#also i am rly fucking annoyed at how much she blamed her fans and was like IM TAKING YOUR TOYS AWAY!!!

[thedreamthieves]

on one hand im like hehe ronan :)

on the other hand i wish she would stick to her word and leave this world alone. did you not do enough damage with greywaren.

[resmarted]

alright alright, finish your g&t cause now it’s time to leave on another plane where you are say, the young popstar turned actress that is cast for a cameo on a show im working on that’s about crime scenes and forensic detectives, and this is like your first job outside of your own world of yes men and fans so it’s new territory, but you’re unbothered by it bc you’re young and you have instagram notifications a mile a minute, and there are more important things to be doing. you’re a nightmare to work with, but everyone knows this because you’re also somebody’s daughter and you get what you want regardless. i don’t even have to interact with you because i’m always in the production office but gary calls in sick for the first time ever and suddenly we are short of hands and they need someone to step up, which i do instantly because gary is a teamster and i want to move up to that division because they get the best benefits and are unionized, it’s just much better money for much less work. well, that’s what i thought anyway. my only job today is to drive you from your hotel to the set, but the filming location is different than usual because it’s a desert scene and way out over on the other side of the hills. i don’t really know california geography but i’m assuming there’s just a lot of hills and everyone’s always just referring to the hills and whatever, the point is you walk out in this ridiculous disguise in an attempt to throw off paparazzi, this long blonde wig and retro rose colored glasses. of course that doesn’t work and you get bombarded with photographers, which is annoying, but the day only just started. you don’t talk to me or acknowledge me and that’s fine. you sit and watch videos on your phone and play various songs to snapchat yourself to, making kissy faces and different angles. i am driving at the pace of a snail, bumper to bumper traffic, and your phone keeps making little dings and noises. at one point you casually say mmk we’re going to make a stop at a prada, i need to pee. i laugh and you instantly snarl like, is there a problem? i start to talk and you’re like it was rhetoric-cal, and i shoot you a look in the rearview mirror like did this bitch just say rhetoric-cal? i try to explain to you that we are on production’s time and you say it’s an emergency without looking up from your phone. as soon as i’m about to respond i get a call from upper management basically saying to just do as i'm told. what is she, texting them? i sigh and give up like ok, let the nightmare begin. we have to turn all the way around to get on a different highway and sit in even more traffic, and when we get there you have the whole place shut down so you can do lines in the bathroom and shop for new handbags in peace. my phone is blowing up from producers urging me to hurry her back as fast as possible, and i’m already just settling on the fact that i’m just never going to be promoted to teamster, at least not anytime soon. you make me turn the radio up to full volume so you can get the most out of your high and your kpop playlist. you say you want in n out and god please no don’t do this to me, we are already so behind schedule, but of course you’re too powerful to disregard and too manipulative to be convinced into anything else. so we go and forty five minutes later you have ordered a massive amount of food, i guess for your invisible entourage, and you don’t even take a single bite. of course you don’t, what was i thinking, you don’t eat. you’re just trying to assert your power by stalling time as long and as luxuriously as you please. it’s not until i get back onto the freeway that the car starts to stall. oh shit, oh shit. oh shit oh shit oh shit no don’t do this to me, not now, not today. you groan that there’s no cell signal here and i bite my tongue from saying uh yeah bitch, there’s no wifi in the desert. you roll your eyes and for the first time i see you reach for something that isn’t your phone and ah yes, a flask. you take a decidedly long swig and i just stare at you in disbelief. a burp erupts from your body like a demon being exorcised and you wipe the back of your mouth with your arm. i can hear you go oh shit, my velvet kylie gloss. can you redo it for me? that’s when i lose my shit. i slam my fist against the car, breathing sharp through my nose like, no. no i can’t help you reapply your kylie gloss. i’m not here to wipe your ass, i’m just here to drag you to the job that you agreed to, and not only are you making it impossible but now we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere with no service and no way to even contact anyone to come out. you know i’m going to get fired over you, right? or does that not even register in your puny little glittery pea of a brain, you fucking moronic cretin sent from hell? you know it’s not normal for people to live the way you do, right? it’s not a fucking game, this isn’t some fucking party for you to pass out halfway through, there are people waiting around for the princess to arrive and guess who’s not showing up with the chariot? that’s right it’s me, it’s me you fucking tool. all because i got the bright idea to step up and take something that gary, who literally never missed a day of work ever, decided this was the day he wasn’t going to bother with this shit, and you know what? i don’t blame him. just as i’m about to further scold you, i turn around and see you bleeding heavily from your nose and foam starting to flood from your mouth. what the fuck? i scoop down to pull you up from the dirt where you’ve suddenly crashed and your body feels like a dead fish. i’m slapping you gently on the face trying to get you to snap out of it, and if nobody was stopping before they definitely won’t want to now, i look like your goddamn pimp right now. you half open one eye and manage to slur out a series of mumbles, and i make you repeat it again and again until it becomes words. you flop your head back and moan, take me to caesar sinai. fuck it. that’s it, i’m just gonna go for it. i am getting nowhere trying to wave people down and so i decide to just walk right into traffic, flailing my arms wildly at the first car that stops, which manages to somehow not leave a scratch on anyone. when an ambulance arrives and rushes us into er i pretend you’re having a bad reaction to seafood. i mean what the fuck am i supposed to say? i got a very expensive tabloid story’s worth of information to just give to any old creep that asks? i mean i hate you but i don’t want you to suffer for the world to see. they pump your stomach and when you’re lucid i’m sitting next to you, watching all the tubes going in and out of your body now. you’re so much nicer now that you’re docile from all this trauma. you meekly tell me hi, and i don’t know what the fuck i’m supposed to say now so i just kind of look at you and say nothing. i mean i’m so done with you at this point and am wondering how soon i can bail, is she even my problem now? isn’t someone else ready to take over? why has no one arrived by now to see you? does anyone even fucking care? that’s when your dad bolts in and starts firing off shot after shot at you like he’s talking to a drill sergeant and not his sick child on a breathing monitor in a hospital bed. he’s yelling at you like i was yelling at you, but way worse. what the fuck is wrong with you? do you know how close we were to being seen? i already had to pay off the staff to keep it under wraps from the press, and damn it that i didn’t just ship you off after your mother and i divorced. your heartrate speeds up and your breathing becomes labored and sir, don’t you think there’s a better time for this discussion later maybe? time? you think i have time to be dealing with this? that’s what i pay people for, why aren’t you dealing with this? maybe if you were doing your job i wouldn’t have to be down here and suddenly you pipe up dad, please stop. i’ll be fine. she just saved my life. that's right bitch, i'm a girl too this time. your dad does this weird 180 where he goes from being completely abrasive to so apologetic and there’s no in between, it’s like a switch that’s been turned. you point to me and say i didn't catch your name, and for a second i want to be like o rly? is that what the nice christian girl just noticed, that i'm a person? i tell it to you and your dad goes wait, you're the one that walked into traffic for my daughter. or maybe it's more like dawta. he tells me instantly that he wants to promote me - to being your personal assistant. she needs a handler i can trust, you're perfect for the job. ohhhh the fuck i'm not sir, but with all due respect, i don't think so. i'm just a teamster (not true) i'm not equipped to be overseeing a person's life at all hours. he goes, what do they pay you to be a teamster? and before i could answer i'm not actually a teamster he goes, i'll pay you triple. i really want to say no the fuck way but i also really want to be able to afford things like food and gas and sweet kicks. i sigh begrudgingly and in a blink of an eye in several months into living with you and, well, handling you. it picked up just where it left off, awkward and tense with a lot of me having to remind myself i can't get lash out at you because you're just this scared girl that doesn't even want to be doing this. your dad swears i can have my job back at the studio if i want it, that i don't have to cater to you and that i can be tough, but eventually the desire fades completely. i make solid meals like eggs and bacon for breakfast while you just eat little kid foods like lucky charms and pizza bites. you start to leave the news on around the house when i'm gone because you've become this attached little puppy that needs to feel like i'm there all the time. i make sure you take all your prescriptions at the same time every day, take you to your appointments on time, and i even check your nostrils every day which you are especially proud to do, like a little kid that just washed their hands and is getting the smell test but i'm looking for cocaine residue and dilated pupils. i'm the normal that you need in the background, or that's what i tell you one day when you ask why it is that you like the smell of coffee so much but not the taste. you resent that and we get into a strange fight like we're a couple, and are we a couple? there's something very cher and josh about the whole thing. you are staring with softest look i've ever seen and i ask, are you going to kiss me? you blush and fumble for words, stuttering but i put my finger very gently over your mouth like shh, it was rhetoric-cal. we make out forever after and all that, you know how these end every time why do i even have to still go over it with you? sorry, am i being a grump at you again just like ya fawtha? you kiss the dead out of me and i stitch my flesh around the broken parts of you, and together we make it back over the rainbow in one piece, just like we always do.