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Quix's Random Bullshit Thread (Comments Welcome)

LeatrixSage

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Hah, see now, I can't just write a helpless victim. Sure, every humanbeing has a breaking point, a certain amount their mind cab take before breaks, or they fundamentally become someone else, but not everyone does that in two minutes or less of simi-serious conflict, lol.

I prefer applying my own rational and perspective into characters that jump down the rabbit hole because my own outlook is so weird compared to "normal" people.

Now, the monster that looks like everyone else, it is interesting that they are the ones that scare you. While I respect the danger they can be, I can kill another human being. I can see them, touch them, fight them. They scare me less than something I can't see or can't explain. But, this goes back to why I am weird, lmao.

And, it seems, when we are done with Val and Cole, we might need to have a lengthy chat. xD

Congrats on the story on E, though. I will have to give that a read. :)
 

Mr Quixotic

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Hah, see now, I can't just write a helpless victim. Sure, every humanbeing has a breaking point, a certain amount their mind cab take before breaks, or they fundamentally become someone else, but not everyone does that in two minutes or less of simi-serious conflict, lol.

I prefer applying my own rational and perspective into characters that jump down the rabbit hole because my own outlook is so weird compared to "normal" people.

Now, the monster that looks like everyone else, it is interesting that they are the ones that scare you. While I respect the danger they can be, I can kill another human being. I can see them, touch them, fight them. They scare me less than something I can't see or can't explain. But, this goes back to why I am weird, lmao.

And, it seems, when we are done with Val and Cole, we might need to have a lengthy chat. xD

Congrats on the story on E, though. I will have to give that a read. :)

Ah, Lea, you're right, I can't imagine you ever writing the helpless victim type. It's just not in your nature, which is what makes Valentina so much fun! And, I don't find your outlook weird, which as we've discussed before, just makes us both weird!

I get where you're coming from, too. With me, I can't be scared or hurt by something I know doesn't exist.

That I can identify with a perpetrator of that evil on a human level is what I find 'scariest. '

The guy with the friendly smile who just held the door open for you?

The one who sits opposite you in class and shares his notes?

Who'd have thunk they had three severed heads in their fridge!

Who really ever knows goes on behind closed doors or in peoples minds.

The concept of that but for a twist of nature, nurture, accident of birth or brain wiring, it could be me!

We do need to have that chat; I'm sure we could come up with something incredibly dark, twisted, fucked-up and fun between us :) If you do read it, I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Someone has probably shown you this already, but on the off chance that nobody has, how accurate is this video?
Fruit, Fruit, Fruit; what do you mean have I been shown it?

I wrote, produced, directed and starred in it.

That panty-dropping hunk in the white shirt; the more ripped, better-looking version of Chris Hemsworth?

That's me, and the video is the first of a fifty part fly-on-the-wall series documenting my life!

Don't poke fun :(

--------------------------------

While I'm here.

With that non-commercialised day of pure, sincere, unadulterated romance upon us next week, a gift for any BMR singles looking to score a date for Valentine's.

I've used these many a time and they work a treat.


As long as you select the right target!
 
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Mr Quixotic

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Just a couple of writing samples from stories on E that I had a lot of fun with.

This top one, my first ever attempt at writing a mob character - or not quite. Also a trope I swore I'd never write, but with some ideas in mind to take it well past the realm of cliche, my partner made the pairing sound too enticing to pass up.

Salvatore Ricci is going to be a blast to portray.

“Accept the twenty gee and tell him if he doesn’t have the rest tomorrow as promised, he’ll need his wife to push his wheelchair for the next six fucking months. Oh and break the little prick’s pinky.” Salvatore Ricci ended the call, certain his collector would adhere to the directive. Sal wasn’t a man known for his benevolence with either those who refused to repay their debts or employees who couldn’t follow orders. That didn’t stop a deluge of customers from coming his way, however, for what he offered were the lowest interest rates and fairest gaming tables in town. Well, the fairest illegal gaming.

“Hey, boss.”

Ricci glanced up from his seat in the back office of Lucky’s Lounge when a bald mountain of a man popped his head through the door. “What is it, Karl?”

“There’s a broad out the front. Asked to see you.”

“Who is she?” A check of the desk calendar showed no appointment, per his usual schedule. Mornings, he devoted to negotiations with new clients and the afternoon, as it was now, to settlements and chasing bad debts. In the evenings, he’d supervise the action downstairs in the casino which kicked off after the club opened to the public, or entrust that to his lieutenant and enjoy some downtime.

While Ricci wasn’t mob affiliated, he operated under their protection. Remaining on the periphery of the wiseguy activity, he laundered a little dirty cash, schmoozed with the lower and mid-tier gangsters and supplied an off the books interest-free loan here and there. On the flip side, his mafia contacts provided help if he ran into a particularly intransigent debtor or a difficult client with high-level connections. Peacefully, or with extreme prejudice, depending on circumstance. Sal was the guy invited to all the weddings and functions, but who never received a personal greeting from the Don.

“Don’t know, but she’s a looker. Curves like you got to see to believe.” The bald man outlined the form of an hourglass with his hands.

“Oh, yeah?” Ricci grinned. To Karl, as long as a woman had tits, she was a stunner.

“I’m not bullshitting you, Sal.”

“Sure you’re not. Give me five minutes, check she’s not packing, and show her in.”

“Whatever you say.”

After Karl left, Ricci picked up a remote control and flicked on the bank of television monitors mounted on the wall. They coalesced into life, providing Sal a split screen view of every room in the establishment and the entrances and exits. The feed from the main bar showed a single woman seated a table. Zooming in on her, Ricci whistled. Young, cute and as far as he could tell, graced with a body to die for, Karl hadn’t been wrong. What struck him most was a sense of déjà vu as if he’d seen her before. He tapped his fingers on the wooden desk, lips pursed and tried to pull the memory from his brain.

“Shit.” Salvatore jumped from his chair, opened a filing cabinet and pulled older a manilla folder labelled William Martin. The man owed a hundred and fifty grand, interest accruing daily, and had failed to make his last three payments. A week ago, Ricci’s goons paid him a visit to clarify that another missed instalment would be unacceptable. Still, as he was a Police Detective, they’d gone easy on him, leaving Martin with nothing worse than a bruised and battered face and two cracked ribs. Ricci chuckled as he imagined how he’d explained those away at work before his gaze moved from the images of William to those of his family. He scanned over the wife and focused on the daughter; Sophia Martin, twenty-five and pretty as hell, she’d been in Sal’s mind as a source of pressure to exert on the debtor.

What was she doing here?

By the time Karl returned with the visitor Sal had smoothed down his white silk shirt and reclined in his chair. With his eight-hundred dollar Italian loafers resting on the desk and his hands linked at the back of his head, the man exuded composure.

“Go on in.” Karl nudged the girl into the room, then shut the door behind her.

“My my.” Salvatore ran his eyes over her from top to tail, not caring if he offended her with the appraisal. The lady was tasty. “Sophia Martin.” After lowering his feet and sitting up, he focused on her face, and tossed the manila folder onto the desk, opened to a photograph taken of her walking out of her family home in the company of her Father. “Take a seat,” Sal motioned to a chair opposite, “and tell me to what do I owe this pleasure. Have you come bearing gifts from Daddy?”

The second from a story that's been going a while now. I'm not sure what it is about this post that made me proud of it when I was done. It's probably nothing to do with the writing or the post itself or anything that would come through to the casual reader.

I think what really speaks to me about is the sizzling chemistry that my partner and I feel has been built between our characters. And the knowledge that it's to lead them both down some pretty dark, dysfunctional and emotionaly fucked-up paths.

Aiden knew Gigi must have caught him checking out her ass when she turned back to speak to him, for by the time he’d lifted his gaze from her delectable butt, she’d already made it halfway through her sentence. However, as nice as it was, if asked, he’d have revealed that his attention had been as much garnered by her boots. Even in the youth of their early courting days, Lauren wouldn’t be seen dead in public in such scandalous attire. Let alone worn a pair of high-thighs in bed while he fucked her. Doing his utmost to push that thought aside, Aiden winked at her comment.

Once they'd arrived at the booth and the waitress had left, Aiden tugged Gigi onto his lap. If her squeal was any sign, she seemed pleased to be there. His comfort level with the stripper had risen since their first meeting and he reflected on his demeanour then with a twinge of embarrassment. Only by befriending her and gaining her trust could he help the girl, and a sexual liaison would further separate her from his daughter.

Relieved of that mental burden, he’d regained his middle-aged confidence. With Gigi on his knee, his arousal rose, but not enough to distract his senses. Instead, possessed of a clear mind, Aiden savoured the girl’s giggles and the little kisses and nips she planted on his neck. Out of the direct line of sight of the customers and floor staff, they acted more like lovers. Their soft caresses and touches interspersed with gasps of pleasure and snippets of conversation, Gigi’s shiver when he nipped her lobe provided the man’s ego a boost before he pulled back to hear her response.

Mirth filled his expression at her words. The girl wasn’t just gorgeous, but also intelligent and witty, and the church tale elicited a chuckle and amused shake of his head. “Hours spent in the confession booth, I’d believe, but not that story,” he grinned. Aiden’s hand glided down her back to issue a playful spank to her butt. When Gigi’s tone changed, he sensed he was about to hear the truth.

“Psychology?” He pursed his lips and appraised Gigi, blue eyes locked on her face. An idea occurred to him, but it remained too early to broach with her now. “You should. You can’t spend your entire life dancing.” Aiden shrugged and changed tack, careful not to dwell on that subject for too long and risk raising her ire. “While you’re whiling away the hours watching reality television and not being sexy,” he teased, leaning in to suckle her earlobe again and gripping it between his teeth. “Though, that latter, I find impossible to believe.”

When he mentioned taking her up on her previous offer, Aiden wasn’t certain how she’d react. Or if he’d meant it. Aiden followed her movements with his gaze as she stood then placed her knees on the sofa and straddled him. The press of her body brought a fluttering of his eyes and her words evoked a groan.

I’m all yours, Aiden. You can have me right here if you want."

His Adam’s apple bobbed and Aiden sat motionless with Gigi’s promise ringing in his ears while she ran her fingers through his hair and trailed her lips over his neck and throat. An erection rose in his pants and he moved with her, pushing up against Gigi as she rolled her hips into his, but with nowhere near the same as urgency or loss of control as the first evening. Engrossed with the blonde, he barely noticed the waitress deposit the bottle of champagne on the table, and set down two glasses, or the knowing smirk she gave the two before she walked away.

As she moaned and ground on top of him, he glided his palms down her body and raked her skin with his nails. When his touch reached her ass, he cupped her perfect, firm butt cheeks in his hands, kneading and squeezing each, and watched her face. She looked an angel, writhing, rocking and stiffening his cock with each subtle movement. Deliberate or not, Gigi knew how to turn Aiden on and the girl played the strings of his arousal like a violin. “You know what I fantasised about the other night?” Aiden asked as he titled his head to kiss the side of her neck and she freed her perky tits from their faux leather confines.

Maintaining eye contact, Aiden kissed lower, nipping at the hollow of her throat before the attention of his mouth and lips moved to the swell of her breasts. “Of having you in my apartment and ravishing every inch of your body from dusk to dawn.” Hips writhing on the lounge, he moaned against a nipple, making it vibrate before he took it into his mouth.

After he released her nipple, Aiden hooked his fingers in Gigi’s hair and rose to kiss her lips. “Or maybe moonlighting outside of working hours is against the Club’s rules, I don’t know,” he whispered. While his tongue urged her mouth to open to his, Aiden gripped one of Gigi’s wrists, dragged her arm between their grinding hips, “Right now, I don’t care," and placed her hand on the tent in his trousers. “Right now, I need you to take me out and take me inside you.” He hadn’t forgotten where they were. In fact, the concept of screwing the young blonde in the midst of a strip club only made his erection twitch and pulse even harder. For the first time in ages, Aiden felt alive. Damn the consequences of discovery.
 
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Mr Quixotic

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Australian Archbishop and until recently, the world's third most powerful Catholic, George Pell, gets imprisoned after being found guilty on child sex abuse charges, and two ex Australian Prime Ministers come out in public support of him.

"Not George Pell; he's a good man. And a Catholic. I don't believe it!"

Why not; not like it's a rarity in the church?

What the fuck is it with these blinkered assholes. How about some compassion for the victims?

Thank goodness we have people like Tim Minchin in this world with the balls and ability to speak up in an artistic, clever and entertaining way to get a message across to a broad audience:

This first song was written when Cardinal Pell was accused of covering up abuse by fellow priests and wouldn't return home from the Vatican to face his accusers in a formal inquiry because he was 'too ill'.


The second, if you're a believer, or easily offended, you may be best not listening to.


'It's the 'if that's what you're offended about, then you really need to get your priorities straight' thrust that strikes a strong chord with me and my moral universe.

Both of these songs speak to me more than ever in the light of recent events.
 
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Mr Quixotic

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We have Donald Trump and Scott Morrison,

then we have Jacinda Ardern.


I know which one I think provides the best example of leadership and a will to bring the people of their country together.

I love the strength of her resolution and principles here. Not to mention her calling out of the social media companies abrogation of responsibility, support offered to the victim's families and the immediate action on gun laws. Something other countries could learn from.
 
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Mr Quixotic

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Final confirmation that my muse is totally frazzled and that writing at the moment is a struggle came last night when I had to ask a promising potential partner over on E if we could put plotting for a new iteration of Internet Killers (which, anyone who knows is aware is my 'White Whale' of a theme to find an on-the-same-page collaborator for) on hold for a bit. Fortunately, having been there herself, she understood and said, "not a worry at all; I'm happy to wait."

Also in the midst of plotting out a second story with the incredibly fun AzureRain after recently completing our first - what was meant to be a quick E one-shot that lasted just on two years! - but there's no rush with that one. At the moment, it works for both to take our time in finalising the details and getting it started.

In the five years I've been roleplaying, I've never stepped away from it for any length of time and the constant mental energy it requires to translate the jumbled thoughts that make total sense in my head into coherent, logically-ordered sentences on the screen that others can follow has finally exacted a toll. I can't recall when I was last fully caught up on stories - have I ever been?

With ten days off work starting the Easter long, long weekend, and having a number of others things planned, I'm going to take a break from writing over that time to recharge and refresh my muse and creative energy.

Thankfully, I have the most awesome and patient (not to mention talented) partners, and I'll be back in full force come the 29th April, ready to go another five years!

And who knows, after granting myself 'permission' to not have to worry or think about writing for two weeks, the muse might kick back in sooner and replies will magically appear, but no promises on that front!

Regardless, I'll still be around to shoot the breeze and swap PM's.

What'll be interesting is seeing for how long I can resist bumping my RT's :)


--------------------------

In the spirit of the upcoming Easter weekend and my complete and utter disbelief in the mythology behind it;

Has anyone ever pondered the question of how lucky for humanity that so many people have fallen for religious bullshit.

For what depths of depravity would civilisation have sunk to If Atheists Ruled The World?


And while I'm here, how about a little Monty Python

 
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Mr Quixotic

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What can I say; searching for an appropriate love song to place in a story post sent me for a three hour trip down the 1980's youtube power ballad wormhole. An enjoyable trip it was too!

Eventually chose this as it was released in 1984; the year the significance of it dates back to in our story


It was a hard choice between that and this second, one of my favourites of this genre, but I wanted a song/artist (I think would have been) a little less well-known in small town USA. At least at the time.

Recently re-released in this symphonic version:

 
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Mr Quixotic

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Don't know how I'd never stumbled across this Shades of Grey review before.

Its depiction of Anastasia Steele shares so many parallels with the types of female characters I rail against in my request threads. And commonly encounter.

The author and I also have sarcasm in common :)

Original article found here:

Fifty Shades of Grey is a fantasy of female laziness
By Amanda Taubamanda@vox.com Feb 17, 2015, 11:20am EST

There may never have been a movie as remarkably at variance with its own breathless marketing campaign as Fifty Shades of Grey. The movie's trailer, posters, ads, and numerous product tie-ins all suggest that it's a film about a young woman's sexual awakening via an at-first-reluctant-but-then-enthusiastic embrace of a submissive sexual role.

But that's not at all what it delivers. The movie's primary fantasy isn't male control, it's female laziness. It's not a window into a world filled with kinky sex, of which there is shockingly little in the film. Rather, it's an imagined universe in which women are free to resist all pressure to self-improve, need never worry that their professional mistakes might have negative consequences for their careers, and can reject every piece of sex and relationship advice a women's magazine ever gave them, and have it work out great for them.

Anastasia "Ana" Steele, the film's pulpily-named heroine, is a world-class expert at Not Doing Anything Ever. Her main proclivity, in sex and in life, is not submission but indolence. In the real world, that might have negative consequences for her professional and romantic future. But in this movie, it brings expensive gifts, exciting adventures, and the adoration of hunky billionaire Christian Grey.

This is even more true of the film's heavily promoted, but ultimately fairly scarce, portrayals of sex, during which Anastasia lounges around, content in her lack of effort, and Christian does all the work. This is the opposite of Cosmopolitan's ever-more-complex suggestions of how to blow your man's mind in bed, with their implicit warning that the gentleman in question will lose interest if you don't manage to master this one clever technique using some smooth stones and an iced donut. Rather, the film offers the comforting fantasy that if you have a true connection with your partner, all you need to do to drive him wild and keep him coming back is to lie there, existing.

When the film begins, Anastasia is driving from Portland to Seattle to interview mysterious 27-year-old billionaire Christian Grey. This is a coy piece of misdirection, suggesting as it does that this character might, at some later point in the movie, take a second action of some kind. I am here to tell you that she does not.

Within moments, Anastasia is back to not doing things, as God and E.L. James intended. She gets off to a cracking start by not correcting the receptionist at Grey Enterprises who mistakes her for her roommate Kate, then stumbles into Grey's office where she sits passively in a chair, all helpless guile, until he comes and sits close enough to her to be captured by her voice recorder. Oh, and hands her a pencil, because she didn't bring one. Ana explains that she is there in the place of her flu-stricken roommate, who was too ill to make the drive — and then proceeds to not actually conduct the interview.

In any other movie, that scene would be a meet-cute that ends in disaster, only to be patched up later once Anastasia received a confidence-boosting makeover and some elocution lessons. But in Fifty Shades of Grey, no makeover is necessary. Stammering unprofessionalism is as sexy to Christian Grey as the dance of the seven veils. He is so immediately and inexplicably charmed that he cancels his next meeting so that he can spend more time with Anastasia.

She keeps up her alluring failure to do anything for the duration of their conversation. She refuses to admit to any professional ambition, and then rejects Grey's offer of an internship. By the end of their chat, he's done for: he has seen how special this idle little creature truly is, and is hopelessly, irrevocably smitten.

That's not a sexual fantasy so much as a balm for the anxieties and pressures of modern life. In reality, a failed interview like that would be a source of anxiety and professional regret. The fantasy of the movie is that it needn't be: Anastasia's sheer inherent amazingness is incredible enough to wipe out any negative consequences of her actions — or rather, her utter lack thereof. Even the interview that she didn't conduct turns out to be a ringing success: Christian swipes her list of questions as she leaves, and then emails a perfect set of answers.

Anastasia applies a similar "don't do anything ever" approach to her relationship with Christian. She doesn't follow up on the interview, so he comes to visit her at the hardware store where she works, and then sends her an expensive set of first-edition Henry James novels. She drunk-dials him — veering perilously close to overt action, presumably only as a result of her intoxication — but then reverts to form, refusing to tell him what bar she's in after he picks up. And yet he somehow finds her anyway and swoops in at the key moment to save her from a friend's unwanted advances. No Cosmo girl ever had it so good.

Anastasia's sole contribution to her dates with Christian is to step into whatever conveyance he sends for her, be it helicopter, limo, or glider, and then to allow him to shower her with expensive gifts. She snoozes, he buys her stylish new clothes. She fails to respond to his emails, he sends her a new computer. She yawns, he presents her with a car.

This is not mere passivity, it is laziness raised to an art form. Anastasia needs no more than a plaintive sigh to seize the productive resources of Grey Enterprises in their entirety, and a single excited gasp to direct them to her benefit. Christian Grey's behavior, if exhibited by a real live human man, would be horrifyingly controlling and probably criminal. But in the movie he's basically Prince Charming with a Maserati, turning up at all hours to fulfill her materialist desires without her having to exert herself in the slightest.

And speaking of desires....

This is not a movie about a woman's introduction to the submissive lifestyle, it is a movie about how a little light bondage provides an excellent excuse to make your partner do all the work in bed. If lying back and thinking of England were an Olympic event, Anastasia Steele would take the gold.

Early in the film, Anastasia idly nibbles a pencil with Christian Grey's name on it. That is the closest she comes to performing a sex act for the duration of the movie.

In the film's first sex scene, during which Anastasia loses her virginity to Christian, her actions are limited to the occasional squirm and soft gasp. Ditto the second one, in which her participation consists only of allowing Christian to pick her up and carry her out of the frame. In the third, he binds her wrists with a tie and then tells her to hold still — an obviously redundant command, but we'll allow it because it seemed to make him happy. God knows the man needed to make his own fun with this lady as his partner.

And that brings us to Christian's "red room" where the fantasy of laziness truly reaches its peak. What better excuse, after all, to be a totally passive sex partner than to be literally tied down? He braids her hair for her, tells her how beautiful she is, and then attaches her to various equipment before pleasuring her. Her contributions are limited to sighing, lip-biting, and occasionally allowing her head to loll to the side in ecstasy.

But, crucially, that all leaves Christian thrilled and desperate for more. He is captivated by Anastasia's me-first-you-never approach to sex, vanilla or otherwise.

It's true that there is some conflict in the relationship because Christian wants a kinky dom-sub dynamic and Anastasia wants vanilla sex and regular dinner dates. But while that would be a difficult challenge for a real-life couple to overcome, or even a reason to break up, it seems pretty clear that all Anastasia's going to have to do is wait out the two sequels. In the world of Fifty Shades, BDSM sex is the result of Christian Grey's tortured past — a sign of unhealed trauma. It doesn't take a genius to guess that he'll be cured of his desire to inflict pain on others when Anastasia's love heals the pain inside his heart.

And presumably she'll do it without lifting a finger.
 
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LeatrixSage

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It's so beautiful. I think the only thing I can add is that Ana is also an abusive bitch that regularly disreguards Grey's consent, gas lights the man constantly, and uses emotional manipulation to make sure he is always the bad guy and she is always blameless for everything.

I have never hated a heroine more. Nor have I ever not finished a book series before. I even finished Twilight, and that shit damn near killed me. >.<"

Does anyone else die a little inside when a friend talks you into reading a book that is so placid it kills a part of your soul? But, you have to read it, because you started already and now you just have to ride the lightening and embrace the suck.

I hate when that happens.
 
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Mr Quixotic

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It's awesome isn't it? A pity Anastasia Steele isn't a lone-wolf when it comes to those types of characters. Then there are women like Valentina Rossi, xD

I haven't actually read the novels, and only seen a few minutes of one of the movies. That was by accident when I pressed the wrong button on the remote and I got transfixed by the awfulness of it; kind of like watching a car crash. But I have read enough reviews and articles about them to know I don't want to.

I'm like you, it's rare that I never finished a novel I've started. Only twice from memory; the first book I can't even remember the title of. The second, ironically, was called 'Something Happened' by Joseph Heller.

Ironic because the reason I gave up was that over two-thirds the way in I was still waiting for something to fucking happen!

---------------------

Finally got around to posting the opener for my new story with the awesomely fun AzureRain on E, after completing our first. This time, portraying a movie producer, it again promises to be a blast. A shout-out to Xana for help with the title.

I've just the actress for the role." Callum Rogers interjected when James Inglis finally ran out of breath. The man couldn’t contain his excitement when Rogers had confirmed he'd secured funding for their film. One that'd be directed by Ingles and mark the debut of Callum's independent production company, Zapari Studios.


A year ago, Rogers had been one amongst the crowd working for Paramount. Until the low-budget teen horror flick he'd produced turned out a surprise summer blockbuster. It was still going gangbusters on Blu-Ray and streaming services. So far, the $20m dollar film had earned $180m and garnered Callum a seven-figure bonus.

On receiving that lump sum payment, he'd wiggled out of his contract and started his own company. While he'd enjoyed his decade with one of the big players, Callum had tired of the requirement to churn out movies that stuck to the same populist formula. Superheroes and adolescent angst, directed at pimple-faced teenagers.

His departure brought a threat to sue for the return of his bonus which hadn't materialised, It also generated buzz about what he'd choose for his first film. He hadn't revealed was that he'd been in negotiations for the past year to acquire the film rights to a New York Times bestselling novel. An erotic suspense novel notorious for the provocative nature of its twenty-three-year-old female protagonist and graphic sex.

What got Callum's less-money offer across the line was his commitment to the author to not shy away from controversy on celluloid. They shared a desire to push the limits of an R rating as far as they could and she'd have a veto over the final script. An uncut NC-17 version was planned for release further down the track.

"Who's that?" The humour in Jame's tone said he knew the answer.

"Eliza."

"If you want to succeed, Rogers, think with your brain, not your cock."

"Come on buddy, she has the perfect look and the camera adores her."

"You're not wrong about the last," Ingles laughed, "These days the paparazzi snaps a picture of the happy couple and it's you they crop out before publishing. Entertainment Tonight should refer to Callum Rogers as Eliza's date rather than the other way around. Are you guys serious?"

"Serious enough, but not like I'm planning to pop the question."

"You sure; three months is your record, isn't it?"

"True," Callum chuckled, "Anyway, audition her and she might surprise you with her talent."

"Doubt it, and it's not all about talent. She hasn't got the acting credits in the bank, nor the name, but I'll give her a shot for the experience and she could end up with a minor part." James had the final call on casting. "For now, make sure the damn thing doesn't fall over before we get the script completed. I'll catch up with you later this week."

After Ingles hung up Callum smiled, reclined in his chair and messaged Eliza.

Hey babe, I'm free in an hour. How about I take you out for dinner, then a bottle of Dom Perignon and dessert in the hot-tub? I've some exciting news.

A guaranteed audition was all he'd wanted from James. It meant he didn't have to lie.

Callum had been there before with up-and-coming starlets. It didn‘t matter how enamoured he was with them, as he was with Eliza, once the initial lust and excitement faded, he found it impossible to remain monogamous. Fame and money provided too many temptations, the lies started and the relationships imploded. So this time, he'd change tack and bring Eliza along for the ride; the potential of a lead role in a major film a lure to keep her on the hook until she'd become accustomed to the liberated Hollywood lifestyle.

Let me know where and when, and I'll send Alec to pick you up.

One more BMR story in the works, and with the return from long-term hiatus of my collaborations with Xana and Aurelia, I need to stop there. Might have to delete my damn requests threads to stop me from bumping.

Then again, once I'm all caught up!
 
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Mr Quixotic

The Lowest Form Of Wit
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Joined
Dec 14, 2012
Messages
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Australia
For the first time in, I don't know, possibly a year, I'm totally up to date with responses.

While I have free brain space, time for some musings.

With my love of sad and melancholy songs, not sure how it took me so long to discover Sufjan Stevens.

This one has been called the 'saddest song of all time'


Not sure about that, but it is up there!

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And found this image, which perfectly reflects my thoughts/attitude when I sign on to see a not uncommon passive-aggressive profile post or read yet again someone whining about being ghosted.



Maybe BMR should implement a 'one self-pitying profile post per person per day' rule!
 
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