#one shot podcast network

[creationcast]

Our February series is underway! We invited Maso Perez to join us to learn about the official Boyfriend Dungeon TTRPG, Life on the Edge!

We were thrilled to learn about this unique game where you play as people who can turn into weapons, and it's as much about your relationships with one another as it is about fighting through some very personal dungeons where you wield one another in battle.

If you like what you hear on this episode, the rest of this month's series is up on our patreon! Check out episode 2 and 3 right here:

[merelymatt]

It's Audio Drama Sunday

So here are 3 episodes I enjoyed this week

Breakfast

Back for season 9. I love what this episode does with repetition and sudden midsentence cuts.

The Poplars of Soissons

I just reached the final season in my replay of Unwell. The sounds of the pipes and the calliope are haunting and beautiful, and I love this little origin story for those sounds.

Worldwide Wrestling

I can't embed this one because it's a Secret Archive exclusive for OneShotOberfest – Fiona from What Am I Rolling? (which was just recently folded into the One Shot Network), who's guested enough times on @merelyroleplayers to gain "friend of the show" status, leads some other One Shot hosts through character creation for Worldwide Wrestling. I'm looking forward to hearing Doctor Knockout (aka Doctor Knockabout, aka Doc Knock) in the ring.

[the-royal-blue-network]

The Royal Blue Network

The Royal Blue Network is an LGBTQIA story telling site with the main objective of inspiring the creation of quality queer content. For to long, thanks to how expensive it is to make television shows, LGBT content has been forced into a box to appease non-LGBT folks. Quality Queer content has been canceled due to poor marketing, low ratings, and Hollywood’s failure to see the potential in catering to the LGBT+ community. But RBN knows better, RBN understands the need for quality, queer representation, and how impactful such content can be. So RBN has taken it upon itself to create that content; quality queer content that will go on to inspire even more queer content. RBN seeks to tell stories of Women Loving Women and Men Loving Men relationships. RBN seeks to tell stories with queer and trans/non binary folks as main characters, and experiences of the queer community as main storylines. So if this sounds like something you’d enjoy!

Click the title, and check out The Royal Blue Network today!

[1d1195]

HOV

~8k words

From me: a one-shot

Warnings: enemies to lovers (because WHY NOT), panicked Harry, car accident, hospital visit, etc.

Summary: Two environmentally friendly people carpool to work and almost kill each other every day. Harry brakes too much. She lets people go when it's not their turn. She gets crumbs all over her car. Harry listens to really boring podcasts. Harry thinks she's beautiful even if she's annoying. She thinks Harry is unbelievably sexy even if his opinion of her music is rude.

It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment.

Every day he waited for her to get to his car he had to chant it to himself that it was worth it. “We’re not going to fight today,” he mumbled to himself as she left the apartment building. It was exactly one building next to his and so it made sense.

She looked really pretty. She always did. It was brutal on his psyche because he wanted to like her. He was desperate to like her, but she was just so... annoying. But her hair was half up in a clip, pieces spilled from it almost artfully. That was the only way he could describe her: art. Harry wasn’t sure if she wore makeup, he suspected she did but if he found out she was naturally that stunning he wouldn’t have been surprised either.

Her dress pants looked perfect on her legs, not quite painted on but close. Her bright blue button down was tucked in and complimented her complexion so well. She wore a pair of heels to complete her look which he knew she didn’t like doing so he was bracing for her complaints—she was much more of a flats person; but she felt she had to wear them to be taken seriously. She looked professional, beautiful, but approachable.

Harry took a deep breath trying to quell the frustration, anxiety, and adoration he had for her before she got in the car. We’re not going to fight today.

“Hi,” she greeted quietly.

“Hi,” he answered as she got settled. She put her coffee mug in the cup holder, her lunch bag and work bag went to the floor by her feet. Harry much preferred her weekend look, and he was sure she did too; sweatpants, a hoodie or T-shirt, sneakers or slippers was much more her style and she wore that just as beautifully as she did her professional outfit.

Jesus Christ it was going to be a long week. How was it only Monday?

“Do y’have a presentation today?” He asked as she finally settled herself into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, why?” Harry noted she was immediately distrustful and did his best to ignore it because he was trying, with everything in him, to be polite and kind. More than he usual.

“Y’look nice,” he shrugged.

“As in I don’t usually look nice?” She asked defensively. “Are you playing a trick on me? Is this a joke?”

That was short-lived. He sighed and looked at the ceiling for help like the answer to this complicated woman was going to be there, finally. “No, s’not a joke. Y’always look nice, love. But y’look extra nice today.”

“Oh,” she pouted, the pucker between her eyebrows making itself known. He was used to seeing it and he found it cute since she looked so serious and her face was just so sweet it almost didn't make sense for her to look so grumpy. But Harry knew better. “Thank you,” she murmured, surprise laced in her voice. “Sorry... I’m nervous,” she explained.

He frowned. “M’sure you’ll be fine.”

“Mm.”

They didn’t speak for several moments. Silence was a lot better for them. Less of a chance to argue with one another. “How was your weekend?” She asked. Small talk was typically safe. As long as there wasn’t a lot of details.

“Good, finished m’book,” but he didn’t offer what he read because he knew they didn’t share the same taste in book genres and she would probably wrinkle her cute little nose in distaste. “How was yours?”

“Fine, visited my friend,” but she didn’t say which one because he would just tell her how she was being used for her money and networking to get into nice restaurants. The silence continued for another few minutes. She scrolled on her phone then pulled her laptop out of her bag. There was about forty minutes until they reached their office so maybe she would go over her presentation.

Harry would have offered to listen to it, but from experience, she would argue every point of constructive criticism he had to offer—only because he had done the very same. In actuality, her presentation was probably perfect. There was no need for her to be nervous. But as she had explained many times over, she was a woman in a corporate office with a bunch of men who didn’t trust her. She had to work twice as hard to get things done her way.

The silence was interrupted by her stomach growling loud enough for Harry to hear it. He sighed and rolled his eyes like it was a major inconvenience for him. “What, Harry? What?” She grumbled.

“Why don’t y’jus’ eat before y’leave?”

“I told you, I’m nervous about my presentation today.”

“What’s your excuse for the other days?”

“Happy Monday,” she grumbled and put her head on the window. But of course, at that moment Harry stomped on the brake as he was wont to do. Meaning her head all but smacked off the glass. “Ow! For God’s sake, Harry! You don’t have to slam on the brakes!”

“I’m not,” she pulled the visor down to look in the mirror to inspect her forehead as if it was going to create a bruise instantly. “My God, you’re dramatic,” he muttered under his breath.

“You drive like a grandma,” she retorted.

“What, safely?!” He hissed through his teeth. He wanted to actually slam on the brakes. Her stomach growled again only further fueling his annoyance with her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pulled off the closest exit and headed for a nearby coffee shop so she could get a pastry or something for her.

“We don’t need to stop.”

“You need t’eat something. Sounds like y’trapped an animal in there.”

Her cheeks felt warm with his comparison. “That’s so fucking rude Harry.”

“I don’t care, y’need t’eat!”

“I’m not hungry. I’m nervous about my presentation.”

“S’gonna be a shitty presentation if y’stomach keeps growling over the sound of your voice.”

She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and turned to look at the window. “I’m too nervous to eat; thank you for caring in your overbearing, aggressive way, but I won’t eat anything. I’ll eat a granola bar from my desk when we get to the office,” she explained.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head but returned to the highway after their tiny detour. “You’re sure?”

“Yup. Can’t eat in the car anyway and I don’t want to be any later than we already are.”

“Late,” his eyes were going to get stuck trying to look at the back of his brain. “You’re ridiculous.”

The spat simmered tensely in the silent air between them. They went a whole four minutes without arguing. That had to be a record, even for them.

*

The drive home was much less tense almost always. Usually, they were both too drained to speak to one another, so it made it a lot easier to tolerate the other person’s existence.

So, it was Harry’s fault that they argued again on the way home.

“How was your presentation?” He asked politely.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Jus’ fine?” He frowned. “Y’were all worked up ‘bout it this morning.”

“Yeah, because no one takes me seriously,” she snorted, but her laugh didn’t have a trace of real humor in it.

“Right, so it was just fine?”

“What are you looking for here Harry?” Her irritation was evident in her voice.

“I don’t know, a better adjective? Y’got through t’them? They hated it? Fine makes y’sound like a teen coming home from school.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’re going to table my idea for another day,” she sounded exhausted, and Harry was tired too, so in hindsight, he was willing to take the entire blame for the argument and subsequent tense ride home.

“How do y’feel ‘bout that?”

“What do you even care for, Harry? What’s with the interrogation?”

“Forget it,” he sighed. “I was jus’ making conversation. Y’didn’t even ask how my day was.”

“How was your day?” She snapped.

“Fine.”

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and she inhaled deeply. “Don’t talk to me,” she grumbled.

“Fine by me.”

*

She drove every other day; it was their routine. It saved wear and tear on their cars and since her car was a hybrid, they really saved on gas and were doing their part to save the environment. If either of them had a car appointment or stayed home sick, then the other one would of course drive and they would pick up the following day, right where they left off.

When she drove, however, Harry was even grumpier, somehow. Though, it seemed impossible someone could be grumpier. But she made him leave an hour earlier than necessary. Harry was already awake and ready but he very much enjoyed a gradual wake up. He liked the time in the morning to do the daily NYT crossword puzzle and to meditate or workout before going to the office.

He did not like arguing an hour earlier than normal.

“It’s for the environment,” she mumbled to herself as Harry approached. He was otherworldly handsome. He looked like he should have been a model, not a financial wizard. His hair was perfectly messy, his eyes sparkled, and his entire frame was just meant to tempt her. In a suit (which he wore every weekday), he looked fan-fucking-tastic. Everything ironed crisply, his tie perfectly straight. He was sincerely hot—there was no other way to describe him.

But his weekend look? When she saw him out and about lounging in joggers and T-shirts that clung to every muscle in his torso? That was her favorite version of him. They usually ran into each other on nice weather days when they both wanted sunshine and air. Harry jogged a lot. She would read on the bench in front of her building. Sometimes they saw one another at the grocery store. But given they spent two hours every day in an enclosed area and argued for nearly the entire time, they were not spending any more of their weekend doing the same thing, so not much more than a polite hello was said between them.

“Good morning,” he murmured as he got in and settled his bag at his feet. Harry didn’t have a presentation to prep so he was planning on sleeping and meditating this morning with his head propped against the window.

“Morning,” she answered softly.

“Sleep okay?” He asked. “The rain and wind woke me a lot.”

“Same,” she agreed. “You’re going to try and sleep then?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “S’that okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It felt less tense today. We’re not going to argue, she thought to herself.

While Harry slept, she remained focused on the road. Her mind making a mental to do list for when she arrived at the office. She knew Harry hated getting there early, but her brain focused so much better without people constantly bothering her.

For a company that clearly had it out for a woman in finance, they sure did need her a whole lot.

She had music on low that she sang quietly along with while Harry slept. If it bothered him, he didn’t say anything today.

Even with Harry sleeping most of the way, it had to be a record that they didn’t argue all the way until they were a mere five minutes from their building. Naturally, their getting along came to an abrupt end. A truck roared in front of her, cutting her off and merging with very little space between them so it could get to the next lane and off at the next turn. It made her gasp and slam on her brakes at the same time. Instinctively, she tossed her arm out to save Harry from whiplash, her arm pressed to the front of his body. “What the fuck!?” He shouted and jolted awake.

“Sorry! Sorry! I was—” She dropped her arm quickly and her hand went back to the steering wheel quickly, hiding the shake she felt in it.

“Were y’letting someone randomly go again?”

She had a penchant for being too polite on the road—it was Harry’s least favorite thing about her driving habits. “N-no—” her palms were sweating against the wheel, her heart pounding as she gripped at it tighter. She parked and felt a wave of frustration and worry fall over her. Even some embarrassment as Harry yelled at her.

She hated being cut off by another driver. It made her so nervous. She wasn’t a car person, but hers was her baby. She didn’t want anything to happen to it and if being a little extra nice and cautious on the road would keep it safe, then she would do it.

“S’more dangerous t’be polite,” he grumbled. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Jus’ another reason we should get here so fucking early,” he snapped. “Forget it,” he shook his head and got out of the car and headed into the building without looking at her again. Still shaking, she pouted, took a few calming breaths and composed herself before she followed Harry’s path to their office building.

*

On the ride home she stopped for coffee and kindly purchased Harry one as well without asking—but when he heard her order it at the drive-through, he felt the argument from the morning disappearing slowly from his mind. “Thanks,” he mumbled from beside her.

“You’re welcome,” she figured less would be more in talking to him—especially after their morning.

But it didn’t help that she let two people merge in front of her as they got on the highway—almost like she was still nervous from this morning. Harry sighed heavily, like he was personally inconvenienced by her kindness to other drivers. She ignored it and continued home. Harry watched as she bit into a powdered donut she got. He rolled his eyes.

“What?” She asked through a mouthful, the sugar floated all over herself and her gearshift. He shook his head.

“S’a messy donut.”

“It’s my car,” she pouted. It was hard to take her seriously when she had powdered sugar all over her mouth. She was pretty adorable with sugar all over her cheeks, though, Harry would give her that.

“If y’want t’trade y’car in, they like it to be clean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting rid of her ever.”

He just shook his head again. Some mornings she ate a breakfast sandwich and Harry watched the crumbs of her croissant rain on her outfit like confetti while she drove with one hand on the wheel. His car was pristine while hers was not. There were half empty water bottles in the back and random pieces of her “emergency” kit strewn about in the boot of her car in a way that Harry doubted would ever help if there was truly an emergency. There were blankets and reusable grocery bags all across the backseat—there was just no order. Which was so weird because she was one of the most organized people he knew.

“Y’know y’shouldn’t use plastic water bottles,” he rebuked as he caught sight of another one on the floor behind him.

She sighed. “I recycle them, Harry. Do you honestly think I don’t care about the environment when we carpool every day? Do you think that arguing with you for an hour and a half every day is because I hate the environment?”

“Forget it,” he sighed not wanting to argue. “How was your day?” He asked trying to recreate the tension free car ride that was present first thing this morning before they fought in the parking lot.

“It was okay,” she shrugged but immediately, Harry knew it was a lie. He quirked one eyebrow at her in disbelief and her unsure tone. With a bigger sigh, she relented. “I got yelled at for something that wasn’t my fault and then I didn't even get an apology when they realized it wasn’t.”

Harry frowned. “Did y’say something?”

“Did I try to hurt the male ego?" She shook her head with another eye roll. "Harry, I would never.”

He smirked and looked out the window. She was funny. Even if she was annoying. “Y’have no problem hurting my ego.”

“I hurt your ego?” She asked in surprise. He shrugged and nodded with a smirk still on his lips. That cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows pinched together and made itself known again. Harry once more was overcome by how adorable she was. He didn’t understand her question. Or why she cared. But he wished he had paid closer attention to her reaction because she suddenly looked so upset. “I didn’t know that,” her voice was soft. “I’m... I’m sorry, Harry,” and it really sounded like she was.

He blinked. “S’fine,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know y’don’t mean it.”

“I don’t, truly.” It felt really important that Harry knew that. Maybe it was her crummy day. Coworkers continued to not trust her nor believe she was capable of doing well, which made her feel worse. God why did she continue working where she wasn’t wanted? Where she wasn’t appreciated? She was still a little shaken from her almost accident and her uncanny ability to piss Harry off. She was suddenly very forlorn over the idea that she had hurt Harry in any way. “How...how was your day?” She asked tentatively her voice catching.

“It was good,” he nodded, but he was looking at her suspiciously and the sound of anxiety coating her words. “Ordinary... Nothing t’really report... Who yelled at you, by the way?”

“No one, it’s nothing,” she shook her head quickly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then jus’ tell me, love. S’not a big deal.”

She sighed, irritated, dejected, and tired of arguing. “Do you know Jason?”

Harry scoffed. “He’s a prick and can’t add two plus two. Don’t let him get t’you. Sorry he yelled at you.”

It was one of the nicest things Harry had ever said on her behalf. “S’not your fault,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t. M’sure y’do everything perfectly. He’s probably jealous and stupid and everything else.”

“Thank you,” her voice was still soft. Her eyes felt misty at his kindness. Harry being nice on top of her shitty day was so overwhelming—too overwhelming.

Harry noticed right away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, m’fine,” she nodded, wiping at her cheek.

“Y’don’t look fine, love... Why don’t y’pull over? I don’t want you t’drive if you’re emotional. S’not safe.”

She sniffed. “It’s fine. I’m just being overly sensitive. Not a lot of sleep and... It just... it wasn’t a very good day,” she swiped her hand beneath her nose and wiped her below her eye again while her words got caught in her throat a few times as she spoke.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle. More gentle than it ever had been toward her. “Please, love... jus’ pull over,” he encouraged quietly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Love, please,” he pleaded. “S’okay t’be emotional.”

“No, it’s not,” she whimpered but pulled to the shoulder of the road at the same time as she heaved on a shaky breath. Cars whizzed past them and Harry watched her closely. “I work in a sea of testosterone, and I’m never appreciated, never respected, and I can’t be emotional,” she fanned her hand in front of her eyes trying to will the tears away. “Especially in front of you.”

“Me?” He pouted, anger took the forefront of his mind, but he had never seen her like this. He felt bad because she was so upset. So, he refrained from snapping back at her.

“You’ll just use it against me or save it for a rainy day to embarrass me.”

“Is that what you really think?” He tutted, his voice devoid of emotion.

She sniffled again. “Yeah... you yelled at me this morning... I didn’t mean to jostle you like that but someone cut me off and—”

She was still upset about that? That seemed like a lifetime ago. Yeah, Harry was irritated, but he felt bad she was holding onto something so small all day. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Her day must have been really shitty if she let one of their arguments take hold of her emotions all day long.

“Hey... hey don’t cry. M’sorry—I shouldn’t have—it doesn’t matter... But y’have t’know, I would never do that, love. M’sorry if I’ve made y’feel that way,” he soothingly rubbed her arm up and down. “S’okay,” he reassured her. “M’gonna drive the rest of the way home. Jus’ slide over for me, love, yeah?” He asked and before she could protest, he was getting out of the car and going to the driver’s side. Not that she really wanted to protest.

But she would have if they were in a parking lot or on a non-highway road. She tried the door handle but Harry shook his head as he approached the driver’s door and jutted his chin to the passenger seat again. Again, she might have argued, but she didn’t want Harry subjected to the busy traffic for any longer, so she awkwardly slid over the console as Harry stayed pressed to the side of the car.

One small piece of her brain realized the most handsome man she knew wasn't letting her get out on the traffic-side. It was a protective, chivalrous moment that made her stomach do a somersault.

Once in the passenger seat, she brushed the powdered sugar that was on the driver's side just before he sat and got powder all over her pants. “Why don’t y’nap or something?” He suggested quietly and pulled into traffic again without any other fanfare.

“Alright,” she sniffed. “Thanks, sorry again.”

“No problem, love,” he mumbled and drove the rest of the way home in silence. He hoped she felt a little better by the time he parked and gently shook her awake. He didn’t say much other than he would see her tomorrow and returned her keys to her. “Have a good night, love,” he murmured as he gathered his belongings and left before they could return to their natural instinct of arguing with one another.

*

After her mini meltdown she was really hopeful that they had turned a corner in their arguing. She couldn’t remember who started the first argument so long ago. When they realized they lived near one another and worked at the same place, it only made sense to carpool. But she didn’t know they would find fault in every little thing.

Harry was constantly late. (But he wasn’t. Not really. He was on time. Which may as well have been late in her book.) It made her insane. He braked too hard—just like the other day. His choice in podcasts was too real and scary at times (she couldn’t get on the true crime train). His favorite book genre was history, which was fine, but he often made fun of the lighter romance novels she liked. There was the no eating in the car rule. And of course, there was his constant backseat driving—it was never-ending.

It's for the environment. She reminded herself.

It was another long day. Her meetings didn’t go well. Her coworkers undervalued her worth and if wasn’t for the fact that her main supervisor gave her stunning reviews and the money was so good, she would have quit ages ago.

Harry was irritated, and she wasn’t sure why. She had cleaned her car over the weekend. She even had it detailed so it was as pretty as Harry’s car. All her blankets were neatly folded, water bottles recycled, and she organized the trunk. There was a new air freshener and everything.

And yet, Harry was still annoyed. He turned the fan off. Twice. She adjusted the settings, they hadn’t even left the parking garage, and he still turned it off. “S’hot.”

“It’s not hot,” she grumbled.

“It feels like m’sweating. Gonna have a heat stroke.”

“Well, I’m cold.”

“Of course you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It seemed Harry’s day wasn’t too good either as he was just as willing to argue and just as willing to stand his ground. While they argued they continued turning the temperature knob from one extreme to the other.

“You’re gonna break it!” She whined.

“You’re such a brat.”

Her neck snapped to face him. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. “A brat!?” Her voice was three octaves higher than normal. It felt like the car was shaking.

“Yes, a brat who throws a fit when y’don’t get your way. All the time. Y’want t’leave an hour earlier. Y’want t’eat in the car. Roll the windows down, no now up. Y’want t’listen t’your dumb radio station that is ninety-percent ads. You’re. A. Brat.”

She did slam on her brakes at his explanation. She pulled toward the sidewalk right outside their office building. “Get. Out.”

Harry stared in disbelief. “You’re joking,” he cackled.

“I’m tired of arguing. You’re such a dick to me all the time,” she smacked her hand on the steering wheel. “I had a bad day, and you clearly had a bad day and you can’t leave well enough alone! So yeah. The environment can spare two less people carpooling. Get out of my fucking car, Harry Styles before I run us both into a telephone pole.”

“You’re so judgmental and so ridiculous—”

“Get out!” She practically shrieked.

Harry glared, yanking his stuff from where it sat at his feet. He got out of the car, slamming her door hard. He wouldn’t be surprised if it got stuck shut or if the whole frame shook as he did so. She peeled off the curb leaving Harry to fume. They never fought like that. Almost all their arguments always ended in a quiet “good night” or “have a good day.” Never did she shove him out of the car.

He was simmering with anger. He paced a few steps on the sidewalk trying to calm himself to figure out what to do. Maybe he could call her back. An Uber was going to cost a small fortune to get back home. Worth it, he supposed. God, she drained the life out of him.

He was breathing heavily. Good riddance. It was a dumb idea trying to carpool with someone that made him infuriated. Incensed with the feeling of being right, he scrolled on his app for a new ride.

Before he could submit his request for the most expensive Uber in the history of the world, all anger left his body—floated away as if it wasn’t even there in the first place.

There was a screech of tires and a sickening crunch of metal. Harry looked up just in time to see her car do a full 360 before landing upside down in the middle of the intersection. Her car teetered back and forth as it balanced on the roof. His jaw went slack as he watched the car of the pretty girl he was just arguing with crunch in the middle of the roadway. He was practically ready to strangle her himself but he never wanted—

“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself. Before he fully grasped his own movements he was sprinting into the middle of the roadway.

Without knowing what else to do, he knelt to the ground in a spray of plastic, metal, and glass, his face was almost pressed to the ground as he tried to peer into the only available space. “Baby? You with me?” He asked looking at the terrified, shaking girl. There was blood pouring from her hairline, her hands gripped the steering wheel around the deployed airbag like she was still driving.

“H-Harry?” She whispered. A switch flipped inside him. He wanted to rip the upside-down door off and yank her out. He wanted to hold her. All those annoying things she did, they didn’t bother him anymore. She was so pretty, so sweet, and so funny. The mere thought of her injured, terrified him and broke his heart. He didn't know he felt that way and he was mortified that it took this to realize it.

“M’here, love. M’here, you’re okay, just focus on me,” he was shaking as he dialed on his phone for the emergency line. “There’s been a car crash in the intersection outside of Prosperis Financial,” he said. “There’s at least one injured party.”

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know. I know, my love. I know,” he cooed.

God how could he be so stupid? How could he get out of the car? How could he take so long to get out of the car? If they just didn’t fight, they would have been through the intersection and—

“Harry, my head hurts,” she interrupted his spiraling.

“I know, kitten, I know,” he repeated.

“A-and my leg hurts really bad,” she whispered a small break in her voice. She was shocked and in near tears.

“Don’t move your neck, baby,” he ordered.

“I’m scared,” she cried.

“I know, love, I know, m’scared too. But m’not going t'leave you for one second, baby, okay? You’re going t’be fine, everything’s going t’be fine,” he sounded pretty reassuring considering he was freaking out too.

“I didn’t—I didn't see it,” she sniffled.

“S’not your fault, kitten. S’okay. You’re okay, love. Just breathe, and keep talking, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to yell at you...” she croaked, the anxiety in her voice broke his heart. He hated she felt she had to say it. “I don’t mean to, ever. I-I don’t know why—”

“Shh… we’re not talking ‘bout that. S’okay, my love. We’re okay,” he promised. She could argue whatever she wanted. Harry was in complete agreement. She was right. Every time. He did brake too hard. She wasn’t too nice to others on the road. She could eat in the car or have the heat on in the middle of the summer. Whatever she wanted.

“Okay... I'm sorry,” her voice sounded quiet.

“Help is coming, baby. M’not gonna leave your side, yeah? Jus’ hang on a little bit longer. I know—”

“I’m sorry I eat in your car sometimes,” she whispered her voice cracking more as she apologized for things that no longer mattered. “I’m sorry I’m a brat—”

“No, no, my love. You’re not a brat... shh...” he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her figure, clutching the wheel like she was scared to let go. His heart was aching to do something more, beating too loud in his ears. He wanted to keep her talking. Wanted to rip her out of the car and make sure she was alright. She could do whatever she wanted in his car for the rest of her life. As far as he was concerned, he would be driving her every day for the rest of time. She was never getting behind the wheel again. “S’okay, baby. Whatever makes y’happy.”

She sniffled. “Harry, I don’t feel very good,” she mumbled. “My head hurts.”

“I know it does, kitten,” his voice cracked hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “I’d trade with y’in a heartbeat,” he mumbled.

She sniveled. “I wanna get out.”

“I know, my love. M’trying. They’ll be here soon.”

“I’m scared,” her voice was soft again.

“Baby, I know,” he groaned. Where the fuck was the ambulance?!

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you weren’t in the car,” she whispered. His heart shattered.

“M’not, kitten. M’not glad at all,” he shook his head.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” she warned and then her neck went limp.

“Baby?” Her hands slid from the steering wheel and her head lolled to the side. “Shit!” Harry reached through the broken glass, but the angle was too awkward, and he couldn’t see and reach at the same time. “Kitten, love,” his voice pitched an octave higher with hysteria quickly flooding him. “Baby? Open your eyes! Please,” he begged. “Kitten? Come on,” he muttered reaching blindly for her again. “Fuck,” he croaked.

“Excuse us, sir,” an EMT was finally at his side pushing Harry out of the way. He covered his mouth, sitting back on his heels as they pulled the car to its wheels once more. There was a flurry of movement as they pried through the metal and glass to get her. He choked on his breath as they removed her and he swallowed hard, his heart felt broken as they put a brace around her neck and lifted her onto a stretcher—still unconscious much to his horror. “Are you the boyfriend? Coming on the ambulance?” the paramedic asked.

“Yes,” he answered immediately and filed in behind them.

*

Harry called her mom and sister. They were on their way. He paced the waiting room with the biggest teddy bear the shop had to purchase while he waited for her surgery and tests to end. It felt endless. Harry thought he had aged ten years during the time he was there waiting.

He also got her a balloon—a heart shaped one that said get well soon. He got flowers. And chocolate too. Once he saw her pretty eyes open again and her family was present, he was going to get her a coffee and breakfast sandwich too.

His clothes were dirty from lying in the street, the knees of his slacks had the tiniest holes and rips. His cheek had a few cuts and scratches from pressing it to the ground while he spoke to her upside-down body.

“Are you the boyfriend?”

He shook the thoughts of seeing her bleeding, terrified body away from his mind at the sound of someone speaking to him.

It was hard to believe only yesterday he would have shuddered at the thought. “Yes,” he answered instantly, not caring in the slightest that he was lying for the second time in several hours about their relationship status. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” the doctor stated. Harry sighed with relief, dragged a hand through his hair and swallowed around the relieved tears that filled his eyes and cut off the voice in his throat. He coughed awkwardly.

“Can I see her?” He asked. “Please?”

“Yes, she’s just coming out of the anesthesia,” he explained and tilted his head toward the hallway. Harry grabbed all his presents for her and followed. “She’s a little out of it still,” he warned.

“But she’s okay?” He repeated like he didn't believe the doctor.

“Yes, she’s fine,” he knocked and opened the door.

“Oh, your boyfriend is here, miss,” an older nurse smiled at her as she fiddled with her pillows and the IV stand.

The sweet girl looked high as a kite, her eyes wide, the cut on her forehead stitched. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she frowned. That cute wrinkle between her brows appeared and Harry wanted nothing more than to smooth it away and ease the tension she felt.

“You might want to rethink that,” a woman smiled at Harry with a wink. “He’s very cute and he brought you gifts.”

“Hi, kitten, baby,” he cooed and crouched beside her bed.

“You’re my boyfriend?” She mumbled in surprise. Her eyes were so wide with the loopy medicine, and he smirked, tears filling his eyes again.

“Yes, my love,” he didn’t even feel like he was lying. To her nor to himself about their relationship. It made sense and he truly adored her so easily. He was grateful for the switch in his mind, he just wished a car accident wasn't the cause.

She smiled, self-satisfied. “I knew you liked me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. “Y’okay, baby?” He asked.

“They gave me medicine,” she explained holding up her arm that had three or four needles sticking in it.

“Easy, kitten,” he grabbed her outstretched arm and cupped her hand in both of his with a chuckle. He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her knuckles as the nurse pulled a chair up beside her for Harry to sit in.

“Harry," she said suddenly. Like he wasn't listening to her or paying attention to every little movement. "I broke my leg,” she pouted.

“M’sorry, kitten,” he was livid she was injured but with pain meds she was so cute and adorable that he almost chuckled at the way she sighed and frowned about her situation.

She glanced at their interconnected hands. “Have we been dating long? I didn’t know I had a boyfriend. Do I have amnesia?”

He snickered, kissed her fingers again. “No,” he shook his head. “S’quite new.”

“Oh,” she blinked and a smile grew on her face. “I like that you’re my boyfriend,” she sighed dreamily. “Isn’t he hot?” She asked the nurse who was checking her vitals again. Harry rolled his eyes, smirking and looking away from her and the nurse at her appraisal. It was good to know she felt affected by his presence as well. He liked her loopy thoughts and he hoped they would remain true when the medicine wore off. “Did you call my mom?” She asked curiously.

He nodded, cleared his throat as he focused on more important facts and not worrying about their fake relationship status. “Yes, she’s on her way with your sister. I need t’call them, actually,” he pulled his phone out.

“How did you get their number?”

“I looked them up on social media,” he mumbled keeping hold of one hand as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Harry?” Her sister’s voice asked alertly.

“Hi Thea, she’s okay. M'sitting with her now. She’s loopy from the anesthesia but she’s awake.”

“Tell her to get me coffee,” she whispered loudly. Loud enough for her sister to hear through the phone. Harry smiled.

Thea sighed with relief and snickered. “Sounds like her,” she mumbled. “Thank you, Harry. We’re about twenty minutes out.”

“Of course,” he assured her. “You’ll tell your mum?” He asked.

“Yes, I got it.”

“See you soon.”

Harry placed his phone back in his pocket and watched her loopy mind work through something on her extremely expressive face. “Are you going to kiss me?” She giggled.

Harry laughed. “Later, baby.”

“When’s later?”

“When you’re a little coherent, m’love.”

She blew a breath through her lips making them sputter. “S’not fair.”

“I know,” the smile remained on his face knowing she was okay, and she wanted him to kiss her. It was a bit wild that the switch flipped so rapidly. This was someone he argued with for over two years every day and now he wanted to kiss her, hold her, and never let her go.

“Can I take a nap?” She yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

Harry turned to the nurse. “Can she? Does she have a concussion?”

“Shockingly, no concussion,” the nurse said reading the chart. “You can nap for a bit.”

She closed her eyes instantly. “Night Harry,” she sighed. “I love you.”

He felt his cheeks warm. Ignored her sweet words regardless of how much he would like them to be true. “Night, baby,” he chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead as she drifted to sleep without letting go of his hand.

*

When she woke up the next time she was staring at Harry in awe.  “Thea, I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. The anesthesia had worn off a bit and she didn’t seem to remember she said I love you nor that Harry claimed to be her boyfriend. While she was hesitant to believe that Harry was really there for her, she was glad he was. She was foggy on the details but there was no mistaking that she felt a pull toward him. Maybe it was the kindness he showed her.

“You live in a fourth-floor apartment. You’re not fine. And your car is trash.”

Harry sat quietly to the side of the room while her mom and sister doted on her. Her mom was on the phone with the insurance company taking notes and questioning a lot. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't have a choice, I have to figure it out,” she shrugged.

“Figure what out? You’re going to just stay in your apartment for the next six weeks? You’ll go insane. And what if there’s a fire?”

“The chances of me getting in a car wreck and have my apartment catch on fire is probably astronomically small.”

Harry chuckled from his spot, but the sisters ignored him. “You hate your job. Why don’t you just quit and move back home for a bit?

Back home? Harry thought. Not next door? That wouldn't work for Harry's already obsessed heart. “I have a spare bedroom,” Harry said in offering. “First floor apartment in m'building next t'hers,” he was speaking to Thea and not her.

She and Thea both turned to look at him. “I cannot—” She started.

“Really?” Thea interrupted. “You won’t mind? She’s going to need... a lot of help.”

“I can handle it,” he assured her. Thea knew they drove together. She was also well aware that her sister and Harry argued every day. There was no way Harry was going to survive taking care of her if they couldn’t spend more than five minutes in a car without arguing with one another. She watched Harry, bewildered by his kindness toward her. His willingness to take care of her and let her be a burden when he couldn’t stand her most days. “Are y’alright with that, love?”

It might have only been minutes between arguing and her accident, but the change of heart in herself over Harry was something to be admired. Harry was there almost before her airbag finished deploying. He kept her as calm as he could while they waited for the ambulance and promised her it would be okay. He reassured her that all their arguing didn’t mean anything and she softened. She felt herself melting for him. All the little things he did no longer bothered her. He really didn’t slam on the brakes. It was rude of her to want to eat in his car and make a mess. Perhaps it was too hot in her car and she was a little too mean about his favorite book genre.

Am I in love with Harry? She thought to herself. “If...if you’re sure... That’s an awful lot of time to spend with me,” she reminded him wondering if it was only her that was warmed by the near-death experience and she was imagining the knight-and-shining-armor-complex.

“Happy to,” he nodded and remained in his seat.

Harry was holding her hand when her sister and mom arrived, he gave her a gentle shake and called her kitten. Kitten your mum s’here. His voice was so warm and soothing. He didn’t remove his hand until she opened her eyes and his kind smile was a sweet greeting. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw. M’gonna sit by the window while they visit, yeah?

“Do you ladies need anything?” He asked standing. “Coffee? Tea? Food?”

“All set, thank you Harry,” her mom smiled around the phone.

“I’m good too,” Thea nodded.

“Baby, all good?”

She nearly choked on her own spit hearing the pet name directed at her, in front of her family.  “Yes,” she murmured then shook her head. “Um... maybe just water?”

“Sure, love. Be right back.”

“I thought he hated you,” Thea was smiling excitedly.

“I thought he did too,” she shrugged a shoulder.

“You’re just going to live with him?”

She smirked. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?”

*

Harry carried all her stuff into his apartment and settled it in the spare room. He made sure she was safe in his apartment while he went with her sister to her place to get a suitcase of her clothes from next door. Harry was going to take her to get a new car as soon as the insurance check came through. He helped her to the couch and made sure she felt comfortable. Her foot was propped on a pillow as she stretched out on his furniture. For six weeks they were going to live together.

“Are y'in any pain? Do y’need anything?” He asked making sure she had the remote, a book, water, and blanket all within reach.

“M’fine,” she nodded.

“You sure y’don’t need anything?” He frowned.

“Harry,” she reached for his hand and held it. “Could you sit with me?”

His frown deepened. He crouched beside her, sitting on the coffee table close to her. He squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Thank you for being there for me,” she whispered. “I was very scared.”

“Course, baby.”

Her heart skipped a beat with the sweet name again. “Do you like me?” She whispered.

“Was I unclear?” He asked, reaching for her face. His hand fit her cheek perfectly and he rubbed his thumb on her lower lip. The way his eyes softened as he looked at her was the stuff of her romance novels. His eyelids lowered and the smile on his mouth was equal parts sexy as it was innocent. “S’a little selfish of me inviting you here while you recover, don't y'think? S'a reason for it, love."

She cleared her throat, trying not to melt under his touch, his gaze. It seemed impossible. “But... we—we,” she took a deep breath trying to get the sentence in her head to form in her mouth. “Argue so much.”

“S’maybe we could try not arguing.”

“I feel like we’re incapable—”

He interrupted and normally she would have been mad, but his words made her feel hot, burning, like she wasn’t going to get relief unless he kissed her. “Jus’ gotta find a different way t’keep our mouths entertained, kitten,” he leaned forward and stopped when their lips were all but a millimeter apart. “May I?” He asked politely.

“Uh-huh, yes,” she nodded, her brain short circuiting just a hair. Her lips brushed his as she nodded, creating a spark of electricity unlike anything she had felt before. He moaned quietly at the contact. The sound was short-lived, and he tilted her chin and slid his lips over hers.

She gripped at his shirt by his shoulders, pulling him toward her. She felt herself opening to him: her mouth, her brain, her legs. She wanted him all over her and he couldn’t get close enough. It felt insane that less than twenty-four hours ago she would have strangled him for breathing too loudly beside her in the enclosed space of his car and now she wanted him breathing too loudly because of her kisses and more.

He caressed her jaw and the back of her head, tugging her hair ever so softly so she tilted her head back further. “S’nice, baby,” he sighed softly and trailed a path of kisses down her throat. “Knew we could not argue.”

She laughed and nodded. “Guess that’s what’s been missing.”

He chuckled. “Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Worth it,” he shrugged one shoulder and dove back in for another heated kiss, making her moan quietly into his mouth. His lips were warm, soft, firm, and perfect. It was a quick path to addiction, and she was happy to have him as her drug.

“Y’said y’loved me when y’came out of anesthesia,” he practically giggled as he pulled away.

She gasped. “I did not.”

“You did.”

“NO.” She slapped a hand over her warm, embarrassed face. “No I didn’t. You're lying.”

“You did, kitten. So sweet of you,” he winked.

She groaned and turned away from him. “I should have just gone into a coma.”

He laughed stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “It was cute. You were all loopy.”

“I am not cute. I’m an adult woman and I’m not cute.”

“You’re adorable, actually. S’probably why m’obsessed with you.”

“You only knew you were obsessed with me twenty-four hours ago.”

He shrugged. “And I can’t get enough,” he assured her with a wink. “Now, m’thinking I’ll kiss you for another long while and then I’ll make you dinner?”

Her heart fluttered. “I like you a lot better when we don’t argue," she agreed.

He chuckled. “Me too, kitten. Me too,” he mumbled but followed through on his promise to kiss her again and not argue.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

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@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @spinninc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121 @inharryshelter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[watchersleuth]

I didn't think I'd use this blog to make a post like this, but I'm seeing more and more comments and posts criticizing Watcher for their recent decision to layoff their production staff, and I want to try to explain some things. I also have experience working in film and television production so I hope that's helpful in this case.

For background, on March 17, 2025 people discovered via LinkedIn that Katie LeBlanc had ended her employment with Watcher. This, of course, caused some alarm.

I'm not in the habit of sharing things posted in the Wiscord, but Shane did let everyone know an important detail that I think is getting overlooked

I want to point out the part where he said that they were taking some "full-time positions and converting them to freelance"

Note: Almost every US television show that you watch from a major network runs on a freelance model

Yes, that one that you're thinking of right now. Also that one. Most exceptions to this would be a show like a news program or talk show that runs year-round and doesn't only film for a few months out of the year. When a crew member is freelance and one job ends, they use their networking connections to find another job. That's the way it's been done for over a hundred years in Hollywood.

This isn't ideal for everyone, for many reasons. And of course it would be preferable to live in a society where we valued creative work and people could get steady employment and benefits from being in this, or any artistic, field.

That's why Watcher hired folks on full-time as soon as they could. Remember in the 2022 Making Watcher when Steven talked about how they doubled their staff from 10 to 21 and how they were reinvesting into their own company? That was by design to try to give as many creative folks a shot at a regular full-time gig and I'm so proud of them for that!

Knowing this, I would bet that Watcher didn't WANT to convert anyone to freelance positions. People need to stop talking about the layoffs like this is something they wanted to do. They told us last year that they were launching the streamer to stay afloat, because YouTube isn't as beneficial as it used to be for creators.

Not to sound parasocial, but if you think that any of the Watcher Founders wanted to layoff the staff that they've worked with for years - people that have been with them since Worth It and Unsolved - then you don't know them at all.

Even if you think that they laid off everyone just for fun, consider that now when Watcher wants to film a new season of say Puppet History they will need to ask their previous staff if their schedule aligns with their filming time so they can be hired on to work the shoot. If not, they will have to advertise or go word of mouth, to find crew. That's more time and resources spent to staff a shoot than pulling from their regular crew.

TLDR; There's no controversy behind this news. This is normal for many media companies and is what Watcher had to do to remain in business.

It's not ideal, and I wish the streamer would have been so successful that they could've went the other direction like they planned all along - to bring on new hosts and make the diverse shows they've wanted to since 2019.

If you want to help Watcher:

-Subscribe to Watcher TV if you can. They've been running constant promo deals for the past year so if you do get an annual subscription make sure you use the discount code. The banner is always on top of the site.

-Subscribe to their main and podcast channels on YouTube

-Watch the videos as they get uploaded to YouTube, even if you're already a Watcher TV subscriber. Try to watch within the first day or two of uploading to push it up the algorithm. Make sure you "like" it and leave a positive/friendly/funny comment too! YT is looking for engagement and watch time, so the likes and comments help. And so does watching the video all the way through. (Bonus: Watcher has been using audience comments from videos on their social posts and it's fun to see what they choose!)

-If you're short on time or don't want to rewatch a video you already saw on the streamer you can always put it on a separate tab on your browser and mute it. Let the new videos or your favorite playlist stream in the background while you surf the web!

-Share their videos with friends, family, co-workers, etc. The more people that watch them the better! The Watcher channel is one of the more diverse that I've seen on YouTube so there's something for everyone.

-Make posts about what you enjoy about their shows and you'll find more friends that way.

Thanks for everyone who read this far. Comments are open if anyone wants to ask general production questions and I'll try to answer. Probably can't speak for Watcher specifically but maybe I'll know the answer from a Making Watcher video I can point you to.

And if you read all of this and still feel like you want to choose chaos (ie. harassing Watcher via their social media posts with accusations about the economy that they can't control) then I would urge you to direct that energy at your elected officials no matter what country you're in, find a fandom you enjoy engaging with instead, and maybe go touch some grass.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Petard (Part II)

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/31/the-blood-speech/#dudeface-from-chiapas

Biden's FCC unanimously passed a rules banning landlords from accepting kickbacks to force all their tenants to use one ISP as a rental condition. Last week, Trump's FCC boss Brendan Carr (who voted for the rule just last year) killed it, saying that he was sticking up for tenants, who would somehow save money from this sleazy arrangement:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/fcc-chair-nixes-plan-to-boost-broadband-competition-in-apartment-buildings/

In some ways, this is to be expected. The Trump agenda is about trussing and plating working people so rich sociopaths can conveniently devour them whole. On the other hand, this move lays bare the long-run historical phenomena that led to this moment. Case in point: back in 2013, I wrote a sf story about this very subject, Petard, which was published in MIT Tech Review's 2014 anthology Twelve Tomorrows, edited by Bruce Sterling:

https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262535595/twelve-tomorrows-2014/

I love that story, and upon re-reading it, I realized that it was extremely timely. So timely, in fact, that I decided to serialize it over four days on my newsletter. If you're feeling impatient, you can tune into a four-part podcast version from 2014 and 2018:

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_278

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_292

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_293

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_294_-_Petard_04

Here's part one of the story:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/30/landlord-telco-industrial-complex/#part-one

And now, onto part two!

My advisor is named Andronicus Andronicus Niyazov, and her parents had a sense of humor, clearly. She founded the Networks That Change lab three years ago after she fled Kazakhstan one step ahead of Gulnara's death-squad, but they say that she still provides material aid to the army of babushkas that underwent forced sterilization under old man Karimov's brutal regime. Her husband, Arzu, lost an eye in Gezi. They're kind of a twitter uprising power-couple.

I'm the only undergrad in the lab, and the grad students were slathering at the thought of having a bottle-washing dogsbody in residence. Someone to clean out the spam filters, lexically normalize the grant proposals, deworm the Internet of Things, get the limescale out of the espresso machine, and defragment the lab's prodigious store of detritus, kipple and moop.

Two days after telling them all where they could stick it, I got a meeting in AA's cube.

"Sit down, Lukasz," she said. My birth certificate read "Lucas," but I relished the extra consonants. I perched on a tensegrity chair that had been someone grad student's laser-cutter thesis project. It creaked like a haunted attic and its white acrylic struts were grubby as a snowbank a day after the salting trucks. AA's chair was patched with steeltape, huge black cocoony gobs of it. And it still creaked.

I waited patiently. My drop was in my overalls' marsupial pouch, and I stuffed my hands in there, curling my fingers around it and kneading it. It comforted me. AA closed the door.

"Do you know why my lab doesn't have any undergrads?" she asked.

I gave it another moment to test for rhetoricalness, timed out, then gave it a shot. "You don't want to screw around with getting someone up to speed. You want to get the wo rk done."

"Don't be stupid. Grad students need as much hand-holding as undergrads. No, it's because undergrads are full of the dramas. And the dramas are not good for getting the work done."

"Andronicus," I said, "I'm not the one you should be talking to –" I felt a flush creeping up my neck — "they –"

She fixed me with a look that froze my tongue and dried the spit in my mouth. "I spent four years in Dolinka prison in Kazakhstan. Three of my cellmates committed suicide. One of them bled out on me from the top bunk while I slept. I woke covered in her blood.." She looked at her screen, snagged her attention on it, ignored me for a minute while she typed furiously. Turned back. "What did your labmates do, Lukasz, that you would like to talk to me about?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. I hated being dismissed like this. Of course she could trump anything I was inclined to complain about. But it was so… invalidating.

"Never forget that there is blood in the world's veins, Lukasz. You've done something clever with your years on this planet. You're here to see if you can figure out how to do something important, now. We want to systematize the struggle here, figure out how to automate it, but eventually there will always be blood. You need to learn to be dispassionate about the interpersonal conflicts, to save your anger for the people who deserve it, and to channel that anger into a theory of action that leads to change. Otherwise, you will be an undergraduate who worries about being picked on."

"I know –" I said. "I know. Sorry."

She held out a hand to stop me fleeing. "Lukasz, there is change to be had out there. It waits for us to discover its fulcrums. That's the research project here. But the reason for the research is the change. It's to be the bag of blood in the streets or the board-room or the prison. That's what you're learning to do here."

I didn't say anything. She turned back to her screen. Her fingers beat the keyboard. I left.

I pretended not to notice three of AA's grad students hastily switching off their infrared laser-pointers as I opened her glass door and walked back out to the lab. Everyone, including AA, knew that they'd been listening in, but the formal characteristics of our academic kabuki required us all to pretend that I'd just had a private conversation.

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and uncrumpled its bent corners. I'd only made it a week before and I didn't have time or energy to fold up another one. It was getting pretty battered in my bag, though, the waxed cardboard shell getting more worn and creased in less time than ever before. Not even my most extreme couch-surfing voyages had been this hard on my essential equipment. The worst part was that the keyboard surface had gotten really smashed — I think I'd closed up the box with a sharpie trapped inside it — so the camera that watched my fingers as they typed on the letters printed on the cardboard sheet was having a hard time getting the registration right. I'd mashed the spot where the backspace was drawn so many times that I'd worn the ink off and had to redraw it (more sharpie — a cardboard laptop owner's best friend).

Now the screen was starting to go, the little short-throw projector attached to the pinhead-sized computer taped inside the back of the box was misreading the geometry of the mirror it bounced the screen image off of, which keystoned and painted the image on the rice-paper scrim set into the laptop's top half. The image was only off by about 10 degrees, but it was enough to screw up the touchscreen registration and give me a mild headache after only a couple hours of staring at it. I'd noticed that a lot of the MIT kids carried big plastic and metal and glass laptops, which had seemed like some kind of weird retro affectation. But campus life was more of an off-road experience than I'd suspected.

But I'd never go glass-and-plastic. AA thought that the way to win a war was to shed your blood. I have a limited supply of blood. There's a lot more cardboard out there. Why fight with meat and blood when you can use free infrastructure and good code to organize a resistance. You'll never win a war of atoms against the Powers That Be. They'll always have more lethal atoms. When they're hitting you with a baton, your glass-and-plastic number will crumple just as surely as a cardboard laptop. The best way to beat a policeman's baton was to be somewhere else when he was swinging it.

I spent fifteen minutes unfolding the laser-cut cardboard and smoothing out the creases, re-sticking everything with fiber-tape from an office-supply table in the middle of the lab, and then running through the registration and diagnostics built into the OS until the computer was in a usable state again. The whole time, I was hotly conscious of the grad students' sneaky gaze on me, the weird clacking noise of their fingers on real mechanical keyboards — seriously, who used a keyboard that was made of pieces anymore? Was I really going to have to do that? — as their chatted about me.

Yes, about me. It's not (just) ego: I could tell. I can prove it. I was barely back up and running and answering all my social telephones when some dudeface from Chiapas sat down conspicuously next to me and said, "It's Lukasz, right?" He held out his hand.

I looked at it for a moment, just to make the point, then shook. "Yeah. You're Juanca, right?" Of course he was Juanca. He'd been burned in effigy by Zetas every year for four years, and his entire family, all the way to third cousins, were either stateside or in Guatemala or El Salvador, hiding out from narcoterrorists who were still pissed about Juanca's anonymizer, a mixmaster that was the number one go-to source of convictable evidence against Zeta members whose cases went to trial. If it wasn't for the fact that Juanca's network had also busted an assload of corrupt cops, prosecutors, judges, government ministers, regional governors and one Secretary of State, they'd have given him a ministerial posting and a medal. As it was, he was in exile. Famous. Loved. It helped that he was rakishly handsome — which I am not, for the record — and that he had a bounty on his head and had been unsuccessfully kidnapped on the T, getting away through some badass parkour that got captured in CCTV jittercam that made him look like he was moving in a series of short teleports.

"Yeah. You got the blood speech, huh?"

I nodded.

"It's a good one," he said. I didn't think so. I thought it was bullshit. I didn't say so.

We stared at each other. "Welp," he said. "Take it easy."

[zuzla33]

The Social Network * J.Edgar * Mirror Mirror * The Lone Ranger * The Man from U.N.C.L.E * The Bird of a Nation * Nocturnal Animals * Free Fire * Mine * Final Portret * Sorry to Bother You * Hotel Mumbai * On the Basis of Sex * Wounds * Rebecca * Crisis * Death on the Nile ... and many others

but only ONE SINGLE SHOT from his filmography in the jingle of his podcast

[celinamarniss]

Is it the ten-year anniversary of Star Wars Campaign? Happy anniversary!!!

[wellcomeoneileen]

Why does Randy Harrison deserve compensation? What happened to him? You can DM me if it's not okay to be public

Hey! No it’s totally okay.

⚠️disclaimer - I am a NEW fan and so I am NOT the most informed at all. Other people like @brian-kinney-apologist like really know shit. I initially found things bc watching S4 made me go oh there is bts shit going on for sure and googled, and then when I got on tumblr I saw a bunch of posts talking about it, too.

Lots of older sources are harder to find now bc they didn’t do a digital preservation or the website is expired, but here is what I’ve found, from heated Advocate articles whilst the show aired and then from more measured reflections from podcasts around 2016.

Randy was young and it was his first TV show - when he started he didn’t even have an agent, and really didn’t know what he was getting into. He had done sex scenes on stage and thought that he was pretty prepared for what was to come.

However, he has stated he ended up feeling pretty objectified, such as hearing “we need more shots of Justin’s ass” regularly or expressing a desire to not to go-go dancing type scenes (King of Babylon upset him) and then even more go-go dancing being added (S2 Sap scenes). He was also told to act less gay by casting directors for the show, and to “try to be more butch because Justin isn’t out of the closet”

The show pre-dates intimacy coordinators and there have been allusions, including from the actresses Thea and Michelle, that the sex scenes could be uncomfortable to film.

There was BTS clashing, with producer Tony Jones !!reportedly!!! Saying that Randy was a bitch to work with and “showrunners” “reportedly” saying they would never work with Randy again. There are two interview clips, one from when the show was airing, and one from 2016, when CowLip say they wanted all actors to be comfortable on set, and in BOTH clips , like 15 years apart, Randy kinda like laugh/roll his eyes and Gale looks at him very bemusedly. They had bigger reactions in the ~2003 clip.

He was openly pretty angry as the show went on. He told the Advocate that he would never be friends with or respect Justin if real. He disapproved of the Britin relationship. He said he had to fight to include the scene of Justin topping Brian, which was very important to him. Leading into season 5 he stated he hoped Justin was killed off by getting hit by a truck (obviously being glib, but like he was mad lol)

He has said that lots of scenes needed to be reshot because he struggled to do them so much, like the Cody sexy gun scene that made him so uncomfortable, and then either he or Gale said S5 sex scenes were reshot a lot because they just couldn’t stop laughing at that point anymore.

Peter and Scott recently have said the only time anyone asked for actors’ opinions was right after season 1 ended, and to ME they sounded kinda cheeky about it, all these years later, so perhaps it was a cast sticking point? Unsure, and it wasn’t even Randy who said that. Fat grain of salt.

He has more recently reflected on this time period and expressed regret he went out the way he did, and he understands things better and honors his craft more (heavy paraphrasing!) bc he was mentally checked out by the end and wishes he had finished strong instead.

Also, the cast didn’t realize when signing on how isolated they would be from The Industry. Randy has spoken about this in an unrelated podcast, as have the actors who play Ted and Emmett. NYC or LA are where you want to be for networking, and then signing on to spend the majority of the year in Toronto negatively impacted their careers, they feel. Randy has said he had to start from scratch after the show ended, and Peter and Scott have said Showtime had no idea how to market the show nor their stars, and so they had to just watch as all the initial hype fizzled and nothing was done with them. They were contracted to work too much to seriously be involved elsewhere, while simultaneously not getting good exposure, which I IMAGINE created a dire sort of mood and morale on set. < personal interpretation and fictionalizing history.

Meaning, Randy probably at the very least FELT like he had spent five years on a show that didn’t respect him and it was largely for nothing. He has since stated he appreciates the opportunity and it is the reason he was finically secure, for which he is deeply grateful.

And then finally the fans! He had stalker(s?) and tons of creepy people and was heavily typecast and people would come up to him frequently, which made him uncomfy, and would furthermore act like he was actually Justin, which made him super uncomfy. He was kinda like Chappell Roan!! He was like hey I’m not Justin I’m a person and y’all are freaks. He has publicially declined to speak on the stalking issues, which given his vocal responses to other issues, indicates to ME that it’s pretty personal and upsetting (I mean it’s stalking it’s obviously horrible but you know what I mean). During the show he had a boyfriend that fans like tormented online and even on posters (that bit comes from Tumblr or another forum, so not like verified info on my part at all) because they shipped “Gandy” so hard. I know I’ve read on tumblr about the insane Gandy people but all I remember is they were intense and insane and negatively impacted Randy’s actual real life. Again, that’s info from fans that I haven’t read in article or heard from out of his mouth. Secondary source lol.

This point is PURE speculation, but early interviews with the whole cast were super excited, and they all talked about how excited they were for something ground breaking. By the end, people were angry or giving fluff responses, or in Peter’s case; calmly stating the show was a soap opera and that’s okay. I FEEL like everyone thought they were signing up for something more real/gritty/positive impact to society and then were like oh I’m here to look hot in this show that only moms watch to get them turned on to have sex with their husband. Cool.

Now, do I agree with that - no. But, the show audience was vastly different than expected, and the artistic direction might have been too, both of which might have really disappointed people. Esp Randy and maybe Gale. Randy was a capital T theatre person, and Gale was too and had lots of experimental work and like performance art. Randy has ALSO expressed displeasure with some theater work he did because he didn’t think it was fresh and the audience was only older wealthy white people, so we do know that this sort of thing does matter to his sense of fulfillment at work.

TLDR; had to shoot scenes he didn’t want to, several times, felt objectified on set, disagreed with his character’s direction, maybe felt like he wasn’t being listened to artistically, was cut off from other work opportunities, didn’t appear to get along with leadership, had bad fans, was young and in deep over his head, and at the very least *started* with no career or social support system.

Again!! Am not the most knowledgeable person !!! I do NOT want to spread misinformation so hopefully I’ve tagged where I’m reading into things vs actual quotes but also people who have actually been around pls feel free to say 🙋um actuallllyyyyy

[eisforeidolon]

During her appearance as a guest on the spnthenandnow podcast, Cindy claimed the Dean was Ben's father, even though Jensen and Eric refuted this.

Yeah, some over invested Dean/Lisa shipper wrote up a whole ridiculous article about it [X] a while back.

Like, especially with the show going on fifteen seasons, often revisiting things, and having such an active fandom? I get how fans came to fixate on random characters or storylines they personally liked or wanted to see more of. Even (or especially) when those things were a very minor part of canon - or actually just their own fanfic and not canon at all. Including things TPTB explicitly shot down, because the show was on long enough to change who TPTB were multiple times. Meanwhile, fans feeling entitled to have media they like catered to their personal wants or they'll throw massive tantrums is an unfortunate overall trend in recent years across fandom, not just an issue with SPN. Not likeable, but I see how it happens.

What I haven't really seen outside of SPN, though? Is such a slew of entitled minor supporting actors trying to claim greater importance to a canon they were barely a part of for their own aggrandizement and hopes of being brought back. Like, the boon of ongoing cons isn't enough for them, they see all that SPN $$$ and want more of it directed their way.

You have Kim declaring she would just refuse to appear if they killed off Jody. You have Kim and Brianna bragging about deserving a spin-off where they'd show the boys how it's really done -and then throwing embarrassing public tantrums on SM when the network gave it the pass it deserved. You have Rob and Rich doing a podcast where it's not only obvious they don't actually like or respect the show? But they can't even be bothered to pay attention as they 'watch' it to milk the fandom through promises of insider info. Which aside from their own barely-there and therefore hardly expert insider status? Includes such, uh, gems as Cindy randomly claiming years after the fact Ben was actually Dean's kid and she totes played it that way - despite the canon and despite Kripke's explicit denial back when it was remotely relevant (as well as Jensen's).

All of this from people where not a one of them was involved in more than around 20ish of 327 episodes. But saying things certain over-invested fans want to hear gets them attention, $$$, and just might make them seem like 'fan favorites' that should be brought back! Yeah.

[charmac]

"Caution on scene where Dennis sho[ws/ots] video footage of him masturbating a dog & [w/t]hen Dennis holds up a Tupperware container."

I've been wondering if the "him" in this sentence does not actually refer to Dennis (could be Cricket or a new character?). Because wouldn't it say, "..video footage of him masturbating a dog & [w/t]hen HE holds up a Tupperware container." Idk I feel like it's phrased a bit weirdly. But maybe I'm clutching ar straws because I'm struggling to envision a situation in which Dennis would willingly do that (and film it??). He doesn't even like dogs! 😂

I definitely went there as well!

The grammar being wrong really hinges on if it says “when” or “then”. I initially thought it said then, which means it would be strange to repeat Dennis as the subject of a continuing sentence, but if it says “when”, it’s indicative of this being two different shots, hence the re-establishment of Dennis would make sense. (i.e. Page 26 has two scenes, this is a warning of Dennis in scene X where he does the dog, and Dennis in scene Y where he shows the Tupperware container.) If it is one scene, though, stating Dennis twice is odd.

In either case, I think the real ability to interpret this from a grammatical stand point comes down to me (and probably everyone here?) being completely unfamiliar with how FX gives their Practices & Standards Notes to Rob for Sunny...

If the volume of notes is so great that they break it down related to each character (Frank, for example, cos this seems like something they’d soo put Danny through), it would make sense that they’d only name a character who is not the subject of the note. So maybe the heading says “Frank” and then goes by page for each action and warning, using the pronoun to refer to the main subject and naming the other characters in the scene…

But.. are there a ton of notes for Sunny? I mean, you’d maybe think so based on the content of the show, but this is FX, you can do way more here than you can on network TV so they’d likely be subject to fewer notes. In which case it would just be points from the script, by page broadly, and the pronoun “he” would really have to refer to Dennis in a stand-alone paragraph.

So while the grammar does strike me as possibly indicative of greater missing context, it really might just be the result of Sunny being on FX for 20 years now, and communication like this ending up casual and a little rushed. (Like, there’s clearly a missing “the” before the word “scene”, I’m not sure the person writing this even proofread lmfao)

It’s definitely an interesting thread to pull on, though! Dennis does hate dogs pretty consistently. Orchestrating and presenting something like this but not being/refusing to be the one to actually get his hands dirty seems more on-par with his character… but context is definitely gonna be everything here.

And I do wanna reiterate how clear Glenn and Charlie have made it to me (and in podcasts recently) that they really do care about the character’s motivations, and in 16 especially forward, they’re prioritising characterisation over slotting their characters into a role for sake of the plot. If something seems so blatantly out of character, I have faith the context will make it make sense. It’s Sunny, so maybe it will be gross and abhorrent, but it really won’t be out of character.

[grifff17]

Audiodrama Sunday 2/9/2025

Happy Audiodrama Sunday! So much good stuff this week. Ylelmore season finale, Courier's Call season premiere, a great reveal in Unend, and Lost Terminal is back!

NEW SHOW ALERT At the Bottom of the Garden - Interesting show, I’m not sure I’ve ever listened to an audiodrama quite like this. I’m still unclear how much of this show is fiction, which I think is by design.

@storiesfromylelmore - the hard cut from Elas’s drama to Keryth and Rion in complete chaos with the river monster was incredible. Loved the sneaky little post credit scene. A character in the universe of a podcast listening to the podcast is such a funny premise. I'm sad the season is done already, it feels like it just started.

@midstpodcast - Oh shit some remnants of the Trust are still around. Great worldbuilding in this episode. The naturalist is Tziela???? That's such a crazy thing to reveal so casually.

Skyjacks: Courier’s Call - The kids are back together! Kieran’s haircut being a reminder of Alba is actually heartbreaking. I'm curious to see what happens when June meets back up with her parents, they did not part on good terms.

@campaignskyjacks - Random thoughts as I continue to listen through this show: I love Captain Orimar but he’s truly terrifying. Gable is a fallen angel? The scars on their back are from their wings! I really want to learn more about the Church of the Slain God. It’s insane that Dref is the most normal of the PCs.

Starwhal: Odyssey - “Have you ever fucked a Hydra” is such a great hard ending to an episode. I'm so excited to see the Usegoni try to capture and transport a living Hydra.

Find Us Alive - back from the hiatus! I would absolutely attend Hole!. Building a scale model of the place you’re trapped in in Minecraft is hilarious. And holy shit they’ve made contact with the outside! I had theorized that the memetic effect somehow prevented the outside signal from coming through while Harley was in the room, but I guess not.

@lostterminalpod - Its back for a new season! What is this weird cyborg monster? This has become a comfort shot for me and it's so nice to be hearing from Seth again.

@breakerwhiskey - I finally caught up on last 2 listener messages and responses. It makes me want to submit one. I never got around to submitting a question to either of the fictional advice shows I listen to, though, so I doubt I ever will.

I'm realizing that I listened to 3 different One Shot Podcast Network shows this week. They just make exactly the style of APs that I enjoy: narrative heavy, rules light, collaborative, audio only, and not DnD.

[the-royal-blue-network]

Jaxson Rivers adjusted the camera, tilting it this way and that way until he and his two other co-host, Micheal and Taylor, where perfectly in frame. After hitting the red record button, a soft beep sounded as Jaxson took a seat between his best friends. Then, picking up his mic, he took a deep breath and looked straight into the camera.  

“Well hello anarchist! I’m one of your handsome hosts, Jaxson Rivers.” Said Jaxson as he gripped his mic with both hands. 

“And I’m your even better-looking host, Taylor Hunt, this handsome Hunk’s husband.” Taylor said, as he elbowed Micheal.   

“And I am Micheal Hunt, arguably the best-looking host on this show. And you’re listening to, Bunkers and Bongs, your favorite informative, yet bat shit crazy news podcast. Apple Jax, how’s the war?” Micheal said, turning to his co-host. 

Jaxson opened his mouth to respond when a loud bang went off, causing their drinking glasses, and the plywood serving as their table, to rattle. 

“Well, it’s still going on, that’s for sure.” Jaxson said, looking directly into the camera. 

Hosting a podcast in the middle of a war zone was indeed as bat shit crazy as it sounded. But Bunkers and Bongs hadn't always been so hectic. There was a time when Bunkers and Bongs was known as ‘The Insomniac Podcast’. Back then, Jaxson, Micheal, and Taylor’s lives were quite normal. Before the war, Jaxson, Micheal, and Taylor recorded their podcast in a proper studio; they had employees and they made money through brand deals, merch sales, and donations from their listeners.  

Back then, before the civil war began, The Insomniacs, as they called themselves, had Roth IRAs and other investments, they had partners and an office which they ran their operations out of, and they had their whole lives mapped out. 

But then the war started and much like the small town they lived in, all The Bunker Boys’s lives went up in flames.  

.... 

Before the war, The Bunker Boys were known as The Tree Boys, and their podcast, Bongs N Things, was all about THC, CBD, and LGBT news. 

But now, that was no longer the case, six and a half years ago, The Bunker Boys, and everyone around them, chose to write off all those who tried to warn them. 

It was 2024 when it all began, anti-LGBTQ legislation was being written and in acted like movies hitting the box office. Every week there was a new law being enacted, and The Hall Monitors, a group of older gay men who had a love of law, started a blog, detailing all that was happening in every state. The Hall Monitors had friends in high places who would inform them of what was happening on the federal level, and The Hall Monitors tried to spread the news; but with very little knowledge about how to work their devices, and even less about how social media worked, The Hall Monitors' message failed to reached a wide enough audience. The Monitors tried to use the popular publications to get the news in the paper, but no one was really reading the paper anymore, at least not the local ones that The Monitors had access to. 

Eventually, when people finally did realize what was going on, their neighborhoods where already filled with men dressed in cameo uniforms, and the entire country was now under total government control.  

For some, the uniformed men weren’t a problem; that is until they widened their scope of targets, going from targeting just LGBT folks, to then targeting people with disabilities, people who held jobs that the government deemed as ‘unimportant’, or just anyone the government saw as a threat. And of course, all the ‘die hard citizens’, the bigots, and all those who opposed any and everyone who decided to go against the grain, they joined the government, and soon, the entire country was divided into two halves, and all hell broke loose. 

But a civil war? The country of Deston, where The Insomniacs used to live, could handle a simple civil war; hell, their country started with a civil war! But this war was far greater than any civil war the world had ever seen before. Both halves of this war didn’t just have bombs, guns, and tanks, they also had concoctions that could raise the dead and powders that if inhaled, would allow the makers of that powder to fully control whoever had ingested it. 

All the while, while the citizens of Deston were busy killing one another, The Insomniacs were simply trying to get as far away from the chaos as possible. But when the lock down came, Jaxson, Micheal, and Taylor got trapped in Deston, and they figured they were going to die there. So, the trio found a bunker, and they hid out. For days, they just sat in the bunker and did their best not to get involved in the fight. 

Friends of the boys, who had been forced into the fight, would come by the bunker to check on the trio; they brought snacks and updates about what was happening, and luckily for the boys, prior to starting the podcast, Taylor and Micheal worked as nurses, so they were able to patch up the soldiers in exchange for protection. 

Eventually, Micheal somehow managed to find their old studio amongst the rubble, and through a sheer act of God, all their recording equipment was able to be salvaged, and after convincing the general, of the small army they’d been staying with, to allow them to use the army’s internet, The Insomniac Boys where back online, this time as Bongs and Bunkers. 

“Boy, I really wish we would have paid a little more attention to the sales of military grade weapons to your average, everyday citizen.” Taylor said as he stared directly into the camera. 

Micheal shook his head. 

“Hindsight is 20/20 my guy. Wishing to change the past isn’t gonna do shit for us now.” Micheal said.  

Jaxson chuckled, now it was his turn to shake his head. 

“Ahh, ever the Optimus, I’ve always loved that about ya kid.” Jaxson said as he slapped a hand on Micheal’s leg. 

Between the three of them, the men where a tornado of fear, hopelessness, and a delusional level of optimism. The Bunker Boys where like a perfect scale, each man talking turns embodying the only three emotions they had; fear, numbness, and a delusional level of optimism. The men never had a conversation about which of them would embody which emotion; they just naturally gravitated towards one of the three every day. Call it fate, God, or something else, but no two men ever gravitated towards the same state of being, so they always remained in perfect harmony. They would simply wake up, assume their roles, and go about their day. 

“Do you think this war will....” Jaxson’s statement was cut short by a loud thud against the bunker door. 

“Sidney?” The men all said in unison as they looked at one another. 

Sidney was the trio's self-assigned assistant. Since the Bunker Boys where the only ones with internet access, they recorded the podcast on tapes, and Sidney would deliver the tapes to the folks on the front line. At first, the boys tried to discourage Sydney from doing such a dangerous job, but when she explained that this podcast was all that the soldiers had to look forward to, The Bunker Boys realized they couldn’t say no. Of course, Sydney wasn’t out there all alone, she was armed, and traveled with the soldiers, but that didn’t stop the boys didn’t worrying about her.  

“Sorry I’m late, we got roped into a fucking prayer circle, and we all know how long those things can last.” She said with a huff. 

Plopping down onto one of the buckets the guys used for chairs, Sydney huffed as she leaned against Jaxson. 

“People are really digging the pod by the way. This civil war has got everyone fiending for these tapes.” She said, holding up her sac full of food.  

The guys weren’t too thrilled about Sydney crossing a literal war zone, just to give out copies of their podcast tapes, but she loved the thrill. But more than just for the thrill, Sydney truly believed that The Insomniac Podcast was more than just ‘a silly little podcast.’ The Insomniac Podcast was so many people’s sunshine in the middle of a fucking storm, and though they couldn’t stop the war, they were keeping the people informed and entertained. And for Sydney, that was worth risking her life.  

And so, opening up the sac, she cracked open a soda someone had traded, slipped another tape into the recorder, and sat back and watched as her friends did their thing. 

FOR MORE LGBT STORIES, CHECK OUT The Royal Blue Network!

[windienine]

it's been a hot minute! i'm so happy to announce that you can now listen to the tenth episode of the chuubo's podcast over on the one shot network patreon!

[mushroomfic]

Hasan Piker Midwest Princess Chapter 1, Trauma! at the Gay Bar

This is the first chapter of a fic I've been frankensteining from a non related series of one shots I never intended on posting but once it reached fifty pages I was like, I feel like its more psycho if I don't post it? Mad respect to all of the work Hasan does; fanfic is a coping mechanism, sorry to this man. If I didn't see that podcast episode of him telling the TikTok edit people he doesn't care I would not have posted. I'll post a (y/n) version soon. My first slow burn! Well ig you can decide if its slowburn lol.

Warnings: Slight homophobia, bad date, swearing, allusion to older sibling trauma, x OC but will post a y/n

Word Count: 2818

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day One,

Forty five minutes before:

“You’re meeting him alone? And you drove there? Where did you park? How far is your walk? Are you armed? I shouldn’t need to say this but we are not in Kansas anymore, Dorth-” The audio is crackling through one damaged earbud but the gist is communicated well enough to be annoying.

“Yeah you’re right, you don’t need to say this. I literally wrote those things down in a packet for you. It’s in a garage, we’re meeting in a public place, he’s gay, I’m literally almost there now, and I have everything that I send in my bi-annual safety package.” It was a bit biting, but nothing anyone wasn’t used to. “I’m going to forgive your attitude because you’re just not used to it, but it's high time I start parenting you instead.” The woman being scolded lets out a scoff, but decides to let it go. “Okay, I gotta go, love you.” As if knowing she was on the way to hang up, the girl on the line speaks lightning fast:  “Love you, I’m serious, text me. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Their call ends and the man in question is immediately visible upon entering, as it is too early for fog, strobes, colored lights, or dancers. He was sat in a booth, wearing noticeably much different hair and clothes than usual with a look of concern.  She approaches, more curious than scared. “Hey Matt, how are you?”

Now:

This little outing really was not going to plan. Here she was, thinking what a great networking connection, I wonder why he took an interest in me, he must have a project in mind. Now, the two sat awkwardly, twiddling their thumbs and looking at the table between them as a massive misunderstanding had just unfolded not even a half hour in. Despite still hanging in the wake of an argument, the man on the south side of the booth elects to open his mouth again.

"I cannot fucking believe you thought I was gay. Why would you even say to me, Vivian?" This did not go over well with his audience. Vivian looked up from her now ripped up napkin, eyes bulging and mouth agape. She was really reaching for a way to be nice in spite of everything, in the not-so-rare case this comes back to bite her. It took a lot of effort to hold back her flabbergasted laughs in her rebuttal.

"I'm sorry, Matt. You’re obviously offended. But, I just used context clues: this is an internationally notorious gay bar." She motions around the place as the scantily clad, male dancers start their shift with her hand. The resulting look on Matt's face could be described as potent horror. After a moment, he shakes it off and his face relaxes, like he had just reloaded back to a point in the night where nothing had ever happened. "You know what, I can forgive you. Let's just get outta here and go somewhere where there's people I can show you off to." Matt had a wide grin on his face. He must’ve felt ingenious, but now it's Vivan's turn to wretch. There was no other direction to go. She almost starts laughing again when she says, "Um, I agreed to meet you alone under the pretense that you were gay and on business. On what planet does that mean I’d want to go out with you?"

Thankfully, Vivian had the foresight to start texting under the table since the beginning of the straight reveal. Even more convenient than calling her smug sister back, she had noticed her (hopefully) savior earlier, who she’d been to this bar with before. She hadn't checked if he’d be in town at the time because of work and family plans on top of her being too nervous to meet his friends that she’d definitely be introduced to. But now, it was clear one fear was worse than the other. This is the text conversation they had while she tried to navigate this tantrum:

V: Austin

A: Vivvvv!!

V: Are you at The Abbey rn?

A: omg how did you know did someone post something?

V: No I'm here can I come over there

A: WHAT

V: this guy from work invited me I assumed he was gay bc he suggested it but its bad

A: NO NOT THAT of course you can come over, come over now, I'm just shocked you DIDN'T FUCKING TELL ME YOU WERE COMING.

Seconds later and without further coordination, Austin starts yelling, creating the perfect excuse to leave just as she starts gathering her things post rejection.

"GUYS, VIVIAN IS HERE. YOU GET TO MEET VIVIAN!!!!!" Followed by several gasps and chatter. She whipped around to 'see what the noise was.' When she turns back to Matt Vivian starts speaking at hyper speed. "Oh my God, that's my friend Austin! I should say hi. I Gotta go, thanks for the drink!" And she was out of there before he could say a word about how obvious that was. 

Through the suddenly large crowd of people it took her a second to reach Austin’s group but as soon as she did the aforementioned introductions began. "Guys, this is my best friend Vivian, we met in college! She's helped with some of my shows before.” He names every member off before getting out of the booth and patting the seat cushion. She sends him a questioning glance when he doesn’t just scooch over, but he doesn’t give her any time to ask. “I'm so excited, you turned up at the perfect time. We're pre-recording the podcast this week before the convention in Japan, so everyone is around." Once she climbed in, he followed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and sandwiching her between him and a friend.

The girls seem friendly enough but the guilt, especially from having seen any amount of their content before, persisted. "I'm so sorry to intrude. I was trying to find a way to escape the guy I'm with and then I saw you guys." After ingesting and enjoying some of their work to support Austin, it was difficult for Vivian to not feel like a fan interrupting their night for a picture. However, she did find a little relief in Maya, QT, and Caroline in unison all saying things like: "Of course!", "Don't be sorry!", and "It's nice to finally meet you!". While she was busy learning everyone's names, or more like acting, Austin decided to glance around for the perpetrator. He locked eyes with a man getting out of the booth he saw her leave from. He shakes his head when he starts heading their direction, and Matt changes course for the door without much more persuasion. Maya notices, but he motions for her to say nothing.

-------

To Vivian's surprise, it ended up being a really fun, guilt free night. Now, it was almost one in the morning and all had begun to trail out after agreeing on another day to get together in a couple months during her next work trip. Only Vivian and Austin were left. She insisted on driving him home, trying to be alone for as little time as possible. On the way to her rental car, they chatted about how excited he was to ingratiate her into his friend group, and that tonight was a great start, better than he’d imagined. Well, that's what she'd translated it to mean, anyway. 

Once the two were in, she peaked over to his side to make sure he'd buckled as she talked. "Okay, where are you staying, babe?" Her voice made him jump in his seat, exposing his lack of attention. "hmmmmmmm?" She reiterates, "Which hotel are you staying at?" Austin takes a bit too long to answer. "I'm not." He sounds a little devious. "You're not?" She sounds a little confused. "It's Hasan's ho-HIC-use. Hasan's house. Another one off the-the list. The friend list." Austin hiccups in the middle of his sentence, rolling around trying to get his phone out of his back pocket. Vivian tried not to act caught off guard by this news. He had started staying there more recently, she knew that. There was no reason for alarm, it shouldn’t be any different than meeting his other friends. It was already surprising that she hadn't met him or anyone else already. Brief phone calls with Austin on speaker had revealed her existence to them; she's not a foreign concept to anyone. It would be fine. Besides, Hasan said on the podcast a couple of days ago that he goes to bed really early so she might not even get a glimpse of him. She decided to not tell Austin she knows that and just typed in the address as he eventually gets through saying it.

The ride was enjoyable, Austin didn’t puke, and he didn’t complain about her music choices either. She hadn’t had to get through a neighborhood gate by herself in a while, but the real hard part came after parking the car; Getting Austin out and through the door. She tried to support him with her shoulder the best she could and managed to get him up on the porch. “Just remember, if you.. If you see Hasan, he isn’t mean. He just is like that - oh my god where is my key?!” Unfortunately, he had gone into all his pockets while talking to find said key, but it wasn’t there. Frantic searching obviously ensues. Every pocket on Austin's body checked twice, every crevice of the car, all over the sidewalk, and the grass. 

In a fleeting moment of clarity, Vivian cuts off his panicked rambling to make the suggestion to just call Hasan and figure out the rest in the morning. "Oh yeah, duh." It takes a lot of energy to keep calm. If he lost the key that means anyone could have it. What if it was stolen? Or worse, stolen by a fan? Is this supposed to be his first impression of her? That she, the DD, let a stranger steal the key to his home? It doesn’t matter if those thoughts are ridiculous, what if he’s ridiculous? It’s not like she really knows anything about him.

Austin calls him and puts it on speaker and the sound interrupts her spiral; it rings a couple of times and Vivian almost loses all hope until a deep, gravelly groan radiates from the phone at the last second. She pretended to not have heard it. Austin explained, Hasan was irritated, reasonably, but agreed to come down after waking up enough to realize there was no other option. They stood there silently, like two kids in trouble, waiting for the door to swing open.

It did. "Austin you are a fucking idiot. The key is on the kitchen counter." Is the first thing he said when he saw him. Vivian was exasperated. “Thank fucking god, I thought someone stole it”. She covered her face in her hands as she spoke. When she revealed herself, Hasan realized her presence for the first time; caught off guard, he let his face change for a second. Displeasure, recognition, just surprise? Vivian let it slide as per the advice of her friend earlier. Austin raised an eyebrow, but carried on anyway. "Hey hey hey! None of that is true. Hasan, this is the Viv I’m always talking about. Can she come over tomorrow?" Hasan pauses before offering his hand. “Yeah.. I remember.” She accepts, shaking softly and smiling up at him. They both chuckle at Austin as they do. During the greeting, she notices for the first time that Hasan had opened the door wearing nothing but pajama pants, which you know, is an odd outfit to be shaking someone's hand in, is all.

"I was wondering if we’d ever meet you." Vivian blushes, and agrees with him. Hasan, on his never ending quest to become the world's greatest host that she’d heard all about, offered to have her stay since it's so late. She politely declines on reflex, explaining her hotel wasn't that far and that she had work in the morning. Which was mostly true. After that, Austin hugs her goodbye and shimmies behind Hasan saying something, probably incoherent, under his breath. The sight amused her enough to distract her from Hasan’s reaction to what was mumbled. His ungraceful footsteps serve as background noise for the rest of the conversation. "If you're sure. I guess see you tomorrow then?" His face reads so earnestly she struggles for a moment, wondering why Austin would ever leave her alone like that. "Yeah, of course. Thanks." Hasan begins his retreat back into the house, and she's glad to have received a cue and starts to turn around as well, waving.

"Hey. text Austin's phone so we know you got home okay." She glances back to agree before picking up the pace back to her car, face burning for what she elements is no reason. In the distance she can hear muffled yelling and laughter.

-----

Day Two,

The next morning Hasan carried on his early routine to breakfast, then to basketball, then back to the house as per usual. That was until the sound of crashing around upstairs reminded him of last night. He just hoped that he had come off the right way to Vivan. Austin’s faces and teasing mutters did not help, but he’d already been told a few times before that he doesn’t tend to make the greatest first impressions. Even though he had thought carefully about this one in advance, it still managed to take him by surprise. In a sleepy haze, in the middle of the night, and barely clothed no less. If he didn’t do okay that night, he was going to have to deal with the consequences for at least one depressing, awkward night, or maybe even more.

Eventually, he and Austin crossed paths in the house and Hasan had the chance to try and calm some of his nerves. "What are we gonna do with Viv today?" Hasan sat at the counter, watching his friend rummage around in the fridge. He sipped his coffee, ignoring that he could not get his knee to stop bouncing. "Uhhh." The key word was “try.” He made an effort to not to sound frustrated; obviously Austin thought that they would get along just fine and was not worried at all about being a diligent liaison, which was good, he supposed. Yet, this was as much as he could muster: "You invited her over to my house with no plans?" Austin chuckled at his friend's perpostered tone, wiggling his shoulders around in a way that suggested he may be making something up on the fly. "Well first off, I was drunk, and second… I'd like to, to, to - to give her a tour of your lovely home!" Austin sets up shop for breakfast on the other side of the island very nonchalantly and Hasan now has to hide his embarrassment. "I am not doing that." 

Austin cracked an egg into a pan, smirking. He decides to poke the bear. "Give me one reason why." Hasan gestures wildly with his hands in confusion, and the other just sits there, enjoying how the tables have turned for once. "What do you mean?? How is that not embarrassing?" He rolled his eyes. "I said I'm doing it, not you. You can hide your shame in your office until it’s over - Oh! and then I'm definitely taking her out to a fancy dinner. Anyone can come, but when I see her I like to buy her nice dinner. Then she asked me a while ago if she could teach me Mario Kart so I need a copy of the new one. You have a switch right?" Despite the greasy spatula being pointed at him as a gesture, Hasan manages to find some solus in any sort of established structure for the day.

“Oh, speak of the devil, she texted me, will you read it?” The spatula returns to point at Austin’s phone on the other side of the kitchen island. Hasan grabs it with a light grunt, returning his glasses to his eyes. “Austin, my sister and I are going to brunch in 2 hours, she says she hasn’t seen you in so long do you want to come.” He barely gets to finish reading it before Austin says, “fuck yeah, say yes.” Hasan types:

A: Austin says “fuck yeah, say yes” - Hasan

V: lol thank you for carrier pigeoning <3, its here tell him he can click on it 

Austin Insta-Carted the game under the advice of Hasan and Google before they separated again. One getting ready for brunch and the other taking a long shower and marinating in his thoughts, wondering if he should make a phone call or if that would be too dramatic.

[esperanzagalaxy]

when i was, unbelievably, commissioned by the one shot podcast network to make posters for the ''into the wood'' arc of skyjacks, i was given such a complete document to go off of, that there was barely any brain-bashing design work to be done. all i needed to do was this little lineup! and i adore making thumbnails, so i'm sharing the initial ones too. the jonnit & orimar side went with E instantly, while gable and travis needed pleeeenty more tries after these to get to the final composition. isn't it all just so nice to see?