#Booz Allen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reality-detective · 5 months ago

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New Development in the Helicopter Crash 👇

This gets more interesting 👇

Her social media has been scrubbed 👇

A White House aide for Biden 👇

Graduated with a Biology degree in 2019 from North Carolina Chapel Hill... Where the gain of function that created Covid started.

Let's löök at her parents 👇

REBECCA LOBACH was the DAUGHTER of DAVID LOBACH (Duke University Medicine; Elimu Informatics; HHS) and ELIZABETH LOBACH (New Regency).

DAVID FRANKLIN LOBACH

*DUKE UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF MEDICINE, Chief of Division Clinical Informatics, Associate Consulting Professor

*DUKE FAMILY MEDICINE PROGRAM, Endocrinology Consultant

*ELIMU INFORMATICS, VP of Health Informatics

*CDSiC PROJECT, Elimu Informatics (Co-Investigator)

💥NOTE 1: Duke University is run by Trustees Chairman and Mossad asset, Laurene Sperling, who is also the Chairman of Combined Jewish Philanthropies (CJP) and is married to Thermo Fisher (PCR TESTS) Lead Director, Scott Sperling. Thermo Fisher = Temasek (Singapore).

💥NOTE 2: Duke University School of Medicine is led by Dean, Nancy Andrews, who is the Chairman of Wellcome Burroughs (Wellcome/Farrar), who sits on the Board of Directors at Novartis and is a Senior Advisor to NIH Executive Leadership (Anthony Fauci).

💥NOTE 3: Duke Kunshan is a PARTNERSHIP between Duke University and Wuhan University and it officially opened its doors in 2013, which is the SAME YEAR that DAVID RUBENSTEIN (Duke Capital Partners, Carlyle Group, Booz Allen Hamilton, CFR, Brookings, etc.) became the CHAIRMAN of the DUKE UNIVERSITY BOARD OF TRUSTEES.

*Both David Rubenstein and Laurene Sperling are CURRENTLY on the ADVISORY BOARD of DUKE KUNSHAN UNIVERSITY in WUHAN, CHINA.

Duke University is arguably the MOST IMPLICATED SCHOOL IN AMERICA with regard to the COVID PANDEMIC CONSPIRACY and the CREATION & RELEASE of COVID… and COVERUP of COVID’S ORIGINS.

Her Mother 👇

ELIZABETH LEE LOBACH

NEW REGENCY PRODUCTIONS (Development), Writers’ Assistant, Office Assistant, Analyst & Script Editor

*TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX (Post-Production), Office Assistant, Research & Analysis.

💥NOTE: New Regency Productions was FOUNDED by ISRAELI SPY, ARNON MILCHAN, one of NETANYAHU’S CLOSEST OPERATIVES and ISRAEL’S MOST LEGENDARY SPIES. He was involved in helping ISRAEL STEAL AMERICAN NUCLEAR SECRETS several decades ago.

Moving on 👇

This is the man that founded the company where helicopter pilot, Rebecca Lobach’s mother works…

Nothing to see here 👇

Rebecca Lobach was still in ROTC training in 2018.

How is she flying government continuity missions in a Blackhawk in Washington DC 6 years later as a captain? And how did she afford a $520,000 house two years into the military? 👇

Rebecca Lobach, involved in DCA crash, served as a White House social aide under Biden.

She escorted Ralph Lauren through the White House when he was among those awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by former fake President Joe Biden. 👇

This is a screen grab from the FAA’s Airman registry which is available to the public it shows that Rebecca Marie Lobach did not currently hold an FAA medical which is required to have military certificates converted over to FAA certificates meaning she lost her medical…? 👇

Not sure what she ‘destroyed’.. but she doesn’t look fit to me! 👇

A statement from:

Art Halvorson @ArtHalv....

As a former military instructor, I'll tell you that Rebecca Lobach in NO WAY should have been the pilot in command on that flight.

500 hours in 5 years is Inconceivable! 👇

I think there’s more to this tragic incident than DEI hiring, but it was because of DEI policies that Rebecca was on board that helicopter and there are now 67 people dead. 🤔

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what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew · 2 years ago

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BOYCOTTING FOR PALESTINE

The Official BDS Boycott Targets

Consumer Boycotts - a complete boycott of these brands

Cisco

Axa

Puma

Carrefour

Siemens

Chevron

Intel

Caltex

Israeli produce

Re/max

Ahava

Texaco

Sodastream

Intel

Organic Boycott Targets - boycotts not initiated by BDS but still complete boycott of these brands

Disney

Macdonald's

Dominos

Papa Johns

Burger King

Pizza Hut

Wix

Divestments and exclusion - pressure governments, institutions, investment funds, city councils, etc. to exclude from procurement contracts and investments and to divest from these

Elbit Systems

CAF

Volvo

CAT

Barclays

JCB

HD Hyundai

TKH Security

HikVision

Pressure - boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure.

Google

Amazon

AirBnb

Booking.Com

Expedia

Teva

Here are some companies that strongly support Israel (but are not Boycott targets). There is no ethical consumption under capitalism and boycotting is a political strategy - not a moral one. If you did try to boycott every supporter of Israel you would struggle to survive because every major company supports Israel (as a result of attempting to keep the US economy afloat), that being said, the ones that are being boycotted by masses and not already on the organic boycott list are coloured red.

5 Star Chocolate

7Days

7Up

Apple

Arsenal FC

ALDO

Arket

Axe

Accenture

Ariel

Adidas

ActionIQ

Aquafina

Amika

AccuWeather

Activia

Adobe

Aesop

Azrieli Group

American Eagle

Amway Corp

Axel Springer

American Airlines

American Express

Atlassian

AdeS

Aquarius

Ayataka

Audi

Barqs

Bain & Company

Bayer

Bank Leumi

Bank Hapoalim

BCG (Boston Consulting Group)

Biotherm

Bershka

Bloomberg

BMW

Boeing

Booz Allen Hamilton

Burberry

Bath & Body Works

Bosch

Bristol Myers Squibb

Capri Holdings

Costa

Carita Paris

CareTrust REIT

Caterpillar

Coach

Cappy

Caudalie

CeraVe

Check Point Software Technologies

Cerelac

Chanel

Chapman and Cutler

Channel

Cheerios

Cheetos

Chevron

Chips Ahoy!

Christina Aguilera

Citi Bank

Codral

Cosco

Canada Dry

Citi

Clal Insurance Enterprises

Clean & Clear

Clearblue

Clinique

Champion

Club Social

Coca Cola

Coffee Mate

Colgate

Comcast

Compass

Caesars

Conde Nast

Cooley LLP

Costco

Côte d’Or

Crest

CV Starr

CyberArk Software

Cytokinetics

Crayola

Cra Z Art

Daimler

Dr Pepper

Del Valle

Daim

Doctor Pepper

Dasani

Doritos

Daz

Dior

Dell

Deloitte

Delta Air Lines

Deutsche Bank

Deutsche Telekom

DHL Group

David Off

Disney

DLA Piper

Domestos

Domino’s

Douglas Elliman

Downy

Duane Morris LLP

Dreft Baby Detergent & Laundry Products

Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream

eBay

Edelman

Eli Lilly

Evian

Empyrean

Ericsson

Endeavor

EPAM Systems

Estee Lauder

Elbit Systems

Forbes

Facebook

Fairlife

Fanta

First International Bank of Israel

Fiverr

Funyuns

Fuze

Fox News

Fritos

Fox Corp

Gatorade

Gamida Cell

Glamglow

General Catalyst

General Motors

Georgia

Gold Peak

Genesys

Goldman Sachs

Grandma’s Cookies

Garnier

Guess

Greenberg Traurig

Guerlain

Givenchy

H&M

Hadiklaim

Huggies

Hanes

HSBC

Head & Shoulders

Hersheys

Herbert Smith Freehills

Hewlett Packard

Hasbro

Hyundai

Henkel

Harel Insurance Investment & Financial Services

Hewlett Packard Enterprise

HubSpot

Huntsman Corp

IBM

Innocent

Insight Partners

Inditex Group

IT Cosmetics

Instacart

Intermedia

Interpublic Group

Instagram

ICL Group

Intuit

Jazwares

Jefferies

John Lewis

JP Morgan Chase

Jaguar

Johnson & Johnson

JPMorgan

Kenon Holdings

Kate Spade

Kirks’

Kinley Water

KKR

KFC

KKW Cosmetics

Kurkure

Keebler

Kolynos

Kaufland

Kevita

Knorr

KPMG

Lemonade

Lidl

Loblaws

Levi Strauss

Louis Vuitton

Life Water

Levi’s

Levi’s Strauss

Land Rover

L’Oréal

Lego

Levissima

Live Nation Entertainment

Lufthansa

La Roche-Posay

Lipton

Major League Baseball

Manpower Group

Marriott

Marsh McLennan

Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Mastercard

Mattel

Minute Maid

Monster

Monki

Mainz FC

Mellow Yellow

Mountain Dew

Migdal Insurance

Marks & Spencer

Mirinda

McDermott Will & Emery

Motorola

McKinsey

Merck

Michael Kors

Mizrahi Tefahot Bank

Merck KGaA

Micheal Kors

Milkybar

Maybelline

Mount Franklin

Meta

MeUndies

Mattle

Microsoft

Munchies

Miranda

Morgan Lewis

Moroccanoil

Morgan Stanley

MRC

Nasdaq

Naughty Dog

Nivea

NOS

Nabisco

Nutter Butter

No Frills

National Basketball Association

National Geographic

Nintendo

New Balance

Nutella

Newtons

NVIDIA

Netflix

Nescafe

Nestle

Nesquick

Nike

Nussbeisser

Oreo

Oral B

Old spice

Oysho

Omeprazole

Oceanspray

Opodo

P&G (Procter and Gamble)

Pampers

Pull & Bear

Pepsi

Pfizer

Popeyes

Parker Pens

Philadelphia Cream Cheese

Pizza Hut

Powerade

Purina

Phoenix Holdings

Propel

Ponds

Pure Leaf Green Tea

Power Action Wipes

PwC

Prada

Perry Ellis

Prada Eyewear

Pringles

Payoneer

Procter & Gamble

Purelife

Pureology

Quaker Oats

Royal Bank of Canada

Ruffles

Revlon

Ralph Lauren

Ritz

Rolls Royce

Royal

S.Pellegrino

Sabra Hummus

Sabre

Sony

SAP

Simply

Smart Water

Sprite

Schwabe

Shell

Soda Stream

Siemens

StreamElements

Schweppes

Sunsilk

Signal

Skittles

Smart Food

Sobe

Smarties

Sephora

Sam’s Club

Superbus

Samsung

Sodastream

Sunkist

Scotiabank

Sour Patch Kids

Starbucks

Sadaf

Stride

Subway

Tang

Tate’s Bake Shop

The Body Shop

Tesco

Twitch

The Ordinary

Tim Hortons

Tostitos

Timberland

Topo Chico

Tapestry

Tropicana

Tommy Hilfiger

Tommy Hilfiger Toiletries

Turbos

Tom Ford

Taco Bell

Triscuit

TUC

Twix

Tottenham Hotspurs

Twisties

Tripadvisor

Uber

Uber Eats

Urban Decay

Upfield

Unilever

Vicks

Victoria’s Secret

Vaseline

Vitaminwater

Volkswagen

Volvo

Walmart

Wegmans

Waitrose

Woolworths

Wheat Thins

Walkers

Warner Brothers

Warner Chilcot

Warner Music

Wells Fargo

Winston & Strawn

WingStreet

Wissotzky Tea

WWE

Wheel Washing Powder

Wrigley Company

YouTube

Yvel

Yum Brands

Ziyad

Zara

Zim Shipping

Ziff Davis

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mariacallous · 30 days ago

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LGBTQ+ pride festivals around the country have lost millions of dollars in corporate sponsorships this year, as more companies fear being targeted by the Trump administration over their diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives.

Nearly a fourth of corporate donors to NYC Pride, including Mastercard, Citi, Pepsi, Nissan and PwC, pulled sponsorships totaling an estimated $750,000.

At WorldPride, held this year in Washington, D.C., consulting giants Booz Allen Hamilton and Deloitte dropped their sponsorships and have lost nearly $260,000 in funding.

Anheuser-Busch, the brewer for the brands Budweiser and Bud Light, withdrew sponsorship from pride events in San Francisco and Columbus, and in St. Louis where the company is headquartered.

The sharp decline in corporate sponsorship for pride festivals this year comes as President Donald Trump has threatened anything related to DEI and associated with the LGBTQ+ community ― and corporations have retreated their support.

On his first day in office, Trump signed an executive order declaring DEI initiatives “illegal and immoral discrimination,” and announced the termination of all federal offices and grants related to DEI training. In a second order, Trump vowed to end the federal funding of “gender ideology,” a right-wing term that is used to refer to the existence of transgender people and their rights.

Over the last decade, corporate America began to increasingly support Pride festivals after the Supreme Court ruled in favor of same-sex marriage in 2015. Pride-themed and rainbow-colored products, from clothing to credit cards, had become so universal at retailers each June that some began to critique corporate support as “rainbow capitalism.”

Critics lamented that corporations only supported LGBTQ+ communities with big displays during Pride while being silent the rest of the year ― or in some cases donating millions to anti-LGBTQ politicians.

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jjmcquade-misc · 3 months ago

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How Obama Transformed the U.S. Intelligence System into an Untouchable Force

The sprawling U.S. intelligence apparatus wasn’t Barack Obama’s invention, it emerged in the wake of 9/11 under George W. Bush, who laid the groundwork with the Patriot Act and a retooled security state. But Obama didn’t just inherit this system; he refined it, expanded it, and entrenched it so deeply into the fabric of American governance that it became nearly impossible for anyone, even a president, to rein it in. His tenure marked a pivotal shift, normalizing a decentralized, privatized, and largely unaccountable intelligence leviathan. Here’s how it unfolded.

The story begins in the early 2000s, when the Bush administration responded to the September 11 attacks with sweeping surveillance powers and a new security architecture. The Patriot Act of 2001 granted agencies like the NSA and FBI unprecedented authority to monitor communications, often sidestepping traditional oversight. By the time Obama took office in 2009, this framework was already in place, but it was still raw, controversial, and subject to scrutiny. Obama’s task wasn’t to build it from scratch; it was to polish it, protect it, and make it permanent.

One of his earliest moves came in 2011, when he signed a renewal of the Patriot Act with a Democratic-controlled Congress. Rather than scaling back Bush-era policies, he leaned into them, signaling that the post-9/11 security state wasn’t a temporary overreach but a new baseline. That same year, he authorized the drone strike that killed Anwar al-Awlaki, a U.S. citizen, without judicial review—a decision rooted in a secretive “Disposition Matrix,” a kill-list system driven by CIA intelligence and insulated from external oversight. Over his presidency, Obama would greenlight over 500 drone strikes, far surpassing Bush’s tally, establishing a precedent for extrajudicial action that relied heavily on intelligence feeds.

Surveillance took a leap forward under Executive Order 12333, which Obama expanded to allow warrantless collection and sharing of raw signals intelligence (SIGINT) across federal agencies. What had once been concentrated in the NSA and FBI now seeped into every corner of the government, from the Department of Homeland Security to the Treasury. This decentralization diluted accountability, as data flowed freely between departments with little public scrutiny.

The 2013 Snowden leaks threw a spotlight on this system. Edward Snowden, a contractor for Booz Allen Hamilton working with the NSA, exposed illegal mass surveillance programs like PRISM and bulk metadata collection, revealing how deeply the government had tapped into private tech giants, Google, Facebook, Microsoft, Apple. Obama’s response was telling: he defended the programs, prosecuted whistleblowers like Snowden, and declined to hold the architects accountable. PRISM became a blueprint for a public-private surveillance partnership, unregulated by Congress, immune to FOIA requests, and beyond democratic reach. Meanwhile, the reliance on contractors like Booz Allen ballooned, by the end of his tenure, 70–80% of the intelligence budget flowed through private firms, funneling billions into an opaque ecosystem.

Obama also shielded the intelligence community from legal consequences. In 2014, the Senate’s Torture Report laid bare CIA abuses, black sites, waterboarding, and even spying on the Senate investigators themselves. Yet Obama refused to prosecute, famously urging the nation to “look forward, not backward.” This stance didn’t just protect individuals; it cemented a culture of impunity, signaling that the intelligence apparatus operated above the law.

Beyond surveillance and legal protections, Obama supercharged the bureaucracy. The Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI), created under Bush, gained sweeping coordination powers under his watch, but rather than centralizing control, it added layers of insulation between the president and field operations. He also empowered hybrid units like Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) and CIA task forces, which blended military and intelligence functions. These shadowy outfits operated in dozens of countries with lethal authority, secretive chains of command, and minimal oversight from Congress or even their own headquarters.

By 2017, as his presidency wound down, Obama made a final play: he authorized a rule change allowing the NSA to share raw, unfiltered data with 16 other intelligence agencies, stripping away privacy safeguards. This move ensured that the system he’d built could hum along without presidential intervention, its reach embedded in local “fusion centers,” secret courts, and corporate data pipelines.

The outcome was staggering. By the time Obama left office, the intelligence network spanned 17 agencies, leaned heavily on unaccountable contractors, and fused with private tech infrastructure. It wasn’t just bigger, it was untouchable, legalized through executive loopholes and shielded from reform. Obama became the first president to weave intelligence into every layer of government, from foreign policy to law enforcement, but in doing so, he relinquished control. The republic did too. No future leader would easily dismantle this machine, not because it was too strong, but because it had become too diffuse, too ingrained, too essential to the modern state. Obama's Intelligence Policy

#obama #democrats #nsa #surveillance #Snowden #cia #republicans #donald trump #jd vance #robert kennedy jr #tulsi gabbard #maga #joe biden

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us-cj · 3 months ago

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DOGE update from Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth: “We're back with another update on cutting wasteful spending here at DOGE, and this one is, as they say, a big one. This is a big day. We're signing a memo right now directing the termination of $5.1 billion in DOGE contracts—not million, that's with a B—$5.1 billion in DOGE contracts for ancillary things like consulting and other non-essential services.

So here's a few examples: DHA contracts for consulting services from Accenture, Deloitte, Booz Allen, and other firms are going to save the department $1.8 billion. How about a software reseller contract for enterprise cloud IT services, saving the department $1.4 billion? A $500 million Navy contract for business process consulting—again, process, lots of process, lots of consultant—for administrative offices in the Bureau of Medicine. By the way, we need this money to spend on better healthcare for our warfighters and their families instead of $500 an hour business process consultants. That's a lot of consulting.

How about this: a DARPA contract for IT help desk services that are completely duplicative with services already provided by our DISA workforce, saving the department another $500 million. We're also terminating, on the DEI front, 11 more contracts for DEI, climate, COVID-19 response, and related non-essential activities across the department. We are committed to rooting out DEI—root and branch—throughout this department, and we've found 11 more contracts and we're going to keep looking.

So that's $5.1 billion in DOGE contracts we're getting rid of. On top of that, in support of the President's priorities to stop federal funding for academic institutions that tolerate anti-Semitism and support divisive DEI programs, this week, DOGE is also pausing over $500 million in funding to Northwestern University and Cornell University, and that's on top of the $70 million in funding we've already paused at Columbia, Penn, Brown, and Princeton over the last few weeks— as if any of these institutions need more government money at all.

So, for you keeping score at home, today's cuts bring our running total to nearly $6 billion in wasteful spending over the first six weeks of the DOGE effort here at the Defense Department. Their job is to go out and find the stuff that we can get rid of and then flow back into—drive back into—warfighting capabilities here at the Defense Department. So we want to thank our friends at DOGE, we want to thank all the folks here that have helped us unpack this, reveal it, and we're excited to make these cuts on behalf of you, the taxpayer, and the warfighters here at the department. Thanks.”

#DOGE #SECDEF HEGSETH #MAGA #donald trump #president trump

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agirlsawalittlerose · 3 months ago

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This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 23: Seven Wonders - Part 1

You touched my hand, I played it cool - Sara

There was something about arriving at a party with your best friend that made you feel like the main character in a coming-of-age film—minus the high school drama, plus better shoes.

Sara adjusted the strap of her metallic silver heels as they stepped through the wrought-iron gate and into the courtyard of the infamous London villa where Stevie Nicks had organized her party. She had to admit, even for someone with an active imagination and a taste for spectacle, this place was ridiculous—in the best possible way.

“Okay, I get it, I won’t talk shit about your new job ever again,” she whispered to Vic, glancing up at the stained-glass windows and wild tangle of ivy that wrapped around the stone facade like the set of a haunted musical. “If I don’t end up drunk in that fountain by midnight, I’ve failed us both.”

Vic snorted, linking her arm with Sara’s. “I believe in you. Aim for grace, land in chaos.”

The place looked like the lovechild of a gothic cathedral and a glam rock fever dream. Velvet curtains billowed from second-floor windows. Chandeliers twinkled behind open doors. Somewhere inside, a harpist was playing a rendition of Dreams, but with enough distortion to make it feel like a witch was about to hex the entire guest list. It was perfect.

Sara took a deep breath, already scanning the crowd. She loved parties—not just the music and dancing and free booze, but the electricity in the air. All those lives colliding, intersecting, rewriting their stories in real time. It was intoxicating.

“God, I needed this,” she said, leaning into Vic. “I’ve been stuck in callbacks all week with guys named Chadwick. One of them told me I had ‘a very Irish energy’ and I’m not even sure what the fuck that means.”

Vic burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that made Sara proud of herself.

“That’s probably racist,” Vic offered, sipping from her tiny can of gin and tonic they’d picked up on the walk over.

“Oh, definitely,” Sara agreed. “But it was also the most interesting thing anyone’s said to me in a casting room all month, so I kind of respect it.”

They stepped into the foyer, which was dimly lit and somehow smelled like rose incense and very old money. The crowd was already thick—people in floor-length velvet, crushed sequins, feathered collars. One guy walked past wearing nothing but a gold mesh jumpsuit and a tambourine. Sara gave him a respectful nod.

“I’m obsessed,” she whispered. “He’s either a genius or dangerously unwell.”

“Why not both?” Vic offered.

For a second, everything felt easy. Golden. Like maybe being in your late twenties and broke and uncertain was worth it if you could have nights like this—dressed to kill, shoulder to shoulder with someone who got you down to your bones.

Sara turned toward her, a mock-serious expression on her face. “Hey. Thanks for making me come tonight. It’s my favorite part of the year already.”

Vic rolled her eyes but blushed anyway. “Shut up.”

“No you shut up. I’m having an emotionally honest moment.”

“You’re literally wearing glitter eyeliner.”

“And I meant every word of it,” Sara said, bowing dramatically.

They were mid-cackle when a voice interrupted.

“There you are.”

Allen, Vic’s manager. To be fair he was also Stevie Nicks’ manager. Tall, polished, and as serious as ever. He looked like someone who kept a to-do list for his holidays.

Vic barely managed not to sigh out loud. “Well, good evening.”

“I need to steal you for a second,” he said. “I wanted to introduce you to a friend.”

Vic’s eyebrows lifted. “Stevie Nicks?” she said, hopeful and giddy, on the verge of exploding.

Allen laughed. “She’s not here yet, but come with me anyway.”

She glanced at Sara with a quick sorry babe, duty calls shrug.

Sara waved her off. “Go. Charm them into oblivion.”

“I intend to.”

Vic leaned in, kissed Sara on the cheek, and whispered, “If I come back and you’re dancing on a table, I’ll be so proud.”

And just like that, she disappeared into the sea of silk and champagne.

And that’s when Sara saw him: Aemond Targaryen, dressed head-to-toe in black, as boring as ever, standing alone at the bar on the far side of the room with the expression of someone who’d just watched the last sausage roll at Greggs get swiped from under his nose.

That little unsettled score came rushing back to her—and the lecture she’d been meaning to give him for days. It took her exactly one second to cross the room.

“Well, now that you’re here, the party can finally begin,” she commented dryly, ordering a glass of prosecco from the bartender without looking at him.

She obviously noticed Aemond roll his eyes. Aries. No—Scorpio, maybe. He’d always given her that cold, calculated vibe, but the kind of guy who probably cried alone in a corner where no one could see him.

“Unlike some cheeky plus ones,” he began, tossing her a sideways glance full of disdain, “I’m here for work. And it’s hard to enjoy anything when you’re surrounded by your family.”

He nodded subtly toward what looked like the lizard man himself in a designer suit—Viserys Targaryen, deep in animated conversation with the same blonde girl Sara had seen a few days ago. His daughter. Aemond and Aegon’s sister. She was wearing a stunning forest-green dress with dramatic batwing sleeves and a face dusted in glitter. What a vibe, Sara thought, immediately wanting to know who did her makeup.

“Should we go rescue her?” Sara asked, tilting her head, noting the girl's expression—that familiar mix of please kill me and I will set you on fire levels of boredom.

“Helaena? Nah. She’s probably not even listening,” Aemond replied with a shrug.

Sara let her gaze linger a moment longer on the weird father-daughter scene before turning her full attention back to Aemond.

“Listen. I don’t like what you’re doing with Vic.”

Her voice was steady, anchored in the kind of authority that came from knowing she was right. She fully expected Aemond to take her seriously. Instead, he glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.

“You guys are all over her. She’s overwhelmed, she can’t even see Aegon lately—”

He cut her off with a sarcastic scoff, and something about that noise made Sara’s skin crawl.

“I think you should mind your own fucking business,” he said coldly, his tone sharp and distant, but laced with something deeper—an irritation she couldn’t quite trace.

Excuse me?

“I’ll decide what my business is,” she snapped, straightening her posture. “And I see what you’re trying to do.”

Another eyebrow raise. That infuriating, silent little gesture. Like she was just background noise to him.

Sara crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes.

“You think no one’s noticed?” she said, voice low and sure. “You’re not exactly subtle, Aemond.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. Just slightly. But she caught it.

“There’s nothing to notice,” he replied, clipped.

“Oh, come on. I might be dramatic, but I’m not stupid. The way you’re using this—this weird protector act—as an excuse to stay close…”

Something flickered in his eyes. Just for a second. Then it was gone, replaced by that cool, condescending calm he wore like armor.

“And even if I were,” he said, voice cutting, “what exactly do you think you’re doing? Hovering around her like a stage mom with a vendetta. You think being loud makes you right?”

Sara scoffed. “This isn’t about me. This is about you being manipulative and not owning it.”

“You think you’re some kind of authority just because you can project your voice across a room?” Aemond leaned in slightly, his tone venom-soft now. “It’s not surprising, really—that no one’s casting you in anything.”

That landed. A clean hit. Sara froze, mid-retort, her mouth parting slightly, but no sound coming out.

“I mean,” Aemond continued, casually cruel now, that glint in his eye turning colder, “who’s going to cast someone who walks into every room like she’s already directing the show? Telling everyone else how to play their part?”

Sara blinked. Her spine stiffened, but it was too late—the wound had already split open inside her.

She hated how quiet she went. Hated that she felt it so deeply. Because he’d aimed perfectly. That voice in the back of her mind—the one that whispered she was too much, too intense, not leading lady material—he’d given it a name and a face.

Aemond didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked like he wanted to die himself for totally different reasons.

“Well,” she finally said, swallowing around the lump in her throat, “at least I don’t pretend to be some noble martyr while quietly sabotaging the people I care about.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at her, jaw tight again, that storm behind his eye brewing something she didn’t know how to name.

And then he disappeared, leaving her there.

Sara felt a flicker of discomfort, that heat in her chest that always came right after a gut-punch, but she forced herself to shake it off. She didn’t actually care what he thought of her. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that some part of her couldn’t help but agree.

Projecting her voice across a room was her greatest strength—but maybe, just maybe, it didn’t quite fit with the image of meek collaboration that 90% of those cursed men sitting in directors’ chairs wanted to see.

She wondered, just for a second, if she should play the game. If it was worth it to shrink herself just enough to make some asshole feel powerful.

But no.

It wasn’t worth it. It had never been worth it. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now, just because one more entitled man had tried to make her feel small.

Asshole.

She took another sip of wine and let her gaze sweep across the room.

Everywhere she looked, the night had gone slightly off-script—in the most theatrical way. One corner of the room was occupied by a trio of men in velvet capes and glitter eyeliner, arguing about tarot readings with the intensity of a televised debate. A woman with a shaved head and a floor-length tulle skirt was offering temporary tattoos out of a vintage suitcase, pausing only to sip champagne straight from the bottle.

Near the fireplace, a tall man in a silver lamé suit and no shirt was playing the harp—very badly—but no one had the heart to tell him. Two people dressed as twin David Bowies (from two different eras) were deep in conversation with a drag queen styled as Marie Antoinette, powdered wig included, who held court from a peacock-shaped armchair like she was born to it.

Someone had brought a falcon. An actual falcon. It sat perfectly still on the arm of a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a Renaissance fair and simply never gone back.

Sara blinked at the falcon. Then at the glitter. Then at the woman tap-dancing in the hallway wearing only body paint and a fur coat.

She grinned.

God, she loved weird parties.

Eventually, her eyes landed on Helaena—still trapped in the same conversation with her father. The girl looked back at her and stuck out her tongue in an exaggerated expression of disgust, confirming that yes, she’d rather be incinerated than continue pretending to listen.

Sara smiled. And to her delight, Helaena seemed to take the look as a lifeline. In a blink, she was gracefully extracting herself and heading over, her wide skirt flowing with each stride, cowboy boots just visible beneath the hem, a trail of ethereal beauty practically following in her wake.

She stopped right in front of Sara, rummaged boldly into the neckline of her corset, pulled out what she’d been hunting for, and fixed Sara with a glinting, mischievous stare.

“Joint?”

---

Twenty minutes later, they were in the tent Stevie Nicks—madwoman, icon—had had set up in the garden. No chairs, just layers of rich rugs and plush pillows. The soft light of a thousand paper lanterns flickered through the leaves of a jungle’s worth of plants, which Helaena had inspected with curious reverence when they’d arrived.

“…And then that disgusting creep pretended to be a guest at the hotel just to sneak us in through the main entrance,” Sara finished, eyes red and glassy from the weed, as Helaena burst into laughter and nearly choked on the smoke.

“Jesus, he could have kidnapped you.” Helaena commented once able to speak.

Sara couldn’t help but laugh too, even at her own story—this absurd memory of a night when the so-called orchestra director from her small town had invited her and her friend to “talk about work” in the hotel pool at midnight. Of course, looking back, it was just a flimsy excuse to ogle them half-naked. And of course, Sara saw it clearly now.

But in that moment, with her head light from the high, sprawled on a thick carpet, her partner-in-chaos wheezing from laughter beside her—she couldn’t help but find the whole thing hilarious.

Even with its very messed-up undertones.

Sara shifted on the cushions, her legs curled under her, wine glass balancing delicately on her knee. The carpet beneath her was impossibly plush, the kind of texture that begged you to lie back and spill secrets.

Helaena was still laughing, quietly now, her eyes shining and her voice raspy from the smoke. Her curls—messy and wild from the humidity—had taken on a haloed effect in the golden light. Her green velvet dress pooled around her like moss in motion, her silver glitter catching the lanterns just enough to make her look like she’d been sprinkled with stardust.

Sara leaned back on her elbows and looked at her. There was something about Helaena—like she’d wandered into the wrong century and decided to stay. A kind of gentle oddity that felt just easy to watch.

“You know,” Sara said, drawing out the vowels with mock seriousness, “if I ever go missing, this is the exact kind of place I’d want to be held hostage in. Slightly witchy, good rugs, and enough cushions to stage a very dramatic monologue about longing and betrayal.”

Helaena gave her a slow smile. “Would you want an audience?”

“Only if they bring snacks.”

Helaena’s laugh was lower this time, warm. “And a fog machine?”

Sara pointed at her, nodding. “You get it.”

Helaena laughed, shifting slightly to face her more, the folds of her dress sliding like water over the rugs. “You had me picturing that disgusting pool and that horrible man like it was a Greek tragedy.”

Sara smirked, but there was the faintest blush creeping up her cheeks. “Occupational hazard. I like the way people lean in when you spin something right.”

“You should do it more.”

Sara raised a brow. “What, tell stories?”

“Yes,” Helaena said, almost too quickly. Then she adjusted, casually, like it was nothing. “I mean. Tell them your way. I know you’re an actress, but ever thought about directing something?”

That caught her off guard. Sara blinked, sitting up a little straighter.

“I… actually—no one’s ever asked me that.”

Helaena tilted her head, curls falling to one side. “Well. I just did.”

The wine in Sara’s hand swirled, forgotten. She felt a sudden rush of something electric at the base of her spine, the way you do when someone you didn’t expect sees you a little too clearly.

She didn’t answer right away. But her smile turned thoughtful. Curious.

Maybe even a little unusually shy.

“Direct?” she repeated, brow furrowing. “Like… direct-direct? Yelling ‘action’ and wearing one of those obnoxious puffers on set and making people cry in the name of vision?”

Helaena grinned. “I mean, you could skip the puffer. But yeah. That kind of direct.”

Sara let out a puff of air, something between a scoff and a laugh. “God. That’s wild. I’ve spent years auditioning for men who think eyeliner is character development and who say things like ‘make it more… natural’ when what they really mean is ‘smaller, quieter, less.’”

“Yeah,” Helaena said, lighting another joint with quiet precision. “I’ve edited their work.”

Sara’s laugh was warm, too loud, then instantly muffled by her hand over her mouth. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have a folder of the worst male voiceovers I’ve ever had to cut. I play them when I’m sad.”

Sara flopped back onto the cushions with a theatrical groan, one hand over her face. “You’re telling me I could’ve just walked in and said ‘I want to be the one calling the shots’ instead of begging to be Juliet number seven in a regional tour where the director thinks feminism is giving her a knife in act three?”

“I mean…” Helaena exhaled smoke and watched it curl up toward the tent’s ceiling. “You could. You still can.”

Sara peeked at her through her fingers. “It’s actually kind of insane,” she said, her voice slower now, more thoughtful, “how deeply the patriarchy doesn’t even want women to imagine themselves in positions of power.”

Helaena looked over at her, eyes glittering in the lantern light. “That’s what gets me,” she said softly. “The way it steals the question before you can even form it.”

Sara turned her head toward her on the rug. “Holy shit. That was profound.”

Helaena smiled without teeth, slow and secret. “Maybe it’s the weed.”

“True,” Sara said, quieter now. Then, almost without meaning to, “You’re kind of scary smart.”

“Of course, I’m an Aquarius”

Sara lit up at the mention of her favorite girly topic. “Pisces moon, right? You said it the other day—I am too.”

Helaena covered her mouth with one hand in surprise and passed her the joint with the other. “Such a diva,” she said with the serene calm of someone who, in hindsight, was not at all surprised. “Makes sense why I like you.”

Sara nodded confidently, already convinced of the cosmic compatibility. She took a drag and exhaled slowly, before turning her full attention back to Helaena.

“Also,” she added, shifting onto one elbow and resting her chin in her palm, “I absolutely love your makeup.” She gestured with one finger to the glitter around Helaena’s eyes—maybe just a bit too close to her face.

Helaena didn’t flinch. She just watched her with that quiet stillness of hers, then smiled. “Aw, thanks, girl.”

“I love that clip,” Helaena said next, nodding toward the dragonfly barrette tucked into Sara’s red hair. It was a deep, forest green—the same shade as Helaena’s dress—and Sara had picked it for the contrast. Stylish. Intentional. She reached up and took it out without thinking.

She rolled it between her fingers, smile hazy, the joint still smoldering between the tips of the other hand. Smoke curled lazily between them, carrying her thoughts somewhere far off.

Then—still without much thought—Sara set the joint down, leaned in just slightly, and tried to keep her balance as she clipped the barrette into Helaena’s long, pale hair.

It looked better on her than it ever had on Sara.

When she finished, she noticed Helaena’s eyes on her. She hadn’t even realized she’d been that close, distracted by the shimmer on her eyelids and how the light from a nearby lantern caught both the barrette and the fine strands of her blonde hair like it had been painted that way on purpose.

She also hadn’t realized her hand was still hovering there, somewhere near her cheek.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Helaena said softly. “Like… a little forest sprite.”

Sara swallowed. And for the first time—ever, maybe—she felt a kind of flutter that was entirely new. Soft. Strange. Warm in the wrong places.

Wet.

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