#appearance: one night only best of broadway
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Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 1
Dieter Bravo x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+
Word Count: 19.6k
Warnings: Drug and alcohol use (duh, it’s Dieter), mentions of dieting/food concerns, past pregnancy scare, young Dieter being a bit sleazy, the absolute sass of these two, emotional damage, self-doubt, puppy love, vaginal sex, protected sex, workplace quickie, one very determined slap, yelling/arguing, anger, mention of addiction.
Summary: Taking a new film project at the last minute puts you in immediate proximity with the one man you swore you would never work with again - your old flame, Dieter Bravo.
Notes: This story contains flashbacks! Nobody is underage, but it’s worth giving you a heads up, lovely reader, because this story jumps around in time.
It doesn't matter how many times you do this, each table read for a new project is always exciting. The feeling of giddiness starts in your toes and rolls all the way through you to the top of your head. It has you up and awake and ready to go this morning even without the coffee that is piping hot in your travel mug as you pull your car into one of the designated spots behind the soundstage in the studio lot. Ten years in Hollywood have been good to you - really good, if you're honest. And the years on Broadway had been amazing before that.
You've never taken for granted how impressive your resume is or how upward your career continues to climb, and that includes days like today. The studio had asked for you specifically, your agent said on the phone last night. Some timing issue with the original star that the director wanted and the producers were jumping on it to bring you in instead. No audition necessary, all contract terms agreed to with no questions asked. She even managed to negotiate a slightly higher salary for you than usual. Your best paid project to boot and it will be a character-driven drama. Surefire Oscar nominations. Everyone is over the moon about the project, she said. The only thing she didn't know was who you were playing opposite. Doesn't matter, you had told her cheerily. I'm a professional.
For the most part, the cast has arrived already when you walk into the room. There are some faces you recognize and some that you don't, but everyone is chatting merrily as they set themselves up at the table. Your coffee and water, pencil and highlighter all neatly frame the shooting script that the production assistant sets down in front of you when he also sets down your name tag - letting the other people in the room know who you are and who you're playing in the film. There's only one empty seat with five minutes left before the reading is set to begin, and you're busy replying to an e-mail about a public appearance to see the name on the tag of the person who will be sitting directly across from you.
Dieter Bravo.
******
Wincing behind his sunglasses, Dieter stumbles towards the conference room that has been designated for the table read. Unable to fathom why they insist on doing these damn things so fuckin' early. It's not like there's a scene that's going to be shot right after. Groaning, he reaches into his pocket to pull out the bottle where his aspirin, antacids and speed are all mixed together like a colorful little surprise every time he shakes some into his hand. "Goddamn." He huffs, popping a handful of them into his mouth, heedless of what they are and takes the already opened bottle of water that his long suffering assistant is holding out to him as she tries to hurry him along the sharply lit hallway. "Which one is this?" He asks, unsure of exactly what table read he is walking into. He barely pays attention to what his agent books for him anymore, just as long as he is working and there are the drugs he needs supplied, he is fine with whatever at this point.
"The working title is Ego Death." His assistant tells him, though she knows that isn't actually the question he's asking. 'It's the one filming partially in London and France." What he wants to know is where he's going. Where his partial vacation is going to be. This one, though, she doesn't mind so much. Working out of Pinewood Studios is actually one of her favorite places to be if they aren't filming at home in LA.
"Uh huh, uh huh." Dieter bobbles his head as he swallows the water and grimaces. He would prefer wine or a scotch to chase the pills but Desiree had demanded that he drink some water in the morning at least. To counteract all the non-water beverages he drinks later throughout the day. "Like France. The people seem to like me. I always get lucky in Paris."
“I know, Dee.” Of course, Desiree knows. She’s the one who has to fend off the angry one-night stands for a week or two afterward. Almost every single time. She sighs as they round the corner of the hallway. “Here we go. Conference Room C. The production assistant has me on call to come pick you up later, so I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Dieter shakes his arms and his head in an effort to clear his thoughts but all he does is make himself dizzy. Nearly tripping over the carpeted floor when he missteps and nearly goes crashing into the wall. "Fuck!" He yelps, waving her away immediately. "I'm good. Just..." He looks down at his crocks and huffs. "Fuckin' things are trying to kill me."
"Maybe next time you'll wear the tennis shoes I put out for you," his assistant suggests, knowing he never will. "Go on in, Dieter. You're actually on time."
"Why would I want to be on time?" He huffs, rolling his eyes and stopping short of the door so he can root around and look for the candy he had stuffed in his pockets. "Hey, can you get me some uh...some uh...shit?" He asks, forgetting the word for what he wants but he knows she will understand.
"Sweater pocket, not robe pocket." The little Italian hard candies that he likes are mandatory when he has anything to do that lasts more than an hour, like an edible fidget toy. Unfortunately, the fact that he's wearing a cardigan and a robe both with deep pockets means he loses track of things. "And being on time is respectful to your costars, Dee. And to the production staff. Which is why you are on time." She opens the conference room door pointedly. "I'll see you this afternoon."
He wants to grumble at her, point out that he is the star of this particular drama, but instead, he's turning towards the room full of people. Immediately cocking his head as he takes in the group behind the large, dark sunglasses. Smirking slightly at some and then his brows raise when he spots someone he never expected to see at a read through table with him.
You.
"You have to be fucking kidding me..." You look up when you hear the door open, expecting to see your final costar strolling in. Instead you're greeted with the vision of Dieter-fucking-Bravo being nearly shoved through the door by his assistant and your eyes dart down to the last remaining name tag. Dieter Bravo. It reads, and underneath it, his role. This is going to be an absolute fucking disaster.
You’re here. Quickly Dieter schools his expression into one of nonchalance and shuts down the urge to immediately ask why you are here. It’s pretty obvious when you are sitting across from the only empty seat. His seat. You’re his co-star. Dieter hisses under his breath and adopts a careless grin. “Hey everyone. Guess I made it. We can start.”
"Fantastic." The director is excited and nervous, trying his best to look and act in charge of this powerhouse cast that he's been lucky enough to assemble. This is his Oscar bait, right here in this room – the screenplay and the subject manner of the film are icing on the cake. "Welcome everyone. Good morning. The next few months are looking to be very exciting and we're going to get started quickly. This week is hair and makeup trials, costume fittings, and a few location details. Next week we'll be at Pinewood and we’ll finish with the location shoots in France. We're not wasting any time here."
"As long as there is time for playing, I'm good." Dieter jokes as he walks around to the swivel chair in front of a script book with his name on it. "Can't go to France and not play." He glances over at you, watching as you very pointedly look down at your script and inwardly scoffs at the very prim and fashionable outfit you are wearing. Everyone else is in casual clothes, but you are dressed to impress.
A reputation built on talent, hard work, and professionalism has made your name gold in this business, but Dieter never had to worry about any of that. The term nepo baby seems to have been invented just for him and that huge dynasty family of actors, directors, and producers that he's descended from. No wonder he has so little regard for everyone else's time. You shake your head to shake off the anger and flip open your script while the director talks on about plans for a speedy shooting schedule and getting ahead of the studio's timeline. It's the same stuff every director talks about in the beginning, and while you listen you jot down a few notes to yourself of questions you have and requests to pass on to your assistant. The most important being making sure that your hotel room is as far away from Dieter's as possible while you're on location.
Dieter pretends like he's not paying attention. He's good at that. A lifetime spent on stage and behind the scenes of sets leaves him with a sense of boredom when it comes to this kind of thing. Tapping his own pen on the script as he watches you scribble furiously like you are studying for a test.
"Alright, you all know how this works." When he's gotten through the speech that is meant to be inspiring and encouraging, your director sits down at the head of the long table and opens his own script. "Our first AD will read stage directions, you'll all read your roles, and we'll break for lunch before we touch base over questions and concerns." He is practically vibrating in his seat as he looks around. "Unless anyone has something they want to mention before we begin?"
"Yeah." Dieter twists lazily in his seat to look from the director towards you and he pulls his sunglasses down. "How did you come to work on this film?" He asks, smirking slightly as if he knows the answer. Conceited enough that he might just believe that you jumped at the chance to work with him again.
"I was asked." Sitting up straight in your seat, you reach for the travel mug full of coffee that you brought and instantly wish there was brandy in it as well. "I was told there was a timing issue with the previous leading lady, but now I'm wondering if she didn't pull out after finding out who she was going to have to put up with." Something you might consider doing, too, if you had found out before showing up here today. Now it would just give him too much satisfaction to feel like he won something, and you would never give him any satisfaction.
Snorting, Dieter grins as he looks around the room, not even caring that plenty of people are shuffling uncomfortably in their seats. "You mean the only one in this room with that little golden statue?" He asks, eyes finding yours again.
"And the only one who will shove it in everyone else's faces?" He would bring up your most recent snub in a room full of people just to be a dick. It was barely three weeks ago that you lost that Oscar and the wound is still fresh. Of course, it was freshest the next morning, when he had gloatingly sent a Better luck next time style note to your house. How the bastard had your address was beyond you.
"Nahhhh." Dieter shakes his head. "I keep that on display at home. I don't just carry it around." He chuckles quietly at his own comment and shrugs. "Sure that you'll get one, one day."
Your lips are pursed as you look down at your script after taking a sip of coffee, and you scrawl a note in the margins of your script to remind yourself that this would be an excellent picture to elevate yourself to executive producer on. If he's going to be petty, then you're going to be petty's boss.
Bored of bantering with you, Dieter drops his pen and grunts, reaching for his pocket to try to hunt down another one of those candies. Knowing that if he kept up, he would say something that he might actually feel bad about. Which was rare for him.
"Okay. Well." When your director clears his throat it's nervous instead of excited. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Unwrapping a candy, Dieter halfway listens as he opens the script and squints at the page. He needs goddamn glasses but he's too vain to get them and despite snorting powder and popping pills, the idea of sticking his fucking fingers in his eyeballs makes him squeamish.
It's a rocky start. You aren't vain enough to claim otherwise. And the looks on the faces of your castmates and the present members of the production team say so also. Dieter is tripping over his words despite not seeming to be overtly intoxicated and is causing the reading to take twice as long. By the time you get halfway through – to the scene containing a slap, a screaming match, and a smashed prop – you're feeling like this won't be acting at all. Starring in a movie opposite Dieter is going to be exactly as infuriating and maddening as you suspected it would be.
"Who wrote this shit?" Dieter scoffs, irritated with the way that the read is going. "It doesn't flow. It's gotta flow." He looks around for support from some of the other cast and then towards the director. "Not to act like an ass but who talks like this? We are supposed to be in the 1920's not the 1720's."
"Perhaps the problem isn't with the writing but with the reading." After the way he snarked at you in the beginning, you aren't about to let the director take Dieter's vitriol alone.
"Why don't we take a quick five?" He suggests, looking around to see relief on some of the actors' faces as they nod in agreement. "That's five, everyone. Grab a drink or a snack if you need it, bathrooms are down the hall."
Sneering at you, Dieter pushes away from the table and stomps off, needing to piss and to see why the hell the speed he had taken isn't working. Maybe he didn't manage to take any. "Fuck this."
"Hello?" Desiree wasn't expecting to see her boss's name pop up on the caller ID for another hour bare minimum, and she puts down the other half of her sandwich in resignation when she picks up the call. If Dieter is calling, something has upset him. "How's the reading going, Dee?" She asks with a pointedly cheerful tone in her voice.
"Get me the fuck out of this." Dieter growls, holding the phone away from his head. He hates the damn bluetooth built into every damn device. It fucks with his brain waves and he feels weird. "I don't give a shit how, I'm not doing this fucking piece of shit movie."
"You loved the script when you read it." His assistant frowns on the other end of the line. "You have a studio contract, Dee, and you already wriggled your way out of the thriller they wanted you to do. This is it. There's not a way out of this that doesn't involve you getting sued and losing a ton of work." She sighs softly, rolling through the possible things that could have upset him when she lands on the most likely. "Is there someone I need to push to have recast?"
Your name is on the tip of his tongue. Unease and unresolved issues with you curl and curdle in his gut and he opens his mouth to tell her exactly who he wants to have gone. But then he realizes if he does, you win. You would see it as a victory. "No." He grunts into the phone, sighing softly. "Fuck this."
"I'll see if I can arrange some extra goodies for you from the production staff." Desiree offers, knowing that getting him treats of any kind usually eases Dieter's grumpiness. "You contract riders were all agreed to, but there are always upgrades we can negotiate for. I'll see what I can manage. How does that sound?"
"I better get some KitKats too." Dieter huffs, pouting because he's going to have to deal with the sass and snark, the fucking attitude of filming with you. "Lots of them."
"I'll see what extra flavors I can get imported." As his go-to candy, the list of places to procure specialty KitKats and country-exclusive flavors is one Desiree can navigate with her eyes closed and half asleep.
"Okay." Dieter agrees after a long moment. "Hey, uh, can you schedule me an appointment for that surgery to fix your eyes?"
"I can..." Desiree pauses in thought. "I'll have to arrange it for during filming. We won't be able to get an appointment before you have to be on location."
"Do it." He grunts, rubbing his eyes. "Can barely see the fuckin' script."
"I'll pull what strings I have to." Any weakness Dieter actually admits to is worth noting, and she pushes her plate away to pull out her iPad. The agenda she keeps coordinates both of their schedules and even though he never actually checks it, it's invaluable to her. "You should get back to the reading, Dee. I'll take care of everything." After all – that is her job.
In the bathroom, Dieter leans in and stares at his reflection in the mirror. He blows out a sigh, able to see the wrinkles that are starting to crease his face, some of the gray that is starting to creep into the scruff on the side of his face. He's fucking 38 years old in two months. He's getting old. Maybe he'll get his ears pierced.
******
"Sam." As soon as Dieter is gone from the room, you slide out of your seat to go speak to the director. He's not too green in the business, but hasn't been around enough to be jaded yet, which gives you a little hope that he can be spoken to like a reasonable person. "Can I grab you for a second?"
"What's on your mind?" He asks, reaching for his bottle of water and twisting the cap off. Hoping that this tense atmosphere that has descended over the table read is just a one off. Maybe it would count as the trouble on set and the rest of the production would roll smoothly.
"First of all, I wanted to apologize." Humbling yourself isn't exactly a bad idea considering you were half the cause of the ruckus this morning, and you offer the director an appropriate frown. "Obviously that wasn't the first impression I had wanted to make on you, and it won't be repeated. I hope you can forgive and forget?"
"For what?" Sam shakes his head. "I knew that Dieter was going to cause waves. It's one of the reasons I wanted to work with him. He's unpredictable!"
“He certainly is that.” In a way that makes your chest clench on the verge of simply caving in. “I wondered if I could ask you something, Sam? Obviously I’m coming into this late and meeting people for the first time, but the script is wonderful.” Despite what some people say, you want to add, but keep your mouth shut since you just apologized for mouthing off. “I was wondering how your production team has fleshed out. And whether or not you might have room for one more?”
Sam tilts his head thoughtfully and seems to mull it over. "You know...I do." He hums, eyes lighting up. "I'll have to ask Dieter if he wants the billing. It'll go great with the studio."
“Not exactly what I had in mind when I asked.” It takes biting the inside of your lip to keep from saying something snarky or downright disrespectful. “Unpredictable is great for an artist. But not really what you want in someone controlling the purse strings, if you know what I mean.”
Sam rolls his eyes at himself and sighs. "Yeah. I can see where that would go wrong if Dieter decides to pull some kind of stunt." He agrees reluctantly before turning his gaze on you and studies you. "I'm assuming that you want the spot on the executive production team?"
“Otherwise what’s the point in asking?” You have a good reputation and an exemplary track record, so your desire to be Dieter’s boss aside – it’s actually not a bad deal for this young director. “I can get you some references if you’re on the fence, but I can assure you ahead of time that they’ll be glowing.”
Tapping the water bottle against his palm, Sam hums. "Yeah, send me an email and I will look it over tonight, okay?" He reaches out and pats your shoulder. "How do you feel about the role? Excited?"
“I really am, yeah.” In fact, the role had endless and exciting artistic appeal before you realized who you were playing opposite. “She’s an extremely intelligent and volatile woman, and I think the audience of people who will be able to relate to her is huge. You’ve got a great picture on your hands here.” As long as Dieter doesn’t fuck it up.
"I know you will be able to bring her to life." Sam offers, his own excitement for the film shining brightly as he starts to twitch. "We are going to make it happen. That Oscar that you should have won this year."
“That’s very nice of you.” Though you do wish people would stop mentioning it. The wound is still a little fresh. “I really think we have something special here. This summer will be a lot of hard work but really worth it.”
"Well, you go get a snack and some water, I'm going to go – uh, use the restroom and we will get the table read done." Sam nods towards you and steps around you to make a hurried rush towards the bathroom.
Satisfied that you saved a conversation that might have taken a very undesirable turn, you let yourself linger at the craft services table and make another cup of coffee to go with the pastry you don’t let yourself grab. You’ll be fine until you can get out of here and have something homemade. Fewer calories that way.
"They have anything with chocolate?" Dieter asks, stepping up beside you as he surveys the table. Slightly disappointed with the options today. If this shit keeps up, he will have to ask that another caterer is brought in. There's too much rabbit food here.
“No.” Tight lipped the second you realize he’s standing next to you, your shoulders tense but you exhale slowly to try not to show it. You know damn well he’s looking for candy and that there’s chocolate in some of the pastries, but you’re not going to tell him shit. “Looks like you’ll have to survive off something other than intoxicants for at least another couple of hours.”
"Well, shit." He grunts, scratching his belly and glancing over at you. "What's got your panties in a fucking twist?" He asks when you don't even look over at him.
“Don’t for one second think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.” You bite out, focusing on not shaking with actual anger or frustration.
"Oh but I used to." Dieter chuckles and decides that he will blow up that bridge that he had been hanging on to. "So tell me..." he leans in and smirks at you. "How's the kid?" The sarcasm is lacing every word and he chuckles again.
“Go to hell, Bravo.” Without sparing him even a cursory glance, you turn on your heel and walk away. Just because you have to work with him does not mean you have to be sociable.
"So, good?" Dieter shouts after you, grinning at the way your back couldn't get any straighter if you had a board strapped to it. You don't even turn your head and after you walk out of sight, Dieter slumps slightly, the victory not as sweet as he had imagined it would be.
Without warning you’re twenty-one again and staring at the walls of your fifth-floor studio walk up the day after he left. Up and left without a word, not even to you. The pregnancy test in the trash and the telephone that never rings both taunt you, speaking volumes without ever saying a word. “Perfect.” You grit out, knowing very well that he knows you don’t have any children. Though he doesn’t know what happened at all.
******
"Hello, gorgeous." Dieter slides into the seat beside you and flashes you a charming grin, eyes lighting up when he sees the way your eyes flutter and your lip is pulled between your teeth. "I hear from a little birdie, you are going to be my co-star." He had seen your audition and actually told the producer of the play that you were his choice for the lead.
"H–hi." God, he's even more handsome in person, is the first thought in your head when you turn your head to see the former child star Dieter Bravo sidling up to you in the theater. You had gotten here early to try to set your mind straight before the first rehearsal but now it's already hazy from his smile. "Yeah, I–I'm playing Catherine." You're playing his wife – his wife – and it even includes an onstage kiss. It's enough to have your nerves on high alert, but you're so excited.
"Your audition was good, great even." Dieter praises, twisting in his seat and making sure you feel the full force of his smile up close. His mother always said his smile was what drew people in. At least when he was younger. Now that he's in his twenties, he's going through that slump that most child actors seem to endure, hoping like hell that he can spend a few years on stage before he gets his chance to show Hollywood what he can do as an adult. "I told Danny he was an idiot if he didn't cast you."
"You liked my audition?" Fresh out of acting academia, auditioning for Broadway of all things was a longshot, but here you are. Your very first Broadway audition turning into your very first Broadway show. With the world's most gorgeous stage husband, to boot. "I...that's so nice of you! I'm just– I'm so excited for this show. A–and to work with you. It's just...it's a dream come true."
"Yeah?" Dieter grins, already sensing the crush you have on him and liking the way your shy and eager smile makes him feel. "Well, we have to make sure that we make all of your dreams come true, Bambi."
"Bambi?" You knew you looked flustered, but do you really look so ridiculous that he's calling you a deer in the headlights? The idea is completely horrifying and you bite your lip again, unintentionally making yourself look all the more innocent and sweet.
"Fuck." Dieter groans, imagining that innocent look on your face as you look up at him from your knees with his cock in your mouth. "Sweet, innocent little doe eyes." He explains, reaching out and brushing a piece of pastry off your cheek from where you had already raided the coffee cart.
"Oh." At least it's nothing bad - nothing you need to be mortified over. Though your cheeks might completely catch fire if he touches you unprompted again. You weren't expecting it and you feel like you're going to spontaneously combust. "I–um...that's very sweet. But are you okay?" Concern shines through, knitting your eyebrows together temporarily. "You swore and it sounded like...pain? Maybe?"
Are you a virgin? Dieter's eyes sparkle and he shakes his head as he grins. "No, nothing I can't handle, though I might ask you for some assistance later on." He flirts.
"Oh, of course!" Nodding before you could possibly hesitate, you're leaning toward him in your seat like there's some kind of magnet drawing you in. "Did you want to run lines after rehearsal or something?"
Chuckling, Dieter nods. "Something like that." He confides, leaning in. "Think we need to run some chemistry tests." He suggests. "You know, so we don't fumble on stage."
"Oh, of course." Chemistry tests were something you had heard about from your friends who had already gone out to LA to audition for movies, but they were rare in theater as far as you knew. Or at least they never got called that. Working with a movie star was going to be so different, you could tell already. "That–that sounds like a perfect idea. The last thing we want is to hold up rehearsals being awkward on stage, right?"
"Sooooooo." God, you are innocent and Dieter's cock twitching in his pants at how quickly you agree to his idea. "I say we do our read through, and we go get dinner." He offers. "You know…talk."
"Right." Your head bobs in total agreement, pulse quickening at the idea of it. Just because you've nursed a little crush on him for about forever does not mean anything else. This is work. Your career. You're just incredibly goddamn lucky that you get to do it – the play – with him. "Yeah, absolutely. Get a...a foundation for knowing each other, right?"
"Right." Dieter grins and bites his lip. "It doesn't hurt that I think you're very beautiful." He admits with a small wink. You are pretty, you are fresh faced but he hadn't been lying. You did have incredible potential for someone right out of your acting class.
If you spontaneously combust on that spot, it will be from that wink and that wink alone. You can barely squeak out a "thank you" without feeling like your entire face is on fire.
"Awww, don't be shy." He coos, even though he loves it and wants you to keep being shy for him. This narrow window before you get comfortable with him is very finite and he wants to enjoy it. "You and I are going to get real close."
"It's such an amazing opportunity." Maybe for him things like this are old hat, but for you? This is a literal dream come true. It flies in the face of every time your parents told you acting could never be a realistic career choice, or every teacher who had told you that you weren't enough somehow. This is the big time.
Grinning, he leans back in his seat and picks up the drink that he had managed to snag before turning his attention to you. Only taking his eyes off you when the producer comes into the room. Casually sliding his arm around you and shuffling closer as the producer starts to speak. "Here we go." He grins, knowing that this will change both of your lives.
******
The hotel they have the cast and crew booked into is right in the heart of London, tidy modern rooms with all the amenities and specifically suited to dealing with large groups of long-term guests. The kitchen does room service 24-hours a day and there is a coffee machine in your room, along with a kettle and a microwave so you can do a few things yourself. It's a suite even if it's on the small side, and you don't mind that. This is work, after all. Not a vacation. If you want to have fun during your free time you can always go out. The view, at least, is fantastic. Sitting out on your balcony to enjoy the view, you're putting off unpacking just a little bit – until the French doors of the balcony next to you open. Why is Dieter in the room right next to you?
Groaning, Dieter opens the door and stretches, making sure that he scratches his stomach as he takes in the view. "Ohhhh shit, I love London." he shouts out, grinning when a few people down on the street below look up at him.
"So much for using my balcony," you grouse, immediately shoving out of the chair and going back inside. You'll have to restrict your usage to when Dieter is passed out or on set without you.
“Oh seriously?” The movement catches his eye and Dieter turns to see you getting up and puffing up like an angry ostrich as you stomp towards your slider door. “You can’t stand to be around me?” He demands, oddly hurt by the idea. “There was a time you loved being in my presence.”
Pausing halfway through the door, you look back at him with an expression that can only be described as undisguised hurt. You had been aiming for disgust and fallen slightly short despite your best effort. "Unbelievably enough, I grew out of it."
“What would you have had me do?” Dieter asks, flapping his hands in the air. “Stay?” He had the opportunity of a lifetime. The break that made him Dieter Bravo, actor and not just Dieter Bravo, child actor. He couldn’t have risked it. Wouldn’t risk it to be trapped by an obvious scam.
Tamping down the urge to just straight out scream at him, you cross your arms over the chest and force yourself to sigh out the angry breath you took. "You could have at least said goodbye."
Dieter frowns at you, unwilling to admit that he had fumbled that. Been unable to say goodbye in his panicked state. He barely remembers packing or getting on the fucking plane. Didn’t help he was blazed out of his fucking mind. “I said I had to go.”
"You told the production team. Not me." You correct him, biting out every word like the English language itself personally offended you. "You didn't say goodbye. You didn't return a single fucking phone call, text message, or e-mail. Nothing. What if I had been pregnant?" Feeling your voice rise, you squeeze your eyes shut and shudder on another deep exhale. "You abandoned me flat and made me the butt of jokes in interviews for years. How am I supposed to forgive that?"
“Forgive me?” Dieter looks personally offended by the question. “Don’t give me some sob story, you tried to baby trap me!” He huffs at you. “Who peed on the stick for you? Mandy? That girl was always pregnant. Sold the pee sticks for $30 bucks a pop to rope whatever poor bastard was on the fence with some girl.”
"I was terrified." The anger is right back on the surface in an instant, and you hate yourself for how close to tears you are. "I was so fucking–" In love with him, that's the real end of that sentence, but you veer off course rather than ever admit that to him. "Scared that I did two whole boxes of tests and went to a doctor the day after you straight out abandoned me. It was a false positive, you son of a bitch. Six of them, to be exact. It took an actual doctor's office to tell me I wasn't carrying a bastard's baby."
The rate at which Dieter deflates would almost be comical, robe tie dragging on the ground when his entire body just seems to slump. He’s held onto the idea you were trying to trap him for years, reminding him of why he was right to leave you without another word. His father’s words ringing in his ears. “Oh.”
"Oh." Your huff of disgust could rattle windows. "Is that all you have to say?"
Dieter frowns, not capable of processing the complex emotions that are trying to creep through his mind. Long repressed feelings threatening to bubble to the surface. He bites his lip and looks up at where you are staring at him. Still fuckin pretty but no longer the innocent 21-year-old you were when he met you. “Do you want—” he licks his lips and swallows, “–to have sex with me?” He asks, lifting his brows.
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." It doesn't even deserve an answer and you don't give him one, just turn to walk into your room, slamming the glass door behind you so it rattles so hard it threatens to shatter.
“Fuck.” Dieter hisses quietly, staring at your door for another moment before he decides that he is way too sober to deal with this new information. His emergency stash needs to be broken into and he has a feeling he will eat three KitKats for dinner.
This whole fucking production is going to be agony, you can feel it right in the front of your skull where your migraine is forming as you dry sob on the sofa in the front room of your suite. There's no way you can face anybody tonight – not with the way you're feeling now. It's going to be room service and an early night with aromatherapy, you can feel it.
******
He’s a hell of a lot more alert than he should be, all things considered. Taking several downers last night so he could get the image of your hurt face out of his mind. Grunting as he nurses his coffee and sits in the makeup chair for his call time.
There are twice as many shots of espresso in your travel mug this morning as there should be, but you had overheard some of the production team giggling about how handsome Dieter is as soon as you opened the door to your suite and it had caused you to turn right around and brew yourself a double dose to summon the strength to face the day. Your own assistant – bless her – is walking by your side trying to tell you about the shooting schedule for the day, but you feel like you're walking through fog. "Sadie, I'm sorry," you put one hand on her arm in the elevator and offer her an apologetic expression. "Will you give me that again? I'm not myself this morning."
“Are you alright?” Concern laces her expression as she looks up from her phone. You have been a dream to work for and she cares about you. Not because of her job, but because you don’t treat her like an accessory. “You’ve seemed…off since the table read.”
“I have absolutely been off since the table read.” You can admit that to her with ease. “I’ll be okay.” It’s a small reassurance, as you rub your eyes and lean against the elevator wall. “Just…what scenes are we shooting today?”
“The big argument.” Sadie explains, wincing slightly. It’s always tense when the high emotion scenes are filmed. “They felt like it would be good considering the…tension during the table read.”
“Ah.” You nod, knowing you’ll have no trouble getting mad at Dieter at any point. They always say that drawing from personal experience is the way to portray genuine emotion — well, that will be extremely easy. “I can’t say I blame them. It makes sense to get something that big when you’ve seen the tension first hand.”
“And hopefully that will get it out of the way.” She doesn’t know why there is tension between you and Dieter, but there are already rumors swirling between the production team.
“I sincerely doubt it.” You take a sip of your coffee and look at your assistant, knowing that she has as quick and shrewd a mind as anyone you’ve ever met. She’s more than your assistant – Sadie is your right arm. She’s your friend. “You have that face.” The elevator hits the bottom floor and opens, letting the two of you out. “There’s already talk, isn’t there?”
“Some.” She admits, biting her lip. “More…speculation than anything right now. But I’m sure that someone curious will find something.” If there’s something to be found is silently hanging after her comment.
You swallow a sigh and nod, heading through the lobby with her to the hotel’s parking structure where your rental car waits. “Why don’t you drive us to set, and I’ll tell you what happened? Better you should hear it from me than some gossipy PA.”
“It’s none of my business.” Of course, she desperately wants to know, but she also knows that being vulnerable is probably the thing you hate most with others. She gets the sense you’ve been hurt badly before.
“You’ve been my assistant – and my friend – for six years, you deserve the dignity of the truth.” This is the woman who has taken care of you, shielded you, catered to you, and protected you every single day without argument or complaint. She hears every rumor and knows which ones to squash versus which ones can be stoked. She fields requests from professionals in every area of life. She’s even fended off your father when he came looking for money on multiple occasions. The truth is the least you can do. “Most people in the movie industry don’t pay attention to theater,” you begin when you climb into the little Citroen that has been supplied for you by the production company. “But that’s where I started. After NYU, I got incredibly lucky and I went right to Broadway. The—” It brings back enough memories, vivid ones, that you have to clear your throat to go on. “The male lead was from a dynasty family. He saw my audition and had me cast. And then…promptly talked his way into my bed. I was just a kid and I really didn’t know any better. But he…he always knew exactly the right words. Exactly the right touch. You would feel like you were the only person in the whole world when he gave you his attention.”
Shit. Sadie’s face falls and she sighs softly. She was a huge fan of Dieter Bravo’s when he hit Hollywood as an adult. Enough to know that it sounds exactly like him. She hadn’t put the timeline together until it was laid out for her. “And it ended badly?” The fallout from a failed romance would definitely cause acrimony. Look at Lena Heady and Jerome Flynn.
“That’s a very polite way of saying it.” You look out the window and sigh at the rainy London streets moving by. “It started that first night and kept going the whole time. Until one day before call I…I told him that I thought I was pregnant and he took off without a word. That night his understudy went on and that was it.”
“Holy shit! Are you serious?” Furious on your behalf, Sadie huffs and shakes her head. “Asshole! I hope you enjoy slapping the shit out of him today.”
“Oh, I will.” There are probably few things you will ever enjoy as much in your life. “He had the nerve to say that I tried to baby trap him.” The accusation is still ringing in your ears from last night, and you’re only glad it’s not obvious how much you cried. It’s humiliating to admit that your days of crying over that asshole aren’t over. “I was twenty-one. Having a baby would have ended my career before it could begin.”
“Jesus.” Sadie snorts, shaking her head. “I know that there was a rash of that around that time, but that’s just…cruel.”
“So you can understand why I have been a little more tense lately.” You shake your head and fold your hands in your lap, trying to refocus your energy and not wallow. “I’m sorry if I’ve unintentionally said or done something to upset you while I’ve been distracted.”
“Not at all.” You were probably the best boss she could have ever asked for and in turn, she is highly protective of you. Anyone who wanted to paint you in a negative light would have to hear from her. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Of course it is. Sadie is an inherently kind person who takes absolutely no shit. It’s one of the things you loved about her right from the day you interviewed her. “I don’t know anything about his assistant, but it might be worth making friends early, if you can. He’s exactly petty enough to try to cause problems and he might use them for that.”
She smirks and looks over at you as if you are behind the curve. “We had drinks last night.” She informs you. “So I’m already on that.”
“Oh yeah?” If Sadie ever outgrows you as a client you’ll be damned upset about it. She really is the best. “What kind of poor suffering idiot does he have working for him?”
“His agent suffers no fools and knows exactly who her client is.” Sadie chuckles. “His assistant is very sexy, very gay and would probably do well working as a dominatrix if being Dieter’s assistant didn’t pan out.”
“Gay, huh?” That makes you huff a laugh under your breath, assuming it wasn’t done by accident. A lesbian would never have any interest sleeping with Dieter - making it the smartest possible choice. “Sexy in general or sexy your type?”
“Sexy as in definitely my type.” Sadie confirms with a grin. “She’s got Dieter down, so apparently a lot of his bullshit is just bluster. She says he’s a needy, surprisingly emotional, manchild.” She snorts. “Who talks about Bambi in his sleep.”
“What did you just say?” It’s a good thing that she was pulling up to a stoplight anyway, because Sadie slams on the brakes of the car in surprise and jolts both of you forward. “Did you just say Bambi?”
“What? Something wrong?” Your reaction is far stronger than amusement about a Disney movie. “She just said he cries about Bambi in his sleep, then refuses to talk about it and makes sure to get really blazed right after.” She huffs. “Maybe he dreams about his mother getting shot by a hunter.”
“I—um—” all of a sudden your throat has run dry and your head feels like it’s spinning. “He cries?” You ask, almost afraid to have it confirmed.
“That’s what she said.” The light turns green and she cautiously starts driving again. “Why? Does Bambi mean anything?”
"It–" Your voice wavers with uncertainty, making you pull in on yourself in a way you haven't done for years before this week. "I don't think I have to remind you that there are things you know about me that no one else in the world does."
“Of course.” This will be filed under Tell No One, apparently. A standard NDA is in place, but this is personal. “Not a word to anyone.”
"That's..." After not breathing a word of it to anybody for years, it feels disorienting to talk about. "That's what he called me...Bambi."
“Shit.” Sadie’s eyes widen and her head whips around to stare at you in shock. “You don’t think— no.” She shakes her head. “You think that he’s dreaming about you?” She asks quietly.
"I don't think anything." You murmur, slumping slightly in your seat as she pulls back into traffic to head to the studio. "But if his assistant brings it up again, will you try to remember what she says?"
“I’m planning on having dinner with her tonight.” She reveals and nods. “I’ll try to bring it up casually and tell you what she says.”
"Don't ruin your date with my bad decisions." If Sadie has actually found someone to spend time with despite her crazy schedule - which is your fault - and who understands how demanding her job is - also your fault - then you don't want to sully it with your own concerns.
“Are you kidding?” She laughs. “Talking about her boss’s antics is something she relishes.” She snorts playfully. “Especially since I’m an assistant too.”
"Have fun and don't break any NDAs," you huff a small laugh, glancing at her as she drives. "I'll look forward to some room service and Netflix tonight. You deserve to have fun."
“Why don’t you go out?” She suggests. “We are in London. Go to some pubs. See some sights.” It’s not a wild suggestion, but she doesn’t want you to feel trapped in your room.
"I guess I could." It would save you from being in the room right next door to Dieter for whatever naïve production assistant he talks into sleeping with him. You turn to watch Sadie again before batting your eyelashes at her hopefully. "Could I ask you to load some money onto an Oyster card for me today and tuck it into my wallet so I can go out after filming if I'm up to it?" It will save you from having to hang out at one of the machines, and moving quickly means you're more likely to blend in and not be recognized, although it is an extra stop for her to have to make today.
“Done.” Sadie will take care of that just as soon as she gets you into hair and makeup. Knowing that you will feel better when you go out and see some things that will interest you. Get away from Dieter. “I will even come up with a map to show where to go for some things you will like.”
"You're an angel." She really does take such impressively good care of you, it's unbelievable. "Put your dinner tonight on my credit card, okay? Take her someplace over the top, even if you have to use my name to get the reservation."
“Thanks.” She pulls into the parking lot where trailers and tents have been set up. The production team has been working around the clock to get everything ready and she sighs. “Well, now you just have to survive the first day.”
"Think happy thoughts for me." With a sigh of your own, you haul yourself out of the car and double check that you have everything before waving goodbye and heading for your trailer.
******
Dieter has his eyes closed, murmuring his lines to himself as Monique, a goddess of a makeup artist, finishes his look for the scene. Peaceful now that he’s had his coffee, he leans back in the chair with a small sigh.
You had desperately been hoping that he would already be done in the hair and makeup trailer before you went in, but when you open the door he's right there with his eyes closed and that stupid slappable smirk on his face and you bite back a sigh. "Good morning." Focusing on the fact that the production was amenable to bringing your own makeup artist along for the production, you give Rivkah a hug. "Ready to do this?"
"Absolutely." Rivkah gives you a brilliant smile and smirks over at where Dieter is sitting. "It won't be hard this time, huh?" She teases quietly as she starts to pull your hair back and pin it so that not a single strand will get in her way.
"Today might not be." You'll flip through your pages one more time while you're in the chair, but this fight scene is going to be a doozy. Thrown furniture, punching holes in walls, and throwing each other around a little in addition to the slap means that this scene will be the only thing you film today and that you'll have a stunt coordinator on sight, but it will be worth it to get some of this tension out.
"Ohhhhh don't lie." Dieter cracks one eye open and points it towards you. "You know you're looking forward to it."
"Slapping you?" You clarify dryly without even looking over at him. "I'm practically giddy about it."
"Mhmmm." Dieter hums knowingly and closes his eyes again. "Have to make sure I don't get too excited." He jokes, knowing that he doesn't actually like to be slapped around. He doesn't even like it when he stubs his toe. Pain isn't his idea of a good time. "Might need some breaks."
"I promise not to make Monique's job any harder than it already is." It only adds insult to injury that Dieter grew from a handsome and charismatic young man into an even more attractive and charming adult, but you know that the version of himself he presents to the camera is only one dimension of the man. He had been comfortable enough with you back then to let you see more than just that side of him, which had been one of the things that convinced you then that you truly had feelings for him. Now, it just means that you can bruise his ego a little with only a few words.
Dieter huffs, frowning slightly and then remembering the wrinkles in the mirror, immediately tries to relax his face. Hurt by the implication that he was hard to make look good, especially when you used to coo over him and tell him how fucking sexy he was. "Least your tits aren't saggy." He shoots back. "Get 'em done?"
"On what planet would I answer that?" There's no keeping the annoyance out of your voice, but at least you don't huff at him. "You'll never find out either way." But you do make a mental note to talk to the intimacy coordinator about modesty garments. Hopefully the director won't want to show too much skin.
He snorts, nearly about to remind you that he has seen everything, but he doesn't. Despite his reputation as a dick sometimes, he would prefer to keep that memory private. "Your loss, toots." He dismisses you, settling back into his chair and smirks up at Monique. "She thinks I'm pretty, don't you?"
"Of course, Dee." Monique smiles, coaxing Dieter's chin back into a straight line so she can finish his hair. She's worked in films and television for a decade and with Dieter for almost all of those years. She knows better than to express an actual opinion. Although, in this case, Dieter is handsome.
"See?" Almost as if it was validation, Dieter settles back with a smug smile on his face. "God I love your fingers in my hair." He moans softly. "I could sleep like this. Could I pay you to do that? Play with my hair while I sleep?"
"Not my line of work, unfortunately." It does make Monique laugh, though. A small chuckle from the middle of her chest. "Might make a bit more money if it was, though."
It's all you can do not to react, and you bite the inside of your lip hard while Rivkah starts brushing your hair. The sound of Dieter moaning shouldn't produce such a visceral reaction twelve years later, but apparently it does. That is embarrassing.
"Yeah you would." Dieter sighs out, stretching his legs and flexing them slightly. "God, I hate that trainer." He complains, massaging his thigh gently and hissing at the soreness. "You would think I would sleep better but noooo."
"Calprofen?" Monique gestures to the little kit under her work station that you have to assume is a first-aid kit. Everybody in this room knows he routinely takes things that are much stronger, but not one of you is going to provide it for him.
"Nahhhh." Dieter reaches into his pocket and pulls out an unassuming bottle of aspirin. "I've got some fuckin' Aleve here." Unlike his normal pill bottle, this one is simply the pain reliever. He makes it a point to not pop anything while he is on set. It's unprofessional in his opinion.
When you snort derisively in your chair beside him, it's a knee jerk reaction and not a calculated insult. There's no way what's in that bottle is just naproxen. Not with what you've heard about his pill popping or the obvious smell of pot that emanated from his hotel suite all last night.
Pausing, Dieter stares in the mirror at you for a second, glowering before he pops the Aleve in his mouth and grunts at the uncoated pill. He knows that the other illicit pills he takes aren't coated, but they make him feel a hell of a lot better than Aleve does.
"So, Riv." You shift your attention in the mirror to chat with the woman who has been doing your hair and makeup for almost everything for the last five years. "Planning to do or see anything fun while we're shooting? You always like London."
It's oddly insulting that you ignore him, making him sit back in his chair and cross his arms over his chest. Almost done with hair and makeup so he can go to costuming. Silently listening to you and your artist talk while he pouts.
It’s not that you don’t notice. You notice every second of it. The childish pout of a grown ass man who isn’t getting the attention he wants, so you keep denying him on purpose. Except it doesn’t feel nearly as good as it should, because there is an echo of Sadie’s voice in your head as she tells you that he cries for Bambi in his sleep and dopes himself to forget it. And now it’s guilt crawling in your belly instead of ugly satisfaction.
The second that Monique pats his shoulder, the signal for him being done, Dieter shoots out of his chair. Spinning around and reaching for her to kiss her cheek. "You are a goddess." He praises softly, giving her a wink. "One day, one day you'll give in." He teases playfully. He asked her to sleep with him years ago when they first met and she turned him down. He will joke about it, but he's not pushing for it. "Thank you, love."
“Go on and get dressed,” she shoos him out with affection, years of working together giving her an affection for the man that has grown into respect. When he leaves, though, she sits down in his recently emptied chair for a second before scurrying to clean up.
Why do you have to be working on this movie? Dieter curses his luck as he walks through the sea of trailers that have been set up, hands shoved in his pockets so he doesn't rub his face. He's gone twelve fucking years without having to deal with you face to face unless you count that one afterparty that he had spotted you across the room. Unsure of why he feels so goddamn guilty about the way your eyes had glazed up last night, as if you were telling the truth. You weren't. You are an actor. A fucking phenomenal one at that. You lie for a living and you had been lying about that. There had never been a baby. He reminds himself of that and shakes his head, eager to get today's filming in the can so he can go back to his room and get blitzed.
******
“Come in!” The knock on your dressing room door isn’t unusual, especially since you like to get to the theater early to go over your script and meditate before doing your hair and makeup and getting into costume. You’ve just turned the kettle off and poured an enormous cup – okay, bowl – of tea when the sound comes loudly and clearly from behind you.
"Heyyyyy." Dieter pokes his head into your dressing room and grins at you. "You busy?" He asks, raising his eyebrows and pushing inside the room because he knows you aren't. You always invite him in.
“Not too busy for you.” You immediately put down your brush and turn around to face the door when he comes into the room. Sure you saw him just this morning, but you have a day job that you go to in between waking up in his bed and coming to the theater each night.
"Mmmmm." Walking over towards you, Dieter leans in and drops a lingering kiss on your lips. "How was work?" He asks, knowing that you hate your serving job, but it helps pay the bills. He was lucky enough that the residuals from his work as a child paid for his apartment.
“Awful.” A little pout earns you another kiss, and you immediately move over to sit on the little loveseat in the corner with him. “Some lady accidentally spilled her screaming hot coffee all over me after giving me a bunch of attitude and then she laughed to her friends about it and didn’t tip a single cent.”
“Bitch.” Dieter huffs, annoyed with the woman on your behalf and shakes his head. “Hopefully you spit in her food.”
“Dee.” There’s a stray curl on his forehead and you smooth it away as you shake your head. “You know I would never do that.”
“I know.” He closes his eyes and leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re so good.” He huffs, as if it’s wrong that you are. You’re definitely better than he is but he also likes that about you.
“Only sometimes.” The tone in your voice is fully suggestive, as silky and sexy as you can manage without ruining it with a giggle. He likes that you’re a good girl, it turns corrupting you into a game.
“Other times you are very dirty.” Dieter growls, ducking his head down and nipping at your throat playfully. “My dirty Bambi.”
It earns him a reflexive little moan from you, mostly because he knows how sensitive your whole neck and shoulder area is, and you climb into his lap on the loveseat without a single moment’s hesitation. “Just for you,” you promise him, as if there ever could be anybody else.
Dieter chuckles and squeezes your ass, pulling you towards him. “God, you look so cute in this damn outfit.” He groans, knowing there is nothing especially sexy about the sweats and a tank top, but he is hard against your core.
“Dieter…” You’re a goner as soon as you feel that hardness underneath you and he knows that as well as you do. “Did you lock the door?”
“No.” Dieter huffs, kissing along your throat and pulling at your tank top, grinning when he can get his hand under it as soon as he wants. “Fuck no bra.” He breathes, happy when his hand encompasses bare tit.
“You have to let me lock it, baby.” It will mean climbing off of him for a minute, but the last thing you want is to be walked in on by your stage manager. Of course – it’s hard to focus on that propriety when he pinches your nipple just hard enough to make you squeal.
“Who cares if someone sees?” Dieter pouts when you pull away, but uses it as an opportunity to strip down. Pulling his shirt over his head before he unbuttons his jeans to push them down.
“I care.” It takes all of four steps to cross your dressing room, but when you turn back around after bolting the door, he’s already naked. “Fuck, Dee, you’re so sexy.” The expression of near-awe on your face is one he basks in. You know you’re the luckiest girl in the world that he would ever even look at you twice, those deep pangs of puppy love tell you so.
Dieter swears you are better than the best fucking drug he’s ever taken. Your near worship of him a high that he can’t replace. “Come over here.” He begs, wrapping his hand around his cock. “Do you want to have sex with me, Bambi?”
“I always want to have sex with you.” That’s been a constant truth for the last two months, and you’re not about to disguise it for a single second. Any day now he could snap out of it and realize that he deserves a hell of a lot better than you – and you’re not about to let that happen, so you snatch a condom out of your purse and drop your sweatpants to the floor on your way back over to him.
“Fuck baby.” Dieter groans as he watches you walk towards him, ripping open the foil packet with your teeth. “You are so sexy.” He praises. “So goddamn lucky.”
“Yes, I am very lucky.” Leaning back over him, you lean down to flick your tongue across the head of his cock, humming at the musky taste of precum before applying the rubber so you can climb back into his lap. “So fucking lucky you want me.”
“Not– not what I meant.” He groans, gripping your hips and pulling you closer. “Fuck, lemme have a taste.” He begs, right before he plunges his tongue into your mouth.
It’s messy and enthusiastic, like most encounters with Dieter are, and you pour a moan into his mouth while you reach between you to line the head of his cock up to your entrance, letting you sink down on him slowly. This is bliss – with this slightly weird boy and his eccentricities – but you still haven’t said out loud how you really feel about him.
Dieter’s breath bitches as you take him, closing his eyes in the sublime ecstasy of your cunt. “Shit.” He hisses, fingers digging into your skin before he slides them up to grope your tits. “Like velvet.” He groans. “Hot fucking velvet.”
“Biggest fucking dick on the planet.” It doesn’t feel like an exaggeration when it’s filling up every molecule of space in your pussy, but you have no idea if it’s true or not. Dieter knows that he’s the only person you’ve ever been with, but you’ve never said that you hope he’s the only one you ever will.
“Have you seen every dick on the planet?” Dieter still twitches and preens at your praise, rocking his hips up and pinching your nipples again.
“N—no—” Bouncing on his length takes your breath away and you love it, clinging to his shoulders desperately to hang on. “But you fill me up so full baby. It has to be.”
This was supposed to be something simple. A week, maybe a month. Something to fill his time and spark his interest…except, you have this…hold on him. The sex is spectacular and the conversations are surprisingly developed for the after coitus banter. He hasn’t moved on, instead deciding to gorge himself on you while this lasts. Trying to ignore that voice in his head that wishes it would never end. Telling him that it doesn’t have to.
These little stolen couplings in your dressing room never last long. They’re always a chase to a quick finish that has his face buried in your tits and your fingers in his hair and somebody’s hand eventually circling your clit while you ride him like a prized fucking stallion. Everything about it is perfect right down to the throaty moans that absorb into your skin and the way his cock jerks and pulses in your pussy until you both threaten to implode right there in the love seat. It’s perfect. He is perfect. And it takes everything you have to cradle his head in your hands and kiss him instead of saying it.
Dieter pants, grinning against your lips as the two of you try to catch your breaths. Happy that this has become almost automatic. He knows you well enough to touch you exactly how you need to in order to cum before he does. Most of the time. The times that he doesn't, he'll go down on you to finish you off. "You staying over tonight?" He asks, reluctant to pull away just yet. "Gonna go out with everyone tonight to have a few drinks."
“Absolutely.” His arms are tight around you and you wrap around his shoulders as you enjoy the aftershocks still making your pussy flutter every now and then. Just because these encounters are fast doesn’t mean they’re lacking in any way. “I—I may have brought some clean clothes from home…” you admit quietly, panting a little between kisses. “In case you asked.”
"Good." Dieter smirks and kisses your pulse. "But I do like when you wear my clothes too." You've had to borrow some sweats and things before, use his toothbrush. Which he usually doesn't like, but it's pretty cool with you.
“I can always accidentally forget them here and wear your clothes tomorrow.” It’s sexy that he gets a little territorial, and you’re never ever going to discourage it. “Might forget my panties, too.”
"No panties?" Dieter groans and his softening cock twitches inside you. "It's not my birthday yet." He grins and leans in to kiss you again. "Although, I'm never going to mind that."
“A dress and no panties is your favorite and we both know it.” Reluctantly climbing off of him so that he can tie off the condom, you snag another kiss from him and take your dressing robe off the hook by the door to wrap yourself up in.
“Easy access.” Dieter grins with a waggle of his brows. “You didn’t seem to mind it when I bent you over last week when we were reading lines.”
“I don’t mind it at all.” Not for one single second, and you sit back down with him again to prove it. “And I think the fact that I remembered my lines while you were fucking the life out of me should be able to go on my resume.”
“You did squeal your monologue.” He teases, shuffling his pants back up and leans back against the couch to offer you a spot to snuggle against you. “Think you should deliver it just like that.”
“Only for you.” The coo in your voice is just for him, too, but you don’t mind that. He’s reached a part of you that is just indescribable and you never want it to end. “That’s a Bambi Special.”
“Hmmmm.” Dieter grins and wraps his arm around you and turns to kiss your forehead. “Now, where do you want to block from today?” He asks seriously. “I think scene two needs a little work, don’t you?”
“That was my fault.” You’d fumbled last night and you know it, making you frown down at your hands – knowing that he deserves a better lover and a better scene partner than you are is humbling. Thankfully the recovery was quick, and there hadn’t been any critics in the house. “I’ll nail it tonight, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Dieter senses the way that you curl in on yourself. You’re a lot tougher on yourself than you need to be. “Just look me in my eyes.” He tells you, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Okay? When you stumble, look at me. I’ve got you.”
“I—okay.” You nod against his hand and swallow another apology, not wanting him to doubt you. To doubt that he can consider you an equal, even if his talent is more effortless. The problem is, staring into his eyes for one second too long, you just can’t keep your goddamn mouth shut and the woods come dripping out of it: “I love you.”
Dieter’s heart nearly stops, blood roaring in his veins and he feels almost lightheaded when he hears you say those three little words. “I love you too.” The words slip from his lips easily, almost too easily because he knows that’s what you want to hear. Even if that voice inside him tells him that it’s true, he offers you a silken smile and tugs you to him. “I love you too, Bambi.”
With a happy squeal, you practically launch yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and smothering him in endless kisses. That was not at all the reply you expected, but you’re thrilled to not have ruined things. You’ll make this good for him as much as you possibly can for as long as you possibly can. “You’re amazing, Dee. I’m so lucky you love me.”
“I’m the lucky one, Bambi.” Dieter promises between kisses. “Never doubt that.”
******
“You disgusting, two-timing piece of shit!” Under hot camera lights in an itchy costume with almost more Bobby pins than hair on your head, you know your eye make up is running but it works for the scene. The tears are genuine, streaking down your face as you – as your character – advances on Dieter across the tight set with fury in your face. “When you’d used me up, the bottle took my place, and at the bottom of that you found every other woman in Paris.” You’re seething, pouring every ounce of betrayal you actually feel into this moment, and when you raise your hand you know somewhere in your body that this slap will be very real. “How many other women have you abandoned for the sin of boring you, you bastard?!”
Crack.
The sound of skin on skin isn’t tantalizing at this moment, or enticing. It’s ugly, and violent, and leaves a welt on Dieter’s cheek as you crumpled in a sobbing heap like the script instructs. For a solid minute, the only sounds are your very real tears and Dieter’s sharp breathing as he deals with the pain of being hit until—
“Cut!” The director screams out across the set. “Print! One take, ladies and gentlemen!”
“OWWWWWWW.” Dieter wails, the look of fury instantly melting away into one of pain as he claps his hand over his cheek. “You were supposed to pull the slap.” He complains pitifully, his look wounded as he stares at you, “that really fuckin’ hurt!”
“Tell me you didn’t deserve it.” Your tears stop instantly, a professional even through real emotion, and you get back to your feet with dignity, still hissing at him. “Tell me you didn’t deserve it twelve fucking years later.”
He can’t say that he doesn’t deserve it, but he frowns at you. Glowering at the heat of the slap radiating as he his face throbs. “I need some ice!” He shouts to his assistant as he turns and stomps off.
Sadie appears at your side a second later with a bottle of water and a pack of tissues, and you thank her quietly before taking both to walk a few steps to your chair just behind the cameras. A perk of having an executive director credit is proximity. Access. It doesn’t matter that that didn’t feel nearly as good as you thought it would. That a loud part of you actually wants to see if he’s okay and apologize for it. It’s done now. He left, you slapped him for it. It’s done.
“Ow, ow, ow, it really hurts.” Dieter huffs as he takes the bag of ice wrapped in a towel to press his forehead. “Did she have to hit me so hard?” He complains as he rushes back to his trailer. Hurt that you would deck him in front of an entire set, he can’t deny that your performance was spot on.
“At least it was one take?” Desiree offers the only silver lining she can find as she follows behind him, shitting the door to his trailer and pulling out the bottle of anti-inflammatories so his cheek doesn’t swell up.
“Thank god.” Dieter flops down on the small sofa and shakes his head. “Otherwise I'd look like I went twelve rounds with Ali.”
“She’s dedicated to realism, I’ll give her that.” His assistant frowns, but holds out the pills and a drink to him.
“Fuck those pills.” Dieter scoffs and shakes his head. “Give me the good stuff. Or better stuff.” He doesn’t care if they technically haven’t called the day. He’s done.
“Dee…” Desiree bites her lip, still holding out the pills to him. “You still have another scene to shoot today. Two, if you do another one in one take.”
“Nope.” Dieter shakes his head. “Too bad. My face is swollen!” More than that, he doesn’t want to face those eyes of yours again. Not today, not without some chemical assistance.
“I’ll talk to Sam.” Desiree nods, recognizing a stubborn mood when she sees it, and knows that this isn’t going to go over well. It’s only the first day of filming.
“Fine.” Dieter is slightly mollified when he gets his way and looks up at his assistant. “Now where’s the other pills?”
A five second long staring match ensues before Desiree relents and goes to the trailer's smaller kitchen cupboard to retrieve the unmarked white bottle that contains Dieter's homemade cocktail of Pill Roulette. "Here." She hands it to him reluctantly. "I'm going to go talk to Sam. I'll be right back."
Watching Desiree walk out the trailer door, Dieter twists open the cap of the bottle and shakes the pill into his hand. Huffing when there’s only one pill that is what he wants, he still pops it in his mouth, it’s better than nothing.
Five minutes later she’s carefully walking back on set, wondering how badly she’s about to get screamed at for this. “Sam,” she approaches the director with feigned confidence, studiously avoiding getting pulled into any side conversations on the way there.
“Can you get Dieter here?” Sam asks as he looks up from his clipboard. “Lighting has everything set for the next scene. And good work to him for taking that slap. It looks great on camera.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Desiree shifts on her feet, noting that you are nowhere to be found. You must have gone to make up to get cleaned up. “Unfortunately, his entire cheek is swollen now, because of it.”
“What?” Sam frowns, contemplating the shot now that he is learning that there might be a physical reaction. “How bad is it?”
“It looks bad now, but it might go down quickly.” Trying to do right by her boss and the production, Desiree tries to find a compromise. “Give him a half an hour? See if it starts to fade?”
“Half an hour.” Sam nods. “Then he needs to be on set. Some swelling won’t hurt the shot.”
“I’ll make sure he’s here.” She nods and backs off smoothly, only taking off for his trailer again at a damn run once Sam can’t see her anymore.
In his trailer, Dieter is staring at the large welt on his face, wondering when the hell you learned to hit like that. Hissing as he leans in to touch the tender flesh. “You deserved that,” he tells his reflection morosely. “You’re worthless. A loser asshole.”
Two rhythmic knocks on his trailer door let him know that Desiree has returned, and she pushes inside with a sympathetic expression on her face. "I bought you some time, but Sam is determined to go on today." She tells him, hating the expression of self-loathing she sees on his face. Frankly, she sees it far too often. Anyone would think the drugs were a self-indulgence or a carelessness on his part, but it has more to do with intense depression and self-image issues than anything else. The drugs are how he runs away from reality. "How are you feeling, Dee?"
“Sore.” Dieter grumbles, looking away from the reflection and picks up the towel wrapped ice pack again. “Let me lay down and then we’ll shoot the fuckin’ scene.” He is too introspective right now to fight. Maybe playing the character will allow him some freedom from the thoughts taking over. Give him an outlet like acting is supposed to be.
"Half an hour." Desiree moves around the space, lighting his aromatherapy candles and turning on the white noise machine that helps him drown out some of the uglier and more intrusive thoughts. "I'll be back in twenty-five minutes to get you moving, okay?"
“Yeah.” Dieter slumps down on the sofa, still in his costume of a half undone suit and closes his eyes. “Thanks.” His voice calls out softly, nearly breathless as the pill starts to mellow him out.
"Of course." She's quiet when she shuts the door behind her, but Desiree sighs to herself out in the middle of the trailers. Twenty-five minutes is enough to arrange something nice for him tonight. She'll see what strings she can pull to put together a little surprise for him.
******
Dieter is nearly asleep when the knock comes on the trailer door twenty-five minutes later. Making him groan and shake his head, not wanting to open his eyes. “Go ‘way! Still hurts.” He grunts, even as he pulls away the mostly melted ice from his face.
"Let me take a look." His assistant insists, coming inside with a KitKat and a bottle of kombucha. His health really is an enigma sometimes.
“How bad is it?” Dieter asks, fearing that he might be wearing that handprint for the scene. “Maybe it’ll be good right? My character is supposed to be angry with her.”
"It's definitely pink, but I think Monique can dim that a little." It was a hell of a slap, and Desiree bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from babying him or exclaiming too much. She really does like the man, otherwise working for him would be insufferable. "The worst thing is that your eye is bloodshot, but that's okay."
“Shit! Seriously?” Dieter bolts off the sofa to run for the mirror again. Groaning when he sees the tiny bloodshot vessels of his eyes. “Fuck, she hit me hard.” He huffs, shaking his head. “Is that going to affect my lasik?” He demands, looking back as Desiree anxiously.
"Your appointment isn't for two days," she assures him, not wanting to see the pout that will surely form on his face. "You'll be just fine by then."
“It better not.” Dieter huffs, already annoyed at the idea of using his precious few days off recovering from eye surgery, but it’s better than not being able to see shit.
"I made you a dinner reservation for tonight." Hoping to perk him up a little and give him something to look forward to, Desiree had hunted down a fairly elusive supper club that catered to artists and eccentrics as well as anyone who had the money to mingle with them. "I know you were bummed that you didn't get to go to Dashiell's last time we were here, but they had an 8 o'clock reservation open for tonight." The place is incredibly unique, offering a staged performance during dinner, followed by a live band and dancing for those who are interested, and a litany of art supplies for those who would rather sit and observe the dancers. The walls are littered with the art of patrons who have drawn, sketched, or painted the dancers and diners on previous nights. The catch, because of course there is one, is that the tables are all served sociably family style. Every table is for four, and if you go alone you'll be seated with strangers. But it's a great place to see and be seen, and Dieter is a spectacular artist.
“Good.” Dieter bobbles his head, immediately buoyed by that news. “Maybe I can get laid. I need that, I’m tired of my hand.” He huffs, feeling the need for someone to show him some attention, give him some affection. Even if it is fake.
"You usually don't have any trouble with that." The sigh of relief that Desiree breathes is silent but very real, and she offers her boss a smile. "I'll take you over to hair and make up and then I'll run back to the hotel to get you something nice to wear tonight. Sound good?"
“Fuck.” That brings a pout to his lips. “I have to dress up.” The desire to get laid outweighs the annoyance with dressing up. He can put on less than comfy clothes to get what he wants.
******
Sitting in your chair in the makeup trailer, you're really trying your best to maintain composure in the face of how emotional the last scene was and manage your conflicting feelings over how it went. Rivkah is getting you cleaned up and retouched with Sadie sitting nearby, and your angel of an assistant has even grabbed you a hot cup of herbal tea and honey to soothe your voice after all that screaming. The last thing you need is to be hoarse.
Dieter flings the door open to the makeup trailer, halfway inside before he realizes you are in the chair beside his. Stopping short and immediately looking towards Monique, not wanting to see the satisfaction gleaming in your eyes. “Can you do something with this?” He asks, gesturing to his face as he sits down and twists away from you.
"Of course." She's already been told what happened, of course, and what scene she needs to have him ready for, but she gives him a kind smile. "We'll have you looking rugged and intense in no time."
“Good.” He doesn’t glance over at you, twisting open his drink and taking a gulp of it before he puts it between his thighs so he can open his KitKat.
Rugged and intense? You manage not to laugh at it, but you had no idea that Monique was a miracle worker. There's the ghost of a remark on your lips to Sadie, but you catch her grinning down at her phone and nearly giggling, and your expression softens. "You talking to her?" You ask, not saying who in case Dieter would object to your assistants spending social time together.
“Yeah.” Sadie glances up and then slides her gaze over to Dieter. She bites her lip and then opens her texts to you. His face was swollen and bright red. Desiree said he looked like an Oompa Loompa with the makeup streaked over the welts.
You glance up at her and back down at your phone, hating the twisting in your gut and chest. It didn't feel nearly as satisfying as I hoped, you write back.
Sadie frowns, biting her lip as she sighs. Maybe satisfaction will come when you show him you aren’t the girl he thought you were.
Maybe. I hope so. The short reply comes with a nod before you put your phone away and close your eyes for Rivkah to fix your eye make up. You need to be back on set shortly and you can tell already that the afternoon is going to be an internal battle.
Dieter chews on his candy bar as Monique works her magic, closing his eyes and frowning slightly as he goes over the lines in his head. Trying to channel the anger right now isn’t hard to do with the slap you had delivered.
******
An hour later on set is when it comes to a head. This drama follows the ups and downs of a married couple as their marriage and mental health starts to devolve, and it certainly includes more than one fight. Yours was filmed in one take, but Dieter’s is being done in smaller pieces as he chases you around the apartment set. The stop-and-go is exhausting with the intensity of the scene you’re doing, but it’s working. In a purely professional way, the scene is working perfectly.
Dieter, for his part, doesn’t get upset when Sam wants the close ups of his face. The mottled expressions and anger glazed eyes as he rants and rampages and generally terrorizes your character. Resetting after each one, absorbing the praise, there haven’t been any retakes, just different angles for the shifts he has in mind. This one should be the last.
Hissing, Dieter grabs you by the arms and drags you closer to his face, well aware the camera is right to his left. “I never loved you!” he bellows, spittle flying out of his mouth as he practically shakes in fury. “I never loved you.” he repeats again, not shouting this time but just as firm in that resolve as he shoves you away and drags his hands through his disheveled hair. “How could I love you? You’re nothing, less than nothing and you’ll always be nothing.”
For as real as your fury was earlier in the day, Dieter's disgust and hatred seems to build from that same, very real place of personal experience. All of a sudden you're back on the loveseat in your dressing room after finding out he was gone – frantically trying to get ahold of him with one hand clutching your belly as waves of nausea rack your body. I never loved you feels like the most honest words he's ever spoken to you and even though it doesn't indicate you should be doing it anywhere in the script, you're crying again. Silent, stricken tears roll down your face as he shoves you away and you crumple, shoulders pulling in and eyes falling open in dismay and disbelief as Sam screams "Cut!"
“That was great, so raw, so real!” Sam gushes as he rushes out, Dieter instantly deflating and doing almost a full body shake. Hating scenes like those, he wants to get as far away from those emotions as possible, especially the feeling of his character about to hit yours. It’s disgusting.
“Thanks,” he murmurs quietly, looking over at you and wondering if he should check on you. You had turned away pretty quickly.
Thank god you have the forethought to sneak a handkerchief into the pocket of your costume this time, having found one in the costume trailer that worked for the period. It's all you can do to keep your shit together and not run away sobbing, hearing Sam heap mountains of praise on Dieter for being so cold and so cruel. When you hear him ask for another angle on the shot you shudder and recoil like you'd be hit worse than you clocked Dieter this morning.
“I don’t think we should.” Dieter shakes his head. “I think it would be better to play that as one continuous scene. Especially since the rest of this is so cut.”
The way it feels like he's rescuing you after that makes you physically nauseous, and you don't turn around. You're lucky you can manage to drop yourself into a chair and lean over to put your head between your knees and breathe deeply.
“Honestly, I think that if you reshoot this scene, you’ll lose the…magic, of it.” Dieter glances back over at you and worries that you are not doing so well and he decides that he will offer Sam something else. “Why don’t we do the bathroom scene? It’s a solo scene and it would play well after this.”
"Set's not ready for that yet." Sam shakes his head, finally looking over at you and realizing that you're looking a little green around the gills. "Hey, hey, sweetheart." He drops to his knees in front of you and puts one hand on your back. "You good? A little overwhelmed?"
"I'm fine." Pity is what does it. What makes you put your handkerchief away and hold back the last sniffle, putting your head up to look your director in the eye. If you look at Dieter you're afraid you'll say or do something unprofessional. "It's just a little side effect of the jetlag, I think. My stomach's off."
“Yeah, shit, okay.” Sam nods quickly. “We’ll put a lid on today. Call it early. You did amazing and I know it was a set of heavy scenes.”
"Perfect." Without another word you're hightailing it off the set and making straight for the costume trailer with Sadie hot on your heels. "I'm going out tonight," you tell her unilaterally, not slowing down for her to keep up with you. "Need to clear my head."
Dieter is slower to follow, the rolling of his gut not one that he likes, or is used to. Desiree comes up to him eagerly, handing him a bottle of water. “I have your suit here.” She tells him, making him shake his head. “I changed my mind.” He tells her. “You take the reservation. I can’t– not after–” he breaks off, feeling uneasy about even thinking about trying to flirt and take someone back to his room after that. “I’m just going to – you take the reservation and enjoy it with whoever you keep texting.”
"Are you sure?" Her boss isn't usually one to give up on an excuse for bacchanalia, so Desiree is immediately concerned. "Do you need a comfort night?" Normally that entails indulgent take away food and an expensive bottle of something to drink, after which he may or may not paint or just stare at the walls while he goes on a journey in his own mind.
“No.” Dieter frowns, restless and unable to say exactly what he wants or needs. “I’ll just grab an Uber and wander.” He frowns again, thinking about how you had rushed off. “Hey— uh, check on her.” He motions towards your trailer. “Please?”
"You want me to—" She tilts her head in momentary confusion but shakes it off. "Uh, sure. Of course. I'll be right back."
Dieter watches her rush off for a moment before he shakes his head. Costuming will come to his trailer to collect his garments. Right now, he needs a shower to wash the icky feelings away. And maybe another round of pill roulette.
******
"If that's Dieter, you tell him to go to hell." The knock on your trailer door is unwelcome and unwanted, and you can barely stand to look Sadie in the eye right now let alone anyone else.
Rushing towards the door, Sadie has every intention of telling whoever is on the other side to go away. Until she’s greeted with the face of Dieter’s assistant. “Oh! Uh, Desiree…” She says the name loud enough that you know who is there. “Now’s not a good time.”
"He asked me to check on her." Desiree's voice is quiet when she looks up at Sadie, eyes silently communicating her concern over the request. This isn't a social call by any means, but she can sense how important it is to him.
“She doesn’t want to see him.” Sadie answers just as quietly, figuring that Desiree must not know the history between you and her boss. “But she’s tough, she’ll be okay.”
"Who is it?" Not that you really care either way, but since Sadie didn't shut the door in their face you have to assume that it isn't Dieter himself come to gloat over making you sick on set.
“It’s Desiree.” It worries her that you were so in your head that you didn’t hear her before. Testament to how shaken you are by that scene.
You're quiet for a minute before sighing. "Let her in," you decide, blotting your freshest tears on a tissue before you sit up on the sofa. "It'll attract attention if you're talking in the doorway."
Desiree slips inside and bites her lip when she sees how truly upset you are. “Is there anything I can do for you?” She asks immediately, not sure why Dieter insisted on checking on you, but he won’t be happy to learn you are in tears. She can sense that without even knowing the details.
"No." When you shake your head it makes you a little dizzy from all the buzzing in your head, so you stop right away. "No, honey. Thank you for asking, though. It was just a hard scene, that's all." The kettle in your little kitchenette goes off and Sadie steps away again, going to fix you a cup of tea while still keeping a very steady eye on the conversation. "Actually?" Your head tips up again and you try your best to smile but it falls flat. "You can have a really good time tonight. That's what you can do. Sadie works her ass off and I can only assume that you do the same."
“I– we’re going to Dashiell’s tonight.” Desiree can’t even hide her excitement at that news. “I had made a reservation for– uh, my boss, but he doesn’t feel up for that tonight.” She feels guilty for bringing him up, but it’s never a bad thing to remind people that Dieter can be sweet sometimes.
“Well that’s fancy.” You won’t hide your surprise, but Sadie is glowing when she hands you your tea and you can’t help but smile. The first time you’ve smiled in hours - maybe all day. “Have some much fun, you guys.”
“I’m not leaving you just yet,” Sadie promises, though she smiles broadly at Desiree when she thinks you aren’t paying attention. “You still thinking you’ll go out tonight?”
“I’m honestly not sure.” After that, you’re not sure if you want to forget the world exists or just melt into it and forget you exist.
“You should.” Desiree comments softly. “There’s a great little tea and sandwich shop down from the hotel.” She offers. “It’s cozy.” She had to make a list for Dieter before they even got here, knowing how varied his tastes can be.
“Thank you. I’ll remember that.” She seems far too nice to have to put up with Dieter’s bullshit twenty-four hours a day. Hopefully she’s well paid for it. After a second, you look at Desiree again and seem to summon courage out of nowhere. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” She tilts her head curiously and wonders what you could possibly want to know. Especially since you don’t seem to like Dieter.
“I’m curious.” And you don’t mind admitting that it’s a morbid curiosity. “If you know about Bambi.”
“Bambi.” Her eyes widen and she bites her lip, curious as to how you know that name. “Dieter doesn’t talk about it.” She admits quietly. “Refuses to, gets mad if someone says something to him about it the next day.” She sighs. “Whoever Bambi is, Dieter has a lot of regrets about. Or they broke his heart. Maybe both.”
“I doubt it’s the second.” After the way he seemed to look completely through you as he growled the words in your face, it seems impossible. “Bambi was just another notch on his bedpost. Someone to keep the sheets warm while he was waiting for Hollywood to call.”
“Oh my god.” It clicks and her heart plummets to her shoes. “You’re Bambi.” She breathes out, feeling stupid for not putting it together sooner.
“I was.” You nod reluctantly. “A very long time ago.” A time that seems more and more like it belongs to someone else with every passing day.
“I’m sorry.” Desiree murmurs softly. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I’m sorry.” Obviously it was bad, how it ended, but maybe there were some good times as well.
“Ask him.” You suggest, sitting back in your seat. “My version is bound to be different from his. But at least he still talks in his sleep.”
“I don’t know if he will tell me.” She admits quietly. “It’s like whatever happened, he’s greedily trying to keep that for himself.”
“Greedy might be the right word.” With a sigh, you look between the two women and shift over on the couch. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you the edited version. It might help with context.”
“You don’t have to tell us.” Desiree immediately blurts out, not wanting you to feel like you have to bear your soul to her. You barely know her and she’s your ex’s assistant.
"Just...whatever he says about me?" You grip your mug of tea and remain silently grateful that she didn't want to hear what could be considered incredibly good gossip. "Please take it with a grain of salt. I was very young then." Young, and oh so incredibly gullible.
“Bambi.” The nickname makes sense, and she nods. “I form my own judgments about people. He can be a handful on the best days but he–” she pauses, wondering if she should give you this information but ultimately decides you deserve it. “He’s a wreck of self loathing and desperation to be loved as he pushes people away. A rabid raccoon, if you will.”
"Rabid sounds about right." The description of him actually makes you laugh slightly, though it's more of a huff that shakes your shoulders. "Anyway, it's the age old tale of a girl and boy parting badly. That's all."
“He sent me to check on you.” She doesn’t know why that’s important for you to know about, but it seems like it is. “Make sure you are alright.”
"Are you sure he didn't send you to see how much damage he had inflicted?" It's not meant to be unkind, but you can't believe that Dieter would ever care enough to want to make sure you're okay. You'd put far more money on him wanting to make sure you were devastated.
Desiree frowns and shakes her head. “I’m not trying to change your mind about Dieter Bravo.” She promises you. “But he’s not the type of man to enjoy those scenes, but he’s not the type to check on his scene partner after either.” She draws out the scene for you. “So make of that what you will. And I’m going to tell him that you were laughing and drinking tea in your trailer when he asks.”
"Thank you, Desiree." She doesn't have to be kind, or listen to both sides of things, and she certainly doesn't have to show you any sympathy. "And really – genuinely – I hope you guys have fun tonight. Mine and Dieter's bullshit shouldn't have any effect on you guys."
“But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call Sadie.” Desiree tells you, knowing that if Dieter calls, she will answer. It’s kind of like being a twenty-four hour babysitter for a grown up, but she’s paid really well to do it.
"I'll try not to have an emergency." You promise them both. "If it's an emergency and you don't call, I'll track you down and wallup you myself." Sadie jokes, just glad to see you smiling even a little bit after how broken you seemed coming off set.
Desiree feels like you need a hug, but she isn’t close enough to you to do that. Smiling softly and nodding. “I better go get everything done for the night so we can go.” She says after a moment. “Have a good night.”
“She seems nice.” You look to Sadie after the door closes, letting your mask of strength drop in front of the only person you fully trust.
“I think so.” She murmurs softly, giving you a concerned look. “I can cancel tonight.” She offers. “We can watch movies and eat junk with zero remorse.”
“Don’t you dare.” It’s exactly the kind of person that Sadie is, to offer to give up her night to comfort you, but you shake your head adamantly. “Dashiell’s is nearly impossible to get into and I still insist you use my card.”
Sadie hums, knowing she isn’t going to use your card for a night for herself. She doesn’t like doing that even when you insist. You are already generous enough. “Well, let me get you back to the hotel, then.” She says instead, knowing you don’t want to be here any longer than you need to be.
“I think a hot bath is in order before anything else.” And if you’re not feeling up to facing the world, you’ll just put on pajamas and crawl into that big bed and call for room service.
“I know you will enjoy that. I bought some of those bath salts you love last night.” She had planned on giving them to you today anyway so this seems fortuitous.
“You take such good care of me.” She does, and you made a promise to yourself years ago never to take advantage of her. Sadie is paid extremely well, showered with gifts, and given as much time off as you can manage to give while still maintaining a very active career. “I can’t ever thank you enough for being the best assistant in the world.”
“You make it extremely easy.” She promises with a grin and starts to gather her things to whisk you back to the hotel.
******
Almost two hours later, after a half a bottle of wine in a screaming hot lavender scented bath, you manage to get yourself dressed in clean clothes to search out the tea and sandwich shop that Desiree had mentioned earlier. If you can get your hands on any variation of a ham and Brie sandwich tonight, you’ll consider it a win.
Scratching his chin, Dieter stares at the image in front of him, his charcoal pencil tapping on the corner of the page as he studies it. The cooling jasmine tea and the extra large glass of pinot grigio ignored, along with a half eaten club sandwich. Needing to get the sight of your devastated face out of his mind.
The bell over the door chimes delicately when it opens and shuts, admitting a single person. The place is crowded but not unwelcoming, and the teenage hostess seats you without a fuss at the only empty table left in the dining room. It was good that you listened to Sadie, you decide, shifting your hands in your pockets to wrap your fingers around the thin book you brought. Just getting some fresh air will do you good, and fresh air away from Dieter will be even better.
Dieter licks his finger, smudging some of the lines to make them blurry, giving the curve of your jaw a softness that he’s always liked. Your eyes haunt him from the page. Drilling into him again and again as he can see the heartbreak in them. Making his heart burn and he reaches for the bottle for an antacid this time.
A cordial chat with the hostess stops cold when you see that the table she described as her very last is right next to Dieter fucking Bravo of all people. Your expression sours and you contemplate leaving all together but if you leave then he wins. And you’re not sure why you think that or where the thought came from but now it’s the loudest one in your head. Instead you thank the girl with a tight lipped smile and try to ignore the man just two feet away from you. You’ll have your dinner and you’ll be on your way. You’re a fucking adult, after all.
“Fuck.” He huffs under his breath, frowning down at the portrait that he is creating, putting the pencil back to the page as he isn’t quite happy with the image. It’s not what he’s seeing and he needs this. It’s cathartic, to steal a line from the half dozen therapists he’s seen on and off over the years. Mainly from the high priced drug rehab centers that he’s been to.
“No, thank you.” You respond dryly, picking up the menu that was left on the table in front of you but never looking over at him. Whatever he’s fine must be frustrating him. Good.
When Dieter is concentrating on something, he is fully emerged in it, blocking out the sounds around him as he works. Not noticing the movement as someone sits down to his right. Humming to himself when he manages to add depth to your distraught expression that was burned into him.
“Not even a pithy comeback or a bored laugh?” Putting down your menu and turning to look at him, you have a perfect – if accidental – view of what he’s doing. Your own face stares back at you from the sketchbook in his hands, tears and pain etched on the paper for his personal amusement. You see red immediately, reaching out to snatch the book out of his hands in anger, hissing “What the fuck?!” in the process.
Dieter jumps, startled out of his tunnel vision and his first reaction is annoyance. “What the fuck!” He hisses, glaring at whoever dared to touch his sketchbook as he whirls around and sees you. His face freezing and mouth dropping open in shock. “Oh– fuck–” he frowns in confusion as you glare at him. “What? What are you–”
“What the fuck is this?” You demand, clutching the sketchbook in two hands and keeping it just far enough out of his reach that he has to answer you if he ever has a prayer of getting it back. “Immortalizing the memory, are we? Planning on framing it to laugh at on a rainy day? I knew I should have hit you harder.”
He gapes at you like a fish, the surprise of you being in front of him along with the drugs he had taken making it take a little longer to comprehend what you are saying. Until he finally realizes you are accusing him of sketching your pain as some kind of sick thrill. “Give that back.” He hisses, reaching for it but he is out of reach, still sitting in his chair.
“No!” No way in hell are you going to let him keep this grotesque image, and you reach to tear the page out immediately. Hell, if this place had a working fireplace, you’d toss the whole book in it out of disgust. Except…once the page is out and in your hand, the ones remaining flap and you catch a glimpse of another sketch. Another sketch of you. “What the fuck is this?” Your hair is in an old style in this image – a style you haven’t worn since you were very young – and you swallow a sickening amount of bile as you start to flip through the pages. It’s you. The entire book is you. Image after image, younger versions of you as you were when the two of you met versus some others that you recognize as poses from films you’ve been in or promotional shots from red carpets or other events. They’re all you. “You have three seconds to explain this,” you bite out between gritted teeth. “Why the fuck do you have a book full of me?”
Dieter’s chair scrapes back, shooting to his feet as he lunges for the book. “Give it back!” He demands louder, not caring that people in the little shop are turning towards the two of you, chattering ignored because of the pounding of his heart and the rush of his blood in his ears. Cheeks flaming hot because you know. You’ve seen a book that no one else has seen. Ever. “Now!”
“Explain it.” Barely keeping the book out of reach, you shred two pages out of the binding indiscriminately. “What kind of a sick joke is this?” Heads are turning but you’re only seeing red, angry and devastated all over again for reasons you can’t put your finger on or analyze properly as your voice rises.
“Don’t! Fuck, don’t do that!” Dieter is frantic, panicking because of the pages you are shredding, hating that you are destroying the sketches he has spent so much time working on and looking at. Feeling like his security blanket is being stripped away from him like he was seven again and his father threw it in the fireplace and told him to ‘man up’. “Please.” He begs, breathing shallowly and feeling like he’s about to cry.
“Explain.” The demand is harsh, but the way he sounds like he might hyperventilate stays your hand from tearing at more pages. You’re angry, but you’re not trying to send anyone to the hospital.
“It’s– I just– I sketch to get the image out of my head.” Dieter’s own voice is small, quiet as he explains. “That’s it, that’s all. Just–” he swallows harshly and his outstretched hands drop to his sides. “Don’t ruin more of it.” His expression falls as he tries to shut himself off from the emotional connection to the book, knowing you will either keep it or destroy it completely in front of him.
“Why is it all me?” That’s what you don’t understand, and finally stop seething long enough to see the tears in his eyes and the slouch in his shoulders. As furious as you might be, this isn’t a fight in a script. It’s very real, and your confusion has brought you out of the angry haze long enough to see that someone has whipped their phone out. You’re being recorded. “Pay your bill.” You order under your breath, Shoving the sketchbook back at him and trying to compose yourself. “We’re going back to the hotel.” There’s no way you’re letting this go without a full explanation.
Dieter abandons the table and shuffles over the waitress, handing her his card and a murmured comment about the sandwich. His stomach is rolling as he tries to put the pages back where they were but he can’t. Swallowing down the embarrassment of you seeing this. Everyone else here, he doesn’t give a shit about. He doesn’t care about the scene, but you knowing about this makes him want to vomit.
The most you can think to do is apologize to the hostess for causing a fuss on the way out, but other than that you’re silent as you steer Dieter out of the restaurant and back up the block toward the hotel. There’s enough confusion jostling the anger in your mind that you can’t quite think straight, and the tense silence between you stretches right to the hotel elevator.
Dieter shuffles, his arm around the notebook as if you are going to rip it away from him again. Not sure what to say or why you are so damn angry at him. People draw you all the time, he sees it when he actually remembers the login for his social media accounts or he’s doing promotions for his upcoming movies. Forced promotions, because it was in the contract.
It’s not until you get him into your suite and lock the door that you can find the presence of mind to speak again, although the guilt of having him look at you like a kicked puppy is already gnawing at your insides. “Why?” You ask again, feeling your voice shake. “Do you have a sketchbook full of me?”
“Why not?” Dieter has finally hit annoyed, pissed that you destroyed his sketchbook, messed up his work. “It’s an old book.” He defends, even though he knows it’s a weak argument.
“That you kept for twelve years and decided to add to today, of all days?” His petulance isn’t exactly helping you have any sympathy, but mostly you feel…watched. Observed in a way you don’t like at all. Analyzed in a far more intimate way than a gossip column could ever manage.
“It’s not–” Dieter sighs and closes his eyes. “It’s not that old. I started it about nine years ago.” He confesses quietly. “A therapist told me that it might help.”
“Help what? Assuage your guilt?” It boggles your mind that he would ever have the need to talk about you in therapy, of all places, until you remember Desiree. “You do have guilt, don’t you?” Your voice softens perceptibly, turning curious. “That’s why you still dream about me.”
“How did you–” Dieter realizes he’s talking and snaps his mouth shut. Unwilling to give away if he had been dreaming about you or not. Instead he focuses on the why. “It helps. My brain is all fucked up.” He lets go of the book with one hand to motion to his head like he’s crazy. “She told me it could help get it out. What keeps rolling through my mind.”
“Somebody told me that you talk about Bambi in your sleep, that’s how I know.” While you won’t debate his mental health with him, you also won’t make fun of him for it. No one chooses depression or addiction. One look at his family is enough to show anyone what he’s dealing with – they’re worse than the Barrymores.
“Fuck.” Dieter’s jaw clenched and he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not stalking you. I just– I needed to get you looking at me like I’m a monster out of my head.”
“That doesn’t explain nine years’ worth of sketches, Dee.” It’s barely even a nickname, but it passes your lips without thinking.
“What do you want me to say?” Dieter asks, not sure what exactly you are looking for. You calling him Dee takes him back to the one fucking time he was truly happy, before he fucked it up.
“I—” Having him push back deflates you a little, and you realize you’re actually not sure. You have no clue what you want him to say. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. And you hate not knowing.
Dieter acts like an ass, he knows this. He’s kind of proud of it most days. He is difficult and moody, ‘artistic’ as he likes to call it. But he’s broken. Full of anger and fear, begging for something to change and never being brave enough to try. “Do I feel guilt?” He asks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course I do.” He huffs, unable to look at you right now while he reveals the deepest parts of himself. “Everyone I’ve ever fucking loved has left me or I’ve fucked it up. Self-sabotaged they tell me. I left the one goddamn person who made me feel normal, worth a damn, because I figured out that I was in over my head and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Someday you might want to tell them that.” Feeling exhausted by a day full of tension and yelling, you drop down in the nearest place to sit and grab a pillow like it was a teddy bear.
Dieter stares at you for a moment, sighing to himself and he knows that you hate him. He deserves it, but he turns around and walks towards the door of your room. Reaching for the handle, he looks over his shoulder. “I just did.” He rasps quietly and opens the door to slip out to his own room.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Dieter Bravo#Dieter Bravo x reader#Dieter Bravo x you#Dieter Bravo x female reader#Dieter Bravo x f!reader#movie star reader#lost love#one that got away#The Bubble
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I'm liking having a mental breakdown and stuffing my fatass with popeyes anyways here is...
Chick Flicks that I think the Dorm Leaders have a guilty pleasure for.
Do to that this a different world everything that is popular reference is going to be different! I don't think TWST world has guns or bombs?? So Legally Blonds JFK reference could refer to a King in Port o' Bliss (since Sam is from there, which is a reference to New Orleans). Heather's reference to the Vietnam War could be an overbolt war between kingdoms (obviously for the very very wrong reasons) and JD could've overbolted and Veronica had to kill him.
And I think TWST do have its own fairytale, Enchanted is one of them like "omg what if magic doesn't exists and someone from our world goes there!"
Riddle Rosehearts : Legally Blonde
I feel like he was forced to 'catch up' on pop culture, Cater showed him ( this world's equivalent movie). Out of all the movies he was shown, he liked this one the most.
"So what what's you're favorite part?"
"I loved the fact she proved to everyone that she wasn't a bimbo. Like, seriously? Fashion merchandising is a business school, she wasn't taken seriously because of her greek fraternity? I'm sorry that pink is "too girly" to be taken seriously".
Leona Kingscholar : Heather's
He only watched it because he crashed moive night at Ramshackle. He actually stayed awake for the musical.
"I didn't take you for someone who liked musicals"
"I don't but this moive was enjoyable. You're not supposed to cheer for the cast but to see their flaws which I understand wanting to fit in"
"So you wanna see the live performance?"
"This is on Broadway?".
Azul Ashengrotto : Mean Girls
Azul wanted more guest to come into the lounge so he opened a moive night, Mean Girls was a popular request so popular it is played every Wednesday.
"You know what Azul, you remind me of the mean girls group"
"How so?"
"Well, you're not a fashion statement but you, Jada, and Floyd are kinda of the "It" group. As in "don't fuck with us".
Kalim Al-Asim : Enchanted
Kalim has forced everyone who befriends him to watch this movie, he is obsessed with this type of romance, the very naive and the smitten serious type.
"Oh Yuu! My favorite scene is obviously the dancing in the city!"
"Aww that's so cute Kalim!"
"Yeah! I love this moive! My parents funded the company to make a second one!"
"Oh... Kalim that's .. precious"
Vil Schoenheit : Crazy Rich Asains
This is definitely Vil's favorite moive, like, we've both cried to it. Because for real best romance movie in decades.
"Vil why are you crying?"
"Shut up, you're crying too! I wished I had someone who didn't care about my appearance or my background. I wish I had someone who stood by my side untill the curtain fell"
"STOPPPP YOU'RE MAKING ME CRY MORE".
Idia Shroud : A Slient Voice
I couldn't think of a live-action Idia would genuinely liked, but this counts. Anyways, we had to show him this movie.
"Idia STOP CRYING ON ME!"
"but he... and she....AHHH"
"You know this is rumored to be based off a true story but the guy actually died"
"ahhHHHHHH"
Malleus Draconia : Twilight
You wanted to try and binge watch this entire franchise with the gang one night for a goof, you happened to see Malleus outside and invited him to watch with the gang. To say he was very very interested in this series was a understatement.
"Child of man, explain to me this. Why is she choose the guy who wants nothing to do with her but stalks her?"
"Malleus, I couldn't tell you but don't be an obsessive dick who tries to have an off and on relationship. That's toxic".
"I think I see, but can you explain why the grown man imprints on a literal baby?"
"I cannot tell you".
#twisted wonderland#twst headcanons#leona kingscholar#twisted wonderland x reader#twst leona#twst vil#disney twisted wonderland#malleus draconia#twst malleus#twst kalim#twst crack#twst#twst wonderland#vil schoenheit#azul ashengrotto#twst azul#kalim al asim#twst kamil#idia shroud#twst idia#riddle rosehearts#twst riddle#twised wonderland#twisted wonderland yuu#twst yuu
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ok quick thoughts, spoilers behind the cut.
Pros:
Halle. HALLE. H a l l e. Her voice, her face, her mannerisms. They took what made Ariel special in the animated movie and built on it and she was the perfect person to pull it off.
Her beauty was distracting.
So glad they finally got a singer for a live action, I couldn’t take another B&B autotuned disaster.
Made me want to get to the nearest rock and play mermaid ngl.
I had my doubts with Jonah but he did a great job with Eric, played the shy, kinda awkward potato prince charming to perfection. Loved that they expanded his backstory and his interest in adventure and the sea. Also A+ for the movie knowing he had a white shirt on while surrounded by water and using every chance it had to drench him.
Eric still being caring and worried about Ariel even under Ursula’s spell? 10/10 no notes.
He came to chew bubblegum and be dreamy and he was all out of bubblegum.
Halle and Jonah’s chemistry was insane, I need them to do ten movies making eyes at each other.
Seriously the movie could have been 2 hours of them interacting in that library and it would have been money well spent.
or just two hours of them being cute smol and tol in a boat idc
TRUE LOVE INDEED
Can’t wait for this movie to be out in D+ so I can reblog all the gifs.
Part of Your World and all reprises were ofc gorgeous. Vanessa’s Trick is haunting and exactly what one would want for a siren song. For the First Time is gorgeous and underrated, felt very Broadway-esque. Eric’s song was corny but in a good way.
The rest of the songs are adequate but are not as good as the original ones.
Gotta said, song aside, the Kiss the Girl scene was more endearing in this version. When she helps him figure out her name?
Melissa was good as Ursula and made the character her own, though I think she was not as scary as she could have been. Better than I expected, though.
The actress that plays Vanessa knew she had 5 minutes to make an impression and used them to the fullest. Delightful.
Cons:
The CGI felt unfinished and so did the color grading/lighting. I edited all the movie images in this post (just played with the saturation and the contrast) and I’m mediocre at best. HIRE TUMBLR EDITORS, DISNEY.
Halle deserved to wear more outfits, I can't believe Disney missed an opportunity to sell more dolls. Would have given her a dress for each day on land and the water dress. Mouse, I thought you liked money.
we could have had it all
Wanted more of her sisters tbh. And less Triton, Javier phoned it in imo. I know Triton and Ariel’s relationship is an important part of the original movie but idk if it was his half assed acting or me wanting more of the sisters, but I wasn’t moved.
Flounder's weird character design was saved by his stellar voice actor and Sebastian grew on me, he was hilarious. Scuttlefina was tolerable but gosh she’s always playing the same character, stop casting her in everything.
Less I say about Scuttlebutt the better. Kids are probably gonna love it, though.
The ending was kinda weird? It felt rushed and the battle with Ursula was disappointing. Which is a surprise because the OTHER stormy scene at night was wonderfully done.
Up to Ursula taking Ariel back to the ocean it felt really cohesive but the second Triton appears to save her it was like they were trying to speed things up and it got... weird.
Didn’t mind Ariel being the one that killed Ursula, after everything she put her through.
Cannot believe the movie robbed us of Jonah screaming “I lost her once, I’m not gonna lose her again!”
Overall it was a well paced (up to the finale), entertaining, charming movie. Despite its faults, the only Disney live action I want to rewatch (outside MAYBE Cinderella).
8/10 Justice for the foam dress.
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when the lights go out || a firstprince fic
summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.
After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.
As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.
chapter 8/8 || rated e || read on ao3
final word count: 56.7k
Epilogue
New York, NY
Four months later
FROM SCREEN TO THE PAGE TO THE BROADWAY STAGE, ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ PROVES HE HAS THE RANGE!
Vulture excerpt
The Crescent Valley star’s memoir, The ABC’s of ACD, debuted at number four on the New York Times bestsellers list. With an honest look at his start in Hollywood with the role that launched him into the public eye, Claremont-Diaz’s memoir has since been dubbed a must-read for fans of the hit show and beyond.
Revered for its sheer candor and care as he opens up about his sexuality, Claremont-Diaz’s memoir has struck a chord with many in the LGBTQIA+ community. Claremont-Diaz received an overwhelming show of support online from fans, many of whom have shared personal testimony that the actor’s coming out inspired them to do the same with their loved ones.
It’s an honor Claremont-Diaz doesn’t take lightly.
“From the outset when dreaming about putting my story out there, I always hoped to touch at least one person, as cheesy or cliche as that might sound.. To make that kind of connection, to show them that they aren’t alone, that what they’re feeling is not only valid, but that their truth is worth living? That’s everything. Every single comment online or message that I get from someone in a similar situation feels like armor each day. I carry that with me.”
Following a two-week tour for the book’s promotions, there are no signs of Claremont-Diaz slowing down. The actor is now gearing up to add another first on his resumé.
As mentioned in his book and previous interviews, Claremont-Diaz once did stagework as a child in Austin. These days, however, he’s finding the scale just a tad bit bigger.
“Stage was one of my first loves. It feels right to be returning to it. I couldn’t have guessed it’d be in such a major way though. Broadway,” the actor said, a clear wonder in his voice. “It’s so surreal. I still can’t believe it’s happening. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make sense of that.”
According to sources, the bright lights of the Great White Way aren't the only thing calling Claremont-Diaz to New York City.
When asked about sightings of him with boyfriend writer Henry Fox around the Big Apple as he prepares for opening night, Claremont-Diaz only offered his signature smirk and kept tight-lipped on any details of how the two met. Though the timeline is unclear of when they initially crossed paths, one thing is for certain: They appear to be in it for the long haul.
Claremont-Diaz has been an outspoken advocate for Fox’s debut novel which is set for release next spring.
With his focus now set on embarking on a new chapter in his career, Claremont-Diaz seems assured about the road ahead, even as he settles into a brand new city in order to complete his show run.
“New York is the place I need to be right now,” he replied simply. “Everything I love most in the world can be found right here. I couldn’t ask for anything more than this.”
#rwrb fic#red white and royal blue#firstprince#henry fox mountchristen windsor#alex claremont diaz#userthai#tusersonia#tuserpaige#usernicholas#usersteen#tusersilence#userjamiec#iuserzoe#kimmy writes
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Hey do you guys have any fics where Klaine are spies or like criminal master minds? Or separately maybe like a mafia story but where they BOTH come from mafia families? I don't know I'm in a bad ass klaine mood. Thanks!
Here's a list of various fics. ~Jen
Here is our mafia tag.
And of course this one!
A Mafia Romance by @yadivagirl [WIP]
Blaine is the son of a powerful crime boss. He has no intentions of joining the family business, especially since he finally has a gorgeous boyfriend named Kurt, but everyone else has other ideas. When Kurt gets caught in the middle, Blaine’s true nature is unleashed. Like father, like son. Dark!Blaine. Features sex, violence, drug references, and heavy BDSM themes.
~~~~~
An Unrefuseable Offer by Aki and Tenshi
Mafia AU. Blaine is a jaded crime lord interested in Kurt, a singer at a speakeasy. Kurt is desperate to take care of his ill father. Blaine makes Kurt an offer, trade himself for Blaine’s money and influence to get Burt the best medical care. And then there’s Sebastian, who runs a rival mob. Angst, drama, and a dark, kinda romantic story
~~~~~
A Dangerous Game by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)
The year is 1924 and Blaine Anderson, son of the most notorious mafia boss in the east, has gone to his favorite speakeasy where he sees Kurt for the first time. It’s got to be love at first sight but falling for a mafia baby so a dangerous game to play. But is Kurt exactly who Blaine thinks he is?
~~~~~
Spy fic:
Trigger Warning by @inkystars (on tumblr)
Blaine Anderson is one of the top international spies in the world, but is very insistant upon keeping his husband, Kurt Hummel, in the dark about that matter. Which ends up being a bit of a problem when Kurt is kidnapped
~~~~~
Criminal Klaine -
An Unwritten Life by GlassParade
An adaptation of the movie “The Brothers Bloom” – Blaine and Cooper are brothers and con artists, committing crimes worldwide with explosives expert Santana in tow. But Blaine wants out of the life, while Cooper wants to pull off one last con – and for his mark, he’s selected reclusive automotive heir Kurt Hummel. With Coop’s promise to finally let him go in hand, Blaine sets the hook and reels Kurt into a madcap global adventure in lies, violence, death…and love.
~~~~~~
An Honest Man by BlurglesmurfKlaine @jinglejavey
For nearly the past decade, Kurt Hummel and his best friend Rachel Berry have made their living swindling unsuspecting bachelors. Which proves to be pretty easy on his conscience, considering he doesn’t believe in love anymore. As they always say: “You can’t con an honest man... Good thing they don’t exist.” But their mark for their last con before they go their separate ways—Blaine Anderson—may just prove otherwise, and restore Kurt’s faith in love in the process.
~~~~~
FBI/criminal:
Catch Me If You Can by @afterthenovels
In the end, catching Kurt Hummel is definitely not what Blaine expected.
Special Agent Blaine Anderson catches con-man and art thief extraordinaire Kurt Hummel twice, and on the second time they strike a deal. They’re supposed to just solve white collar crimes together, but they might even end up solving each other in the process.
A White Collar AU.
Note: There are 9 more stories in this verse HERE.
~~~~~
In Spite of all the Darkness by wishesonfallenstars
When the bodies of teenage girls start appearing next to dumpsters over New York City, the NYPD calls in the FBI. Because Serial Killers are always stopped easier when there’s experienced back up on speed-dial, and with bodies starting to pile up, they need to move fast. (warnings inside)
~~~~~
Hidden in the Deep by LauGS @heartsmadeofbooks
Kurt Hummel’s only concern was getting the perfect role in the perfect Broadway show. But when one night he witnesses a real nightmare, Kurt’s focus shifts from saving his career to saving something much more important: his own life.
~~~~~
Mr Congeniality by ifinallyfoundsomeone
Miss. Congeniality!AU
Bomb threats are being sent to the newly made Mr. America pageant and FBI Agent Blaine Anderson has taken up the position of being an undercover agent to save the pageant. With some extreme grooming and guidance from his pageant consultant, Blaine infiltrates the world of Men’s pageants. Making some interesting friends, and maybe he even winning the heart of his slave driver pageant consultant, the gorgeous and fascinating, Kurt Hummel.
~~~~~
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NO GOOD ALONE
A/N: Hello… this TMA blurb is for the amazing @harry-on-broadway ‘s fic challenge using the prompts ‘what’s this then?’ & ‘how are you feeling today? A little better, hmm?’. Enjoy!
Story Page // Words: 2k
•••
You had never seen Harry’s Hollywood Hills home in the daylight.
The flower buds decorating the tall silk oak trees along his stone path were different in the sunshine— a coral pink rather than the burnt orange you remembered coming and going in the middle of the night. And the duo of bluebirds that sang from their perch on top of his wooden fence was nothing like the deafening midnight silence that escorted you back to your car the few times you had been over. It was peaceful… almost peaceful enough to fully mask the way your heart was currently thundering in your chest.
Almost.
What in the world am I doing? You asked yourself, furrowing your brow behind the dark sunglasses shielding your eyes from the bright autumn sunshine. You were thankful for the brisk breeze that nipped at every inch of your exposed skin as you awkwardly fidgeted with the brown paper bag in your hands— the one carrying tupperware filled with homemade soup and a box of your favorite green tea.
This has to be a doorbell dash… You hashed it all out in your head… except without actually ringing the doorbell.
Because you did, in fact, know what you were doing. You knew it was a bold choice showing up out of the blue— certain that inside the walls of his white house, down the carpeted hallway and to the left, Harry was buried under the feather down comforter in his bedroom down for the count, sick with the flu.
You knew if you rang the bell and came face to face with those gorgeous green eyes, you would have to explain why you were there in the first place— explain why, regardless of the circumstances, you were breaking the only rule of your… situation. The rule you insisted on making one night three weeks ago…
‘No emotions.’ You declared firmly, pulling one pant leg on followed by the other, doing your best to avoid staring in awe at the expanse of his naked back as he stood from his bed.
‘No emotions.’ He reiterated with the tiniest hint of a laugh.
It had only been two days following the morning after that fatefully infuriating night (the one in which your strongholds proved to be pointless) when your phone dinged at 10:40pm on a Tuesday— a text message from an unknown number.
‘You up?’ with a photo of your blue fisherman hat sitting on top of a granite countertop.
You laughed, outloud, both in shock and denial that somehow Harry Styles himself tracked down your number and sent you what appeared to be a booty call text… especially since you had made it very clear that sleeping together could never happen again. Or had you? Either way, one thing was clear… he enjoyed a challenge.
And you couldn’t blame him. You’d be lying to yourself if you said the thought of having his strong hands, his intoxicating scent, and his gorgeous body all over you didn’t consume your thoughts 24-7.
You could practically feel his sickeningly smug smile radiating through the slew of texts that came next… polite, respectful banter with very clear intentions. You were flattered, truly, knowing anyone in the world could’ve been receiving those texts. However it was mind over matter and the bottom line still remained true— getting involved with rockstar Harry Styles would be complicated. Messy.
But at 11:32pm when a text with a Laurel Canyon address and a smiley face came next, you forfeited, realizing maybe a little mess could actually be fun.
‘Okay so this is just…?’ He questioned, rounding the bed and invading your space— his bare skin and crisp clean scent making you dizzy. And when he lifted his hand to run his fingertips across your collarbone and down over the swell of your breasts, he almost had you swallowing your answer.
‘We’re just fucking.’ You gulped. ‘Not that complicated, right?’
The present day’s bright daylight, however, had you feeling exposed as if your emotions were stitched in bold onto your sleeve… the emotions that weren’t even supposed to exist.
But the truth was… you truly did feel terrible that he was sick, so sick that he had to cancel three of his shows. A handful of texts between Molly and yourself helped you understand how massive of a deal it was for him to reschedule due to his own illness. And when she told you he was quarantined in his house for the foreseeable future, you were instantly in your kitchen making soup from scratch.
This was different… he’s sick. You tried to justified it, staring at his gate’s wooden door in front of you.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” you finally muttered under your breath, taking two steps forward and placing the paper bag on the ground next to the doorway. The birds could eat it for all you cared, spinning on your heel and beelining it to your car.
But before you could take more than four steps, the click of a lock and the sound of your name, painfully deep and gravelly, had you frozen in your tracks.
Shit.
Realizing your attempted doorbell dash (sans doorbell) had flopped, you took a deep breath and turned back slowly.
“Hey… did you text?” Harry’s head peeked out from behind the wooden door. His voice was so rough— the equivalent to rocks scraping across concrete, a slight wheeze vibrating when he exhaled. He pulled the gate open fully, stepping out to reveal disheveled curls pointing every which way, a cozy chunky yellow knit cardigan and bare feet on top of his stone path. “I saw you through the security camera. Are you… leaving?”
“Oh, hey!” You blurted, attempting to sound breezy, two more steps backward wishing it could’ve been two hundred in the opposite direction. “Sorry, I was trying to… I mean sorry if I woke you… Molly told me you’ve been super sick.”
His laugh which brought a hearty cough had you cringing, proving just how poorly he was.
“Yeah, it’s been pretty brutal,” he swallowed, blinking away the dampness in his eyes.
Unsure what to say, you fidgeted with your sunglasses, pushing them to the top of your head. “Um, I’m sorry about your shows.”
“Oh, you were supposed to come…” his response was quick, watery eyes perking up with excitement.
Your grin grew slowly, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment making your heart thump. Molly had invited you, not Harry. And to be honest, you weren’t even sure you were going before his cancellation made the decision for you.
“I didn’t realize you knew…”
“Picked your seats out myself,” he confessed, a tinge of pink sweeping across his cheeks, which you immediately brushed off as a possible fever.
“Oh.”
And suddenly you forgot why you were at his doorstep to begin with, focused on nothing but the way his fingers lifted to drag across his collarbone— likely just an itch but had you easily remembering those same fingers dancing across your skin.
“And how are you feeling today? A little better, hmm?”
His wheezy, deep voice snapped your focus back to his gaze.
“Wha— me?” You choked, confused. “M’not sick?”
Harry chuckled, gesturing vaguely in no specific direction. “Erm, I saw your Instagram story thing… from the pub. G&T’s was it?”
Your eyes flew open wide when it clicked what he was referring to— the story you posted last night of you and your girls, lifting your drinks in a toast with the caption ‘clink fucking clink, we’ve had a few’.
“Oh— ha! Um, I didn’t know you watched my…”
Your heart thumped so hard you were certain it would give you away. Never had you seen ‘Harry Styles’ on your list of viewers.
“I have a… what’s it called? A finsta?” He explained as if he could read your mind.
“Do you?” You laughed, noticing the color of his cheeks was decorated in a full blown non-fever-related blush.
“What’s this then?”
His eyes dropped to the brown paper bag sitting on the ground before he bent down and picked it up, peering inside once it was situated in his hands.
“Oh!” You nearly gasped. “That’s… that’s why I came.”
And suddenly nerves flooded your veins and you were regretting every single choice you had made that day.
“You made me… soup?” His eyebrows lifted with his last word, softness and gratitude laced in his green gaze.
“Uh, yeah— yes,” you stuttered, quickly clearing your throat.
You didn't mean to be so awkward, in fact you hated yourself for it. You should’ve been in control— cool, calm, collected— after all it was you who had been putting up boundaries left and right, just as it was you who was willingly cartwheeling across every line you had drawn.
“Um,” you timidly glanced down at your intertwined fingers. “It's vegetable broth and some plant based chicken from TJ’s. And it’s probably still warm, so if you’re feeling up to eating...”
Harry couldn’t help the way his lips lifted upward and to the left, his dimple digging deep into his scruff covered cheek as you babbled on.
“You made me…” His flattered gaze slowly raised from the paper bag to see you unable to hold his eye contact. “…vegan chicken noodle soup?”
You gulped, your eyes now fixed on a bluebird passing by in the sky. “I… did. It’s not a big deal, really, I had all the ingredients,” you lied, following the bird's path as a ruse not to watch his reaction to you remembering he was pescatarian. And when the bird was nothing but a speck against the clouds, you had no choice but to look his way.
His eyes were bright…overwhelmingly smug, causing you to shake your head and push out an embarrassed laugh.
“Stop…” you rolled your eyes, “It wasn’t a big deal. I just wasn’t sure if you had anyone taking…care of you. I mean—shit,“ you stopped suddenly, choking on your unruly confession. “I’m sure you have plenty of people taking care of—“
“So you thought you’d take care of me?”
His interruption made your entire body light on fire.
“Shut up,” you huffed another laugh, swiping the back of your hand across your warm forehead.
Somehow his amused green eyes lit up even more. “Sounds a bit like emotions, eh?” He teased, dimples deeper than ever. And before you could argue, he continued on. “You know if I weren’t sick, you could come inside and take care of me…. Or I could take care of you?”
His gaze not so subtly tracked down your body and back up. And regardless of the fact that you were standing on the curb in front of his house, it felt as if his eyes were raking over your naked body, imagining every single detail hidden underneath your clothes.
A small, painful sounding cough (he very clearly tried to suppress as to not ruin the moment) snapped you back into the moment.
“WOW! Okay,” you shifted your weight simply to squelch the fire that had started simmering in your belly. “I’d like my vegan soup back now please.”
“Stop!” He dramatically pulled the bag closer to his chest, taking a small step backwards behind his gate. “Don’t come closer,” he huffed a laugh which immediately morphed into a cough, “you could get sick!”
You were giggling at his antics, planting your feet and shoving your hands into your coat’s pockets with a smile brightening your entire disposition. “You’re insane,” you quietly bantered back.
And then silence settled in the brisk air as you gazed at each other, smiles wide and eyes admiring each other’s wit.
No emotions, you reminded yourself weakly.
With a blink and a step away, you sighed and jutted a thumb toward your car. “I should go…” You pointed to him next. “You should rest…”
He half hummed, half wheezed in agreement. “Thank you, for the soup… and for the visit. People tell me I’m no good alone, so I’m grateful.”
An unruly surge of shivers tumbled down your back.
“Feel better, Harry.”
He left you with a wave before disappearing behind the fence. And regardless of the gravity that was holding you there— the unexplained force that had you wishing you could follow him across that threshold and nurse him back to health— you buried it. But on the way back to your car, your heart spontaneously swelled. You were seeing a different side of him and you were hooked.
Actually, you were fucked.
•••
A/N: Thank you so much for reading and sharing — would love to hear what you thought. And to my best girls, @andwhenshesays & @for-fucks-sake-h-h thank you for being you and for always encouraging me in this shit, I love you.
Read more The Morning After blurbs here.
•••
Taglist: @thurhomish @be-with-me-so-happily @hstyleshoney @buckybarnessimpp @harrysxcarolina
Join the taglist here!
#HarryOnBroadwayFicChallenge#the morning after#just a little soup blurb#thank you SO SO much for reading and sharing#harry styles fic#harry styles loves soup#i never know what to tag lol
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RIP GLYNIS JOHNS
1923-2024
Johns is probably best remembered for playing Winifred Banks in Disney's Mary Poppins (1964). Although it was a mainstream hit for Judy Collins, Johns introduced the song "Send in the Clowns" in the Broadway musical A Little Night Music (1974) for which she won a Tony Award.
On August 5, 1963, CBS' "Vacation Playhouse" aired an episode titled "Hide and Seek," which was the pilot for "Glynis", a sitcom starring Johns and Keith Andes, who played the male lead in Lucille Ball's 1960 Broadway musical Wildcat and would go on to appear on "The Lucy Show." The series' working title was "The Glynis Johns Show", but eventually it was shortened to the star's first name. The series was produced by Desilu and created and executive produced by Jess Oppenheimer, one of the original creators of "I Love Lucy". A month later "Glynis" earned a spot on CBS' fall schedule, but only lasted 13 episodes.
Johns was nominated for an Oscar in 1961 for The Sundowners. She worked with a lot of the same stars as Lucille Ball, although the two never acted together. She was in The Court Jester (1955) with Danny Kaye, Papa's Delicate Condition (1963) with Jackie Gleason, and Mary Poppins (1964) with Dick Van Dyke. Like so many of Ball's colleagues, she played a villain on "Batman": Penelope Peasoup in 1967.
She was 'born in a trunk' to theatrical parents touring in South Africa, but raised in Wales. She was 100 years old. From four marriages she had one child whom she outlived by 15 years.
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Red Curtains and Chandeliers
Phantom of The Opera (Broadway version)(Merik) x GN! Reader (Part 3)
WC: 1266
Your friend dragged you over to the staircase and looked around for something. You knew better this time, not looking directly at the secret lever right away. They looked around everywhere for it, and you only glanced at it once. After a few minutes, realizing most of the crowd had likely fled, you were standing there, your best friend absolutely frustrated. Their face even started turning a bit red.
“This is ludicrous! You saw him too, right?!” They asked you. Well, more like screamed at you. You nodded silently, still reeling from the events of the night. You wanted to try and get yourself out of there as soon as possible.
“Maybe we should get out of here… It’s getting late.” You said, trying to feign defeat. They looked over at you and sighed. “Yes… I suppose.” They said, dusting off their costume and joining you by their side. You two walked back to the dorm quietly, your friend fuming.
After a few minutes of silence and getting ready for bed, your friend turned to you.
“Do you think there’s a chance Madam Giry will tell us anything?” They asked. You looked up at them and arched a brow.
“Maybe a senior ballerina, or other senior staff, but not us.” You said as you shook your head. They furrowed their brow like that wasn’t the correct answer.
“What about that Meg girl?” They inquired. You scoffed.
“She’s hesitant. She believes if you speak of the Phantom, he shall appear before you.” You chuckled out. “The next best option would be Christine Daae, but she’s either practicing or off with the Viscount.” You said.
“But there’s still a chance?” They asked hopefully. Don’t even think about it- is what you wanted to say, but you were tired.
“If you believe so, my friend. But it is late, we should get some rest.” You sighed, exhausted both emotionally and physically.
The following weeks were fairly uneventful, aside from the casting of ‘Don Juan Triumphant’ where you and your friend happened to be cast in the same routines. You smiled at them when they told you the wonderful news and immediately sped off to the practice room together.
Weeks passed, and before you knew it you were only a week away from first curtain. You and your friend had decided to take a break in between practices and walk around the theater, watching the actors practice their lines. You were giggling about Piangi, he kept messing up a certain bit and the rest of the cast was getting fussy.
As Madam Giry is arguing with Carlotta, you and your friend go silent. You both know better at this point than to do so much as breathe too loudly when Madam Giry was speaking. After the actors went quiet, your eyes drifted up to the rafters and you saw him.
Upon instinct, you reach for your friend's arm, still looking up. Your friend looked over to you, then where your eyes were. You darted your eyes back to theirs, staring at them and immediately, sternly saying “No.” They frowned at you. Suddenly, you heard the actors singing, and the piano playing, but no one was near the piano. Horror filled your eyes, and your flight instinct kicked in again. You dragged your friend out of the audience and to your dorm, heart hammering in your chest, despite your friend's protests and attempts to go back.
"We c-can't, we just can't-" You started.
“You owe me.” They said shortly, a slight frown on their face. You knew they weren’t actually upset, but you also know their 'Adventurousness' would get them hurt, or worse. You figured, you’ve known them long enough and you do owe them some sort of explanation.
After you got back to the dorms, they sighed and sat on their bed, kicking their shoes off and taking their coat and layers off. You followed suite and once you both got comfortable, they went to lay on their bed, having barely said a word all night. You frowned slightly, and sat on the foot of their bed.
They looked at you curiously and tilted their head, “What’s the matter, mon cher?” They asked softly. You gave a small smile. It wasn't a normal smile, it was more of a self-pitying smile, and you sighed.
“You were right,” you mumbled, hugging your knees and resting your head onto said knees.
“Oh? I’m sorry what was that?” They asked teasingly, smiling and starting to giggle.
“You were right, le stupide.” You said, a little louder, laughing with them.
“What was I right about this time?” They asked, sitting up and crossing their legs.
“I…” You paused for a second, taking a deep breath. “I do owe you an explanation. About something I haven’t been telling you about.” You said softly, your smile fading and your tone becoming more serious.
“You’re not a vampire, are you?” They asked.
“What? No, I-”
“Werewolf?”
“No, you’re missing the poin-”
“Did you cause the flames from earlier?!” They gasped.
“No, idiot! Give me a second, I’m trying to find the words!” You laughed. You took another breath and continued. You told them about how you admired The Phantom before the chandelier crash, and then became fearful and bitter at the rise of Christine (which has since settled because you thought rationally about the situation) and then finally, you refuse to face him because it would hurt too much. They listened, and when you had finished, they stayed quiet for a moment, processing everything.
“Do you have… any questions?” You asked shyly. They nodded their head excitedly, their eyes not quite focused on you though.
“Oh, I have so many questions, I just need a minute to process absolutely everything you just said.” They said quickly, a hand coming up to your shoulder. You sat there, awkwardly as your friend took about 3 minutes to process everything.
“So, let me just get this straight,” they started. “You’re in love with The Phantom of the Opera Populaire?” they asked, their pitch going up.
“I…” You started, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You nodded slowly, looking down. Not necessarily in shame or embarrassment, but more in a “I’ve barely accepted it myself” kind of way. They chuckled.
“I was wondering why you wouldn't tell me anything... but you always were the ghoulish one of the bunch,” they chuckled. You were surprised, they didn’t say anything mean, or rather, “meaner” than their normal amount.
“That… is that it?” You chuckled dryly.
“I don’t feel… upset by this information. The only thing I’m upset about is that you didn’t tell me sooner. If I had known, I wouldn’t have tried to drag you towards him so many times.” They rolled their eyes. “If I’m being honest, I’m probably more obsessed with him than you~” they teased. You shot them a dirty look, playfully, and you both started laughing.
“It feels so nice to tell someone, finally.” You breathed out, stretching your limbs out to get up and go to your own bed. You looked back at your friend. “Thank you, for understanding.” You said softly as you bid them goodnight.
“Of course. You’re my dearest friend, how could I ever be mad at you?” they said sweetly. “Though, you best be careful. I swapped your sugar and salt after you upset me earlier.” They warned as you turned off the oil lamp. You let out one hearty
“Hah!” before you hit the pillow. “That’s okay. I’ll get you back before the first show.” You joked. More or less.
#phantom of the opera#poto#erik destler#erik poto#the phantom of the opera#christine daae#fanfic#phantom x reader
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Broadway Divas Tournament: Round 2B
Lillias White (1951)
“LILLIAS WHITE is the quadruple-crown winner of the 1997 Tony Award, Drama Desk Award, Outer Critics Award, and the People’s Choice Award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical for her performance as Sonja in The Life. Ms. White received unqualified acclaim for her triumphant portrayal of Jonsey in the recent revival of How to Succeed in Business… Her previous Broadway appearances include Cats (Grisabella), Once On this Island (Asaka), Dreamgirls (Effie), Rock ‘n’ Roll The First 5000 Years (Aretha Franklin) and Barnun (Joyce Heth). Off-Broadway she starred in Waiting for Godot, The Pincess & The Black-Eyed Pea, Antigone Africanus and Romance in Hard Times for which she won an Obie Award. Her national and internation tours include: Ain’t Misbehavin’, The Wiz, Tintypes and Dreamgirls (Drama Logue Award). She won an Emmy Award for her work on “Sesame Street” after which she made several guest appearances on “Law & Order” and “NYPD Blue.” She has appeared in concert at Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center and as a guest soloist at The White House. She is featured int eh current Disney animated film Hercules in which she plays Calliope.” – Playbill bio from Sweet Charity: The Concert, June 17, 1998.
Andrea Martin (1947)
“ANDREA MARTIN (Aunt Kate, Frieda Fishbein, Beatrice Kaufman). LTC: My Favorite Year (Tony, Drama Desk, Theatre World awards). Broadway: Pippin (Tony, Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle, Drama League, Ellen Norton awards; Astaire nomination), Exit the King (DD, OCC, noms.), Young Frankenstein (Tony, DD noms.), Oklahoma! (Tony, DD noms.) Candide (Tony, DD noms.) Regional: The Matchmaker, The Royal Family (Williamstown), Betty’s Summer Vacation (Elliot Norton, IRNE awards), The Rose Tattoo (Huntington). Tour: Final Days: Everything Must Go. Film: The Producers, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, All Over the Gay, My Big Fat Green Wedding, Breaking Upwards. TV: “SCTV” (Two Emmy Awards), “Sesame Street” (Special Emmy Award), “The Simpsons,” “30 Rock,” “Nurse Jackie.” Upcoming: Night at the Museum 3, “Working the Engels” (NBC series) Andrea Martin’s Lady Parts (Harper Collins/ fall 2014). For Nicky.” – Playbill bio from Act One, May 2014.
NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE
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"I think about that Actors' Fund Dreamgirls concert and specifically Lillias White's Effie on a weekly basis."
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"Andrea Martin, you are the only hope we have of advancing a stalwart, brilliant, laughriot character actress to the next round. Come on, people, comedy actresses are the backbone of Broadway. If we can't scream, holler, and jump for joy at comedy, we may as well pack it in."
#broadwaydivastournament#broadway#broadway divas#tournament poll#musical theatre#lillias white#andrea martin#round 2b
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The Gilded Age's Broadway Divas: Aurora Fane (Kelli O'Hara)
Beloved by all, Aurora Fane enjoys a powerful position in Mrs. Astor's New York. Having suitably recovered from impending financial ruin last season, this season, Aurora has done some ill-fated matchmaking, worn some fantastic hats, and provided beautiful window dressing to scenes where she just sits there and looks pretty.
One of Broadway's (few) leading sopranos, Kelli O'Hara is a dying breed. As trends shift towards a more pop/rock sound, and classical musical theatre becomes a thing of the past, Kelli nevertheless finds her niche. A seven-time Tony nominee, Kelli has won Best Leading Actress in a Musical for the 2015 revival of The King and I. You'll recall another Gilded Age Diva who won for that same role some years prior. A proshot of the NT Live production can be found online. It is a gorgeous shoot, even if I take issue with that show as a whole.
She has also been nominated for Kiss Me, Kate (2019), The Bridges of Madison County (2014), and The Light in the Piazza (2005). Ironically, though Aurora Fane supports The Academy, Kelli is a classically trained opera singer who has appeared on the Met Opera stage three times, and will play Laura Brown in an encore run of The Hours this spring. (See my breakdown post over costumes here.)
However, prior to her opera appearance, Kelli will be starring in the new Broadway musical Days of Wine and Roses for a limited 16-week run, opening on January 28th. Kelli has been nominated for every role she has played since 2005, and this will almost certainly be no different. Booked and busy.
#1: "Shall We Dance?" The King and I (2015)
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Kelli's voice is otherworldly angelic. That much we already know very well. The King and I opened in 2015 at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre at Lincoln Center, the third musical Kelli has starred in at that venue. The Beaumont is, of course, right next to The Met Opera, and the only Broadway theater outside the theatre district in Midtown.
As Anna Leonowens, Kelli travels to Siam to teach the children and wives of the king how to speak English. Orientalism aside, the show is a classic Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the score is divine in Kelli's mouth. Fun fact: Kelli's replacement was Marin Mazzie in one of her last onstage roles. Marin was the Passion co-star and dear friend to Donna Murphy, our Mrs. Astor.
This video is from the 2015 Tony performance and showcases the incredible quick change Kelli makes between singing "Getting to Know You" and "Shall We Dance?" aided by a team of unbelievable dressers. It is a marvel to witness. As is Ruthie Ann Miles, Kelli's co-star who recently performed in the Encores! production of Light in the Piazza.
#2: "What More Do I Need?" Take Me to the World: A Sondheim 90th Birthday Celebration (2020)
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In 2020, despite a global pandemic, the theatre community still found a way to honor Stephen Sondheim's milestone 90th birthday with an online concert. Kelli performed a song from Saturday Night, Sondheim's first professional musical that was slated for Broadway in 1955, but was scrapped. It only got its New York premiere in 2000. This particular number is a cabaret favorite, and Kelli is an absolute delight with just a camera and digital accompaniment.
Fun fact: it wasn't until this particular performance that I truly started to appreciate the wonder that is Kelli O'Hara. I had previously seen her in concert just that March, and loved her, of course, but I have a complex relationships with sopranos. I now recognize that I love mature sopranos, but it's the ingenues I can't listen to without wincing.
#3: "They Don't Let You In the Opera" (2016)
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Lest we think Kelli is limited in her range and style, this song was written especially for her to showcase her vast talent and comedic timing. Kelli, an Oklahoma farmgirl, isn't the sort of person you'd expect to be both classically trained and country literate.
Kelli, who has been typecast as refined and often repressed characters who go through harrowing emotional experiences, much like Aurora Fane, is more than capable of bringing a rollicking comedy to the mix.
This number is a favorite in Kelli's concert repertoire. There isn't much more to say, except that you need to witness its hilarity for yourself.
#4: “Heaven? Somebody else’s heaven?” The Hours (2023)
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Speaking of opera, here is an excerpt from a scene in Act II where Laura Brown has fled to a hotel room to contemplate some very serious courses of action. Kelli, alongside soprano Renee Fleming and mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, makes up a trio of phenomenal women in Kevin Putts' adaptation of the book and movie.
The Met Opera theatre seats nearly 4,000 people across six levels. The performers do not use body mics or amplification of any kind, but rather rely on intense vocal training to be heard across the theater. For this reason, alongside the vastly different vocal techniques and styles, musical theatre actors rarely cross over into opera, and vice versa. Notable exceptions include Renee Fleming, Kelli's Light in the Piazza co-star Victoria Clark, and Mary Beth Peil, who made her musical theatre debut in The King and I as yet another Miss Anna, hers in 1985.
#5: "So in Love," Kiss Me, Kate (2019)
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Starring in yet another Golden Age musical revival, Kelli brings a different take on Lilli Vanessi, a glamorous movie star in a turbulent relationship. Kelli's vocal talent, of course, speaks for itself. For Kelli, this role was a tribute to her dear friend, the late Marin Mazzie, who had passed away some months before the show opened. Marin, who replaced Kelli in The King and I, had played this same role in the 1999 Broadway revival to great acclaim. In her first entrance of the show, Kelli wore a costume that featured the very same hat Marin wore in her show.
Though this video is beloved, my personal favorite rendition can be heard below. It was taken at a concert Kelli put on at the 92Y in New York last February. In it, Kelli sings for and to Marin, and the entire theatre wept.
Bonus: "Back to Before," Ragtime Reunion Concert (2023)
The role of Mother was originally workshopped by Donna Murphy in Toronto in the early 90s, but she left to do King and I, which worked out well for her. In came dear friend Marin Mazzie, who originated the role on Broadway, and established a precedent no other has been able to top. Also in that cast? Audra McDonald as Sarah, for which she won a Tony, of course.
In 2023, after years of pandemic-related delays, they staged a one-night reunion concert of this special show. And who better to take on Marin's iconic role than Kelli O'Hara? Listen to her "Back to Before" here, and then do yourself a favor and run, don't walk, to listen to Marin's.
#the gilded age#aurora fane#kelli o'hara#met opera#sondheim#ragtime#marin mazzie#kiss me kate#the hours#the king and i
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Happy birthday Scottish actor Jimmy Yuill, born March 6th 1956 in Golspie, Sutherland.
Yuill is another of those Scottish actors that has been in an abundance of shows, and will be known, but not as a household name.Fans of the Crime drama series Wycliffe will know him best as DI Doug Kersey, in almost every episode, I will come back to that later.
Known mainly as an actor on the stage Jimmy began in 1976 in The Jesuit at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh. After, as he put it “some joyous years” working on new plays and classics countrywide he joined the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) in 1983, as Snug in ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ and ended his time there, in 1987, as Young Wackford Squeers in Nicholas Nickleby on Broadway.
In 1988 he joined Kenneth Branagh’s Renaissance Theatre Company for Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It and Hamlet directed by Judi Dench, Geraldine McEwan and Derek Jacobi, respectively. Also for RTC, Sicinius (Coriolanus); Telygin (Uncle Vanya) and Kent in Richard Brier’s ‘King Lear’.
Other roles include Toby Belch in Twelfth Night and as Henry IV parts1&2 at the Bristol Old Vic; In 2013 Jimmy played Banquo in ‘Macbeth’ at the Manchester International Festival and the following year at the Park Avenue Armory, New York. Most recently Jimmy played the Old Shepherd in The Winters Tale at the Garrick Theatre in London’s West End – both productions directed by Rob Ashford and Kenneth Branagh.
Jimmy Yuill, while always being busy treading the boards, has also found plenty time to appear in many TV shows, they include, in the 70’s The Mackinnons, The Omega Factor and the TV film A Sense of Freedom. in the 1980’s Eurocops and Boon and the 90’s mainly in Hamish Macbeth as Lachlan McCrae and the aforementioned Wycliffe. Into the new millennium he is a s busy as ever in the mini-series Monsignor Renard, A Touch of Frost and a recurring role in 14 episodes of Eastenders as Victor Brown an old frien of Ian Beales. Jimmy also appeared in several episodes of The Bill as D.S. Cottrell.
Yuill has had a longstanding friendship with Kenneth Branagh and has appeared in some of the Irish actor/directors films, including, Much Ado About Nothing, Frankenstien and As You Like It.
I said I would return to Wycliffe, where Jimmy starred in all but two episodes. The series was cancelled after that because Jack Shepherd, who played Wycliffe, refused to continue in the title role when the producers had sacked Yuill “for insurance reasons” after he contracted life-threatening meningitis during filming, and then would not reinstate him even though he made a full recovery. He says he owes his life to Shepherd with whom he was sharing a house while on location, and who rushed him to hospital in the middle of the night. Shepherd and the rest of the cast and crew felt so betrayed that they decided not to make any more episodes once filming of the current series had finished.
Along with Richard Briers he is one of only two actors other than Branagh himself, to appear in all five Shakespearean films that Branagh has directed: Yuill has worked as a performance consultant on a number of productions, and also as a producer.
More recently Jimmy has been in the movies Artemis Fowl , Kindred and my pick The Road Dance, which is set in The Outer Hebrides just before World War One. He also popped up in the Scottish dark comedy series Guilt, There are no pdates on his work in the past three years
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45, 59, n 49
I perhaps ask if one of them could be freakarelated but it is not a requirement :>
but then, what if i made them all freakazoid related? hmmm??
45 Gimme three steps
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Dexter lies in a ditch and wonders at how unfair the world can be. Freakazoid mutters something but his friend is too exhausted to make sense. Not that Freakazoid always made sense in the best of times, but at least it was normally a human language and not garbled computer noises. Dexter makes a noise of sympathy and keeps staring up at the black sky.
There are so many clouds. If stars could have been seen, they are most certainly hidden. He groans as he lies there in the muck out in the middle of nowheresville USA. How did he even get here? He closes his eyes as he tries to recall.
Freakazoid had been out. The hero had decided to do a bit of quick traveling. And somehow they had landed in the middle of Tennessee, just a bit to the left of Nashville. Longhorn had unfortunately been in the area, once again trying to revitalize his music career. The Lobe had been present and trying to help the other villain.
Not out of any belief that Longhorn had any musical talent. In fact, when Lobe had cornered Freakazoid partway through the battle, he admitted to having alternative motives. Lobe had secretly wanted all of country music destroyed and replaced with Broadway tunes. Dexter had rolled his eyes in the Dexterzone at the belief and then had to watch the whole fight. Longhorn had returned at some point with an amplified guitar that batter Freakazoid with sonic waves and the Lobe fires off lighting blasts.
A fun fight according to Freakazoid.
A little too close of a call according to Dexter.
It had taken up almost all of the hero’s energy to trounce the villains. When he tied them up, Freakazoid had attempted to jet home. Freakazoid had tried to turn into a bolt of light and ended up stumbling. The hero had then tried running and ended up falling on the side of a dirt road with a groan. Dexter had been forced out, exhaustion hitting him from the awkward switch that caused him to end up rolling into the ditch.
The ditch he has spent the last several minutes, hours, years, laying in. He feels the hours starting to weigh on him. The ditch is not too bad, all things considered. He is not even cold. Or wet. He gives a jaw-cracking yawn even as his body is too tired to move.
-54..79..67..65..72..21..20..54..79..67..65..72..21..20..62..75..72..6E..69..6E..67..20..62..72..69..67..68..74………..-
Freakazoid mumbles. Dexter yawns in response to the hexadecimal code.
‘Mmkay. Night to you too.’
And then Dexter falls asleep in the not-too-uncomfortable ditch. The warm Tenessee night fills with ambient noise as the nerd sleeps on.
49 Little Candy Raver
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Freakazoid finds himself twitching a bit inside of the Freakazone. Dexter had spent most of the day taking end-of-the-semester tests and it is driving him a little batty to have no real inputs. Dexter had put a mental block on their mind link to both have some peace while filling out the test and to avoid the chance of cheating with Freakazoid’s connection to the internet.
Freakazoid would be offended but he knows that Dexter takes his grades as a matter of pride. Just about one of the only things that he is proud of. He sighs as he twitches again. He prefers having someone to talk to. It is so painful to have all these thoughts and to have no one to bounce them off of. He had tried to talk to his inner child, just for a bit of conversation, but had been very rudely ignored. See if he got that squirt candy ever again.
He bounces about, flicks the TV on and off, tries to play music and immediately hates all of his choices. He finds it harder and harder to be still, eyes constantly flicking to the ridiculously large ticking clock that had appeared in the Freakazone this morning as a dark herald of the hours of boredom that he was about to be doomed to. It ticks and tocks with no care for how evilly slow it is going. He tried breaking it earlier but it seems to be him proof.
Which he feels should be some sort of crime. If he could get Cosgrove in here to tell it off, that would be just swell. Then he could chat Cosgrove’s ear off.
Ugh. He does another round of bouncing, flicking his tv on and off, and testing out his stereo. He groans loudly.
Then.
Finally.
Impossibly…
Dexter reopens the link and Freakazoid leans into it as much as he can. He wraps up Dexter in how much he had missed his nerd and all the stray thoughts that had been bugging him. Dexter seems faintly amused and tired. He sends back soothing feelings and a promise that Freakazoid could come out to run soon. Just a little longer. Freakazoid buzzes.
-Really??-
He asks, very hopeful that he can go on patrol. Or run. Just running sounds amazing.
‘Yep. Soon Freak. Soon. Just wait for the bell to ring, okay?’
Freakazoid quickly agrees. He keeps chattering to Dexter, mostly because he can. Silence does not suit him, and being stuck in the Freakazone feels like it amplifies that silence so much that he has to make up for it by talking twice as much.
When Dexter lets him out, the nerd sends a wave of relief. Dexter is tired from his tests. Freakazoid invites him to sleep while he runs around. Dexter quickly hums agreement from the Dexterzone. Freakazoid keeps running around, shifting from electricity to physical form as his nerd sleeps. Perfect. A nice perfect afternoon.
59 Stereo hearts
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Dexter looks out at the ocean. The grand Pacific Ocean. He had glimpsed it before; out a car window and through Freakazoid’s eyes. But this is the first time that he has stood on the west-coast of the United States.
Dexter had long harbored a secret dream. A slightly silly one that his brother had mocked upon hearing at the age of seven before punching his arm with a huff. Dexter had kept pretty quiet about it since then, but it is a little hard to hide everything from the other person sharing your head space.
The nerd looks out at the salty water breathing in the air. It is sharp in his nostrils. He takes a hesitant step forward toward the crashing waves. His little dream.
When he had been seven, his family had visited the beach in Florida. It had been a rather big trip, with several hours spent in the car to reach their destination. And Dexter had taken several steps into the Atlantic and come up with his wish. A strong wish to have walked in the ocean on both sides of the continent.
He had gotten close before, on an earlier family car trip. But Duncan had raised a fuss about taking too long and they had missed the beach altogether. A tragedy that made him hate his brother with a burning passion for a few days.
Now though.
Now he has his chance.
Freakazoid had found out about his wish yesterday and had wanted to act immediately. Dexter pointed out that it was almost midnight and he certainly did not want to be awake any longer. A quick jaunt across the country was not going to make them any less exhausted from dealing with Cave Guy. Freakazoid had conceded with a hum that Dexter had known meant the conversation was not over.
He takes another few steps and his bare feet hit the water. Oh so cold. He probably should have expected it to be cold. Freakazoid giggles in the back of his mind and Dexter shushes him with a huff. No reason for him to deal with mockery from inside of his skull. He scrunches his nose and jumps back from an overeager wave.
Despite the nipping cold, he finds himself satisfied. He had achieved his wish. He takes a breath. He can achieve his other wishes and goals. With Freakazoid at his back, how could he not?
#hermes speaks#ask hermes#freakazoid#dexter douglas#freakazoid dexter#writing#spotify wrapped challenge#spotify wrapped
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You guys really liked the "Ecclectic Halloween" post I did a while ago, so I want to go for another round!!
For those who didn't see the previous post - music is my biggest hyperfixation, and I love making thematic playlists and play with them by adding little rules and such. My "Ecclectic Halloween" playlist currently has over 150 tracks, and all of them are there according to the following little rules I've stablished:
The song MUST include anything supernatural, spooky, bizarre, "murder/serial killer", classic creature and so on - if it's instrumental, which is the case of many tracks in this list, it has to have all of these but in VibesTM
The song can be of ANY genre; is it metal? Prog? Disco? Electronic? Soundtrack? COOL, ALL ARE WELCOME!
I'm still including less widely known / "cliche Halloween songs", and this time I decided to feature songs that are soundtracks (from movies, games, animes, books even!); most of them are instrumental, or feature a heavy use of choir, and/or vocals that are prevalent but doesn't really mean anything (bear with me, you'll see what I mean, lol)
LET'S GET STARTED, part deux!!
1- Only Murders In The Building - Creatures of the Night
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Starting off with this banger from the latest season of "Only Murders in the Building"! The original context is that Oliver Putnam, one of the main characters who's a theater producer/director, decides to put on a musical play as one of the main subplots of this season; the show actually presented a couple of full, real songs, and they are all REALLY Broadway-like, campy, and epic (fucking Meryl Streep sings two of them???? It's REALLY good!). The musical's plot is that this woman was murdered in a mysterious lighthouse, and a private Investigator and a Constable comes in to investigate it. The main suspects are the Nanny and... the baby triplets of the deceased woman??? Lol
This song is SUPER fun, weird and extra, with that little touch of mystery - it's the "opening act" of the show, and it's the Investigator arriving at the lighthouse, singing with the whole ensemble cast, it's SO cool! I'm including here the actual scene where they perform it, so you can see it! (Spoilers for the last episode of s3, I guess?)
In this eerie old lighthousе thrashed by the tide
Live triplets whose mother suspiciously died
And suspects uncanny, a constable, a nanny
Do they all have secrets to hide?
2- Genshin Impact - Die Mittsommernacht-Fantasie
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This one is VERY "mischievous trick or treat" vibes! Very, very fun and colorful, with that little touch of mystery, too! This was definitely one of the best battle themes in Genshin Impact, and it was featured exclusively in a time-limited event last year?? Such a tragedy this good of a song was used only then!
The domain this song appears is themed after the character Amy "Fischl", who roleplays all the time as "Fischl, the Prinzessin der Verteilung"; the domain itself was a huge castle, with big fairytale vibes going on. Fischl is a very dramatic, mischievous character, and this theme really reflects that, in the most fun way!
The song has INTENSE baroque influences with the harpsichord as main instrument, and even features a classic/ spanish guitar!
3- Cuphead, The Delicious Last Course - The Finishing Touch
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To those unfamiliar, Cuphead is a game that mimics the entire aesthetics, artstyle and music from 1920's cartoons. It's honestly one of the best ideas I've seen, and this one is a song from the DLC released a while ago. It's very spooky, and of course in that 20s cartoon sort of way.
I personally love the super eerie atmosphere, the flute, piano and the strings combo creating all the tension!
4- Young Sherlock Holmes - The Ceremony / Waxing of Elizabeth ("Rametep Theme")
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These are technically two songs, but some good soul mashed them together into one cohesive piece, because they both really, REALLY slap hard with the dramatic chorus and Carmina Burana-esque energy! This was featured in the movie "Young Sherlock Holmes", in a scene where a crazy-ass cult is having their gathering, and preparing to mummify this girl.
I have to say the soundtrack is actually better than the scene itself, lol. It has a really impressive crescendo and use of orchestral metals, I have goosebumps every time I listen to it, hnnng <3
5- Ori and the Will of the Wisps - Mora, the Spider
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Easily one of the most intense boss fights I've ever played - and the theme really reflects that fear and tension. Mora is a giant spider hidden in the deep, buried shadows of the forest that you, as Ori (a light/forest spirit) has to defeat. It really is a "dark vs light" sort of fight, and the this theme really goes fucking hard. It also has strong horror music elements used in movies of the genre - like the violin pizzicato at the beginning, and its use throughout the piece, giving that "classic horror" feeling to it.
Note how when the choir kicks in around the minute 2:15 - they are chanting "MO-RA! MO-RA!" in such a terrifying way! And then, around 4:50, it really shows how Ori's determination and hope prevails, when their leitmotif starts playing!
6- Yuki Kajiura - Ship of Fools
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If you follow me for a while, you know already that Yuki is literally one of my all-time favorite composers ever, so OF COURSE I had to include her here!! She is an OST composer for animes and games, and this was the first song of her I've ever heard - it plays on the very first scene of the "Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles" anime. Yuki is well-known for her dreamy, haunting style and this piece is a huge example of it!
She mixes in electronic, rock/metal, classic and folk genres, and layered vocals (mostly done by singers hired for her projects). This one is also an example of her using the "kajiurago", or "kajiura language" - it doesn't mean anything, it's just vocalizing that sounds like words. They are one of her trademarks, and one of her elements that really gives the etheral, haunting atmosphere in her works!
This song really goes hard into the "mysterious, dangerous witch" territory, and I fucking love it! <3
7- Yuki Kajiura - The Main Theme of Petit Cossette
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Another one from my favorite girl - this one is soundtrack to a very obscure anime called "Le Portrait de Petit Cossette" - it's essentially the story of a girl's ghost (Cossette) trapped in an artifact (I think it's a goblet?? It's been over 15 years since I saw it, lol), and this guy who falls in love with her. It's a very weird, dark and atmospheric animation.
This one track here really translates that energy, and I honestly HIGHLY recommend the rest of this OST - it's VERY VERY GOOD, and mostly all tracks have that dark, eerie, gothic vibe too.
Here we can see once more the use of "kajiurago", and another trait of Yuki's work that I fucking love - the intricate solos!! In this case, a violin solo, which is also very prevalent in most of her work.
8- Mary Fahl - Exiles (The Wolves of Midwinter)
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Another Anne Rice-inspired! "Exiles" was composed by Mary Fahl as an actual official song for the audiobook version of "The Wolves of Midwinter". I don't know about the book's plot because I haven't read it, but this song is SO atmospheric, and it's very werewolf-y. I personally LOVE Mary's deep voice, and how I can almost see the wolves running in the wintery forest.
When the hunger comes and I lose control
Hold me in the darkness, bless my tarnished soul
I will run beside you, we'll leave the past behind
We'll hide inside the ages beneath the sands of time
9- Karliene - Become the Beast
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Technically, the only one of the playlist that isn't a soundtrack - not offcially, anyway, hehe. This is a song that Karliene wrote inspired by Hannibal, the tv show; I haven't seen Hannibal, but I'm OBSESSED about this one, because yeah, it can be about Hannibal, but I like how she's a bit vague about it, so it can also be about werewolves, or any other dark supernatural creature, like vampires.
Her voice is incredible, and I love how "minimalistic" this song is, featuring pretty much only a violin, piano and cello as insstruments. The pizzicato sound comes in again to give that unsettling, classic horror vibe, at the same time her layered vocals + the piano and cello really softens the whole thing, which in my opinion, makes the song so eerie and menacing - even more with the lyrics!
So look in the mirror and tell me, who do you see?
Is it still you? Or is it me?
Become the beast, we don't have to hide
Do I terrify you or do you feel alive?
Do you feel the hunger?
Does it howl inside?
Does it terrify you?
Or do you feel alive?
10- Wolfwalkers - Howls the Wolf (Moll's Song - Wolf Run Free)
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And closing the "werewolf trilogy" here at the end of the playlist with another favorite of mine - and ending with wholesome vibes! This is a song that plays in the credits of the animated movie "Wolfwalkers" - IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THAT MOVIE YET, AND YOU LOVE ANIMATION, YOU MUST. LIKE FOR REAL. ITS SO GOOD. And the entire soundtrack, written by Kíla and Bruno Coulais, fucking slaps - it's mostly all traditional folk Irish music and instruments, and so full of life!
Wolfwalkers here are people who turn into wolves when they fall asleep - their sleeping body remains behind, as their soul takes a tangible form of a wolf. It's pretty rad!!
And this song, it's Moll, the wolfwalker mother, probably singing this "lullaby" to her daughter, the wolfwalker Mébh (and one of the main protagonists, the red haired little girl in the art above!).
Maria Doyle Kennedy is the one voicing Moll and singing this song, she has such a pretty, soothing voice! I love this song so much, and with the context of the movie, it makes me teary-eyed almost every time I listen to it kjdfhkjdf, ahhhh <3
The wolf will leap from child asleep
The wolf will run 'til rising sun
The wolf will guide you in your dreams
Run free!
Wolf, wolf, howls the wolf
Wolf, wolf, run free!
Hope you also like this second part!! And it's really cool to see your suggestions in the tags, too <3
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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY
based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more
44 BC – Italy: The first written reference to same-sex marriage appears when Cicero insults promiscuous Mark Antony whose father Curio "established you in a fixed and stable marriage, as if he had given you a stola." A stola is a traditional garment worn by married Roman women. Cicero’s sexual implications are clear, the point of which is to cast Antony in the submissive role in the relationship and to impugn his manhood.
1796 – The poems of Count August von Platen (d.1835) are homoerotic expressions of Platonic love, idealism, beauty, friendship, and longing. Platen was born in Ansbach, Bavaria, the son of an impoverished nobleman. He attended the Military Academy at Munich and the Royal Institute of Pages resulting in his commission as a lieutenant in 1815 in a regiment against France during the time of Napoleon; he, however, engaged in no action.
Platen was extremely erudite, mastering a dozen languages, including literary Greek and Latin, French for social status, Persian for poetic reasons, and even English.
An admirer of Michelangelo and Italian art, Platen visited Florence, Rome, Naples, Syracuse, and Sicily. While in Naples in the 1820s, he formed a homosexual friendship with the poet and painter August Kopisch, all the while perfecting the content and form of his poetry. By 1826, he had moved permanently to Italy, supported by a pension from his friend, King Ludwig I of Bavaria.
Focusing his sexual urges into the artistic and creative realms, Platen transformed his passion for same-sex relations from the physical to the intellectual. On occasion, a friendship lasted only a year or so—for example, his intense relationship with a young painter, Rühl—but it nevertheless served to heighten his creative powers.
His controversial, multilingual, autobiographical narrative, which contains an explicitly erotic homosexual theme, was not published until the end of the nineteenth century, under the title Diary (Die Tagebücher, 1896-1900). In his poetry, Platen employs a recurrent homoerotic image borrowed from Persian poetry, the tulip, which is a spiritual symbol for masculine love.
Platen's longing for love and friendship is a persistent motif in his work. He addressed seven sonnets to "Cardenio," an Erlangen student, who is described as a young, tall, dark, and handsome man with full lips. Platen addressed an additional twenty-one sonnets to another Erlangen student, "Karl Theodor German." Embodying themes of Platonic love, friendship, longing, idealism, and beauty, Platen's sonnets express unrequited love for men.
Platen's homosexuality is the subject of a vicious attack by Heinrich Heine in The Baths of Lucca. Edward Carpenter, however, expressed his appreciation for Platen in his Ioälus, An Anthology of Friendship (1902). Among German writers who admired Platen is Thomas Mann, who praised him in a lecture in 1930; Platen's poem "Tristan" (1825) inspired Mann's novella Tristan and Isolde (1903).
1820 – Seventeen year old Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote of his crush on fifteen-year old Martin Gay: I begin to believe in the Indian doctrine of eye fascination. The cold blue eyes of (blank) has so intimately connected him in my thoughts & visions that a dozen times a day & as often by night I find myself wholly wrapped up in conjectures of his character and inclinations. We have already two or three long profound stares at each other. Be it wise or weak or superstitious I must know him.
1960 – Bradley Darryl BD Wong is an American actor, best-known for his roles as Dr. George Huang on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, as Father Ray Mukada on HBO's Oz, Henry Wu in the movie Jurassic Park, and for his starring role as Song Liling in the Broadway production of M. Butterfly.
Wong gained attention for his Broadway debut in M. Butterfly opposite John Lithgow. The play won multiple awards, including several for Wong. He is notable as the only actor to be honored with the Tony Award, Drama Desk Award, Outer Critics Circle Award, Clarence Derwent Award, and Theatre World Award for the same role.
In 2008, he starred in the one-man show Herringbone, in which he portrays 11 roles, at the McCarter Theatre at Princeton University.
Wong, who is openly gay, began a long-term relationship with talent agent Richie Jackson in 1988. In 2000, Wong had twin sons: Boaz Dov, who died 90 minutes after birth, and Jackson Foo Wong. They were born through a surrogate mother, using Wong's sperm and an egg donated by Jackson's sister. In 2003, Wong wrote a memoir about his experiences with surrogacy titled Following Foo: the Electronic Adventures of the Chestnut Man. Wong and Jackson ended their relationship in 2004.
Wong very strongly identifies as a gay man. Hence, he has been a visible presence at AIDS-related charity functions and in gay and lesbian community events, as well as at events sponsored by the Asian Pacific Islander communities. Wong has appeared at the GLAAD Awards, made promotional spots for the gay and lesbian television newsmagazine In the Life, and worked in various ways to further understanding among both Asians and non-Asians, gays and non-gays, about the experience of being both gay and Asian.
1964 – Dan Mathews is the Senior Vice President of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. He is known for heading PETA's most controversial and attention-getting campaigns, including the "I'd Rather Go Naked Than Wear Fur" ads, as well as campaigns involving celebrities such as Morrissey, Pamela Anderson, Pink, and Paul McCartney.
He started poor, was bullied in high school, worked at McDonalds and as a model to put himself through American University, and after graduating started at PETA as a receptionist.
In 2000, he was named by gay lifestyle magazine Genre as one of the most influential people of the new century. When asked by the magazine whom he considered an influential gay person, he replied, spree killer "Andrew Cunanan, because he got Gianni Versace to stop using fur." In 2007, Mathews was ranked 37th in Out magazine's "50 Most Powerful Gay Men and Women in America".
Mathews has written a memoir, Committed: A Rabble-Rouser's Memoir, which he characterized as "an adventure story. It's like 007 wearing freaky outfits". The book tells the story of how he became a public person, the various exploits he's undertaken for PETA, and different campaigns he has done.
In May 2009 he commented on the actions of the governor general of Canada who, in participating in an Inuit tradition, consumed a raw seal heart. He is quoted as saying to the Toronto Star, "It amazes us that a Canadian official would indulge in such bloodlust. It sounds like she's trying to give Canadians an even more Neanderthal image around the world than they already have." Although Mathews admits to being attracted by extremes, he states that he and PETA engage exclusively in legal activities, but they do not necessarily condemn the actions of animal rights extremists.
1912 – The Arizona Supreme Court rules that fellatio is not outlawed by the term "crime against nature."
1981 – The first National Conference on Lesbian and Gay Aging was held in California, sponsored by the National Association for Gay and Lesbian Gerontology. It sought to "dispel myths about older lesbians and gay men, advance research, establish programs and services for lesbian and gay elders, and encourage and provide support for lesbian and gay gerontologists."
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Frank Frayne’s Fatal Shot Echoed Through The Decades In Over-The-Rhine
When Frank I. Frayne’s troupe rolled into Cincinnati back in 1882, there was scant indication that he would precipitate the darkest night in Cincinnati theater history.
Frayne managed an immense production bankrolled by New York impresario Harry Miner. It was really big. Frayne’s show was so big, it was advertised as a “combination.” That was a term the biggest circuses used to describe their organizations. The “circus” meant only the acts in the sawdust ring. Add a sideshow with various freaks and a traveling zoo and you had a combination. That’s what Frank Frayne brought to Cincinnati. An advertisement [28 November 1881] gives a fair inventory of Frayne’s traveling ensemble:
“During the week and Wednesday and Saturday Matinees, Harry Miner’s Frank I. Frayne Combination and Dramatic Artists, and the Wonderful Acting Dog Jack, the African Lion Emperor; also the two Performing Bears Bruno and Chio. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Wednesday Matinee, “Mardo, or, The Nihilists of St. Petersburg.” Thursday, Friday and Saturday and Saturday Matinee, “Si Slocum.”
One year later, in November 1882, Frayne was back in Cincinnati at the Coliseum Theater on Vine Street with the same two melodramas, but this time his menagerie was enlarged by the addition of a small pack of hyenas. Jack the Dog still got star billing. The Coliseum Theater up on Vine Street was the jewel in Hubert Heuck’s chain of theaters here and in various Midwest cities. It was formerly a beer garden but Heuck converted it into a theater and opera house at no small expense.
It appears that “Mardo” was Frayne’s personal adaptation of a play by Oscar Wilde, “Vera, or The Nihilists.” Frayne’s script has not survived, but the newspaper reviews suggest that it was a ton more exciting than Wilde’s drama. Here is the Enquirer [28 November 1882]:
“There are any amount of desperate actions, dastardly threats, fire scenes, murders, &c., and the lovers of this style of drama will see almost a lifetime of sensation in each act of “Mardo.” The dog Jack is a show in himself and acts his part with the best of the cast. During the play we see the Nubian lion, the ferocious hyenas and the wrestling bear, and these, together with a very passable cast, make it impossible for “Mardo” to be at all dull.”
Frank Frayne himself was fairly well known. He was a sharpshooter at a time when that was a popular stage act. Among his contemporaries and competitors were Annie Oakley and her mentor and husband, Frank Butler. Frayne found enormous success incorporating his rifle tricks into the context of various melodramas in which he portrayed heroic men of action forced to shoot their way out of diabolical predicaments.
Frayne’s second Cincinnati offering, “Si Slocum” was written especially for Frayne by Clifton Tayleure, a successful Broadway producer. The plot is inconsequential, but involves Frayne as Si Slocum, a poor but honest rancher whose lands are coveted by the nefarious scoundrel, Vasquez. It is doubtful that Tayleure envisioned all the zoological extravagances and sharpshooting folderol Frayne piled onto his script. In the course of five acts, Slocum kills a lion, gets rescued by his faithful hound, shoots a pipe out of a ranch-hand’s mouth, plugs a half-dozen playing cards, shoots a bear, scatters the stage with random crockery and saves his wife several times. Somehow, the hyenas made an appearance as well. This stuff sold tickets back then. The Coliseum’s 2,000 seats were occupied the entire week of Frayne’s residency.
The role of Slocum’s wife was played by 25-year-old Annie Von Behren, an up-and-coming actress who was at that time Frayne’s fiancée. Brooklyn-born Miss Von Behren had an extensive theatrical resume before she took on the role of Ruth Slocum. She was thoroughly familiar with the Coliseum Theater, having performed for a couple of years among the stock company of that venue. She later joined a traveling troupe that took her to New York, where she met the widowed Frank Frayne, joined his combination as leading lady and won his heart.
At a critical scene in “Si Slocum,” Vasquez has Slocum cornered, with a dozen bandits drawing a bead on him. Vasquez announces that he likes Slocum’s “pluck,” and offers to free Slocum and end their feud if Slocum can shoot an apple off his wife’s head, while facing backward and aiming the shot with a mirror. Frayne had performed this trick shot hundreds of times over the years.
For reasons never fully explained, Frayne’s trick shot failed, and he sent a bullet through Annie Von Behren’s brain. Frayne screamed in terror as he rushed to his fiancée’s side. The curtain dropped immediately as the audience sat in petrified silence. Theater manager James Fennessey sent H.M. Markham, the actor appearing as the villain Vasquez, to the front of the stage to calm the audience. Markham nervously informed the crowd that the dead Annie von Behren had sustained a slight injury and they should collect a refund on their way out the door.
The next day, Coroner John Rendigs conducted an inquest, at which Frayne appeared. Some witnesses claimed Frayne’s rifle malfunctioned and that, in particular, a screw broke as the gun fired, dropping the rifle barrel downward. Some suggested the cartridge was defective. Other witnesses questioned why Annie was not wearing a metal cap under her wig as she usually did. The coroner declared the death accidental, caused by a bullet fired without criminal intent. Frayne announced he would never return to the stage but did so within a year, reviving the role of Si Slocum. Soon after, he married a woman named Margaret Thompson, who wisely refused to go on stage in his act.
Another victim of the Frayne shooting was the Coliseum Theater itself. Robert Heuck, son of Coliseum owner Hubert Heuck, explained [Bulletin of the Historical and Philosophical Society of Ohio - Volume 20, No. 4, October 1962] that the theater had to be renamed as a result of public opinion.
“The court decision declaring [Frayne’s] innocence was not taken lightly by a great many people in Over-the-Rhine. The show was only closed November 30th and December 1st, however; the receipts for the 2nd and 3rd were light. The court decision was so unpopular that it was thought best to change the name of this new theatre. In fact, it was called just that, "New Theatre," for some time. In 1883, the name of the New Theatre between 12th and 13th on Vine was changed to Heuck's Opera House, and the former Heuck's Opera House at 13th and Vine was re-named ‘People's.’ Of course, it's confusing! Many accounts relating to actors and plays of those earlier show days are in error for lack of understanding of this gobble-de-gook.”
The rechristened Heuck’s was renamed again in 1930 when it became a movie theater known as the Rialto. The building was demolished and the site is today a parking lot.
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𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗬𝗪𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗢𝗥 !
── 𝙀𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙩 𝙌. 𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙣, lustrous ebony skin, soft plump lips, and the loveliest droopy midnight eyes. A physiognomy and energy so compelling that like moths, women and men alike, are captivated by his presence as if he was the only flame carrying the night into morning.
𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 !
In his early teenage years, Elliot was determined to take care of his widowed mother and help her live more comfortably. He kept his head in his studies and filtered out trouble in and out of school.
After her husband's death, Mrs. Swan, Elliott's mother, took up work as a prostitute since her job as a nanny wasn't paying her enough to get by for both her and her little boy. Elliot was always dropped off at the house of his mother's friend, Mrs. Cardinale, before one of Mrs. Swans' clients visited.
Mrs. Cardinale was a sweet and stout Italian woman who migrated to America with her husband and mother for a better future, only to live in the ghetto. Her heart was not hardened by this as she didn't mind helping her best friend by taking care of a young Elliot, who was always praised by Mrs. Cardinale for being a sweet, quiet, and hard-working young man.
On the rare occasions when Mrs. Cardinale couldn't look after Elliot, he was looked after by Mrs. Cardinale's mother who was always resting in bed, but always told him beautiful stories of her youth in Italy.
Due to the fact that he spent a significant amount of his childhood being cared for by Italian women, Elliot adopted a unique accent that was a charming blend of southern and Italian.
After graduating highschool, Elliot planned to attend City College to become a lawyer, which would pay him good money to take care of his mother. However, Mrs. Swan disapproved, she wanted him to pursue his dream of acting instead of trying to be her caretaker. This caused a lukewarm feud between the two with each side making valid points. In the end, Mrs. Swan shut him up by telling him "Mother Knows Best." and reassured him that nothing would make her happier than to see her son truly be happy.
Elliot dropped his previous intention to be a lawyer and instead pursued acting while attending college. He executed such astounding passion and talent, The American Academy of Dramatic Arts granted him a scholarship. Elliot soon began work in the industry, with his new name, Elliot Q. Swan. A year later, at the ripe age of 22, he debuted on Broadway in a film called "Is Love A Tool?" A romance comedy where he played a minor role as a charming bellboy and became a heartthrob amongst teenage girls.
A few years later, after appearing on Broadway stages and television productions, a movie producer screen-tested Elliot and casted him in a lead role in "Melancholy Affairs at Sea" an erotic mystery film. Elliot was unaware of the revolutionary impact this movie would have on his life.
𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧 !
On rare occasions, when Elliot is having a slow day. He escapes from the cameras, the lust, and the predatory film industry to visit his family, Mrs. Swan and The Cardinales. While he is passionate about living his dream, a small part of him wishes he had disobeyed his mother's wishes and become a lawyer.
His love language is entirely devoted to acts of service, particularly cooking. Elliot's passion for cooking delicious cuisines stems from Ms. Cardinale's influence. He doesn't shy away from experimenting in the kitchen and is very open-minded to different cultures' food, one of the main reasons why he adores traveling overseas. He always enjoyed watching the blissful expressions of his past lovers while savoring his food. Even the ladies who tried to act hard to please had a difficult time maintaining their facade.
Speaking of which...
Not once has Elliot's old flames left him feeling whole. The intensity of Elliot's desire could be replicated by no other. Two hearts merging into one. A harmonious ecstasy is created by the synchronization of groans and moans. His touch, both fervid and conscious. The glint in his eyes, arcane yet vulnerable as if he was sharing a silent testimony that they could almost understand, but never did.
In truth, Elliot yearns for true love and an everlasting wild romance. He was always well aware that nothing long-lasting would come into fruition with any of his past lovers, most of them were just for media coverage anyway. A tactic to stay relevant in the industry and give people something to take about over dinner. He regrets not pursuing after love in his youth, especially since love seems like a pipe dream in his field of work. A thought that depresses him greatly.
Although it makes him feel silly, he occasionally wishes upon a star to meet the one who will understand the mysterious glint in his eyes that yearn's to be fathomed.
𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 ! thank you for your time, folks ! I hope y'all enjoyed reading about Elliot as much as I enjoyed writing and fleshing out his character to my satisfaction. the inspiration behind Elliott's design and story is my admiration for black folks in old hollywood media.
love, soireebarbie ♡
#໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ྀི꒱ა soiréebarbie#oc x reader#my ocs#oc x you#oc x y/n#original character#original character x reader#elliot q. swan#old hollywood#x reader#oc drabbles#character x reader#drabbles#oc imagines#old hollywod glamour#oc hcs#oc headcanons#oc oneshot#one shot#fluff#soft love#fantasy#oc fic#oc fiction#black man
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