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ceriseswift · 1 day

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𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- s1!spencer reid x bau!reader

w.c.- 3.9k (wtf omg)

summary- spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.

warnings- the jeid narrative in s14 pissed me off so bad i wrote this, miscommunication trope, reader obsesses over his hair (same), idiots in love, wingwoman!penelope

a/n- to be clear i am not a jj hater, i love her. i just don’t like what the writers tried to make happen between her and spencer

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the soft glow of the morning sun floats through the window, coating the bullpen of the behavioral analysis unit in a peaceful golden light. you bask in the soft start of your morning, a rarity in your line of work, sipping your coffee as your fingers clack against the computer keys. the peace of your morning is ripped from you suddenly, though, when gideon and hotch barge from their offices in quick pursuit of the conference room. the team immediately follows suit, scurrying after one another to follow the two men.

hotch stands at the head of the room, sternly describing the case file he’s just received. there is a serial killer in the d.c. area, obsessed with leaving texts of ancient egyptian script at the crime scenes. as an analyst for the bau, you’re assigned to stay in the conference room with spencer in order to help decipher what the killer is trying to tell authorities. you share a smile with the boy next to you, both eager to tackle yet another assignment together.

you were hired to the bau as a young academic fresh out of graduate school, the same year as spencer. you two initially bonded over your shared love of reading, of analyzing text. it’s this skill that’s made you an asset to the team. you can decipher handwriting left by criminals in order to profile them; you can understand and analyze complex documents left for you at crime scenes, just like in today’s case. you found a partner in spencer very early on. you two were assigned those kinds of analytical tasks often, and proved to be very good at it, good at working together, at being together.

it wasn’t long before the mere sight of him started to give you butterflies, your chest constricting with affection. you cherish the late nights you’ve spent with him, in and outside of the office. inspecting documents and handwriting samples, the times where you’ve reached for the same file and your fingers brush together. movie nights at his place on the weekends, when you get so tired you allow yourself to curl into him, to let him wrap his arms around you, to pretend you’re something more. something in your stomach grows hot, and your palms start to sweat. you barely even notice that everyone else has gone off on their own assignments, leaving you and spencer alone in the conference room together. he sends you a million dollar smile and you get to work.

after a few hours of hard work, you suggest taking a lunch break. your lungs rejuvenate from the fresh air as you eat in the courtyard. you close your eyes and tilt your head up, feeling the glow of the sun warm your face, sighing as the vitamin d floats through your body. you can feel spencer’s eyes on you, and your heart kicks against your chest. how much longer you can take without confessing to him, you’re not sure. the limbo of being in love with your best friend is a torturous predicament to be in, especially when you work with him.

“hey, i need to ask you something,” spencer mumbles, and you see him pull out two tickets to a cowboys football game.

your heart now hammers against you, like a boulder spasming in your chest. your hands are sweating, shaking; is this it? could he be doing the hard part for you?

“gideon gave me these on my birthday. i don’t know if you knew this, but it’s j.j.’s favorite team. i was thinking of asking her on a date with them, but i haven’t watched a football game in over ten years,” he chuckles sheepishly, squinting his eyes down from the sun. “do you think it’s a good idea? i thought i should come to you since you’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”

best friend. those words pierce through your gut like you’ve been shot with an arrow. you’re thankful his eyes are turned away from you, so he can’t see the infliction of those two fateful words.

“um-yeah,” you breathe out, barely audible, “i think it’s a great idea. it doesn’t matter if you don’t really watch football. if she likes you she’ll want to spend time with you, no matter what,” you fake a smile and pray to anyone that would listen to please convey the true message of your words, what you’re really saying. you know it falls on deaf ears, though, as you turn to throw your half eaten lunch in the trash, returning inside 30 minutes earlier than agreed upon.

“woah-where are you going?” spencer hastily cleans his things and jogs to catch up with you.

“i just think we need to get back to work. this case isn’t going to solve itself,” you shoot him a bitter smile, opening the door and not holding it open for him behind you, like you always do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

j.j.? you think to yourself as you now delegate your portion of the work at your desk. the thought of being trapped in that conference room alone with him after your conversation at lunch unzips a shiver down your spine. your forehead is resting in your palm as your brain fights to focus on the case, and not drift back to spencer.

you were in complete and utter disbelief that the object of his affections has been j.j. this whole time.

j.j. is your friend, and you’re not mad at her. it’s not her fault that she’s the one spencer’s developed feelings for. you’re just completely caught off guard, utter shock clinging to every nerve in your body. you thought, after all of those shy smiles you’ve shared alone in conference rooms, the late night conversations on the jet, the nights you’ve spent at his place, that they meant something more. you’re just shocked none of it did, and that you’ve completely misread your entire relationship with him.

if gideon gave him the tickets, that means he sees what’s going on between them, too. you furrow your brows, squeezing your eyes closed at this revelation. god, you feel so stupid. how could you have let your own feelings blindside you from what your best friend actually wants? you have no future in profiling, that’s for certain.

you see a shadow looming over your desk from your peripheral vision, and you know who it is merely from the outline of his hair. you look up to find a sheepish spencer reid, seemingly nervous to even be approaching you. you hate that. you hate the idea of him on a date with j.j. even more, though.

“what’s up?” you try to sound interested, but you can both hear the restraint lacing your tone.

“i think i found something. we, uh-we need to gather the rest of the team,” he states.

his voice is quiet, small, his big brown eyes are boring into yours. you nod. the tension grows thicker the longer you stare at each other, eyes desperate to convey everything your mouths are too afraid to say. the file spencer was holding slips through his fingers, falling on your desk with a crisp clack. the noise cuts through the trance you find yourselves in, and you go red as a tomato, looking in your lap to avoid those lethal eyes.

“let’s go,” you mutter, walking past him without so much as a glance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

over the course of the next week, you spend many work hours nursing your bruised ego in penelope’s batcave of an office. as the two analysts of the team, a lot of your work overlaps, so hotch didn’t raise a brow at the sudden change in your routine, not working with spencer so much. you’re able to tell her about everything going on with him during your brief moments of down time, when you’re filing paperwork or doing light research.

“oh. my. god.” she gasps, aware of your feelings of him from the start, “babe. no way,” she swivels her chair so she’s fully facing you, “i’m sorry! i thought he was into you, too,” she frowns, handing you a unicorn plushie from her desk drawer.

you chuckle sadly and squeeze the soft animal, utilizing its comfort as much as you can. “thanks, pen,” you settle your cheek on the squishy animal’s head and look at her sadly, eyes glassy and big, “i think it was too good to be true. he’s almost too perfect, maybe this is a sign.”

you see her deflate at your defeated tone, her hand reaching out to grab yours, running her thumb over your skin. you stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the complex emotions you’ve suppressed throughout the week. you’ve only spoken to spencer two or three times this week, about work things only, and it’s wednesday. each day that passes like this weighs heavy, like an anvil on your heart. the feeling is so overwhelming you have no choice but to suppress it until you get home, lest the floodgates are unleashed in the same vicinity as the perpetrator.

paperwork it is.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

that following monday, you sit, stewing at your desk, desperate to blend in to the background. you think back to one week ago, one week since you’ve had that fateful conversation with spencer. you nearly have whiplash from how fast things have changed in only a week. you yearn for the softness of that morning, of the blissful ignorance in thinking that you actually had a chance with spencer reid. your heart aches, the vulnerable throb in your chest paralyzing you. you rest your chin in your hands as your eyes mindlessly drift over emails you missed from the weekend, willing your brain to not work so hard unless absolutely necessary.

you’re snapped out of your pity party by the click of a door unlatching, the soft patter of converse on tile filling the bullpen. your eyes involuntarily follow spencer as he barges in. he’s impossible to ignore, clad in the most adorable button up/sweater vest combo you have ever seen in your life, walking full speed ahead with a scowl planted firmly on his face. the look on his face is so wholly unfamiliar, a look of hurt masking his usually soft features, the light in his eyes gone. the contrast is enough to shock you back to life once more, now registering a flustered penelope hot on his tail. the click of her heels echo through the bullpen in a desperate attempt to keep up with a man who is nearly a foot taller.

“spencer-wait! ugh!“ penelope grunts as spencer falls into his desk chair, immediately using work as a means to deflect. his back is to her as he sifts through the files littering his desk.

you study him from where you sit, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped, and lips in a tiny pout that pokes and prods at your heart. penelope gives up quick, turning away with a grunt and a look on her face that read ‘don’t ask’. on her way past your desk, though, she leans in and whispers, “meet me in my office after our meeting,” making your eyes go wide and your heart pick up in speed.

you use the new case to distract your mind from what could possibly be going on with spencer, and opt to stay back with penelope during this case. when you make your decision known in the conference room, spencer flinches. you just barely catch it out of your peripheral, you’re not sure you would have even registered it had garcia not smacked you in the thigh immediately after it happened. hotchner’s eyes flit from you, to penelope, then to reid. morgan coughs. the team is then dismissed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“she brought you to the date?!” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“yes! i had no idea it was the date,” penelope gushes. you’re setting up materials for the case, waiting for the team to land for more information. in the meantime, she fills you in on the weekend, “i’d just assumed it was a separate event. it never occurred to me that she would invite another person to that. poor spencer’s never been so disappointed to see me,” her tone turns a bit guilty at that, and now it’s your turn to flinch at his name.

“that’s insane, why would she do that?” you ask, bewildered.

“to be honest with you, i have a few ideas…” penelope teases, setting up her computer for the day.

your eyes narrow into slits as she files her nail, feet up and resting on the desk as the rest of her equipment loads.

“what?” you breathe out, even though you both knew.

“come on,” she kicks her feet off the desk and swivels to face you, frozen in front of a box of files, stricken by what you both know is coming next, “it’s you. he has feelings for you, for sure. j.j. knows it too, everyone does. we all see it.”

“really?” you once again can’t believe your ears. relief floods your veins, the rush too sweet to pay attention to your conscious, desperate to sprinkle some guilt in there. you don’t care, though, not after the pure and utter agony of the past week.

“yes, of course! he likes you, i have no doubt about it,” penelope states matter of factly.

you round the corner of the desk and come to sit on a chair opposite her, “what makes you say that?” you’re unintentionally severe, palms resting flat on your thighs, leaning into her as to not miss a word. luckily for you, though, penelope is just as intense.

“it became clear to me when i saw them interact at the game. yes his ego was bruised a little, but he was light, airy. almost relieved. nothing like how he came in today,” she remarks, and your brows knit together in confusion.

“so you’re saying he was at ease with her, but nervous and grumpy when he had to be around me. that doesn’t make any sense,” penelope rolls her eyes at your denial, but you’re quick at the defense with a new argument, “and he told me gideon gave him those tickets to ask her out on a date. it’s her favorite team.”

you cross your arms across your chest and lean back, “i appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, penelope, but if the best profiler on the team could tell he likes her, then he likes her. not me.”

just saying it causes the crack in your chest to reappear, callusing your heart once more.

“ugh, no!” she exclaims, “you two are the most stubborn people i’ve ever met in my life, i swear!” she rolls her eyes and turns back to her now fully loaded equipment as your jaw hangs open in shock.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you lightly scoff.

“all i’m saying is that he was relieved that j.j. brought me, that he was being rejected. after the initial disappointment passed, that is. you’re going to have to get the rest of the information from spencer himself,” she decides, just as her phone starts to ring. saved by the bell, damn her. “talk to each other. you miss each other. everybody can tell and it’s getting sad, like watching two lost puppies roam aimlessly without each other.”

before you can give an answer to her crazy analogy, she turns away from you and flips open her cell phone, “talk to me!” she chirps, and hotch’s stern voice brings you back to the task at hand. you’ll simply have to talk to spencer later. great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the team was able to land back at home that same night, luckily closing a quick case. after penelope says goodbye to you and spencer, you’re both the last ones in the bullpen. you two anxiously glance around, desperate for anybody else to be there, to break the suffocating tension between you two, thick and heavy with unanswered questions, words unsaid.

as you walk past spencer’s desk, he goes to walk with you, next to you. you haven’t been this close in proximity to him in a week, and the smell of his cologne, his aftershave, makes you heady. you both stop at the elevator, unsure who should go first. you decide on impulse that it has to be you, you can’t take this any longer. you turn to face him, and say the first thing that comes to your mind,

“she brought penelope?”

had it been anybody else, you may have kicked yourself for shoving your foot squarely into your mouth, but it’s spencer, so he laughs. it’s an eye creasing, cheeks bunched up, teeth showing kind of laugh, and you have no choice but to laugh, too. there’s a pang in your heart as this familiarity dawns upon the two of you once again. you’re desperate to keep it, so much so that you don’t move when the elevator dings and the doors open. neither of you do. you stand there, taking each other in, cheeks warm and breathing heavy, as the doors slide close once again.

“yeah. yeah, she brought penelope,” he remarks, red ears hiding behind his slickened hair. your eyes focus on one particular lock that’s fallen over his forehead, nearly in his eye. a sense of longing pierces your heart like an arrow, you fall in love with him all over again.

“you should wear your hair curly more,” you croak. spencer is unphased at your sudden change of topic, and sends you a small smile.

you’re the only one on the team that’s seen him with his hair curly. you revel in it any time you’re lucky enough to get a glimpse, when you’re sharing a hotel room or his couch on movie night. a strange nostalgia seizes you as you take in his hair, not realizing how much you’ve missed it, missed him until you’re standing there, taking all of him in.

“maybe i’ll start,” he says back gently, another silence falling between the two of you.

“l-listen, i have something i need you to know,” he says, turning to face you, tone more confident than before, “gideon told me to ask out j.j. because i’ve been heartbroken over you for weeks.”

time stops.

“heartbroken?” you’re incredulous. “why? what did i do?” you’re nearly panicking, racking your brain for what you could have done to your best friend.

“n-nothing really. i think i heard you talking to penelope about me one day, about how you don’t see me in that way,” he stutters a bit, his head turned down to hide his flushed cheeks, “i thought there was something between us, but after hearing that-i-i just assumed you didn’t feel the same. it made sense, girls like you don't typically go for guys like me.”

your heart breaks even more, if that’s even possible, “spencer,” you whisper out, “don’t say that,” it’s all you can muster. he’s the most beautiful man on the planet. you’ve never been so sure of anything.

he rolls his eyes and you want to shake him until he believes it, “well, he gave me the tickets to try and put myself out there with someone else. j.j. is great, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not you. no one is,” he says, eyes boring into yours.

you take in every word falling from his lips, your brows marrying together. your brain is flying at a mile a minute trying to remember the conversation he’s talking about. suddenly, you stop. your gaze turns to him, eyes wide as the memory comes to you. it had to have been two months since then, but you knew that wasn’t a problem for spencer. if he overheard, he remembers every word out of your mouth.

you were chatting with penelope in the empty conference room. it was a monday, and you had gone out on a date the weekend before. he was the topic of conversation right before spencer came in, how he was ‘so cute’ with his ‘brown eyes and curly brown hair’, how he was ‘the perfect height- like 6’1-6’2’. and yet, you only liked him as a friend. the reality was, you were searching for spencer in every man you pursued, and none of them ever measured up to him. how could they?

“spencer,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “i went on a date that weekend. that’s who i was talking about. not you,” the last part comes out in a whisper as realization dawns on spencer’s face, uncertainty dancing through his big brown eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me you had a date?” he asks, puzzled, “is that why you couldn’t come over for movie night that weekend?”

your heart cracks even more at his question, you wanted to be there. you wanted to be there so badly.

“i had convinced myself that it would never happen. you and me,” you start, and his eyes grow even wider than before, “i was looking for you every time. in every date. that’s why i never told you. it would never work out anyway, because they weren’t you. i wasn’t brave enough to admit that to myself until just now, i guess,” you grow a bit sheepish as you finish your explanation, your eyes glossy. your gaze finds the floor to avoid his piercing gaze. those eyes will kill you one day.

“what does that mean?” he says, so gentle, so spencer.

“it means i’m in love with you. i have been for years, since we started together,” you gush, tears finally falling over your lash line at your confession.

his eyes shut too, a gentle flutter of lashes against his cheek. you see a tear escape down his cheek, too.

“i love you, too. god, i love you too,” he whispers, moving immediately to scoop you up in his arms. he presses the elevator button again, finally getting you two out of there. he keeps you in his arms, carrying you into the elevator, refusing to let go as he squeezes you tight, legs wrapped around his waist as the doors close shut behind you.

as you descend, you reluctantly put your shaky legs on the floor, pulling away slightly to find his gaze.

“hi,” you whisper, biting your lip to try and suppress the cheesy smile taking over. you fail, grinning so wide and so bright, you’re afraid you might blind him.

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers back, brushing your hair back softly with his hand. he then cradles your jaw in his palm, pressing his soft lips against yours.

it’s a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. you both wish desperately to convey every single time you wanted each other, how long you’ve loved each other.

spencer pulls away from you for a brief moment to ask, “do you want to be my girlfriend? i think maybe we should try dating each other,” his sarcasm has you grinning from ear to ear.

“i think that’s the most genius idea you’ve had yet, doctor,” you lean in to kiss him again. he groans at the title, lips surrendering back into yours.

the ding of the elevator breaks your kiss, and you can’t hide your cheesy grins as you walk into the parking garage, your pinkies linked together.

“do you wanna come back to my apartment tonight? we can watch a movie?” spencer suggests nervously, like you’d say no. god, you love him.

“that sounds perfect,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. you can tell he’s expecting a light peck, but you deepen it, your hand finding the nape of his neck. your lips softly click together as you move against each other, your tongue just barely slipping into his mouth.

“see you at home,” you wink and get into your own car, leaving a flustered spencer reid in your wake.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #matthew gray gubler #mgg

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ms-hells-bells · 7 months

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discovered an amazing youtube channel called real horror, who does history and crime videos. she only has a few videos on her channel, as she has a full time museum job, and she researches, script writes, narrates, and edits the videos all herself, but she's incredible. her voice is so soothing and smooth, and she is super respectful of any topic she talks about, always getting permission from relatives, or contacting the relevant people to get the facts (if they wish to give them).

but what drives me insane, and seemingly her from a few comments i have seen her make, is that a ton of the comments praise the work of 'the channel creator', but presume that she, the narrator, is not the channel creator and script writer. the say stuff like 'your videos are amazing! and i love the voice of the narrator', and just very clearly viewing the channel owner and narrator as two distinct entities. when she clarifies that it's all her, they're surprised.

you NEVER see this on faceless narrated male documentary style channels. it's presumed until otherwise said that they are the ones who also researched and wrote everything. but for her, they immediately think that a man is running the channel, and she's just a hired voice for a script a man wrote. it's wild to see.

#anyways i highly recommend her #if you like history and true crime but hate the spectacle and glorifying of cases #and like seeing rarely spoken about events covered #and like the bbc documentary style british female voice #you'll love the channel #she only has like 6 videos over two years #but as of recently she's been looking at potentially increasing activity due to the success of the channel

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jelsah27 · 11 months

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Pomefiore Dorm First Year Study Session

First Years: *looking around*

Ace: Hey Grimm, where's MC?

Grimm: Henchman had a meeting with some movie producers. Apparently, MC is very good at screen writing... whatever that means... but they said they wouldn't be late so that means they should be here-

MC: *busts though the door* I'm not late!

Grimm: Now.

MC: Sorry guys, I had to haggle with the producers longer than expected. Now let's get this show on the road!

Vil: *is behind the door about to enter and scold the potato for running in incorrect attire*

Deuce: What were you haggling about?

MC: Oh, I said they could have the script if Vil was in it.

Vil: *pauses*

Epel: That doesn't sound like it'd be hard. Most would pay the producers to get them to hire that prima donna- I mean a celebrity like him.

MC: Well that is true but I didn't want him to have the role they wanted to give him.

MC: I said they would have to hire him as the Main Character. They said they would like to give him the villain's role. But as the writer I felt appalled. I wrote the male lead to be the sexy villain type to get the female leads attention. She is drawn in by the subtle kindness that shown in the moments someone needed it most. While everyone only saw his so-called "evil persona", she saw that it was nothing but protecting the people he loved. I also created the role of the "villain" to be a play on the sweet boy type, he isn't evil, he doesn't even have any true interactions with the character. But he's the standard by which the mc is held to. He's the wall mc always has to beat but never seems to succeed. He's the one everyone tries to get to save the FL. This "villain" is the one obstacle that always seems to be in the way. But slowly the mc realizes that the "villain" wasn't the problem at all. It was the society that was flawed. Just because that person is the one everyone wants him to battle doesn't mean they're right. He can be himself and still win the girl. He can strive to be the best he can be without being to be the villain type everyone wanted to cast him as. He can co-exist with someone who is almost the opposite without being mortal enemies. He can simply live.

MC: In the end they caved, so it all works out. Anyway lets get to studying. Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber are gonna fail at this rate.

Ace and Grimm: Hey!

Vil:*smiling softly*

Vil: *starts calling his manager* I want to take the movie offer I am about to get. Let me know when it comes up or you're fired.

#vil x mc #twst mc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #twisted wonderland epel #vil shoenheit x reader #vil shoenheit #excuse me while i make myself cry #prepare the tissues #twst grimm #pomefiore #twst first years

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wol-fica · 11 months

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-𝕄𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕦𝕥𝕖-

pairings - jennaortega x fem!writer!reader

summary - you got hired for a huge new gig as a script writer for season two of wednesday, the events after help you meet someone new…

warnings - none !

an - i’m alive, tell me i’m pretty

——————————

June 9th, 2023 Coachella Valley, CA: 1:27 PM

You were going to be late, exceedingly so.

You had a meeting scheduled for 1:30 PM sharp, any later would cause you to lose the job. Many times you had said that you were interested in the opening, promising to be a hard worker and wonderful staff member to the writing crew for the upcoming second season of a netflix show titled Wednesday. It was everything you could ever wish for, the job was like a dream to you.

But now, your hopes of getting to write on such an incredible show are being crushed due to many unfortunate events transpiring throughout the day.

Firstly, you woke up later than expected and had to hurry around to get yourself ready and organize your idea board that was going to be presented at the meeting. Then, the water pipe under your sink burst, causing you to have to fix it and get soaked in the process. And finally, your dryer decided to completely break down on you, which meant you needed to pull a new outfit together, which left you literally sprinting through the hallway of the building your meeting was being held at while fixing your hair to look at least decent in front of all the professionals you were going to be working with.

Soon the door to the meeting room came into view, relief washing through you when your watch stated that it was 1:29 PM. Perfect, right on time. Gathering yourself in the final few seconds you had, you brushed out a few wrinkles in your shirt and held your chin up proudly before pushing the door open and heading inside.

“There she is!” Dave, another writer, exclaimed with a smile, “I knew she would show up…eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, my morning was hectic as hell.” You apologized, setting your stuff down and taking a seat next to your other coworker named Matt.

“No biggy, you’re right on time.” Matt said to you with a smile, pushing a fresh cup of coffee in your direction.

You took it gratefully, bringing the drink to your lips to take a sip. Everyone was seated, adjusting their papers and whatnot while you waited for the show's producers to arrive.

“For how much they nip at our necks to be on time, they really don’t seem to feel the need to be punctual.” Aurora said from your right, resting her head in her hand.

“Stuck up, is the right description.” The lead writer, Elsa said, jotting down what seemed to be some final touches to her idea, “They will be here when it is convenient for them.”

A chorus of ‘mhmmm’s came from the group, everyone nodding in agreement while you stayed silent. Judgment wasn’t a huge thing for you, especially since you knew most of the producers and was familiar with how hectic their schedules can be with having the weight of the entire show’s production on their backs. Besides, the ones you have met so far are pretty friendly people, so you didn’t feel the need to act petty with their late arrival.

“How was your weekend Y/N?” Matt asked you, attempting to strike up a friendly conversation, “I noticed you look a little sunburnt.”

“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled, looking down at your slightly pink arms, “I went paddle boarding at the canal, forgot to bring sunscreen.”

“I can tell.” He said with a smile, “At least you will gain a sick tan.”

“The wonderful aftermath!” You joked, both of you laughing lightly.

Matt sucked in a breath, sipping his coffee before setting it down on the table. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the opening of the office door.

In walked the producers, all six holding script copies and large binders full of each writer's bullet-note ideas for the next season of the show. You knew three by name, two by face, and one you have never seen before. Well, never seen was a lie, you of course have witnessed the incredible Jenna Ortega and her infamous role as THE Wednesday Addams, but you had never formally met her. The most interaction you have had together was at the premiere for season one; you were dragged along by Elsa so you could see what you were up against, and you happened to be sitting two seats away from Jenna, who had given you a curt nod when Elsa introduced you to Tim.

“Hello everyone!” Max said, one of the two executive producers, “Sorry for being late, our meeting went longer than expected.”

“No big deal.” Dave replied, standing to shake his hand politely, “We weren’t going to start without you anyways.”

“Let’s get started shall we?” Max said, looking around the table before pausing when he saw you, “Oh Y/N! Glad you made it!”

You shyly waved, a small smile on your face as many eyes went to you, “I’m glad to be here.”

“I’ve read some of your scripts before, very impressive in my opinion.” Another producer, face but no name, said with an approving nod.

“Thank you.” You replied, an embarrassing blush covering your cheeks.

“Okay! So let’s go over some things…” Max said, flipping open his binder.

Most of the meeting went smoothly, the producers listening intently to each writer's ideas for the upcoming season. You nodded and replied to questions, occasionally writing down notes here and there to store for a revision of your script. You were currently nose deep in your writing, scribbling down a few dialogue changes for a random scene you came across.

“Y/N, what about you?” Elsa asked suddenly, startling you into accidentally throwing your pencil behind you.

“Oh, um..” You set your script down, sitting up a little straighter, “Well I thought of a bit of a different approach for this season, it’s more character focused than scene directed.”

“Focused on what?”

“Well,” You cleared your throat, “I thought of dropping the whole love triangle idea, I never imagined Wednesday being interested in boys or girls while solving a murder, that didn’t make sense to me.”

You felt a sudden confidence with your words, the talk of your idea shredding away at your anxiety.

“To me, she should definitely be a lot more gruesomely funny. Bring some more gore, some more horror, some more dead things because that is what makes Wednesday so likable to the viewers. Get rid of all the boy talk and all that, I think she should be more toned to focusing on her stalker and whatever else comes with her junior year.”

“And get rid of the sappy lines.” You finished, shaking your head at the thought of some, “No offense Elsa.”

“None taken, I stay up every night hating myself for writing it.” She joked, causing everyone to laugh.

While she, Max, and one of the other executive producers talked some more about which script to choose, you started to feel a gaze burrowing into the side of your skull. Turning to your right, your eyes caught big brown ones, full of curiosity and interest as they stared at you.

It was Jenna, her focus on you instead of the others' conversation on the final decisions for the second season. You felt a little vulnerable under her stare, so you gave her a friendly smile and a little wave, a silent “hello!”.

She immediately smiled back, recuperating your wave with a beaming look. Her dimples appeared when she did that, catching your attention of how her nose seemed to scrunch up and how her eyes squinted in just the slightest way that made her look very cute.

“Okay! I think that wraps up the meeting!” Max said enthusiastically, closing his binder and standing up, “Head home everyone!”

You sighed, happy to be done with work for the day. You began to gather your things, packing them into your bag and scooping your pile of notes and scripts into your arms. Matt came up beside you, handing you your pencil that you previously threw behind you.

“Don’t forget that.” He said, grinning.

“How could I?” You sneered, adjusting your bag on your back, “Are you going out with Megan again?”

He nodded, then pulled out his phone and showed that he was getting a phone call. He waved goodbye to you, heading out the door and down the hallway. You slowly followed suit, the weight of your backpack and papers making you a tad bit slower. As you walked towards the exit, a tap on your shoulder made you turn around.

It was Jenna, sporting a friendly smile.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically, holding out a hand for you to shake, “I'm Jenna, I've been trying to meet you for some time now.”

“Oh wow!” You joked, somehow taking her hand without dropping your papers, “I’m Y/N, and I didn’t know you were waiting or I would’ve come and said hi.”

“I still like to introduce myself even if people know me, it’s how I was raised.” Jenna said, slightly rocking on her heels.

“How formal of you.” You said, grinning, “Did you just want to say hi orrrrr…”

“Oh! No, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for today…?” She asked shyly, a hopeful expression on her face.

“Not that I know of, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me?”

You seemed to restart, your mind going blank at her words. Was she asking you to hang out? Jenna Ortega wants to hang out with you?

“Uh..I mean- well…” You started to stutter, a blush climbing up your neck, “Of fucking course!”

Jenna giggled, hiding her mouth while she laughed. You scratched the back of your neck, admiring her features yet again. She was incredibly gorgeous, and you didn’t even feel ashamed when you gazed at her moving lips.

“How does Panera sound?”

You smiled wide, your eyes lighting up at the name of your favorite restaurant. Jenna laughed yet again at your reaction, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That sounds fucking amazing.” You said, shifting your weight on your feet.

“Great!” Jenna replied, adjusting the papers in her hands, her head turning back to you, “Does 3:30 work? I have another meeting in like 15 minutes.”

“That’s perfect.” You almost mumbled, your eyes on her lips again.

Jenna smirked.

You blushed at being caught.

“I’ll see you then, cute girl.”

And then she was gone.

As soon as she was out of sight and earshot, you squealed and danced in a circle, doing a little happy dance.

A lunch date, with Jenna fucking Ortega.

Couldn’t get any better than this.

—————————

hi :)

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @house-of-lovin @rainbow-love4ever @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @andsoigotabutterfly @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg @frasersgf @thispussyshouldcomew @rollingsins @somekindofpoet

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jennaortegaedit #jenna ortega #jenna #jenna ortega fluff #ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

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gb-patch · 6 months

Note

Would hiring more writers not prevent the game from having too long of a development cycle?

It wouldn't, aha. I'd still have to draft every scene myself and edit every scene written by others to perfectly match the rest of the game. I can edit faster than I can write, but not fast enough to have it cut months off the development schedule.

And, honestly, OL2 is so specific in terms of the choice/variation system that I'd probably have to edit things more than I did with OL1. It'd likely end up being more practical for me to simply write it all myself instead of trying to get a script by someone else to fit with my unwieldy vision. So currently I don't have plans to hire other writers. But I do think I can make the current schedule of releasing the base games + DLCs in fall 2025!

#our life #our life: now & forever #ask

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adamsmasher · 4 months

Text

Okay it's after 1am and I've had a lot of wine so obviously it's time for a late night wall-of-text post, but this time it's less likely to piss off your weird uncle or whatever because once again, I gotta talk about the best $4.99 a month I've ever spent.

Please, if you haven't yet, I'm begging you to look into all of the incredible content available on the Dropout.tv streaming service (formerly known as College Humor) . Not only did Whose Line Is It Anyway's Wayne Brady say that the Dropout crew are the only ones doing improv comedy on the same level as Whose Line, but they were also one of the only studios/streaming services allowed to work during the writers' strike because their contracts went above and beyond industry standards. (And, from my own observations, Dropout LOVES hiring queer, trans/nonbinary, and BIPOC performers + crew. Obviously I don't know much about the industry, but they seem like one of the most inclusive companies in Hollywood.)

"Alex, thanks for the recommendation! What shows do they have that you think I'll like?" Oh, you're asking me to gush about my favorite tv shows? Don't mind if I do!!!

Are you D&D curious, but took one look at actual play shows like Critical Role and thought "6 hours an episode? and there's like 750 episodes or whatever? oh baby not my adhd ass..." Don't worry, me too (sorry CR I love you I promise). But Dropout has a show called "Dimension 20" where comedians play Dungeons and Dragons with emotional, immersive storytelling, gut-busting laughs, and spectacular set design that makes you forget it's a fully improvised series controlled by the roll of the dice. They even did a miniseries perfect for D&D beginners called "Dungeons and Drag Queens" where absolute novices and Drag Race royalty Jujubee, Monet X Change, Alaska Thunderfuck, and Bob the Drag Queen embark on an adventure full of mystery, intrigue, and stupidity. I mean, Alaska plays a muscle-bound, axe-wielding, caveman-grunting Orc named Princess, what more could you want? Plus, the primary game master Brennan Lee Mulligan is so easy on the eyes. Oh, you're not into dorky ginger dudes? How about Aabria Iyengar, a 6 foot tall goddess who's equally as nerdy as Brennan but loves basketball. that's right, if nothing else, there's eye candy for every person in every season.

"Oh, why aren't there any good game shows on TV?" you wonder, wishing that the Game Show Network could come up with something that isn't a lame remake of a free-to-play phone game. Well how about Game Changer, "the only game show where the game changes every show (except for [...] Game of Games, Taskmaster, and a few others that have come to light AFTER [Game Changer first aired]. That's right, [the] players have no idea what game it is they're about to play. The only way to learn is by playing, the only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning." And yes, I did sit there and watch the beginning of an episode to make sure I was accurately quoting Game Changer host (and Dropout CEO) Sam Reich's description of his flaghship game show that has THREE separate spin-offs. (for context, he only mentions the other shows that copied his in the one episode I pulled up to get an accurate quote. could you imagine how uncomfortable it would be if he said that every episode? hah!)

Are you more of a traditional Whose Line fan? Look no further than Game Changer spin-off Make Some Noise, where contestants act out "improvisational prompts that [they have] never seen before, isn't that right contestants?" ("We won't know if we've seen them before or not until we see them!" Brennan insists every time he's on...)

You like musicals but wish they were less... ya know, scripted? Check out "Play It By Ear", a fully improvised musical! (you may be familiar with its primary cast members Jess McKenna and Zach Reino from the podcast that inspired it all, "Off Book: the Improvised Musical Podcast with Zach and Jess")

Or maybe you're more into trivia, cuz you're a total nerd like me (and every single performer that's ever appeared on dropout.tv). How about "Umm, Actually" where contestants are given an incorrect statement and have to buzz in to correct it - but you have to say "Umm, Actually" first!

Straight up, you can't go wrong on Dropout. Please, check it out. They're nearly doubling the amount of original shows they have in 2024, and no other streaming service is doing it like them. If I haven't convinced you yet, get the 7 day trial and give em a chance. There's no referral code I can give you that gives me some sort of kickback or whatever, I genuinely wrote what looks like a thousand word essay about Dropout at 1am just because I love them so much.

youtube

#dropout.tv #umm actually #dimension 20 #make some noise #game changer #brennan lee mulligan #aabria iyengar #for a late night wine-fueled rant on a broken keyboard i think this went well #actually i feel so guilty about my CR dig because i loved Exandria Calamity so much so please dont yell at me #also google said quiddie is exactly 6 feet i hope i did her justice

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inkdemonapologist · 1 month

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nobody asked but since I've seen a lil chatter on the DCTL Graphic Novel on tumblr too, here's the thread I posted on twitter, speaking as someone who's done a little freelance work as a comic artist, under the jump:

Main thought about the DCTL graphic novel preview is: yeah, I've made designs like that when I was being paid by the page and expected to just throw in extra design work for free and I have a deadline and no time to scour the source material or really put my heart into the design No shade to the artist; every complaint I have about the pages we've seen is that this looks like someone who was just working (quickly) from a script. The artist is likely not a Big Fan, so they only know the info and descriptions they're given. And the artist's portfolio shows they're capable of the kind of designs and dynamics this comic needed. its possible they phoned it in for no reason, but feels more likely to be "not enough time/not paid enough/not given enough info to give it that level of care." Which, don't get me wrong; an important level of craftsmanship and care is missing and im not gonna blame the artist but i AM gonna be a hater abt it lmao It's not just about designs; the convo with Joey is another good example. It's a literal illustration of the things Joey said and did in that scene, but it's missing the point -- that scene is our introduction to the way Joey throws Buddy off-balance. That energy is missing. And that's the sort of thing that needs the script to convey this purpose well to the artist, that needs the artist to have time & freedom to invest in portraying it, that needs time & investment & knowledge to ask for adjustments at early stages and get the page right one more note: begging batim fans 2 think abt the plot of DCTL and realise why "maybe we will not make the creepy guy who dies at the end a black man in this" is perhaps a reasonable choice. like im a fan of poc norman headcanons too but pls recognise this would be a tough call!! anyway, genuinely cannot wait to see how off sammy is gonna be in this lmao. will he be a mid non-design like norman or will he be conventionally handsome or will he get graphic novel dave miller vibes b/c hes an antagonist? will we get the fabled black hair sammy??? i cant wait

TL;DR I strongly suspect this was an issue of not enough time/not enough money. That design looks nothing like the description of Norman, right? Like, there's hundreds of different AU designs of all shapes, colours and sizes that you could create that would still look like Norman Polk, but somehow they managed to make a character that isnt ANY of them, lmao??? So... how could that happen, unless nobody gave the artist a description of Norman? Or if they did, how did that design make it past anyone else, unless there wasn't time for revisions or a system worked out for revisions, unless whoever was managing the comic project thought it was fine if the designs didn't fit with the descriptions in the book? If everyone is doing their job, then the artist is given the information they need without having to go do unpaid YA novel research before they can start drawing. That's why you have a writer adapting it!!

("they should hire fans, a fan would've done a better job" OK BUT THATS B/C FANS ARE MORE LIKELY TO ALLOW THEMSELVES TO BE EXPLOITED AND DO EXTRA UNPAID WORK B/C THEY CARE!! THATS NOT A SOLUTION!!!! THATS A JOEY DREW STRAT!!!!!!!)

Anyway I could yell about this for 15 years so I'm going to shush for now BUT I JUST FEEL VERY STRONGLY ABOUT IT LMAO.

#genuinely tho now that i dont have to worry abt the possibility that it might be good #i can just relax and be excited to discover how far off it will be #im a hater abt this but everyone be nice to the artist lmao #we all write on the walls #is abby going to be in a suit like she's supposed to be?#how accurate will dot be?#will jacob even be black?#we could do a whole DCTL Comic Discrepancy Bingo i think it would be fun #HOW CLOSE TO GINGER ROGERS IS ALLISON GOING TO LOOK

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Silver Lining 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"So your sister will be coming by next week with the little ones," your mother declares as you stand at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of roast beef and potato. "You'll get to play auntie for the day."

"Mhmm," you nod, "what about Justin?"

"Oh, your brother's down visiting with his fiance's family. He said he'd try to make if for Christmas Eve but you know how her family is."

You sniff and pretend to know. You really don't. It's all hearsay to you. You don't hear much from either siblings; they have lives, you just happen to be related.

"S-sounds great," you utter as you put another plate in the rack.

"Oh, honey, you should just use the dishwasher," she says.

"It's f-f-fine, this works," you insist.

"Well, what about you? What are you up to?" She leans on the counter.

"I..." you don't know what to say. You need a lie, anything to appease her. Your brother's engaged, your sister has the white picket fence and you have nothing, "oh, I h-have a job interview."

"You do?" She sounds thoroughly disbelieving.

"Uh, yeah, w-well," you stammer through, trying not to give away your deceit, "since n-no one wants to h-hire me in my f-field, I f-found something new."

"That's exciting," she chimes, "what is it?"

"Uh, I w-want to see i-if it turns out b-before I say," you give a tight-lipped smile, "don't want to d-disappoint you again."

"Sweetie, you're not a disappointment," she hums, "I'm always happy to see you trying."

You look down at the sink and shrug. Behind that comment is the inference that you weren't trying before. That you haven't been. The long nights with vivid nightmares don't exactly motivate you and you've been all but blacklisted as an executive assistant. Even admin roles aren't responding. Even if you do get a bite, the job market is drawn out and tedious.

"Thanks, mom."

"Just... try not to mope around the kids," she chides, "it's Christmas."

You flutter your lashes, "sure, mom."

That's what you are to everyone; weak, pathetic, useless. No, don't do that. You'll make another appointment with Lisa, she always knows what to do.

☕️

Well, this is it. A last resort. One of those freelancing websites that pays pennies. It's better than nothing and will keep you from having too big a gap on your resume. You could easily do the writing gigs, easy money for transcription. You apply to a few of those and scroll on.

You sit up as you see a particular posting that interest you. Oddly enough, the pay isn't half bad. It's also labeled as 'may lead to ongoing work'. Well, well, well, now that's something.

You click into the posting for 'Podcast Script Writer' and review the details. A sample is required for application and lucky enough, you have lots of those hanging around. If it wasn't for your stammer, you'd have an episode done by now. You deleted enough recordings to the point of giving up. Well, this is a solution. You can get your work out there without having to embarrass yourself.

You go through the application, putting in your info and editing a draft before attaching it to the application. You just hope it's thorough enough. You never really let anyone else see and hitting submit makes your stomach flip. With the final click, you close your laptop and quickly get up. Alright, you're not going to dwell on it. If you hear anything, you'll worry then.

You try to read but can't focus. It just makes you think of the posting and your application. Oh jeez, imagine you're rejected but worse, they tell you you've done everything wrong.

Appointment! You can't forget that. You login to the app and put in a request for a Zoom appointment that week. Alright, you're getting things done, you can't say you've done nothing.

You put a video on your phone and lean it on the pop out grip, propping it up on your mattress to watch the compilation of sitcom moments cut together on Youtube. Your mind wanders and your eyes begin to sag as the day shrouds you in fatigue. You slip into a shallow doze as the glare of the screen flickers over you.

The distant clack of keyboards and clicking of mouses needles behind your ears. It's as if you're trapped in a bubble of silence, all colours and noised dampened by the unseen wall. You shudder as you hear his voice, the only thing that's clear. Your name crawls up behind the shell of your ear with his breath as his hands settle on your hips. Your body aches as every muscles tightens and your bones lock in place. Please, no, not again...

"Sir..." you try to speak but nothing comes out. He's always tugging your skirt up, his hand is around your throat. You close your eyes as tears stain your cheeks.

You wake with a start, your phone black as the battery's drained from neglect. You sit up and pant, looking around your dark bedroom, the moonlight limning shadows sinisterly. You gulp and fall back, watching the ceiling as the tears rise in reality and sting your eyes.

If you'd just said no. A simple word. Even you can manage that.

You lay for a while until your restlessness boils over. You get up and plug in your phone. The screen lights up as you rub your eye socket and yawn. There's an email notification in the taskbar. Probably more ads for things you can't afford.

You pull down the menu but find ‘Application Update’ emblazoned across the notification. Oh wow, that was fast. You keep yourself from tapping on the email.

You don't know if you can handle another rejection. You'd rather languish in the uncertainty. You've been doing so for so long, it almost feels safe.

#dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox #silver lining #mcu #marvel #avengers #winter soldier

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inkskinned · 1 year

Text

he had to hurt her like that, look at the cinema he made. did he? how do you know? the ends justify the means, huh. a woman could never actually act this well, it had to be real, a snuff film. yes, she was hired for her talent - but pain will make the talent brighter, right.

he is not alone. there are men around him who think like this. who choose actresses they can manipulate, exert power over. who write scripts that demand the pain be felt. she must hurt to uphold the message.

(an aside. author's note, i guess. in poetry, when the words cannot hold themselves up, we actually blame the writers. it shouldn't matter who speaks the literature. the words should carry their own weight. be their own scaffolding.)

the men in the room all applaud each other for doing less. they say they push boundaries. they're leaders in their field. they ask the hard questions.

when they get your resume, they put it into a pile that they will put into a trashcan. when they get your screenplay, they will use it as a coaster. when they build their museums, they will have a disjointed room dedicated to "repairing" the ways that women and people of color have been eradicated from "fine arts". it will be self-effacing. we may have overlooked some artists, they apologize. but really it's not our fault that white men make better art. (those men and their works are in permanent displays. for more on this, see: the way that he laughs at your work will make you sick to your teeth). in six weeks, their apology will be scrubbed and the room will be scrubbed and all the paintings will go back into storage.

they know they are right. sure, okay. maybe we have had less opportunities. but what would we have done with them? not something like this. it took a man to do this. okay, okay. it was deranged, we can all agree about it. but look at the product.

in your life, when you wake up, isn't it grand. if they made a museum for people like us, it would be a cycle of empty frames. of ruined videos. of songs with a voicecrack. all the little plaques reading some variation of a theme. here is where my work would stand if someone like me could actually get published in this fucking industry. here is the work i tried to make, before my agency was stripped from me. here is the placeholder of my dreams, but i could not afford them in this society.

if you keep walking, out in the greenhouse out back, the whole world is full of color. every fabric and fortuneteller and feverdream we spat out in despite. centuries of brightness, of novelty, of exploration. of talent, of wisdom, of creativity.

there is only one sign here in this alexandrian library. the sign acts like an epitaph. you already know what it says, don't you. THIS ISN'T ART, it tells you.

the blankets. the chef-level 5-course meals. the carefully-colored journal pages. the abandoned works-in-progress. the library of fanfiction. the margin drawings. somewhere in there, an actress makes a face, and you think - oh shit! she's really broken! but then she smiles at you, winking. she could do it, you know. she could always act like a starbeam. it's just that his name is the one scrolling at the bottom. she hadn't wanted to undress for him. she goes home and gets forgotten. in our museum, another blank frame goes up on the wall.

they'll give him an award, looking to the camera with almost an apology. he will laugh ruefully. nobody will do anything. little white strings will drip from his fingers. young boys in film studies will continue to chainsmoke while explaining how beautiful it is that there's violence in those scenes. she couldn't have done it without him pushing, he'll tell you, shrugging.

but what if, you wonder. what if he had never existed? without him, what else could we be making? all that time and love and spirit, allowed back into the light. into knowledge. what has he taken, to give us his art?

and is it a trade worth making?

#spilled ink #warm up #can you tell i've been playing disco elysium #no spoilers please i just started #im on day 2 #i don't think im like GOOD at DE tbh #im like too straightedge and i hate being a cop so the game was like #''why are u so apologetic about being a cop''#and im like BC I FEEL BAD ABOUT BEING A COP!!!!!!#although tbh i would like to. confess my love for my little orange guy #kitsuragi #...... i know he's gay without knowing he is gay. im SO confused about so much about this game but im like #that's a gay man

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evviejo · 11 months

Text

i can't stop thinking about those dw writer stats in which only a fraction of episodes was written by women in context of this quote from rtd

(taken from this post)

it makes me sad and worried that whatever new writers rtd might hire, they will be the same old kind - old white men. because as much as rtd might understand his own kind of point of view or has tried to understand others, it seems he's not all that willing to listen to those he hasn't managed to grasp. maybe the scripts he's read were rubbish - maybe they just weren't something he could relate to or deem important enough, but plenty of viewers would?

and tbh, i'll take not-the-best scripts with fresh stories, told from new perspectives, expanding the world of dw, over the same recycled stuff from 15 years ago any day.

#anti rtd #dw stuff

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markrosewater · 11 months

Note

Happy birthday! Can we get some birthday trivia about you on your birthday?

Sure. I turn 56 today, so here’s fifty-six things you may or may not know about me.

1) I never lost a baby tooth. Every one had to be extracted.

2) I was once a contestant on Trivial Pursuit: The Game Show with Wink Martindale. I answered the most questions correct, but didn’t win.

3) I once had scarlet fever (the thing the boy gets in the Velveteen Rabbit).

4) I’ve been told by doctors I have very weird blood.

5) I self taught myself to juggle.

6) I was a magician when I was a kid with the stage name The Wiz Kid. I mostly performed for kids parties.

7) I was once a freelance greeting card writer. My favorite (that didn’t get printed) showed a jug of maple syrup tipped on its side making a puddle of syrup. In the syrup was a top hat. A hand is pulling a can of green paint with a shamrock out of the hat. You open up the card and it says Sappy Paint Hat Tricks Day. It’s a triple Spoonerism.

8) Sara Gilbert (of “Roseanne” fame) and I once went out for lunch. (It wasn’t a date or anything.)

9) I broke my collarbone doing a prat fall off a stage.

10) I once pet a cheetah. In South Africa. My face from the picture of me doing that was used as my “Making Magic” photo for years.

11) I once made a root beer float for Keanu Reeves. It was at a play I was volunteering for.

12) I once get trapped inside Fred Astaire’s Estate. This factoid is oddly on my Wikipedia page.

13) Starting during the pandemic, my family began fostering animals. So far, we fostered four dogs, six cats, and two Guinea pigs.

14) In college, I wrote and directed two plays, started an improvisation troupe, and a writing workshop.

15) I still have all my wisdom teeth.

16) I have visited every continent except Antarctica for Magic.

17) I once asked Clint Eastwood for directions, not realizing who it was until he started talking. I was lost on the Warner Brothers lot.

18) My first job in Hollywood resulted from me taking part in someone else’s interview. I snuck on the lot, and ended walking into a room where they asked “Are you here for the production assistant interview?”, and I said, “Yes.”

19) I once had a disease the doctors couldn’t identify. They called it Mark’s Disease.

20) I was born in Mississippi. My dad was in the Air Force at the time.

21) I asked out seven woman to my senior prom who all turned me down. I ended up going with a friend who also couldn’t get a date.

22) I took six years of Spanish.

23) Most of my family’s vacations growing up were ski vacations, so I’m a decent skier.

24) I once delivered a pizza to Richard Gere. It was as a production assistant, not a pizza delivery person.

25) I once broke into an actor’s apartment building to deliver a script. It was so late, they were asleep and didn’t hear the buzzing of the door bell.

26) I once drove six hours (three in each direction) to pick up one five-stick package of Blackjack gum as a runner (production assistant).

27) Dennis Miller once thought I was a crazy man. I was sent to get him from the parking lot for a shoot and he thought I was stalking him.

28) I have over two hundred tee-shirts. They are organized by color.

29) I was supposed to pitch to “The Simpsons”, but it got cancelled when I got hired in the “Roseanne” staff.

30) I pitched multiple times to “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, but never sold a script. The closest I got was a pitch about Data malfunctioning.

31) I once ate crocodile. In Australia.

32) I played the Tinman in fifth grade in a production of “The Wizard of the Oz”. I was so hot, my silver make-up had to be reapplied halfway through as I sweated it off.

33) My mother turned down being on “Oprah” to come to my college graduation.

34) My parents are both retired. My dad was a dentist and my mom a psychologist. I used to joke I had a “paradox”.

35) Every birthday since I was 9, I’ve celebrated my birthday with crab legs.

36) Since I was in grade school, every Valentine’s Day, I hand out candy hearts, and every Halloween, I hand out mellowcreme pumpkins (basically pumpkin shaped candy corns).

37) My tee-shirts every week are themed. Some themes are pretty obvious, but they often get tricky. R&D likes figuring out the theme.

38) I got a BS in Communications (no, really) from Boston University’s College of Communications.

39) I collect superhero Minimates (they look Lego-ish). I have somewhere around two thousand. They are displayed in a number of cabinets built by my dad.

40) My podcast was inspired by a talk by Kevin Smith (at San Diego Comic-Con) where he said anyone could make a podcast.

41) I have attended over twenty-five San Diego Comic-Cons.

42) I am related to Lorne Green of “Bonanza” fame.

43) My dad’s family came from Germany and my mom’s from Russia. In Germany, my family’s name was Rosenvasser, but it was changed to Rosewater when they came to the U.S.

44) There are so few Rosewaters in the United States, that if you meet a Rosewater odds are I’m related to them.

45) I have lived in five states (Mississippi, Ohio, Massachusetts, California, and Washington, in that order).

46) I have visited over thirty states for Magic.

47) I once met Jim Henson when I worked on a clip show that Kermit was on. The question I asked him was if Ernie and Bert were named after the characters from “It’s a Wonderful Life”. He said not consciously. Jim Henson is one of my idols and I feel so blessed to have met him. He died a few months later.

48) I met Stan Lee at Hascon. He is another of my idols that I feel so lucky to have met.

49) On “Roseanne”, I worked with Amy Sherman-Palladino (just Amy Sherman back then) and Chuck Lorre. She made “Gilmore Girls” and “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. He made “Big Bang Theory” and “Two and a Half Men”. Amy was super sweet and we got along well. I don’t think Chuck liked me.

50) I am a super picky eater. For example, except for apples, I don’t eat fruit. I hate bananas with a passion.

51) I have been a game player since very young. My dad loves games and introduced them to me early in life.

52) I get the writing bug from my mom.

53) I used to collect lint in a giant jar. When I got married, Lora made me get rid of it. It was an impressive amount of lint.

54) I have a bad tendency to burn myself a lot. My family loves to make fun of it.

55) I own over fifty flannels. My favorites are from Japan because they are more colorful with their flannels. Normally I wear a large, but in Japanese sizes, I’m an extra large.

56) My favorite number is 254. I chose it when I was little.

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