#you don’t have to agree with all the characters in a book or film in order to like that book/film
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Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him.
They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down.
His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror.
This is his golden ticket.
The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before.
He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.
Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.
No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now?
He's fucked.
He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.)
Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB.
If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.
Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it.
"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin.
Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)
"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters."
Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss.
"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!"
Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough.
"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.
Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks. "Looking forward to it."
Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling.
Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him.
Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face?
The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.
Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth.
("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that."
Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!”
Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!"
"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness."
Eddie flipped him off.)
One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.
No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later.
Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!
#at some point this became a warmup for the warmup#and it feels very silly#LOL#steddie#Steve harrington#Eddie munson#horror movie AU#no upside down#eddie would have the STUPIDEST names for his dick#I will die on that hill#that is a man who has put googly eyes on his third leg#and then cried because they wouldn't come off#its why he loves steve bc steve would talk to it like a beloved pet#daddy misssess youuuu#corroded coffin as a unit hates them so much when they do this shit its the bane of their existance
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i’ve seen relationship therapists and psychologists analyse hermione and ron’s relationship and conclude that they wouldn’t work out in the long run. they’ve argued for hermione to be with harry, krum, even DRACO (don’t understand how a counsellor can vow for canon dramione but alright) as an alternative partner for hermione since ron is “too insecure” to be with her and match her intelligent prowess or what have you.
i seriously don’t understand this sentiment. ron and hermione genuinely seem (almost) perfect to me, maybe not in the movies (a common denominator of people who don’t like romione is that they always cite evidence from the movies, since the films took a lot away from ron’s character and his growth), but definitely in the books.
looking at ron’s insecurities, a lot of people dredge his inferiority complex up to toxic masculinity primarily, when it was more explored how it was an effect of his home life (not gonna argue toxic masculinity wasn’t a factor, they’re teenagers in the 90s written by a pretty misogynistic woman so…). he was the youngest son out of how many children? all of his older brothers were brilliant in some way. bill was an extremely gifted spellcaster, charlie was gifted with magical beasts, percy’s academic score was unmatched, and fred and george (despite their trouble) were entrepreneurial inventor-geniuses. ron, on the other hand, was quite literally born a disappointment to his mother, who conceived him specifically because she wanted a daughter, whilst ginny was born her favourite (though, even then, ginny was gifted at quidditch). ron was mediocre in every sense of the word, and his two best friends were harry (one of the most famous wizards) and hermione (the smartest witch of her age yada yada). and i’ve seen people argue that harry was more welcomed by molly into the weasley household than ron ever was. this isn’t even mentioning the amount of bullshit he copped for being poor (people always downplay the blow to confidence being in poverty can have on a person who is constantly surrounded by people who not only have more, but look down on him for simply being unlucky as to not have what they do).
so yeah, ron was an envious kid, but he was that way not because he was an evil patriarchal conception but because he was lowkey neglected. and even then he was overall an extremely devoted and loyal friend to both harry and hermione, because he did genuinely love them.
there were many moments of ron standing up for hermione that was cut from the films, not as a guy who was romantically interested in her, but as a friend. ron arguing with snape for making hermione cry is one of my fav scenes in the books ru kidding me, and in the movies he AGREED with snape RU KIDDING ME. not to mention how ron was a sobbing violent mess when hermione was getting tortured in the last book, whereas he wasn’t nearly as bothered in the films. and the films cut out harry being a dick to ron about his familial concerns (in dh), so when ron left it seemed like a random dickish move over his jealousy towards harry and hermione’s relationship.
there’s also a million moments where they minimised ron’s usefulness in the books for comedic purposes (forbidden forest with aragog, troll scene, devils snare scene) so ron seems dumber than he is. like, he’s actually smart and a really good spellcaster…. in the books.
so simply by stating this most of the arguments against romione become void. “he’s too stupid/weak for her” simply not true. “he’s a terrible friend who doesn’t stand up for her” also not true. “he’s too insecure to have made a move on her,” yes, but given the context i don’t think people would freak on about ron’s upbringing, i think many would be more understanding, especially considering his growth. even if he wasn’t insecure, hermione is beyond incredible and is bound to make anyone nervous when pursuing her (not an excuse for ron to act like a dick, but it does explain a lot where the movies don’t). “they argue too much” they bump heads, none of the arguments they have are actually super damning, with the exception of ron leaving in deathly hallows.
maybe i’ve covered everything (excluding the abhorrent amount of classism that clouds people’s judgments around how they view ron when harping about how hermione deserves better? hopefully).
now, i know people won’t like me mentioning the cursed child, but i’m going to considering we actually get an insight of their life as a longterm married couple there. a lot of ron stans hated how ron was the only character that wasn’t doing something incredible. harry was head of the aurors, ginny was a famous quidditch player retired to a famous journalist, neville was a hogwarts professor, hermione was quite literally minister on magic. and ron…. ran the joke shop with george.
and i think this was almost the perfect route to go down for ron. because he was average, and was perfectly fine with just being average. hello?? that speaks leagues of growth for his character. he’s supportive of hermione’s work, he grounds her when she gets too caught up in being the literal president of wizarding society, and he still viciously defends her, minister or not. in fact, he’s proud to simply be known as hermione’s husband because he doesn’t feel the need to prove to anyone else his worth. the people he loves most know his worth, hermione never downplays or underestimates him, they are complete equals in the relationship in every single way that matters. they kept ron’s best qualities whilst making him seem more of a healed person. they work so well as a married couple without it seeming like mischaracterisation (not to mention the cursed child literally shows how those two are in love in every reality, so there quite literally can’t be a better partner for hermione or ron according to canon).
so i really don’t understand how professional relationship counsellors can go online and denounce it. probs because they only watched the movies, but it’s 2023 and ron stans should not STILL be fighting for their lives trying to defend him from people who simply don’t consume media with as much depth (which is fine, but one should clarify if they’re talking about the movies because i’ve seen people state they’re talking about the hp BOOKS when it’s simply just…. the films). anyways. romione on top, thanks to coming to my ted talk.
#buts thats just a theory. a GAME theory#next ted talk i’ll talk about wolfstar and why fanon wolfstar can suckkk in so many ways simply bc the fandom characterises remus as a dick#didnt mean for this to turn into a ron defender post but it did.#most romione-antis cite ‘ron’ as just the sole reason as to why theyre romione antis in the first place loll#its been a while since i read the books tho. like seven years since. so if i get anything wrong just lmk#harry potter#hp#romione#ron weasley#hermione granger#lavender brown#severus snape#anti dramione#draco malfoy#pro ron weasley#cursed child#ootp#molly weasley#bill weasley#percy weasley#charlie weasley#neville longbottom#ginny weasley#fred weasley#pro romione#george weasley#viktor krum#hp gof#deathly hallows#rewriting
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There are many things that frustrate me with the writing of Annabeth in the PJO TV Show, but I think one thing that I haven’t seen people talk much about is the mini-arc of Percy needing to help Annabeth with her sense of fun/humanity.
Just so we’re clear, I absolutely hate this arc.
Prior to the show’s premiere, I believe there was a quote from Rick discussing new-ish things that we’d see in the show, and one of those things was Percy helping Annabeth “tap into her humanity”. I can’t find the exact quote, but it should be on the series update Twitter account if you search it.
When I first read this quote, I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant, but I thought maybe we’d get an expansion of the theme of forgiveness that we got in the original books, or maybe we’d get an arc about Annabeth’s pride and how that gets in the way of her relationships with others. Or maybe they’d try and break down the ways in which Annabeth helps to uphold the gods’ ways of doing things, and align her more with the mortal point of view (which they essentially did, but not the overall point).
What I certainly wasn’t expecting was for them to strip Annabeth of most, if not, all of her smaller/softer traits, and give her this unusually stoic and stiff personality, where she suddenly has no familiarity with casual aspects of the mortal world (movies, Disney world, common idioms), and needs Percy to introduce these concepts to her in an effort to “unlock” her humanity.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Words cannot emphasize enough how much I despise this arc. Not only is it entirely nonsensical for Annabeth not to be familiar with these things (she was with her dad at least until the age of 7 and she goes to a camp full of other children who are regularly in contact with the mortal world; do you seriously expect me to believe that at no point in her 12 years of life, she never saw a single film, heard of Disneyworld, or heard common idioms and slang terms from her camp-mates? Seriously???)
But ALSO!
Book!Annabeth had PLENTY of humanity to go around! Even with her pride and initial coldness towards Percy, she plays hackeysack with him and Grover on the first day of their quest! She has a cute silly crush/admiration/infatuation on Luke. She nerds out big time over the St. Louis Arch! She’s the first to steal clothing from Waterland! She screams and cries when she encounters the mechanical spiders! She has an expression of sadness when she shares her backstory about Thalia and Luke! She gets lost in her little construction game at the Lotus, so much so that Percy has to use her phobia to pull her out of the trance! She grabs Percy’s hand when they first enter the Underworld because she’s scared! She tears up when it’s time to leave Cerberus!
And you stripped her of all these things, because you’re so desperate to overemphasize the Percabeth romance, and you felt that it was absolutely necessary to have Percy educate Annabeth on “unlocking humanity”??? Why!!!!
Not only did Book!Percy help Annabeth discuss things about bad parents and approaching forgiveness, but Book!Percy already had something important to offer Annabeth: loyalty, trustworthiness, and reliability. You didn’t need to take away her already-present traits and wits to convince us that Percy was the type of person she needed in her life, because we can already see what he offers her in the books. So why oh why did you feel the need to give us the silly “tap into your humanity” arc? Why did you turn her personality into something that it wasn’t? Why did you take away her depth just so her character could better serve Percabeth?
I don’t even necessarily agree with the criticism that this version of Annabeth feels like it prioritizes Percabeth more, but I can see why people made that complaint. Y’all took away so much of what made this character endearing, because you felt like it was a much bigger priority to have Percy help her unlock humanity than to let her be human prior to meeting him and outside of him. Not only does her personality get shafted, but her relationships with other people get shafted too! Her interactions with Luke are affection-less, she sent Grover off on his own in the Lotus so she could go off with Percy, and I don’t even think that she and Chiron interacted once this season; I don’t even think she mentioned the part about her calling him to come pick her up after she attempted living at home again!
But don’t worry; we’ll get plenty of scenes doubling down and tripling down on how Percy is the center of her world now! Yay!
#rick riordan#annabeth chase#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#pjo series#pjo tv show#percabeth#pjo tv crit#anti pjo#anti percabeth
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Hey I’m kinda new to the fandom and at first I thought these guys were actually casted as the 🐍 boys but I looked it up and they’re just in random shows. Was this like a fancast or something? How come everyone agreed to use the same actors when writing about the guys? I need to know the lore😭
Hi hi hi theeeee biggest apology for taking forever to respond. pls accept my love 💛🌟
SO, I haven't actually read any of the original fanfictions that Lorenzo (Enzo) Berkshire, Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott are from. Though I know Theo is canon, there is a fanfiction that gave him more of a personality and I believe where he got his fancast face from. If im correct all the original fanfiction for these characters started on wattpad. Please I apologise if I get any of this info incorrect its just what I've picked up myself or learnt from friends.
Mattheo Riddle
I believe he was created from the fanfiction Possessive by yasmineamaro. It's a draco Malfoy fic but he's a character that gets introduced in it. I only know this based off what friends have told me. I know his face claim is Benjamin Wadsworth and the most pics are taken from when he was in Deadly Class. Which I recommend watching if you haven't, it's a good show and he's gorgeous in it. Mattheo seems to be switched between Tom Riddles son/brother depending on who writes the fic, but is originally Tom and Bellatrix's son.
His original personality is also described as cold, possessive, jealous, or at least that's how I was introduced to the character and like to try mostly keep him. Of course, with fanfiction you can bend characters in a way that fits the plot or scenario of your fic and character (reader). The original fic looks to have been taken down, but this link explains what the book is about and Mattheo's character.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Enzo I believe came from the fanfiction Filthy created by babynaomi. Another original Draco Malfoy fanfiction haha and him as more of a side character. His face claim is Louis Partridge original picked from Enola Holmes. Also he is adorable in that, especially the second film. Enzo in this fic is a fucking prick. He's a perverted, slimy git who manipulates and uses women. Again Louis is so adorable its easy to think of Enzo as super sweet, I try to find a blend between the two personalities. But always trying to remember that Enzo is a Slytherin for a reason. Pretty sure his mother is also bellatrix, so he’s suppose to be Mattheos half-brother and Draco’s cousin. Don’t quote me on that 🫢
Theodore Nott
Theo is originally mentioned in the Harry Potter series and in the Cursed child. From what I know, he was a part of Draco Malfoy's gang, and his father was a death eater who was caught in the Order of the Pheonix with Lucius. Also that he invented the time turner in the Cursed child and sent to Azkaban by Harry as an adult. But his fanfiction which gives him more of a personality that I base my writing on at least, and the one I discovered he was in, is Secret and Masks by Emerald_Slytherin. His face claim is Lorenzo Zurzolo from the Italian show Baby. Also, another good show, and I fucking love his hair in that.
I'm not sure how everyone just came to agree but I bloody love that we all did. When I first got into them those were just the three guys already picked as face claims and I love them all and the personalities that have been picked. I hope this helped, I assume you already discovered this out since I took so long, but I appreciate you reaching out 💛 I need to read these og fics tbh
#answering sweet asks#I hope this helped#and I hope I’m mostly factually correct 🫢🙃#slytherin boys#theodore nott#enzo berkshire#Mattheo riddle#Slytherin boys lore
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Okay, I have a lot of thoughts about the Percy Jackson show and the discourse I have been seeing about it. This is going to be long and possibly all over the place but I just want to share. If you disagree, that’s fine. Just don’t hate because you have a different opinion. Deal?
I want to start this by saying I am a new fan. I did not read the PJO books when I was a kid. I watched the first two episodes when they came out in Dec purely out of curiosity and was just immediately in love with the world. So in true ADHD hyperfixation fashion, I devoured Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus books and I am currently on Book 1 of Trials of Apollo. And maybe it's because I am a newer fan but a lot of the gripes I see about PJOTV just don’t make sense to me and I feel like they really are just rooted in nostalgia. Watching the show and all the interviews of the cast and crew, it is clear to me they wrote this season with the intention and hope that they would get to make all 5 seasons, and possibly even further. I can see how all the changes make sense when looking at the narrative as a whole. They are really setting up this world and this story in a way that I think lends more to the future of this narrative better than The Lighting Thief book does.
I also want to say I have yet to find a book to screen adaptation that is beat for beat accurate. So much of what works in novels, especially novels told in first person, just does not translate to third person screen adaptations. Ultimately, literature and film/TV are art forms and what works for one may not work for another and the creators are allowed to make changes, especially when it is for the overall good of the product.
To start, the exposition dumping didn’t really bother me that much although I agree it is there and noticeable. Now, I watched the first two episodes before reading the books but after reading the books, I think the exposition is just as noticeable in the books as it is in the show. Percy walks into this world without knowing or believing in any of it. In the book, he learns about this world through the people around him explaining it in dialogue. It is just condensed a little more in the show which makes it feel a little heavier. Nonetheless, fantasy tends to have a lot of exposition because there are a lot of things you as a reader/ viewer need to know at the start of the story. It is part of the nature of the genre, especially when it is intended for a younger audience. Exposition that seems clunky to an older viewer is probably not going to feel the same way to a younger audience member (which is the target audience).
The biggest complaint I see, and disagree with, is that the kids are “too smart which ruins the suspense.” Annabeth has been at camp since she was 7 and it is clear, both in the books and the show, she is determined to prove that she is strong and capable and intelligent. She has been training to go out on a quest since she was 7 years old. Annabeth would have been studying these monsters and these myths so of course she can figure out the traps. They aren’t that hard to figure out, even for someone who isn’t super knowledgeable about Greek mythology.
Grover’s job is a protector of demigods. It makes sense he knows these myths like the back of his hand. I imagine that after Thalia, Grover would have studied and worked so hard to prove he was ready for another chance. Grover in the books also fell a little flat in The Lighting Thief to me because it seemed like most of his personality was just to be scared and funny until later books. I love what they did with Grover in the show because he feels like an actual character with his own goals, intelligence, trauma and authority.
Now onto Percy… I have so many thoughts about Show Percy so bear with me.
While I was reading the books, I was confused as to why Sally didn’t teach Percy about Greek mythology. Book Sally seemed to just hope Percy being attacked by monsters and going to camp isn’t going to happen or just assumes that when it does happen, Percy will figure it out. Sally always knew what would happen to her son, at least to some extent, so why wouldn’t she do everything in her power to prepare her son for this life she knows is inevitable? I loved the addition of her teaching Percy about Greek Mythology and Ancient Greek because it makes so much sense because I never saw her as a just “sit back and wait” kind of character. Percy is her son, her baby, her miracle. She is terrified for him (which we see in EP 7 in the flashbacks) and, to me, it makes sense she would do everything in her mortal power to prepare him in a way that doesn’t scare him or reveal to him who he actually is. (It is also such a beautiful call back to Rick telling his son these stories as a kid, like I just think that is beautiful).
While on the subject of Ancient Greek, I saw someone complain how Percy doesn’t inherently know Ancient Greek in the Olympus scene in EP 8. “Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. I only caught one word. Father.” - The Lightning Thief, page 343. This moment was literally pulled straight from the book! Percy talks about Annabeth tutoring him in Ancient Greek in the book (The Lighting Thief, page 107) and I loved how the show changed it to be his mom that taught him because of the previous reasons I gave above.
In general, Percy is an unreliable narrator. We see that in The Last Olympian when Rachel painted him defeating Antaeus. Percy is shocked at how he looks. We also see this in Heroes of Olympus where he is constantly talked about as this powerful and sometimes scary person whereas Percy never describes himself as anything other than kind of mediocre. Percy is constantly underestimating his intelligence and power in his POV because at his core he is still an insecure kid who was bullied and uses humor as a defense mechanism. But no matter what he thinks, he is smart and powerful and capable and I love that we get to see that in the show because it isn’t in first person.
In the books I was constantly frustrated that they weren’t seeing the traps. Aunty Em’s is so clearly out of place and weird and creepy but the Book Trio just ignores it? Also the Medusa story change was beautiful and needed and added so much depth to what was a very simple scene in the books. The Crusty’s scene was jarring at first, but in hindsight it didn't bother me either because Hermes told them about the entrance. Why wouldn’t he tell them about the trap too? The way Hermes is portrayed, I get the sense that he really wants Percy to succeed, in the books and show, and that he is holding onto hope that somehow, someway, he can still save his son. Why would he send them somewhere just to lead them into a trap that does not benefit Hermes in any way? (And us not seeing that conversation happen is showing and not telling BTW)
Also, the overall claim that Percy, Annabeth and Grover know everything is just… wrong. (@pareiwheeler made a post about this that really made me realize this so go read their post too: https://www.tumblr.com/pareiwheeler/740600563986808832/theres-know-mystery-or-suspense-they-know) They know the small things but the big things? They didn’t think Luke was the thief, they didn't know it was Kronos, they didn’t know they would lose the fourth pearl, they didn’t know the casino would mess with time, they didn’t know the shoes were a trap, etc etc. They walk into these situations thinking they are prepared, thinking they know everything they need to but they DON’T And that is where the suspense lies, in the overarching storyline that is the driving force of the plot. Not in these moment to moment scenes that are not the main conflict.
Now onto the smaller changes that, in my opinion, benefit the overall narrative of this story.
Missing the solstice deadline: Not only is Percy choosing to continue the quest despite missing the deadline such a great character moment for him but this ups the stakes so much!! Zeus and Poseidon are currently at war for the last two episodes of the show and even if they don’t talk about it much, that knowledge is still there in the characters' heads and in the viewers’. Every moment they take in the Underworld, you are watching with the knowledge that war is raging above. And it's a great way to show the kind of hero Percy is and what he will become. Percy doesn’t care he “failed” because he didn’t come all this way just to run back to camp with his tail tucked between his legs because that is not Percy. Percy sneaks out of camp twice to go on quests he was not invited on because he will not let someone’s rules get in his way while he is protecting people he cares about. Percy doesn’t want war to happen so with even the slightest chance he can stop Zeus and Poseidon, he takes it! Also the addition of Poseidon stepping in and saving Percy from Zeus was beautiful.
I also loved that Poseidon gave them 4 pearls instead of 3 because such a small detail shows how Poseidon cares about Percy and Sally. And, plot wise, it didn’t change anything. Percy still left the Underworld without his mom. But starting with 4 pearls gives them hope that they actually can complete the quest AND save Sally. Percy leaving the Underworld without Sally is so much more impactful in the show than the books because of this tiny detail change.
The fact that the pearls take them to the east coast rather than the west coast works well too. I loved that they returned to the cabin because of how important that cabin is not only to Percy and Sally but also to Poseidon.
Hermes being added to the Lotus Casino and bringing in Luke’s background earlier on was beautiful and Lin Manuel Miranda’s performance was one of the standouts for me. It is such a beautiful moment and you can see the anguish in Hermes at his feeling powerless and I think it sets up Percy learning about Luke’s family in The Last Olympian in a great way. This is one of those moments where you can tell the writers and showrunners are playing the long game with this series.
Last but not least, the change in the betrayal scene. I love it. I do. Not only in the changes in the way it happens but how they characterized Luke. Luke clearly does not want to hurt Percy, he wants Percy to help him and to come with Luke because he cares about him. The prophecy states “You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend” and Luke in the book didn’t really seem to care about Percy or view him as a friend at the end of it. But Show Luke? He cares about Percy and he is heartbroken that Percy doesn’t side with him. Also the addition of Annabeth hearing Luke’s betrayal first hand was brilliant, in my opinion. Not only were Walker, Charlie and Leah ACTING but it was so much more impactful that Annabeth sees Luke turn and chooses Percy in that moment. And I don’t think it will change much of Annabeth’s actions in the future because you can see how hurt she is and how desperately she still wants him to come back and be good.
Anyway, I think the show is brilliantly done. That isn’t to say it doesn’t have its faults but nothing is perfect and if you were expecting this show to be 100% perfect then I think you just set your expectations too high because that is not realistic.
If you made it to the end of this, I love you. The Percy Jackson brain rot is real and if we don’t get an S2 announcement soon I’m going to riot
#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo tv show#pjo fandom#pjo series#pjo spoilers#pjo#pjo disney+#pjoverse#percy series#annabeth chase#grover underwood#poseidon#sally jackson#percy jackson and the olympians spoilers
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Whumpay: Attack!
Panic or heart attack implied. You be the judge.
Characters: actual psychopath/ serial killer Whumper, simp Whumpee
CWs: restraints, electrocution, male whump, eyeballs (?), murder, it's pretty dark, you have been warned!!
“Push your ankles against the legs of the chair.” He unrolled a length of duct tape.
Whumpee’s smile dropped. He wrinkled his eyebrows, puzzled, and stared open-eyed at the larger man skeptically. “More?”
“It’s for the thrashing.” He reasoned. “Like I said, you need to be completely still if you’re gonna get high.”
“This is really weird.” Whumpee dismissed. But if this is what it took, fine. He’d go along with it.
Whumper wrapped the tape around his legs and ankles, securing them to the legs of the narrow wooden chair.
Now that his ankles were tethered down in addition to his wrists, Whumpee couldn’t move anything but his head.
“Good, good. You’re a trooper. Getting excited yet?”
“Not really.” Whumpee said flatly. In truth, being tied to a chair had excited him, but certainly not in the way Whumper was inquiring about.
“C’mon. It’ll feel really good once it gets going.” Whumper cracked a smile “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
The scholar crossed the room to the couch that was heavy with clutter; books, equipment, and garbage it looked to be. The entire basement had a stinking, foul odor, Whumpee wondered if it was coming from the junk piled high on the sofa.
Whumpee tried rolling his wrists and ankles to loosen the tape securing him to the chair, but they were wrapped snugly in their duct tape cocoons.
“God damn this is uncomfortable. Argghhh! My nose itches and I can’t scratch it.”
Whumper disregarded Whumpee’s objections. The man grabbed a silver and black case resting on the cluttered couch, popped the latches open and removed a camcorder box. He unfurled a roll of canvas containing a tripod.
Apprehension settled over Whumpee as he watched from his chair, his anxiety mounting with every passing second. A rancid smell in the air made him recoil. “Can you smell that? It kinda stinks down here.”
I should really stop complaining, Whumpee thought to himself. He didn’t want to annoy Whumper, much less offend him. He considered himself lucky that Whumper had even chosen him, of all people, to assist with his thesis project.
Thankfully, it seemed Whumper didn’t hear him. He was entirely focused on assembling his recording gear.
Whumpee felt a pit in his stomach. Whether he was being annoying or not, he reminded himself that he had to make his boundaries clear before they did this thing.
“Hey. Hey. Whumper!” he yelled to get Whumper’s attention for the first time. “Remember what I told you, I’m gonna to tap out after twenty minutes. Hard stop then, okay?” Whumpee said emphatically. “Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. Got it.”
Whumper silently loaded a roll of film into the camera, snapping the plastic compartment closed with a click. He pressed the power button and framed Whumpee in the center of the video screen.
“...and now,” Whumper hit the red recording button. “We are officially ready to begin.”
Whumpee’s breathing increased. He had anxiously awaited this moment since he agreed to it days ago. Whumper had been so happy he volunteered to help with his project, he reminded himself that this was a small sacrifice for the greater good, this was the first step towards forging a real friendship. And if he played his cards right, maybe something even more.
He steeled himself and summoned every last ounce of courage from the depths of his being.
“Oh shit, I forgot. Safety first.” Whumper retrieved the object he’d been fingering in his pocket. A short leather strap. “I have to put this in your mouth--”
“What is th--!” Whumpee tried to interject.
“--so you don’t bite your tongue.”
Whumper already grabbed a handful of Whumpee’s hair and tilted his head back before he could protest. The bound man jerked his head back and instinctively pursed his lips closed. Whumper attempted to push the strap past his lips but they were closed tight.
“Wha — STOP! Stop it!” gasped Whumpee, breath ragged and nerves shaken by the sudden assault. “Fuck. What the hell was that??!”
Shit. Too heavy handed. Impatience always got the best of Whumper.
“Heh, sorry, sorry. ‘M sorry.”
“Sorry?! That was fucked!!”
“I’ll be nice this time. Promise. Here. Now bite.”
Whumpee looked at the man incredulously and sighed, but bit down on the gag obediently. He had to stay in Whumper’s good graces, he’d come all this way. Plus he really didn’t want to bite his fucking tongue off.
“Comfy?”
Whumpee firmly shook his head no.
“Well you look like a million bucks. Ya ready?”
Whumpee’s sigh was muffled by the strap of leather trapped between his teeth. He was completely immoble and incredibly uncomfortable, with absolutely no control of his body beyond his mouth and head. To add to his discomfort, a looming putrid odor hung in the stale basement air and the anticipation of being electrocuted made him nauseous.
His cheeks burned and he prayed Whumper didn’t notice him blushing. Whumpee reminded himself: he was going to be fine, Whumper wouldn’t hurt him, and he was lucky to even be there.
“I’ll start with the calf.” Whumper commented, touching the cattle prod to Whumpee’s leg. His breath audibly quickened.
“Easy. Shh. Relax.”
ZAP
It felt like all of the air, light, and sound had been sucked from the room and replaced with searing pain.
“Mmmmmmph!” His leg jerked upwards involuntarily, if he wasn’t tied to the chair he’d have kneed himself in the jaw. A biting soreness ran from his toes to his hip even after Whumper pulled the cattle prod away.
It was intense, the most blinding agony Whumpee had ever experienced. But now that it was over, Whumpee felt strangely... good?
Whumpee spat the strap from his mouth, and the saliva-coated leather fell on Whumper’s shoulder. The slimy gag slid down the taller man’s shirt like a snail leaving a path of slime, and plopped to the ground unceremoniously.
“Oh shit!!” Whumpee cackled as Whumper rose to stand. “My bad, my bad.” He felt delirious, but amid the chaos of his mind there was a course of energy that left him invigorated. He giggled at the trail of saliva that glistened against the larger man’s black sweater.
Whumper glared at the discarded leather gag on the floor. His eyes shot back to the human filth sitting in front of him. He exhaled slowly. A tempest of rage brewed beneath his calm.
“There is some kind of weird pleasure, I guess.” Whumpee offered, “I see what you mean. But it hurts like frikin’ hell.” Whumpee started laughing again and turned to Whumper. “I wonder what pervs actually use this to get off. Maybe we should think of a safe word.” He giggled.
What, like this was supposed to be some fucking sexual exercise?
The very concept made Whumper want to gag.
Playtime was over.
His vision went red. It was time to end this fucker.
Whumper retrieved the roll of tape and wrapped it around Whumpee’s mouth, circling his head once, twice, three times.
The man under him struggled to fight against his motions, bobbing his head and trying to bite at him as he layered his face in duct tape. But the ambush happened quickly, and Whumpee was powerless to stop him.
Whumper felt like all the duct tape in the world couldn’t silence the miserable brat.
The large man rolled the dial on the cattle prod to maximum voltage out of curiosity. Holding the device against Whumpee’s skin, he administered white-hot pain directly into his forearm. The small man heaved in his narrow wooden chair and nearly fell backwards.
Whumpee screamed. He screamed so much that his yells bled into one another. If his mouth were free it would have been the loudest he’d ever shrieked, but under his adhesive gag he could never eke out more than a muffled MMMmph!
Whumper pushed the device deep into the flesh of his arm, stabbing the prongs into him with so much force it nearly drew blood. Whumpee thrashed wildly, the excruciating electric shock traveled up his arm all the way into the deep veins of his neck.
“Mmm. Mmm-mmph!!” Whumpee hummed into the tape that sealed his lips. He awkwardly blinked to get the moisture out of his eyelashes, which were heavy with tears. It was all he could do at this point: blink.This was the only thing he could control in the entire world right now.
“What was that? Use your words, Whumpee.” He grinned wickedly. “You’re crying now? We’ve barely warmed up!”
Whumper took his captive’s chin in his cold hand and tilted it back to get a good look at his face. Tears rolled down Whumpee’s cheeks rapidly and his breathing was rugged and quick. He averted his eyes from the larger man’s intense, hungry stare.
“Time to come clean, Whumpee. I know you’ve been stalking me all years. The way you’ve injected yourself in the background of my life--” A remorseful tear ran down Whumpee’s cheek.
“--what, you didn’t think I noticed? It’s not like you were subtle about it. You’re like a fly and shit, your presence is a constant annoying buzz in my ear. So I thought, what’s the best way to kill an insect?”
“Do you know, Whumpee?”
Whumpee groaned.
“Zap ‘em.”
Whumper retrieved a box cutter from his pocket. “Don’t get too excited.” He warned, pressing the blade from its plastic sheath. The knife found the neckline of Whumpee’s shirt where it traveled down his torso, digging into his flesh in places. Whumpee sliced the shirt into jagged strips and let them fall to the ground, one by one.
Whumper took a moment to admire the pearls of blood that seeped from the shallow gashes he made on Whumpee’s bare torso. He stepped back to ensure everything was in frame of the camera’s viewfinder.
“You only have yourself to blame for this one, Whumpee. I mean who the hell volunteers to get electrocuted?” The scholar grinned wickedly.
He thought they were supposed to be friends, he thought he was helping him with his project…
“I’ve never even been to college. Didn’t even graduate high school, not that I needed to. Did you know that, Whumpee?” Whumper rounded the corner so he was out of Whumpee’s sight, not that he could see much through his watery vision. “I was pretty convincing though, wasn’t I? You didn’t make it easy on me, with you stalking me for so long.” Whumper came back, holding a heavy metal object and thick rubbery wires. “I appreciated the challenge at first.”
He sat the car battery on the floor at Whumpee’s feet.
“But now it’s annoying. So I came up with this solution.” Whumper retrieved a box of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one between his teeth.
“I had to do a little practice with Big Bertha over here.” He said with the unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. Whumper tapped the car battery with his foot.
“Winston was fucking old as hell-- you remember old man Winston right? The fucker up the street with the dog that bit me that one time?”
Whumper raised his eyebrows at his captive, silently demanding a response. Whumpee didn’t realize. He nodded his head, sniffling.
“One little zap and boom, he was gone. You wouldn’t believe it.” He shook his head. “Must’ve been like two, maybe three minutes? I don’t know. It was disappointing.” Whumper lit his cigarette.
“But his eyes did shoot out of his face, which was pretty funny.”
Whumpee squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. His muffled cries intensified, he shook his head violently. Snot ran down his tape-covered chin and he was screaming bloody murder into the sticky adhesive that silenced him.
Whumper’s fingers grazed his hot wet cheek.
“I kept one of his eyes. And you know what I did with the other?” A sinister grin crept across his face.
“Fed it to his dog.”
Whumpee was reduced to a puddle of wailing mucus.
“All that to say that the old man actually did teach me a little something about electricity. So I went to the library-- like a real goddamn scholar-- and I did a little research on how to control this shit. Check it out: this is an alternator and this one is a voltage regulator.” He presented the two small devices.
“You want to know why I went to all this trouble?” He took a drag and exhaled a plume of smoke.
“Because, Whumpee, I don’t wanna just zap you like a mosquito. I want a real show.”
“And you’re going to give me one hell of a show, too, because this gear was fuckin’ expensive.” He glanced at the bifold doors to the closet. “At least Winston picked up the tab.”
Whumper crouched down to assemble the parts of his machine, leaving Whumpee helplessly taped to the chair, awaiting his impending doom. Tears welled in his eyes and he was silently thankful that they blurred his vision almost entirely, at least he wouldn’t have to watch as his life was literally fried out of him. All he could see through the haze in his eyes was the steady, rhythmic pulsing of the camera’s red recording light.
Whumper rose to his feet, his full focus fixed on Whumpee, who shivered in place.
“Now then,” he declared, ashing his cigarette. “Let’s get started for real this time.”
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hello hi here to force strange thoughts into your brain once again, this time about jrwi (wow who could’ve guessed)
been thinking about this for a little but it’s basically what i think some campaigns would be if not podcasts, i haven’t listened to some of the older ones so i’m sorry they’re not on here :(( if you have any ideas feel free to add them btw :DD
RIPTIDE!!!!! - really long animated series
not an anime though, no matter how much grizzly wants it, it would be an animation style where the characters could have very clearly different nose, face and body shapes, really pushing my riptide nose agenda here sorry, each episode would be like 20-40 minutes long and instead of coming out in seasons there would be massive gaps in between episodes, from 2-6 months long, to leave time for writers and animators to get stuff done (massive team of animators btw, i feel like it would be pretty successful)
PRIME DEFENDERS!! - comics
literally nothing else they could be, just really well made, well performing comics (i’ve already talked about this before you can stalk my talk tag if you really want to find it lmao), the comic company making them would be keeping well away from movies n shit btw
APOTHEOSIS!!! - i wasn’t really sure about this one to be honest
i had to ask my friend and she said anime which i don’t agree with but i can see it, i think maybe a short book series where each book is 150 - 300 pages and is about a different god they have to kill/a different episode, i think that works but if anyone has any better ideas please tell me :D!!
BLOOD IN THE BAYOU!!! - i hate to say it, i really do…
bitb would be a really long really good 80s horror book with strong homoerotic undertones, a satisfied fanbase and lots of active members in the community making fan comics, films, writing, theories and art ect… until well after the book came out……….. and then it would be made into the most egregious and awful live action movie you have ever seen, the most awful casting (like chris pratt as officer dudes….. throws up) and even worse sfx, oh yeah and the characters would be ruined and the story would become so butchered it wouldn’t make sense, they would do some shit like cut out becky so kian just kisses some random lady (removing both a really good and well written character and a layer of kian’s character that i think is super important) and make rolan really be an evil bug spy the whole time so rand has to kill him to save the town also add in a whole new sub plot that never existed like the rand family is secretly a long line of bug alien hunters or something fucking stupid like that and the entire fanbase would murder whoever thought re-writing the story was a good idea (ahaha can you tell ive been through something like this before ahahaha, character morals and motives being removed and whatnot ahahahhahahaha.)
anyways………
THE SUCKENING!!! - live action series
it would be well made though, unlike the bitb movie it would be its own original thing, have great makeup and effects also be well casted and well shot, well written, ect ect, it would bloody and gory and not suitable for people who can’t handle showing bones and organs all over everywhere, lots of shitty rip off merch would be made though and the fandom would be 99% gay little freaks (normal suckening enjoyers) and 1% homophobic straight white men who get mad whenever they see soda and emizel having gay sex on screen or whatever fag shit that biting thing was
again feel free to add your thoughts and ideas and shit in the reblogs it would be nice to read them :DD!!
#red rambles relentlessly#jrwi show#jrwi pd#the suckening#jrwi riptide#jrwi apotheosis#jrwi bitb#jrwi spoilers#jrwi the suckening#jrwi prime defenders#bitb spoilers#suckening spoilers#i think i wrote some shit that could be considered spoilers in those two sections#definitely the bitb one#which i definitely didn’t base around a certain netflix adaptation of one of my old favourite books cough cough#I HATE THAT FILM SO MUCH WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO SOPHIES CHARACTER SHE IS SUPPOSED TO BE A BITCH STOP TRYING TO MAKE HER NICE#anyways like maybe one person who sees this post will know what that’s referencing#and i will admit the books weren’t perfect but at least the characterisation made sense
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I know I’ve spoken about my issues with ‘Peter Pan and Wendy’ (2023) before, both in my initial thoughts post about the film after it released and a couple of smaller comments since, but I’ve realised something this past week after rewatching the original Disney cartoon and the 2003 non-Disney live-action while sick, and I feel I need to talk about it.
It’s about Wendy Moira Angela Darling.
While I stand by that Ever Anderson was one of the highlights of the film and that she did a great job as Wendy, the Wendy in the film is not really the Wendy seen in Barrie’s book, nor the one in the play and other films adaptations. It’s a very different character in a lot of ways, and while it’s normal for characters to differ from adaption to adaptation - especially over the course of 70+ years - I feel like the Wendy seen in the 2023 is more like Jane, Wendy’s daughter, from Disney’s Return to Neverland sequel in 2002.
Let me preface by saying that I actually love Jane in the sequel as a character - I see a lot of myself in her, and while the sequel in itself is not really my favourite, I do have some nostalgia for it because I grew up with it and it’s a cute little story. I like that Jane is actually different from Wendy in a lot of ways; she’s a lot more headstrong and more of a tomboy, and while she’s also a storyteller at times like her mother (mostly to her brother Danny), she is a lot more practical I think and seems to be opposite to Wendy in that she’s trying to grow up too fast. Wendy believes in Peter Pan and doesn’t want to grow up, meanwhile Jane believes Peter Pan to be silly childish nonsense, that she has to grow up quickly and be more adult due to the war/her father being away - Wendy says to her, “you think you’re very grown up - but you have a great deal to learn”.
Obviously the 2023 Wendy doesn’t want to grow up, that’s still the same, but in terms of personality, temperament and the way she treats her brothers after the broken mirror incident (blaming John for it), she reminds me more of Jane than Wendy. Like Jane, she also doesn’t seem to have a good time going to Neverland (at least not at first?) and she seems to take on a lot more action than Wendy did in the animated film.
Of course, it’s not the first time that we’ve seen Wendy wielding a sword and fighting pirates - the 2003 Wendy was shown to play with wooden swords and use real ones, even remarking, “who are you to call me ‘girlie’?!”. I’m not saying that Wendy can’t be a sword wielding girl and fight because she can, it’s one of the additions I love the most about the 2003 film.
The problem with the 2023 version of Wendy is not her being a main character (she has always been a main character), nor her sword fighting and being generally bad-ass - it’s the erasure of the other qualities that make her Wendy Darling.
One of Wendy’s primary character traits is her mothering nature - she is very motherly to her brothers, and when she hears that the Lost Boys don’t have a mother, she’s aghast and agrees to be their mother. The whole “Peter is father, Wendy is mother” idea is clearly a reference to how kids in the playground will play games like “mummies and daddies” - kids imitating what they see around them. It’s all a big pretend game in Neverland for fun. It’s also undeniable that Wendy pretending to be the Lost Boys’ mother is clearly reflective of her own mother, who she adores and is portrayed as the loveliest lady ever, and how she’s imitating Mrs Darling in a lot of ways during this “game” - singing to them, telling them stories, medicine etc.
Some would argue that Wendy is “forced” into being the “mother” and that while all the boys are off having fun, she’s left playing house, which I understand. But what a lot of modern audiences and filmmakers don’t understand these days is that motherhood is NOT an anti-feminist idea - there seems to be this view that portraying a girl wanting to be a mother or expressing the wish to be married/have children is some old-fashioned misogynistic notion, which is absolutely bizarre to me.
As a feminist myself, I believe that there is no clear cut definition of “womanhood” or what it means to be a strong woman with autonomy. Some women want to have careers and not have children, and that’s fine; some women want to have children, that’s fine; some women want both, and that’s fine. What matters is that it’s the woman who is deciding what she wants.
For me, Wendy has always been this remarkable and extraordinary character to look up to because she chooses to grow up - and for her, that means having her own children to tell her stories to. That’s what she wanted, that’s why she went back to England, and that’s part of her character arc, realising that by growing up she has things to look forward to.
For some reason, when 2023!Wendy thinks “happy thoughts” to make herself fly when being walked off the plank, her vision for the future that she looks forward to involves piloting automobiles that haven’t even been invented yet and then dying alone? Which… I mean, if that’s how someone wants to live then fair enough but that’s not Wendy. That’s not the Wendy Darling I grew up loving.
A lot of my issues with the 2023 version of Wendy do in fact link with other issues of the film in general: the Lost Boys including girls, for example. Like I get wanting to be inclusive, and I 100% wanted to be a Lost Girl growing up, but the Lost Boys are boys for a reason (“girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams”), and when Wendy arrives it’s a huge deal because they’ve never actually lived with girls before, and the only concept of girls they have is their memories of “mother”, which is why Wendy becomes their mother figure - because they literally don’t have any other female figures in their lives to compare her to other than the tiny scraps they remember of their mothers.
There’s also the issue of the thing prompting Wendy not wanting to grow up being changed; in the original, it’s because it’s her last night in the nursery and moving from the nursery - aka the room she has spent her entire life thus far in - to her own room is a HUGE transitional worry that a lot of kids probably go through (usually it’s in the form of moving from toddler beds to big kid beds but still). In the 2023 version, she’s being sent off to boarding school for some reason which doesn’t really make sense to me because the Darling parents a) are so poor they have to have a dog as a nursemaid and b) love their children so much that they would never do that to them. I’m not saying that being shipped off to boarding school ISN’T a worry for a young girl or a huge deal, but it isn’t one that I think necessarily fits with the story.
There’s the fact that Wendy is no longer the storyteller; in most versions, the reason Peter visits the nursery is because he likes her stories. Instead, the reason he comes to the nursery is not because he likes her stories but because he used to live in the house? And instead of bringing her to Neverland to tell stories, he comes to take Wendy away as he apparently heard her saying she didn’t want to grow up? It just doesn’t sit right with me, but maybe that’s just my opinion.
Also, for some reason, Wendy and Peter don’t actually seem to like each other at all in the 2023 version - I’m not saying there should have been romantic hints or whatever, but even just in a friendship way they really don’t seem to care in any way about each other. They just seemed rather indifferent towards each other, and it’s kind of jarring to see.
In some ways, I feel like 2023 Wendy was made a little too bad ass and on the nose super feminist: “this magic belongs to no boy!”, slapping Peter across the face (which was just…??? Why?!?!), constantly criticising Peter/Neverland, having WAY more action and heroic moments than Peter Pan himself… maybe in a different story it could have worked but for this one, it came across forced at times, like they were intentionally trying to show “look! Look how badass she is! She can fight off grown men all by herself! She doesn’t need a boy to help her! She can do everything by herself!”
This is why I feel like the 2003 version of Wendy is the best one (so far): while they modernised her slightly by making her sword fight and express an ambition to write novels about her adventures, she was still a storyteller and motherly figure to the Lost Boys/her brothers. For me as a child, seeing Wendy be the storyteller and her journey of acceptance about having the grow up was really important to me because I could completely relate to it.
Of course, I recognize I’m very biased because this is the one I grew up with (along with the animated Wendy of course) so I’d be interested to hear other people’s thoughts!
#peter pan#peter pan and wendy#wendy darling#neverland#jm barrie#j.m. barrie#disney#peter pan 2003#peter pan 2023
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Being a pro-Jedi fan is super hard.
Stumbled upon a scientific paper ‘The Psychgeist of Pop Culture’ (2024) about ‘The Mandalorian’ and ‘The Book of Boba Fett’ series. It’s divided into many smaller research by various PhDs. The Boba chapters are actually very good.
And then there’s ‘Fatherhood and male emotions’ chapter. About Jedi. About attachment. The authors Keely Diebold and Meghan Sander, PhDs, are claimed as Jedi fans.
Good start. / s Bad enough Din Djarin is called ‘Djarin’ as a name throughout the whole paper (my own pet peeve about the dick move of Favreau and Filoni in the end of Season 3 which is a decision to criticize in itself). Of course, Obi-Wan wasn’t a ‘good father figure’ as claimed by Lucas himself. Neither was Bail Organa. /s
Yeah. Hypocrisy. Hey, ‘Jedi fans authors’, have you actually watched the movies? Sigh. Seriously, ‘the intergalactic therapists’ who were trying to help Anakin to cope with his emotions so much, working with ‘cognitive therapy’ – they suppressed emotions. I just… don’t have any coherent thoughts about that bullshit on the screencap. And – now we defend Palpatine. Just great.
By the way, rewatching Indiana Jones movies, I paid special attention to the moments when someone of the team is left behind and the main characters continue chasing the enemies (just like in the mentioned scene in AOTC). And it’s never presented as ‘left behind and forgotten, heroes don’t care about them’.
What is evident to me is that this all is a piece of banthashit. Mandos with the suppression of emotions – I agree. Jedi? When one of their main proverbs ‘feel, don’t think’?
‘His own interpretation’? It’s not! Why did the authors decide that’s what happened? The point is that Anakin is taught ‘compassion, which … [is] unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life. … we are encouraged to love’ by the Jedi, but acts in the way he wants regardless. Screams in the plush Grogu How do people manage to watch obvious in messaging children films with their ass holes?
Frankly, I suspect that these ‘Jedi-fans’ authors just don’t understand and didn’t even try to explore the meaning of ‘attachment’ in Star Wars – it’s not ‘a deep and enduring emotional bond that connects one person to another’, it’s ‘selfishness’. They never tried to google Lucas’s interviews, but only used books about child rearing. This is why we have all this crap in a ‘scientific paper’. I firmly believe that @david-talks-sw, @writerbuddha, @kanansdume, @antianakin, @smhalltheurlsaretaken and other fans could write a whole paper about Jedi and attachments – and this would be real in-depth analysis of the Jedi and Star Wars.
And a rotten cherry on the top of this shitcake I noticed just before publishing – using ScreenRant as a reference not the smartest move, really.
Now how can a reader trust your judgment if you use fucking ScreenRant as a proof? Ah, no, they cannot (see this whole post).
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Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)
Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium.
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 4k
Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.
Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles.
He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers.
“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”
“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”
“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates.
“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”
“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.
“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.
“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”
“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.
Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone.
CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”
“Tell me about it,” you agreed.
CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.
You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.
It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.
When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off.
Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.
“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.
“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”
“That’s good.”
“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”
“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”
He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”
“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”
“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”
“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”
“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.
You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.
Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them.
You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.
By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood.
When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.
“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.
He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”
“Yeah. Mickey.”
Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”
“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”
“Which one?”
“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”
Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”
“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”
“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”
“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”
“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”
“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”
It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.
In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack.
You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life.
Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.
To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.
“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”
“Spare me your concern.”
“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”
“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”
“Already?”
“I wanted to make it up to you.”
He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”
“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.
The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.
While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi.
You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was.
By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.
He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.
“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.”
“We don’t have to–”
You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”
“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”
“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”
“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”
“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”
You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.
“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”
Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”
You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.
He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb.
He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.
Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand.
Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.
“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”
“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”
In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.
Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.
You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants.
The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit.
With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.
He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”
“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.
“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”
“It’s self-defense!”
“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”
You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.
He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.
“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.
“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.
You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.
“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”
“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.
He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.
A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”
He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment.
The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.
“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“
“You gonna do what I say?”
“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”
“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.
You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.
“Time for the real show.”
Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness.
“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”
“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”
He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.
“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses.
“You’re not getting anyone else.”
Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.
“Look at me, baby,” he ordered.
Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt.
Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse.
“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”
He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”
His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.
You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.
You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.
“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.
He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.
Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”
#mickey altieri x reader#ghostface x reader#slasher x reader#ghostface#mickey altieri#scream 2#scream#slasher fandom#slasher community#scream franchise#scream movies
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Greta Gill: Visibility and Isolation
It’s safe to say that I have a lot of thoughts about Greta Gill. Many of those are the obvious sapphic ones, but there’s so much more to her character than just her being attractive and gay. That is compelling, don’t get me wrong, but there’s this interesting contradiction with Greta that I’m sort of obsessed with. While she is one of the characters who gets the most screen time and who we know the most about, I don’t think it's really easy to know her. So much about her genuine character is not what is necessarily visible to the audience or other characters at a surface level, and pinning her down, to me, is a very long winded process. To really understand, we’re going to have to look at her actions a lot, so let’s just get into it because this is going to be a long analysis.
A Day With Greta
Greta and Jo are the first prominent characters in the series that Carson meets, meaning that they’re the first that the audience meets after Carson herself. When the pair see Carson for the first time, she is trying to remain unnoticed as she follows them to tryouts. But once they notice her, it's fairly obvious that they clock her…as a ball player. She’s dressed to play baseball, carrying luggage, and sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the other women in the street, just like they are. Jo tells Carson that she can’t follow them because she’s competition, but Greta says she doesn’t look like much. When Carson sticks up for herself a little, Greta tells her to come with them then.
Jo seems a bit annoyed at Greta telling Carson to come along, but she says “it’s fine,” and the trio get to walking and talking. Greta is immediately friendly and chipper, but when you look at what she actually says, she’s kinda cagey. She mentions people “not having time to read in New York,” which is obviously a lie given New York city has probably the biggest literary scene in the country, and given that we know that Greta has read at least one book. But this was most likely said so that she could drop information about herself, as this implies to Carson that’s where she’s from. Strangely, when Carson asks outright if that’s where she’s from, Greta doesn’t agree to it outright.
It’s not something that immediately gives off an odd impression. It actually just sounds like she’s trying to brag. “The Big Apple, Houston, Paris. Which is in France. Ever heard of it?” She’s being a little snobbish, but in a way that’s clearly meant to impress Carson specifically, but she doesn’t say she’s been to these places. She says she’s from these places, which gives a very specific impression of a childhood spent moving from place to place with family. That doesn't necessarily have to be what she means, but it's the most obvious way to read this line, especially if you’re just meeting her and this is one of the first things you learn about her. Based on details we get from Greta later, we know that this most obvious reading isn’t the actual truth. Maybe not a lie, but not a complete truth, and she’s at the very least not wanting to give specifics about her origins.
Immediately after this, we get a much more blatant lie. After Greta distances herself from New York and insists that she’s “from all over,” Jo brings up that she dated a movie star. Greta immediately seems playfully annoyed by this being mentioned, but she and Jo simultaneously reveal the person to be “Hendricks Johnson from the Wizard of Oz.” She explains that he is one of the lollipop kids.
Now, this is very clearly a provable lie and we don’t need to have hindsight of knowing that Greta is a lesbian to know this. Lesbians can have dating histories that include men after all, so why do we know that this is definitely a lie? There’s no Hendricks Johnson in the Wizard of Oz.
The actors that played the lollipop guild members were Jackie Gerlich, Jerry Maren, and Harry Earles. There isn’t an actor with the name Hendricks Johnson in the 1939 film–which is definitely the one being referenced here–nor is he in the cast of the 1925 silent movie. There doesn’t seem to be anyone that exists with that name, in fact. It’s a complete fabrication, and that’s the point.
From the way that Jo brings it up and Greta’s reaction to it being brought up, it seems to clearly be a joke between them. We lack any context for its origin, and with hindsight of knowing about Greta and Jo’s queerness, it seems and odd thing to bring up to a stranger. At least it does at first glance.
As a reminder, immediately before Jo brought up Hendricks Johnson (whoever that is), Greta was listing off the various places she’s supposedly from, and she’s doing this specifically after Carson seemed impressed about the prospect of her being from New York. Greta immediately downplays the extent that she’s from New York, but then starts bragging about other places she’s from. “Paris, which is in France. Ever heard of it?”
Greta’s tone is bragging here, but there’s more than a bit of playfulness. She’s turning around while walking to smile at Carson and see her reaction. Then Jo jumps in to bring up this man that Greta supposedly dated, but definitely did not actually because that man doesn’t exist. Greta is instantly amused by Carson, instantly seems to be checking her out and interested in her. Maybe she even clocks her completely right here, and she goes straight into trying to get to the bottom of that (intentional wording). Jo is the one that slows her down and this happens out in the open with no one watching ever knowing the wiser, unless they are already in the know.
But maybe Jo doesn’t bring this up just to cover for Greta’s lack of absolute discretion. Or maybe Greta simply takes an opportunity, because after revealing that she dated this fake lollipop kid, she leans in close to Carson and adds some details.
She says that he was the one that actually handed the lollipop, but gets cut off before saying to who. It’s obvious that she was going to say Dorothy, but doesn’t get the chance to actually say that name, and after Jo interrupts, the conversation never gets picked up again. In fact, the Wizard of Oz doesn’t get brought up again at all until episode six. That episode deals heavily in Wizard of Oz references, from opening to ending scenes, but the first time in the entire season when someone finally says Dorothy’s name is in this specific context:
Here, Carson is very blatantly asked if she’s queer using that phrase. The name Dorothy is explicitly linked with queerness. Relate this back to the first episode when one of the first things that Greta tries to talk quietly to Carson about is Dorothy, but she gets interrupted before getting the chance to actually do so. It’s unlikely that Greta would have actually asked the question of Carson right there in the street, only a handful of minutes after meeting her, but it's part of a long build up to eventually asking that question. All of this is happening in Carson’s point of view, in her storyline, and the only context in which Dorothy is every brought up in her storyline is in reference to queerness.
Greta and Jo have built up a lie that specifically allows them to bring up Dorothy (which the show tells us is associated with queerness) while also protecting Greta from being outed, as it's in the context of her dating a man. It gives anyone who hears that story the chance to show some sign of recognition at the name Dorothy and convey some connection to it, but to anyone else it's just a story. It’s a very subtle way of beginning to advertise their queerness without actually doing so. It protects them from having to be the first to out themselves to other queer people.
This is only a few minutes into the show at all and even less time since we’ve been introduced to Greta, but it's an immediate reflection of who she is as a character. She flirts. She brags. She lies, but she lies in extremely specific ways. She lies by exclusion to play into people’s assumptions about her without saying anything outright, and she lies outright to protect herself from being outed as a lesbian. And Jo is there to help her as she does this.
This scene on the street ends with Greta flirting with some soldiers to get cigarettes for herself, Jo, and Carson. This is something she does in a pretty showy way, and then makes clear to Carson that she was only getting cigarettes for all of them. She’s putting on a show for Carson while giving the appearance to anyone not in the know that she’s into men, including Carson herself if she’s not actually a friend of Dorothy.
Then Greta notices the wedding ring and immediately points it out. She asks Carson what her husband thinks of her playing baseball and she listens and watches as Carson talks about it. Just looking at her expression, she is clearly intrigued by Carson. We don’t know what she’s thinking about when Carson is talking about her husband, but she’s clearly having some thought. When the camera shows Carson, you can see Jo looking at Greta and occasionally nodding or making a face to something Carson says. Then Greta declares, “This is really boring,” and they continue on to tryouts.
This is our first look at Greta, and it actually reveals a lot more that it might seem. She likes to impress. She likes to tell stories that make people–particularly random female baseball players–think she’s impressive. She obscures details and outright lies to protect herself, but will still flirt while doing it. And she’s with Jo.
The first time and really the entire time we see Greta this episode, she’s not alone. Jo is there to chime in. Jo is there to hold her suitcase when she goes to get cigarettes. Hell, Jo is even telling her where to go from the first shot we have of them, because Jo is the one with the map. It’s always Greta and Jo. Carson is the tagalong in this instance.
As the episode moves on, we see Greta keeping up this demeanor if not quite as obviously. She makes sure to wave to Mr. Baker. She winks at Carson at tryouts and continues to keep her around for no apparent reason. And she is always with Jo. When all of the other girls are readying for bed, she, Jo, and Carson are there but not really interacting much with the other girls. Jo and Greta seem to be talking to each other and Carson seems to be more or less there. It might be assumed that she’s being humored, except whenever Carson tries to go off on her own, Greta and Jo go after her.
Greta and Jo come into Carson’s room uninvited and Greta asks to cut Carson’s hair. When Carson allows it, it seems like Jo’s gone and it's just Carson and Greta. This is the first time Carson is alone with Greta, but keep in mind that we haven’t seen Greta alone yet. She comes into the room with Jo and we don’t see when she and Carson eventually part ways for the night. There isn’t actually an instance of Greta being actually alone this entire episode.
What we do see is that in this scene, Greta sneaks a peak at what Carson had been writing on the first indication that she’s not being watched. On an initial viewing, the assumption most viewers would likely have is that she’d read it and keep the fact that she read it to herself. Maybe she will bring it up sometime down the line when she thinks she has some way to use the information, but that isn’t what happens. Literal seconds after reading it, she reveals what she’s done.
As soon as Greta reads what Carson wrote and decides it fits the assumption that she had of Carson, she immediately admits that she read it. She doesn’t ask Carson to explain what is going on with her or what exactly she meant by “There’s something wrong with me…” She expresses interest in Carson’s story, but frames it as something actually interesting to her. She doesn’t ask the question in a way that suggests she finds it amusing or wants to make fun of Carson for it. She sounds genuinely interested.
While Carson is initially hesitant to share anything–not the least because she doesn’t exactly get what’s going on with herself–Greta’s interest gets her to reveal details pretty quickly. It’s more than safe to assume that Greta has been picking up hints of queerness from Carson this entire day, and she read Carson’s note and found it to verify her assumptions. If she isn’t completely certain of Carson’s queerness at this point, she knows its a possibility, and one getting stronger and stronger as she learns about Carson. So instead of hiding the fact that she looked at the note, she tells Carson. Because Greta doesn’t like hiding. Not in herself or in others, especially when it comes to people like Carson. I’ll explain what I mean by that in a moment.
The more Greta learns about Carson and the more sure she is that she clocked Carson correctly, the more sympathetic and encouraging she is. She pushes Carson to explain exactly what she wants and to not second guess chasing that. She encourages Carson to stay on her chosen path to the point where she’s helping Carson write the letter to Charlie. Specifically, she’s making sure that Carson writes the letter clearly, that her feelings are made evident and concise. She makes sure that Carson uses nice paper and a pen with a flex nib–which indicates a focus on nice handwriting if you’re not a freak who knows about pen nibs like me. The letter appears thought out and perfect so that it can’t seem hastily done and dismissed as a panicked response from Carson feeling weird about running away.
All of this happens on the first day that Greta knows Carson. It seems odd, especially for someone like Greta who gives an appearance of someone who’s worldly and who doesn’t care about things like books and whatever farm Carson is from (she’s not from a farm). Greta doesn’t initially seem like someone interested in taking in a farm girl she found on the street and helping her find herself. So let’s reframe Greta’s actions up to this point a bit.
Greta and Jo have just arrived in Chicago and while on their way to baseball tryouts, find a woman following them. Unlike literally every woman on the street around them, this one is wearing a jumpsuit and a baseball hat and clearly looks lost. When Jo confronts her, Carson stammers and tries to brush it off. She tries to fade back into the background and go unseen, and would very likely try to keep following them regardless. Greta watches this and you can visibly see her expression change as she realizes that the person following them is a scraggly little farm girl (though she isn’t actually from a farm) dressed to play baseball and clearly clueless on how to get around the city. Greta sees someone with something very visibly in common with her and Jo, but who’s trying to remain unseen and doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing. So, Greta invites her to just tag along, because she’s going to be there anyway.
Then Greta spends the rest of this first day with Carson doing two things. First, she draws attention to herself but in very specific ways. She makes herself prominent in Carson’s view, but remains in control of exactly how she’s seen and what Carson learns about her. Second, she does her very best to draw out the hidden details from Carson. She sees Carson trying to hide herself physically and emotionally, and she nudges her out of that inclination. She finds a woman like her in at least one way, sees her alone and tells her to come along and follow her and Jo. Once Carson makes that choice and it remains looking like she wants to be there, Greta doesn’t let her isolate or hide herself again.
This is all a very long winded look at Greta’s complicated relationship with visibility and isolation. This is only a handful of hours in her life, coming from the point of view of Carson, but here we see Greta is never alone. Greta thrives being seen and controlling how she’s seen. She actively makes sure to be getting the attention she wants at every public moment, and she does not like finding people that are struggling to do as she does. Especially when those people seem to at least in some way be part of her crowd; people like her. When it comes to people like her struggling in some way, Greta’s instinct is always to take matters into her own hand. She puts herself out there so that they are a bit less hidden and alone, and she does her very best to keep it that way.
A World of Complications
In a perfect world, Greta would not have any issues making herself known and finding comfort in the presence of others. In even a more comfortable imperfect world, there might be struggles but it wouldn’t be impossible. Greta Gill lives in a world where she is aware of what she wants, but she’s also aware that it's impossible to obtain. For all that she hates hiding, not controlling her image, and being alone, it is impossible to achieve all freedom from all of these things.
When the Peaches make their way to Rockford, they are arriving in a much more permanent residence. With any degree of permanence, Greta’s actions start to change some. She revels in the company of her new teammates, but she doesn’t make any obvious alliances with anyone other than Jo. She and Jo came onto the team as an established relationship (something that is clearly known by the team) but she doesn’t make any new close friendships in an obvious way. At the bar, she does go to talk to Carson twice, but Lupe also talks to Carson and Greta can be seen talking to Jess and others. Even walking to the bar, she stayed by Shirley rather than anyone else she was more familiar with. It's not obvious what is going on there, as the only person that Greta sticks to at the bar is Jo. She leaves Jo when Carson is sitting alone, but once Jo is dancing alone, she leaves Carson alone again. To anyone watching, Jo is the most important person there to Greta. She dances with Jo. She always returns to Jo once she’s bounced around talking to various teammates. Jo is the most important person to Greta, which does help hide the fact that she’s flirting with Carson publicly.
At this point, Greta is still in control of how she’s viewed by strangers. She isn’t seen in the corner flirting with Carson and taking her hand to lead her to a storage closet. She’s seen as the person loudly joking with Jo and dancing weirdly. This is evident by the fact that when Clance and Max see the Peaches dancing strangely and pointing it out, its Jo and Greta they’re seeing.
Greta is clearly trying to be seen, to be public (she was the one that had the Peaches go out in the first place), but to also get what she wants. And what she wants just happens to be something that isn’t allowed and would put her and others in danger. So she tries to balance those needs. She has fun with a crowd around her and is showy as she wishes. Then, when she’s finally sure about Carson’s queerness and attraction to her, she goes somewhere dark and hidden to do something about that. She’s careful to control exactly who sees her doing what at this point, but there’s a problem with that.
Because this shot is from Max's point of view.
While Max doesn’t actually pose a threat to Greta and Carson, this still illustrates a problem. For all that Greta does the absolute most to control how she presents herself, what she says and does in public and with who, she cannot account for everything. There is always the random coincidence that can get her caught and there is nothing she can do to account for that, except to never kiss Carson in the first place.
Now, Greta never finds out that she was seen, and so goes about with the assumption that all is fine. This, if anything, illustrates how flawed her planning and rules are. Because while she’s following the rules and is going to places of supposed isolation, that still isn’t enough to have absolute control. She leaves the bar on the arm of a man she doesn’t even know the name of to avoid being outed, when she’s in the alley with someone who could absolutely out her and she is completely unaware of it.
We don’t see Greta have to acknowledge her lack of control here, so she seems almost arrogant in how much she doesn’t realize this. However, as the show goes on, it's made more and more clear just how aware she actually is. She’s the first person that recognizes Vivienne Hughes as someone to impress, and then proceeds to make herself seen by Vivienne at practice. During Charm School, she still tries to impress Vivienne more than is really necessary for her own sake, since she is not in danger at Charm School depsite actually being one of the queers they wouldn’t want around. Jo says that they should suck up to her and Greta seems to do exactly that. And it works.
At the first game, Vivienne notes that Greta is “lovely” where no other girl gets that comment. During Charm School, Greta is able to save Jess from being sent home. Had Greta not made an impression on Vivienne, that may not have been possible. Greta immediately recognizes that she needs to not just be acceptable to this woman, but to be known and viewed as someone pleasant and lovely. It keeps her safe and it keeps people connected to her safe, like Jess in this instance.
Being seen is important to Greta. It’s the basic key to her survival. She wants to be seen on the arm of man. She wants to be seen by Vivienne. Her plans when she’s done playing baseball is to go to California (with Jo) to be in pictures. She plans on being a movie star, where her appearance and social life would only be more on wide display and up to the approval of her employers, especially in this era of Hollywood and the studio system. She is planning to get into a career that will force her into an even more artificial and performative public image, and it would make her known world wide if she succeeded. The eyes of the world would be on her and she would have to meet their approval. Even given that every moment of her life is already a performance to some degree, it still seems an odd choice for a lesbian who is seeking safety from public scrutiny or persecution. But then again, maybe it's the best choice she could make.
A handful of actors are mentioned in this season of the show. Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, Vivian Leigh, Paulette Goddard, Josephine Baker, Lena Horne, and Judy Garland are all of the names I could find (excluding Hendricks Johnson, who does not exist). Before I get into this point, let me preface this by saying that I am not going to get into specific identities and all of these claims come with varying degrees of certainty from person to person, and I won’t get into who is definitely what and who is just a maybe. I think it's pretty gross to assign labels to dead people and focus too hard on what they possibly did in their private lives. That being said, all of the claims I found were at least somewhat credible and more than just random unsubstantiated rumors. Now, let’s look at these names.
Cary Grant, Vivien Leigh, Katharine Hepburn, Paulette Goddard, and Josephine Baker all seem pretty credibly to have been some form of queer. We know of specific affairs with most of them that almost definitely happened. There are some claims of Lena Horne being a queer, but I wouldn’t say there’s much proof of that from what I can see. What there is clear proof of is that one of the closest relationships she’s had is her friendship with an openly gay man. And you don’t have to look too far before you start seeing her listed as a “gay icon,” like another notable on this list. Jimmy Stewart probably wasn’t queer, but the studio sure thought he was and made him prove he wasn’t (by making him go to a brothel, yes, Hollywood has always been very fucked). And Judy Garland is Judy Garland. What more needs to be said about Judy.
Every single actor that was mentioned in this show (who actually exists) is in some way associated with queerness. Again, I’m not going to sit here and say with absolute certainty who was and wasn’t queer, but these names have that association with them. They’re names that were highly regarded at the time and still are today. They’re very public figures and also ones that are queer either by actually being queer or by their association with queer culture (though not necessarily during this time period). This is the world that Greta wants to get into.
Now, Greta probably wouldn’t know the extent of the queerness in Hollywood at the time. It wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but given the extent of her travels and the specific places she claims she’s been, it's not impossible that she might have some idea. If she found herself in the right queer circles in, say, Paris or New York, she might have learned some things about certain celebrities or at the very least heard rumors.
Regardless, being a public figure like this would change things for her. It’d open doors to queer circles that these celebrities exist in. Circles that would be safer and more protected than what average queer people have. They have more money and influence. They have notoriety. Cops are much less likely to raid somewhere that the most famous people in the world are going to have queer relationships than they are to raid a bar full of normal queer people. If she were caught as a famous actor, she wouldn’t likely get beaten or worse as a result. She would have money to ensure privacy and independence. And not only would she be protected, people connected to her or associated with her would likely benefit from that status as well.
This freedom is what is alluring to Greta, and she can get it by becoming extremely public facing, famous, and wealthy. When Vivienne Hughes talks about her own form of independence through wealth (and fixating on public image), it's clear that this is what Greta wants.
Greta asks at least partially because she wants to suck up to Vivienne, like Jo suggested. She might have also been trying to get attention away from Carson and the others taking Charm School less seriously, as Vivienne had been scolding Carson before Greta noses herself into the conversation, but Greta’s interest in the answer seems genuine. She smirks when Vivienne gives her the answer, and you can see her afterward looking to Jo excitedly, and then again still smiling after Vivienne when she’s walking away and can no longer see Greta’s expression.
Now, Greta was always going to take Charm School seriously, but after this, we cut immediately to her following Vivienne and showing off. She makes a point to say that she’s single, hopes that the right man is out there for her, and flirts with Mr. Baker Jr. a little. Whether or not she’s safe, Greta goes out of her way to make herself seem pleasant and available.
All of this is to make it absolutely clear that Greta actively seeks attention. She wants to be seen and noticed and remembered. It is a very specific and at least partially artificial version of herself that she allows to be seen, but Greta Gill is not someone who wants to go unnoticed or hide herself in order to live the life she wants in safety. Instead, she hides in plain sight, making herself entirely visible, but making sure that it's a false version of herself that people see. The real version is allowed to move about unnoticed.
And this is actively self preservation, but it wouldn’t be fair to call it just that, because it isn’t just Greta that benefits from her being noticed. Keep in mind that the entire time she’s been traveling, it's been with Jo. While they’re both gay, Jo is more visibly queer than Greta and in a way that most society wouldn’t easily accept. But if Greta is there, taking the attention, then Jo is less likely to be noticed as anything other than connected to Greta. If Greta is seen and liked, then Jo’s safe. This sort of protection by association instinct happens in Charm School when Greta saves Jess, and when she distracts Vivienne from correcting Carson too harshly. Greta is completely out in the open, lying about herself, yes, but also exposed so that the other queer people in her life go through with minimal notice.
It doesn’t always go as well as it does in Charm School. Visibility has its costs, and that’s seen in their first game. While all of the girls put up with sexist comments by the announcer (and racists ones too in Lupe’s case), Greta is the first person to get catcalled. But that makes sense. She’s the most noticeable, not just because she’s the tallest, but because she makes herself noticeable and is always performing to keep attention on her. She waves to the crowd and puts on a show to make herself be seen, and to be seen as pleasant and lovely. Greta is the one actively doing the most for the team’s image, and it's noticed. So the first time when she is up to bat, separated from the rest of her team, she is the one a man decides to target with disgusting sexual comments.
In front of everyone–her team, the rival team, the crowd of spectators, and all of the people in charge of the league–a random man starts sexually harassing her. Greta tries to smile and perform through it, but she is clearly affected. Not only do we see her struggling to put on a good face, but she strikes out almost immediately.
And no one does anything about it.
Greta, who makes a point of making herself seen, of being the one that’s noticed, gets verbally abused in front of a literal crowd, and she doesn’t get the slightest bit of help. People are shocked and disgusted, but no one steps in and saves Greta from being humiliated.
Maybe the saddest part about this is that Greta doesn’t even really seem to expect help. She’s in front of a crowd, but in a completely isolated position when it comes to allies. The most she does to react is stare at the man heckling her, but she doesn’t say or do anything. She doesn't look around for help, she just tries to smile and get through it. She truly does not know what to do, because her way of staying safe has always been to be noticed. Now, being noticed is what made her the target of this man’s catcalls. When she looks him dead in the eye, making it absolutely clear that she’s seeing him, he only continues and makes the comments worse.
Greta doesn’t actually know what to do when she’s the target like this. Her self preservation instincts don’t help in situations like this, and she’s in a situation where being perceived as anything but pleasant will only make things worse. So she doesn’t try to defend herself. She just gets through it and then moves on. We don’t actually see Greta react to the abuse until it's Jo being targeted.
She doesn’t even let herself show anger until it’s Jo that’s the target. Then, she yells at the man and is the first person to try to stop them. She gets stopped before she can say much, but she is willing to make a scene to protect Jo’s feelings while she wouldn’t do the same for herself. This could be the accumulation of what she just experienced finally building to a point where she has enough, but given how clearly Greta seems to need to protect by putting herself in the spotlight, I don’t think it’s only that.
The spotlight is not an easy place, but it's where Greta seems to think she has the most control. She’s shown here how untrue that is in this world. She does nothing to defend herself or protect herself, but does speak up as to protect Jo and she’s rewarded for that by having Vivienne reprimand her. She’s told she’s “too much” and needs to be sweeter, but when she was doing exactly that and doing it perfectly, she was allowed to be publicly humiliated. The men were only stopped because Dove finally went to talk to them after Greta made a scene for Jo. And she’s told that she can’t even do that to protect her only friend.
With this additional public humiliation, Greta does something we haven’t seen her do up until this point. She goes off to be alone.
Moments where Greta is alone in the show are extremely rare and short, largely because we usually get Greta through Carson’s point of view, but we don’t even really see indications of her being alone often. Where we do get indications that she is alone or going somewhere by herself, it is generally a very unpleasant situation for Greta. In this case, she’s going to cry by herself in the locker room.
When we see Greta there, it’s because Carson came into the room to put away her catcher gear. We don’t know how long she’s been there or what she’s done between going off and being found. What is clear is that she didn’t want to be seen, for the first time in the show.
Carson finds her and she quickly tries to hide the fact that she’s been crying and comes up with an excuse for why she’s here. Even when Carson clearly knows that she’s crying and tries to comfort her, Greta can’t really let that happen. Instead of commiserating with Carson, the most vulnerability she allows is admitting that she “really let them get to” her, and saying that when she really wants something it doesn’t seem to work out. When Carson tries to sympathize, Greta turns that around. She starts reassuring Carson at the first inclination of Carson feeling upset.
Greta’s pain and problems are put upfront by the narrative initially, but Greta doesn’t allow that to be acknowledged. She quickly turns the attention on Carson and even wipes Carson’s eye as if she had been the one crying and not Greta. She tries to take back control of her image as the one that reassures and protects and helps. She isn’t the one that needs help. She needs to protect others because that is how she stays in control. By staying in control of her image, she can protect those around her. Looking at Greta’s actions closely makes it increasingly clear why both of those motivations are present as the season continues.
The Rules
Greta and Jo have rules to protect themselves. We don’t know specifically what all of those rules are, but we know some hints. When it comes to her romances, Greta doesn’t act close to them in public. She doesn’t go on dates. She doesn’t go to queer spaces close to home. She doesn’t go places people know about to hook up. She makes sure she’s seen with a man when she starts a relationship. To Carson, she says this last one is a rule to protect herself, but let’s pose this question: when has Greta ever expressed concern for herself and her own safety?
Because, she hasn’t actually, except in that one moment. Let’s look at what she does do. When she kisses Carson the first time, she leaves quickly and goes home with a random man and pushes back against Carson’s concerned questions, quickly distancing herself. She doesn’t even bring up the events to Carson until they’re practicing and Greta is at bat with Carson catching. She doesn’t seek out Carson and waits for them to end up semi-alone, then asks if Carson got home alright when she was the one that went home with a random man. Then when she and Carson are actually getting together, she constantly makes sure that she and Carson are only alone in places where no one knows about. She won’t even let an owl watch them, and when there is even a hint of someone nearby, Greta leaves first and leaves Carson to follow afterward.
It does seem paranoid and self preservative, but let’s look at reasons why she starts breaking the rules. When Carson is having a hard time with Lupe, Greta steps in more than once to defend Carson. When Carson is clearly stressed, she starts taking Carson to a known location (Bev’s car) to hook up. She lets Carson talk her into the date and then into going to the bar despite previously saying they were too risky.
Greta may desire to do all of these things and more, but she never gives into the dates or hook ups that break the rules until Carson wants them. She isn’t even asked to help Carson in the Lupe situation, she just does it when she sees Carson having problems. Breaking the rules does eventually overwhelm her until she snaps at Carson for supposedly always coming to Greta with her problems.
Now, it is absolutely true that Greta and Carson always talk about Carson’s problems, but as the scene in the locker room shows, that’s largely because Greta doesn’t allow otherwise. She is the one always asking Carson about what’s bothering her and trying to fix it, and when Carson shows the slightest sign of trying to do the same, Greta doesn’t allow it. She all but runs from even acknowledging that she could be in pain or danger or might need help. Because Greta doesn’t see herself as the one that gets hurt.
When Greta eventually tells Carson about Dana, we see this is why she’s been upset and snapped at Carson. She and Carson haven’t been as careful as she thinks they should be and she’s been allowing it. She’s also clearly been falling more and more for Carson, and considering this more than just a short fling. And Carson reminds her of Dana, who had fallen in love with and who was hurt because Greta wasn’t careful. Greta, though, was fine.
Greta’s entire character motivations can really be explained by her intense survivor’s guilt. She was fine, she says. Maybe she wasn’t the one that was put away and tortured in an institution, but Greta is far from fine.
Greta is obsessed with protecting people around her. People like her. Whether that be Jo who she calls her only real friend. Or Carson who she just met off the street, immediately clocked, and decided she couldn’t leave to fend for herself. Or Jess who is her new roommate and never had to worry about passing until now. Or later Carson again, who she’s started to have genuine feelings for. With her queer friends, she puts herself in prominence to take the attention and protect them. When it comes to her romantic partners, she has all the self imposed rules that she follows to protect them, because when she stopped being careful before, Dana got hurt. And she’s terrified of seeing people she loves, people like her, get hurt.
The point of the rules isn’t to stop Greta from being hurt. That’s what she tells people, and that might be what even Jo thinks. But in truth, they’re to stop Greta from hurting people. Because that’s what Greta thinks happens when she isn’t careful and in complete control of her visibility. This is all the more clear when breaking the rules does endanger someone.
In Plain Sight
As established, Greta is hardly ever alone in the series. When she is, it’s always in moments of pain, frustration or otherwise negative emotions. When she’s alone, it's always a struggle, as she’s confronting some kind of vulnerability that she doesn’t know how to deal with, and honestly can’t by herself. She’s not good at being alone and doesn’t seem to like it anyway.
Yet at the same time, she cannot be genuine in crowds or public spaces. She is always putting on an act, a performance. But you see her really wanting to drop it. Throughout the season, as her relationship with Carson gets more and more real, we see Greta making more and more public hints at acknowledging it. She makes playful comments at Carson with the entire team around, making Carson wish her luck or saying she “almost got lucky” when she was almost roomed at Carson (it’s supposed to be assumed that she’s talking about the card game she’s playing, but she’s looking at Carson quite obviously) She making very curious “oooh” sounds when Carson is more assertive and almost holds hands with Carson on the bus.
It’s like she almost can’t help herself, but every time she does this, she seems genuinely happy. Even when she is expressing disappointment in not getting to room with Carson there’s a little smirk to her. She enjoys these little moments of publicized honesty, even if there’s no way of anyone being able to see them for what they really are. Actually because of that, she never quite gets to the moment of fully realized joy in them, because they still have to be subtle enough not to be noticed. She gets closer to absolute genuine joy when she’s in relative privacy with those she can be true with, whether than be intimate moments with Carson or just being around the other queer Peaches at home once they’re all out to each other.
These are still rather isolated places, however, or places where she has to be somewhat on guard. There is only one point in the show where Greta is able to be completely honest and drop her performance for five minutes. The result is the moment where I believe is the only place Greta shows absolute, honest, unrelenting joy.
It’s when Greta is at the bar.
Screenshots don’t really do the scene justice, so I really recommend watching her expressions in this scene or checking out gifs of it (like the set linked here). Greta’s expression here is why I started writing this in the first place. We never see her looking like this at any other point in the season.
She’s not trying to look charming. She’s not trying to appeal to anyone in this room. She’s not trying to look poised and collected and available, because she’s not and this is the first place we see her where she can be honest about that. She’s here with Carson, with Jo, and surrounded by people like her for the only time in the season. We know that Greta hates being alone, and hates hiding. This is the first time we see her out in the open and not hiding while doing so. These five minutes are the only five minutes we see Greta Gill in absolute bliss.
And unfortunately, we know how this ends.
The one time we really see Greta getting everything she wants, it's violently taken away, and it results in Jo getting hurt and forced to leave for another team. That’s not even mentioning all of the other people that got hurt or worse at the bar. It validates everything she believes; every concern or fear she’s ever admitted. When she wants something, it doesn’t turn out right. When she isn’t careful, she’s fine, but people she cares about–people like her–get hurt.
The Isolation of Greta Gill
When Greta is alone, it’s always an unpleasant situation. She’s being catcalled while at bat. She’s crying in the locker room. She’s cursing in frustration in Bev’s car after fighting with Carson. In episode 7, we see the absolute worst of this.
After the bar gets raided, Jo leaves. Then Charlie comes and Carson leaves with him. Jess and Lupe are out looking for Esti, meaning that not only does Greta not even have a roommate in this moment, she doesn’t have anyone who understands the depths of what just happened. Her only real friend is gone. Her lover’s gone. The only other people who know that she’s queer and would understand the danger she was just in, are gone. Greta is surrounded by women in this house, and yet she is the most alone she’s ever been and it's at the absolute worst time.
And it's not just that she’s alone, it's that it doesn’t seem like she’s ever going to get any of them back. She tried to get Jo to leave with her, and Jo refused to go because she was tired of running away for Greta. She knows that Carson isn’t going to give up her comfortable life after the night they just had, and that’s before Carson’s husband showed up and Carson left with him. Any reassurance to Greta that she isn’t a walking time bomb to everyone she cares about has come up hollow at this point.
Now, before we look at Greta’s reaction to this, let’s look back a little. First, let’s look at how Greta viewed her and Carson’s relationship. To Greta, it was always supposed to be a fling, not a long term relationship. She tells Carson this outright.
After Carson asks Greta if she’s been with a lot of women, and with a lot of married women specifically, Greta tells her that it can be good for her marriage. She doesn’t pose herself as a rival to Charlie, and doesn’t even let that be a possibility here. She tells Carson that at the end of the season, they’ll go their separate ways, and this will just have been a fun fling for them.
You can, however, read into both of their reactions to them. We don’t see them continue to talk after this and it feels somewhat awkward. Carson seems almost disappointed and Greta puts a grape in her mouth which she seems overly focused on eating. Before this subject even came up, Greta seemed to be holding back what she felt. When Carson is laughing, before telling her that she’s beautiful, Greta looks like she’s bracing for something.
Greta isn’t getting attached. She’s not even letting that be a possibility at this point. We don’t really have an idea of how many women Greta has been with, much less how many of those were married, but she makes it clear that it's a lot. From the way she talks about it, those relationships always seem to be flings. She doesn’t even consider the possibility of anything else with Carson, and the only time we ever hear her talk about being in love is when she’s mentioning Dana. If she’s had serious long term relationships since Dana, then we have no way of knowing but we do know that they clearly didn’t last because Greta’s here. And also because we know that Greta is always on the move. She’s “from all over.”
So when she’s in relationships like the one she tried to have with Carson, Greta is the third wheel there. She’s not expecting or asking for any kind of commitment. She’s not even going to be staying around. They’re adventures. Everyone at the end will go home with just the memories, but that’s another problem for Greta, isn’t it?
Because the thing about Greta is that she’s from all over. She and Jo have been traveling the world together for a long time. We know that Jo’s grandma kicked her out, but we don’t know specifically what happened with Greta’s family. We do know two things. First, we know that despite Greta initially being hesitant to tell Carson that she’s from New York, she does eventually admit that she is.
We also know that they seem to be trying to avoid Greta’s mom, since even now Greta doesn’t want her to know where they are.
Lastly, we know that Greta was only 17 when she was with Dana, and the fallout of that seemed to put them at some risk and is what lead to her and Jo becoming concerned with following rules and being careful.
They’re running from their pasts as much as they’re traveling to see the world, and their pasts seem to be in New York. That is where they met as kids. That’s probably where Greta’s relationship with Dana happened, and it’s also probably where Greta’s mom still is and probably Jo’s family too. Greta never let herself consider anything more than a fling, because she has to run from what happened in New York. She doesn’t seem to keep in touch with anyone, much less the women she had affairs with because she tells Carson she only has one actual friend. Up until this point, Greta always had Jo along. So even if she could never have a genuine long lasting romantic relationship with a woman and had to constantly move to avoid danger, she always had her very real and strong friendship with Jo. Until Jo refused to go with her.
With Jo leaving her behind, this is the first time Greta is actually truly alone. Jo was the one relationship that Greta actually let be long term. Jo connected her to her past and knew all of what she was running and hiding from. Jo was always there when Greta was going somewhere. So when Greta leaves in episode 7, know that this is the first time in her life that she is actually alone.
By this point, I genuinely do not think Greta expected Carson to come and stop her from leaving. She was quite literally at a breaking point, and saw herself ruining every relationship she had just by being there. She survived everything, just to end up standing completely alone, and if she attempted to stick around like everything was normal, things would just proceed to fall apart around her and more people would get hurt. That’s what always happens.
Because Greta doesn’t see the people she helps. She doesn’t really even think about the fact that she saved Jess until Carson brings it up, and even then she doesn’t give herself credit for it. She doesn’t consider that she helped Carson stick around long enough to discover herself and what she wanted. Greta does these things by just performing as she’s supposed to. She doesn’t see that as a choice or a good deed. All she sees is that people get hurt whenever she tries to get something she wants, and in the end, she’s by herself.
Back to New York
So what does all of this mean for Greta in the end? Honestly, I have no idea, but there’s the seed of something there. We know Greta changes her plans of going to California when she gets an offer to work for Vivienne. She decides to go to New York instead, which is notable because not only is she going there alone, she’s probably taking an enormous risk going to New York.
We don’t know if she’s been there since she left, but it’s probably where the mom she doesn't want to find her is.. It’s probably where Jo’s family is and Dana’s, and all of the bad history she’s spent her whole life running from. She is choosing to go back there, and not only that, she asked Carson to go with her.
Not only was she willing to return there, she was willing to take someone she loves there and have a long term romantic relationship. Before when she tried to go off alone, she was running to isolate herself for the sake of others. Now, she’s going because she genuinely seems to want this job and she’s willing to be with Carson there. Potentially around people who know more about her than any of her social performances could mask.
But of course, we know that Carson doesn’t go. There’s a bittersweet kind of feeling there, but it does seem to be good for Greta at this moment. Because this is going to be the first time that Greta is truly going off by herself, and she’s doing something that she wants to do. She’s not going there to perform for the pictures or run away from some romance gone wrong. She’s going back somewhere where she and her loved ones had been in danger, because she wants to. Because there's opportunity there that she wants to pursue for herself. This is the first time we see Greta Gill doing something she wants for entirely her own sake, and I do think that for now, she does have to do it alone.
Because her relationship with Carson didn’t just open Greta up romantically. Like Greta had done with her, Carson gave Greta permission to go for what she wanted. Whether that be the possibility of a long term relationship, a career where she’s asked to be herself, or just the ability to face her past and stop running. Regardless of what she wants, she needs to figure that out for herself, alone.
___________________________
Other ALOTO essays:
Lupe, Carson, and Gaydar
Queerness, Contamination, and the Neurosis of Shirley Cohen
Max in Oz
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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.
______
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#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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When watching, it’s hard not to feel like you capture intricacies and truths about gender and sexuality in a way a cisgender director wouldn’t or couldn’t. How did your own experience inform the filmmaking here?
You don’t understand how fucking painful it was to get this made and how long, and to hear you say this is so validating. It was a seven-year journey to get to set. I transitioned throughout the making of this movie. I was so desperate to get it made because I thought it would be an answer to me continuing to pretend and avoid the truth of who I am. There was a moment that I realized that the thing that was holding me back was that very thing of, “Oh, shit, we have so many false starts around this.” The universe was waiting for me to walk through my truth, so I could be ready to tell this story. If you look at my work prior, it’s so angry. It’s so violent. This story required a gentle lens rooted in nothing but love. Had I not gone through the same journey that Ari goes through in the book and in the movie, I wouldn’t have been able to lens this the way that it is now.
And for you to recognize that… (Pauses.) It would have been impossible because my perspective of the world hadn’t been opened up until I was ready to walk through my truth. That’s a fact. That’s why it fucking took so long. My producer [Valerie Stadler] who saw me, who was with me, at first she was like, “You’re not ready to direct this,” and I was like, “What do you mean I’m not fucking ready to direct this? I’m ready to direct it.” And when I made that decision, she said, “OK, now you’re ready.” I think she saw something in me that I hadn’t seen in myself. This will forever be the most pure, personal experience of my life for all of those reasons. It stood by me, and it mirrored my trajectory as a creative and, honestly, as a human being. So yeah, I agree with you. I don’t think that a cisgender person would have been able to capture the nuances the way that I did.
Understanding a deep longing to be close to someone of the same gender in a world that doesn’t model what that looks like can be difficult because you don’t have the language or feel safe to name it. Can you talk about your approach to portraying that?
I have this very important mission to refuse to other myself and to other the stories that I’m involved in, and to other the characters that I bring to life. That is very important to me. At the root of this, Ari never claims his sexuality, but he claims his love for Dante. That was what was most important for me. How does love transcend in a way that we don’t need to explain it, but we can see how painful it is when the world around you tells you that you’re wrong for who you are, for how you feel, where you don’t find yourself or see yourself in something else?
It took me 34 years to transition. I thought about my identity, my gender, every single day for those 34 years. But I grew up in a culture and a society that told me I was wrong for feeling that. I want people to watch this and be assured that they’re OK for feeling the way that they feel. It’s possible to love gently and without question. Sometimes you do need someone to give you permission to do that. That’s what this story is. It’s hopefully giving permission for people to see themselves as not an “other,” but as an expansive human that’s possible at anything when you choose love over fear. Fear is rooted in shame, which is what held me back.
#AITCH ALBERTO I’M DOING EVERYTHING I CAN FOR YOUR MOVIE TO SUCCEED. I THINK IT’S SO SO CUTE THAT YOU JUST SENT SAENZ A SCRIPT AND GOT IT#MADE. I’M GLAD YOU WERE SO MOVED AND YOU GAVE THE ART YOUR OWN INFLECTION OF CARE AND GENTLENESS#anyway. sorry I know I’m going a little crazy about this but dear god. DEAR GOD! wow.#aristotle and dante movie
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Do you believe Aemond is a Valyrian Supremacist? He models Daemon so much in his focus on Valyrian history, dragons, Targaryen blood etc, that to me I feel as though he must to some extent believe Targaryen's to be superior? I see alot of people defending him on the basis he isn't, but... I just don't see why Aemond of all characters wouldn't have feelings of superiority based on his blood? Extending from that, do you think he would have preferred to wed a Targaryen woman? We get a glimpse he feels that way from the TV show, but in the circumstances he had another sister instead of Helaena, surely he would have been betrothed to her/wanted to be? I just truly cannot see him as being free of "bigotry" in regards to seeing non- Valyrians as below him. Like? Isn't that the point of him hating Rhaneyra's sons? Because they are bastards from a lower House?
This is a really great ask, anon. Thank you for asking me. But of course, you asked me, so it’s no surprise that I will give a very me answer.
First, I really dislike having that phrase Valyrian Supremacist on my blog. I only have it one other time that I can remember and that was also an ask. Briefly, I’ll tell you why: it is a 20th-21st century Earth term that may not have been present in Westeros. If we are discussing in-universe theory and not literary/film theory then I choose to avoid it.
This may get long but I want to be as clear as possible: I only slightly agree with you. If we grant the premise, that he models parts of his personality after Daemon (which is a difficulty premise to grant in its entirety), then I would say that his Targaryen side would value that heritage to a degree. However, he cares deeply for his entire family and that includes the Hightowers. His last name is Targaryen, but let’s not forget he is also a Hightower. I think great houses/names are very important to royalty in Westeros, Aemond included. Hightowers are certainly not lowborn.
Trying to go in the same order as your questions, I would say next that all descendants of Valyria may feel superior because of history and dragon lore. I can never overlook House Velaryon in these discussions. They also have immense pride in their heritage and name. However, when you say “Aemond of all characters” I wonder exactly why he stands out as someone for whom this pride seems more important. If we examine his actions in season one and in the book, I think we can see that his character is no more or less concerned with it than the average character.
If he were more concerned with Targaryen blood and that pride fueled his decisions, what would that say about Alys Rivers? I think most fans who haven’t read the book know a little about her, but for those who don’t she was a bastard Aemond took as a “war bride.” Regardless of whether or not she bewitched him, we can’t talk about his life as a whole without mentioning her and their relationship. If she did, we aren't told at exactly what point that happened. He wasn't above sex with non-Targaryens.
Since it was first uttered, I have been obsessed with his line “I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” Leo Ashton delivered it with such sincerity and commitment that it is hard to argue against Aemond’s devotion to his family (not discussing any specific romantic ships here). As we know, royalty and aristocracy in Westeros get very little choice in who they wed. The hypothetical “if he had another sister” is interesting because that marriage would, ultimately, be decided by Viserys and Alicent.
Such a betrothal would have been seen as a duty and honorable, so I have no doubt that Aemond would have agreed. I don’t know that anyone would disagree that Aemond puts his family above everything else. Thus, I have yet to see in the series direct bigotry from him. Factually, with no nuance, the issue with Rhaneyra’s sons is illegitimacy. Every character may have a different interpretation as to how this effects the line of succession and only a few state it explicitly in the series. I would argue that Aemond doesn’t care that their father isn’t Laenor Velaryon when he first calls them bastards. Children at that age might not really comprehend the ramifications of that accusation (I think we see clearly that Aegon doesn’t). Aemond first dislikes his nephews because they were cruel to him. Yes, his brother was as well. The Pink Dread was seemingly almost entirely Aegon’s idea, but siblings often forgive each other more readily than they may forgive outsiders.
In Fire & Blood we get a clear picture of how much his animosity and resentment fuel his actions:
One by one, every man and boy with Strong blood in his veins was dragged forth and put to death, until the heap made of their heads stood three feet tall.
I do not think this action was about bloodlines or heritage. I believe this was entirely revenge. By this point in the Dance, Aemond is furious and nearly crazed by his need to avenge the wrongs done to his family. I don’t think it was an attempt to annihilate the Strong bloodline, but a show of force and power. Aemond is formidable, rash, and still young enough to not care about consequences. Perhaps you have noticed I skipped over the direct slight against him. Lucerys altered Aemond’s life irrevocably. Had this same mutilation happened to a low born boy, he would have had no future at all in Westeros. Aemond’s lifestyle was only salvaged because he is royalty and through determination of will.
Would the loss of an eye, the murder of one’s young nephew (Prince Jaehaerys), and the maiming of one’s brother cause a young prince to go nearly mad with rage and the need for revenge? I believe so. By this point in the Dance, further along than I think you asked about, Targaryen heritage is probably the last thing on Aemond’s mind. I have no doubt that he was raised to believe that dragons, the throne, and many other things make Targaryens better. But we should never discount his mother’s influence. This man loves her dearly and Alicent may provide some balance in his understanding of things. My headcanon about his religion (not particularly relevant here) comes from the canon that Alicent has a strong faith in the Seven. I think this has a deep effect on Aemond and could influence whether or not Targaryen blood is paramount to him.
Lastly, I wanted to address this statement:
I see a lot of people defending him on the basis he isn’t
I assume that you use “defending” in the sense that these fans attempt to separate him as somehow immune to this pride or better than other Targaryens. I don’t know that I have read exactly the defenses you’re referencing, but I will be clear: this is not a discussion of fanfiction. If that is an element of a work of fanfiction, then by all means, go for it. It doesn’t seem plausible, however, that anyone of Valyrian descent is immune to this type of indoctrination.
#I seriously love this type of ask#asked and answered#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen#dance of the dragons#dance of the dragons spoilers#fire and blood#Aemond#aemond one eye
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There is much discussion on the internet about how many seasons of Bridgerton we’ll get, and how it will be approached. I have a wild theory, if you wanna TLDR and skip the ramblings then scroll down to the bold.
While 8 seems far fetched, a lot of people are thinking 6 but I increasingly don’t even think that will happen (or if it does, it won’t happen well).
Jonny has said he’s committed to Bridgerton, and making whatever he projects he gets work around it, and that he/kanthony will be at all the siblings weddings. His commitment to the show and increasing career is well displayed in s3. He’s only in the first of the four eps (tbd for the second half, let’s hope more!) but he filmed Fellow Travellers at the same time (watch it if you haven’t) and Wicked also at a similar time. I think we can count on him/kanthony making at minimum 1–2 appearances per season, regardless of how long it lasts.
Arguably the other biggest star of the show rn is Nicola, so will be interesting to see what she does in Bridgerton s4. There’s a trend of the lead actor/s taking a back seat in the season following their spotlight, so wouldn’t be surprising if it happened also with Polin/Nicola and Luke Newton.
Now, the core of the issue is the remaining stories. (Preface, I haven’t read any of the books but I know most of the general plots). Consensus is that Benedict will be s4; and (or maybe but) all the s3 Benedict press is talking about him going through changes, evolution and inching toward the marriage mart. One could say this is set up for s4, but that doesn’t feel entirely right to me. The only plot that needs the set up is Polin because of the friends to lovers arc, and we got that in s2. (If there’s more benophie set up that makes sense that I’m not aware of, let me know!)
While I know Francesca is popular with book readers, and her character steps up in s3, we can agree that the next most popular sibling is Eloise. Eloise’s story is also the most hotly debated about how authentic the show should be to the books. I know many book readers want Eloise’s story to stay mostly as it is, and while the more I read about it the more I come around to it, I think that a problem is posed by the fact that Marina’s character is much more significant and invested in the series than the books (so I hear).
On the note of Gregory and Hyacinth, I also think that the viewers are too attached and invested to them as children to want to see them as serious romantic partners with anyone. This isn’t even touching on the fact s8 would be released in (crikey I just did the maths) probably 2030 or 2031 😭
In my head there are three possible options for the future of the show. (Four, three good options).
1. Six seasons: with Benedict, Eloise and Francesca all getting a season. (Approx 2025, 2027 and 2028 release) (I think this would be the best option if the got their act together and made/released the seasons faster, but as the actors get busier I don’t see that happening)
2. Five seasons: with Benedict and Eloise getting a season. (The best (realistic) option imo).
3. Four seasons: Benedict season four, no Eloise. (The worst option imo).
4. Four seasons: Benedict season three AND four, Eloise season four. This is kinda why I made this post. Stay with me, hear me out.
All the indications that Benedict is evolving and stepping into the marriage mart this season make me think that they could be doing a lot more set up/start of the story than necessary for a brother who isn’t the lead yet. Beneloise are such an iconic duo that I think them falling in love together would be so fun. If they followed the book, then Eloise’s love is kinda long distance anyway. If they did do something different with Eloise (contentious, ik, I’m in two minds) and made her queer and/or not get married then it could also work well.
I don’t think this is the best outcome, I just think it might be the best outcome if we only get four seasons. The actors are all increasingly busy, and many (Claudia and Nicola especially) are already playing characters far younger than their characters.
Please let me know your thoughts on this rambling, especially if you’ve read the books. Tell me what will or won’t work!
–GW xo
#bridgerton#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton season 4#nicola coughlan#claudia jessie#jonathan bailey#benedict bridgerton#kanthony#eloise bridgerton#polin#francesca bridgerton#gregory bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton#bridgerton theory
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Am I the only person who doesn’t like Wonder Woman and thinks she is, in fact, a Mary Sue? I haven’t read or watched much with her in it so maybe I’m just basing my opinions on one Wonder Woman book I read where I thought she was written poorly.
But I don’t know. She’s literally everything a modern woman is supposed to be (sexy, strong, righteous, soft, etc.) and she never struggles. She’s always right, she never makes mistakes, and she’s very boring to me as a result. I haven’t seen the recent film, but I dislike the fact that they made her love babies. A lot of pressure is put on women to love babies/children and/or want one of their own, and if a woman doesn’t like or want them then she’s seen as a cold, callous bitch. So to me, that part seems like the writers put it in thinking ‘see she’s not an evil man hating feminist you guys, she loves babies!’
Idk. I know she’s seen as THE role model for women and girls but I just can’t understand her appeal. What exactly do you like about her?
Hello there!
As someone who grew up with a lot of Wonder Woman content, I have to personally disagree!
Like any major superhero, Wonder Woman gets a lot of good content and plenty of bad content, too.
Yes, she's idealized - but almost all superheroes are idealized. Superman is literally a mirror of the philosophical concept of the "Ubermensch," a term coined by Nietzsche meaning "superman" and describing an ideal human being. By this standard, he could also be described as a Mary Sue!
But just being beautiful, powerful, and good does not a Mary Sue make. These idyllic superheroes work well when they're put in circumstances that challenge them. It's fascinating to see characters that seemingly embody the highest reaches of human potential pushed to their limits, when we see that they too have flaws and weaknesses that they can overcome through perseverance.
You say that she "never struggles," but a good Wonder Woman writer knows that she NEEDS to struggle to be interesting. In shows like the animated Justice League and Justice League Unlimited, she and all the other major heroes are put in situations that challenge them on every level - physical (like fighting literal gods) and emotional (being banished from her home for bringing men to the island).
And also funny scenarios that put them at disadvantages, like being turned into children or a pig that then must be chased through the city by Batman (yes, both real episodes) that humanize them and show that they're not invulnerable.
For the more recent, live action movies, I liked the first Wonder Woman but not the second. I personally liked the fact that she was excited to see a baby, especially in the context that there were no babies on her island, because women are often expected to reject feminine characteristics to be strong.
I see your point, but I also have a different view regarding children: I think a lot of the oppression experienced by women is also experienced by children, and children are frequently dehumanized.
Not everyone who says they don't like kids is a bad person - I know plenty of great people who say they don't like kids - but I'm not really comfortable with the concept of disliking an entire group of human beings. Children have such varied personalities, just like any other group.
Granted, most people who say they don't like kids don't mean they dislike ALL kids, but it's still a sentiment I don't really like from a cultural standpoint.
As for women who don't WANT kids, I agree - it's deeply messed up that many people don't see women as complete or fulfilled unless they have kids. But (though it's been a while since I've seen it) I don't recall Wonder Woman in the 2017 movies planning to have children of her own. Plenty of women like children without intending to have them, myself included.
Again, though, I do see your point that the writers may have been trying to soften Wonder Woman in the eyes of the audience by having her love babies.
I still prefer that over the original Joss Whedon script, where a little girl at one point asks her to get a cat down from a tree (I think. Perhaps it was a lost toy) and Wonder Woman callously tells her to get it herself. To me, that plays into a sexist stereotype that women must reject all feminine attributes in order to be strong.
The sequel film, on the other hand, really embodies how NOT to write Wonder Woman in every way: largely exempt from moral criticism, inherently better than those around her, and with few meaningful challenges that aren't solved through plot convenience. She isn't "always right," however, because another flaw in that film's plot is the fact that she's learning a vague and contrived lesson of not cheating to get what she wants, though that's never explored in any way that feels human or applicable.
To conclude, I'll reiterate -- and this is just my opinion -- Wonder Woman is done GREAT when written by someone who understands the appeal of the character. Her idyllic characteristics apply to most superheroes, and can work great if the person writing her knows how to challenge her. I don't mind when she has feminine characteristics, and I love when all superheroes love kids, male and female. And last but not least, Justice League and Justice League unlimited reign supreme in terms of superhero content.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble and spill my potentially controversial opinions!
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