#that's a doozy of a headline

[beardedmrbean]

Jörg Dornau, a member of the far-right Alternative for Germany party in the Saxony state parliament, has used political prisoners to work on his onion plantation in Belarus, a Belarusian news outlet reported Tuesday.

Dornau inked a deal with a local Center for the Isolation of Offenders to employ Belarusians convicted of political infractions at his Belarus-based agricultural company, OOO Zybulka-Bel, according to independent local outlet Reform.news.

Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko ramped up political repression and instituted a mass crackdown on dissent, locking up opponents, in the aftermath of a 2020 presidential election widely dismissed as fraudulent.

One of the laborers at Dornau’s farm told the outlet he sorted onions for about €5 per day after being detained in February 2024 for liking a post on social media.

He described difficult working conditions, with breakfast at 7 a.m. and no food or water until the end of the working day at 8 p.m.

“We were brought to a shelter,” he said. “It was a horrible basement, people had all kinds of clothes on, so our hands and feet were freezing.”

The onions, he noted, “were tasty.”

The work was overseen by a foreman who would decide whether the detainee would be paid, he said. The labor was not forced, according to the prisoner, and the earned money was supposed to go toward the maintenance of the detention center.

Dornau, according to the report, made at least one visit to his onion plantation to see his employees in person.

“I’ve even seen him. A tall, bald man,” the prisoner said, with a description that matches Dornau’s physical traits. “He came once in his car with German registration. He came into the shelter where we were picking onions together with hired workers.”

Dornau did not respond to multiple requests for comment by POLITICO on Tuesday.

“The presumption of innocence applies until full legal clarification,” Andreas Harlaß, a spokesperson for the AfD in Saxony, told POLITICO.

He has represented the far-right populist AfD party in the Saxony parliament in eastern Germany since 2019 and has come under scrutiny for his business dealings in Belarus, a Russia-friendly dictatorship ruled with an iron fist by Lukashenko.

Dornau was ordered to pay a fine of €20,862 by the Saxony parliament last month for failing to reveal his involvement in Zybulka-Bel. The company was registered in Belarus in October 2020, even as pro-democracy protests roiled the country.

As of Tuesday, there are more than 1,300 political prisoners in Belarus, according to the Belarusian human rights organization Viasna.

Belarus has been targeted by waves of sanctions by the European Union over the years, most recently in August for ongoing internal repression and human rights violations.

[leclarifies]

i love you. it's ruining my life. (MV33)

✰ max verstappen x popstar!ex!reader ✰

summary: you and max have been broken up for four years now, going no contact for the entirety of those years. never bothering to contact eachother but he invites you to one of his races one day after the last show of your tour, who were you to say no?

genre: angst (im sorry)

wc: 3k

a/n: AHHH, THIS WAS WAS A DOOZY!!!!! i loved writing this (i mostly just like hurting myself more than anything). kind of dark themes tho, ooc max bc he vvv loving and would never cheat on his lover. thank you so much for 100 followers btw!!!!!! i wrote this as a 100 follower special :3 thank you so much for my supporting my short journey as a tumblr writer, you guys inspire me to write even more for you guys. can you imagine that's it's been a week of writing and i've already gained 100 followers?? i love you guys so much.

warnings: mentions of existing relationship with kelly, cheating

"thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up. another fortnight lost in america." - taylor swift, 'fortnight'

isn't it ironic that careers can really separate you from what truly made you, you? being a popstar, touring for months on end, surrounding yourself with new people, new opportunities, made it hard for you to reconnect with the people that helped you from day one.

it wasn't like you cut them off, or stopped talking to them. you tried. you really tried, but sometimes life goes on and people forgive and forget. your old life before you started your career was slowly being etched away and replaced with new pieces.

and maybe that was a bad thing.

"on stage in 2 minutes," a voice snapped you out of your trance, you looked up. you looked amazing in your sparkly dress, it was the last leg of your tour and you were touring in europe.

you had been offered to attend a formula one race this weekend after all of your shows had been concluded, you've been thinking about it, but you're not sure you want to go. one of the people from said past was in attendance and you're not sure if you wanted to immerse yourself in that again.

you didn't think about it for long though, you were due for a show and a show was what you're going to give.

it wasn't long until the weekend, friday to be exact and you had accepted the offer of being on the formula one paddock, you knew that a certain ex-boyfriend was going to be there, racing on the track and you were invited personally by him, which was why you were so skeptical to go.

POPSTAR Y/N BREAKS UP WITH F1 DRIVER MAX VERSTAPPEN.

you remembered the headlines, you remembered what you let go of but seeing someone you still loved after your break up almost four years ago stung a little bit.

you couldn't blame him though, you were the one to break things off all those years ago. it wasn't because you had a terrible relationship with him, but it was more because you both didn't have time for eachother and you could see it in his face everytime you came home to monaco after a long show.

"i miss you, when can you finally stay and actually stay awhile?" max's face looked pitiful and you could only look down at your feet, you felt guilty. you wanted this career, he pushed you for this career but sometimes you wished that you could split yourself in two to cater to both his needs and yours.

you look back up at him, locking eyes with his stormy blue eyes, "i don't know maxie, maybe next month? i don't really have a schedule for next month, i can stay in monaco with you for awhile—"

"you said that last month, when are you actually going to be free schatje?"

"max, i can't give you a definite timeline—"

"what's the point of me being in a relationship with you when i can barely see you?"

it hurt to hear those words come out of his mouth.

maybe that's when you finally realized that he deserved someone normal, someone who wasn't a famous singer and could actually spend time and be there for him.

but here you were, amidst the paddock with a singular security guard because you didn't think you needed more than one, considering security around the paddock was tight in of itself.

the red bull's garage had been nice to you, offering you anything you possibly could need while being on a grand prix, you had politely declined any type of special treatment though, wanting to feel like a person for once in your life.

you wouldn't say your job is the hardest in the world, never. doing what you loved while meeting all of your fans was going to be the highlight of your day, but sometimes the job came with crazy fans that would invade your privacy for selfish reasons, and it made you a tiny bit stressed.

you remember starting out from the netherlands, starring in small gigs before getting signed to a mega corporation in america, which was when you moved. you slowly lost contact with your friends, but you were sure they were proud of you although you weren't proud that you lost contact with them.

you knew that if you contacted them that it would be awkward, there was just no way they would even remember you, right?

you were walking about aimlessly around the paddock, it was free practice day which meant that after the allotted time of the free practice, drivers were free to roam around the paddock however they wanted. you were scared on what you had to face today.

you told yourself to just keep calm, take whatever you got this weekend and just react like a sane person.

saturday came and went, you attended the paddock to watch the qualifying session, of course, max came out on top. was it even a surprise to you? you knew he was the best of the best, you never expected less of him, even after all these years.

sunday was here and maybe it was the anxiety, but you felt like throwing up when you saw max approach you.

"y/n, it's good to see you."

god, those eye-smiles. you could never get tired of them.

"hi max, congrats on starting out pole for this weekend," you told him as you shook hands with him, he was all smiles.

it felt good to see him happy.

"how has the paddock been treating you?" max asked, gesturing all around him, "have you tried the food? it's really good."

you nod as you let go of his hand, clasping it with your other hand, a nervous habit, "yeah, the food's good. how have you been? i haven't talked to you in awhile," a nervous laugh bubbled up from your throat, you were nervous to see him, maybe it was those damn butterflies in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of when he looked at you with those blue eyes of his.

"i know, you've been quite busy right?" max laughed at you, he felt silly conversing with his ex-girlfriend like this, like they didn't have a past.

you could only nod and smile back at him, shoulders tense, "yeah, touring's been eventful. it's the last leg of the tour so i decided to come, thank you for the invite by the way, i really appreciate—"

"max, who's this?" a voice came from behind you, quite condescending if you did say so yourself, cutting you off, you turned your head around to see his girlfriend and his girlfriend's child coming into view, walking towards max and wrapping max with her arm as a possessive embrace.

max kissed her cheek, and that hurt. you didn't want to know why, but you knew. he spoke up afterwards, "this is y/n, she's a singer. i wanted her to come because she had a show here, thought the timing was quite convenient for her. y/n, this is my girlfriend, kelly piquet. she's a model."

you extended your hand as a form of hello before introducing yourself, "hello, i'm y/n—"

"yeah, i know who you are," kelly cut you off again, you were quite taken aback by the hostility, your hand left hanging but then again, max was talking to one of his ex-girlfriends. you thought you would react the same way, so you didn't take it too much to heart. her face was something you'd describe as an angry, possessive tiger, brows furrowed, frown on full display.

"i didn't mean to take time away from your boyfriend. i was just having a little chat pre-race," you tried to give her a smile while returning your hand back to your side, but kelly was adamant about standing her ground.

little penelope was looking at you like she had stars in her eyes, you smiled at her. as if it was a sign of whether she should speak up, she starting speaking to you directly, "hi, i really love your songs. do you think you can stay in the red bull garage and we can take pictures together?"

you giggle and bend down to her level and pat her head, "hi little p, of course we can take pictures together— that's if your mother lets me," you acknowledged that this little girl was no ordinary little girl and was your ex-boyfriend's girlfriend's child.

"can we all talk in private please?" kelly excused the three of them away before you could even give her a response but you understood her. standing back up before walking off deeper into the paddock.

MAX'S POV

"i don't understand why you would invite her!" kelly was pacing around the motorhome, here we were fifteen minutes before race start and here my girlfriend was still yelling over something that happened two hours ago.

"kelly, i just thought it was a good idea. i wanted to invite her because i know p was such a big fan of hers—"

"she's your ex for god's sake, max!" kelly yelled out yet again, "why would i ever approve of her coming to one of your races? let alone be near to p??" her pacing was more feverish now, like she was scared.

i could only sigh, honestly i wasn't too worried about this problem at the moment. the only thing on my mind was the race and only the race.

"look, can we talk about this when i've finished with my race? i really need to focus and you keeping me locked up in here isn't going to help with it," i stood up from my seat, i didn't want to hear anything else come out of her mouth other than a 'okay' and letting me walk out of here.

"don't you think our relationship is at stake here—?"

"if you don't let me go out into the garage, then we're nothing kelly," i say with finality, i wasn't going to let her ruin a race, "i told you, we will solve and talk about this issue later, but you chose to lock me up in here. there will be nothing to salvage if you don't let me do my job."

kelly wordlessly stepped out of the way of the door and let me go, thankfully just with enough time where i could run down and get into the garage, getting me in racing gear.

thankfully the red bull mechanics and officials were understanding enough to let me rush and get inside of my car, getting into the chasis just at the right moment where we would need to drive out.

it was going to be a fine race for me. i knew it. i had enough confidence in myself to know whether i could win a race, and this was one of them.

"and that's p1 max, great race," gp was in my ear, i was proud of myself for winning, but kelly was gnawing the back of my mind. although, the first face i saw when i got out of the car was y/n's.

it felt like my heart stopped beating, i thought i got rid of those stupid butterflies ages ago, but nothing ever beat seeing her smile after i finished a race. she looked so beautiful, so ethereal but i washed those thoughts out of my head.

i had a girlfriend.

i can't run up and hug her because she's my ex. i have a loving relationship in front of me. what was i thinking?

kelly was nowhere to be found in the celebratory pit, i thought that maybe she was still too angry to face me at the moment. it stung a little bit, but she'll get over it. i'm sure.

the night moves on fast, and somehow i found myself still in the garage fixing a few things with the sim, most of the mechanics and staff were long gone. with kelly nowhere to be found. sometimes i felt bad, for still harboring feelings for an ex that left me four years ago.

my relationship with her felt so different with kelly's...

she was like fresh air you would breathe after exiting a club in the middle of the night, the smoke that clouded the air dissipating almost instantly after that fresh air hit your lungs. somehow, even four years later i still find her in little things i do everyday.

against my better judgement, i picked up my phone and i gave her a call.

"hello?"

i breathed out a sigh of relief when i realized she hadn't changed her phone number yet.

"it's me," were the words that left my lips, "you wanna come celebrate with me tonight?" i was picking on my jeans, i didn't want her to say no. i just wanted to spend a little time with her.

"what about your girlfriend? isn't she going to be even more upset with you—"

"can we not talk about her right now?" i closed my eyes and leaned back against the chair i was sitting on, hearing her voice again after a long time just... it felt right.

"max..."

"don't... just don't. i know what you're gonna say and i know it's wrong but i just... i can't do this today. i just won today and the first face i saw was yours, she didn't bother to show up. you can't tell me how to feel, y/n," i rubbed my temples, "meet me in the lobby of my hotel tonight. i just wanna see you."

"if i say okay, will this be a one-time thing?" y/n asked, i could hear the soft rustles of her moving things around, she was probably already in her hotel, resting from her tour when i had called.

"better yet, just drop the address of where you're staying. i'll come to you."

the first thing max did when he saw you was crash his lips into yours, you wanted to push him away, be the better person and tell him that he has a girlfriend but your arms couldn't do it.

your lips disconnected after awhile, he was breathing heavy, face flushed, hands all over you, "i've missed you."

you hum a response, you could barely get out a response when you feel his lips on yours again, this was wrong. all the alarms in your body were telling you to push him off, to yell at him, to reprimand him for basically cheating on his girlfriend.

but you didn't.

and maybe that made you a bad person, but at the moment you didn't care. you just wanted to feel him once more.

you woke up the next morning, cuddled up against max, both of you bare and indecent. he hadn't left yet, maybe he didn't want to leave.

the reality of last night crashed down onto you as you realized what you've done.

"max?"

"yes, schatje?"

the little nickname he gave you never went away. he used to call you that all the time but the feelings that came with it was no longer endearment but horror.

"you need to get back to your girlfriend, i don't think i can do this," you unwrap yourself from his grasps and sit up, back facing him, tears filling your eyes.

"woah, woah. schatje—"

"please, max. i feel like shit. you have a girlfriend and i just slept with you. last night was a mistake," you breathed out and hugged your knees close to your chest. you felt his hand on your back.

"y/n, what are you saying—" you cut him off before he could say anything else.

"i can't give you what you want max. we can't be together anymore. our story ended four years ago, please don't make this mistake. you're going to regret it," you quickly got up and away from his close proximity and got dressed.

you didn't know how to face him anymore.

"can we please talk about it at least? you can't lie and say that you don't feel the same way i do," max's voice came from behind you, you were pacing around the room, you were stressed. he was sitting there, shirtless with his pants on now.

"i do max! and that's the worst part because i knew you're in a relationship but i still let this happen. i am a horrible person. i love you and it's slowly ruining my life. i should've known better!" you turn around to face him, your face red, tears streaming down your face.

max could only sigh and raked a hand through his hair, "schatje..."

"we can't be together max, you know it. i can never give you what she gives you. she can be with you almost all the time max, you threw that all away for me? for someone who can't give you time of day?!" you sob into your hands.

you felt arms wrapping around you as you sob into his embrace.

MAX VERSTAPPEN BREAKS UP WITH GIRLFRIEND KELLY PIQUET ONLY AFTER A FEW MONTHS OF BEING TOGETHER.

you scroll past that headline as you got ready for your appearance to promote your new album, it came out two days ago and you were to debut the new songs on jimmy kimmel.

the tortured poets department.

you hadn't talked to max ever since that night, ever since he tenderly kissed your forehead and told you it was going to be okay and that he would figure it out. he had been blowing up your phone, asking to meet but you didn't have it in your heart to meet him after destroying his relationship like that.

that was two months ago.

you were due on stage in around an hour and that's where you would sing your heart out, leaving whatever pieces of your old self behind when you slept with max for the final time.

"i love you, it's ruining my life. i touched you for only a fortnight."

hello! thank u for reading this fic hehe, hope u guys enjoyed it. thank you again for 100 followers!!!!

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

[thegroundsofbrooklyn]

ily: i love you

ilysm: i love you so much

gafbthismahpagslwwgtabdiadbappfdkabwtmandiwsotcatsstcrhbwigttwswahchigtwldigaptpwaldahfthttwujibiijsallatc: got a feeling bout the headline i smells me a headline papes are gonna sell like we was givin them away betcha dinner is a doozy bout a pistol packing floozy don't know any better way to make a newsie's day i was staking out the circus and then someone said that coney's really hot but when i got there there was spot with all his cronies heck i'm gonna take what little dough i got and play the ponies we at least deserves a headline for the hours that they work us jeez i bet if i just stayed a little longer at the circus

[dear-ao3]

gotta feeling bout a headline i smells me a headline, papes are gonna sell like we was giving them away i betcha dinner its a doozy bout a pistol packin floozy dont know any better way to make a newsies day! i was stakin out the circus then someone said that coneys really hot but when i got there there was spot and all his cronies, heck im gonna take what little dough i got and play with the ponies, we at least deserve a headline for the hours that they work us jeez i bet if i stayed a little longer at the circus

[horrorwhores-posts]

Arts pet.

Summary: Your family decided to reopen the miles county carnival. And you soon catch the eye of a certain black and white clown.

Word count- 6307 (it’s a doozy)

Warnings: blood, mentions of dead bodies, sexual themes (but no smut), torture, reader/ character was written as afab but you should be able to read it as gender neutral.

Authors notes: this is my first ever fan fiction I’ve written so please be gentle on me. Also not proofread so there might be some errors. And this is about Art the clown soo, yeah. This big ol’ dork has me wrapped around his horn.

Maybe reopening the rundown carnival in Miles county wasn’t a good idea. But no matter how many times anyone told my father not too, he’d just brush it off. Working with your family is hard, even harder when you’re a carny family. My family and I have been on the road ever since my parents got married back in 93’. Soon after they had my older brother, sister, me, and finally my little twin brothers. My father joined the Barnum and Bailey circus when he was a teenager after his grandmother and sole guardian died. Being 15 with no other options, the circus became his new home and they welcomed him with open arms. My mother was the complete opposite, coming from a prestigious, well off, loving family; well if they liked you that is. My mother never really fit into her family, she had always been the black sheep and problem child. And no matter how hard her parents tried, she was never suited for their perfect world. She actually met my father when she was on a date with a “proper'' young man, as her mother put it. After spending roughly an hour listening to the high collared sleaze belittle every performance and worker he came in contact with, they got to my father’s act. Over the years he had climbed the ranks from being a cage cleaner to the circus’s headlining daredevil, and he was really good at it. His stunt that night was riding his motorcycle around a metal cage that was lit ablaze. Even my mother’s date was dumbfounded. After the show was over my mother refused to spend another second with her dick headed date. She snuck away from him and with the help of a hopeless romantic bearded woman she was able to go back to my fathers trailer. He said the second he laid eyes on her he knew he was going to marry her. And that night my mom decided to run away with him. My parents have been inseparable ever since.

Growing up the way we did, my siblings and I have developed multiple talents and were able to pick our own personal acts. My oldest siblings are aerial artists. I was one myself for a while and will even join in on their performances, but my actual love is contortion and fire breathing. The twins are in their teens and still learning about themselves every day. My father had always wanted to own a circus/carnival for himself, and over the past few years his craving to get off the road grew. Through the grape vine he had heard of the Miles county carnival being sold for little to nothing, we later found out that there were multiple murders there, which explained why the value was so low. My mother, sister and I all had our reservations about buying the place, but yet we still found ourselves standing at the entrance of the carnival in all of its glory. It took us months to spruce the place up, fix broken rides, and rebrand the whole park. My father even built a circus tent in the park where my family and other performers could perform if they wanted. We had our handful of protesters over the past few days but we also had a lot of tickets sold for tonight, opening night. I stood in the circus tent, looking at the time on my phone. 8:30; 30 minutes till opening and an hour till the show starts. Deciding to practice some of my aerial work for tonight's show, I gripped the soft silk as the music blasted through my speaker in the corner of the stage. I started going through the routine one last time, not noticing the black and white figure watching intently from the shadows. I ended on my finishing pose and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard loud, sporadic clapping coming from the echoing seating area. I safely dismantled and shielded my eyes from the spotlight to see who was there. A black and white clown stood in the middle of the aisle between the seats still clapping with a large smile on his face. I felt my face heat up from embarrassment and anger.

“The show doesn’t start till 9:30, I’m sorry but you have to leave.” I said from atop the stage as I quickly gathered my items. The clapping ceased immediately and I glanced over my shoulder and saw the clown standing there, arms stiff at his sides, an emotionless face looking back at me. A shiver of dread prickled up my spine and I quickly exited backstage, still feeling his icy gaze on me. I briskly walked to my dressing room and locked the door behind me. I glanced at my phone screen and noticed it was only 8:50. ‘Wait, if we aren’t open yet how did he get into the tent?’ My thoughts were broken when three gentle raps came from my door, a common knock my sister used to let me know she was the one wanting in. I strode to the door and unlocked the handle, my sister stepped in and gently shut the door behind her.

“You okay? You rushed into this room like your ass was on fire.” she asked as I sat at my vanity, my head in my hands. With a deep sigh I rubbed my hands down my face and finally looked at her.

“Yeah, I think I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” I weakly responded. She lowered her eyes at me, assessing if she believed me or not. Her eyes softened as I guess she decided it wasn’t worth pressing.

“Maybe you should take a nap before you go out on stage, I’m going on first so I can wake you up when it’s almost your time to go on.” My eyes light up at the thought of getting some sleep.

“You promise? Like really?” I ask with hopeful excitement. She nodded her head, opened the door, waved, and gently closed it behind her. I glanced back at the mirror and saw the dark bags under my eyes, deciding a power nap would be best. I got up, turning off my main light, leaving my vanity lights on, and crawled on to the small gray couch. I had some burgundy throw pillows and a black blanket, I used to get nice and comfortable. In the dim light I could barely make out the posters I had adorning my walls. Mostly old Barnum and Bailey posters my dad snagged before he left, but there were a few photos of me performing. After a few minutes my eyes felt heavy and I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

‘The colorful lights were twinkling against the night that engulfed it. My nose was invaded with the sweet yet salty smell of popcorn and cotton candy. Energy buzzed around me like electricity, lightly shocking my senses. All around me were people playing games, eating food, and laughing with pure joy. In the distance you could hear the screams of ride goers as they raced into the air, some of them twisting and turning along the tracks. The environment was warm and inviting, glowing with delight. I soaked it all in. Embracing the happiness that flooded me, I pranced around the carnival, seeking out my next adventure. As I wandered through the fair I accidentally ran into a figure. He was tall, holding a bunch of red balloons, concealing his face from my view. A black sleeve emerged from the crowd of latex, holding a floating sphere out to me. I gently took it from his gloved hand, immediately hearing a loud, threatening crack from the sky above. Glancing up I noticed a fiery red glow erupt from behind the thick clouds rolling in the darkness of the sky. Suddenly the cheery demeanor of the festival dissipated and the screams of joy turned into ones of pure horror. I whipped around and saw multiple rides on fire, the patrons festering in their seats. Mutilated corpses laid strewn across the park, blood and guts splattered everywhere. My tears were singed on my cheeks from the heat of the flames. The scream that was bubbling in my throat was cut short as long, strong arms wrapped around me.’

I was startled awake, my body jerking up and my brain still fuzzy. I looked around my dimly lit room, looking for what caused my sudden consciousness. There were alarm bells going off in my head, but I couldn’t place what was causing them. Scanning my room for a second time, I immediately froze when I noticed the figure in the dark corner, my breath catching in my throat. Panic coursed through my veins as I fumbled to come up with a single coherent thought. The figure slowly stalked out of its hiding spot and into the dim light. My eyes finally focused on the lanky black and white clown towering over me, the same blank expression on his features as before. With my heart racing, I choked back a scream as he slowly bent down to my eye level, getting uncomfortably close. His dark eyes were threatening as he looked me up and down, assessing me. For what? I’m not fully sure. My chest was heaving from my rapid breath and pounding heartbeat, something he picked up on. He reached forward and placed a gloved hand on my chest, rolling his eyes back and breathing in deeply through his nose. I sat frozen as he smirked, opening his eyes and making intense eye contact.

My mind immediately went blank as the panic dissipated from my body, being replaced with a strong need. As I gazed into his onyx eyes I felt a strange, intimate connection to the man in front of me. His hand climbed from my chest to caress the side of my face, gently gliding his thumb over my lips. I slowly opened my lips, inviting the digit into my mouth, and sucked lightly as it hit my tongue. His taste was bitter and salty, and he smelt of fire and sweat. Normally I would be repulsed but for some reason I was intoxicated. The clown’s mouth was hung open with lust, chest quivering from his deep breaths. If he had pupils, I knew they would be dilated. My eyes closed as I savored the flavor of him, moaning softly. He pulled his hand away, I released his thumb with a soft pop. My eyes shot open as I felt a rough yank on the ponytail atop my head. I fell back and the man followed me, climbing on top of me. His long lanky frame just barely fit on the small couch with me. His hands roaming my sides as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, sucking and biting with a hunger I’ve never experienced before. I moaned as his hand snaked under my shirt, roughly grabbing at my chest.

A sharp pain radiated from my neck and I shrieked. His hand quickly clamped over my mouth as he continued the assault on my neck, warm blood trickling down my shoulder. Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks as I struggled to get out of the grip that was holding me down. Finally the man sat up, blood adorning his mouth and filled his smile. Hand still over my mouth, he ripped my shirt exposing more of my chest. A muffled scream was ripped from me as the clown dug his finger into my fresh neck wound. He then took said digit and proceeded to write something on my flesh. Once he was done, he leant back over me with a sick, mocking sad face. Dragging his finger down his cheek, mimicking a tear. Finally placing a finger over his mouth in a shushing manner, he leant down and kissed my temple with a surprising gentleness. The hand covering my mouth moved to wipe the tears off my face. I whimpered as he placed another tender kiss on my forehead. The mysterious man gave me one more smile and wave of his fingers before he was gone without a trace. I laid in silence, my mind completely blank try to make sense of the last 10 minutes.

A loud banging startled me out of my daze, as whoever knocked started to come in. Fearing it was the man from before, I sprang up and used my entire body weight to slam the door shut. I heard a muffled grunt and exclamation of “what the fuck” as the lock clicked back into place, preventing anyone from coming in.

“Hey, you missed the whole performance!” My older brother yelled at me from the other side of the door. Ice ran through my veins as I scrambled for my phone and noticed it was 10:45 pm.

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” I exclaimed while throwing my phone back down on the couch. I caught a glimpse of myself in my vanity mirror and I looked horrible. Somehow the bags under my eyes were worse, my body was flushed, and my hair was completely disheveled. My neck was still dripping crimson, with obvious teeth marks. My shirt was jaggedly ripped with dried blood marking the visible skin. In messy, dripping lettering, ‘Art’s pet’ was written across my chest. A strange shiver ran back up my spine, and I stood there wondering if I’d ever see this man again. Most of me hoped I never would, but a tiny part of me begged to differ.

A few weeks have passed since the strange encounter with the black and white clown, I now know as “Art”. He’s also known as the miles county clown with a long list of victims. I thought for a second he was just a weird fever dream, but the tiny teeth shaped scars on my neck prove otherwise. I’ve constantly been thanking the powers above that it was getting colder out, with me having to wear turtle necks to obscure my markings. My dreams have also been haywire since that night, filled with decimated remains and burning fire. He’s always there too, welcoming me with his demented gifts and acts of passions. Whether it's a still beating heart, a crude mural of me in coagulated blood, or gory jewelry from his victims, he always has something to give me. Greeting me with his signature wide smile, accompanied by some flourish to produce the gift of the day. With his palms out stretched, eyes blinking innocently, he’ll traumatize me yet again with a morbid curiosity.

Luckily I’ve been able to push his invading presence out of my mind during performances and when I’m around my family. My sister has noticed I’ve become a bit more reclused and only asked me about it once. When I snapped at her with an anger she hadn’t seen before, she never pressed the issue after. Tonight I sat in my heavily decorated trailer, covered in old rock n roll posters, tapestries and sentimental trinkets. I had a small dark brown vanity sitting in the front of the small room, my burgundy red twin sized bed laid adjacent to the vanity. My clothes and costumes were strewn about and hung up on a small portable hanging rack, a small bookcase sat at the foot of my bed with a vintage, delicate, lamp sitting on it. Books lined the shelves, ranging from the classics like Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and Bram Stokers’ Dracula. Tonight I was reading The Complete Tales of Edgar Allen Poe, my head was laid at the foot of my bed, my tiny lamp dimly lit the pages. I lounged lazily in only my black satin robe, trying to turn my mind off for the night, preparing for sleep. A sudden loud knocking came from my front door. With a jump, I bookmarked my spot and slowly sat up. The pounding came again, even louder and more aggressive than last time. I stood up and wrapped the robe tighter around myself, slowly reaching for the curtain covering the small window on my door. The fervent banging picked up once more, and with a flourish of anger, I ripped the door open without looking first. There, in the misty night, stood the clown of my nightmares. The white and black mirage stood stone still, eyes wide, a bouquet of wild flowers outstretched towards me. ‘No , no, no’ raced through my mind as the door started to close. My ragged breath caught in my throat as a large gloved hand slammed on the door as I tried to shut it. He slowly climbed the feeble stairs and stepped into my tiny trailer, hunching to prevent from hitting his head on the ceiling. I stared up at him with pure shock and a hit of fear. He gleamed down at me and he stretched the bouquet back to me. With shaky hands I gently pulled it from his humongous mitt, ogling the beautiful flowers in my hand and gave them a gentle sniff. The scent of fresh florals and the musky scent of the impending rain wafted towards me and I hummed with satisfaction. He bowed down, gently grasped my other hand, and gingerly pressed a kiss to my knuckles. A blush creeped up my face as I shyly looked away, pulling my hand from his grasp. He smirked and stalked towards my vanity, taking a seat on my small chair.

He patted his lap and looked at me expectantly with a big smile. I gingerly placed the bouquet on my bed, wiping my sweaty palms on my robe and approached him sheepishly, finally standing in front of him. He reached out and wrapped his long arms around me, pulling me into his lap, causing me to yelp. He nuzzled into my neck, his warm breath tickling the sensitive scar tissue, sending shivers down my spine. Smirking at me through the mirror, he rubbed my sides, gently squeezing, almost threatening to tickle me. I made direct eye contact with him in the mirror, trying my best to give him the stoniest stare I could. He frowned, looking down, twiddling with the satin belt. I swiftly grabbed his hand before he could untie my robe and I just stared at his reflection as he continued to look down with his ‘sad’ face. Slowly his eyes connected to mine in the glass and we just sat there staring at each other for a long pause. My expression stayed cold, and his frown curled up into a scowl. With a silent huff he rolled his eyes and pushed me off his lap. I stood, stunned, as he walked over to my clothing rack and palmed the sequined outfits. His face broke out with a wide smile as he grabbed a shiny red one piece body suit from the hanger, rushing up to me and pushing it towards me. I jumped at his erratic actions, my arms limply holding the outfit. I looked up at him with confusion, as he started miming taking off his clothes sensually, almost in a cartoonish manner. I gulped and tightly gripped the belt of my robe till my knuckles were white. With another silent, irritated huff, he tapped his clown shoes impatiently on the ground and looked at his wrist as if there was a watch there. Not wanting to anger the man in front of me, I turned around and with trembling fingers I picked at the knot holding my robe together. It finally fell free and it gently slinked off my shoulder. I laid the one piece on my vanity and slipped the robe completely off, avoiding my gaze from the mirror entirely. I was never one to stare at myself naked, let alone in front of the miles county murderer. Somehow I didn’t hear him sneak up behind me, instead being scared by his hands snaking around my waist.

“Why?” I whisper, finally locking eyes with him in the chrome glass. His chin was buried into my neck and his breath fanned against my cheeks. His eyebrows quirk up in a question and his face falls to the side, feigning innocent curiosity. With an annoyed huff I yank my way out of his grasp and turn to face him. My hands cemented on my hips.

“What do you want?” I ask rather gruffly. The look of shock briefly took over his features before being taken over by a look of malice. I felt the spurt of confidence I had immediately disappeared as he reached forward. His hand gripped my throat and in a flash I was thrown onto my bed. He laid atop of me with a look of glee as he watched me struggle for breath. I knew my face was on the verge of turning purple when he finally let go. He leaned over me and stuck his long sharp nose into my neck. I could feel his hot breath against my skin and a shiver ran down my spine. Somehow I just knew he was breathing in the scent of my fear. That thought caused yet another shiver to rack through me, and the clown wasn't oblivious to it. I felt something warm and wet run up the side of my neck. His tongue left a prickly sensation in its wake as he faced me again. A smile adorned his face and his finger came up to boop me on the nose. Clumsily, he crawled off of me and I remembered that I was nude. I grabbed my blanket and covered myself as Art grabbed the one piece setting on the dresser. He brought it to his face and took a big sniff. Yanking it from his nose he made a silent gagging motion and threw the one piece at me. It hit me in my chest and with caution I took a small smell of the fabric. My eyebrows drew together as the scent of laundry detergent invaded my nostrils. The clown had his nose pinched between his fingers, sticking his tongue out in yet another gag and I rolled my eyes.

After dressing in my red leotard, Art led me to the performance tent. I felt uneasy as I stood on the pitch black stage. A loud crack emanated through the room as the lights sprang to life, eerie silence followed in suit. I was temporarily blinded, squinting my eyes until they adjusted. Almost immediately I recognized the 5 people sitting in the front row. My family was duck tapped and gagged, unconscious in their confines, blood coming out of differing cuts and scratches on their faces, proving they put up a fight. My family wasn't the only people in the crowd. Decapitated torsos, gutted stomachs, and carved up bodies surrounded my family. Staring at the mutilated and bloody corpses caused bile to rise in my throat. Panic wracked through me causing tears to cloud my vision, falling to my knees, wretching. Art started clapping in a way to get my attention. I turned my head towards him, a giant blanket covering something behind him. He gestured to my family, an evil smirk adorning his face as I slowly looked back at them. They were gently stirring as they slowly started becoming conscious again. That’s when it dawned on me. 5. The twins, mom, dad, and my older brother. I whipped my head back towards the black and white clown.

“Where is she?” While Looking straight at me, he reached up, grabbing the thick white tarp. Yanking down, the cloth fell from the giant round shape. It revealed my sister strapped to the wheel of death, the spinning circular board we used for our knife throwing acts. She was also coming to lucidity, fear flooding her features once she was able to comprehend a little of what was going on. Art slowly stalked towards my crumpled frame, bending down and dropping daggers in front of me. Immediately looking between my sister and the blades I was able to piece together what he wanted.

“No, fuck no!” I screamed, crawling backwards away from the sharp knives. Art grabbed my upper arm in a Vice grip, almost immediately bruising. Picking me up by said arm he pushed me towards the pile of metal. I violently shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself, staring at the ground. He pinched my chin between his fingers and jerked it towards him. I stared at him with glossy eyes. He frowned at me and gestured his hand towards my sister. My face morphed from fear to complete hard anger.

“No.” I glowered, refusing to break eye contact with him. His face became stony as he pushed my chin from him. Standing to his full height he glared at me and walked off stage. With him gone I rushed to my sister to untie her from the spinning board. As I got to one of her wrists she looked at me with tears streaming down her face. Muffled words escaped her taped lips.

“Hold still, I’ll get you down faster.” As I was distracted with the buckle my sister seemed to notice a familiar figure creeping up behind me. Her silence quickly turned into muffled screaming and thrashing. Finally focusing back on my sister, her wide eyes told me everything I needed to know. Looking over my shoulder I saw the clown raise his arm with something in it. With a quick strike down, I felt searing pain rip through me. I was lurked forward with the sheer force of the whip, screams being torn from me with every strike of the weapon. My sister's tears rained down on me as I clung onto her for support as the lashing continued. My back felt like it was being sliced open by a million little knives. The searing pain caused my consciousness to start to waiver. My sisters muffled screams faded from me as my ears started ringing, only hearing the crack of the cat o’ nine tail. My mind focused on nothing but the constant burn radiating from the wounds, refusing to let my legs buckle from the pain. Finally the lashing came to a halt as I heard a voice ring out.

“Okay! Okay. She’ll do it, just stop!” I looked up at my sister, noticing the tape dangling from the corner of her mouth. Her tears must have loosened the adhesive. “Do it. I trust you. Just get it over with.”

With heavy breath I slowly and painfully turned, looking at the demented man in front of me. Cautiously limping towards the pile of throwing blades, my knees wobbled slightly. I stopped to regain my balance, before bending down to grab the steel daggers. The cold metal bit at the warm skin of my palms, and the weight of them threatened to pull me down. Turning back to face my sister, I saw Art forcing her mouth shut with fresh tape. She struggled a bit, glaring with a hatred I’ve never seen. I stole a glance back at my tied up family, differing levels of horror adorning their faces. My mothers face was covered with tears and my fathers face was hard with a fire licking behind his eyes. Nothing but fear adorned the twins faces, and my older brother was looking around. Forming a way to get out, I assumed. Clapping for attention, I turned back to the black and white demon, watching him grab onto the wheel, to heave it down with his full body weight. My sister started spinning and I took a deep breath. Separating a knife from the bundle, I aimed it, cocking my arm back and tossing the blade directly at the board. It landed right between my sister's legs. Grabbing another blade, I wretched my arm back and threw it again. Thinking was never a good idea when it came to knife throwing. Just aim, breathe, and throw. The more you stall, the more you hit the target. Before I knew it I only had one dagger left. All the other throws were perfect misses and I readied myself for a final good throw. A loud piercing honk rang into my left ear. My throw was ruined. And I watched in horror as the sharp steel plunged itself into the soft flesh of my sister's thigh. Her muffled scream was drowned out by the intense ringing in my ears as I turned and looked at the clown. He was pointing at my sister and silently belly laughing, holding his stomach.

“I hate you! You stupid, annoying motherfucker!” I ran up to Art, hitting him on his sturdy chest. He barely reacted as he looked down his nose at me, watching me pound onto him with my full weight. He snatched my wrists and held my arms out, staring at my red face as I continued screaming profanities at him. Smiling sinisterly, he let go of my wrists and stalked towards the, now still, round board my sister was still attached to. I had no clue what his plan was but I tightly grabbed his arm, refusing to move. Realizing he was anchored, he slowly faced me again. “What will make you stop?” I basically whimpered. His grin widened even more than I thought it could. He stood back up to his full height, and I couldn't help but gawk at his towering stature. Gazing up, he tapped his chin in a ‘thinking’ manner until he snapped his fingers in a eureka moment. Cocking his head to the side, he grinned at me, leaning his face down. Becoming eye level with me he gently tapped his cheek, as an indication to give him a kiss.

A wave of nausea hit me, but I also got a fuzzy, warm feeling course through me at the same time. I hated it. I hated myself, for having some sort of affection for the man who’s done nothing but torture me and my family. I snapped back to reality when a loud clap erupted in front of my face. I blinked and refocused on the man in front of me. His face was almost child-like as he watched me with pure, I’m not sure, adoration? I took a deep, quivering breath, and stepped forward. Wrapping my arms around his neck, balancing on my tip toes, and I gave him what he wanted. Granted it wasn’t on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to mind. His lips still had that rich smokey flavor as last time. His hands immediately found my hips and pulled me in closer, almost desperate to get me closer. His tongue licked at my lips and I opened eagerly. I just let him have control, not feeling strong enough to put up a fight. I pulled back with a gasp as a sharp pain came from my lip. A small trickle of blood ran down Art's chin, causing me to reach up and gingerly touch my bottom lip. Pulling my hand back, there was warm blood covering my finger tips, and my lower lip throbbed.

“Let them go.” I croaked out. Art still had his grip on my waist, and squeezed almost threateningly. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes squinted together in distrust. “If you want me, let them go. I’ll be all yours, no questions asked. As long as they’re safe.” I gently cupped the side of his face and placed our foreheads together. Our breathing slowed and we shared a moment of peace. Running my thumb over his jagged cheek bone, I felt my eyes water.

“Please.” I whimpered. Tears ran down my face as I finally looked up at my tormentor. His eyes almost softened when he saw me. His hand moved from my waist to my cheek, brushing the tears off as they fell. With a gentle kiss to my forehead, he stretched up to his full height and stepped back. He turned to the side and lifted his arm towards my sister. I slowly looked between the appendage and her. Making eye contact with the man again, I nodded and sped walked up to my sister. She was barely lucid. I lightly slapped her face and her eyes finally focused on me. Pulling a knife out of the board, I cut away at the leather straps holding her to the panel. When she finally tried to put weight on her leg she screamed. She grabbed the knife sticking out of her thigh and I supported her the best I could. I looked over my shoulder to see Art was gone. Not waiting a single moment I hobbled her across the stage, refusing to listen to her pleas to stop. We finally got to our trapped family. They sat there with nothing but pure terror and tears on their faces. With the dagger I cut my father loose first. Immediately he wrapped me in a bear hug, almost squeezing me a bit too hard. He held me for what felt like years but was no longer than a few seconds. My sister struggled to release my mother from her confines when we heard a loud boom. The heat came soon after as the back of the stage was lit ablaze. The fire grew to the top of the tent within seconds.

“Jesus Christ!” My father hollered as he, and the rest of us, scrambled to free our brothers. The smoke was thick and dark, making breathing almost impossible. Coughing, we were able to untie my brothers. We all were kneeling down toward the ground, trying to avoid the thick musk above us. “We’re not gonna be able to make it!” My mother screamed, as the loud crackle of the flames almost drowned her out. I could tell my sister was worse for wear, and I had no idea how to get her out. While my head was swimming with panicked thoughts, my eldest brother noticed the dagger I still had clutched in my hand. He grabbed the blade out of my hand, dashing towards the closest tent wall and carved into it.

“Come on!” He screamed as everyone rushed to the new opening. I grabbed my sister and supported/ dragged her out of the tent. Her consciousness was faltering when I laid her on her back. We hacked and gagged as we finally got some of our breath back. The tent was completely ablaze. I heard sirens wailing in the distance as my head started to spin. I started dry heaving while slowly crawling away from my family, not wanting them to see me like this. My vision blurred from the tears and the spinning when I suddenly saw I black shape in front of me.

“Get away from her!” A distorted familiar voice rang out as I looked up and saw a blur of white and black. For a split sec I was able to focus and I saw Art standing there. Blank faced and fists balled to his sides, he raised his foot. In a split second everything went black.

Waking up was almost like a nightmare to me. My head pounded and I was freezing. The room was still spinning and My eyes couldn’t focus on anything. I tried to move, but I was cramped in something small. With a groan I reached out and touched something cold and metal. But it wasn’t solid, it felt like it was made out of metal wiring. I adjusted myself and once again heard the ringing in my ears start up. The floor was solid underneath me, but I could see outside of my confines. My fingers once again grasped the walls around me and it all clicked. I was in a steel cage. Visions of what happened before I was knocked out bombarded my brain. Adrenaline mixed with panic and caused everything to come into sharp focus. There wasn’t much to see, it was dark and dingy, a single light swung above my cage. A smashed tv sat on the floor across from a table with a little stool. Blood and various sharp objects littered the table. I immediately scattered backwards until my back hit the chain wall. The reality of what I agreed to dug its way to the forefront of my brain. I agreed to be with this man. For whatever he shall need me for. My stomach flipped as all the possible scenarios ran through my mind. My leotard -covered body shivered in the corner of the cage. My erratic breathing caused me to notice that there was something around my neck. My throat felt constricted and panic wracked through me as I clawed at it until I got a decent grip, ripping it from my throat. In my hand sat a collar. A. Fucking. Collar. My ears weren’t ringing, it was the bell on the collar the entire time. I was drowning in my thoughts when The entire cage rattled, as someone else shook it. I snapped my head up and was greeted with Art's smiling face. He lifted up the top of the cage, revealing the door. His face slowly morphed into frown as he looked at my face, then my neck, and finally to the collar in my hand. He held out a finger initiating to give him a minute and closed the cage. Prancing over to the table I saw him pull a thin sparkling string up and hold it close to himself. After finagling with it for a moment, he walked back over, and completely flipped the top of the cage open. He held out his hand, dangling there was a necklace with a heart dog tag. It read “Arts pet”.

[adonischildsupportcase]

A doozy of a headline from start to finish

[goldennika]

Initial Thoughts on TOMORROW X TOGETHER's The Name Chapter: Freefall

Ok so i just listened to TNC: Freefall in full and damn, okay. Really solid album, sonically. And i say sonically bc i haven't read up on the lyrics just yet (i don't think the eng trans are out yet ☹️)

Am loving how they're showcasing more of their vocals (txt lower register enthusiasts, we are being fed at last 😭) and the whole band/session feels of the music really emphasizes that.

can we take a minute to talk about beomkai's vocals?? bc i really think this might be their era 🥹 and seeing as all of the boys have at least 2 credits to their name in this album, it really feels like this is their sound, and their personal music preferences came through too

i'm on the fence about DILT's inclusion in the album though. we all know it was not a planned track at all but it was a really good opportunity for them to collaborate and have a fun summer track out before headlining lolla 2023.

that said, it just doesn't seem to fit in (at least sonically) in this album. i don't know if moving it higher up in the tracklist would have been better since i haven't read the lyrics yet but sonically, it might have worked more since the more powerful/complex sounding tracks are in the first half, imo

but overall, this album is full of surprises, and very good ones at that!! I'm sure i'll love it even more when i listen to it again but yeah, from the first listen alone, i would recommend this album!!!

Track first impressions under the cut! very raw reactions ahead haha

Track 1: Growing Pain

oh damn gritty TXT ???

LOWER REGISTER LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

legitimately gave me goosebumps

EXCUSE ME THE OOH's IN THE CHORUS???? DELICIOUS

H U E N I N G K A I

that's it. that's the thought.

the guitar is so good ugh

ROCK BAND TXT LET'S GOOOOOOO

this will absolutely kill when performed live 😵‍💫

Track 2: Chasing That Feeling

HERE FOR THE SYNTHS(??)

giving TCHFTG and Blinding Lights by The Weeknd (i love The Weeknd btw)

Yeonjun's voice is so soothing??????

wait is the nod to the TCHFTG instrumentals intentional??????

maybe this is just me but their choreo (based on the MV) looks like it goes so hard but this song feels relatively chill/easy listening (esp compared to their last few title tracks bc sugar rush ride was a doozy to take in) so it seems a bit... off? idk idk

looking forward to a stage/practice vid to come out to appreciate their performance more!

Track 3: Back for More (TXT Ver)

already reacted to this before and ugh so good

HUENINGKAI POPPED OFF IN HIS VERSE UGH

Yeonjun's is also so good

love their adlibs so much 🥹

super interesting to place this track right after Chasing That Feeling 🤔

dance break instrumental and adlibs have my whole heart actually

like i can see them dancing in my head even if i'm just listening

Track 4: Dreamer

oh shit i love the bass already??????

FIRST LINE IN AND I'M IN LOVE ALREADY???

kinda scared to check the lyrics ngl

oh this song is delicious

i can already see all the tiktok edits happening (not necessarily a bad thing for them imo)

ooh shit "let me break it down for you" jdfh;kdjsfb;nsfkja

I LVOE THIS TRACK?????????

WAIT IS TAHT ALL SOOBIN IN THE CHORUS??????????

or is taehyun there too?

the "let me break it down for you" is going to haunt me in my dreams thanks

Track 5: Deep Down

strong start. nice

WTF IS THIS DIRECTION THEY'RE TAKING I LOVE IT????? 😳

yooo the minimal instrumentals in the start was so good

oh it got clubby in the chorus

OH HELL BEOMGYU IN THE CHORUS SHOULD HAVE COME WITH A WARNING (deep down i need you more)

this feels so different from the usual TXT but it works??

okayyyy the trumpet sounding stuff in the outro was a nice touch

Track 6: Happily Ever After

pretty sure i'll cry if i read up the lyrics of this one haha 🥲

oh this track is so smooothhhh in the pre-chorus

oohhh the la la la's are growing on me

it's like happy fools but more refined?????

LOVE the blending/harmonization 😩

GIVE ME ALL THE LAYERED VOCALS @ BIG HIT

SOOBIN I LOVE YOU (outro ver) 🥹😭

Track 7: Skipping Stones

the cymbals? hi-hats? at the start oh god *chef's kiss*

feels like a band session up in here!!!

HUENINGKAI LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

oh damn beomgyu???

taehyun with the high notes mhmmm

band txt is the future i can see it all so clearly now

LOVE the way they start off each line durign the verses. scratches my brain sooooo good when they give the little oomph then blend it down ugh (sorry idk musical terms)

kinda obsessed with this music already wtf

the female vocals too!!

HUENINGKAI EXTENDED NOTE LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

HE MADE IT SOUND SO EASY?????????????

mhmmm soobin's falsetto

wow

just wow

FUCK ME WITH THOSE OHs AT THE END OF THE SONG GODDAMN

Track 8: Blue Spring

i know we were joking around about band txt but what if it's not a joke anymore bc we've had track after track of band/session sounds and i am not okay anymore

i'm never gonna be normal about this song sorry not sorry

POP OFF HUENINGKAI GODDAMN

what if i cry.....

hmmm the rest of the instrumentals kicking in. so good.

and then they strip it down??? to let the vocals shine????

so so good

COME THROUGH WITH THE DRUMS

soobin's verse with yeonjun's adlibs is what dreams are made of actually

god yeonjun and hueningkai are gonna make me cry

NO FUCKIGN WAY THEY ADDED MORE OF TAEHYUN'S ADLIBS????

STOP THE FUCKING CAR THEY'RE HARMONIZING INT EH CHORUS TOO??????????????

TYUNNING ADLIBS IN THE OUTRO????????????????

MY JAW IS DROPPED AND I CANNOT BREATHEEEEEEEEE

Track 9: Do It Like That

ok yeah ngl the mood shifted dramatically after all the band txt sounds lol

DILT is a cute song but i don't think it makes sense in this album

or at least not in this placement???

i may reconsider if this was a TXT ver lol

or maybe they were thinking about our mental health when they decided to keep it in the album

i would probs be a sobbing mess if tnc: freefall rly just ended with the studio ver of blue spring 🥹

Track 10: Chasing That Feeling (English Ver)

including this here bc why not it's on the tracklist anyway haha

tbh i wasn't feeling this track much from the teasers

but hearing the song in full changed my mind

the build up is good

why does yeonjun's voice sound so good in this genre like how is it soooo good

time's a thief that won't stop stealing -- well damn did i feel that

taehyun our belting star 🥺

[pluckysidekick]

Hello, Drewds! It’s been a while since Nancy Drew filming wrapped. Am I the only one who couldn’t have imagined being almost two full weeks into January and still not knowing when Season 4 of Nancy Drew was premiering? Me either.

In the meantime, some happenings:

The big headline is of course Kennedy McMann is starring in ABC’s massively popular ‘Good Doctor’ series’ spinoff The Good Lawyer as a young lawyer, Joni DeGroot, with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) - which Kennedy herself suffers from - opposite Felicity Huffman.

In the backdoor pilot airing March 13, we meet the “brilliant, funny and self-aware” young lawyer living with OCD, whose “attention to detail allows her to see cases through a different lens.” Sound familiar? Here’s to hoping Joni likes checked blazers and patterned scarves. If only her law firm also had a quirky tech guy…Congrats, Kennedy!

Speaking of Kennedy, she along with the writers and Riley came on Twitter to commiserate in solidarity with us on the lack of a premiere date, and to confirm that those fake episode titles (e.g. “The Whispers of the Grim” 😂) were bogus.

We also got SEASON 4 EMOJIS, her favorite scenes (in Ep. 3 and 13 after some clarification), and assurance that we will cry hard at the end of the finale.

Besides Cupid’s arrow (hopefully NACE and not some alternate love interests we have to suffer through), looking forward to the Hardy Family Hannukah Dinner, Game Night! (see below), camping out in that cool Airstream, road trip (PLEASE LET IT BE NANCY AND ACE), BABY (Carson and Jean’s perhaps?), curse breaking via a spell book Bess finds perhaps, and FIRE (oh no). Also Nancy’s gonna give some more blood, but we knew that already. I wonder if Ace is the latest blood donor….

Speaking of Game Night, here’s a little seen BTS photo from DP Nick Thomas I never posted from back in late September - Game Night is ON at Icarus Hall, and probably in the same episode with the earth shattering Nace photo Kennedy posted the same week. Does anyone recognize what game they’re going to be playing?

Next, the hit horror film M3GAN with the creepy life sized American Girl doll killer helped the CW pay the bills with a cross promo with ND that gave us a tiny bit of S4 footage.

We got to see Bess performing some kind of ritual? on Nancy with a weird contraption (mask? Ghost goggle type lens?) and Nancy vomiting black ick. They’re doing this in the in the Drew house, which is strange since Nancy seems to have moved into Icarus Hall. Ace’s voiceover where he questions Nancy’s eating habits has been debated to death of whether he’s actually in the scene or if it’s audio from the Tom Swift episode (inconclusive).

Based on Nancy and Nick’s (who’s behind Bess) wardrobe, and Kennedy’s mention of filming an episode with a ‘Burning Bride’ comedy vibe back in an early August podcast, I believe this scene is from Episode 2, and related to the cause of whatever humorous curse is going on in that episode. Anyway, Ew. But still nice to see actual S4 footage.

We also saw some of our actors on much deserved vacations, with Maddison and Leah both enjoying tropical vacations with their bfs (in Mexico and Costa Rica respectively).

This will probably be my last marathon post for a while. I do still owe a breakdown of Riley’s post from the last day of filming in the Claw set with baby shower props (!). Also, I finally reached 100+ notes with a short post of just fantastic cast BTS photos.

I’ve been hard at work on Part 2 of No One Mourns the Wicked, my Secret Sleuth fic with a Season 1 AU where the crew put on a summer stock production of Wicked. It’s almost done and it’s a doozy. I will probably split it into multiple parts to make it easier to consume, as it sort of turned into a multi-chapter extravaganza. Whoops. Speaking of which, I’ll be jumping right back into The Space Between (S4 spec fic) as soon as I’m done - there’s still a lot of insanity planned for the crew post curse breaking. They still have a mystery to solve…

Thanks for sticking with me, waiting impatiently for the S4 premier date along with everyone else. Bye for now!

[thewittyphantom]

Here’s Yugo’s dialogue with Sylvio and Declan.

Yugo: It’s you... Sylvio: Oh my! Yugo! Haven’t seen you in more than a while! Yugo: Sylvio! Doing good? Sylvio: Of course! ...Wait a sec. Didn’t you and Yuya merge into one? Yugo: We did...But I’m back! Even though how is a mystery... Sylvio: Eh. no need to dwell on that. It’s not a big deal. Yugo: It’s a huge deal! Sylvio: All I care about is that you’re back...So I can get payback! Yugo: ...Payback? Oh! You mean payback for losing against me in the Friendship Cup. Sylvio: Gah! [flashback] Yugo: Go, Clear Wing Synchro Dragon! Spin Storm Sky Strike! Sylvio: Aaaaahhhh! Melissa Trail: In the end, Yugo pulled off one doozy of a win! Sylvio: Argh! I was so close to winning I could taste it! Crowd: That was fantastic, Sylvio! Your Dueltaining style rocks! Sylvio: Ah...Hahaha! Yugo: ............. Sylvio: Hey! Give ‘em a little love back! Yugo: Huh? Sylvio: Don’t you hear that cheering? We brought these fans to their feet! [end flashback] Yugo: That was a really great Duel! Sylvio: Which only we could pull off! Because to get the best performance, you need the best performers! You played your role perfectly as the villain who loses to the hero! Yugo: Wait...But you lost. Sylvio: Because you went off-script. But as the headliner, I’m going to win this time! Yugo: Huh... Is that what happened? Whatever - it’s fine! Cuz I want to Duel you, too! Sylvio: That’s the spirit! Let’s put on a fantastic show together!

Declan: So you have finally arrived in this world... Yugo: Who are you!? Declan: My name is Declan Akaba. Yugo: Ah! Even though it’s the first time I’m meeting you, I’ve heard a lot about ya! Declan: I know a lot about you too. I’ve even seen you Duel. Yugo: Oh yeah? i can guess why you’re keeping your eye out for us. You’re worried that Z-ARC is gonna come back. That he might be the next one to show up. Declan: You’re right. Yugo: Well, you have every right to be alarmed. Judging by all the chaos we caused. But you don’t have to worry just yet. I’m Yugo, not Z-ARC. Declan: I guess so. Yugo: Hey...Do you think my friend Rin will come here too? Declan: I don’t know much about her. However...I believe the possibility is high. Yugo: If she does show up...You’re not gonna do anything to her, are ya? Declan: I will do whatever it takes to stop Z-ARC from returning. But those who were part of Ray - like Rin - have no direct connection to Z-ARC’s resurrection. And if it turns out that we must battle Z-ARC, she may prove to be an asset in stopping him. That’s why I won’t do anything to prevent her return. Yugo: That’s a relief! Declan: I wish I could help you more, but there’s nothing I can do. Yugo: Thanks - don’t worry about it. There’s nothing I can do either. Oh - but what you can do is Duel me! That’ll help you get to know me better! Declan: Heh...I accept your challenge!

[bizarrepotpourri]

Behind the Scenes: The Murderous Brat

[Previously on: Unlucky Thirteen]

As promised, this time we focus on the case of a "depraved murderer barely out of high school", written all on my own without asking other users of A Certain Website for inspiration.

This post, of course, contains mentions of violent crime, death and hornyposting again, so everything is under the cut. Proceed at your own risk.

Important info: you can access the link only if you set explicit material to be shown in your Pixiv settings. For a good reason.

As I said, the idea for this one hit me during the writing of "Unlucky Thirteen", sending me down a rabbit hole of outlining the concept through important-sounding legalese, and that it's based on an actual case. Well, two actual cases and each one of them is a doozy.

The original idea came from a discussion with one of the users of A Certain Website about a fairly recent case of parricide over here in Poland. But when I picked up speed and decided to google the details to confirm a few things, it turned out that I misremembered a crucial detail.

Namely, that the perpetrator wasn't a 19-year-old girl (that was the accomplice), but a 40-year-old woman. How she got a 19-year-old to help is less important - the main sell just got shot down, and that while I already had a full page of the notes including made-up press article headlines and ledes and about a third of the story proper written down. But, good for the story and bad for the real world, my lovely country also had another case of parricide involving high-schoolers a few years earlier. A boy and his angsty artist girlfriend stabbed his parents to death and then some, and by "and then some" I mean the investigators describing the crime scene as something straight from a horror movie.

This meant I had the crime implement (a silenced submachine gun), the motive ("I really, really hate my parents" - and I omitted the previous attempt using horse sedative) and the name from one case, and approximate age, accomplice and "angsty artist" schtick from the other one. I even cooked up bad angsty teen free verse while I was making dinner, and in two languages while we're at it. With that, I got to writing the most important part of the story - the conversation.

My idea was to have the condemned have a talk with the executioner as a last wish, in order to highlight her pretentious, insufferable Angsty Teenage Artist personality. I joked to another user of A Certain Website that I was imagining Julianne as a cross between Hannibal Lecter and Wednesday Addams in a private school sweater, and noted down that she was supposed to be "passive-aggressive" and "morbidly curious" - as expected from someone who shot their parents, cut them up, packed the remains in suitcases and finally dumped the suitcases in several different spots in the wild. Putting it together took me three days, and my original idea of making Julianne a psychotic hate sink just couldn't click. Even the “blue and poo” line that I shamelessly stole from the testimony of one of Australian serial killers (I can’t remember which one, though - I’m fairly certain it was either Ivan Milat or the Barrel Killers, but couldn’t find a source confirming either), who described strangling people as “smurfing”, because “first you go blue, and then you go poo”, didn't quite do it - mostly because its context in the story went from complete sociopathic insanity to gallows humor. Sure, she's still impudent, sarcastic and has ridiculously skewed priorities throughout her life - while I haven’t explicitly put the pedicure line in my notes, I had it in my mind pretty much since I started writing the scene. But then, when I started basing the way Julianne acts while smoking and talking on a former friend of mine, I got two ideas from that: obvious posturing and an apparent addiction to bad choices in life. I mean, I couldn’t have come up with the entire footjob situation if I didn’t know someone operating on similarly fucked-up logic. And to top it all off, one reader's opinion on Julianne as a character was "I don't condone her actions, but I understand her." And that means I achieved the exact opposite of my original idea: of course she thinks entirely too highly of herself and sounds a lot like a countercultural caricature, but on the other hand, you can feel sorry for her being treated like a failure through no fault of her own.

There's a lot of emphasis on Julianne being the youngest woman executed in the Kingdom in this century, for two reasons, both related to the twist in the case with Prosecution appealing the original life sentence soon after Julianne’s 18th birthday: first, long ago I had an idea for a still-unfinished story in which a group execution was delayed until after the 18th birthday of the youngest of the condemned, just so nobody could accuse the justice system of putting children to death. Second, they really wanted to get her: the Kingdom wants to be seen as modern and civilized, even if it has teenage skeletons in its closet, but on the other hand, it doesn't want to be seen as soft on crime as heinous as a double murder using a very illegal weapon. So if you're thinking that it was a setup and the entire schpiel about "psychiatric evaluations" was just an excuse, you're most probably right.

The story also gives some insight into the secrecy surrounding executions in the Kingdom. My original idea was that the names of Special Correctional Officers are confidential and listed only in Ministry of Justice personal files - even the Regional Courts and prison wardens know only the Officer’s badge number and it’s all that goes into the case files. There are also non-disclosure agreements and gag orders, so while the journalists attending the execution get to know the last words of the condemned and witness them being taken away, they not only don’t see the grisly end in person, but are also forbidden from probing the involved people for details. Meaning, Missis Officer won’t get to write a tell-all when retired, as opposed to Albert Pierrepoint, for example. Not that she would - the introduction describes her feelings toward the press fairly well, and she can't help but agree with Julianne when she mentions her hate for tabloids. Not only the "reporting" on high-profile trials often turns out to be sensationalist bullshit that skews reality into unrecognizable mess, with "unbridled joy" being an euphemism for baying for blood, but also the condemned often get the wrong ideas from seeing themselves on the front page. After all, there's no such thing as bad publicity.

Since the city of Blackmill is a stand-in for Manchester, the Raymouth prison is mostly based on HMP Strangeways, but when I got an interesting image of Julianne hanged in an industrial-looking room generated by AI, I decided to abandon the original plan of making it more typical and similar to Wandsworth and Holloway and go with basing the execution chamber on the former Nottingham Gaol (more precisely, their current museum exhibit of 19th century gallows), and the post-WW2 execution sheds built in German prisons, based on the stills from "Pierrepoint" again.

And finally, THE SPLOOSH. While Nicole in "Unlucky Thirteen" might have gotten wet at the last moment for an unspecified reason, Julianne is an utter little freak. While she was mostly trying to get a rise out of Missis Officer with the remarks on leather and masturbating in the noose in front of an audience, she was playing up her actual kinks for shock value. If she wasn’t warned beforehand that any stupid stunt means that her conversation with the executioner is over and she’ll be dragged back to her cell with all the remaining privileges forfeit, she’d probably do something like pulling up her dress and pressing her tits against the glass. But still, in her last moments she went like Madeline in my story “Worst Day of the Year”, just witnessed from an outside perspective.

[1nm806]

got a feelin bout a headline!???? i smells me a headline??!!:!! papes are gonna sell like we was givin em away!!!!!

betcha dinner its a doozy bout a pistol packin floozy, aint no better way to make a newsies day !!

[fiercemillennial]

No Degree, No Problem? The Cost of Activism on Campus

Are universities silencing student voices? When pro-Palestinian protests lead to withheld degrees, we gotta ask: who's really losing here? Read our latest article. #FierceMillennial #TrendingTopics

When universities punish students for speaking out, who’s really losing? Alright, fam, buckle up because this one’s a doozy. We’ve all seen the headlines: colleges withholding degrees from students who participated in pro-Palestinian protests. Now, before you roll your eyes and think, “Oh, not this again,” hear me out. This isn’t just about politics; it’s about free speech, activism, and the…

[fromjasonxp]

The most popular site on Facebook right now is a… blog? I mean, it’s a Catholic fundamentalist blog, but still one for our side I guess, right?

The dude who writes it must have a big readership… right?

Nope.

Ryan Broderick for Garbage Day:

And, as you might expect, there are hundreds of Catholic Fundamentalism blog posts that would be deeply controversial in most religious circles (“A protestant is a person who willfully disobeys Any Word of Christ” is a doozy). But the way they’re shared on Facebook means that next to no one is actually clicking through to read them. In fact, according to the site’s own traffic counts, that anti-Protestant post only has 23 views, but its Facebook post has over 7,000 reactions and a thousand comments. And it’s those thousand comments that are the key here.

Weird Christian infighting aside, those figures are wild. I mean, if you told me that 23 people accidentally clicked on his post I’d believe you.

This tells me two things:

Rage bait is a poor way to generate and audience.

People who spend too much time in rushing streams of content are incapable of enjoying anything longer than a headline.

Anyway, I think it’s time to reread The Garden and the Stream: A Technopastoral.

[tellurian-in-aristasia]

Sunday Telegraph Jan 10, 1993 This post is a doozy, and I do apologize for the scandalous headline, showing up big and loud on your feed. But it is worth reading. This is a couple of letters to the editor about the allegations aimed at the Silver Sisterhood of St. Bride's School, one from Mr. Tyndall himself (infamous neo-Nazi, see his wiki page if you're unfamiliar with him) saying he was in correspondence with Lucinda Tyrrell for 2 years, and she initially contacted him, but it had nothing to do with silly monkey school girl stuff. If you recall, the woman also known as Miss Martindale went by the name Clare Tyrrell, another woman who she referred to as her cousin went by the name Lucinda Tyrrell. There is no picture of this mysterious cousin Tyrrell, so I would be willing to bet it was another name used by Miss Priscilla Langridge, as the two often worked and lived together, and Miss Langridge was notoriously camera shy. The other letter to the editor is by a Miss Lindendorvf, presumably the same Miss Linden Dorvf the previous article mentioned sounded a lot like the woman who was also Miss Martindale, and her letter clears up the trouble with who owned St. Bride's School and clarifies no such correspondence took place with Mr. Tyndall.