#netflix glow

[warningsine]

—Betty Gilpin

[elevenrosee]

[dykebyulyi]

every friend group should include:

( ins • po )

[lesbianeagan]

in an environment where she’s free to dress as she wants to, where her peers go more femme, more experimental, more *them* in one way or another, debbie wears a FULL TUXEDO. who would she be without strictly adhering to the roles she’s expected to fill?

anyways sometimes i think about butch debbie. who would she be how would she present herself without the pressures of the world she’s in. her hair is so much of her identity so connected to her emotional state what if she cut it?

who would she be in eden with only women around her, who would she be as a business woman how would she traverse her utopia and her reality?

anyway if debbie was allowed to i think she’d be into masculine fashion like she has an eye for fashion through and through. ruth may wear the worst little dykey outfits (affectionate) but debbie’s shit is TAILORED.

[mariannekhalil]

the GLOW girlies

[dykewilder]

alison brie's big gay blue eyes send post

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 1

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, GLOW AU, self-worth issues, implied smut (reader x unknown dude 🤷‍♀️), cheating, Sam and Dean are not related in this story (--> check the series masterlist for overall warnings!)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Truthfully, I wasn’t gonna share it because it was just a fun, silly project to get over some writer’s block (which I did!). Netflix never gave me an ending to this amazing show, so I wanted to write my own, y’know? But hey, it’s already written, so why not share it with the class, right? As my awesome cheerleader on this project @panicking-outside-the-disco said, the dilaogue screams Dean AU 🖤 (Thank you so much for your encouragement, bestie!) Fellow fans of the show, you’ll be happy to know I kept all the good stuff in there, from Steel Horse to pink, frosted donuts. Everyone else will make sense of those words soon enough. So, hopefully, you’ll enjoy this nostalgic love tribute, and let’s give ourselves a decent ending, shall we? 🤩

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

1. Holding Out For A Hero

Another failed audition.

Moving from Nebraska to Los Angeles at the sweet age of eighteen, Y/N has played the Hollywood game for quite some time. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-seven by La-La Land standards, she only has little to show for herself, though. She’s had a few background roles and starred in a handful of low-budget plays, but her big breakthrough, the role that changes everything, still remains a hopeless and seemingly unreachable daydream.

Worst of all, she is sick and tired of the simple and reduced roles Hollywood forces upon its actresses. She wants more than the shitty role of the secretary who tells a powerful man his wife is on the phone. Y/N wants a real part instead of playing second fiddle to yet another pompous dick.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After her latest failure, she even became so desperate she hid in a bathroom stall for three hours before ambushing her casting director Josie while the poor woman was fucking peeing. But instead of the customary, unexplained rejection, Y/N wanted to hear reasons this time. She wanted to find out why she always gets pushed over for someone else, wanted to know if she could do something better, for crying out loud.

Usually, it’s the agent’s job to tell an actor all the reasons why they were wrong for the role, but she doesn’t even have an agent anymore because, as it bitterly turns out, everyone stops fucking caring about you if you haven’t worked in over two years. For once, though, she wanted some goddamn feedback.

The casting director’s response?

“Look Y/N, every director I work with says, ‘Get me someone I don’t know. Someone I haven’t seen. I want a girl who’s real.’ That’s when I bring you in, so they can see that they don’t actually want the thing they think they want. It’s 1985. Everyone wants Jane fucking Fonda. I’m sorry, honey… But listen, I have some experimental projects in the Valley, if you’re interested. Would you consider doing erotica?”

So, fucking porn. That’s where she’s at with her life.

Defeatedly, Y/N leaves the casting office in West Hollywood once more and gets swallowed by the city’s filth, lost between hellfire and demons. No matter what she does, she never feels like it’s enough. Each audition, you throw yourself against the wall and hope, this time, it’ll stick. It’s an endless game, a gamble of hope – hope isn’t an infinite resource, though, and hers is running out.

Y/N likes getting tortured. That’s the conclusion she’s come to. And because she seems to thrive on torment, she joins her best friend Joanna for a Jazzercise class – aka a room full of toned women in leotards, sweatbands, and leg warmers. The two friends have known each other since middle school and have done everything together since then, including their move to the big city. Joanna is a blonde bombshell who immediately got a role on a popular soap until she quit acting and had a baby a couple of months ago. Now, she’s a housewife and mother in Pasadena while her husband brings home the money.

Y/N loves Joanna, but admittedly, the blonde sometimes makes her feel small and insecure. She doesn’t have the big tits, the perfect curves, or the shiny hair. Jo has always been more successful than her in every aspect of their respective lives, the friendly competition leaving Y/N, more often than not, with a bad aftertaste in her mouth. She constantly tries to keep her envy in check, though, even when the blonde’s boobs exploded during their freshman year of high school. Simply put: Joanna is a sparkling diamond, while Y/N feels like a dirty lump of coal next to her.

The cheer captain versus the theater geek.

“You know, I’d actually do porn if it had a good story. Like, Shakespeare porn,” Y/N half-heartedly jokes as the women change in the locker room after their class.

Jo arches an eyebrow at her, the smile on her lips a bit condescending. “C’mon, Y/N, would you actually do porn, though? You hate being naked in front of people.”

“Things have changed since you disappeared,” Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her voice laced with rebellion, and purposely changes out of her leotard in front of her friend to drive the point home. She also tries not to sound too bitter about the fact that the blonde basically abandoned her after getting married and pushing a human out of her vagina. She knows her jealousy is silly. It’s just part of life. That’s how it goes. It wasn’t always going to be them vs. the world forever.

“I didn’t disappear. I had a baby,” Jo retorts on cue before her face lights up with an insane amount of excitement. “Which you could too! Then we’d both have babies.”

“Great idea,” Y/N snorts sarcastically and slips into her sneakers, playfully musing, “Who of the guys I randomly fuck would make a good baby daddy, huh? The alcoholic I met at the farmer’s market or the depressed stand-up with a heroin addiction?”

Jo sits down on the bench next to her and conspiratorially leans closer. “Can I tell you something that I realized recently?”

Y/N gives her a raised look that borders on amused. “What?”

The blonde has been a bit of a postpartum mess these days. It’s the lack of sleep and the fact that her boobs won’t stop leaking. Also, her kid is a biter.

“When I first was cast on Paradise Bay, I was thrilled, okay? I mean, it was so exciting, remember? And then they put me in that year-long coma, and I was just lying there in this hospital bed, feeling powerless. And then when season three came, and they graduated me to that wheelchair with that blanket–”

“I’m sorry… Is this going somewhere?” Y/N interrupts her because the last thing she needs to hear today is another one of Joanna’s success stories.

“I’m getting there,” Jo frowns and continues straightaway, “Anyways, I was so relieved when Sam asked me to marry him and told me to stop working. He was right. It was completely ridiculous. Why would I do this to myself, you know? I swear to God getting pregnant and written off that show was the best decision I ever made,” she tells her enthusiastically.

Y/N just twitches her shoulders and ignores the guilt that’s bubbling in her gut. “Well, we’re different people. I choose work. I can have a baby once I win an Oscar.”

Jo lets out a deep sigh, “But you’re not even working, Y/N. Don’t you wanna be happy and have a family?”

“Of course I do.” Y/N’s not sure that answer is the whole truth. She knows she’s supposed to want the supportive husband, the cute kids, and the white picket fence, but all those things come with the end of your career. She’s not ready to give up and pay that price yet. She wants to make it on her own first, not needing a hero to save her like some damsel in distress. “‘Sides, don’t I need a boyfriend for starters? Isn’t that how it works?”

“Oh, it’s not that complicated,” Jo huffs and rolls her eyes dismissively. “Just pick the first nice guy with money you find. It’s what I did. I mean, Sam is a complete idiot and so out of my league, but it works,” she shrugs. “Why don’t you come visit me in Pasadena sometimes if you miss me so much? I called you like a million times in the last few weeks.”

“I know,” Y/N groans in response and finishes buttoning her blouse, swallowing the giant lump of shame in her throat. “It’s so far away,” she excuses, even though it’s another white lie. A big one, this time.

Jo tilts her head at her, but Y/N knows the wrinkles on the blonde’s brow are not out of concern. It’s pity. She’s seen that look all her life. “Y/N, are you okay? ‘Cause you look sad and fucking depressing, honestly.”

“Thanks. But I’m fine,” she brushes her friend off with a bitter smile. “Just the usual, you know? I have $28 left to pay my bills, including rent, which is why I’ve been waitressing at that awful diner in Downey all week… Oh, and, uhm, I’ve eaten Honey Nut Cheerios for my last eight meals,” she lists off her miserable life and grabs her duffel bag, feigning the brightest grin, “But hey, I’m gonna do porn. Things are looking up.”

It’s late at night when Y/N returns to her rundown shoebox apartment. Her decorations include one dead plant and two ripped posters of Angela Lansbury and Barbra Streisand, respectively. It’s a sad affair, really.

Completely beat, she checks her fridge, which resembles an empty ice cave, except for that half-full box of cheap wine. Yeah, she can’t even afford to get drunk properly. The old mattress squeaks as she falls face-down on the bed and exhaustively snatches the rotary dial phone from her nightstand, only reaching her parents’ answering machine.

“Hey, Mom. It’s Y/N. I didn’t get the audition today either, but I’ll get another one soon. So, fingers crossed… again. But I was just wondering if you and Dad could maybe wire me some money? You know, just so I can pay my electricity bill and… eat food. I’m really sorry… I know I can’t keep asking you guys for money because I’m a grown-up now… but I swear it’s the last time, okay? And I’m aware I said that the last time, too… Anyways, love you. Call me back, please? Okay, thanks… Bye.”

Slamming the receiver onto the phone, she groans loudly and is close to screaming into her goddamn pillow. When did she become such a pathetic fucking loser?

Needless to say, she imagined her life would go a lot differently.

In the midst of her nervous breakdown, her ears then perk up at a strange noise, eyes darting warily to the window. There’s an audible jam of the lock, followed by the rustling of the yellowed blinds before a large hand pops through the crack.

Shit. Someone’s trying to break in.

Anxiously, she grabs the phone and holds it up like a weapon, her heart thrashing wildly in her ribcage, the sound ringing in her ears. Then, she bravely yells with a shaky voice, “Whoever you are, I have a knife in my hand and already called the cops!”

“Whoa, whoa… Y/N, it’s just me.” A young man’s head pokes through the window, raising his large palms with a chuckle.

Her shoulders slump, the tension of fear replaced with one of annoyance as she sighs half-heartedly in relief, recognizing the intruder. Y/N lowers her makeshift weapon, tossing it on the bed. “Oh my God! What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you climbing through my window? You can’t be here! Climb back out – now!”

“You said the last time that no one can find out about us, so I took that seriously,” he explains as he gaspingly pushes his tall body through the small opening. “Can’t you just be happy to see me, Y/N? It took some effort to come here and climb through that window, you know?” A charming laugh bounces off the thin, bare walls once he’s made it into her apartment and towers over her.

Y/N folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow, “You want credit for cheating on your wife?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes back a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please not call it that?”

“What would you like me to call it? You’re married to someone and had sex with me,” she counters sternly. She absolutely doesn’t want him here. That man is only trouble and part of the reason why her life is so fucking shitty these days.

“Look, this isn’t normal behavior for me,” he shrugs innocently as if the madness can’t be helped and adds the softest puppy dog look. “I just-, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“So?! It was a huge fucking mistake!” There’s a sharp inhale of breath as she tries to gulp down the anger, guilt, and shame inside of her. “It happened weeks ago! You shouldn’t be here… It was a party. The drinks were free… I-I was feeling sorry for myself, and you took advantage of that.”

Quietly clearing his throat, he mumbles under his breath, “I think we both took advantage of that.” As he meets her gaze, his whiskey-colored orbs mirror the same guilt she feels.

Y/N places her hands on her hips with a deep exhale, her head bobbing as the words sink in and her head begins to spin. She knows he’s right. They’re both equally to blame, but it doesn’t change anything about her regrets. “Please leave. Go home to your family,” she begs him softly, too soft, not enough strength left to fight.

“You can’t just pull the plug on this. You and me. This is real,” he tells her, his hazel eyes boring into hers. “I think you’re the one, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she stresses with a heavy shake of her head, fighting against the tears that prick her eyes and cloud her mind. “I’m nothing special.”

Pensively, he nods and licks his lips, a humorless chuckle escaping between them as he rubs his mouth and ponders, “I keep thinking about what you said to me that night… You know, how there are shiny people who have everything? And then there are people like us who have to go to parties with those people and watch them get their pictures taken. And it’s not fair... ‘Cause we deserve good things, too. We deserve attention and love and… sex.”

Silently staring at him for what feels like an eternity, her mind races a mile a minute as her heart shatters into a thousand sharp daggers that pierce through her skin and leave deep scars in their wake. And then, Y/N foolishly crashes her lips against his just to stop the goddamn pain in her chest.

What is there to say that even justifies any of this? She’s fucking weak.

The harsh sunbeams that fall on her face and blind her eyes announce another dreadful morning as she wakes with a pessimistic groan. The bed is cold and empty; the married guy is long gone, leaving right after the fuck.

Y/N is alone again – with nowhere to go.

Why did she do what she did? In all honesty, she can’t quite understand it herself, the truth too cruel and pathetic to accept it. The only positive thing she can find about her situation is that at least she can’t sink any lower than rock bottom. She’s certain she’s reached the depths of Hell at this point. Los Angeles mistakenly gets called the city of angels. Truthfully, though, it’s filled with devils who lure you to the dark side until you can’t even look in the mirror anymore without seeing a white line instead of your own goddamn reflection.

The funny thing, though? She’s never even been into drugs or booze or whatever bad habit you can catch in this city, like an STD. She has always worked her ass off and walked the straight and narrow. And for fucking what?

Y/N is definitely at her lowest of lows, but that also means there’s nowhere to go but up, right? And when the red light on her answering machine keeps blinking, her hope and good spirit return as she eagerly presses the button, restarting the endless cycle once more.  

“Y/N, this is Josie. I have an audition for you tomorrow. I’m not running it, but I thought of you. It’s in Watts. And it’s not porn... They’re looking for unconventional women, whatever the fuck that means… Oh, and uhm, if you ever ambush me in the restroom again, I’ll make sure you’re gonna be blacklisted on every casting call in Los Angeles. Are we clear? Anyways, good luck, honey!”

A loud scream echoes through the tiny apartment. Y/N can’t believe her fucking ears and jumps excitedly up and down when Josie’s message ends, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

The game is back on – and it’s not fucking porn.

2. Livin’ On A Prayer

Yikes! I think it’s fairly easy to guess who this mystery guy is, but let me know all your suspicions and gasps, anyways! 😉 And don’t worry. You’re getting plenty of Dean tomorrow (some would say too much Dean) 😎😈

Everything Jensen (1st part tag only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deandreamernp @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @snowlovespie​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @recoveringpastaaddict​ @muhahaha303​

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28​

[warningsine]

[elevenrosee]

✨ Jealous Debbie ✨

++

[dykebyulyi]

GLOW

2x10 – “Every Potato Has a Receipt”

[lesbianeagan]

sorry but bash as the other side of the coin of homoeroticism in wrestling… of masculity and literally wrestling with the role you’re supposed to play. bash as a parallel to debbie and proof that even if she gets a seat at the table that wint be enough. bash and flor. bash as the man whose story is the supplement for the women’s… not the other way around. BASH AS A FUCKING ASSHOLE and not one who’s forgiven or loved regardless but one who’s complex and motivated but not justified.

[coolgirlmind]

Character bingo card to see you can get a bingo with my favorite characters I love from films and tv

[ruthwildersfibula]

Watched one (1) episode of GLOW today and now I am back on my bullshit. Be ready.

[bourbon-ontherocks]

Josh chan, annie marks, Debbie eagan for character bingo!!

Am I supposed to make one bingo board for the three of them or three boards?  😂 Jesus Christ, these rules are so complicated! Also thank you! 😘😘😘

Josh Chan:

Annie Marks:

Debbie Eagan:

[asteraceae-blue]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: GLOW (TV 2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sam Sylvia/Ruth Wilder Characters: Sam Sylvia, Ruth Wilder Additional Tags: trapped in a snowstorm, There's only one room, are they still mad at each other?, nah of course they're not Summary:

"Bringing you a severe weather alert for Los Angeles County, for the first time in several decades, we are under a blizzard warning. I repeat, a blizzard warning for Los Angeles County and the surrounding areas. Some parts of the county could see up to three feet of snow"