androgynous renascent

20+/ they/ seazn

[quasi-normalcy]

We have this interesting situation where we basically no longer have privacy nor the expectation of privacy, but we also don't have community or meaningful connection with others, so we're all simultaneously both completely exposed and absolutely alone, and please understand that when I say this situation is "interesting", what I in fact mean is that it's "nightmarish and I wish I could wake up"

[void-flesh]

[hapakiiid-blog-blog-blog]

[dragon-in-a-fez]

genuinely wild to me when I go to someone's house and we watch TV or listen to music or something and there are ads. I haven't seen an ad in my home since 2005. what do you mean you haven't set up multiple layers of digital infrastructure to banish corporate messaging to oblivion before it manifests? listen, this is important. this is the 21st century version of carving sigils on the wall to deny entry to demons or wearing bells to ward off the Unseelie. come on give me your router admin password and I'll show you how to cast a protective spell of Get Thee Tae Fuck, Capital

[bigmann-mclargehuge]

Share the knowledge

[dragon-in-a-fez]

Okay, here we go! I'm gonna try and put this in order from least to most technical knowledge required. I'm not responsible if you accidentally create SkyNet etc.

Level 1: browser extensions

This one is basically impossible to get wrong, or at least to get wrong badly enough that it causes any problems.

Get Firefox, or a Firefox fork like Waterfox. If you use a fork, make sure it's one that will let you use add-ons. On a PC, pretty much any Firefox fork will take add-ons, but on mobile devices, many don't. Iceraven is one that does.

Get the add-ons uBlock Origin, YouTube Sponsorblock (if you use YouTube), and FBCleaner (if you use Facebook).

uBlock Origin comes with a built-in list of filters to block ads and trackers, but you can add your own filters to block any specific element of a website you don't like. You know those goddamn floating frames on fandom.com sites that block half the screen? Now you can zap 'em.

Sponsorblock uses crowdsourced timestamps to automatically skip sponsor spots and self-promotion in YouTube videos. Never listen to anyone say "hit like and subscribe" or "Raid Shadow Legends" again.

FBCleaner hides all content from your feed except posts from people, groups, and pages you've actually chosen to follow.

Level 2: leaving enshittified services

The software that's become standard over the years in a lot of fields is steadily selling more of your data, showing you more ads, and pushing you to buy more expensive subscriptions. Time to tell them to get fucked.

Dump Adobe apps for Affinity or Krita. Drop Microsoft for LibreOffice. Change your default search engine from Google to DuckDuckGo or Qwant. Use OpenStreetMaps instead of Google or Apple Maps.

Level 3: network-level DNS fuckery

DNS, or Domain Name Service, is the thing that tells your computer where www.website.com is actually located. By hacking your network's DNS you can force it to tell your devices that ad-hosting domains don't exist at all. Some of the steps on this one can get pretty technical, but because you're doing all the difficult stuff on a dedicated device, you can't really fuck up anything that seriously.

Get yourself a Raspberry Pi (a cheap older one like a model 3B will work just fine for this purpose), and follow a guide like this one to get it set up running AdGuard Home. AdGuard, like uBlock, has built-in filter lists, but you can also add your own if there are specific domains you want to block.

Once it's up and running, you'll need to change the DNS settings on your router to point to your AdGuard service. This is different for every router but will always start with logging into the admin panel with a password printed on a little sticker somewhere on the router.

With that done, every time a device on your home network looks for ads.website.com, it'll get back a message that says "sorry, can't find it", so it won't be able to load any ads.

Level 4: Android-specific DNS fuckery

Because AdGuard runs on your home network, it can't block ads on your phone when you're away from home - and what's worse, your phone will sometimes remember the addresses it got when you were out and about, and ads will get past your AdGuard wall even when you're home.

To avoid this, get AdAway for DNS-based ad-blocking directly on your phone. The easy, but less seamless, way of using AdAway is the "local VPN mode", which doesn't require you to do any mucking about with your phone's operating system.

Level 5: automated media piracy

The best way to stop seeing ads on all your streaming services is to stop using streaming services. There are loads of ways to do this, but the best ones involve setting up what's called an "arr stack" (Google that for setup guides) along with nzbget and a usenet account. Most of the time you'll want to set this stuff up on a dedicated device - an old laptop gathering dust in the closet is a great option, or you can grab something used from a charity shop or a local electronics recycler.

The great thing about usenet is that unlike with torrents, you don't have to do any sharing from your computer, so you're in a lot less legal jeopardy - legally speaking, distributing pirated content is waaayyy more serious than accessing it. I pay about £3 a month for a secure, high-bandwidth usenet service.

Once you start getting your own collection of media on your own computer, use the open-source media library manager Jellyfin to browse and play things from basically any device.

Oh, and don't be a dick. Pirate all you want from big corporations, but please pay independent small-time creators for their work.

Level 6: fucking with Android

Android phones are a lot more locked-down than they used to be, but depending on the device you own you can still do a lot of messing around under the hood. Note that if you get something wrong while doing this, there is always the possibility that it will turn your device into a paperweight.

Before you buy a device, check where it sits on the Bootloader Unlock Wall of Shame. Once you've bought it, check the xda-developer forums for guides on how to unlock it and "root" it (gain admin access) with Magisk.

Once Magisk is installed, you can add modules to do all sorts of cool stuff, including using AdAway in "root mode" which makes it basically invisible.

You can also install YouTube ReVanced, which will do all the ad- and sponsor blocking stuff we took care of in your Windows browser a few paragraphs ago. Be careful: there are a lot of fake sites out there pretending they're associated with the ReVanced project which might be injecting malware into their downloads. This Reddit post has the official instructions and links.

Also, try out the modded version of Facebook from APKmoddone, which will block most of the same shit as the FBcleaner add-on from earlier. There's always a possibility that modified apps like this are doing something dodgy, but I've never had any issues with this one personally.

Level 7: fucking with Windows

This one is scary because it can seriously fuck up your shit if something goes wrong, but some really cool people have actually made it very simple to strip all the bloat, ads, and spyware out of Windows. The tool I use is ReviOS. Start reading at https://www.revi.cc/docs. Basically, you'll need to download a tool called AME Wizard and the ReviOS "playbook" that tells AME what to do. Read the documentation before you do any of this.

Level 8: switching to Linux

I'm not going to pretend this is an option for everyone. Half the software I use on a weekly basis isn't available on Linux. But if you can switch? Do it. These days, Ubuntu - one of the most popular flavours of Linux - is built with people switching from Windows in mind, and a lot of things will be pretty intuitive. It also has great documentation and a huge community you can go to for help if you're confused about stuff.

And that, friends, is a comprehensive approach to banishing the demons of capitalism from your home!

[klymilark]

Something I want to add:

You don't even need a pihole for it anymore. You can throw "dns.adguard-dns.com" into your android phone under Network (or Connections) > Private DNS > Private DNS Provider Hostname in your Settings app. You can also set your router up to use it via the IPs:

94.140.14.14

94.140.14.15

Link to to source for that:

AdGuard DNS — ad-blocking DNS server

Create your ad-blocking DNS server that will protect your personal data, prevent tracking and allow you to control access to specific conten

That will depend on your router, just search "How to set up custom DNS for (router name & model)". You can usually find that info on a sticker on the router itself. The model name is often nonsense like CM1000.

For switching to Linux:

If you're worried about software not working, and the software isn't something with work-related requirements attached, you can usually find alternatives. Alternativeto.net is a good place to start with that.

AlternativeTo - Crowdsourced software recommendations

AlternativeTo lets you find apps and software for Windows, Mac, Linux, iPhone, iPad, Android, Android Tablets, Web Apps, Online, Windows Tab

If you're a gamer, protondb.com will let you see how well your specific game runs on Linux. Ranks are from:

Borked - Does Not Work At All, or works so poorly that you cannot play the game at all

Bronze - Sort of works, but with glitches that don't exist on Windows that affect gameplay

Silver - Works, but requires tinkering, and has glitches that don't affect gameplay, or requires heavy tinkering to get running

Gold - Works, requires mild tinkering (usually just selecting another proton version from the drop down)

Platinum - Works out of the box

Native - Is made for Linux

Other common alternatives:

Spotify: I've heard good things about Tidal, but haven't personally used it (I use a cloud storage service and local files for music)

Google drive: Nextcloud. You can find free servers on their website

Google office: OnlyOffice has a desktop/mobile app, and most of the features

Gmail: Free providers aren't common, but disroot is one of them. They also offer quite a few services. Personally I use mailbox.org, but they do cost $36 a year minimum

Google search: Disroot has a searx instance, startpage.com exists, and you'd be surprised at how far you can get by setting your default search engine to Wikipedia. Marginalia's also good, but selective about what they index (mostly indieweb stuff)

I, admittedly, run almost everything through Emacs nowadays, so there may be better alternatives now.

(Directed generally) Also remember that in most cases the problems are Google, Apple, Facebook, Amazon, and Microsoft. If you find a small project that isn't perfect, remember that those five companies are probably worse in every way imaginable. Look for an alternative, but for the love of whatever you hold dear, Google is *not* a better alternative.

[docmelking]

HEATHER COLLINS -> 1.01 7:00 A.M.

[florial]

[ideletedmyblogbye-deactivated20]

Evan McCone —

[ohmovie]

Boy found that button, didn't he?

SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

[deletedblog000-deactivated20260]

Hai! Request for Evan McCone! A scenario where Dan Killian is being too comfortable with reader, and McCone is unable to do anything about it. ^^ TYSM and have a happy new year!

Boss ⋆˚. ♡ ´-

Evan McCone x Reader

Thank you for the request! The reader works for the running man set as a technician, and Dan Killian is too comfortable being boss tee hee sorry I giggling writing this fic lmao ok. Part of a series of short stories! SMUT WARNING

the running man, evan mccone x reader, masked man, masked men, slow burn, tension, workplace romance, guns, dan killian, choking, SMUT, fem reader

You kneeled by the cable racks, fiddling with the mic packs, letting your mind drift. The hum of lights, the faint whir of cameras, the clatter of crew boots, it was the usual rhythm, and you were almost bored with it.

Evan was nearby, methodically running his gloved hand along his favorite rifle. Just work. But you had gotten used to his quiet presence, the way his attention lingered on the small details, how he seemed aware of everything around him without saying a word.

You stretched slightly, trying to shake off the monotony. A ripple of movement caught your peripheral vision. You glanced up. Someone was approaching from the far side of the stage, moving with an ease that seemed to part the crowd. At first you thought it was just another crew member, but the posture, the silhouette of his jacket, the easy confidence. It was Killian. Sliding through the space like he owned it, which, of course, he did.

He stopped in front of you unexpectedly. You straightened slightly, your fingers pausing on the strap. You hadn’t expected him today.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth, teasing. “Keeping my favorite asset busy, are we?”

You glanced at Evan. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as lifted a hand in response, mask and dark glasses unreadable. But the sharp tilt of his head, the way his gloved fingers tightened just slightly, only you could tell he sensed something was off.

Killian adjusted his posture to face you, letting one shoulder press lightly against the console. He didn’t step closer just yet, just watched you for a moment, like he was assessing, amused.

The faint scent of whisky drifted distinctly now, mingling with the industrial tang of the set.

A long pause followed.

“Good morning sir —”

“I’ve been meaning to find you,” he said, voice low, smile glinting in the faint stage light. “I was impressed by how you had handled Chief McCone for our last episode.”

You blinked. “I...It was just my job... sir.”

“Of course, of course,” he said, grinning. “But most people don’t do it… with finesse or… flair.” His eyes drifted to yours, lingered. “And some finesse deserves recognition, don’t you think?”

You shifted, awkward. “Well… I appreciated that.”

“Flattery won’t get you the promotion,” he said, voice teasing. “But neither will ignoring it.” He stepped a fraction closer, just enough that the light caught his cuff link. “Maybe... a title upgrade. I think you’d like it.”

You flushed, not knowing quite how to respond to his forwardness.

“Don’t be modest,” he interrupted softly, leaning closer, letting his hand brush the edge of the monitor near you. “You make him look flawless. You keep everything in line. Someone should thank you.”

You glanced at Evan. He was now frozen in place like a statue. His hand held the gun magazine, looking down, yet you could tell he had paused his check mid-air to listen.

Your eyes traced his frame for a split second, feeling the weight of silence, then back at Killian. “I'm not sure—,” you stuttered quietly.

“Flattered looked good on you,” Killian murmured. “Better than you realized.” He gestured at the emptying set around you, his back to Evan, tone teasing, almost intimate. “Everyone else has wandered off. It's just us now. Don’t make me wait.”

Your stomach twisted. Out of sight, Evan didn’t move. Didn’t even look towards you. Yet the air around him hummed with quiet menace. Each deliberate motion, adjusting a strap, sliding a buckle, was sharpened, more forceful now, almost pointed. You could hear it. And when your eyes met his dark lenses past Killian's shoulder, for the briefest second, he didn’t need words. You felt it. The unspoken warning: the moment the space cleared, he was coming for you.

Killian's hand suddenly brushed your arm so noticeably that it almost stung.

Evan’s posture tightened imperceptibly, gloved hands pressing a little harder. Inside, something sick and uncomfortable was slow-building, simmering. Flattered by him? Really? That drunk fucking bastard—

Evan couldn't help but silently remember the way you laughed at a joke he’d made last week while tightening his harness. The brush of your fingers over his shoulder, how you stood closer...and now you were closer to him, to this piece of shit he had to kiss up to every day. To Killian. It burned something hot and uncomfortable in his chest.

Killian leaned back slightly, smirk sharp. “I hope I’m not being too forward,” he said, eyes glinting. He spun toward Evan, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Chief McCone,” he said casually, voice raised. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked your opinion.”

Evan didn’t look up. His hands resumed with mechanical precision, slotting the magazine home, checking the chamber. Click. Smooth. Controlled. Killian chuckled.

“Still the strong, silent type. That’s why they love you.” He turned slightly, positioning himself so you were caught between them without actually moving you.

“But you work closely with my technician here, don’t you?”

Evan’s jaw tightened.

“Yes, sir.” Evan's voice was low and sultry as always.

“Look at me.” Killian's voice was more firm this time.

Evan hesitated, only a fraction of a second, then obeyed.

Killian began snaking his arm around your waist as if dangling you in front of Evan's face like a treat. It was obvious how he was teasing. Killian searched his masked expression, slow and deliberate, savoring the restraint, the fury he kept on a leash.

“You’d never cross that line,” Killian said softly, his voice almost too low. “Not without permission, without being told.” He spoke intimately, as if only Evan should hear. “Isn’t that right, Chief?”

Evan’s answer came out strained.

“My focus,” he said nonchalantly, “is maintaining operational readiness.”

Killian tilted his head. “And if my attention interferes with that?”

The lenses hid his eyes, but not the tension in his neck, the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his chest rose too fast before he reined it in.

“It wouldn’t,” Evan said almost too quickly.

Killian’s smile sharpened. “You’re sure?”

Evan’s mouth opened. Then closed beneath the mask. Killian watched him like a man watching a wire fray.

“How very disciplined,” he murmured. “You always this careful with things you want?”

Evan’s fingers twitched.

“My wants are irrelevant.” Evan's head tilts back, as if playing a chess piece.

Killian stepped closer still, invading space deliberately now. Evan’s head turned just enough, not toward Killian. His dark lenses angled toward you. Just for a second. It was a mistake.

Killian’s eyes lit up.

“There it is,” he said softly. “That look. That hesitation.” He straightened, satisfied. “Relax, Chief. I’m not asking you to say anything.”

Evan swallowed hard. His throat bobbed visibly beneath the mask. His gaze did not leave you.

“I’ll need my technician to meet me in my office after filming,” Killian said, turning toward you, voice smoothing back into charm.

Evan didn’t answer.

He started to leave, then paused, glancing back at Evan with a knowing smirk.

“Try not to glare holes in my back, Chief,” he said. “It’s unprofessional.”

Killian disappeared behind the curtain. The fog machine puffed lightly against the stage, the final checks being made before the next scene.

Before a beat could pass, you felt Evan's hand lock around your arm and shove you into the nearest costume room. The force was so sudden that by the time you finished stumbling in, you heard the door slam hard behind you.

"Hey-" You tried to stammer, but Evan spun you around with one smooth motion, pinning your arms back, face first against the wall. Necessary or not, he often exercised the ability to subdue you in highly tactical ways.

Hands still firm against your back, you felt him peel off his mask behind you. You could imagine his long greyed hair fairing out from his temples. You felt his grip tighten on your forearms as he leaned in. All you could see was the wall against your cheek.

"You're not going. Say you're sick, you're busy, I don't care." His voice was low and sultry against your ear. "You're not going." he instructed with a sickening finality.

"Evan...he's-" you tried to wiggle free from his grip.

Just the sound of you simply referring to Killian made him burn with rage. With no hesitation he yanked your jeans to your knees, causing you to gasp. The air was cold against the backs of your thighs. But he was unbelievably warm.

He rubbed his fingers too firmly against your pussy through your underwear. Your face burned hot against the cool surface. The pressure on your pinned arms began to ache. He was holding you too tightly.

"Evan we have to go back to work-" You struggled against his grip, knowing he was just pissed, you hoped he would relent and get over this before next rolling.

You felt your underwear pulled roughly past your knees, pooling over your jeans. All you could feel for a moment was his fingers running over your entrance. It made you feel stupid.

You heard his zipper come undone, the squeak of leather and something metallic. Then the white hot crack of him pushing inside of you with no warning. He came around to grip your neck with his half gloved hand before you could let out a moan.

Three thrusts and you felt your wetness coating his length entirely. You didn't have time to let out anything more than a whimper. He was going so fast you couldn't tell if you were dripping on your thighs yet. You hoped not. He let out a labored breath.

"What you're going to do," he started pounding harder. "Is stay here and take it, you understand?" His fingers hooked into your cheeks, pulling your head back against his chest. The position had you completely immobile against his height.

You felt yourself drooling on his gloves.

The pounding was so fast and loud that the table beside him began rattling with each thrust. The chair next to his leg scraped the floor so loud when he kicked it aside for a better angle, you were sure anyone walking on set outside could hear through the feeble walls. By the time you knew for sure you were dripping all over the floor, you didn't even have to let out a moan. He was already fucking so rough it sounded like the wall was shaking each time he slammed into you.

His goal was for Killian to hear, wherever he was. Evan hoped he was right outside the costume room.

────୨ৎ────

When he finally pulled out, he came on your ass. Hot and sticky covered your bare skin in the cool air. When you grabbed the chair to steady yourself, he had already zipped up his costume. He only glanced at you for a spilt second before sliding his mask back on. He left you to clean things up.

The rest of the shift went as expected. Evan acted as if nothing happened at all. But when he was on for a commercial scene, he was unusually hasty with the rifle that run. They had to redo the scene 3 times.

You didn't visit Killian's office that afternoon.

[allhailthy]

I like natural nails natural girls

[zoesupreme]

never use doordash or uber eats or any of that shit

[warcotuj]

I'm posting this from a library Wi-Fi on a burner laptop because I am technically under a massive NDA. I don't care anymore. I put in my two weeks yesterday and honestly, I hope they sue me. I've been sitting on this for about eight months, just watching the code getting pushed to production, and I can't sleep at night knowing I helped build this machine.

You guys always suspect the algorithms are rigged against you, but the reality is actually so much more depressing than the conspiracy theories. I'm a backend engineer. I sit in the weekly sprint planning meetings where Product Managers (PMs) discuss how to squeeze another 0.4% margin out of "human assets" (that's literally what they call drivers in the database schemas). They talk about these people like they are resource nodes in a video game, not fathers and mothers trying to pay rent.

First off, the "Priority Delivery" is a total scam. It was pitched to us as a "psychological value add." Like I said in the title, when you pay that extra $2.99, it changes a boolean flag in the order JSON, but the dispatch logic literally ignores it. It does nothing to speed you up.

We actually ran an A/B test last year where we didn't speed up the priority orders, we just purposefully delayed non-priority orders by 5 to 10 minutes to make the Priority ones "feel" faster by comparison. Management loved the results. We generated millions in pure profit just by making the standard service worse, not by making the premium service better.

But the thing that actually makes me sick-and the main reason I'm quitting-is the "Desperation Score." We have a hidden metric for drivers that tracks how desperate they are for cash based on their acceptance behavior.

If a driver usually logs on at 10 PM and accepts every garbage $3 order instantly without hesitation, the algo tags them as "High Desperation." Once they are tagged, the system then deliberately stops showing them high-paying orders. The logic is: "Why pay this guy $15 for a run when we know he's desperate enough to do it for $6?" We save the good tips for the "casual" drivers to hook them in and gamify their experience, while the full-timers get grinded into dust.

Then there is the "Benefit Fee." You've probably seen that $1.50 "Regulatory Response Fee" or "Driver Benefits Fee" that appeared on your bill after the recent labor laws passed. The wording is designed to make you feel like you're helping the worker.

In reality, that money goes straight to a corporate slush fund used to lobby against driver unions. We have a specific internal cost center for "Policy Defense," and that fee feeds directly into it. You are literally paying for the high-end lawyers that are fighting to keep your delivery guy homeless.

And regarding tips, we're essentially doing Tip Theft 2.0. We don't "steal" them legally anymore because we got sued for that. Instead, we use predictive modeling to dynamically lower the base pay.

If the algo predicts you are a "high tipper" and you'll likely drop $10, it offers the driver a measly $2 base pay. If you tip $0, it offers them $8 base pay just to get the food moved. The result is that your generosity isn't rewarding the driver; it's subsidizing us. You're paying their wage so we don't have to.

I'm drunk and I'm angry. Ask me anything before this gets taken down.

[caprincornedits]

Evan McCone || Superstar

🎬 • The Running Man [2025] 🎵 • Jamelia - Superstar

[bruisedbeatenboys]

いしむら

[epiphainie]

lee pace @ the running man uk premiere....

[laudys83]

I don't know about y'all but this little "smile" at the end sounds to me like a "thank you" somehow; thank you for doing what I couldn't do; thank you for freeing me from Network; thank you for reuniting me with my family at last. To me, he really respected him at the end, he wanted to kill him because, well, that's how he copes, but I truly felt this way.

[deletedblog000-deactivated20260]

love your mccone series! could you maybe write one where the reader gets jealous? thank you!!!

Lovesick ₊˚ ♡

Evan McCone x Reader

THANK U!! for the request. So basically, the reader works for The Running Man show set and gets jealous. Then gets freaky. This is the only way I could imagine it going im sorry lol if u want a fluff version i can try j lmk. Part of a series of short stories! SMUT WARNING!

the running man, evan mccone x reader, masked man, masked men, slow burn, tension, workplace romance, guns, SMUT, fem reader

The stage is loud in that particular way it only gets right before a live run. Cameras warming. Drones lifting. Crew voices overlapping in practiced chaos. You’re adjusting a transmitter pack on a hunter when you see him across the set. Evan’s mask is on. Tan fabric smooth against his face, aviators catching the overhead lights as he leans back against a concrete wall. One boot braced behind him. His hand grips his favorite rifle, like he did when you first met him. Relaxed.

Another technician stand across from him, not you this time.

She’s laughing at something he said, head tipped up, hand brushing her lanyard as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He angles toward her just enough to be intentional. Not yet touching. But close enough that anyone watching would notice.

You notice.

Your jaw tightens once. Just once. Then you look back down at your equipment.

Fine.

He’s the face of the show. The Hunter everyone tunes in for. He can flirt with whoever he wants. That’s not your business. That’s not -

You glance up without meaning to.

His head turns.

Even behind the lenses, you know when his attention locks. He stills slightly, like something in him has sharpened. The technician keeps talking, oblivious, smiling up at his always indifferent mask.

It made you feel sick in a stupid way.

Evan doesn’t move away from her. But he watches you.

You force yourself to look bored. You finish your check on the hunter, his polite but quick departure leaving you with no leverage against the hot jealousy burning in your chest. Unjustified. You roll your shoulders, smooth your expression into something flat and unimpressed, and turn toward the back corridor. If he follows, that’s on him.

“Hey,” he says, voice muffled through the mask, casual enough for anyone nearby to hear. “You doing my check?”

You continue without turning. “That’s the job.”

You hear him pacing behind in heavy steps. He falls into step beside you as you head backstage, close enough that his coat brushes your arm. He smells like gun oil and heat and something sharp underneath it all.

“You didn’t say hi,” he says.

You snort softly. “You looked busy.”

“Did I?”

You glance at him, then return to facing ahead. “You should probably get back to that. She seemed entertained.”

Something in his posture changes out of view. Behind the mask his demeanor shifts.

He tilts his head, just a fraction. “She?”

“Please,” you say, stepping into the private costume room and flipping on the light. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

The door shuts behind him with a solid click. You move toward his gear rack, already reaching for the mic pack. You don’t look at him. You don’t need to. The fabric comes away, revealing the familiar sharpness of his face, the salt-and-pepper at his temples catching the low light. The man beneath the Hunter. You’ve seen him like this enough times. Today, you don’t react at all.

“Oh,” he says quietly. Amused. “Is that what this is?”

You continue to finish the mic check. Each calibration clicks in the silence leaving a heavy tension between you two as he stands maskless in your shared presence. You thought about how no matter how much he was desired, at least only you saw the man behind the tan fabric.

“You’re quiet,” he says.

You don’t respond in your expression. You finish the adjustment and pull back. Still don’t meet his eyes.

You shrug, fingers busy. “What.”

He suddenly steps in front of you, blocking your access to his last mic check. Not touching yet.

“You’re annoyed,” he says. “That’s new.”

You finally look up at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

A pause.

It’s always different like this. No crowd. No cameras. Just the room, the hum of the lights, and Evan McCone bare-faced and watching you. Silver threading through dark hair at his temples. He doesn’t smile. Not really. He leans down, bracing one hand on the counter beside you, close enough that his voice drops naturally.

“You don’t get annoyed,” he murmurs. “You get… sharp.”

You swallow. You don’t move away.

“Very charming. Very on-brand.” You say dryly.

That does it. The corner of his mouth lifts. Something dark and pleased flashes across his face. He’s close enough now that you feel his breath warm against your cheek.

“You’re watching me.” He says softly, leaning closer.

You lift your chin. “I’m doing my job,” you say. “You should try it.”

His fingers brush your wrist as you reach for the mic cable. Not grabbing. Just enough contact to be intentional.

“That’s cute.” He purs, too close now, arm caging you against the wall.

“You think I’m some jealous technician. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I think,” he replies, low and steady, “that you don’t like sharing my attention.”

Your hand stills. He notices.

“Say the word,” he murmurs. “I’ll go put the mask back on. Go be very professional.”

You meet his eyes. Heat coils tight and restrained between you.

“And if I don’t?” you ask.

He drops his hand. Then steps only an inch closer. His boots brush your ankles perversely. You know this isn’t allowed. But you’re still angry at him for some reason.

His smile peppered with an aged stubble smirks with something new. Possessive. Enjoying this far too much.

“You don’t get to decide what I do out there,” he says.

“No,” you agree. “I don’t.”

A pause.

Then, his half gloved fingers finally settle at your hip. Firm.

“But back here?” he continues. “You still do.”

His thumb presses in slightly.

He leans in, his lips almost brushing your cheek. You could feel the light stubble against your skin. The way he has you pushed up against the wall was suffocating. He was testing your expressions.

”Come on…” he purred under his breath.

His lips brushed yours, then pressed in harder. The warmth of his kiss was unfamiliar and satisfying all at once.

You had never kissed him before. You had been too close for comfort many times, the job called for it. But this moment felt way different.

He crossed this line with intention.

The kiss deepens for a fraction of a second before he pulls back, still close enough that your foreheads nearly touch. You can feel the restraint in him like a coiled wire, humming under skin.

He suddenly grabs a handful of hair yanking you to look upward at his grayish blue eyes. His expression was the same smirk of triumph, but there was a streak of something else. Something hungry.

He kissed you again, harder this time, pressing you firmer against the wall with ease. He was impossibly strong. His hand slid beneath your shirt, finger slipping past your waistband too smoothly. You instinctively pushed your hips toward his touch. He noticed. Without a warning, he yanked your pants down hard with one motion. Your mic pack clattered to the ground, cutting through only the sound of fabric and friction filling the back room.

The air felt cool on the tops of your thighs. He shoved his leg between yours, trapping you between his impeccably tall frame and concrete.

He waisted no time, rubbing rough circles over the fabric of your panties with his fingers. You let in a sharp inhale.

“Evan… wait…” you could only whisper. Your reached your arm over his crouched frame, fingers brushing the back of his silver hair as you tried to stable yourself. Every touch by you just felt more and more like permission to him.

With almost a tactical quickness, he pulled the fabric of your panties aside, and shoved two of fingers completely in. His palm pressed hard into the tense cotton fabric over your clit. The sudden pleasure was so dizzying that your knees gave out slightly. Thankfully he still had you pinned back with his knee.

He sighed soflty into your ear, and it sounded almost like a laugh. He curled his fingers only slightly inside of you, eliciting a stifled moan, head falling against the shoulder strap of his vest.

“If you’re so mad at me, why are you so wet, hm?” His fingers began pumping rhythmically, you could already hear how wet you were getting. Fuck. A sick need began blooming inside you.

He slid his fingers out and dragged them softly over your entrance.

“Tell me baby.” He breathed softly against your cheek. He was always speaking with this seductive tone, but now like this, it was different.

You felt dizzy. Maybe the lack of touch for months before this had you acting stupidly in the first place. You pressed your palm against the zipper of his pants.

He was hard.

You felt him push his hips against the pressure. A fleck of grey hair danced on your cheek as his lips found your neck, a groan only faintly escaping him between irregular exhales.

With a gentle firmness, he pushed your shoulders down, back sliding against concrete. Your knees folding beneath you, the sound of his buckle broke the metallic silence. You wondered if he did this before with another no name technician. You wondered if his stardom always allowed things like this.

He pulled out his cock inches from your face. It was astonishing seeing him like this. The faceless hunter on screen now maskless, ready to fuck your face against the wall. It didn’t matter anymore though. The heat between your legs had your mind swimming for something. Anything. And you couldn’t deny he was one of the most handsome men you have ever seen. It made you dumb.

Taking him slowly into your mouth, his gloved hand grabbed a fistful of hair again. He leaned against the wall, palms pressing into the concrete as he tried to steady himself though the intense pleasure. You felt a string of drool fall down your chin.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck this pretty mouth?” He groaned, pushing deeper into your throat. He was picking up the pace.

You remembered the occasional time he would glance at your lips while teasing you over costume checks.

It was shameful how wet you got from just his cock in your mouth. Pulling out sloppily, you look up.

“This surely isn’t your first time doing this.” You snapped defiantly.

“I could say the same for you.” He clipped back with a smirk.

Grabbing your forearm up, he spun you around pressing you against the wall, cheek cool against the hard surface. He held your wrist firm against your back like he was subduing a runner.

His fingers found your panties again. You had already soaked through.Sliding his fingers behind the cotton, he didn’t even wait to pull them down.

He pushed inside you so rough that your whole front slammed flush against the wall. A gloved hand wrapped around to your mouth, his exposed fingertips wet. With each thrust, another mic pack and one of his belt cams fell off noisily to the ground. You hoped the crew outside couldn’t hear.

Like his TV personality, he was not the type of man to be gentle. His fingers dug hard into your hips, panties hugging your hips as he fucked you though the pulled aside fabric. His breaths were ragged now.

You could tell he tried to maintain his cool aura. But his breathy moans couldn’t stay contained, and you wondered if he really hadn’t done this at work before.

Suddenly the sound of his walkie scratched through the heavy air. “McCone? Where are you? We are on in 15!!”

He pulled out roughly, his fist slamming with a thud on the wall beside your head.

You couldn't see his expression as he zipped up his costume behind you. The only sound was the squeaking of his leather trench as it stretched over his shoulders.

"Don't move. I'll be right back." He huffed only slightly above a whisper.

"But I have to work-"

The door already clicked behind him by the time you turned. His mask and glasses were gone off the table.

Through the stage monitor by the door you could see him raise his rifle with ease.

"Hunter one. Scene 14. Action."

The glimmer of the stage lights reflected on his inky black aviators. No one really knew him outside of this crew, no one knew him like you. The pride rose and settled in your chest with an uncomfortable sourness. You could see how the world fell for him.

It was something you could stomach.

For now.

[slimeybee]

Did I use this song for an Armand edit before? Nooo...

Clips: Deanscomet (ig)/flairdean (tt)

Song: Million Dollar Baby - Tommy Richman

[ianmalcom]

Do what he says. Take it off.