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margjohns:
Margaret went to a dance club, trying to explore more of the city and break out of her shell. She had a few drinks and was walking along the wall by the dance floor, trying to squeeze her way through the crowd. She got outside of the club and took in a deep breath of the crisp October air, smelling faintly of dried urine. She turned to someone else who seemed outside for a break. “Do you want to dance?” she asked.
On the very rare occasion where Eddie is conceded to roam without the keen eye of his manager he tries to not take the opportunity for granted. Gone is the humble stuntman with his reputation soaring from the all time low to flashing lights wherever he goes though he has not yet attained the A-list status. Frenetic though and it isn’t keeping his head above the water yet Eddie tries by giving himself an ample of self entertainment when he can. Dance clubs aren’t typically his thing but it’s a nice way to unwind. He isn’t a dancer himself and would rather settle with the observation around his surroundings. A drink on his hand, he’s a bit surprised when a woman goes to ask him if he wanted to dance. “Oh .... I’m flattered but I’d rather not. I have two left feet.” He says with a chuckle, sipping on his bottle. “I’d rather just watch here. Sorry about that.” He adds hoping he would not offend her.
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queensnoah:
Noah was a little off in his own world. After he closed the bar for the night he was just walking around aimlessly with his ears plugged and a large coat covering most of his body. He was too restless to be walking straight home so he thought he could explore around and allow his feet to just take the wheel. He was tired. He had been decorating his own joint a lot to match the feel of October. He was terrible at it but he was trying his best. It all made him feel more jaded than usual but it was too early for him to sleep. Lost in his own thoughts he didn’t realize he was walking into someone. He felt the bump on his shoulder and gasped. He pulled off his earpieces and started shaking his head apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve paid more attention. Are you okay?” He asked with his tone filled with worry.
Eddie has long bid goodbye to his manager’s warnings in regards to his midnight ventures. When he’s bored, he’s bored and no amount of extravagant star treatment could rein him back from his wanderings and honest to god he assumes his team has gone sick of it now they’re just letting him do whatever he wanted for the night. He flicks on the butt of his Marlboro and perches outside his hotel building. Press tour for his movie is coming up within the next few weeks, if he doesn’t find a slot to break he’ll crush himself from within which is one thing he’s been trying to avoid. He sucks on the cancer stick deep, humming when of course a careless figure stumbles and bumps into him. “It’s alright.” He says with a wave. It’s late and people get sloppy. “You good though? Just be careful, not everyone’s as tolerating.”
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queensthomas:
To most people this might look very awkward or even unnerving. Thomas was sitting on a bench at the park and his eyes were glued on his phone screen. He had his earbuds attached to him but if one passed by looking close enough they would be able to see that a rather sensual scene playing there. Maybe even whoever it was sitting next to him. He was watching his own scene. Himself, one guy and one girl having a heated intercourse. This didn’t make him feel anything in particular as he was only doing it to analyze his own work hence the laziness in his eyes. He sighed after a few seconds. “Damnit…. I totally exaggerated that one.” He mumbled outloud. He didn’t realize that someone had approached or rather, caught him.
Having dabbed in in the acting industry for years, Eddie knows what it means to be overly critical of his own performance. He has a whole team to back him up if he needs some moral support though it does not mean he doesn’t get insecure every once in awhile. It’s normal he thinks when someone is being put for others to spectate as their form of entertainment. It’s a tough cookie world out there but at least his confidence has been solid for the last couple of months what with his constant rise in his acting career. Eddie can’t help chuckling at the guy beside him. He has never in his life considered trying that sort of field before but he has mad respect for the people who do. It must be quite exhausting and even embarrassing to a degree. “Were you watching yourself?” Eddie asks, smiling. “To be fair if you do that type of thing you’ll bound to exaggerate. It’s kind of a necessity, isn’t it? I mean. No one wants to watch anything vanilla.”
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Casey Deidrick as Detective Tommy Calligan on Eye Candy; Season 1 - 1.01 “K3U”
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anabvlle:
In her perspective, he seemed different from when they’d met before, uncertain if it was because he’d recently moved into the actor position or because she had changed jobs– regardless, he was a bit less charming than she recalled. Then again, jobs in the entertainment industry tended to inflate someone’s head rather quickly, supposing that could always be the unfortunate case. Looking to her acquaintance when he inquired upon the reason behind her wedding ring, she couldn’t help a laugh that bubbled up in her throat this time, unable to remember now whom he was referring to. Perhaps that man that lived upstairs she still thought was cute, but she would never be interested in sharing her bedroom escapades with anyone aside from her wife. Besides, Heather gave her all the thrill she could ever desire and she couldn’t ask for more. “Ah, woman that lives in the same apartment block. Her name is Heather. I’m not sure her sweeping me off my feet is the right term, I think it was the other way around,” she conceded with a tiny, nostalgic smile, reminiscing over how shocked the blonde had been when they had kissed for the first time– that is, before Heather had promptly dismissed herself for reasons that the redhead, at the time, failed to comprehend. Funny, how quickly life could change; months ago, she’d been a happy, bubbly loner and now she’d been morphed into icy, but loving housewife-slash-head chef. Poising herself gracefully, running a hand through her hair to push it out of her face when a gust of wind mussed it, her expression sobered. “Thank you. Truthfully, you were so nice to me in the laundry room, I almost considered asking you on a date. Have your eye on anyone now that you’re a hotshot in Hollywood?”
His eyes widen by a fraction, taking his time to digest the information. It’s a brave move to choose in an industry so analytical of genders and sexual preferences. He knows a bunch in his troop who don’t get to speak so bluntly of their lovers because the executives would rather have them pander to the heteronormativity that has been served and shoved on a golden platter for centuries. Granted more people are coming out now and he assumes with a show like Hell’s Kitchen which is predominantly viewed by young adults the exposure of authenticity and equality are agreed upon with open arms, hell, it could even boost the ratings. Not all of the people in the industry is as fortunate though. In his department especially. People have beards. Some contract lovers to cover the ones waiting for them behind closed doors. Thankfully for Eddie, he’s always been anal of who he is and his preferences. Nothing will stop him from enjoying the company of a loved one even if they happen to have the same gender as he. Those conservative withering fucks can go rot for all he cares. “Interesting. You got her hooked around your finger?” He laughs. “Oh. Does the public know about that or is she being kept under the radar? I know some of my mates who had to pull that kind of bullshitery. Big time celebs hiding their lovers. Pretty depressing actually.” He laughs again, processing her words. “I would be flattered but at that time I’d already had someone dangling ‘round my arm.” His smile gentles. “Not exactly. Well ... There are two people in particular. One is my costar but I’m sure things like that are really frowned upon unless you wanted to start a gimmick and the other one. Ah ... This model, Griffin I believe was his name. Kind of ghosted me the first time but guy is handsome as hell.”
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anabvlle:
A shrug ensued, inwardly reminding herself she was privileged. Born in wealth or not, she would always set out to work for what she had earned. Earning it hardly equated to ‘for keeps’. Anything could be ripped away. If that totaled up to long, grueling hours and busting her ass, then so be it. “It’s fine. I can handle it.” Manicured fingers shifted the Valentino bag on her shoulder, the wait time already making her antsy, brain scattered with an arrayed to-do list for the day. “Agree to disagree.” Anabelle had nothing to contribute further; she wasn’t one to debate nor argue when she was in a bind like this. It would only hinder her chances of arriving at work on time if the guy took it personally. New Yorkers struggled to see it both ways, inflexibly. Really bad date. Backtracking many months ago, when she was naught but a speck in a sea of people, burying a catacomb gaping within her soul to obscure rackets of guilt. Entangled in hollow flings, it was in the arms of one of those lucky people she allocated love– what it truly was, a carbon definition she had sought to open up and decipher. True love was questionable of a topic, yet she was certain their stars aligned as soulmates. “Correct. As you can tell, my life is quite different now,” the redhead confirmed, tapping her ring finger against the strap of her bag indicatively.
“Good for you. I have a whole team backing me up incase things go shout or overbearing for me. The industry can be very harsh and restless.” He shrugs just as casually. He’s got time to learn how to take breaks between his projects. He’s tenacious as all get out but he isn’t naive and knows when to slam on the brakes when he needs to. Eight years working taught him that especially when they needed him to be fit at all times. Physicality is what he sells and if he breaks, he’ll not only lose himself but also everything he’s worked for. Can’t have that when he’s on a rising spot now. He shrugs again at her answer. He isn’t here to debate either and he doesn’t think a stranger would change his mind or taste and knowing that she works on an entirely different department congeals his perception. He laughs a little while he looks at her ring. “So damn. What happened? Did the other guy score all the brownie points and sweep you off your feet? Congrats.”
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sevbass:
Bastian chuckled, painting over the fact he had to think on it. His memory was incredibly fucked by now and to quit drinking and purging wouldn’t do it any good. “I’m a model. Ten years now. Signed a contract with Men’s Vogue when I was eighteen and been around ever since. I was on the cover again last month. Work in the music industry too, so you could say I’m always in it. Probably in my fucking sleep, too,” he said with a shrug, minimizing his typical prideful boasting to respect his client, “Do you put anything in your hair to style it or let it sit? It’s got a spot of dandruff, but that’s pretty common for summer.” He smirked when he brought up the ego factor, letting bygones be bygones. In truth, he was a hypocrite for saying it at all. Ravening youth forged in hatred, zealous religion, and crimson-bathed hands, his self-confidence was a bolster in equally unfriendly high schools of a small high school, thinly veiling him from scathing rumors. His team. Good for him; the luxury was null in his primary place of work, innumerous times– including last month’s issues– his so-called team had sunk him to a drug-induced haze to conjure up the bedroom eyes they were looking for, like the natural pair Cyrek had when he wasn’t frozen in resting bitch face mode. “You’re lucky. No offense, few teams give a shit unless you’re top of the line. In acting and music, anyway. Gotta be the creme de la creme. It’s always wanted for actors to perform their own stunts, if they can, until they get too old, though. Good skillset to put on your resume, wherever you plan to squeeze into. Tilt your head to the side just a bit.” Hand tilting the other man’s jaw, he continued diligently, eyes focused on his hair now rather than the mirror. Catch him off the clock here and he’d have preened his own every five minutes. “Sure, plenty. I assume you mean hair clients, though. I had another salon in LA for a bit, but I ended up closing it down a couple years ago, I wanted to focus on myself. Decided to set up shop here now that the band did. NYC is mainly a hub for the high-end fashion models, I get a few actors, singers. I had Jackman earlier this year when he was doing his Broadway show. In LA, people like… Harrison Ford, DiCaprio, miss Margot Robbie… Robin Williams was one of my first before he passed. Some of them come all the way out here now to get cuts, dyes, whatever. I’m the brand ambassador for JoiCo, too, so if I happen to be in the area, I’ll try to make time for them.”
“Oh wow.” Eddie says, quite impressed. “You actually have been in the industry longer.” See this is why he doesn’t fuck around with the people working behind the scenes. Some of them have histories that have gone far beyond what the common media has chosen to represent and have had skills that could very well exceed what the society has decided to bloviate about these days. Never judge a book by its cover Eddie theorizes, it’s one of the self written protocols he needs to keep reminding himself. “I’ve had people come to me and request offers in modelling. Never took any except for the one-two photoshoots for my stills. What’s that like?” His manager has told him expanding his expertise would be good for luture projects and he’s trying to reap anything they can possibly pitch even when it’s just something he doesn’t exactly enjoy in the long run. “Just let it sit. The dandruff probably also came from all the fake stuff they had to put me on.” He laughs softly. “I’ve had to switch teams more times then I could count. Three years ago my so-called team treated me like shit. Fucking had to work eighteen hours a day for a whole year and they gave me very little to work on. Came close to dear old death many times since apparently even the best of the best made mistakes and I guess those mistakes constitute almost snapping my neck and killing me in the process cause they were too egotistical to follow protocols and check the wires that were supposed to keep me safe. I don’t think I’ll ever leave the stuntman part though. The adrenaline rush is too addictive for me to let go.” He tilts his head as instructed and he sighs inaudibly. “That’s impressive. What’s the name of the band that you work for?” He can’t help his curiosity. “Got to meet some A-listers myself. A whole bunch of them are snobs though. Give zero fucks for what they preach on television. It’s almost sad. I’m sad for the people who continue to put them on a pedestal.”
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Max Parish - Mommy Issues
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griffinsvanity:
Griffin’s eyebrows peaked when Eddie admitted that he’d forgotten Griffin’s name. He couldn’t really blame him; it had been quite a long time since their run in. “Unforgettable face at least.” Griffin chuckled softly. “That’s what counts.” He figured that was truly the case with models. It was really only his face that had to be memorable. “The lead role! Damn!” Griffin beamed, looking almost proud. “Are you even supposed to be out here talking to me? Am I going to get tackled by your security?” He feigned glancing over his shoulder, but then looked back at Eddie with a grin. It faltered after a moment and his full lips fell into a small, pensive frown. “It was a huge party. I didn’t think you’d notice, honestly. I was… way over-served, and I got kind of self-reflective after a bit. I had to leave, and I figured I was just a stowaway as it was, so I just left.” He looked back up at Eddie with some genuine feeling behind his eyes for once. “Didn’t mean to worry you, big shot.” He gently clapped the actor on the arm, letting his touch linger for a comfortable second before dipping his hand back into the pocket of his blue jeans. “I don’t get stuck in my head often. Won’t happen again, I’m sure. Maybe I can take you for a drink and make it up to you?”
“I’m pretty bad with names, it’s on me but I could never forget a face like that.” Or someone with an interesting personality like he is in general. Eddie doesn’t want to get to deep in fear he’d only come across as too strong. He can’t do that now when he’s supposed to retain an approachable image. He doesn’t want to make himself sound like a predator but damn, it’s hard when men like Griffin just exist. He laughs at his antics. “Hey now. I’m not really that famous yet. I can still eat donuts and shout out I hate America without turning it into a ridiculous scandle.” He assures, his grin quirking his freshly-trimmed chin. “I’m positive people know you more anyway.” He’s still climbing and he still has a long ladder to reach but he likes how things are going for him right now. “Ah ... Of course I’d notice. I had a hard time keeping my eyes away from you. Still to this day I regret that I did.” He still worries over him. Getting stuck in your own head can be exhausting. He’s gone through a lot of that himself. Stuck on what to do or if he’s worthy enough for the things he’s been trying to reach out for. “I would love to have a drink with you. I’m almost done anyway.” He smiles at him, turning his charm. “Can I ask for your name again, handsome? Or have I lost my chances?”
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anabvlle:
“It’s both. It’s not like there’s anyone else to man the kitchen for me, and I still have a job to lose, don’t I? It’s not like I get second chances.” Not to say anything an actor does isn’t a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; she merely assumed better roles could always fall into their lap. If she lost this, there was no other opportunity to work with the best of the best– she blew her shot. Most of Western movies aren’t that appealing. The redhead almost laughed, refraining as best she could, raising her eyebrows back at him in a challenging manner, saying, “Please, most Westerns hit rather well when they were popular. A Fistful of Dollars set off a chain reaction. But yes, it’s lost its appeal for some, can’t say I’m a fan of Fast and Furious or whatever’s popular. Kind of lame.” She would hardly coin herself a movie critic, however. Anabelle could barely keep up with what was popular and frankly, she didn’t really care. Inhaling a deep breath when he removed his phone from his pocket, she clasped her hands in front of her patiently, unable to help holding her breath. She never knew what to expect with New Yorkers now, unwilling to dole out her trust so freely. Forty minutes tops. Passing a glance to her watch, a grimace curvated her lips, thinking she could barely cut corners with it. “I think that’ll do,” she replied, lifting her head, pausing. Ah, yes, the man from the laundromat, up-and-coming with the kind of charm she liked. He seemed different. Or perhaps, she was the one who’d changed. “Oh, we’ve met. Anabelle. We live in the same apartment block. I ran into you in the laundry room.”
“Must be rough.” He says with a shrug. Although they’re both in the industry it’s obvious his world differs a lot from hers. She sounds like she prefers engaging in on challenges on her own while Eddie would rather sit back and let his team deal with the tangled cords in the business. Sure, it’s making him lazier than the hardworking individual he once was but he already worked hard enough and earned the luxury so now he’s going to enjoy it the best he can. With his good looks he’s already climbing on the charts pretty fast anyway. He doesn’t need to do much except for the excessive shooting but that only happens when their deadlines are nearing on their asses. His director seems to know how to forbid that from happening. He shrugs again. “I can’t think of any Western movies memorable enough for me. Action flicks on the other hand never failed to leave me on the edge of my seat.” He crosses his arms and remembers the John Travolta nights he spent with his parents. His dad has always been a fan and Eddie himself had always longed to try out those explosive scenes. He raises an eyebrow. They’ve met? Eddie tries to pull a thing or two off his head. “Oh. You’re the woman who had to suffer through the really bad date, right?” He takes a guess hoping he’s right. “If I’m remembering correctly. My memory’s a little fuzzy.”
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sevbass:
“Do you have any other choice in the industry?” It was rhetorical, mostly; he’d met and worked with a slew of managers, few of them cared for his well-being. Whatever would throw the most money their way, he was their cash cow. At least with the band he had confidence he could do whatever he wanted without being pressured into uncomfortable situations. Steady hands continued to snip away at the hair, chewing his gum and listening to the guy, the joke eliciting a lackadaisical snort from the model. “Oh yeah? So you’re in the acting department. Exciting, sure there’s a bunch of egotistical assholes there. Like modeling.” A fair deal of said assholes plagued the music world, but in the rock department, it wasn’t as heavy as… other issues, and he avoided the bigshots anyway. Eyes flickering to the mirror briefly, maintaining a casual atmosphere, shrugging then, replying, “At least their idea of a reboot isn’t shave it off. I’m wishing you luck, I hear it’s hard to transition. Taken acting classes?” Pulling away for a moment, Bastian swiped the spray bottle from the cart and gave Eddie’s hair another spritzing. The question gave him pause, ye ol’ alcoholic memory hazing over his sense of time, twirling the shears around his fingers while he contemplated for a brief moment. “Five years, I think,” he said, combing his fingers through his hair and resuming his task, “I wanted to be able to cut my own hair and not have to pay for it. Now here I am, I own a salon, I boss around a bunch of people that kinda act like they’re a chicken with their head up their ass and their ass is on fire sometimes, and I’ve figured out new techniques that allow color to last in hair longer when you dye it, so I have to talk at seminars once in a while and teach others. It’s rewarding, I guess, you get to see how passionate people are. This isn’t my only job, though. Think I’m a glutton for punishment.”
Eddie can only laugh. “You seem to know more than you let on. You been with the people in the industry for long?” He asks, raising his eyebrow in interest. Maybe he should bring this meeting up to his manager soon as he returns to his trailer. He’s interesting and Eddie’s in need for an extra hand in styling anyway. The ones he’s working with are running low, some already thinking of jumping ships since the job has become more pressing. “There’s a lot of egoistical assholes everywhere but yeah you’re working up close with the C grader snobs this way. They’re not as infuriating if you pay no mind to whatever they’re trying to say though. My team protects me just fine. I’m not really a confrontational person and I’d rather pretend these people didn’t exist.” The method has worked for years. His behind the scene crew was more tolerable but of course in every department there would always be bad seed to annoy him. He ignored them as much as he could. “For a few years. The stuntman job had always been a part of the plan. It was just a skipping stone for me though I do miss the adrenaline. That being said I can do my scenes without having a body double this way since I already know the ropes. It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved.” He nods his head listening to him, enchanted by his story. He’s always liked hearing stories from the people who don’t hog the spotlight but are pulling the most important strings, they’re the unseen heroes in his opinion. “I see.” He mumbles. “You ever worked for anyone in particular? Big names?”
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clarirhds:
“Oh, I’d rather not ruin their day.” Clarissa raised her eyebrows in shock. “Really? I prefer strawberry to chocolate. If they had blueberry flavored syrup I might have to fight someone for it.” She shook her head. She never worked in special effect makeup. She thought it was cool but not cool enough to go into it. “No, just making an observation.”
He’s just as shocked as she is, his eyes going wide. “Yeah, what? I don’t like strawberry. I don’t really like things that are sour. They might have some blueberry jam in the trailer. If you would like some I could get it for you.” Just as he says that, his stomach rumbles. He has not eaten anything all day. He needs to get his lunch after this. “How’s the observation so far? You liking what you’re seeing?”
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queenseudora:
“I’m not.” Eudora almost hissed. It’s not like she doesn’t know how to relax or have fun but she had been so stressed with her script lately that she didn’t really have time to joke around like this. “I’m not questioning anything. I just need to keep my head in the game and I can’t for the life of me do that when you have been chatting non stop and distract the heck out of me.” She was so close to throwing her papers away. Obviously she needed to get some rest. Working hours until the morning came everyday was beginning to take a toll on the rising actress. “Yes. We can practice. That’s better.”
Oh, he really pissed her off. Wasn’t even what he meant to do but he couldn’t help smiling a little. At least there’s comfort in knowing his co-star has this much passion. The others just don’t look as invested in their job. At least someone is taking this seriously. Plus, she’s cute when she gets all fired up too. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. He’s testing he patience he can tell but he isn’t here to make a scene. “Sorry, sorry.” He stands up. “You do sound like you need to relax for a bit though. I saw your take earlier. You’re doing just fine, E.” He reassures her. Then he grabs his script and nods. “Okay ... We can practice the next scene. Seems fitting for your mood right now.” It’s an intense scene where the characters are having a fight. He can switch his demeanour just fine and he wants to see how she’ll handle it.
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eligraves:
Elijah wasn’t used to seeing blood and gore. That wasn’t his scene. The last time he’d seen blood so up close and personal had been in high school when he’d been playing football - but today it seemed he was coming face to face with that yet again. He couldn’t help but stare, always one to gawk and take notice of everything around him. That was what happened in the south, people paid too much attention to each other, always in someone else’s business. He’d paled a bit in color at the sight of blood, or fake blood, apparently, but ever since he’d had his football accident he was grossed out by the sight of it - a broken arm and a bleeding head would gross you out for years on end, he’d learned. “Chocolate syrup?” He choked out, his usual tough guy facade dropping for a moment. “Oof. Thank God. I thought I was gonna have to take you to the hospital or something, Jesus Christ. That’s some good work, though, being fake and all.”
It wasn’t his intent to scare or make anyone feel uncomfortable. It’s just fun to distribute small facts about what happens behind the scene to strangers aka the magic behind it all. He knows there are particular viewers who gives actors more credit than they deserve when assume the scenes show on screen are real. He’s annoyed by said actors who clearly shoulder on a big head because of that. Eddie gets in trouble sometimes but he knows the people who can pull strings now so he feels safe. “Yeah ... It’s sweet, actually.” He says with a friendly smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t want you to just call 911 or anything.” He laughs softly. “You alright, man?”
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