FISTful of dallas

[dan]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/FrIVr.png); width:410px; padding:10px,bTable][STYLE=background-color:#D1DCDC; border:1px #282828 dotted; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; font-family:arial; color:#282828; padding:3px; width:280px; margin-top:15px; margin-bottom:15px; overflow:auto; height:216px]‘Dallas! Dallas!’ Spotted. Barely ten minutes ago he’d landed in the city but there were already people who were whipping out cellphones and cameras and screaming out the star’s name. The longer Dallas was gone, it seemed, the more ravenous the crowds got when they caught a sighting of him. For the past few weeks he’d been hiding away at his horse ranch, Dragontown Ranch. It served as a private resort whenever he needed to escape from the public eye and retreat from the pestering world. Dragontown was his own little sanctuary located on six hundred forty acres of open land in the Flint Hills of Kansas. The ranch had twenty seven horses of varying breeds: eight stallions, seventeen mares, and two twin colts named Jack and Ripper that had been born four months ago. Life in the Hollywood spotlight could be taxing, especially when you were someone of Dallas’ status and were under constant scrutiny of the media. He was a private man who shied away from the spotlight and the media didn’t like that. They wanted to know everything there was to know about him because he was so well-known all over the big screens but a mystery when it came to his personal life. Other than the drugs that is. Everyone knew about the drugs. In his younger years Dallas had a few nasty scares and some run-ins with the law for his drug habits. DUIs and offenses of possession littered his record. Oh, if only the media knew just how bad it was or just how bad it could get. The most the tabloids ever reported on was the alcohol consumption, the weed and the pills, though they usually failed to uncover what kind. And then of course there was that one incident back in the mid-nineties when he’d been busted for cocaine and sent to jail. Ever since then Dallas was a lot more careful to keep his business strictly his own. Sure there were times when he didn’t care and might wander out into public during one of his milder trips, but for the most part he only dealt with the heavy hitters behind closed doors. ‘Dallas! Dallas, over here!’ More and more heads were turning as more and more people began to realize the elusive celebrity was in their midst. Lights flashed as pictures were taken with phones, cameras and whatever else was capable of getting the job done. The man carelessly tossed the crowd a meager, half of a smile then lowered his head and strode through the airport with his two bodyguards at his side. When he stepped outside into the night air there was a small mob of people who immediately started screaming his name and squealing (or at least the women did) for attention. And of course the scene wouldn’t be complete without some camera-welding paparazzi around. How these people managed to get out there so fast at two o’clock in the morning was beyond him. No doubt word had slipped that he would be in LA for the recording and production of Adelheid; but how they knew the date and approximate time of his arrival when he’d been careful to keep it under wraps stumped him. Sneaky bastards. As his bodyguards led him towards the street where his ride was waiting, fans tried to get as close they could to shove pens, papers and whatever else they had at Dallas. He’d almost ignored them successfully, but there were always two or three ambitious fans in a crowd who knew how to annoy the hell out of you. Just to shut them up and give them the time of night, Dallas paused and grabbed one of the many random waggling pens, despite how tired he was. After scribbling his name on a mini-poster of himself, a book was being shoved forward. Then a notepad. Then a jersey. And before he knew it Dallas Grady was signing autographs outside of the Los Angeles International Airport at two in the morning. [/style](TAGS) open! (WORDS) 675 (OUTFIT) click here (NOTES) cooome and get 'im! (LYRICS) so you want to be a rock & roll star by the byrds (CREDS) template by oxymoron! of back to neverland

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[Deleted]

schuyler had just been driving. she had nothing to do today, no auditions, no filming, no nothing. los angeles was a big city, and there were plenty of places for her to drive. the traffic was something that she'd gotten used to, and she actually didn't mind. it was almost sort of soothing, the way you could just melt into the highway and blend in with the rest of the cars, not having to worry about speed or changing lanes until your exit came. the radio was turned up obscenely loud, and she was absentmindedly singing along to some song she'd only heard a few times before. that was part of what she liked about modern music. it was catchy enough that you didn't have to hear it very many times before you knew, more or less, all of the words.

lately, life had been good for the young woman. she'd gotten her first job, and then landed a leading role, her very first. to sky, this had been a sign of success, and a way of the universe flipping the bird at her mother. the woman had said that she'd never go anywhere, that she would crash and burn, that she would fail. whenever she'd called, it had only been to remind her daughter of how awful her life was going to become when her money ran out and she didn't have an income. and now look at her. sure, her apartment was small, and maybe not all that nice, but it worked. and she had exactly what her mother said she never would. she had jobs. and that little fact kept her going, put a smile on her face. nothing like proving to your mother that you weren't a sorry-ass failure to brighten one's day, am i right?

she glanced at the clock. two am. damn. she hadn't slept in a while. but that was to be expected now, her sleep schedule had become all... wonky. she didn't have a set sleep pattern. she slept whenever she was tired, and it seemed that wasn't all too often. usually, when she slept, it meant that she'd been drinking the night before and had passed out. generally, however, she didn't pass out when she was drinking. black out, maybe. but she didn't pass out. so, really, schuyler could go two or days without sleep. you wouldn't ever know, either. she was thankful for the modern miracle of make up, because she could cover up dark circles and make herself look far more awake and healthy than she might without the make up.

as she kept on driving, she decided to take the LAX exit. why? she had no idea. she hadn't been there very much, and she might even go people watching later tonight. the airport was good for that, and she figured anyone hanging around that place at two am was going to be pretty interesting. pulling into the parking lot, she parked and stayed in the car for a moment, touching up her make up and fixing her hair. stepping out, she shouldered her purse, looking around carefully. the night are was comfortably cool, a nice change from the hot weather they'd been having as of late. schuyler wasn't much of a heat fan, to be honest. it was much easier to get warm than to cool off. the only good thing about summer was the chance to wear cute clothes that didn't cover up most of your body.

walking forwards, she stopped by the door, looking to the side as she noticed a large crowd for the first time. in los angeles, a big crowd with that much screaming usually meant someone famous. she was lucky, none of her films had been released yet. the most people recognized her for was her less-than-lovely appearances in the tabloids. but still, she changed course, heading towards the group. it might have been someone she knew, and she just wanted to see who. as she got closer, she was able to discern the name that so many people were shouting: dallas. a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. she and dallas knew each other, they were friends. maybe not the closest, but she definitely considered them to be friends. they'd met at a bar and hung out for a good deal of the night, and there had been another time where there was something about connecting brains, finland, and hide and seek. the details were a little blurry. she had been drunk.

she looked at the crowd, and with a sigh, pushed her way through the people. for five foot three, she could force her way through a crowd pretty well. once she was standing at the front, she looked up at dallas, who was busying himself with autographs. "you kinda look like indiana jones." she looked at the women staring at him. obviously, they didn't care. sky couldn't help but roll her eyes at them. ridiculous. "and if you're going to keep signing autographs, you'll be here all night. doesn't sound like fun to me."


tagged for dani as dallas!
wearing THIS

baby, you're no good for me,

[dan]

[STYLE=margin-top:30px; font-family:arial narrow; font-size:35px; letter-spacing:0px; color:#282828; border-bottom:4px solid #282828; line-height:10px; width:430px; text-align:left]PRICE YOU PAID FOR YOUR RICHES AND FAME

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/FrIVr.png); width:410px; padding:10px,bTable][STYLE=background-color:#D1DCDC; border:1px #282828 dotted; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; font-family:arial; color:#282828; padding:3px; width:280px; margin-top:15px; margin-bottom:15px; overflow:auto; height:216px]The thing about signing autographs was that it was never-ending. It was like battling a Hydra, the mythological seven-headed creature seen in Hercules. After you signed one piece of paper, three more items popped up in its place, followed by their owners’ desperate pleas to sign their book/poster/homework assignment first. If it wasn’t a pre-planned event with a set time span it was easy to get caught up in the fray especially if you weren’t in your right mind to begin with. Dallas didn’t notice Sky until she spoke. When he heard her familiar voice he looked up at her from the rubber ducky that had been pushed into his hands (he couldn’t believe it at first and thought it was a joke) and gave her a warm smile. Something that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle was released from his mouth. After Dallas finished signing the toy, he handed it back and accepted a magazine from another fan. There was a photo of himself on the front cover. “That’s ridiculous," he told Schuyler. "Indiana Jones was an archaeologist.” Maybe in the context of what he said the thought was random and made no sense, but Dallas always fancied himself as being a cowboy. Indiana Jones was no such thing. The closest the fictional hero came to being a cowboy was donning the high crowned hats and maybe riding a horse or two in a couple of the movies. And performing some fancy trickery with ropes. But more than anything else the man was an archaeologist with a keen taste for adventure. “Besides he doesn’t wear eyeliner.” Now Dallas didn’t necessarily go around dabbing the stuff on his face every other day, but ever since a few of his former movie roles required him to wear the makeup he’d grown a certain fondness towards it. Besides Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wore it and they looked damned badass in it. Women loved it and it made him feel like a rockstar so why not? If there was ever a person who could make being a cowboy rockstar a new thing it was Dallas. And he wore it well. “Oh you have no idea,” he muttered in response to her most recent comment. Dallas shifted his attention back to the magazine that was in his hands and he scrawled down a short note to the fan it belonged to, followed by his name. As he handed the Sharpie and the magazine back to the girl he glanced at Schuyler. “So then are you here to sweep me off my feet and rescue me? I never get to be the one saved by the hero.” A grin graced his face as he straightened up, but the exhaustion in his bloodshot eyes was still evident. He’d had a long day and to be honest he didn’t even know why he was still standing out here signing autographs. He’d done a little bit of “winding down” during his trip to Los Angeles, and though the effects were wearing off he could still feel them lingering on his brain. If you couldn’t tell from the lazy drawl of his voice or the red that streaked his eyes, then the stench of weed and nicotine that clung heavily to his clothes and breath was enough of a giveaway. [/style](TAGS) addie as schuyler (WORDS) 560 (OUTFIT) click (NOTES) i'm so sorry for the wait love! i didn't want to give you a crap post :x (LYRICS) so you want to be a rock & roll star by the byrds (CREDS) template by oxymoron! of back to neverland

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[Deleted]

she snorted as he argued that Indiana Jones was an archaeologist. "okay, well, that's an archaeologist hat, then. stubborn." she laughed and shook her head, looking back up at him. he had a good seven inches on her, at the very least, but then again, everyone did. one of the things that happened a lot when you were short. pulling out her phone, she did a quick google search, and then showed him this picture of the fictional "hero", taking a step towards him to make sure he got a good look at the screen. she thought that the hats looked similar enough, although now that she was looking at it, they were kind of different. that hat was the way she pictured indiana jones' hat to be in her mind, though, so... she was right? kind of? "you're right, though. he could never rock the guyliner at forty look." she stuck her tongue out at him before laughing.

"i don't know how you do it, honestly. i'm impressed. not gonna lie." where she'd been teasing before, schuyler was now serious. hopefully he didn't translate it into 'you are pretty cool, for an old man' because that's not how she meant it at all. it was more of a 'you are pretty cool' thing. the only reason she'd brought his age up is because she liked to tease him about being "old", which he wasn't. not really. not compared to some other people. besides, his age wasn't something she ever really thought of as a barrier. they could hang out and go have a few drinks. they were both adults and that was good enough for her. the only thing that had ever potentially made things weird between them was that at the very beginning, when they first met, she'd been a little starstruck. but come on, it was dallas murphy! what was she supposed to do? of course, she would never admit to being starstruck. accuse her of it, and she'd call you a liar.

"hmmm. well, i could help you out and be the hero of this story. or i could sit and watch you suffer. i think you're too nice for your own good," sky said with a small smile. he wasn't, really. and that's why she thought it was funny. crossing her arms, she looked at the hoarde of women (and some men, but hey, an autograph was an autograph). part of her was ready to be at this level of fame, to have people tripping over each other to get her to sign a piece of paper or... a duck? odd. but another part of her knew that it had to be taxing. a lack of privacy was a big thing that she wasn't looking forward to, but it seemed that the paparazzi had already sunken it's claws into her personal life. but here dallas was, more or less trapped in a very open place. that, she definitely was NOT looking forward to, and decidedly could live without. but fame had it's ups, too, which would hopefully outweigh the downs.

finally, she gave a melodramatic sigh. "fine. i suppose i can try and do something," she said quietly, making sure the group of fans didn't overhear. that would foil her quickly developing plan to help him escape his prison of autographs. turning, she watched the door, waiting for someone to walk through the door. a woman with obnoxiously bright hair entered. perfect timing. "oh, my gosh!" her voice was more enthusiastic than normal. but oh, well. she pointed at the woman's back. "is that nicki minaj?" they all turned, or at least most of them. she didn't think they would buy it. but they did. idiots. shaking her head at them, she grabbed dallas's hand and quickly pulled him behind her, to the parking lot. the security must have figured that she wasn't a threat, or that they knew each other from the way they were talking. either was a good guess. they did look drastically different- he had a whole dark, broody look about him. she was, by comparison, much lighter and more innocent looking. but appearances could be deceiving.

winding through cars, she finally got to her own, unlocking the doors quickly. "hurry up," she squeaked, hopping into the driver's seat. "from what i understand, these fans will do anything to get their autographs. and i will charge you for any damage to my car." she laughed and threw it into gear, carefully backing out of her parking spot before starting to drive through the parking lot. "so, is that a grand enough act of heroism for one night?" she looked at him sideways, smiling. it was more of one of those happy to help kinds of things. plus, now she had another opportunity to hang with dallas, which was always nice. "and i..." she drug the letter out for a moment, thinking. "... have no idea where we're going to go once we get out of the airport. requests?" there weren't really a lot of places that she wasn't willing to go, so he had a lot of options.

tagged for dani as dallas!
wearing THIS

baby, you're no good for me,

[dan]

[STYLE=margin-top:30px; font-family:arial narrow; font-size:35px; letter-spacing:0px; color:#282828; border-bottom:4px solid #282828; line-height:10px; width:430px; text-align:left]PRICE YOU PAID FOR YOUR RICHES AND FAME

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/FrIVr.png); width:410px; padding:10px,bTable][STYLE=background-color:#D1DCDC; border:1px #282828 dotted; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; font-family:arial; color:#282828; padding:3px; width:280px; margin-top:15px; margin-bottom:15px; overflow:auto; height:216px]An archaeologist hat? What planet did this woman come from? Dallas snorted. “Archaeologist hat, my boot,” he replied. Archaeologists could keep their bent-out-of-shape baseball caps and dusty face masks. They weren’t about to stake claim on fedoras and steal the cowboy’s glory, that was for sure. Dallas peered down at Sky’s phone and briefly studied the picture of Harrison Ford in his Indiana Jones garb. The two fedoras did share their similarities, though Dallas prided his collection of hats on standing out rather than being a spitting image of a fictional character’s costume. Dallas frowned slightly at the picture and shook his head, brushing away any doubts. “Mine is definitely better,” he managed to murmur before Sky caught his attention with her added comment. Dallas grinned and lowered his head slightly as he lightly touched the brim of his hat with his thumb and index finger. “Why thank you m’dear. It’s not an easy look to pull off. There’s an art to it, y’know.” No offense was taken to the age reference. Not only was Dallas used to the banter - his younger comrades often found entertainment in poking fun at his age - but he just didn’t care. There were times when he may have pretended to be offended, but Dallas was comfortable with his age and he saw nothing wrong with it. He didn’t go through the hassle of dying his hair unless it was required for a role. It wasn’t like he needed it anyway, not yet, but when he would the chemicals wouldn’t be needed. There was no point in trying to hide or cover up his age, especially when he couldn’t always get it right in the first place. Sometimes he might joke that he was twenty-eight or thirty-two, but there really were days when he would forget how old he was and he might mistakenly tell someone he was thirty-seven. Age typically wasn’t something Dallas kept up with and there was nothing about it that bothered him. Dallas quickly inked his name onto another pad of paper before casting his dark brown eyes onto Schuyler. “Ooh, you’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch. What happened to that sweet, blonde girl I first met?” Admittedly when Dallas first met Sky his impression had been that she was an innocent young woman. Her big doe eyes, wide smile and trailing blonde locks sculpted that image quite well. The better he came to know her the more he realized just how much of a firecracker personality she had. And there was nothing wrong with that. Schuyler was great company to keep. The two of them could laugh, talk and drink the day away without a worry. An inquiring eyebrow lifted as the man watched Schuyler curiously, wondering what scheme she was cooking up in that brain of hers. He couldn’t help but to shed the tiniest of smiles as she stirred up a scene to distract the crowd from him and steer their attention to a decoy instead. Cunning. Dallas allowed Schuyler to direct him away from the street and towards the parking lot. On their way Dallas passed a look to his driver letting him know that he wouldn’t be taking the limousine, but that the man should be on call regardless; the unspoken message was understood. “They’d camp outside a place for days just to catch a glimpse. Imagine what getting an autograph would make them do,” Dallas said as he got into the passenger seat. “Why charge for damages when I can just buy you a new car?” he mused. After shooting her a knowing look, Dallas buckled himself into his seat and leaned back to get comfortable. A sigh of content whispered past his lips. “Ah you did well young grasshopper. Indiana Jones would be proud.” He adjusted his fedora and returned her smile with a broad one of his own. A short laugh pushed through his mouth as he settled into his seat. “Wherever your heart desires, love. So long as it’s peaceful and not exploding with noise,” he replied. He’d had a long day and he still feeling quite tired from it. Anywhere with a dark and broody atmosphere that was low on light might have done the trick as long as he could unwind and let his mind relax. “Or you know what? How about a jazz bar?” he piped up. [/style](TAGS) addie as schuyler (WORDS) 734 (OUTFIT) click (NOTES) ---- (LYRICS) so you want to be a rock & roll star by the byrds (CREDS) template by oxymoron! of back to neverland

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