tal(k)

everybody's favorite late night sweetheart.  cancelledhq

[taltalk]

tomas-visser‌ . 

“Tal, c'mooon,” Tomas pleaded trying to fill up the list for the cast of this season’s cooking show, most of his friends and contracts that had something to promote had already fill the rest of the slots with one remaining, and hopefully Tal’s name on it. “It’s not even an interview, we’ll just have fun cooking together,” those blues sparkled with hope and excitement and everything in between, “I wouldn’t want any other host, plus you won’t even be the one hosting.”

                  he is a bit hesitant, not because he can’t cook, he can, vaguely at least. but there’s something about the idea of cooking for others, in front of others, it was perhaps the same fear one would have hosting their first dinner party; what if something goes wrong ? a question that landed him where he is today. but the tv is familiar enough for him to consider it.   “ don’t ‘tal’ me,”   words aren’t harsh, tone best described as prickly. he figures this is a battle already lost on his end, he’ll end up on the show if only for the change of pace, but changing his mind now seems like erasing a line in the sand, he loses the illusion of control.   “ what would we be cooking, if . . . if i were to agree ? ”

[taltalk]

          the clock ticks by rather slowly, the day always has dragged on when he’s managed to find himself alone, a rather rare occurrence, but this year it seems to have caught him off guard, of course he and amelia had a skype call early that morning, eating breakfast together as was their routine, but afterwards, the host was left by himself. he can’t complain at forty-seven he’s gone soft and grey, but he’s got a loving daughter, a career he can’t exactly get out of, a handful of friends who aren’t manipulative. 

          he takes a seat at a little back table in the rather empty restaurant, looking through a newspaper, when someone approaches he speaks without really looking up.   “ heart shaped chocolate ? ”   he offers, which is less of a question and more his way of begging : please i have eight boxes at home and i don’t know what to do with them at this point. without seeming so desperate.

[taltalk]

Incorrect Quotes (from Kingston ofc!)

a meme 

kingston : i need to get something off my chesttal: *internally* please be your shirt please be your shirt please -

alternatively. 

kingston: taliesin, you need to get up.tal: no….. need …. my beauty sleep.kingston: you’re beautiful no matter what ! now get up !tal: *wide awake* wait what did you just say.

[occasionalrpmemes]

Send me “Incorrect Quotes” for a snippet of shitpost dialogue between my muse and yours

[taltalk]

kingstongilmore‌.

There is nothing as hollow, nothing as deceitful, nothing as incomplete than the term of old friend when pinned to Taliesin. Though, what else remains when nothing besides that bond had time to blossom? How can one be called an old lover when only the heart knows of it like a torrid secret that couldn’t survive if it had broken out of its cell? Is this what regret feels like? How it plagues the soul? Kingston tastes it on his tongue as if its coated in blood, a sharpness of iron that’s hard to swallow down. In some ways, in more than some, it is its own beauty.

Another cut from silver, another fistful of strands, and Kingston’s eyes drop to them as his voice slinks up to their ears. The taste of spiritual blood grows stronger, leaving the heart in a state of fondness as much as wreckage, a vicious cycle that it devours with avarice. Discarded tresses impersonate that of a thistle, a childlike wonder where the wind sweeps them out of the open palm like a wish will be granted. But Taliesin is there. Kingston is here. They may as well have the Atlantic still separating them. There’s a smile, anyways, before turning to the side with face directed to him.

“As ephemeral as it might be, it only makes the heart grow fonder. I am an addict of the highest degree,” they agree in their own way, words strung together with stardust and distant dreams. It shows in the eyes, how burnt umber turns to honey in the sunset, resting on Taliesin. “How is yours treating you as of late, my star? Tell me everything I’ve missed so I can be rich in envy.”

                 he is seen and he looks away, looks down, anywhere but at kingston, eyes flickering back, sparing a glance. hesitant, always. isn’t that what it has always been for them ? a dance, one step forward two steps back. taliesin’s constant promise to himself : i’ll tell them. but oh, then they look, and they see him, and he falters. he doesn’t want to ruin it like he has everything else. 

                the host clears his throat as the other speaks, oh how cruel the way beaten heart flutters beneath the cage of ribs, how it warms and brings color to features. my star. something that means such different things to so many, a star, a wish, a gravestone. poetic in it’s meaning, just as they are in all things, taliesin has learned. how far meaning spans, how easily what it means slips from his grasp as soon as they say it. how long has it been since they’ve seen each other ? since they’ve been face to face ?  a fragile smile tilts lips, something kind, something tinted with faded melancholy.

                  eyes find kingston again, cautiously.   “ it is . . . well, i hardly think this is the place to talk about how it’s treating me, dear. ”   you never know who’s listening, what eyes are set upon them, and he would much rather avoid the flicker of camera shutters.   “ i’ll tell you all about it, if you let me fix the mess you’ve made of your own head, hm ? or at least let me take you to someone who can touch it up a bit. ”   to be fair to the other, it wasn’t terribly bad, but minor touch ups would no doubt need done. 

[taltalk]

kingstongilmore‌.

The night is young, ascending from the waning daylight. Kingston is in between roles, that is to say they have none to speak of, not at least one that the production company should know of. As the sky sheds its orange hue, donning the cloak of twilight, they also mold the self into something they must become–the curse of method acting that overtakes one’s own soul in the process.

A pocket knife is held in their right hand, long hair in their left from the last character that was entrapped. Eyes flicker from the reflection that looks back to the person behind them, all encased in a building’s glass from the outside looking in. It does nothing to stop the seemingly erratic behavior, too used to an audience that (if anything) feeds into the action of sawing the dark locks off in clumps.

“Ah, isn’t that what we all strive for?” The Welsh is long gone, but never can England be forgotten, not the streets of London nor the playhouse that was inhabited for so long. “To evoke feeling from the eyes that lay in wait to be entertained? You’re welcome.” The clippings fall to the concrete. “Though, the pleasure is entirely mine.”

                       orange and purple create a gradient, mixing like paint, becoming almost indistinguishable in the hollywood skyline, casting long shadows along the streets, buildings looming. it is, and always will be too bright here, the watchful eye of stars covered, light pollution is a problem he has long since grown accustomed to. perhaps the light is playing tricks on him tonight. 

                     taliesin is quiet as he studies the other, shock written across aged features and for once this expression is not dramatized, it is not washed beneath carefully crafted acting, it a vulnerability the host has not felt in some time, honest in the discomfort of it. the other often made heart feel warm, but now, oh . . . it breaks, the same way it had when joan appeared on his doorstep, the same way it broke seeing bert cassidy’s star, it is an endless ache, split open by those close to him. because he shouldn’t be able to see them, really he shouldn’t . . . but here they stand, with a pocket knife in one hand and locks of chestnut hair in the other.  waves of brown, carried by a breeze before coming to rest further down the street.

                what he means to say is : why. why are you here, what are you doing here ? what he says is ;   “ entertainment is only as valuable as the entertainer. ”   the response is perhaps, automatic, his own accent still heavy on his tongue, brought back by visits to amelia across the pond. split by emotion as it claws further up this throat, until he feels as if he can’t breath. what he means to say is ; how could you come here ? what he says is ;   “ your brand of entertainment has always been your pleasure, hasn’t it ? ”   

[agxntkeen]

[taliesincollier]

love bites ( 1999 ) / ★★★ ★ ☆

genre : horror (?) / romantic comedy directed by : beau thomas . starring : vivien barnes ( as elizabeth fairbrooke ) & taliesin collier ( as alexander madison )

“ this is not your typical romance. ”

                Alexander is a young man trying to make it as a successful artist in the big city, as far as he’s concerned life is pretty great. he has an amazing job, and he’s just moved in to an amazing apartment with his gorgeous fiancée Eliza. that is until a night of passion has Eliza turn Alex into a creature of the night.

                If your immediate response to the words “Love Bites” is to imagine Taliesin Collier half naked sprawled across satin sheets, then bazinga ! you know exactly the topic of tonight’s review !

Keep reading

[taltalk]

eloisebardot‌.

“but i want to help you.” for what it was worth, when he’d gone all in on the talk show it’d worked. it wasn’t the best life, but it was a sustainable one. and he held sway over so much more of the public opinion than she’d like to give him credit for.  “i’ve even brought treats for bwlyn. i think the time would do us both good!”

                   if he didn’t know better, he’d say he’s being manipulated, and it certainly is working, strings of old man’s hearts easily played as she mentions the corgi. he’s almost sure he is so easily played because she reminds him a bit of his own daughter, or perhaps it is pity for young girl who has signed her life away. either way he tries not to let the slight sway of decision show, instead he raises an eyebrow.    “ does that count as bribery ? ”   he questions, slight smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

[taltalk]

simonsaysfuckthis‌.

“Oh, shit! What a sick burn! That’ll teach me not to dick down old Tal!” Simon sarcastically praised with a slow clap tangling around the words, loud and simply adding fuel to the fire he was intent on lighting the match for personally. “Yeah, I get it. I’m not in the market for a wannabe bear either, but where do you get off playing like you’ve got an axe to grind? You got everything you wanted, asshole.”

                   taliesin does his best to keep from showing his annoyance, nose wrinkling none the less, he’d been nothing but nice in his first refusal, but being pressured to agree isn’t exactly his favorite thing in the world, and at this point, simon is lucky he hasn’t had him removed from the building.   “ oh, don’t act like i’m the one making this a bigger problem than it needs to be. ”   he certainly isn’t going to let the other accuse him of being the instigator.   “ why is it you can’t leave well enough alone ? you came here and asked for a slot, i gave you my answer, you’re the one refusing to accept it. ”  it boils down to a simple question and answer doesn’t it ? the question being : what’s your problem ?  the answer just as simple if a bit too rude for tal’s taste. the problem is you’re being a twat, when i’d really like to carry on with my day.

[taltalk]

                  he doesn’t visit the walk, not as often as he should for all the friends laid to rest there. but he’s restless, and sleep doesn’t find him as easily as he wishes it would. so he finds himself walking the too bright streets of Hollywood’s late night, the stars in the sky nonexistent compared to the ones below his feet. he walks at a cautious pace, slow and careful, studying polished lettering, the names of friends and family, the differing sizes of polished tombstones, their walk a ghost town, a space saved for each of them, cancelled or not they’d all end up here one way or another, it was an inevitability he knew too well by now. 

                    Taliesin tried not to be terribly avoidant with others. but lately, they’d been dropping like flies, the constellations seemingly stretching for miles. it all makes him a bit uneasy. as if coming here is the most sadistic game of roulette, looking at the newly planted names, hoping that the next one won’t be someone too close, hoping he won’t be questioned about it. soft heart can only ache so much for the children here, who signed their lives before they even began, it is hard to remember he did the same, once upon a time. a twenty year old kid in LA, he’d signed his life away before he truly knew what it meant. 

                  but self pity was something he tried to keep at a distance, he’s signed his contract, so had they. but at the end of the day, that didn’t make it hurt less, anyone in LA could tell you that. he’d like to say it gets easier, and for other’s maybe it was, but Taliesin’s heart had always been too soft, too open, and the pain always lingered a bit too long. 

                  he finds an older selection of them, leans to move wilted petals carried by the breeze, picking them up carefully, slipping them in his pocket, a sigh pulling from his lips, but he spares them a smile, fragile as it is, there’s pain there still, but it’s long eased into dull ache, not dissimilar to prodding at an old scar.

                  he doesn’t visit the walk, not as often as he should for all the people he’s help put there. 

[taltalk]

vivwindsor‌.

Vivien was sat at her desk as she continued work on the script she was writing. There was some strange part of her that had always been pulled to the dark worlds she wrote in. But it snapped her out of it as she heard the door open. Turning around, she offered an extremely warm smile. “Hey there! How are you? Is everything alright? Anything I can help you with?”

                   he does his best to keep calm, warm smile pulling the corner of his mouth,   “ i don’t  mean to interrupt. . .”   he’s hoping to secure guests, and while actors themselves are far more common, and most times more popular, he likes to interview writers, likes to allow them to share where the stories start, where they begin.   “ i did try to call, but i think i may have gotten the wrong number... ”

[taltalk]

simonsaysfuckthis‌.

Simon can’t even call himself a recovering alcoholic. He is what you would call a well-established alcoholic that has earned himself a chip from AA that tells him he’s a lost cause. Taliesin’s words still give rise, a little too close to the truth, even if he’s done nothing to hide it. Hell, he’s made a whole bit about it. “Bitch, please,” he pops off again, hands now flat on the desk so the host has nothing to do but face him. “Fisting you down the throat would be the only thing I wouldn’t fucking regret, so come at me, man. Or just get me on the show. I’m down for whatever. Let’s go, boomer.”

                 “ you’re not exactly the type i go for when it comes to having things shoved down my throat, dear. ”   this smile is far more practiced, patience worn thin.  taliesin shifts, he doesn’t step away, or falter, eyes meeting the other man’s.   “ you really might want to learn how to ask for things. ”   he sighs, allowing irritation to fill features, as if he’s too tired to hide it.   “ you’re not getting a slot, simon. ”

[taltalk]

Taliesin Collier 

[taltalk]

simonsaysfuckthis‌ .

Tal. Fucking prick. He didn’t have the time? Yeah, right. He just didn’t want to be bothered. Truth was, though, if the show had been his (like it should have been), he wouldn’t have him on it either. “Look, I didn’t schlep all this way for nothing. You think you have a beef with me now? You don’t know what’s coming to you.”

               stack of cards is carefully set to rest on shinned surface, almost-surprise flickers behind his eyes for but a moment before it is hidden by soft smile as he turns to look at younger man. if he didn’t know better he might just say that sounded rehearsed. he bites back such comment, keeping it trapped behind his teeth before it can slip off his tongue and past his lips.   “ do you make a habit of threatening people to get your way ? ”   piss poor excuse for a threat as well.    “ you sure you don’t want to sober up a bit ? before you do something you might regret. ”    a warning, Taliesin keeps temper on a short leash, but fingers itch to release when patience is worn thin. 

[taltalk]

             it is not often taliesin refuses interviews, but stubborn nature leaves answer as a simple no. annoyance is well hidden behind kind features. eyes stay locked on papers, notes carefully shuffled as he lays them carefully on desk.   “ you’ll find another show, i’m sure another host would pick you up in a heartbeat, dear. but i really am booked. ”   he’s lying, a fact their manager could tell them. 

[taliesincollier]

Taliesin Collier - Things. ( 001/??? )

wikipedia.