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GUESS WHOS FOOKIN BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK

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shitakiri:

Holy shit, that meme made it all the way out here? I, uh, no. No. I’m a cheeky Nandos - I mean, I’m not, but you don’t need that whole story - and Wales is like our disappointing shut-in younger brother. Their set-up is better than ours though, probably because they can’t just trade on the London brand and actually have to fork out for good equipment and actors who care about their art. But that’s none of my business.

… What I’m saying, basically, is definitely please take me to the theater. I’ve been wandering around for half an hour now watching people pretend they can’t hear me, and I can’t think of a better mood to meet my co-workers for the next three years in. That’s not even a joke. They’re like dogs. You have to establish yourself as the alpha before they can get a word in.

i had no clue the theater life was this tough-- i mean, i sort of watch plays here and there, but i figured it was just typical “lets work together as a family, y’all” sort of stuff when it comes to the backstage mechanics of things, not like.. when cousin sue comes in with her pet dog and doesnt tell you that he hasnt gotten his rabies shot, and uncle fred decided to drop the bomb that he’s remarrying the same chick that keeps taking his clothes and hightailing it to hawaii-- and then the five rat children he bought along end up pissing off the dog,so you got half the family trying not to get bit by some mut and the other half arguing with fred about his romance life

you know, like that, but in showbiz

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hakanamu:

It’s loose wrists and fingers tapping glass that shattered long ago, morse beats on stale air. Their neck pops when they cant for him, a gaze that sits shellshocked in the throne of their skull, settled well deep into the curve of the sockets. They find him well enough, cheap bangles they’ve kept tight around their wrists rolling together when they pivot on their heel.

“Bit by bit,” they confess, dry and forlorn, but wishing for nothing and wanting even less. “Haven’t seen a soul worth talking to by ways of walking. You’re red around the eyes, and you don’t look like you have the heart left in you to cry. Lost, very lost, but I’ve wandered to worse.” Tap, pause, tap pause tap, tap, drumming the air without meaning. Maybe he knows. Maybe he’s on his last legs. 

“Pry. Go on, pry.”

   “I’m only meaning to be polite, is all.”

   lie one marked down on the calendar, a new page free from a neat row of crossed out dates and circled deadlines; he writes over them and scribbles in the header, mindless loops and drops that mask over what was written.

   “I’ve been raised to-- to be concerned about other people and their well-being, and I was wanting to know if you needed any help.. My sibling and I, we live not too far from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble if you were looking for somewhere--- anywhere, to stay.” with a foot stepping over the other, natural fidgeting tied in with a meek appearance; he smiles, gently and with a dip of his head. “You probably don’t need my offer, especially-- especially when it’’s coming from a complete stranger, but it’s only fair to ask.”

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aikyogen:

There’s the catcall of it, the thump of ugly feet on concrete steps pushing the echo down and up into her ankles though it shouldn’t, the silver acorn screaming fire through her breastbone. She’s pushing back for space, shoulders bend away from them for wingspan summoning and not a jot of fear in her left to top up. The disgust casts an echo of it down into her mouth though, wipes it clean over her features, discomfort where her bones should hold none.

“Get your lies to the mount and scream them high and expect my ears to take it, that’s the plan you rode horseback clattering up here to deliver? That’s the revenge you’re taking! The ash that presses down on you doesn’t care for the grudge you’re wrapping up, won’t feed the squaling child you’ve hidden away in handfuls in your jealous little pockets! Through the fire twice and the world in my pen, where’s your proof, where’s the lie I cast down at all! The naming of things to bind them down or get off of my stage, take your ugly jaws and wire them closed, I dare you, I do!”

   They hold their hands together like lost lovers, fingers intertwined and nails  digging love lines into their own palms, trembling beneath skin and bones. It’s at adrenaline and blood, quivering limbs and the pitches of her voice, that they blink past wiry frames and thick lens along with the hate that escapes through a cheeky grin.

   “My lies hold more water than the boat you used to sail yours on, with the corks kept in place and the bodies used to mop against the deck-- I’ll quote and re-quote the same line to you, I do not bite my thumb, but you see I do bite my thumb and I’m taking the bone with me! I can stand here and preach to the clouds, to the hallelujahs and prayers, but you don’t care about the spit that leaves my mouth; would you truly, ever so truly, let me breathe your air for another moment, waste the sand in your hourglass and fill your ears to the wall with contempt? It’s only polite to check, and double check, triple it when unsure and bow to the royalty in question when it boils down to the digs at your grave!” 

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   it’s a crawling sensation, figdeting under the skin and crawling up his spine-- joined by the hip becomes a one man show, what considers themself to be his other half left to sleep in a sinking bed in the back of his thoughts. he’s left bare and without a shell, a shy step forward with first meetings tucked under his breath.

   “You--,” pause, step, breathe, repeat. “--are lost, aren’t you? I-I don’t mean to pry, I’m, I’m only stepping out for fresh air, and, you look like you’re wandering aimlessly, and---”