Megan and Francisco - 4 - Rule One of Hollywood (m)

[angora48]

I was hoping to get back to this series much sooner, but time got away from and I haven't been able to do nearly as much "fun writing" as I've wanted to. But things are finally starting to calm down a bit, so I had a chance to write a new entry in the sneezy/romantic adventures of Megan and Francisco!

If you're not familiar with this series (or want a refresher because it's been so long,) here are my earlier Megan & Francisco stories.

1 - An Honor Just to Be Nominated (m)

2 - Ideal Sick-Day Viewing (m)

3 - Returning the Favor (f, m)

Without further adieu, onto Part 1. This chapter is more of a catch-up/setting the scenario type thing, so there's no sneezing yet, but I promise the good stuff gets going in Part 2!

 

Most of the time, life seems to happen in ways you’d expect. You book jobs or you don’t, the weather is always just slightly off what your app tells you, your old roommate from college is gonna give her ex one more chance (for the last time, she swears!), and you get a discount email from that slightly-too-pricey takeout place exactly three days after you’ve been there.

It was a lot like movies that way, where you know the couple isn’t getting together until the last minute, the ragtag team of scrappy underdogs is gonna win the championship, and the hero is gonna walk away calmly as the bad guy’s lair explodes behind them. Seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all, right?

But life, like movies, was still capable of surprising you every now and then. Megan could’ve never imagined getting an Oscar nod for Best Sound Editing at 33, and even though she didn’t win, it was thrilling just to hear her name share space with some of the best folks in her industry. That was a big ol’ surprise right there. And then, of course, there was the very unexpected turn that night took and the wildly improbable sequence of events that followed.

Francisco Morales – bona fide Mexican movie star, Hollywood up and comer, and star of the indie film she’d sound edited – sought her out in the awards show crowd to congratulate her on her nomination. He wound up taking her to a party after the ceremony, and within a week, she had legit hung out in his hotel room, not once but twice, and they were DM-ing on the regular. How do things like that happen?

(Did she mention that he had a cold the whole time? Because he had a cold the whole time. Bestill her goddamn kinky heart.)

Since then, most of Megan’s day-to-day life had ticked back over into ordinary. And the Francisco Morales part of it? Was somehow becoming incorporated into her ordinary, which Megan wasn’t sure if she’d ever fully get used to. It had happened gradually but astoundingly. Talking movies and work over DMs and video chats had turned into sharing memes and food pictures, then funny stories about their days, then honest admissions of deeper stuff.

And somewhere, in all that, it became more than DMs and video chats. Megan had practically been making heart eyes at Francisco from the moment she met him, so nothing unusual on her side, but he kind of bowled her over that night when they were chatting and he stopped and said, “I want to hear your laugh every day.” Megan, who happened to be obliging him at that moment, grew serious at the something in his tone, the sincerity of it, the way she felt like his gaze was about to set her phone screen on fire.

Megan hadn’t been in a long-distance relationship since just after she moved to LA (that had crashed and burned in, what was it? three months? maybe four?), but when Francisco Morales is into you and he lives in Mexico City, you make it work.

And it worked, better than Megan would’ve thought. Francisco’s fame back home kept him busy, but they found time for video dinner dates, Netflix watch parties (exchanging gifs and emojis during the show or movie, then calling to dissect it afterwards,) and late-night phone discussions while Megan sat out on her balcony, imagining the stars behind the light pollution.

Weirdly, it was kind of an ideal way to start dating. Away from the immediate vicinity of Francisco’s thousand-watt smile and dangerously-perfect jawline, Megan was better able to handle her freak-out reaction to being with him in the first place. When he was on her phone and not standing in front of her, she had time to contextualize him, not as Movie Star Francisco Morales, but as Francisco the person who just happened to be utterly gorgeous and a damn talented actor, the guy whose written DMs were about one-third emojis (his English was fantastic, but he was self-conscious about it in writing) and who was apt to send her pictures of incredible-looking meals with multiple exclamation points and zero context.

Thanks to that initial distance, when Francisco came out to LA seven weeks later for a few auditions and three days filming a bit part in big-budget zombie movie (“Spoiler—I die so bad!” he confided,) Megan was able to be like 80% girlfriend-ish and only 20% fangirl.

(But the sex. Good lord, the sex!)

Now, Francisco was in LA again – he was almost always working, which took up a lot of his time but conveniently helped in closing the distance between them – this time for close to a month. He’d booked a pretty decent-sized part in Semi-Fixable, a small film with some big actors. It was about a couple in an unhappy marriage, which nearly falls apart until the wife has an affair with a sexy young sailor (a.k.a. Francisco.) This makes the husband realize he still wants to fight for their marriage, and rather than deciding to live with Francisco on his boat forever and have sex every day (like a person with eyes would,) she ends up going back to her husband in the hopes of working it out.

At this point, Megan and Francisco had been seeing each other for a little over four months, and while they knew each other intimately through their long-distance arrangement, being in the same room was still in the new-and-deliciously-exciting phase. When Francisco broached the idea (almost shyly? bless him) of staying with her while he was in town, Megan pointed out that her cheap-ass apartment was prohibitively far away from where he’d be shooting, but it worked out. Being Mexico-famous made you kinda LA-middle-class, and Francisco scored a sublet on a small but stylish furnished apartment much closer to the action. Megan had been staying over nearly much every night since Francisco had arrived, and since she could generally work on sound anywhere her laptop was, it was way better than making Francisco shlep across zip codes every morning to get from her place to his set.

They were in bed now, sharing a post-sexytimes cuddle. “Are you excited?” Megan asked, walking her fingers lightly across Francisco’s bare chest.

He smiled at her, a sleepy sort of fondness and maybe just a hint of ticklishness. “Mostly excited,” he confirmed. “A little nervous too.”

His days so far had been spent on some pre-production stuff, but tomorrow was his actual first day of shooting. “You’re gonna kill it, obviously,” Megan informed him. He frowned at her and, realizing the phrase might not translate well between English and Spanish, added, “You’re gonna be awesome.”

“I hope so,” Francisco replied. “I’m glad I had a little time with Rebecca before, you know, before we shoot it tomorrow.”

Rebecca Soczek (pronounced “SO-check”) was a rom-com queen of the early 2000s, an actress with the kind of attitude that refused to change her name and the kind of clout that made people learn how to say it anyway. She’d fallen a bit off the radar since her heyday, and from what Francisco said, playing the wife in Semi-Fixable was something of a passion project for her, a complex leading role for a woman over 40 and a chance to stretch acting muscles a lot of people probably didn’t realize she had.

The last time Francisco had been in LA, he’d gone in for a chemistry read with Rebecca, and in the lead-up to shooting, the film’s director had arranged a few lunch-date type meetings between Rebecca and Francisco before they had to film scenes together that were going to be, like, 80% wild monkey sex. And last weekend, Rebecca had actually paid for a spa day for her and Francisco, and to hear Francisco tell it, they spent the entire day getting to know each other over massages, facials, and body scrubs.

Full disclosure, Megan was a little nervous about the whole thing. Obviously, sex scenes in a movie were worlds apart from actual sex—“You’re standing there with your dick in a sock and 50 people staring at you!” Francisco told her—and Rebecca Soczek was equal parts happily married and 18 years Francisco’s senior, but there was still just that little something that snagged insecurely in her brain when she thought about Francisco and Rebecca acting wild monkey sex together.

Like, for instance, they would be doing tomorrow.

“It’s-- I mean, always it’s awkward,” Francisco was continuing. “And for the first day of me shooting! You know how, in the early days of CGI, there was so much greenscreen that there was nothing for the actors to hold onto, they didn’t know what to do? This is like that for sex scenes.”

Megan winced sympathetically. “I honestly can’t imagine taking my clothes off in front of a camera,” she said.

Francisco leaned in to kiss her neck. “You would have nothing to worry about,” he assured her, grinning cheekily as he lifted the sheet to take a peek at her.

Megan couldn’t help grinning back, even as a small part of her mind was trying to remember how Rebecca Soczek looked (besides flawless) in her less-than-dressed scenes from a few of her old romcoms. “You tell the most charming lies,” she replied.

Francisco cupped his hands around her thighs, which he could somehow do without making her feel self-conscious about her body. “I’m only telling you what I see,” he insisted.

Megan wondered if he could sense her nerves, if he was trying to make her feel better even though he was the one that was going to be naked on a film set tomorrow. But in a weird way, his nerves did make her feel better about her own.

“Oh,” Francisco went on, “but I was going to say, it’s better if you’ve met the person. Even if you haven’t acted together before, it’s good to talk and understand each other a little, not just say, ‘Hello, so great to meet you! I’m going to put my hands on your breasts now.’”

He managed to make Megan laugh with that one. “Yeah,” she agreed, “feels like you’ve missed a few steps there.”

“Just a few,” Francisco said, his smile brightening the dim room. He moved his fingers gently through her curls, then gave a resigned sigh. “I should sleep,” he admitted. “I have to be on set early tomorrow.”

“Absolutely,” Megan replied. “Gotta be ready for action.” And even though her stomach still did a bit of an odd flip to think that the next person in Francisco’s arms would be Rebecca Soczek, she gave him one last kiss and then rolled over to switch off the lamp.

[EveP]

My favourite couple is back! 😄

[angora48]

Aw, thanks, @EveP Here's Part 2, which very thoroughly makes up for the lack of sneezing in Part 1. 😉

 

Francisco was in an odd position in Hollywood. He’d been in a few big films where he had very small parts, films that most Americans saw but that few would remember him from, and he’d starred in one wonderful independent film that never got a wide release. The people who saw Papi’s Stories from Sundown would know him well, but there weren’t too many of them.

Semi-Fixable was a next step for him. He was third on the call sheet, and while it was another indie film, it was one starring Rebecca Soczek and Jason Bateman: people would see this film, and see him in it. And if he wanted to keep making movies in the States, that meant he had to be great in it.

When he got to set that morning, he decided he was mostly the good kind of anxious, the sort of heightened awareness that would keep him present and grounded as he worked (whether that was true or not, it helped to tell himself that.) As he was getting ready, he alternated between chatting in hair and makeup and preparing to mentally slip into his character.

They would film on an actual boat for the exterior scenes, but it was cheaper and easier to build a set of a cabin than try to figure out how to fit the cameras inside the real one, so Francisco reported to the sound stage for shooting.

Rebecca greeted him warmly, with a slight, winkingly self-conscious air. “You ready to do this, lover?” she teased.

“If I’m not, it’s too late now,” Francisco joked back. “If I got down and did more pushups, it wouldn’t help.”

Rebecca gave a hearty laugh. “Right. And you’re how old?” she asked.

“31,” Francisco replied.

“God, you’re a baby,” she remarked. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Everything’s where it’s supposed to be.” She stretched her neck with a slow roll and shook her arms out a little.

There was an intimacy coordinator on the film. Francisco had never worked with one before, but almost immediately, he decided he liked it. Andrea walked him and Rebecca through the beats of the scene they were about to shoot and had them rehearse some of the different touches and interactions while they were still clothed. “How’s that?” Francisco asked Rebecca a few times, placing his hands where Andrea directed him. “Is this okay?”

Part of the scene had to be reblocked from the director’s initial plan. Brandon wanted Rebecca’s legs wrapped around Francisco’s waist once they got going, Francisco holding Rebecca up against the wall, but it quickly became apparent that that wouldn’t work. Rebecca was a good three inches taller than Francisco, and while there were techniques to disguise that in the film, Francisco wasn’t going to be able to hold Rebecca up very well.

“What about the counter?” Andrea suggested to Brandon, pivoting around the tight quarters of the cabin set. “Francisco, you could boost Rebecca up onto the counter, and the two of you could do it there.”

“Let’s try it,” Rebecca said, and she and Francisco went through the motions. They hadn’t even started shooting yet, but Francisco could already tell she was a very thoughtful actress.

Once everything had been planned out and Francisco and Rebecca both felt as comfortable as it was possible to be when you were about to take your clothes off in front of your coworkers, they moved to their marks, ready to begin.

By the time Brandon called action, Francisco had placed himself into his role: Ramón, a well-traveled sailor who wasn’t one to plan for the future. Ramón lived each moment he was in; he didn’t overthink things or worry, but you might not know where you stand with him tomorrow. A good reason why Rebecca’s character Marissa would be drawn to him, and an understandable reason why she ends up back with her husband instead of Ramón.

As Ramón, Francisco rooted through a storage compartment in the cabin. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured Rebecca’s Marissa. “I’m sure I have more in here—somewhere.”

Rebecca watched him, standing lopsided in only one platformed sandal, wet from her shins down. Her stance was self-conscious; she was wavering, considering whether or not she should bolt. “You have extra pairs of women’s shoes?” she asked.

Francisco flashed her a grin, immodest but not obnoxious. “Well…” he replied, playful.

“Honestly, I-- I should just go,” Rebecca insisted, turning to leave the cabin.

“Hey-hey-hey!” Francisco exclaimed. He sprang nimbly to his feet and took her hand, drawing her back around. “It happens, okay? It’s not a big deal.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he slowly lowered himself down until he was kneeling before her. “No need to ruin our day over something so small.” Gently, he lifted her foot and pulled the sodden sandal off.

Rebecca’s face broke into a smile, relief and abandon and desire all in one. Her dark blond hair, with soft waves in it for this character, fell artfully down to her shoulders. “That’s one way to do it,” she remarked.

Francisco rose again, brought his hand to her cheek. “Better?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Better,” Rebecca agreed. She leaned in to kiss him, drawing her own hand into his hair.

When their lips parted, Rebecca said, “You know, on balance? I think shoes are overrated.”

Francisco grinned. “Wildly overrated,” he agreed. He brushed her hair behind her shoulder to kiss the crook of her neck.

“I can always buy more,” Rebecca mused.

Francisco lifted his head to make his reply, which he was supposed to deliver as he slipped his hand into her shirt, but a fierce itching sensation suddenly flooded his nostrils. He turned away, sneezing a strong, “Haaahhh-CHUHHHHHH!” into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said, sniffling as he reemerged.

“Don’t worry, you’re good,” Rebecca replied.

“Still rolling!” Brandon called from his director’s chair.

Francisco gave his nose a quick rub, then returned to his grin. “Wildly overrated,” he said. Brushing Rebecca’s hair back, he kissed the crook of her neck.

“I can always buy more,” Rebecca mused.

Francisco lifted his head. “I’ll buy you more,” he vowed, his hand sliding into her shirt.

Rebecca smiled, half amusement and half arousal. “Is that right?” she asked.

Francisco considered. “I’ll fish more for you,” he decided. “The bay is full of shoes from women wh- who…” The line was supposed to be, “…from women who struggle with the concept of boat-appropriate footwear,” a mouthful of a line that had taken Francisco ages to learn (didn’t they know that English wasn’t Ramón’s first language either?) But there, as he was slowly undoing her shirt buttons and nuzzling her clavicle, another itch overtook him.

“W-ai-it…” Francisco had a chance to mumble before he sneezed again, jumping back so he wouldn’t sneeze on Rebecca’s half-unbuttoned chest. “hihhhh-ehhhhh-SHIOOOOO! Ahhhhhhhh… hehhhhh-CHIAAHHHHHH!”

“Gesundheit,” Rebecca said as Brandon called cut. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” Francisco repeated, sniffing. “I’be not sick, I promise. My dose is- it’s just itching.” He scrubbed at his nose with his knuckles as he felt another tickle starting to build. “Heh-hehhhhhh….”

“Let’s just take a minute, then,” Rebecca suggested. “Let you get it out of your system.”

Francisco nodded, sneezing a hard “huhhhhh-ihhhh-CHIUHHHH!” into his fist. He sniffed again, but carefully—he could still feel the heady itching sensation. Biting back a sigh, he said, “One bidute,” before stepping aside, cupping his hands over his mouth against sneezes that bent him at the waist. “uhhhhhh-SHOOOOO! …hihhhhhh-CHIIAAHHHHH! Ihhhhhh… ahhhhhh-hehhhh-CHUHHHHHHH! Mbb….”

Sneezing so many times so quickly made Francisco feel almost lightheaded for a second, and he exhaled slowly as he straightened back up. “…Better?” Rebecca asked.

Francisco took in a long breath and let it out, waiting to see if his nose was going to act up again. He tried not to contemplate how embarrassed he probably looked. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, I think I’m good.” His gaze flickered to Brandon, chastened. “I’m sorry about that,” he said again.

“Let’s take it from the top,” Brandon announced in a clipped tone. He didn’t acknowledge Francisco’s apology, but as Kendra, a PA, hurried up to Francisco to offer him hand sanitizer, he could read the director’s annoyance in the tightness of his jaw.

As they returned to their original marks, Rebecca gave Francisco a quick wink. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead this time,” she predicted. Francisco nodded along, but he knew his smile was a little forced.

When Brandon called action again, Francisco and Rebecca restarted the scene. Francisco knew he wasn’t quite as present as he’d been on the first take. His own thoughts were intruding on Ramón’s a little, worries about annoying Brandon and embarrassment about having a sneezing fit in front of Rebecca Soczek and the whole crew.

Not that it mattered that he wasn’t as good on this take; they barely made it to the first kiss when Francisco’s nose started tickling again. He hurriedly broke the kiss and stepped back from Rebecca, not having time to apologize before another sneeze hit him hard. “hihhhhhh-SHNNNNFFHHH!” he sneezed, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Goddammit!” Brandon exclaimed, plucking his headphones off and throwing them to the ground.

But Rebecca put her hand on Francisco’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“I-- like I told you, I-I-aaaahhhh…” Francisco trailed off, lifting a hand to his face. “huhhhhh-CHIOOOO-ehhhh! Mbb, fuck! I’be dot sick, really.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose hard.

Kendra hurried back up to Francisco, holding out a tissue box. “Thadk you,” he mumbled, giving her a nod as he took a tissue and wiped his nose.

“Sobething’s bothering my dose,” he went on. “I-- I don’t doh what. hiiihhhhhh-ehhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” The sneeze snuck up on him, and he only had just enough time to turn away.

“Oh my god,” Brandon grumbled, shaking his head in a disbelieving sort of way.

“I’be so sorry,” Francisco said again. “This ha-haasn’t haaahhhh-CHUHHHHH! It’s devver happened to be before.” He sniffled into the tissue.

“Do you think you’re allergic to something?” Rebecca wondered.

Francisco shook his head. “Just d-- dogs,” he replied. “Bu-uhhhh-ihhhh-SHIIAAHHHHH!” He pressed his nose to the back of his wrist, cringing. “But even if a dog was here, it’s dot bad li-- like thi-is…”

Kendra handed him a second tissue just in time for another “Hahhhhhh-CHIOOOO!” Francisco sniffed again. “B-besides,” he added, “by allergies make by throat add eyes itch too, but this is-- it’s just—hihhhhhh-uhhhhh-CHUHHHH!—just by nose.”

“Well, something’s definitely setting you off,” Rebecca mused. “You were fine a minute ago.”

Even as Francisco’s furiously-itching nose loudly demanded his attention, he still heard Brandon mutter, “Try five minutes ago,” under his breath. Francisco’s nose was the most irritated thing on set at the moment, but the director was a close second.

“I dod’t—hihhhhh-SHUHHHHHH! Iiihhhhh-huhhhhh-CHOOOO!” Francisco sneezed rapidly. “I dod’t doh,” he confessed. His nose felt like it was beginning to run a little. He sniffed, holding a tissue to his nose.

Rebecca was peering around the set as though she was find a conveniently-labeled sign saying “That Thing That’s Making Francisco Sneeze.” For his part, Francisco wasn’t much help. Besides the sorry state of his nose, his brain was a jumble of nervousness and embarrassment, making it hard to think too closely.

“You didn’t start sneezing until… oh god,” Rebecca said suddenly, her eyes widening.

Francisco sniffed, giving his nose a wipe. “Wha-aaat…?” he started to ask, lapsing into another “hihhhhh-CHIIUUHHHHHH!”

Rebecca pushed up her sleeve and held her arm out to Francisco. “Try and smell this,” she said.

It was so bizarre that, for a second, Francisco was sure he was misunderstanding her English. “I-- what?!” he said.

“I just wanna see,” Rebecca prodded.

Very aware that the whole crew was standing around watching this strange little episode, Francisco hesitantly took Rebecca’s arm in his hand, lifted up toward his nose and inhaled.

The effect was instantaneously. “huhhhhhh-SHOOOOO!” Francisco sneezed, letting go of Rebecca and whipping around so he wouldn’t sneeze on her. “hihhhhh-CHHUHHHH! Ahhhhh… hehhhh-SHIIOOOOO! Ehhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!” Mbb…” He was grateful that Kendra held a fresh tissue right in front of his face, so he could grab it without raising his eyes to look at anyone.

“What?” Isaac, the boom guy, remarked. “He’s allergic to you?”

“It has to be my lotion—dammit!” Rebecca said. “David gave it to me.” (That was her husband, actor David Powel.) “He got it in his swag bag from the MTV Movie Awards. It’s scented with-- I don’t even know, lavender and spices and some other stuff. I’m so sorry, Francisco, I had no idea.”

“Doh,” Francisco insisted. “Ih-hihhhh… hehhhhh-ihhhhh-SHOOOO! It’s dot your fault.”

“You know,” Brandon called, in a conversational tone with a dark edge to it, “I could’ve sworn we were here to make a movie, not play south-of-the-border Scent Detective.”

“I-I’be sorry--” Francisco started to say, but his nose wouldn’t let up. “hahhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!”

Rebecca faced Brandon, but she lightly touched her fingertips to Francisco’s shoulder. “He can’t help it,” she pointed out.

“Great,” Brandon drawled. “It’s still a waste of my time.”

He was right, of course. Americans said “time is money,” and in Hollywood, it was really true. All those people, each one with a union that said how and when they got paid. Every moment of wasted footage meant lost dollars, and every minute not shooting or setting up a shot meant lost time, which amounted to the same thing.

But Rebecca wasn’t finished. “You heard him—this has never happened to him before,” she told Brandon. “What do you expect him to do? He can’t shoot like this.”

“ihhhhhh-SHHHNFFFFF!” Francisco sneezed, biting back a cringe as he clamped his hand tightly over his nose and mouth. Rebecca glanced over at him, as if to say, See?

“So we’re out a whole day of shooting because Francisco’s delicate nose can’t handle scented lotions,” Brandon remarked. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

“I-- I dod’t-- I can—” Francisco began, not that there was much point in trying. “hihhhhhh-SHIIAAAAHHHHHH!”

“What if we break for, like, an hour?” Rebecca suggested. “I can take a shower, try to scrub this scent off, then get back into hair and makeup. It’s worth a shot, right?”

Francisco’s nose, though still itching, was giving him a brief reprieve. Holding a tissue to his nose, he quickly broke in, “That souds good!”

Brandon sighed deeply. “I suppose anything’s better than standing around here with our thumbs up our asses,” he grumbled, a visual that was as perplexing as it was disturbing. “One hour.”

As Dante, the AD, called out instructions to the crew, Francisco sneezed yet again, a hard “huhhhh-CHOOOO-ehhhhh!” that made his head snap forward. He was badly stuffed up and felt weary from all the sneezing. He trudged off the set, fantasizing intently about how delightful it would be if a giant sinkhole opened up beneath his feet and swallowed him whole.

[snowshie]

Oh, I'm so excited to see these two again! Such a great premise - I can't wait to see where you take it.

[EveP]

Oh, the poor guy! I love it! 

[angora48]

Thanks! I appreciate the comments.

Hmm, I don't know what happened. I tried to post an update this morning, but it looks like it didn't go through. Let's try this again.

Part 3!

 

Success in Hollywood was more than just acting well in movies that lots of people see. It was also very much about the people you worked with, their impression of you. And as an actor who spoke English with a Mexican accent, Francisco knew that an even greater onus was on him to make sure every director, every costar, enjoyed working with him. People talk in Hollywood, a lot, and one bad experience could poison your name across Los Angeles.

Once Brandon begrudgingly gave the go-ahead for everyone to break for an hour, Francisco hurried off the set. His nose was still bothering him, and he had no desire to stick around and remind Brandon of that.

So Francisco left, turning a corner and heading down a corridor, one hand shoved in his pocket while the other rubbed his itching nose. “hihhhhh-SHUHHHHH! Ihhhhh… hehhhh-CHIUUHHHHH!” he sneezed. It wasn’t quite as bad when he wasn’t actively pressing his face into the scent on Rebecca’s skin, but he was still feeling terribly sneezy.

“haaaahhhh-CHIOOOOO!” Francisco sneezed again, explosively, into his hands. With a deep sigh, he leaned against the wall and sniffled.

Rule One of any Hollywood set was Don’t Waste Anybody’s Time, and here was an entire hour of filming lost because of Francisco. (He prayed it was only an hour. Please let him have stopped sneezing by then!) His first day on set, and he’d thrown off everything. Francisco felt awful, and his pestering nose only made it worse.

Suddenly, a voice called out his name. Francisco looked up and peered down the hall, where he saw Rebecca walking towards him. “Francisco?” she repeated.

Francisco let out a sigh. “Who else wou-- ehhhhh-SHOOOOO! Mbb-- who else would I be?” he asked.

Rebecca offered him a lopsided smile as she approached. Francisco noticed that she’d traded her one costume sandal for a pair of sneakers. “Don’t beat yourself up,” she advised.

“What?” Francisco said. He was feeling too stressed to deal with English idioms.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she told him. “It’ll be fine.”

“I’be dot too sure a-- about thaaa…” Francisco mumbled, covering his mouth for a strong “huhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHH!”

Rebecca frowned. “Does me being here make it worse?” she asked, taking a step back. “Should I--?”

“Doh,” Francisco assured her, sniffling. “Doh, it doesn’t make a difference whed you’re just stadding here. I was all right whed-- whed we w-w… ihhhhhh-SHIIUHHHHH! Whed we were blocking. It wasd’t until w—hehhhhh-SHIIOOOOOO!”

“Until we started actually doing the scene,” Rebecca supplied. “Walking through it fully clothed was one thing, actual skin-to-skin contact was another.” She looked him over as he sniffled, rubbing his nose.

“You’d better get a shower too,” she suggested. “You probably have traces of it on your hands now, even your face.”

When was he going to get a break, just one? Francisco dragged his hands down his face in a gesture of exhaustion, even though, if what Rebecca said was true, he was just getting more of the scent everywhere. “Okay,” he agreed quietly.

Rebecca placed a light hand on his shoulder. “Get cleaned up,” she said. “Get your hair and makeup redone. Then try to relax a little until we’re due back on set. Don’t make yourself more miserable than you already are, okay?”

Francisco headed for his trailer, where he was set up with a small but fully-equipped bathroom. Careful to keep his costume in pristine condition as he took it off and hung it on a hook, he stepped into the shower. It was a comfortable 24° outside, but Francisco twisted the knob so the water was as hot as he could take. He hoped the steam would clear his sinuses.

“Hihhhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” he sneezed, water running down his face. “hehhhhhh… ihhhhhhhh… ehhhhhh-CHIIUUHHHHHH!” Swallowing a groan, he picked up a bottle of body wash (everything was blessedly non-scented) and briskly started lathering up his skin.

He scrubbed especially hard on his hands and face, since that’s where he’d been touching Rebecca, but he washed all over. While he’d considered putting on a shower cap to keep his hair dry, making things easier once he got to hair and makeup, he ultimately decided he’d better not take any chances. He couldn’t remember if he’d run his hands through his hair or if Rebecca had touched it, and he didn’t want there to be anything that might make him sneeze when he got back to set.

The steam seemed to be doing its job—his nose was running badly. Good for getting everything out of his system, but messy in the short term. He was hit with a strong “huhhhhhhh-ihhhhhhh-SHIOOOOOO!” as he was lathering his hair, and, unable to cover his mouth, he sprayed the inside of the shower with his sneeze.

“Ay, shit,” he cursed, sniffling wetly as he wiped his nose with the back of his wrist.

Messy sneezes or not, he’d have liked to stay there a while longer and perhaps curl up in a ball to feel embarrassed and sorry for himself. But that wouldn’t do. They only had an hour, and Francisco would not hold up shooting a second time. So he washed up as quickly as his sneezing would allow, then stepped out of the shower to towel off.

He was still sniffling a lot, which made Francisco nervous, but his nose, while still feeling kind of sensitive, seemed to be quieting down. That was something. He was going to call it a win, because after the morning he’d been having, he deserved it.

Still undressed, Francisco reached for a box of tissues sitting on a small shelf over the towel rack. Grabbing a couple of tissues, he blew his nose thoroughly, very glad that no one was around to hear this. He sighed, balling up the tissues and dropping them into the toilet.

Francisco rested his hands on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair, which he’d let grow a little shaggy for this part, was sticking out in all directions after he’d toweled it off. There was still just a little wetness around his nostrils, which were looking a bit chapped. He plucked another tissue from the box and dabbed gently at his nose.

“hihhhhhh-shhhooooo!” he sneezed, suddenly, into the tissue.

“Shhh,” he instructed sternly. “No more of that. You’ve got to behave now.” He let his breath out in a puff, then made a fierce face at the mirror. “You’re Francisco Morales, you motherfucker. Show them you can do this.” He turned toward the door and reached for his costume hanging on the hook.

Round two of hair and makeup wasn’t a solid success. Francisco sneezed four more times, but as a slight positive, two of them were powder-related. “Sorry,” Penny, his makeup artist, said with a wince after he sneezed for the second time as many minutes.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Francisco assured her, trying not to sound too glum.

Bonnie smiled. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” she asked.

“Over sneezes?” Francisco replied. “Of course not! How can I, when you make me look so good?” Meeting her eyes in the mirror, he flashed her a grin and pretended he felt as good-humored as he sounded.

Penny grinned back and gave his cheek a friendly pat. (Francisco had thought Ramón would have a beard, but Brandon had wanted him clean-shaven, to make him look young and emphasize the age difference between him and Rebecca’s character.) The woman bent, looking him over carefully. “Okay, your nose looks all right,” she said, “but maybe I ought to stay close by while you’re shooting. If you think you might be sneezing some more, it’s probably gonna need touching up.”

“Aah, I hope not,” Francisco told her. “I’ve been sneezing too much.” He turned up the corner of his mouth in a bashful smile. “But yes, I think that would be a good idea.”

Penny nodded. “You got it, compadre,” she replied.

Francisco made it back to set with nearly ten minutes to spare; he’d thought about returning to his trailer for a bit of quiet, to ground himself, but he thought being early instead of on time might earn him back a tiny bit of good will. As he slowly made his way toward his chair, stepping over cables and snaking around milling crew members, Francisco suddenly pulled up short at the sound of Brandon griping to Dante.

“Can you honestly believe this?” he grumbled to the AD. “I know he’s a big star in his home country, and who knows, maybe that’s how they do it in Mexico, but around here, there’s this little expectation called ‘doing the work.’ Let me tell you, after everything I’ve had to put up with, he’d better be fucking brilliant.”

As Francisco hung back, weighing his options—“don’t get fired” unfortunately took precedence over the fun ones involving choice insults for Brandon—he heard another voice break in.

“All right,” Rebecca said, stepping forward (Francisco hadn’t seen her come in, it startled him a little.) “Here’s what’s not going to happen. You’re not going to take your frustration out on Francisco over something that wasn’t his fault. If you need to be irritated at somebody, be irritated at me. I do not want to hear screaming or passive-aggressive little comments, and I don’t want to see Francisco on your shit-list. That’s not how I make movies.”

Brandon’s face reddened, though Francisco couldn’t say whether it was from anger or embarrassment, and his mouth twitched a little like he was itching to reply. But when the man finally spoke, his voice was even. “I just want to get this scene shot,” he said.

“So do I,” Rebecca said, her tone shifting in an instant from commanding to chipper. Her eyes flickered in Francisco’s direction as she noticed his presence, and she beckoned him with a slight nod of her head. “Francisco, do you want to shoot this scene?” she called, raising her voice.

“Of course,” Francisco replied, slipping on an adopted grin as he walked towards them.

Rebecca turned back to Brandon. “Then it sounds like we’re all in agreement,” she said brightly. She looped her arm through Francisco’s, and they headed for their chairs.

“That was amazing,” Francisco told her.

“I took so much crap for so many years,” Rebecca replied. “And not just coming up—I remember having the #1 movie in America and a director shouting out the absolute worst things about my body so I’d cry more ‘convincingly’ for a scene. At some point, I just decided that it was more important to be Rebecca fucking Soczek than to be ‘likable,’ whatever that ever meant in the first place.”

“I don’t know what it means either, but I know I like Rebecca fucking Soczek,” Francisco said.

Rebecca laughed. “It closed a lot of doors for me over the years, but now that they’re starting to open again, I want them on my terms.”

Francisco nodded. “Well, thank you for saying what you said,” he told her. “I’m not having such a good morning, and it was r- rea-ally… hihhhhh-shhhhhh!” he sneezed softly, clamping his hand over his nose. “It was nice to hear.”

“Any time,” Rebecca assured him. “You good?”

Francisco offered her an uncertain smile. “Brandon won’t like it—I still might be sneezing some,” he admitted. “Not bad like before, the shower helped a lot, but….”

“But Brandon can learn to deal with it,” Rebecca finished. “Now, are you ready to do this or what?”

Francisco let out a steadying exhale. “Let’s do this,” he agreed.

[EveP]

This is so weird. I'm sure I read this more than an hour ago and that I commented because it was posted one minute before I logged in. 🤔

Anyway, great update!

[angora48]

Here's Part 4, the end of "Rule One of Hollywood." Thanks for reading, and I'll do my utmost to make sure it's not so long before I write about Megan and Francisco again!

 

A smile crept across Megan’s face when she heard the key fumbling in the lock. Francisco’s apartment was a nice place to work on the short film she was sound-editing, with big windows to let light in and thick walls to keep distracting noises out, and she’d been in the zone for the last several hours. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t happy at the sound of her sort-of-boyfriend(!!) returning from work.

“Hey,” she called, not getting up from the comfy chair by the window as Francisco entered. She played nonchalant, still peering into her laptop while only sneaking delicious peeks at him over the top of the screen. “How was it?”

Megan expected an instant reply and was surprised when it didn’t come. That was Francisco’s thing, enthusiastically telling you everything. Her texts from him that day had been even more emoji-and-gif-filled than usual, and she’d found that Francisco abandoning written language altogether was usually a sign of strong emotion. Any emotion would do—excitement, aggravation, joy—and so she figured he’d have walked into the apartment already mid-anecdote, as if he’d started talking in the hallway because he couldn’t wait until he was actually in front of her.

This called for an investigation. Megan hastily saved her file and clicked her laptop shut. “Francisc—?” she began, turning, when all of the sudden, Francisco was flopping down the floor beside the chair and burying his head in her lap. He made muffled noises of indeterminate linguistic meaning.

“Hey,” Megan repeated, running her hands through his sexy-shaggy hair, “what happened?”

“Oh my god,” Francisco mumbled, finally speaking in actual words as he turned his head a bit. “You’d hardly even believe it.”

Megan frowned. “What?” she asked insistently.

*           *           *

It was Megan’s turn to be speechless. “W-what?” she managed to squeak out.

“Rebecca apologized, of course,” Francisco was continuing. He was still on the floor, but he was sitting up now, leaning against Rebecca’s chair with his arm propped on her knee. “I mean, it’s not like it was her fault, really, but she felt bad about it. And just, there was nothing I could do!”

Megan’s cheeks felt hot, and she wondered how furiously she was blushing. “You mean, you were just—?”

“Sneezing over and over,” Francisco told her. “Badly, like I could hardly even say a sentence. I thought Brandon was going to kill me.”

“W-wow,” Megan breathed, hoping that sounded like a sympathetic “wow” rather than an amazed and lustful “wow.” Come on, Megan, words, her brain urged even as it short-circuited. More words would be good!

“I—that sucks,” she continued. “I’m sorry. What did you do?”

“What could I do?” Francisco replied. “I’m telling you, it was impossible! J-juhhhss…” He drew in a sharp breath, and Megan held hers. “iiiihhhhhh-shhiiuuuhhh!” he sneezed into the back of his hand. “That was all hours ago, and I’m still sneezing a little bit,” he explained, “that’s how bad it was.”

It took all of Megan’s concentration to look like she wasn’t desperate to kiss his nose. “Aw,” she murmured in sympathy. She leaned forward to massage Francisco’s shoulders. “Sounds like a really rough start.”

“‘Rough’ is a very nice way to say it,” Francisco told her. “A better one is ‘ah, fuck!’”

Megan knew Francisco was feeling wrung out by the events of the day, but she couldn’t help smiling at that, just a little. In her experience so far, Francisco wasn’t a huge swearer in English, so it always stood out to her when he dropped an F-bomb.

Now, continuing to rub his shoulders, she urged, “Tell me about it.”

As Francisco launched into a full description of his tumultuous first day of shooting, punctuated by occasional sneezes, Megan did her damnedest to keep her mouth from falling open in gobsmacked horniness, but it was touch and go at times. She completely understood why the whole thing bothered him, beyond the insatiable, irresistible sneezing—she’d gotten to know Francisco enough to discover that Francisco Morales, movie star and certified charisma bomb, wasn’t immune to a little insecurity, and it had to suck royally to have the director rip you a new one in front of everyone on set.

But so help her, his dismay just made it even hotter.

“After we went for a break, Rebecca suggested I go shower too,” Francisco went on, wriggling his nose a little. “‘Cause, you know, we were touching and kissing for the scene, and she thought maybe the lotion was-- was on me-- n-no-ow… huhhhhhh…” He lifted his hand to his face, his frozen expression like that of someone caught mid-laugh in a candid photo. “ehhhhhh-shoooooo! Mmm…”

By now, Megan had joined Francisco on the floor, sitting half in his lap with her arm around him. She could feel his muscles tighten as he sneezed, and she swore her toes curled in tandem. “Salud,” she told him.

Francisco nodded, sniffing. “So I went back to my trailer,” he said, “just sneezing the whole time I’m trying to take my costume off.”

The man could spin a yarn, she had to give him that. “Oh god,” Megan murmured. As a response to his bad-day retelling, it was only borderline appropriate, but come on! What else was she supposed to say?

Relishing Francisco’s aversion to skimping on the details, Megan listened to the miserable, sexy tale and tried to appear cogent and caring. And she was caring, honestly. Hearing about his concern and aggravation over something that he obviously couldn’t help was triggering her wounded-puppy response, and she heard herself saying soft and reassuring things over the sirens going off in her libido. After the fourth sneeze, she kissed Francisco’s temple and said, “Hold that thought,” jumping up to retrieve the Kleenex box from the bathroom.

Francisco smiled sheepishly. “Thanks,” he replied, grabbing a Kleenex and wiping his nose.

When he got to the part about Rebecca calmly destroying Punkass Brandon (the new moniker Megan had mentally given Francisco’s apparently wannabe David O. Russell director,) Megan felt a sudden, weird swell of emotion. Last night, she’d been feeling a little squirmy and insecure about Francisco shooting multiple sex scenes with the can-still-get-it star of Unrealistic Expectations, but now, it was such a damn relief to hear that Francisco had someone in his corner during a crappy day on set. While, yes, she was wildly jealous that Rebecca had gotten to kiss Francisco in between sneezes, she was also glad that Rebecca stood up for Francisco when he needed somebody. There were plenty of assholes in Hollywood, but clearly, Rebecca Soczek wasn’t one of them.

“But you were able to get back to shooting?” Megan asked. “How did it go?”

Francisco laughed a little, then sighed. “Well, I mean, it was okay,” he said. “The sneezing was better, but it didn’t stop all the way. We had to do the scene in little pieces, and it still took too many takes. And I wasn’t strong enough in the character, I—hihhhh-uhhhhh-chiiuhhhhhh!” The sneeze snuck up on him; he buried his nose abruptly in his hands. “I doh I can do it better,” he finished, with a wet sniffle.

Dear lord. Megan kissed his neck. “You will,” she promised him. “Tomorrow. You’ll be so good you’ll have Brandon eating hi-- uh, Brandon will regret every dick thing he said to you,” she amended, opting for the route that didn’t involve an English idiom.

That brought a small smile out of Francisco. “I just have to say focused on the scene and not sneeze,” he remarked.

Spoilsport, Megan thought. Aloud, though, she said, “Easy. And hey, no matter what, I’m sure you were still sexy as hell.”

“Rebecca might disagree with that,” Francisco said. “At least I never sneezed on her, but I didn’t feel very sexy.”

Oh, Megan would very much be the judge of that. She was already dreaming of the outtakes reel. “Please—you couldn’t be unsexy if you tried.”

“I don’t know, my nose was trying pretty hard,” Francisco told her, looking a bit bashful but with a playful tone. He was starting to perk up, which was good. As delicious as his misery was, Megan tended to get the distinct impression she was going to hell when she drooled over his sad eyes.

“I’m sure it wasn’t bad once you got back into it,” she said. “Speaking as someone who’s had sex with you,” (what even was her life?!), “I bet you fake having sex better than a lot of people do it for real.”

She drew a laugh from him this time, which gave Megan a warm feeling in her stomach. Francisco said, “Here,” pulling them both up to their feet and putting a hand on her waist. He drew her close to him and brought his other hand to her cheek, kissing her softly.

Before Megan had chance to process this sudden good fortune, Francisco was kissing her neck and slipping his hand up her shirt, his fingers fluid and nimble. He’d just started to nuzzle her clavicle when Megan heard a telltale hitch in his breath. “hihhhhh…” With his hand in her shirt, he couldn’t step back from her, but he turned his head, sneezing a delicious “huhhhh-chuhhhhhh!” over his shoulder.

“See?” Francisco said, smiling sheepishly as he turned back to her. “With that every few minutes? I’m not saying it was a disaster, but it was kind of close.”

He made to pull his hand out from her shirt, but Megan grabbed it, guiding him back in. “Hey, from where I’m standing, it’s still sexy as far as the eye can see.” With her free hand, she brushed Francisco’s hair out of his eyes. “So come on,” she encouraged, “let’s see a little more of how this Ramón guy shows a lady a good time.”

Francisco grinned at that. Sniffing lightly, he went in for another kiss, and Megan felt a shiver as his hand traveled up her torso.

He had to improvise a little—“Marissa’s shirt had buttons in the scene,” he explained as he pulled Megan’s shirt over her head—but Francisco took her through the beats of the scene in a decidedly non-acted way. After the first couple of sneezes, he seemed to lose some of his self-consciousness about it; he always turned his head away from her or covered his mouth, and there were a few meltingly-hot breathless “sorrys,” but then he would just give her a lopsided smile and return to the exceedingly important business at hand.

Before long, Francisco was unbuttoning her jeans and hoisting her onto the kitchen island. He kissed her as he made to pull them down, but then he stopped, instead bracing himself against the counter while he broke the kiss.

“Ahhh-hehhhhh-shoooooo!” he sneezed into the back of his other hand. He gave a soft chuckle and offered Megan an absurdly-cute “whatcha gonna do?” smile.

Megan touched his chin, guiding him back toward her, and placed his hand back on her waist. “Now, where were we?” she asked.

Even though they were dating now, Francisco’s smile could still dazzle her at close range. “Right here,” he told her, tugging her jeans down as he kissed her again.

*           *           *

Best Sex Ever was a tricky qualification to make, and Megan’s brain cells were too thoroughly occupied with certain other matters to be doing any definitive ranking right that second, but this had to be top three, easy. While she went a little weak-kneed at Francisco’s description of his helpless sneezing fit on set and could’ve been persuaded to give a minor appendage to have seen it, she realized that she might have actually burst into flames if Francisco had tried to have sex with her while he was sneezing like that. Which, you know, might’ve been conspicuous.

So she didn’t mind that tonight it was one or two sneezes every few minutes, along with a handful of false starts. Her man still left her wanting to melt into a satisfied sex puddle, and later, when they were in bed and Megan leaned over to kiss Francisco’s neck as he rubbed his nose, she knew she couldn’t have asked for a better night.

“How are you doing?” she asked him softly. “Better?”

Even in the dim light, she could see his smile. “Yes, a lot,” he replied. “Not so nervous about seeing Brandon again tomorrow.”

Megan smiled softly. She loved the way she would ask how he was feeling physically and he’d respond with how he was feeling emotionally. “Good,” she said. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s Brandon for knowing he acted like such a prick.”

Francisco kissed her, then lightly traced the line of her nose with his finger. “Thanks for everything tonight,” he told her. “You’re a good girlfriend.”

At that word, with no hedging or qualifying or label-avoidance, Megan had the opposite of butterflies in her stomach. What would you call that? A basket of puppies in her stomach? Let’s go with that. “Well, you make it easy,” she replied. It was a cheesy line, but “girlfriend” was ringing in her ears too loudly to worry about sounding cheesy.

Her cheesiness made Francisco laugh in a way that made Megan feel invincible. He let her fold into his arms, still sniffling quietly, and Megan prepared to drift off to sleep without a care in the world.

[EveP]

Wow, hot! 🔥

[Icyfall]

I really enjoyed this thank you

[ID2006]

Apparently I was taking a break from the forum when this was published. I love this entire series and this update certainly did not disappoint.

[Garnet]

Apologies in advance for bumping a two-year-old story with a huge comment, but I saw you post another thing with Megan and Francisco (!!!) and realized in the intro there was one I'd missed altogether.

So, you ever read through a story and immediately realize that ah, yes, you'll be revisiting this one over and over? Because ahhh, man. Yes.  

First of all, AAA! Dating!! It was a natural progression from your other fics, true, but I'm still so pumped for these imaginary people! The way you establish their relationship is very good, I think I ended up appreciating the bookended domestic scenes and some of Megan's observations just as much as the "meat" of the story, and I don't just mean her astonishment at the kinky stuff (although WHO could blame you, girl, holy hell). Her bemusement at Francisco's excessive emojis and boundless golden retriever energy are so sweet.

Quote

"This makes the husband realize he still wants to fight for their marriage, and rather than deciding to live with Francisco on his boat forever and have sex every day (like a person with eyes would,) she ends up going back to her husband in the hopes of working it out."

Yeah, I love her.  

Speaking of the kinky stuff, though... yowza. So many amazing things going on here, from Rebecca's consummate professionalism and being an excellent character to Francisco's mounting embarrassment and sneeziness. Fantastic. Stunning. Perfume and scent induced stuff is a personal favorite of mine because of the proximity angle, so to frame it in the context of shooting a sex scene is a stroke of genius.

Also, as a sidenote, I really love your little ESL details for Francisco, especially from his perspective and in the midst of his building frustration. I actually had noticed he was swearing more than usual in this one (no complaints there), so I smiled when Megan checked the same thing later on. Also also sidenote, a dog allergy huh? 👀 Tell me more...

Special shout-out to spellings on those more clamped-down, wildly suppressed sneezes, and like... the entire shower scene, specifically these lines:

Quote

The steam seemed to be doing its job—his nose was running badly. Good for getting everything out of his system, but messy in the short term. He was hit with a strong “huhhhhhhh-ihhhhhhh-SHIOOOOOO!” as he was lathering his hair, and, unable to cover his mouth, he sprayed the inside of the shower with his sneeze.

“Ay, shit,” he cursed, sniffling wetly as he wiped his nose with the back of his wrist.

Because I need to spend a minute with that image. And the little pep talk he gives himself after? Help, he's so cute.

We also LOVE Rebecca for putting her foot down with the director, aaaand of course I'm glad that Megan got to appreciate some of the action too with the recap + some feel-better sex. Seriously, girl, you deserve it, and I'm sure your man did not spare ANY details, bless him.

Your writing is always a pleasure, and now I'm jazzed to finally check out the new story. Thank you for sharing!

 

Edited July 7 by Garnet

[angora48]

Aww, thank you! Never apologize for posting a huge comment on one of my stories, you absolutely made my day! 🥰

On 7/7/2024 at 12:11 PM, Garnet said:

Perfume and scent induced stuff is a personal favorite of mine because of the proximity angle, so to frame it in the context of shooting a sex scene is a stroke of genius.

Sickfic is my bread and butter--I've hardly written any allergy or perfume/scent stuff before. But I knew if I wanted to keep writing about these characters and have their story progress, I couldn't just constantly have one of them get sick. So I needed other inducements (wink!) for sneezy scenarios to bridge the gaps of a reasonable stretch of time between colds, lol. Yes, hence the dog allergy--I have plans! And once I hit on the idea of scent issues while filming a sex scene, this story all but wrote itself.

On 7/7/2024 at 12:11 PM, Garnet said:

I actually had noticed he was swearing more than usual in this one (no complaints there), so I smiled when Megan checked the same thing later on.

I feel like Francisco swears more in Spanish than he does in English, but he's not a big swearer in general. You have to get him pretty stressed before he talks like he does in this story!

I'm so glad folks like these "imaginary people" I made up, even beyond the sneezy goodness. I really love Megan and Francisco, and I love writing their voices and their dynamic together. Coming up with cool side characters like Elizabeth Vega and Rebecca Soczek has been fun too, trying to create context for the careers of these fictional celebrities and write their personalities with specificity.