George T. Clooney

So the big franchises right now involve toys from the 80's coming alive and beating the shit out of each other via CGI. Transformers, GI Joe, all that Marvel crap. Trying to envision the Next Big Thing - because, after all, that is my calling in life.

This is what I got:

Barbie Versus Skipper: Fight for Manhattan
My Pretty Pony OF DEATH
CareBears: The Final Showdown
Knock Your Block Off - The Movie

Come on, you know you want to play along.

He's been an actor and an agent and a Super Agent (like the 007 of his ilk). He's been a movie producer and a bankroll. And everything he's touched (save the previously aforementioned acting thing) has turned to gold. Even his breakout movie, his brainchild had blossomed into something every soulless dick in Hollywood dreams of: Critical acclaim and box office.

He felt like Midas. He WAS Midas. Hollywood Midas and the King felt a tad...bored.

Once you conquer a mountain, scaling it again seems redundant. The thrill is gone. George, he was a King who needed new and special thrills as frequently as possible.

In his love life, that was neatly fulfilled by his lover Sean, who made the King happy with new and special thrills frequently. He also made a quick ass gumbo. The trick, it seemed, was transferring All That Was Sean's Perfection to his working life. Touch something else. Make gold.

There was a niggling idea in the back of his feverish little brain, one that would involve stepping out of the shadows and into the limelight. God knows he'd been around enough directors to know they were great minds, giant egos and visionaries all wrapped into a tense package.

He could do that in his sleep. Maybe he would try it awake.

It's called a "motor yacht", which George feels makes his Christmas gift to Sean sound less...stuffy. More adventurous. Like James Bond might own one - with torpedos which this one, unfortunately, does not have.

But the rest of it is damn spiffy.

They pull out of the boat slip in Laguna and head out, a full weekend of relaxation in the sun before life resumes. Life which includes George flying to London so he can supervising editing of his Master Epic. The current Oscar season is whetting his appetite for the next one, the one his film will be eligible for...but no, no. He's got other things to think of right now. Like Sean in a pair of indecent white shorts.

( Read more... )

George does his annual holiday list in the picturesque setting of his den - fire in the (electric) fireplace, a snifter of brandy at his side, a CD of smooth jazz filling the background. Clearly he needs to consider a dog because that's ALL that's missing.

His holiday list is divided into two parts; gifts for people he loves and gifts for clients. Usually his gifts for the latter are determined by how much they've made him over the past year. The big bucks get you something nice like a scooter or a diamond encrusted nine iron. Those with less lucrative careers got something nice like...an expresso machine. Basic model, of course.

This year, he's feeling generous. Generous in general and not generous for him. Everyone's getting a gift bag that makes the Oscar one look like a fifth grader's treats and trinkets after a party at Bowl-a-rama. He's put Ash in charge of shopping and given her carte blanche - which means he's most likely buying her a helicopter this year but what the hell.

The gifts for people he loves he goes a step farther and tells Ash what to get. He puts some thought into the delegation.

But Sean, who he loves most - Sean he's actually going to shop for, quite possibly in a store setting. With other people. Milling about.

[November 23. Crossposted to seanpatrick]

Life with the Flanerys is like a Faulkner novel, or that's what Sean would tell you. He's cousin to the Snopeses and Big Daddy's his Uncle Elmer. That's his Mom's brother twice removed, or something. Hell, it's southern Texas, skimmed right up next to Louisiana, and kissing your cousin's considered a good thing. Of course, he doesn't have to explain that to George. His lover's from Kentucky.

"You want another helping," his aunt says, passing the sweet potatoes. It's not a question. It's mandatory. At least two helpings of Aunt Sally's sweet potatoes, smothered in brown sugar and burnt marshmallows. ( She got the recipe from some church cookbook she picked up in Carolina so it's tradition now. )

[September 21. Crossposted to seanpatrick]

Like a parent leaving their child for the very first time, George has climbed onto a plane and flown back to LA with Sean, trying not to sniffle into his martini at leaving the production behind. But they can function without his constant hovering (which he can do just as easily via technology) and he has to get back to the rest of his life, the part that makes him piles of money and the part that lets him romp around the house with Sean and not have to worry about jackasses sniffing around his boyfriend.

Ash has gotten the house into order - clean and well-stocked with all the dust bunnies retired to a nice farm in the country somewhere. George throws himself into work but decides that Friday night through Sunday morning is "Sean time" and he will even put his cell's ring tone softer for the occasion.

"On my way home," he announces into said cell, speeding the Jag on the freeway towards his exit.

Sean has the headset on and is roaming barefoot around the kitchen. ( ''Dinner'll be ready one martini after you get home, Sir. Or should I make a pitcher?'' )

"I'm bored. Think I can entice you into mischief today," Sean says loudly, walking into the suite's living area from their bedroom. "There's some wonderful playrooms downstairs and I could use a spanking."

He moves over and sits on the edge of the desk where George is working on his laptop. The jeans are tight, impossibly so, the t-shirt's white and ripped, "George's Boy(friend)" written with a Sharpie in precise block lettering, and the hair's spiked, much more Connor MacManus than Greg Stillson or even Sean Patrick Flanery.

"Bruises would be nice, but not mandatory."
( Read more... )

It seems that London has emptied out directly onto places and then onto the beaches of Maui.

George makes a donation, sends Ash a box of condoms and then proceeds to enjoy the Club with Sean.

No lines. No crowds. Like Disney World after...a nuclear disaster he assumes, as he believes Disney World is never empty.

He thinks he should take Sean to Disney World some time. They can do ridiculously rude things on "It's a Small World" and during the fireworks.

Have their picture taken with Mickey Mouse and perhaps do rude things with him.

For the first time in his life, George is nervous and happy. At the same time. Neither thing is related to the other. He's nervous about his movie, his dream project, his IT which starts in two weeks time, when everything he's so carefully put together will commence. On the other hand, he has Sean and while he's sure there are things he could be worried about - he doesn't.

Ego firm on relationship, ego watery on his career.

How far the mighty have fallen and risen, all at the same time.

( I took a pen and wrote Property of Sean in all my underwear. )

[June 23. Crossposted to natalieportman]

[Happens a day or two after Natalie and Christina finally kill the elephant.]

When the star of your big blockbuster in the making film calls and wants a private meeting, even Mr. George Clooney jumps through hoops to make it happen. He arranges for the meeting mid-morning, with a nice breakfast spread and endless amounts of coffee in the small London office that Ash has set him up in.

George gets there early and paces, just a bit. Natalie didn't specify what it was about but he's already got his worried and what to do about it game plan on. More money? Can do. Different schedule? Possibly. Perks? Whatever she wanted, even in the realm of the semi-legal he'd figure out how to give her. Unfortunately, dealing with someone like Natalie, none of those things were likely to be the problem.

( Creative brainstorming and clean-up detail were definitely going to be called for. )

[June 20. Crossposted to seanpatrick]

( ''I know I'm not a prisoner ... Just not much to do 'cept watch TV and read and work out. Barely even risk going downstairs.'' )

[June 20, 2006 - London - Citadel. Crossposted to jleto]

( ''Fantastic. I'm trying desperately to revive the movie musical as a genre.'' )

"So I was telling John, I said John, he's beautiful, he's smokin' hot but everytime he opens his mouth I want to shove a sausage in."

"What did John say?"

"John said - I know, so do I."

Porter f'ing new client. Name? George types into his Blackberry, circulating through the cocktail party like a covert agent. He furrows his brow in mock...something...so everyone will leave him alone. He's not here to chat, he's hear to OVERhear.

"Leto fired his management."

George pauses near the punchbowl.

"Really? Gone to Filburg? Everyone's going to Filburg you know."

"No, he's up for grabs - at least last I heard. And Filburg's a prick."

"No kidding, he's an agent. If he wasn't a prick he'd be a gate attendant at Paramount."

Jared Leto - hit him, George texts Ash. Gold package pronto.

He smiles, helps himself to punch and sashays out the door.

He's packed for London, his suitcases already downstairs to wait for the arrival of the car. They'll stop and pick up Sean, George will make seven thousand or so calls to Ash and Serge and the pilot of the plane to make sure everything is on schedule.

To say he's excited is far too simple a statement; after all the months of secrecy it comes down to this - a boring Cannes festival giving way to an exciting buzz worthy story about the new movie...they'll be fodder for stories from bored journalists who have had enough free drinks and boring movies to last a lifetime at this moment. He simply could not have planned things better.

Some might say he's just lucky but George believes you make your own luck. You put yourself out there at 110% and eventually the simple dictates of nature will pull things your way because you - he - is a force.

This time next year, that Force of Clooney is going to be something of epic proportions.

[May 24. Crossposted to seanpatrick]

( ''And yet, no martini ... and where are your pearls?'' )

Peter! I know it's late but I'm George Clooney and I can do things like this...*chuckles* I have a script, I need an actor, and I need fast turnaround. Give me a call when you get this message and I'll have a courier drop the script off. Between you, me and the wall I might as well send the contracts along because no one in their right mind would turn this down. Seriously. Okay, I'm going to stop talking and wait for your call and your yes. Hell - you should just say yes without seeing the script! Seriously! *hangs up*

Full of his mother's cooking and smelling faintly of cigars, George stretches on the porch of the familial home. It's twilight, his favorite time of day here in Kentucky. Everything is bathed in a diffused light, crickets coming out to start their songs...peaceful. He smiles, turning to see the screen door open and Sean come out.

( Read more... )

To seanpatrick:

derby weekend kentucky?

Sean does just as he's told, arranging for a limo with dark windows, and much to his surprise the director breaks things earlier than he said he would so there's time for a shower before they need to head to the airport. Sean's smiling as he kneels on the limo's floor, naked except for the pendant hanging around his neck, weighting easily against his chest. Something casual, easy to tear off, that's what George had asked for, but Sean figures George won't mind too much that he's gone one step farther.

It's liberating, being naked, waiting on his lover, and Sean closes his eyes as he slides his hands behind his back, stretching his fingers into a light lacing.
( Read more... )

To: Everyone
From: GTC
Subject: Upcoming events

Thank you for your signed contracts. My little agent heart is happy and my executive producer self is relieved.

We have two things coming up. A press conference I'd like to hold in London, middle of May we're looking at. Second is an event at a small castle in Spain - there'll be major press coverage, lots of schmoozing, actors mingling.

Concrete dates coming up but do me a favor and keep your schedules flexible.

And remember - confidentiality clauses last until the first question of that press conference.

GTC