Writings
Still not sure where this is going, but figured I'd dump the first bit here for people's amusement:
“PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS SMASH!”
The robot exploded in a plume of oily black smoke and neon pink love hearts. For a moment there was silence, before a brief shower of debris rained down, with a sound like hailstones on glass.
“Ow. Eep. Fuck!” Gail swore as tiny pieces of robot shrapnel pinged off her head and arms.
“CUT! Jesus fucking christ Gail, I said 'smash the robot', not 'blow it to fucking pieces'! Those things are expensive.”
With a heavy sigh, Gail let the Pretty Princess Hammer slip from her hand. The wooden floor of the set groaned uncomfortably under it's weight. Taking a few breaths to compose herself, she looked around at the frightened faces of the crew, peering out at her from behind the pieces of scenery or film equipment that they'd used as cover.
His face caught in a familiar look of fury, Mr Samson stormed across the set towards her.
“Sorry Sam.” She said, doing her best to give him the doe eyes. It never worked.
“That's 'Mr Samson', not 'Sam'. Dammit girl.”
“Do we need to retake?”
“How the hell are we supposed to retake?! You blew up our robot. Fuck, now I gotta clean up all this mess too. Go get cleaned up already.”
With a parting scowl, he turned and stormed off across the set.
“JIMMY! Stop hiding behind that fucking camera already. If it's broken I'm taking it out of your pay, d'ya hear?! Christ, get this set cleaned up people. I'm going for lunch. Suit Spirit classroom scenes in half an hour.”
Grateful to be dismissed, Gail nearly ran from the set, to her dressing room. Without a moment wasted, she peeled off the ridiculously clingy Pretty Princess costume, and sank into her couch, in just her underwear. The studio's air conditioning seemed to work maybe one day in ten, and today apparently wasn't the day. After hours under the film lights her costume had been in danger of becoming see-through with sweat.
After a minute or two she picked up her cell phone and dialled the first number in her address book.
“Hi honey. What's up?” Blake's voice was full of confusion and wariness. Just what she needed.
“Nothing sweetie, just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh. Now's not the best time. Meeting with a big client. It's nothing urgent then?”
“Well, no. Not urgent. I just...”
“Sorry Gail, honey, these guys are kinda impatient, so...”
“OK, I'll let you go. Sorry sweetheart. Just... uh, do you want to do something tonight?”
“Let me get back to you, OK? Maybe this weekend.”
“OK. Sorry. Love you.”
“Ciao.”
The line clicked dead.
(Only slightly inspired by Nanoha)
Also, I haz Starcraft 2! Battle.Net IDs, bitches, send them to me!
I've also got a spare trial pass if anyone wants it. First come, first served.
“PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS SMASH!”
The robot exploded in a plume of oily black smoke and neon pink love hearts. For a moment there was silence, before a brief shower of debris rained down, with a sound like hailstones on glass.
“Ow. Eep. Fuck!” Gail swore as tiny pieces of robot shrapnel pinged off her head and arms.
“CUT! Jesus fucking christ Gail, I said 'smash the robot', not 'blow it to fucking pieces'! Those things are expensive.”
With a heavy sigh, Gail let the Pretty Princess Hammer slip from her hand. The wooden floor of the set groaned uncomfortably under it's weight. Taking a few breaths to compose herself, she looked around at the frightened faces of the crew, peering out at her from behind the pieces of scenery or film equipment that they'd used as cover.
His face caught in a familiar look of fury, Mr Samson stormed across the set towards her.
“Sorry Sam.” She said, doing her best to give him the doe eyes. It never worked.
“That's 'Mr Samson', not 'Sam'. Dammit girl.”
“Do we need to retake?”
“How the hell are we supposed to retake?! You blew up our robot. Fuck, now I gotta clean up all this mess too. Go get cleaned up already.”
With a parting scowl, he turned and stormed off across the set.
“JIMMY! Stop hiding behind that fucking camera already. If it's broken I'm taking it out of your pay, d'ya hear?! Christ, get this set cleaned up people. I'm going for lunch. Suit Spirit classroom scenes in half an hour.”
Grateful to be dismissed, Gail nearly ran from the set, to her dressing room. Without a moment wasted, she peeled off the ridiculously clingy Pretty Princess costume, and sank into her couch, in just her underwear. The studio's air conditioning seemed to work maybe one day in ten, and today apparently wasn't the day. After hours under the film lights her costume had been in danger of becoming see-through with sweat.
After a minute or two she picked up her cell phone and dialled the first number in her address book.
“Hi honey. What's up?” Blake's voice was full of confusion and wariness. Just what she needed.
“Nothing sweetie, just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh. Now's not the best time. Meeting with a big client. It's nothing urgent then?”
“Well, no. Not urgent. I just...”
“Sorry Gail, honey, these guys are kinda impatient, so...”
“OK, I'll let you go. Sorry sweetheart. Just... uh, do you want to do something tonight?”
“Let me get back to you, OK? Maybe this weekend.”
“OK. Sorry. Love you.”
“Ciao.”
The line clicked dead.
(Only slightly inspired by Nanoha)
Also, I haz Starcraft 2! Battle.Net IDs, bitches, send them to me!
I've also got a spare trial pass if anyone wants it. First come, first served.