Jossverse RPF: "Bullshit"
Title: Bullshit
Fandom: Jossverse RPF
Characters: Joss Whedon, Jewel Staite, Michelle Trachtenberg, Summer Glau, Morena Baccarin
Rating: R
Summary: "Michelle is on the prowl." "Do you think we should warn Summer?" "No, she's a big girl." (Even as you say it, you know it's bullshit.)
A/N: Written for prettylightsfic. The Pretty Lights Archive version (with its corresonding comments) can be found here.
Bullshit
You don't like the way everyone has their eyes on you, waiting for you to speak first, even though the convention is called WhedonCon 2008 and there is a part of you which is loving the attention. It's not just the audience, either--Summer and Jewel and Michelle are all looking at you, assuming you're going to go first in answering the question, because hey, you're Joss Whedon.
You shrug and look meaningfully at Jewel and she begins to speak without missing a beat. You envy her, at least for the moment. You can work a crowd well enough, but it's because you're a writer, they expect something different from you than they do from Jewel or Michelle or Summer, they want a slightly awkward fanboy who's made good because it's proof that they're worth something themselves. That you can deliver.
But Jewel, she has a social grace you can't even understand, flawlessly never losing her cool in any situation--until she says something incredibly dorky and ruins the effect, but sometimes you wonder if even that isn't calculated. "I can barely remember not doing this," Jewel says. "I mean, one of my first jobs was doing a show that took place on a spaceship. This is who I am: an actress."
Michelle nods knowingly, then agrees. They both were child actors, so they sort of compare notes as to what it was like to be on Nickelodeon and all and the audience just eats it up. By the time they're done, you've composed your response. "I'm sort of the same way," you say. "I mean, I wasn't an actor since I was three years old like Michelle. I'm not an actor at all--the dance of joy and a Veronica Mars gig notwithstanding. I'm a writer; I tell stories. And I've been telling stories for as long as I can remember. I mean, if you look around, stories are all around us. I breathe stories in, and then I exhale them. And I'm so lucky that people are interested in my exhalations and find my beauty, but I couldn't not do it; it's who I am."
And then it's Summer's turn and she shrugs. "I was supposed to be a ballerina," she says.
* * *
"Michelle is on the prowl," Jewel notes to you after the panel.
Yes, you know that determined look on Michelle's face, have learned to recognize it at fifty paces (because it always brings trouble). "Do you think we should warn Summer?"
Jewel shakes her head. "No, she's a big girl," she says with an enigmatic little smile, and you leave it at that.
* * *
The day's activities have come to the end, and the fans are all off getting drunk or fucking each other or getting drunk and then fucking each other or whatever it is the fans do at these things. Michelle and Summer are in Jewel's hotel room, and Jewel knows Michelle enough to know that she is about to crawl out of her own skin--or at least her clothes.
"I'm bored," says Michelle, as she makes her way to the minibar. "We need a drinking game. Never Have I Ever?"
"Are we in high school?" Jewel asks. Silently, she wonders if Michelle's plan of seduction consists completely in getting Summer drunk. Surely she's capable of something a little bit more sophisticated? "Besides, we need to sign autographs tomorrow. We can't be hungover."
Michelle makes a face, but recovers quickly. "Well, we can do something else. I don't know, take something off or something." Michelle's a terrific actress, and delivers the line as if it were perfectly spontaneous, the words just slding off her tongue, and Summer doesn't show a sign of suspecting a thing.
So they play Strip Never Have You Ever, with Jewel and Michelle ganging up on Summer. Only problem is, that sort of thing is pretty hard to hide, and soon Summer--who is now barefoot and shirtless--is complaining that they aren't playing fair.
So they agree to play something else, something a little less arbitrary. Michelle pulls out a deck of cards and suggests Strip Poker, but when Summer asks Jewel and Michelle, they realize that despite working in Hollywood for pretty much their entire lives neither really knows how to play Strip Poker. Does everyone who loses a hand strip? Is there betting, or is it just deal the cards, see who loses, take off your clothes? Poker's not all that much fun without betting and bluffing (and Michelle and Jewel can outbluff Summer any day of the week, or at least the ones that end in -y) and being a match of wits--and besides, if they don't bet then they can't cheat, short of stacking the deck.
So they play Strip Bullshit instead, agreeing that whenever someone has to take the pile of cards in the center she'll remove an article of clothing as well. It takes a while for Jewel and Michelle to work out a language of winks, blinks, and other gestures without Summer noticing, and by the time they do Jewel is already barefoot and Michelle is topless.
Summer is sitting on Jewel's bed in just her bra and panties, though, as she puts down three cards, announcing "three sixes." Jewel has two sixes in her hands, so she gives a quick blink at Michelle, who quickly says "Bullshit." Turns out Summer had really put down two deuces and a one-eyed-jack, and off comes the bra.
A slightly feral smile appears on Michelle's face, and her eyes are so locked on Summer's breasts that she almost forgets to signal to Jewel that she doesn't have any sevens in her hand.
Jewel puts down two sevens next, and Summer (who has the other two sevens) calls Bullshit on her so the panties come off too, and now Summer's buck naked in Jewel's hotel room and Michelle isn't even trying to hide the predatory look on her face anymore. "Now what am I supposed to do?" Summer asks, already crouching up into the fetal position to try to hide her nakedness, and Michelle completely drops all pretense of subtlety when she suggests that they could keep playing for oral sex.
Summer ends up eating Michelle out twice (while Jewel just watches, of course--she's faithful to Matt) before Michelle wraps the woman in one of the white sheets from Jewel's bed and quickly escorts Summer from Jewel's hotel room to Michelle's.
* * *
Summer shows up early the next morning at Jewel's door, still wrapped in that sheet. "I left my key in my pants," she explains meekly, and she hurriedly picks up her clothing and exits, holding the sheet around her as she makes her way back to her room.
* * *
Morena arrives that morning. She only has to look at the expressions on Summer's and Michelle's faces to know immediately what happened. "She's going to break Summer's heart, isn't she?" she asks.
You make a noncommittal noise, but Morena will have none of it. "Really, Joss, how could you let that happen?"
You disavow responsibility as quickly as you've done anything in your life. "Summer's a big girl," you say, but even as you say it, you know it's bullshit. What's worse, Morena knows it is bullshit, knows full well that you masturbated last night imagining Michelle fucking Summer (visualizing Summer's bare white breasts and ass (oh, what an ass) and Michelle's ravenous pussy (cunt, you think at first, but instantly backpedal mentally)) and Morena's eyes hold no absolution.
But that's how it is. You're a bullshitter. You spout bullshit. You've been spouting bullshit for as long as you can remember. Bullshit is all around you, you know; you just have to look around. You breathe bullshit in, and then you exhale it. You're just lucky that people are interested in your exhalations (your excretions!) and find beauty in your bullshit. You couldn't not do it; it's who you are.
And that's as much a load of bullshit as anything, but there you go.
Fandom: Jossverse RPF
Characters: Joss Whedon, Jewel Staite, Michelle Trachtenberg, Summer Glau, Morena Baccarin
Rating: R
Summary: "Michelle is on the prowl." "Do you think we should warn Summer?" "No, she's a big girl." (Even as you say it, you know it's bullshit.)
A/N: Written for prettylightsfic. The Pretty Lights Archive version (with its corresonding comments) can be found here.
Bullshit
You don't like the way everyone has their eyes on you, waiting for you to speak first, even though the convention is called WhedonCon 2008 and there is a part of you which is loving the attention. It's not just the audience, either--Summer and Jewel and Michelle are all looking at you, assuming you're going to go first in answering the question, because hey, you're Joss Whedon.
You shrug and look meaningfully at Jewel and she begins to speak without missing a beat. You envy her, at least for the moment. You can work a crowd well enough, but it's because you're a writer, they expect something different from you than they do from Jewel or Michelle or Summer, they want a slightly awkward fanboy who's made good because it's proof that they're worth something themselves. That you can deliver.
But Jewel, she has a social grace you can't even understand, flawlessly never losing her cool in any situation--until she says something incredibly dorky and ruins the effect, but sometimes you wonder if even that isn't calculated. "I can barely remember not doing this," Jewel says. "I mean, one of my first jobs was doing a show that took place on a spaceship. This is who I am: an actress."
Michelle nods knowingly, then agrees. They both were child actors, so they sort of compare notes as to what it was like to be on Nickelodeon and all and the audience just eats it up. By the time they're done, you've composed your response. "I'm sort of the same way," you say. "I mean, I wasn't an actor since I was three years old like Michelle. I'm not an actor at all--the dance of joy and a Veronica Mars gig notwithstanding. I'm a writer; I tell stories. And I've been telling stories for as long as I can remember. I mean, if you look around, stories are all around us. I breathe stories in, and then I exhale them. And I'm so lucky that people are interested in my exhalations and find my beauty, but I couldn't not do it; it's who I am."
And then it's Summer's turn and she shrugs. "I was supposed to be a ballerina," she says.
* * *
"Michelle is on the prowl," Jewel notes to you after the panel.
Yes, you know that determined look on Michelle's face, have learned to recognize it at fifty paces (because it always brings trouble). "Do you think we should warn Summer?"
Jewel shakes her head. "No, she's a big girl," she says with an enigmatic little smile, and you leave it at that.
* * *
The day's activities have come to the end, and the fans are all off getting drunk or fucking each other or getting drunk and then fucking each other or whatever it is the fans do at these things. Michelle and Summer are in Jewel's hotel room, and Jewel knows Michelle enough to know that she is about to crawl out of her own skin--or at least her clothes.
"I'm bored," says Michelle, as she makes her way to the minibar. "We need a drinking game. Never Have I Ever?"
"Are we in high school?" Jewel asks. Silently, she wonders if Michelle's plan of seduction consists completely in getting Summer drunk. Surely she's capable of something a little bit more sophisticated? "Besides, we need to sign autographs tomorrow. We can't be hungover."
Michelle makes a face, but recovers quickly. "Well, we can do something else. I don't know, take something off or something." Michelle's a terrific actress, and delivers the line as if it were perfectly spontaneous, the words just slding off her tongue, and Summer doesn't show a sign of suspecting a thing.
So they play Strip Never Have You Ever, with Jewel and Michelle ganging up on Summer. Only problem is, that sort of thing is pretty hard to hide, and soon Summer--who is now barefoot and shirtless--is complaining that they aren't playing fair.
So they agree to play something else, something a little less arbitrary. Michelle pulls out a deck of cards and suggests Strip Poker, but when Summer asks Jewel and Michelle, they realize that despite working in Hollywood for pretty much their entire lives neither really knows how to play Strip Poker. Does everyone who loses a hand strip? Is there betting, or is it just deal the cards, see who loses, take off your clothes? Poker's not all that much fun without betting and bluffing (and Michelle and Jewel can outbluff Summer any day of the week, or at least the ones that end in -y) and being a match of wits--and besides, if they don't bet then they can't cheat, short of stacking the deck.
So they play Strip Bullshit instead, agreeing that whenever someone has to take the pile of cards in the center she'll remove an article of clothing as well. It takes a while for Jewel and Michelle to work out a language of winks, blinks, and other gestures without Summer noticing, and by the time they do Jewel is already barefoot and Michelle is topless.
Summer is sitting on Jewel's bed in just her bra and panties, though, as she puts down three cards, announcing "three sixes." Jewel has two sixes in her hands, so she gives a quick blink at Michelle, who quickly says "Bullshit." Turns out Summer had really put down two deuces and a one-eyed-jack, and off comes the bra.
A slightly feral smile appears on Michelle's face, and her eyes are so locked on Summer's breasts that she almost forgets to signal to Jewel that she doesn't have any sevens in her hand.
Jewel puts down two sevens next, and Summer (who has the other two sevens) calls Bullshit on her so the panties come off too, and now Summer's buck naked in Jewel's hotel room and Michelle isn't even trying to hide the predatory look on her face anymore. "Now what am I supposed to do?" Summer asks, already crouching up into the fetal position to try to hide her nakedness, and Michelle completely drops all pretense of subtlety when she suggests that they could keep playing for oral sex.
Summer ends up eating Michelle out twice (while Jewel just watches, of course--she's faithful to Matt) before Michelle wraps the woman in one of the white sheets from Jewel's bed and quickly escorts Summer from Jewel's hotel room to Michelle's.
* * *
Summer shows up early the next morning at Jewel's door, still wrapped in that sheet. "I left my key in my pants," she explains meekly, and she hurriedly picks up her clothing and exits, holding the sheet around her as she makes her way back to her room.
* * *
Morena arrives that morning. She only has to look at the expressions on Summer's and Michelle's faces to know immediately what happened. "She's going to break Summer's heart, isn't she?" she asks.
You make a noncommittal noise, but Morena will have none of it. "Really, Joss, how could you let that happen?"
You disavow responsibility as quickly as you've done anything in your life. "Summer's a big girl," you say, but even as you say it, you know it's bullshit. What's worse, Morena knows it is bullshit, knows full well that you masturbated last night imagining Michelle fucking Summer (visualizing Summer's bare white breasts and ass (oh, what an ass) and Michelle's ravenous pussy (cunt, you think at first, but instantly backpedal mentally)) and Morena's eyes hold no absolution.
But that's how it is. You're a bullshitter. You spout bullshit. You've been spouting bullshit for as long as you can remember. Bullshit is all around you, you know; you just have to look around. You breathe bullshit in, and then you exhale it. You're just lucky that people are interested in your exhalations (your excretions!) and find beauty in your bullshit. You couldn't not do it; it's who you are.
And that's as much a load of bullshit as anything, but there you go.