TW: suicide
once read an analysis saying that part 3/4's point is to show that it isn't so different from victor's life in part 1. and yeah, you can see it in the characters!
as for alison.. i don't know. She's Herself.
incredibly self-explanatory. (also they were both big fans of bobby)
“Who are they?”
“My father’s idea,” Sam says. “He’s not happy about certain elements of my life.”
“He has you followed?” I’m asking, stunned. “Jesus, and I thought my dad was a major fussbudget.”
they have similar relationships to their parents. their dads are too controlling and they seem to be closer to their mothers ("[Sam] dies screaming for his mother." / it's harder to find a quote that summarizes this for Victor, but his mother's death has a considerable effect on him)
also self-explanatory
“That wasn’t … Lauren Hynde, Victor.” Jamie sighs.
“It was Lauren Hynde,” I say. “It was, Jamie.”
“You didn’t pay … attention.” She sighs again. “That girl was not Lauren—”
“Jamie, I know that girl,” I say. “She’s Chloe’s best friend. What are you saying?”
“That was someone else.” Jamie keeps sighing.
“No, no, no …” I’m shaking my head adamantly.
“Lauren Hynde died in … December 1985 … in a car accident … outside Camden, New Hampshire.”
Her last words as she drifts off: “I’m … not … Jamie Fields,” is all she says.
not to make light of a grave situation but... kinda gay to share the exact same fate. but what do i know
OK again self-explanatory. but this is the last one!! no quotes for this one the ideas are too spread all over the place so uhh source: dude trust me
also they’re both dating victor’s exes
i love this set of parallels so much even though i hated realizing it. (Fuck you ellis.) as said, they both have boyfriend troubles and both can be construed as “on-set girlfriends”
Bruce and I flanking Tammy and she’s clasping our hands, looking at each of us happily, because in the movie the crew outside is shooting I’m supposed to be in love with her.
both get murdered by bobby, but also … their “vulnerable” states of minds are used to cover up what really happened.
A horrible vision breaks open in front of me of Chloe in an ambulance, another detox center in the desert somewhere, another series of failed suicide attempts followed up with a successful one.
(but you know it’s too deep, you know [Tammy] couldn’t have done this, though you can’t say anything because you know that scenes are filmed without you and you know that a different script exists in which you are not a character and you know it’s too deep)
they’re both.. dare i say it, the malewives? (is male waif the same thing as malewife?? i couldn’t find anything about it)
"Now, who is this Baxter?”
“You met him at a Knicks game.”
“Oh my god that’s right—the new male waif, underfed, wild-haired, major rehab victim.”
bruce is a “malewife” because he’s the designated driver, cooks (“You’re lucky you’re here—Bruce is cooking tonight.”), and is the right hand man to bobby. idk basically he does all the chores
as for being the “better” victors…
“Listen, do you know this kid named Baxter Priestly?”
“He’s the next Michael Bergin.”
“Who’s the last Michael Bergin?”
“Baxter Priestly’s in the new Darren Star show and in the band Hey That’s My Shoe. He’s dated Daisy Fuentes, Martha Plimpton, Liv Tyler and Glenda Jackson, though not necessarily in that order.”
“What do I do about Baxter Priestly?” I moan. “He of the faggy cheekbones.”
“You jealous fuck,” Beau hisses.
“I suppose I can tell you since obviously you don’t like Bruce, even though I think he’s quite charming and should have been the star of this production,” Felix drones haughtily. “You know why Bruce should have been the star of thisproduction, Victor? Because Bruce Rhinebeck has star quality, Victor, that’s why.”
“I know, I know, Felix,” I’m saying. “He should’ve been the star, he should’ve been the star.”
i think how this works is the differences in their displays of attraction to victor. jd can work with victor without his feelings getting in the way. they have a comfortable relationship
“Okay, okay,” JD pants. “Just get that fabulous ass over to Fashion Café, nab DJ X and do not sing ‘Muskrat Love.’”
“‘Muskrat Suzy, Muskrat Sa-a-am … ’”
“Victor, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“London, Paris, New York, Munich, everybody talk about—pop music.” I tweak his nose and march toward Damien’s chamber.
bentley, from their first meeting, makes victor uncomfortable and, it seems, wants him to feel that way
Bentley takes this in calmly, then, totally deadpan, his eyes closed with pain and longing, asks, “Would you move in with me, please?”
“How disco, baby,” I say, recovering. “But I’m, um”—I glance over at Jamie, who seems like she could care less—“involved.”
Another long pause on Bentley’s part, during which he tosses back what’s left of the chilled rum and gathers his thoughts. “Well, then,” he asks, “can I … watch?”
“Er, no.”
At first I’m saying, “That’s cool, that’s … cool,” because Bentley keeps grinning, but a hot wave of nausea rises, subsides, silencing me.
russell is a very Non Character so this is all really vague, but they’re both assistants? (russell to palakon, jd to victor)
they both give victor a safe space. victor trusts jd with the possible alison scandal and the fact that he’s opening a club behind damien’s back. for whatever reason, victor trusts russell and even follows him into a car with barely any words being exchanged
“A photograph of who?” [JD] exclaims.
“Shhh, shut up. Jesus.” I look around. “Okay, even though you think Erasure is a good band, I think I can still trust you.”
“They are, Victor, and—”
“Victor?” he asks, rock-faced, subdued. He’s wearing a black cardigan, ankle boots, a Prada overcoat.
Silently I walk up to him, the streets littered with confetti, the fog locking in on us.
“Someone wants to see you,” he says simply.
I just nod and without any prodding get into the back of the Citroën.
keep in mind this happens even though victor knows that russell has been stalking him???
When I walk up to him holding a San Pellegrino bottle, he pays his check and takes a final sip of cold sake, smiling arrogantly at me.
“You want my autograph? Is that it?” I’m asking and then my voice gets babyish. “Stop following me. Just leave me the fuck alone, okay?” A pause, during which he gets up and I back away. “Or else I’ll pour this San Pellegrino all over your head—got it?”