#Hollywood is twice as worse now as it was then

[anti-rop]

absolutely despicable behavior from WB to plunder a fan film from 15 years ago just because their corporate greed led them to want to make their own (likely soulless even with PJ’s involvement) version with the exact same title.

UPDATE: the copyright has been released and the fan film The Hunt for Gollum is back on YouTube and can be watched. Though, it's still really telling of the capitalist corruption of WB and Hollywood that their first move and publicity for this (unnecessary) movie was to directly attack the fans for something produced over a decade ago.

[thelightsandtheroses]

For You, I Would Ruin Myself | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!Reader Rating: 18+, MDNI as usual. Summary:  Your career probably just ended last night. Stuck in a long standing but now loveless relationship, your priority was your Hollywood comeback and finally getting the recognition you worked so hard for.  Falling for your controversial co-star, Dieter Bravo, and the resulting scandal was not something you ever saw coming. Word Count – 10k Warnings: infidelity, language, a very light sprinkling of smut, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, references and discussions around eating issues and previous eating disorders, jealousy and resentment, mentions of exercise,  one passing reference to previous suicidal thoughts (no detail), un beta’d, age not specified but potential implied age gap if you squint. Look, I don’t know what happened here, something just took me over this weekend and then I had ten thousand words before I knew it. Banners & dividers are not made by me and are from the talented @/saradika

“You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love The slowest way is never loving them enough Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?” High Infidelity - Taylor Swift

Today

Your phone is in genuine danger of overheating. Notification after notification, missed call after missed call roll in. You can’t face it.

You turn over on the sofa you collapsed into last night, bury your face in cushions and half-heartedly scream.

No one can hear you, but somehow it helps.

Your career might be over.

Everything in you says you need to be on this; you need to respond; you need to have your lawyers and your agent and a goddamn crisis consultant probably. Your reputation, your future, it's all at stake right now.

Hollywood won't be kind to you for a public scandal like this, not when you cheat on someone like Alex, not when it's with Dieter Bravo.

You don’t want any of it.

The doorbell rings. Once.

Twice.

Incessantly. There’s only one person who would do that, who would ring the bell in quite that rhythm.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. He’s not going to go away.

You groggily make your way to the door, only half aware you’re still in last night’s clothes, still probably have last night’s makeup on your face which you’ve now smeared even more.

You want to say he’s seen you in worse shape, but you know he hasn’t. You know you’ve never let him see him like this.

Dieter Bravo is standing on your porch with what can only be described as a sheepish expression. He’s in an infuriatingly comfy looking t-shirt you want to bury yourself in and looks like he’s not long crawled out of bed himself. His hair is wild and unruly, how you like it. It makes you think of how he looks up at you sometimes, eyes wild and a salacious grin on his face, all too proud of the way he’s artfully taken you apart with his fingers, his mouth, him.

“So, you’ve seen it then?”

“Baby, I -”

“Hey, congrats,” you say flatly, “I think you’re probably trending on Twitter now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says without preamble, “I didn’t think this would – how are there even photos?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“They’re being -”

“Dieter, it was always going to be different for you. Different rules, right? You can afford to screw up, hell they expect it. I- I had other expectations put on me. I’ve uh, clearly failed to meet them and I’m going to have live with that.”

Dieter touches your arm gently, grazes his thumb up and down your forearm and stares right into your eyes.

“If you ask me to, I’ll deny it,” he says seriously.

“Hard to deny photos, babe.”

“Photoshop, deep fakes, rehearsing a scene. If you need the out, I’ll do it.” And he will, even if it shatters him in the process. And you’re sure it would, because if you could just deny it, it would damn well break you.

“It’s too late for that.”

“I didn’t want this for you, for us,” he says. “Not like this.”

“Makes two of us.” You take a deep breath. “Do you want to come in then?”

What does that song you used to love say: it was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?

It doesn’t start with a kiss, of course. It starts with distrust, with indifference and frustration.

This was your big opportunity, the role you’ve waited for and it happens to be filming in a beautiful location. You’d begged your agent to find you something new, something mature and intelligent and more than the secondary roles you’d played since your unexpected hiatus all thoseyears ago. You needed more than the pigeonhole Hollywood wanted to push a former child star into. You are tired of being seen that way, feel too old for it frankly, you needed to do something new.

Dieter Bravo needed a redemption arc; after Cliff Beasts 6, after his drug habit became public, after his breakup with Annika who seemed a more public stabilising force. You knew his insurance alone for this film had no doubt taken far more of the budget than it should have. You knew he was trouble. You just didn’t care enough to pay attention to that.

You should have known it would end in disaster.

Before - Day 1 of Filming

Alex is calling his manager again, for another audition, another tour, anything to be out there more. You heard him talking to his manager last week, heard the disappointment that both the album sales are drying up and that movie studios aren’t interested right now either. He has a premiere in a few weeks, they’re hoping that will reignite interest because otherwise it’s not looking good.

He’s a better musician than actor if you’re honest.

You’ve known Alex for the entirety of both of your careers. You were both pushed, or pushed yourselves, into the vicious celebrity beast when you were only children. Alex still has that All-American charm, that safety in his eyes you relied on when you were younger. You’ve been together for more than ten years.

 Everyone loves your relationship.

Except maybe both of you right now don’t love it so much anymore. In the past seven months something has changed; a bitterness has crept in, taken root around Alex.

It’s not that he’s a bad person.

You just don’t think he loves you anymore and it’s killing you. The absence of love is a vine, choking your neck and constricting with every breath.

Every compliment feels bitter; like you’ve deliberately chosen to get some lucky breaks and take his opportunities from underneath him. The work you’ve put in, the sacrifices and accomplishments you’ve made are ignored and turned to mere luck.

It doesn’t matter that the positions were once reversed. You had four-year hiatus from Hollywood that he didn’t - his star rose and yours fell. During those years, people forgot your own accomplishments as you became just Alex Wood’s girlfriend. You’ve been playing catchup with your peers in the years since you started working again and now you’re finally getting somewhere. It’s just that you think Alex has a problem with that.

If you’re honest, Alex Wood very clearly does not want to be known as your boyfriend first, and a celebrity second.

Right now, you’re waiting in your trailer, running lines for your first actual filming scenes with Dieter Bravo for this film that means so much to you.

You’ve heard of Dieter for years but never crossed paths before.  You’ve read about him; the good, the bad, the downright ugly.

This film is a big studio drama, a high budget picture; one that your agent thinks will catapult you to award nominations and you understand Dieter’s agent believes will help undo some of the damage of Cliff Beasts and the subsequent period.

You’re worried about this. Too worried.

Dieter seems like a liability. In your chemistry read, he was almost aloof until the cameras started. He seemed utterly uninterested in even really speaking to you, and you were dubious of him. You’re not sure how someone can seem so lazy, so unbothered about everything and then turn out such heartfelt performances. Okay, he hadn’t had as many of those roles recently, but you know they are in his repertoire.

You need this role, you love the script. It means something to you - your character took root in your heart, you want to represent them well. You’re not sure Dieter is in this for the same reasons.

He hasn’t done anything to indicate that. He’s been pleasant, quiet but professional. It’s only day 1 of filming though.

Alex is only here for the rest of the day - he flies home tomorrow morning. He promise he would help you with this scene, but now he’s busy on the phone and shows no sign of wanting to end the call. They’re talking about cross fit now for some reason, so you stand up and decide to see if maybe Dieter wants to run through the lines, or anybody really if he says no. There’s only a short time before you need to go film this after all.

You wave at Alex to say you’re leaving. You want him to stop, want him to care you’re leaving but he just nods.

Before - Day 2 of Filming:

Dieter Bravo is nothing like you expected. You’re sitting in his trailer, running through an updated script for the day’s scene. To your surprise he’s been alarmingly respectful so far. You’d heard that in Cliff Beasts 6 he propositioned pretty much everyone.

“I think for this line,” he says slowly, “we should be facing each other. I know the script says you’re facing away, but it would feel more natural, don’t you think?” You’re amazed he even has suggestions; you’d expected very little interaction with him off camera.

“Are you really going to wear sunglasses inside?” you ask incredulously. Is he hungover, or strung out again, or is he just that pretentious?

“Yes,” he says, “Did you hear what I said?”

You run through the lines, rolling your eyes at Dieter’s answer. “Take them off, Dieter, they’re not in the script and if you want to face me I’ll need to see your eyes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Just did.”

“Ergh. Look, why did you sign on for Cliff Beasts?”

“Do you know how few films were being made during Covid? I needed to work, needed to do something, get out of my house and a big franchise like that? The money was good., They courted me, they wanted me. I mean, I knew the script was – I knew what the script was. I didn’t think it would all end quite like it did.”

“I bet.”

“So, you saw the documentary then?”

“I might have scrolled past it on Netflix once or twice, might have accidentally played it for a few minutes.”

“None of it worked out in the end. Annika, any of it. You -” He shakes his head.

“I know.” You’ve seen the press, seen the news reports and blogs and just why Dieter needs the comeback himself. Why perhaps the version you’re seeing is not the same man in Cliff Beasts 6, or the man from Hunger Strike. Maybe this Dieter Bravo is an entirely different man.

“So, what did you do for all those years anyway?” he asks suddenly, snapping to attention and focusing right back on you.

“Huh? Lockdown? Well, I-“

“No. You quit the industry right, for years? Well you came back but …” he trails off.

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t consciously quit, but it was the right move for me at the time.”

“Drugs?” he asks without judgement. You can’t blame him for that assumption. You’ve been amazed others haven’t come to the same conclusion.

“No, I dealt with some other forms of self-destruction though.” You’d be dead if you hadn’t walked away then, that’s the truth.

You were young and burnt out and anxious. You thought it was normal to count every calorie, to exercise until your head hurt too much to continue. You thought it was normal to throw up with nerves all the time, to be physically ill due to exhaustion, to criticise every part of your body and let others do it too, to hate your voice, hate your mind. Hollywood could be an insidious bedfellow and you’d let it set root in all your insecurities. You almost died for it.

The only way to survive was to walk away, find a way through to recovery. You’d even gone to college, studied an entire degree in another country and enjoyed the relative anonymity of your life there.

You’d truly missed acting though; missed how it made you feel. You’d been your family breadwinner from an early age and so it hadn’t ever felt like a choice you had ever made for yourself.

After several years away from acting, a lot of therapy and after suitable encouragement from loved ones, you chose to re-enter Hollywood, but on your terms. You made a choice when you never had thought it was even a choice before.

Since returning, you’d been involved several indie films, you even returned to your TV roots for a recurring role as your first break back. You worked your way back into Hollywood’s good graces with small roles, hard work and undeterred focus, and this - this was the result.

“And now?” Dieter asks carefully.

“I’m good, I think.”

“Well, dating that all American boy, you’ve got how many Instagram followers? You must be pleased, your comeback’s working.”

“It’s not like that. I like acting,” you say emphatically, “I like getting to wear another character for a bit, tell their story, y’know? And screw social media!”

“I get that. You’re uh - not what I expected.”

“Same.”

“Hmm, yeah?” He places to an arm on the sofa, his hand so close it’s almost touching your collarbone. He’s wearing rings and some sort of beaded bracelet, loosely tied around his wrist.

“So, um, let’s try it your way,” you say, taking a deep breath. The trailer feels hotter somehow.

When he scoots closer to you on the sofa in his trailer, his thighs lightly touching yours and looks in your eyes, you can kind of see it.

His eyes are crazy beautiful.

You can feel heat swimming at the bottom of your stomach. You notice how his eyes darken, how he licks his lips for just a second.

Fuck, he’s a good actor.

Before - Week 2 of Filming

Alex hasn’t called you in three nights. He said he needed to prepare to write his new album and so he’s been on a trip with his band to Nashville for the past week.

The night before he left, he told you that he was concerned you were trying too hard with this new role, that you needed to be less - less you because everyone would think you reeked of desperation. He told you to relax and smile more.

His words have haunted you ever since.

Maybe you’re not ready for this, you think, maybe you are trying too hard.

You can’t talk to Alex though because he’s too busy with his band to text you back either, it seems. He has enough time to update Instagram though.

You’re not sure if you miss him or not.

“If you weren’t here, what would you be doing?” you ask Dieter as you sit in your trailer, in full costume running through yet another last-minute rewrite. The director was taken by a particular view at sunset and demanded the scene was rewritten to incorporate this completely.

“I’d have another gig,” he replies confidently, “I don’t think I like being out of work too long these days.” You think back to what he said just a fortnight ago about why he took Cliff Beasts 6.

“I meant if you weren’t acting,” you clarify.

“Oh, painting,” he replies without hesitation.

You stare at him with surprise. You hadn’t expected him to answer properly at all; you’d asked Alex the same question once and he’d said he’d always be this way, always have these jobs, just how Dieter had started out his answer.

Dieter had taken your flippant question seriously though and with confidence. Painting? You haven’t thought about that before, hadn’t thought of Dieter doing that before. You can’t help looking at his sizeable hands for a second, wondering what he would like painting.

“You paint?”

“Yes. It’s - it’s all art, all of this. I guess that’s who I am.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, just think about his words.

“What about you? What did you do in your temporary retirement?”

“I wrote a little. I think if I didn’t do this then I’d want to write.” You pause, before adding, “Am I- am I trying too much?” You need to know, and you trust that Dieter will tell you the truth.

“In this role? No. Why?” Dieter looks at you with vague distraction, as though you’ve completely pulled him out of character, away from wherever he was for the moment.

“No reason.”

“Why?” he repeats, pouting at you. Is that - is he flashing the puppy eyes too?

You roll your eyes. “Alex just said something.”

“Oh,” he replies knowingly, “that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?”

“He strikes me as the type.”

“The type to do what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Dieter just shakes his head. “C’mon, then. Show me what you were thinking we should do with this scene.”

Before – Week 3 of Filming:

You’ve learnt a lot about Dieter in two weeks. He favours comfort over style off set; loves a robe and you’ve never seen him wear denim or hard pants outside of when the role requires it. Which as he is playing a former biker gang member is most of the time he’s on camera. It honestly should not be legal for him to look as hot as he does in this role.

He’s surprisingly warm, not as stand-offish as you heard. At least not with you.

Most days you run lines together or drink coffee together in your trailers.

Dieter’s mostly sober now, or at least sober from drugs he tells people. He smokes a lot and you’ve seen him in the hotel bar several times in the evening but he seems in control.

There are no rumours though, no issues. The man is a consummate professional. Not what you expected after Cliff Beasts 6.

You feel like you’ve known him forever.

He might even be your friend. He can only be your friend.

You try and swallow down the way he makes you feel both in and out of character, the way when his hands brush against you at the crafty table it makes your whole body shiver and you’re sure you’re blushing.

You can’t let this go anywhere.

You cannot be that woman.

You try and avoid him for the rest of the day. Run lines with a different cast member, refuse to get a snack for the rest of the day.

Fate has other ideas though when the two of you end up in the same elevator at the hotel. You know you both are on the same floor and that’s at the top floor of this frankly enormous hotel.

“You avoiding me?” he asks casually, standing close to you. The whole elevator is empty but he’s taking advantage of the opportunity to still be as close as possible.

It’s like he knows.

“Dieter, I - we -” You can’t find the words, you don’t know how to say this. What if it’s all in your head and this tension isn’t there? What if it’s just being lonely and pathetic?

“I heard something about you, from Jake the other day,” you say, caught in a wave of bravery. Jake is another of your co-stars, a veteran Broadway actor turned screen actor. He’s playing your brother in the film and the two of you get on particularly well.

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s worked with you before.”

Dieter nods.

“He says that you never run lines or scenes with people. He asked how I got you to agree? He couldn’t believe it when I said I’d just asked and you said yes. So, why did you say yes?”

“Honestly? I wanted to have sex with you - still do.” His bluntness surprises you, but really it shouldn’t. This, right here is Dieter Bravo.

“I’m with someone,” you reply weakly.

“You’re not happy though, are you? I think you want me too. I think you know it.”

How are you only on floor seven? How are there still so many floors to go? Then you’ll be on the same floor and what do you do? Watch him go left and you go right and never talk about it ever again?

“It’s nothing to do with you,” you say as primly as you can. “And we’re very happy.”

“Oh, you look it.”

He is so close to you and you can’t help leaning against him, feeling that solid weight behind you.

“Sometimes, it’s okay to be selfish,” he says in a low voice. “Take it from me.”

“Expert in that, are you?”

”Well, a lot of people would say that I’ve devoted most of my life to some form of hedonism.”

“That’s a strong word.”

“They were some pretty strong drugs, pretty girl.”

“Dieter-”

“Uh-huh, sweetheart?”

“We can’t,” you say. You have Alex, it’s not fair, it’s not right.

“What do you want? Do you want me too?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“When was the last time you were selfish, huh? Did something just for you?” His voice is smooth, low, irresistible. “Why don’t you let me help you? Trust me, I’m very good at this.”

You open your mouth and shut it, unable to argue. You do want him, you know you do. The elevator sounds and the door opens, bringing you out of the moment.

You immediately step out into the hallway and then you freeze.

  You want to say something, but you don’t have a script for this. This is one of those moments; you’re at a bifurcation. Go right and never know what could be, but know it’s the expected pathway. Or follow him, choose something else. Be selfish.  

   You turn and face him, look at his darkened eyes, at the way they’re almost imploring you.

You move just fractionally closer, position your face closer to his. Just a little more and you’ll be kissing. 

He meets your lips first, takes away that first move you’re too hesitant to commit to. He breaks the boundary for you.

He closes his eyes after a second, deepens the kiss.

 This was inevitable.  You think you knew this was going to happen the moment you looked into his eyes on day two.

You follow him to his room.

Before - Week 4 of Filming:

“Shit, ouch,” you say as your hip is pushed into the door handle of your trailer.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, dragging you with him and back to your sofa.

His hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap as he runs his fingers over the hem of your top, traces underneath the fabric to the edge of your bra. Thank God you chose to wear your good bra today.

You can feel him, feel the hardness against his trousers. It makes the heat between your legs even worse.

He smirks when you shudder as he moves his hand down your torso, down to the edge of your skirt and you’ve never been more grateful you decided against jeans when you hurriedly got dressed this morning.

It’s not even six am, you’re due to get into costumes soon - too soon.

Time doesn’t feel like it’s real right now. All that matters, all that counts is the feeling of Dieter’s lips on yours, on his fingers slowly working their way down your underwear, circling that bud of nerves and finding just that exact spot, exact motion that makes you gasp.

“That all for me, darlin’?” he asks, smirking salaciously.

Screw going to the costume department. All that really matters is how he brings you to the edge, brings you past the point of no return, knows all of the ways to make you gasp and see white, see stars.  You think he likes watching you like this - observing when the tension in your body releases and you collapse boneless into his arms.

Does Dieter do this on every set? Is this real, you want to ask, or is this just the film, just the characters taking over you both? Where do Dieter and you begin and your characters end?

It feels real to you, it feels so fucking real.

Before - 6 weeks into filming

Alex has a premiere in LA so you fly out to go with him. It’s for a movie he was in last year. He played the brother of the main character in a cult action franchise. It was the last job he seemed to enjoy and the last big offer he had.

You want to stay where you are, want to carry on filming, stay with Dieter, but you don’t. The guilt has been following you around for weeks because every day you’re more and more sure that this is not a fling.

You know Dieter Bravo more than you think you’ve ever known anyone else. It’s not just the sex, it’s not the way you both desperately crave crawling into each other’s skin, desire and need everything about each other. Yes, there’s a physicality to it, but there’s more too. At least for you. You’re afraid to ask him if it’s the same.

You talk though. Not small topics, but real and honest conversations. You talk in your trailers with sex drunk eyes, you talk in your hotel rooms in sweaty messes.

 You feel like you know him, the real him. The Dieter who likes to paint and yes, is a bit of disaster but he feels like he’s yours. He fits your broken edges and you fit against his.

You don’t want to lose him when this movie is over.  You don’t want him to become an acquaintance you just wave to at premieres and make polite small talk with.

You’re terrified it’s different for him though; you know his reputation, the way he’s floated through life without commitments. Annika was his longest public relationship and he’s admitted to you it was his longest relationship overall too. It didn’t seem to end well. What if he doesn’t anything more now?

Dieter isn’t yours to keep, even if you want to.

So you leave Dieter for Alex’s premiere and go and play the dutiful girlfriend.

For all your concerns that Alex resents you now, that the distance between the two of you is insurmountable because your relationship only works when your light is duller than his, he has been in your life for such a long time. He’s interwoven into almost all your highs and lows. Extricating yourself from that is harder than it sounds.

Alex was there when you were ill; when you almost died and needed to leave the public eye. He was there through the unglamorous side of your life; through you crying over a bagel, through hours and hours of therapy. Your recovery had required so much attention and he had never complained, he was always there. He loved you. You were good together. He’s been your only serious love your whole life.

Is the past enough to carry on now though?

You’re not sure if he loves you, you’re not sure if the two of you will survive the year.  Even without Dieter, you don’t think it would be likely.

Alex doesn’t seem happy to see you when you arrive in LA, even though he wanted you with him at the premiere.

 He scowls when the photographers ask for a shot of you, ask about your film, tightens his grip around your waist.

You stop answering questions they ask you, direct them back to Alex with your widest smile.

You try and look at him with adoration, devotion, to make him the star tonight.  You try and ignore how foreign his hands feel on your waist, try and stop comparing them to Dieter’s.

“I love you so much, baby,” he says as you walk into the cinema after the cameras are gone.

You smile a little wider, look at Alex with what’s meant to be devotion. You practice your role.

You’re thinking about Dieter the whole time.

You have missed your home. The small but eclectic bungalow in LA that’s all yours – a renovation project over the years. You’ve missed your bed, missed your shower, missed hearing the same old birds in the morning.

You’ve really missed your coffee machine the most.

Alex hands you a steaming mug of coffee just how you like it when you walk into the kitchen. He’s scrolling through his tablet as you sit at the counter.

“The reviews are good,” he says, beaming as he finally looks at you.

“Yeah? Of course they are.”                                                                  

“This reviewer said my scenes were a standout.” He points at the article on his tablet proudly.

“Alex, that’s great.”

Alex nods and then flicks to another window. “There’s some good photos of us too,” he says, leaning over so you can see his screen.

He clicks onto the next article and his expression changes. It’s about you. The article frames Alex as your long-term boyfriend and how great it was you flew over with your busy schedule to join him. You think that Ollie, your publicist, will be pleased with the press to be honest, will be happy that the article says the movie you’re shooting now is already tipped to be an award winner when it releases. You immediately you clam up at the thought you’ve taken away from Alex’s night, from him. You didn’t want to do that.

His frown has grown the more he reads the article.

“Huh,” he says, ”you look a little different in this one.”

“Different?” you ask in surprise because it looks the same as the photos in the previous article.

“‘S not a bad thing really, baby.”

“What do you mean?”

You look at the photo more closely.

Oh.

 It’s a bad angle, that’s all it is, right? Maybe you should have skipped lunch yesterday, you’re just a little bloated and the dress was tight anyway and - you can’t look at it a moment longer.

“Oh,” you say, “I mean- the dress was -“

“Exactly, don’t worry about it.” Alex kisses you on the cheek and returns to his scrolling.

Before - Week 7 of Filming:

You turn up the speed on the treadmill in the hotel gym. You hate this. You hate this. Since Alex’s premiere, you haven’t missed a day at the gym.

Dieter walks in. He looks infuriatingly casual in his wildly patterned, comfortable trousers and grey t-shirt. Is he wearing Crocs?

If you wore an outfit like that, the paparazzi would have a field day.

“You haven’t come to see me since you got back.” He sounds miserable, like a grumpy toddler.

It’s true, you haven’t. You can’t blame him for those photos, you can’t blame what’s happening between the two of you, but you’ve clearly lost focus. For Alex to say what he did, you know it was really bad.

It’s not just that though - things have clearly got bad again and if that’s the case you don’t want Dieter to see you, not until you’ve sorted things out, not until you’re ready.

You jump onto the edge of the treadmill, one foot straddling each edge of the machine as you press the stop button.

You’re out of breath as you look at him.

“I just needed to get some training in,” you say.

“There’s other types of training,” he replies, a salacious smirk on his face. And that’s clearly the problem, you’ve spent too much time with him and haven’t left yourself enough energy to train and keep yourself in the right shape. This film matters to you, this all matters so much to you.

“Hey,” he says sharply before softly adding, “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I - I -” You sigh and step off the treadmill. “I just need to take better care of myself.”

“Care of yourself? What do you mean? Why don’t you let me take care of you, huh? You know I can,” he says with a crooked grin.

“Don’t, please.  Look I know this is just a set-hook up for you, okay?” You whisper, looking around the empty gym, “But this all matters to me. This role, this everything. I’m screwing up, I’m not prioritising correctly. I - I can’t make it any worse.”

“So this is just a hook up?”

“It’s not?” You look at him seriously then.

“I mean, yeah, it uh - it’s nothing, casual - yeah.”

“I thought you wanted it that way.”

“When did I say that I wanted that?” Dieter demands.

“I thought it - I didn’t know it was real for you too.”

You started this conversation with the intention of breaking up with him and now it’s turned into the two of you trying to define your relationship? You step off the treadmill, pinch your forehead. This is too much.

 This conversation has derailed, become messy. You thought Dieter wanted to keep things casual, you thought that met his expectations but looking at him now you’re not so sure.

You can’t do this. This relationship, whatever it is, has distracted you, has removed focus.

Your head throbs and you grip the edge of the machine, look down at the floor.

“Hey, forget us for a second. Just tell me what’s really happening with you,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t look at him. “It’s stupid.”

“I had to read the whole script for Cliff Beasts 6 and I still took the part. In my defence, I need the money and the plot made more sense when I was on coke.”

“I just didn’t look right in the photos of Alex’s premiere, I’m probably one pound from the costume department putting a photo of me on a target board because they’ll have to alter everything.”

”Stop right there. You’re fucking hot, okay? And what are you talking about with the costume department?”

“Dieter, while people might be fine with you walking around Crocs, they expect me -”

“Fuck that.”

“Even Alex said -”

“Wait, this is what this is about? Fuck him. Actually, don’t.”

“Dee, this is serious.”

Dieter looks at you carefully. “Oh, this is what you meant, isn’t it? The other methods of self-destruction, you - ”

“Don’t.”

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. Please?”

You take the hand he offers.

Before - Final Day of Filming:

“I can’t believe it’s the last day,” you say as you lie back against the pillows, still gasping. You turn to face Dieter on the other side of the bed, pleased to note his body gleams with sweat like you’re sure your own does.

You don’t want this to end.

You want to see his home in Sherman Oaks, you want lazy mornings and coffee with him. You want to be able to kiss him outside and not care.

Since you came back from Alex’s premiere, since your confrontation at the gym, you’ve finally understood that this isn’t just the movie for him. That it’s real for you both.

It’s real. It’s something.

You trace the lines of the triangle tattoo on his arm, run your fingers down to his wrist, interlace your fingers with his for a second, lean in to kiss him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

He looks at you; his eyes dark and heavy, his hair mussed and unruly. There’s a vulnerability in his expression. You had always expected Dieter Bravo to be someone who knew what he wanted, who would be assertive, confident and maybe even selfish. He can be those things certainly, but his puppy dog expression is a little too well practiced. He is insecure and needy too, has more layers and vulnerabilities than he ever conveys to the public.

“Who says you’ll lose me?”

“When this is over… when we go back home. I don’t, I don’t know how we do this. If you even want to.”

He props himself up on an elbow, turns himself so he’s facing you too. “If I want to?”

“We’ve never defined this, never said if it’s more than a fling while we’re shooting.”

“Oh, you have a lot of flings on set then?”

“No,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat. “Do you?”

“What are you asking me this?” he replies, a little defensively if you’re honest. Of course he’s had flings on set before, you know he has,

Is this real? That’s the only question you need an answer to, that’s what you really mean.

“What happens next?” Close enough.

“Well,” Dieter says, leaning over to kiss your shoulder, pepper kisses up to your jaw, “that’s up to you.”

“Me?”

“I can’t put this - this burden on you. If what we’re doing right now was exposed, I’d ride it out no problem. But you - sweetheart, they’ll ruin you. I don’t want you to - I don’t want to destroy your life by being me. And I will.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” you say bravely, “maybe I’d let you. Maybe I want you to.”

There’s an underlying safety in your responses, in Dieter’s words. You have a feeling if you tell Dieter right now that after this shoot ends, you never want to be with him again, he’ll accept it. He might not like it, you hope he wouldn’t like it, but you know he’d accept it.

That’s why you’ll continue this, you know that.

You think of the way he was with you was after realising why you were in the gym following Alex’s comments and that disastrous premiere. He hadn’t judged you, hadn’t tried to tell you that everything in your head was wrong, argued that you looked a certain way. He knew what battles with internal demons were like, so he knew how to support you.

He never actively draws your attention to his efforts to ensure you eat each day, that you don’t overexercise, but you know what he has been doing. Plus, he made his own point about his feelings on the situation in his own very Dieter Bravo way. With his mouth, with his hands, with him.

You know this situation should feel dangerous and wrong, but it’s the safest you’ve ever felt, the most real you’ve ever been.

“I don’t want this to end,” you say after a moment. “But I don’t want to ruin my life, ruin my career either.”

“So we won’t. Won’t end it, won’t ruin you.”

“‘S not that simple.”

“It can be. We can make it that simple,” he says, moving so that he’s over you, so that he can trace kisses back down to your throat, down to your breasts.

“I need to talk to him when I get back, need to end things, do this right.” Or more right at least, you know what you’ve been doing hasn’t exactly been kind. It doesn’t matter if you’re not in love with Alex anymore, it doesn’t matter if the barriers between you are insurmountable, he deserves an explanation.

“Really?” he asks, an apprehensive expression on his face.

“Can you give me some time to do that?” you ask. “Then - then we can do this without the guilt, right? Without wrecking any of our lives? Just give me a little time?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I can do that.”

He meets your lips again, kisses you hard and says everything neither of you can say with his actions instead.

Before - 1 Week After Filming:

It’s like Alex knows what’s coming. Ever since you came home from the shoot, he’s wanted to make things right.

“I was an asshole to you after my premiere,” he says to you when he picks you up from the airport, “I’m sorry. Really sorry”

You want to say more, you want to say his words were dangerous and did he want you to relapse, was that his secret unspoken intention? You want to tell him that his jealousy has broken the love between you both beyond repair. You want to scream and ask whether he realises that he’s only happy when he’s more successful than you? You want to analyse and pinpoint when the two of became so separate; mark it on a calendar, file it as evidence.

Things improve though. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because neither of you have booked any jobs right now, both of you are in that quiet period between auditions and confirming your next roles where every day is a temporary vacation. They’ve always been some of your favourite times with Alex before. When things are good with you both, they’re good.

It can’t last.

Dieter Bravo is the leading man in your mind all the time. You email him, text him, call him, sneak over to Sherman Oaks when you can. You even add him to your google alerts, you don’t want to lose sight of him.

You haven’t seen him since shooting wrapped and you feel unmoored. If you thought that the absence and ending the film would dull your desire for him, make you rethink matters then you were wrong.

You need to find a way to end things with Alex, to move forward. You want to move on.

It’s your birthday and despite your desire for a quieter celebration, somehow your team have organised an overly lavish event.

It’s good to see old friends from your hometown though, old co-stars you haven’t caught up with for a while.

It’s just it’s midnight and your feet hurt, and you’re exhausted and tired and really you want to go home.

You want to sneak over to Sherman Oaks and spend the night with Dieter.  You’d like to have him standing next to you right now, have his hands on your waist. That’s your birthday wish.

Instead, it’s Alex with his arms around you and then he’s speaking and you’re only half-listening, only half-there because you can see Dieter in the corner of your vision.  He’s standing with Jake and he’s here, he’s here and you want to go over to him, but you can’t.

You’re not paying attention, don’t realise the room is so quiet until you notice Alex is on his knee and no - no.

Dieter looks away from you.

It’s the worst place, it’s the worst time. It’s the wrong guy.

There are too many people. They’re staring expectantly and this is your nightmare. If Alex knew you, he’d know that. He’s smiling up at you almost triumphantly though.

Why, you wonder, why now?

Whatever happens, whatever you do next is probably going to be one of the worst things you’ll ever do to one of them.

You giggle nervously, eyes darting around such a crowded room who are all cheering you on.

“Baby?” Alex asks, a sudden look of panic on his face.

He looks younger for a moment. You’re instantly taken back to when things were different. When Alex fought for you, supported you, when he held you hand when you cried after therapy appointments. It was a time you’re sure anyone else would have left you in, but he loved you and looked at you with love. You remember how secure he made you feel, how safe when the world was terrifying and all you wanted was to hide away.

Because you’re a coward, because you’re guilty, because you’re scared you say yes when you should say no. The word constricts around your throat immediately, you can taste bile in your mouth.

Alex kisses you as you see Dieter walk away.

“Please, please talk to me,” you plead, standing in Dieter’s porch.

“I don’t think there’s anything to say, is there?” He looks terrible; he’s wearing a shabby robe over what look pyjamas, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other leaning against the doorframe.

“I panicked. There was a crowd.”

“Oh, well, that changes everything,” he exclaims bitterly, shaking his head.

“I told you what I want, I asked you to give me time.”

“Time to break up with him, princess, not fucking marry him!”

“I am not marrying him.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

You wipe furious tears away and shake your head. “I know I screwed up, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. ”

“Are you gonna string me along forever? I mean, dammit!  Are you still fucking him ? Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me which of the two of us is the one who can make you cum the best, huh?” He throws his glass tumbler in his hallway. “It’s like Annika, you, you’re both the same. I was fine before, I was fine before she got me into my feelings and you - you! You know you’re not that special. I could - I could go out and I could find someone else. Someone who will break up with their boyfriend, better yet someone who doesn’t have one!”

“Dee, I said I’m sorry.”

“I’m just your idiot, aren’t I?” he asks helplessly, “It really fucking sucks being on the other side of this you know. Karma is a bitch.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll make it right.”

“Yeah? Do me a favour, don’t call me before you do.”

”Okay,“ you say in defeat. That’s fair, you can’t do this to him. You can’t do this to yourself either.

As you turn away to leave, he grabs your arm, pulls you back.

“Hey, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he says gently, softly saying your name to sooth you. “Don’t go, don’t leave like this. I’m an asshole, you knew that already though. I’m just - that killed me last night. Don’t go. Please.”

So you don’t.

Before - Last Night:

Alex is staring at you like you’re a stranger. Every version of you he held in his mind has just died behind his eyes.

It doesn’t matter for a second, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t love you, that your relationship is dead already because you’ve hurt him, humiliated him. You never wanted to hurt him like this.

This is a nightmare. You swallow nervously and pinch your leg, remind yourself you’re still here, you’re still breathing.

“Well,” he says to you with a cruel smile, “you really wanted to lose the America’s sweetheart label, huh?”

“Don’t,” you say carefully, clutching your bag tighter to your stomach like somehow the flimsy thing will shield his words.

How has this happened? How has this got out so quickly? You had a plan.

Five minutes ago, everything was fine, everything was normal. You were at the premiere of the movie you’d had a secondary role in before your movie with Dieter. It felt like such a long time ago since you had been on that set, but it was great to be back with the cast and crew again.

This was always going to be your last public event with Alex. You’d told him you needed to have a serious talk this weekend. You’d even messaged Ollie, your publicist, and told him to prepare for the communications, the statement about what would be your amicable break up.

 It wasn’t supposed to go like this though.

The article, though that might be a generous term for it, wasn’t live while you were walking on the red carpet but by the time you entered the movie theatre, it felt like everyone had seen it.

Your phone has been ringing incessantly and everyone is still staring at their phones, then you and then back to their phones.

You want the ground to swallow up.

You’re just grateful you’re in the lobby, away from prying paparazzi and cameras.

It’s posted on a Alex fan blog - one who wasn’t an official journalist, who wouldn’t have contacted your publicist for a comment and therefore didn’t give an opportunity to your teams to squash the story, Their only focus, only priority was Alex. Now you’re their biggest enemy, so now they’ve exposed you.

It’s more than just a veiled rumour, an allegation, there are photos. Grainy screenshots of what looks like CCTV footage of you and Dieter at the hotel on location, you’re kissing in the hallway - how could you have been so careless, who would have given these to the blogger? There’s a photo of you walking down Dieter’s street that day after your birthday party too, a photo of you hours later with mussed hair and a slight mark on your neck and - you can’t look at any more of them. This has been weeks in the making.

“How could you do this?” Alex asks, a furious and heart-breaking mix of anger of hurt on his face, in his voice.

“Alex, this isn’t the place,” you reply quietly.

“No, it is the place. You fucked Dieter Bravo? How long? How long it’s been going on? It looks, it looks like -”

“Can we please go talk somewhere else. I want to talk to you, I want to-”

“Fuck that. Fuck what you want. Clearly you’re getting enough of that.”

“Alex, please!”

“I don’t know you anymore. Who are you? We used to make fun of guys like him.”

“He’s - don’t. He’s not what you think, he’s  - please, don’t say that. You don’t know him.”

“Well you clearly do, huh? You know, you always want to come across like such a nice girl, but it’s fake, right? You’ll do anything for that Oscar, to get famous! You’re a good pair, the drugged-up sell-out and the ambitious slut!”

“Alex, stop! Please, just stop.”

“Hurts, right? Being exposed like this in front of everyone. Why? Why would you do this to us?”

“It wasn’t mean to happen, but you and I know we’ve been broken for a long time and I just -” You tail off, not sure where to go from there.

“You said yes. When I proposed you said yes.”

“It was in front of everyone, what other option did you give me?”

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I stuck by you when you were had nobody, were nobody. I was there with you when you were a suicidal anorexic wreck. I supported, thick and thin, baby. I would have married you. But, hey, I’m not Dieter Bravo so I guess that’s not enough.”

It would have hurt less if he had hit you. How could he bring that up, hurt you that way? Mention the parts of your past that he knows your team have kept out of the public for years. For a second you think see regret on his face before it hardens to something you don’t recognise.

”Nah, I’m done. Doll, you really are the fucking worst,” he says.

“You know what, baby, so are you,” you reply, acid on your tongue and a shrug in your shoulders.

You need to get out of here right now. You can’t hold it together one minute more.

You turn around and push your way through the shocked crowd.

You think you might have just left your career in the lobby with Alex.

Today:

You can’t have this conversation in yesterday’s clothes. You leave Dieter in your living room while you go and change, wash your face, try to do something with your hair.

It’s a marginal improvement.

When you emerge, Dieter is still there. Part of you thought he might have left already. He walks from your kitchen back to your living room with a steaming cup of coffee and a granola bar.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, handing you the mug and the bar. You don’t want to eat, can barely bring yourself to even think about drinking but Dieter’s face says he won’t let it go until you at least try.

You take a sip, grimace, put the cup down and take a bite of the granola bar. You are surprisingly hungry, despite the sick feeling in your stomach. When even was the last time you ate?

“What do you know?” you ask after a moment. “Did you see - how did they even get pictures? How are there even pictures?”

“I‘ve seen the article. I uh, I saw the video from last night too. Alex was - he definitely got some attention.” An unpleasant expression crosses Dieter’s face.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that had been filmed, no doubt someone had uploaded phone camera footage, or live streamed it, and it had gone viral by now. It makes sense.

You think of Alex’s angry outburst and scowl. You haven’t even told Dieter everything about that yet, your team had kept all of that out of the public domain for years.

“Fuck him for doing that in front of everyone.” His eyes are angry, scanning you over like Alex’s words could have left a physical mark.

“I humiliated him, Dieter. We humiliated him.”

“Do you regret this - regret me?” he asks, looking away from and running a hand through his hair.

“No.” You don’t. You can’t regret him. He’s changed your life, opened you up to something you never knew you needed, never realise you didn’t have.

“Our agents, publicists, all of them are talking. I think maybe the lawyers too because of the photos,” he says after a moment, “I guess they’ll come up with a plan, let us know what’s next, how we manage this. I find it’s best to leave them to that, we can - we can just be here.“

“Right.” You’d almost forgotten you were a commodity, not your own person in Hollywood.

“Hey, we’re not ending this, okay? Right? Unless -”

“No, no,” you say, panic rising because you can’t go through this and lose him too. You just can’t.

You pull him closer to you, let him wrap your arms around you, slip your hands under his t-shirt, up his back. There’s something comforting in his warm skin, in the way you can fit together.

You kiss him, gently at first. He meets your kiss fiercely, saying everything neither of you can with his lips, with his tongue instead. You can almost taste the fear and desire and apologies between the two of you. There’s something else though too.

He pulls away first, takes your hands in his. “Alright then. Forget everyone else, we’re doing this.”

You meet his lips again, pull him closer to you. Your world has just flipped upside down but he’s here and he still wants you and oh, how you want him too.

You need him.

Just as you start to guide him to the sofa, to find the safest, most basic language between the two of you, you hear a slam behind you.

You spin around in horror, only to find Becca standing there, a tray of coffees in one hand and an unamused expression on her face.

“Well, you two have absolutely ruined my week, haven’t you? Do you know how many calls from Ollie I’ve had since last night?  I have never heard a man simultaneously sound so angry and so upset before and I actually watched Hunger Strike, Dieter. ”

If your relationship with Dieter had ever sounded romantic to you , all ideas of that quickly fade once it’s reduced to arguments and fierce debate between two teams.

Neither side can agree on a statement, if there should be a statement, on how to present the two of you, or not.

What both sides can agree on though is that you both royally screwed up by not telling anyone in your respective teams that this was happening. They also agree that the publicity for you is a lot worse. For Dieter, it seems to have weirdly improved his publicity with some journalists instead, except with Alex fans. They are not fans of Dieter right now, but they probably hate you more.

There are a few articles though, Dieter’s publicist says, that are asking if this is a relapse, if Dieter is back on his vices of sex and hard drugs, if perhaps a rehab stay is needed. It all supports his rock n’ roll image though, the longstanding bad boy actor.

“I’m way too sober for this conversation, it’d honestly be better if I was still coked out,” Dieter says by way of justification, “And if you can’t tell, I don’t need rehab because I’m sober, okay?” He looks for a second like maybe he regrets this and then his eyes meet yours and he settles.

His publicist seems to consider that Dieter’s actions while sober are only marginally better than if he’d relapse. Perhaps that’s what they expect of him. The thought chills your bones because this is his team. Surely they have to believe in him.

“Your co-star, Jake, has reached out, said he’s willing to support you both if the two of you want it, and only if the two of you do. He’ll need to know our angle of course first to decided what, and if, he’ll say anything. It’s good to know there could be support. I think his team are pretty pissed,” Dieter’s publicist says from the computer screen. All you can think is that  Jake is an angel.

You never thought you’d face a scandal like this.

“I don’t know if that will help, but it’s good to know. Look, this will pass, all of this” Ollie says to you kindly, precariously balanced on an ottoman in your living room that was only ever intended as decorative. “Tomorrow, next week, there’ll be another break up or inappropriate social media post, or something and they’ll move on. The important thing is to limit damage right now until then. If you had told me this was happening, we could have prepared, could have had plans in place. ”

“I did tell you I was breaking up with Alex this weekend.”

“You missed out that it was because you were hooking up with your co-star.”

“I may have omitted some minor details.”

Dieter coughs at that, meeting Ollie’s resulting scowl shamelessly.

“Oh, yeah?” Ollie says, looking back at you and shaking his head.

Dieter has an arm snaked around your side, but you notice his other hand is twitching, tapping the edge of your sofa impatiently. He needs to smoke, needs a moment away from this.

“Look, let’s take five, come back and decide the plan and just ride this out, right?” you say, looking at Dieter with what you hope is a meaningful expression.

Ollie nods stiffly, disconnects the video call and walks into another room. Usually that’s your study or sometimes yoga room, but today it’s Ollie’s crisis room. You half expect to see old conference phones, flip-boards and sharpies if you walk in there.

You point towards your garden with Dieter, making the universal symbol for cigarette.

Once you’re both in your garden and alone, you exhale. Dieter immediately lights a cigarette, inspects it carefully.

“I fucking wish i had something stronger,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “No one has asked you if you’re okay. They’ve asked me, you’ve asked me, but no one asked you.”

“This is - not an issue for me. I’m pissed off that they’re - the shit they’re saying about you. Look I’ve had all the bad publicity, this is nothing to me. I mean it’s a little ironic that certain people jump to conclusions I’ve relapsed, the one time I haven’t. Thing is, it all goes with my public image now, right?”

“But if it’s not true -”

“You know it, I know it, the people who matter know it.” He takes a drag of his cigarette. “I didn’t want the story out like this though. Ollie says you’re already losing jobs, losing sponsorships,” Dieter says sadly.

“He also said it won’t last, remember?.”

You reach out to take a drag of his cigarette and lean against him for a moment.

You stare out at the lush, all too manicured lawn ahead of you. You know what the days and weeks ahead look like; the crisis management, the careful words and avoided cameras.

Weeks ago, Dieter had told you that this would ruin your life if it came out the wrong way, that he would ruin your life, and you said it sounded like a challenge. Even so you knew it was bravado, that was why you’d both agreed not to expose yourselves like this. This is a nightmare scenario; you feel a mix of humiliated and angry and hurt right now.

You don’t regret him though, you can’t. And even if you have ruined everything, ruined your career and all that hard work, for him? Maybe that’s okay, maybe that’s not so bad a price.

For a moment you wonder what today would be like if you hadn’t taken that role, if you and Dieter had never met. Would Alex have proposed? Would you still be feeling like your loveless relationship was slowly destroying you, like you would never be good enough? Would you have even realised how numb and sad and alone you were, how much you minimised yourself for others?

If Dieter’s here though, maybe it will all be worth it.

He wraps an arm around your waist.

“I’m not worth this,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder.

“You are.”

He is.

[theabigailthorn]

As an American, I am not as familiar with Britains political system as I should be given that I was a poly-sci major at university... That said, and I have been thinking this for a while now, if there is such a way for you to run for an office or for Prime Minister, you really ought to. I think you have the right drive, and determination to turn the system inside out if you really wanted to... I understand that as a creator, that may not be something you are into, or feel is worth the time, and being trans I understand we are at disadvantage for most popularity contests... (For reasons I dislike discussing, but also feel might be general knowledge at this point... And I don't mean appearance, but rather the gossip/whisper-whisper...) But even putting that thought into peoples minds, win or lose, it makes for the foundation of giant leaps forwards. It forces people to recognize that we exist, and deserve to be treated as human... Whilst unfortunately offering yourself for broad public criticism, of which I would never want for you, as I admire you and your work and what you mean to our community... That said, if any of us could do it, I think it might just could be you...

Just food for though, from an American fan. Love your work, and wishing all the best luck...

(Ps: Sorry for the annoyingly long message.)

In order to become an MP you first need to be selected by the party; there are no primaries in Britain. There are no political parties in Britain who could currently win under our FTTP system who would allow a trans woman to stand

Once you're selected, you need about £80,000 to pay for your campaign, which I do not have

Then you have to actually win the campaign and become an MP

Then you have to wait until a party leadership contest is called and secure enough votes from your party's MPs to be nominated; there are no current parliamentary parties who would allow a trans woman, never mind one with my politics, within a million miles of the leadership contest, cause the last time they allowed a joke candidate to run he became the most popular leader of the labour party ever, twice

then once you become leader of the party you have to survive your own MPs knifing you in the back

then you have to win a general election.

So as much as I'd like to become Prime Minister (and hey why the heck not, I can't be worse than the last few we've had!) I genuinely believe I have better odds of becoming a famous Hollywood actress

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 19/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN

Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.

NINETEEN

                “Sorry, sorry. Sorry I’m late. Jake’s mom is way more terrifying than you. Hopefully I won’t need more than one shovel talk.”

                Marcia snorts and shakes her head, gestures to where Bob is working and Bradley is grateful that he brought him along with how easily he just seems to know what needs to be done. Man deserves a bonus for this job for sure, picking up Bradley’s slack, uncharacteristic as it is. It’s not a usual situation and he knows Bob will understand that.

                “Also, Marcia, I need to warn you that Pete’s on his way. I apologize in advance for anything and everything he says.”

                “Ugh. It’s fine. Thanks for the warning though. I’ll put him to work and then refuse to put his name in the credits. Serve him right for just turning up and expecting to be welcomed.”

                “You’re the best. Thanks.”

                “Yeah yeah, now get to work and bring us back on schedule hmm?

                “Yes ma’am!” Bradley replies, tipping an imaginary hat. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, makes a shooing gesture with her hands and Bradley grins.

                “Not you too!”

                “It’s rubbing off on me!” Bradley calls back.

                “Rubbing off on something, your boy looks like he got attacked by a cheese grater and then used lemon juice as a moisturizer. You’re going to need to start shaving twice a day,” Natasha mutters, reaching out to whack him on the arm as he walks past. “Maybe consider getting rid of the caterpillar huh?”

                “I happen to like the caterpillar,” Jake interjects, and he looks a little uncertain about interrupting them but Bradley reaches for him, pulls him into a side-hug, leaves his arm around Jake’s waist and feels Jake relax against him. He thinks about Aunty Kaye saying maybe he’ll believe you and he just squeezes a little more, pokes his tongue out at Natasha’s eye roll.

                “You two are gross. Can we get on with doing what we’re meant to be doing?”

                “Sure sure…”

…            …            …

                It’s meant to be all long distance action shots today of them riding and corralling, and Natasha and Rueben are proficient riders, comfortable in their seats even if they don’t quite look born to it. That’s fine, Javy and Callie aren’t playing characters born to it like Jake is.

                “You know, your mom just gave me the most eloquent shovel talk I’ll ever receive.”

                Jake snorts.

                “She was an English and Drama teacher, what were you expecting?”

                “Well, the fact that it was also a pep talk was sort of weird…”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, she said she’d do the same to you if she found out if you hurt me. Physically, emotionally or mentally.”

                “What did she threaten you with?” Jake asks, because his mom is not one for violence, not even threatening it. She was always pretty creative with Jake and his siblings growing up, which is almost worse than threatened violence which will never actually eventuate. His mom always believed in only ever threatening things she was fully committed to following through on.

                “Uh. Just a disappointed look? For either of us if we screw it up on purpose?”

                Jake bursts into laughter.

                “Oh god. You don’t know her very well yet, but uh, when she says that, she really means it. It’s not just an in person look. She’ll take a photo of herself, she will then print it, and she will post it to you. She will email it to you. Post it on all her social media accounts. She’ll rent advertising space and put text saying I am disappointed in you with the photo. It’s… it’s horrifying. And I haven’t had her do that to me thankfully, but my sister, oh boy… It stops when you make it right. Or when she thinks you’ve suffered sufficiently.”

                “Well, I’m glad you have her in your corner. And I don’t need her to threaten me to do the best for you, I want to do that anyway.”

                “You a secret romantic there?”

                “No secret about it. I grew up surrounded by love stories.”

                Jake pulls a face, because while there might be plenty of love stories in Hollywood, there are also plenty of affairs and divorces. Bradley seems to pick up on his train of thought.

                “Nothing worth it is easy. I don’t scare easily. Not afraid of hard work. But the love story I was thinking of was my parents. And you have your parents. Those love stories are where we should be looking.”

                Jake blinks, throat a little tight and he nods, because yeah, that kind of love story is something he believes in.

…            …            …

                “Seresin.”

                Jake looks up, and he doesn’t recognize the person addressing him but something about the way he said his name has him straightening up and his stomach flips, because yeah, if he hadn’t known Tom Kazansky was going to be arriving today he wouldn’t have recognized him, but now that he’s looking this man is him. Older and greyer, but still recognizable if you know who you’re looking at.

                “Mr Kazansky, it’s nice to meet you,” Jake says, holding out his hand.

                There’s a brief hesitation before Tom Kazansky is shaking his hand and the man is a multiple award winning director and screen writer, albeit no longer as prolific as he was twenty or even ten years ago, but he still has a presence that expects people to listen to him when he talks. He’s a little intimidating, but not because of his reputation in Hollywood. This is Bradley’s other parental figure and he desperately wants to make a good impression.

                “And you. Pete’s told me a lot about you.”

                “Uh. Okay,” Jake says and grimaces a little, because he’d rather that he’d heard all about Jake from Bradley, but he guesses they’re new, Bradley wouldn’t have had time to talk about him to his parental figures.

                “Don’t worry, I only believe about half of what Pete tells me.”

                “How do you know what half to believe?”

                “Experience,” Kazansky says dryly and Jake bites his lip in amusement, ducks his head so it won’t be noticed. “Also Pete is prone to exaggeration. He’s likely bothering Marcia and Arnold. And Bradley. Thought I’d come and introduce myself.”

                Jake nods.

                “Bradley didn’t tell me about you until just this morning, hasn’t really had a chance to tell me anything. I know he was planning on a family dinner when we get back to LA.”

                “Yes. Pete sort of forced Bradley’s hand there. You’ll get used to it. I hope.”

                “Bradley has already warned me that Parent-Pete is different from the Professional-Pete that I know, but I’m not going to be scared off by threats or anything. Bradley’s already having to deal with that from my mom, so it seems like the bare minimum I can do.”

                “It’s not the threats I’d be worried about when it comes to Pete. And I guess I get Partner-Pete and you get Parent-in-law-Pete. Lord help us.”

                Jake thinks he’s going to like him, once he gets to know him better. Seems to have a dry sense of humor and actually… reminds him a lot of his dad.

                “I don’t know if you’re wanting to hang around the set, but if you want a quiet place to just, sit and chill, my dad is at home. He doesn’t get out much since his accident, prefers peace and quiet. You’re welcome to wait there, if you don’t want to hang around the set that is.”

                He’s aware he’s rambling a little, but by the expression on Tom Kazansky’s face he’s letting Jake do it deliberately.

                “I’d like that. Thank you.”

TWENTY

[beingfacetious]

please give us the correct negative Ted lasso review

Oh my God. This feels like a trap but I can't help it

update from the other side, this is no joke 2k words long and it's not uh happy lmao so dead dove do not eat

TL;DR:

Bill Lawrence's involvement lessened every season and it fuckin' shows

There were arcs and plot points established over the first two seasons that the writers very obviously just changed their minds about for this season

Takes about this season being dark/ending sad on purpose are MUCH too generous. like giving WAY too much credit.

It turns out most of my feelings boil down to "it's not aggressively bad it's just nonsensical"

How tf was every episode twice as long as in previous seasons but everything important happened offscreen

FIRST OF ALL, since MONTHS before the season started airing, I've nursed a conspiracy theory that Bill Lawrence left the show because of creative differences with Jason Sudeikis and that therefore this season would be significantly less good than previous seasons. This started when I saw Bill tweet that he was going home, basically, and I figured we'd get "season 3 is in post" news shortly thereafter but instead there was that weird stuff about things being delayed because of rewrites...? Anyway, that is mostly to say that I was ready to think this season was worse because I love Bill Lawrence's storytelling and have forever and you should give Cougar Town a shot if you haven't yet it's no Scrubs but it's sweet

There were interviews early in the show in which I swear Jason/Brendan/whoever said they pitched the show to Bill because he's fuckin' good at TV and he basically said "this is a great idea but you're writing to the wrong ending, it should be this," and they were like "wow you're right that is a better ending." I can't find that now but I did find this from a more recent Bill interview:

I ran that show the first year because Jason was still shooting movies while we were doing the writers room. Then, at the end of that year, much like Gary with me, I was like, “Ah, I’ll spend a couple of months teaching him how to edit.” But after like a day or two, he’s like, “Yeah, I got it.” (Laughs.) So, the second year, we ran it together, and I’m only able to do other things now because that guy ran the show himself the third year, as it should be. It’s his voice and his world this season.

Now look, Bill Lawrence is obviously not trying to throw shade here because he's lovely and also this is a Hollywood Reporter article and how immature would that be, but I can throw shade for him and I will: Jason Sudeikis is a talented comedic actor and seems like a very nice man and he had a good idea for a show, and his instincts to involve an extremely experienced showrunner with an insane talent for feelsy found family sitcoms were good and he should have stuck to them!! Telling Bill Lawrence you're good after two days of editing instruction or whatever is stupid!! Insisting on your voice and your world when BILL LAWRENCE'S VOICE IS AVAILABLE TO YOU and also you CO-CREATED THE WORLD whatever gdi

OK fine I'll do Ted/Rebecca next. Obviously I was in for Ted/Rebecca. I wanted them to put their faces together. But look, I'm not a shipper over all else; over all else I want a good storyteller to tell me the story they want to tell. If I expect things or see them coming, that's not bad! That's good! If I'm surprised by things, that's good too as long as it holds together! "Subverting expectations" shouldn't look like spiting the audience, a lie is not a twist, etc. SO. If Ted and Rebecca were meant to be platonic soulmates, that's fine!!! I don't NEED them to kiss!!! But I do not believe these people are even friends in season 3, after season 1 and tbh most of my favorite parts of season 2 were about how much they impact each other's lives. That's a dropped ball and there's NO REASON to have not made time for them to interact meaningfully because every episode was so fucking long. Instead I guess we had to know how super sad Rebecca was about not being able to have children but not need to talk to anyone about it and immediately be fully over it. Also see a lot of lingering shots of Rebecca...looking at a matchbook...

sfjbkfgs early in the season they very obviously established that Rebecca's arc was going to be realizing she actually loves the team and wants to support them and see them succeed because of her own heart and not to spite Rupert, and I guess that happened but why didn't it happen gradually in ways I could see, why did it happen in an episode in which I'm supposed to have known all along that this has to do with her childhood self ?? and in which Rupert has a FULL personality change to facilitate her sudden realization. In what fucking world would he invite her to that meeting, because she's smart or because she brings ~diversity or because maybe he wants to sleep with her again? None of it tracks at all lmao but it was also the episode in which I really enjoyed Tony Head so whatever

speaking of not tracking, Nate.........I've never been invested in Nate especially but he was SO cartoonishly evil at the start and then kind of never again. I was braced for a redemption arc I wouldn't care about but that didn't even really happen?? he got a girlfriend and realized Rupert was a bad role model? it turns out his dad thinks he was a prodigy and always just wanted him to be happy, which, lmao WHAT where????? and what am I supposed to believe about Jade changing her mind about him btw because she's seen people be terrible to him at that very table before AND she has to know he loves the place and the food because he's there all the time, so what was the revelation that turned her from relatable-via-Nate-ambivalence to suddenly heart-eyes just fdslelugatw so much of my feeling about this season isn't even like it's bad it's just it's nonsense

One of my big complaints about the season is just Keeley's whole deal. Separating her from the team/rest of the cast was a wild choice. Barbara is fine but I also would have been perfectly fine without her and none of the other new characters for the PR side story added anything to the show. Especially if at the end Rebecca is just going to write Keeley a check for the chump change she needs to run the agency. Why didn't we just do that to begin with??? I guess this season I'm supposed to think Keeley ~learned to be independent in various ways but, again, I don't ?? And her needing to not be with Roy I guess as part of that and then get back together offscreen but then not really be together maybe but then also possibly having throuple vibes later that never get acknowledged feels, whatever, like something Bill Lawrence didn't write sdfjlsefaj,lwte I know this is my unsupportable argument that post I RBed was making fun of but idc

also Jamie wanting to be with Keeley at the end of the show feels extremely Harry Potter epilogue to me lmao Jamie you don't have to marry someone you went to high school with there are so many people

Roy was fine this season. He didn't have much to do but that's probably for the best lol. Him taking Ted's job is probably the only main character ending I feel like makes sense for this season and the overall show. Him training and begrudgingly becoming friends with Jamie was always funny.

OK one of the wrong reviews was basically like if you don't appreciate this season you don't appreciate classic tragic structure. Fuck off with that. First of all this was a sitcom about soccer so even if they were going for a classic tragedy in season 3 that's stupid and they shouldn't have been. But I also just don't think that's what was happening ??? I think I'm supposed to believe everyone gets a happy ending and I just don't. Like the whole oh it's sad that Ted ends up where he started and it's about how persistent optimism and kindness can burn you out or whatever, that's...if that's what they were going for, again, why tf, and also could we have seen that like. at all. Ted barely Teds for anyone this season (frex the previously mentioned never talking to Rebecca). ROY Teds more than Ted in season 3. If we got to see Ted trying to Ted even, like, twice, and either not being able to dig down and find the positivity or I guess noticing that he needs someone to be that for him, OK, fine. A Ted/Keeley scene would have been a PERFECT vehicle for this. Didn't happen. idk if we're supposed to think he's getting back together with Michelle but that would be so...so bad ??? like what about Tan Lines??? why even have Tan Lines??? even if not, we just left completely unaddressed her starting a relationship with their marriage counselor, which is also BAD lmao. God why did I have to see so much of Michelle this season. Michelle video calls every other episode and two lines for Dr. Sharon. Nonsense. lol one of my friends summarized Ted's ending as "yeah going back to the unfulfilling life that didn't work before the show started is a victory for our protagonist"

Even the soccer of it all re that whole thing was silly. Oh marriage counselor boyfriend is a bad guy because he doesn't care about the soccer game. Oh Ted is happy now because he's coaching Henry's rec league soccer team. like it's fine that EVERYONE is still together in Richmond but he's "home" now and still around soccer which is good because we definitely saw him learn to love soccer during the course of the show. sure Jan

(to be fair I am not the audience for "it's about the kid" plots so even if I felt like it worked from the start of the show for Ted to choose moving back to where Henry is, which I don't, I wouldn't care for it, so maybe those criticisms aren't especially valid) (I didn't care about JD's kid either)

speaking of the soccer though every single scene that revolved around the actual soccer team was essentially perfect. Great use of so many of those boys. Very few notes. Sam in particular had a few nice things this season and of course Colin. Another incorrect review by a critic I actually like very much was complaining about Colin's story this season and it being tired and overdone and not caring about Trent's or Isaac's parts of it, but I actually really disagree! It was well done and it was nice to see in the context of professional sports where, sorry, coming out and being received well is not a cliche thing that happens a lot! Also, hot take! Zava was a good part of this season! Nice contained little story that impacted some characters I actually care about plus he was legit funny! Sometimes things in a comedy should be funny! I'd honestly watch three more seasons of Richmond-focused half-hour episodes with idk probably Brett Goldstein in charge

I haven't mentioned Beard because I just never understood what I was supposed to think about him lmao. By far the funniest character overall but I never felt settled on whether he was meant to be a manic pixie comic relief BFF or if he was like...a real person?? It strikes me as potentially bad that he was so worried about Ted's mental state all the time and never really mentioned his own and that was sort of a thing in the weird s2 episode but then not again? I felt so much ire about so much else I didn't have any for him marrying Jane lmao but I do understand the people who are upset about that because that sure seemed pretty toxic, but wasn't it supposed to be played for laughs? Does that fit in a show that's supposed to mainly be about people treating each other well because we're all we've got? idk, RIP Beard, sorry your best friend in the world wasn't at your wedding because it would have been narratively underwhelming to see him leave and then see him back at a future major event or whatever

idk idk, season 1 Rebecca was one of my favorite characters ever and I was so angry in the middleish of the season about how much I felt like she was being wasted, but by the end I was just like...I mean, what's to be mad at. She's not even her anymore. Ted wasn't Ted anymore. Nate I guess literally reverted back to season 1 Nate which also is that...okay...him ending up lower than he started out feels not great

Good for Mae and the bar boys though, used just the right amount this and every season and always a damn delight

OK this is ridiculous I'm going to be done now. I do want to say I enjoyed several episodes this season a lot! A couple top 10 potentials! I really enjoyed the Amsterdam one actually because it reminded me of like a Nancy Meyers movie, very nice and warm, but it feels worth noting that that is not a feeling I would describe as being struck by fucking lightning :))))))

in conclusion maybe we as a nation can move on now from giving SNL alumni we find charming huge budgets and ethereally talented casts and collaborators and letting them get us emotionally invested in their midlife crises sandbox playing

[kyojirokagenuma]

The Lost Twin Chapter Three

“At least it can’t be worse than last year.”

-Sam Giddings, 9:07 p.m.

  -March 2nd, 2014

Emily Davis was just waking up. She had slept in late that day. It was nearly noon. She yawned, shielding her eyes from the sun shining in on her face through the window. She threw off her blankets, heading for the shower. She passed her phone on the nightstand, which had been set to vibrate all night. After turning the water on, she stripped out of her night clothes and stepped into the tub. Just a short shower to start the day. Her hair didn’t need washing. She let out a long sigh as she felt the hot water rain down like tiny bullets against her skin. After a quick wash, she turned the water off, stepped out, and grabbed a towel. No one was home to see her naked, so she dint even bother wrapping body after drying it off. She still had a towel over her head, rubbing her brown hair, when she stepped back into her room and picked her phone up from the nightstand.

“Ten missed calls? What the hell? Who’s calling me at 3am?” she asked herself, scrolling down the list.

Josh three times. Sam twice. Josh again. Mike twice. Jess twice.

Weird. Did something happen, she thought? She would have to call one of them back and see what was going on. She finished drying her hair and tossed it on the chair in front of her desk as she scrolled through some of the morning news. She was hardly paying attention to them as she passed them by.

“Fuckin’ great, more cold?” she thought with a frown, placing a hand on her bare hip as she passed by the weather. “Politics, boring,” she sighed, combing past a story about the president. Next was something about sports. “I think that’s the team Mike likes. I wonder if he’d like a jersey or something for his bir-.”

BREAKING UPDATE: Miracle on Blackwood Mountain!  Daughter of Hollywood Mogul Found Alive!

Emily froze. Her mind just stopped working for a few seconds. Then her hand began trembling uncontrollably.

“No fucking way,” Emily said out loud, quickly clicking on the article.

She held her phone with both hands, her whole body shaking while she waited for it to load. Of course her internet had to suddenly crash now.

“Fuckin’ come on! Hannah or Beth?”

Suddenly she was shivering, like she had just gotten out of an ice bath instead of a hot shower. Finally, the page loaded. She read the first few lines of the article.

In what can only be described as a miraculous turnabout, the once grim case of the missing Washington twins has had a stunning breakthrough after nearly an entire month, when younger sister Elizabeth was found alive late last night by Blackwood forest rangers.

Underneath the paragraph was a picture of a ragged and injured Beth, a selfie that must have been taken with one of the ranger’s phones. She was smiling.

She was okay.

“Holy fucking shit!” Emily all but screamed. She clicked off the article and flew right over to her contacts.

There was no way Beth still had her working phone after missing a month. Josh was probably busy as hell dealing with all of it.

She called Sam. She picked up on the first ring.

“Emily, finally!” came her excited voice from the inherent end.

“Sam, I just saw the news!” Emily asked while hurrying to her wardrobe. She held the phone between her chin and shoulder as she started to get dressed. “Have you talked to her yet?”

“No, not yet. It’s a media frenzy over here. Only family can get into see her right now. She’s in the hospital. But she’s alive! She’s really alive!”

Emily pulled a pair of jeans on over her underwear. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this shit!”

“I know, it doesn’t seem possible.”

“Where are you? Right now?”

“I’m at the hospital. It’s St. Mary’s.”

“I’m on the way.”

“Alright, see you.”

Emily hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, then picked a clean bra out from her wardrobe. Once she was finished dressing, she hurried down the stairs and out the door. It took her until she jumped into her car to come to a sudden realization. She stopped, and turned off the car. She just sat there, sitting in her seat for minutes on end. A deep, troubled frown had replaced her once exhilarated expression. She took out her phone again and dialed Sam back.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, it’s me again. I . . . I just had a thought.”

“Yeah?”

“What if Beth doesn’t wanna see me? Or the others? I mean, the whole thing was my idea.”

“Emily, we talked about this. You couldn’t have known what would happen. Yeah, it was mean, but-.”

“Yeah, I know. You told me,” Emily said with a sigh. ”But, but I can’t shake it! I thought it would be funny. I told myself she deserved it for wanting to get with Mike, but don’t know if Beth will see it that way. What if she’s mad at me?”

“Well, she might be at first, but I also think she’ll probably forgive you if she really thinks you’re sorry. She’s not vindictive like that, and I know you’re really sorry.”

“Yeah, I am,” Emily said, her eyes falling. “You’ll tell her I am, right?”

“Of course. It’s your boyfriend that I’d be worried about.”

Emily’s frown deepened. She said nothing.

“He hasn’t changed his tube, huh?” Sam asked, noticing her silence.

“No, he still hasn’t even said sorry to Josh. He says we shouldn’t apologize just cause Hannah overreacted and went nuts. Says it’s her fault.”

“Asshole. No offense, Emily.”

“Whatever,” Emily deflected, not even having the energy to get angry.

“Emily, just come over, okay? We can figure this out when you get here.”

Emily pricked her lip, but nodded. “Yeah, okay,” she said, restarting the car.

“You’ve really surprised me on this Emily. You’re actually pretty sweet when you want to be,” she said in an almost teasing manner.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, cut out. I’ll be there soon.”

She hung up her phone and pulled out onto the road. The hospital was a good half-hour away, right in the heart of LA. Beth must have been doing alright if they transferred her there already. Emily wanted to get there as soon as possible, so she got on the expressway. She was approaching her exit when she got another call. Caller I.D. said Mike. She hit answer and brought it up to her ear.

“Hey babe, you heard about Beth, right? I’m headed there now.”

“Yeah, I heard. That’s, uh, that’s not why I called though. We gotta talk, Em.”

Her car rolled down the exit ramp towards an empty intersection. No one was at the light.

“Well, can it wait? I’m kind of driving to-.”

“Emily, I wanna break up.”

Emily's eyes shot wide. Her mouth fell halfway open just of shock. “What? What did you just say to me?”

“Sorry, Emily, but things just aren’t working out. I asked Jess out today, and she said yes. It’s over between us.”

Emily’s world was suddenly crumbling. Jess was her best friend. Why would she do this?

Emily didn’t even notice the light in front of her turn red, or that she was speeding up. This was about to get loud.

“What the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me? You prick!”

“See, that’s part of the reason we’re breaking up, Emily. You’re also so nasty, even to me.”

Emily was clutching the steering wheel so tight it was hurting her hand. She was flying in that little car now, the speedometer was going wild. Every ounce of blood in her body was burning red hot. “So you ask out my best friend? You fucking, you motherfucker! That’s why she’s been ignoring me! Fuck her! And fuck you! Sam was right about you, you piece of-.”

It took a blaring horn to finally break her focused rage. Her head twisted around to see an eighteen-wheeler on her left, barreling right at her through the intersection. Her heart stopped, her eyes wide.

She pulled the wheel as far right as it could go.

The truck slammed on the breaks.

The semi struck the front of her car. The whole engine block was ripped right out, her BMW torn in half. Emily screamed. Louder than she ever had before. What remained of her vehicle was spinning like a runaway tornado. Emily's head whipped side to side, trapped in spiraling metallic coffin. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a telephone pole as she spun across the intersection.

Emily finally came to more than an hour later. Her eyes fluttered open, her world totally out of joint.

“Emily?”

The voice sounded as if she were underwater. Emily was still swimming, about to break the surface. The light was so close.

“Emily?”

Emily found herself blinded by the light shining down on her from the ceiling. She tried to bring up her arm to shield her eyes, but found it restrained.

“Unhhhh,” she groaned.

“Emily, can you hear me?”

The brown-haired girl turned in the direction of the voice, the woman’s figure slowly coming into focus. A young blonde woman. She looked scared.

“Sam?” Emily finally said, managing to recognize her.

“Thank Christ you’re awake,” Sam sighed, a relieved smile forming.

“What the fuck happened?” she asked weakly, still unaware of her surroundings.

“You ran a stoplight and crashed into a huge truck. That’s what the doctor said anyway. Broke over a dozen bones.”

It was then Emily realized her arm was in a cast. So was her left leg. It was all coming back to her. The pain was coming back to her, and not just from her broken body.

“Oh, fuck. My car?” Emily frowned, already knowing the answer.

“Totaled. They said there was pretty much nothing left of it. You’re lucky to be alive, Emily. You really had never scared.”

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Wait, is this the hospital Beth is at?”

“How do you think I got here so fast?” Sam snickered. “Don’t tell me you almost killed yourself trying to race to the hospital.”

Emily looked away. “No, that wasn’t it,” she said.

She bit her lip, feeling tears coming on fast. “That son of a bitch.”

“Em? What’s wrong?” Sam asked, tilting her head.

Sam rose from her seat and came closer as Emily began to cry. “H-he broke up with me. Over the phone.”

“What? You mean Mike?” asked a stunned Samantha.

Emily nodded weakly. “He asked out Jessica, who’s supposed to be my best fucking friend, and guess what? She said yes! So yeah, he called me on the road and he dumped me!”

Sam put the pieces together quickly. “He made you so upset you crashed your car?”

Emily said nothing. Sam made fists with her hands.

“What a bastard. I’m so sorry, Em.”

Emily didn’t offer a response, she was just sobbing. Sam looked to the open door, then stood up.

“Em, I’m gonna find a doctor. Tell them you’re awake. I’ll swing by later, okay? After you’ve got some rest.”

Emily managed another nod, but said nothing back. She watched Sam leave with a smile and a wave.

Emily faded back out shortly after.

By the time she woke up again, she had no idea what time it was, but the sky was dark. She had passed out for who knows how long. She lifted her head, looking out into the darkened hall. The was a light on somewhere out there. She didn’t see anyone though. There was a few empty chairs at a reception area outside. The hospital was dead quiet. All she could hear was the fan going from the vent on the ceiling. Must have been pretty late. She turned her head the other direction. just enough for her to barely make out a shrouded figure sitting in the chair. Someone was in there with her? She had a visitor this late?

“Sam? Is that you?”

Suddenly Emily heard the sound of helicopter propellers outside. Must have been someone being airlifted to the hospital. The chopper’s light shined bright overhead, illuminating a small streak across the room. Her visitor’s face was lit up for just a split second. Long enough for Emily to at least spot her dirty, ragged brown hair. Eyes cold and dead. Her once lively olive skin was badly decomposed. She wore a pair of mangled glasses. An unnerving smirk lay painted on her maggot-infested face. She rose to her feet, stepping out into the dim light. 

Emily’s visage twisted with dread. She just kept coming. Emily was immobile. She could do nothing but watch as the dead twin advanced, until she was looming over her hospital bed. A deafening shriek echoed through the emptied halls.

Emily shot upwards in her bed, drenched in sweat. Sudden agony shot through her system from straining her broken body. The brown-haired girl fell back against the bed, groaning and writhing in pain and discomfort. Her eyes darted about the room. It was day now. The next day? Or the same? She wasn’t sure.

“Fuck, was that a dream? Fuck me,” she said, short on breath.

She slumped her head back on her pillow, trying to get a hold of herself. That was new. That had never happened before. She hoped it never would again.

“Christ. What the fuck? That sucked.”

A nurse came to the door, having heard her cries of pain. “Miss Davis, you’re awake again. That’s good,” she said with a smile, coming to her side.

“Yeah, yeah I am,” said a breathless Emily. “What day is it?”

She gave Emily a drink of water before answering. “Friday,”

Emily’s mouth fell open. “D-did I pass out for two days?”

“Yes, you did. Your body needed the rest. Your parents were here yesterday, but you were asleep. Two other women came to check on you. The nice blonde girl, and that woman from upstairs, the missing one they found.”

Emily blinked. “Beth? Beth came to see me?”

“Yes,” said the nurse, fluffing her pillow and doing a few other things Emily wasn’t sure of. Checking all the nonsense that was attached to her no doubt. “Would you like me to tell her you’re awake? She seemed very interested in speaking to you.”

“Uh, yea, sure,” Emily said, an anxious feeling taking over her.

“Okay, I’ll let her know. I’ll go get you some food in the meantime.”

Emily tried her best to relax after the nurse left the room once more. On top of being stabbed in the back by both her best friend and her boyfriend and a victim of a major car accident, now she had nightmares to deal with. Emily sighed in exasperated disbelief.

“Fuck my fucking life.”

[livsspecialinterests]

I would pay multiple dollars to see a movie version of the Beetlejuice musical.

However, I’m going to be like 90% certain that Hollywood executives would mess it up.

Like, they’d hire Timothy Chalemet to play Beetlejuice or something stupid like that and then be confused when no one likes the film.

Drown every musical number in autotune, and change it to be slightly worse, and interrupt the flow of the number for jokes.

Cut the opener, and add a very generic pop-inspired ballad about love or something.

I love musicals, but I’m very salty about the status of the movie musical industry right now.

oh yeah, 100% I think if it was adapted into a movie it'd lose so much of it's charm and the chaotic nature of it.

i'd love for there to be a professional recording of the musical, i really do think that that's the best way to capture stage shows (but they don't really make as much money as big screen cgi blockbusters so i can see why the bigger adaptations happen from a financial perspective, even if i don't like it from an artistic one)

i think you're so right in that there exists a world in which a really good film adaptation of the musical could be made but that's definitely not the world we live in right now. everything's way too exec driven - what'll make the most money, what's marketable, rather than letting the art speak for itself, taking some financial risk and letting something find its audience. when you focus too much on making Slop that's designed to appeal to Literally Everyone, you end up with shit that nobody can feel any passion about because you can tell no passion was put into it

i mean, the musical itself fell victim to boardroom machinations twice (the first when they lost their contract then lost the Winter Garden to the Music Man, and then I think the reason why the show closed again on Broadway was that the people with the money essentially worried that it wouldn't be profitable enough through the winter which ??? given that in its closing weeks Beetlejuice broke all kinds of financial records for its venue you honestly have to laugh)

[sparklecinnamonbunny]

Qwispy!

Your OC accidentally helped a mob boss change a flat while transporting a corpse and was rewarded with a "favor." They then find themselves in a position where they need to make that call. -What is the situation and how bad does it have to be to make that call? -Is it a successful mission or does it require a few steps to complete? -What if the mob wont let your OC go afterwards? Is your OC willing to make peace with that fact or find a way out of it?

This one got away from me I'm not gonna lie. It's close to 2000 words. I'll RB this with the AO3 link once I post it over there. This prompt was *perfect* for my old RP character, so I couldn't help putting her (and her right hand man) in as supporting characters.

Under the cut: Envy Greenberg's Dance with the Devil.

Skid Row, Los Angeles, California - 1989

Envy turns the bolt and yanks on the front door to make sure it won’t budge. Another late, hectic night on the books. Running a bar (especially a dive like Cobalt) is simultaneously the most rewarding and most frustrating thing she’s done in her life. The day that she doesn’t have to get physical with a customer will be… well, probably the day she opens another bar.

She does another sweep and lets herself out the back. Go home. Sleep. Eat. Do it again. Before her keys are out of the lock, she sees a car rolling up in the steel door’s reflection.

“I know you ain’t bouta rob me right now…” she mutters, popping the door back open and grabbing her nail bat from inside. Won’t stop someone who’s really hurting for cash, but it’ll make them think twice about it. Envy locks up again and slowly walks out into the lot, bat at hand.

A long, black sedan sits in the middle of her parking lot, tilted down on one side. Flat tire in the back. The driver steps out and stares. Tall white dude, medium build. Nice suit. Either a Family man (and she thought she left those on the East Coast) or an important cop. She’s not sure which is worse. If it’s the former, she could probably take him if he’s not carrying. The latter would just take a while. Probably want to see her paperwork. Then he’d want a drink. She’d be lucky to get home before the sun’s up.

Her keys jingle when she moves. He whirls around. “Hey! You work here?”

“We’re closed.” Maybe if she keeps it short and doesn’t stop walking, she can get out of this.

“I don’t want trouble. I got a flat, was wondering if you’d help a pal out. I can make it worth your while.” The only thing that’s worth her while right now is her bed. Envy keeps walking. “Didn’t I see you at that protest last month?”

“No you didn’t!” She calls over her shoulder. He thinks he’s real slick, huh? He didn’t see her if she was there, that’s for sure. There might not be that many big black queens with battle vests and locs this side of town, but this one kept her damn face covered.

“Listen!” He exclaims as she reaches her trunk. “I got friends in high places and no spare in the trunk. You help me with this, I’ll scratch your back one day. I promise.”

“Here’s some help: There’s a pay phone down 6th. Call your friends. Or a tow.”

“This isn’t the kind of thing I can trust a tow with. Please. I'm good for it.”

Against her better judgment, Envy puts her spare on the mobster’s car for $20 and a phone number scrawled on an old receipt. The guy vows over and over that if she calls, he’ll help her, but she’s not counting on it.

Hollywood, Los Angeles, California - 2006

Envy pushes up her reading glasses and rubs the bridge of her nose. Agreeing to add playrooms to her new goth club sounded like such a good idea from the outset. Club Hedonism’s been looking for a place to run secondary events and host meetings during their more ‘controversial’ events (looking at you, Willy’s Wild ‘n’ Wet Watersports Week), and it seemed obvious to offer Midnight up.

Unfortunately, the City of Los Angeles has decided to fuck her instead. The building changes she’ll have to make in order to accommodate the playrooms have totally changed the scope of the project. For once, it’s not a money issue, thanks to Hedonism’s contract and her new submissive’s insistence to help— She needs to get new permits before any work can continue, and the city’s not budging.

She starts to punch in the submissive’s number (Isn’t her brother Dethklok’s manager? Maybe she can get a referral for a better lawyer. The one she’s got now hasn’t done shit), then stops, pulling a crumpled receipt out of her desk drawer. That’s right, the time she changed a mobster’s tire. Well, if the guy’s still alive, maybe he can pull some strings with the city. That’s what they do in the Family, isn’t it?

After two rings, a woman with an alluring voice answers. Envy almost hangs up at her Hello? but figures there’s no harm in trying.

“I’m looking for a Rob Muratori?”

Her tone drops instantly. “How did you get this number?”

“He gave it to me after I changed a flat for him in ‘89. I understand if—“

She gives a world-weary sigh and says, “You’re lucky he’s here. Hold on. Rob, vieni subito qui!”

They shout back and forth in Italian for a moment, then Envy hears the telltale sound of a phone being handed over.

“Hey, this is Muratori. No funny business or I’ll find ya!” He laughs, but it’s clear he’s serious about it.

“You might not remember me. I changed a flat for you outside a dive bar called Cobalt in 1989. You gave me this number and said I could call you for a favor.”

“No, I remember you,” he assures, warm tone not quite hiding the menace beneath. “You’re Envy, right? Envy Greenberg. Last weekend, you hosted a rope tutorial at Club Hedonism.”

Envy holds her hand over the phone’s receiver and murmurs, “What the fuck?” to herself before bringing it back to her ear. She replies weakly, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Cool, just making sure I got it straight. What can I do for you, Envy?”

“Do you know anybody that could help me get some permits through the city? Zoning’s blocking my new club. I didn’t really know where else to turn.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. My uh, friend that answered the phone is real good with contracts. She can grease some wheels downtown and get your project back on track.”

She should be glad it’s working out, but she feels like she’s signing a pact with the Devil. Envy forces a smile into her words as she replies, “Great.”

They make plans for his lawyer-friend to meet her at Club Hedonism the following weekend, as it turns out she’s a member. Envy books them a room. Some things are best discussed in complete privacy. Before they get off the line, Rob makes sure to tell her not to invite anyone else along. It kills her plan to invite her new submissive as buffer before it can crawl.

She waits in the negotiation room for what feels like an hour, jittering her knees until they might bruise. When Muratori’s friend finally shows, she’s not like any lawyer Envy’s ever seen. The lingerie is typical Hedonism fare, but she struts on platform heels like she just got off the pole. Let alone the Az-worthy blue hair. In fact, she would’ve asked her to leave if it weren’t for the gangster rose tatted on one of her arms and the hard look on her face.

“I trust you brought the paperwork,” she says in lieu of introduction. Her voice is back to sultry, but it doesn’t have the same effect now that she can hear the criminal underneath. She’s the sort of fierce beauty that Envy’d normally go silly for. It isn’t getting her blood pumping this time.

“Yeah. Plans and stuff too, in case you need to double check I’m applying for the right zoning permits.”

“That won’t be a problem. Rob’s taking care of my retainer for this, but I do still need you to sign a few things.” She sniffles a little. She bets she knows where that retainer’s going.

“For sure.” It would’ve been nice to have Sunday here, if only to make sure she isn’t signing herself into a corner. That’s probably why Muratori insisted she meet the lawyer alone. 

She learns the woman’s name through the paperwork, at least. Darian Ambrosia. Envy would prefer to take her time and read everything over, but Darian’s piercing stare makes her rush. Steel grey eyes follow her every movement. Envy starts to sweat. Stiletto nails drum the table with coked out impatience. Envy reads a little faster.

When they finish, Darian softens those killer eyes and asks, “I try not to mix business and pleasure, but are you taking clients right now?”

Thank God for Sunday, Envy thinks and answers, “Not right now, I just took on a new submissive. It’ll be a while before I’m available for new play partners again.”

“I wonder if Ms. Mourning knows how lucky she really is. Let her know Rob and I are fans.”

“Uh-huh.” Damn, they’re gonna bring her subs into this? Guess it’s hard to get at her family when they’re all on the East Coast.

Despite the thug behavior, Darian and Rob are as good as their word. Envy only has to live with a pit in her stomach for three weeks before the permits go through and she’s back to expressing her stress with a sledgehammer. She stays glancing over her shoulder, though. A few years later, the other shoe drops.

Las Vegas, Nevada - 2010

The downturn hits Turquoise the hardest of her establishments. Figures. Vegas is not quite as recession-proof as Hollywood, and a decrease in tourists means a decrease in money all around. She’s having the opposite of a pleasant vacation. Laying off a bunch of cocktail waitresses isn’t her idea of a good time. Doing it in person with severance is the best she can do, and even that’s not as much as her girls deserve.

All this to say that by the end of her tear-soaked, chlorine-scented day, Envy’s feeling rotten to the core. All she wants to do is get in her car and spend the five hour drive back to LA shouting along to old Misfits CDs, but God has something else in mind. 

There’s a couple in dark suits leaning against the car next to hers. Darian’s hair is platinum blonde now, but she can’t miss the gunslinger’s glares on her and her companion’s faces.

“Mr. Muratori, Ms. Ambrosia. Enjoying a weekend getaway?”

“Something like that,” Rob Muratori agrees, flashing his killer’s grin. “Get in the van.”

“I’m good. I got a long drive back to LA, and my submissive’s waiting on me for an appointment.”

“That’s interesting, since the news won’t shut up about Nathan Explosion proposing to her at Paris Disneyland,” Darian drawls, checking her manicure. The tattoos have crawled down to her hands now. Between those and the hungry look in her cheeks, Envy doubts she’s been doing much legal work lately.

“Ms. Greenberg, it’ll be easier for everyone if you come along. Your car will still be here when you come back.”

Rob’s reassurance does little to soothe Envy’s nerves. She didn’t want to get mixed up in this to begin with, and she’s not going to do favors back and forth with them forever. He’s skinnier than she remembers, too. She stands firm. Might be able to take him on if he tries to grab her.

He shifts to put a hand on his hip and Envy catches a glimpse of a pistol inside his suit jacket. Never mind, she’s going along for this one. “You promise I’ll be home in time for dinner?”

“If everything goes like it should, I’ll make you dinner myself. You like Italian?”

“Who doesn’t?”

It turns out he needs her as backup muscle for a deal. She stands at a door with a gun on her hip while Rob and Darian ‘convince’ a debtor to pay up. No blood is spilled, yet she feels filthy once they’re done. She’ll be scrubbing herself raw in the shower tonight.

Rob’s pleased with the results and promises Envy another favor. She silently vows never to be down bad enough to take it.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 44

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1583

Warnings: Mention of near-death

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: None

Chapter Songs: Midnight Rain My Wish

****

Ghost

Ghost remained primarily bedridden for the rest of the trip back to port, only getting up for meals, and even then, she hardly ate. The pain kept her hunger at bay. If she ate too much, nausea rolled in, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurl while she had broken ribs. Those were painful enough. Ghost didn't need to add to it.

When they docked, Maverick and Hangman carried hers and Rooster's backpacks, considering they could barely lift themselves out of bed without injuries, let alone a heavy bag. The Daggers, Penny, and Amelia greeted the aviators jubilantly, which Ghost had expected. However, to her surprise, there were two more guests alongside them.

"Hollywood! Wolfman!" Ghost exclaimed, hurrying over to them as fast as her aching body would allow her to. Wolfman reached Ghost first, and she hugged him tightly, thrilled to see the man she considered an uncle. "What are y'all doing here?"

"I couldn't be here for you when your mom died, so I wanted to be here when you came back," Wolf replied, looking her up and down with concern. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"Turns out crashing into an enemy plane and ejecting twice wreaks havoc on your body," she joked lightly, wincing when her ribs let her know laughing, even the smallest of chuckles, was unacceptable.

Hollywood gently hugged Ghost. "Penny told us when you were returning and that you'd gotten into some trouble. Looks like you took a beating."

"It's a miracle she's alive," Maverick said, joining the group. He placed a gentle hand on Ghost's shoulder. "She even had me scared."

Hollywood whistled high to low. "Now that's saying something."

"Guess you really can't kill a ghost twice," Ghost remarked, trying to wriggle a finger down inside her wrist's cast, "but this itch might prove me wrong if I can't reach it."

"Don't use your finger," Wolfman chastised, swatting her hand away. "You need a wire or something."

"It's somewhere in my bag, but I don't know where. I can't wait to get home and go to sleep."

"We're having a celebratory dinner tonight, but you should have plenty of time to get some rest before then," Penny said, coming over to hug Ghost. The Daggers were soon to follow. Twenty minutes after a brief catch-up, the group dispersed but promised to be there for dinner later. Hangman, Ghost, Rooster, Penny, Maverick, and Amelia ambled to the parking lot. On the way, Penny said, "Hey, Ghost, Rooster- Maverick and I were talking, and we decided we weren't comfortable with you being by yourselves after such severe injuries, so we want the two of you to stay with us for a little bit, just enough to put our minds at ease that you won't have any complications and until you get your bearings living with the injuries."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude," Ghost protested. "I'll be fine, honestly. I've been through worse-"

"No, you haven't," Hangman interrupted, shooting her a disapproving glare. She shot him one back that silently but clearly said: Not helping.

"You're not intruding with us inviting you, and we want you to stay with us."

"Please?" Maverick asked, offering a small smile. "Put an old man's mind at ease?"

Ghost sighed, reluctant to crowd the Benjamin household but unable to say no to Maverick. Besides, she still needed to talk to him. Her mom had lied about when she knew him. There was still the possibility that he was her father instead of Nathan Winchester. "Fine, but I need to swing by my apartment to get some stuff to spend the night."

"I can take you," Hangman offered immediately. "I need to get my truck first, but I can-"

"Here," Maverick said, handing over the keys to his Jeep. "Take mine. Rooster and I can take his Bronco with the girls back to the house."

"Thanks, Mav. We'll be back soon." Hangman casually saluted the captain and then offered his arm to Ghost. She graciously took it, thankful for the support he provided, the same support he had always given her. He opened the car door for Ghost, and she slid in. After carefully buckling herself in, Ghost leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, grateful to be home, alive, and mostly in one piece.

She recognized her body was exhausted and in need of some rest, but she severely underestimated how much because she had no memory of Hangman starting the Jeep, let alone the trip to her apartment, so Ghost found herself more than a little disoriented when she opened her eyes, and they were sitting outside her apartment.

"You with me?" Hangman queried, resting his hand gingerly on her leg. Ghost nodded, smiling sleepily at him. She meant to reassure him but judging by his hesitance to remove his hand, she failed to fully achieve her goal. He helped her out of the Jeep, and the pair strolled up to her apartment. Ghost kept her head down, the only thing that prevented the sun from making her headache worse. Hats and sunglasses hurt her head, too, so those were out of the question as well, much to her chagrin.

When they entered, Hangman grabbed the suitcase for Ghost while she set to work, getting enough belongings to last a week. Hangman helped her pack, bringing her things that required bending down or heavy lifting. 

Hangman stayed unusually quiet, and Ghost never would've mentioned it had she not seen his trembling hand as he placed her hairbrush in the suitcase. Reaching over, Ghost gently grasped his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, refusing to look at her.

Ghost opened her mouth to prod but then remembered the last time she did such a thing, it'd resulted in them having a fight, and she had no energy for a repeat of that situation. So, Ghost reluctantly let it drop. She tried to refocus, but her pounding headache- a side effect of the concussion- decided Ghost would focus only on that. She massaged her forehead. Pain medicine was out of the question since she'd taken some only a couple of hours ago. It helped but didn't fully rid her of her pains.

"Ghost? You okay?" Hangman asked worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah, just a headache. You?"

"I-" he cleared his throat- "I'm not okay..."

Ghost faced him, staring him down with concern. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"You," he croaked out. "You almost died because I wasn't fast enough taking out that last enemy. Hell, you did die on me temporarily when you coded during surgery."

"Jake-" 

"I know death comes with being an aviator, especially when you're near or in hostile territory, but of all the people in my life I thought I'd lose because they were shot down or- or had a malfunction with their plane, it was never you. You weren't even on the list, so when I saw Rooster holding your motionless body in the waves..."

Tears welled in his green eyes as he dropped his gaze from hers. He quietly continued, "They train you for a lot of shit in the military, but they don't train you for this, to lose your best friend that you grew up with, the person you go to for anything and everything, the person who will always have a piece of your heart no matter how far apart we grow physically or emotionally... I'm not the guy you're supposed to be with, I know that, but-" Jake met her eyes once more- "that will never change how much I love you. The idea of not having you in my life, my best friend, it- it's paralyzing. And what's worse is that you almost died before I could make amends and apologize for how I treated you that evening at Maverick's hangar. I'd bottled that in for so many years, and I hated myself for letting you go, so I took it out on you, and I'm sorry, Annalise. For everything, I am sorry."

Without a word, Ghost pulled Hangman into a tight hug, ignoring the screams of protest in her banged-up body. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his giant frame shaking as a few, quiet sobs escaped from him. Keeping him enveloped in the hug, Ghost whispered, "You are not to blame for what happened up there or afterward, do you understand me? It's my fault for chasing after that enemy when I wasn't physically in shape to do so. I should've disengaged from the fight once you and Maverick got there. Do not blame yourself any further for that, okay? And I'm so sorry for scaring you the way I did. I would never intentionally hurt you. I could never do that to someone I love." 

Hangman pulled away, wiping the tears off his cheeks and then brushing off the ones rolling down Ghost's. She hadn't even been aware she'd been crying too. Sniffling, he said, "We good?"

"Absolutely," Ghost replied, a weight lifting off her shoulders since she and Hangman had worked things out. Now, if only she could figure out how to salvage whatever was broken between her and Rooster. He'd been strangely quiet, hardly talking to her unless necessary, and while Ghost told herself it was the pain and the medicine causing him to act out of the ordinary, deep down, she knew better. Deep down, she knew that it had something to do with her...

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina87 @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @copaceticwriter @rotating-obsessions @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @starshipfantasy @bennypears00 @avabobava @the-navistar-carol @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @carmellasworld @0hb0llocks @nicangelinee @summ3rlotus @3picklesinajar @magentamistress @the-other-hawkeye @elisha-chloe @emilymarie105 @persephone11110 @luckyladycreator2 @boogdleyboo @k0k3 @bibissparkles @lilmonstrjedi @stinkyrat09 @cocoag19 @suburbzchick @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goodstuff28 @georgiasimpson95 @horselovers2016 @tanithpriad125 @davidshawnsown @sowolfstudentme @agagafafa @callmemana @sec17 @brxklyn15 @h0ppy0the0sheep @tomanybandstolove @abigailannz @mini-bee-bee @super-btstrash-posts

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32 Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37 Chp 38 Chp 39 Chp 40 Chp 41 Chp 42 Chp 43 Chp 44

[mari-writes]

📚🍷💕

Keiji scowls as he pours himself another glass of wine. He takes a long sip, leaning forward in his chair before looking back into his laptop camera. 

The lighting in his apartment kind of sucks right now, but it’s a livestream—his followers don’t tune in to these for perfect setups or scripts. They’re here to discuss things and listen to Keiji’s unfiltered opinions.

“And what was up with that rabbit that Anne carried around everywhere?” Keiji’s voice rises to an almost unrecognizable pitch. “I mean, what purpose did it actually serve? None!”

The chat is moving fast, and Keiji struggles trying to keep up with the responses. He ignores the handful of people laughing at him for his slightly inebriated state. Most are agreeing with him, or expressing their own feelings. 

“Yes, exactly!” He nods, highlighting one commenter. “She does keep smirking and rolling her eyes like a third-rate Lizzie Bennett! That’s not my Anne Elliot!” 

Keiji huffs, taking another drink before sighing dramatically. “Of course, I’m not upset at Dakota. She was just doing what she was told. Though, if she and the rest of the actors did read the book, then they should’ve know how unfaithful this film was…”

Keiji continues to rant, refilling his wine glass again and taking messy bites of his favorite pickled plum onigri. He is aware that he is sort of making a fool of himself on the internet, but he doesn’t care.

The recent Netflix adaptation of Persuasion, Keiji’s favorite Jane Austen book, is an absolute travesty. A disgrace. It completely misses the point of the story, it’s message, the main character and the love interest.

Ugh, it pisses him off so much!

“Keiji, are you still upset about that movie?” Bokuto, having just gotten home from evening volleyball practice, plops himself down next to Keiji. He waves to the camera and winks. The chat explodes, greeting him with a barrage of heart and flame emojis.

“Yes, and I’m still mad.” Keiji frowns into his already half-empty glass. “It’s my favorite Austen story, and they completely ruined it. It’s a crime of the highest order!”

Bokuto nods seriously. “Yeah, sounds like it.”

Keiji keeps the discussion going, at one point telling his followers the story of how he’d gotten into a fight with a professor over the importance of Austen’s work.

“He literally stood there, saying Austen’s books were ‘fluff’ and of little cultural significance!” Keiji cries. “He couldn’t see past his narrow minded, sexist mindset!”

Bokuto puts his fist up in solidarity. “You tell him, babe! Fight the power!”

It’s nearly ten when Keiji finally decides to finally end the stream. He feels a migraine coming on, probably from a combination of anger, work exhaustion and staring at a screen for almost two hours. He also has the hiccups, which are progressively getting worse.

“Okay, thanks everyone.” He offers a short bow to the camera. “I’ll be back with a new book review next week. Take care.”

He shuts his laptop and immediately turns to burrow his face into Bokuto’s shoulder. The man kisses the top of his curls in response. “You okay there, Keiji?”

“Yeah,” he hiccups once, twice, then sighs. “It’s just… the story means so much to me. I’m sad a lot of people will only watch the film and completely misunderstand It.”

Bokuto’s strong arms wrap around his frame. “Aww, Keiji! Don’t worry. That’s what your channel is for, right? To get more people into books! I bet there are some people who haven’t read Persuasion who will pick it up after hearing you rave about it.”

Keiji hums. “I hope so.”

He feels Bokuto shift, reaching around him, and suddenly Keiji’s limited edition, hardback copy of Persuasion—the one Bokuto’s older sister had bought for him at Foyle’s in London—lands in his lap. He’d taken it out at the start of his stream to read some excerpts.

He glances at the book, then at his boyfriend, raising one eyebrow. 

“No matter what crap Hollywood or Netflix pulls, you can always go back and read the original.” Bokuto grins. “Right, Keiji?”

Keiji blinks, fingers curling lovingly around the novel’s delicate spine. He hiccups, one last time, before pulling the book to his chest. He can’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Always.”

“There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.” —Jane Austen, “Persuasion (1817) 

// Fun fact: The story of Keiji arguing with a literature professor over Austen is actually something that happened to me. I’m still angry at that guy 😆 Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed! 🙏🥰 Also if you want more booktuber!Akaashi please read my fic on A03!!!

[klaineownsmysoul]

Ok what's with the influx of D's BTS pics... I'm trying not to read into it but i honestly don't trust RM and gang

No one who lived through glee as it aired should trust anything from RIB. Ever. I certainly don't and I've made it my mission to purposefully avoid any shows RM has worked on since (ACS/Hollywood excluded solely because of D). I'm not interested in being used and then discarded as a fan when he gets bored, thank you very much. And I think we all know by now not to trust anything pr-related that comes out of Hollywood. Remember how the first time RM floated the idea of a glee reboot on his Insta and it was so roundly shot down that he ended up removing the post? I'm pretty sure all of this out of nowhere bts stuff combined with D being folded more and more into the Disney sphere (and coincidentally where can you find glee streaming now - Disney+!), C being more visible than he has in a while, and the attempted rehabilitation of LM's reputation are all another attempt to test the waters and see if the public's reaction to a reboot has changed. Its SOP for D's team to only mention his glee days if they need the press, so I doubt these pics were shared on their orders. They wouldn't want to intentionally remind all of us of his breakout role and the one he's still remembered for the most since it goes against everything they've pushed since the show ended.

Me personally? I have zero interest in a reboot. Didn't we try this already with new characters that no one ended up caring about in season 6? This show was a once in a lifetime lightning in a bottle and to think that can be replicated with new people is foolish. Or even worse - RIB tainting whatever is left from the original show by doing some sort of time jump with the original characters? I can only speak for myself but I know that might be the only way I'd even give this a fleeting thought. Though that would only be if C and D were playing Klaine and even so, I don't trust RIB to write them with even a modicum of the dignity they deserve.

They really need to let this show lie and leave it alone. It doesn't need a reboot and it doesn't need a second life. They had their chance to do right by Klaine and the others, and RIB blew it spectacularly. They shouldn't be allowed to do it twice.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Snippet: For You, I Would Ruin Myself | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

So this is the snippet people voted for in my recent poll of WIPS. I'm still writing this but I can say it's already over 7000 words and not finished yet and I'm having a lot of fun writing it and should be finished soon.

The basic premise, as described in the poll is: high infidelity and illicit affairs vibes with a Hollywood backdrop. I would say the spark for this whole thing was the high infidelity bridge/pre-chorus. That’s very much the aesthetic(?) of the fic? It plays around with time from the present to the past and yeah, I hope people enjoy it as much I have writing it. There’s blink and you’ll miss it references to sex in this snippet - so as with my blog in general minors dni/18+ please

Snippet:

Your phone is in genuine danger of overheating. Notification after notification, missed call after missed call roll in. You can’t face it.

You roll over on the sofa you collapsed into last night, bury your face in cushions and half-heartedly scream. No one can hear you, but somehow it helps. Your career might be over. Your engagement certainly is. Everything in you says you need to be on this; you need to respond, you need to speak to your lawyers and your agent and a goddamn crisis consultant probably. Your reputation, your future, it's all at stake. Hollywood won't be kind to you for a public cheating scandal like this, not when you’ve cheated on someone like Alex, not when it's with Dieter Bravo. You don’t want any of it. The doorbell rings. Once. Twice. Incessantly. There’s only one person who would do that, who would ring the bell in quite that rhythm. You sit up, rubbing your eyes. He’s not going to go away. You groggily make your way to the door, only half aware you’re still in last night’s clothes, still probably have last night’s makeup on your face which you’ve now smeared even more. You want to say he’s seen you in worse shape, but you know he hasn’t. You know you’ve never let him see him like this. Dieter Bravo is standing on your porch with what can only be described as a sheepish expression. He’s in a infuriatingly comfy looking t-shirt you want to bury yourself, he looks like he’s not long crawled out of bed himself. His hair is wild and unruly, how you like it. It makes you think of how he looks up at you sometimes, eyes wild and a salacious grin on his face, all too proud of the way he’s artfully taken you apart with his fingers, his mouth, him. “So, you’ve seen it then?” “Baby, I -” “Hey, congrats,” you say flatly, “I think you’re trending on Twitter.” “I’m sorry,” he says without preamble, “I didn’t think this would -” “Don’t worry about it.” Dieter touches your arm gently, grazes his thumb up and down your forearm and stares right into your eyes. “If you ask me to, I’ll deny it,” he says seriously. And he will, even if it shatters him in the process. And you’re sure it would, because if the psoitions were reversed and you denied it, it would damn well break you. "I think it's too late for that." “I didn’t want this for you, for us,” he says. “Not like this.” “Makes two of us.” You take a deep breath. “Do you want to come in then?”

[ankhisms]

ok hold on now that im thinking about it im gonna ramble some more about theater related things

disclaimer disclaimer despite feeling a bit awkward at times and nervous because everyone else has already been in other shows together and is friends with each other vs me not really knowing anyone everyone still has been nice and the director and stage manager are sweethearts and the lead actor is very cool and talented and its been a better experience than my last show and i certainly dont have any issues where people are being nasty to me like i did with my last production but ok the thing im thinking about is ok. im going to the opening night of this other play tonight right. because this is another play our theater company is putting on right. the way this theater works is that generally two plays are like kind of around the same time where one is being performed and the other one is still in the early to mid rehersal stages but its all the same theater company right and some of my castmates are in this show and we all get in free since we are actors and part of the company right and its good to support your castmates with their hard work on their other production its a lot of work to be doing two plays at once

and anyway there was this time where. ok one thing about me is i blend into the background when im offstage and it is very common for me to overhear things people dont necessarily mean for me to hear or want me to hear for better or for worse. so there was a time recently where i was offstage waiting for my time to go in and these two people start talking about this other play theyre in. and they just start absolutely trashing a girl whos in it with them who i realize is another castmate in the production im in and she just wasnt needed at rehersal that day so she wasnt there to hear them but the way they were talking about her was just so cruel and i moved away at one point because it just felt really gross and i had half a mind to speak up and say something but it was like at the time i didnt know who they were talking about so its not like i could be like hey dont talk badly about her or thinking its none of my business.

but it still bothers me specifically because these people were being so elitist and putting this girl down saying "oh shes trying so hard but shes just not good. she just isnt good!" and i think the director of that play is also kind of weird or making weird decisions but thats not the actors fault if the director is demanding they perform in a weird way. and it really just boiled down to these two people (who btw are twice the age of me and the other girl) were just like... asserting that theyre sooooo good and that theyre so skilled and know the play better and that if it were them theyd do it this way etc etc while just being so nasty and cruel to this poor girl who they admitted is very obviously trying her best and putting a lot of effort. frankly i am more impressed by and rooting for someone who may not have as much experience or skill but is putting a lot of effort and heart into their performance over someone whos got a lot of experience yes but is going to just treat their cast mates like shit like this lmao. i lost my train of thought but oh no wait there it is

its like a pet peeve of mine when people in theater think they know your role better than you do or know better than the director does and tries to like upstage you or says well i could do that role better or i wouldve done it this way. like ok but you arent doing the role. you arent the director. a theatrical production is supposed to be a group effort were all supposed to be working TOGETHER to tell a story and create an experience and get across a specific message and atmosphere to the audience and i hate how often people seem to forget that and want to be like WELL I COULD DO THAT BETTER and to be clear you may be thinking but kes you have said you could out act certain hollywood actors and thats diffwrent because im not a fucking cast mate of those rich and famous actors who barely are able to have a good meaningful deep performance because they got their roles through money and connections and being conventionally attracvtive. its different yknow.

and in the end it makes me sad. it just makes me sad to know that the issues that i have with the usa acting and theater industry are still within a smaller scale community theater. i genuinely think community art spaces are so incredibly important i wouldnt be alive if it hadnt been for community theater and its a disservice to be letting people be so fucking snobbish and elitist and cruel like yes i take our community theater productions seriously and we all put a lot of effort andnheart into it ajd ive seen some really moving and impactful amazing performances done by small community theater groups but also this is not fucking broadway you do not have to be so back stabbing and cruel and you dont have to act like you have some kind of heirarchy ladder to climb, both of these things can be true

also as a note for example like. i dont really agree with some of the acting choices the person im understudying for is making. but thats really just because we are very different people and every performer is going to do things differently! i dont think theyre a bad actor in any way and i can clearly see theyre putting a lot of thought and effort into their performance. and in the end even if i dont agree with how theyre doing it thats not my decision, its the directors decision for how she wants the character to come across so that the story can be cohesive. plus our director knows more about this play than any of us she literally did her thesis on it. but anyway what im saying is that you can not agree with your castmates acting choice while not being a fucking asshole about it

anyway whew thanks if you read this ramble lmao i just want theater to be a safer healthier kinder place and i care a lot about acting and theater. everyone be fucking nice for the love of god

[spacetrashpile]

🤡⛔🦅👀

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Oh my god this is like, the worst question for me, I basically only write sad stuff or at least I don’t go very funny most of the time. The only thing that really came to mind was in “warmer years than you’ve grown used to since then”, between alt!jt and polkadot.

“Are you still in Halifax, or-?”

“Ah, no, I’m in the Core.”

“You’re fucking where?” Jessie shouts. What the hell had she missed? “Polkadot Patterson what the fuck are you doing in- sorry, do you mean the core of the fucking planet or am I missing something?”

“A little bit of both? But yes, I am in the literal core right now. Blaseball is like that.”

“Yeah I guess it is dude!”

It’s not particularly funny but it makes me smile.

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

I HAVE SO MANY IT’S SUCH A PROBLEM. like stuff that’s still in my folder:

flowers short circuits fic about lyra vitamin and lila icicle that i started on christmas 2021 and have touched once or twice since.

at least 3 parker/wyatt fics

a fic about lenny marijuana and alaynabella hollywood and instability

a fic about s2 sausage writing down the fleeting memories he has of the past

a rewrite of s1 of empires’ ending where the twins don’t leave sausage behind

and MORE! i have problems.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

9/10 no. i’ve outlined 3 things ever, and everything else i’ve gone in with an idea of where i wanted to start, end, and maybe some specifics in between and said “alright now let’s find out how i get there”. i am the definition of letting the characters speak through me because that’s how things happen for me, i rarely go in with specifics. the only things i think i’ve EVER outlined are the york chapter of “you’ve got a pulse, you’ve got a problem” because i kept forgetting what season he ended up on the garages, the nagomi chapter of that that i’ve basically abandoned cause i kept forgetting what season she was on x team as well, and an empires fic that my friend and i planned to write together that hasn’t made it past the outline phase (sorry for airing out our dirty laundry vani but maybe that’ll make us actually finish it lol).

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

ooo this is a fun one. i just started a new empires one, we’ll see if i post it here when it’s done or if i finally cave and make a mcyt sideblog. but it’s basically a conversation between sausage and blood sausage/bratwurst, because i feel like nobody ever acknowledges that they were literally the same person for a while?? and this results in people giving blood sausage WAY less nuance, either totally woobifying him or totally woobifying sausage to make blood sausage look worse. and i think that’s a disservice to both of them and i’ve got so many thoughts about them and their relationship so hopefully this actually gets done before he is no longer a plot point.

[desdinonniying]

OOC: mourning is not linear (CW: talk of paranormal stuff and death)

So, I'm not entirely sure where to start with this.

Both my maternal grandparents passed in the first half of 2018. It was sad, but they were both quite old, and I'm honestly glad they passed before the Plague hit.

Fast forward to like a year or two ago. I've been into paranormal stuff on and off my whole life. I got back into it because a friend was all "dude, you need to watch Hellier. It'll blow your mind." Hellier is a docuseries that follows a group of people who investigate, well, spooky shit. Ghosts and cryptids and haunted objects and stuff. Specifically, this group investigates a bunch of weird spooky stuff happening in Hellier, Kentucky. You got cave goblins, connections to Mothman, Ufonauts, stuff like that. Cool, creepy stuff. Watched the series several times.

Today, I saw the Hollywood movie The Mothman Prophecies for the first time. And looking at the stuff in the movie from the book that gets referenced and investigated in Hellier, I suddenly had a pervasive thought - my grandfather would have LOVED this shit.

I was told once or twice, growing up, that my grandfather had been director of a UFO investigation group back in the 70's and 80's. I reached out to my mom today and asked her if Pop had ever mentioned Ufonauts, Mothman, or Indrid Cold. She couldn't remember, but she said she'll reach out to her siblings to see if they do.

Now for more spooky shit: I'm kind of a medium. I don't have "powers" or anything, I don't advertise, I don't have abilities on command. It's like if a typical person is a cell phone with no sim card, and I'm a cell phone with a glitchy sim card, where it usually doesn't work but sometimes does, but I can't control it. And I connect with a deceased person I have a connection with. I get messages through dreams. More often lately, though, are pervasive thoughts and memories. A thought that just won't go away until I say "okay, I hear you, I get it."

Once, it was the memory of a family friend's father's funeral from several years ago. It just kept bugging me, sticking to me, so I told my dad. He told me that the friend's mother just died and I should call him. So I did. I told the friend about my pervasive thought. He told me it was comforting, because he had been debating having a flower arrangement for his mother's funeral signed from her husband. My thought, my vision, confirmed what he wanted to do. He interpreted it as "yes, include me."

Another time, a distant friend in our community had terminal cancer. I wasn't close to him, but he was well known and loved in our community. One day, out of nowhere, I get another pervasive thought - "I don't want to die, I'm afraid of leaving my wife behind. Who will care for my wife?" I couldn't shake the thought. It was so sad. A few hours later, I got confirmation that the friend had passed. I hadn't known that his health had taken a turn for the worse - I only knew he was terminal, but didn't know how much time he'd had left. I shared the vision with my wife and she said that the friend's biggest concern was how his wife would feel, and if she'd be taken care of.

Today, while watching/discussing the Mothman and Hellier stuff, the pervasive thought happened - that Pop would have loved all this. Couldn't shake it. Had watched and talked about this kind of stuff before, maybe had a passing thought that Pop might enjoy this, but never so strongly, never such a sticky thought.

So yeah. I reached out to my mom, she didn't have any information, and now I'm kind of mourning again.

My grandfather and I didn't get along super well. We were civil, but we didn't see eye to eye a lot. I saw myself as a better writer as a teen, as he was also a writer, and while I was polite enough not to say it, I was definitely feeling superior and on my high horse. When he brought up UFO stuff, I was more of a skeptic.

Today, I mourn that I was immature and took our time for granted. I mourn that we couldn't share this super cool thing together. That I wasn't able to create an opportunity to bond. That I didn't create an opportunity to bond.

I feel like with my other-worldly sensitivity and his history, we could have bonded. Had our own Hellier-esque investigations. Maybe made my grandmother roll her eyes before saying "well, at least they're having fun."

Mourning is not a one-time thing, and it's not linear.

[nonfer]

"how would the President explain it?"

"- continues its strong showing at the box office."

"i don't think we need to see that."

[ tumblr's autofill meets all expectations today though. ]

"sounds like you enjoyed it, mr. President."

"i love this movie."

selfish bastard ||| 2:17.1 - 2:41.9

easily bet even this won't last:

audience hating cbs gets this from what used to be viacom? wouldn't give the video above long enough to promote the show anymore than they would quit taking down the following:

who are the role models for an unsuccessful practice of aggressively attacking fans of their content? maybe that's just dumb enough to be good enough for government work.

elected officials are a minority of all government personnel, appointed and elected, who really don't seem reliable either. we can't all work for the government. that doesn't make the majority of people within america's jurisdiction responsible for crimes committed by a failed and flailing government. think they'll ever try to change?

looking and seeing any of the complicit officials appear with no remorse visible, yet quite proud to talk... hey, is that a role model? seriously, how is anyone supposed to explain why a can of soda costs what it does without referencing how the white collar crime that our government persists in occupies so much of its time. it explains educationally bankrupt colleges and universities. why educate when it's just easier to pay the bills without doing so. meanwhile, why respect the rights of students to their intellectual property when that's easily violated without any real, legal concern. it explains uninformative, political groups allowed as non profits. it explains no legal recourse available to protect investors, private and public, from thousands of embezzling (upper management) 'executives'. not last, it explains fraud or worse by those government employed or just government funded groups with only pretentions to law enforcement.

bunch of nixon apologists, with no concern for consequences, won't think twice violating anyone's rights. what it looks like without a law abiding President for over fifty years. 'extra judicial' killings aren't anymore legal than either torturing the incarcerated or conspiring to obstruct accountability for crimes.

worst part? they are all embarrassingly bad at being criminal. somehow that feels more offensive than having a devalued currency as a persistent consequence. trying to "cover it up" is a twofer: one for confessing and two for further criminal liability.

[ 'they' told you it was okay? well, 'they' were wrong. you're guilty. you didn't have to tell everyone. shut. the. fuck. up. 'they' won't ever be as accountable as you've made yourself by accepting responsibilities you have never bothered to attempt to comprehend. i am not responsible for either 'their' words and actions or for yours. ]

nonfer

if you're in a slasher flick? lowest common denominator movie franchise the purge becomes a tv show. notice that hollywood thinking it might just sell doesn't get a puzzled look but gets a green light.