Authors note:
I feel like I really need to address this issue since there was more than a few people telling me that I am making a completely horrible decision making my main character going to youtube.
I just want to let you all know the name of the fan fiction is, 'I am the world's greatest entertainer,' this means entertainment in any and all shapes and forms.
The main character is going to be exploring a lot of things in the future. I want him to go into the sports industry for a little bit, I definitely am already writing an arc on him playing chess, I don't want to explore too much into song and music industry since that has already been done before
But I am still going to let him explore it a bit, the main premise is going to be acting, yes 100%, I am building my character to have a crisis of identity in the future but this system is so much more beyond than just the Hollywood industry
One has to think about what is the fastest way to get entertainment points, and considering that the Teen wolf season one show isn't released for another year, and the movie I have the main character lined up to do a small role in also doesn't release for a long time, he's going to be completely stagnant
Any rational person would be going through this idea if you were put in the same situation to be able to gain entertainment points to gain skills.
Some people are talking about how Youtubers are not cool and they're extremely cringe. I understand that back in 2010 people built their fan base off of extremely cringe videos, I completely get it, even Ishowspeed right now is doing completely insane stuff for views, but do you not see how old Youtubers are building generational wealth and fame.
The sidemen for example are starting their own investment firm with two hundred and fifty million British pounds, they have PLENTY of business running on basically everything. I'm not saying my main characters is in it just for the money but for the plans I have for him, he is going to have to build substantial amounts of wealth, so this is one of his many ideas.
One guy was talking about how no brands are willing to work with them because of their presence and image, who gives a shit, my main character would just make his own brands.
Also a lot of people were commenting about how current Hollywood actors do stuff differently for a reason.
I completely agree, but do you really think that I don't research my own fanfic before I write anything??? I've put a lot of effort into building this fiction, AND, you have to remember people make the eras, the rules are established by creative people
Back in 2010 when Youtube and social media was still just growing, actors in the Hollywood industry as a whole had decided to not put too much effort into it, because they wanted to remain elusive so that people will be willing to go and watch films, but, this strategy was defined by different people due to different circumstances.
My mc has an entire system based on putting his face out in the public as much as possible, he's going to have some fans who only watch his movie.
Some fans who only watch chess games some, fans who only listen to his songs, some fans who only watch his youtube videos, some fans who do everything.
Everything is going to be explored in this, and if you're unable to understand this I really don't care.
I can't be bothered to explain this to you guys again, this is the only time I'm going to be addressing this, if anyone of you in the comments mention this again, I am not going to address it at all.
Have a good day, I hope you enjoy reading.
Chapter 19: Youtube Channel
Sure, I guess I'll watch football," Sam says with a slightly reluctant tone. I know he's only saying yes because he doesn't want me pestering him about it all night. I grin, satisfied with my small victory.
I set his laptop aside. "By the way," I ask, leaning back on the couch, "do you know if any of our friends from high school are still around? Like, still in the state and didn't head off?"
Sam thinks about it as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He unscrews the cap, takes a sip, then finally says, "I know Kevin's here. Samantha and Elizabeth too... and if I'm not wrong, Clifford is still around."
I nod as I let the names roll around in my head. All four are familiar from high school days. They weren't just random classmates—we actually used to hang out. Not super tight or anything, but close enough to be called part of the same group.
After graduation, life kind of pulled us all in different directions. Sam and I had been trying to carve our own paths, dealing with jobs, auditions, and now, in my case, filming a TV show. Naturally, that meant losing touch with a few people.
"What are they doing now?" I ask.
"Why so curious about them all of a sudden?" Sam raises an eyebrow but answers anyway. "Clifford, Samantha, and Elizabeth are all in college—different schools, different majors. Kevin though… he's not doing college. You remember his dad, right? The one with the convenience store?"
"Yeah, Russian-guy. Moved here years ago. Kevin used to help out there after school."
Sam nods. "Right. Well, apparently his dad managed to open another store. Kevin's helping run it now. Full-time."
At that, a lightbulb goes off in my mind.
That's perfect content.
A young guy helping manage a family business in a convenience store? That's practically begging to be documented. Day-in-the-life vlogs, quirky customer interactions, behind-the-scenes of stocking and dealing with suppliers—it's gold.
My brain's already jumping ahead.
Clifford is a no-brainer too. He's always been into sports, especially football. If he's still in decent shape and keeps up with games, he'd be the perfect guy to kick off some football-related content.
Even if he's not into it anymore, I'm confident I can rope him back in.
And then there's Samantha and Elizabeth.
They bring a whole different energy. A different type of audience.
Their presence alone adds diversity to the group—not just in terms of gender, but also perspectives.
Depending on their interests, I could involve them in lifestyle content, vlogs, maybe even challenges. Honestly, even something simple like reaction videos or group discussions could work.
It starts feeling real then.
I smirked a little.
This might actually be fun.
Not just the content itself, but reconnecting. Bringing people back together, turning old friends into collaborators. There's something satisfying about that.
Almost poetic.
And who knows? Maybe this will help all of us. Not everyone's aiming for Hollywood, but content creation—done right—could give each person a platform, maybe even some money.
And if I play my cards right, I might just create the next big content group before the era of content groups even truly begins.
And you know....the main benefit of farming entertainment points!
I look back over at Sam, who's still sipping his water and scrolling through his phone.
"We should call them," I say.
He glances up. "All of them?"
"Yeah. Let's see who's free this weekend. We'll do something casual—hang out, maybe watch a movie, get some food. Nothing serious."
He nods slowly. "Alright. I'll send them a message."
And just like that, the wheels are in motion.
One thing I definitely have to do—something majorly important—is get my own editor. I have no real editorial skills, at least not in a way that fits the current content trends of the world.
I need someone professional, someone who can create clean cuts, produce solid thumbnails, and eventually even craft short-form content when TikTok drops. But for now, memes dominate the internet, and I need someone who can ride that wave.
Luckily, I have the funds to afford a decent editor. I can guide them on what kind of tone, pacing, and visual style I want. I don't want anything low-quality, not when my face is tied to it.
Even if I record a lot of content in bulk, I'll have to pace the uploads and make sure they're edited to the highest standard.
This isn't just about YouTube, either. Eventually, I want to dive into podcasts. I know I'm going to be one of the biggest celebrities in the world, and when that happens, people are going to want to hear my thoughts—and the thoughts of other celebrities I'll meet along the way.
But all of that starts with finding the right editor.
So I decided to keep things simple.
"Give me a second, I'll be back," I say to Sam and walk into my room. I shut the door and immediately dial Dylan's number, but he doesn't pick up—probably busy, which is fine.
Next, I call Crystal.
She picks up after three or four rings. "Jace? What is it? You've never called me before," she asked, clearly curious.
"I was just wondering if you knew any video editors."
"Editors, huh? Why do you ask?"
"Planning on making some YouTube content," I reply.
"YouTube... sure, that makes sense. Video editors... yeah, I have a couple that come to mind. I can send you their details."
"Sure. If you wouldn't mind. Thanks."
There's a brief silence on the line, not awkward, but enough to make me think she wants to say more. And she does.
"Listen..."
I don't respond immediately, just letting the silence linger.
"Since we have a week off, I don't really have anything to do. I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me."
It's a trap. I recognize it instantly. In my past life, well into my late thirties, I'd been through my fair share of relationships. University flings, early work-life romances.
I know shopping with a girl is usually a slow, meandering time sink.
But...I've been working on separating her in my mind from her character on Teen Wolf. This is a chance to understand her better—get to know her in her element.
"You know what? Sure, I don't mind. I'd love to come with you."
…
It has now been four excruciatingly long hours. Four hours. My arms are numb, my legs ache, and I am currently acting as a glorified shopping cart with over twenty shopping bags dangling from both hands like Christmas ornaments.
Meanwhile, in front of me, the source of my suffering—Crystal—is skipping.
Actually skipping. Humming some kind of chipper tune that I'm pretty sure was scientifically designed to cause psychological damage after the second hour.
"This store is next!" she chirps, pointing enthusiastically to yet another boutique.
I glance down at the colorful avalanche of bags in my possession and immediately begin questioning every single life decision that has led me to this moment.
Was it when I said yes to shopping with her?
Was it when I decided to become friends with an actress who has the stamina of a caffeinated squirrel?
Was it perhaps when I accepted the call of the universe to reincarnate and try life again?
All of the above.
Crystal twirls around, finally noticing the broken shell of a man trailing behind her. She pouts, big eyes sparkling with weaponized cuteness. "What's wrong?"
I didn't answer.
Mostly because my soul has left my body.
She takes two steps forward, stands on her toes, and leans in closer. "You don't want to go with me?" she asks in a voice so sweet I briefly wonder if my dentist can sense the incoming cavities.
And just like that, I fold like a lawn chair.
"No, it's fine. Let's go in."
She beams, grabs my hand with both of hers, and gently drags me into yet another dimension of fluorescent lighting and perfume spritzers.
I can feel my ancestors silently judging me.
Honestly though, it's not so bad. It's kind of a weirdly refreshing change of pace. My life is usually filled with internal monologues, emotionally charged acting scenes, existential panic, and trying not to freak out over Entertainment Points.
But right now? It's just me and Crystal, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm starting to enjoy the vibe.
She disappears into a dressing room, leaving me to act as a decorative coat rack by the mirror. A few minutes later, the curtain swishes open, and there she is, wearing a stunning white dress that looks like it was stitched together by angels and Instagram algorithms.
She twirls, lets the fabric catch the light, and then asks, "How's this one?"
"It's really nice," I say, with the genuine honesty of someone who has seen twenty-five outfits in the last three hours and finally understands the true meaning of fashion fatigue. "You should get it."
She stares at herself in the mirror for a second. "Hmm. You know what? Nah. I don't want it."
She promptly shuts the dressing room curtain.
I stand there blinking. Processing.
I feel like I've been hit with a psychological left hook. "What do you mean you don't want it?" I mutter under my breath.
I told you it was nice. I encouraged the purchase. I fulfilled my duties. What more do you want from me?
She doesn't respond. She's probably trying on a glitter jumpsuit or something now.
I exhale slowly. I've acted in horror scenes with blood, gore, and things that go bump in the night. But this... this is true terror.
Still, I grin despite myself. Because even though I'm borderline traumatized and my biceps feel like they've run a marathon, this was fun.
As she finished up in the boutique—yes, yet another boutique—we decided it was finally time to refuel.
Shopping had drained our energy and tested the limits of my patience, so coffee felt like the most logical next step.
We made our way to the Starbucks in the corner of the shopping mall, the one near the indoor fountain and escalators that looked way too fancy for what was essentially overpriced caffeine.
While standing in line, Crystal turned to me, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Why did you want to start YouTube, by the way?" she asked casually.
"Nothing major," I said with a shrug. "Just thought it might be fun. Something interesting. I don't really have anything lined up after shooting ends, so I figured I might as well start uploading content."
She paused for a moment, and I noticed her steps slow slightly as we walked toward a free table. Her silence was odd. I looked over. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she replied, but her tone said otherwise. "I just hadn't thought about what comes after shooting ends."
I decided to tease her a little. "I mean, I assumed someone as pretty as you would have her pick of the best roles. Thought you'd be booked solid until the next decade."
She gave a half-laugh, then shook her head. "Yeah, no. It just means I get to play the refreshing role of an unemployed actress for a bit. But YouTube, huh? That's definitely interesting."
The tone shifted back to lightness, and I rolled with it. "Well, how about we start right now?"
"Right now?" she asked.
I pulled out my phone dramatically. "Right now. Let's make content. Document the moment."
She laughed. "Is this what we're doing? Coffee vlogs with shaky phone cams?"
I paused, looking down at my very unremarkable phone. "Okay, fair point. We need a proper camera. And we're in a shopping mall. Feels like destiny."
Her eyes lit up. "You want to go tech shopping?"
"Yes. For once, I want to buy something," I said.
She beamed. "Finally. There's a really good store two floors up that has all kinds of gear. We can head there after coffee."
"No clothes," I added quickly.
"You should get clothes," she muttered under her breath.
"Huh? What was that?" I asked, pretending not to hear properly.
"Nothing," she said innocently, batting her lashes.
"Right..." I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, but chose to let it slide. "Anyway, yeah. I want to get a good camera and start vlogging. Be honored. You're going to be the first person I've ever filmed with."
She did a mock bow, complete with a hand flourish. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Future Internet Star."
The barista called our names, and we grabbed our drinks. I got my usual—a boring black coffee with a shot of espresso—while she ordered something that involved caramel, whipped cream, and what looked like a sprinkle of fairy dust.
We sat down at a small round table by the window. I took a sip and let the caffeine start its work while she watched the people passing by, the kind of quiet that felt easy rather than awkward.
"You know," she said, still looking out the window, "this is nice. It's not often I get to hang out without it being part of some appearance or press thing. No scripts, no red carpets, just coffee and weird conversations."
I just nodded at that.
She smiled and clinked her plastic cup gently against mine. "To weird conversations and unexpected starts."
I clinked back. "To cameras and caffeine."
...
Authors note:
You can read some chapters ahead if you want to on my p#treon.com/Fat_Cultivator