years of your life. Cuz, in reality, College is like a mediocre pasta dish — but when it’s served between an appetizer that called you “fag” for 17 years and a dessert made of mortgages and your own mortality, it starts to taste pretty good to people.
College life is a nonstop carousel of nightmares that everyone else seems to be enjoying. It’s weird that somebody else makes your food, dehumanizing to get water from a fountain in the hallway, and fucking sociopathic to get drunk during the daytime. Shelby doesn’t feel disdain for all of it, so much as feels guilty and like a nuisance for not enjoying any of it. Same with Katy Perry and Gummi Bears. But ~yung lyfe~ proves inescapable — like when she’s out on script for a week and audits a class for fun, only to get way too into it, or when she’s chosen by Vanessa to “moderate” a conflict resolution session at Vanessa’s sorority (you know, because she’s empathetic but doesn’t take bullshit and also not pretty enough to be threatening to the other girls. Like a big sweatshirt of a human! You know you should throw it out, but you love it and sometimes you still need it!) The one draw from college is the improv team she’s on and the fact that housing has already been paid for the year.
#WORKLIFE:
Staffing to Shelby is like Jerusalem to the Jews: the promised Holy Land where everyone comes together to worship the one true god, Television.
But just because her coworkers are older, it doesn’t mean they’re not still people, and Shelby’s not still Shelby. Alternately viewed as too young, too mean, too smart, or too dumb — depending on who you ask — Shelby has to deal with not just being a 17 year old girl in a tv writers’ room, but a lame 17 year old girl in a tv writers’ room.
Wanting to feel valued and useful, she learns to carve out a niche for herself in the room as an “expert” on young, fun people... despite definitely not being one. Suddenly, the healthiest thing for her professionally is to embrace her youth — and all the embarrassing, horrifying, drug-fueled experiences that entails.
PRACTICE:
Write a one page summary detailing “The World” of your show.
CHARACTER BIOS
A brief description of your main and side characters.
WHEN WRITING A CHARACTER BIO, CONSIDER:
Who is this person? What are their motives? What is the best thing about them? What’s the worst thing about them? What do they love? What do they hate? How would they describe themselves? How would other people describe them? Where do they begin their story, emotionally? Where will they end it? If this is not your main character, how do their traits reflect on and connect to the main character? Are they a foil? A friend? What do they add to the world, and how do they interact with it?
Ie: JOSH, “THE FRENEMY”:
This fucking guy, you know? This whitebread, Harvard-educated, National-Lampoon-staffing, The Onion-reading motherfucker who’s just tan enough to think he’s not racist. Shelby’s antagonist-turned-frenemy at work, Josh can’t stand anything about Shelby (the feeling’s mutual, bruh). An early 30-something writer and the guy who somehow ends up doing most of the show runner’s physical work, he’s technically a very “accomplished” adult who disdains anybody or anything he doesn’t think is “on his level.” If he were into videogames, he’d never believe that a chick really knows what she’s talking about (but, like, he’d never be into videogames).
At least, this is the snap judgement Shelby makes after an antagonistic first couple days — as Vanessa points out to Shelby, wouldn’t she rather Josh “haze” her than ignore her, like the other writers? And does she REALLY dislike Josh, or just dislike the fact that Josh dislikes her? As hard as this new environment is on Shelby, can she imagine what it’s like for the 31 year old writer who has never had to deal with a teen girl in the room? Not in a sexist way, but in a “teacher floundering because he’s not sure how to handle a new student” way? He had a hand in hiring her, after all (Shelby reluctantly understands Vanessa’s points, but with BIG caveats.)
And Josh isn’t necessarily wrong when he criticizes Shelby: she’s young; she’s inexperienced; she wore pants backwards to work twice in row — but who does he think he is to point that out?? The one thing Josh has going for him is that he’s honest. He’ll make life hard for Shelby, and won’t pretend to like her when he doesn’t, but he’s not gonna sabotage her career — why bother when she’ll probably manage to do that herself? A big brother/little sister dynamic will prevail, without either of them realizing they care about each other until it’s too late.
PRACTICE:
Write brief character bios for your main and side characters.
**TIP** If you’re struggling, try to answer “How would this character order coffee?” It sounds silly, but knowing, without a doubt, how each of your players would act in seemingly innocuous situations will lead to fully developed characters (and make your life way easier in scripting).
THEME/WRAP UP
The theme part of your pitch should be sprinkled throughout the deck, but here’s your chance to make it loud and clear to the reader. The “theme” of any story is like the lynchpin: remove it, and the wheels fly off completely. If you’re struggling to think of the theme for your show, there’s a good chance you’re not ready yet.
PRACTICE:
Write up a brief paragraph, trying to really crystallize WHY this is the story you WANT to tell. Make me want to hear you tell it!
#pitching tv#tv pitch#pitch deck#table it#template#pitch deck template#faq#writing#screenwriting#tips
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