#Promote a video landing page

[guyrcook]

Best way to promote a video landing page

In this episode of ‘Practical Digital Strategies,’ I share effective tips for promoting a video landing page. Key strategies include avoiding autoplay, having a single call to action, creating a custom thumbnail, and selecting the right landing page builder. I emphasize the importance of optimizing video content with keywords and ensuring the video is positioned above the fold. The episode offers…

[lib-to-conned]

Red Wave Solutions: Spread The Word

Mason Samsen wasn’t your average 20-year-old college student. His perpetually tousled hair and ink-stained fingertips were more than a badge of his role as a budding journalist; they were the marks of someone who rarely rested when there was a story to uncover. A junior at Jefferson University, Mason had quickly built a reputation as a truth-seeker on campus. His peers respected his tenacity, and some even feared his relentless pursuit of exposing wrongdoing. As an outspoken Democratic Socialist, Mason believed deeply in the power of truth to dismantle systems of inequality and oppression. For him, journalism wasn’t just a career path – it was a moral obligation.

His work spoke for itself. Within just two years, Mason had written exposés that sent shockwaves through the community of his college. The first uncovered a scandal involving a tenured professor who was not only cheating on his wife with his teaching assistant but also allegedly grading female students unfairly. Then there was the damning report on the head of the History Department, whose pattern of racially charged comments and discriminatory hiring practices for his TAs Mason meticulously documented. Both articles landed Mason in hot water with the faculty due to how much news coverage it received, but they also cemented his place as the student body’s most fearless journalist. His articles had been shared far beyond campus, with national outlets even picking up some of his stories. To Mason, this was proof that his instincts were never wrong.

So when the fliers for a company called "Red Wave Solutions" started appearing across campus, Mason’s journalist’s radar pinged instantly. He first noticed them plastered haphazardly on the corkboard outside the student union. A stark crimson logo dominated the page, paired with the tagline: "Reject Political Anxiety and Accept Conformity – Join the Movement Today!" The messaging was vague but calculated, designed to intrigue and alarm in equal measure. The company’s name struck him as odd too, as "Red Wave" sounded more like a politically charged rallying cry than a corporate entity. As such, he couldn’t help but wonder what type of services it could even offer.

Due to this, Mason tore a flier off the board and scrutinized it further. There was no detailed description of services, no list of affiliations, and no website – just a QR code and a phone number. A quick scan of the code on his phone led to a bare-bones webpage with little more than a flashy promotional video and a generic mission statement about "encouraging unity across the political divide." To Mason, it reeked of corporate jargon hiding something more insidious.

As he watched several nervous students hastily follow him and grab the fliers while looking around to make sure no one else saw them, the odd feeling Mason felt continued to gnaw at him. Why was a seemingly obscure yet political company suddenly plastering fliers all over campus? What exactly were they selling, and who had invited them here? Was this tied to the university administration, or was it the work of a private group looking to influence the student body? Mason didn’t know yet, but one thing was certain: the smell of bullshit was undeniable.

Mason’s resolve hardened as he opened a fresh document on his laptop. He would do what he always did – follow the trail, piece by piece, until he uncovered the truth. He had a gut feeling that Red Wave Solutions was up to far more nefarious things than their preachy unity message implied. As such, it was up to him to find out exactly what they were hiding and why they were targeting his campus.

Back in his dorm room, Mason leaned back in his creaky office chair, scrolling through the company’s sparse website with a growing sense of unease. The bright, polished visuals stood in stark contrast to the murkiness surrounding the company's true purpose. Stock photos of smiling queer couples holding hands and multi-racial families posing dominated the homepage. Their warm, inclusive energy clashed oddly with the undercurrent of the program’s messaging, which was as ambiguous as it was unsettling.

Mason’s sharp eyes honed in on the phrasing in the promotional text. "Are you worried about the future? Afraid of standing out? We hear you, and we can help remedy those nerves!" The implications were vague, but something about them made Mason’s skin crawl. The language was too polished, too calculated, as if crafted by a focus group determined to hit all the right notes for an audience grappling with post-election anxieties. His intuition told him this wasn’t just a therapy program – something insidious lurked beneath the cheerful exterior.

Being a gay man, Mason had learned to trust his gut when it came to exposing homophobic hostility, no matter how sugar-coated and concealed it appeared. The website’s queer-friendly imagery might have fooled someone else, but to Mason, it reeked of a ploy. As he clicked through the pages, a darker theory began to form in his mind. Could Red Wave Solutions be some kind of veiled conversion therapy operation? Maybe not in the traditional fire-and-brimstone sense, but something modern, subtle, and far more calculated – a campaign to indoctrinate or "reorient" unsuspecting young people under the guise of empathy and support.

Adding to his unease, Mason had found himself overhearing some of his friends mentioning Red Wave Solutions in the past few weeks. They’d talked about the program as a potential outlet to process their political anxieties and the stress of living in a rapidly polarizing society. Their interest frustrated Mason to no end. Couldn’t they see how suspicious it all sounded? He knew he couldn’t simply tell them to stay away without proof though, it was a common occurrence for them to accuse him of overthinking or being paranoid.

And so, Mason made a plan. If his friends were intrigued, he’d get there first. He’d scope out the company himself, ask pointed questions, and observe their methods. If his suspicions were correct, he’d blow the lid off Red Wave Solutions before any of his friends fell victim to its schemes. He wasn’t afraid to sacrifice a few hours enduring thinly-veiled conservative rhetoric if it meant protecting the people he cared about.

That resolve ultimately left him scheduling an appointment and standing outside the nondescript building listed as the company’s headquarters the very next day. The office complex was a bland, utilitarian structure – gray cement walls with windows that reflected the cloudy sky. There was no large sign or logo to announce Red Wave Solutions’ presence, only a small decal on the front door that caused the company to look as impersonal and corporate as Mason had imagined.

Taking a deep breath, Mason adjusted the front of his shirt. It wasn’t just a nervous habit though, he wanted to make sure the tiny button camera sewn into the middle of his polo was perfectly aligned. He’d spent all night setting up the camera, ensuring its placement was discreet yet functional. If something went south, he needed visual proof of whatever shady operation was running inside.

As he smoothed his shirt, Mason glanced at his reflection in the glass door. He looked composed enough, but his stomach churned. This wasn’t his first investigative dive, but something about this one felt different. Possibly dangerous even, given the type of hardcore conservatives that were most likely working on the inside to trap unsuspecting people into their web. Ever determined though, Mason shook the thought from his head and squared his shoulders. He had a job to do, after all, the truth wasn’t going to expose itself.

With one final glance at the street behind him, Mason pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The air inside the Red Wave Solutions building was cool and faintly scented with a generic, clean aroma that reminded Mason of a freshly mopped hospital floor. His eyes darted around the space as he stepped inside, taking in the minimalist yet calculated decor. The interior was almost sterile in its design: pristine white walls and floors offset by carefully placed red accents. A striking red backlight illuminated the reception desk at the center of the room, and short sections of the walls were painted in the same bold crimson. It was sleek and modern but lacked any warmth, as if it had been designed to evoke trustworthiness without inviting comfort.

Behind the desk sat a neatly dressed woman who greeted Mason with a polite but impersonal smile. She was African American, her hair pulled into a professional bun while her burgundy blouse complemented the crimson accents of the room. Mason’s journalistic instincts immediately kicked in. The choice of a minority woman as the face of this place struck him as deliberate – an intentional move to put visitors at ease and present an image of inclusivity. He wondered how many people had walked through these doors, seen her friendly face, and let their guards down.

“Welcome to Red Wave Solutions,” she said, her voice professional but warm. “Do you have an appointment with us today?”

Mason nodded, stepping closer to the desk. “Yeah, it’s Mason Samsen. My appointment’s at 2:30.”

The woman’s manicured nails clicked against her keyboard as she searched for his information in the system. Mason used the moment to glance around, noting a few chairs arranged neatly along the walls of the waiting area. They were stark white, with small red cushions placed in the center of each seat. A table held a stack of glossy pamphlets with titles like "Taking the First Step Toward Inner Peace" and "Navigating Life’s Challenges with Confidence." He resisted the urge to grab one, keeping his focus on the woman behind the desk.

“Ah, here you are,” she said after a few moments. “I just need to verify your identity. Do you have an ID with you?”

Mason froze for a fraction of a second. He hadn’t anticipated this. “Uh, yeah,” he said, fishing his driver’s license out of his wallet. “Is that really necessary though?”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter. “Unfortunately, yes. We’ve had a few incidents recently with people trying to play pranks or disrupt our sessions. Running a quick background check helps us ensure that everyone who comes in is serious about taking advantage of what we offer while also helping us easily share information with the police if necessary.”

Mason hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of his license. Her explanation was reasonable enough on the surface, but it still felt invasive and incredibly suspicious. Still, he knew he couldn’t afford to raise any alarms this early in his investigation. With a tight smile, he handed over the ID.

“Thank you,” the woman said, sliding the card into a small scanner attached to the desk. The machine whirred softly as it processed the information. “This will just take a moment. Once it’s done, we’ll take you back to begin your consultation and help you learn how to thrive in the red wave.”

Mason forced a polite chuckle at her use of a clearly corporate-enforced tagline, but inwardly, his nerves spiked. The phrase felt even more ominous now that they held his ID, like some Orwellian euphemism. He watched as she glanced at her screen, her expression unreadable as the system ran its checks.

“Feel free to take a seat while we finish up,” she added, gesturing toward the waiting area.

Mason nodded and moved to one of the chairs, carefully positioning himself where he and his hidden camera could keep an eye on the desk. He slid his phone out of his pocket and pretended to scroll while his thoughts churned. This whole process felt wrong. What kind of therapy company needed to run background checks on its clients? Was this just about deterring pranksters, or was there something deeper at play – some sort of data collection method or pre-screening tool to help figure out how exactly to break the mental reserves of interested parties?

As he waited, Mason adjusted his polo shirt again, ensuring the hidden button camera was still perfectly aligned. Whatever was happening here, he wasn’t leaving without answers.

The seconds stretched into minutes as Mason sat in the waiting area, his foot tapping against the white tile floor. His eyes flicked between the receptionist and the clock on the wall, noting that it had been over ten minutes since his ID had been taken. The polished environment of Red Wave Solutions, with its pristine surfaces and artificial calmness, was starting to get under his skin. The longer he waited, the more his mind raced. What if they were stalling for a reason? Had their check revealed his identity as an expose-focused journalist? He needed answers, and he wasn’t about to waste more time sitting idly by and waiting for them to make the first move.

Determined to act, Mason stood and walked back to the desk, forcing a polite smile. “Hey, sorry to bother you,” he began, “but is there a bathroom I could use while I wait?”

The receptionist returned his smile with one of her own, still calm and composed. “Of course,” she said, pointing toward a hallway behind her. “Just head straight down that hall and take a right. You’ll see the sign.”

“Thanks,” Mason replied, masking his nerves as he turned away.

He followed her directions, but as he walked, he took in everything around him. The red accents continued down the hallway – with all of its short walls and door frames painted with the same deliberate splash of color. The space was oddly quiet, the faint hum of distant air conditioning the only sound accompanying his steps. His hidden camera captured everything, from the layout to the stark, almost clinical lighting.

When he reached the intersection where he was supposed to turn right toward the bathroom, he paused. To his left, the hallway stretched further into the building, its end obscured by a sharp turn. Mason hesitated, weighing his options. The bathroom was a safe choice, but his instincts pushed him in the other direction. If he wanted answers, he knew he had to take a risk.

After glancing back to ensure the receptionist couldn’t see him, Mason hastily turned left and strode deeper into the building.

The further he went, the stranger the place felt. The hallways were eerily labyrinthine, branching off into sharp angles and other hallways that made it easy to lose his bearings. Doors lined the walls, each one marked with a small, nondescript plaque bearing a room number. Curious, Mason peeked through the window of one door, only to find an empty, white-walled room with a single chair bolted to the floor. The next room was the same. And the next.

“What the hell is this place?” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding harder with each step.

Then, a sound broke the silence – a voice, faint at first, but unmistakable.

“Help! Someone, please! Help me!”

Mason froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice was male, clearly desperate and filled with terror.

“I changed my mind! I want to leave! Please, let me out!”

The cries sent a chill down Mason’s spine. He scanned the hallway, trying to pinpoint the source. Although he didn’t know where exactly, the man knew that the screams were coming from somewhere deeper in the building.

Without hesitation then, Mason followed the sound, his steps quickening as he navigated the twisting corridors. The voice grew louder by the minute, the man’s pleas echoing off the sterile walls. Mason’s chest tightened as he rounded another corner, finally stopping in front of a heavy door with a small rectangular window.

Inside, a young man was standing with his head pressed against the glass window. His face was pale, his eyes wide and filled with panic. When he saw Mason, he pounded on the glass.

“Please, help me!” the man begged, his voice raw. “You have to let me out! I changed my mind. I don’t want to go through with this anymore!”

Mason’s hands trembled as he reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. He looked back down the hallway, adrenaline flooding his system. The silence outside the door was deafening, as if the building itself were holding its breath.

“Hold on,” Mason said, his voice low but urgent. “I’ll get you out of here. Just give me a second.”

The man inside the room sobbed, clutching his head in anguish. “Please, hurry, I don’t feel well,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Mason scanned the door, looking for any way to unlock it. His instincts told him to move quickly – if anyone caught him here, he wouldn’t have the chance to find out what was really going on.

Mason’s heart hammered in his chest as he examined the door, searching for some way to unlock it. His fingers brushed over the control panel on the side, and he let out a small breath of relief when he saw the latch mechanism – a simple keypad. His years of investigative journalism had taught him a few tricks, and after quickly punching in a few common codes he’d used to sneak into areas in the past, the lock finally gave a faint click.

The door swung open, and the man inside nearly collapsed into Mason’s arms. His slender twinkish frame trembled, and before Mason could say a word, the man threw his arms around him, clinging tightly.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” the man cried, his voice breaking. “We need to get out of here… right fucking now!”

Mason gripped his shoulders firmly, pushing him back slightly so he could look him in the eyes. “Hey, calm down. Stop yelling,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady. “I’ll help you get out, but you have to keep quiet. We can’t get caught, okay?”

The man nodded frantically, his breathing ragged. Mason took a moment to observe him. He was young – probably a college student no older than Mason himself – with bright blonde hair that was tousled in a way that suggested he’d been consistently running his hands through it while in distress. His frail physique was only emphasized by the somewhat tight Britney Spears t-shirt he wore, providing Mason with a clear as day impression of the other man’s toned abs and flat chest. The whole look screamed twink, which instantly caused Mason to develop a pang of protectiveness for him.

“Okay, we’re getting out of here,” Mason said, his voice firm but quiet. “Stick close to me, and don’t make a sound unless I ask you something.”

The man nodded again, wiping tears from his face. Mason led him out of the room, carefully closing the door behind them. He glanced down the hallway, ensuring the coast was clear before gesturing for the man to follow him.

As they walked, Mason leaned in close. “What’s your name?”

“Cooper,” the man whispered, his voice trembling. “Cooper Evans.”

“All right, Cooper. What the hell is going on here?”

Cooper hesitated, wringing his hands as they moved down the quiet hall. “I– I came here because I was scared,” he finally said, his voice shaking. “I didn’t know what else to do. With this new administration, I was afraid of being hate-crimed or losing my rights. They said they could help me blend in.”

Mason’s brows furrowed. “Blend in? How?”

“They… they said they have this process,” Cooper explained. “They said they could transform me into a Conservative. That I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore if I just… fit in.”

Mason stopped in his tracks, turning to stare at Cooper. “Transform you? What are you talking about? How does that even work?”

“I, I don’t know!” Cooper said, his voice rising before Mason quickly shushed him. “I swear, I don’t know. They gave me this whole pitch, had me sign a contract saying I’d agree to it, and then they gave me this red pill for me to swallow. That’s it. That’s all I know!”

Mason let out a low groan, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell were you thinking saying yes to something like that?” he hissed. “I know the future’s scary right now, but why would you want to become someone with such awful values? Someone your altered self would hate if they ever met the real you?”

Cooper’s lip trembled, and tears began streaming down his face again. “Dude, I was scared, okay?” he choked out. “I didn’t know what else to do! I thought… I thought it was the only way I’d be safe.”

Mason sighed, his frustration melting into a mix of sympathy and anger. “Look, I get it. Things are bad, but you can’t just give up who you are because you’re scared. That’s exactly what people like them want. I don’t know you well, but I can already tell that you’re a great guy who deserves to be your true self…”

Cooper sniffled, nodding miserably as he endured the lecture from the other man while continuing down the hallway. Mason kept a hand on his shoulder, guiding him while keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps. Whatever was happening here, it was worse than he’d imagined, and he was determined to not only get Cooper out of here safely, but expose this company for the disgusting things they’re attempting to do.

Mason kept a steady grip on Cooper’s shoulder, speaking softly but urgently. “Listen, Cooper, nobody can just transform like that. It’s not real. Whatever they gave you, it’s probably some kind of drug – a sedative, maybe, or something to make you more suggestible. Brainwashing, that’s got to be their angle. They’re just trying to get you weak enough so they can get in your head…”

Cooper’s watery eyes flicked toward him, searching for reassurance. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Mason replied firmly. “You’re still you. We just need to get out of here in one piece, and everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

But just as the words left Mason’s mouth, Cooper stopped dead in his tracks. A low grunt escaped him, and his hands shot to his stomach.

“Something’s wrong,” Cooper whimpered, his voice tight with discomfort.

Mason spun around, his heart lurching. “Cooper?”

Before he could get another word out, Cooper screamed – a piercing, guttural sound that echoed through the hallway. Mason’s pulse spiked, causing him to immediately clamp a hand over Cooper’s mouth.

“Shh! Stop screaming!” Mason hissed, glancing over his shoulder, expecting someone to come rushing toward them at any moment. But Cooper’s muffled cries didn’t stop. His entire body trembled, his knees buckling as he clutched his midsection.

“Damn it,” Mason muttered under his breath, scanning the hallway. He spotted a door nearby, one that oddly wasn’t locked like so many of the others but rather slightly ajar. With no other choice and not in the situation to second-guess it, he yanked it open all the way, dragging Cooper inside and shutting the door behind them.

“Okay, breathe,” Mason said, trying to keep his own voice steady. “We just need to–”

But Cooper cut him off with another scream, this one deeper and more guttural than before. Mason’s stomach churned as the sound of cracking bones filled the air. Cooper fell to his knees, his hands bracing against the cold floor as his body convulsed. “What’s happening to me?!” he roared, his voice suddenly raspier and deeper, no longer the light airy tenor Mason had heard moments ago.

“Cooper, calm down!” Mason demanded, though his own panic was building. “It’s, it’s probably the drug giving you a panic attack or something. Just hold on, we’ll–”

But Mason’s words faltered as he watched, wide-eyed, as Cooper’s body began to change. His frame, once frail and delicate, suddenly began to expand with unnatural speed. His limbs stretched, his torso elongating until he had shot up to at least 6’4”. His skinny jeans became comically short, now resembling capris, while his Britney Spears t-shirt rode up his lengthening torso, exposing a wide swath of his toned abdomen.

“What the hell…” Mason whispered, stumbling back against the wall.

Cooper’s screams wavered, cracking wildly between high-pitched cries and guttural, low groans. His hands clutched at his chest and shoulders as his body continued to shift – this time with the invasion of muscle into his lithe frame. Before his eyes, Mason watched as the other man’s lean arms buffed up, his flat chest began to thicken and broaden, and the remainder of Cooper’s entire physique began to morph from wiry club kid to college athlete.

“It hurts!” Cooper cried out, his voice so deep and gravelly it was almost unrecognizable. “What the fuck is happening to me?!”

Mason’s breath caught in his throat. “Cooper,” he said, his voice trembling. “I– I think it’s real. That pill… it’s actually transforming you.”

Cooper’s new, larger form shook with silent sobs as his head dropped forward, his blonde hair falling into his face. “But I didn’t want this!” he bellowed, his voice resonating in the small room. “I just wanted to feel safe!”

Mason stared at him, horrified and helpless, his mind racing. Whatever he had stumbled into at Red Wave Solutions was far more sinister than he could have imagined. This wasn’t just brainwashing or manipulation – this was something once thought to be scientifically impossible.

He took a shaky step forward, placing a hand on Cooper’s arm and struggling to comprehend the jock-like biceps the man now possessed. “We’re going to figure this out,” Mason said, his voice low but firm. “I don’t know how, but we will find a way to turn you back. Just… keep it together, okay?”

Cooper looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. “They changed me,” he choked out. “I barely even recognize myself…”

Mason swallowed hard, fighting back the rising tide of panic. “We’ll fix this,” he promised, though he had no idea how. “But first, we’ve got to get out of here.”

He reached for the door handle, his heart hammering. Whatever was happening inside Red Wave Solutions, Mason knew one thing for sure: he had to expose it, no matter the cost.

Mason had barely finished reassuring Cooper when the man doubled over again, this time clutching his chest with both hands. The cracking and popping sounds of shifting bone and sinew returned, louder and more unsettling than before. Mason’s stomach twisted in fear as Cooper’s body began to shake once more.

“Cooper?” Mason asked, his voice shaking as he stepped back. “What’s happening now?”

Cooper let out a low groan that turned into a guttural moan as his entire body suddenly began to swell with immense mass. In an instant, his arms ballooned with muscle. His biceps and forearms thickened rapidly, straining the sleeves of his Britney Spears shirt until they began to tear at the seams. His chest expanded, leaving his plump pecs pressed tightly against the fabric as his shoulders further broadened and filled out. His newly-jockish frame was already disappearing, undergoing an extreme metamorphosis as more layers of powerful muscle began to flood his physique. 

“Holy… shit…,” Mason muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of Cooper’s transformation.

The changes didn’t stop with his upper body, as Cooper’s thighs and calves surged with muscle, causing his jeans to pull taut until the fabric threatened to split. His abdomen, which had been toned yet flat before, rippled with abs so bulging and pronounced they looked sculpted from stone. And yet, even as Mason watched, a soft layer of fat began to spread over Cooper’s newly chiseled physique. His once-defined six-pack faded into the softer outline of a bulkier, slightly rounded stomach, giving him the appearance of a well-fed, off-season athlete… or a frat bro who spent as much time lifting weights as he did guzzling beer.

Cooper let out a long, low moan as the transformation slowed. His once frail and shaky voice was now deep and resonant, though his words came out in a stilted, almost dazed manner. “Holy shit, bro,” he said, looking down at his enormous hands and flexing them experimentally. “What… what happened to me?!”

Mason’s breath hitched as he stared at the hulking figure before him. Cooper’s face still bore a trace of his former self, but it was broader now, more rugged. His blonde hair was now down to his shoulders, styled with a natural set of curls that gave him a sort of redneck-chic style befitting of a frat bro. The sight was surreal, and Mason’s instincts screamed at him to leave.

He took a step back, glancing at the door. “Look, Cooper,” he said cautiously, his voice trembling. “I– I think you’re going to be okay still. Just… stay here. I need to figure out how to get us out of this mess.”

But the words felt hollow even as he spoke them. Every fiber of his being told him he couldn’t stay here any longer. Whatever was happening to Cooper, it was beyond anything Mason could comprehend, let alone fix.

“I’ll be right back,” Mason lied, taking another step back toward the door until his back pressed against the firm metal.

As he reached for the handle and turned it though, his heart sank. It wouldn’t budge. He yanked harder, but it quickly became clear that there was no use. The door was locked.

“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, his panic rising. He spun around, his eyes darting toward the small window in the door.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Two enormous security guards stood just outside, their arms crossed over their broad chests. Both men were built like linebackers, their sharp features set in stern, no-nonsense expressions. They were looking directly at Mason, their eyes unblinking, their presence menacing.

“Oh, crap,” Mason whispered, stepping away from the door.

“Dude,” Cooper said behind him, his voice booming and casual now. “Why’s the door locked? What’s goin’ on, bro?”

Mason didn’t respond. His mind raced, trying to think of a way out. Yet as he looked around, he quickly realized that not only was the room small, but it lacked any other exits or windows. The only way out of this room was through the door – and the guards who clearly weren’t going to let him leave.

Cooper took a lumbering step toward him, his movements unsteady as he adjusted to his new burly size. “Yo, Mason,” he said, his voice a strange mix of confusion and excitement. “I feel so weird, man. Like, I’m freakin’ huge now. This is nuts!”

Mason pressed himself against the far wall, his breath quick and shallow. He had come here to expose Red Wave Solutions, but now he was trapped in a nightmare with no clear escape. And to make matters worse, the transformed Cooper was now staring at him with an unsettling mix of bewilderment and enthusiasm, as if unaware of the full extent of what had just happened to him.

The guards outside shifted slightly, their eyes never leaving Mason. It was clear they were waiting for him to make a move – which left the journalist wondering if they were simply there to stop him from interfering or eventually take him somewhere worse for finding out the truth.

Mason swallowed hard, his mind racing. Whatever was happening here, he was in way over his head.

Mason barely had time to process the sight of the guards standing outside the window before the door clicked and swung open into the room. His pulse spiked, and he took a few reflexive steps back, especially as the two massive guards rushed into the room with practiced precision and alarming speed.

“Hey! Wait–” Mason shouted, but the words were cut off as one guard grabbed his left arm and the other seized his right. Their grips were like iron, pinning him in place with an effortless strength that left him completely immobilized.

“Let me go!” Mason demanded, struggling futilely against their hold.

But his cries went ignored. The guards didn’t so much as glance at him, their stony expressions remaining fixed ahead like robots as they held him firmly.

Mason’s eyes darted to Cooper, desperate for help, but the sight before him made his stomach drop further. Cooper was staring at his reflection in the mirror mounted on the far wall, his now-massive hands running over his muscular chest and arms. His face, once soft and pretty, had undergone further dramatic transformation. The delicate features had sharpened into something rugged and masculine – a stubble-covered jawline that could cut glass, a straight nose, a set of manly lips adorned with a trimmed mustache, and thick brows that framed eyes filled with a vacant yet self-satisfied glint. For a moment, the man played with his hair, enjoying running his thick, callused fingers through his long wavy strands.

“Cooper!” Mason called, hoping to snap him out of his trance.

But Cooper didn’t respond, his attention entirely consumed by his own image. He flexed, his bulging biceps straining the tattered remnants of his shirt, his lips curving into a smirk as he admired his physique.

The sound of deliberate, measured footsteps echoed through the room, drawing Mason’s attention away. His eyes widened as a figure emerged in the doorway – a handsome, middle-aged man with perfectly trimmed stubble and sharp, piercing eyes. Dressed in a tailored suit that exuded authority, the man carried himself with an unsettling confidence.

He stepped inside, surveying the room with a smile that sent chills down Mason’s spine. His gaze lingered on Cooper for a moment, his expression one of approval, before turning toward Mason.

“Well, isn’t this quite the scene,” the man said, his voice smooth and commanding. “Cooper is coming along beautifully, wouldn’t you say?”

Mason didn’t answer, his throat dry as he glared at the man.

The stranger’s attention returned to Cooper, who was now flexing in earnest, his massive arms and broad shoulders filling the small space. “You’re doing great, Cooper,” the man encouraged, his tone warm and enthusiastic. “Just look at you. All that weakness, all that self-doubt – it’s melting away, isn’t it? You’re finally becoming the straight alpha male you were always meant to be.”

“No,” Mason muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “This isn’t right. Cooper, don’t listen to him!”

But Cooper didn’t even glance at him. Instead, his expression remained precisely trained at his new reflection and hyper-masculine face as one hand moved down to paw at his immensely-sized crotch. “Yeah… yeah, bro,” Cooper said, his voice deep and almost gravelly. “I feel so… powerful.”

The man chuckled, his smile widening. “That’s it. Embrace it. Let go of that weak, pitiful version of yourself. Expel it. You don’t need it anymore.”

“Cooper, stop!” Mason shouted, straining against the guards’ hold. “This isn’t you! Don’t give into what this asshole and his fucked up company wants!”

But his words were drowned out by the older man’s encouragement. “Come on, Cooper. Show us you’re ready. Show us you’re done with that fragile little self you used to be.”

Cooper’s grin turned almost feral as he stepped back from the mirror, his massive hands now split between jerking himself off and squeezing his immense new form. He thrust his hips forward once, then again, his body trembling as he gave in to whatever compulsion was driving him.

“No!” Mason screamed, his voice cracking as he fought against the guards with renewed desperation.

Cooper bucked his hips one last time, his movements growing erratic until he froze as a torrent of cum shot out of his thick cock. Mason watched as the man’s eyes rolled back into his head, his chest heaving as a guttural groan escaped his lips.

Mason’s blood ran cold. Whatever was happening to Cooper was reaching its horrifying conclusion, and Mason had no idea how to stop it.

Cooper – or rather, the person who had once been Cooper – stirred a few minutes later, his head jerking slightly before his eyes fluttered open. Mason froze, watching in disbelief as the hulking man came to. The confusion was evident in the newly sculpted frat bro’s face as he blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings.

“Uh… what the hell is going on, broskis?” he mumbled, his deep voice carrying an unfamiliar, lazy drawl. His gaze darted from the guards restraining Mason to the middle-aged man standing with a smug expression, and finally landed on Mason himself.

As recognition failed to surface in his eyes, the now-transformed man tilted his head, his lips pulling into a cocky smirk. “Yo, wait a sec… are you, like, a homo or something? Tryna sneak a peek at my badass bod or check out my… uh…” He flexed one arm and cupped his other hand over his crotch with a crude laugh. “…my impressive package, bro?”

Mason’s mouth fell open. “Cooper, it’s me, it’s Mason! Don’t you remember anything? You came here because–”

“Shut it,” the other man interrupted before snapping his fingers at the guards holding Mason. Without hesitation, they reached up and clamped strong hands over his mouth in order to silence him. Mason struggled, muffled protests escaping as he glared daggers at the older man.

The mysterious man turned to the hulking figure, his demeanor calm and calculated. “You’re quite perceptive, Jackson. As a matter of fact, we did indeed catch Mr. Samsen here sneaking into your room while you were in the middle of your… business.”

Instantly, Jackson’s brows furrowed as his expression darkened. He clenched his fists, the sound of his knuckles cracking echoing ominously in the small room. “What the fuck, bro?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and indignation. “You some kinda creep? Lemme guess, you’re some kind of fucked up fairy jealous of what a real man looks like?”

Mason shook his head frantically, trying to plead through the guards’ hands. His muffled cries went unnoticed by Jackson, whose frustration seemed to bubble over.

“Yo, I’ll mess you up, dude,” Jackson growled, taking a menacing step forward. His massive form towered over Mason, the threat in his body language clear.

But before Jackson could act, the middle-aged man raised a hand, his commanding tone cutting through the tension. “Now, now, Jackson. There’s no need for violence.” He nodded toward one of the guards standing by the door. “Escort Jackson to the lounge, would you? He’s had an intense day coming to terms with his inner truth, so I’m sure he could use some time to relax.”

One of the guards stepped forward, placing a hand on Jackson’s broad shoulder. “C’mon, man. Let’s go.”

Jackson hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking back to Mason. But then he shrugged, his frustration melting into indifference. “Yeah, whatever. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today, bro,” he muttered, turning to follow the guard out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind them, the man shifted his attention back to Mason. His warm smile was chilling in its insincerity. “Now, Mr. Samsen,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s your turn. You’ve poked your nose into matters you shouldn’t, so now it’s time for you to not only get punished but find a way to truly contribute to our cause.”

Mason’s eyes widened as the man continued, his tone almost fatherly. “You’ve spent so much time fighting against what you perceive as wrong. But you’ll soon realize that you’ve been on the wrong side of history all along. Don’t worry though, we’ll be gentle in helping you see the truth. And once you do, you’ll become the Conservative you were always meant to be...”

To read part two, click here.

[kooldewd123]

in the midst of all the mrbeast drama, the part of his history I find myself drawn the most back to is, of all things, the pewdiepie vs t-series rivalry. that was such a pivotal moment to youtube culture. there was something there that truly felt important to a lot of people. pewds was just a Guy. a creator, like so many others from his generation of youtubers, who simply put a camera in his bedroom one day and decided to upload it onto the internet. when he became the most-subscribed youtuber, he won that title from people like smosh, ray william johnson, nigahiga, and others who, like him, were in it for fun, not fame. despite his many flaws and controversies, he became a symbol of what youtube (or even online content in general) meant for a lot people. and so to see his five-year reign as king finally threatened not by a fellow Guy in a Bedroom, but by a Company??? that was an affront to the soul of youtube, the soul of the internet.

unfortunately, the writing was on the wall as soon as t-series landed on people's radars. with the rapid growth t-series was showing and the ever-changing landscape of online video as a whole, it was clear there was no stopping them from surpassing pewdiepie eventually. the opposition that arose from their arrival was never a true attempt at holding the crown, but rather a rallying cry of the creator-driven internet showing that they still mattered, that they would still push back against these companies invading their space. and out of this pushback, perhaps the strongest voice was mrbeast. while the other big names gave shoutouts to pewdiepie and maybe made a video or two about their thoughts, mrbeast made it a core part of his identity for a while. he would plug pewdiepie at every opportunity, funnel as many of his viewers towards pewds as he could, and even brought it into the real world by putting up billboards promoting him. i think it's probably fair to say that he was the single most vocal supporter of pewds.

which makes it weird to say that in the battle between pewdiepie and t-series, mrbeast came out as the ultimate winner. sure, t-series reached that holy 100 million subscriber milestone before pewdiepie did, but pewdiepie's hype man somehow managed to catapult himself ahead of both of them and reach the top with 328 million subscribers at time of writing. which, okay, maybe seems like a happy ending on the surface? one Guy in a Bedroom reaches the top, gets overthrown by a Company, and then a different Guy in a Bedroom makes it back on top. all's well that ends well. except the mrbeast making waves today isn't exactly a Guy in a Bedroom anymore. mrbeast is a chocolate company, a burger chain, an entire media enterprise. the mrbeast channel itself has become almost secondary, merely an advertisement to bring kids into the mrbeast brand. the mrbeast that dominates the youtube home page today has become an unholy conglomeration of what both pewdiepie and t-series represented: a Company wearing a Guy's face, something that presents itself with a friendly, familiar persona while using that perception to influence consumers into feeding into it. the mrbeast of 2024 is an even more insidious version of the sort of channel that the mrbeast of 2018 was fighting against.

and it makes me wonder: did mrbeast ever truly believe in the message of the pewdiepie/t-series rivalry, or was his goal simply to ride pewds's coattails into fame? it's clear looking back that unlike most of pewds's other cohorts, fame has always been mrbeast's ultimate goal. he's been chasing trends and doing stunt videos for basically as long as his channel has existed, and for years before he actually began to gain traction. was his "subscribe to pewdiepie" campaign just another wave of trendy views for him to ride? i couldn't tell you. personally, i want to believe that he did value the spirit of creation at at least some point in his career. i don't think you can post videos online for twelve whole years without finding at least some satisfaction in the creation process. but that just makes the current state of his channel even sadder. truthfully, even despite all the exploitation, the disregard for others' wellbeing, the covering up of shady behavior, and whatever other horrible things he's done, i pity him. when pewdiepie was king of youtube, so was felix kjellberg. pewdiepie the persona and felix the man had a mutualistic relationship. each one built the other up. but jimmy donaldson? jimmy donaldson is a sacrificial lamb laid at the altar of mrbeast. it's easy to make fun of his dead smile and overly forced enthusiasm, but when you hear him talk about his life behind the scenes, it's no wonder he turned into this. he's constantly forcing himself into work. he barely allows himself any downtime. he scraps entire highly-expensive videos because he doesn't think they're good enough. jimmy is destroying himself to keep mrbeast alive. he needs to keep up this persona day in and day out, never settling for anything less than perfection lest the fickle gods of SEO cause one of his videos to underperform by even a hair. in a time of heightened mental health awareness, we are watching the biggest online influencer ever reach record levels of burnout in real time. he is a living monument to both the personal dangers of online influencers and the societal dangers of capitalism. and all we can do is watch as the hole he's dug himself into grows deeper and deeper.

[yourlocalmeta1head]

I hate seeing these fucking videos of people who voted for Donald Trump regretting voting for him. If they had just done more research and didn't vote for him just because then the can "afford gas and groceries" they would've learned that if you are the average American your taxes will be higher and you will have larger bills. Donald Trump's tax plan does include a few cuts for the middle class but 83% of tax cuts that are included in Donald Trumps tax plan go to the people that are making over half a million dollars a year. Kamala Harris's tax plan would've been better because 100% of the tax cuts in her plan would go to members of the middle and low class.

Donald Trump has also reported "not being associated with project 2025" and "having nothing to do with project 2025" which is obviously false seeing that many people who are involved in project 2025 have served Donald Trump in one way or another. For example; Paul Dans, who is a former chief of staff at the U.S. Office of Personal Management under Trump is leading the project. In addition, Trumps campaign spokeswoman Karoline Leavitt has appeared in Project 2025 promotion videos.

Here are ways project 2025 could affect you and your personal life. Project 2025 would stop people from earning overtime pay. He wants to undo recent policy that made over 4 million people newly eligible for overtime. Project 2025 also wants to weaken child labor protections. In quote "The young people should be able to work inherently dangerous jobs" and work in rolls that are not allowed thanks to protections from the department of labor.

Project 2025 also says that they will quote "Secure the border, finish building the wall, and deport illegal aliens" Donald Trump is planing on doing mass deportations. He declared that once he takes office that he will use military to do mass deportations of undocumented immigrants.

They want to make it harder for women to get abortions by removing it from laws and taking away approval for abortion pills. They want to stop some services that give out birth control and instead suggest less reliable methods. That might take away funding from clinics that provide abortions which could also affect other services those clinics offer. They want to promote traditional roles for men and women. They will take away protections and programs that help gay people, thus making it harder for them to be treated fairly and get the support they need. They might cut back on programs that help poor people get healthcare and other support meaning it could be harder for poor families to get the help they need.

These are some of the ways project 2025 will affect the climate. Project 2025 would rewrite the most legal tool we have for protecting wildlife in ways that would harm imperilled species. For example, it specifically calls for removing protections from gray wolves and Yellowstone grizzlies. They also propose to repeal the Antiquities Act, which would strip the president of the ability to protect the public land and waters of national monuments. Project 2025 would have agencies that manage the federal lands and waters to maximise corporate oil and gas extraction. Speaking of oil, the agenda directly aims to expand the Willow Project which the largest proposed oil and gas undertaking on the U.S. public land. This also calls for drilling into Alaska’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and mining into Minnesota’s Boundary Waters wilderness.

If you go to a public school congratulations. You are now required to take the military entrance exam. Page 134/ 135, "Improve military recruiters’ access to secondary schools and require completion of the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery—the military entrance examination—by all students in schools that receive federal funding." "Increase the number of Junior ROTC programs in secondary schools"

If you voted for Trump I promise you will regret it in the next 4 years.

Edit from after the election: Donald Trump is not lowering gas prices and adding tariffs to companys that import goods and to make up for that he will be increasing the price of these goods.

Trump has aslo started mass deportations and ICE has been spoted waiting at schools, breaking down doors, and there have even been reports of ICE deporting people who are AMERICAN CITIZENS. People should not be scared to do basic things in fear of being deported by ICE.

edit: here is a link to the project 2025 document where I got my sources from

[allthecanadianpolitics]

The federal Conservative Party posted and then removed from one of its social media pages a promotional video that contained footage of Russian-made fighter jets. The video —  posted on X, formerly Twitter, over the weekend — presented a portion of a speech that Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre gave at this year's Calgary Stampede along with stock footage. At one point during the video, Poilievre talks about fighter jets conducting a training mission, preparing "to defend our home and native land." But the footage used showed Russian-made jets.

Continue Reading

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[tiffanys-aus-and-headcanons]

Appendix D: Some Pig/One More Final

The first three posts in this series are here.

Undertale was a slightly postmodern children's fantasy movie produced by Jim Henson's Creature Shop in the '80s. Noah Hathaway played the protagonist, Frisk, who went on a long quest to escape from a magical prison inside Mt. Ebott; Frisk's father had thrown them into the mountain, known to be full of monsters, in an attempt to kill them. However, it's suggested that as a human, Frisk is inherently more of a protagonist than a monster can be, and has a vague sort of magical power over them. Toriel's death, which Frisk accidentally causes early in the movie, is commonly listed as a Peak Sad Childhood Moment.

George Orwell wrote The Writing In The Web, a political fable about a cult started by a well-meaning spider. E. B. White wrote Snowball's Farm, a whimsical children's tale about a farm whose animals decide to take over.

Infamously, Emmanuel Goldstein's monologue fills dozens of pages, takes at least three hours to read aloud, and brings the plot of Ayn Rand's 1984 to a screeching halt.

Short story collections and anthologies often keep the same title, author, and spirit, it's just the stories that are swapped out. For example, classic episodes of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone include A Wonderful Life, The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty, Miracle On 34th Street, and The Sixth Sense. 1983's The Twilight Zone Movie includes segments based on classic episodes Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (directed by John Landis and given anti-war themes), Cocoon, The Poltergeist, and In Search of the Twelve Monkeys (the original starred a young William Shatner). Candle Cove is an episode of Black Mirror.

League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was a 1999 Ben Stiller comedy about a team of low-rent superheroes who theme themselves after public domain characters because they cannot afford licensing fees. The film was well-reviewed, but a box office bomb. It was actually the first film to use Smash Mouth's One Week - the One Week music video is actually cross promotion with League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - and it would remain the film most associated with the song until Dreamworks' Happily N'Ever After hit theaters two years later.

The Amazing Digital Circus was a virtual pet game and toy line that struck when the iron was hot on that niche, before being bought out by Hasbro and rebooted a few times in different forms and mediums. Lauren Faust created a long-running television cartoon of it that was a huge smash hit with fandom culture despite the show's clearly very young target audience. The property's canon is all very light kiddie fare; the scariest thing about The Amazing Digital Circus is that for a brief and touchy stretch of time in the early 2000s, it was owned by the Peoples Temple, which was seriously considering turning it into a recruiting platform.

Your cringe unpublished works that you gave up on were almost certainly swapped around with other people's cringe unpublished works that they gave up on. There's lots of upwards and downwards mobility to the scramble, but not usually that much. Exceptions are very rare - like a beggar suddenly being made king, or a god being reincarnated into an ant - but they do occasionally happen. For example, what you know as the land of Oz exists only in the head of a young Milwaukee stoner, who suddenly came up with the idea for an epic graphic novel one day in the 2010s while sitting on the bus, and spent a couple of years absolutely convinced she would eventually make it. (She cannot draw.) Conversely, L. Frank Baum's children's fantasy series, Enormia, which has been adapted and reimagined many times, most notably as audiences' introduction to color film, exists in your world only as a different Milwaukee stoner's overly elaborate backstory for his jerkoff sessions. This kind of thing is much more the exception than the rule, and even such exceptions are almost always much smaller in scope - an obscure stillborn project getting swapped around with an obscure out-of-print novel, or an obscure direct-to-video z-movie.

The True Detectives forum and its many schismatic spinoffs, all of which are devoted to discussing mystery fiction, host literally thousands of Wind fanfics. Many of the writers - perhaps most of them - have never actually read Wind, just other fanfiction of it; next to none of the fics are worth reading. Most Wind fics reuse the original protagonist, Rorschach, but treat him as a generically relatable blank slate. The most common fic format by far is the "altdunnit", a form of what-if scenario in which the mystery that sets off Wind's plot is different in some way.

Rorschach is held by a substantial portion of the fandom to be an egg (a trans woman who has not realized it yet). Wildbow has never endorsed this interpretation, and it doesn't seem to be much on his radar. In recent years, the trans Rorschach portion of the fandom has grown; they don't tend to look especially kindly on Warn, much of which Wildbow wrote as a response to fans (like those on the True Detectives forum) he felt had been too inclined to take Rorschach's side in Wind. Flame wars over Warn's content were constant throughout its serial publication, and made it easily the rockiest experience of Wildbow's writing career.

Some noteworthy and relevant podcasts include Jonathan Sims' The Dresden Files, the Ranged Touch Network's Scott Pilgrim Made The World, Doof Media's Winding Down (later Warning Down), and the McElroy family's The Adventure Zone (an actual play podcast which has currently had three major campaigns, two anthology series, and various one-shots). Film Reroll is still an actual play podcast that runs the basic setups of movies (and occasionally other media) as short tabletop campaigns; occasionally, their version of a movie will be much closer to ours than it is to the version of the movie in their own universe.

Xenobuddy was an early childhood public access show, originally created for the BBC in the late 1990s but later aired internationally. The title character is a small alien puppet who lives on a futuristic spaceship staffed by children (who speak a vague conlang akin to a dollar store Esperanto). At the end of every episode, it gets lost and is found, usually by (harmlessly) bursting out of one of the children. It was very popular with its target audience and much loathed by parents. Edgy ironic fanart depicting the titular Xenobuddy as some kind of dangerous parasite abounds.

Static is a supernatural slasher franchise created by Wes Craven, with the first film, also simply titled Static, released in 1984. The movies concern a group of gibbering neotenous ogre-fae who wake up in the modern day after a long sleep, incorporate televisions into their bodies, and start eating people by sucking them into hellish pocket dimensions. The Screen-Guts collectively are probably in the top five antagonists most people think of when they think of slasher horror.

Toby Fox's ROSEQUARTZ is especially known for its meta take on video game morality systems. The game has a mission-based structure; throughout it, the player is encouraged to take on a pacifist playstyle, championed by the player character's late mother, the title character. However, the Crystal Gems give the player enough autonomy that you are entirely able to take a much more violent tack; doing so has a rippling effect on the game's writing in countless immersively-integrated ways. If the player goes out of their way to be as murderous as possible - the so-called "genocide route" - the differences from the main route grow much more extreme, and rather than gaining allies, you start to lose them, as the Crystal Gems realize what you're doing and one by one turn against you. If you manage to shatter Garnet - it's the hardest and most iconic fight in the game, Megalovania is playing, her Future Vision gets used for all it's worth - then you use your knife to slash at the cosmos, erasing Earth, Homeworld, and everything else. This, Toby Fox is saying, is apparently all you want out of a video game - another toy to break.

Warner Bros still did Space Jam with Michael Jordan and the Looney Tunes, it's just that the Looney Tunes in question were Mickey Mouse and friends. They also still did a second one with LeBron James, which was, by God, somehow worse. They put Ms. Frizzle in it.

Walt Disney made his squeaky clean reputation on the back of adaptations of things like Rudyard Kipling's adventure novel The Call of Cthulhu, P. L. Travers' Thomas the Tank Engine, and Erich Kästner's feel-good coming-of-age kidnapping tale about the power of perseverance, Lolita, originally done with Hayley Mills and later remade with Lindsay Lohan.

Nabokov's extremely controversial literary classic that has defined the idea of the unreliable narrator is Father's Trap, from the perspective of a man who plots to obtain custody of both of his daughters for nefarious purposes. Most publishers ignored Nabokov's instructions not to depict the twins, Lisa and Lottie, on the cover. Stanley Kubrick and Adrian Lyne have directed mediocre film adaptations, and songwriting team Lerner and Loewe did a musical that was a legendary flop.

The Japanese fashion movement is Gothic Pollyanna, after an otherwise-forgotten series of penny dreadfuls about a cute, cheery, rules-minded young girl who is, despite appearances, an insane criminal. Minor character Bonesaw in Alan Moore's Worm Turns also clearly hearkens back to the Pollyanna stock character.

The DEA was a prime-time soap opera about the ongoing "war on drugs"; it ran for eleven seasons from 1982 to 1993. Its plot focused on federal agents working at the Drug Enforcement Administration office in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and especially partners Hank Schrader and Steve Gomez and their families. It is mostly remembered today for its downer ending (in which the treachery of late-show villain Walter White, or "Heisenberg", gets the leads killed, and he escapes from justice), and for its far-more-acclaimed spinoff series Better Call Saul, which also ran for eleven seasons from 1993 to 2004, functioning as a prequel, midquel, and sequel to The DEA.

Between The DEA and Better Call Saul, Kelsey Grammer played crooked lawyer Saul Goodman for twenty consecutive years of primetime TV, first as featured comic relief and later as a leading man. (He also guest-starred on the mostly-forgotten Mall Cop, establishing that it, too, was set in the world of The DEA and Better Call Saul.) Better Call Saul won more than a dozen Primetime Emmys. Peri Gilpin received several of these for her performance as Kim Wexler.

St. Elsewhere was a film written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan in the late 1990s; it was highly acclaimed and successful, and established Shyamalan in the public eye as a skilled auteur with an affinity for twist endings. The film's final scene reveals that its main setting, St. Eligius Hospital, exists entirely within the imagination of an autistic boy, Tommy Westphall, as he gazes into a snowglobe. The so-called "Tommy Westphall Universe Hypothesis", which posits that this same twist applies to most of fiction due to a network of crossovers, was invented by a Saturday Night Live sketch shortly postdating the film's release, in which an amnesiac Charles McGill (from Better Call Saul) wakes up in St. Eligius, attended to by a cast of characters who are more concerned with their own nonexistence.

After rising to prominence as a writer, storyboarder, and composer for Pendleton Ward's Science Time (where she established the Summer/Jessica relationship that would come to define later seasons), Rebecca Sugar got to make her own cartoon, Henry Ichor. Set in a recently post-apocalyptic but strangely cheerful world, Henry Ichor concerns a young teenage boy who is conscripted as a mech pilot due to his rare and innate ability to link to the powerful Evangelion mecha. (His preferred Evangelion is eventually revealed to be a form of his late mother, the reason he can do this in the first place.) Henry turns out to be a vital asset in protecting humanity from the monstrous "Angels" that frequently threaten it, and is surprisingly emotionally mature for his age. However, the adults around him (especially his father, Gennady) frequently push him too far, especially considering his generally noncombative and pacifistic nature. There is much interpersonal drama and much singing about it, with a very vocally trained cast. After several seasons of slow buildup, the show was forced to suddenly rush to its ending in only a few (infamous) episodes after an arc where Henry had a romance with an Angel in male human form. Henry Ichor The Movie and an ensuing miniseries, End Of Henry Ichor, helped bring the show to a more thematically satisfying conclusion.

Although he has played a creative or consultant role in many animated projects, Alex Hirsch is best known for the one he was actually the showrunner for, Disney Channel's smash hit Sunnydale. Focusing on a small California town constantly plagued by supernatural threats, Sunnydale generally followed a simple monster-of-the-week format, but kept audiences on the hook with teases at a deeper underlying mystery. The show almost didn't get a season two, as Hirsch found working with Disney very tiring, but he was eventually persuaded; season two ran through the rest of Hirsch's ideas at a faster pace, and concluded the show with the leads graduating from Sunnydale High.

For a brief historical moment, Daron Nefcy's show, Ender vs. the Space Bug Army, looked like it would become the successor to Sunnydale, keeping Disney Television Animation prestigious after Sunnydale ended. However, though Ender drew in a big crowd, and lasted almost twice as long as Sunnydale, it was not ultimately as well-received. EvtSBA is a children's space opera, wearing its Starship Troopers (Joss Whedon) inspiration on its sleeve, but also clearly copying some (superficial) notes from Philip Pullman. Set in a future where mankind has come into violent conflict with bug-like aliens, the show follows unbearably smug boy supergenius Ender as he is sent to military school to prepare for interstellar warfare. The show has an extremely cutesy and hyperactive tone; typical filler episodes include the one (generally taken as meta about fandom drama) in which Ender's siblings' futuristic internet arguments prove instrumental to the survival of the human race. Later seasons get a bit more serious, but focus heavily on shipping. The show is infamous for its ending, in which Ender, for his final exam, destroys the Formics' home planet and releases a psychic signal that eradicates the Formic race. Although the show explicitly notes that this includes many individual Formics who we have previously known as sympathetic characters, it is nonetheless played as a happy ending in which a hostile colonial power is defeated. Ender has ended the war; he has beaten the Space Bug Army.

"Meugh-Neigh. 'Meugh' like the cat, 'neigh' like the horse." "Does it mean something?" "No answer; none at all."

Orson Scott Card is an extremely prolific author of speculative fiction. Although it isn't as close to his heart as the Steel Gear series, in which he got to flex his military sci-fi muscles and allegorically retell stories from his faith, he is undoubtedly best known for Ishtar's Curse. Initially a short story and later expanded into a full novel, the plot concerns young Princess Ishtar, or Star, heir to the heathen fairy kingdom of Meugh-Neigh. (In later novels, she changes her name to Bethlehem Diaz, or Beth.) Spoiled and destructive but magically talented, Star is sent to twentieth century Earth so she can develop the wits and the strength of character to be a viable wartime leader for her people - or at least so she can be kept out of the way. After several years of personal growth and magical misadventures with companions she met on Earth, a more grounded Star devises a spell to erase the magic that makes up the bodies of most of her throne's enemies. This plan works, and merges Meugh-Neigh into the Earth as a small and ordinary European country. However, though her subjects are eager to celebrate her for this, Star is devastated when she realizes that she has killed trillions of innocent spirits, and, seeking to atone, she takes on the title of Speaker for the Dead (also the title of the book's first sequel). Although it's frequently ranked highly in lists of fantasy novels of the twentieth century, Ishtar's Curse has received some harsh criticism, with the standard line being that Star is an idealized fantasy of a repentant Hitler figure, and that the text presents excessive justifications for her actions. The story has also been called a reactionary response to Wilde's The Little Mermaid. After more than twenty years, a film adaptation of Ishtar's Curse was released in 2009, starring Dakota Fanning, to mixed reviews. The box office took a further hit due to a boycott campaign, after Card's views on homosexuality (and, relatedly, his membership in the LDS Church) became widely known. In the end, it lost the studio a lot of money.

Hideaki Anno is best known for the classic smash hit anime he made for Studio Gainax, Einstein Goliath Nestorian, a psychologically intense deconstruction of martial arts shonen like Yoshiyuki Tomino's Dragon Ball. Einstein Goliath Nestorian concerns a mystery man known only as Saitama, who finds that he has become dissatisfied with life and alienated from the world after only three years of training have enabled him to easily surpass any physical challenge. The original series is known for its sudden, surreal, and clearly budget-driven ending, although this was quickly alleviated with a similarly surreal but more definitive finale movie. Although many Western anime fans often think of Einstein Goliath Nestorian as pretentious and ultra niche, it was actually a huge mainstream hit in Japan, with a colossal franchise of adaptations, merch, and spinoffs (notably including a series of Retrain films, which began as extremely close shot-for-shot remakes of the original series but wound up spiraling into a very different updated timeline).

Previously most noteworthy for his 2003 visual novel Oreimo, Gen Urobuchi was tapped by Shaft for their extremely successful and acclaimed anime Ohayou Hana!, hailed as a deceptively dark deconstruction of the teen idol genre. The plot concerns a girl, Saionji Mayuri, who leads a double life, being of little note at school, out of costume, but spending much of her time as #1 idol Hana. Her mental stability begins to deteriorate as she realizes that the adults in her life - especially her father, himself a former idol - have groomed her to serve as a drugged and hypnotized propaganda mouthpiece for a shadowy conspiracy. She winds up in the worst of both worlds as her ensuing breakdown, and her handlers' response to it, destroys both of her lives and brings ruin to those she cares about. In addition to the popularity of the actual anime, many of its songs became decontextualized J-Pop hits. The idol anime genre would then receive a glut of edgy lesser imitators, like Love Live: School Idol Project, Cheetah Girls, and magical girl fusion Symphogear. Although the original Ohayou Hana! was a self-contained twelve-episode story, it received a sequel movie shortly thereafter, Ohayou Hana! Rebel!, which ended on a cliffhanger that has still not been resolved over a decade later. The upcoming Ohayou Hana! MK Ultra! is expected to get things back on track. An abridged series originating on 4chan, focusing on cropped screencaps from Ohayou Hana!, called the title character "Miss Ohio", producing the memetic tagline "being Ohio is suffering".

Zack Snyder first came up with the idea for Madoka around 2000, a long time before he'd actually get to make it; he put the project on hold in 2006 to make his adaptation of Worm Turns. He developed the idea with his wife Deborah and a cowriter, Steve Shibuya. Inspired by the Disney Princess phenomenon, as well as Naoko Takeuchi's Pretty Cure (one of the few anime that had already become a hit in the States), Snyder wanted to tell a coherent story about fights between magical girls who could make anything happen, who could make any fantastical world or visual appear. In Snyder's film, we follow Madoka Kaname, a teenager attending a Catholic school in Los Angeles. Madoka and her friends are approached by a strange young woman who goes only by "Mommy", and her animal companion (a CGI-ed up squirrel-cat thing), QB. They offer to make the teens into "magical girls", granting them one wish each in exchange for a life devoted to spiritual warfare. (Another mysterious new girl, Lilly, urges them not to take the deal in the strongest possible terms.) This turns out to be a scam; QB is pitting the magical girls against one another for his own reasons, and in the end, every magical girl and her wish gets corrupted. Despite much of the film's plot being a horrific bloodbath - the MPAA demanded a lot of cuts to get it down to a PG-13 rating - there is a happy ending; Madoka finally makes her own wish and uses it to topple QB's whole system. Madoka isn't often discussed nowadays but it was a major discourse bomb when it came out in 2010, alternately being called misogynistic Orientalist trash and a subversive feminist masterpiece. Snyder, for his part, often notes that QB is intended as an allegory for exploitative forces within the entertainment industry that treat young women as disposable resources with an expiration date; this is already clear to anyone who's watched the film, which is not exactly subtle in its symbolism. He also explains that the film sexualizes the girls in an effort to shame the audience, to get people to understand that they are objectifying the characters in the same way that QB does. The soundtrack's got a really cool ethereal cover of Nine Inch Nails' King Nothing on it, which is probably the most remembered part of the film today.

Selena Gomez became a star by playing Violet Parr on Disney Channel's superhero sitcom The Incredibles. While the show was initially a very throwaway villain-of-the-week affair whose leads had to keep their powers hidden from the public and their caped escapades secret from the government for self-explanatory comes-with-the-genre reasons, it would eventually unfold that the show was set in something of an X-Men-style dystopia where superheroism had been outlawed and supers oppressed by the government as a potential societal fifth column.

Brad Bird directed one of Pixar's most celebrated films, Wizards of Waverly Place; it was Pixar's first film with a predominantly human cast. Disney was hungry for a fantasy property after losing a bidding war for the Luz Noceda rights. It had strong populist anti-eugenic themes, with an elaborate wizarding hierarchy of antagonists who seek to remove the Russo family's magic as part of an effort to curb wizard overpopulation. The sequel came more than a decade later, and wasn't nearly as good.

In addition to Worm Turns, Alan Moore is notable for the heavily metafictional comic Pagemaster, about a boy, Richard, who finds a magical library that contains all stories that have ever been or could ever be told; he becomes lost and imperiled in assorted pieces of historically noteworthy literature (initially ones in the public domain, though later volumes would start using legally safe serial-numbers-filed-off versions of modern stories). The 2003 film, in which Sean Connery played the librarian in one of his last film roles, is widely regarded as a terrible, deeply-toned-down adaptation that didn't grasp the tone or themes of the original story at all; it only covered the first half of the first volume, in which Richard meets "genre spirits" who wish to sort all stories into rigid categories. In a later volume, Pagemaster Millennium, an aged Richard Tyler, who has since taken on the mantle of librarian himself, meets a teenage girl, heavily implied to be Luz Noceda, who has also become lost in the library. She has become corrupted by an eldritch book, or "Necronomicon", written by "the Wrong Author", heavily implied to be the devil (and/or Hugo Astley, an Aleister Crowley caricature from W. Somerset Maugham's The Winged Bull). Flushed with demonic power and enraged by what she's become, a monstrous Luz tears through the library in a blaze of hellfire, seeking to destroy all of literature and the world. It is only through the intervention of the Fat Controller - heavily implied to be God - that Luz is defeated; he mercifully erases her by hitting her with a train, and laments what she became.

[onlyzhuyilong]

Can you say anything about what all these damn lawsuits are about? Are they about different things or the same whatever it is and why are there so many? Poor Long Ge 🙁

Of course! It’s a good question. ^^ They are all civil lawsuits (for defamation aka slander and libel). And every case seeks the same thing: damages for 3/4 offences: reputation harm, emotional and mental distress, and violating Long Ge’s rights to just exist and work in peace online/offline (being disruptive).

TLDR: It’s about the same thing done under a collective umbrella by lots of different people fuelled by yxh (nefarious marketing) and melon (gossip) accounts. The goals are simple - start a fan war, take down the competition (him), and stir up some shenanigans on weibo, xiaohongshu, and douban (similar to IMDb).

This started with casting rumours about DongJi Island. Yxhs pitting fans against each other like sports team. Some fall for it and other don’t. But when the DongJi Island’s cast was actually announced - that lead to a lot of trouble due to the billing order if you can believe it. That’s literally all it was about. He was billed first. Yxhs capitalised on it by encouraging a fan war (which is against the qinglang rules anyways but still it happens), and spreading stuff to discredit him and tarnish his reputation. We’re talking about hot searches (weibo trending topics), mass bad review bombing on his past works on douban with the usual slander and lies comments - some super harmful like “he’s a traitor to his country.” It resulted in ZYL studios posting this declaration on their weibo page - it states that they have been collecting evidence against users who have for a long time been spreading defamation and slander. And legal action would be taken. This has been going on ever since. He’s very low key about it though - never posts it on his or his studio’s weibo. We only know because the law firm & the news reports it.

But this then all spilled over into the release of Land of Broken Hearts which again was meant to harm him and his reputation. It got a little chaotic when there was a mix up with an after roadshow promotional event at a bar where he went and sang/performed, but the fans didn’t know about it so …he just ended up performing to a bunch of randos. Fans were mad. And yxhs just used it to spread more nonsense. He later - at another roadshow, explained things and that his team and manager were handling (the law suits) and that he’s a grown man who can look after himself and that everyone needs to chill, focus on their own lives and just be his audience and enjoy the film. He also said he wouldn’t be here without his team/manager who believed in him, and he trusts them. Because some fans were like “your team isn’t looking after you properly” and he had to gently (there’s a video somewhere) reassure them. Legal action was already underway at this point so. Unfortunately this has happened a lot ever since he won his golden rooster and subsequent other film awards - it is like he became a luiliang all over again x100.

And so far these are the wins (publicly reported so far) with compensation for mental and emotional damages he suffered, and hand written letters of apology by the defendants.

[lukolabrainrot]

So, I just wanted to give some additional thoughts on March-April timeline & Australia. We know L went to LA in March w/ A (possibly a group trip?) and N was off promoting "Big Mood" w/ that cast in tow, including E. Now whether we think N was dating E or not he'd been on her socials singing her praises and was her co-star, as L had been... but he also plays a role on the wildly popular Witcher (w/ hottie Henry Cavill) and is a bad ass fighter on the show, not as soft boy. I'd think it's fair to say that L would naturally have some jealousy surrounding that, esp. if N did nothing to quell his fears, incl. E being at her b-day party earlier in the year, and E going to the "Renegade Nell" premiere with her end of March.

Also, if we take what we think happened after BTON S3 filming as truth - that L had been all in and N put on the brakes - L prob thought he was giving N what she wanted. You wanted me to date other people, so I am! (I'm quite sure N didn't expect him going off the rails with his HBS nor date young dancers but, to me, it makes perfect sense - because he's was dating for fun not true love, cause N is who he feels destined for & wants... in that way, I think he & N are very different. I think N prob thinks you can love many people & L feels there is "the one")

But I digress... in March, L & N are mostly apart but prob still communicating bts & he likes several of her IG posts. By April, they're back on the BTON press tour and w/ the excitement of spending time together in Jan & Feb, they're already havings feelings for each other again. The Netflix interview where they're watching their scenes & commenting stands out to me - when N tears up & L asks if she's ok 🥹 (He also couldn't stop glancing at her breasts lol). L keeps the flirtation going, pinching her butt in the IMBD interview (as you prev. noted), and at the London Call the polaroid is taken. L & N are "back on" but, also as you noted, L had already taken the InStyle polaroids back in March, perhaps half trying to appease A, half guarding against N's rejection once again.

Then Lukola lands in Australia end of April - they comment on how relaxed it is and secluded being half way around the world. In interviews they talk about how never getting annoyed w/ each other, N makes several comments w/sexual innuendo and says L smells good. They are asked to walk together in a video and L jokes "no, it's too much time", indicating the opposite. They do several photoshoots & L starts playing bodyguard- the crowds are enormous & he's always looking for N. In turn, N starts getting kind eyes w/ L. They mention going to dinner and are seen drinking champagne at the screening... I'm of the opinion, maybe something happened down under, while they were Down Under!

It's the start of the tour & they're already getting questioned about being a couple so they state in an interview they aren't dating & are friends. (Note: they don't say just friends but friends so there is no lie). Then, the Instyle piece comes out on April 29 - after this lovely time in Australia (and perhaps intimacy?), it's like a gut punch to N. On May 2, she posts "Kaleidoscope" by Chappell Roan, which talks about crossing the line but not making that person stay & going back to friends if that person changes their mind. People always say this is a sad song. And I do believe the Instyle stunt was hurtful to N but I also believe N is fighting for L here. The song also says "And if you ever find someone who could write a better song for you well I'd love to see them try...

Imo, N needed to fight for L after being the one who wanted to separate (if true, ofc). I can see L doing the Instyle stunt out of self-protection, not knowing where he stood with N... and this is why one could see the tension in Italy, which came right after all of this. But we also see it resolve, with them presumably getting on the same page. I can see it being like when Pen said to Colin that if he wanted an annulment she understood and Colin replied, in essence, that he loves her and she's not going anywhere... I can also see L not wanting N to go anywhere.

Now, what happened from Italy-on, there are many theories, but because of how remote Australia was and the conflict resolution thereafter, I'm becoming an Australia truther!

#justanopinion #downunder #Lukolalove

Don't agree with everything, but some interesting theories/things I haven't thought about before.

What do other people think?

[fligniuz]

I’m not really into philosophy that much, so I was a bit confused about the Ayn Rand thing. Do you mind breaking it down a bit, or just use laymen’s terms to explain why people don’t like her/her works?

I GOT U i’ll find some videos and stuff to read too because she’s honestly a very interesting person to learn about but anyway i would say these are the biggest “problematic” (for lack of a better word) things about her

huge capitalism D rider!!!! much of her most popular work focuses on heavily capitalist societies being an ideal utopia and promotes pro-capitalist ideas like free market, property rights, little to no regulation and taxes, etc etc. literally referred to herself as a “radical for capitalism” and she particularly promoted a laissez-faire system. if you couldn’t really tell i’m anti capitalist and i think capitalism is an inherently immoral system so maybe not a gripe for you but it def is for me

big anti communist gal, to the point where she testified as a “friendly witness” before the house committee on un-american activities. she was also involved with the motion picture alliance for the preservation of american ideals, and i’m sure you can guess what they might stand for just by the name alone, but if you need a hint: they’re BIG fans of jim crow laws!! if you didn’t know, there is a very prominent tradition of opposition to civil rights among anti-communist activists and movements (if you want a good example look at the john birch society), rand was no exception whatsoever

she also just kinda had a racism/xenophobia problem tbh. she described the yom kippur war of 1973 as “civilized men fighting savages” (i’m sure you can guess which nation she supported), justified colonization of sovereign native lands, and called affirmative action “vicious” and “un-american”. typical for her time but doesn’t make it any less disgusting, especially since she’s very brazen about it and pretends to give a shit about individual rights of POC (read: her ridiculous ass essay on racism in which she fundamentally misunderstands what racism is and only really opposes it on the basis that it’s “collectivism” and not capitalist enough)

thought homosexuality was “immoral” and “disgusting”

READ ABOUT OBJECTIVISM!!! it’s so kooky and dumb. rand basically developed a cult of personality around her philosophy of “objectivism”, i’ll find something about it

her books are just dog water tbh😭anybody who’s tried to read one can probably tell you they’re boring as fuck and way too long. some of her shorter, less popular works are better but in general the stuff she’s known for is ass. my favorite description of ayn rand’s writing that i’ve ever seen was something along the lines of “masturbatory drivel”

idk where else to put this but i just feel like it’s worth mentioning—she was buddies with and enjoyed the work of ludwig von mises who…look i can’t get into it here because it’s too much if you just skim the wikipedia page of the mises institute and look at the different politicians and activists involved i think you’ll get it. if you want an idea of the kinds of ideas misesheads produce read this. anyway there’s this one story about how mises once called rand “the most courageous man in america” which made rand particularly happy because he said “man” instead of “woman” 😐

some stuff to read/watch:

^^ here’s her old chopped ass essentially parroting some “women are too emotional to be president” bullshit😊

honorable mention: that FAB (Fuck Ass Bob)

who the fuck did Ur hair?!

[b-afterhours]

Enter The Chronoheart

SYNOPSIS: Au!Bill | Timing is everything. Just before his big break, Bill met Paz, and with her in his life, everything seemed to fall into place. The timing felt right, until the weight of fame and notoriety became too much for Paz to handle, even from the sidelines. Despite their busy careers and distance, they always seemed to find each other through it all. Just when they decided to rekindle their relationship, and the timing felt right again. Paz disappears without a trace.

The aftermath of her disappearance sends Bill’s path spiraling off course. Then, on the third anniversary of her disappearance, he found himself drawn to the mystic shop where she was last seen. Sending him on an unexpected journey through time to find her.

WARNINGS: 18+ Mature readers only

Chapter Four

They were dating now. Or rather, they had been for a few months—long distance, but thanks to modern technology, the miles between them didn’t feel so vast. At least not all the time.

They were FaceTiming while she did her makeup for work, her phone propped up on the desk beside her magnifying mirror.

“I saw that you ended up going to that banquet thing for work last night,” Bill remarked, watching her apply mascara to her long lashes.

Being on the opposite coast, the sun wasn’t even up for him yet, but he had grown used to waking at 5am just to talk to her before she left for work. He had to admit, he also found the makeup process intriguing.

He had landed the part he had auditioned for in LA. Paz was elated for him when she heard the news and he thanked for her encouragement. 

Soon, he would be leaving for Toronto for his next acting job, where his face would be completely pancaked in clown white and prosthetic pieces. Obviously, Paz applied her makeup much more tastefully in comparison, but still—what better person to have in his corner than someone who went through the process daily?

“You saw?” She paused, turning her attention to him on her phone screen. He was in bed, wrapped up to his head in a goose-down blanket, looking like a sweet little baby.

“On your Instagram,” he smirked. 

“I didn’t know that... I’ve searched for you on there but—” 

Because they massaged and spoke on the phone directly, the topic of social media hadn’t really come up. She did search for him though and only encountered a few fan pages, all of them sharing pictures from his supernatural Netflix show. And Bill didn’t seem like the type to have a presence online that way to begin with. 

“It’s private.” 

Paz pursed her lips, eyeing him suspiciously. “For everyone? Or just me?”

Bill chuckled. “Everyone. But your brother follows me. I don’t really use it, honestly.” 

He lurked, though. Bill had found her Instagram while he was still staying at Franco’s. It hadn’t been difficult. He simply clicked on Franco’s profile, panchovillanueva, and scrolled through his following. Sure enough, her account was right there, her user her actual name, pazvvillanueva. Her profile picture would have given it away too, it was of her with her cheek resting on her fist and a sweet smile on her face. Unlike his username, which was just an amalgamation of random letters with a profile picture of a random close up of a painting he liked.

Her account was public, with a little over 2,000 followers, so when he followed her, he blended right in. The posts almost looked curated—she shared experiences, places, events, her friends, expertly plated food, and even promoted her brother’s projects. One of those posts being captioned:

Blink and you’ll miss me! 

Intrigued, he watched the lofi rap music video Franco directed and spotted her in the background as a late night diner patron in a few shots. 

That’s also how he learned she had studied abroad in Dublin for a semester and later taken a graduation trip to Mexico City before she ever had the chance to tell him herself.

She didn’t post often. There were weeks between uploads.

As he scrolled further, he found a photo near the bottom, her in a maroon cap and gown, surrounded by family at her college graduation. And discovered she resembled her mother and her sister in a way she did not with Franco. There were noticeable gaps in time between the oldest posts, almost like she had deleted things. Other than that, her profile was clean, the kind an employer would be proud of. 

Especially, because she shared peeks of her work days as well. Sending PR packages, attending book signings, and behind the scenes shots of morning talk show studio’s when she joined the author’s promoting their work. 

“I don’t really use it, either,” she said.

“Well, you finally did last night after two months,” Bill muttered, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Stalker!” she playfully accused. “No, like, I don’t really use that one. I have a finsta.”

“What is it?”

“What’s yours?”

He smirked. “Tell me yours, it’ll be easier to find me that way.”

Paz had promised to text him her user handle when they got off the phone. But now, as she took her commute on the subway scrolling through her finsta profile, hesitation crept in. The urge to clean it up was strong. Looking at it now, she felt a little embarrassed. Mostly about her lewds. Risqué poses, semi-nude shots she’d shared because, in those moments, she had felt pretty and confident.

She wasn’t sure why she felt self-conscious now. She had already sent Bill photos where she was much more exposed, but those had been curated with the male gaze in mind. You didn’t have to feel pretty when the focus was on your breasts. The lighting could be bad, but even the mere shadow of a nipple was enough to get a man going.

These photos, though, were different. More raw, more vulnerable. More naked, even when they revealed much less.

She let out a long sigh.

Fuck it.

Bill heard his phone buzz from where he’d left it on the hotel bed as he pulled a shirt over his head.

one000xgoodnite

The moment he read the notification, he found her profile. Her bio was blank but he chuckled to himself as the profile picture was of the Cynthia doll from Rugrats. Shaking his head, amused, he sent a follow request.

Paz got the alert almost instantly. Her thumb hovered over the button to accept. Instead, she went back to her profile, deleting a few posts. Mostly irrational complaints she’d posted while PMSing. Then, satisfied, she accepted his request and sent one back. Which he accepted, immediately.

Both of them were now scrolling through each other’s profiles.

Paz noticed he hadn’t posted in close to a year. His feed was a mix of scattered memories—photos from his travels, horizons taken from plane windows, throwbacks of him with his friends. More recent ones showed friends passed out on living room floors with aluminum beer cans stacked on their foreheads, after a night of binge drinking. There was one of him in a shiny synthetic wig, eyes unfocused, clearly drunk. There were several photos taken in the same location—red buildings in the foreground, each shot artistic in capturing a sweaty pint of beer from a slightly different angle during different times of the year. 

He posted meals too—ones he made, and others that his dad had cooked. Big dogs trudging through shallow shore waters. Stills from films he admired. Book titles he was reading, something they both posted in common. Near the bottom, she noticed traces of an old girlfriend. A picture of his well-worn boots beside a pair of designer heels. A photo taken of him laughing with mauve pink lipstick staining his mouth. A shot of long, blonde, sea waved hair fanned across his bare chest as they laid on a beach lounger together. 

She quickly scrolled back up then, it felt odd looking at that and she didn’t like the feeling it gave her. She didn’t feel she was much of a jealous person but she recognized that was the pit she felt forming but chose to ignore. 

His most recent post was a shot of him on a set, a paint palette in hand, a mural sprawling in the background.

When Bill opened her profile, his knees weakened causing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

Between the blurry club photos, mishaps on electric scooters, selfies in graffiti-covered dive bar mirrors, and memes were thirst traps. But not the posed, carefully angled kind meant for validation. These felt more personal.

His heart quickened as he scrolled, mesmerized. The shadow of her naked body stretched across a bedroom wall at sunset. Another showed her bare back facing a mirror, turned just slightly to capture herself on her knees, lace panties the only thing she wore. A close-up in the shower, suds tracing her clavicle, her full lips suggestively parted. The arch of her back reflected in a window. A white bed sheet pulled taut over her torso, revealing the soft dips and curves of her body, and the peaks of her hardened nipples. It took his breath away. 

Bill grinned when he finally acknowledged one of her most recent posts after being distracted by everything else. He double tapped, liking it, and commented a string of red hearts and kissy face emojis. It was black-and-white photo of his hand on her thigh, taken in the back of an Uber on their way home after visiting the MoMA. It made him miss her more than he already did.

Out of curiosity, he checked her followers. Eight, including him now. He only recognized two accounts. He wondered about the rest but figured they were people she trusted.

Maxilicious992

CoraBoundsArt

Max’s profile was private, but his bio read: someone you can take home to your daddie.

Cora’s, on the other hand, was public. Her posts were mostly dedicated to promoting her independent gallery showings. Still, Paz appeared in two posts near the top. One of her attending a sculpture exhibit Cora hosted, the other of them together at a rooftop bar, celebrating Paz’s birthday last October.

He went back to Paz’s profile, intending to screenshot a few lewds he liked for safekeeping. As he did so, his thumb slipped, and he accidentally liked one from 71 weeks ago.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

He stared at the screen for a beat, then shrugged.

Paz stared at her screen, her cheeks burning as the notifications flooded in one after another.

one000xgoodnite: bill liked your photo.one000xgoodnite: bill liked your photo.one000xgoodnite: bill liked your photo.

She pressed her lips together, hardly containing a grin. It wasn’t just one or two lewds. He had liked them all. And a few selfies.

Bill, meanwhile, was still staring at her profile, running a hand over his face as if that would slow his racing thoughts. The photos were intimate. Not just because of what she was or wasn’t wearing, but because they weren’t meant for just anyone. They were for her, for self-expression, for feeling beautiful. And now, he had been granted access to see her in the precious way she saw herself.

As Paz exited the subway, her phone vibrated in her hand just as she emerged onto the bustling New York City streets. A squeal threatened to escape her as she read his text straight from her lock screen.

Paz!

You are so fucking beautiful!!!

…

Franco was the only one they deliberately kept in the dark, but Paz had inadvertently kept her friend's somewhat in the dark as well. She liked having something that was just between her and Bill. Still, it was painfully obvious to them what was going on. Her phone was a dead giveaway—she checked every buzz, her face lighting up when it was him, frowning when it was just some useless notification from an app she hadn’t used in months.

One day after returning from lunch with Max, they walked into the office to find a bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. Max caught the way her eyes lit up, the soft flush that crept into her cheeks.

She reached out, fingers brushing over the petals of a white daisy nestled among a dozen full-bloomed red roses. Then, delicately, she plucked the small note tucked in the middle.

Thinking of you — B.

“Well, isn’t he a romantic?” Max leaned in, taking a deep whiff of the floral scent. 

Paz’s voice was light but a little guarded. "Mm. Yeah. It’s sweet of him." She carefully moved the bouquet to a better spot on her desk, but to Max, it looked like she just didn’t want anyone else to enjoy it that wasn’t herself.

He gave her a pointed look. "Paz, sweetie… when is he coming back this way? Is… is it getting serious?" He asked carefully.

Paz sighed. “He’s filming in Toronto right now.” 

“Okay? So after that?” 

She hesitated. “Yeah, he’ll probably make his way back here. I guess…” 

“Probably? You guess? It’s been like what? Two something months since you two were together…” 

Paz frowned. It was nearing three. “I know, Maxi.” 

Max raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright," he said, but his voice carried doubt. "I’m just looking out for you. Long distance is no joke… you can only do so much over the phone, you know?"

“You think he’ll get bored?” She asked, looking visibly worried.

Max sighed. "I’m just saying, as a guy—" He stopped when he saw her chewing nervously on her lip. "Well… maybe not. He doesn’t give me asshole vibes like that. It’s still fresh between you two. I wouldn’t worry too much."

"Well, shit, Maxi, you got me worried!"

"Fuck what I said!" He threw his hands up. "The jealous bitch came out of me a little!"

Paz groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Max, you can’t just say something like that!!”

Max dramatically clutched his chest. “I know, I know. Forget it. But seriously, babe, he seems really into you!”

…

Paz did her best to push Max’s words out of her head. He was right. Bill didn’t give off asshole vibes, and she hadn’t felt anything but wanted by him. She missed him, and he expressed as much too. But now that he was working, their conversations had lessened. His days were long, but he never forgot to send her a good morning text, and they’d talk late at night when he could. Though sometimes he’d fall asleep, his snoring cutting her off.

He was staying in an Airbnb in Toronto, but after the first week, his Canadian friend Landon came to keep him company, followed by another friend, Kris. Between work and their arrival, his attention was getting pulled thin. Even they noticed how often he checked his phone while they were just trying to chill with a few beers. 

He could feel their irritated stares every time he glanced at the screen. He understood though. He hated when people were glued to their phones, instead of engaging with the world around them. Yet, here he was, doing the exact same thing.

One night, they were sitting around a propane fire pit on the back deck, passing a lit joint between them. Bill was in the middle of texting Paz. She was out with friends, so her replies were sporadic. He slipped his phone into his back pocket, knowing it’d be a while before she’d respond.

“Finally,” Kris snarkily muttered, resting the joint in an ashtray. He was only in Toronto making a pit stop before his next destination, Florida. “You’ve been ogling your phone since I got here. Who have you been talking to?”

Bill slouched further into his seat. “Paz.”

“Fuckin’ knew it. I knew it was a girl,” he shook his head. “Paz? Where did you meet her?” 

Landon chuckled into his canned IPA. Bill flicked his eyes over to him, unimpressed.

“You know her?” Kris asked.

“Eh,” Landon shrugged. “Met her briefly. She’s nice—pretty.”

“Oh,” Kris nodded. “Okay, so?” He turned back to Bill, waiting for an explanation.

“I met her through Franco.” Bill said. 

“Villanueva?” Kris guessed and Bill replied with a nod. “Sick. His work is tough! Did you meet her at one of his parties then?” 

“Uhh, well, no. I stayed with him when I was in New York and she—”

“It’s Franco’s little sister that he’s dating.” Landon interrupted, jumping ahead of the reveal to get it over with. 

Kris’ brows shot up. “Ooooooh! Paz!” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “How the fuck did you get around Franco to start dating her?”

“He doesn’t know,” Landon answered before Bill could.

“Yeah,” Bill muttered, scratching his brow. “He doesn’t know.”

Kris leaned back, smacking his lips. “You know about Franco’s old DP? How he made a pass at her, and they almost fought? I mean, dude said some rude shit. I’d be pissed too if it was my little sister. After that, they stopped working together.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bill said dismissively, clearly becoming irritated. “I know the story.”

“I mean, it worked out for the better anyway since he dropped him and started working with Loch, but... Damn, Bill.” Kris scratched his head, probably adding more stress to what his friend was already feeling.

“Look, I’m dating his sister. That’s all that matters to me. It’s between us, not him.”

“Okay, true,” Kris conceded, picking up the joint again and reintroducing it into rotation. “I just don’t get caught up, man. That’s all.” He took a hit before handing it off to Bill. “And I hear she’s pretty?”

“She is,” Bill grinned, pridefully. “Gorgeous!”

“Well, come on,” Kris nudged Bill’s knee with his fist. “Show me a picture! Damn.”

“Alright,” Bill unlocked his phone, with the joint resting between his lips. “But first, let me show you this picture she took the other day. Two squirrels and a rat eating an entire pizza by a dumpster.” 

His phone buzzed, Paz finally replied. “Hold on,” he passed the joint off to Landon. “Let me text her back real quick.” 

He laughed when his friends both rolled their eyes and let out an exaggerated groan.

… 

Paz was putting away her folded laundry when her phone rang on her nightstand one evening. She shoved her clothes into the drawer indelicately and quickly grabbed her phone. Bill was facetiming her. It was surprising. He was usually on set at this hour.

She accepted the call, and there he was, out of costume but still donning the clown makeup. Her eyes widened, and she let out a nervous laugh. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a smile.

“Oh god…” she laughed, instinctively pulling the phone back a little.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he teased.

Paz laughed again, shaking her head. “This is so weird!”

“You’ve seen the press photos, haven’t you? I even sent you mirror selfies.”

“Yeah… but that’s different. I hear you, but I cannot see you through that!”

Bill chuckled. “It’s all about to come off. You look like you hardly want to look at me...”

“It’s strange,” she said amused. “Jarring.”

“Fair,” he chuckled. 

“Cool though,” she said, looking closer at her phone to see better. “It’s cute but then it’s not. It’s done really well though, now that I see it in motion.” 

“It’s pretty killer. Uh, do you want to watch while they take it off? I can set my phone up so you can see that it’s actually me under this?” He gestured to his face, that was not his face.  

A voice off-screen interrupted. “Hey! I bet you’re more than ready? Oh—sorry, are you on the phone?”

Bill’s bulbous clown head turned toward the voice. “I am, yeah. Just talking to—my girlfriend.”

Paz’s heart skipped a beat. Bill’s did too. They hadn’t talked about titles, but when the word left his lips, it felt right. Calling her just a friend felt almost offensive to say at this point.

A walkie-talkie crackled in the background, and the off-screen voice groaned. “Give me a sec’, Bill. Then we can get you out of all of that.”

Bill turned back to Paz, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Girlfriend?”

“Uh…” He nervously scratched at the wide-cut collar of his white t-shirt but they slipped to the base of his throat, accidentally getting white face paint under his nails. “Is that okay? Can I call you that?”

She hesitated, a contemplative look across her face, making his stomach tighten.

“I’d like to call you that.” He said earnestly.

“No… because I have a boyfriend, and he looks nothing like that.”

Bill laughed his nerves away. “I doubt he’s as handsome as this,” he said, circling his clown face with a finger. Suddenly, he felt silly, even slightly embarrassed. Being an actor led you to weird places sometimes but he didn’t plan to ask for her exclusivity this way. It wasn’t great timing but it just kind of happened.

“Oh, much more handsome—a sweet Swede, even.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “He should be careful… I’ll eat him.”

That evening, they stayed on FaceTime until he arrived at his place. Paz had fun watching the slow unraveling of the clown as each piece came off, revealing the man underneath. It wasn’t until he propped his phone up in the tiny shower of his trailer, where he washed off smears of white and red paint off his face, that she finally saw him as himself again.

Her sweet Swedish boyfriend.

His housemates were gone—Kris was catching the rays on a South Florida beach, and Landon was out doing his own thing for the evening. Though Bill usually liked company, he welcomed the solitude. Most importantly, he wanted privacy with Paz.

“That was a lot,” Paz giggled, still basking in the aftershocks of her orgasm.

She watched as he wiped his stomach clean of his built up release. Bill exhaled loudly, feeling the weight of work stress lift off him. It had been a little over a week since their last session over the phone, and a week of abstaining from masturbation in general. Experimenting, he used the pent-up sexual frustration to convert into raw, maniacal, rage to get into character.

“I’d clean you up with my mouth if I were there,” Paz purred.

“Fuck.” He tossed the used shirt aside. “You’re gonna make me hard again, baby.” His voice softened. “I miss you. I’m tired of the phone.”

“Tired of me?” 

“No.” He firmly said when he saw visible worry etching her face. “No, I couldn’t ever get tired of you. I just want you here with me.” 

Paz sighed. “Just a week or so left, right?”

He nodded. “Maybe…” His voice trailed off, a thought creeping in. “Yeah, a week. Another fucking week.”

“It’ll pass,” she assured him. “Just enjoy the rest of your shoot.”

Bill smiled, but the moment was cut short when he noticed his phone’s battery was at two percent. “Shit. I need to charge this.”

“You should probably eat, too,” Paz reminded him.

He intended to reheat leftovers when he got home, but that plan had gone out the window the second he walked through the door. Instead, he’d gone straight to his room, asking her to get wet for him.

“Yeah, I’ll eat. I’d rather eat you though,” he said, making her laugh. 

…

The following morning, Paz sat through an early work meeting, blinking her tired eyes and barely suppressing her boredom as her boss and manager discussed a new client the publishing company was bringing aboard.

Biiiiiitch this could have been an email!!!

Paz read from her phone, which rested between her crossed legs under the conference table. Max, sitting across from her, had texted her. She looked up with a smirk and raised her eyebrows in agreement.

The meeting dragged on when suddenly her phone vibrated multiple times in quick succession. Without looking, she dismissed the call. She didn’t have to look to know who was calling.

In a meeting xx

She quickly sent a text to Bill. 

I just need you email

*your

Paz pursed her lips curiously, but she sent it anyway.

Check your inbox when your done and call me.

*you’re lol

Once she managed to slip away from the brief chat with the project manager, she met Max at the office coffee bar. With their hot drinks in hand they returned to their desks—hers facing north, his facing south, arranged diagonally from each other.

“We can split a gummy and watch the Housewives finale at mine?” Max suggested as he settled into his chair.

“Yes! I’ll bring some rosé, then,” she said, already thinking about how that would make for a fine time.

She took a sip of her coffee, set it down, and pulled her phone from her soft pink blazer pocket. She tapped her mail app, and right below a promotional for a Levi’s denim sale, she spotted Bill’s email, opening it.

“What the f—?!” she choked out before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Max leaned far back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Uhm… I’m taking 15,” she said abruptly, shooting to her feet.

Reaching the building's lobby, she pressed her phone to her ear and marched outside. Bill picked up after the first ring.

“Bill? Did you mean to send me a plane ticket to Toronto?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, weaving through set to get to his trailer and prep for the day. “Is your passport up to date? I hope so.”

Paz scoffed lightly. “It is, but I can’t just take off work on short notice...”

“No… I thought so. Just say it’s an emergency.” 

Paz closed her eyes for a moment, her hand holding the top of her head, torn between the rush of excitement and the weight of responsibility. She could hear Max’s voice in her head, already egging her on—girl, just go.

Her eyes opened, staring off at the congested street, chewing on her lip. Her job was one thing, but what would she tell Franco? She’d be gone for a week. On the other end, Bill waited nervously. Maybe he should have talked to her before making the impulsive purchase.

“Let me call you back,” she said abruptly, her mind racing as she tried to sort through her thoughts.

“Wait—”

“I’m coming,” she cut in, already deciding. “Sorry, I just need to handle things here first. But I’ll see you soon.” A small smile played on her lips.

Bill pumped his fist. “That’s my girl.”

…

When Paz landed in Toronto the following day, Landon was there to pick her up. He was running the errand for Bill since he was on set. He greeted her warmly and helped her with her luggage, placing it in the trunk of the SUV.

“It’s good to see you again,” Paz said, buckling her seatbelt. “And thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem,” Landon said, pulling away from the curb. “It’s good to see you, too. Bill wishes he could have picked you up, but you know—he’s busy traumatizing children or whatever.”

Paz chuckled lightly. “And that’s just right now. When the movie comes out, there’ll be a million more.”

“Shit, yeah,” Landon laughed. “Have you been to Toronto before?”

Paz shook her head. “First time,” she said looking out the passenger window. “Actually, I haven’t been to Canada at all until now.”

They chatted a bit more during the short ride, with Landon speaking about Toronto before he started telling her about his hometown and the province.

Landon left her luggage by Bill’s bedroom door after showing her around the cabin inspired house and left her be after offering to take her to the grocery store should she want to pick up anything to have in the house later. She thanked him and shut the door behind her. 

She kicked off her shoes and fell onto the hastily made bed. She sighed loudly, relaxing a bit, taking in the scent of Bill coming off the bedding. It was probably a bit gross but to her it felt cozy. It was the closest, physically, she had been to him in months. 

Cuddling a pillow, she curled around it, accidentally dozing off. When she woke up an hour later, she stretched, taking in the room. An attempt was made to tidy but it was still a little messy. A few articles of clothing scattered about, empty water bottles on the nightstand, and the desk was in disarray.

Around his MacBook, there were excerpts of the script with notes jotted on them, two journals, a heavily tabbed copy of IT, stray receipts, and a random litter of Canadian coins.

Without thinking, she started tidying up. Bill wouldn’t be home until much later, so she decided to clean up a bit to pass some time. She left his work alone, only collecting the change to place it in a neat pile and lined his pens up lessening the clutter. 

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered when she picked up a gray shirt from the floor to toss into the laundry. It was the same one she’d seen him use to clean himself off the evening before. Though she found it appetizing then, in its crusty state she did not. However, possessed, she sniffed it. 

After starting the wash, she threw out the empty water bottles and stray bits of trash into the larger kitchen bin. Glancing over the contents of the fridge before heading to the grocery store, she didn’t have high hopes, but she was pleasantly surprised to find the boys had been feeding themselves decently at least.

“Can I ask?” Landon began, carrying her bags of groceries into the house when they returned from the store. “Uh, what did you tell your job to get out on such short notice? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Paz smirked. “Dead uncle.”

“Nice. Dead grandma’s overplayed,” he said, setting the bags down on the kitchen island. “And, please stop me if I’m prying, but where does your brother think you’re at?”

She leaned against the counter, noticing the slight concern on Landon’s face for his friend. She knew how her brother could be but he was a pretty laid back guy for the most part. Still, there was something about him. Being heavily tattooed probably made him seem more intimidating than he actually was. To her, he was just her big brother. He wasn’t scary, just protective over her and Juliana.

“He thinks I’m staying with my friend Max. We have a big project at work, you know,” she rolled her eyes, relaying the lie briefly. “Frankie’s usually pretty busy himself, so he doesn’t meddle much. He doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Right,” Landon nodded. “I’m not trying to be annoying about it. Sorry, if I am.”

“You’re not being annoying,” she reassured him. “You’re a good friend—seeing as you’re willing to be an accomplice.” 

Landon chuckled at that as he scratched his beard. Though, she couldn’t tell if it was a nervous one or not. 

Afterward, Paz made a move to settle in after chatting with her sister on the phone. She opened her luggage, looking for a change of clothes as evening approached. She laid the clothes down on the bed that she remade, and then headed into the adjoining bathroom with her toiletry bag and phone in hand.

After shaving all the body hair she had rid herself of the night before, she rinsed the soap out of her hair, humming lightly to the music playing from her phone sitting on the sink. Bill had come home, the tune beckoning him toward his bedroom. He had a dimpled smile plastered on his face, knowing he would finally be in Paz’s presence again. It filled his heart up and then it skipped when he saw her through the cracked open bathroom door. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Of course he wanted her, he wanted to be inside her desperately. It was one of the reasons behind his impulsive decision to purchase the plane ticket. But he felt he should hold off. He’d heard of guys who flew women out just for sex—he even knew some who did—and the last thing he wanted was to be lumped in with them. Even if this was different, that it was his girlfriend just in the other room.

But he wanted to see her. He couldn’t stand the distance the most and now she was just a mere few feet away. 

Paz stood beneath the hot stream of water, rinsing the conditioner from the ends of her hair. She gasped when she felt a hand glide across her waist, her body tensing for half a second before she looked up over her shoulder and smiled brightly.

Their lips met, the kiss deepening as she twisted to face him, arms winding tightly around his body. Under the cascade of water, his hands slicked her dark, wet hair back before cupping her face in his big hands. The closeness, the warmth—it made him blush.

Paz had never showered with a man before. It was a kind of intimacy she’d never felt comfortable sharing—until now. With Bill, it felt completely natural. 

“You’re just the way I remembered,” he said, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as he admired her.

After kissing the middle of her forehead, his lips brushed down the slope of her nose, lingering briefly before pressing a soft kiss to the beauty mark below her eye. The tenderness of it made her blush.

They lost themselves in each other, making out for what felt like forever, hardly pausing for breath of steamy air. Paz could feel his ever-hardening length pressing against her and impossible to ignore. She let her fingers graze him, but before she could wrap her hand around him, he caught her wrist and hooked it around his neck instead.

Before their lips finally parted, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him to the point she had to rise onto her tiptoes. Enjoying the way her slick, wet body felt against his own. Paz kissed below his clavicle, her lips grazing across his chest before playfully flicking her tongue at his hairy nipple. She reached for him again, but once more, he stopped her, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

“Ignore it,” he murmured, kissing the pulse point on her wrist.

“It’s hard to,” she admitted, licking her lips, her eyes dark with desire.

He chuckled low and knowing. “Can I touch you? I just want to focus on you.”

They took things to the bedroom. Bill took his time, kissing every part of her. It was gentle and loving and it was making Paz’s heart beat erratically. She had never had someone take such delicate, considerate care in the same way he caressed her and took her in like a work of art. 

Nestled between her thighs, he peppered kisses down the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer, savoring her. Paz watched as he traced her slit with a long finger, replacing it with his pouty lips pressing firmly against the ones between her thighs. He wasn’t just touching her pussy, he was marveling at it. Adoring it. 

On some of their explicit late-night calls, he had noticed how often she mentioned thinking about his mouth on her. It intrigued him, enough to ask about it, and when he learned why she enjoyed it so much, he wished he had done it more. Especially after gaining the prideful knowledge that he was the only person to ever make her climax from it. 

Her breath hitched when he used his fingers to part her lips, exposing even more of her. He licked every fold, tasting her, as he hummed against her in sinful delight.

It didn’t take long for her to start squirming. She turned her face into a pillow, stifling a moan as if she were still under Franco's roof.

Bill abruptly pulled away, crawling up her body to hover above her. With one swift motion, he tugged the pillow from under her face and tossed it to the floor. She blinked up at him, panting, eyes filled with surprise.

“We’re alone, baby,” he informed her. “I want to hear you. Let me hear how sweet you can sound.” 

Paz pulled him in for a grateful kiss, excited that there was nothing holding them back here. He broke away, trailing kisses down her body and resumed his position. His fingertips circled her slick entrance before he pushed his two fingers into her as she arched into it. 

His mouth, his long fingers, and his tongue worked in tandem for a long time. It was almost unrelenting, almost too much. Almost. She couldn’t get enough as each climax he drew out of her rolled deliciously through her body as her breathy unrestricted moans egged him on. 

…

That night, he made her dinner, some good comforting and filling pasta. As the red sauce simmered, he poured her a glass of white wine.

“Sorry about the room,” he said. “I cleaned the bathroom but I took a break by laying in bed and I fell asleep.” He explained, feeling a little bad she had cleaned up after him. “But thank you.” 

“It wasn’t that bad… for a boy’s room.” She winked. 

Paz had been sitting at the breakfast bar, watching him move around the kitchen, shirtless and at ease. There was something undeniably romantic about it, being doted on like this.

Just as he handed her the glass, he suddenly pulled it away, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Kiss me, and you can have it,” he bargained.

More than happy to play along, she pressed a deep, hard kiss against his lips. When she finally pulled away, he hummed in approval and handed off the glass.

Paz took a sip, then set it down, her gaze catching on something just below his ribs. She reached out, fingers lightly tracing over the dark bruise there.

“What happened?” She asked, concerned.

He glanced down as if just discovering it himself right then, and rubbed at the sore spot absentmindedly. “Harness,” he explained. “The ropes digging in.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt. Just annoying.”

Paz noticed how tired he looked then. In fact, he often did even while video calling. What he described of his days on set sounded physically demanding even some days uncomfortable. He never seemed to complain much about it though, he loved every part of his job. Though he yawned on the phone after a long day, he sacrificed rest to spend time with her. She appreciated it. Even if it was just to listen to her speak about her regular desk job, he always asked questions intrigued about her day to day even though she felt it was hardly as exciting as his. 

“Do you want to go out after this?” He asked, returning to the stove to cut the burner off. “There’s this nice jazz bar not to far from here—” 

“Tomorrow,” she interrupted smoothly, a soft smile playing on her lips. “We have the whole weekend.”

Bill nodded, smiling, looking forward to it. 

~*~*~

1966

Marcia insisted on taking a chauffeur to Vita, preferring the discretion of a more inconspicuous car for their outing to Beverly Hills. He held the door open for her, and watched as she sat down gently, then swung her legs in, her knees never parting. She was constantly delicate and mindful of how she moved. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, darling,” she murmured, extending a hand toward Bill as he settled in beside her.

He hesitated for a beat, glancing at her hand before finally taking it. “Mhmm.”

When they arrived, a commotion outside the restaurant caught his attention. Marcia frowned, then quickly instructed the chauffeur to circle around the back. Through the window, Bill took a closer look—paparazzi, their old-timey cameras flashing, mixed with younger fans clutching magazines and notepads. Paparazzi and celeb’ hunters. It was all the same no matter the era. 

Marcia’s gaze flicked to the rear windshield, assessing their route. A handful of sharp-eyed teens had already figured out where the real exclusive entrance was.

With a sigh, she retrieved a pair of cat-eye sunglasses from her clutch and slid them on. “Here they come.”

“Huh?” Bill followed her line of sight, watching as more people turned the corner, eyes suspiciously narrowed at their car.

“Out and in, in and out, like you always say,” she said with a determined nod.

The chauffeur moved swiftly, opening their door. The moment Marcia stepped out, the screams erupted but she didn’t linger. She slipped through the back entrance in one smooth motion, leaving Bill, who remained watching the flash bulbs sparking.  

“Darling?” Marcia’s voice beckoned.

Bill stepped out, rising to his full height, and for a moment, the crowd fell into a stunned silence. The screams of young women had petered out, their excited chatter momentarily replaced by wide-eyed shock.

Then, a single high-pitched shriek split the air.

The spell broke. A mob of young girls surged toward him, their excitement turning into a full-blown rush. His eyes widened, in shock. Fear, even.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, taking two long, purposeful strides toward the entrance.

The heavy steel door shut loudly behind him but then the pounding fists followed. The hyper rhythm, the same as his beating heart. He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his head.

What the fuck was that?

He had dealt with his share of autograph hunters encircling him, the roar of red carpet crowds, the blinding flashes of cameras. But he had never been rushed like that before.

“Why did you tease them like that,” Marcia lightly laughed, taking her sunglasses off. 

Before he could respond, a booming voice cut through the kitchen’s commotion.

“Mr. Skarsgård!” Bill turned as the chef approached, grinning broadly over the din of sizzling pans and clattering dishes. “And the most beautiful Marcia,” the chef greeted warmly, offering a polite bow of his head. “Right this way!”

With a sweeping gesture, he guided them through the bustling kitchen, pausing only to shake Bill’s hand before excusing himself to reprimand the rabid fans still pounding on the back door. Walking through the bustling kitchen with Marcia hanging on his arm to get to the dining area reminded him of every classic mafia movie he’d ever seen. Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, specifically, the camera following Ray Liotta and Lorraine Bracco through the Copacabana kitchen in one long take. 

They were seated, but Bill scanned the restaurant for Paz instead of perusing the menu as Marcia was. He spotted her sitting on the same side of the booth with her boyfriend Layne who was offering her a piece of his steak. Bill observed him for a moment. Seeing him again, he wondered if he ever acted before. He had such a classic look to him, a silver screen face. He had sandy blonde hair with natural highlights and striking gray-blue eyes. He wasn’t as tall as Bill but he had significant stature and carried himself as such. 

Though he knew their relationship was a fluke, he couldn’t help but feel some type of way seeing them together.

Their own food arrived, and they ate, but Bill kept an eye on Paz’s table, noticing their meal was wrapping up before his.

“I’m getting full,” Marcia announced, setting her fork down. Her plate was hardly eaten from.

“Me too,” he agreed, though he could still eat more if he liked. 

“Oh, my love. Are you sure your stomach isn’t bothering you still?”

“Well—”

“We could go? So you can rest up some more?”

“Uhm, no,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s someone here I’d like to talk to.”

Marcia glanced around the restaurant, taking in the usual crowd. “Who?”

“That gentleman, Layne Roy,” he nudged his head subtly in his direction.

She followed, discreetly peering over. “Oh, yes. Paz’s partner,” she mused.

“You… have you worked with her?”

“On Claudetta. You visited the set so many times. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already,” she teased. 

“No,” he smiled. “I remember the name now.”

“She’s lovely, though a bit odd at times,” Marcia leaned in, lowering her voice. “Since that accident, she’s been a little… well, you know.”

Bill pursed his lips, nodding slowly as he followed along. “Right, right…” 

“Well, I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said, rising gracefully. “Go on, talk business with Mr. Roy like I know you will,” she winked.

Bill stood when she did, waiting politely until she was gone. It was the same courtesy expected in his own time, but here, it felt like he had to turn up the chivalry several notches.

A waiter placed fresh cocktails at Paz’s table, and Bill took that as his cue.

Stepping up, he saw Paz notice him first—her posture straightening as a slow smile spread across her lips. She nudged Layne’s side, trying to draw his attention away from the bum match he was futilely trying to light.

“Yes?” Layne finally looked up, side-eyeing Paz, who only nudged him again. He lit his cigarette, and turned his head—nearly choking on the first inhale. “Excuse me,” Layne said, clearing his throat.

Bill smirked. “Excuse me.” He echoed, before tilting his head. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please,” he gestured to the open seating. “It’s uh, good to see you again.” He extended a hand, which Bill shook firmly. Maybe a little too firm. “Didn’t get to introduce myself properly last time—Layne.”

“Bill. And?” He asked, turning his attention to Paz, a playful look in his eyes.

“Paz,” Layne answered for her, reaching over to take her hand. “My darling girlfriend.”

Layne looked at her adoringly as he introduced her and then placed a kiss at her temple in front of her other boyfriend. 

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Skarsgård,” she politely said with that unfamiliar soft, sweet lilt in her tone. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he smirked. Paz had to bite her lip to suppress her giggle, amused with pretending they didn’t know each other at all. 

Layne held up his cigarette. “Would you like one?”

“Actually, I would.” Bill quickly accepted and lit his and took a puff before speaking. He had to admit it felt strange to smoke in such a nice restaurant when in his era it was vehemently forbidden. “You know, I quit, for a while.” 

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” Bill exhaled a stream of smoke, glancing at Paz, watching her absorb this new information really meant for her. “Sorta. Picked it up again today. Or a few nights ago, actually.” He shrugged, taking another pull. Paz rolled her eyes just enough for Bill to catch. 

Still, whatever her feelings towards Bill picking up the bad habit again, it was a small pleasure one could enjoy here. 

“Can we share?” she asked, looking at Bill.

“Here, honey, have a drag of mine.” Layne offered first, lifting his cigarette toward her.

“She can share mine,” Bill said firmly, with an authority that superseded Layne’s now that they were sharing a table.

Layne hesitated, then fell back slightly, watching as the cigarette passed from Bill’s fingers to Paz’s. 

Trying to push through the awkward shift in energy, Layne cleared his throat. “Uh, what’s that funny little invention you told me about, honey?” He peered at Paz as she took a slow drag and handed the cigarette back. “A vaporizer? Electronic cigarettes? Something or other?” 

“Oh,” she bashfully smiled. “A vape.” 

“A vape,” Layne nodded. “She was telling me that one day, you’d be able to smoke all kinds of flavors—strawberry shortcake, blueberry strudel,” he chuckled.

Paz stole a glance at Bill, who was listening with quiet amusement. She felt a bit embarrassed, caught even, that she liked to entertain herself this way. Dropping little glimpses of the future in the form of hypotheticals and what ifs while Layne was none the wiser.

“Could you imagine that?” Layne asked Bill.

Bill smirked. “I think she’s sitting on a million-dollar idea.”

“I don’t know…” Layne mused, taking another drag. “I told Paz it doesn’t seem practical to smoke while being plugged into the wall.”

Bill chuckled. “Right. I suppose not.”

Layne chuckled with him. “So, what brings you over?” he asked.

“Well, I heard from a pretty little birdie that you're starting your own studio company?”

Layne arched a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Is that so?” 

“Are you? Because I’m interested.”

Layne tilted his head slightly, considering. “I’m interested that you’re interested. But yes—”

“Mr. Roy?” A hostess interrupted.

“Yes?”

“You have a caller waiting for you at the service desk.”

“Did they say who?”

“A Mr. Glosser.”

Layne’s brows lifted. “Thank you, I’ll be right there.” He glanced at Paz, then looked at Bill regretfully. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“No worries, I’ll have some company,” Bill said, gesturing toward Paz who smiled.

Layne hesitated, then leaned down to kiss Paz’s cheek before heading off. The table fell quiet until he was several paces away.

“You told him about a fucking vape?” Bill asked, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

“In a jokey way.” Paz shrugged. “Excuse me for trying to amuse myself from time to time.” Her voice returned to the familiar tone he knew again. 

“You wanna tell him about the moon landing next? That’s a little sooner in time than a vape.”

Paz gave him a flat look, then it drifted to the platinum wedding band he wore. “Where’s your wife?”

His smirk faltered as he pressed his lips, he didn’t really like Paz addressing her as such. “It was sitting on my side of the bathroom sink.” he explained as his thumb twisted the thick band before concealing his hand under the table. “Marcia was in the bathroom. But I saw she got held up by a table, before she could come this way.” He said, as his gaze swept over the restaurant. As he did so he caught some patrons avert their eyes after stealing glances at their table. “Uhm, was this wise?” 

“Joining our table?” 

He replied with a small nod. 

“It’s fine,” Paz sighed. “It just probably looks random as hell.” 

“Mhmm. So, I’m glad you gave me the suggestion to come,” he said, tapping his cigarette ash into the tray on the table. “The chauffeur pulled around the back to avoid the crowd of fans in the front.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it didn’t work. They caught on. Almost got mobbed, like I was some member of the damn Beatles.”

“I bet. There’s always a crowd hoping to spot someone famous here.”

“You invited me so I could see that, didn’t you?”

Paz smirked. “I invited you because I wanted to see you. But yeah, that too. That’s why it’s important we be careful.”

Bill exhaled a plume of smoke, then stubbed out his cigarette, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. This kind of fame was extreme. He could manage the kind of attention he got back in his time. But this might prove to be a different beast. It made him nervous—and worried for Paz. For a time she wasn’t too keen with the fame and recognition that came with his career. It was too much, too invasive. She’d gotten spooked by his skyrocketing fame after IT. It had pushed her away, causing her to break things off shortly after the premiere.

She had come to terms with it later, but still maybe this would prove too much for her again. 

“Park a block away…” Bill muttered, and she nodded in response. “Your boyfriend still doesn’t know about us, does he?” 

Paz's chest rose as she took a deep breath, feeling the stress of the inevitable conversation she would have with Layne. “You just got here, Bill. I’ll tell him soon, okay?” 

“Okay,” his eyes darted above her head. “He’s coming back. And…” he frowned. “So is Marcia.” 

They all straightened in their seats when Marcia joined them. Layne and Paz greeted her warmly, but the men continued their conversation, leaving the women to sit in quiet observation. First, Paz looked at Bill’s outfit, zoning out looking at the detail of his gray grid patterned blazer he wore over a white mock neck. Then Paz’s eyes followed Marcia’s arm as it moved, noting how it found Bill’s hand beneath the table. She swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable. It was a reminder of what she wanted but couldn't have in the open. That irrational seed of jealousy wanted to sprout within her.

Suddenly, Bill’s leg brushed against hers. He made no show of what he did as he continued to talk to Layne casually. Paz bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile from forming on her face. Her foot slid slowly up his shin, and she caught the briefest glance from him—a look that told her he, too, longed for privacy.

What was happening beneath the table was hidden from both Bill’s wife and Paz’s boyfriend, who sat unknowingly beside them. It was deceitful—cruel, even—but their hearts lied with neither of them.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t kept secrets before…

[guyrcook]

3 Reasons Webinars Are Wasting Your Time (And Money)

Are you tired of wasting time and money on webinars that promise the world but deliver little to no results? You’re not alone! In this episode, we’ll expose the truth about the webinar industry and reveal the common pitfalls that are costing you time, money, and opportunity. From overhyped promises to underwhelming content, we’ll dive into the reasons why webinars often fail to deliver and what…

[axvoter]

Blatantly Partisan Party Review XXVII (federal 2025): The Good Party

Running where: Elsa Parker for Kingsford Smith (NSW) and Jordan Colless for Page (NSW)

Prior reviews: none, this is a new party

My goal in this review is to introduce the as-yet-unregistered Good Party and say a little about their background; I won’t engage with an awful lot of their policies because they are not contesting the Senate and I am unsure if I have any readers in either electorate where they have endorsed independents. Yes, I reviewed in detail Rebekha Sharkie and Dai Le, but they are incumbent MPs. Sharkie is very likely to retain her seat and Le will be competitive in an intriguing contest, and as crossbenchers their views are relevant nationally—especially if no party wins a majority (an outcome that seemed almost certain until the wheels came off Dutton’s campaign; now Labor might retain its majority). Elsa Parker and Jordan Colless, by contrast, have no chance of winning their seats, though I understand Parker in particular has been an eager campaigner.

The Good Party is seeking to recruit enough members to gain registration, but at the moment must settle for endorsing independents. They claim to be running three candidates, not two, but VJ Gunawardana is not on the ballot for Macnamara. The party emphasises that it seeks to appeal to and represent young people: “we believe the future of young Australians has been squandered by successive federal governments … Our aim is to spearhead generational change in Parliament with youth, fresh ideas, and the values of decency, respect, and inclusiveness.”

The Good Party’s policy pages are extensive, much more extensive than you normally see for a newly minted micro-party, and this intrigued me as to their origins. Besides the candidates themselves, nobody is named on the website. As Kevin Bonham notes in his party registration tracker, the party does not have the standard (and required!) authorisation statements on its website or Facebook. The Facebook account sometimes posts reels with two grey-haired men—not young Australians at all, though presumably they were once—and it turns out these gents have a separate Facebook account called Park Bench Politics, where they actively promote the Good Party.

I have been informed privately that these “two old blokes” (as they dub themselves), Shane Barry and David Rollins, are actually behind the party. There is not an awful much about either online, and you get a lot of search hits for other people with the same name, though David Rollins is the author of that name who writes thrillers. In one of the Park Bench Politics videos that I watched, they present themselves simply as having “heard about” the Good Party, but from what I’ve been told they “heard about” it because it came out of their own mouths. The person I spoke to believed that Barry and Rollins were sincere in their intentions, which is to create a platform for younger people to run for parliament. Neither they nor I have found any information to suspect there is anything untoward here: both men want to take a back seat and promote young candidates as the face of the party.

If that is so, though, it seems Barry and Rollins are the brains behind the policies as they stand. You can do a simple comparison of the Good Party’s defence policy and Rollins’ thoughts as expressed on his Substack. The shared themes and suggestions, right down to common phrasings, are striking. This policy does not have a youthful feel. It is more favourable to AUKUS than most I have read this campaign, and it reprises two predictable stances from Australia’s political history: a fear since the 1850s that China might covet our land to settle its large population and control our resources (a fear so powerful that anti-Chinese policies played a major role in the federation movement), and military training for civilians to have a trained populace of reservists for national defence. Now, the Good Party is clear that they are not promoting mandatory national service, so this is not quite the Universal Service Scheme of 1911 or its mid-century successors, but the echo is there—and it’s not the sort of thing I normally see young politicians proposing!

In any case, if you live in the electorates of Kingsford Smith and Page, have a dig into the Good Party’s policies. They generally lean centre-left, although some specific aspects are quite bold or out-of-the-box and might prove to be dealbreakers. For me, I’m lukewarm because I disagree with much of the defence and housing policies, I don't share their support for extending parliamentary terms from three to four years, and I firmly oppose their proposed reduction in immigration numbers (for specious environmental reasons not too dissimilar to Sustainable Australia).

Recommendation: in Kingsford Smith, I would put Parker above Family First and the Liberals and below the Greens, but I would need more direct local knowledge to determine where to place her relative to the Labor candidate; in Page, there is a large field of eleven candidates—but most of them are from quite undesirable parties so likewise Colless would be in contention for at least a top three placing (maybe top four, but on a quick search I’ve got nothing for indie Richard Wells and that’s never promising).

Website: https://www.goodparty.com.au/

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

[Somewhere in my drafts folder: commentary on mm, NYFW & luv bombing zee. For now, below is a clip from that infamous Yahoo video...]

Grifters Gonna Grift: Meghan Markle's GOOP Dupe

Interesting post by Gwyneth Paltrow features a marmalade made in California by a relatively new company "Marmalade Grove." GP photographed her breakfast with one of the original jars of marmalade. 🤔

gwynethpaltrow in her pjs on IG "My cleaner take on a classic breakfast: gluten-free buttermilk biscuits, not-so-perfectly cooked over-easy eggs, and crispy bacon #boyfriendbreakfast" march 23, 2025

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Gwyneth Paltrow (@gwynethpaltrow)

In the sun-drenched valley of Ojai in California is Marmalade Grove, our little piece of Eden. In this land of beauty, pleasure and romance our citrus orchards grow heavy with nature's delights, the fruits of paradise. Our Tango tangerines, Pixies, Meyer lemons, Ruby Valencia and Cara Caras thrive in the splendor of the Californian sun, plump and bursting with flavor. A traveling feast carefully picked by loving hands and delivered from paradise for you to feast in sensuous delight. Each fruit in our harvest comes with a gift, a sensorial invitation to ground yourself in the present. Take a moment to awaken your senses. Experience the inviting weight of the tangerine in your hand, the way its skin gives as it's gently peeled, the sharp zesty scent that remains on the tips of your fingers, the soft fruit inside your mouth as it bursts with flavor.

https://www.marmaladegrove.com/pages/the-grove

More BANANAS 🍌🍌🍌

Meghan Markle follows up on IG w/yet another old pinterest snack using her spread: "when 1 of the besties reinvents a banana split for breakfast"

Yahoo's Kristin Cavallari: "...so it's like your own little mini goop..."😂

Meghan Markle promoting her goop "the tig" at 2015 NYFW ||

[chosetherose]

*WSJ Link*

There Are Plenty of Power Publicists. But Only One Works for Taylor Swift.

By Allie Jones

April 18, 2024 at 8:00 am ET

Taylor Swift was celebrating the end of the Australian leg of her Eras Tour in late February when a bit of unpleasantness sailed out from Down Under and landed on the home page of TMZ. The New South Wales Police Force was investigating a 71-year-old man for allegedly assaulting a 51-year-old man at a wharf north of the city, according to their media unit. Per TMZ, the septuagenarian was Scott Swift, Taylor’s father and a key member of her management team, and the younger man was a photographer. 

The story had all the makings of a public relations nightmare: (1) Celebrity family member allegedly behaves badly while (2) disembarking from a luxury yacht, resulting in (3) a police investigation. To make matters more complicated, Taylor was reportedly present for the alleged altercation—hiding under an umbrella, TMZ said. Though the man didn’t require medical treatment, the police said, there was video footage. Would this be the end of the pop star’s marathon run of fawning press? 

Not if Tree Paine could help it. 

Swift’s longtime publicist first released a statement that did not refute TMZ’s story, exactly, but offered some exculpatory evidence: “Two individuals were aggressively pushing their way towards Taylor, grabbing at her security personnel, and threatening to throw a female staff member into the water.” Subtext: Scott Swift was simply protecting his daughter and another defenseless woman from a couple of rogue aggressors. He was not charged. 

Around the same time, as if by magic, People found a video of Scott passing out sandwiches to young female fans at one of the Sydney shows and published it along with fan commentary. “Isn’t he the sweetest and cutest,” one cooed.

Online, Swifties clocked the People story as good old-fashioned damage control. As a chorus of fan posts put it: “The devil works hard, but Tree Paine works harder.” (In late March, the New South Wales Police Force media unit said that the North Shore Police Area Command finished its investigation and that it is taking no further action.)

The public often sees Paine expertly attending to Swift’s needs, from smoothing out Swift’s red carpet dresses to leading her past scrums of paparazzi.

The average celebrity publicist does not have fans. But Paine, the 52-year-old redhead seen trailing Swift at awards shows and rubbing shoulders with Gayle King in the Eras Tour VIP area, has become a Swiftverse cult figure in her own right. Fans post reverently about her PR machinations and share videos of her expertly attending to Swift’s needs: smoothing out Swift’s dress on the red carpet, leading Swift right past a scrum of reporters whose questions have not been approved, subtly offering Swift what appeared to be water at the Video Music Awards—a night when the star was filmed dancing in a manner that suggested inebriation.

Swift has trained her followers to look for meaning in her every gesture, outfit and Instagram caption. Paine’s own work—the stories she chooses to respond to, the narrative she puts forward in the media—has become part of that lore. 

And Swift and Paine are creating a lot of lore lately. Swift spent the fall cheering on her new boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce, as he sailed to Super Bowl victory, and dropped by the Grammys to pick up album of the year for Midnights and announce her new album in an acceptance speech for yet another award. The Tortured Poets Department, which fans speculate is at least partly inspired by her breakup with the British actor Joe Alwyn, drops this month, and Swift will promote it while balancing her public relationship, continuing her sold-out international Eras Tour amid growing criticism of her private jet usage and brushing off baseless conspiracy theories that she is secretly working as a Democratic operative to swing the 2024 election for President Joe Biden. 

In a long career of riding high, Swift has hit the stratosphere. It’s Paine’s job to keep her there. 

Back in 2014, Swift’s world domination was not yet assured. That March, trade publications reported that the pop star’s publicist of seven years, Paula Erickson, had submitted her resignation. Fairly or not, during Erickson’s tenure, Swift developed a reputation for being both boy-crazy and unwilling to joke about it. See: Swift’s string of high-profile relationships with Joe Jonas, Taylor Lautner, Jake Gyllenhaal and Harry Styles; her alleged wedding-crashing with Conor Kennedy; her humorless response to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler’s joke at the 2013 Golden Globes about her dating life. (“There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women,” she told Vanity Fair when asked about the incident.) Erickson declined to comment for this story.

Paine, who had been working as the senior vice president of publicity in the Christian and Country divisions of Warner Music Nashville, came on board and quickly flipped the script. She launched her own firm, Premium PR, and signed Swift as her first and only client. “There isn’t a publicist in NY, LA or Nashville that wouldn’t jump at an opportunity to work with someone as talented as Taylor Swift and her management team,” Paine told Page Six at the time. 

That year, Swift moved from Nashville to New York, went full pop with the release of 1989 and began flaunting her friendships with a gaggle of famous women, known colloquially as The Squad. The public started to forget about the time Swift, age 22, allegedly bought a house across the street from the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts. 

Now that Swift has hit the stratosphere, it’s Paine’s job to keep her there. 

Throughout this transformation, Paine refused to let rumors about her client fester. The very week her hiring was announced, she began issuing public rebuttals to the tabloids. “Never believe the National Enquirer,” she tweeted about an apparently false story that Swift declined to record a duet with Randy Travis. Ten years later, the gossip about Swift has changed, but Paine’s approach has not: She recently called out the anonymous gossip account Deuxmoi for causing “pain and trauma” by posting false rumors about Swift secretly marrying Alwyn before the two broke up. 

Paine became even more visible to fans in 2020, when she appeared in Swift’s Netflix documentary Miss Americana. Wearing white shorts and blue nail polish, she clinked white-wine glasses with Swift as the singer-songwriter anxiously prepared to post her first political statement on Instagram. Swifties have since turned Paine into something of a meme: Online, they joke that Swift’s “Out of the Woods” lyric “the monsters turned out to be just trees” is a reference to the publicist and that a redheaded Eras Tour backup dancer is Tree-coded. They have decided that in the inevitable Paine biopic, the publicist will be played by Amy Adams, and that she will win her first Oscar for it. 

The fan obsession has been fueled, in part, by how little Paine has shared publicly about herself. Her Instagram is private. The last time she sat for an interview was 2012, when she was a VP at Warner and appeared in Nashville Lifestyles’ “Most Beautiful People” issue; she posed for a photo in front of a shiplap-covered wall wearing a peasant blouse and made the astonishing revelation that she was “trying to enjoy life.” I cannot report whether that is still true; Paine declined to be interviewed for this story. 

Born Trina Snyder, Paine grew up in Costa Mesa, California. She was still going by Trina when she was initiated into Pi Beta Phi at the University of Southern California in 1990, according to the women’s fraternity’s official publication, The Arrow. 

Like her client, Paine is a Nashville transplant. In her early career, she worked her way up at a variety of L.A. record labels—World Domination, Maverick and Interscope, whose roster included Snoop Dogg, No Doubt, Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. She launched her own guerrilla-marketing company, worked for the Academy of Country Music and eventually joined Warner Music in Tennessee. 

In 1998, she married Lance Paine, a businessman and onetime president of the Nashville candy brand Goo Goo Cluster, in Las Vegas, according to public records. (Lance also served as president of the company owned by HGTV’s Property Brothers.) The Paines have one teenage daughter, and according to the society pages, they have spent some nights mixing with locals at Nashville charity galas. 

Paine has built a fearsome reputation in media circles, closely guarding access to Swift.

But mostly, Paine works. She has built a fearsome reputation in media circles, closely guarding access to Swift and sending emails to journalists with surprising velocity whenever she disagrees with a story. “Once I started working in media, I would always hear about people getting emails from Tree Paine, or maybe, people being afraid of getting emails from Tree Paine,” says Hunter Harris, a self-described “Painiac” and the writer of the entertainment newsletter Hung Up, which regularly chronicles Paine’s engagement with the press. (Harris has also contributed to WSJ. Magazine.)

In the past 10 years, Paine has guided Swift through some of the more tumultuous moments of her career: her feud with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West; her trial accusing a former DJ of sexual assault; her battle against her former label, Scooter Braun and private-equity giants for the control of her master recordings. At almost every turn, Paine presents Swift—arguably the most famous woman on the planet, a billionaire with a private jet—as a relatable underdog fighting for her voice to be heard. 

It has, for the most part, worked. In the process, Paine has become one of the most powerful people in the entertainment industry. 

Getting any kind of journalistic access to Swift has become a fool’s errand. The star sits for few magazine interviews, and in between, Paine does her best to ensure that no information about Swift that Swift has not expressly chosen to share with the public becomes available. One magazine writer recalls the slightly fraught process of interviewing another artist on one of Swift’s stadium tours a few years ago. As a condition of the interview, the writer had to agree that anything they witnessed or discovered about Swift while spending time with the other artist before a show would be off the record. Paine was clear: No journalist is going to catch Swift in her sweatpants backstage and write about it. 

When writer Emily Kirkpatrick reached out last year to seek Swift’s comment for a profile of the actress and musician Suki Waterhouse for the fashion website Ssense, Paine surprisingly acquiesced, with the caveat that Swift’s quote be printed in full—no edits, no line breaks. (Kirkpatrick, annoyed, accepted the terms.)

This is an understandable sticking point for Paine. The Kardashian-West debacle revolved, in large part, around a truncated recording of Swift. Before the rapper released the single “Famous,” which contained lewd lyrics about Swift, they spoke by phone, where he asked her to promote the track on Twitter. For years, a snippet of the call released by Kardashian painted Swift as a liar who publicly rejected the lyrics but privately approved them. When someone released the full call online—a friendly heads-up but one in which West never shares the final lyric (“I made that bitch famous”)—Kardashian tried to save face. “To be clear, the only issue I ever had around the situation was that Taylor lied through her publicist who stated that ‘Kanye never called to ask for permission…,’ ” she tweeted. But Paine never said that exactly. She tweeted a rejoinder: “I’m Taylor’s publicist and this is my UNEDITED original statement. Btw, when you take parts out, that’s editing. P.S. who did you guys piss off to leak that video?”

The biggest year of Swift’s career has also been her most public yet. There’s the tour, the new album, the NFL boyfriend, the constant tabloid coverage of her relationship with the NFL boyfriend, the never-ending paparazzi strolls with her famous friends at sceney New York City restaurants. There have been stumbles: Swift forgot to thank Celine Dion, who presented the album of the year award, when accepting her Grammy. (A photo of the two singers hugging circulated online later.) She’s still taking heat for her private jet. She dated Matty Healy. 

But the sheer volume of information about Swift that pours, ceaselessly, out of every tabloid and news outlet from the Daily Mail to the New York Times typically washes away negative stories as soon as they are published. There are fans who speculate that Paine sent Swift to Kelce’s regular-season game against the New York Jets in October so that internet searches for “Taylor Swift jets” would return cheery images of Swift dancing in a VIP suite with Blake Lively instead of stats about CO2 emissions. 

Swift is at a point in her career, however, where she could completely disappear from view and still generate more headlines than just about any other person on earth. Scientists at Caltech and UCLA recently published research proving the existence of “Swift quakes” (seismic activity caused by fans dancing and jumping at concerts). Ancestry.com shared on social media that Swift is a sixth cousin, three times removed, of poet Emily Dickinson. The New York Post talked to experts to guesstimate how much Kelce has spent wooing Swift so far (more than $8 million, allegedly). 

If Swift released The Tortured Poets Department with zero fanfare, it would probably still hit No. 1 on the Billboard charts. But she chooses to feed the beast—with black-and-white Instagram posts, snippets of possible lyrics, a pop-up poetry library, so many vinyl editions—and, with Paine’s help, make her own news.

[lickmystamp]

US postage stamp, 1989 “Prehistoric Animals” Scott #2422 - #2425

Issued: October 1, 1989 - Lake Buena Vista, Florida Quantity: 101,747,000 Designer: John Gurche Printed By: Bureau of Engraving and Printing (Lithographed and engraved)

To promote National Stamp Collecting Month. In fact, the campaign behind the Prehistoric Animals stamps was one of the largest up to that point. The USPS worked with MCA Home Video to include a flyer for the stamps in the video cassette packaging for the dinosaur-themed movie The Land Before Time. It was covered in the media, on the front page of USA Today, and in TV commercials. Many of these materials promoted that year’s slogan, “Begin an Adventure of Giant Proportions – Collect Stamps.”