SHOW TIME !

miles levinson / actor 245 points

[stagemiles-blog]

ANGEL !

                  though angel didn’t drink much on his own, there were just some games too good to be watched in the comfort of your own home; you needed the atmosphere of a shitty sports bar, the smells, the sounds, the weird guy next to you trying to get you to sing karaoke. it was an experience! he was trying to watch the yankees take the rays, but he could feel the stranger’s gaze laying into him. he shook his head, grabbing a handful of nuts from the bowl in front of him. “i got two little girls–i’m totally immune to that look.” angel warned, amusement in his tone. 

               he felt kinda bad though, always too nice for his own good. hell, maybe they’d have some britney spears on the karaoke machine… “okay, i’ll do one song. but only if comes halftime and the rays are winning.” that give him ten more minutes to watch the game, and plenty of time for the yankees to kick some tampa bay ass. 

               He resists the urge to laugh at the idea the other man is immune to puppy dog eyes from his kids. Judging by how easily he folds, he thinks that might not be true. “Yeah, alright that’s fair.” The actor seems to calm his pleading, coming to terms with the idea he’ll have to wait, grabbing another drink for the first time tonight he turns his eyes toward the tv. He recognizes the yankees, knows they’re based in New York and it feels a little poetic that he’s happened into the bar when they’re playing.

               Miles has never been a fan of sports, not for a lack of trying his last boyfriend was a sports guy, he simply didn’t get the appeal ( which might have to do with past experiences in high school. ) Still, a deal is made and that’s all he can hope for. “Who’s winning now?” 

[stagemiles-blog]

THEO !

                      theo nods thoughtfully, “nice, nice.” he’s already turned around, his attention on a rack of designer sunglasses. he picks a pair with cheetah print, checking himself out in the small mirror before turning back around. “i think so, yeah. i mean–i have been told i have a ‘slutty aura’ whatever the fuck that means.” theo truly didn’t know, but he had an idea it had something to do with his inclination for booty shorts and chap-stick. 

     he reaches behind him to grab another pair of sunglasses at random, offering them out to the other guy. “try these.” theo insists. 

               “No idea what that means but uh... I can see it.” Miles chuckles, shoulders raising in a slight shrug. “I’d take it as a complement.” He offers, a slight laugh pushing past his lips as he watches the stranger. It’s one of the nicer interactions he’s had so far, though a little weird, Miles has never had a problem with the strange and unusual. He watches as the stranger reaches blindly for another pair of glasses. 

               Little white rhinestones catch the light, contrasting against the dark sunglasses, purple and black tiger print along the frame. Miles doesn’t hesitate to put the sunglasses on, striking his best pose, trying his best not to break into giggles. “What do you think?” 

[stagemiles-blog]

ANNISSA ! 

The man is familiar, in the way most of Hollywood is to someone who is just trying to get to the end. Vaguely, with disinterest. Like something out of a dream. He’s talking about Twitter, though, something that Annissa hates with a passion, and that’s enough to make her pipe up. “I like replying to the meaner ones,” Annissa says as she sits her coffee back down on the table. “They never really know what to do with themselves afterwards.”

               “I bet not.” He didn’t know Annissa, not like Lina did. Not anywhere close. But he feels like he does, in some way. He knows enough to form an opinion, and it isn’t a favorable one. But if anything, he can try to understand. “Getting noticed for something like that? God I can’t imagine.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

[stagemiles-blog]

JEROME !

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jerome said, waving his hand around, pretending to be reluctant. In reality, Jerome secretly had a great love of karaoke, and generally enjoyed the few serious singing roles that had come his way in the past few years. That being said, he would hardly attempt to compete against singers with experience on Broadway. Singing into a microphone while sitting atop a stool and strumming to an acoustic guitar was nowhere near the same thing as singing on stage to a live audience of hundreds, let alone thousands.

“You have to carry the show all by yourself.” He shook his head, grinning. “The spotlight is yours. It’s entirely yours!”

               “That’s no fun.” Miles groans, hes not reluctant to preform on his own, but singing with a partner is way more fun than doing so by yourself. He imagines it’s like screen acting in that regard. It’s easier to bounce off a partner, helps to set the scene, share energy. “The spotlight is certainly big enough for two.” He tries to persuade. 

               “C’mon, just one song. I’m begging here.” 

[caduceus-tealeaf]

The beetleman and his mood ring hair

[stagemiles-blog]

LINA !

She remembered the tug of it, deep in her bones. How a cast didn’t feel like a four letter word, it felt the the edges of the world. They needed each other, relied on each person to carry their weight and hold together for better or worse. Hadn’t that been exactly what she was working up towards the moment before she left for L.A. herself. And what he’s saying makes sense, it really does. She doesn’t want to fault him, they signed for all sorts of reasons. His excuses fall away, registering as little more than whispers. She takes a sip of coffee letting it scald her tongue and pull her a little bit further from the conversation.

She’d lost Ginny. She was going to lose Annissa. And now she was going to lose Miles. It was only a matter of time. He thought he was fixing something, clearly there was nothing to learn from. “Of course you were.” Her voice sounds so far away, like it’s not even coming from her. Some far detached thing, where she’s safe from screaming in the middle of a coffee shop. “You can’t say no to these sorts of opportunities.”

                “Not when it comes to the cast. You know that.” Miles considers himself loyal to a fault. He wouldn’t die for them but he would sign his life away. He’d had a good one, better than most and if he had to sign his away for someone else to get a chance at a better one... to get one at all, how could he refuse. He feels as though he’s being judged for it, and maybe he is. Maybe he should be, maybe he deserves that. But it still hurts in a way no twitter comment could. 

               “You wanna call me a sellout you can say it you know... Whatever you wanna say... I’m a big boy, I can take it.” Whatever it is she wants to say, he’s sure he’s heard it from a handful of internet trolls. What’s one more time?

[stagemiles-blog]

Tomas !

Tomas recognised him as a new face at the very least, when it isn’t the season, new contracts are easy to keep track of, and as Henri has terrifyingly mention, the mid season contracts, like himself, easily end up on a deadpool. Unsettling indeed. Tomas nodded silently, kind of understanding what he was getting at vaguely. He leaned over to take a quick glance at the demon spawn that is twitter on his phone, the words were brief looking over the dash, but they stung, even to Tomas who wasn’t directed at. He could hear Fabian chiding at him again, he didn’t think he could handle hearing the opinions of the rest of the world about his life when he hears enough of it in the company. “They really love digging up the past and using that against people,” Tomas paused, deciding if he should just listen or butt in at all, but he seemed like he could use someone to chat to. “I mean.. Not trying to pry but… You came to Prometheus for a reason.. right?” Tomas spoke slowly, mind wandering to the same moment Prometheus offered him an ultimatum of desperation, “if you hold on to that reason, and keep working for it.. Twitter be damned.” Everyone had a reason, whether vain, or noble, or just plain stupid, holding onto the sanity of that reason may be the only thing keeping them going.

He grinned however, as he watched him take a bite into the donut, a minor temporary bliss, but that’s all Tomas can afford with his food. “Thank you, it’s a family sourdough recipe. And if you want seconds or something else, it’s on the house.”

                He lets the other man look, at this point he doesn’t have anything to hide, he’s always shown himself for who he is, at least mostly, and his social media reflected that. He’s a hypocrite, he knows, that doesn’t mean people need to remind him, that they need to tell him. He knows. Miles nods his agreement. “A reason, right.” The kid is right. He looks somewhat surprised at the openly displayed kindness, as if it was closer to being hit than it was getting a free donut. It warms his heart, and hurts all at once.

                Because the stranger as kind as he is, has fallen into Prometheus’ web just like Miles has. “You give free food to all the sad saps who sit at your tables?” The mood is lightened slightly, and the actor doesn’t fight it. Does try to bury himself back in his sadness. “You really... you don’t need to do that... seems like a bad business model” He makes a mental note to leave a very good tip, even if the kid probably doesn’t need it.

[theodorefehr]

theo turned to the nearest stranger, a look of concern on his face as he asked, “be honest–do these earrings make me look too slutty?” the golden hoops were comically large, though theo was really starting to vibe with them. why was he trying on women’s jewelry? because he was in a women’s fashion store. why was he there? because gender wasn’t real; or something like that. okay. maybe he actually just hadn’t realized there were no mens clothes in here yet. ”they make me wanna get my nails did and talk shit about my ex boyfriend. i love it.”

[stagemiles-blog]

                He’s figured out mindless wandering is peaceful, it helps him relax a bit. Currently, he’s sipping unsweetened ice tea, looking at a pair of gold earrings shaped like little snakes and wondering if Sarah would like them. The man beside him turns and Miles shifts his gaze, laughing when the stranger speaks, and hopes to god his tea isn’t going to come out his nose. Luckily, it doesn’t but the sting in his airway tells him it was pretty damn close.

                “Just slutty enough, I think.” The word feels like grease against his tongue, but the man asked. “I mean.. if that’s the look you’re going for...”

[stagemiles-blog]

Call Home.

3rd of September. 11:25 pm.

                The phone rings, and he recognizes it immediately as Quinn. Mumbled talking, an accident. The world shifts and he feels like he’s falling into the abyss, the floor comes up to meet him. He knows immediately that Prometheus Productions has something to do with it, and he feels his heart break because if he had just agreed... this could have been avoided... if he had just signed the fucking contract, Sarah would be okay.

5th of September. 1:19pm.

                A thick envelope sits on his coffee table, red lettered CONFIDENTIAL stamped across the front. Prometheus Productions seal neatly printed in the corner. Miles hasn’t stopped staring at it. The first draft of his contract. He hasn’t mentioned it, not to the cast, not to his friends or family. Because they’d talk him out of it. He knows they would and he can’t afford that. He grabs his coat off the sofa, shoving the envelope in his bag before tossing it over his shoulder and heading out the door.

September 6th. 10:56pm.

                His last production on Broadway. He hears it one last time, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice. The stage rises, Pepper’s hand squeezes his and he feels the easily recognizable burn of tears as he goes to take his final bow. Waving to the audience and blowing kisses.

September 7th. 4:19 pm.

                He signs his name across the dotted line. His handwriting carefully constructed curves of ink across the parchment. His eyes stay trained on the letters as he dots the i’s and feels as if the signature is staring back.

September 8th. 12:23 am.

                He picks up the phone that same night, picks up the phone and is answered and his heart breaks in his chest when he hears his mod’s voice.                 His parents were the whole reason he had such a strong stance against cancellations. His mother an an Anti-Cancellation Advocate, and her partner was practically Hollywood royalty. They’d grown up in LA, they grew up in a family full of actors, a child star who abandoned their contract the minute they turned eighteen. They made him who he was, encouraged Broadway. They’d paid his way through school, guitar lessons and piano, dance. For what?                 “What’s wrong?” They ask, because he hasn’t sounded so hesitant about something since before he came out, and he breaks into tears.

                How is he supposed to tell them he flies out to LA in the morning ?

[stagemiles-blog]

CHARLES !

His world was so wrapped up in what was immediately within reach that Charles didn’t know a soul from ‘the other side of entertainment.’ It always sounded like they were in a type of afterlife instead of merely on Broadway or theatre in general. It must have been nice to act just for the sake of acting. Turning his face to Miles, not knowing who he was or where he came from, he glanced down at the phone, twisting his head to see some of the comments over the other’s shoulder. “Are all of those to you?” he asked, finally looking back at him with a quirk of the brow. “I’m almost scared to ask what you did that was so bad.”

                He’s been on the outside for too long, found it too easy to judge those under contract when he should have tried harder to understand. They were doing the same thing he was, just somewhere else... with murderous intent. Hollywood is big, bigger than broadway in that life or death pressure sort of way. A man’s voice pulls him from his current train of thought off the rail. “Almost?” He chuckles, and it might just be genuine. “Funny, I didn’t hear you ask.”

[stagemiles-blog]

                He can’t remember how many drinks he’s had, enough to pull him out of his seemingly constant foul mood. He’s even managed to get a guy’s phone number ! while he’s not sure it’s actual progress, he figures it’s a step in the right direction. “Shit is that a karaoke machine?” There’s a sparkle behind his eyes, Miles is on the warm side of tipsy, bubbly and a little cuddly. It’s a dull shimmer of who he was on Broadway, a part of him he misses greatly, and is working on getting back. Tonight, he’s focused on having an all around good time, and if he is anything he is determined.

                He turns to the nearest person at the bar, luckily having enough common sense to keep from grabbing their hand and tugging them towards the little stage, instead he nudges them with a grin. “You have got to sing with me, c’mon I’ll even let you pick the song!” He gives his best begging puppy eyes, which are rather impressive for a twenty-eight year old.

[coldasyou]

I like to put on a bully persona when I walk these halls.

[stagemiles-blog]

INGRID !

“You don’t have to smoke. It could be a paperweight.” She shrugged. the man in front of her was a total stranger, but that didn’t mean a whole lot when a memorial garage sale was the event in question.Plenty of people had turned up to see what there was in store for Frances Baker’s house. She tried not to think of it as anything more, and besides it was a chance to meet new people; Introduce herself to friendly strangers who were thinking about buying an ash tray. “But I’m not supposed to force you to buy anything! You’re supposed to haggle with me!” She’d seen a few episodes of American Pickers with her father, she knew how this went. Then again, she didn’t want to box up a single thing at the end of the night. She hoped by some miracle it was all gone and they would never have to think about what to do with packing up a house ever again. “At least I’m pretty sure. I’m sort of new at this.”

               “Sorta new, huh?” Seems like an understatement. He chuckles and thinks it might be the first time he’s laughed in the last two weeks, and if he hadn’t just stepped off Broadway playing a bio-exorcist, ghost, he might find it a little morbid giving the circumstances. “well, if you want somebody to haggle you’re supposed to give them an actual y’know... price, I think.” He doesn’t think he has to actually explain haggling, the thought of going into detail about how to makes him feel like an ass, actually. “If you wanna try to and practice you can haggle with me,” He offers, with a half shrug. He isn’t interested that it’s Frances’ stuff, just that buying it here means he doesn’t have to hunt for it later. “I’m looking for furniture anyways.”

[stagemiles-blog]

LINA !

“sure.” she sighed, eyes turning up towards the menu and trying to decide if there was anything she wanted to order. she probably would need something approaching a stimulant if she was going to continue any kind of a conversation. “sure. i’ll—i’ll get you the muffin, i need some coffee anyways.” and without another word she went up to the counter and got herself the startlingly plain order. she couldn’t have strained herself any more to order the caramel machiattos and triple shot vanilla lattes that had been such fixtures of her life in new york. at least not still shaken. a blueberry muffin clattered on the table, a kindness for her friend, ingrained in her regardless of situation. “sightseeing?”

                Miles is outspoken about his opinion on cancellations, he’d said it more than once. The same way Ginny was an example of Broadway, so was he. Everyone takes what they offer. He rubs a hand down his face, takes a deep breath and tries his best. “They offered once, a few months ago... I turned them down, they asked again a few weeks later, I said no.” he looks away, at anything but her. “— and then rent went up, but it’s New York, y’know... then other... bullshit started.” His therapist stopped seeing him, Quinn kicked him out ( not a surprise really, they’d been separated for months. ), and things just kept piling up. “and they kept asking... then the accident... Sarah, our Lydia...” Miles can feel the shame building, feel the burn of tears that he won’t let fall because this isn’t the place to mourn the parts of him he’s lost. He doesn’t think about it, tries not to. “It was fucking brutal.”

                His heart breaks, truly it does. For her, and himself and everyone on that goddamn walk. “So they called... They called and I was just... Lina, I was sitting there just looking at her, I was right there and I had the chance to fix it... To help, what the fuck was I supposed to do?” Sarah was family, and if he had to choose, he’d do it again. He’d do it ten times over for any of them.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Just some of my favorite Beetlejuice faces made by Alex Brightman

[stagemiles-blog]

TOMAS !

“Everyone’s got their bad days,” Tomas shrugs, and he was obviously having one. Hopefully the food can help brighten it up, even if it’s just a bit. Tomas just couldn’t really comprehend how Twitter could cause this much distress for someone. What nasty things are people saying into the world? The only time Tomas interacts with Twitter is when the crew teases him with thirsty tweets they come across and that’s perhaps enough of the platform to know about. “No worries, there’s barely any work to be kept away from. It’ll probably pick up again for lunch later but it’s pretty quiet right now,” Tomas waved the towel in his hands dismissively and began clearing nearby tables, stacking the used plates and cups. “Why is Twitter even being stressful?”

                How do you say you were the lead in a Broadway production ( without it sounding like gloating. ) who just signed their life away? That you gave up your dream for the inevitable star on the walk. “I uh, I’m a hypocrite I guess.” It’s true, and maybe that’s what bothers him about it. He never said anything bad about people under contract, he just said he preferred Broadway, he wouldn’t sign if Prometheus offered, and here he is... “I mean, I deserve to be called out on that, I guess... but people are nasty without a reason, you give them one and they kinda...” He shrugs slightly, giving a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s say they go for the throat.”

               He picks up his donut, trying not to let the internet get the best of him, he takes a bite and almost hums. “This is absolutely spectacular by the way.” Is he eating his emotions? Probably. Does he care? No.

[stagemiles-blog]

LINA !

“sure.” she sighed, eyes turning up towards the menu and trying to decide if there was anything she wanted to order. she probably would need something approaching a stimulant if she was going to continue any kind of a conversation. “sure. i’ll—i’ll get you the muffin, i need some coffee anyways.” and without another word she went up to the counter and got herself the startlingly plain order. she couldn’t have strained herself any more to order the caramel machiattos and triple shot vanilla lattes that had been such fixtures of her life in new york. at least not still shaken. a blueberry muffin clattered on the table, a kindness for her friend, ingrained in her regardless of situation. “sightseeing?”

                Miles takes this half second alone to hold his face in his hands, allow his body to tense and emotion to swell before he beats it back, tries to smother it until it stops kicking. He wants to lie, to tell her he’s here to visit her, and what family he has left on this side of the states. But Lina is a friend, someone who has lost far too much, and could read him regardless of how long it’s been. “You know better.” His tone shifts, he’s building up a barrier so maybe whatever reaction she has won’t hurt so much. Because he doesn’t want to disappoint her. “No one with my stand on cancellations comes to LA to sightsee.” He’s trying to get her to say it first, so he doesn’t have to.

                Maybe he should have asked her to go somewhere else, somewhere this could be discussed without onlookers, away from the public. But it’s too late now. He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t have a choice.” Not like Ginny, or Annissa, or even Lina did.