muses penned & adored by pixie for @manhattantv !!
⭒ alara demir (30, media strategist, hande ercel fc) - intro | musings | pics | threads ⭒
⭒ isla serrano (32, actress, eiza gonzález fc) - intro | musings | pics | threads ⭒
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
wallacepolsom
dirt enthusiast
AnasAbdin
Acquired Stardust
YOU ARE THE REASON
Keni
One Nice Bug Per Day
Not today Justin
art blog(derogatory)

roma★

PR's Tumblrdome
Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
we're not kids anymore.
Stranger Things
Sade Olutola
$LAYYYTER

Kiana Khansmith

seen from Netherlands
seen from Vietnam
seen from Nepal
seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Slovakia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Mexico

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@silkenstrategy
muses penned & adored by pixie for @manhattantv !!
⭒ alara demir (30, media strategist, hande ercel fc) - intro | musings | pics | threads ⭒
⭒ isla serrano (32, actress, eiza gonzález fc) - intro | musings | pics | threads ⭒
matters on set could alter course with little warning; kieran preferred going with the flow of it all rather than stressing about what could go wrong — leave that to the crew and any co-stars who needed to learn how to chill. ❝ me? spiral? ❞ they chuckled, leaning back further in their chair. the closest they'd ever come was in private when the robinhood story had dropped. ❝ if i was tense, it had nothing to do with me. ❞ he was no stranger to drama between co-stars, had wished for popcorn numerous times when filming the traitors, but it felt on another level between scarlett and her.
she studies him for a second like she’s trying to decide how honest she wants to be, before releasing a sigh. “scarlett and i were never going to be friendly,” she says finally, tone smooth and unhurried. “it’s not even about her, really,” her tone smooth enough to pass for indifference if you didn’t know her. “it’s about the way it feels walking onto set and realizing everyone adjusted to a version of the story you’re not in.” gaze drops briefly to the table, then back up. “maybe i’m imagining it,” she adds lightly, though the set of her mouth says she doesn’t fully believe that either. “but it doesn’t feel great.”
brow quirks, neither of those things true — but he wasn't in the business of correcting people when there's no need. “ it's not hard to remember what someone likes to drink. ” points out with a slight grin to his lips, but doesn't feel the need to comment on more than that. the few bills he placed onto the bar for the bartender left with a nod of his head, trek to the table he'd reserved short and next to a window. “ you don't tip your bartenders ? that's not very good customer service. if you'd rather eat at the bar, be my guest. ”
a faint pause follows his comment, the kind that usually makes people uncomfortable — but she doesn’t offer him the satisfaction of reacting to it. “i don’t need a lesson on etiquette,” alara says evenly, setting the glass down with precise control, fingers still resting lightly around it. “i just don’t usually assume someone’s trying to impress me through administrative competence.” her gaze lifts, steady and assessing, like she’s deciding whether he’s bold or just careless. “and for the record,” she adds, voice softer now but no less pointed, “remembering what someone drinks isn’t rare. it’s basic observation. the question is what else you’ve been observing.” a beat. then, composed as ever. “so,” alara continues, “are you going to tell me why i’m here, or are we continuing this performance of you pretending it’s just dinner?”
" like they fought over a pair of shoes with everyone around them. and the worst part ⸺ those shoes were so fugly, straight out of some disney channel original. "
𖥻 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱. 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆‚ @silkenstrategy.
“that’s almost impressive,” she says, fingers lightly tapping the rim of her glass. “it takes a certain level of commitment to ruin your dignity over something that belongs in a clearance bin.” gaze drifts briefly as if mentally reconstructing the scene from alaia’s description, then looks back. “but honestly? people don’t fight over shoes,” adds, tone calm, almost clinical. “they fight over being seen. the shoes are just… props.” a small pause, then a faint, knowing smirk. “and disney channel aesthetic or not, i guarantee someone in that room thought it was a moment worth remembering.”
#𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 ›› kieran zaveri & subplot muse , @dynast1es , @adorvd , @silkenstrategy location: kieran's trailer on set , midday.
glancing up from the script, he smiled at the person entering. ❝ hey, i thought there was still twenty minutes until we needed on set. ❞ normally he wasn't the best at keeping track of time, mind wandering and prone to distraction, but if further marks against him began circulating while the former ones still lingered then the project that could be his career's savior might be its doom.
isla leaned against the trailer door after letting herself in, oversized sunglasses still perched on top of perfectly styled hair despite the fact they were indoors. the faint scent of expensive perfume followed her in alongside the muffled chaos of set outside. “there is,” she answers easily, eyes dropping to the script in his hands before lifting back to him. “relax, nobody’s hunting you down yet.” a small smile touches her lips as she steps further inside, expression softening just slightly beneath the polished glamour she carries so naturally. “you looked stressed during blocking earlier, figured i’d come check if you were spiraling.”
OPEN STARTER : laurence riordan a random cafe near graham records
laurie looks up at the footsteps beside their table, flipping its notebook closed and pulling it out of the way to make space for their guest. the other goes to speak, and laurie holds up a hand. “ give me a sec, ” they say, downing the last of their coffee before setting the cup down. “ okay, i'm all ears. what's got you looking like someone hid vegemite in your chocolate ? ”
her expression barely shifts as she slides into the seat across from him, though the faint narrowing of her eyes says enough. one manicured hand sets her sunglasses down beside his notebook with deliberate care. “cute,” she replies dryly, glancing at the now empty cup. “and for the record, i don’t think anything could ruin chocolate for me that badly.” gaze drifts briefly toward the window before returning to him, sharp and composed. “but since you’re apparently all ears now — your name came up this morning. again. and this time it wasn’t in the charming tortured pop star way that fans eat up.”
STATUS open to all LOCATION the set of “ rise & shine ” , valmont studios
paloma knocked twice before letting herself into the green room. she had slipped out mid-blowout. “ hi there! we are so happy to have you on the show. i've been looking forward to this interview all week. ” she walked closer, hand smoothing the front of her blazer out of habit. “ is there anything i can get for you before we go out there? the coffee here is amazing. ”
isla looks up from where she's sat in front of the vanity mirror, lips curving immediately into something warm and camera-ready. “that’s sweet, now you’re making me nervous,” teases lightly, rising just enough to greet her properly. “i’ve been excited too. honestly, this might be the first interview this month where i won’t have to dodge a scandal every five minutes.” a soft laugh follows before gaze flicks toward the coffee mention. “though if the coffee is really that good, i might need one. black, no sugar. i’m trying to look awake enough for high definition.”
his favorite bar and bartender for a reason, the gossip overheard during their shifts getting spilled as tobi listened intently. an extra tip and they sang like a canary, song that tobi enjoyed listening to whenever he had the time. “ that's crazy, ” murmurs in response to the tidbit dropped in a way he knew was for maximum impact, dark hues landing on the other as he turns to greet them. “ oh, hey you made it. table's ready, hope you don't mind i already ordered a drink for you. ”
› 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂 : open to all ( 0/5 )
knowing look passes over alara’s features at the mention of the drink, attention dropping briefly to the glass before returning to him. “hm. either you’re getting predictable or you’ve been paying a little too much attention to me lately,” she muses, sliding into the seat across from him with effortless composure. fingers curl around the drink, a measured sip taken before the faintest hint of approval flickers in her expression. “you did well, though.” beat passes, gaze narrowing slightly in curiosity. “now tell me what’s important enough to have you reserving tables and bribing bartenders.”
a single hand raises in surrender at her correction , a lopsided smile following . “ dangerous elegance , my apologies . ” he repeats , like he’s weighing the phrase in his mouth . it’s not intentional — though in a way , it is — as blue hues briefly drift over isla again . as if he’s testing the idea of her in the cape . nothing unbecoming or untoward , just a kind of consideration that lingers a second too long before letting it go . “ yeah , i can see it . might’ve been a bit much but then again — ” a small shrug , expression holding ... before relaxing . “ i’m no anna wintour . ” a soft laugh follows his own self deprecation as glass rolls lazily between his fingers . at the mention of her brother , a knowing look gleams in his eye like she’s just described a pattern he’s seen one too many times . “ oh , he’s one of those . ” a pause , then a faint smirk . “ i like the ones who refuse to watch , but stand behind the couch when shit gets good and somehow end up three episodes deep without realising . ”
her smile widens slightly at that, expression soft but unmistakably entertained. she leans one elbow against the bar, turning just a little more toward him as the lantern light catches the edge of her glass. “oh, he’s absolutely one of those,” she agrees, voice warm with quiet amusement. “the kind who insists he’s just passing through the room… and then somehow ends up standing there for forty minutes with a running commentary.” she takes a small sip, letting the moment stretch before continuing. “very serious analysis, too. like it’s a sociological study.” her brows lift faintly. “but if you ask him directly whether he watched the episode, suddenly he has no idea what you’re talking about.” her gaze drifts briefly across the courtyard again. “though honestly,” she adds lightly, “this might actually be worse than reality television. at least those people know they’re being watched.” a playful glint flickers in her eyes. “here everyone thinks they’re the main character in some grand historical romance.” she lifts her glass slightly in a half toast toward the spectacle around them. “which makes it much more entertaining to observe.”
❝ did you forget your own question? ❞ she cooly deadpanned. she hadn't realized she'd needed to spell out every word in answer. ❝ i chose getting a drink. the rowdiness and current company are unfortunate aspects of the location. ❞ dark eyes looked away from isla, wandering until catching the attention of a bartender. when he approached, yujin relayed her drink order; a relative stranger choosing her beverage carried no appeal. ❝ once my drink arrives, i'm not stuck anywhere or with anyone. ❞
isla didn’t interrupt while yujin ordered. she simply watched, elbow resting lightly against the bar, expression somewhere between entertained and impressed by the woman’s commitment to being thoroughly unimpressed. when yujin finishes speaking, isla lets out a soft breath that almost passes for a laugh. “unfortunate company,” she repeats, lifting her glass slightly in acknowledgment of the insult. “i’ll try not to take that personally. it’s still early.” her gaze follows the bartender for a moment before drifting back, studying yujin with the quiet focus of someone who enjoyed puzzles more than polite conversation. “and no,” isla continues easily, “i didn’t forget my question. i just thought you might be the type who refuses to give a straightforward answer on principle.” she takes another sip, then tips her head slightly. “but you’re right. technically you’re free to leave the second that glass touches the bar.” a small pause, tone thoughtful rather than challenging. “though people who go out of their way to clarify that usually end up staying longer than they planned.” she gestures lightly toward the space around them, the chaos spilling out into the courtyard. “call it anthropological curiosity,” she adds. “or stubbornness.”
bold ? or a request made for survival, who was to say. all she knew was that she was too sober and it would take more than one of their themed cocktails to change it. she was nothing if not efficient in most of what she did. “ and what makes you think that ? ” brow cocked as nails drummed against the top of the bar, manicured for once. it wasn't often she was away from the hospital long enough to bother with more than a shaping. “ i hope you can hold your liquor , i'm not in the habit of holding back hair. ” if not, maybe something more palatable and fruity would be more her speed, though that was implied. head tilted slightly, gaze unflinching from the less than subtle inspection and inquisition. “ drinking. as one does in a tavern. ”
isla’s laugh was quiet, the kind that barely left her throat but still managed to carry a sharp edge of amusement. her fingers trace the rim of her glass as the bartender slides the drinks toward them, dark eyes flicking down briefly before returning to nazli like the answer had only confirmed something she already suspected. “mm,” she hums softly. “don’t worry. if i reach the point where someone needs to hold my hair, i promise it won’t be you.” she lifts the glass, examining the color like she might critique it before tasting, then takes a measured sip. no flinch. just a small, satisfied tilt of her head as she set it back down. “and i think that,” isla continues, casual but deliberate, “because people who ask for something strong before the bartender even opens their mouth usually aren’t doing it for fun.” her gaze drifts briefly across the tavern, the theatrical medieval chaos of the event, before settling back. “they’re either celebrating,” she says, tone thoughtful, “or they’re trying to drown something.” a beat. the corner of her mouth lifts again, that same almost pleasant expression that never quite reaches her eyes. “and you don’t strike me as someone who celebrates quietly.”
dominic mann & ??? for @silkenstrategy where: archery stand
“i don't think i've ever seen this many people take archery seriously at once. ” there's a quiet amusement to it, bow resting loosely in his hand rather than drawn - watching more than participating for a second. “ it's either going to go really well… or someone's pride is about to take a hit. ” a glance over, smile growing. “ it'll not be me, that's for sure. ” years of nerdom had prepared him for this - it certainly wasn't his first rodeo with a bow and arrow. “ how you feeling? ”
she lets the bow rest easily in her hand, gaze drifting toward the cluster of overly focused participants. a faint smile tugged at her lips at dominic’s comment, the kind that suggested she found the whole thing a little dramatic. “oh, someone's pride definitely isn't surviving the afternoon,” she says lightly, rolling one shoulder as if loosening up. “events like this always start with people pretending they’ve done this before and end with someone blaming the bow.” she turns her head toward him, eyes briefly flicking to the way he held his stance — relaxed, confident. interesting. “you seem very certain you won’t be the one humbled.” alara raises a brow, playful skepticism creeping into her tone. “that confidence usually means one of two things. you’re either very good.. or you’re about to become the evening’s entertainment.” she lifts her bow, testing the weight before glancing back at the targets. “as for me?” a small shrug. “i’m feeling optimistic. if nothing else, i enjoy proving people wrong.”
kamala's usual smile tightens a bit. it wasn't so much isla's shade towards her acting or music which she could agree with at times. but the fact that she's implying kamala had always been good at pretending. ever the paranoid person, she tries to push it out of her mind but it's still in the back of it. her eyes kind of flit around nervously as she hears the other's words, throwing in an occasional laugh that she hopes isla reads as her being nervous about the shade rather than the pretending comment. she nods and says, "i also learned my lines and gave a good performance." she's lying about the good performance because on the film that they were in, she gave a mediocre one because that's what she thought people would expect and want of her. "niche? what do you mean by that?" she looks at isla with big confused eyes. she had learned that trick from somewhere that if someone is being mean to you but in a subtle way, you should just ask them what they mean and see if they stumble over themselves trying to act like they weren't shading you. and besides, kamala had never really been niche, and she knew that, she had been on one of the biggest disney channel teen sitcoms of her generation and transitioned successfully into a singing career, as was the norm on that channel. if kamala were in the mood to be mean back and it fit her persona to do so, she would've pointed out that isla was probably more niche than kamala was – sure, she had the talent and accolades but only people who paid attention to prestigious movies knew who isla was, meanwhile kamala was definitely successful with a mainstream audience. but kamala forgoes that, besides it's not worth it. "well, that's nice of you."
her smile doesn’t falter when kamala asks the question. if anything, it softens — patient, almost thoughtful — the way someone might look at a child who’s asked something earnest but slightly beside the point. she tilts her head just a fraction, resting her fingertips lightly against the rim of her glass. “niche?” isla repeats gently, like she’s simply clarifying a misunderstanding rather than answering a challenge. her gaze flicks briefly toward the theatricality of the whole thing, before returning to kamala. “oh, nothing scandalous,” she says smoothly. “just… a moment in time. a specific kind of fame.” another sip, slow and unhurried. “disney has a way of creating that,” she continues. “very bright, very beloved, very of its era.” the smile widens slightly, still polite. “it’s like a perfectly preserved little capsule. people remember exactly how it felt when they were twelve.” she lets the compliment sit there, shiny and harmless on the surface. then her eyes drift back to kamala with quiet appraisal. “which isn’t a bad thing,” isla adds easily. “nostalgia is incredibly powerful. half the industry is built on it.” she sets her glass down on the bar with a soft clink. “you’re lucky in that sense. people already know how they want to feel about you.” her tone is still conversational, almost admiring. “that’s a huge advantage.” a beat passes. then her gaze sharpens just a touch, still smiling, but studying kamala the way someone studies a performance they’re not entirely convinced by. “most of us,” she says lightly, “actually have to convince them.” she lifts her glass again in a casual little toast. “but like i said,” isla adds with a warm little laugh, as if none of this has been anything but pleasant conversation, “finding your lane is half the battle.” her eyes flick briefly to kamala’s tightened smile. “and you seem very comfortable in yours.”
mouth closed, tongue pushing against right cheek's membrane before halting it all. shoulders shrug briefly as reaction, " not necessarily violence and i wouldn't quite call this culture, but to each their own. " her mother's legacy began with herself, confident strides and bold statements never taken back - lessons she taught her only child. " i'm sure it can, i also believe it's trained not to attack the people, it would be quite bad for business. " her eyes move toward the wings, feathers spread before interest falters again. " i'm sure we can find something else for entertainment, shouldn't you have interesting stories about clients ? "
she watches the subtle calculation pass across helena’s face. the practiced confidence, the polished ease of someone raised where conversation itself could be sport. the falcon shifts again on her arm, and alara steadies her wrist without looking down. “ah,” she says quietly, hint of a smile touching the corner of her mouth. “so we’re negotiating the definition of culture now.” her gaze flicks briefly, then returns to helena — sharp, assessing, but not unfriendly. “falconry predates most of the institutions people like to call culture,” she adds lightly. “emperors, sultans, kings. all very fond of it.” a small pause follows, tone softening with dry amusement. “but you’re right. it would be terrible for business if the birds started pecking eyes out.” at the mention of interesting stories, a small breath of laughter. “unfortunately,” she says, voice smooth, “my profession hinges on making sure the interesting stories never become public ones.” a beat passes. “most of my work involves turning catastrophes into misunderstandings,” she continues, tone dry but unbothered. “which tends to make for rather dull anecdotes.” her head tilts slightly, studying helena now with quiet curiosity. “so if you’re hoping for scandal, i’m afraid i’d be very bad at telling it.” a faint smile returns. “occupational hazard.”
silence follows the words, chocolate hues resting on alara as she debated response — before shrugging. “ if you say so. don’t know how that’s possible but whatever makes you feel better about it. ” wasn’t going to debate lions, tigers, and bears when she wanted a simple picture and to move on to the next. “ i’m taking a picture of the bird. i’m sure it’d like its good side, but you’re the animal whisperer not me. ” deadpans, a couple of shots taken before she steps back to flick through them, deleting the useless ones to keep the few that captured what she wanted correctly. “ don’t think childhood me cared much about zoos in italy, nor did my parents. it’s not that deep. "
alara’s mouth tilts faintly at that, the smallest acknowledgment that chiara has chosen the simplest possible explanation and intends to leave it there. fair enough. not every silence needs filling. “ah,” she says lightly, glancing toward chiara’s phone as she scrolls through the photos. “italy explains it. you had renaissance art, ancient ruins, entire cathedrals dripping in history.” one shoulder lifts in a small shrug. “a tiger behind glass probably loses the competition.” there’s no mockery in it, just observation. her gaze returns briefly to the bird, adjusting her wrist a fraction so the falcon settles more comfortably. “and for the record,” she adds after a beat, tone dry but amused, “that was its good side.” a small pause. then, almost conspiratorially, “they all are. predators rarely photograph poorly.”
a younger, less jaded and known version of themself would’ve found it all whimsical. the outfits, larping, frolicking through an old castle in search of whatever secret tunnels it held. in a sense, she did. enjoyed watching the reactions from the corner, enjoying tea in the sunshine but now — she wanted wine. “ i’m here because i wanted a drink, ” repeats, slight scoff falling from their lips. “ i see my reputation doesn’t stretch as far as people pretend it does, if that was your thought. ” razor sharp in court, intimidating to anyone that happened along their path, three or four privy to their softness outside of court. stranger’s opinion of their personality nothing to hold regard for, mental dismissal. “ i find no reason to pretend, regardless of where i am. if that makes me serious, ” glass lifts again for both sip and shrug, “ i’ve been called worse. ”
the corners of her mouth tilt. not quite a smile, but something amused enough to live in the same neighborhood. “a drink,” she repeats, like she’s confirming the official record. “how delightfully simple.” her gaze drifts briefly, then settles back on ashanti, steady and assessing in a way that doesn’t quite feel like judgment. “you might be surprised,” isla says lightly, resting her elbow against the bar. “reputations travel. they just arrive wearing different clothes.” a slow sip follows, deliberate. “sometimes they show up as warnings,” she continues, glancing at the rim of ashanti’s glass. “sometimes as intrigue. occasionally as an invitation to mind one’s business.” a small pause, brow lifting slightly. “i haven’t decided which version yours is yet.” she shifts her weight, casual. “but honesty in a room built on pretend?” isla tilts her glass toward her in a quiet acknowledgment. “that’s at least interesting.” eyes flicker with something warmer now, curiosity rather than challenge. “and for what it’s worth,” she adds, voice easy, “being called worse usually means you’re doing something right.”
tavern should have been replaced with an operating room, bright lights shining down, steel in her grasp, patient soundly under on the table before her, but there were certain things in life that even she couldn't avoid. “ well i'm certainly not here to sip wine and people watch. ” not that she was opposed to a glass of red, but a bottle was always prefered. “ braving the bumbling fools ? you could call it that. ” attention shifting to the bartender that finally made their way over. “ give me something strong. ” a beat passing, “ please. ”
gaze momentarily flicks to the bartender as they arrive, then back to nazli like she was quietly cataloguing the woman’s entire personality in real time. the give me something strong earns a soft, knowing hum of approval. “bold request,” she says lightly, lips curving. “i was going to say dangerous, but you seem like you’d consider that a compliment.” she shifts her glass slightly on the bar, tapping the base once as if deciding something, then lifts her eyes back up again. “make that two,” she adds to the bartender without looking away. “whatever she’s having. and don’t insult either of us with anything that tastes like fruit.” a pause. then a slight tilt of the head, studying nazli more directly, teasing edge softening just a fraction into curiosity. “so,” she continues, voice lower, conversational, “if you’re not here to sip wine and people watch… what are you here for? avoidance? endurance training?”