extrabow-blog

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i’m thinking (not realizing, because this is, you know. glaringly obvious if you’ve watched me hop around) — i have more than a handful of cranky middle-aged white men on my roster, so would there be any harm in taking this one and melding him with another pre-developed muse? could i just. transfer a few traits and settle into an old character with a new face?

(i’m talking about lesley! i could just take what i’ve tossed together here and add it to the mix there. focus on a slightly younger verse for a bit, add to my icon collection for the older ones—)

thoughts? concerns? bail on both and return to the tumblr-absentee life?

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I wouldn’t say I was the best manager in the country, but I’m in the top one.

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i have completely forgotten how to write and it’s driving me bonkers

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rhys’ wedging himself between the door and its frame is believably tuck-into-the-shop-freezer-to-escape-a-hot-day juuust until he’s stood there long enough to be sniffling. the fingers that aren’t twisted white around the handle shake at his side; whether from random terror or rolling cold-chills remains the mystery.

he’s in the way of the frozen potatoes. should take you home for doing me this service, he thinks, then tips his forehead into the edge of the highest shelf and shuts his eyes. garlic ones, maybe.

@selfsaving, call.

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this is a person-to-person exchange. unscripted, unrehearsed, unweighted by performative expectation. as well as he knows he hasn’t stumbled onto stage by mistake, he can’t help — when the conversation stalls on his end — treading choppy water the way he would as an actor.

         ‘ — ah. line? ’

@gangofgeniuses, call.

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Charade (1963) dir. Stanley Donen

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         ‘ i’m sorry. ’ rhys throws a hand out in front of aziraphale’s chest (not near enough to touch, but certainly to discourage tilting) and cranes around him as if he’s inconsequential; a stubborn obstruction between himself and the retreating form of his “insulter.”

         ‘ tell me that man hasn’t just mistaken you for me. ’

@holywatery​, call.

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before he catches it rolling with the toe of his shoe, rhys watches his cigarette spark and flicker dull red against the dull grey pavement. it always feels to him like a fleeting offer of mercy — make a run for it, lad, you’re facing extinguishment — before he drops his heel and twists at the ankle.

         ‘ you, ’ he says. he starts to point an accusatory finger, then thinks better and uses it to scratch at his thigh. ‘ don’t you run the place? ’

@futurehalted, call.

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rhys’ virtual invisibility here, stateside, is less a vise-grip about the neck than it is back home. his receding into the american throng feels more by choice, whereas wales owes him a spotlight. a trumpeted entrance. he is their winning export, after all.

         ‘ it’s a rental, so it really shouldn’t— ’ rhys sighs and shuffles to the edge of his seat, lets his elbow hang out the window, and leans outward, through swirling smoke, to offer a clearer voice. ‘ where might i find someone useful? ’

@kiyote, call.

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the big thing to know about this one is that he is in a constant state of crisis but is just good enough at acting, actually, that the key vibes he’ll give off are a. low-effort asshole and b. distracted self-obsessor

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if denial of his onrushing return to anonymity were a gymnastic ring of which rhys had to keep hold, still doing the acting, then? from the mouth of a well-meaning local was the phrase to slick his palms with sweat. the words have run in his head so long they’ve taken his own voice, the wheeze of a kindly older gentleman long abandoned.

         ‘ not the toilet attendant, ’ he says suddenly, falling short of charming self-deprecation and landing, instead, somewhere vaguely apologetic. ‘ but i have got mints. ’

@martychars, call.

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there’s no business like show business and i tell you it’s so.

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THE DEATH OF STALIN (2017) SENTENCE STARTERS feel free to modify pronouns etc. as necessary! content warning for violence, death, gore.

“Put that apple down. You’re always eating bloody apples.”

“You’re obstructing the story.”

“You keep saying that. It’s not helping.”

“Shoot her before him but make sure he sees it.”

“Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna get killed, I promise you.”

“This is just a musical emergency.”

“Nobody be alarmed, it’s fine.”

“Sit down! Do not defy me!”

“Time for a cowboy movie.”

“I hope this office isn’t bugged.”

“As God is my witness, I won’t do it. The Lord will see me through.”

“What the fuck? What fucking brainless fire-safety fucking idiot put that there?”

“I’m exhausted. I can’t remember who’s alive and who isn’t.”

“It would be simpler and cheaper if they just drove straight into a river.”

“This is unauthorised narcissism.”

“What took you so long? Did you fucking walk here?”

“Each name you give me is one less bit of you I’ll cut off.”

“Greetings, by the way.”

“Do it or I’ll cut your eyes out one at a time so you can watch it happening.”

“I was testing you. Get used to that sort of challenge.”

“Are you wearing pyjamas?”

“You’re not auditioning for the Bolshoi.”

“Can we just stop twittering like fishwives at the market and concentrate?”

“He’s heavier than I thought he’d be.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? That’s mad.”

“You have a nice long sleep. I’ll take it from here.”

“How can you run and plot at the same time?”

“Look at that herb garden. Does nobody tend it any more? Do people no longer eat herbs any more? Do they only eat weeds?”

“You look dead.”

“I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, I will never ever let any harm come to you.”

“Who said anything about harm?”

“Who would put a lamp on a chair?”

“Fuck my boots!”

“You’re not even a person!”

“You look like you’re about to be bulldozed into a lime pit.”

“Do you want me to hold back your hair?”

“It is my duty to look good for the people.”

“I will deal with whatever horseshit you have presently.”

“Please understand that this is not some cynical ploy.”

“I’m unsure of what’s being proposed.”

“You’re being obstructionist.”

“We’ve got a cobweb large enough to snag a sheep.”

“What’s a war hero got to do to get some lubrication around here?”

“I mean, I’m smiling, but I am very fucking furious.”

“You never kiss my hand any more.”

“A vile crime has been perpetrated.”

“You’re a fucking stain on that uniform.”

“I should have intercepted his fist with my face.”

“I simply don’t care.”

“You know, I think I misspoke when I said, “No problem.” What I meant was, “No. Problem.””

“Sometimes the shortest speeches are the most memorable.”

“You’re bending and cracking the truth like a human body.”

“What the barrelling fuck are you talking about?”

“Who the fuck in their right mind would want everlasting life?”

“Two clowns, one joke between you. Work on your fucking material.”

“Fuck off or I’ll punch you into a sticky pulp.”

“If you could do me a favour and just nod as I’m speaking.”

“People are looking to me for reassurance and I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Are you blaming the dead for their own death?”

“It’s time you realised who kept the dagger out of your back. Show some fucking respect.”

“I’ve seen what you’ve done. I know the truth. It’s all written down.”

“Only friends could shout at each other like this.”

“He’s using you. He’s using you, and then he’s gonna kill you.”

“I’ve had nightmares that made more sense than this.”

“I hate being sober. It’s a terrible, terrible mood to be in.”

“Stick by my side or you’ll be beaten inside out and strung up for the crows.”

“Act sombre, act respectful, like the rest of us, please.”

“Saddle up, cowboy.”

“Take his belt off. It’s hard to run away with your pants falling down.”

“I’m gonna enjoy peeling the skin from your self-satisfied face.”

“I have been picturing this moment every day for the last three decades.”

“You should feel at home in a lavatory, you little coil of shit.”

“Fucking hell, I’m knackered. It’s been a busy old week.”

“I will bury you in history.”

“You smell like rendered horse.”

“This is how people get killed, when their stories don’t fit.”

“Can you ever trust a weak man?”

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feeling extra adventurous? in addition to following this whim-blog, you could like this post. make the bold assumption that i will write you something

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The Damned United, 2009 (dir. Tom Hopper)

By MonicaGellerB