just started reading your good girl’s revolt dair fic and i’m loving it so far!!! it has me curious about the actual show - i know it got cancelled, but i’d love to hear some of your thoughts on sam/jane and where their dynamic might/should have gone had it kept going!!
Thank you, thank you! Well, obviously I really love Sam/Jane lol. I never got into the Doug/Patti/Finn love triangle or Ned/Cindy mess. Frankly, I think Doug and Ned are both kinda trash, and while Finn is very charming, he also seems to have a self destructive streak and him and Patti seem like they would've flamed out spectacularly. But Sam...I mean I did tone down his flirting for the fic a bit cause it could be a little too much (but also was probably period appropriate), but he really seemed to be different than the other guys. He always seemed to have a genuine respect for Jane, even when he was mad at her, he seemed to think of her as a real partner and not a subordinate. Like while Doug and Patti had a good working relationship, they wanted very different things from a romantic partner and they could never work that way imo. But Sam and Jane, at least from what I've seen, seem to want similar things, which is a romantic partner who is always an intellectual equal. Which they have in each other.
I'm putting the rest under a cut, just in case people want to remain unspoiled for the fic lol
I think things would've been a mess in s2 between Sam and Jane. We do get a little hint at Jane finally acknowledging her attraction to Sam, but he's slept with Naomi. Not to mention the Noah of it all, he'd be in such a bad place. And add in the fact that Jane is now the face of this lawsuit that she never even told Sam about.
And I do think Sam would be one of the few guys in the office who would've been totally in favor of letting the women write, no hang-ups about it whatsoever. But Jane not telling him about it before she went on TV and did that...I think he'd react very similarly to how he did when he found about Chad and shut her out a bit. Plus, he's already so emotionally fucked up about what happened with Noah, I think he'd shut pretty much everyone out.
And the Naomi bit...I go back and forth on that one. Cause like, I do think she still really loved her husband (the image of her smelling the dirt from Vietnam is soooo haunting) but also she like...low key gets off on bullying Jane (I'll give you one guess what GG character she's gonna be), I could also see her rubbing it in Jane's face that she's slept with Sam. Which would of course really piss Jane off and make her and Sam even more distant.
But I also very much do think they were setting them up to be an endgame relationship and Jane & Sam would've ultimately gotten their shit together and ended up together. Especially cause a big part of them getting together would be Jane going through the process of separating herself from her parents' worldview which we do start to see at the very end of s1, but that's going to take a lot more time. It would really just be a slowburn for them, you know?
Anyway, go read @senbons incredible Sam/Jane fic Oh, oh, I'm on Fire!!!!!
In the moment, Jane is surprised. Shocked, even. Sex— she’s not that type of girl. Not that type!
She downs her drink. Boys like Sam are not for girls like her.
So when she does find herself looking at him and noticing how small his waist is and how long his fingers are, the wrinkles in his brow as he writes and the rhythm of the keys as he presses into them, she knows enough to shake herself out of it.
It’s a virtue of spending so much time together. Nothing more. A good researcher knows what her reporter wants. And Jane is a good researcher.
It’s not ignorance.
Jane is not ignorant.
Are you sleeping together?
Jane looks at Sam, the dark hair on his arm, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows. She imagines a gold wedding ring on his finger.
“No,” she says, “of course not. We just work together.”
So I'm only on episode 3 of season 2 but.... Is that dark haired woman really Sam??? I was so looking forward to seeing her on screen but it seems even her hair isn't right??? :'(
it’s not Sam :/ there was some issue that happened with Sam (who appears to be an unnamed character working for Fred in S1), so instead when they brought Drummer in early, they just had her take bits of Sam’s role. How far that will go has yet to be seen.
Sadly, I don’t think we’ll get Sam as we know her :/ They kind of explained it in the Churn podcast but since I don’t remember it well, I don’t want to spread anything.
Wait, what? I had completely forgotten this bit from my first read through - *really* need to go back to that scene in Abaddon's Gate where Pa makes Bull put Sam in house arrest and read it with this knowledge in mind 😂 it must be even more awkward than it already was
ALBUM REVIEW: Two Inch Astronaut - Can You Please Not Help
The current indie musical sea is saturated with punk bands that have a penchant for stereotypical songs named after unfaithful partners or prolonged teenage angst. Usually, as a result of this, the introspective music of talented alternative rock groups like Two Inch Astronaut is pushed far away from the shallow waters. However, like most things caught in an undercurrent - the waves of their music, most recently their new album, Can You Please Not Help, has brilliantly crashed upon our shores.
Released on June 2, Can You Please Not Help is an eclectic arrangement of spooky songs that reverberate creepy cool. The dynamism of the album comes courtesy of guitarist Sam Rosenberg’s warm vocals against the dramatic rhythms of bassist Andy Chervenak and drummer Matt Gatwood. For those of us off the rails due to society’s current state of um, well, everything, the album’s heavy breakdowns will be a pleasant break from your (probably) not-as-fun sounding personal breakdown.
Lyrically, the album includes a double dose of classic indie rock and the occasional use of clever pop hooks. It’s no surprise Can You Please Not Help is a standout listen. Smart lyrics perfectly match the feel of each song on the album, and in some cases, sound uplifting to the point you can’t help but dance (see “Play to No One” and “Can You Please Not Help”). Tracks “Not Your Birthday,” “Colesville,” and “I’ll Leave You Alone” will feel like a happy haunting for the listener - if such a thing is possible. Alas, have no fear, though; the album is perfect for all ghouls and non-ghouls who dig punk music that rules. Enjoy the full album for yourself here.
A stupid fic about two stupid characters: Sam Rosenberg and Jane Hollander. I can’t even with this dumb show. I shouldn’t care this much, but I do.
Cindy and Patti were laughing wildly on her bed, the evening’s cocktails working their way through warm limbs and loose lips. They called loudly from her room, “Why don’t you just ball him already?”
“Shut up!” Jane snapped back, her voice rising an octave with a slight twinge of indignation. Of course she found her reporter to be handsome and kind and she was certain the girls knew that, but it didn’t matter right now. He sounded off, as if something was bothering him. She liked to believe that they had worked together long enough to be able to read one another. They had a mutual understanding, or so she thought, of where they stood. He would flirt with her, she would flirt back—a little more so now that Chad was out of the picture—but they never pushed it any further. Doing so would break the spell that currently held them suspended but content.
“Sam, I’m so sorry, I could barely hear you. Do you need something?” The weight of what was happening tomorrow pulled her away ever so slightly from the conversation, but he had sounded so unsure of himself, a trait Sam Rosenberg rarely showed nowadays, and it bothered her.
The other line was quiet for a beat, the faraway sounds of traffic and static muffling his small intake of breath.
“No, I’m, uh— I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Just as she was sure he was about to hang up, the simple word of goodbye on his lips, her voice broke in, “No, wait Sam.”
In the background, Cindy somewhat drunkenly slurred, “The future can wait, Jane.”
Jane cupped a hand over her other ear, focusing herself on the man on the phone.
“Jane…” He sounded broken.
“Where are you?”
Another beat and then a sigh of resignation. Finally his voice came through, a soft exhale of breath, “Outside Noah’s.”
It was all she needed to know before she replied, “I’ll be right there.”
She was off like a shot, the telephone clattering to the floor as she spun around and dashed into her room. Patti sat up so fast Cindy dropped her drink, the last of its contents splattering over the bedspread.
“Oh God, I’m sorry—”
“—are you going?”
There were very few times in Jane Hollander’s life when she cared little of what she looked like; the hours after Chad dumped her, when she was young and her cat had taken off outside in a thunderstorm, and now, the night when Sam called her.
“He needs me,” was all she was able to get out as she found the first jacket in her closet and a pair of penny loafers on the floor.
Patti looked worriedly at Cindy before they both righted themselves on the bed. The redhead’s mouth fell open, a kind word or two briefly on the tip of her tongue before she thought better of it. Cindy, pragmatic Cindy, unfolded her legs before walking off to find Jane’s bag. Patti followed her friend down the hall where the third woman stood waiting.
“I have to, a cab— I mean…”
“Go,” Patti offered.
Jane, hands trembling, took her purse from Cindy before glancing briefly at both of them. The brunette nodded at her and then she was gone, the door slamming behind her, the sound of her shoe soles clapping down the otherwise desolate stairs.
Once outside, the cold March wind hit her face and Jane almost stopped herself. What was she doing? What could she do? What had happened? The inner debutante in her told her to collect herself and return inside. Maybe sit down. But the want-to-be reporter, the fighter, the feministic larger part of her, told her to get her ass in a cab and to the friend waiting.
A car horn honked and Jane shook her head before throwing a hand out in the air, practically demanding the next taxi to not even think about driving past her.
A yellow cab pulled up to the curb and Jane wrenched the door open, before barking orders, and sitting back, her mind whirling around her. She had about five minutes to figure out why she was acting like this, but her only thoughts were about Sam.
City lights floated past the windows and people walked by calmly. The drive to Noah’s apartment passed in a blur, her thoughts unable to form anything remotely coherent and suddenly Jane saw the blood-chilling sight of police cars and the phone booth that he must have called her from. No one was inside.
The cab stopped and she realized she had no idea what to say. The normally cool and collected researcher, the woman with a thousand words of condolences and battle plans, had nothing. The cabbie turned to her.
“Miss. Miss, this is your stop.”
“I, uh—“
“Listen lady, I’ve got fares to earn tonight so either pay up or tell me where you want to go if this isn’t it. I ain’t got time for this.”
The abruptness of his words jostled her. Digging into her bag, she found the money and handed it to him taking no notice to the bills. By the brief look of surprise on his face, it was too much but right now nothing mattered but finding Sam.
Jane got out of the cab, her eyes scanning the faces of passersby and police, a few going in and out of Noah’s apartment building. Finally, there.
There he was.
His shoulders were slouched, his jacket hanging loosely by a few fingers in his right hand, the sleeves touching the ground. Noah wasn’t with him. That was her second thought: where was Noah?
Ever since the story had broke about Vietnam vets coming home to very little, Sam and Noah had rekindled their friendship and had been practically inseparable outside of work. Always together at the bar, always laughing outside the office.
She took a few steps towards him and again, her lack of words held her back. Their banter had been their strongest bond and now she had nothing. What could she say when she didn’t know what was happening? How could she approach him without knowing how he would react?
She watched him, the dejected look dragging on his body, the way he tilted his head back slightly as if searching for something above him. He kicked at the ground with the tip of his shoe. He rubbed a hand over his face.
Oh God.
Jane took a deep breath, an idea of what must have transpired passing through her. Her heart fell. She compartmentalized her feelings; she could deal with her own later.
Taking a step forward it was as if they had sensed each other, their spirits reaching out to touch one another, and he turned. Everything was background to them. Only their locked gaze registered. She saw it all laid out before her: the pain, the confusion, the loss.
Then. And then. Then…
He was taking one step and then two. His coat thrown to the ground, he was walking towards her. There were tears brimming in his eyes, his cheeks red from holding something in. Jane’s heart broke, finally, into a thousand shattered pieces. She had always thought of Sam as a tough man, his emotions something he tapped into briefly when it was required of him. He was fun and jovial, the deep conversations saved for when they mattered most. And now here was, seconds from the edge, an unraveling string on the verge of disintegrating.
Jane dropped her purse and held out her hands, the rest of her body unmoving. She welcomed him into her arms, the cold of his fingers biting into her where she had been previously warm from the cab ride over.
He was suddenly all around her. His arms, strong and shaking, scooping her to him until he all but consumed her. A hand on her back, a hand in her hair, a mouth near her ear, breaths ragged and damp.
Jane responded, her arms around him, fingers smoothing, or at least attempting to, the rigid muscles of his shoulders and back. She cooed as a mother would to her wounded child. No words, just sounds. Her back bent in an attempt to upright both her and him. He was crying now, body trembling and tears hot. She wouldn’t think any less of him.
They stood together, braced against the world, silently. For hours or minutes, neither of them moved and then she felt it, his lips against her cheek, close to the shell of her ear.
Then, she heard it. The soft woosh of his breath and the first words that would lead to the rest of the night:
