sorry about that gillian

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Gillian Anderson & Jennifer Nadel on BBC Breakfast

anonymous asked:

Hello JHH! Could you please write a rpf with Gillian being high on painkillers and David being her nurse? 😘

Okay but this is going to be a total nonsense! (And thank you so much to @sembell for the beta and to @becksndot5 for reading this nonsense first)


“You smell funny,” she says, sniffing around his face interrogatively as he starts to fix the bandage around her swollen foot.

“Nice.” he deadpans with a grin on his face. “How about you stop moving, so I can do that correctly?”

He has never been good with his hands, and he isn’t fond of seeing blood, open wounds or swollen joints, but as soon as he heard her cracky voice over the phone, he couldn’t resist and bought a plane ticket for London. She could use some help with the boys and everyday tasks. And he could take care of her just like she took care of him a few years ago, when he ended up in the hospital almost blind after a basketball game.

“You sound funny too.” she says, squinting her eyes as if to have a better look at him.

When he arrived, he hadn’t expected the painkillers she had to take to make her high enough to think that he was Mulder in person, nor to call him Mulder for the entire first day.

“Okay, honey. Just lay down, and…”

“As if you were far far away but also very close.” she continues. “Why are you so far away, David?” she furrows her brows in concern and all of a sudden, tears start to fall down her cheeks, her mouth distorted with pain and sorrow.

“Hey, hey! Babe! I’m right here, okay? I’m here!” He waves at her, making her smile. “See? It’s me. I’m not far away. I’m with you. So now, lay down, and…”

“Did you cut your hair?” she interrupts him again, her sweet smile fading.

“Yes. Yes, I cut my hair. Let me guess: I look funny, right?” he chuckles, and finally manages to continue wrapping up her ankle.  

“No! I loved your hair! Why did you cut your hair?” she begins to cry again. “Can you put it back? Please, David!”

“Gillian,” he sighs. He starts to wonder if adding up a sleeping pill to her painkiller would be okay. Probably not, but he’s not getting any younger, and he feels like having a whining baby on drugs around him. It’s ten times worse than the day they took mushrooms together and she insisted to get out of his trailer and wander in the forest at night. Naked, of course. He’s certainly not going to survive fifteen days with a high and incoherent Gillian. He needs to come up with a plan. “No, Gillian, I can’t put it back. But it’ll grow again soon, don’t worry.”

“When? Tomorrow?”

“Yes. What? No! Not tomorrow!” Her mouth distorts again, and she’s about to burst into tears. “Yes! Yes! Tomorrow! My hair will be back tomorrow. In one beddy-bye.”

Did he just say “beddy-bye” to the woman he loves? he wonders. Oh god! Okay, she needs to stop talking, and he needs to finish her bandage and let her sleep. She’ll probably feel better after a beddy… after a nap.

“Here.” he says as he holds his phone to her. “West showed me this app. It’s funny, you’re gonna like it. You take a picture of me, and you can change my haircut. Do you want to try it?”

She nods with a smile and finally falls silent for a few minutes, allowing him to finish her bandage properly. All he needed was to occupy her mind with something else. Now he’s going to make dinner while she sleeps a little bit, and after a few hours, she’ll be back to her old self and they’ll enjoy a calm and snuggly evening watching a silly British TV show. He wonders if they have Dancing With the Stars here too.

“I’m finished, clumsy beauty.” he says, proudly. “Did you find me a good haircut?”

“Yes, I like you in red, but people say you look better with blond hair.”

“People? What people?”

“People on Twitter.”

I was cleaning up my phone this morning and realised I had this clip, which I took of Gillian at the Toronto Expo. Even though I only recorded five minutes of Gillian’s panel, I captured one of my favourite all-time GA quotes (”I thought I would die…I haven’t died. I thought I would fail…I haven’t failed…”).

Anyone can relate to being afraid to try new things, be it the first day on a new job, moving to a new city, tackling a new project professionally, etc. And that Gillian has those same feelings, same anxieties but goes for it anyway is such an inspiration.

anonymous asked:

Have you guys seen thescreenshots of the gillovny chat where they're saying really rude and nasty things about Gillian and Peter? Kind of pathetic. Their new insult for Peter is 'Turtle Pants.' They're so bitter about Gillian being in love, I almost feel sorry for them.

Thanks for stopping by, sailor. We have heard whispers about these screenshots but we have no desire to dig any further. The ramblings of a handful of people who are only fans of Captain Anderson so long as she is dating someone of their choosing, holds little interest for us. 

However, ‘Turtle Pants’ is something that we are interested in. Insult you say? We at HMS Gilligan view it as a term of endearment. After all turtles are majestic and gentle creatures. Not to mention, we love it when people state the obvious, it avoids unnecessary confusion - Peter most certainly does have a turtle on his pants. Captain Morgan is so on board with our nautical theme it warms the cockles of our hearts. Who would have thought it, eh? Please draw your eyes to exhibit A:

How lovely. Our captains enjoying their vacation and Gillian capturing the moment for posterity, Turtle pants and all. Those turtle pants have been on a journey this year: Costa Rica, Greece, Italy - and who knows what other exotic destinations they’ll visit soon. We dare say they’ll get another outing in Vancouver this coming August. Splendid, if you ask us.

I just want bloopers to be release and I just want one of those bloopers being about the elevator scene, and Archie comes back running into frame, grabs Gillian face and kiss her real hard. Big open mouthed kisses with tongues, hands grabbing hair and hips, Gillian being pushed against the lift’s doors, and the doors opens, and they both fall down onto the lift floor, Archie on Gillian, and they both start laughing their ass off.

anonymous asked:

Sorry but what about Gillian throwing the entire writing team under the bus with her feminist smokescreen bullshit just because she needed focus to move away from her shaved pussy? Is CC not a friend of 25 years also who happened to give her the first real job and his show made her a household name? I am sick of these fucking Gillian sheep bleating about how hard done to she is all the time! Someone even thanked her for 'taking time out' to do cold cases. For fuck sake she did it for the $$$$s

☝🏻

He’s back (chap 1)

Gillovny fic about David coming back to NY after his tour in Europe. (Chapter 2 will be posted this week, I promise.)


When he pushes the door of his apartment on this late afternoon, he’s surprised to be welcomed by the yapping of his dog. Brick was supposed to stay with Téa the time he was in Europe, but seeing the mess in his living room, he quickly understands what happened. Small sneakers are mixed with high heels at the feet of the couch, a black dress hangs on the armchair and a stack of dirty dishes are threatening to fall into the sink. In any other occasions, he would be pissed off. If it was West or Miller, he would have punished them and make them clean the whole house for leaving such a mess behind them. Actually, he’s just happy to know she’d decided to stay at his apartment during his tour. It feels good to be back home, and even better to know she’d made herself home. In some way, he feels reassured when he sees her girly cosmetics in his bathroom and her toothbrush next to his.

He thinks about calling her to let her know he’s back. He’d told her he’d land today, but he didn’t tell at what time. Maybe he should take this occasion to surprise her. He decides to switch off his phone for a couple hours, just the time to take a shower and a little nap. She hadn’t made the bed this morning, and the sheets smell like her. That’s when he wraps himself into her scent of Jasmin that he realizes he sees her again in a few hours. They’re used to spend time away from each other. It’s not the first time, and it’s not the last, but oddly, he feels that it was harder than ever. Two weeks ago, he secretly cried on the plane to Glasgow. It never happened before, and it was just the first time of many others during his tour. After every concert, when the adrenaline of going on stage slowly vanished from his blood, he collapsed onto the bed of his lonely hotel room and shed tears on his pillow that smelt nothing. Every time he hung up with her, he felt his throat tightening. He still doesn’t understand why it happened while they’ve just been apart for two weeks, and not months like they’re used to, but when he rests his head on his pillow and smells her shampoo he wishes he won’t have to leave her again in a few weeks. First, because he loves her and simply wants to be with her, but also because he doesn’t want to feel this again. This sadness. This emptiness. It took him half a century, but now he understands what it feels like being just a half of a human being. His happiness depends on his other half, and he can’t wait to hold her in his arms again. To feel her skin against his. To tell her how much he missed her and whisper words of love in her ear while he makes her come beneath him.

With the jetlag, he knows he could sleep for hours, but that’s not the plan. He sets his alarm clock to wake up in an hour before drifting off.

-

He manages to enter the theater pretty much unnoticed. He just had to take a few pictures with fans and sign two or three autographs, but now that he’s sitting on the last row, no one comes to bother him. The lights shut down, and she appears a few minutes later, stunning in her beige suit. After all those years, he’s probably the only one able to understand her emotions through the tone of her voice. No one in the theater would notice, but as she starts to say her lines, he knows there’s something wrong. He can perceive the bad vibrations emanating from her. Is it sadness? Angriness maybe? He isn’t sure. Everyone around him seems to enjoy the play while he keeps staring at her with concern. What could be wrong, he wonders. If something happened with her boys, she’d have told him. Told him… called him… his phone! Fuck! He forgot to switch it on when he woke up! He knows how inappropriate it is, and he would hate that if the girl next to him did the same, but he doesn’t care. He shifts loudly on his chair to search in the backside pocket of his jeans and unlocks his phone, probably dazzling his neighbors. Hopefully, it was in mute mode, and the dozens of text messages and missing calls appear one by one on the screen. It starts nicely. “When are you landing, sweetie?” “I’m leaving, call me when you’re here.” “Baby, if you’re married to a Frenchy now, can I keep your dog at least?” But with his lack of answer, she’d quickly interlocked the passive-aggressive mode. “Dave, can you answer me? I need to know if I should shave my legs or if I can let my hairs grow.” “Just in case you lost my number in Europe. It’s Gillian. Remember?” “I’m going on stage in half an hour and I really start to worry. Please call me.” “I hope your plane crashed somewhere and that’s why you don’t answer my call. Otherwise, you’re just an asshole.” And last but not least: “Fuck you.”

Yes. It’s stupid. But his first reflex is to call her right away. That’s only on the first ring that he realizes she stands just in front of him, and he can’t talk to her. Godammit! He wants to find a way to let her know he’s here. He can’t believe he’d let her go on stage without telling her he was back and safe. He’s such an ass, he thinks. Yes. It’s stupid. But he coughs. Loudly. He clears his throat. In the vain hope that she hears and recognizes his voice. It doesn’t work, and he just manages to piss off his neighbors even more.

At the intermission, he thinks about going backstage, but he knows she has to play again, and probably won’t be able to do it well if she sees him. Whether she’d be mad at him or relieved to see him, it’ll change her emotions and she’ll lose her concentration. So he just stays in his seat, and waits for the play to start again. Maybe she will notice his missing call. More likely, she won’t. He knows she doesn’t like to look at her phone between her scenes.

When the lights turn on and the audience stands up to ovation the cast, he quietly sneaks out of the theater and heads backstage. Thankfully, the security guy recognizes him, and he runs to her dressing room. She’d changed the decoration since the last time he went to see her. There’s more photos of him and them on her walls and desk. It makes his heart ache even more to know he wasn’t the only one moved by this separation. He notices there’s more and more Chewbacca goodies everywhere, and she’d framed the little note he’d let on the fridge when he left. “I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m just going out for some croissant in Paris. I won’t be long. I love you, D.”

He hears the audience scream and clap louder. She’s probably alone on stage now, getting her well-deserved standing ovation. His heart starts to pound in his chest, knowing she should be there in a minute or so.


Chapter two here

I Survived Streetcar

Stella, Holy Scully, #BlancheInBrooklyn spotted together at last by the stage door at St. Ann’s Warehouse on Water Street 😏 If you attended the May 18 show of A Streetcar Named Desire in Brooklyn, hope you nabbed a sticker! We had so much f*cking fun giving these out, and watching people pick them up from random places and smile! The activity was a nice counterbalance to the whirlwind of destruction happening inside the round. 

The show itself was a wild ride. It was as if Gillian had gathered up all the pain in the audience just before Blanche DuBois walks out with her suitcase and shades, and proceeds to spit it forcefully back at us. Talk about being gutted. I have never seen Gillian in person at anything. My emotions were everything. I was nervous before the show (not going to lie), clinging to my seat during the performance, silently dying and crying at the end, and oddly so surprised to feel calm and free at curtain call. I have to think on that last bit. That Gillian, always casting spells. The applause for the terrific cast was thunderous and seemed to just go on and on.

The message to fans I added to the back of the stickers we gave away :) Shoutout to the #gillygifcrew on Twitter crew, sorry Tumblr! 

Many people have written about not actually ‘seeing’ Gillian on stage at Streetcar until curtain call, as she uncurls her back and stands up straight, giving a hint of that Gillian smile. This was true for me. As the show progressed I acclimated to the production, I looked and looked for Gillian and all I found was Blanche. I was truly amazed but honestly a little scared by that. What it must be like to turn your body over to another and transform into a person so real that you yourself disappear completely. The performance is far more physical than I expected. Blanche isn’t just teetering, she’s got the shakes, her body careening about the stage, twisting and bending. She collapses! She runs! She holds her ground! I noticed Blanche has the oddest power stance, all askew but firm, if and only for a moment. Gillian was practically standing sideways as Blanche held her weight against the bathroom door to keep Stanley out. Dresses went unzipped! Heels were lost many times! At one point Gillian stood with one shoe in and her bare foot perfectly arched as if still in her blue pumps, until the nurse retrieved her shoe, and politely tapped her on the foot to signal she could slide back into it. The text and performance is so forceful - I saw lots of Gillian spit flying around when she delivered Blanche’s deliciously long winded pieces of dialogue. The long bits took my breath away. Watching Tennessee William’s language pour out of her was just incredible, like a torrential rain hurling down on us all. 

I had second row seats and Gillian passed closely by during Blanche’s devastating last walk. Her gaze was just feral, eyes full of despair, I felt them searing into me. At the end during bows and thanks, I could literally see the change occur in her eyes, as they became less wild, less pained, twinkling. Her Blanche is just something else. This is what I love about Ms. Anderson. She must escape the whole world as she knows it when she inhabits these women we have come to love - they are unrecognizable from one another and from the Gillian we know through talks and interviews. 

In a way, I think her fans who have followed her work closely know this feeling of total escape too. When I was 16 I ditched high school and took the train into the city to catch The House of Mirth at the movies in the middle of the afternoon. It was my introduction to Edith Wharton, just as Streetcar is an introduction to Tennessee Williams to so many young fans and those unfamiliar with this important work of literature. (I talked with several young fans who had never read the play; wanted to know if the production as true to the play, etc.) At 32, sixteen years later, I without hesitation ditched work to catch Streetcar in the theater, in another city. It felt right. Many of us have been to years and years of The X-Files Therapy, as I like to call it, completely escaping into the show when necessary. Slipping into Gillian’s work, and the worlds of her characters has been an important escape for me time and time again.

Sharing Streetcar has been a thrill. Our Lady Gillian really has THE BEST fans. She attracts a type methinks - cool as f*ck, flaws and all, constantly aspiring. I was so excited to meet one of my internet friends Kaati and share in the experience. I also attended the show with my good friend Marin - this was her first introduction to Gillian and what an introduction it was. We read the play together beforehand and totally got swept up in the excitement; she was a pro at handing out stickers to strangers, making memories with every sticker 😂😎 I of course have so much more to say but Streetcar was at once so incredibly magical, exquisite, and cathartic, I want to give time to consider it more. I feel privileged to have the opportunity to also see Streetcar again on May 28. This time, I know I will survive. So I am signing off for the night. I have like three meetings tomorrow at work, including a tour of a new train station in my neighborhood! OMG. Don’t these people know about Gillian F*cking Anderson?

graphic by my girl @mdub129 on the twitters // she made this in the wee hours after being slayed by Streetcar!

Update:

Since I first posted this in the wee hours of May 18 some weird internet shit happened, as always seems to happen. 

First, @ilovesashaa stumbled upon the sticker pole and was like “Okay, which one of you did this outside of St Ann’s?!” I was living. Then, it would seem Ms. Anderson herself (or her posse TBH) stumbled upon her lady friends and tweeted a photo of #StellaInBrooklyn. That lead to my death. I had a good run. 

How Gillian’s tweet ruined me: There are a lot more objects in need of Gillian Anderson stickers #StellaInBrooklyn.

If you want to get some Gillian stickers, cause why wouldn’t you here’s where you can get them.

I love making people smile unexpectedly. This is a good reminder to keep at it.

cc: @perplexistan @storybycorey @thecomedicpenguin since we’ve chatted about Gillian and Streetcar, wanted to share my first thoughts with you all especially!

anonymous asked:

What is your opinion about last night? David showing up on a Saturday with his sister to watch the play...

As everyone I had a tiny meltdown last night when we saw that David is at the theatre. I stayed up till the morning to read everything about it, to know as much as it was possible. We all had a crazy evening/night and I do believe that it ended on a high-note. Based on all the stories we heard from last night we have all the reason to be proud of this fandom. People took some candid pictures of David ( Thank you:), but in general he was left alone. He was not bothered by many people which I’m extremely grateful for as we all know that these events are not his natural habitat.

Everyone was there for the same reason, one good enough reason to focus: GILLIAN ANDERSON. This petite, mind-blowing talent, perfect human being who is playing the role of her life. Something she was getting ready for 30 years, something we all waited for to happen again; To see Blanche on that stage, to see all those amazing actors play their heart out to give a mesmerizing performance every night. To witness Blanche transforming back to Gillian, when the curtains fall and there you are, standing, clapping and possibly crying because you just witnessed someone achieving their dream. That is why everyone was there last night. That is why David was there last night and I’m so happy that he’s been left alone just so he could be one of us. One of us who loves, cherishes and is so very proud of Gillian Anderson. 

Originally posted by gillianandersons

Also I just would like to mention that I do love the following about last night:

  • The fact that David Duchovny went to support her adult friend on a casual Saturday night. 
  • The fact that he went with his sister. 
  • The fact that he just casually asked to be let backstage and waited for her.
  • The fact that Gillian came to sign for her fans even tough his very own Duchovny was waiting for her.
  • The fact that there is no interview, article, picture, tweet or anything that makes this visit less personal.
  • The fact that we all know this happened and we rather not have them tweet about it cause it is more pure and magical this way.

So I think that last night was special and I’m so very happy for everyone who’s been there at St. Ann’s and sent us all the cool details and for everyone who just happened to live this through Tumblr. Either way it was a good night!