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piecesofalice Nov. 11th, 2009 09:27 pm)
piecesofalice Nov. 11th, 2009 09:27 pm)GUESS WHAT.
IT'S![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
butchiemcgee'S BIRFDAY!!
In honour of her birth, I wrote a fic for her. It's very good and filled with awesome.
TITLE: They Shoot Movies, Don't They?
FANDOM: Inglourious Basterds RPF
RATING: PG or BIRFDAY
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, QT's. Except for elements that are mine, which I shan't give away. This shit didn't happenwhich is a horrible shame.
They Shoot Movies, Don't They?
Inglourious Basterds RPF, forbutchiemcgee's birthday, 11th November 2009
--
Forbutchiemcgee, who's like, awesome and shit. Happy birthday, my dear! <333
--
I wish my life was a
Non-stop Hollywood movie show
- The Kinks, "Celluloid Heroes"
---
The street is quiet, paved, still - there's a gathering of people speaking no words at the door of a cafe, quickly making progress on the individual tasks they're undertaking in a smooth hollow of silence.
Tall guy, silver hair, with earphones. Faceless man, back to the rest of them, sitting atop a camera. A woman with a brush and a black case of makeup, a girl writing notes on continuity and a dozen other people who look like they should be making the most exciting of chatter but - nothing.
It's because there's a scene taking place, one of reflection and revelation, in this dusty cafe-that's-really-a-bar, and it's pregnant with possibility and creativity as the low hum of silence gives way to the realisation of magic.
There's a man, a director, and he's obviously the King Of (His) Castle, a cowboy shirt and a Hitler haircut, a small smile curving at the middle of his mouth and a gleam of success in his eyes. He's watching two kids - a blonde, beautiful, her hair stealing away under a pageboy hat; a boyish solider with dark eyes and a solid, earnest smirk - as they play back and forth in a game of cat and mouse that's so innocent, so brutally layered and difficult, it's nothing to allow a Parisian street to fall on deaf ears to capture this scene unfolding.
It leads, and ends - she's up on her feet and out of the cafe, the olive wool of his Hugo Boss-styled jacket creasing at the shoulders as he lifts a hand in "what did I do?" And the man, the director, lifts his hand to click, to break the hold these two young not-lovers had over the French sidewalk and his team of types -
"OH. MY. GOD." The shriek - brittle with it's Strine and slight garbled-nature due to a build up of cheese sandwich - broke through the silence like the force of a battle-axe. "BUTCHIE, IT TOTES WORKED AND SHIT."
"REALLY?!"
"YEAH, REALLY! SHIT, SON, THERE'S DANIEL! OH. MY. GOD. LOOK OH MY GOD I TOTALLY KNEW WE WOULDN'T GET A MARCEL SCENE BECAUSE, WHATEVER."
"I KNOW, WHATEVER. LOL MARCEL."
"LOL MARCEL."
They both broke up laughing, stopping suddenly like greyhounds on a track after a rabbit.
"Cafe scene, awesome." The blonde, who was awkwardly holding an odd contraption, moved her cargo around slightly to point at the actors. "They're totally doing it," she stage-whispered loudly.
"We can hear you," the German actor managed to get out.
The brunette waved at him, coltishly, with a mouth filled with bread. "You're hot."
"Yesssss. I wasn't sure, Pieces, if your idea for an International Cross-Time-Dimensional Travelling Device made from that old toaster and kettle you were throwing out - "
"And the cat hair from the couch, remember."
"- and the cat hair from your couch, of course, was gonna work. But it did!"
"Awesome."
"Awesome."
The entire group turned slowly to face the voices - one Australian, the other American, both extremely excited - wondering how these two women seemed to have stumbled onto a very closed, very secretive set. One - an United States-born blonde - was holding a birthday card and a device that could only be described as the aforementioned time machine, her head nodding happily as she took in the scene in front of her. The other - an Aussie with a black bob - was eating a sandwich and holding a bow, which she deposited on the director's head with a flourish.
"Ta-da! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUTCHIE."
The blonde clapped and grinned. "It's my birthday," she confirmed to their confused audience.
"Um, hi, guys -"
"HAY QT!" They yelled in unison. The director looked vaguely put out, and pulled the bow off his head.
"Uh, hi? Um…who -"
The brunette cleared her throat and spread her hands in a dramatic fashion. "I, my fine candy-eating bastard, am Pieces. And this is my dear enabler, Butchie - not her real name, but this is the internet, natch - who is celebrating her birthday today."
Everyone looked at the internet-monikered blonde.
"It's my birthday," she nodded, grinning.
"It's her birthday," the brunette continued, "and so, being the wonderful human I am, I decided the best present for her would be the time-travelling one. So, with very little time, money and with a lot of laziness, I built her a time machine so we could visit y'all whilst you film one of our favourite scenes."
"I kind of wanted the projection booth scene," the blonde frowned.
"I will smack you," was her ominous reply. Then, quickly, they both turned back to their gape-mouthed friends and grinned widely.
"You time travelled?" asked the director, incredulous.
The girls nodded.
"Back to see my film being made?"
"I came to have sexy times with Daniel," said the brunette, sagely.
The German actor cowered, then looked excited, then confused, then aroused, then confused again. The brunette put her fingers to her ear and mimicked a telephone, mouthing "call me" before the blonde elbowed her in the side.
A silence again fell over the cafe, except this time it was one of pure shock, bewilderment and most of all, the smell of old toast thanks to the time machine's crumb tray being unemptied for many a year.
Until -
"THAT'S AWESOME!"
"I KNOW, RIGHT?!" The girls responded to the director's loud capslock by running at him, grabbing hands and beginning to jump excitedly in a circle, sandwich crusts and crumbs flying everywhere.
"DID YOU BRING AWESOME AUSSIE MOVIES AND AWESOME RETRO PERIODICALS AND CANDY?!"
"YES!"
"DID YOU BRING YOUR PJS FOR A SLEEPOVER?!"
"YES!"
"OH MY FUCKING GOD YAY!"
The three of them continued jumping for a good five minutes, the German actor now sniffing his breath surreptitiously and trying to catch his reflection in the glass to fix his hair. The blonde actress rolled her eyes, and lit a cigarette.
"Oh!" Pieces stopped their jumping, and pointed to the blonde actress. "That reminds me! Butchie would also like to have sexy times with several of your cast."
The director held out his hand. "It's your birthday, I have to let you."
"It's my birthday, you have to let me," said the birthday girl, happily, taking the director's hand as he lead them towards his actors.
"Can I have Daniel first?"
"It's my birthday, Pieces."
"But your list is like, seventeen years long! Mélanie has a porno, do her first." The blonde actress' eyes grew wide from her position at the cafe door.
Butchie grinned. "Can we see your porno?"
The actress shrugged. "Why not?"
"Can I see your porno?" asked the German actor and the director at the same time. The actress looked at her new foreign friends and smiled.
"Maybe we should have a girls night."
"Can Diane come?"
"Of course."
"Can Fassy come?"
"…he's not a -"
"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, CAN FASSY COME."
"Yes, mon dieu, Fassy can come!"
"YAY! And no Marcel."
"LOL MARCEL."
"LOL MARCEL."
Then they skipped out of the restaurant and left the boys to their own devices, because it was Butchie's birthday and that's how it was to be.
---
~THE END~
---
Note: characters may differ in real-life. I like the part where we're cracked-out Valley Girls, myself. :D
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY ENABLING FRIEND! I hope you have an awesome day filled with hot actors, bad RPF set in decadent surroundings, incidents that happened 35 minutes ago, old pornos, cats with bowler hats, Fassy yelling double-agent actress' names, Til punching Pacey ("take that up the creek to Dawson!"), cake, more cake, maybe some booze and 1960s anti-establishment films with awkwardly adorable pop stars.
IT'S
butchiemcgee'S BIRFDAY!!In honour of her birth, I wrote a fic for her. It's very good and filled with awesome.
TITLE: They Shoot Movies, Don't They?
FANDOM: Inglourious Basterds RPF
RATING: PG or BIRFDAY
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, QT's. Except for elements that are mine, which I shan't give away. This shit didn't happen
They Shoot Movies, Don't They?
Inglourious Basterds RPF, for
butchiemcgee's birthday, 11th November 2009--
For
butchiemcgee, who's like, awesome and shit. Happy birthday, my dear! <333--
I wish my life was a
Non-stop Hollywood movie show
- The Kinks, "Celluloid Heroes"
---
The street is quiet, paved, still - there's a gathering of people speaking no words at the door of a cafe, quickly making progress on the individual tasks they're undertaking in a smooth hollow of silence.
Tall guy, silver hair, with earphones. Faceless man, back to the rest of them, sitting atop a camera. A woman with a brush and a black case of makeup, a girl writing notes on continuity and a dozen other people who look like they should be making the most exciting of chatter but - nothing.
It's because there's a scene taking place, one of reflection and revelation, in this dusty cafe-that's-really-a-bar, and it's pregnant with possibility and creativity as the low hum of silence gives way to the realisation of magic.
There's a man, a director, and he's obviously the King Of (His) Castle, a cowboy shirt and a Hitler haircut, a small smile curving at the middle of his mouth and a gleam of success in his eyes. He's watching two kids - a blonde, beautiful, her hair stealing away under a pageboy hat; a boyish solider with dark eyes and a solid, earnest smirk - as they play back and forth in a game of cat and mouse that's so innocent, so brutally layered and difficult, it's nothing to allow a Parisian street to fall on deaf ears to capture this scene unfolding.
It leads, and ends - she's up on her feet and out of the cafe, the olive wool of his Hugo Boss-styled jacket creasing at the shoulders as he lifts a hand in "what did I do?" And the man, the director, lifts his hand to click, to break the hold these two young not-lovers had over the French sidewalk and his team of types -
"OH. MY. GOD." The shriek - brittle with it's Strine and slight garbled-nature due to a build up of cheese sandwich - broke through the silence like the force of a battle-axe. "BUTCHIE, IT TOTES WORKED AND SHIT."
"REALLY?!"
"YEAH, REALLY! SHIT, SON, THERE'S DANIEL! OH. MY. GOD. LOOK OH MY GOD I TOTALLY KNEW WE WOULDN'T GET A MARCEL SCENE BECAUSE, WHATEVER."
"I KNOW, WHATEVER. LOL MARCEL."
"LOL MARCEL."
They both broke up laughing, stopping suddenly like greyhounds on a track after a rabbit.
"Cafe scene, awesome." The blonde, who was awkwardly holding an odd contraption, moved her cargo around slightly to point at the actors. "They're totally doing it," she stage-whispered loudly.
"We can hear you," the German actor managed to get out.
The brunette waved at him, coltishly, with a mouth filled with bread. "You're hot."
"Yesssss. I wasn't sure, Pieces, if your idea for an International Cross-Time-Dimensional Travelling Device made from that old toaster and kettle you were throwing out - "
"And the cat hair from the couch, remember."
"- and the cat hair from your couch, of course, was gonna work. But it did!"
"Awesome."
"Awesome."
The entire group turned slowly to face the voices - one Australian, the other American, both extremely excited - wondering how these two women seemed to have stumbled onto a very closed, very secretive set. One - an United States-born blonde - was holding a birthday card and a device that could only be described as the aforementioned time machine, her head nodding happily as she took in the scene in front of her. The other - an Aussie with a black bob - was eating a sandwich and holding a bow, which she deposited on the director's head with a flourish.
"Ta-da! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUTCHIE."
The blonde clapped and grinned. "It's my birthday," she confirmed to their confused audience.
"Um, hi, guys -"
"HAY QT!" They yelled in unison. The director looked vaguely put out, and pulled the bow off his head.
"Uh, hi? Um…who -"
The brunette cleared her throat and spread her hands in a dramatic fashion. "I, my fine candy-eating bastard, am Pieces. And this is my dear enabler, Butchie - not her real name, but this is the internet, natch - who is celebrating her birthday today."
Everyone looked at the internet-monikered blonde.
"It's my birthday," she nodded, grinning.
"It's her birthday," the brunette continued, "and so, being the wonderful human I am, I decided the best present for her would be the time-travelling one. So, with very little time, money and with a lot of laziness, I built her a time machine so we could visit y'all whilst you film one of our favourite scenes."
"I kind of wanted the projection booth scene," the blonde frowned.
"I will smack you," was her ominous reply. Then, quickly, they both turned back to their gape-mouthed friends and grinned widely.
"You time travelled?" asked the director, incredulous.
The girls nodded.
"Back to see my film being made?"
"I came to have sexy times with Daniel," said the brunette, sagely.
The German actor cowered, then looked excited, then confused, then aroused, then confused again. The brunette put her fingers to her ear and mimicked a telephone, mouthing "call me" before the blonde elbowed her in the side.
A silence again fell over the cafe, except this time it was one of pure shock, bewilderment and most of all, the smell of old toast thanks to the time machine's crumb tray being unemptied for many a year.
Until -
"THAT'S AWESOME!"
"I KNOW, RIGHT?!" The girls responded to the director's loud capslock by running at him, grabbing hands and beginning to jump excitedly in a circle, sandwich crusts and crumbs flying everywhere.
"DID YOU BRING AWESOME AUSSIE MOVIES AND AWESOME RETRO PERIODICALS AND CANDY?!"
"YES!"
"DID YOU BRING YOUR PJS FOR A SLEEPOVER?!"
"YES!"
"OH MY FUCKING GOD YAY!"
The three of them continued jumping for a good five minutes, the German actor now sniffing his breath surreptitiously and trying to catch his reflection in the glass to fix his hair. The blonde actress rolled her eyes, and lit a cigarette.
"Oh!" Pieces stopped their jumping, and pointed to the blonde actress. "That reminds me! Butchie would also like to have sexy times with several of your cast."
The director held out his hand. "It's your birthday, I have to let you."
"It's my birthday, you have to let me," said the birthday girl, happily, taking the director's hand as he lead them towards his actors.
"Can I have Daniel first?"
"It's my birthday, Pieces."
"But your list is like, seventeen years long! Mélanie has a porno, do her first." The blonde actress' eyes grew wide from her position at the cafe door.
Butchie grinned. "Can we see your porno?"
The actress shrugged. "Why not?"
"Can I see your porno?" asked the German actor and the director at the same time. The actress looked at her new foreign friends and smiled.
"Maybe we should have a girls night."
"Can Diane come?"
"Of course."
"Can Fassy come?"
"…he's not a -"
"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, CAN FASSY COME."
"Yes, mon dieu, Fassy can come!"
"YAY! And no Marcel."
"LOL MARCEL."
"LOL MARCEL."
Then they skipped out of the restaurant and left the boys to their own devices, because it was Butchie's birthday and that's how it was to be.
---
~THE END~
---
Note: characters may differ in real-life. I like the part where we're cracked-out Valley Girls, myself. :D
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY ENABLING FRIEND! I hope you have an awesome day filled with hot actors, bad RPF set in decadent surroundings, incidents that happened 35 minutes ago, old pornos, cats with bowler hats, Fassy yelling double-agent actress' names, Til punching Pacey ("take that up the creek to Dawson!"), cake, more cake, maybe some booze and 1960s anti-establishment films with awkwardly adorable pop stars.
♡
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From:
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From:
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...
From:
no subject
I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO BEGIN BUT I LOVE THIS. YOU TOLD ME NOT TO GET EXCITED BUT I DID AND NOW I'M ALL HAPPY! YAY!
This wonderful fic is one of many reasons why I dedicate Hall & Oates songs to you ♥
It's nice to see Ozy made it to the party, btw.
LOL MARCEL, indeed.
From:
no subject
Did you have a good day? And you totes know this fic is awesome because it happened, truly and absolutely.
And I tried to write you srs biz fic, but noooooo, my muse was all like, "HAY YOU SHOULD WRITE LOL FIC AND SHIT" and how can I say no, especially while I was eating lemon tarts and being completely off topic?
Ozy came 35 minutes ago, I believe. He spent most of the party coming onto Paul Jones (I think he went home with a phone number, I'm not sure)
<3333
From:
no subject
I had a nice, quiet day; phone calls from family members, metal Rorschach and Dr. Manhattan lunchboxes, a Spock doll (who is now making out with my Uhura barbie) and lovely birthday cards, among other things. It's a regular tradition in my department at work for those with birthdays/any important life events to get a birthday card signed by all of us (one of my co-workers promised to give me Robert Downey, Jr.). Clint was being his usual mouthy self, so I (jokingly, I suppose) said to him,
"You sonofabitch! I'm going to slit your throat with this card!"
Then we laughed.
LOL FIC AND SHIT IS AWESOME. AWESOMELY TRUE, THAT IS. You can write srs biz fic later, and by later, I mean NOW. RIGHT NOW AND FILLED WITH SMUT. AND IF YOU'D LIKE, THEY CAN RIDE OFF INTO THE SUNSET ON A UNICORN. A UNICORN THAT SPEARED LANDA, HITLER, AND GOEBBELS ON ITS HORN. ALSO, FOR NO GOOD REASON AT ALL, UTIVICH IS THERE, NAKED AND THROWING CANDY AT THEM.
Aw, Ozy. He totally caught Shosanna and Fredrick making out. Paul wrote this song for Ozy, of course:
Also, I found a comment on a blog that when Tarantino showed IB in Austin, Texas, he stated that Shosanna and Fredrick are his Romeo and Juliet! The guy who posted that got all whiny though, as he didn't want to believe that Shosanna could love Fredrick (even though God himself was there and said so).
EDIT: GO TO
From:
no subject
LOLOLOLOL I read out your awesome fic idea about unicorns at dinner and they all STARED AT ME LIKE I WAS CRAZY. I WAS RANTING BECAUSE I WAS SO EXCITED ABOUT THE QUOTES AT
OMG Paul/Ozy! Now there's a pairing of GQMFs I could get behind - Paul, tired in the 70s, goes to Studio 54 and runs into this devastating man who's trying to save the world, one nightclub at a time. Paul once wanted to make the world a better place, but he's bitter and, um, sad and shit - can Ozy save his ravaged heart? (LOL at the girls pinching his legs in the YouTube clip. You know that would be us)
Re: the guy whinging about Sho/Fred? I'm going to kill him. Speaking of which, this came on my iPod and I imagined Mélanie singing it about someone:
YES I GOT FIC BUNNIES
* There was cake and it was your birthday. Costco cake!
From:
no subject
No cake, but I did have chocolate. You having cake in my honor counts, too.
I used to buy old plastic lunch boxes from thrift stores and then decorate them with pictures and stickers and such, so I have an interesting collection of them relegated to a corner. My mom told me she actually asked the people at the store she bought the lunch boxes from, "Don't you have anything with Ozy?"
Adrian and Paul (or Steven Shorter) could give each other something to believe in *sob* That'd be an epic fic if you were to ever write it (or we could keep giggling about it, as that works, too). OF COURSE WE'D HARASS PAUL. Then we'd go watch Privilege a billion times at whatever little theater would be playing it.
Unicorns + Shosanna/Fredrick = WIN, especially if Utivich is there. I find all three of them are similar in that they're the youngest and most vulnerable (but no OTP, as this is strictly a Sho/Fred affair).
HAS YOUR BRAIN MELTED OVER QT'S CONFIRMATION, TOO?! WE KNEW WHAT HE WAS UP TO AND HAD BEEN VINDICATED TIME AND AGAIN BUT TO FINALLY HAVE HIM SAY IT SO PERFECTLY AND CALL THEM HIS TRAGIC LOVERS IS JUST SO DNCVNFJSX! DID YOU LIKE THE BANNER? I WENT A LITTLE BLOOD-CRAZY BECAUSE OMGHECONFIRMEDIT.
I've noticed the most vocal opposition comes from male viewers of IB, because they resent Zoller and are quick to insult him. TOO BAD, MOTHERFUCKERS, BECAUSE THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND SOHSANNA IS CAPABLE OF LOVING FREDRICK.
I love that song and Soko's voice is goddamn precious.
I think I know who that someone is and YES FIC BUNNIES! Tarantino has given us enough to write forever.
Also, I LOVE the fancy-pants packaging on the fancy new Watchmen release; I open up the case and BAM! Ozy and the Comedian! I'm going to spend my night watching it and plotting out that Sho/Fred essay and eating popcorn.
♥
From:
no subject
I JUST GOT TEARY. My youngin' faux-Mod self wrote a "screenplay" where the main character (COUGHMARYSUECOUGH) was ~misunderstood~ so she would hide her love for The Monkees because they weren't Mod enough, until she met - GASP! - a Rocker who sekritly loved them to, and they watched Head in Hollywood dive cinemas every day and it was lovely. In other words, TIME TRAVELING FIC AGAIN Y/Y?
MY BRAIN IS SO MELTED. MELTED LIKE THE WICKED WITCH, YO. Every song I hear I'm like, "can this be a them-song?" *'500 Miles' by The Proclaimers plays* "YES!" THE BANNER IS BEAUTIFUL, MUCH LIKE OUR WE-KNEW-IT-BUT-IT'S-NICE-TO-HEAR-IT CONFIRMATION. <3333333x3748374834738
Explain this ULTIMATO Watchmen. It's not the one with whats-his-face's face on it, is it?
From:
no subject
Your screenplay is lulz, but I mean that lovingly. Everyone I know wants me to make Cocksucking Bloodsuckers a reality: http://s41.photobucket.com/albums/e274/NurseJoker/Cocksucking%20Bloodsuckers/
I made it up as a joke to screw with a middle-aged film nerd (and because he enjoys those lesbian vampire films that basically exploit lesbians). YES, MORE TIME-TRAVELING FIC.
MY BRAIN MAY NEVER RECOVER. IT'S WONDERFUL TO HAVE CONFIRMATION EVEN THOUGH WE'RE GENIUSES AND ALREADY KNEW, BUT NOW WE CAN RUB IT IN OTHER PEOPLE'S FACES! HA!
It's a fancy black and yellow box with blood spatters and the back says, THE END IS NIGH. Open it up, and there's all of the Watchmen in shiny, blue-tinting. The inside case has Ozy, the Comedian, and Nite Owl. The whole thing includes the entire film with pirates included and extras consist of Under The Hood, the motion comic, 2 hours worth of behind-the-scenes stuff and commentaries from Zack Snyder and Dave Gibbons. I LOVE IT SO MUCH.
From:
no subject
I must say, I rather enjoyed the conversations we are both having with the OP of the defaced Sho/Fred secret at
Guess what I watched yesterday. GUESS
IT HAS A FIERCE BASTARD WHO BLOWS THINGS UP 35 MINS AGO IN IT
CAN YOU GUESS
From:
THIS POST IS CRAMMED WITH AWESOME
I stole the tagline from a drive-in ad and used an Annie Belle film poster as a reference:
I've fooled some folks with all of it, who then tell me that I need to actually make the film (and I would, if I can get actors like Matthew, Billy, and Ben). So basically, I should probably make gay porn with lavish production values.
I'm guessing that OP is either a member of
DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT A POOR, PUT-UPON GENIUS OP IS? WE CAN'T, BECAUSE WE'RE BAD PEOPLE. AND SO IS QT FOR EVEN HAVING THE GALL TO TAKE 10 YEARS TO CREATE A CAST OF CHARACTERS AND THEIR BACKSTORIES, FILM IT, AND THEN HAVE THE GODDAMNED NERVE TO TALK ABOUT IT AS IF WHAT HE SAYS ABOUT HIS OWN FILMS MATTERS.
(For future reference, either of these two pictures will work as the perfect response: http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e274/NurseJoker/mattwut.jpg http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e274/NurseJoker/007y1hg6.jpg)
IT HAS A FIERCE BASTARD WHO BLOWS THINGS UP 35 MINS AGO IN IT
CAN YOU GUESS
Hmmm...let me think about that.