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strawburry01 · 2 months

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She Blinded Me With Science

Summary: You and your college bestie Ford go hunt for the Mothman

AN: 2.6k words, there's some flirty friendship moments

Part 2

Hope you enjoy :)

“Forddddd!” you shouted as you slammed at his unfortunately closed dormitory door, “open up Pines I know you’re in there you haven’t left all day!” you continued as you kept knocking louder.

“For god's sake how do you know that?” his muffled voice came through the door.

“Your desk light has been on all night and all day you dork, I know you’re neurotic about turning that light off!” you huffed as you finally stopped knocking. You heard some shuffling of books and chair legs on the ground as Ford eventually opened the door a crack. For supposedly having the nicest dorms in the east coast, you and Ford were both guilty of turning your respective rooms into chaotic mixes of museum, library, archive, and photo studio, in your case. You could see the precarious stacks of textbooks and notebooks behind Ford’s bespeckled face. He looks like he didn’t sleep last night, evidenced by his glasses at a slant and his brown hair mussed up around his forehead.

“Can I…come in?” you asked as you attempted to poke your head in closer, which caused Ford to nearly shut the door in your face. The two of you had met in your first week of university, both sitting in the back of the Physics 101 class, noticing halfway through the class that you were both muttering the correct answers under your breath. Since that class, you had both been the closest of both study partners, and friends. With you being the charming talker, and Ford being the logical brains, you had both moved up the ranks in Backupsmore University. On a drunken night at the end of the first year you’d both revealed to each other that this was never your first choice. For Ford, his project to get taken in by West Tech was sabotaged, keeping him on the east coast. For you, your family couldn’t afford anything else. With 3 younger siblings you knew that your needs were met, but you also had to compromise on a lot of things- for the rest of the family. Ford kept a lot of his own family secretive, only mentioning in the middle of a spring break trip to Canada that he had an identical twin brother which nearly caused you to flip the kayak you were both in. But you were never one to push Ford too far out of his comfort zone. You recognized he was a private person, but also an incredibly bright and witty person. Someone you really liked hanging out with and spending time around.

“No!” Ford said, “I mean uhm…what do you want?” he corrected himself, still keeping the door only open a sliver. You raised your eyebrow and leaned against the doorway yourself. He was hiding something, and poorly.

“Is there a girl in there Ford?” you whispered with a smirk, knowing there’s no shot in hell it would be the case. His face turned red as he shut the door and unchained the locks before swinging it open fully. You knew he rarely ever hung out with other people, aside from his Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons gaming group and fellow student Fiddleford.

“No, no females in here, just a damn letter,” he sighed as he ran his hand through his hair as he turned, “it’s the grant letter,” he said as he pointed to it on his desk. You stepped in and sure enough, his desk was somehow cleared, most of the mess being moved to his bed now, with a white envelope addressed to him.

Stanford Pines, Room 313, Backupsmore University.

“Well shit have you opened it?” you asked, standing besides him as you both stared at the envelope. He applied for a large grant for research months ago, and after tedious interview after interview, this could be it.

“No, I can’t bring myself to. It’s Schrodinger's envelope. Until I open it I could’ve won it or not. I can’t do it. I can’t face the certainty of opening it- either one,” he sighed as he pinched his glasses on his nose, going through the same logic he’d been grappling with for the past hours.

You slowly nodded. He wound himself up like this often. Paralyzed with choice. You personally were the type to make a choice and force it to be the right one- somehow make it correct or at least work out for you. Ford on the other hand needed to know that it was going to be the right one from the beginning. Once again, the logical one.

What had worked before though was you distracting him. Getting him out of his head. Or at least his room.

“Want to check out Point Pleasant? Been reports of some unusual behavior from there recently,” you mused, breaking the silence. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning. “My camcorder’s all charged, I just need your car,” you grinned at him. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he sighed.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said as he took one last look at the envelope before grabbing his coat and keys. You silently pumped your fist as you fished your camcorder out of your bag. It was covered in random stickers you’d gotten over the years of owning it, from fruit stickers, to band stickers.

There was another thing that brought you and Ford together. An affinity for the unexplained and weird. It had always piqued your interest since you were a child living in the forest, seeing things that practical textbook science couldn’t explain and going headfirst into the unknown. Ford grew to share your passion for this after getting his skepticism proved wrong after tagging along for a few of your drives out to cryptid and weirdness hotspots. Bigfoots, ghosts, aliens, fairies, you’d hear a rumor and you’d grab your camcorder to go check it out yourself. Ford himself realized that he’d been viewed as something different in his own life having six fingers on each hand. The way that you got so excited and enamored with weirdness though made him feel less self conscious about his own quirks. You thrived on the unexplainable, and it eventually began to rub off on him. He could explain most equations and experiments, but he loved the challenge of not knowing how to explain something, which he seemed to always find when he followed you.

You slid into the familiar passenger seat of Ford’s red 1960 Popular 100E, which was a little car that suited his personality well. He began the engine as you instinctively began flicking through radio channels trying to find some good music.

The sun was starting to set which was turning the sky a pinkish yellow hue. You turned your camcorder to the sky and started filming.

“Tonight I come to you with a breaking case joined again by my dearest companion Ford Pines,” you begin as you dramatically squirm in your seat to zoom in on Ford’s face who blushes and laughs, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He prided himself on his safe driving, which often bored you. “Let’s take a step back my friends into a time before humans, a time before these roads meant anything, a time of empty forest and beautiful lands untouched by buildings,” you continued as you turned back to the sunset, “imagine soaring above this beautiful area one day and then BAM!” you shouted, twisting back to Ford trying to catch him off guard. No luck though. “A billboard! A damn city has popped up in your turf! Where you were just chilling one day. Unbelievable,” you sighed as you turned back to the now darkening sky. “That my friends is the story of today’s search, the elusive and illustrious Mothman,” you said, which caused Ford to scoff,

“You’re kidding me Y/N, Mothman?”. You stopped your recording and put your camcorder back down.

“You’ve already started driving, it's too late to turn back now,” you hummed as you went back to clicking through channels, “just trust me Ford I’ve never let you down,”.

The two of you kept driving into the night, discussing recent classes and homework, and you trying to fill Ford in on recent gossip. The car rolled into Point Pleasant around 1:32 am, which is where you sat up again and turned on your screen. Slowly directing Ford down an overgrown path outside of town. Stopped by a closed gate warning to turn back you grinned maniacally as you jumped out the car practically before Ford could stop it. You climbed over the gate with Ford trailing behind you, muttering about tetanus and safety.

“We start here, on an abandoned road,” you said as you panned around the forest “where this Mothman has been reported to be seen earlier this week,” you continued, “once again with my trusty partner Ford,” you added zooming in and out on Ford who was crouched down looking at the mud.

“Seems fresh,” he said as he pointed to a large claw prints on the ground, with what looked like a walking pattern of a human. Ford pulled out his notebook, which was a precariously put together collection of notes and drawings he started once he started going out on these adventures with you. You had your camcorder, and he had his notebook. It was a spiral notebook you’d gotten for him after getting tired of seeing him lose his sketches he’d done earlier on napkins, although the amount of wear and tear it got was already causing the spiral part of it to get stuck in some spots.

You zoomed in on the footprints and kept your camcorder down as you followed them farther and farther until you felt a strong gust of wind. You slowly brought your camcorder up to a tree in front of you, where a pair of glowing red eyes looked back down at you.

“Whoah,” you said softly as you marveled at the size of the creature in the tree as your saw the 7 foot feathered? furry? thing sitting in the branch, staring back down at you. You kept your camcorder and eyes on the creature, bewildered as you felt two familiar hands on your hips slowly pulling you back.

“Y/N we gotta go,” Ford whispered in your ear as he kept trying to scoot you back.

“Ford wait-” you protested as you tried to shoo him, which only tightened his hold and urgency.

“Y/N this thing does not play friendly,” he urged again, grabbing your head and forcing it to the pile of deer and other forest animal skeletons nearby that you had missed before. To seal the deal the two of you both heard the creak of the branch and flapping of wings as the Mothman jumped off the perch.

Very quickly you grabbed Ford’s hand as the two of you began hauling ass back to his car, knowing it would supply a little bit of safety from the claws of the creature. Above there was a screech similar to a bird as you both dove into the car with you flopping on top of Ford as he started to fumble for his keys and scooting to the drivers seat.

“A show folks! We have a show!” you shouted to the camcorder as you tried to get a view of the Mothman through the window, “we’ve discovered that our Mothman friend is NOT a vegetarian I fear!”. Ford frantically started the car and began reversing back the way the two of you had come.

There was a loud thump onto the top of the car as you both looked at each other. It was on top of the car. Shit.

Ford continued trying to reverse down the overgrown trail as you resorted to honking the horn for him to try and get the Mothman off the top of the car. The car jolted as the Mothman jumped off the car, letting the both of you take a breath as you rejoined the paved road.

“Damn that was crazy!” you said as Ford turned the car back into the road. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by both of your screams as the behemoth of the Mothman slammed down onto the hood of the car, metal screeching beneath the claws as it gripped on.

“YOU SPOKE TOO SOON!” Ford shouted as he attempted to honk the horn, which only seemed to peeve the creature off more as it attempted to hit the windshield. You fumbled with your camcorder once again trying to film this scene as Ford continued to let out a string of curses.

“Try and throw him off!” you shouted as you grabbed the side of the wheel and yanked it right, very grateful nobody else was on the road. The Mothman certainly wasn’t expecting it as it lost its balance careening off the side before Ford narrowly dodged it to not run it over. He pressed the accelerator all the way down as he tried to put as much distance between the car and the temporarily stunned Mothman.

You were out of breath as you laid your head back onto the seat, taking in the avoided danger. Grateful it wasn’t any worse. The tinny of the radio was the only noise in the car as the two of you stared at the mangled hood of the car.

“Ford I’m-”

“I got the grant,” he said before you could apologize, “I got the full 100 thousand dollars,”. You punched his shoulder excitedly.

“STANFORD PINES!” you shouted as you continued to hit his arm which made him grin and look over at you, “HELL YEAH YOU DID!”. You were overjoyed for your friend. He was the hardest working student and person you knew and truly deserved the cash to make his dreams happen. “I can’t believe you opened it! You had me going! Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked as you settled back down. He shrugged,

“I don’t know- I couldn’t think of how to tell you. I opened it at midnight last night and I’ve been trying to think of how to since then-” he said, “You’ve done so much to help me get it and- I just needed to do it justice,” he sighed.

You gripped his arm again and gently shook it,

“I’m so fucking happy for you Ford this is going to change everything!” you smiled, “what are you going to do with it all?” you asked.

He let out a sigh, “I want to do this. Full time,” he said, “There’s a place, in Oregon, over in the Pacific Northwest- there’s something supernatural happening there based on my research and I there’s some land available already,” he continued, “I want to make a lab, a honest research lab, to do this sort of cryptid, oddities, weirdness hunting full time,”.

The car was silent as he sat with himself.

“Damn that was the first time I’ve really said it out loud,” he laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I think that sounds great Ford,” you nodded with a smile as you continued to gently rub his arm to make him feel a little better.

“But I need you there,” he said, confidently, “You got me hooked on this stuff, and you have a real knack for it. It’s only right if you come with,”.

“I would be honored, Ford are you kidding me!?” you said excitedly as you squeezed his hand quickly on the wheel.

“It’s going to be really messy, and I don’t know how I’m going to move everything, but I need you to be there with me to make this work,” he said with a firm nod.

“And I’ll be there,” you nodded back as you sat back into your seat, looking back out at the dark road. You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the future Ford had just invited you to.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fanfic #gravity falls #ford pines x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #x reader #college!au #ford x reader

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fans4wga · 1 year

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26 July update from WGA's Chris Keyser

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From the WGA: With SAG-AFTRA now on strike and new levels of solidarity across all Hollywood unions, we are witnessing the spectacular failure of the AMPTP’s negotiating strategy. In this video, WGA Negotiating Committee Co-Chair Chris Keyser lays out what this moment means and how we move forward. To learn more about the WGA strike, visit https://www.wgastrike.org.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Fellow members of the WGA East and West. It's been a while since our last video and quite a bit has happened in the meantime. So on behalf of the negotiating committee and leadership, I wanted to give you an update on where we are and what the near future at least is likely to bring.

We've been walking side by side on picket lines in New York and Los Angeles for a little over 12 weeks now. Only now we're joined by thousands upon thousands of members of SAG-AFTRA who, like us, have finally had enough.

This is the endpoint and the fruit of the AMPTP’s game plan. For 11 weeks, they negotiated with everyone but us. They claimed it was just practicality, that they could only do one thing at a time, which is not normally a point of pride. But events have made clear what we knew from the start: that not only was it a strategy, it was their only strategy. Negotiate a deal with a single guild and impose that deal on every other guild and union in Hollywood, whether it addresses the needs of those unions or not, all with the implicit threat: if you want more, strike for it.

Wow. It’s their 2007-8 playbook applied to 2023 as if nothing has changed, as if the accumulation of economic insults and injuries inflicted on us over the past decade would be borne in perpetual silence, as if the giant of labor had not awakened. But it has. And you only need to look as far as the front gates of every studio in LA and New York to see the evidence.

Two unions on strike willing to exercise their power, despite the pain, to ensure their members get the contract they deserve. For us, that means addressing the relentless mistreatment of screenwriters, which has only been exacerbated by the move to streaming; the continued denial of full MBA protection to comedy variety and other appendix A writers when they work in streaming; and the self-destructive unsustainable dismantling of the process by which episodic television is made and episodic television writers are paid.

It means addressing the existential threat of AI and the insufficiency of streaming residual formulas, including the need for transparency and a success-based component. All of these will need to be addressed for there to be a deal because in this strike it is our power and not their pattern that matters, not their strategy. Their strategy has failed them. Now they're in the midst of a streaming war with each other, an admittedly difficult transition. And as they face the future, their interests and business models could not be more different from Disney to Sony to Netflix to Amazon.

We root for their success, all of them. They root for each other's failure. We are the creative ammunition through which they will succeed. They are each other's apex predators. And yet, in a singular shared dedication to denying labor, they have shackled themselves together in what increasingly seems like a mutual suicide pact, as the 2023-24 broadcast season and the 2024-25 movie schedule and its streaming shows disappear, melt away week by week.

So what does this mean? What does it mean going forward? How do you play chess against an opponent who insists on screaming checkmate at every move regardless of how the board looks and the game is going?

You stay firm, you stay resolved, because our cause is no less existential than when we started and our leverage is increasing every day. Alone we withheld our labor with the support of our union siblings and the Teamsters and IATSE and the Crafts, we were able to delay the vast majority of production. Now with SAG-AFTRA on strike, those few studio projects that remained have also shut down. And it's not just the obvious delays. If this strike drags on, it's the actors with conflicting obligations and the directors and the double-booked studio facilities and release date chaos that the companies must now also contend with. Some of their most valuable product could well be delayed for years.

Add to that, no promotion of movies or television shows and famous faces on the picket lines and social media speaking directly to their customers. For the tech companies and the mega corporations, that should be their nightmare scenario: WGA and SAG-AFTRA side by side. Our bargaining agenda may not be identical, but our cause is the same. Our army of labor, defending labor has increased 17-fold in the past two weeks alone.

Even so, even with all this wind at our backs this negotiation won't happen overnight. It's not because the negotiations themselves are so complex. Once the companies fully engage, it could go very quickly, but because their strategy of many decades has just fallen apart and they didn't see it coming, and it's going to take them a minute to regroup, 'cause the companies have things to work out internally, and saying no to labor in unison is a lot easier than saying yes. So either together or separately, as their divergent interests might suggest, they will come back to us, despite their understandable concern about how they've navigated this transition to streaming, which is on their heads and not ours; and their worries about costs and their worries about Wall Street; despite this being a season of doom and gloom, none of them are walking away from the riches of this business, and certainly not over the equitable minimum compensation to writers.

They didn't get the deal they wanted; that's fine, it happens all the time. They're not taking their ball and going home over it. And since we know they come from union families themselves, and since they've denied that “even-in-Hollywood-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me” ugliness of threatening to starve us out and leave us homeless (which we assume they understand also means making our children homeless,) they will come back to us. Although I will say they took a long time to deny that statement, longer than I would have had it been ascribed to me.

But what does it matter? You can starve a labor force slowly or quickly. The effect is the same. It's not like day rates for comedy variety writers and endless free drafts for screenwriters in exchange for a single paid one in four-week mini-rooms isn't cruelty. It's just cruelty written in contract language instead of a press quote.

So what can we expect from the companies as all of this plays itself out? They will try to convince Wall Street that taking a strike, prolonging it unnecessarily, losing their content stream in the process—that all of that is just smart business and no reason for investor concern. We will be talking to Wall Street too, and reminding them that for all these companies, all of 'em including Netflix, the bill, the price for making nothing, will eventually come due. And Wall Street is listening already. Here's Michael Pachter, managing director of equity research at Wedbush on Yahoo Finance the other day: “I think the studios are completely wrong on this one. Content is their lifeblood. They're feeling really foolish about this."

Wall Street isn't the only one listening. We've been talking to union pension funds too about the risks the companies are taking. We talked to CalPERS, the largest public pension plan in the country, talked about the loss of programming and the cost to the industry, and we heard strong support from its board for our struggle and the promise that the companies will be hearing from them, from CalPERS, and demanding answers on behalf of its 2 million members.

To us, of course, they will continue to plead temporary poverty, but we know the drill. These companies support billions into the streaming wars and taken short-term losses these past three years, because they know that to the winner will go the spoils. We're patient, will they share that with us when the time comes? What are the chances?

Since 2017, the last time the studios negotiated with us outside of COVID, the big six companies alone have made $150 billion in profits off our work, while they slashed our pay and degraded our working conditions. Maybe if they had shared a tiny piece of that then, made $1 billion or so less, this year wouldn't seem so costly. As it is, there is no iron law that these companies are entitled to record profits every year, and it isn't some great travesty if their shareholders or their CEOs get a slightly smaller slice of the massive profits we helped create if some balance is restored.

Look, no one denies that corporations exist to make a profit and no one wants our employers to be profitable more than we do, but the singular pursuit of corporate profits to the exclusion of their social and human cost is a real problem in this country—it’s a real problem. A corporation's bottom line is not the same as the world’s, and there is nothing in our studio's bottom lines today that accounts for the quality of our lives or for our dignity, for the comfort of our retirement or the security of our families. Their numbers have no conscience, but the people who report them as victories ought to.

In their refusal to recognize that, these companies have also extracted an awful price, which is laid at their feet and for which they are responsible. Losses to the economies of New York and Los Angeles and everywhere that film and television are made, terrible losses that mount every day, thousands of people out of work; not just us, all the crews, the crafts, the janitors, the drivers, the businesses that thrive when Hollywood thrives, the restaurants, the stores—for what? For nothing. So they could avoid coming to the table to negotiate the deal they will one day give us. Measured today that is the painfully mixed legacy of our employers, weighed against every beautiful piece of work we have made with them.

And if history is a guide, they have only temporary stewardship over a kind of national trust, which is Hollywood. Our story, our sometimes conscience, our public conversation, our diversion of the worst and best of times, our greatest export, the repository of our imagination. They have some obligation to more than just their shareholders to behave accordingly.

Unfortunately, it seems big tech, mega corporations, and some of the people who run them, as the saying goes know the price of everything and the value of nothing. So they have built a business model that no longer works for human beings who cannot be paid minimum for 10 to 20 weeks a year and make a career out of that, be paid for one draft of a screenplay that demands a year of labor, be paid a few episodic fees for a show about which to take years to decide be paid a daily rate.

And now we have a first glimpse of what they offered our actor colleagues. We are not 170,000 Willy Lomans to be used and then discarded. We know what the companies believe they have the power to do. We know what they think machines can do and do without any of us. Oh yeah, we've seen the writing on the wall and it's plagiarized.

The thing is this: the difference between what you CAN do and what you SHOULD do is the greatest single difference in the world. Knowing that is the only real protection we have against a dystopian future. And if the companies sometimes forget that, writers will do it for them.

I can't know exactly how long it will take this revolutionary moment, and you've heard again and again what is happening today has not happened in 63 years, but I know that's not always how it feels, revolutionary and defining, even though we celebrate that on picket lines together, which is the right thing to do. That's not always how it feels when you go home at night. I know how tough this is: to strike, to hold the line. I know it gets tougher every day even with SAG-AFTRA marching beside us, how hard it is to face the uncertainty of when it will end, when we'll get back to work, how we'll pay the bills. I know it's hardest for those who've just gotten started, for those for whom the world opens doors more reluctantly, battled their whole life just to get here; but hard too for those struggling to maintain their long careers, who find work tougher and tougher to come by, or those with families with children or parents to take care of.

These companies understand the cruelty of what they're doing. It's their plan to starve us just a little, to exact as much pain as they can so that we wish more for the pain to end than for the better life we dreamed up. That we're more afraid of the uncertainty of the present than the certain devastation of the future. It's societally acceptable economic torture inflicted by management on labor every day, then blamed on labor for daring to fight back, for refusing to be complicit in its own mistreatment.

Here's how I know that's not going to work. Not with us, not with the writers, because we haven't come all this way, fought to have these careers in the first place, all the adversity, and marched together for all these months, only to let it slip away on our watch—because there is no point in rushing back to jobs that may not be there in a year or two anyway. Because the business, as the companies have twisted it, is now untenable, unsurvivable for so many of us, because even success is not enough to keep going, because this guild is younger than it's ever been and more diverse. And this young diverse membership knows from hard personal experience the system is broken and that it will not be fixed unless they fix it. And those of us who came before them will not let them down, because we and the writer's guild are the beneficiaries of all those who came before us who gave up everything for us.

Like the writers of 1960, the year I was born, who struck for 22 weeks and who gave away all the TV residuals for all the movies they had ever written so that we could have a health insurance and pension plan and residuals from that date forward. $15 billion flowed to writers and their benefit plans because of that sacrifice. Because writers are brave, because now it's our turn.

So what's our job? Even as we welcome SAG-AFTRA to our side, we are still responsible for our own deal, and so we must remain focused and diligent. We must continue to march, picket signs in hand. But we should also remember this and with pride, that before there was SAG-AFTRA, before even the Teamsters and IATSE and the laborers and the electrical workers and the musicians and the plasterers came to our side, there was the writers. Alone then, we looked at the blank page and began to imagine the future. With no net but each other we typed the words, what if?

And then we took a step into the darkness and found that it was light. And then we were joined by the crews and the drivers and the actors. The actors got a bit more fanfare when they showed up, but that's okay, we wrote the script. The WGA, still small, not alone anymore after all these decades. Hollywood labor has finally linked arms and found its voice, and that voice says enough. There is no road to longterm prosperity that burns a path through your own workforce. We are not your enemies. We are not merely a cost to be borne. We are your partners and your greatest asset. And we are, as you acknowledge yourselves, irreplaceable, but by accident or design and it doesn't really matter anymore, the business you are running no longer works for those who work for you.

What is the point in continuing to deny that? Why deny it when everyone else in the business to a person tells you it's true? Do you think it's a coincidence that two unions are on strike against you for the first time since Eisenhower was president? You can't exactly accuse us of being quick on the trigger. The effect has a cause, it has a cause. And there is no profit in insisting on the answers to the past for the questions of the future.

But if you want instead to invest in something that will reap you fortunes, I have a tip. And if you are visionaries, envision a solution, not a stalemate. Because this isn't a war we're in, it's a negotiation, it's just a negotiation. There is no face-saving here for either side, because there is no winner or loser. It's just a deal. And when you come to remember that again we will be here as we have been here all along.

And at this point with 170,000 writers and actors aligned against your intransigence, that is as generous as I can be, as close to an olive branch as I can offer. But if you insist instead on the same threatening rhetoric, on saying you would rather starve us than pay us, I would remind you of this: You are fighting for a dollar, we are fighting for survival. We are fighting for our home: writing is where we live, and we will defend that home with a bravery and stamina and ferocity that you will come to understand someday, which is why you cannot break us. You cannot outlast us, you cannot.

And not just because we have the will, because we have power. Nothing in this business happens until we start to write. And we will not start to write until we are paid.

Union now. Union forever.

#sag-aftra strike #sag strike #actors strike #union solidarity #i stand with the wga #wga strong #wga solidarity #fans4wga #Youtube #wga strike #writers strike

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

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Hi Neil, I would love some insider perspective on the ongoing writer’s strike if you could give it.

The writers seem well equipped for months out of (writing) work, but seeing studios dig in for the long haul makes me wonder about WGA funding. My understanding is that the Guild’s main source of income is quarterly dues ($25 plus a portion of income). At some point dues income will presumably drop as writers don’t take any work and the strike continues.

My question is as follows: Is a dip in dues revenue a concern for the Guild? Is the ‘income’ in dues just writing-related or is it any income? If it’s the former, how does the WGA make money when nobody is making writing money? Is there a large enough cushion for them to just keep going indefinitely?

Any answer you can give would be much appreciated! I know you’re probably not an expert, but you are a Guild member. You said not to worry about the WGA early on in the strike. Perhaps you could counter the current studio narrative that they have the advantage in this waiting game.

Both the WGA east and west have strike funds, there to make low or no cost loans to members to get them through the strike. The WGAw has over $20 million in its strike fund. There are other funds as well, like the Entertainment Community Fund there to help people in the Entertainment Community whose jobs have gone away due to the strike.

#wga strike #wga strong #WGA fund

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captainofthetidesbreath · 1 year

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WGA has called for a strike. Remember that the writers do not wish for a strike (as WGA East reminded everyone) and that this is a result of the AMPTP's insufficient responses to the proposals and requests from the WGA.

The WGA is fighting to ensure that writers receive fair compensation and to improve working conditions that have been eroded for the profit of streaming services. See these articles for a quick rundown of what has led to the strike and what the WGA is asking for: Variety, New York Times, WGA West linktree.

Commentary of "nobody in Hollywood writes anything good anyway" and "this isn't going to improve all the shit television" and "the writers always complain" is not only counterproductive but actively anti-union conversation in favor of the studios, so don't try it — especially not about a strike called on International Workers' Day.

#I will block anyone fucking clowning on this and even lock the post so do not

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elizadraws · 10 months

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Bulgarian Music in Studio Ghibli films

”Myth has it that Orpheus was born in what is now Bulgaria. It seemed to be fact, not myth, that his daughters are still singing there”

These words were written by the New York Times in the remote 1963 — the year in which the largest Bulgarian folk ensemble crossed the Iron Curtain to conquer an entire continent with its cosmic art.

The 1975 release of Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares, a compilation album of modern arrangements of Bulgarian folk songs, further popularized Bulgarian music, and in 1977, a vinyl record featuring the folk song “Izlel ye Delyo Haydutin” (Eng: Come out rebel Delyo) began its journey aboard the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 spacecrafts.

From this point on popularity from the West spread to the East, and Bulgarian folk music made it to the entertainment industry, including legendary Japanese anime films, like the cult cyberpunk “Ghost in the Shell” or the heartwarming Studio Ghibli features.

In this short article I write about two occasions of Bulgarian music playing in Studio Ghibli’s films.

The record that inspired the creation of “Only Yesterday”

“Only Yesterday” is a 1991 Japanese animated drama film written and directed by Isao Takahata, based on the 1982 manga of the same title by Hotaru Okamoto and Yuko Tone. Set in rural Japan, the film draws parallels with the peasant lifestyle present in Eastern Europe.

The original work is a compilation of short stories about 11-year-old Taeko’s daily life in 1966. Director Takahata had a hard time making it into a movie since the manga, told in the form of a memoir, has no plot to hold a feature. Together with producer Toshio Suzuki, they came up with the solution of bringing the narrator of the story, adult Taeko, into the movie. But there is a curious anecdote about how this idea came to mind.

Taeko picks safflower as the Bulgarian song “Malka moma dvori mete” plays in the background. © Studio Ghibli

In a 2021 interview with students from Sofia University St. Kliment Ohridski, producer Suzuki recounts how a record of Bulgarian songs performed by the children choir “Bodra Smyana”, introduced to him by director Takahata, inspired the creation of the movie. Moved by the cosmic voices of the children, they decided to make “Only Yesterday” a musical. He also recalls what a tiring process it was to acquire the rights to the music, but if you’ve seen the movie, I am sure you will agree that it was worth it; the haunting, beautiful songs with the pastoral images of farmers picking flowers contribute to one of the greatest scenes created in cinema.

Producer Suzuki showing the record that inspired the creation of ”Only Yesterday”. Source: Studio Ghibli’s Twitter

In “Only Yesterday”, we can hear two songs from the album Bulgarian Polyphony I by Philip Koutev Ensemble. The upbeat “Dilmano Dilbero” [Eng. beautiful Dilmana] sets a happy mood as the protagonist gets changed and ready to go on the field. As the scene shifts and Taeko starts narrating a sad story about the girls in the past picking safflower with their bare hands, the song and mood shift as well.

While the first song has a fast rhythm, with lyrics about pepper planting that can also be interpreted figuratively, the second one, “Malka Moma Dvori Mete” [Eng., a little girl sweeps the yard], is a ballad about a young girl who is forced into marriage but has never known true love.

Both compositions sing about life-cycle events like marriage and the regular coming of the harvests, with lyrics perfectly fitting the setting and plot of the movie, which makes me wonder if the filmmakers chose them by chance or if they had someone translate the words.

Bulgarian Cosmic Voices Enchanting Howl

“Howl’s Moving Castle” is a 2004 Japanese animated fantasy film written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, loosely based on the 1986 novel of the same name by British author Diana Wynne Jones. Set in a fictional kingdom the movie draws inspiration from various places in Europe. One of them being Bulgaria.

The story focuses on a young girl, named Sophie, magically transformed into an old woman, and a self-confident but emotionally unstable young wizard, Howl, living in a magical moving castle.

A sketch of a Star Child. Source: The Art of Howl’s Moving Castle

If you’ve seen the movie, you surely remember the scene when Madame Suliman ambushes Howl and tries to strip him of his magic powers. Star Children encircle him and his companions; their shadows grow big, dark and intimidating. They start dancing and chanting unintelligible magic words and are almost successful in their devilish act.

This scene, together with the music played in the background, have been a favourite of many fans of the film. Some even recount it giving them nightmares when they were children.

Star Children encircle Howl in an attempt to strip him of his magic powers. © Studio Ghibli

It turns out, however, that these aren’t any incantations, but the lyrics of a folk song. In Bulgarian. And a love song! Contrary to popular belief, the lyrics have nothing to do with magic and are actually about a boy taking his sweetheart, Dona, to the market to buy her new clothes. The excerpt used in the movie is very short and a bit altered from the original, but the words used go like this: Trendafilcheto, kalafercheto, Done mamino, translated as “the rose, the costmary, my darling Dona”.

I am planing a follow up article where I will post the translated lyrics together with a brief explanation on how they are related to the movies.

If you want to comment on or add something, I would love to hear!

Source

#studio ghibli #only yesterday #howls moving castle #Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares #bulgarian folklore #bulgaria #toshio suzuki #hayao miyazaki #isao takahata #bulgarian music in ghibli films #the boy and the heron #スタジオジブリ #ブルガリア #おもひでぽろぽろ #ハウルの動く城 #宮崎駿 #高畑勲 #鈴木敏夫 #bulgarian music

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reyadawn · 4 months

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Dark Depths

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Please, bare with me on this, guys. I'm not as good of a writer as a lot of you are 🙃

Summary: Reader is hunted down in her home by Noah Sebastian. What started off as a game of Cat & Mouse took a dark turn...🤭

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Plus size!Reader

Warnings: 🔞 DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18. I'm not responsible for your online reading choices. Language, kissing, hair pulling, choking, degredation, leather glove!kink, knife!kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cream pie

Word Count: Don't know, don't care 😆

Huge shout out to @concreteangel92 for the encouragement to post this. Hats off to you, friend. Hope you all enjoy!

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Thunder rumbled in the distance as rain ran in rivulets down the large bay window of the three story modern home that was nestled in the outskirts of Los Angeles. I wrapped the thin blanket tighter around my shoulders, gingerly sipping from a steaming cup of herbal tea as I stood gazing out at the dark scenery before me. Lightning flashed periodically, creating a brief view of the back yard and privacy trees that shrouded the house.

Upon hearing a comotion from the direction of the kitchen, I half turned looking over my shoulder, a lock of my long hair creating a curtain to shield one side of my face. I meandered into the large kitchen, stopping at the island to look around. The center of the island held a fake floral arrangement I had made along with the lemon chiffon candle I left burning. Nothing else was out of the ordinary until I got to the butcher block and noticed one of the larger kitchen knives missing.

I tossed the throw blanket on the counter along with my tea cup and the cool air hit my exposed shoulders and arms of the thin tank top and lounge pants I wore. I wasn't thrilled about my attire, rarely showing skin because more often than not it showed a stomach that was far from flat and weight that was far from flattering. Thankfully my house mates didn't care at all. They treated me like I was one of them, one of the guys. Except for Noah. He always treated me like a woman, like I was fragile. Dainty, even.

"Jolly?", I called, as I made my way through the house. The livingroom was empty and looked lived in. Throw pillows everywhere, laptops next to drinks on the coffee table and a bowl of half eaten popcorn on the end table. "Nick?". I stopped and listened, the only audible sound was my own labored breathing as my heart started racing.

I slowly made my way to the staircase and nervously glanced up. Where the fuck was everyone? I slowly made my way up, my fingers tracing the polished wood banister and stopped at the end of the dark hallway that faced the east wing. Nick and Nicholas's bedrooms were on the left side of the hallway separated by a Jack & Jill bathroom. Across the hall was Matt's bedroom and a guest room.

Glancing in the opposite direction, I made my way towards the west wing where Jolly, Noah and my bedrooms were. Mine was at the very end next to a spare room that Noah used as the soundproof studio and the bathroom was on the other side. I stopped, noticing just how dark the hallway was. My nervousness was giving way to slight fear. I hated being alone like this, especially in a house this big with no one in sight. The soft sound of a door opening caught my attention and I turned to see Noah's bedroom door ajar, a flash of light telling me it was still storming outside.

I slowly started to make my way to his room, opening the door and I would have shook my head in amusement at the unmade bed and clothes tossed over the back of his gaming chair but the empty feeling that washed over me had me pausing in the center of the room. I looked around but didn't touch anything except for the katana that caught my eye. It was positioned on the wall next to Noah's desk but it hung so high up that my fingertips barely grazed the sheath.

Without warning an arm encircled my waist and a hand clad in a tight leather glove clamped over my mouth. I screamed into the material, the sound muffled. My hands slapped against the wall in front of me for purchase before I was roughly spun around. The same leather-clad hand went back over my mouth and I stared up at Noah in shock. His dark hair fell over lust-filled eyes, pupils blown wide. The black long sleeved shirt he wore was pulled up his forearms revealing the intricate lines and colors of his tattoos. He shoved a muscular thigh between my own, his body pinning me up against the wall.

"You fucking tease. You've been running around this goddamn house in these tiny tank tops with your tits half spiling out", Noah whispered harshly, eyes raking over me like a lovers hand. My cunt clenched and liquid heat filled the thin panties I wore. I swallowed and tried to say something but Noah's hand slipped from my mouth to wrap around my neck, long fingers gently squeezing. Noah's dominant personality is what always drew me to him.

"Noah...", I said hoarsely. "Please". He tipped his head back and laughed mechanically before looking down at me and raising his free hand, the large kitchen knife glinting under the flash of lightning. I wanted to scream, to kick him, punch him, anything. As his lips captured mine in a brusing kiss my decision to fight quickly dissolved. His tongue pushed uninvitedly past my lips as his gloved hand grabbed a handful of my hair to anchor me to him.

Noah suddenly broke the kiss to place open mouthed kisses down the coloumn of my throat and the first pornographic moan escaped my body. I felt a hand shove its way past the waistband of my lounge pants, shoving them down my thighs along wih my panties.

Something cold and sharp touhed my thigh and I whimpered. Noah's gloved hand slapped back over my mouth to silence me. "You need to learn to shut the fuck up. The guys don't need to know what I do to you. Unless you want them to hear you, is that it? Want them to know who fucks that tight cunt of yours? Well, you have to earn this cock and seeing as how you've paraded yourself around the house like a fucking slut, you'll have to wait", Noah said, the knife blade suddenly tracing over my nipples that had pebbled under the thin fabric of my tank.

The sound of material being ripped was deafening as Noah sliced through my tank and tossed the scraps aside before sinking to his knees. The anticipation alone had me trembling as Noah gave no warning as his lips closed around my swollen clit while two long gloved fingers sank inside me. I threw my head back against the wall, screaming out my release as my thighs clamped tighter around his head. Noah suddenly lifted his head, eyes gleaming as he cut and ripped the lounge pants and my panties from my body leaving me naked before him. His dark eyes devoured me like a hungry animal before he stood to his full height and crashed his lips to mine yet again.

I moaned into the kiss, my hands shooting to his shortened locks, tugging on the strands. Noah groweled and tore himself from me and roughly spun me, shoving a hand between my shoulder blades to bend me over his desk. Papers, books, his phone, candy dish and guitar picks crashed the floor but before I could say or do anything, I felt the head of his cock brush through the dripping folds of my cunt and suddenly fill me in one hard thrust. My back bowed and I screamed but Noah's hand pushed me back down as the real onslaught to my pussy began.

"Fucking stay still", Noah groweled, a foot shoving my legs farther apart. His hands griped my hips so hard I was sure there would be bruising as he bullied his cock inside my walls, his cock head pummeling my cervix.

"Noah...you're too big...it wont all fit...stop", I begged. Noah slapped my ass cheek, shifted and his cock sunk inside me the rest of the way. I screamed as another orgasm ripped through me. My release ran down my thighs and Noah's cock as he started ploughing into my cervix.

"God, I love this tight pussy...its mine, all mine...take it...take what I give you...let me destroy this cunt...", Noah breathed in between thrusts. Every hard motion had me sliding up the desk only for his hands to roughly impale me back on his cock. "Look at you...dripping for me...all fucked out and cock drunk...not a thought in that empty head of yours...fuck...Im gonna come soon...", Noah whispered roughly as his hand snaked between us to rub circles over my clit.

My body exploded stealing my breath as my overworked cunt clamped down on the massive club that was stretching, filling and ruining me. My legs could no longer hold me up and as I tried to sink to my knees, Noah hauled me back up to his chest, his hand holding me by my hair to turn my head and slip his tongue past my lips. His thrusts became irratic and he suddenly pulled his lips from mine and tipped his head back onto his shoulders before letting loose an animalistic shout that resounded around his bedroom. I felt his cock pulse inside me and heat fill my lower stomach as he painted my cervix over and over again with thick ropes of come.

Noah let go of me entirely as I slumped over his desk again, trying to catch my breath. Arms gently lifted my body bridal style to his bed and a warm sheet placed over my rapidly cooling body. The bed dipped a moment later as Noah climbed in behind me, encircling his arms and legs around me like a cage. He and I were asleep within minutes as the low rumble of thunder still resounded in the distance...

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

@concreteangel92 @amourtoken @livingdeceasedgirl @starsomens @concreteemo @cowpokeomens @philomenie @thefallennightmare @exitwoundsx

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #this ruined me #holy shit

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overly-dramatic-artist · 3 months

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✨ COMMISSION FOR @rainbows-studio ✨

The Wild West boys with their sona, riding off into the East in an epic chase!

Thank you so much for commissioning me, I had an absolute blast working on this!!!

Interested in buying art from me? Check my pinned post on my blog page ✨💖✨

#fnaf #dca #wild west #fnaf Wild West #art commissions #commission #open commissions #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #sun x reader #moon x reader #mandys drawings

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months

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Propaganda

Alla Nazimova (A Doll's House, Camille, Salomé)—She was a proud lesbian, she was a director, she was artsy and experimental, she was instrumental in the rise to fame of Rudolph Valentino, she had the worlds biggest strap on energy

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Alla Nazimova:

HOT as hell. GAY as hell. TALENTED as hell. Producer, director, writer, actress. A silent era superstar who is credited with having coined the term "sewing circle" as a code-word for gatherings of lesbian and bisexual women. Has been called "the founding mother of Sapphic Hollywood" and was the owner/operator of the Garden of Alla Hotel in West Hollywood, which she bought in 1919 and sold in 1928 after deciding she wanted to go back to Broadway. In addition to starring opposite Valentino in Camille, she also had an affair with BOTH of his wives (Jean Acker and Natacha Rambova). In her day, she was one of the most influential women in the business.

"Nazimova was primarily a star during the silent film era, and her career in film started when she was almost forty. She was openly bisexual, and was engaged in two lavender marriages during her life while she carried on relationships with women (including at least one, and possibly two, of Rudolph Valentino's wives). She was brilliant and an autodidact - when she first moved to the United States from Ukraine, she spoke no English, but taught herself "in about five months" and went on to work as a screenwriter (among other things). Her predilections lay in art film, and she's credited with starring in / producing / directing one of the first American art films, the adaptation of Oscar Wilde's play Salome (1923). She has an elegant and commanding presence in all of her films, and is an absolute sensation to watch in motion."

Gif link, another gif link

A great actress who also produced a great deal of her films, Nazimova is absolutely mesmerizing to watch. She was also bi and coined the phrase "sewing circle" for sapphic celebrities.

Xia Meng:

#xia meng #alla nazimova #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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famousinuniverse · 3 months

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Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles, United States: The Hollywood Hills is a residential neighborhood in the central region of Los Angeles, California. It borders Studio City, Universal City and Burbank on the north, Griffith Park on the north and east, Los Feliz on the southeast, Hollywood on the south and Hollywood Hills West on the west. Wikipedia

#Hollywood Hills #California #United States #Los Angeles

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carnyx-int · 25 days

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Greetings, folks! This week we’re highlighting Mamó’s homestead - her hut between the Forest and the Bog. Our Art Director, Morgan, goes further into detail on the design.

When Henry and I were first pinning down concept art ideas and inspirations, I knew I would have to shift my style in a direction I’ve not typically explored in my work (in a good way!). I’ve been studying gouache as a medium for a little bit, and a large inspiration for Henry was the Random House Book of Fairy Tales, a collection of illustrated folk tales from his childhood. I drew a lot of inspiration from Eyvind Earle, the graphical illustration master and a huge inspiration to make art in my youth. In my research, I also studied the style of Little Golden Books from the 1960s. I had a hand-me-down set from my mom, which I read a whole lot as a kid. These all felt like a good base to evoke a feeling of a fairy tale we’ve heard in our childhood. In designing the homestead, I wanted to visually ground Mamó at a neutral point - on the west lies the dark bog and to the east is the forest leading to the realm of the fae. Ultimately, however one chooses to play the witch can make her the sinister presence the townsfolk say she is, or more benevolent than we were led to believe, and I felt it was important to visually communicate that in every environment in-game. I enjoy a story of a witch that can manipulate her scenery, creating a false sense of security to the observer. But is Mamó that type of witch or simply a self-sufficient old woman?

Follow our Discord for game and studio updates!

#carnyx #carnyx interactive #game development #video games #bog witch #cozy games #game design #game dev stuff #you can pet the fox #concept art

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lackadaisycats · 8 months

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I hope you know that literally nobody is going to be able to live up to the standard you, V*v, and Glitch have set and your arrogance and exploitation of your fanbase and connections has screwed millions of creatives out of their dreams because Hollywood is a joke that isn't worth telling and wealthy e-celebs like yourself have claimed the indie scene all to yourselves and moved the goalposts into the stratosphere.

Nope. This isn't a zero sum game. There is not some limited, prescribed number of indie trophy slots that a few studios greedily filled up, blocking everyone else out. That is not how it works. Nothing any other creator is doing - short of personally sending hired goons to your doorstep or stealing your credit cards - is taking anything away from you or preventing your success. In fact if an indie creator can manage to demonstrate that they've got something viable going, it may help to map out a pathway for others.

I think I'm not going to bother trying to address whether or not cartoons in return for support from fans - an entirely voluntary exchange - constitutes exploitation. And I'm living in the Midwest driving a 2007 economy car with 200k+ miles on it, but let's just skip past the assumptions that I'm wealthy and connected too.

Instead, let's get to the weirdly myopic notion that the indie scene is held captive by three studios. Maybe YouTube algorithms or Twitter bubbles are somewhat to blame, but in actuality there are so, so many individual people, friend groups, and small production houses out there making independent animation, I cannot possibly name them all.

Here are some anyway:

Far-Fetched Worthikids Satina | Scumhouse Noodle and Bun Punch Punch Forever Ramshackle Noodle Papajoolia | Pipi Angel Hare | The East Patch Jonni Peppers Salad Fingers Monkey Wrench Studio Heartbreak Felix Colgrave JelloApocalypse Odd1sout (started indie, got picked up by Netflix) Allie Mehner JaidenAnimations Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy Cloudrise | The Worlds Divide Telepurte RubberRoss James Lee ENA Godspeed | Olan Rogers Ollie and Scoops Meat Canyon Port by the Sea Kekeflipnote Boxtown Kevin Temmer Weebl Joel Haver CircleToons Long Gone Gulch Atlas and the Stars Animist Skibidi Toilet A Fox in Space Alex Henderson Talon Toniko Pantoja Sr. Pelo Hullabaloo Kane Pixels (started indie, picked up by A24) Homestar Runner Fennah Gods' School Alan Becker Dungeon Flippers JazLyte Psychicpebbles (started indie, Smiling Friends picked up by AS) Piemations vewn Metal Family Dead Sound chluaid Jacknjellify Betsy Lee | No Evil My Pride Cranbersher GeoExe | Gwain Saga Horatio the Vampire Mech West Playground | Rodrigo Sousa The Brave Locomotive Finchwing (+ many other Warrior Cats animators) Quazies SamBakZa Kamikaze: Trial by Fire

By no means a full list. That's just YouTube, and mostly just English language stuff, and I didn't even get to the multitudes of Warrior Cats animation collabs.

The point is, the indie landscape is vast and populated by creators new and old, making all kinds of animated media from skits, to shows, to ARGs, to films. Audience sizes vary as much as the content, stylistic approaches, subject matter, and budgets do. There are no compliance standards, no gateways to entry, no goalposts. There's not even any preset definition of success except what you decide for yourself.

Anyway, instead of nurturing your resentments, consider making something. I assure you, it's a far more rewarding use of your time and energy, and pretty much no one can stop you. ------------- EDIT- Made some additions to the list based on comments. Thanks!

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats #animation #indie animation #this is not a list of moral endorsements #please don't come at me with your internet dramas

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storiesbyjes2g · 4 months

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👀

What is this about you say? Stay tuned!

Thanks to @trumpets0ng and @ladybugsimblr for letting me use your sims' credentials lol. Walker Pearson from Jett Studios (trumpet) was the photographer, and Alex Greene (LB) was the author. He also wrote Bailey Kay's article.

(transcript under the cut)

A well-dressed man walked into the studio, swaggy and confident, with more drip than a coffee pot. His perfectly tailored suit glimmered under the stage lights, looking just as expensive as one would imagine it to be. My initial thought upon seeing this cat with a larger than life personality was, “Oh, great. Here comes another industry brat.” Then, he walked up to my assistant, smiled, extended his hand, and said, “Hi! I’m Orange.” That’s when I knew I’d been completely wrong about him.

I started off slow.

ALEX: How’ve you been? How’s life treating you?

ORANGE: Life is wonderful, thanks for asking.

I’m excited about my baby sister being back on the west coast! She wanted to spread her wings and moved east; that’s where she met and married her guy. But she’s a mom now, and my parents are getting old, so she’s back. I can’t wait to spend time with my nephew and get to know my brother-in-law better.

ALEX: Wow, okay. It’s always nice to have the family close. So where have you been all this time, my man?

He leaned back into the sofa with a huge sigh and a smile.

ORANGE: Where have I been… I’ve been everywhere, man!

ALEX: Oh word?

ORANGE: Yeah, man. I pride myself on not being a prideful person…which is probably the most proud thing I could say.

He laughs at his own joke, wiping fake sweat away from his brow. And all at once, he had me. I was sucked into his energy.

ORANGE: I appreciate everything my parents did for me, but I was never interested in following in their footsteps.

ALEX: Never?

ORANGE: Not really. I was kinda artsy as a kid. I can sing, but I never had a passion for it. Don’t get me wrong…I’m a gregarious kind of guy, so I wanted to be in the public. Just not doing what my parents did.

ALEX: So what did you do?

ORANGE: Whatever I could. I didn’t want it said of me that my life was handed to me, so I moved out, got a crappy apartment, and worked as a barista for a while. People told me I was funny, so I started writing sketches and going to the comedy clubs.

ALEX: And then sim.TV called.

Laughter erupts, startling everyone on set. It’s loud and hearty and sounds like that uncle at the family barbeque.

ORANGE: It didn’t exactly happen that way, but yes…eventually. I honestly don’t know what happened. I’m guessing someone just happened to be at one of my shows and thought I would be a good fit for this new talk show they were planning.

ALEX: What does this mean for you?

ORANGE: Wow… This means… It’s so validating. I’m middle-aged now, and all my peers are off doing so many amazing things. It was really hard to resist the urge to go to my parents and ask for help. But the thing that kept me going was this moment right here. I knew that if I stayed the course, eventually something would happen, and I would have an immense feeling of pride. And I do.

ALEX: That’s so dope. So, tell us about the show.

ORANGE: It’s called “The Pulse,” and it’s all about keeping you entertained and informed about what’s going on in the entertainment world.

ALEX: So you’re keeping your finger on the pulse of the industry.

ORANGE: You get it. I’m so grateful for the opportunity because it’s so perfect for me. I grew up around it. I know all dirty secrets, but I also recognize and respect the beauty in it.

ALEX: So from your interviews, should we expect to get a different perspective of celebrity life?

ORANGE: I hope so. I don’t want to be just another talk show host, asking the same tired questions. One thing I want to do differently is get the audience involved. Everyone watching has their own reasons for being interested in someone, so if there’s something they want to know, I’d like to give them the answers.

ALEX: Okay! I like that. Kinda like, power to the people.

ORANGE: Exactly.

ALEX: So, why Nick?

ORANGE: Why not Nick? He’s the hottest thing smoking right now, and he’s not even working. I’m trying to get on his level! But seriously though, I think we’d vibe well. We’re similar in our values and ways of working, and I don’t think he’s ever done a TV interview before, so I think it’s fitting that he be my first guest.

ALEX: Best of luck to you, man. Thanks for sitting down with us.

#ts4 story #sims 4 story #sims story #Piersons and Friends #the piersons #orange bailey moon #nick wilkinson #the pulse

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