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gretavanlace · 1 year

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Choker

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, dom/sub, collaring, exhibitionism (if you squint), dirty talk, masturbation, oral sex, references to Almost Famous (go watch that masterpiece), probably some other things I forgot.

Special thanks to @jake-kiszkas-smirk for supplying me with this delicious pic of our lord and savior

A tiny Grecian God, that’s how you might describe him were you asked to right now.

“Tiny” might ruffle another’s feathers; might make him feel less than, and emasculated…but Josh? That beautiful man is a horse of a different color.

He embraces who he is without thought. It has never occurred to him that his stature might have any bearing on who he is, or how he’s perceived…and he’s absolutely right. It doesn’t.

Except, that’s a bit of a white lie, isn’t it? Something about that miniature frame of his, still backed by such solidity and confidence…

It really does it for you.

The man is a powerhouse. A fiery stick of dynamite - small and unassuming…yet, packing a wild, lasting punch.

At this moment, he is glittering in gold, messily fixing himself a cocktail, rhinestones only half-complete across his flawless face.

He looks wild, curls twisting this way and that insanely atop his perfect head. Eyes shining and flashing with nerves and anticipation. Soft cock displayed like rock and roll art beneath his second skin of a jumpsuit.

“Hello, Penny.” He teases when he catches sight of you in the mirror, staring at his reflection.

It’s an inside joke that you can’t remember the start of any longer, it’s been so long running. In moments backstage like this, you’re his Penny Lane. A nod to an iconic, fictional, groupie in a movie too mainstream for him to readily admit to loving.

“Hello, tiny dancer.” You smile at him through the mirror and move forward as he turns to properly greet you. “Your face is lopsided.”

Your thumb traces over the shimmering studs adorning only one of his cheeks.

“Yeah?” His arms wrap around your waist. “Well, your face is heart-stopping, star fucker.”

A laugh, much too loud for the intimate moment, bubbles out of you as he watches on, loving you just a little more than he did ten seconds ago. Though, he would have thought that impossible.

“Star fucker?”

“That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” He pulls you in, palm firmly splayed across your lower back until your hips are pressed together. “Sneaky girl charmed her way backstage to procure a moment alone with the front man? Wanna run home and tell all your friends about Josh Kiszka’s big dick?”

“Are you drunk already?” You giggle, rolling your eyes at his nonsense.

“Maybe so, Penny…” he grins, grinding a little harder against you. “Maybe so. A dash of inebriation makes for a hell of a show. And here I stand, the world but a stage.”

There’s that hint of his transatlantic accent that holds such a dear place in your heart. On occasion, he sounds born of Hollywood’s golden era. As if he might suddenly grab his fedora and leave you in a cloud of Lucky Strike smoke as you weep prettily in a gauzy dressing gown.

Or perhaps, it’s the other way around, and it’s he that is the gentle damsel in love, leaning back seductively in your embrace. His parted lips and throat exposed, waiting for your kiss in a black and white room flickering across the silver screen.

Katharine Hepburn with a tambourine.

“Well, you just remember who you belong to when you’re out there counting the stars in their eyes.” you push him away fondly and grab territorially at his chest. “Your tits look phenomenal in this suit, by the way.”

His eyelashes bat so subtly you doubt he’s even aware of the butterflies he’s stirred to life in your stomach. “I love it when you objectify me.”

Slipping your hand beneath the silken fabric, you tease over his nipples, two light pinches curling into the tiny pebbles of flesh. “Your throat, too.” a warm kiss lingers, in order to bask in the gentle thump of his pulse for a moment. “If I had a cock, all pretty and hard, you know what I’d do with it?”

A huffing breath rolls out of him, famished and needful, already.

He is weak for these rare occasions with you. These moments when you fall into the waters of your constant, unbridled desire and sink fully to the filthy depths. “Tell me.”

“I’d slide it right here.” You graze your hand up between his perfectly defined pectoral muscles. “I’d make you press them together for me. I’d fuck them…and then I’d cum right here. “ You tap at his throat and a soft, hollow sound emanates from his Adam’s apple. “I’d paint your blushing skin just like you do mine.”

“Fuck…” the whimper that tumbles out of him is deliciously, sinfully, hauntingly, submissive. “C’mon, pen…” he’s trying to twist you around now, longing to bend you over the table. “We don’t have long.”

“Did you even notice it?” You question, lending a coy and mysterious tone to your pondering.

“Notice what, love?” He hums, charting maps with his lips and tongue wherever his mouth happens to land. Pulling at your cut up Greta shirt until it’s bunched up carelessly, showcasing the rounded tops of your breasts, and the simple black satin that cradles them.

“That.” Your explanation is colored with nonchalance as you point over his shoulder.

He turns, takes note of the discrete package, and then reaches out for it with one hand still firmly wrapped around the small of your waist.

“Penny lane came bearing gifts?” He teases with a wink. “Trying to buy your way into a comfy seat on my cock, are we?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you smirk, playing up the smug flare that is coursing through you, head to toe. “That seat already has my name written all over it. Now, open your gift.”

At last, he releases you in order to play into your little power trip. “What could it be?” He’s taking his time, carefully easing open the flimsy, plastic tablecloth from catering that serves as wrapping paper. You, having made do in a pinch.

Refusing to entertain his questioning, you simply lean back and quietly soak in his movements, impatient for the confusion you'll surely find when he sees the gift for what it is.

True to fantasy, his eyes light up like someone has screwed bulbs into his temples, gears turning as he attempts to work it out in his head. Fingers traveling reverently over the dainty, golden chain and the tiny key that dangles delicately from it.

It is undeniably lovely. Elegant. Unique. Timeless. And he is all of these things - still, this particular piece is decidedly not Josh. Though, he is far too kind to let on.

“It’s beautiful.” He smiles, shaking off the fact that it seems an odd present. You’ve never given him jewelry before, he thinks, but he’ll treasure it all the same. “Why do I get the feeling you’ll steal this and wear it more often than I do?”

You nod, rolling the secret around on your tongue like a lemon drop.

Slipping your index finger through the chain, you lift it out of the box. He watches it wink and catch the light..oblivious that there are more surprises to be had.

“You’re right. I will wear it more.” You agree. “Because it’s mine.”

His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly. He’s such a sucker for a little gift; almost childlike with his affinity for anything wrapped up pretty and presented with a bit of pomp and circumstance.

“Oh, don’t look so somber, tiny dancer.” You smile gently, Running the tip of your finger down the perfect slope of his nose. “I’d never leave you out. Go have a little look in my bag.”

He follows your line of sight, anticipation alive in his eyes once again - then sidles over to the couch, excitement evident in his bare-footed step.

Practically sizzling with suspense, you’re laser-focused on his reaction as he pulls your bag open and stares down into the abyss that is your catch all.

A breath hitches in his throat deliciously when the cards fan into place.

“Is this a collar?” He asks quietly, the rumble of his lowest register causing a chill, like icy fingers, at the nape of your neck.

A slow, sly grin graces your lips and serves as his answer.

He displays it, as if you’ve never seen it before, as if you weren’t the one to carefully select it. It isn’t blatant. In fact, it could pass for an intricate necklace…a choker. Which is exactly why you were drawn to it.

“Yeah?” His eyes, heavy and swimming with palpable want, rise to meet your gaze. “You want to be all mine, pen? You want me to slip this around your neck and make you my pretty little pet?”

“No, no…” you pluck the collar out of his grasp and sweep your touch over the cool, shining gold. It exactly matches the gold that will shimmer flamboyantly against his jumpsuit and dazzle the crowd tonight as he works the stage, and their hearts. “This is for you, sweetheart. You’re going to be my pet tonight.”

“And if I say no?” He counters, just to stir the pot a smidge. He can’t help himself.

“Well,” you offer a tiny shrug. “If you really don’t want to, you can always use your safe word and this goes no further. However, if you want to say no just to earn a reaction, I’ll save you the trouble…”

You wait a beat, and he nods, biting the inside of his lip in an attempt to mask his enthusiasm.

Your thumb dips into the warm, wet heaven of his mouth. “If you say no just to misbehave, I’ll have no misgivings about putting you over my knee.”

He sucks, tongue swirling over the ridges of your fingerprint as the smallest whimper makes itself known in the back of his throat.

“Oh, did you like that?” You tease with a questioning tilt of your head. “You want mama to make it hurt a little until you’re my very good boy again?”

He pulls back with a muted pop, reaching to pull you into his arms. “Fuck, baby…c’mon, just a quick one before the show. I’m so fucking hard.”

You snap your fingers, a swift crack of a pop in his face to catch his attention and remind him of who is in the driver’s seat. “Settle down.” You soothe, while hanging on to an edge in your tone. “I think you need to find your center and take a deep breath.”

His fingers wander up your thigh with a suggestive tilt of his head, “I think I need to find your center and…”

You push him away with unwavering, yet loving force. “I said settle down…and you need to do something about this,” your fingers tap a light rhythm over his achingly hard cock through his jumpsuit and a soft, breathless moan calls back to you, relishing the attention of your touch where he wants it most.

“You do something about that, Penny.” He’s being a world class brat, but carrying out his insubordination via a delectably gravely tone, so you decide to allow it. “C’mon, you know just what I need, baby…just how I like it. Make me feel good. Don’t make me go out there hard and hurting.”

“You know,” you sigh, shaking your head in mild annoyance. “You’re being very bossy, but sort of whiny at the same time. I’m not sure what to do with you.”

He pulls you close, clinging to you with warm, electric, lust “You know exactly what to do with me.”

“You’re right.” You nod, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. Releasing him, you aim a finger at the vanity chair. “You just be a good boy and sit. I’ll finish your face before we put it on.”

He slinks down into the seat begrudgingly, casting a rueful stare up at you. “Don’t leave me like this.”

You grab the tiny cup of rhinestones, “Hush.”

“Wait,” it’s as though it has suddenly dawned on him. “Before we put what on?”

“Your collar.” You offer offhandedly, inspecting the placement of his glittering jewels in order to line them up correctly.

“On stage?” He pulls back, tugging his chin out of your tender grasp. “You can’t be serious.”

Your touch goes right back to holding him in place, tilting him upward until you can stare down into his chocolate eyes. “I’m very serious. I won’t attach the lead. And you know your safe word, so I suspect this little song and dance is just that - a song and dance. You want this just as much as I do. Likely more. You’re fighting me just to fight me. Stop.”

A slow nod and lazy lull of his eyelids only stand to confirm what you already knew. “There’s mama’s angel. Now you just breathe and be still, the quiet before the storm is good for you.”

“Are you referring to the show or yourself?” He smiles softly, easing back into the chair to allow your work.

“Me, tiny dancer.” You whisper, face close enough to nudge the tip of his nose with your own. “I am always the storm.”

For the first half of the show, you watch from the wings. Positively intoxicated by him, as always.

He becomes someone else entirely when he marches his way out into the lights. Feeds off the adrenaline powering through his veins like the sweetest drug. Steals the energy the fans readily give, and uses it to further sink his teeth into their hearts. He takes a little piece of them and leaves them with a chip of himself in return. They, forever his…and he, forever theirs.

Tonight, you’re there, too. Claiming him with that beautiful bit of gold latched and locked around his throat. Removable only by a turn of the key that rests against your breastbone.

Mine! You long to taunt out into the crowd like a bratty little girl gifted with a coveted doll.

Reluctantly, you leave him to it, with his three brothers to back him, while you ready for his return backstage. If only they would scrap the encore. You should feel guilty wishing to rob the fans of but a few more stolen moments. And usually, you would. Normally, such a thought would never even cross your mind to begin with, but tonight….

You hear Danny and Sam first, loping down the hall outside the dressing room door, loudly joking and laughing, stroking one another’s egos over a job well done.

Jake, quiet and reflective after a show, has probably already padded by unnoticed, likely berating himself silently over a mistake or two no one else even came close to noticing. He is hard on himself to a punishing degree, and it breaks your heart, but you’ll worry about platonically tending to his wounds later.

You watch the handle turn from your regal perch on the couch. Straight-backed, yet casual and self assured, you remind him of royalty…but it’s good that you aren’t privy to that fact yet, lest your head swell any further.

He has hardly had a chance to close the door when you order him to his knees.

He looks sinful. Flushed with color, eyes flashing, chest still heaving with exertion, curls askew and chaotic. He resembles a madman, and if you had a straight jacket at the ready, you’d wrangle him into it and fuck him like an insatiable nurse in an asylum.

You curl a finger at him, beckoning him closer “Come here.”

“Let me grab a towel first, pen.” He implores with no real conviction. “My face is all sweaty.”

“My thighs will work just fine, rockstar.” You click a heel harshly on the floor, summoning him. The spike of your pump drives a tiny wedge in the hardwood. You might feel badly for the damage if you could think about anything other than him, on his knees like a fallen god.

“Yeah?” He throws you a flirty smirk. “You want my mouth? You want me to baby that little wet cunt until you cum real sweet all over my tongue?”

“Save it.” You sigh, “I’m the front man now. So you just do as you’re told and look pretty. Then we’ll see if you’ve earned a rose.”

Pulling open the thin, waffle weave robe that should have been reserved for his after performance shower, you let him in on the secret: your heels are the only thing adorning your body, aside from that golden key reflecting the light with a wink…and you’ve been stretched out on the couch facing a very unlocked door with but a lightweight robe to guard your nonexistent innocence.

He turns to lock the door, but you stop him with a mere shake of your head. “You’ve just worn a collar in front of thousands and now you’ve found your modesty? No. If someone wants to come in and watch what a good boy you’re about to be for mama, let them.”

“Baby…”

“I said, let them.” You snap breathily, with another crack of your heel.

He winces at the noise, but it’s a lovely little moan of a sound that causes a tiny smile to tug at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah, c’mere, sweet boy…” you coax. “You want to so badly. I can feel it, how much you need me. I’m right here, baby.”

He starts to make his way closer, shuffling on his knees awkwardly, but then wisely thinks better of it and falls forward onto his palms, crawling on all fours. Wardrobe will have a field day with the white velvet knees of his jumpsuit.

“There’s mama’s good boy.” You praise softly, like a lullaby. “What would they all say if they could see you crawling for me? Those powerful hands that held their hearts just moments ago, on the dirty floor just to get a taste.”

“They don’t really want me that way.” He’s fishing for compliments as he bridges the gap between you slowly, but you know it stems from a well hidden, but very real nonetheless, sapling of self doubt that unfortunately flourishes inside his head. He didn’t seek this life out, and he still feels out of place in it now and then.

You arch a brow and roll your ankle, seductively bringing attention to the black leather you’ll have pressed into his back soon enough, with his angelic face between your legs. “Oh, no? Is that why you parade yourself around for them the way you do? The way you tease them with that pretty, soft cock that isn’t always quite so soft? The way you move like you’re fucking? Because they don’t want you that way?”

“Say more things like that.” He sighs, now close enough to rest his forehead against your silken shin.

“You’re a whore for praise,” you run your fingers through his dampened curls, raking your nails against his scalp. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No.” He lies boldly.

You know he wants to hear you say it again. He is surrounded with constant accolades from nearly every angle. The wunderkind in a genre dominated by seasoned, legendary heroes. He likes a bit of degradation now and then, as well. ‘Knock me down a peg or two’ his eyes whisper.

But, again, you’re steering this ship tonight.

“Well then, I wouldn’t want to spoil the record.” You pull him in close by the hair, and then closer still with your fingers tucked into his collar “My cunt is wet and lonely, tiny dancer. Why don’t you make me feel a little better?”

“Fuck…” the obscenity groans out of him low and long, and you throb at the sound of it. Nearly a growl. Animalistic and needful. Hungry. Primal.

You effectively shut him up with another harsh pull on his collar, burying his face between your legs. He shakes his head back and forth greedily - you are the elusive mirage he has been hunting down in the desert, and now you are his at last…quenching an ancient thirst.

“That’s it…” you breathe, rocking your hips up into his kiss. “Doing such a good job already. Were you thinking about this the whole time on stage? Famished for my cunt in that gorgeous mouth of yours?”

He nods eagerly, but refuses to stop long enough to answer you properly, which just so happens to be exactly the way you want it.

“Take it out.” You command softy, sucking in a hiss when the tip of his tongue laps over your swollen clit just right.

He’s fighting his way out of the confines of his suit instantly. Tugging his arms free of the sleeves and shoving it down his hips, mouth indulging you all the while.

You can’t get an unobstructed look, but a guttural moan vibrates into your pussy as it drips over his tongue, proving he has wrapped his fist around his neglected cock.

“Does that feel good, rockstar?” You tease, grip latched onto the collar unforgivingly. “Stroking your cock with a mouthful of pussy? Are you my sweet boy, doing so good for me?”

“I am…” he murmurs, muffled, yet eager, against your soaked folds. “Wanna make you cum.”

“Don’t worry about me.” You snatch at the golden choker, tugging him around between your legs. “You just take care of that pretty cock of yours. Fuck your fist like it’s my cunt sucking you in. Or my mouth. Or my ass.”

A long, loud, groan that borders on sounding painful, escapes him as he tugs your clit into his warm, wet mouth.

“Someone liked that.” You’re taunting him, hiding how close he has you already behind your mockery. “Wouldn’t that be lovely for your sweet cock right now? To be buried in that tight little forbidden spot? All warm, and snug, and wrong…”

“Fuck, baby…” he moans, releasing you from his kiss for but a moment. “Gonna cum…fuck, fuck fuck…”

“Up here,” you bite out harshly, yanking him up by the collar so roughly he chokes out a cough, “Right here, baby. Paint me pretty.”

His eyes lock in on where you’ve patted at your cunt to show him where you want it, and a mere second later, with a whining cry of your name, his release, hot and perfect, spills across you.

You watch with rapt attention, eagerly anticipating what you have up your sleeve next.

He catches his breath slowly, panting with his forehead buried against the softness of your stomach.

“Clean it up.” You order, lovingly petting at his hair.

“Hmm?” He sounds far away and blissfully blurry.

“Your mess.” You reiterate, with a snap of a tug on his curls. “Clean it up.”

You could laugh when he tries to rise to his feet for a towel, but instead, you hold fast to that collar that has rapidly become your very best friend. “With your mouth.”

Ever eager to please and prove his devotion to everything devious, he makes short work of the evidence. Savoring it like a fine wine. “You taste even better when I’m there too.”

You can’t hide the fond smile that plays over your lips. He loves himself almost as much as he loves you, and you like it just fine that way. He should be in love with himself as well…he is perfection, an angel floating along in this realm disguised as one of us.

How you managed to capture his affections you’ll never fully grasp.

Watching him lick the last of his release off the back of his thumb, you shake your admiration off and issue a brand new order.

“Fix your suit while I gather our things.”

“But you haven’t cum yet.” He protests with a petulant pitch in his tone.

You wave him off like it doesn’t matter as you fight to ignore the pounding, throbbing, ache between your legs. “Later.”

When, at last, you’re ready to leave, you slip the golden lead from your bag, swinging it down at your side as you make your way forward.

“Baby, there are still people out there.” He protests, but he can’t hide the intrigue in his complaint. And, as always, he knows his safe word for anything he isn’t truly comfortable with. His silence on that front speaks volumes.

“Hardly.” You click the leash in place at the back of his collar and ease him onto his feet. “Just be glad I’m not making you crawl.”

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#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka smut #gvf josh #mullet josh #fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic

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pennyserenade · 8 months

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old movies that are scully-coded/movies scully would like (as per request of @edierone):

the philadelphia story (1940): a wealthy socialite is getting married for the second time, and her ex-husband and two tabloid reporters come and wreck a bit of eye-opening havoc for the woman (i mean, c'mon, katharine hepburn is so scully!!! it would be a crime not to include this. while this film isn't exactly what i'd call feminist, it's got some good meat on its bones that i think she would appreciate. i also think scully could appreciate some of the messages of this film -- especially the idea that you cannot expect perfection, including in yourself)

on the beach (1959): the world has been decimated by atomic war, and an american navy captain named dwight towers meets a terribly lonely woman named moira davidson when he goes to australia, a safe zone. towers is suffering from a grief so unbearable he can't confront it, and moira finds herself falling in love with him despite it. (this movie is about more than just these two, but they are the main feature for sure. i think scully would love this one for a lot of reasons: the navy thing is and always will be big for her, but also there's this idea that love will outlast everything -- that even in the face of the greatest horrors, it will always prosper. i do believe scully to be a secret romantic)

wuthering heights (1939): well you know the story, heathcliff and cathy and a bunch of unfair events that leads to a haunting tragedy (scully is a classics girl, and i think she re-reads wuthering heights once a year. its no wonder this is one of her favorite old movies. see also: secret romantic)

the heiress (1949): a terribly shy and plain woman named catherine lives with her repressive father dr. sloper in 1940s new york. her life is uneventful until one handsome social climber comes into her life with promises to make it better. (i really think this is the scully movie. i believe she'd see herself in this plain and shy catherine, who seems to live to please those she loves (especially her father!!!). its a story about a woman finding her voice, not because of outside forces but because of herself. the part of scully that snuck outside to smoke cigarettes, the part that made her join the fbi, the part that had her getting a tattoo in never again -- this is the same part of her that loves this)

#misc.#x files #dana scully

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cressida-jayoungr · 1 year

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One Dress a Day Challenge

Not-a-Dress November

Woman of the Year / Katharine Hepburn as Tess Harding Craig

For a casual day at home, Tess wears a jacket very similar to a man's smoking jacket with slacks and open-toed house shoes. The jacket looks like velvet, with a frogged fastening in front and shouldamapads. Under it, she wears a simple white shirt with a spear-point collar. The slacks are wide-legged--a little surprising in wartime, when using less cloth was patriotic, but perhaps some leeway was allowed for movie escapism.

#woman of the year #not-a-dress november #katharine hepburn #one dress a day challenge #one dress a week challenge #1940s style #1940s fashion #1942 films #1942 movies #tess harding #gowns by adrian #old hollywood #classic hollywood #classic movies #black and white movies #not a dress november #shouldamapads

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itsdefinitely · 1 year

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things i noticed on the opening night of beetlejuice at the national theater

putting a read more because this is a long post

-didnt change the whole being dead thing unfortunately :(

-there was no sandy in the whole being dead thing :(

-justin collette does what i can only describe as a gay voice (he also does The Voice really well; its consistent!!)

-at the pose for the whole being dead thing, beetlejuice motions for the crowd to keep cheering (a lot) until rhe crowd is screaming and then he starts. uh. well. hm.

-the purple curtains that are slightly open and emit smoke are used for scene changes

-"and then the b-man is free and the mai tais are on me" someone in the audience: "woo!" "yeah, woo. woos for all of us"

-beetlejuice does that thing when you pretend to walk down the stairs behind the couch

-they changed ready set not yet to be about wiring!

-the maitlands die of an electric shock instead of falling to their death

-beetlejuice exited stage right, and then walked down the stairs when entering next; he just kept teleporting around the stage like that

-when beetlejuice was being melodramatic about the puppet show, he got on the floor to keep screaming

-"that was one heck of a shock" dont judge me. i like the line changes.

-barbara dry heaves after finding out she died

-they kept barbara's hand being on fire!!

-during the whole being dead thing pt 2, beetlejuice reads off his hand to remember how to spell his name

-during the whole being dead thing pt 2, beetlejuice does a think where he pretends hes riding a horse (yknow at the end when the horse walking sounds happen)

-everyone started cheering when beetlejuice was doing the thing with adam on the chair… you know the one… so he KEPT GOING AND PRETENDED HE WAS RIDING A HORSE (a theme that may continue to appear later)

-okay i dont know how to describe it, but adam and barbara are played in a way that is Violently Bisexual (i love it so much oh my god)

-LYDIA IS PLAYED LIKE A TEENAGER!!

-i wasnt really sure about delia at first but i love that she mispronounces So Many Words (like. more than Leslie Kritzer did)

-instead of the house going back, the purple curtains lower again during dead mom

-THE COMEDIC TIMING ON "…aaaand thats how i got herpes."

"…"

"frOM KATHARINE HEPBURN!!"

-barbara and adam are so good auuughhhhhhh theyre so much more. i dunno. uh. in touch?? like, they feel less like dorks (still dorks though)

-when adam interrupts beetlejuice's soliloquy, theres like the biggest pause.

-"im sorry guys, ill pay you for the full day" as the soliloquy chorus is leaving

-"you make." dramatic pause "daddy." another dramatic pause "SO angry."

-i love barbara so much in this shes more of a girlboss than usual

-okay i know how to describe it now. there is so much like. body language in this. adam is a lot more raunchy, barbara is a lot more realistic (she flosses at one point), and there is SO much hip thrusting from beetlejuice (no t-rex arms though)

-they close the curtains again, and only half of it opens for delia's scene (amazing staging)

-delia doesnt do the fortnite dance during no reason

-lydia sounds so much more genuinely confused than amused when she says "is this still about me?"

-adam and barbara with sheets over their heads project on the screen behind lydia

-the curtains raise when lydia chases them, and its the attic again

-"perhaps i myself am strange and unusual"

-she sounds so heartbroken when barbara asks "and your mom?" "dead."

-"should we get the sheets?" "adam" "we should get the sheets" "adam." "no no no we should-" "ADAM" looks at each other walks offstage without the sheets (it was probably to stall for the scene change)

-like with no reason, half the curtain raises instead of all of it

-"i am very good at sex." its so funny to me because delia is played as So over-the-top and this is Completely deadpan

-lydia is so whiney (i dont know any other way to describe it) when she says "and their eyes are mad of the deeevill" it feels like a real teenager

-being able to hear every footstep after "i wish i were dead."

-half the curtain raises again, the opposite side to the previous scene

-no wig change :(

-they kept the extra arm/leg!!

-green lights when beetlejuice says "im gonna have a new best FRIEEEEEEEEEEND"

-this is mostly unchanged, but i love all of it anyway

-they kept beetlejuice burning the note

-when beetlejuice gets knocked off, theres a projection of the smoke ring

-say my name gets extended at the end!! at the "gonna make him say me name (make him sya your name)" part!! for an extra 2-4 bars i think

-ah yes. this is the scene.

-lydia pretends to do a ballet move (i cant remember what its called)

-delia isnt wearing lingerie, and her dress doesnt get ripped off

-everybody cheers for day-o (as they should)

-no pig, but we have the small plate with the meat hand on it, and maxie dean's wife says that line (the deep "daylight come and me wan go home")

-beetlejuice still emerges from the table!!

-all the green spotlights on him when he says:

-"it's showtime"

-HE DID THE. HE SAID THE THING!! HE SAID THE THING!!

-obviously, no big face and hands, but they hand wood/cardboard (cant tell which, probably wood) versions of them

-they keep the carnival projection on the stage

-"guess we're not invisible anymore"

-can i mention again the justin collette does The Voice??? its slkdkcidiwoksmcnskkw

end of act one

-SKYE!!

-theres no physical house prop, but the curtains are lowered and the house is projected onto it

-the projection and all the lights turn red when skye inhales deeply

-skye does her best not to look at lydia

-EVERYBODY LAUGHING WHEN "well we're really not supposed to" "why?" "pedophiles :]"

-i couldnt see it clearly, but i think skye had a fire instead of a flashlight

-"boo"

-this part is mainly unchanged too, but i really really like it still

-skye runs out the door (instead of walking up the stairs and disappearing)

-beetlejuice clones!!

-the pie lady actually catches the pie (when i saw it on broadway she didint)

-theres no "that looks like a penis" :(

-i love the npr tote bag. i kinda want one

-beetlejuice doesnt put on a sad little kid voice when talking about his mother drinking. its more like it happened when he was a teenager/young adult. he also doesnt do the "i shouldve left like your-" sad sad about to cry voice "father" he says the line, but his voice doent break. hes more mean

-"get her to marry me" clones: "huh????" "oh, its like a uhm. green card thing." clones: "ohhhhh" "yeah, yeah. strictly business"

-during that beautiful sound pt 2 (which i adore) beetlejuice makes a zip your mouth kind of motion when the clones are supposed to be quiet, which like. is that possession??

-the transition between these scenes is beetlejuice directing two of his clones to run in circles while the set around them gets moved

-i love the glowy effect with the book (also you can hear every page turn)

-picking up a metal detector "i never even used this. and then i felt bad that i never used it" pretends to use the metal detector "beep beep beep beep"

-"get right outside my comfort zone" LEANS TO THE SIDE AND RUNS HANDS DOWN TORSO

-delia jumping up on the couch

-delia and charles's dramatic sighing

-OKAY HOLY FUCK. THE WAY OTHO SAYS "toyota prius" BROKE MY BRAIN HE LIKE. THERES AN ACCENT AND HE ROLLS THE R

-i just. i like otho

-"the b is silent, but it still stings" "no, not that one" "why say doubt, when you can stop at do" "not that one" "doubt. it has a 'u' but it doesnr have a 'me'" "thats the one"

-"ugh classic maitlands. yknow what?" steps towards the edge of the stage, looking at the audience "theyre the real villains of this show" lydia: "what?" "nothing"

-"classic bait and switch, oldest trick in the book" looks off to the side and sighs

-"Normally, I perform exorcisms por bono, but you made me come to-" the most disgusted voice "-Connecticut"

-barbara still floats!!

-no wig change for the whole being dead thing pt 4

-theres still the fire clickers!!

-beetlejuice comes from the stairs instead of rising from the floor

-i never noticed this before but otho, delia, and charles get bound by chains

-adams mouth gets sealed shut its so cool aaae

-"i want you… to marry me!" everyone: "WHAT?" very exasperated "oh cmon guys its a greencard thing"

-good old fashioned wedding my beloved

-the door is still green and expels fog

-"classic bait and switch, oldest trick in the book!"

*pause*

"why does everyone keep leaving me :D" he doesnt even sound mad. then,

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

it went on for at least 30 seconds (probably more)

i cannot stress enough how long that scream went on for

-*holding his head in his hands, the most tired and defeated voice ever*

"alright. new plan."

"youre all going to die"

*happy cheery joyful*

"TOODAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY"

-flashing lights going on for forever as they change to the netherworld (i know it takes a bit to change scenes but my eyes Hurt)

-they do the thing with the white square things lighting up one by one

-miss argentina has a southern accent and mispronounces argentina

-IF I KNEW THEN WHAT I KNOW NOOOOWWWWW

-angry pygmys still shrunk his head <:(

-juno was like. too much for me i think. tone her down a little. also, she doesnt have the smoke machine that makes it look like she's smoking (still has a cigarette though)

-chase sequence!!

-lydia is genuinely so heartbreaking (she is usually but this show especially)

-theres no life or death sign (from what i saw) but the logo is on a podium with a sheet on it

-adams podium still says sexy-beetlejuice has a cool suit i love it!!

-he didnt really yell; the "where the contestants suck and the host is very angry" was all in the same tone

-"let me check my stocks"

*the sheet on the aforementioned podium is lifted, revealing otho/kevin in stocks*

-kevin offers to give beetlejuice his prius, claiming that "IT WAS A PLUG-IN" before hes wheeled offstage to the sound of wood splintering on impact

-"Mr. Juice."

-"HOLD ON JUST ONE DAMN MINUTE"

ill be honest, i dont know if it was because ive seen the show before (most likely) or if it was because adam was more bold throughout the rest of the show, but it didnt have the same impact. but this makes up for it:

-as adam is telling everyone everything, he gets close to beetlejuice to the point where they are inches apart and his hands are on beetlejuice's ass

-the kiss!! slay!!

-barbara is actually angry, and adam says "maitlands 2.0" to get her on the same page

-barbara cant kiss beetlejuice HAH

-"WAIT WAIT WAIT. this is all very

believable.

im a highly sexual being and i do love an orgy. but you all dont strike me as the orgying kind. except for her."

*points to delia*

"shes done some stuff."

*delia pauses, and then makes a big motion with her arms like "yeah you got me"*

-TEAR AWAY COSTUME!!

-his hair changes too!!

-GLITTER CONFETTI!!

-the lights still turn pink when

"i cant believe some cultures think this kind of things alright"

-OKAY BUT. BEETLEJUICE AND ADAM GOING AROUND IN CIRCLES ACROSS THE STAGE

-this part is very unchanged

-i love the living monologue. i love the birds and the stock song thay plays and the roller-coaster of emotions and the being hit over the head and the being stabbed

-juno is back!!

-"one minute youre on top of the world, and the next minute, you feel like no one will ever love you… this guy knows what im talking about!

i pick on you because i see myself in you. later tonight. say my name three times."

-"and you."

*dramatic noise the whole stage turns blue except for a spotlight on lydia*

-THE SANDY PUPPET!! EATS JUNO!! SANDY IS HERE!!

-"look lydia now we both have dead moms!"

*nobody onstage laughs, the audience losing their minds*

*pause*

*swinging the severed leg back and forth*

*uses the leg like a golf club*

"and a swing and a miss"

someone in the audience: "FORE!"

*flips them off* "three. fuck you."

-*in a scottish accent* "charles ya ripe old bastard never change"

"i already have changed. ive changed a lot."

*no accent* "well thennn... go fuck yourself"

-when beetlejuice and delia are doing… that thing during the goodbyes, beetlejuice pretends to ride a horse towards delia (told you the theme would return) and she pretends to ride a horse when he gets close

-"dora" "delia" "we didnt hang out much"

-"i think ill miss you most of all. scarecrow. boop" *put cowboy hat on lydia*

-i love beetlejuice's exit so much, gets carried dramatically by his clones only to be put down right after

-"GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD. I’LL NEVER COME THIS WAY AGAIN! TELL MY STORYYYYYY"

*pause*

"this has been a strange day."

-lydia still floats during jump in the line/dead mom reprise

-"im home."

end of act two

#lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #long post #in summary #i like beetlejuice a lot #i might edit this from time to time if i remember anything new #definite's ted talks #the ramblings of a madman

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whileiamdying · 5 months

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Ryan O’Neal, Who Became a Star With ‘Love Story,’ Dies at 82

He was a familiar face in movies and on TV before his breakout performance opposite Ali MacGraw in the 1970 blockbuster. But it was overshadowed by years of personal problems.

Ryan O’Neal’s performance opposite Ali MacGraw in the hit 1970 movie “Love Story” made him an instant star. Credit...Silver Screen Collection/Getty Images

By Aljean Harmetz

Dec. 8, 2023

Ryan O’Neal, who became an instant movie star in the hit film “Love Story,” the highest-grossing movie of 1970, but who was later known as much for his personal life and health problems as for his acting in his later career, died on Friday. He was 82.

His son Patrick O’Neal confirmed the death in a post on Instagram. It did not give the cause or say where he died.

Mr. O’Neal was a familiar face on both big and small screens for a half-century. But he was never as famous as he was in the immediate aftermath of “Love Story.”

He was 29 years old and had spent a decade on television but had made only two other movies when he was chosen to star in Arthur Hiller’s sentimental romance, written by Erich Segal (who turned his screenplay into a best-selling novel). His performance as Oliver Barrett IV, a wealthy, golden-haired Harvard hockey player married to a dying woman played by Ali MacGraw, garnered him the only Academy Award nomination of his career.

He had played the town rich boy, Rodney Harrington, for five years on the prime-time soap opera “Peyton Place.” But in 1970 Hollywood was not that interested in television actors, and he had been far from the first choice to star in “Love Story.”

“Jon Voight turned the part down. Beau Bridges was supposed to do it,” he told a reporter in 1971. “When my name came up through Ali, they all said ‘No.’ Ali said, ‘Please meet him.’”

“So we met in one of those conference rooms where everybody sits half a mile away from everybody else,” he continued. “Weeks later, they asked me to test. Then I didn’t hear anything until they finally called and said, ‘Will you give us an extension of a week to make up our minds?’”

In the end, Ms. MacGraw persuaded Paramount to cast Mr. O’Neal. He was hired for $25,000 (a little more than $200,000 in today’s currency), and his movie career was ignited.

Before he became a movie star, Mr. O’Neal played the town rich boy, Rodney Harrington, for five years on the prime-time soap opera “Peyton Place.” Credit...Bettmann/Getty Image

It never burned quite as brightly again, although he maintained a high profile throughout the 1970s, appearing in films like “Barry Lyndon” (1975), Stanley Kubrick’s elegantly photographed adaptation of William Makepeace Thackeray’s novel about a poor 18th-century Irish boy who rises into English society and then falls from those heights; and “A Bridge Too Far” (1977), Richard Attenborough’s epic tale of World War II heroism.

He also demonstrated his knack for comedy in three films directed by Peter Bogdanovich. He co-starred with Barbra Streisand in “What’s Up, Doc?” (1972), a screwball comedy inspired by the 1938 Cary Grant-Katharine Hepburn movie “Bringing Up Baby”; with Burt Reynolds in “Nickelodeon” (1976), a valentine to the early days of moviemaking based on the reminiscences of Raoul Walsh and other directors; and, with his 9-year-old daughter, Tatum, in the best known of the three films he made with Mr. Bogdanovich, “Paper Moon” (1973).

In “Paper Moon,” set in the Midwest during the Depression, Mr. O’Neal played a small-time swindler hornswoggled by a cigarette-smoking orphan who just might be his illegitimate daughter. Tatum O’Neal won an Academy Award for that performance — she remains the youngest person ever to win one of the four acting Oscars — and for a while it appeared that Mr. O’Neal would become the patriarch of an acting dynasty.

When Tatum starred as a Little League pitcher in “The Bad News Bears” (1976), she became the highest-paid child star in history, with a salary of $350,000 (the equivalent of about $1.9 million today) and a percentage of the net profits. Her younger brother Griffin seemed poised for stardom as well when it was announced that he would appear with his father in Franco Zeffirelli’s 1979 remake of “The Champ,” the 1931 tear-jerker about a washed-up former boxer and his son.

Mr. O’Neal’s Oscar-winning co-star in Peter Bogdanovich's period comedy “Paper Moon” (1973) was Tatum O’Neal, his daughter. Credit...Everett Collection

But Mr. Zeffirelli ended up making the film with Jon Voight and Ricky Schroder instead, and Griffin O’Neal’s career never got off the ground. He did have one starring role, in the 1982 film “The Escape Artist,” but that film was not a success. When he was next in the public eye, five years later, it was not for his acting but for his involvement in a boating accident that killed his friend Gian-Carlo Coppola, the son of the director Francis Ford Coppola. He was convicted of negligent operation of a boat but acquitted of manslaughter.

The O’Neal family would go on to have many more problems with the law, with drugs and with one another.

Mr. O’Neal, who was well known in Hollywood for his temper — when he was 18, he spent 51 days in jail for a brawl at a New Year’s Eve party — was charged with assaulting his son Griffin in 2007. Those charges were dropped, but a year later he and Redmond O’Neal, his son with the actress Farrah Fawcett, were arrested on a drug charge. He pleaded guilty and was ordered to undergo counseling, while Redmond entered rehabilitation but continued to struggle with addiction.

Tatum O’Neal had her own highly publicized drug problems and was estranged for many years from her father, who she said physically abused her when she was a child.

Mr. O’Neal’s fame was beginning to slip by 1978, when Paramount offered him $3 million to star in “Oliver’s Story,” a sequel to “Love Story.” He accepted, even though his distaste for the project was clear.

“There’s something cheap about sequels,” he told a reporter, “and this one’s a complete rip-off.” When the movie was released, the critics agreed.

Mr. O’Neal with Farrah Fawcett in 1981. They began their highly publicized on-again, off-again relationship when she was still married to the actor Lee Majors. Credit...Steve Sands/Associated Press

His days as an A-list star were soon over, although he continued to work steadily in the 1980s and ’90s. His more memorable movies in this period included “Partners” (1982), in which he played a heterosexual police detective who goes under cover with a gay partner, played by John Hurt; “Irreconcilable Differences” (1984), as a successful Hollywood director whose 10-year-old daughter, played by Drew Barrymore, sues him for divorce; and “Tough Guys Don’t Dance” (1987), a crime drama written and directed by Norman Mailer. He also co-starred with Ms. Fawcett in the short-lived 1991 television series “Good Sports.”

Most of Mr. O’Neal’s later work was on television, including a recurring role on the series “Bones.”

Patrick Ryan O’Neal was born in Los Angeles on April 20, 1941, the elder son of Charles O’Neal, a screenwriter, and Patricia Callaghan O’Neal, an actress. At 17 he joined his nomadic parents in Germany and got his first taste of show business as a stunt man on the television series “Tales of the Vikings.”

He never took an acting lesson, but his striking good looks, as well as the anger that seemed to boil just below the surface, helped win him roles on television not long after he returned to Los Angeles.

Mr. O’Neal in 2015. The last major role he played, four years earlier, was himself, on the reality show “Ryan and Tatum: The O’Neals.” Credit...Ryan Stone for The New York Times

His marriages to the actresses Joanna Moore and Leigh Taylor-Young ended in divorce. Ms. Taylor-Young, his co-star on “Peyton Place,” told an interviewer that their marriage never recovered from the success of “Love Story,” which she said brought “a type of life which is not suitable for Ryan’s personality.”

Mr. O’Neal was romantically linked with many actresses, but it was his on-again, off-again relationship with Ms. Fawcett, which began when she was still married to the actor Lee Majors, that garnered the most attention. The couple never married but were together for almost 20 years before they separated in 1997. They later reconciled and were living together when Ms. Fawcett died of cancer in 2009. In 2012 he published a book about their relationship, “Both of Us: My Life With Farrah.”

Mr. O’Neal’s survivors include his daughter and a son, Patrick, a sportscaster. Complete information on survivors was not immediately available.

In 2012, Mr. O’Neal revealed that he was being treated for prostate cancer. That diagnosis came 11 years after he contracted chronic myelogenous leukemia, which eventually went into remission.

The last major role Mr. O’Neal played was himself. In the summer of 2011, he and his daughter starred in a reality show, “Ryan and Tatum: The O’Neals,” on Oprah Winfrey’s cable channel, OWN. The series left the impression that the two had ended their long estrangement, but Mr. O’Neal later told an interviewer that it painted a false picture.

“We’re further apart now than we were when we started the show,” he said.

Peter Keepnews and Orlando Mayorquin contributed reporting.

#Ryan O'Neal #Ryan Patrick O'Neil #Love Story #Obituary #Ali MacGraw #Tatum O'Neil #Farrah Fawcett #Peter Bogdanovich #Stanley Kubrick #Francis Lai #Oscar Winner #Academy Award Winner #Spotify

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