An Actor.

#MAKING OUT WITH HIM NOW!!!!#>>actor ooc

-> ooc; pspspsps look at my silly guy. my silly goofy little guy

🍹 + reverse >:]

-> @radio-fiction

Christian hated going to public spaces alone. He usually had a bodyguard or a colleague trailing him, but tonight was different. He needed to be away from all that and go to one of his favorite places: an upscale restaurant in the city with a decked-out bar to match. Here the actor was, seated on a barstool in a tight t-shirt and jeans, jacket over his legs, looking absolutely dire. Not only had his work been incredibly demanding of him, but his powers were acting up too. It was draining him of his energy and tonight he simply needed to unwind.

Circe himself rarely left his secluded cabin, the hustle and bustle of regular society already overwhelming for him outside of much he stood out in the first place. Though, for the first time in months (and after quite a few less than pleasurable conversations about people telling him to get out more), they found themselves sitting at one of the far corners of the bar, scribbling in a notebook he'd brought with him.

Of course, he tried his best to remedy his usual problems to the best of his ability, having decided to change up his wear and even bring headphones in an attempt to drown out some of the constant noise. He'd brushed his hair in a way that it fell over his face, just enough to conceal the bandages, along with wearing a beanie and hoodie.

He knew he still kind of stood out against the people here in their formal wear, though he didn't seem to mind as much as being the creep with blood running down his cheeks.

“What’ll it be, Cruz?” the bartender asked. The actor across from her had been running a hand through his hair as a nervous habit, and he paused when he was asked the question. Typically he would order a tequila sunrise or something fruity, but tonight he wanted something strong. Something to knock him out, really.

Even though he had an idea of his drink for the night, he didn’t know what specifically to order. The chalkboard menu on the wall was blending together into blobs of shapes and colors. “I don’t know,” he said weakly to the bartender which made her face screw up in confusion.

Turning his head, Christian noticed another patron sitting on the other side of the bar. Strangely, they were the only two people seated here. He wondered if they could help him out. He would never do this, but he was exhausted and annoyed and didn’t want to do much of anything. As a last-ditch effort, he called to the patron and said, “Hey. You like strong drinks?”

At first, Circe hadn't even noticed the man come up to the counter next to him, though lifted his head as he did notice the bartender move to speak to Christian. He closes the book in front of him, tucking his thumb under the page as not to lose his place as he looked up to Christian.

With his other hand, Circe moved one of his headphones off his ear to allow him to hear again better, cocking his head, "Ah, uh.. he— I suppose so? Why?"

As soon as he saw a bit of cloth peeking out from under the other guy’s hair, a sense of recognition passed through Christian. “Wait.” He pointed to them and remarked, “I know you. You’re… Host, right?” Yeah, it was unmistakable. The dark hair with light streaks, the bloody, stained cloth around his eyes, the style of clothing a grandpa would wear - they all matched what he knew of the man. They hadn’t talked much in the past, but maybe he could weasel a free drink out of the guy.

A bit of his usual self was revived in the presence of an acquaintance. Christian grinned his usual sly grin and took on a more relaxed pose at the bar. He beckoned towards Circe and said, “Yeah. Host. Bim Trimmer has told me all about you. Why don’t we drink together?”

Host tenses a little at just how easily Christian is able to recognize him. He thought he'd done a pretty good job— though he supposed he didn't account for running into somebody who actually knew him.

"—Mr. Trimmer? Really? That's.. well, that's strange, but yeah. I've not heard him mention having any business partners," He hums out curiously, though slightly suspicious at the same time. The man felt.. off, though otherwise didn't feel like a threat, especially in such a public space.

He sighs, deciding to fully close his book as he ran his hand through his hair, "..Sure, one couldn't hurt."

Host’s slight moment of hesitation delighted Christian. He reveled in being intimidating, off-putting. To show it, he put on his award-winning smile and tried to not look as disheveled as he felt on the inside.

“No, no, I’m not a business partner, my friend. We’re just, ah, close.” He looked down at his outfit and chuckled ruefully. “And if he were here, he would be chewing me out for being so informal, I bet. But I needed to get out of the suits I always wear, so… casual it is.” He turned his attention again to Host as they sat down next to him. “How do you and Bim know each other?”

"..That's Mr. Trimmer, I guess," Host mutters out at first, gesturing vaguely to the bartender to order the two of them drinks. He looks back to Christian as he picked up his book, dropping it into the bag next to him, "We're friends. Sometimes I fill out favors for him in return, if it suits us both."

He sits up a bit straighter, a bit more alert. He didn't feel necessarily afraid of Christian, no, but he knew better than to let his guard down so early after just meeting the man. At least a drink or two would be able to calm his nerves, he supposed.

"Close how, if it's not too prying?"

#>>actor’s script #>>that one podcaster #close friends you say 🤨🫣

I should watch what I say, the actor thought. He ran a finger around the rim of his newly acquired highball glass and mused, “Well, Bim and I shared a production studio when we were both young upstarts in entertainment. We bonded over our shared experiences - both past and present - and the friendship escalated from there. We get very busy nowadays, but when we find time to see each other, we’re like two peas in a pod!” Christian replied cheerfully. Talking always boosted his mood, even with strangers, and he could tell his mood was improving by the second. “We’re real tight-knit, him and I.”

He took a swig of his drink and grimaced slightly at how strong his drink really was. “Wow. That is potent…!”

🍹 + reverse >:]

-> @radio-fiction

Christian hated going to public spaces alone. He usually had a bodyguard or a colleague trailing him, but tonight was different. He needed to be away from all that and go to one of his favorite places: an upscale restaurant in the city with a decked-out bar to match. Here the actor was, seated on a barstool in a tight t-shirt and jeans, jacket over his legs, looking absolutely dire. Not only had his work been incredibly demanding of him, but his powers were acting up too. It was draining him of his energy and tonight he simply needed to unwind.

Circe himself rarely left his secluded cabin, the hustle and bustle of regular society already overwhelming for him outside of much he stood out in the first place. Though, for the first time in months (and after quite a few less than pleasurable conversations about people telling him to get out more), they found themselves sitting at one of the far corners of the bar, scribbling in a notebook he'd brought with him.

Of course, he tried his best to remedy his usual problems to the best of his ability, having decided to change up his wear and even bring headphones in an attempt to drown out some of the constant noise. He'd brushed his hair in a way that it fell over his face, just enough to conceal the bandages, along with wearing a beanie and hoodie.

He knew he still kind of stood out against the people here in their formal wear, though he didn't seem to mind as much as being the creep with blood running down his cheeks.

“What’ll it be, Cruz?” the bartender asked. The actor across from her had been running a hand through his hair as a nervous habit, and he paused when he was asked the question. Typically he would order a tequila sunrise or something fruity, but tonight he wanted something strong. Something to knock him out, really.

Even though he had an idea of his drink for the night, he didn’t know what specifically to order. The chalkboard menu on the wall was blending together into blobs of shapes and colors. “I don’t know,” he said weakly to the bartender which made her face screw up in confusion.

Turning his head, Christian noticed another patron sitting on the other side of the bar. Strangely, they were the only two people seated here. He wondered if they could help him out. He would never do this, but he was exhausted and annoyed and didn’t want to do much of anything. As a last-ditch effort, he called to the patron and said, “Hey. You like strong drinks?”

At first, Circe hadn't even noticed the man come up to the counter next to him, though lifted his head as he did notice the bartender move to speak to Christian. He closes the book in front of him, tucking his thumb under the page as not to lose his place as he looked up to Christian.

With his other hand, Circe moved one of his headphones off his ear to allow him to hear again better, cocking his head, "Ah, uh.. he— I suppose so? Why?"

As soon as he saw a bit of cloth peeking out from under the other guy’s hair, a sense of recognition passed through Christian. “Wait.” He pointed to them and remarked, “I know you. You’re… Host, right?” Yeah, it was unmistakable. The dark hair with light streaks, the bloody, stained cloth around his eyes, the style of clothing a grandpa would wear - they all matched what he knew of the man. They hadn’t talked much in the past, but maybe he could weasel a free drink out of the guy.

A bit of his usual self was revived in the presence of an acquaintance. Christian grinned his usual sly grin and took on a more relaxed pose at the bar. He beckoned towards Circe and said, “Yeah. Host. Bim Trimmer has told me all about you. Why don’t we drink together?”

Host tenses a little at just how easily Christian is able to recognize him. He thought he'd done a pretty good job— though he supposed he didn't account for running into somebody who actually knew him.

"—Mr. Trimmer? Really? That's.. well, that's strange, but yeah. I've not heard him mention having any business partners," He hums out curiously, though slightly suspicious at the same time. The man felt.. off, though otherwise didn't feel like a threat, especially in such a public space.

He sighs, deciding to fully close his book as he ran his hand through his hair, "..Sure, one couldn't hurt."

#SORRY I GOT DISTRACTED 🫡#>>actor’s script #>>that one podcaster

Host’s slight moment of hesitation delighted Christian. He reveled in being intimidating, off-putting. To show it, he put on his award-winning smile and tried to not look as disheveled as he felt on the inside.

“No, no, I’m not a business partner, my friend. We’re just, ah, close.” He looked down at his outfit and chuckled ruefully. “And if he were here, he would be chewing me out for being so informal, I bet. But I needed to get out of the suits I always wear, so… casual it is.” He turned his attention again to Host as they sat down next to him. “How do you and Bim know each other?”

Finally checking the notification after that particularly boring conference, Actor’s eyes widened at the panicked nature of what he just read. Was Bim in trouble… or was he just being dramatic? Actor knew the man was skittish about bugs, so maybe it was that. Regardless, he decided to call Bim anyway. He had left him hanging for long enough. He dialed his dove’s number and waited for the call to connect. - @crimson-phoenix

The show host groans, having finally sat down to try and process everything, phone in hand as he sat at the kitchen table with his head down. Bim's head immediately picks up at his ringtone going off again, accepting the call and answering with a shaking "Hhey!..um.. What's up?"

In actuality, his leg bounced with anticipation as he wanted Actor to know he was okay even if he wasn't.

----

“Are you okay?” was the first thing Christian spoke. A nagging feeling told him Bim wasn’t just being dramatic anymore. “Your message caught me off-guard a little, dear.” He stood up from his desk and headed to his bedroom to change out of his suit.

He sighs, a hand moving to his face as he frowns and looks away, he knew immediately his body posture and expression would give away that he's not okay. Bim paused however, eyes unfocused for just a moment, what message?

"..I.. don't remember sending a message.." The show host whispers, looking to the hand that was pinching his nose as he audibly gasps in horror when it just disappears for a moment, along with the rest of that arm and he stumbles, falling out of the chair which caused a loud clatter.

"I..I'm fine!" he calls out, yet another lie, he didn't want Actor to be worried above all, breathing heavy as he struggled to process everything.

“…You don’t sound fine,” Actor replied dryly. He knew Bim was lying. No one yells like that and feels fine. Making it to his bedroom, he closed the door behind him, set his phone down, and turned it to speaker mode. “Do you need help with something?” he asked. He would try to pry what was going on out of Bim. He began unbuttoning his outercoat with a slightly annoyed and slightly confused expression on his face.

Bim laid on the floor, heavily breathing as he stared at the ceiling, tears welling up in his eyes as he just felt so small. He had absolutely no clue what was happening, what he had done to deserve such events. The show host sits up, sniffling as he grabs his phone.

"I don't know what's happening. I keep seeing things, and they aren't..real or something..I saw myself without an eye in my studio for fucks sake!" He stands up, stumbling for just a moment as he begins to ponder what to do, though makes sure to feed his cats before he sits back down on his couch.

"I'm going mad, it just feels like it."

“Jesus.” Christian had taken off his outercoat and vest as well as undone one button of his dress shirt by the time Bim’s speech ended. Instead of being scared of what he was hearing, he was actually experiencing a sense of recognition. This sounded similar to what he went through on… particularly bad days, let’s say.

He took his phone off speaker mode and announced, “I’m coming over. Stay there. And don’t protest.” With that, he rushed out of his bedroom and flew down the stairs. He debated just teleporting there, but he didn’t want to scare his lovely show host in his already fragile state. Walking down a hallway, he eased up on his stern tone and cooed, “Will you stay on the line for me? I want to make sure you’re safe while I drive.”

[ kiss ] on the I love you SFW prompts.

~ @hiremyass

It was a miracle: both men had found gaps in their schedules at the same time. Finally, they could have some time together. Both were seated in a dark speakeasy with a table all to themselves in the corner. Slow jazz was being played from a band up at the front and it seeped throughout the entire area. If Christian wasn’t relaxed before, he was definitely now.

He had downed a couple alcoholic drinks and wasn’t completely drunk - not yet, anyway. He was buzzed, though, and felt a lot more loose. The two had been gossiping about their coworkers together, and it was a riot to learn about.

The show host relatively took it easy on the alcohol, he really wasn't one for it himself, unless it was fruity in nature. Though even then, he was mostly sober, he just finishes listening to Christian gossip about one of his own co-workers, hand grasping his wine glass.

"I..think I want to tell you something, Christian, if I am allowed to speak of it."

Bim mutters loud enough so that only he may hear it, hand moving from his wine glass as he fumbles with a nervous smile. "Oh it's nothing bad, I just, figured perhaps I should bring it up." His fingers pluck his glasses from his face for just a moment to wipe the lenses.

"Especially since this is the only time we'll get to interact fully."

Christian leaned back in his seat and chirped, “Go right ahead, Trimmer. I’ve talked myself a storm.” He grinned and downed the last of his rum and ginger, flipping the glass upside down on the table. Tonight he was in a simple dress shirt and slacks, nothing too fancy.

#>>actor’s script #>>that one show host #gayass. ily /p

[ kiss ] on the I love you SFW prompts.

~ @hiremyass

It was a miracle: both men had found gaps in their schedules at the same time. Finally, they could have some time together. Both were seated in a dark speakeasy with a table all to themselves in the corner. Slow jazz was being played from a band up at the front and it seeped throughout the entire area. If Christian wasn’t relaxed before, he was definitely now.

He had downed a couple alcoholic drinks and wasn’t completely drunk - not yet, anyway. He was buzzed, though, and felt a lot more loose. The two had been gossiping about their coworkers together, and it was a riot to learn about.

Finally checking the notification after that particularly boring conference, Actor’s eyes widened at the panicked nature of what he just read. Was Bim in trouble… or was he just being dramatic? Actor knew the man was skittish about bugs, so maybe it was that. Regardless, he decided to call Bim anyway. He had left him hanging for long enough. He dialed his dove’s number and waited for the call to connect. - @crimson-phoenix

The show host groans, having finally sat down to try and process everything, phone in hand as he sat at the kitchen table with his head down. Bim's head immediately picks up at his ringtone going off again, accepting the call and answering with a shaking "Hhey!..um.. What's up?"

In actuality, his leg bounced with anticipation as he wanted Actor to know he was okay even if he wasn't.

----

“Are you okay?” was the first thing Christian spoke. A nagging feeling told him Bim wasn’t just being dramatic anymore. “Your message caught me off-guard a little, dear.” He stood up from his desk and headed to his bedroom to change out of his suit.

He sighs, a hand moving to his face as he frowns and looks away, he knew immediately his body posture and expression would give away that he's not okay. Bim paused however, eyes unfocused for just a moment, what message?

"..I.. don't remember sending a message.." The show host whispers, looking to the hand that was pinching his nose as he audibly gasps in horror when it just disappears for a moment, along with the rest of that arm and he stumbles, falling out of the chair which caused a loud clatter.

"I..I'm fine!" he calls out, yet another lie, he didn't want Actor to be worried above all, breathing heavy as he struggled to process everything.

“…You don’t sound fine,” Actor replied dryly. He knew Bim was lying. No one yells like that and feels fine. Making it to his bedroom, he closed the door behind him, set his phone down, and turned it to speaker mode. “Do you need help with something?” he asked. He would try to pry what was going on out of Bim. He began unbuttoning his outercoat with a slightly annoyed and slightly confused expression on his face.

Finally checking the notification after that particularly boring conference, Actor’s eyes widened at the panicked nature of what he just read. Was Bim in trouble… or was he just being dramatic? Actor knew the man was skittish about bugs, so maybe it was that. Regardless, he decided to call Bim anyway. He had left him hanging for long enough. He dialed his dove’s number and waited for the call to connect. - @crimson-phoenix

The show host groans, having finally sat down to try and process everything, phone in hand as he sat at the kitchen table with his head down. Bim's head immediately picks up at his ringtone going off again, accepting the call and answering with a shaking "Hhey!..um.. What's up?"

In actuality, his leg bounced with anticipation as he wanted Actor to know he was okay even if he wasn't.

----

“Are you okay?” was the first thing Christian spoke. A nagging feeling told him Bim wasn’t just being dramatic anymore. “Your message caught me off-guard a little, dear.” He stood up from his desk and headed to his bedroom to change out of his suit.

🍹 + reverse >:]

-> @radio-fiction

Christian hated going to public spaces alone. He usually had a bodyguard or a colleague trailing him, but tonight was different. He needed to be away from all that and go to one of his favorite places: an upscale restaurant in the city with a decked-out bar to match. Here the actor was, seated on a barstool in a tight t-shirt and jeans, jacket over his legs, looking absolutely dire. Not only had his work been incredibly demanding of him, but his powers were acting up too. It was draining him of his energy and tonight he simply needed to unwind.

Circe himself rarely left his secluded cabin, the hustle and bustle of regular society already overwhelming for him outside of much he stood out in the first place. Though, for the first time in months (and after quite a few less than pleasurable conversations about people telling him to get out more), they found themselves sitting at one of the far corners of the bar, scribbling in a notebook he'd brought with him.

Of course, he tried his best to remedy his usual problems to the best of his ability, having decided to change up his wear and even bring headphones in an attempt to drown out some of the constant noise. He'd brushed his hair in a way that it fell over his face, just enough to conceal the bandages, along with wearing a beanie and hoodie.

He knew he still kind of stood out against the people here in their formal wear, though he didn't seem to mind as much as being the creep with blood running down his cheeks.

“What’ll it be, Cruz?” the bartender asked. The actor across from her had been running a hand through his hair as a nervous habit, and he paused when he was asked the question. Typically he would order a tequila sunrise or something fruity, but tonight he wanted something strong. Something to knock him out, really.

Even though he had an idea of his drink for the night, he didn’t know what specifically to order. The chalkboard menu on the wall was blending together into blobs of shapes and colors. “I don’t know,” he said weakly to the bartender which made her face screw up in confusion.

Turning his head, Christian noticed another patron sitting on the other side of the bar. Strangely, they were the only two people seated here. He wondered if they could help him out. He would never do this, but he was exhausted and annoyed and didn’t want to do much of anything. As a last-ditch effort, he called to the patron and said, “Hey. You like strong drinks?”

At first, Circe hadn't even noticed the man come up to the counter next to him, though lifted his head as he did notice the bartender move to speak to Christian. He closes the book in front of him, tucking his thumb under the page as not to lose his place as he looked up to Christian.

With his other hand, Circe moved one of his headphones off his ear to allow him to hear again better, cocking his head, "Ah, uh.. he— I suppose so? Why?"

#>>actor’s script #>>that one podcaster

As soon as he saw a bit of cloth peeking out from under the other guy’s hair, a sense of recognition passed through Christian. “Wait.” He pointed to them and remarked, “I know you. You’re… Host, right?” Yeah, it was unmistakable. The dark hair with light streaks, the bloody, stained cloth around his eyes, the style of clothing a grandpa would wear - they all matched what he knew of the man. They hadn’t talked much in the past, but maybe he could weasel a free drink out of the guy.

A bit of his usual self was revived in the presence of an acquaintance. Christian grinned his usual sly grin and took on a more relaxed pose at the bar. He beckoned towards Circe and said, “Yeah. Host. Bim Trimmer has told me all about you. Why don’t we drink together?”

🍹 + reverse >:]

-> @radio-fiction

Christian hated going to public spaces alone. He usually had a bodyguard or a colleague trailing him, but tonight was different. He needed to be away from all that and go to one of his favorite places: an upscale restaurant in the city with a decked-out bar to match. Here the actor was, seated on a barstool in a tight t-shirt and jeans, jacket over his legs, looking absolutely dire. Not only had his work been incredibly demanding of him, but his powers were acting up too. It was draining him of his energy and tonight he simply needed to unwind.

Circe himself rarely left his secluded cabin, the hustle and bustle of regular society already overwhelming for him outside of much he stood out in the first place. Though, for the first time in months (and after quite a few less than pleasurable conversations about people telling him to get out more), they found themselves sitting at one of the far corners of the bar, scribbling in a notebook he'd brought with him.

Of course, he tried his best to remedy his usual problems to the best of his ability, having decided to change up his wear and even bring headphones in an attempt to drown out some of the constant noise. He'd brushed his hair in a way that it fell over his face, just enough to conceal the bandages, along with wearing a beanie and hoodie.

He knew he still kind of stood out against the people here in their formal wear, though he didn't seem to mind as much as being the creep with blood running down his cheeks.