Free Gena/Finn by Kat Helgeson Page B
Authors: Kat Helgeson
wish? And itâs dumb as shit.
from: Zack Martocchio
to: Genevieve Goldman
date: Thursday, July 17 3:42 PM
subject: >;)
Is it an autograph because I can make that happen.
from: Genevieve Goldman
to: Zack Martocchio
date: Thursday, July 17 3:44 PM
subject: â_â
dick.
from: Zack Martocchio
to: Genevieve Goldman
date: Thursday, July 17 3:45 PM
subject: RE: â_â
Tell me.
from: Genevieve Goldman
to: Zack Martocchio
date: Thursday, July 17 3:51 PM
subject: :p
that i could act every once in a while without being an ACTOR. like thereâd somehow be a way for me to go back and do something without looking like some desperate washed-up child star. sometimes i have to fight the urge to audition for a fucking paper towel commercial or go play a baby-murderer in a law and order episode.
i want to show everyone that i can do it without going crazy and pulling fire alarms or whatever.
really i wish iâd done the fucking reunion show.
from: Genevieve Goldman
to: Finn Bartlett
date: Thursday, July 17 3:59 PM
subject: FW: :p
This might be the most horrible suggestion in the world, and I would understand if you wanted to get on a plane and come punch me, but...fuck it, you know?
from: Zack Martocchio
to: Genevieve Goldman
date: Thursday, July 17 3:58 PM
subject: RE: :p
How about just one episode?
Back From the Dead
(with fic!)
Jesus mephitis mephitis that was a long absence. SORRY INTERNET. Iâm alive. Hopefully Iâve not been forgotten?
Iâm off to college in a few weeks, and I have some other stuff going on out in meatspace as well, but my big news of the summer was that I got to go to Chicago Con!! It was phenomenal beyond all reason. The boys were as charming and eloquent as always and the writers got me so fucking excited about next season.
EXCITED ENOUGH TO WRITE A FANTASY SEASON 4 PREMIERE FIC, you may ask?
YES, I may answer! At least a smidgen of one. So YES, I may WHISPER.
Title: Marzipan and Metal Cans
Author: _EvenIf
Word Count: 463
Summary: Remember that one time we got to see them shop for supplies? That was nice. Letâs do that again.
Pairing: none, you know what journal youâre on.
Disclaimer: I own nothing besides my little conference badge.
Authorâs Note: Go easy on me, itâs been a tough couple of weeks. Almost out of here. Eve to College, come in, College. College, do you read me?
Jakeâs on his hands and knees like a damn child, half of him sticking out of a box like itâs fucking Christmas morning and Tyler bought him a Red Rider BB gun. âThereâs nothing in here.â
âWell thereâs about eight hundred things out here, so stop embarrassing us.â Tyler picks up a decimated flare gun from the 80% OFF table. What the hell were normal people doing with this flare gun? Heâs struck again by the fact that he has virtually no idea what normal people do. Itâs been too long.
Jake emerges with a streak of dust on his cheek and something tiny raised triumphantly over his head.
âThe hell is that?â
âTonka truck.â
âYouâre shitting me.â
Jake throws it at him. âZippo.â
âOh, man.â Tyler flicks the wheel with his thumb, watches the flame glow, disappear, glow again.
âMy dad had one just like that,â Jake says, like itâs nothing, like itâs no big deal.
Tyler waits for him because maybe this time heâll really talk about what happened the night Alan Henry sunk under the water and never came back. But Jake doesnât say anything more. So Tyler says, âYou think we could rehabilitate this thing?â
âWhy?â
For setting baddies on fire, numbskull. âFor waking
from: Zack Martocchio
to: Genevieve Goldman
date: Thursday, July 17 3:42 PM
subject: >;)
Is it an autograph because I can make that happen.
from: Genevieve Goldman
to: Zack Martocchio
date: Thursday, July 17 3:44 PM
subject: â_â
dick.
from: Zack Martocchio
to: Genevieve Goldman
date: Thursday, July 17 3:45 PM
subject: RE: â_â
Tell me.
from: Genevieve Goldman
to: Zack Martocchio
date: Thursday, July 17 3:51 PM
subject: :p
that i could act every once in a while without being an ACTOR. like thereâd somehow be a way for me to go back and do something without looking like some desperate washed-up child star. sometimes i have to fight the urge to audition for a fucking paper towel commercial or go play a baby-murderer in a law and order episode.
i want to show everyone that i can do it without going crazy and pulling fire alarms or whatever.
really i wish iâd done the fucking reunion show.
from: Genevieve Goldman
to: Finn Bartlett
date: Thursday, July 17 3:59 PM
subject: FW: :p
This might be the most horrible suggestion in the world, and I would understand if you wanted to get on a plane and come punch me, but...fuck it, you know?
from: Zack Martocchio
to: Genevieve Goldman
date: Thursday, July 17 3:58 PM
subject: RE: :p
How about just one episode?
Back From the Dead
(with fic!)
Jesus mephitis mephitis that was a long absence. SORRY INTERNET. Iâm alive. Hopefully Iâve not been forgotten?
Iâm off to college in a few weeks, and I have some other stuff going on out in meatspace as well, but my big news of the summer was that I got to go to Chicago Con!! It was phenomenal beyond all reason. The boys were as charming and eloquent as always and the writers got me so fucking excited about next season.
EXCITED ENOUGH TO WRITE A FANTASY SEASON 4 PREMIERE FIC, you may ask?
YES, I may answer! At least a smidgen of one. So YES, I may WHISPER.
Title: Marzipan and Metal Cans
Author: _EvenIf
Word Count: 463
Summary: Remember that one time we got to see them shop for supplies? That was nice. Letâs do that again.
Pairing: none, you know what journal youâre on.
Disclaimer: I own nothing besides my little conference badge.
Authorâs Note: Go easy on me, itâs been a tough couple of weeks. Almost out of here. Eve to College, come in, College. College, do you read me?
Jakeâs on his hands and knees like a damn child, half of him sticking out of a box like itâs fucking Christmas morning and Tyler bought him a Red Rider BB gun. âThereâs nothing in here.â
âWell thereâs about eight hundred things out here, so stop embarrassing us.â Tyler picks up a decimated flare gun from the 80% OFF table. What the hell were normal people doing with this flare gun? Heâs struck again by the fact that he has virtually no idea what normal people do. Itâs been too long.
Jake emerges with a streak of dust on his cheek and something tiny raised triumphantly over his head.
âThe hell is that?â
âTonka truck.â
âYouâre shitting me.â
Jake throws it at him. âZippo.â
âOh, man.â Tyler flicks the wheel with his thumb, watches the flame glow, disappear, glow again.
âMy dad had one just like that,â Jake says, like itâs nothing, like itâs no big deal.
Tyler waits for him because maybe this time heâll really talk about what happened the night Alan Henry sunk under the water and never came back. But Jake doesnât say anything more. So Tyler says, âYou think we could rehabilitate this thing?â
âWhy?â
For setting baddies on fire, numbskull. âFor waking
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