#theactorhimself

[theauthorlives]

✎ 👀 I cannot resist

Lemme draw your muse! (Accepting, but I'm going to bed now)

@the-actor-himself WAHAHA ANOTHER POST.

-

Wilford insists this is how Mark seduced his wife back in the day. Mark vehemently denies it.

[rosetintedgunman]

It’s a small gesture, but given the man it’s coming from it speaks volumes. An envelope bearing Wilford’s name is tucked away, waiting to be discovered. It was written and rewritten before being sent. There’s even some crossed out parts, but they’re somewhat legible.

As much as he wanders, it’s sure to be found eventually.

He’s going to need all the help he can get. The bear’s a good start.

Thank you.

-M

@the-actor-himself

Follow-on from this ask

-

And the envelope does make it way. The neatly sealed stationery is discovered in an obscure place by the only man who would notice the unusual addition to the location.

A simple note. A short message. Vague and somewhat concerning to one who might pick it up by mistake. But this was the intended recipient, and he remembered all of this far too well.

A familiar face expressing a desire to be a father and having a family. A booming laugh and a playful jab at how the children would no doubt be talented, creative individuals if they are made tread the boards.

Well, it's a lot later than anyone would have expected, but it happened. Even if the words of thanks were crossed out, the sentiment was still there in the form of the letter being delivered in the first place.

Maybe that attempt to reconcile might finally be due. Family matters... Right?

[rosetintedgunman]

“Yaaaaay!”

🔼 "Do ya think I'm pretty? :D" (Wilford, rosetintedgunman)

“ Do— ugh. ”

“ Seven. Yes, I suppose, you can be pretty and still be loathsome at the same time. ”

[rosetintedgunman]

behind closed doors

Behind Closed Doors - the Exclusive Scoop! (Accepting)

@the-actor-himself

-

The Actor? Wilford gave a light shrug as he propped his elbow on the left arm of his chair. It was the dead of night (or was it after dawn? Timezones are weird). Perfect time to talk about this without anyone else hearing.

"Better ya asked me this now than a few weeks ago. Th' answer would've been waaay different. I didn't remember him, or maybe I chose ta forget. Not too sure which. Can't trust th' ol' noggin with things like 'memories'. Speakin' of, memories are comin' back, but they're a little... Fuzzy? There's a lot I don't know, an' maybe ya oughta ask him 'bout. They're like movey photos fer me. Moments here an' there, if ya get me.

What I do remember is that I was so sure he was always there. Thick as thieves, an' what have ya. But things went a little sour, like that milky tea ya left out in th' sun. He became so - so..." A hand was waved like he was trying to gesture to word to come back to him. "Ah! Selfish. That's th' word I wanted. He did go 'round an' help people, of course, but there was this, uh, feelin' that he was doin' it more fer himself an' ta show off how great he was now that he was rich an' famous. Once he got a taste of that success, he was like a bloodhound huntin' a rabbit. Pretty sure I used that phrase before. Sounds smart. Then things went bad. Real bad. Can't quite remember why, but shit hit th' fan. After that... It's just anger an' some other bitter feelin'. Must've slipped through th' cracks. I know when I - as in th' me ya see before ya - first learned 'bout him, I felt anger. I didn't know why, since I didn't know th' guy, but somethin' 'bout his face just pissed me off."

There was a pause as Wilford rested his chin on the hand that was supported by the chair's arm. He wasn't sure if this was even answering the question properly. Talking about the past life when you didn't fully remember it was hard.

"He's been through a lot," he was choosing his words very carefully, "Or at least, that what it feels like. He's got these sorta chains wrapped 'round him, pullin' him back. Guilt, probably. It's too heavy fer somethin' like grief. Despite that, he's tryin' ta have a better start. He's got a kid. He always wanted a family, y'know? Someone that was related by blood, an' not a brother 'cause someone else decided you two were now brothers. But he was always a Barnum. I think he lost sight of that along th' way. Ta me, there was no difference. Mark was Mark, an' I was whoever I was at th' time. But we're not th' same people. I think he still hates me. Not that I'd blame him. Not th' first time I've heard my past life was a bit of an asshole. Sayin' that, I'm not a man who lives in th' past. I'm all 'bout th' here an' now. I wanna get ta know him again. Not sure if he let me be a brother again, but I'd be happy ta just be friends if that's what he'd want."

"Also he's got a bunch of weird faceless people who live in his house an' ask him questions??? Never seen 'em myself, but I've read th' posts. If it's reblogged, I know yer readin' this, an' some of ya are forgettin' that bein' faceless doesn't make ya invincible."

[rosetintedgunman]

✏️

Let Wilf Draw Your Muse! (Accepting!)

@the-actor-himself

-

"Mark's always been a chatterbox (affectionate) so I like ta pretend he has Star walk 'round with him while he talks."

"Also d'ya have anythin' more than that robe? Can I take ya clothes shoppin'????"

[rosetintedgunman]

(@asterius-of-crete / @crushng )

These are some excellent plans for @the-actor-himself's trip out of the Manor!

[theauthorlives]

behind closed doors (for Michael or Yancy 👀)

Behind Closed Doors

@the-actor-himself

-

It was rare to actually see the Author. The colour drained from Yancy's face when he was ushered into one of the rooms used for interviews. When Michael appeared, it usually meant something bad was on the horizon.

"Relax, Mr. Moore, you aren't in trouble." As if reading the prisoner's mind, Michael gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the table. "I simply need your assistance. I'm doing some research and I need an insight on someone."

"I don't gotta choice, do I."

"No."

"Fine. Who?"

"Mark. Or, to be more specific, the one who is a disgraced actor. You know the one I mean."

"Last I heard he gots waaaay more popular. Why not ask one of his friends?" Yancy slouched into his seat, folding his arms as best as the handcuffs would allow.

Michael shrugged. "Simple. A character isn't based solely on their positives. The most popular characters are ones that readers that relate to because they have flaws, just the same as them. Just be honest. It's not like he's going to hear any of this... Assuming a monarch don't allow the words to slip by."

".... What's that about a monarch?"

"I wasn't talking to you, Yancy. Now. Speak your mind. And be honest. I'll know if you're lying."

Yancy hit his head off the back of his chair and let out a frustrated groan. "Fine, fine. Only if youse leaves me alone after this. I don't get why everyone likes him. They's is always saying things 'bout he's so cool or sweet or thoughtful or whatever... But all I sees is some sorta - ugh, what's the word? Y'know... someone who thinks they is all high and mighty but they just looks like a fool..."

"A fop?"

"Don't think that's the word I was thinking of, but I'll take it. I sees a different side to him, like I's is just something he can keep making fun of. He sees me as some sorta... I dunno, a toy? A game? Something you can peer in at like I'm an exhibition or in the zoo."

"You're in prison. It's basically a zoo for worthless scum like you, but carry on." Michael's eyes were on the notes he was writing. It was easy to ignore the offense on the prisoner's face.

"See! Youse is doing the same! You writer-and-or-theatre folk is all the same -"

"But I'm not two-faced."

"Yeah yeah! Youse just hate everyone. But Mark?" Yancy pulled himself up and put a hand on his chest. When he spoke again, it was in a posh, mocking accent to 'impersonate' Mark. "Ohhh, look at me, I'm the actor that everyone loves! Everyone wants to fall over me and worship me and ignore the fact that I'm a fucking asshole if you aren't giving me the praise and validation I deserve! Pah. They ain't gonna believe a word of this, by the way. They all conveniently forget he's also a fucking piece of trash who just finished parole. Or maybe he's one of them people decent folk wanna protect like he's some fragile plant or whatever." The chains rattled as he slumped forward. "But don't you knows him too? Why not do youses' own opinion instead?"

"Mine is hardly as detailed as that. But to humour you, it is this: He's a people pleaser. That's why he's popular. In trying to prove people love him, and that he isn't the pathetic mess that destroyed several lives, he's lost sight of his sense of self. Maybe he'll get it back thanks to his son, or maybe he's content to be the actor with a hundred masks of meekness and piety that people can take pity on."

"So he's a faker?"

".... Yes, Yancy. He's a faker."

[rosetintedgunman]

18, 20 :’)

Send a number, get a hug! (Accepting! Still slowly working through them…)

@the-actor-himself

18. the hug that lasts longer than the rest 20: an overjoyed hug

-

Everyone at the studio had noticed Wilford was 'off' today. He was still working, and still giving everything his usual gusto, but something wasn't quite right - as though something was troubling him. Whatever it was would be something no one could get out of him. It was something that he was oddly tight-lipped about. The most someone could get out of him was "it's a personal matter". After that, the crew decided to respect his privacy and offer support instead.

No one batted an eyelid when they realised the director had disappeared earlier than usual with his door locked. Whatever was happening must have been due.

It was an eerily familiar setting. Wilford found himself standing on the porch of the elegant manor, hesitating to knock the door. He could think of many reasons to step away and pretend he never arrived. One reason countered them all:

He needed to do this.

-

No matter how much they tried to deny it, he and Mark were brothers, even if not directly by blood. William had loved him as much as any other member of his family. He would have fought for Mark's honour a dozen times if he had to. Jealously and bitterness tainted everything positive they had until... Well, best not to speak ill of a life that was long deceased, eh?

Something twisted in Wilford's stomach as he recalled the countless memories that started from this spot. The parties were the obvious ones, but there were more. The days that William trudged in to start his job of the Manor's handyman. The evenings accompanying an exhausted Mark home after a show. That one morning where Mark discovered a hungover William asleep on the porch with his head sticking out and victim to the overnight rain. It wasn't all bad memories. William had never grown up hating Mark. Even now, he couldn't find it in himself to hate his brother. This mess was Wilford's fault as much as it was Mark's. They could have found middle ground again. They could have been adults and talked it out or agreed to make space until resentment simmered away. They didn't need to fight over Celine, nor did their differences require a gun with a single bullet in it to be resolved.

In lieu of a gun, Wilford had a small hamper in his arms. There was an envelope addressed to Mark, and a smaller one labelled 'Little Nebula'. A novelty mug with "Sorry, you're less important than my Starlight" propped the envelopes up, and there were a few bars of chocolate hidden inside it. Finally, a dark purple blanket provided the 'base' for the hamper.

Then, before he could stop himself, he firmly knocked the door.

He didn't simply pop in uninvited like he had been doing. This was something that required a proper moment. It was time they stopped acting like children and actually faced this moment like adults.

There was a muffled muttering of "I swear I told my visitors to knock quietly" on the other side of the door. Then, a click gave Wilford the split second to prepare himself for it to slowly swing.

Whatever Mark was going to say in a well-rehearsed greeting died on his lips the moment he registered who was standing in front of him. Wilford was unarmed, his curls were brushed aside as neatly as he could manage, and his moustache was in tip-top shape. Wilford had even made the effort to wear something a little more presentable: a white shirt paired with a navy blazer and matching trousers, and the distinctive pink bow tie.

Before Wilford could consider whether this was a mistake, the hamper was taken out of his hands and put just inside the door. Then, the actor tugged him into a hug before either man could acknowledge the tears stinging Mark's eyes.

Wilford might be a hugger by nature, but this was different. It was fuelled with all the words neither man could articulate at that moment. Both his arms quickly wrapped around Mark and kept him close, as though simultaneously accepting the unspoken apology and giving his own in return.

One of them should have pulled away, but no such thing happened. Instead, an embrace that had waited a century took centre stage for as long as needed.

"Sorry, sorry... I don't know what came over me." Mark finally pulled back to look one of his oldest friends in the eye. "It's... It's good to see you."

"Don't apologise. All this was long overdue, an' I'm sorry it took so long fer me ta do anythin'. I'd put all of that behind if it meant I get ta see yer little nightlight grow up. Ya deserve that happy family ya always want -"

The sentiments that were to be said were cut off as he was tugged back into another hug.

"Save the words for when we get inside and I can get you a drink." Mark's voice, though muffled, sounded hopeful for the first time Wilford could remember.

[rosetintedgunman]

✨

@the-actor-himself

-

It's late, I should be asleep, but I think I need to get this out before I do anything else tonight.

King, let me be honest. You are a joy and a treasure to this community that is worthy of the pen name you use. It's been an absolute delight watching you reach out to everyone and help them feel welcome and included. I'm grateful I was lucky to cross paths with you when you originally set up this particular blog, and consider myself doubly lucky that I was still here upon your return when the time was right. You're such a friendly, engaging individual who really embodies the desire to be here because it is fun.

You've got an incredible range with characters. Not only that, you've such a commitment to their development both in the main verses and sideline AUs. For instance, Illinois in both normal verse and villain verse are so well-developed and deep. I've enjoyed seeing how things have developed (and omg don't get me started on Charlie he's PRECIOUS). As for Actor... I really like how he has been able to find his way to a redemption that makes sense. Nothing about any of this feels forced, and it makes me glad to see you're handling this so well. I'm very much looking forward to seeing where things go: with the anons, other characters, and with Wilf.

I am glad that we are friends. Though we've both been utterly swamped lately, I do look forward to when we can simply talk about characters without the pressure to do things. And who knows? I might have to resort to your blogs to help me get used to the ask-development process. :P

BONUS:

"King, huh? That talented son of a gun with th' cute an' equally talented spouse. Yeah, I know th' one. Cute pair, they are. Gotta love me some wholesome couple goals. You two gotta keep that up, okay? Be there fer one another, 'cause it'll make this world a much better place knowin' y've got yer most precious treasure right there by yer side.

But that's me gettin' sidetracked. I'm here ta throw a comment ta Mark. An' I know it probably isn't my place, what with us still being kinda sorta rocky, an' me not exactly rememberin' everythin', but... I've missed him. Took me far too long ta see that, honestly. I know he'd be th' first ta say otherwise, but he is my brother whether he likes it or not. What I did was shitty. What he did was also shitty. In a way, I guess it sorta cancels out.

I guess what I'm tryin' ta say is... It's still a ways away, but I like that I've got my brother back. An' that I remembered I even have a brother ta begin with."

"PS. There's a note from Y.ancy. When I asked him ta say one nice thing, he just rooolllled his eyes an' went "yeah he's fine". So congrats on not bein' too annoying! :D"

[theauthorlives]

The package arrives anonymously. It’s delivered to Yancy’s cell without inspection, which was in and of itself unusual. The tape sealing the box didn’t seem as though it had been replaced, at any rate.

It’s fairly heavy, as well, and marked on the side with a sticker announcing its contents to, at least in part, be fragile. On top of it is a note.

Happy birthday, Yancy. Enjoy yourself today. This should hopefully help with that.

His secret benefactor left no name.

Inside the box was a dozen or so colorful party hats, some noise makers, and a box of cannolis decorated with delicate chocolate curls that looked so fresh that they might have been piped somewhere on the premises.

Beneath all of that was a final box, the largest thing inside, that when opened revealed a black instrument case. Inside that case was a ukulele, it’s wooden body gleaming, it’s strings already in tune.

"The fuck...?"

Yancy frowned at the sight of the large box waiting him in the cell. It was placed on the small table, topped with a note in an unfamiliar handwriting. Was this a prank? Was this one of the other gangs trying to get an upper hand by having him be in 'debt' to a received present? But... That couldn't be the case. No prisoner had access to such professional looking parcelling skills, nor the stationery used. This was someone from the outside.

But who? No guard had mentioned anything, and it wasn't like Yancy had anyone who would go to efforts to not name themself. (Maybe that one prisoner who escaped, but surely they would have given a clue) Despite himself, he opened the box.

It was exactly as the note said. Party items to help celebrate, along with little desserts that resembled tubes. It doesn't give him any indication of who sent it, not did it explain why the box had to be so large. Everything was removed, one group of items at a time, and placed on the untouched bottom bunk. What Yancy had assumed to be a raised bottom of the box was actually... An instrument case.

"Oh shit... No fucking way..." Hand fumbled and nearly dropped the box in a frenzied attempt to get the final thing out in the open. Then, the box was swiftly pushed aside so he could put the case down and undo the latches.

It almost felt like a dream. It was a ukulele, one that was too perfect to be something that was bought by a prisoner. Who would use something like this as a bribe anyway??

"It's beautiful..." He lifted the instrument, holding it just right to strum a chord. It somehow stayed in tune despite the transit.

Shame that Yancy didn't realise there was no proof of postage to be found.

"Guess I gotta take good care of this so whoever this is won't be too upset." As for the party equipment? Well, Sparkles McGee ought to be finished their shift soon, and they always love an excuse to throw a fuss.

[theauthorlives]

❤️+🖤 :)

SEND ‘❤️’ FOR MY MUSE TO SAY SOMETHING POSITIVE ABOUT YOURS.

SEND ‘🖤’ FOR MY MUSE TO SAY SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOURS.

@the-actor-himself

-

"I think credit is due to your little fan-base for keeping your fragile ego afloat after all this time.

A shame you're a woeful actor."

[theauthorlives]

@the-actor-himself

[theauthorlives]

(( All right, boys, play nice... )) “ Considering he started it, I don’t see why I should have to. Cowardice or not isn’t the issue, but I certainly don’t fear an egotistical would-be artist such as Michael. ”

@the-actor-himself

-

Now isn’t this cute. Mark actually thinks he has a say in all of this. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?

If you knew anything about me, you’d know I’m not a “would-be artist”. That is a title generally associated with those in the visual arts or the acting world. As a novelist, I am neither. However, I am an award winning writer of a famous psychological horror series, as well as a lecturer of the craft of creative writing in a university.

As for you... Funny. I can’t recall a single thing you’ve ever been involved in. Was that because they were all such flops history itself frantically tried to bury them? Oh, mayhaps that’s why you’re so keen to have the adoration of so many people. Hides the fact that you’re a rich man that’s hollow on the inside with failed ambitions and broken dreams.

[theauthorlives]

the-actor-himself said

(( If there were a dislike button Actor would have used it. X’D ))

And yet he’s too cowardly to say as much himself? Shame you have to be the messenger, Mod King.

[theauthorlives]

“ Perhaps~. But then why would I deny myself such premium entertainment by being responsible elsewhere, when you’re right here putting on a free show? ” Mark’s fearless grin just begs for a fist in it. But will the prisoner show restraint?

@the-actor-himself

-

“Excuse me?”

A hand shoots out, but all it does it grab a fistful of Mark’s shirt to yank him close.

“Youse is reaaaal fond of putting youse’s foot in it, aren’t you? Betcha think ‘cause I’m in prison that I’m some sorta thing youse can play ‘round with for fun. Well guess what? I ain’t gettin’ locked up in solitary, even if the satisfaction of punching that grin off youse’s face would be worth every second of it.”

Mark is roughly shoved back before Yancy does indeed change his mind.

[theauthorlives]

“ Sounds like something’s got your tongue, jailbird. ”

@the-actor-himself - about this

-

“Argh, don’t youse start with me! Ain’t ya got nothin’ better ta do, douchebag?”