#who wants to start a go fund me to get this fucking script

[staticfangs]

good morning my fellow delusional queers 🩷 i come with more juicy info about the magneto script because im losing my mind over this.

so for context: these are screenshots i took of a more revised version that’s being sold for like 1k on a movie prop website. i cannot find this version anywhere else and it doesn’t show the full thing but this script seems to be more detailed and actually includes other characters (destiny, scott, young hank, even SINISTER!!!) some pages were completely different and some just added extra stuff. but like that whole fucking scene where charles has to do an emergency procedure on erik GIVE IT TO MEEE 💳💥💳💥💳💥

(the page before that one charles says to erik something like “you’ll be dead in 3 minutes unless you do exactly what i say.” FREAKY ASS)

[valve3nthusiast]

Decepticon and Autobot propaganda definitely got weirder as the war went on and I'd personally like to believe that there's officially sanctioned patriotic pornography. for my own amusement

Somewhere out there is small porn studio barely skating past the censors by claiming their work is glorifying the superiority of Lord Megatron, when everything they shoot is cheesily scripted and horrendously acted pornos of "Megatron" spiking any and every high ranking 'con they had a vaguely similarly-shaped actor for (but like,,,, they're probably quietly funded enough to stay afloat by Tarn and his cuck kink tbh)

With a shoestring budget and audacity, they end up producing such gems as "Our Glorious Leader Foils His Traitorous Commander's Evil Plot With His Massive Fusion Cannon!" and"Loyal Officers Kneel For The Throne To Recive Our Emperor's Magnificent Throbbing Favor" and "Decepticon High Command Non-Stop Penetrating Action" just to name a few. There are many, many other works of similar... Artistic Value, that end up getting made fun of at Autobot movie nights for all eternity

Autobots of course prefer tastefully written Prime-kink erotica, except for Optimus Prime himself, who still can't find the person that gave the go ahead for propaganda division to write a series of spicy romance novellas about him. This haunts him at every officer's meeting. Someone will be presenting about troop movements or smth and he'll be staring into the middle distance wondering no, Prowl wouldn't... right?

The neutrals might not need propaganda, but of course they're still making porn so some are gettin freakay with it. Given how long they live I bet if cybertronians have copyright law itd be a fucking mess. They probably can't get away with using real names, but there are definitely some very thinly veiled stand-ins for various Autobots and Decepticons fucking in numerous offensive arrangements

Of course you can't throw a rock without hitting a vid starring a blue and red truck and a gray mechanism of indeterminable alt-mode, but that got old fast, and the neutrals started to get creative. The poor sucker that personally received a Cease and Desist from both the heads of the Autobot and Decepticon intelligence divisions went so underground that no one knows who to credit for the smash hit spy vs spy romance novel they wrote. sad

And like. neutrals making crossfaction porn isn't explicitly policed by either faction. but if someone wants to make a vid about Legally Distinct not-Skywarp getting stuck in a wall via teleporting accident and having his ports pounded by the not-Autobots, then they have to reckon with the very real chance that Skywarp the Actual Person will show up to beat the shit out of them

Idk where I was going with this. If you want to make me laugh come up with a terrible name for a terrible cybertronian porno and put it in the comments or replies or whatever the fuck it's called. peace

[dee-the-red-witch]

Fresh month, fresh pinned bio....

Why did I decide to do it this way again? Oh, right, because it's FUN.

Anyways, Hi.

I'm Dee. 46 year old trans woman. On HRT for almost 3 years now. Queer lesbian. Poly and kinky. Absolutely Not Your Responsible Adult (I will not screen off porn, sex positivity, body positivity, and a few other things. if you need censor your own experience for whatever reason, don't follow me, because I will not censor myself for you.)

Got the basics? Good. Now for the advanced. I still don't know what a jerma is, nor do I want to, I don't sell content, I do absolutely support those who do, and so should you. Yes there's a discord. Yes you have to actually ask me for an invite. No, I really am only 5'6". Yes, I'll still record voice requests, even scripted bits. No, you may not call me mommy. I work full time when I'm not being a mom (which has, unfortunately eaten a LOT more of my time than normal this year) as an artist, writer, and leatherworker. You'll find a lot of it available for purchase right here: http://tormentedartifacts.com Here's a few highlights:

I'm also working on teaching myself tattooing, both on myself (Over the last 4 years, yes most of the ink in my selfies was done by me) and a few other willing victims. Which also means building up a collection of flashwork to put on people. Here's some of that:

I'm a writer and occultist as I said before as well, and my first book and companion tarot deck are available through my site, or you can catch me doing weekly card readings and media reviews over here.

The absolute biggest thing right now, though, is my surgery fund- My Gender Confirmation and Facial Feminization operations both happen this November over a two week span, and I'm trying to get enough in to cover my stay and the downtime I'm going to have to take off from everything up there.

So here's the link for my GoFundMe for that.

if you can kick in on that, or just spread word around of it elsewhere, I'd REALLY appreciate it.

Terfs, swerfs, bigots, conservaties, and other fash can fuck directly off. Tipping should be mandatory. Plastics suck, and yes that includes your vegan leather do not start me on that rant. Landlords and borders should be immediately expunged. Give the fucking Land Back. Do make it weird, do it alone if you have to, don't make it creepy. Start HRT if you haven't already. Do make it terrifying, otherworldly, and possibly even wondrous. Buy more leather.

Otherwise, that's it. My inbox or messages are open if you've got questions

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Happy birthday love!! (Or belated birthday)🩷🩷

Satoru gojo, funny, "You landed in jail how?" (Maybe featuring nanami)

Ryomen sukuna, funny, "You look really thirsty, have you considered drinking water?" 🌶

Whichever sparks your interest 🩷

thank you so much!!! 💙💙💙 For this one, I went with the Gojo Nanami request, only because another person gave the exact request for Ryomen (Which, Is coming I swear!) Also, because the idea of Gojo bailing Nanami of all people out of jail is so funny to me.

Now Presenting...

Starring: Nanami Kento and Satoru Gojo

“Come on Satoru, pick up..” You muttered softly, nervously tapping your own shoulder. “I only get one of these..” The ringing of the phone seemed to go on forever, until finally,

“Hello?” Satoru answered, though, questioned is the better verb to use here. The man was more confused than a boomer trying to use twitter.

“Hey, Gojo! How ya doing? I hope I didn’t wake you.” You laughed nervously, trying to ease our way into what you were about to say.

“Y/n why the fuck are you in jail?” He asked, passing at least half of his confusion onto you.

“Wait, how did you know I was in holding?!” you asked, pulling the bottom of the receiver close to your face and stepping closer to the phone booth, as if sharing a secret.

“The operator told me the call was coming from the prison, I had to accept the charges.” He informed you. Oh.

“Huh, I didn’t know it did that.” You admitted.

“That's why they asked you to say your name Y/n. so they could tell me who was calling from, ya know, jail.” Oh. 

“Is that why they had me say my name? I thought it was so they had a record of it to prove I got my call.” Which, is not a bad theory to be fair!

“You’re so drunk.” Satoru almost laughed, starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“Yes I am!” You proudly announced, “And I have to pee really bad, there is no bathroom here, just a toilet. You should come get me. Fast.”

“You want me to come bail you out?” Satoru chuckled, finally starting to wake up, “With what money?”

“The money from the bail fund you keep for when shit like this happens!”

“I regret telling you about that, you know. It wasn’t an invitation to get locked up!”

“If it’s not an invitation, then why have it?” You challenged. Satoru shook his head even though you couldn't see it. He was grinning though. He knew who his friends were. 

“Whatever. I’m going to call Nanami and pick him up on the way, he’s probably the guy you want dealing with the cops.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Kento is here with me!” You cheerfully announced. 

“Hi Satoru!” Nanami yelled in the background from the holding cell. Gojo expected a lot of things when he got the inevitable ‘I’m in jail’ call from you, but a Nanami Kento guest appearance was not one of those things.

“What?! Why is Nanami there?!” 

“He punched a cop.”

“He what?!”

“He. Puched. A. Cop.” You said, loudly and slowly, being sure to enunciate every word. Sometimes you really had to spell it out for the strongest. “Hey Satoru, I gotta go- this pig is oinking at me to get back in the cell-”

“Wait, I-”

“Byyyeee!! Please come soon!” You sang, the line going dead before Gojo could answer any of the questions he had. Kento Nanami Punched a fucking cop?!

🚨🚨🚨

“Are you here to pick up the two drunkards!?” A particularly stressed cop asked as Satoru walked into the station, startling him out of the script he was writing for this encounter. 

“Um…Probably?” Gojo asked.

“Thank god.” The policeman exhaled, scrambling to grab out the bail paperwork for you and Nanami, “They haven’t shut up since they got here. The blonde one keeps trying to unionize the other inmates, and the other one keeps offering doughnuts in exchange for freedom.” Yep, those were Gojos' friends. Is this what it was like to be the responsible one? He hated it, Kento could keep this job. As Satoru finished up the paperwork, the tired bastard from behind the counter went to retrieve his two delinquents.

“For the last time, you can not unionize prison inmates!” Gojo could hear the arguing before he saw anyone’s faces.

“That union busting and it’s illegal.” Nanami said, “But, I’m not surprised. Cops break the law all the time.”

“Yea, what he said!” You added, “Keep this up and piggy wont get a doughnut!”

“I don’t even like doughnuts!” The cop snapped, “I have a gluten intolerance!” 

“Weakling,” Nanami scoffed as the three came around the corner, “How are you going to be ruined by a protein? Just tolerate it.” Satoru noticed a darkening bruise on Kentos cheek, and a cut on your lip. Jesus, what happened?

“Gojo!!” You yelled happily as you saw your friend, running into his arms. “My heroine!” 

“Yea, I think you mean Hero,” Satoru quickly corrected you, not wanting any of the feds to get the wrong idea. “Come on, let’s get you to the car.” He said, giving you a quick hug in return before ushering you and Nanami to the car. 

“Can we go to Ihop?” You asked as you crawled into the front seat.

“Sure, as soon as you guys tell me what happened.” Satoru said as he started the car.

“We got arrested.” Nanami said as he buckled up. Gojo rolled his eyes. 

“You landed in jail, how?” Satoru clarified. 

“Oh, easy!” You laughed, “Kento and I went out for a drink after our mission, and some guy thought it would be a good idea to try and get handsy with me. So we got handsy back!” You smiled.

“He called me a Ken doll!” Nanami snapped, “A ken doll! I am very clearly a barbie!”

“Buddy, I don’t think that was the insult you were supposed to take from that.” Satoru giggled.

“What else could he have ment?”

“He was calling you dickless Kento.” He explained. You could see the math flashing and flying before Nanami's eyes as he tried to process the words coming out of his friend's mouth. He finally shook his head.

“No, I don’t think he was trying to fuck me.” He said. You nodded in agreement.

“Yea, he definitely had homophobic vibes.” You added. 

“No, that's-You know what? It doesn’t matter, let's go to Ihop.” Gojo shook his head. He just wanted to get some carbs into his drunken friends, and thankfully they seemed to want the same thing, as they howled in joy at the idea.

[sorcerous-caress]

Witnessing you play pathologic 2 is such a fucking trip bc like?? I own both 1 and 2, but I’ve only actually played pathologic 1 and like?? How in the blue fuck do you have 15 shmowders????? I think I got like- 6 in my entire playthrough- I was not doing well with my quests tho so that probably contributed but??? 15??????

16 now just baught some from my buddy ol'pal dead items shop man on day 7

But if you want an actual answer

Shmowder kid

Find a building with shmowder kid in it, exist and enter until they have the shmoder in their inventory for trade. 10% spawn chance.

Rare cache farming

I save before 7:30 when cache reset. Then I go and check all the assigned "rare" caches with a chance of spawning shmoders, usually 3-6 each day. They're scripted so they never change locations. I reload until I'm sure at least two of them have shmoders then bag it quickly. 20% spawn chance per rare cache.

Rob people

You don't find shmoders, but you aquire nut funds for your shmoder supplier kid. Basically get the cape and all the protective gear, waltz into infected houses with at least 8 immunity boosters then go haywire and grab all nuts you can find.

Quests?

Only two give a guarantee Shmoders so uhh...maybe if you feel like it? I did them either way.

Here is my progress so far

I could squeeze 3/4 more shmoders out of my plug girlie, but I'm running low on food, so I rather trade them for eggs instead. Plus, I'll get 2 more when it hits 7:30 from caches.

I'm saving up for the shotgun! Maybe a revolver too idk.

I found out brewing antibiotics is annoying so I rather trade for them instead, but + immune boosters are a must.

The town so far is good, I gotta start repairing water sources.

I think Peter's infection is scripted because he had like 75% chance to NOT get infected, lost twice in a row when I reloaded.

Eh, he's not one of my bounds so Imma wait for Daniil to come begging on his knees for a shmoder.

Side note, Artemy is so fucking stunted when talking to women he is attracted to. It's almost hilarious.

Meanwhile, compare it with his flirting with men, and he becomes as smooth as silk.

Artemy is so down bad for Rubin it's sad and funny at the same time.

It's like a love triangle i can't. Artemy wants childhood sweethearts romance with Rubin, but Rubin keeps rejecting him for big city dandy educated Bachelor of medicine, but Daniil is tripping over his own feet trying to subtly (failing) to get closer and more intimate with hunky bottom surgeon Artemy.

Making us "indebted" to him.

Trying to get us to be his "Aide"

By day 6, we're drinking buddies. He even ADMITS how his arrogance hurts him and is a bad trait. IN LESS THAN A WEEK OF MEETING US.

DANIIL ADMITING A MISTAKE, A FAULT, BY HIMSELF AND NOT UNDER THE THREAT OF A RIFILE.

I'm still not over how he invites us to EVA'S house, doesn't tell her and doesn't inform the hunching brooding gaint Artemy that a soft hearted woman lives where he's squatting at for free and instead let her panic at seeing Artemy bust in unannounced.

"The milkman" I FUCKING CANNOT. Daniil is the roomate who's late on rent, keeps flirting with you to make you forget that he is late on rent, then his grinder date shows up unannounced.

Daniil is so much nicer than people made him seem? Idk, maybe I'm too autistic to pick up on his normie passive-aggressive condescension-which feels very in character for Artemy-but also, he just seems like a decent swell guy!

Kinda useless, but he's trying his best without time turning protagonist active player powers!

If anything, he's too friendly. He asks US to be his aide? Even when it's clear that Artemy didn't attend a single day in school all of his life.

Because let's be real.

"Where did you graduate??"

"Medical...school"

ARTEMY YOU DUMB BITCH I LOVE YOU BUT IT'S TIME TO BEG FOR SPARE BRAINCELLS ON THE STREET.

Daniil's "you don't have to watch your tongue with me" omfggggf

The sabotaged water sources must be getting to Daniil's head for him to act this thirsty in a makeshift hospital IN PUBLIC.

Artemy is clearly someone that Daniil would absolutely look down on MORE than he would to the average person, and yet how does he treat us?

Like what the fuck were those youtubers about???? Daniil is so nice oh my god. I had completely the wrong idea. He is so helpful and friendly, not once did I feel antagonised by him.

Also, I didn't insult him, ever. So he never replied with any insulting comment. You treat him with respect, and he does the same. It's endearing!

He entrusts us and confides in us! He clearly values our input and help. He vents to us and listens to our theories!

Side note, people's reaction to Artemy's height and gaint size is gold.

Also, I think they have a kink for his hands because of the whole surgeon thing, like come on, it gets mentioned TWICE?

there is also this time where Artemy had a nightmare that he was sleeping through class, and for some reason, Daniil was just ???? In the corner ??? For misbehaving?

He barely met the guy and he already figured out how 90% of his time in the education system must have went.

also Artemy REALLY likes cats and dogs.

First he calls himself like a Kitten, then he says Murky is like a cat and finally:

Artmey is just phenomenal in this.

I bought the first Pathologic HD Classic today, too! It was on sale for so cheap my god it felt like highway robbery.

See this loser wet cat kiddo right here?

I will behead every man, woman, child and elderly in this entire town with a rusty Axe if even one of them touches a single hair on his head.

[goldenpinof]

why? bc i was thinking about what i watch and what i'd like to see from dan, basically what you said to the previous anon. in late 2018 (at the end of the dan and phil era coincidentally) my taste shifted a lot from mostly comedy and vloggers to video essays and comentary so personally i'd love to see something like that from dan, but i have no idea what dan wants to do. what do you think he wants to do? what's something he'll find fulfilling and sustainable?

i'm going insane reading all these asks about what's next for dan's career. i lobe him i want him to succeed, i want him to get attention and i want to be entertained by him <3

me 🤝 you

sustainable? this is UNSUSTAINABLE!! (sorry, the last promo got in the eyes).

i think he wants (or wanted before wad) to get into stand-up comedy. at some point he proclaimed himself a comedian and started acting like one. unsuccessfully, in my opinion. he is a bad actor, but he is good at exaggerating his feelings. and this is why wad show worked for those who were familiar with Dan, his content, his internet personality and the phandom. i think he loves attention from real life audience, and he loves connecting to the audience while being on stage, so audience participation is an important part of what he wants. (let's count how many times i say "audience"). a not-so-strict script that allows to ask questions, react to answers, comment on people's reactions, make faces, laugh randomly, adjust the show to what is happening on stage – that's a stand-up show that hundreds of people are doing. and i think Dan would be very fucking good at it. the problem is the theme of said stand-up. and i think Dan would love for it to not rely on youtube as heavily as it did during wad (which wasn't an actual stand-up comedy).

remember the last vidcon he attended and the panel that felt like a Ted Talk? it was a fail, i'd say. partly because the audience was too diverse in a sense that phannies weren't the majority. and i'm glad he didn't push this type of career path. wad was so much better, but it was also targeted at the people who already knew him. even if in the beginning i think he was trying to get a wider audience, the lack of funding or enthusiasm promo-wise made it impossible for the "outsiders" to make the experience strange for everyone, Dan including. wad happened to be for us. but was it successful or fulfilling, or sustainable? no. not in a money / audience growth / similar future tours ways. there should be done a lot of changes. and i guess completely changing his management was the 1st and very important step. it was fulfilling in a way that he met us, he saw what his coming out did and what an incredible impact he had on us (not to mention that ii was almost the same. a bunch of gays gathered together).

he clearly wants something bigger than we aka phandom can give him. and for that he must change the theme or/and concept of his shows. i do think that he will try to do a performance again. and i hope it's gonna be less acting and more improvisation.

i'm not sure about a filmed show. he sucks as an actor, and i don't want him to fail :( but if Joey Graceffa successfully put out Escape the Night and Liza Koshy had a series that didn't require more acting than her own skits, maybe something similar could be alright?! "danisnotokay" is an outdated title though. we need to change it, he is not 25 anymore, come on.

basically, he loves attention, complaining about his life, trauma dumping, edgy jokes, screaming, laughing, sex jokes, feeling liked, loved and wanted. he fucking beams when people applaud him. and for that he needs audience. he could get all of it minus an applause with a podcast or livestreams, but he is a stubborn asshole, so i do hope to see him on stage again. preferably a smaller one and with new topics to discuss.

[beardedmrbean]

Hey it was me huey zoomer who pointed out the child predator shit in different cultures and economies systems

Oh and well…might save my rant for later

Sorry socialists, I prefer being bezos bitch for 10 hours for 4 days then being force to reproduce with up to 5 female slaves starting at 15!

Ugh sorry I don’t want to use my enslaved ancestors as a crunch. I just want to point out the hell my ancestors went through prior to industrialization

Also this thread have a clip from a video I watch that pointed issues I have

https://x.com/lavenderghast/status/1771018961968157013?s=46

And incase you wonder what type of “consultants” devs are going to

One is the bitch that shit over Akira early black designs

At least he approved on his black characters

Also there a FUNDAMENTAL difference between Pixar getting Mexican and African American consultants so they can be authentic to the cultures their using

Then using the black American activists that thinks skintone=entire personality

Because I just realize something with Killmonger

Black activists can’t separate the difference between a common thug vs a Navy seals cia agent that purposefully trained in destabilizing countries and treated wakandans like shit

“He was a victim of systemic oppression!” And who joined the cia that been used as the basic for

Wait wait

Holy

Fucking

Shit

Are you telling me

These late 20’s-30’s

College educated

Narracists

Didn’t pick up on the huge middle fingers Vietnam vets or friends did to the cia in the late 70’s-00’s media did they?

Or how cops in shows LOATHE working with the cia

They’re crooked too

But it ain’t rocket science who gave the narcos and cartels military grade weapons that no regular American can buy much less third world citizens

Oh and the CIA/FBI FUNDED CRACK AND COCAINE EPIDEMIC

I mean if I was a rookie cop that say low thugs have military weapons my station don’t have. I would be wondering how the fuck they got it here in the USA?

Sorry it always been a issue, but Killmonger shows how twisted they see black and white

The fucker made a deal with the devil in his current suit. Yet he the victim in everything?

don't think that even really registered with that one, was wearing out about then, changed the tag on it

Sorry socialists, I prefer being bezos bitch for 10 hours for 4 days then being force to reproduce with up to 5 female slaves starting at 15!

Oh I don't know, that could be fun......... (kidding, I'm all for monogamy)

Also this thread have a clip from a video I watch that pointed issues I have https://x.com/lavenderghast/status/1771018961968157013?s=46 And incase you wonder what type of “consultants” devs are going to One is the bitch that shit over Akira early black designs At least he approved on his black characters

A lot of Hollywood stars, the big ones, have people that go over their scripts for them and get changes made so that they fit in with the persona of the actor, it's why you pretty much always know what you're going to get with a Will Smith movie, people went through and did rewrites to make sure his lines sound like Will Smith lines.

Video games using established characters should look into that apparently, so the stars of the game don't just become (more?) generic, which would suck.

Also there a FUNDAMENTAL difference between Pixar getting Mexican and African American consultants so they can be authentic to the cultures their using Then using the black American activists that thinks skintone=entire personality

Disney in general is pretty good about that and getting better, Pixar has always been over the top about it which shows.

But it ain’t rocket science who gave the narcos and cartels military grade weapons that no regular American can buy much less third world citizens

Thanks Obama. Next we'll discuss the policy he put in place that lowered civilian deaths by listing anyone in the blast area of a drone strike as a terrorist.

Oh and the CIA/FBI FUNDED CRACK AND COCAINE EPIDEMIC

Mostly FBI, it's insane how after all that and things like the Tuskeege syphilis experiment how many people in the black community trust the government, oh it's just the cops that are bad, na fool the Fed is directing it all.

Though it did result in black Americans having a lower covid vaccination % than any other demographic IIRC.

I mean if I was a rookie cop that say low thugs have military weapons my station don’t have. I would be wondering how the fuck they got it here in the USA?

That's why we need more gun laws, if it's illegal to have those I'm sure the various gangs and such will turn theirs in.

Sorry it always been a issue, but Killmonger shows how twisted they see black and white The fucker made a deal with the devil in his current suit. Yet he the victim in everything?

Still haven't seen the movie, but ya by my understanding there was no nuance there at all.

Hopefully they learn better when it come to making a villain.

[hanzi83]

Venting Venting Venting

It feels like it has been a while since I have done a blog. Luckily I have jotted down the thoughts I wanted to express over a week ago, but the issue is the shit I feel passionate about at the moment because it is constantly being talked about in the discourse, but the last week or so I have been at a lot of wrestling shows, so I wasn’t just stuck at home trying to isolate myself to further stick it to people who already pushed me into isolation for the last 13 years, but when you are not online much, it feels good not to consume the nonstop discourse that will have genuine issues and concern but gimmicked into a culture war where no solutions will be had and it will be more sports entertainment where we dunk on people for being hypocrites and it will be constant dumbing down the villains you are supposed to be worried about. I kept up with key stuff that was going on on some level, but it felt good not to have to see nonstop gaslighting, plus twitter was fucked up this past weekend which was a blessing in disguise for me, like I don’t have to worry about many people interacting with me since I have legit been blackballed from being seen as relevant, the problem is, that there are still dangerous funded trolls who monitor me and try to insert themselves into my life, plus you never know when people from the past will resurface for their own agendas, but whenever I feel good for a bit, it always has to come with more mental anguish, like sometimes when I have had a good time and feel less stressed and mentally ill, I often just sit back and enjoy the thoughts and positive vibes I have in my head and processing things where I don’t even want to jot down these good feelings because everything I do is monitored, just like everyone on this planet is monitored, and I feel if I put it down I have been feeling good, my trolls will be paid to show back up and instill more paranoia, or people who thought sucking up to me for a few years, who also secretly have deals with my trolls will come back, and because they don’t get the interaction they want, they will try to instigate shitty trolling with their less than charismatic personalities to goad me into getting into an argument, they will try to start shit, then still pretend they are on “Team Hanzi” yet they will be in other people’s comments posting pictures of me because they have them all saved because they are closeted groupies who probably jerk off to my fat face, while being an edge lord and projecting on me as being gay as an insult, that is probably a hit in those mediocre group chats that fake like each other’s shitty jokes but because it is the common bond of hatred for me, they will give each other pretentious high fives. So the “good feeling” is rubbing off and I can sense when the negative energy tries to resurface so I would rather vent about a few things to melt it from my head so I don’t fucking build up more frustration, where my mind goes to looking at the future scenarios and get mad at these scenarios that I am envisioning which play a part in the accumulative nature of mental illness in my fucking head that constantly builds up. I don’t mind showing my irrational behavior because mental illness is not a pretty thing, people want to support the notion of awareness but then constantly deny what institutions and the system has done to many people who suffer, you solely have to take all the accountability and responsibility while people who will keep doing this to people will be protected and be propped up as these great human beings. The best part of this, is people have to pretend they don’t read it because it goes beyond the script they play with online where they have to repeat the official narratives about me on the Stern Show, and the online shit has become just as gimmicked, it may have meant something in the 90’s and early 2000’s and I realize we have constantly been rebooting the decade we are in and correlate with the current climate by the aesthetic when I feel shit has become 100 times more advanced, and the wrong people who have platforms are the ones who get to pretend to be experts while these pussies do their shitty right wing pivots, and more people will show that side, everyone eventually throws on an NWO shirt. They rather work with the hive mind and regress rather than learning to evolve, people who have the greatest aesthetic are the most fucked up people on the planet, and the solace I have is that eventually they will realize their closed ones will even think they are fucking sociopaths and will not want to be around them or at the very least, they will be fucked up too, selling out might give you a better aesthetic, but the way some of these people act, and how contentious they get, shows they hate themselves deep down as they dissolve into soulless villains who will have more vitriol for the people trying to fight back against fascism than the fascists themselves. Everyone is finding their way of crossing over and it is scary. I really wish I was not here for this, because I have sene so many people oppose people going for right wing pivots and it seems all of them are eventually doing it too, especially when they dumb down narratives. Promoting shitty debates that won’t go anywhere, or bringing awareness of more villains that exist in the discourse to be villains, but nothing will happen to them because they are protected but they get the benefits of acting like they are being canceled, so they will get some rejuvenation into their grift that they are doing. 

Let’s start with TYT’s continued regression. They have done so many bone headed things over the last week, it is hard to keep up with but this is why the right wing wins because even people on the left who are kind of condemning them, some people are fully calling them out for their gaslighting bullshit they are doing while pretending to be victims, but there are some who pretend they don’t want this to be and maybe you don’t but if you are gonna play a fucking pro wrestling naive babyface who will constantly trust Ric Flair, before he fucking turns on you again then what does that say, it is like you are giving people a reason to look at these people going more right wing to be fucking cool, thing is even if TYT is regressing and sophisticating it and being defended by very far right wing people, they could never in a million years ever fucking sound cool, when Ana Kasparian says “Homeboy this” “Homeboy that” she comes off like Monic Gellar when she says “You go girl” like she doesn’t sound like a fucking authentic human being. She is probably being studied by Marlon Wayans when he decides to make a sequel of White Chicks. And she knows what she is doing but she and Cenk are too pussy to admit they are becoming Nazis and will constantly take shots at people being mad at them when they are the ones who literally try to go for the engagement. People don’t want to believe a bunch of these alt media people have become the biggest frauds, they will become the people they hated when they point out “I CALLED OUT THE IRAQ WAR 20 YEARS AGO.. I WAS DESIGNED TO BE RIGHT BECAUSE MY ILK WAS GONNA BE THE NEW SELLOUTS WHO CAN CONSTANTLY SHIT ON MSM WHILE MISLEADING OURSELVES” and I know a lot of you who surround yourself with that ilk are sociopaths and that makes you dangerous, it certainly isn’t your fucking personality or the humor you have, most of you are just as bad as establishment MSM. First Ana retweets this moral stance about people on social media who are kind of being boastful of the submarine people who died in the titanic shit, here is the thing these billionaires are buying a way out of this planet or living underground because the world is going to shit, and all this twitter limit shit, and reddit fucking up etc, they are trying to fuck up these social media places because when shit does go to complete and utter shit, there will hardly be a way to find out what is really happening and it will be dominated by the propped up people aligned with Elon Musk. But my shitty conspiracy aside, and anything that I say in this blog or say on the podcast, I don’t know 100 percent, which is why I go off by the vibes and I am all over the fucking map, but it is fine, there is no pressure in me writing the most prolific piece of literature, no one is really looking for me to do that, but the important people do consume what I write and get mad about it and I expect them to extract revenge down the line, they will collaborate with more fundamentalist types online and other fed like accounts to try and push me to the brink of insanity because they are butt hurt they couldn’t get me to be on the right wing side, maybe you convinced people from my past to join that side, but I would rather fucking die than be on that fundamentalist side that is gonna be the modern Nazi shit. Ana Kasparian will get up in arms about people not giving a shit about billionaires who knew the risk of going into that shit, but at the same time, she will demonize homeless and do her “crime wave” shtick, and act like she is confused what to do with these people, yet she will whitewash dangerous politicians and influential people who are criminals and have gotten away with so much. They will bring up the trans in sports issue to act like it is not a winning issue, but this issue is so rare that is being promoted in sensationalist ways to make it seem like this is being forced in sports and they do the separate but equal type of talk, knowing it is more complicated, and the only people who bring this up are right wing people who helped create this issue in sports because people who don’t think they are political, will consume news about sports and entertainment, and they use these political issues that won’t be presented with nuance or people who are from that community and it will be people who are just reactionary and they fear monger about this and dictate how people can feel about it, even though they are using culture war shit to help ease people into accepting these fundamentalist laws that will harm these communities. They have helped promote the bare minimum of Trump over the last decade and did their sports entertainment, but now they pretend to be voices of reason of being “fair” about why Trump resonates etc, they know the future of this shit but they kayfabe their hate for the democrats solely, knowing that whoever the world champion is, Vince McMahon is the one who is booking the direction, and this is why different bad faith actors will use a lesser established presidential candidate as this new voice, when they won’t make the difference on the surface if the same guy is writing the storylines and putting it together, but they want their new face to be the guy who will represent for the right wing system, and by making it look like they are solely focused on Trump helps, but now TYT and others get to act like they are above that, when they have misleaded, and the only “corrections” they have made have been to appease the far right because again they are fucking cowards who don’t want to admit they got their assholes branded with Nazi symbols, while Ben Shapiro and Candice Owens play judge of who has a better one. They will then do stories where they will make excuses for fascist shit, where they will defend Rick Scott for warning against people who are socialist to stay out of Florida like it is gonna be danger but then she does “both sides” and she even says in the program “I know people are gonna hate I do both sides” basically that translates to “I know people hate that I am leaning toward catering to Nazis because me and my co host are the biggest money whores on the planet, but I am gonna continue to do it anyway” These people claim to be better than the MSM but they can’t even do a fucking story without flailing their shitty arms about how wokeness is going too far because social climbers online who could be bad faith actors yelled at them and that gets focused on rather than the people who are actually being polite and being friendly and correcting them on where they went wrong and they insist on going down the white supremacist path. They are not charismatic enough to pull it off but  they are dangerous because they are protected pussies who will keep doubling down and gaslighting people and then playing victims on their press run where you are uplifting Jesse Singal, and now leaning more into the anti trans shit that is sophisticated, and claiming people yelled at Lee Fang for reporting on violence at the BLM protests. They will constantly talk about people being emotional reactionaries but their entire fucking being on this planet is fucking acting like reactionaries, they do a fucking story about how some conservative who used to be homophobic has been finding the errors of his ways and is accepting of LGBTQ people etc, and that is a good story to do, genuine regular people who have been brainwashed and breaking out from it, it is a beautiful thing. But they then tie the story of an imaginary crowd canceling this guy already, like you did a good story but you had to take jabs at people who called you out for being transphobic and creating issues so you can get yourself canceled. She has no problem talking to white supremacists and whitewashing it, she will then in bad faith talk about how Rick Scott’s warning is not different from people who were warning about going to Florida if you are from a marginalized community, and said “I was just in Florida, it is fine, there were pride flags there and people were celebrating” yes I am sure certain areas people are celebrating their month etc, but it doesn’t mean the overall pattern in the future is to get rid of those people too, but she has to both sides to protect fascism, and then she and Cenk get to parade around and act like they represent for progressives so a bunch of right wing people can do the same shit they do with Bill Maher and Jimmy Dore and do the “Well I don’t view myself as a leftist, but TYT and Jimmy Dore are making sense” yeah because they are catering to the fundamentalist right wing side and promote fake culture wars so they can do their witty sitcom banter, and I know you will keep doubling down on your shitty personalities but you guys are not that talented, you are not even human beings, you are robot personalities trying to do your own establishment show. I wish more leftists would call it out for what it is, but it seems most of the leftists the last several years have been deciding to dumb shit down even though they pretend they are smarter than everyone, but they will definitely all start going more to the right wing side eventually. They are scared of these fucking jerkoffs who want to play footsy with Nazis? Ana Kasparian is scared to talk to people outside her race but she is not scared of being okay with Trump normalizing his fascist bullshit, you will pretend there is nothing to be scared about with DeSantis who has fascist aspirations and promote fake sports entertainment where it leaves your audience no choice but to have to pick a side and that is some sicko shit. 

The affirmative action controversy happened and they even have tokens who are conservative fundamentalists being happy about it because it is putting a hindrance on their movement, when the world already has a bunch of unfair shit and this affirmative action shit was never designed to help minorities on a social level, meaning yeah they might get a position or a spot in a school etc, but the social energy towards them is met with vitriol because a bunch of racists and self hating minorities will deem them as not being worthy of having the spot, like the white people in those positions have all the experience and there was no favoritism toward them. They are getting different minority groups recruited for a bunch of fundamentalist conservative issues, you could say that it is forced diversity because the far right wing loves minorities who go against anything that liberal minded people will promote even if Affirmative action doesn’t solve all racial injustices but it is needed, but they make it seem like the system really wants this, but it is designed for right wing people from a right wing trajectory system to capitulate so their road to fascism comes off as some victory that was earned. And of course people like TYT will agree with it because a bunch of racist people will say racist shit so we have to capitulate and pretend this system in general is by merit, when it is all about who bows down the powerful people and their narratives, and making it seem because the liberals present shit in limited ways, that the pushback from funded sports entertainers online are the genuine politically incorrect opinion. TYT was even used in a fucking DeSantis ad even if it was taken out of context but that symbolizes they are going that route but TYT is buying time to act like it was taken out of context but even if that specific clip was taken out of context, your other content has been sophisticating your white supremacist agenda, Cenk is the biggest token Muslim cosplaying as a fucking progressive, the guy is mastering his fucking Bababooey/Hacksaw Jim Duggan gimmick. They will keep finding ways to be okay with fascist propaganda and act like people who are gonna be affected as being people who are crying about non winning issues, just because you guys weren’t strong enough to stick to your “progressive principles” like every other post leftist dipshit who for so long used their credibility being better than MSM and the establishment while not explaining the establishment has expanded online and with a bunch of the entertainers in the streaming world. They and others have helped dumb down the rhetoric and dumb down the villains who will be serious threats, because they know their position will be protected, they have treated politics and serious issues for their armchair quarterback game, and turned into a pretentious reality show because they want to be the characters on Succession, and think their banter is actually funny. Everyone thinks they are funny and guess what, that means no one is fucking funny, sure you will have your cults all pretending you are the funniest people on the planet, but you know deep down they are only supporting you for your shitty political opinions because you are bowing down to the far right, and the thing is if these conspiracies that the right wing peddle come true or one story from it comes true, it is like the establishment democrats and bought off personalities purposefully limited it, so when something does come true, guess who will get credit? The right wing and some of you know that, and you are helping them. Like when MTG talks about her television being hacked and shit connecting to it, if I didn’t know who MTG is and just heard the story of what happened, yes I could believe that shit like that can be hacked, there have been times where my smart TV has been hacked, my trolls will show off about doing that, but because it is MTG who is probably lying about it, now it means the entire conspiracy cannot be true, and it is like why would you limit shit? It is like how they project over the feds being this evil force, like they have been, and if it is proven that these feds helped with the insurrection, the right wing will win the narrative of making it look like they were framed, when my conspiratorial brain goes to the fact that I believe that these feds would be on their side, and they would make it look like they are framing them so it will fuel the next insurrection to be 100 times more dangerous because they will feel vindicated with being the ones who were the voices of reason, hence all these celebrations of corporations capitulating. The liberals present white supremacy on a bare minimum level, and go by the over the top aesthetic, that the right wing can pretend that everything is generalized into white supremacy so when ABC News is doing stories about downplaying Moms for Liberty, people will act like people on the left are wrong to be outraged that ABC News is being fair to this group when this group is a far right wing group that has constantly used Hitler quotes, and people who defend it go “No they are using quotes to show what the left are doing” but that is also fucking not true, so they are not only using Hitler quotes but they are applying them to people who are trying to fight back against that shit, so now you will notice more and more media in the establishment will capitulate to these people and they will see it as a victory. Again this is just my personal fucking opinion. I don’t have the answers, but again I am either irrelevant or I am not, and you chose to do that, so don’t worry about a lowly Pakistani, I know a bunch of you right wingers have been recruiting a bunch of token Muslims to join your fundamentalist cause to hate on the LGBTQ but to those Muslims who want to fucking join that side, or other token minorities who want to, look at how they are talking about immigrants over these France riots and I am sure there are regular people really pissed, but how do I know there aren’t far right wing funded groups who are causing more chaos to blame it on all the Muslims and they are too busy hating on Muslims and finding a way to shit on minorities for the fucked up shit going on in France, where now they don’t give a shit about what happens in Palestine, and fundamentalists on the neoliberal and neoconservative sides will control both sides of the argument where anyone who calls out what Israel is doing and how fucked up the government is, it will be deemed Anti Semitic, and because the places to go to talk about it become limited, where else can you go? Alt media or online message boards to talk about it, and that is where the other far right wing fundamentalists are on some level, where they will generalize Jewish people entirely and this is how they can get people who are confused about Russia/Ukraine to then think Russia is this innocent victim, and people who might not know better will see how they never give a shit about Muslims even if they pretend they are concerned for about 15 minutes, and that is how it is easy to get swept into this propaganda, it is like the neoliberals want to push more people to the right. Now they have fear mongering going on with migrants in France doing all of this, when it is another trickle down effect of where the world is going so they can justify why bringing in their form of fascism, and now that I don’t trust anyone as far as news goes with their narratives, it is hard to know what is real now, like people are convinced that behind the scenes footage of Fast and Furious of cards falling out of buildings is real footage and talking about how Africans are taking over France, these people are not playing the rules and they are running with narratives that will endanger shit, all because the people who perpetuate it can just do 90’s aesthetics and shit on the transparent MSM is bad angle and make that their entire personality trait. They will even pretend the MSM is not talking about this, but they link to a MSM article talking about it, and if I had continued down that path 12 years ago, I would’ve been one of those dipshits, but then again maybe I would make more money and be successful since everyone has to pay the piper when they want to advance, not to say there isn’t hard work or skill but when that hard work and skill is helping the white supremacist system flourish, it is like they have taken any of the progress made by the messaging a decade or so ago, and now think pushing back against complaints of racism, homophobia, sexism, transphobia etc, they are the ones who have the issues because the issues get presented in a limited way and this is how it all gets repeated in a cycle of bullshit with this sophistication of rebranding more ways to keep marginalized people marginalized and putting their lives in danger, and everyone who tries to fight back, then end up giving in where they start finding their own angle to then join in with the right wing side. We can’t agree with the Epstein shit, they will tell us officially there is no foul play and people will think by pointing out MSM is lying about it means their side if 100 percent true, but they will never entertain the idea that their favorite politicians and public figures who are leaning more right haven’t been there and they supposed don’t trust the feds but then believe some CIA guy who is trying to “expose sex trafficking” and I am sure it exists, but people on the liberal side will act like the notion is fucking ridiculous when it does exist, and in my opinion the ones who are pointing it out that is exists to weaponize against all liberals etc, are probably the ones who are guilty of it. But people will keep dumbing down the the evil and levitate shit with comedy because that entertainment form has never felt any lesser with everything constantly being catered to that notion so if you think what someone is doing is inherently evil, all we have to do is constantly make it into this shitty sports entertainment and nothing gets solved, it just goes in cycles. The world is gonna implode more and more, they even take that incident that started all this protesting in France by having the argument be about another “both sides” argument because the person shot had a record, and then the result is violence and impending doom so it makes it seem like people concerned about police brutality are the ones who are into violence while the far right wing calls for violence nonstop and try to use their symbolism to talk about what they plan to do in the future. It feels like the far right wing is taking over every country on some level, or maybe a good position of countries while they present country vs country aesthetic. 

Another thing is with people who are discredited on the surface and are related to shitty people, like Liz Cheney warning about Trump not being able to get close to the White House, like her father and Bush Jr weren’t bad or anything but maybe that shit is self preservation of what will happen in the future so we have it on record people warned about this, even though in the present it seems people ignored the other shit in the past that got us to this place, so we then are supposed to assume Trump is not as evil as others and they are actually trying to stop him, if they were gonna stop him, he would’ve have been able to catch traction, the overall build of not trusting the MSM or Hollywood Liberals worked so well because they were the ones who were calling out Trump so most people who don’t like that shit assumed Trump was the anti establishment guy because even though he resorts to edge lord behavior, he would let some truth slip out about other shit on some level. But it feels like the same players with the use of sports entertainment can make it seem like if they say good things on some level, we have to blindly trust them, and if that person ends up being shady then their entire anti Trump message doesn’t have meaning and I believe the same power players in the Bush era, that ilk, have found a way to make it seem like the aesthetic of the US warning about Russia is on the same level as warning about Iraq, but what if the narratives is supposed to be that the same dynamics have intellectualized itself with the same kinds of people actually being aligned with far right wing over there, so it is like they remixed the discourse but by the surface we have to think supporting Ukraine during this invasion is he same exact scenario as something 20 years ago because the US lied about shit, and they don’t do themselves favors when they don’t deem Palestinians as human beings. People who already feel disillusioned with shit then can see that if they get no support and they weaponize so much against one community that other communities get protection, and instead of hating other communities or countries for getting protection, I wish others would get concern as well, but this is how people who might not know better get lured in. As a dumbed down guy who doesn’t know how to retain all this information coming at me, I have never been more confused about narratives anymore. Like even people who I have respected about their takes on Palestine etc, have now implemented their right wing beliefs on their platforms and buy into this forced push with RFK Jr, like someone like George Galloway who would speak out about what Israel is doing to Palestine is gonna back RFK Jr who has justified why Israel does what they do, so you just can’t claim you are some anti Imperialist and then align with people who are gonna have bad intentions, it is sick that you would take a genuine issue in what is happening over there and then lure people into this new form of fundamentalist. Look at this marketing with Roseanne, much like a lot of celebs, she at one time would speak out about the fundamentalism in showbiz and talked about MK Ultra, and I know people don’t believe that exists, but now the last several years it is like she has been going further right, and her and Theo Von marketed a controversy for his podcast to get promoted, so that it was an obvious sarcastic joke, even though it was not that funny, but then the online reactionaries who are supposed to be liberal etc, who I think take shit out of context on purpose, so then these shitty comedians can go “OH MY GOD ARE WE AT A POINT WHERE WE DON’T RECOGNIZE SARCASM” Yeah I can recognize sarcasm, but she may have been joking in the most hacky way possible, but she also gave respect to MTG as well, and this has been accumulating with fake cancel culture bullshit. It doesn’t matter, it is the whole “radio won’t play my jam” shit that these people do and they are just amplifying it on HGH after doing a fucking 24 hour coke binge and these people with hive mind think it means shit because the people who market this shit are propping up up. And I am not gonna buy into this bullshit anymore. She said black people control rap and that is when I knew she was completely full of shit, sure there are black people who might have power and be figure heads etc, there might be more black people who might gate keep something that is their culture, but it is all these fundamentalist execs who have power behind the scenes, and I know “OH IS THAT CODE FOR JEWISHHHHHH” No, but yeah there are Jewish members of a delegation that are involved just like other delegations in the system who have power, I think Christian fundamentalism is what actually runs showbiz under the guise of freedom and liberation, but we won’t recognize it because we only see the obvious evangelical shit that is taking place. But now that bad faith actors are talking about it in an era where they are on a platform where they speak to millions, they are the ones who will generalize people from communities based off the delegations, it would be like if Sopranos were real, and I blamed all Italians on what the Italian mobsters do because they represent for their people on some level, but they will be the ones who have the power within their communities and you will deal with them so it is like you have feuding delegations, this is how they are doing this with the affirmative action shit, it was created by some dude Ed Blum, but they are using token Asians to help get this going, just like they are getting Muslims to get behind the fundamentalist shit against LGBTQ. The fundamentalist Muslims who these Chrsitian fundamentalists warned about to justify why you need to bomb the fuck out of them are now actually aligning with the fundamentalists they claimed to hate. So thanks for exposing that you just get off on the fact that Muslims are being tortured and destroyed. 

I know I am all over the map, but when I have a laundry list of shit to get off on my chest, I get scattered. I tend to fucking go off on these rants and venting as much as I can because I continue to see the world going into a very far right wing direction and I don’t know who from my past who tries to associate with me are connected with it since people want to get to the top and be associated with celebrities and will sell their soul, and now that I have been thinking on my own and have my own theories and try to analyze shit my own way it is a big no-no to people who will never educate people, they will just express their opinion if it helps their cause because they are associated with problematic people. I worry because I have been out of the loop but I get dragged out and seen with people from time to time and I don’t know what they have been up to or who they are associated with. That is why I refer not to be on this planet anymore because I know eventually the more and more people go to the right, I am gonna be forced to go down that route when I have been trying not to regress because I came so close, I know the conspiratorial shit has lead me there, but I like to think even if I am conspiratorial and maybe I am completely wrong about certain things, I am not trying to regress and actually use it for actually get people to evolve in my own fucked up way. I am all over the map with this but when things keep playing out and I am seeing more shit being normalized and promoted as victory because you got SCOTUS to allow discrimination to LGBTQ people or another faulty promise of student loan debt being done but then they take away shit, and they know the shit on the surface will always be imploding and it just feels like all the storylines are designed to get us there, and the more crazy it gets and people with platforms basically kayfabe the gimmicked shit, it will be their excuse to go further right, like if whatever happens under Biden’s watch happens, people will then think they can go on the Trump or DeSantis side, but their side will be the faces of where the fascism goes in an overall sense. That is how I see it, maybe being a pro wrestling fan all my life it is easy to see how this could play out, I know I am clearly not smarter than all the political gatekeepers out there. All these social media places popping up is like the main pro wrestling companies going to shit or losing favor in the early 2000s so everyone thinks they will be the next WWE or they will be the next competition for it. It just feels like everything is becoming a parody and it feels by design because the people who are jokes in showbiz and are not the relevant ones, like let’s say Rob Schneider kind of help leading the charge on this anti wokeness shit going on, people will then think the celebs who are bigger and more mainstream are actually on the side of their cause but the reason why so many of these showbiz people who come off as hasbeens or washed up problematic people seem like they are the ones who are the jokes but the jokes is that they are permitted to do this and catch traction on alt media, but they are being allowed by the same celebs who might come off as liberal on the surface, but how much can you take shit seriously when we are using these low level celebs who are easy to dunk on, so it completely gets levitated by the comedy of the whole thing because can you believe we are gonna be arguing with Dean Cain and Kevin Sorbo about the state of the world. It basically lessens the threat, because everyone is playing it by cliques, because people who are supposedly anti right wing seem like they are more relevant and happening but those same people are also gonna take their masks off to show their side where they reveal their right wing personas. Guys like Jimmy Dore are finding their ways to move to the right even more, because now they start doing the stop the steal nonsense without saying they are going that route, or they will start doing anti climate change shit, but not super obvious but eventually it goes to those lengths, for people who are supposed to be anti establishment, you are doing the establishment’s narratives but I guess because we question people’s motives or notice you wear a fucking stupid fedora, suddenly no one is credible because these people with platforms never want free thinkers, they say it in principle but they all want cult members who don’t question them because they said a couple of things that happened to prove them right throughout their career. Again I am just crossing off stuff that I had jotted down and I knew once I tried to kind of vent, it would overwhelm my mind and then I would start moving all over the place, but again this is one of the benefits of being someone who is not relied upon, I am not a destination blog or podcast, people know it exists, but I am not have people coming at me directly, sure there will be people who do monitor and keep an eye out on it and will use people in my life to fuck wit my mindstate, or they will get other people with bigger platforms to lure me on so officially I can have a bigger target on me in some kind of way. Like when I say that the whole Proud Boy vs Patriot Front is the biggest sports entertainment thing going on as well, and people on the left who seem to think the feds could not be white supremacists is the stupidest shit, like when right wing people say it is feds, it is being used for the purpose to convey that right leaning people are being framed and because they push back against their ties to white supremacy they use the feds as a way to downplay it, so when they say feds, they act like there couldn’t be factions that align with white supremacy in these institutions, then when the left downplays the possibility that of feds framing anyone when there is a history, they will say “It is because of white supremacy” but in a limited and generalized way like people in the feds could not have ties to that. But again it is more sports entertainment. And if it somehow revealed that the right wing on the surface is being framed etc, this will be their just cause to do whatever they want and people will buy into this propaganda. That is why with the way they promote these stories that could be used for viral moments and make people involved these characters, while also promoting vigilante justice to be done to cogs in the system who are probably funded by the system to act out, they promote thee stories because it plays a role in them becoming social media characters, that woman who shot the black women through her front door for ringing the bell will get off, and then the juxtaposition to then use a scenario where a 14 year old kid shot and killed someone protecting his mother when they were attacked in some restaurant. When these stories then have ties to celebs or it becomes this big news story it feels like it gets used to promote more vigilante shit, and also they have this story out there because more people will focus on the racist white woman who did what she did, so they can say that people will make excuses for the black mother’s son who shot at someone who was attacking her. I can see how these ghouls and fucking blood suckers exploit this shit so it eases us into this mindset when this shit, even violence could be funded by billionaires that helps facilitate the 24/7 news cycle and not even with traditional media, now all these think tank and propped up right wing figures, this world is going to shit. I see little implementations everyday by what they normalize in the discourse. Even the talk about pedo shit, like people like Libs of Tik Tok will show a video of naked bikers riding around at an event with little kids there, and then you don’t realize that the account that has plenty of kids watching her content are now seeing these naked bikers as well, it is like they don’t give a shit about it and the reason they prop sensationalist stories because if it happens with a group that identifies with a community by the aesthetic, but you don’t know if this sensationalist shit being promoted in certain instances are done by the right wing themselves, not like there aren’t right wingers who love to do homoerotic shit anyways, but they could easily have this organized to make it look certain ways but this is what happens when there aren’t many people who are opposite the right who will entertain something conspiratorial because it is only the right wing being permitted to be allowed to be that. I know people use their favorite prestige shows to compare to what is happening in real life etc, and it is always with the surface level shit, but if I look at this superhero shit and their hidden truths, it is considered a joke that I would ever think that they are showing us in plain sight what is happening on a symbolic level of what direction the world is going in. When we see the incompetent moves these politicians make on the surface, which I always assume is by design, you want to believe that they have been possessed or there is some Twin Peaks shit going on. Like am I really supposed to think RFK Jr is a real human being or if he is supposed to be a malfunctioning AI in real time, I never seen such a push for someone to act like they are being suppressed when he is in every alt media place, he is on MSM as well, there is constant stories about him, but it is like the alt media circles wanting to create their own “anti establishment” character when it means nothing anymore because everyone is compromised, all you have to do is give the impression he is being censored and since we think this is the 90’s we act like he is Bill Hicks going on public access shows for his appearances, it doesn’t have the same feeling and it feels just as establishment as the establishment person themselves, at least with an establishment person, I know there will be bullshit, but someone who acts like they are these ultimate truth tellers, they end up becoming suspect down the line and there is more proof to that over the last several years. If this were 10 years ago and you sold me on this RFK Jr shit as more systemic shit to get rid of him because of what they did to JFK, I would’ve thought there was merit to it, but who fucking knows. It feels they are trying way too hard to push this, and if people don’t like him, it is like they have to be gaslit people because are acting this is about free speech when this speech I can hear from other right wing dipshits, how is “speech” being threatened when protected people say that shit, as long as you make it look like there is suppression people will then think they are listening to someone dangerous. In most cases, the establishment backs these people who are anti establishment because it always seeps into some right wing fundamentalism. And then we have obvious gaffes that are going on with Biden, him saying shit like they can’t expand the SCOTUS because people will think it is being politicized because the right wing isn’t already doing this shit anyways, but if it is on the surface for a viral moment, who fucking knows what they are actually doing, most regular people would not gravitate towards that nuance because if they see the same old shit happening on the surface, then how would people think there is anything dangerous about this new right wing shit, when it has been levitated through comedy and entertainment in general. It is clear the shit that happens as a viral moment to me are ways to constantly keep the entertainment dollar flowing while the overall shit is moving into a far right direction hence why cowards who are protected feel more comfortable going that route, and me being stupid as is, with some of the trans issues because this is still pretty new to me as far as understanding the science and the treatments, the only things that get put out there are the sensationalist shit mixed with bad faith actors, like when I hear someone in the last 5 years like Joe Rogan who is around athletes and has been involved in sports, if he is telling his audience about some shit that ends up arguing in favor of being anti trans even if it is in a subtle way, someone like me will not know what is true or not but since this guy is an athlete or hangs out with them etc, maybe he knows what he is talking about, so the sports issue becomes a bit confusing to me, who is already kind of dumbed down from understanding the specifics, sure I could just regurgitate shit that smart people say and have the aesthetic of repeating what smart people say but I will be honest and fully admit, I don’t get how some of this shit works and I could not explain it, that is why I am glad there are some people who work as hosts on TYT have left because this one person Bennie did a video about his interactions with Cenk behind the scenes on how they are doubling down even in private and telling her that she lives in a bubble, no it seems like you guys live in a bubble because you want to fucking grift for the right wing audience hence why Ana is playing the helpless white woman who is being attacked by people who have been calmly explaining why she is wrong and she doesn’t seem to give a shit about being propped up by right wing accounts who are probably the ones help funding this new pivot which they are doing horribly. Even flat out defending Rittenhouse, I know we are supposed to act like we are judging these situations how they play out, but if you follow my train of thought, it will be like the far right wing are initiating people into their cliques and now the common thread is to have situations like Rittenhouse and then judge it like this was just some regular situation playing out and since people on the left will not get conspiratorial and maybe see the overall thing that is happening is that they will keep creating situations where it is supposed to be a nuanced debate which never really has nuance, all it has is people finding a way to justify why this issue has pushed people to the right. Ana is scared to talk to people outside her fucking race, but she is comfortable defending far right dipshits, sucking up showbiz people because she somehow thinks she is an interesting personality and the only people who support you is not because your fucking amazing personality, they are supporting you because you are becoming a fucking Nazi. She will believe the intention of “regular MAGA” people so she can pretend she is being fair while being unfair to people on the fucking left, they will get mad at at trans activists for fighting their fight, while they are doing stories playing devil’s advocate for fascist supporters who they want to give softball interviews to. And again they will double down, but I wish people on the “left” will stop treating these people with kids gloves, but I don’t know, maybe some of you will also start leaning more to the right on a fucking issue. I don’t know about the hormone treatment or what puberty blockers situation because people like this will suddenly do intellectualized propaganda about their dangers which can sound convincing to dumbed down people like me, and trust me there are others who consume shit who are dumbed down and will think one issue that someone talks about makes them credible but then they will take advantage of that shit, and spread more disinformation while making their entire personalities how they are more fair than MSM, that is all these alt media people do is cover MSM until they agree with their sentiment and then suddenly MSM is credible. 

I figure I should take a paragraph breather, again I am all over the map but I have to get shit off my chest and when you have so much in your fucking head, you can go off on tangents and trying to cram in points you jotted down. I could’ve left this a journal entry where only the people monitoring me will see it and secretly sell the information to people I talk about in their underground networks so people can then target me and I wouldn’t know who, because that is what paid online mercenaries do especially if you are angering powerful people and you don’t want to regress because everyone eventually becomes the republican they hate as times moves on and how propaganda sophisticates itself. But from my view we are seeing this world become more of a sports entertainment field, when we are talking about a politician and the president of the Teamsters etc doing an MMA fight, thing is it sounds like a fucking joke but that is probably the direction we are going with the vitriol at these hearings etc, they have been planting those seeds for a while since it happens in other countries and since the US is the WWE of countries, they normally let other territories do it first before they bring it to their home. I could keep getting excited about them finally getting Trump and it would be cool if someone powerful got some kind of consequences, they make it look that way but it feels like they know nothing will happen to him, it makes no sense how he has the freedom to go out and do rallies and still run for president while he has committed the crimes he did and you will bring up Hunter Biden etc, and even though there is some overall corruption going on with bribes etc, like that could be true, the only way to make this marketable is making him a fucking sports entertainer where he probably did all the stuff he is doing for the purpose of it being out there, suddenly you have all these clips at your disposal, it is like we are being given the fucking news by people who want to be entertainers and they want to book it like their favorite pretentious prestige television show. Everytime you tell us you got powerful people like Trump in the clutch, you will find out that things will work out in his favor, and it feels like this is about making more money for this process and all storylines knowing he won’t do time at all, and it makes his base think he is the one who walked away and beat the system, if they didn’t want him beating the system, they would’ve stopped him from even running in the fucking first place, they wouldn’t have covered his campaign and make bank off that, while pretending they oppose him. But we are supposed to think these dumbed down villains are not smart whatsoever, because people want the comfort of calling out powerful people but doing it the same way people call out Vince McMahon, completely dumb down so it takes the threat off him, you are helping facilitate this evil shit as well. Basically anything that is viral is designed to help the right wing, like the Obamas could put out a good message in showing solidarity with the affirmative action thing even if they are elitists etc, but then people then assume that anyone who has that message must be like the Obamas partying in Greece on some yacht like it isn’t designed for that purpose, people think they actually caught these people doing something hypocritical and not because it is supposed to be out there since our entire realities are a fucking sports entertainment show. It is amazing how “smart” and “free thinker” people are so fucking dumb, they will automatically assume that FBI agents who got promotions for kneeling at BLM rallies or some shit are only corrupt because of that, like even if the FBI is corrupt and I believe it is, you don’t think the kneeling was done as a photo op but maybe they want you to think their “loyalty” to BLM is the reason they got promoted. It also makes people who want to oppose the far right wing shit now have to kind of defend the FBI. I think there are many factions within institutions but I also think a lot of the feds support the far right win shit but the right has managed to make it look for their base that the FBI is against them completely and they are trying to go after Trump when this guy is walking around Willy Nilly doing his usual spiel and amplifying his base to dangerous fucking levels, I know because it is the Obamas we are not supposed to give a shit that another powerful person had his address posted, and I do believe it represents that these people have people on their payroll to go do this, now it was thwarted and sometimes I worry that if the right gets their traction they will think they planned it so it looks like Trump did in kayfabe but even if that was planned out etc, it feels like it represents what the right is capable of and that is directing their Arkham Asylum weirdos to be sacrificial lambs even if they have to get caught, you know how new right wing grifters will use “If they do this to Trump they can take away your free speech too” but they never worry when Trump can dox someone to his millions of followers on his social media platform, like fine you don’t care about Obama, fine but you aren’t alarmed at the tactic that could literally be used to target regular people if they don’t get in line? Sometimes it feels like people who are secretly on that side will sports entertain a feud with Trump and MAGA people so you are left blindly defending guys like Bill Gates or Fauci, like they could say or do some good shit, but then when you have shadiness about Gates being used against him since he is a powerful dude, people then weaponize it so they can overall generalize people on the left who are defending him because he seems to oppose the MAGA crowd, but I feel it is a way to defend people and then be shocked they are actually on the MAGA side, a lot of people are gonna be revealed as being secret MAGA people. Like as much as I love what Michael Imperioli did with denouncing people who are bigots from watching his work, when you put out a boastful message like that, it always feels like it is supposed to be insult to injury when you find out these people are really on the right wing side and they are just biding their time, especially if the people who are right wing are pushing back, they will then point out the hypocrisies of that person since it comes off like “TYPICAL HOLLYWOOD LIBTARD BEING SENSITIVE” because they people who will oppose that kind of message, once they get condemned as a whole for some shit, they think they are even more in the right because they are being attacked by a typical Hollywood guy. Even Eminem had to capitulate a little bit when he made that declaration of a line in the sand of supporting his music or supporting Trump and he kind of dialed it back on the next album. I know I am not making much sense, but at least I am not buying into this fake in fighting with MAGA type of people while it serves to give them free promo and actually helping their cause because we will continue to levitate shit by the comedic nature of it. But they are definitely using celebs as part of the overall discourse because I don’t believe they play by regular rules and shit playing out for social media and “real life” world feels like a way for people to be invested into a storyline where the goal is to manufacture consent for an overall homophobic, racist, misogynistic, transphobic attitude, that is why you will see an influx of men in the celeb world who are cogs and being used for storyline purposes to be the face of being wrongfully accused for shit so it then helps the abusers in the system prosper even more because they will use celeb shit as the be all end all that represents for situations like this since they play it out in a regular fucking way.  But that is why they will keep promoting stories about someone who raped someone and make the issue about how they want better treatment in prison for being trans and a lot of dumbed down people are not gonna give a shit about someone being trans, they will look at the horrible crime committed and think anyone who thinks this person should be able to get treatment is the main focus of this and the left doesn’t care if they murder or rape people so you are already using these sensationalist examples to help manufacture consent to generalize all communities, which then I could retort that then if Trump or other MAGA people committed horrible crimes, why should I be concerned with the freedom of speech issue or censorship when it comes to people who already did horrible shit. Like there are countless white supremacists who serve in politics and they have done horrible shit or aligned with people who do horrible shit and yet they make excuses for why we need to hear from these people over and over again yet you will fear monger about crime, which is probably funded for the sole purpose to make it seem like there is favorable treatment to people, like whenever they do a story of someone who is black doing a violent crime but then they didn’t do time or let out because they claimed systemic racism is the reason why they were allowed to not do time, they will promote some shit like that, and I believe these people might not align with any left politics and they are funded to commit crimes and then be let out but if you make it look like they are being let out for the fear of police being called racist or some shit, it makes regular people think that calling out racism is a bad thing. This is why I know we have to pretend there is no conspiracy but if there is a conspiracy to help facilitate people into moving more right wing maybe people on the left should entertain going more conspiratorial, especially when you can disarm the right wing shit, because they will use their examples of agendas within the system, because no matter your delegation in the system, people from all backgrounds and identities will end up being problematic and not because of what their race, sexuality, religion, political ideology etc, but because the system is a corrupt cesspool and if you want to be in the system, you will have to get dirty at some point, and they will use it to discredit you if you try to stand up for the general community who have nothing to do with the corrupt system. This is why I don’t 100 percent buy a celebrity’s endorsement, because it will be used if those people end up corrupt or problematic and they will then use that person as a main reason why this so and so group is actually a problem. Look at what they did with Jussie Smolliet, they used in my opinion an obvious botched attempt to discredit and make it harder for members of the LGBTQ community to rase awareness of hate crimes committed against them, this Amber/Depp situation is being propped up by misogynists who are probably guilty of some abuse to act like that all abuse cases are like this one, they make it relate to regular people which is what the public figures main roles are, this is just my opinion. I am not saying I am 100 percent right, but they have been using entertainment to manufacture consent for the last 30 plus years. Now everyone is copying their favorite entertainment and making that their real life character. Anyways I am gonna be done with this blog. I know it probably didn’t come off well, and it was remixed with other shit going on but when I wait to write these blogs and I have a bunch of shit I compiled, I feel I have to cross shit off in order but no one is looking for the writings of a fat mentally ill man who still lives in his parents basement, so if you want to discredit me, you can do it with that, and you will convince people, but here is the thing that pisses off a lot of you corrupt shit heads, even if my aesthetic is not the most appealing, I know at the end of the day I am not a fucking social climber who is trying to hang out with my favorite celebs and do a right wing grift so I can stay relevant and even if your aesthetic is good and you have a social life, it is not making you any happier and you know deep down it is not making you any fucking happier even if you surgically have a smile planted on your fucking faces. You know the money is useless because you will have to spend it to to make other people richer and guess what when you sell your soul like that, you know the people who are propping you up don’t care about your talent, they care about you being another status quo dip shit who is helping the world move into more of a Nazi place and I hope you never get a moment of peace mentally. Eventually when you are alone, you will have to be alone with those thoughts and trust me it isn’t fun being alone with those thoughts, it becomes a scary thing. At least I can be alone with my thoughts

[queenofpurgatoryq]

KURAK GÜNLER / BURNİNG DAYS

TD;lr: Turkish goverment is trying to mess up a movie with a queer storyline, its a great movie and you should watch it to support it.

9/10

Besides the stunning cinematography and excellent acting by all of the leads (especially Selahattin Paşalı), this movie is a setting stone for Turkish cinema for a political reason, too.

TURKISH GOVERMENT AND QUEER SUBTEXT

Without giving the plot away, I want to note that while I would not consider this movie as 'queer cinema' it has a storyline revolving around its two male leads, their chemistry is undeniable and one of the main drivers of the story.

The spoiler free version is that, there is a queer relationship and even while it does not have explicit scenes, it has been getting a lot of attention from right wing media from the moment it aired in festivals. After negative press about "homosexual propoganda" the ministry of culture decised to "get their funding back, with interest."

This is the most pathatic thing I've ever heard tbh. The movie's first draft apparently did not include a queer aspect to the two leads' relationship and the ministery approved to support it. (Its an art house film that was suppose to attend many festivals world wide and it is currently doing so.) Then they revised the script and sent it to do the ministery as well, 20 months ago. And now they want their money back because homophobes are mad.

I believe anyone who lives in a country with corruption (I guess most of the world, sadly) will relate heavily to this story and share the frustration of living in an unjust world.

A QUICK SUMMARY WITHOUT SPOILERS

Hopefully you are as pissed as I'm and would like to watch this movie to say 'fuck you' to bigots, you should be able to find it many cities in Turkey and Europe.

The movie revolves around a young prosecutor named Emre and it starts with him moving to a small town. The elections are close and the town has a plotically divided atmosphere and Emre finds himself in the middle of an open case that revolves around the town's water source.

The movie highlights the injustices of a currupt town and a goverment and the helpless feeling of trying to fight this injustices but struggle at every turn. Along side a rape case of a young girl, the town's main focus shifts to a rumor of the nature of two men. This highlights the irony- nobody cares about a Romani girl getting raped, but everybody talks about these men. Its frustrating, the movie set in a setting without water, everybody is thirsty, its hot and its suffocating. The setting creates a helpless feeling in Emre and the viewer.

It is an absolute thriller that had me at the edge of my seat. At Emre's every moment where he stood his ground, I was holding my breath.

QUEER "SUBTEXT"

If you read this far and want to now more and do not care about SPOILERS, go ahead.

The queer relationship revolves around the prosecutor Emre and the town's journalist Murat. Their relationship was definietly beyond subtext, eventhough it was open to intrepretation to how far they have gone with each other, it was clear they were drawn to each other one way or another.

The relationship is beyond subtext because for starters, Murat is introduced as an outcast of the town, a journalist with a sharp tongue and from the start people tell Emre of his 'unorthodox ways'. Murat's sexual oriantation is a talk of the town and its clear that he had been bullied and harrased for a long time. As they get close, both the nature of their relationship is questioned as well as their their stand against town's traditions.

The lack of clear water in town was portrayed stunningly. Especially for Emre's and Murat's relationship. Everytime they were around each other, it was near a lake or a shower and even then they were not able to relax due to external pressure of the events around them.

All in all, Selahhatin Paşalı's portrayel was amazing, his feelings were more subtle and open to intrepretation yet much more powerful in my opinion. I liked that even in very intimiate moment they were calling each other Mr. And called each other with the formal 'you' until the very end.

The main focus of the movie is not their love story yet their dynamic elevates the rest of the story and brings attention to very important topics. I hope it will get the attention it deserves, from outside of Turkey, too.

[sopejinsunflower]

PART 16

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it? Just fucking brilliant!”

I watched, an amused smile playing on my lips, as Mr Choi threw his hands up into the air before they rested on his head again, running through his hair with excitement, his face so bright it was hard to look away.

We received news today that a private investor had wanted to be a part of the production of our drama series with a ‘gift’ fund of half a million dollars with the promise of the other half once we sign an NDA with them, an NDA to keep the name of the organisation under wraps. I find that a bit strange but it seems they don’t want to be named and that their involvement was purely out of love for the story.

“He’s a big fan of yours,” Mr Choi had added later on with a wink and a heavy pat on my shoulder that almost buckled my knees. “Go ahead and sign the papers,” he said as he left the room in a hurry, thrilled to share the news with everyone else, me being the first to know. I could still hear him whooping in the hallways.

I turn back to my Macbook, scripts of the first episode with penciled-in edits and scribbles, the drafts dog-eared in places, were placed next to it for my reference as I go through re-editing and cleaning up the documents on type. This should be the final version, the one we will stick with until recording starts. On top of it was the manila envelope Mr Choi had left with me; the NDA document. I haven’t opened it yet. I picked it up and turned it back and forth, the papers inside feeling thick and hefty. Must be a long document.

I sighed and opened it, pulling out the agreement and unfolding it. The first page is your typical NDA introduction - the title, the named parties involved, followed by the definition of the agreement, the exclusion of the agreement, the obligation of the receiving party under the agreement (that would be us) and the time period the agreement is to be upheld. I flipped to the next page where there were four more points to the NDA as most NDAs go, but instead of it ending there with the signature points at the bottom, there was a note that mentioned there was some other extra information in the following pages to be noted, including conditions from the investor.

I turned the page again and was met with long texts in fine prints and immediately my vision began to swim. I skipped through the pages, about ten of them, until I finally found the signature points right at the last page and groaned, rolling my eyes. I was looking for my pen somewhere under the stack of papers when the door swung open. I looked up and paused.

“Do you have a minute?”

I stared at him, grey eyes looking back at me with no sense of friendliness, blond hair slicked back as always. I thought he had been kicked out. I haven’t answered him but he had already come in, closing the door behind him. He sat down in front of me without any invitation, in the seat that Mr Choi just previously had been in with the good news. I doubt I’m getting anything nice from him from the way his cold gaze assessed the mess on the desk I was using. The worktag around his neck is turned the other way, showing me nothing but the back of the ID card with information of who and where to return it to in case found.

“Can I help you?” I asked, putting the NDA face down on its own envelope.

His eyes roamed the desk lazily; the strewn pens and pencils, the episode draft that had seen better days due to much carrying around and countless flippings, the Macbook, pushed only halfway closed. He finally looked up. “Just came by to apologise for my rudeness last time, miss,” he finally answered, his voice lacking any remorse. “I realised it wasn’t something everyone would be open to. The poly-relationship, that is.”

I was speechless, not because of the apology but because he didn’t sound like he wanted to be here in the first place. So I asked the first thing that popped in my head, “Who sent you here? Did your school make you apologise?”

He arched an eyebrow. “School, miss?”

“Yeah, your school,” I repeated, getting irritated by his haughty behaviour and what’s with that miss thing? “You’re an intern, right? What’s your name again?”

He returned my glare cooly and something about the way his eyes had that playful look in them and the corner of his lips twitching made me want to reach out and smack the look off his face. He gestured to the NDA that I still have my hand over. “Did you get that from Mr Choi?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, making conversation. I passed by him on the way over. He seemed very happy about something. And the way you’re hovering over it looks important.” His eyes flitted up to my face as I removed my hand from the papers consciously.

I didn’t get this guy, couldn’t make heads or tails. I’m usually very good at reading people, very attuned with the vibe I get from them the first time around so I can make a guess on how and whether to approach or stay away, but this guy was sending my asshole radar all over the place. There was an air of arrogance to him, like I was beneath him, eyes cold, voice even colder but with something else underneath, something he was holding back from letting me see.

“Look,” I said, clearing my throat and sitting up straighter, wanting to be the bigger person to this soon-to-be graduate, “I’m busy so if an apology is what you’re here for then fine, you’re forgiven. If there’s nothing else then I’d like to get back to work.”

He stood up, scraping the chair noisily across the linoleum, taking me aback. He threw his gaze out the window, breathing out a soft sigh. He turned back to me, nodding towards the document. “You should read all of the fine prints before you sign it.” He went back to the door and opened it, pausing to look back. “Always know what you’re signing up for,” he chanted in mocked singsong, tilting his head as he left, leaving me staring after him wondering what the hell just happened.

I met Mr Choi again later that evening as I was leaving the building. He caught the elevator I was on on my way down to the lobby. “Here,” I said, handing him the NDA. “Signed, sealed, delivered.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, so soon?” He frowned down at me. “You didn’t read the fine prints, did you?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “For half a million? Nah. Pretty sure it’s just your usual gibberish anyway. I’m too busy to be looking through all that.”

Mr Choi is flipping through the pages, checking the ones that needed filling in to make sure I filled them in correctly. He was barely listening, nodding his head. “Right,” he says absentmindedly. “That’s cool.”

“Why?” I asked, peering at him. “Should I have?”

He quickly shook his head, closing the document and gesturing with it. “Nope. This is perfect.” He smiled widely, showing his perfect rows of white teeth that suddenly morphed into the grinning feline face of the Cheshire cat.

I jolt awake.

This feels like deja-vu.

In the darkness, I blink a few times to adjust my vision and once I can make out some outlines of the ceiling and wall appenditures, I focus on assessing myself. My body feels heavy, like I had been hit by a car, my muscles are sore and a little numb, my whole body is on pins and needles. I swallow some spit, my mouth dry as sandpaper, my throat stinging a little. I want to move but with the ache I’m feeling I’m not exactly sure how hurt I am. I start by wiggling my fingers and toes and sensation returns a little bit more. Good, I didn’t break anything.

I push myself up and am immediately hit with nausea as the room tilts, forcing me to lay back down again, eyes scrunched tight. I take a few deep breaths, count to ten then try again, slower this time. I’m in my room. No, not at home, unfortunately. In the Omegaverse house, I think sarcastically. It’s quiet. It takes me a while to locate the clock: 2.30PM. I frown, staring hard at the second hand to see if it’s actually moving. It ticks on, the minute hand moving one more hair: 2.31PM. Maybe the setting isn’t correct.

I turn away from the clock and go to the bathroom, splashing cold water onto my face three times before I feel a little more normal again. I lean against the sink, letting water drip with an audible tap tap tap off of my face. I give myself a once over through the mirror but nothing looks out of the ordinary, except the dull thudding in my head. I try to recall the last memory. Namjoon’s pain-twisted face flashes across my mind and I remember the electricity jolt that went through me, more powerful than the usual warning zaps. An actual electrocution.

The guys.

I hurry outside, finding the same dimness and all the other doors closed. I check each room but all are empty. I run upstairs to the alpha floor. Same thing. Something feels odd. There’s a sort of ringing silence, not physically but more of like in my head, as if something used to be there but not anymore. I think hard. What is it? It feels like trying to remember a dream and it’s slipping away like water in my cupped hands. Think hard. What was it?

Gradually, like sand being poured into the bottom part of an hourglass, it comes back to me. There had always been a sort of connection to the pack, a kind of subtle buzzing you barely paid attention to; not until it was gone. It was how I had always known who was where, even when I wasn’t even in the same room. It was how the omega senses the others, apart from the scents. Now, the omega is quiet. Or rather, the others are quiet. I stand in the middle of the hallway and for the first time summon her voluntarily. Wake up, I think, willing her to tune into whatever wolf senses she uses, find the pack.

It starts slow, like when you turn on a TV on mute and you slowly raise the volume. I run downstairs, all the way to the bottom and the first thing I see is the opened storage cupboard, the darkness looming from inside. I tear my eyes away and go into the living room. There, in the middle of the floor, in the nest, are the boys, unconscious or just sleeping, I’m not sure which, but breathing heavily, draped over each other like they’ve been put there. I count them out one by one: Jungkook and Hoseok in each other’s arms, turned towards each other, their faces almost touching; Yoongi and Jimin on opposite ends of each other, Jimin’s head on Yoongi’s legs; Jin’s face in the crook of Taehyung’s neck, one arm over the younger man’s chest. I look around the room, twice. No signs of Namjoon.

I check the kitchen, the laundry room, I even run upstairs again, kicking down doors but still no Namjoon. He’s gone.

***

It’s an hour of waiting anxiously sitting cross-legged on the sofa, one knee jiggling up and down, when I see Jimin stir, slowly blinking awake and accidentally kicking Yoongi in the jaw, not hard, but enough to bump him awake. I run to sit at Jimin’s head, cradling his cheeks as he grimaces through the heaviness that I experienced just hours before. The tears that I held back are now pouring, relief tears, thank god tears, thank god for not being alone as I press my forehead to Jimin’s. He reaches up to thread his fingers through my hair, breathing me in, croaking out in a dry voice, “Hi.”

Another twenty minutes passes until all six of them are awake, sitting up and powering through the dull headache setting in. I gave them each a glass of water to help hurry their process of waking up, something I didn’t get myself but at the moment all I’m thinking about is to get their heads cleared up as soon as possible. Time is ticking and I have a bad feeling simmering in the pit of my stomach. My omega is sensing something terrible for the pack alpha.

“Ah, I’m feeling my age more than ever now,” Jin groans as he stretches out all his muscles. He stands and starts pacing the room, shaking his feet around with every step to get the blood cycling.

Hoseok lets out a hiss as he runs a finger over his temple. “I think I bumped my head on something. Hurts like hell.”

“Argh, my head,” Jungkook moans, holding his head in between his hands. “I feel like my head might split open.”

“Mine, too,” Taehyung adds in a soft voice, sitting on the sofa, leaning on his knees, staring down at the carpet, eyes unfocused.

Jin crouches down next to Jungkook, gently massaging the youngest’s neck to relieve the pain. Jungkook leans into Jin’s neck, his scent gland, and breathes in deep, visibly relaxing as he leans his head on the elder’s shoulder. Jimin goes to Taehyung and pulls him close, whispering comforting words in his ears. I’m growing impatient, wondering if they noticed yet that they are missing one person. Yoongi, as attentive as always, catches the look on my face and as if he can read minds, he looks around the room.

“Where’s Namjoon?” he asks, spinning in one spot. “Where is he?”

The others are alerted, looking around and then at each other. They spring up to their feet and as Hoseok is about to go up the stairs, I say, “He’s not upstairs. He’s not here. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Hoseok asks, whirring around.

“Gone where?” Yoongi urges.

I shake my head, the sickening feeling growing. “I don’t know. I’ve looked everywhere. He’s not here.”

“If he escapes without us, I swear…” mutters Jin under his breath.

“The escape plan,” Hoseok whispers. “Where is it?”

Jin had it last, I remember, but looking at his clueless face means it’s not anymore. Jungkook even searches through the nest but comes up empty-handed, looking at me through his doe eyes. I turn towards the darkened cupboard, the door wide open. I proceed over to it, blindly feeling for the light switch. The orange bulb clicks on and light floods the small space but instead of finding the room half emptied out, the shelf at the back moved out, the room is back to before Hoseok and Jin raided it, the shelf back in its place. For a second, it feels like reality isn’t aligning with my memory. Hoseok nudges me aside and stoops to check behind the shelf. Empty. No hidden map.

In a fit of rage, Hoseok kicks at the boxes arranged on the floor and I jump, startled by his sudden action. He starts kicking more stuff around and out of the room, barely missing me with his foot as I press myself against the wall to make myself as small as possible. He tears down the neatly organised gift bags and unopened gifts, making them clatter to the ground noisily. My heart is racing fast, a little scared of him, to be honest. He keeps going, screaming out in frustration that rings around the small room until Jin appears in the doorway, a stern look on his face.

Only then does Hoseok stop, breathing in hard laboured breaths. I see a single tear creep down his cheek before he sags to the floor onto his knees. Tentatively, I crawl over to him and nudge the side of his face. He quickly and almost desperately pulls me close, bringing me across his lap, sobbing silently into my neck. I feel his pain, share it, too. We all do. The lifeline we thought we had in our hands, slips away just as we find it. Twofold for me, having lost the first one.

“Did Namjoon-hyung leave?” Jungkook's small voice comes and we both look up. “Did he use the plan and leave?” He lets out a small, dry chuckle. “That’s…that’s good for him. He can find help for us.” He roughly wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m happy for him.” He starts to cry, burying his face into Jin’s chest.

Everyone is quiet. Namjoon not being here leaves only one explanation: that he left. That he found a way and left. And maybe since the rest of us had been unconscious, it might have been impossible for him to take all of us with him. Maybe there wasn’t enough time. Maybe he didn��t have any other choice. Maybe.

But it doesn’t feel convincing but with our pack leader gone along with the one thing that could reveal a way out of here, there’s nothing else much to go by. The only information we have is that we are in a bunker, twenty feet down. How long will it take to climb out? If Namjoon did escape, how long till help arrives?

“Why was he the only one awake to escape?” Jimin peeks from behind Jungkook’s back, his brows furrowing. “Why wasn’t he punished, too? I mean, I guess that was punishment. Felt like I might die then.”

No one answers him. No one knows why.

Yoongi places a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Come on. There’s no point guessing around. Let’s get out of that room. Anyone know how long we were out?”

Everyone shakes their heads.

“What time is it?” Jin asks, stepping out and searching for a clock. I look at Hoseok, wiping at his face as he sniffles the last of his frustration away. I place a kiss on his cheek, running my hand through his dark hair, pushing it back. “We’re going to be alright, Hobi. We’re going to be fine.”

He nods but we both know I’m just saying it without meaning it. I get up and offer my hand to him, pulling him up. We walk out, him heavily, dragging his feet, to see Jin shaking one of the small digital clocks on the dresser. He turns, an exasperated look on his face, shaking his head. “Whatever,” he mutters. To the room, he announces, “I’m hungry. Ramyeon anyone?”

“It’s like four in the morning, hyung,” Jimin says but he follows Jin into the kitchen anyway.

Jin shrugs, pointing to the clock. “It’s PM somewhere in the world.”

4.36PM.

Are all the clocks broken now? The sun should break soon, I think. Till then…

When the ramyeon is ready, Jungkook helps serve the bowls out and we all sit in silence, the slurping of the noodles the only sound between us. No one speaks what everyone else is thinking: where did Namjoon go and how did he leave? But most importantly, the question that stings the most: why did he leave us? If he did leave us, if he did escape, then why do I have this unsettling feeling, like a noise just right out of your hearing range?

We finish eating and pile back into the living room, into the nest. The first thing I grab is a T-shirt that belonged to Namjoon and bury my face into his fading scent. I feel Jungkook’s arms wrapping around my waist as he presses a kiss to my neck. I lean into it, his scent telling me that he needs this more than him trying to ease my worry. He peppers more kisses up my neck until he’s nibbling on my ear, pulling on my earlobe with his teeth. His grip tightens around me, his fingers finding their way under my shirt. He pulls me so I’m resting my back against his front, my head to the side as his lips attack my any exposed skin he can reach.

With one hand, he tilts my head towards him as he catches me with a kiss, no tongue, just lips on lips, pressing hard, moulding our mouths together. We break apart when my lungs are screaming for air. He rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard and fast, too, eyes press closed. I know what he’s thinking because it’s the same thing that’s on my mind; is Namjoon safe?

Jimin crawls over to us, scooting in between my legs and then finally laying down over my stomach. The three of us stay like that, a sandwich in one corner of the nest. I look towards Jin who has Hoseok in his arms, eyes closed but not sleeping, with Taehyung’s head resting on his stomach, his legs towards us. He’s staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly. Yoongi sits across from us, one hand leaning against his knee, eyes instantly locking with mine. His tongue is pushing against his cheek. He’s thinking about something.

Sleep, he mouths, but I shake my head, thinking the sun should be up soon. I glance at the clock. It’s five minutes to seven. That can’t be right. I squint, wondering if it’s my eyesight that’s the problem. Yoongi nods his head in a what’s up motion. “What time is it?” I ask, eyebrows dipping.

Yoongi twists his neck around trying to see the clock behind him. He stares at it for a moment before turning his whole body to look. He glances back at me and, in an unsure voice, says, “It’s seven?”

I can even hear his brain ticking, working out the logic. I see his eyes go towards the windows, the curtains still drawn. He rises slowly to his feet and all eyes, minus Jimin’s who’s turned the other way, follow him. He stops in front of the window and I can feel us all holding our breaths. His long fingers reach out, grabs the blue flowery cloth and tug it aside.

No sunshine or any hint of a rising sun.

Was the clock right all along? It’s night time after all?

Yoongi stumbles backward.

“What’s wrong?” Jin asks, sitting up, displacing Hoseok from his arm.

“It’s gone,” Yoongi replies.

“What is?”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes still glued to the outside. He repeats again, “It’s gone. It’s empty.”

Jimin lifts his head up, eyes sleepy. I coax him off of me and stand up just as Jin does too. We both approach Yoongi to see what he is looking at that took away all the words from this lyric-spitting rapper. The first thing I see is my own reflection looking back at me, all ghost-like and pale, dark circles creeping up. Then, as I look past that, I see what Yoongi meant: there’s literally nothing there. Just a black, empty wall, an abyss. No trees, no night sky. But one thing remained: the blinking red lights, now, with no illusion imagery there, give us a sense of the distance between the window and whatever it is they’re attached to. A wall? How many layers does this place have?

“What happened to the outside?” Jin asks, one hand pressing against the glass as he pushes his face up against it to look around.

“What is happening?” I mutter under my breath. Through the reflection, I see the other guys coming to look, too, stopping short just behind Yoongi. Confusion is a given, but what weighs me down more is the not knowing, not being able to anticipate what’s coming. The Master, our captor, has decided that he doesn’t need to keep up appearance any longer after all this while so what does that mean for us? Nothing good, I fear. Especially with Namjoon’s absence, I keep having this feeling things are only just starting.

Jin moves away from the window. “Well, we have no way of telling day and night anymore.”

“That’s only if the CGIs had matched the outside world,” Hoseok says sullenly. “It could’ve just played whatever he wanted to show us.”

No one says anything because we know he could be right. Everything in here, every detail, has been constructed, manufactured by someone who has a tight leash on us. Who’s to say what’s real and what’s not anymore.

“So what now?” Jimin croaks, his voice thick and hard and I’m not sure whether from sleep or from the emotion he’s about to spill. “What do we do now?”

“Namjoon’s gone,” Tahyung adds, his voice quivering. “The outside is gone. What’s happening?” He runs his hands through his hair, pulling them back and away from his distraught face.

“Let’s not overthink this,” says Jin, turning to face us. His face is calm, not a hint of worry except for in his eyes. As the second oldest, I guess he feels he has to take charge even though Yoongi is the pack beta. But Yoongi is still looking out the window, his eyes faraway, his brows furrowing. “We found the bunker plan,” Jin continues, “so maybe he thinks he doesn’t need to keep up the pretence anymore. Let’s just-”

“Let’s just what, hyung?” Hoseok interjects in a tired voice. “Roll over like the good dogs he wants us to be?”

Jin shoots him a look that says don’t interrupt him and Hoseok looks away. “No. What I wanted to say is, let’s just stay calm and figure another way around this. See, not as depressing as what you thought it was going to be, right?”

“But how?” asks Jungkook. “Look what happened when we found the plan. We don’t even know how much time we lost, how long we were all really out. We lost Namjoon-hyung and-”

“We didn’t lose him,” Jin retorts a little too impatiently but Jungkook doesn’t even hear him as he continues.

“-we don’t know if it’s day or night anymore! We could be dead the next time we figure something out, hyung! Namjoon-hyung could even be-”

“That’s enough, Jungkook.”

Voice low but commanding such presence, we all turned towards Yoongi as if he had shouted instead. Jungkook looks at him, eyes blinking furiously as he fights back tears before he hangs his head low. Taehyung puts a hand around his shoulder and pulls him close, letting Jungkook’s forehead rest on his shoulder as he collects himself.

Yoongi finally looks away from the window and holds out a hand for me. I look at his hand then back up at him questioningly. He waits patiently until I place my hand in his and he tugs me forward so I fall into his embrace. He starts caressing my hair gently. Perplexed, I stand there limply, unsure what to do, worrying that he might have lost his wits when he says in that same calm tone in my ears but loud for everyone to hear. “Put your arms around me.” Hesitantly, I do as I’m told. “Good. Now listen closely, everyone.”

With the pretence of soothing me, Yoongi talks. “Wherever Namjoon is, we just have to believe that he is safe. He’s not our priority right now. We need to figure things out for us. I’m sure Namjoon can handle himself. Now, he told me a few days ago that he has a plan. The first thing we should do is figure out if he left anything behind for us, something for us to use here. We’ll find that and we may find him. And more. But to do that, we have to be very careful how we go about it. We’re always being watched, monitored. We got a reminder of that when we were careless with the bunker plan we found.”

Jin reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Can’t he hear us?”

“To an extend, yes,” Yoongi replies. “Which is why finding his hearing point is the first thing we need to do.”

“How do we do that?” Hoseok says after circling over to my side, touching my face with his fingertips. “How do we find where it is?”

I can feel Yoongi smirking, can hear the smile in his voice. “Easy. Where would you hide a microphone to get the best or the most audio?”

There’s a short pause before Jimin answers. “Centre of the room.”

“Precisely.”

“Won’t he notice when he sees us looking around?” I ask against Yoongi’s neck. “Or when we turn it off or remove it?”

“We’re not turning it off or removing it,” replies Yoongi. “We’ll redirect it or compromise it, enough for him to hear us less. As to how to look for it, well, you guys are smart. Just do it carefully and subtly.”

Yoongi loosens his grip around me and I step back to look up at him. He runs a finger through my front hair, carefully pushing it aside. One hand cupping the side of my face, he pulls me in to kiss my forehead.

“Do we start right away?” Jungkook finally raises his head, doe eyes assessing Yoongi’s face.

“Not immediately.” Yoongi gives an inpeturb shake of his head. With that, he takes my hand and leads me back to the nest where he pulls me into his lap, arms crossing over my waist like he’s guarding me from some imminent danger. There’s a slight tremor to his touches but I don’t ask but merely take his big hands into mine and intertwine our fingers together, a way to remind him he’s not alone. He smiles, somewhat acknowledging my intention.

The others disperse through the house; Jin padding into the kitchen along with Jungkook and I can hear sounds of glasses or mugs and the kettle being put on, Hoseok goes upstairs, his footsteps heavy almost as if he’s stomping on purpose, Jimin turns on the TV that connects only to the Switch and Taehyung chooses Mario Kart, but both of them just going round in circles at the character selection stage, Taehyung’s mouth in a pout, Jimin’s eyes unfocused. If the clock is correct, it’s almost eight o’clock in the evening but we just ate earlier. Was that lunch, then? Since when?

It’s the second time for all of us to lose a chunk of time. I have this really deep unsettling feeling that the next time it happens it’ll be eternal. My thoughts conjure up Namjoon’s face and, again, my stomach feels funny. But Yoongi’s right. He’s not our main focus now. He’s Kim Namjoon, our pack leader, the guy with the brains. He can handle himself. Fate is still unknown for the rest of us here. Taking away our sense of normalcy, our sense of time, feels more like the Master is losing his control over us and this was his way of attempting to gain it back. And if Namjoon’s disappearance is his doing then that means he knows exactly how to take us apart. I just hope we get a one-up before he does anything else.

“You’re thinking too much, kitten,” comes Yoongi’s low voice in my ear.

I give him an apologetic smile. “Kinda hard not to.”

He tilts his head to expose his neck, his scent gland. “Come here,” he says, pulling me close so I bury my face there, deeply inhaling his calming pheromones that easily washes over me, clearing away every difficult thought in my head. I relax into him, thinking that this is exactly what I need, an anchor to keep me grounded before I lose my sanity. Out of nowhere, Mr Choi’s Cheshire-like face flashes across my mind and my scent must have a sudden spike because Yoongi looks at me with a slight frown.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Just a dream I had before I woke up, I think.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

I shrug. “I barely remember it.” I think hard, trying to recall the dream. “Well, maybe it wasn’t a dream. It’s a memory.”

“You get that, too?” he asks, adjusting our position so he can sit up straighter.

“Sometimes,” I say.

“So what was it?”

I sigh. “Just seeing Mr Choi’s face warping into Cheshire. It was the last thing I saw before I woke up.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Well, I’m sure that one is a dream.”

I remember bits and pieces of it now and suddenly have the urge to ask him. “Do you remember that intern who always spoke his mind? A blond-haired one? I think he was under Minji, from the marketing department.”

Yoongi thinks about a second. “I know Minji but I don’t recall a blond intern. Do you have a name?”

“No.” The fact that I don’t know his name somewhat puts me off, never mind interns rarely shine in a big company. There could’ve been dozens of them who were involved in the project but he had struck a chord with me. “Well, anyway, in that dream memory, I met him right before Mr Choi sent me an NDA contract to sign, from this one private investor. He was being snarky about checking the fine prints but there were too many fine prints and I was busy. I signed it and handed it over and then Mr Choi had this really big smile which turned into that purple cat.” I laugh a little although the dream isn’t a pleasant one.

“There was a private investor?” Yoongi arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how many knew about it but yeah,” I reply, feeling a little uneasy from the way he’s looking at me. “He invested a pretty large sum. Choi said he was a big fan, wanted to be a part of the production.”

“Hmm.” Yoongi mulls over the information. “A private investor with a large sum.”

“Why? Is it odd?”

Yoongi tilts his head the other way. “I’m not sure but HYBE is very careful with who we do business with. Money isn’t a problem for us so for them to approve of a private investor would’ve been big news. But I guess that’s what the NDA is for?”

I shake my shoulders. “Dunno. Choi said he was adamant about not being known.”

Yoongi nods but he still looks confused. “Well, anyway, the intern is right. You should be careful with what you sign on. Could be your life.”

I pull a face for the lecture but my stomach does a flip, realising I should’ve been smarter. “Well, I was swarmed. And the intern, well, let’s just say something was off about him. I can’t put my finger on it but I just didn’t like the dude.”

Yoongi scowls at me. “You should be more careful, kitten. And a weird intern is no excuse for your recklessness.”

I pout, not liking being chastised by him. He taps the tip of my nose with his finger. “Be more careful next time.”

“If there is a next time,” I mumble.

Before Yoongi can scold me even more, Hoseok’s hurried footsteps down the stairs take our attention. He stops halfway down, leaning over the bannister, an urgent look on his face. “Hyung,” he calls, his voice clipped. “Can you come with me?”

Yoongi maintains a cool and calm attitude. “What is it?”

Hoseok’s eyes look from him to me and to the other two who have turned away from the screen to stare up at him. His eyes zone in on the nest and it’s like an idea strikes him. “Um, I’m thinking of getting some of Namjoon’s stuff to add to the nest. I, uh, I think it’ll help with the anxiety. Make everyone feel better if we have more of his scent.”

Yoongi slowly turns to me. “What do you think? Shall we?”

There’s a pointedness in the way he looks and speaks to me so I nod along. We both get to our feet and Jimin and Taehyung follow. We hear Jin and Jungkook busy in the kitchen and we don’t include them, letting them finish whatever they are doing. I can smell something sweet coming from the direction of the kitchen. Are they baking?

We follow Hoseok up to Namjoon’s room. Once inside, Yoongi opens the wardrobe and looks inside. “Do we take everything, Hobi?”

Hoseok shifts from one foot to the other, standing in front of the bathroom. “Uh, yeah, I guess.” He opens the bathroom door. “Um, anybody running out of body wash? Shampoo? Towels? We should take a look inside to see what we can use.”

Hoseok is speaking in a sort of robotic way, emotionless, a little jittery, too. I wonder if the Master can see through his acting but I’m more curious as to what he wants to show inside the bathroom. What on earth could Namjoon have in there that had been so urgent for Hoseok? And why didn't I check there earlier?

Yoongi looks at me. “Why don’t you pick something you like to add to the nest? Jimin can help you.”

I wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that I would rather check the bathroom but the stern look he’s giving me stops me from saying anything. I watch the others move towards the bathroom and enter. Jimin nudges me to start looking and I take the first piece of clothing I find; a whiteT-shirt that had stretched over Namjoon’s chest so many times before but now looked so small and ordinary without him in it. His smell still lingers but the detergent is stronger. My omega isn’t happy with it, putting it aside. Jimin passes me a hoodie. “How about this one?”

Yesss, my omega trills. It seems that Namjoon had worn this one but chucked them back inside without washing, probably had been wearing it over a T-shirt. His smell is still very strong on this one and I breathe it in, feeling my throat constricts and my heart heavy. Jimin places a hand on the small of my back and I lean against him. “He’s alright,” Jimin says. “He’s going to be fine, aegi-ah.”

I nod but not convinced, the hoodie still in my hand.

Yoongi, Hoseok and Taehyung are piled in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, looking at something. Through the reflection, I can’t see anything except for our own faces. I approach them, curiosity killing me, but even when I was in the doorway, peering in a little, I see nothing out of the ordinary. Yoongi snaps out of his frozen spot first and quite casually opens the bottom sink cabinet. “We might need these towels,” he says, taking out some. “Come over here,” he calls to me. “Come and choose which ones you want.”

I frown at him. “But I-”

“Come here, kitten,” he repeats, his voice hard.

I go to him, kneeling down beside him. He raises one small face towel almost as high as next to his head. “How about this one?”

I’m staring at him, can’t quite make out what he’s trying to tell me. Taehyung moves in further inside towards the tub, sitting on the lip and looking pale, and that’s when I finally see it, what Yoongi is hinting at. There, on the wall aligned with the doorway, the wall that you can’t see through the mirror from outside the bathroom is an architectural paper stuck to it, one corner stained blue. In the middle of that paper, stuck on with only one piece of tape, the bottom rolling up, is a kitchen paper with some scribbles on it.

Squinting at it, I recognise Namjoon’s handwriting from the countless times of watching him write notes in his own script, or sometimes even mine, when he’s sharing ideas or when he wants more information on his character, recognise the way he interchanges his As between the computer font type and the normal, more common one loop with a tail, how his Ys have no hooks but just straight downward lines.

Taehyung reads the last line, the one line in capitals at the bottom of the letter, in a whisper. “DON’T TRY TO FIND ME.”

Next part: here!

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

a/n: aaaaaahh! I'm torn between finishing this and taking it painfully slow! lmk what you think ;)

Taglist (open):

@mayla548 @just-me-and-myselfs @l7bangtan @juju-227592 @singukieee @kawaiikpoplover268 @ot7nem @beeeee06 @feedthefandoms995 @rapunzel76 @colourlyhobbit @jinscharms @cestlabellemort @purpleskyyyy @donghaesgirl91 @toughbook @lucymultistan @mcusuperfreak @blaaiissee @emoskytime8

[nonbinarygerard]

this is a rant about AI generated art because I am enraged.

if you want to hear a professional artist speak on AI art more elegantly than me then I highly recommend Steven Zapata’s video. he said everything better than I ever could: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjSxFAGP9Ss&t=5s

the more i learn about AI art the more i literally believe in like 10 years or so we will somehow live in a worst capitalist dystopia where most artistic professional jobs don't exist. You pay a subscription fee to some AI company that just spits out art, movies, comics, novels etc whatever you want on mass, so fast, that art will be personalised to you as in you know how google and other companies track you everywhere on the internet well so will AI companies. they’ll know you more than you know yourself. their algorithms will be fine-tuned just to ur tastes. you won't even need to type in prompts, it will do it for you and show you hundreds, thousands, of art in your feed. You can scroll forever and the algorithm will just make more art. the AI will be so trained to keep ur retention, making ur session time longer and longer and you’ll lose more hours.

Like how many tiktoks do you actually remember? vs how many hours do you stay on the app? do you think the time you spend on tiktok is worthwhile? i use tiktok as an example bc that's only the start of how good AI algorithms can get. give them a few more years with more silicon valley companies competing to be the next big app and they’ll get smart and better in ways you can never imagine.

in the eyes of companies, humans make flaws and humans take too long to make art. it's ripe for automation. companies don't give a fuck about real art and human expression. they only care about profit, profit, profit. what all tech companies want is ur time, your attention, they want to fill all ur waking moments with their products. literally billions of dollars have already been put into AI and though some of the AI art right now might be cringe or just funny, it wont be at some point. In a few months, years, decades, who knows, it will a lot more indistinguishable from human art. that's going to be a problem. you're not going to be able to avoid it because you're not going to be able to what was made by a human and what was made by an AI.

you may think that humans will stop watching or consuming AI art that is bland and seems well AI generated but thats the thing, it will always evolve. In fact companies might just make up fake people to say it was made by and you will never know how much of it was made by humans and how much was made by AI algorithms. if you dont think at some point a bunch of big budget movies, video games, tv shows etc wont be written by AI when it's possible to create a script that doesn't seem like it's written by an AI then you’re crazy.

its going to be a lot harder to make living if you’re not one of the top artists because how the fuck do you compete again AI. you can’t and that’s the point.

its so fitting for evil capitalists that they would rather fund billions of dollars into AI that was designed to replace artists than ever pay artists fair wages.

i dont think people will stop creating art but i do think that a lot of professionals are going to find a hard time keeping their careers without serious changes. you really cant become a master of ur craft without being a professional artist, it just takes that long to gain the experience, knowledge and insight to walk in the footsteps of the masters before. thats what art is. hard work, dedication and discipline. its not something that only a divine few who have the gifts of the gods can do. anyone can become a master artist it just takes devoting ur life to pursue your craft and what a fucking insult it is for billionaires to just fund their extreme amount of money into some goddam shaddy af AI companies to replace professional artists' job, well thats their hope anyway.

this isnt the same like photography was to painting or digital was to traditional. its true that those technological innovations did destroy a lot of jobs but also created new artistic jobs, and they did have massive effects on the industry and i dont want to minimize the number of people who’s careers were destroyed bc of it. But those were massive changes in tools. They didn't actually replace the concept of artists themselves. AI is meant to do as much, if not all, of the artists work for them, so artists don't need to exist in a professional sense.

why would a games company hire concept artists if an AI can come up with hundreds of different concepts in a matter of seconds? maybe human artists might be better but when the AI is good enough a company won't give a shit.

I dont know when this change will happen or how it will occur and how people will react to it but mark my words these AI companies are going to try to make it happen while maintaining the face of just their just simply pushing human progress and this was somehow just a natural evolution of technology.

none of this was natural it was funded by billionaires.

this is not even to mention how these AI’s train on copyrighted artworks with no permission from the artists. and this process is not like how humans learning from other artists, AI’s dont think, they just copy, steal, combine artworks very fast and on mass scale in away no human could ever do. You cant compare how AI’s and how humans learn. there are not the same no matter how big shot programmers try to make them more similar, AI is a machine we could never do what it does. and it is stealing from artists every time it generates art.

I study programming and literally you dont even know the number of jobs there are in AI. its a field that's expanding every day. it's not just a few companies but every big tech company putting massive resources into it. for them, algorithms are the future of humanity.

I am not saying there isn't some actually usefulness in AI created images for example i think getting insane highly specific poses and references at the click of a button is extremely useful but that's just a by-product of what these AI companies want out of their product. they are meant to replace artists' jobs by the click of a button. that's their dream.

AI companies dont care about integrity or intention or the artistic cannon or mastering one’s craft. Companies don’t pour billions of dollars into a technology just for it to be used for meme culture or quirky images. Every time you type in a prompt you are training the AI, its how neural networks work, by releasing them for free to the public you are training the AI for them. and they will train faster than you ever thought. i cant even imagine what the AI images will look like this time next year and they will improve drastically. mark my words.

You are a fool if you dont think AI won’t have a massive and very dystopian effect on society. Capitalism is somehow killing art even more.

maybe you think I’m being dramatic and I hope I am wrong but there is no doubt that AI generated art will change commercial and professional art as we know it.

[bloodonhissocks]

TSLOCG: Eric Miller

This is going to be a long post following my feelings toward Eric Miller throughout season 1:

1x1: When Bela first ran up to Eric, I got a sense of her character as a super eager freshman trying extra hard to make a drastic first impression so that she would be remembered. As a college senior who's been in a position of leadership, I sort of sympathized with his reaction at first, especially since there were hundreds of people at the Catullan meeting. If some random freshman came up to me wanting to read me their submission or something, I'd be happy to see their enthusiasm but god damn I got shit to do lmao.

Then Eric said that shit about "female spots" and I was like goodbye. And he followed it up with "I would give anything for Elizabeth Warren to be president" which made it all sound even worse. AND he ended it by mentioning the Pot Stickers, the all-Asian improv troupe. Like noooo, way to make it about race too.

1x2: The next time we see him he's saying stuff like "If I want Bark Thins and a mocha, you will get me Bark Thins and a mocha. And don't be cute and try to write a funny name on my cup. You will be cut." So now he's sexist, racist, AND on a power trip.

1x4: When Bela stands up for herself after being uncomfortably stereotyped as part of a joke (and I was really proud of her!!!), Eric is more concerned about Danny rescinding his donation check instead of addressing her experience. I was really sad because I thought her act of standing up for herself was going to be associated with the destruction of the Catullan, therefore implying that she should've just stayed quiet, but half the funds were recovered by someone else, so there was that at least. But it really says a lot about institutions...

In the same episode, Eric tells Bela, "I think you overreacted. Danny can't be sexist. He only hires female assistants." Honey, no, that's...just not true. Props to Evangeline for continuing to be fucking awesome by rolling her eyes and also speaking up for Bela.

1x7: After final submissions, Eric says, "If we choose any new members, tonight is gonna be tap night. We'll come find you in your rooms and whisk you away for hours of traditions that you cannot share with anyone, ever. Including future spouses." At this point, I got really scared that Eric might be like Ryan because the specific word choices and phrasing were really sus, like tap being slang for fuck, hours of tradition, can't share with anyone including future spouses...??? But there was no way because Evangeline was also a part of it.

And then...Ryan sexually assaults Bela after sexually harassing her and she finally speaks up about it to Evangeline and Eric. God bless Evangeline for being perfect, but Eric immediately says, "Can we make this quick" and lowers Bela's confidence and self-esteem even more. Eric starts to freak out visibly and verbally, saying things like "going to Title IX already?" and "I don't want to get involved in this and quite frankly I'm not sure there's a this to be involved in," literally dismissing Bela's feelings and the importance of the situation. His defensiveness made me so uncomfortable to hear as a viewer, like holy crap, he shut her down in such a horrible way.

Later, he asks Bela to talk alone. Before starting, he asks for a glass of water or something to which Bela says no and good because earlier he was such an ass. Then, he says, "I wrote this down so I wouldn't get it wrong...My initial reaction earlier today sucked. As an editor and a sometimes very awkward and thoughtless person, I'm sorry. I handled myself poorly. I believe you, and I will do something about it."

This scene is where things changed for me. At first, I thought that Eric was taking the easy way out by using a script, but in the season finale, he actively takes part in removing Ryan from the Catullan. When Ryan tries to make Bela less believable with ''a girl who gave eight handjobs," Eric counters,

"And who cares how many fucking hand jobs she gave? It doesn't make her any less credible, you shit."

This line is so so so important because yes, it doesn't matter what Bela did in the past. It doesn't erase her experience of sexual harassment and assault. For Eric to say this so outright and to the point means so much for Bela and for people who have had the same/similar experiences. It also really shows that he's capable of change and growth as a person. He went from completely denying Bela's experiences to directly addressing them to taking action. And the words that he wrote down when apologizing acknowledged Bela's experiences and the inappropriateness of his reaction. There were no excuses like "I've known Ryan for years" or "this is a sensitive situation and there's a lot of room for screwing a lot of things up." No, Eric's apology was about him as a person and owning up to his behavior.

And that is why Eric easily got bumped up on my favorite characters list. He started off really terribly but had very meaningful development and that's the kind of shit I love.

[aravas-writing]

(Secret Star AU)

Title: "Ravenous Rave Romp!"

Cinder had been desperate for money, her normal "allowance" delayed for some reason (Watts!) Which means she needed a job. Emerald, who she had just recruited, said this place would be perfect, but Cinder had second thoughts the minute she walked into the porn studio. But before she could protest, Emerald had already signed her up for a Rave scene, wearing a multi coloured wig, hiding her identity. Cinder reluctantly went along with it, it wasn't like this smiling blonde could be rough with her, which she would have known, had she read the script...

She hated this whole situation with all of her heart. Cinder Fall was not a prostitute! She dangled the dream of sex with her in front of others to do her bidding, not give away her body!

She was done with that ever since she left the Silver Unicorn...once had been well enough.

Alas, that brazen arrogant fool Watts told her that there was some form of difficulty to move her required funds, so she would have to get a job.

Who the hell did he think she was?!

Calm...Calm...deep breaths... Emerald tried her best to get something that would get money easy while being somewhat dignified and matching Cinder's CV.

Somehow, her help had come up with an adult film company looking for new talent. Cinder had almost fried the chocolate-skinned street rat for it, but she had to concede that the terms of the contract she brought back were acceptable. It was a small consolation, alongside Emerald also being given a form.

Of course the greenette would have to fill her copy out as well.

The script was easy enough. Dance in a rave party alongside carefully chosen actors, all of whom actually seemed to relish being able to party on company clock. Then she was to carefully seduce her co-star into dancing with her, before getting dirty right on the dance floor.

Cinder had to admit, public sex had a thrill to it, which was possibly why she accepted these tacky-looking extensions in her hair. Sure, no one outside could tell that those weren't actually part of her hair, but still! Green and blue?!

Right, she was supposed to be a raver...

Miniskirt ready for easy access, skimpy top, makeup done and she was ready to rock the world of whatever guy was going to be sent her way.

...wait, how would one dance rave?

Too late, the crowd was ready and music was getting blasted through the speakers. It was a rather unsophisticated tune, but it certainly was easy enough to dance to. All one had to do was follow the beat.

Easy enough. The bodies around her were dancing fairly close to her, but not close enough to disrupt either Cinder or the cameras. The ravenette put on a bit of a show for them. A shimmy turned into a luscious roll of her hips, before excitedly jump around and letting her ass jiggle beneath her skirt.

And, of course, she only wore a thin thong.

As she danced, she noticed a figure approaching her spot on the dance floor. Judging him to be her co-star, Cinder threw a sneaky glance his way. Blonde hair adorned a head sitting on a tall body as blue eyes sparkled with mischief and adoration in equal parts.

'Oh no, he's hot.' That was most definitely not Cinder Fall's immediate thought upon seeing the guy, who himself was dressed in a shirt and shorts which both featured splatters of neon paint.

She used all her skill as a receiver to pretend to notice him just as he started appearing close to her own space on the dance floor. A howl of excitement ran through the crowd as the song changed. Fittingly enough, it was called "Satisfaction".

A coy smile his way and an extended hand, this silly boy took one huge step towards the Fall Maiden turned raver and danced to the beat. His hands met her hips immediately as he got close, a smile on his own lips as the two actually had fun.

Cinder could scarcely believe it herself. She was having fun to gaudy music and dancing with this ridiculously handsome- this adequately attractive stranger. Her smile became a little more genuine, certainly more so since she became what she was today.

But alas, this lighthearted atmosphere had to be shattered and replaced with a more sexual one. Taking his arm and lifting it slightly, the seductress used the opening to dance right into his arms, rubbing her shapely ass against his crotch. To finish this, she lifted her head to smile at the blonde boy.

He looked surprised at her forwardness, but soon relented and let his hands roam her perfect body. One caressed her thigh, inching close to her crotch while lifting her skirt as another roamed her flat stomach while searching a way towards her boobs.

Another jiggle of her ass, some pressing of her hips against his, and Cinder knew that her co-star was packing. Certainly something to look forward to as one of his hands finally made it up to her clothed boob to cup it gently. His thumb started to circle her nipple through the fabric, making Cinder bite her lip and shimmy around in his arms some more. Her flat stomach undulating was perfectly caught on camera.

Through the droning beat, Cinder wished he could hear her breathing heavily under his touch as he whispered all the dirty things he would do to her in her ear. Alas, there was no sound beyond the music.

Not that words were really necessary. The blonde's hand finally crept beneath her skirt, teasing and caressing her clad mound. She moaned, not that anyone could hear, as she realized that she had gotten wet under him. As his hand kept caressing her, she looked back up to him, craning her neck as she did, and smiled at him using her best fuck-me eyes.

He would have to oblige her, since they still starred in a porn video. He needed to fuck her, he just had to! Oum knows she wanted it.

Nice, well-shaped fingers pulled her thong away, baring what little it concealed to a curious camera lens as the music changed again to a different sound, this one like something was approaching. Cinder smiled at the timing of it as her handsome co-star probed her pussy, exploring it carefully instead of jamming it in like a possessive brute.

So many steps up from what she had to endure...He was focused on her pleasure, his finger scraping against her in the nicest way, pistoning in and out of her tight and ready pussy.

Cinder patience left as her libido rose, and she had to pull his wrist away from her pussy and towards her ass as she turned around, facing him now.

A female voice could be heard in this track, seemingly addressing the listener with an endearing and horny "Hey Baby", asking them increasingly lustful questions. Cinder herself fumbled at her blonde stud's- her friendly blonde's pants to fish out his painfully hard cock. Amber eyes not leaving blue, nimble hands wandered all over his length as her smile grew. Finally, she pulled close, slinging a leg around his hip and directing his cock close to her waiting muff. She could feel his tip close to her lips, so close that her hips moved against it in her own.

Finally, her blonde grabbed the ravenette by the hips and the leg slung around him, balancing her, and guided himself inside her. He didn't even use his hands, making her eyes widen as he entered her just like that.

To anyone looking on, the two were dancing very provocatively. To Cinder Fall, this was an experience unlike any other. He fit her excellently, dare she say perfectly; his cock filled her pussy completely! All the sexy minx wanted was for him to move immediately, perhaps giving her her first orgasm!

Dammit, she was so turned on!

His one hand cupping her ass cheek, he pressed deep and rhythmically inside her, then pulling out, then repeat three times before he followed with several shallow thrusts.

Cinder was certain that her juices were glistening in the lights as the speaking part of the song turned overtly sexual and her man fucked her good. Waves of pleasure ran through her, coursing through her veins as he held her close, amber eyes gazing at him with something so close to adoration that she herself wondered...

"Oh my God!" The girl in the song moaned in pretend lust as Cinder gasped it in actual lust as he simply picked her up, arms beneath her kneepits, and fucked her hard and good while standing.

She was getting close as he made his lust for her relentlessly known. Blue eyes and a mouth slightly opened to moan softly mirrored her own expression as she approached her own high; the very first anyone ever gave her!

A head snapped forward in the decisive moment and hungry lips met, tongues battling against one another as their climax rocked their bodies, a deluge if fun filling Cinder as her partner shivered, moaning into her mouth as her own sounds vibrated, letting them both feel it.

Finally, they separated, and Cinder was gently set down on wobbly legs. Not wasting a second, right after his still-hard dick was back in his pants, she pointed off the dance floor, in the vague direction of "private", and took his hand to lead him away...

"Cut!" The director yelled through the sound. "Excellent shoot, you two! Magnificent performance! You led her well, Jamie!"

As the ravenette blinked owlishly, torn out of her horny mode, her partner basically scratched the back of his head. "Thank you, but I'm pretty sure my partner here is the real star," he screamed back over the din of the ongoing party and pointing to the ravenette.

"Ah, certainly!" The director nodded to her. "We'll wire you your payment for this gig ASAP! You can go to the showers now; just-"

As soon as Cinder heard the word "showers" and saw the hand pointing in the direction, her trek continued, pulling this "Jamie" along undeterredly.

As soon as they arrived, her clothes practically flew off of her while she hungrily glared at the blonde. "I want a second round, Jamie," she clarified.

"Jaune, actually; Jamie is my stage-"

"Jaune, then." He was almost adorably nervous. "Get those extensions out if my hair and I'll make it worth it," Cinder commanded in her best seductress voice, beckoning him to follow as she headed to the shower.

She would definitely sign up to exclusively work with him...

[kahluamystery97]

SATELLITE CH 3

CHAPTER THREE

 "That was really fucking promising." Liza said, throwing her purse into her Infiniti QX80. She was a tall commanding woman. She decided her car should be the same.

 'I don't want to jinx it but I think they loved the project." Alex sighed relieved. She leaned her back against Liza's beast of an SUV.

 "I mean if we can get this movie made I can die happy." Maggie said and tossed her own purse into her Mercedes convertible.  This film was her baby. A script and a new writer she found. She wanted this project more than she had ever wanted anything before.

 "Let's not die for it yet." Liza laughed. "Yet."

 "I vote we blow off the rest of the day, drink margs and gorge on Mexican." Alex volunteered. It was very un-Alex like of her.

 "Are you feeling okay?" Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow surprised at her sister. The mom of two never suggested getting wild or blowing off the day. If she wasn’t working she was home with her husband and kids.

 Liza chimed in, "Pod people got her. I knew it."

 “Oh you two are just hysterical. Real comedians.” Alex proceeded to flip them off. “ I just don't feel like working or being a mom just now. I would like to be irresponsible," Alex looked down at her Rolex, "at 1pm."

 "Wait for it because it isn't pod people, it’s Freaky Friday. I'm the tired one." Maggie covered her mouth as a yawn escaped.

 Her sister's both looked at her. Alex said,  "Probably because you are up at the ass crack of dawn working out. Let me guess running?"

 "Rowing." Maggie shrugged.  "Also, I was sort of up all night fucking that guy I met at that party."

 Liza's eyes shot up. "Which guy? The bartender?"

 "What party?" Alex asked.

 "That shitty party at Martin Graves house that Liza dragged me to. I was bored out of my mind so I decided to drink five whiskeys apparently."

 “You took her to a Martin Graves party?” Alex gave Liza and accusatory look. “You have heard what happens to pretty young things there, right?”

 “Al, nothing like that happened. I was okay. I agreed to go. Making a move for some last minute funding if this fell through.”

 Liza narrowed her eyes, “I would never let anything happen to her.”

 Alex touched Liza’s arm. “I know. I’m sorry. Liza gave her a smile.

 "Ok so you met a hot bartender? Oh Margaret we need all the dirty deets. See, let's go have drinks and you can tell me everything." Alex pleaded.

 "He's not a bartender. Dirty deets? Seriously, who are you? " Maggie asked.

 "El Coyote. We are going - now.  I'm driving over with Maggie. Sail the yacht over by yourself." Alex mocked Liza's SUV.

 Liza rolled her eyes. " Jesus Christ Al."

 Maggie and Alex got into the convertible and drove out of the parking garage.

 "Why does it kill Liza to be fun now? Remember fun? " Alex sighed.

 "Al are you having some weird mid-life crisis?" Maggie asked as she turned right.

 "Perhaps. Just feeling like an old woman. Maybe I'm a little jealous you’re picking up hot bartenders or not bartenders and having late nights. If my night is late it is because one of the kids won't sleep. I love my life but some days I want to be young and carefree again. I want to have sex without having to plan it like a mission to Mars."

 Maggie reached over and squeezed her sister's hand. "Get Perry to take you out or better yet take you away. Liza and I got the girls, you know that."

 Alex smiled. "I know. You guy -"

 The phone ringing through the Bluetooth cut her off and startled them both. The screen flashed 'H - Hills Party'. Maggie put her fingers to her lips to shush Alex.

 She may have been giddy but Maggie cooly answered, "Hello."

 "So..." Harry said.

 "So?" Maggie asked.

 "You were quite excited about your very important meeting today.  So how did it go? "

 "Good, really good." She said enthusiastically. "I'm not saying another word though because I'm a bit superstitious."

 "Would you like to celebrate or is that bad luck?" He asked.

 Alex was staring hard at her. She started nodding her head and giving her a thumbs up.

 "Actually I'm headed out with my sisters to El Coyote."

 "No shit?" He asked. "I'm over at CBS Studios. Maybe I could meet you afterwards?" CBS was conveniently right around the corner from the famed Mexican restaurant.

 Maggie was afraid Alex was going to sprain her neck. She was nodding so hard.

 "Sure. I'll text you." Maggie offered. Alex silently cheered and then began to make some crude gestures. Maggie nearly burst into laughter watching her grown ass sister act like a twelve year old boy.

 "I'll be here." He said.

 Maggie disconnected the call before finally giving into the hysterics she was holding in.

 "What the fuck?" Alex screeched laughing now too. "I don't care what he looks like. I nearly just nearly made a mess of my pants - that voice. I’ve changed my mind I do care what he looks like. Tell me you have a photo of him? But don't show me if he isn't good looking. In my mind he is amazing.”

 Maggie was laughing so hard now. "Oh my God girl you are a disaster. He is very hot actually."

 “So wait. Sexy British accent. He is hot. No way you had a fucking orgasm? God doesn’t give with both hands Mags.”

“Try three orgasms.” She looked over the top of her sunglasses at Alex who had her mouth wide open in shock.

 “Three? I’m not even sure that’s physically possible. Three?”

 “Three. Do you think I’m making it up?”

 “Course not. Fuck me. I feel like I need a cigarette.”

 “You gave up smoking like a million years ago.”

 “Yeah well if I had three orgasms in one night I would pick it back up quick. Three. My mind is blown.”

 “Mine too.”

 Before they could go on she pulled the car into the parking lot and got her valet ticket. Liza was directly behind them.

 The three walked in and stood in front of the hostess stand.  The Dunne sisters were a stunning trio. Maggie the youngest was also the shortest. All three had piercing blue eyes. Liza, the oldest, had long dark hair, plush eyelashes and high cheekbones. Alex, the middle child was as tall as Liza, full figured, long legs. Blonde and blue eyed like Maggie. Alex had a stylish chin length bob with side swept bangs.

 "Booth in the back?" The hostess asked them. They were regulars.

 "If you have one." Maggie smiled brightly.

 "Of course. Follow me.”

 Once the sisters were settled and margaritas ordered Alex piped up. "Maggie is meeting the guy from last night after this. He is some sort of British sex wizard.”

 Liza looked up from her phone distracted. "The bartender is a wizard? Only in LA I guess.”

 "Oh my God he isn't a bartender. I swear I have said that multiple times. Are you deaf or senile?”

 Liza shot her a look. "Maybe a little bit of both. Or maybe I don't care who you bang as long as you don't end up all over social media and gossip rags because he can't keep his mouth shut."

 "He's a singer. He’s very well known and he doesn't want to be all over the tabloids either. "

 "A singer?" Alex asked. "That makes so much sense. That voice. Wait, what’s his name? I have to Google him."

 "What are you going on about?" Liza asked.

 "He called while I was in the car with Mags. Super sexy British voice. Maggie had THREE orgasms last night!" Alex announced a bit too loudly.

 Maggie flushed bright red as she looked around. “Louder so the kitchen staff can hear it. This is totally going to be on Deuxmoi. Anon pls - Maggie Dunne had three orgasms with a wizard.”

  Alex rolled her eyes and waved her hands. “Oh get over yourself.”

 "I know I met this person but I literally have no memory of him." Liza shrugged. “Seriously, three?” Maggie nodded. Liza smiled and looked down at the menu.

 "Seriously give me his name." Alex was poised to type into her phone. Maggie took a beat longer than what Alex was expecting. "What is his name Maggie?!" She yelped even more loudly than before. Some patrons nearby looked over.

 The waitress appeared with their margaritas at that moment. "Can I get her a second one right away? Sorry it is sort of a margarita emergency." Maggie flashed the pearly whites at the waitress and nodded toward Alex.

 "Sure. I'll be right back."

 “What constitutes a margarita emergency? Liza asked sipping at her drink and trying not to spill. 

  Maggie only raised her eyebrows and gestured at Alex as to say, “This. Her.”

 "Sorry I'm really excitable today." Alex said flushed.

 "No bullshit here - kid are you okay? Need an edible?” Liza asked as she motioned toward her gigantic Prada bag which always had an edible or ten in it.

 "I have no clue what is going on with me. Sorry. Mags diagnosed me with a mid-life crisis earlier."

 "Her initials are MD, not her profession." Liza offered with a smile as she sipped the frozen concoction.

 "She's not wrong. I haven't even played a doctor yet." They all laughed.

 The waitress brought another margarita for Alex and took their order. Unsurprisingly they all ordered the chicken fajita plate. Maggie could pick at the chicken and veggies and not get asked too many questions about what she was and was not eating.

 "OK so I'm going to ask you one more time, calmly. What is his name?" Alex gulped the last of her first margarita and started in on her second.

 Maggie lowered her voice and moved in closer,  "Harry Styles."

 "God that sounds familiar. Isn't he in a boy band? How old is this kid? We don’t need that sort of press." Liza asked as she tapped away at an email on her phone.

 "He was in a band. He’s a fully grown adult thank you very much." Maggie said, sipping her margarita.

 Alex had her head down scrolling through her iPhone. "Oh he sure grew up. Yum that mouth.”

 Maggie looked over with flushed cheeks. “Yeah that mouth.”

  “Full service?

  “Mmm hmm.” 

 Alex offered the phone to Liza. She shrugged.  "Oh that guy."

 They rolled their eyes at Liza. "So do you like him?" Al asked.

 "He's really nice, seems down to earth but I don't really know him. Didn't know if we'd talk again after he left this morning."

 Liza looked Maggie in the eye. "So now he's called you. Are you interested?"

 "You guys know I don't have a lot of time in my life for that. Casual has always worked better for me. I’m not in the market for a relationship."

 Alex was deep into that second margarita. "Can't be casual forever Margaret. Eventually you need your teammate. You deserve some happiness."

 "I have my teammates and you both make me mostly happy. Except you with the judgy eyes." Maggie smiled at Liza.

 "You know what she's saying though." Liza ignored the rib and doubled down on what Alex was expressing.

 "I do. I don't feel lonely and I'm not planning on living a life of solitude or anything.  I just happen to like my life right now."

 Maggie wasn't lying. She did like her life. She answered to no one. She felt safe behind her walls. She felt like she couldn't be hurt or exploited. Feeling safe was everything to her after some of the dark shit that happened in her past. She understood why her sisters might want her to couple up. Liza and Alex married two of the best men ever created. Maggie was so lucky to have them as her brothers. Along with the girls they took such good care of her.

 "I like all of our lives right now. Look at us. We have come a long fucking way." Alex laughed hard. She was definitely on her way to drunk.  "Can we get three more of these?"  She pointed to the empty glasses.

 Liza motioned for two not three. The waitress nodded.

 "He dated Taylor Swift." Alex said seriously looking up from her phone.  "Oh no."

 "Which album? What did he do?" Liza asked seriously.  

 Maggie said. "1989. Style. Wildest Dreams.”

 Liza and Alex looked at each other. "Okay 1989 isn't that bad." Alex said. "I mean it could be worse. Though there is always Clean and Out of the Woods. He’s a bad driver! Be careful.”

 "At least it’s not Dear John. Remember the time I 'accidentally' spilled red wine on John Mayer. That piece of shit." Liza spat angrily.

 "How could I forget?" Maggie cringed remembering John Mayer pulling out all his best lines and Liza dousing him in red wine and pulling Maggie away to a ‘very important call’ at 11pm.

 "Fine but if you go near John Mayer I will have you put down." Liza said.

 Maggie held her palms up. "I am fairly certain he wouldn’t let any of the Dunne’s in a ten mile radius of him after that.”

 When the last fajita was eaten Alex looked up and announced. "I'm totally shitfaced. It is 3 in the afternoon and I'm shitfaced." Then she began to laugh and laid down in the round booth.

 Liza and Maggie exchanged a look, their eyebrows high on their foreheads. "Holy shit." Liza mouthed.

 Maggie was definitely not going to be driving but she wasn't drunk. She should probably let Harry know she was just going to let Liza take her home. When she made that announcement at the table Alex began laughing again even harder.

 "What’s so funny?" Liza asked pulling her upright.  “Get it together woman.”

 Alex put Maggie’s phone down in front of her.  "I texted him. He’s on his way over to pick you up."

 Maggie looked stricken. "You texted who? What? Harry? What? What did you say? What did you do?" She opened her phone quickly.

 'Had a three margarita lunch. Now is probably a good time for you to pick me up.'

 Harry responded, 'On my way now.'

 "I am going to murder you." Maggie said through gritted teeth. This only made Alex laugh harder with a snort.

 Liza looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Christ the two of you. I know you were joking about Deuxmoi earlier but I am definitely going to get a fucking call on Sunday."

 A few minutes later all three of them looked up to see Harry walking toward them. He was in a plain white t-shirt which displayed all his black ink and rippling muscles. Jeans and black Vans to round his look out.  His sunglasses were perched on top of his head keeping his unruly curls back. He smiled a perfectly white, dimpled smile.

 Alex took a sharp breath. Maggie took a sip of water. All the blood in her body rushed directly between her legs. She slid out of the booth.  "Hi. I didn't expect you to come all the way in."

 "Felt sort of rude sitting in the parking lot and texting." He smiled and then looked over to her sisters.  

 Alex drunkenly struggled to navigate her way out of the circular booth. Harry offered her his hand. She smiled up, dazed and took it. "I'm Harry," He introduced himself as he helped her up.

 "I'm married." Alex said with a hiccup. "To Perry. He is very tall. Even taller than you." She looked Harry up and down a few times. "Harry rhymes with Perry." Another hiccup.

 Harry looked puzzled but smiled wider. Maggie was flushed red and worried her armpits might start sweating anytime now.

 Liza stepped in. "This is Alex. She doesn't normally consume four margaritas midday so if you'll excuse her. I'm Liza." She offered Harry her hand.  They shook. Liza then looked him up and down with immediate disapproval just as she had done the first time they met.

 Harry felt her dislike for him. Liza wasn't subtle. He was so used to charming people right out of the gate.  Liza made him uncomfortable and awkward. That people pleaser in him wanted to win her over.

 "Nice to meet you both. Can I offer you ladies a ride?"

 Alex got a big grin on her face. Maggie gave her a death stare. She knew there was definitely a sex joke about to fly out of her sisters mouth. Alex clamped her lips together.

 "I'm the sober sister. Since this one is married to Perry I think I'll take her. I guess you take that blonde one." Liza offered.

 "Only seems appropriate." Harry said.

 Liza led them out. Alex swayed unsure on her Manolos. Harry offered his arm to her. She wrapped her hand around his bicep. Maggie trailed them.

 "I mentioned I'm married to Perry, right?" She asked him.

 "You did mention that. Perry is a very lucky man."  He said amused by Alex's drunk antics.

 "Oh good. He would want me to remember that. And I'm a mom. And I don't really drink. And I'm old."

 "Old? No way." He said.

 "I mean I'm Hollywood old. I'm 39. Tell him Maggie." Alex turned around to her sister.

 "Yes you are Hollywood old. When I'm 39 I'll be playing George Clooney’s mother." Maggie repeated a line she had said many times before.

 "Well I'm not from Hollywood. In the real world you are young. Old people aren't this beautiful day drunk on margaritas." He smiled over at Al as they walked down the few steps and out into the parking lot.

 "I like you even if you aren't a bartender and are likely a terrible driver. Please be careful with my baby sister." Al slurred.  Harry was totally confused. He just continued to smile.

 The valet saw Liza and ran for her SUV. Liza spoke to the other valet about leaving Maggie's car. Liza told Maggie she would make sure the car got to her house.

 "This is me." Harry motioned to the black Range Rover near the front door. "It was so nice to meet you. Both of you."

 "We should do this again sometime." Alex said. "This was so fun. You are fun Harry." Alex gave him a hug. He was laughing now and hugging her back. “Remember what I said about driving safely.”

 Liza's SUV pulled up. "Get in the car Drunkerella." Liza said to Alex.

 "Bye Bubs. I love you. Drink lots of water ok." Maggie hugged Alex and kissed her cheek.

 "Aww I love you my baby. My first baby." Alex kissed her forehead and pulled her in close looking weepy. "Do you know when you were little  -"

 "Fucking hell Al get in the goddamm car before you start crying." Liza yelled from the driver's seat. Maggie helped Alex in.

 "You aren't the boss of me, Liza.  I'm not scared of you. I'll kick your ass."

 "Goodbye you two. Have a pleasant drive all that way together. Sad I'm going to miss it." Maggie laughed as she shut the door.

 Now both Maggie and Alex turned to flip her off.  Then they were pulling out onto Beverly.  

 Harry had tears in his eyes from laughing.  "What the hell was that? Your sisters are fantastic. What does she know about my driving? Did she talk to my mum?”

 Maggie lightly shoved his arm. He led her to his SUV and opened the passenger door. Harry waved a thank you to the valets and then got in the driver's side.

 "So Maggie Dunne, what do you feel like doing?" He asked as he pulled out of the lot.

 "Well Harry Styles I have eaten. I have had margaritas. Not sure there is anything better than that."

 "More margaritas?"

 "And just like that you figured it all out." She smiled over to him.

 "A frozen Casamigos margarita by the pool?"  Harry raised an eyebrow.

 "Yes please."

 "Is my place okay?" Maggie nodded her approval. "So your sisters are hysterical.  Oh my God I might love Alex."

 "Everyone loves Alex. She's the mom. She's not whoever that lady was. I mean not normally. She is going to be mortified tomorrow but I'm glad she had fun today. You have a sister, right? What’s she like?"

 "Really smart. She's sarcastic. Reminds me a lot of Alex when she has had too much to drink. Whiskey not tequila. Like your sisters, she's my best friend."

 "Teller of truths? An ass kicker? And she is in England?"

 "Yes, exactly.  She does live in London. She comes quite a bit to visit me here which is nice. I mean I have to annoy her into it but she gives in."

 "It is nice to have that. You know I moved here alone. Broke. I had this dream that I would be on my favorite soap opera. Maybe go to college. I got my role on the soap and then a few months later I got a part in a Scorcese movie. Once my dreams started to become a reality it was hard to enjoy it without them. So they gave up their lives at home and moved here. All six of us lived in my little house."

 "No way! Your house you live in now?"

 "Yup. It was crazy but still some of my happiest memories were made together there."

 Maggie looked around. "You live near the Strip?" They were on Sunset.

 "Above." Harry pointed up.

 She smiled "Have to be close to the excitement?"

 "I did when I bought it. Now it feels a little silly." He said as he pulled at his bottom lip.

 Maggie pressed her thighs together feeling aroused just by that simple move. He was effortlessly sexy.

 The Range Rover climbed the hills. Harry hit the clicker and a large gate opened. A white three story house with massive windows and glass railed terraces stood before them. He parked just outside of the garage.

 They let themselves out of the car. Harry looked Maggie up and down for what was probably the millionth time in the thirty minutes since he had picked her up. She was in a white lightweight tweed Chanel dress with drop waist and black ribbon trim, black tights and black patent heels. The dress had a Chanel signature brooch pinned over Maggie's heart. Her blonde hair was loose and her lips painted perfectly red.

 He closed the distance between them. "You look really beautiful today." Harry said.

 A small smile danced on Maggie's lips. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him.

 "Thank you. This is my ladylike business meeting look. Hoped I could seal the deal in it."

 Now it was Harry's turn to smile. "Oh you've sealed the deal Miss Dunne."

 She rolled her eyes. "Is that you trying to get in my pants? Ugh, that was tragic." They laughed.

 Harry took Maggie's hand and led her into the house. She looked around at all the dark furniture and tall ceilings. This was an LA bachelor pad for sure. There was some large pieces of art hanging but beyond that not much else said Harry lived there.

 "I feel you judging me. I was 20 when I bought this place." He said a little self-consciously. "And I know it isn’t homey and warm like your place. I just don’t spend enough time here for that.”

 "I'm not judging you. Stop being such a weirdo." She laughed.

 "How about I make us those drinks? Then we can go out by the pool?"

 "I'm in." Maggie followed Harry to the kitchen.

 Harry fussed around making drinks in an oversized frozen margarita maker. Maggie stepped out of her heels. She laid her Chanel bag on the stool of the kitchen island.  

 "Salted rim?" He inquired, looking over as she shimmied out of her black tights.

 Maggie sighed in relief as she was freed. "Yes please. Sorry I have been dying to take those off."

 "Get comfortable. No worries." Harry salted both glasses and poured the drinks.

 Maggie slipped her dress off and put it on the back of the chair. She stood clad in her white boy shorts and matching bra. "I mean I can't wear tweed by the pool." She shrugged accepting the drink.

 Harry swallowed hard. Then he pulled his t-shirt off and then quickly shucked off his jeans. Now he stood in his black boxer briefs. His palms itched with want to touch her.  Maggie let her eyes wander freely.

 "You lead the way."  Her tongue slowly licked a spot of the salt and then sipped the cold margarita.

 Harry's pulse quickened at the sight. He turned and pushed the large wall of glass doors open.

 They made themselves comfortable on a double wide chaise. Maggie leaned back facing the pool. Harry faced her with his legs crossed in front of him pretzel style.

 'What sort of torture devices were you wearing?" He asked, looking at the red angry creases in her feet.

 She smiled looking down.  "Very expensive ones. They're ok."  Harry pulled her foot into his lap and began to gently massage. Maggie's eyes fluttered and she bit down on her bottom lip.

 "Better?" He asked.

 "Are you bad at anything?"

 He thought. 'So many things.’ Instead he laughed and kissed the pad of her foot. Then he started on the second foot.

 Maggie slowly sipped the margarita and watched Harry. Her body was on fire. Normally she wouldn't see someone twice and even so never two days in a row.

 Once Harry kissed the second foot she put her drink down. Then rolled off the chaise and onto her feet. His eyes followed her as she walked to the pool and gracefully dove in.

 He took that as his cue to follow her. Harry was not quite as graceful but he launched his long body in.  Making a splash he heard Maggie laugh. It was a lovely sound.  Before he had blinked all the water from his eyes he felt her legs wrap around his middle.

 Maggie pressed her lips to his. He parted them to allow her tongue entry. He had wanted to kiss her from the moment he picked her up today.  He wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her in by the back of her neck. She smiled against his lips.

 Looking down at her now sheer bra and seeing her pink nipples stand at attention made him instantly hard.  Maggie pushed his wet hair back. Her hands slipped down and laid loosely around his neck.

 "Thank you for coming to pick me up."

 "Well thank you for coming over. If I'm honest I was nervous to call. We didn't really establish any ground rules this morning."

 "Ground rules? I think you should know I'm not incredibly fond of rules. I like organization and order. Rules not so much."

 Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh a bad girl, a rule breaker." He let his hands run down her back and squeeze her perfect ass.

 Maggie let out a surprised squeal. "I'm not sure I'm quite a badass. Just not a fan of rules. What sort of ground rules are we talking about?"

 "I guess I just meant when I left this morning we didn't establish if that was a one time thing,  if I should call you or you should call me."

 "Yeah that. This morning I was so focused on the meeting I was going to. I'm happy you called.  I had fun last night." She smiled as she tangled her fingers in the back of his hair.

"You are very easy to have fun with."

 "So are you. So let's not overthink it."  Maggie leaned back into the water to get her hair wet. Harry quietly groaned at the sight of her nipples straining against the sheer white bra. "How about one ground rule?"  

 "I'm listening."

 "We can call or text whenever we want but no pressure. Busy? Not feeling it? No problems. Keep it casual."

 "You have yourself a deal. Should we shake on it?"

 Maggie shook her head. "I don't want to shake your hand. I want you to take me inside and fuck me." She said boldly in his ear thanks to tequila.

 Harry moved swiftly with Maggie still around him to get to the pool stairs. He kissed her one last time before they untangled themselves. Maggie took the hand he offered her as they rushed toward the house.

A few orgasms later …

 “What happened here? Appendix?” Harry asked. He let his finger linger over a small white scar on her lower pelvis as he kissed her shoulder.  He was propped up on his elbow, legs tangled with hers. Maggie gave him a small smile.

 “Uh no. I had a tummy tuck and up here if you look close enough you can see where my arms were done. After I lost all of that weight I just had too much loose skin. Needed a little surgical help.” She shrugged it off.

 “I’m sorry that was rude of me. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t know.” He stuttered, turning a bit red with embarrassment.

 “It’s ok. You didn’t know I was fat or I had cosmetic surgery? Everyone knows I used to be fat. You are a shit google searcher if you completely missed my fat pictures. I mean no matter how many photos are taken of you and your abs in your bikini people will always put them side by side with your fat photos.”

 Maggie reached for the sheets and pulled them up a bit self conscious. Harry pulled her in closer by the waist. He leaned in and kissed her mouth as he gently pulled the sheet back.

 “Don’t do that. I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m not trying to embarass or hurt you.”

 “Honestly it’s who I am. It’s part of my story.  I just thought you knew.”

 “Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked unsure if he should drop the topic or not.

 “Not much to talk about. I used to be fat and now I’m not. It isn’t that deep.” Lies. Liar. It’s deep. Really fucking deep. You are never getting close enough for that buddy.

 He nodded sensing he should leave this alone for now. “Would you object to a shower together and a snack?”

 Maggie leaned up and captured his lips between hers. She cocked an eyebrow when she asked, “What sort of snack are we talking about?”

 Harry’s tongue trailed down her body until it reached the scar. He marked her there and it soothed it with his tongue. He made his short descent down her body to between her legs. “I was actually thinking about feeding you but I’ll take mine first.”

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

--

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Merely Players (Bucky x Clint)

Community theater AU! For my Winterhawk Bingo square “Captain America!Clint/Winter Soldier!Bucky.” 

Word Count: ~1700

Rating: PG

Absolute fluffy silliness with lots of cameos. I just needed a break from working on Sweet Home Was Home, tbh, and I’ve had this idea in the back of my head for a while. There will probably be at least two more parts to this, because I started mentally casting the show and couldn’t not write it all out. It’s full-on meta madness and I love it.   

Bucky flips through the script, increasingly baffled. The margins are already full of Steve’s tidy cursive notes. 

“Who the fuck wrote this shit?” he asks, scanning the page. 

“Isn’t it interesting?” Steve says happily. “You want coffee?” 

“I had one beer and I live three minutes away, Steve,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Interesting is… not the word I would’ve chosen. No offense to Peggy, I’m sure the songs are fantastic, but this is fucking bizarre. Superheroes? Brainwashing? Who came up with this shit?” 

“The playwright’s name is Nicholas Fury, but I think that’s a pseudonym, because I can’t find anything about him online. It was Stark’s call, though. Apparently he has some personal investment in getting this staged, he’s funding the whole damn thing.” 

“So… it’s somebody’s vanity project?” 

“No,” Steve says huffily. “C’mon, you really don’t want to audition? You used to love theater!” 

“In high school. Before I got blown up.” 

“It’ll be good for you to get out a bit. Make some new friends.” 

Bucky ignores that and flips through a few more pages. “These names are fuckin’ absurd, even for goddamn superheroes. And how the hell are you going to stage these stunts? You want somebody flying around on webs?” 

“That’s where Tony really comes in,” Steve says excitedly. “He’s offering to pay for all the construction, but also, the guy is a genius. I’ve never met him but I saw a video of this thing he did for last year’s Fringe Festival, he made a robot that actually moved around the stage.” 

Okay, that does sound cool. But still. 

“The lead is named Captain America, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Sam’s auditioning, did I tell you that?” 

“Oh boy,” Bucky says flatly. 

“You guys are going to get along great once you actually talk to each other. And Thor! You liked Thor, right?” 

Bucky shrugs. “We only met that once. But yeah, sure.” It’s very hard not to like the self-proclaimed God of Lighting. 

“Do you remember Natasha Romanoff? She moved back to the area last year, she’s the choreographer.” 

“Course I do. It’ll be nice to see her.” 

“It’s gonna be great, Buck. Will you be my assistant director, at least?” Steve wheedles. “C’mon, I don’t care what you’re doing, I just want you around for moral support. Please?” 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But there’s no way in hell you’re getting me on a stage.” 

Famous last words.  

Clint spots a few familiar faces when he walks in. The Maximoffs are in one corner, talking to Sam, who gives Clint a grin. Jessica is sitting on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, arms crossed, completely still — she looks like she’s just judging everybody silently from behind her massive sunglasses, but Clint knows her well enough to guess that she’s napping off a hangover. Eddie is sitting with his back to the wall, squinting up at the ceiling blearily — and you’d think he was hungover, or maybe still drunk, but that’s just how he always looks, as far as Clint can tell. 

Kate waves from another corner, where she’s stretching with Yelena. 

“Where’ve you been?” she asks. “They should be starting any minute now.” 

“A wizard is never late, Kate Bishop,” he tells her. She raises a judgmental eyebrow in the direction of his venti extra-whip frappuccino. 

Also, he thought auditions started at 11, not 10. Oops. 

When they head into the theater, Nat’s leaning against the side of the stage chatting with Steve and a guy Clint doesn’t know. The part of his face that Clint can see involves a really fucking pretty jawline, which Clint would like to lick, pleaseandthankyou. 

He catches Nat’s eye. She raises an eyebrow in his direction, giving him a little wave, and the pretty dude turns as well, revealing a fucking fantastic face. 

Clint maybe trips over his own feet because he’s too busy staring, but at least he doesn’t drop his Starbucks. 

“Put your eyes back in your head, Barton,” Yelena tells him. 

“Save me a seat? I’m gonna go say hi to Nat.” 

“You mean get the dirt on Cheekbones?” Kate teases, and he flips her off over his shoulder. 

Nat meets him halfway. 

“I don’t think I know that guy,” Clint says, totally casual. Natasha follows the line of his gaze and smirks. 

“James? Steve’s best friend. Better known as Bucky. We dated, way back when. He broke my heart.” 

“Wait, really?” Clint says incredulously. 

“Mm. Asked for his ring back and everything. Very sad.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, shit. He’s never actually heard Nat admit to anybody breaking her heart. He immediately vows to hate the guy. Figures that the cute ones are always straight, assholes, or both. 

Steve jumps up from his chair and starts gesticulating wildly at another guy Clint’s never met. 

“Who’s that?” Clint asks. 

“The guy with the sunglasses is Matt Murdock, our vocal coach. And the other guy is Tony Stark. In the two hours I’ve known him, he’s made three stupid jokes about Matt being blind, so I’m gonna guess that right there is the aftermath of number four.” 

“Matt doesn’t seem to mind,” Clint observes. Matt is in fact muttering something to Bucky under his breath that is making Bucky smirk like a motherfucker, and Clint chokes on his own tongue a little bit. That smirk might kill him. 

“No, he’s very… patient,” Natasha says, with the absolute faintest hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “But you know Steve.”  

“Patient, huh?” Clint asks gleefully. She elbows him. “Ow.” 

“There may be some appeal to the idea of a guy who doesn’t stare at my tits all day.” 

Fair enough.

Steve’s working himself up into full righteous fury mode, and Clint watches bemusedly as Stark laughs in his increasingly red face. 

“Twenty says they fuck at the closing party,” Clint says. 

“My money’s on tech night,” Natasha replies. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go intervene before Steve does something stupid. Break a leg.” 

If Tony fucking Stark says one more fucking word, Steve might punch him in his stupid pretty mouth. Asshole. 

“I’m telling you, it’s gotta be Wilson,” Stark says. 

“And I’m telling you, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve snaps. 

“Steve’s right,” Natasha says quietly, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. “Sam is great, but there’s no menace in him.” 

Stark’s bouncing his knee so fast it looks like he’s vibrating. Nat reaches out slowly and takes his coffee out of his hand, raising an eyebrow. Stark opens his mouth to argue and then clearly thinks better of it, so maybe he’s not quite as dumb as he looks. 

“Fuck. Maybe I could convince Banner to audition?” Steve says, without much real hope. 

“There’s no way in hell, Steve,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes. “Behind the scenes only, he made it very clear.” 

“What about Parker? He’s the only other one who can sing worth a damn,” Stark says. 

“You’re shittin’ us, right?” Bucky asks bluntly.

“What’s wrong with that idea? Granted, with the difference in height and muscle mass, a fight between him and Barton might be challenging, but Loki is great at body painting, and —”

“It’d look stupid as shit,” Bucky interrupts. Steve manages to turn his laugh into a snort. 

“What about you, James?” Murdock says thoughtfully. Everybody turns to look at him. 

“What the fuck about me?” Bucky growls. He casts a furtive look back to where Barton’s sitting; then he turns bright red and looks even angrier, which Steve recognizes as a sure sign that Bucky’s got a crush.

“Steve said you have a wonderful voice.” 

“Did you pay him to say this?” Bucky asks Steve furiously. “Because I swear —” 

Murdock laughs. “No, he most definitely did not.” 

“It’s worth a try, at least,” Natasha says. 

“Et tu, Nat?” 

She gives him a look. “James.”

Bucky holds eye contact for all of two seconds before letting off a string of curses in Russian. Steve resists the urge to jump up and down. 

Clint’s been her best friend for years now, but Natasha’s still amazed by what he can do, sometimes. Off-stage, he can’t take two steps without tripping. On-stage, he’s a force of nature. 

James is brilliant, too, but what really sells it is the chemistry between the two of them; it’s just a read-through, but the energy is electric. There’s this fire in Clint’s eyes that he only manages in real life when he hears about somebody mistreating an animal. 

He’s a marshmallow, but he’s her marshmallow. 

As for James… well, he’s also a marshmallow; he just hides it exceptionally well. 

There isn’t much of a difference between the Soldier he’s playing and the one Steve has talked about seeing since James was discharged. It can’t be an easy thing to live with, but it’s a hell of a thing to watch onstage; Natasha feels a pang of sympathy at the wounded, haunted look in his eyes. He prowls forward, advancing on “Captain America,” physically menacing in spite of the emotion in his face, and Clint clenches his jaw in a silent dare. 

“Holy sexual tension, Batman,” Stark comments under his breath, and if Natasha didn’t find him so incredibly irritating, she’d agree out loud.

“Barnes is strong, isn’t he?” Murdock says quietly to Natasha’s left. His head is tilted like he’s deep in thought. 

“Very,” she says. “How can you tell?” 

“I have my ways.” He’s wearing this tiny smug smile that’s entirely too intriguing. 

“Remember that time in Kindergarten when you beat him up?” Steve says fondly. 

“How could I forget? He proposed as soon as he stopped crying.” 

“What did you say?” Murdock asks. 

“I told him to come back with a blue raspberry Ring Pop,” Natasha says. “And he did. But then he decided he wanted to eat it, so that was that.” 

“Ah, young love.”