#cancelled.starter

[atticuswinters]

a glass filled with ice clashes together, the sound made louder by choice as the bourbon refuses to settle. there is nothing to be done. the days between bidding and casting are tedious. the chips falling in slow motion, they must remember their favorites. “the lead?”

#cancelled.starter

[astridwintcrs]

“this seat is taken” her gaze flicks up to the person who is now grabbing the other edge of the chair across from her. whether they contest the judgement or not is up to them. call it a test, call it a short lunch break. she doesn’t much care, she’s only curious. “i didn’t think i’d be seeing you so soon.”

#cancelled.starter

[ariawintcrs]

“it’s off center.” she turned to the person next to her with a good natured smile, as easy going as it comes. but, the edge still comes through. just enough to show force. that she cares, not that she’s controlling. “they need to move it a third of an inch. you see, don’t you?”

#cancelled.starter

[mylesdelaney]

It wasn't his idea to have a chaser of mouth spray. An assistant's choice, tugged down, mouth opened, clinging for dear life in a vodka-stained throat. For the rest of the show he could swear he had a mojito instead of something out of a paper cup, posing as water. Water with a special kick, enough to last through the hour until the lights could dim, the guests to get on with their lives, to let him begin to walk off stage with a hand already working at the tie around his neck. He wasn't going far. Just far enough to get to the mini bar, a staple of the show itself, more used by host than those on his couch.

"Too late for last call." There's a sound from behind him, making him turn with bottle still in hand, nozzle open and streaming into a tumbler. "Do you wager I could make your mouth from here like at the funfair? Piss poor of a prize in that, isn’t there?"

#cancelled.starter #look at that tag come out of nowhere

[siobhanproductions]

She didn't celebrate the date, but she couldn't push it far enough out of her mind to let it completely slip either. There was no joy in a divorce. The joy was in its freedom, in the way it corrected a path that had started off on the wrong footing, not the reminder that it had been walked along in the first place. She's learned that there is more value in the future than the past, strictly reserved to visit, not to live in. Perhaps it's why she's chosen to wear the pair of earrings she does--the ones that were made from the ring she was given, melted down and repurposed. It's fitting for a wedding.

"It's refreshing to see a lack of cameras broadcasting every move."

#cancelled.starter #clownwedding

[damionxkillgrave]

Donate/Trash. The marker squeaked over cardboard, thick black letters over a folded up box. Some of Bonnie's old stuff that he had been left with that had stayed in the same box as when he had been the first one to pack it up in. Old vanity set and curlers. Not a lot for him to do with that. Maybe Kit would have gotten a kick out of it if she had grown up, coming down the stairs with half-curled-half-fried hair.

He moves to the next one in the garage, door wide open to let in the air and light, an eye on the street every so often. Who knows? Maybe the Zodiac was still out on the prowl somewhere. In the meantime, the two open boxes awaited in front of him. Kid.  Kiddo. Smart move to put those names in different colors. Now, which one was the food processor going to go to... The one who doesn't cook but is married to one who does? Or the girl who is probably going to use it for anything but food?

"...Sorry, Fred. I’ll make it up to you with the pasta maker."

#cancelled.starter #i know it's prebuilt for the girls but there's wiggle room there

[skylardevisser]

He's only here to help Tomas fulfill the order of catering for one of the film sets. Precious bakery goods are gently placed on the table for the crew and cast to nibble on between shots. His brother is the actor, the one that is the most recognizable, second only to Ade who Skylar has listened to is known on her phone through her clock app. He has accepted that. But although his name might not be known, he's hard to ignore. He's on a set, and that means he should dress like he belongs, but he is also a chef, and he should dress like that, too. He's settled on a suit, color pairing mismatched, and his white apron over it. This is a balanced combination.

To the first person to come up to the table, the main thing that's been drilled into his head to avoid is what comes out his mouth: "No strawberries."

#he's bummed out by that but #no death on his watch #cancelled.starter

[sebastianxsteele]

The gunshot echoed through the plantation. The hunter knows a noise that ricochets off the trees frightens off the rest of the potential herd, but that is not Sebastian's concern. He may have guests, but it doesn't make him their caregiver, only their host. They will sharpen their skills or they will sharpen the blade that is currently running down the underbelly of the suspended animal he's preyed on. The buck's antlers are brushing the dirt beneath, leaving the faintest trails in its pendulum-like swinging, controlled only by gravity and the knife that's slicing through its fur to be peeled back.

"Improve your footing, will you?" Black eyes have their peripheral focused in on, the sound of a twig snapping has caught the attention in the silent backdrop of the Virginian woods. "Hunting accidents are common when self-sufficiency is a foreign concept.”

#self-sufficient you mean surviving a hellscape for the lolz #cancelled.starter #steele plantation obvs

[tomas-visser]

| open

"No, there has be to a mistake-- I'm pretty sure the delivery was made here already this morning, I- I got the notification.." Panic rose within Tomas as he plead the receptionist who had zero clue about what was happening having entered started her shift at Prometheus. Tomas dropped his head as his brown locks flopped forward in dismay, with a soft dejected sigh. "Sorry, have you seen a medium sized crate arrive-- about this size and-- and coming from France- should have some fragile label on it.." Tomas felt a presence came to his side as he immediate ask the next closest person he could find.

#hi jen i promised an open starter #cancelled.starter #what else to do but to torture our boy with problems #hes trying to get ingredients for Masterchef #and it was supposed to come in ahdhdhdhd #but hey it vould be anything at this point i left it vague #;starters #;open

[marceloxrico]

“It’s not constructive criticism...  From a more experienced perspective, we say it’s a paradigm shift. But, as you can tell, a mentor’s job is never as easy as it looks.”

#cancelled.starter #look at that tag coming out of nowhere #i see you claudia #talk to your mentor

[calremington]

Not a single word of Dunkirk had been written by Cal. Even as director, faced with the option of editing the script, his copy of it was with minor ideas jotted in the margins, most of which were lazy eights, and the rest were unrelated to the story. Things were always bound to work out in the end. These features filmed themselves, really. Point and shoot. Learn a few lines. Stand here or there. It added up at the end of the day, a day like this, where the script supervisor leaned over to him, whispering something amiss, catching what he hadn't. He had to put down the chocolate croissant for it, wipe the crumbs that had spilled down off his lap as he eventually stood up, calling for the cut.

"Have a proper chat, why don't we?" he called over, arm swooping in the air, beckoning forward to join, snack still in his grasp. "Missed a beat, yeah?" The supervisor nodded when eyes slipped to her, good enough for him, taking up the script, trading out the pastry for it. "Somewhere along here, haven't mucked it up any, though. Bit of a labyrinth, this whole jumble of words." The pages turned, but with what direction? Smile shooting over instead to kill the time. "Sure you know where the faultlines are in all this by now. Best way to crack on with the scene, I'd say, is to..." the sentence drifted, then with a light in the eyes, as if a lightbulb had flicked on, continued, "picture you're having a row but you don't have the first clue what about." Because that perfectly summed up the scene, anyhow. "The rest will fall where it can."

#you're going to meet the anti-Julian today fhdkfh #he's a touch of Miguel and a touch of Damion #cancelled.starter

[zoexmarshall]

Ampersand was the underdog, not a worthy contender against the soft commercial glow of People magazine or even the edgy cut-throat powerhouse that was Axed!. On that lowly totem pole, though, was the staff of Ampersand, and at that very bottom rung, face half-covered in dirt and splashed with mud whenever it rained, was little Zoe Marshall. Iced coffee, double espresso shot, pumped up with caffeine and sugar from the source of her clutched hand, her foot anxiously tapped outside the locked studio door as she sat, waiting to strike.

One sign of movement caused her to bounce up, short heel clunking against the concrete slab, caught on its edge, tote swinging into her side, coffee knocked forward as her balance flailed. She was hardly the viper she wanted to be, hand catching her fall, sacrificing the mocha as trade-off as it splashed. She would have rather had the scratched knee than the waste of five bucks and her lifeline to meeting today's deadline. The deadline. The person. The door.

"No, no, no!" she grappled with the concrete, pushing herself up, flinging forward to just have her fingertips miss catching the closing door. "Shi-!" she caught herself, wheeling around to have the person finally in her viewpoint, eyes lighting up. "Hi!" She waved. Idiot! She waved! Hand still stained with the mocha she probably spilled on their shoes, and this girl waved! It was retracted, dried off on the back of her skirt. More idiot! "Heh. Fancy seeing you here, huh? ...outside... you know...your studio... I mean, a studio. I don’t know whose this is... You busy?"

#cancelled.starter #dumb girl^10 self insert^30

[kingstongilmore]

Kingston's cloak was left outside of the set, not wanting to contaminate the sanctity of the set that they would be giving themselves up for until the director was satisfied. They liked it that way. A challenge to find the similarities between one soul and another. James was a writer, too, passionate about the stories that spilled from the pen, but then there were the uncharted territories that the actor was trying to become. How James, under Annie's imprisonment, was having his mind slip from him, playing tricks, unable to trust what was happening, questioning the pain, questioning whether it was deserved, the betterment for himself, the only truth to grasp onto was knowing that you had to leave, had to come back home.

"I need to try this," they spoke aloud, the nearest person nearby, the accent from Britain replaced with the Americanized version to help shape the character put forward. Their finger was on the script, the scene of an unintentional torture apparent. "You have to make the straps as tight as possible while we're working, too," they went on, wrist already slipping into one of the restraints at the head of the bed. “The only way I should be able to get out is to break a bone.”

#this is open to a lot of people so I kept it vague hfkdjh #my original idea is the water torture scene so ahaaaaa #cancelled.starter

[tastextatum]

tatum’s lips puckered out into an exaggerated kiss, her voice going up three octaves as she spoke to the reptile on the other end of her screen. “hi babyyy!! mommy’s picking you up dinner right now, i’ll be home soon.” the redhead was absolutely smitten with her new pet, so much so she’d never stopped to question why julian santiago had been so willing to part ways with the beautiful snake--and why he’d given it to her, someone who was more or less a perfect stranger. no, tatum was simply too preoccupied with the darling creature to really give a shit about the circumstances that had brought crowley to her. she stared at the screen a few moments longer before waving and ending the call, looking up with a grin. “i’ve had crowley for three hours and if anything happened to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” 

#jgjkldsfjkglfksdj #thanks julian #cancelled.starter #is that the tag/??

[caylabarker]

Her resignation letter was the hardest thing Cayla had ever tried to write.

On one hand, there was a part of Cayla that wanted to hurt Miguel, and the keen narrative sense developed over the past year told her that this would be the perfect time to strike. The season finale, if you will.

Life wasn't a TV show, though, of that Cayla had become keenly aware. Now, hours into trying to write this stupid letter, it had dawned on her that nothing she wrote would ever be able to reach him through the haze of drugs and stupidity. Why should it? Nothing, not her devotion or love, had before. It ached, knowing that he would accept her hatred with the same apathy he had accepted her affection.

There would be no sense in flinging insults that wouldn't land, in the end. Although she doubted very much that Miguel would bother to report her, she couldn't be sure if he even read his own e-mails since she'd stopped doing it for him. Nothing could jeopardize her job with the Cancellation department, not even her own futile revenge.

Begrudgingly, Cayla set about editing. Frowning down at her laptop screen, she mumbled, "How do you tell someone politely that they'd be lucky if they choked to death on their own vomit because you're going to be their boss one day?"

#cancelled.starter

[siobhanproductions]

It wasn't always the money that meant success. It was the critical feedback, the feeling of a polished product, the fact that the points of the contracts on her production had not been hit to the point of cancellation. If they happened to reach that end on their own recognizance, there was nothing to be done, but it would not be held over her head. A contracted actor had signed their /contract/ with all the liability laid out before them. If only we all could be so lucky to know the worst consequences beforehand.

Siobhan had been in the business too long to let it hinder her. Mahogany desk, veneer shining from what was not covered by scripts awaiting to be put into use, to be picked by her good name and brought to life from her funding and supervision. Even the blot at the door could not distract her fully, eyes raising in her own time to catch the face.

"You aren't scheduled," she pointed out at first, her normal voice showing no highs or lows, no inflection to betray whatever emotion could be still within her. "Your own schedule is full from what has been relayed to me."

#cancelled.starter #mainly claudia since jen is the only one who knows her so far BUT hfdkjfh feel free to meet her