Conflict between times

The cafe

Hello people of wattpad who are confused about this whole ordeal, 

This is a crack fic on two polititians from the netherlands, please don't take any of this serious. 

I am not a fan of either of these but it was kinda funny to write anyways haha

so if you arent interested, just click off i guess (:

Have a good rest of your day peopleeee

warnings for parinoia and homophobia and stuff- thierry is a very.. wierd person. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Applause.

a few stares.

That's all that happened after his speech. He was happy, but not happy enough.

Like he was missing something.

Theirry is a single, auquarius 40 year old. His parents are divorced and he hasn't had a hug in a good while. Maybe from one of his mistresses he met up with a while ago, at that cheap place. The food was good, but he didn't really feel like he was being... filled with that feeling. Like something, or someone was missing.

He walked away from the stage, looking at his audience while they clapped, and booed at him. Most of them where older men, but a few younger ones as well. A few cameras and journalists in the journalist and paparazzi section. He always hated the media. He knew that the journalists will change his story. He knows that he can sound a bit paranoid, but in this world he can't really trust anyone. This simulation, with fake people and lizards, monsters and deep fake people on the internet. Getting criticized on his job, on his speeches for no reason. He knew he was right.

All eyes on him as he walked away, and the sounds of pictures being taking and people trying to ask him questions. He made eye contact with a few journalists, but he was so tired.

So tired of all the paranoia. Of all the criticism, of all the people talking over him. All the people giving him looks, all the people screaming at him in debates.

He was tired of it all.

He stepped into the hall, behind the panel.

Opening the door to his little room, closing the door behind him. The room was not too big, just some showroom you would find in the back of a theater. It has a big square mirror on it with the lightbulbs, where his make-up was done before his speech. He can still feel it on his face.

Maybe make-up is also a attempt at control by the government..?

Or was it a thing made to control people by turning them into mummies.

They do need some form of baking powder.

But then again, he doesn't know much about make-up.

He doesn't have a female friend to ask this phenomenon about.

Well, they belong in the kitchen anyways, at least that's what Andrew t*te gave.

He walked to the table, got the water bottle that he put there before his speech, and removed the cap.

Bringing it to his mouth, he closed his eyes to drink.

He stopped when he heard a familiar sound.

He put the water bottle down, and grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and saw the grindr notification. He sighed and closed it again.

He know he wasn't supposed to get on the app, but he.. liked looking at the men on there.

For how masculine they where, of course.