#Justine Biagi

[5bi5]

Britt Baron as Justine Biagi in GLOW (2017)

[asteraceae-blue]

Rain, heavy enough to wash sheets across the sidewalks and run in the gutters downhill, was still falling when he got in his car.

Rain, heavy enough to wash sheets across the sidewalks and run in the gutters downhill, was still falling when he got in his car.

Fucking freak Los Angeles night storms.

He'd stood on the sidewalk, trying to tuck himself under the awning of the buildings for a whole twenty minutes and looking like a lunatic before giving it up and running for his car. He flipped on the windshield wipers when he saw a couple of workers emerge from a side door, box in one hand and a ladder in the other, paying no mind to the downpour.

Through the heavy curtain of rain, blurring the neon light marquees of Hollywood Boulevard, he watched them add every letter, and some part of him that had been left unembittered by the business glowed with pride... for himself, but mostly for Justine.

Homecoming in Hollywood, Directed by Sam Sylvia

[jomiddlemarch]

Music shall untune the sky

Randy stopped howling after about eight hours on the I-15, once Debbie finally caved and rubbed his gums with some bourbon, the way Sam had been telling her to since about forty-five minutes in. Forty-five minutes into the trip, not the howling. He couldn’t blame the kid, he felt like screaming himself, but he couldn’t resort to the booze until it was Arthie’s turn to drive. Justine had jammed her headphones on after telling Sam to get on the I-15 and drive for eleven hours “or else.” Or else what hadn’t been specified but there was plenty to pick from for a Tuesday. It had been hairy getting out of the city—the streets were crowded, the visibility in the haphazardly packed Cadillac “less than ideal,” as Debbie had put it in the brief silence before her toddler started his blood-curdling screeching.

“He wants his pacifier, he’s overtired,” she explained, like Sam gave a fuck. “I’ve been trying to wean him off it, I don’t have a spare with me.”

“Fucking bad timing,” Sam said. “Seems fitting today’s the day I quit smoking.”

Debbie had started making little offended sounds, huffing and muttering and Sam wished he’d been alone in his office when the alarm had gone off, or maybe with only Justine there, but this seemed about what he could expect from life.

“Don’t take it personally, Debbie. If that’s at all fucking possible,” he said, letting his lower register carry his voice over the waning cries of her spawn. Justine could not possibly have been as annoying at the same age. In the rear-view mirror, he saw Debbie’s pursed lips, the tightness in her jaw that made you aware that just underneath that pore-less skin she had a mouth full of perfect, white teeth. Christ, fucking her would be like sleeping with a machete; her douchebag ex’s pursuit of Ruth suddenly made a lot more sense. Debbie hadn’t taken off her sharply cut blazer before she got in the car, still ready for a phone-call from a studio or an agent. Like they were even on that same planet.

“Fine,” she said and then Arthie asked her some moronic question about the baby or the show, something he blessed Arthie for asking because it meant he didn’t have to say anything else to Debbie for the next hour and a half and by then, the sound of the kid crying had melded with the vibration of the wheels on the road and the few words that cycled through his brain like the stations on Noni’s rosary: go, now, fast, Ruth. The radio stations were nearly all silent or static. (He’d quickly turned off the one the classic rock station that was a man’s increasingly panicked, increasingly soprano screaming.) There was no point in trying to drown anything out.

*

They’d stopped at his place on the way out of the city after an argument he won by announcing it was his fucking car that was their fucking ark and Noah was calling the shots. Also, he knew a half dozen ways to get to his house from the television station versus getting lost listening to Debbie give directions to her palace in Santa Monica. He’d parked the car in the garage, making sure the door was closed tight before venturing out with Justine and told her they had ten minutes to pack up her winter coat, a toothbrush, and whatever other shit would be useful. She had opened her mouth to protest he couldn’t expect her to know what that was but the clock was ticking and he was already in his bedroom before she got the words out, throwing a change of clothes and as many clean socks and briefs as he could find into a canvas duffle, along with his latest screenplay, his heaviest, least holey sweater, and a king-size bottle of aspirin. In the kitchen, he managed to find some crackers, an unopened box of shredded wheat, a couple cans of chili, a jar of olives, and a string bag of oranges; it wasn’t much but he hadn’t been planning on an emergency road-trip with three women and a toddler. He grabbed the untouched Sicilian torrone he’d meant to bring to Rosalie’s and shoved it in the grocery bag along with all the remaining bottles of liquor (which seemed sadly few given what was ahead of them.) Justine came into the kitchen with two minutes to spare, her bulging backpack over her shoulder, a flashlight in one hand and the baseball bat he kept by the front door in the other. In the last thirty seconds, he had a brainstorm.

“I’ll grab the axe,” Sam said. “Get the afghan off the sofa and whatever spare blankets you can find.”

“We have an axe?” Justine exclaimed, but she was muffled by the godawful crocheted granny squares in mustard and rust that had graced his couch for about twenty years. If Randy threw up on it, it couldn’t look any worse. At least, Sam thought that was true and that they’d probably be finding out for sure around hour sixteen.

He was only off by an hour. Waste of a fucking orange.

*

Arthie almost hadn’t come along. She’d made a bunch of noise about needing to find Yolanda, while Debbie had been leaving messages for Mark, her mother, Bash, and Cherry, Randy scuttling around like a crab under foot, until Sam had interrupted her.

“Yo’s a big girl and this is a goddamn fucking apocalypse, so either get the hell out and find her or shut up and see if there’s anything you want from your locker or anyone else’s—you have five minutes. And not for nothing, but I think your chances are shit if you try to find her yourself.” He added a shrug for good measure. She was a bright woman and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have someone in the car who had some medical training but he wasn’t going to fucking beg.

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “I just—I didn’t think something like this could happen.”

“You’ve got a lot of company—way I see it, we have about an hour to get the jump on everyone getting the fuck out of LA. After that, we’ll be stuck here and then we’re screwed and I don’t have enough bourbon or blow to deal with that scenario,” he said. It’d make a hell of a short film, but who’d be around to watch it? Arthie’s dark eyes widened, like she was actually letting herself imagine it, and he felt something catch in his throat.

“Leave her a note on the door. If she’s looking for you, she’ll come here at some point,” he said. And tell me you can drive stick without stripping the brakes.” Like they’d be hitting the brakes once they were on the freeway. All they had going for them was speed and the fact that he’d spent his career getting cozy with monsters—and then taking them apart.

Somehow that was enough—not one of the women asked where they were going. Randy just fucking stared. Little bastard had probably already guessed.

[samsylviasmoustache]

Even Odds IV

“Are you sure?” she says, on the threshold. “I can always get a hotel...”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Justine replies, turning the key and letting them both inside. “He’d want you to stay.”

I’m a grown man, I’ve got my own house−

She blinks away the memory. “Thanks. I’ll… I can take the couch again.”

Justine shrugs. “I mean, it’s up to you, but I put clean sheets on the bed.”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, as she tries to figure out whether it’s more or less awkward to take his room. “Thank you,” she manages eventually.

“No problem. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“No, no, that’s− of course. It’s been a long day.”

“Yep. G’night, Ruth.”

“Night…”

Justine’s bedroom door clicks shut and now she’s standing alone in his front room. Last time she was here, she was on crutches. And in another universe, another life, maybe she came back again and−

She derails the train of thought and pushes open the door to his bedroom. It smells faintly of washing powder, with a hint of cigarettes and soemthing like patchouli. It smells of him, she realises. Sitting down on his bed she feels ghosts rise again, those versions of themselves that didn’t miss their chance; that came here together and−

“Fuck,” she says softly, to the posters on his wall.

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[lady-arryn]

I'm not on your birth certificate, so legally, I'm not your father, but I am your father. So this will make it official, and then you can inherit all the good shit.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

Difficult Damsels: x / x

[gina-the-machina]

I’m bored so tell me your GLOW quarantine headcannons

[blooddisco2]

[lorelaigilmoure]

I’ll miss you.

[meitaly]

glow characters as john mulaney quotes

Ruth

Debbie

Sam

Bash

 bash in the 3 season 

Cherry

Carmen

Melanie

Jenny

Justine

 Rhonda

Sheila

Tammé

Arthie

Yolanda

Stacey and Dawn

no john but (at 1:48 until 2:00)

[a-carnie-and-a-cop]

Can Sam stop drinking please? And tell Justine or Ruth that he had a fucking heart attack!

[5bi5]

Some Justine gifs that didn't fit in my other post

[fairiequeens]

When Justine was talking about Ruth and she said "Would you even remember her?" Like god damn I felt That, like I can Relate to That feeling of not making any type of impact on people, of people not even fucking remembering me in any capacity.

[jomiddlemarch]

Music Shall Untune the Sky, the GLOW zombie apocalypse AU you never knew you needed, now nearly complete with one chapter left! 

You can read the monster right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715321?view_full_work=true

[samsylviasmoustache]

[b0bbynash]