#Theatre for Young Audiences

[thestarlightforge]

HAD MY FIRST DAY AT THE KENNEDY CENTER TODAY!!

We laughed. We cried. (TRUST ME, IT MADE SENSE—the music is PHENOMENAL.) Best “first rehearsal” I’ve had in a WHILE tbh 🥰

Graduation from grad school (on 12/17) and the end of college has felt like this looming black hole in my life, school being all I’d done with my independence after graduating high school and moving away.

But it's finally starting to give “Wild Blue Yonder.”

“Nothing,” sure. But—

“Nothing... at the edge of Creation.”

😌❤️

[spiderwarden]

@thcdoomed requested pictures (this post) and I’ll do them one better, because who am I to deny:

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

modern productions of cats stop age-ing down the characters challenge. let jelly be older let jenny be older let skimble be older. and not even casting wise because that is another discussion entireely i think. just how the characters get played they most seem to be so much younger. even munkustrap skews SO young lately and hes not even an old character

One of my IRL friends once said that Munkustrap is a 40 year old man and I have never been able to read him as anything else, and tbh that tracks. Hard agree. Munkustrap being anything but in his thirties or more does not compute to me. Late twenties if I am being *really* generous. The vocal maturity alone is already in this...really weird young tenor high spot that I don’t like - what I’m going to call the “theatre kid” belt voice fresh outta school and it stayed that way - the 2016 Revival, if you will. 

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me. 

I will say I don’t think we can fully separate the conversation of the casting age of the performers from this overall point - 20 year-olds really shouldn’t be playing individuals who are meant to be 50 plus when the performance world already has so few roles for them/fucks them over by casting younger people in age makeup when they do. Like, no, Old Deuteronomy shouldn’t be 26 in 2022. Doesn’t matter how good they are - they’ll still be good in fifteen years. Neither should Gus. Neither should Grizabella. That should be the baseline standard on its own. With the other cats that are perhaps meant to be on the older side (though again, this is more up to interpretation in, say, Skimble’s case but tbh it has no reason to be), you can get moreso away from stricter limitation and “act” a bit older and cast more vocally mature individuals, but like...30+ year old performers exist. Their abilities don’t suddenly disappear after they turn 40. They don’t stop existing after 50. If they’re worried about them keeping up or their ability to perform in something demanding like CATS up to 9-10 times a week, cast multiples - Korean and Japanese theatre does this all the time (what was that? more money? that sounds like a production company problem to me).

But that’s just my opinion. 

[gay-jewish-bucky]

it's wild to see the general public realize what good children's theatres have known for a long time: it's unethical to subject children to the stresses and responsibilities of professional acting/being a public figure and many of the children who do preform for a living are exploited by predatory adults who are supposed to have their best interests at heart

[suchananewsblog]

An artiste shares her experience of a theatre production, Tara, Compass Crow, which hopes to create environmental awareness in young audiences

As a little one rising up in the Potala Palace (Lhasa, Tibet), the Dalai Lama would usually run up to the roof and practice his telescope upon herds of yak being taken to market. On seeing them, he would race to a shrine room, sequester some of the choices, instruct a palace employee to purchase all the herd and liberate them. It is that this highly effective spirit of direct motion that…

[abnerkrill]

fantastic rebuttal to "writers don't deserve better pay because the stuff they write is terrible/unoriginal", full thread here

(to explain, the "Unknown" under his name is from a add-on bot detector; it usually can assign a percentage likelihood that a user is a human being and not a bot, but I think the blue check system disrupted the add-on so it says "Unknown" underneath his name now.)

[image id under the read more:

May 7, 2023 tweet thread from Tom Vaughan @/storyandplot

With #WGAStrong rightfully in the spotlight this week, I've seen some less-than-sympathetic comments focusing on the lack of originality in our projects. This is a fair criticism of the system, but not the writers. A quick history of how we got here (thread emoji)

The first thing to understand is that Hollywood has NOT run out of new ideas. The studio’s preference for I.P. has nothing to do with regurgitating ideas and everything to do with MARKETING.

The late 60s-70s is generally considered the artistic high of the studio system. Ironically, many contribute this to corporations buying up the studios! The corporations knew they had no idea how to run a movie studio, so... they put creative people in charge.

This is how you got the run of so many great films the studios would never make today. They also took bigger chances on young, promising talent (the first "film school generation" of filmmakers.)

But with the success of JAWS and STAR WARS, the corporations demanded more of those kinds of hits. The creative folks insisted such things were unpredictable, and the business folks said let's make them less so.

(Sidenote: This was also the same time a completely different phenomenon was happening. A/C was becoming the norm for theatres, making summer movie-going much more attractive.)

Over the next decade, more and more MBAs and marketing people gained influence in the studio system. Being business folks, huge hits were not a creative problem as much as a product/marketing problem.

The 80s is when the “high concept” became pre-eminent because it narrowed a sales pitch to one sentence, a trailer, and a poster. This made everyone a marketing agent for a movie because everyone could explain what it was about!

In the 90s, marketing became just as important as the film itself (reflected in their respective budgets) when Hollywood discovered they could profit from fifty years of pre-existing awareness for old TV shows and movies.

This allowed the marketing department to move away from pitching a movie and convincing you to go see it (lower success rate), to simple “audience awareness” and building anticipation. (higher success rate.)

The audience knew what THE FLINSTONES the movie was. They just needed to know the casting and when it opened. No one needed to have the remake of GODZILLA explained to them. They just needed to know when it opened.

The marketing department prefers AWARNESS over SELLING because awareness is something you can throw money at. Selling is harder, and it’s less predictable. This is why franchises are so valuable.

Whenever someone says, “That’s something I can sell!” It’s usually something that can sell itself. What they mean is, "I just have to let people know about this!"

Hollywoods's reliance on property the audience is already familiar with is 100% because... the audience is already familiar with it. It is easier to market the product and this increases its chances of success.

This focus on I.P. has become so pervasive, many, including executives themselves, have forgotten WHY it's valuable. They'll option an unknown comic BECAUSE it's I.P., forgetting that it's unknown and lacks the main asset of I.P.

Writers do love writing on an I.P. that means something to them. Every Star Wars fan who became a filmmaker would love to work in that universe. But we do not love it more than our own original work. We would always rather work on that.

So when you see another remake, or reboot, or adaptation, and think, "Can't they come up with something new?"

Remember, the answer is yes. Yes, we can. And we want to. You can blame the market or the marketing, but either way, the widespread production of truly original content is just not the studio business model we're in right now. #WGAStrong

end ID.]

[susiejj]

"Now those whose love we wanted but didn't get, we emulate them. That's the only way we have, in our power, to get the closeness and love that we needed and desired. So when I was a young man looking for a voice to meld with mine, to sing my songs and to tell my stories, well I chose my father's voice. Because there was something sacred in it to me. And when I went looking for something to wear, I put on a factory worker's clothes, because they were my dad's clothes. And all we know about manhood is what we have seen and what we have learned from our fathers, and my father was my hero. And my greatest foe. Not long after he died, I had this dream, I’m on stage, I’m in front of thousands of people, and my dad's back from the dead and he’s sitting in the audience and suddenly I'm kneeling next to him in the aisle, and for a moment we both watched the man on fire on stage. And then my dad who for years, he sat at the kitchen table, unreachable, but I was too young, I was too stupid to understand was his depression. Well I kneel next to him in the aisle, and I brush his forearm, and I say, "Look dad. That guy on stage - that's how I see you.'"

— Bruce Springsteen during a performance of My Father's House at the Walter Kerr Theatre, July 2018.

[koobratzy]

The Jewel of the North

Just a little fanfic idea I had. No one writes for Cregan, so now I take it upon myself to deliver what we've all been waiting for. Let me know what you think, and please reblog if you like what I wrote so far. It will help me reach a bigger audience <3 I love you all. Remember to take care of yourself!

Y/N Valaryon always knew she was a bastard. Her silver hair and violet eyes protected her from such rumors, making the court believe that she was the only trueborn child of Leanor, but she knew the truth. She was as much out of wedlock as her younger brothers.

The princess could see how Daemon Targaryen looked at her. He tried to be discreet, but his eyes always followed her like a shadow, no matter where she went. The prince was like a ghost. Hovering over her at all times but invisible to the naked eye. When Y/N managed to catch his gaze, there was longing inside. Desire to be near, to show his devotion for what it was. Love for his firstborn child. But he couldn't openly do that. The court was too watchful of Rhaenyra anyway, even without his involvement in the young princess's life.

Her own personality convinced her even further. She was full of fire. The veins inside her body transported heat with every breath, her heart burning with so much anger that even the princess got scared sometimes. From a young age, Y/N trained with a sword, just like her brothers did, and the abilities she presented could put many young lordlings to shame. It only became more apparent when the dragonless princess was found by Cannibal. Rhaenyra was terrified, her only daughter standing so close to the ferocious beast capable of swallowing her whole. And yet, it never happened. The dangerous monstrosity picked her. Of all dragons, she was chosen by him. The only beast that could match her inner flame and rage.

Young Valaryon knew that she was his. They could pretend all they wanted, but she knew the truth.

When Laenor Valaryon died, the curtains of the theatre of life they played so long finally fell, and Daemon got what he always wanted. His firstborn daughter. He could finally be the father he always wanted to be and help her reach full potential. Show not only how to control her rage but also how to use it to achieve whatever she dreamed of. His daughter would always be protected, either by him or her own strength.

Their life on Dragonstone was perfect. Cheerful, free of any worries, luxurious. Peaceful without the constant unsettling presence of her uncles. But dark clouds were gathering over the clear skies. A storm more dangerous than any in history was coming way quicker than anyone expected, and it was ready to devour House Targaryen with its jaws, throwing the realm into chaos.

What will become of Y/N's life? Will her entire world burn? Or is a bit of ice and snow enough to extinguish it before it turns into ashes?

[aayakashii]

routine

Pairing: Kagami Subaru x MC/reader

Tags: SFW. Character analysis, a bit of angst, hurt x comfort (I think), fluff and romance between you and Subaru, over 6k words

Author's note: this is probably the biggest fic I've written lol and I'm kinda proud of how it came out, since it also took me some days to fully flesh it out. I'd appreciate comments if you liked the fic! Comments literally keep every writers alive. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Kabuki Glossary:

Biwa: Japanese short-necked wooden flute traditionally used in narrative storytelling

Geza: the music that plays during kabuki, performed live

Hanamichi: flower path; a long, raised platform, running left or center to the stage through the audience, connecting to the main stage, used to make dramatic entrances and exits

Mie pose: a powerful and emotional pose struck by an actor

Onnagata: actor who acts the role of a young woman 

Sewamono:  a genre of contemporary setting plays in Japanese traditional theatre

Shamisen: three-stringed traditional Japanese musical instrument

Tachiyaku: young adult male roles, the actors who play those roles; most commonly these are hero roles, though not all of them

Takemoto: a specific type of song, it is also the narration device used during a kabuki play. It consists of a chanter/narrator (tayu) and the shamisen players

Subaru had become used to it.

You would come to visit him right after your classes, if you weren’t assigned a mission, and Subaru would welcome you with tea and some obscure sweet he managed to get, just to let you try it. You two would talk, and you would share stories about your friends in the Academy, how your life was before you became cursed, and he would tell his own stories, even if he thought they weren’t nearly as interesting as yours.

It gave him a sense of belonging.

Subaru hadn't had much experience with friendships or any interpersonal relationship at all.

His life was merely the background for his career as an actor. His bare skin was merely the foundational bricks for the red and white makeup that would adorn him once he was out on the stage.

When he was under the spotlight, his monotone voice resounded loudly – louder than the drums, louder than the shamisen, louder than the biwa. Subaru became gigantic under his costume. His movements were sharp and hypnotic, the flow of his kimono as he walked down the hanamichi and the pierce of his gaze turned all heads towards him. He was a genius, a talent like no other, the future of the kabuki theater.

And he did not see himself in any of it.

Here lies the true tragedy of a burned out genius child: to go under insurmountable levels of pressure, only to find that the dreams of your parents were never your own.

Subaru did not want to be under the spotlight, no matter how much the spotlight wanted him and no matter how much others wanted him to be under it.

As he was forced to keep walking the flower path, his chances of living life as a normal kid were gone: he had no friends, no acquaintances, nothing that helped him find out who he was for himself.

So, he had no experience.

But he knew that he could pick out the feeling of belonging somewhere after spending time with you.

Eagerly, he waited for the clock to reach 5PM everyday, knowing that you would come through his door to spend time with him.

Routine was always something he appreciated, anxious as he was. He didn't like surprises, he wanted things to be predictable, to give him even the slightest sense of control over his new life as a student.

Therefore, to know that you would come to visit everyday, at the exact same time, was his comfort – even if the thought of you made his heart skip a beat, although he didn't quite understand why.

Not even standing behind the greatest stages made his heart drum loudly after a while. As the green, red and brown curtains of the stage were pulled, his body went on automatic. The takemoto went through his ears, unnoticed, and the geza became white noise. He moved gracefully, although his mind flew into other planes. As the audience clapped enthusiastically as he stood in his mie pose, Subaru wished he was somewhere else. He felt extremely guilty for not being able to appreciate the hard work of the musicians and the actors, but after he figured out that the passion he thought he had was merely a reflection of his parents’ passion, everything became black, white and gray.

Yet, planning fancy snacks for you made his hands clammy and his heart restless – and it wasn't the most comfortable feeling, however, he didn't hate it. He knew you'd come through with the routine and wash his anxieties away.

However, much to his dismay, his comfort had been ripped off of him for the past three days. His precious routine had been broken and Subaru would be lying if he said he wasn't counting the hours, the minutes and the seconds until it was restored, somehow.

He just had no idea how to fix it.

You had been fiercely avoiding him for three days, ever since the last meeting was cut short, and he blamed himself for hurting you in the worst way he could have ever done it.

Subaru has always had awful self-esteem.

No matter the compliments about his genius, none of them stuck to him. When you despise what you do, being good at it just brings forth more bitterness towards oneself.

Subaru was a rarity in the kabuki world – someone who could represent a captivating tachiyaku or the most elegant onnagata. He could be the hero or the princess, something that most actors could not do. To don the costumes of two genders was the cause of endless praise and awe from the audience and members of his acting house alike – none of which he accepted.

To him, his talent came as second nature. There was no need to hone his skills – they were already there, much like an additional organ he was born with – and he loathed that fact. He loathed how this pushed him towards a world in which he didn't want to participate. 

He truly valued the hard work he was now putting into his studies, something he was creating with his own hands. He could see his own growth and pat himself on the back for it – even if he still had a hard time accepting compliments (he knew the only reason he was the captain of Hotarubi was due to his status, after all. He was just a figurehead).

Subaru’s stigma was an even bigger burden towards his path of bettering himself. 

If he hated being an actor, he hated himself even more for his powers. Much like his talent, he did not ask to be bestowed with such a repugnant stigma. It was the reason why his parents would never touch him, never hold him. He was a walking breach of privacy, a dangerous little thing that could easily become a weapon, if the truth of his stigma was found out. He was untouchable in every way, figuratively and literally.

He truly couldn't understand how Lyca, Zenji, Haku and you were so quick to accept his ugliness. 

“You aren’t disgusting, something like this could never be your fault”, you had said, when he wallowed in self-pity after revealing his secret. But to step out of his cycle of self-hatred was a tough task.

Your visits helped, however. For the first time in his young life, someone saw him as himself and stayed. 

Haku and Zenji were his true friends, but they still saw him through the lens of that one genius kabuki actor. And Lyca… he was alone and desperate.

You, however, had the ghouls of Darkwick Academy wrapped in your little finger and, still, you chose him. Despite his social awkwardness, his anxieties, his anger, his stigma. You chose him whenever it was time to get lunch, when you could be resting, when you could have anyone else. The thought of it made his heart skip a beat again. He was sensing a slight pattern.

Yet, it had been three days, and you were gone. No messages, no visits, no news.

He understood your avoidance despite it all. He had committed the worst sin he could have done to his dearest friend.

He had touched you.

You had come to Hotarubi at your usual time, 5PM, sharp. Your hair was disheveled and a few droplets of water stained the tatami of the tea room as they fell from your face and hands, while you hurriedly took off your shoes.

“I’m so sorry for making a mess, Subaru! I had to run here to arrive on time and ended up forgetting my umbrella… I had to walk under every cover I could find, but I still ended up being sprayed by the rain.” you said, as you stood at the entrance, shaking your body as if you were trying to get rid of the excess water.

Subaru shot up from his spot, his face contorted in worry.

“Oh no, please don’t do that!” he said, as he ran to quickly rummage through the drawers of the room for towels “You always have to use an umbrella when you come to Hotarubi, what if you get a cold?”

You grabbed the towel he gave you, smiling awkwardly.

“I know, I know. I just didn’t want to arrive late. I didn’t want you to get anxious.”

Subaru blinked, face blank, as he was caught off guard by your answer.

“You… you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not that anxious.” 

You laughed, and he felt his breath hitch on his throat.

“Suuure, and I don’t breathe oxygen…” you said jokingly, hanging the towel on a nearby hanger after you finished patting your face and arms dry, giggling as you noticed the way he was pouting slightly. “I’m just playing with you! I’m sorry.”

“No no, I’m sorry about worrying you to the point of you having to hurry…”

You rolled your eyes and raised your hands to put them on his shoulder, quickly stopping yourself before you could actually touch him, resting them on your hips instead.

“Subaru. You don’t have to apologize for something like that. I am doing this because I care about your well-being. You're my friend and I want you to be okay. It’s not something to feel apologetic for. Instead, you can just thank me for being a great friend.” you winked and he immediately looked away from your face, that was too bright for him to stare at.

“O… okay… Thank you.” Subaru murmured, forcing himself to look at you again, from under his lashes, a small smile adorning his features.

“You’re very welcome.” you nodded “Now let’s drink some tea please, I do need something hot to warm myself!”

“That’s true, let’s get you warm so you won’t get a cold, please.”

Soon, time slowed down as you two sat and chatted about everything and nothing at all. You talked about how weird Darkwick's shopkeeper is, how awfully crowded the dining hall is (Subaru avoided it like the plague), how scary Professor Hyde can be sometimes, how loud Kaito and Luca are, how cute are the little cats running around all day…

How funny it is that you two always met for lunch in a place where only romantic couples hung out, you mentioned in passing, almost mumbling to yourself like you didn’t want to be heard.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Subaru asked, already looking apologetic, hearing you despite your low voice.

“No, no” you were quick to dismiss his concern “It’s, um, I don’t know... Doesn’t it make you a little nervous?” you said, laughing sheepishly, a foreign blush warming the tips of your ears, which went unnoticed by him.

“You get nervous when we’re there? We can eat somewhere else, you don't have to stay in a place you dislike just to appease me…” Subaru muttered, frowning “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice that it was making you uncomfortable…”

“No, no, no” you shook your head vigorously “That’s not what I meant at all! I… I don’t think I can explain it to you just yet. I don’t think I’m… ready, or… whatever, I don’t know…” you trailed off, incoherently.

“Ready? I’m sorry, I don't understand.”

“It’s okay” you flashed him a smile and grabbed one of the kimono catalogs that were littering his table, fidgeting with it, mindlessly “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep eating there, okay? Promise we’ll keep eating there?”

“But I want to understand what you mean- oh!” Subaru cut himself off as he saw a thick sheet of paper cut your thumb while you flipped it anxiously “Your thumb…”

You looked at the small cut that was letting out a single droplet of blood and shrugged.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice… it’s okay, I’ll put a bandaid over it later. Wait, Subaru? Wait… wait, no!”

The boy didn’t quite register his own movements, as his hand went to grab your bleeding one, gently grasping your pulse with his soft fingers, running his own thumb over your cut, as if his touch could heal you faster. 

His hands were bare.

You inhaled sharply and, instantly, it all flashed into his mind in quick succession. Like a large wave overwhelming an inexperienced swimmer, he was pushed down into the deep waters of those memories, causing him to gasp, breathless.

Subaru was swarmed by visions of himself in every possible situation. He saw how your gaze followed him when you spotted him from a distance in the campus; how you searched for him in the crowd of students during lunch time, on the tranquil balcony in which you two have shared your food together plenty of times before; and how you turned your head around whenever you heard someone mention his name in passing.

He had glimpses of the way his hands moved while making tea; his profile as he smiled gently when he tried explaining your homework to you; and his own eyes softening as he talked about Lyca. In your eyes, he looked magical. Ethereal, even. Someone who deserved to be admired, loved, praised and he knew these were your own emotions being whispered so subtly to him.

Subaru saw himself in a way the mirror had never reflected back to him. He discovered parts of his being that he wasn't able to find out for himself, because they would only come to the surface when he was with you.

In his mind's eye, right then, Subaru laughed, loud and breathless, as he clutched his stomach – all the restraint he built through his lifetime, gone through the window, after you had merely told him some silly joke. The way he brightened with your words, making your heart beat in a terrifying, yet delightful way, made your breath catch on your throat.

And much like a dying man seeing his whole life flash through his eyes, he arrived back to the present and saw himself, staring wide-eyed at his own hand tightly gripping yours.

He blinked, and his consciousness came back to him.

Subaru, like usual, felt incredibly weak after using his stigma, yet he still quickly turned his gaze towards you, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish, unable to say a word.

Your face was beet red and your eyes were blankly staring at your own lap, lips pursed into a thin line and eyebrows furrowed. Your free hand was clenched into a fist, knuckles pale with the force in which you dug your own nails into your palm.

“I…” Subaru murmured, trying his best to weave a coherent thought.

You got up quickly, breaking the hold Subaru had onto your arm, and grabbed your things in a hurry.

“I think- I think I should go.” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat harshly “Thank you so much for the snacks and tea, they were delicious like always” you blurted out, quickly making your way to his door.

“Wait, no, I- I'm sorry, I-” Subaru held his hand out, as if he tried to reach you but you were too far away, oceans of distance between you two.

“There's nothing to apologize for!” You said, way too cheerfully for him to believe you “I just gotta go now. I have… I gotta go. Yeah. See you soon, Subaru.” you stepped out into the rain and soon disappeared into the mist that surrounded Hotarubi, not waiting for whatever he tried to say.

Subaru stared at his own hands. The little droplet of your blood stained his fingertip, and he took a deep, shaky breath.

He had betrayed you. He had seen your innermost memories without your consent and now you were mad at him. He had to apologize. He had to beg for your forgiveness, until you took pity on him and allowed him to be your friend once again. 

Falling into a deeper pit of self-hatred was hard, but he tried to keep it together, for you. He needed to be lucid in order to beg for your pardon once you came back to visit him. He just hoped it would be soon.

But you did not see him soon at all.

“I don't think they're mad at you for seeing their memories, it’s not really like them. But maybe they're embarrassed?” Haku pondered, taking a bite of the mochi Subaru had set out for you out of pure habit.

“No” he shook his head, adamant “They wouldn't simply disappear if it was just that. I don’t believe that. I have done something that made them angry at me. I saw something I definitely shouldn't have seen.”

It was the fifth day of you avoiding Subaru and he was hanging on by the thinnest thread. He was so close to snapping that it was becoming clear to the other Hotarubi students. And so, Haku and Zenji came to intervene.

“Well... I can't really give you my proper opinion if I don't know what you saw.” Haku said bluntly, making Subaru flinch.

“I can't tell you. I would be breaching their trust again. That’s the last thing I need to do right now.”

“You are absolutely correct, my dear friend!” Zenji remarked “However, we can’t possibly figure out the true essence of your situation if you can't tell us the whole entire story! How can we write an ending without knowing the beginning and the middle of the plot?”

“I don’t know…” Subaru murmured, looking more miserable with each second.

Haku sighed loudly, shifting his legs on the seat.

“Subaru. We don't want to gossip. We just want to know the situation better. We are their friends as well, you know?” he smirked “We can help you figure out their emotions. If anything, you might feel better after venting. How’s that phrase? A burden shared…”

“Is a burden halved!” Zenji finished, boisterously.

A pang resounded in Subaru's heart at how his friends were doing their best to help him.

“O…okay. I'll tell you”

After finishing recounting the last day he saw you, Subaru sighed loudly.

“Well?”

After a moment of silence, Zenji exclaimed loudly, startling the other two.

“Oh!! The spring begins!!” he yelled, one hand on his chest as the other went up in the air “How lovely it is to see young buds bloom into perfect flowers!!”

Haku slowly nodded at Zenji’s words and chuckled, rubbing his own face in disbelief while he noticed how absolutely perplexed and confused Subaru still was.

“I see now…”

“What?” the brown-haired boy fidgeted, almost desperate to grab Haku and Zenji and shake them by their shoulders “What's going on?”

The other boys looked at each other, before turning back to him. 

“Subaru, I don’t want to beat around the bush so I’m just gonna say it straight away. They're like… very much in love with you.”

He blinked slowly, as if the words were entering his brain at a snail’s pace.

“What?” was all he managed to utter.

“Yes, my friend! Our lovely flower seems to be completely smitten by you!”

“No” Subaru shook his head “That can't be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Man, if there’s one thing that makes sense in the world, is what we’re telling you right now” Haku said, while laughing “Specially after everything you said you saw. You just… saw their feelings when they weren't ready to tell you yet, so I bet it feels embarrassing. It's probably eating them alive right now. That’s why they’re not visiting.”

Subaru stared at his own lap, his mind not properly processing the depth of the situation – the word “Love” bouncing in his brain like a lost temari.

“Then…” he whispered, throat hoarse “What should I do now?”

“What do you feel for our little flower, my friend? Do you correspond to their feelings? Do you love them back?” Zenji worded gently, as if he was talking to a scared wild animal.

“Do I love them back…” 

Haku nudged Zenji, motioning for both of them to get up and leave Subaru for the moment.

“Figure that out first. If you do, go after them and tell them you correspond to their feelings. If not, just let them deal with it on their own. Also, if you don’t like them back, don’t ask for them to come visit you again like nothing ever happened. You’d just be rubbing salt on their wounds.”

“How do I figure that out though?” Subaru looked up at the two men as they leisurely walked outside of his room, eyes already brimming with tears.

“You're a smart guy. You'll figure that out by yourself.” Haku winked at him and both him and Zenji slipped away, leaving Subaru at a loss.

Subaru did his due diligence the only way he knew how: by studying. He started reading romance mangas and watching romance movies. It was the type of media his family would never approve of, as they deemed it unworthy of someone refined like him.

Still, despite him thinking that that “forbidden knowledge” would give him all the answers, it still led him nowhere.

He wasn’t like any male lead from these works. He could never run after someone in an airport and yell their name, begging them to stay and forgo all of their life plans. Subaru wasn’t like that. He couldn't run, couldn't yell and could never see himself as more important than anything.

His self-esteem wasn’t nearly as good as what was necessary for him to feel even the slightest kinship towards the strong, bold male leads, who always had something impressive to show – something that made them who they are, even if they had failures in their personalities.

Subaru could say he had his career as a Kabuki actor as something impressive, but again, it wasn’t him. Kabuki was a part of him, yes, but he wanted to shed it like a cocoon.

Despite that, he thought, then, of all the romantic plays he had performed.

He remembered the pain of most love stories, the tragic end of most sewamono plays he performed and he felt the thorns of grief strangle his chest, tightly.

He remembered the star crossed lovers who could never be together, the man who was promised to someone else and couldn’t be with his beloved, and the woman who had her life binded to a place that would never let her be with the one she desired the most.

All of them, lovers who could never be together, so they chose to erase their own light, because being without one another was more painful than dying together.

Subaru thought about not having you in his life for a moment and he figured: maybe not having you was its own type of death. A life without his most beloved friend felt like an empty one. A loveless one.

He paused.

Love. He thought of this word so candidly, it came to his mind without conscious thought – like it was second nature, like it was the obvious conclusion. And so, he decided to allow his thoughts to flow naturally, without pressure or expectations for once.

He thought of the way he searched for your gaze whenever you two were in public, seeking your comfort and approval. 

His heart skipped a beat whenever he glanced at you and you found his eyes, smiling silently at him, as if you two had a secret inside joke. 

His chest swelled with pride whenever you agreed with him (it didn’t matter the subject) and he almost felt like he could burst with it whenever you thanked him for his help studying, or when you praised him, or when you giggled at something he said.

Subaru cared for your tastes and opinions, always asking for your favorite foods, flowers, scents and colors. He made sure to smother you in your favorite things, in order to keep you more comfortable – in order to keep you with him just a little longer everyday.

His thoughts wandered over to you at any given moment and he didn't even notice. He'd question himself whether you'd like something, which sweets he could order for you, which teas he could brew.

Without noticing, he based his life around you and it felt absolutely right when he did that. It felt like belonging somewhere.

Subaru inhaled sharply.

The place in which he belongs is wherever you are, he figured.

Subaru hastily got up and bolted out of his room, out of Hotarubi and into Darkwick's campus, where the rain was pouring heavily, accumulating around the lamp posts and pitter-pattering loudly on the asphalt. His clothes were drenched in mere seconds.

He had forgotten his umbrella.

Subaru banged as loud as he could on the door of the rundown cathedral, trying to blink away the raindrops that stuck to his eyelashes and blurred his vision. He could barely see through the heavy rain anyway, so he missed the lights on the windows flickering on and your shadow hurriedly descending the stairs to walk towards the tall doors.

“Subaru?!” you yelled through the sounds of the storm, his hands still raised in fists, ready to keep on banging at the door. “Oh my goodness, Subaru, you’re drenched!”

You pulled him by his uniform’s sleeve, doing your best to avoid touching him without his consent. ‘Always so thoughtful’ he thought to himself, feeling a little floaty after finally seeing you after a whole week.

With his realization, the dam that was keeping his feelings for you safely contained inside a hidden part of himself was no more.

Subaru acknowledged that he was madly in love with you and he immediately began feeling foolish. His fingers itched to touch you despite his fears and he could look at you for hours on end, drinking every detail and every mannerism.

It was like admitting his love was also letting go of his self control. He felt like something inside him nudged him to be as close to you as possible and it flustered him.

No wonder the movies and mangas said that being in love made people a bit sillier, a bit dumber. But the extent of it was almost ridiculous.

He followed you like a lost puppy when you motioned for him to come with you, and soon you two found yourselves in the kitchen.

“Okay” you let out a loud exhale “This is the warmest place in this dorm. You’re lucky I was already making myself some tea. Also, I’m gonna bring some towels and a change of clothes for you, although I might not have something that’s your size. Geez, Subaru, what were you thinking, walking all the way here in this storm? And this late? Without an umbrella!” you rambled on and on, pouring boiling water into a mug for him to drink and dipping a tea bag inside, carelessly.

Subaru grabbed the warm mug and looked at you, with saddened eyes that felt like an arrow through your heart.

“I missed you.”

You took a long breath as you heard the words coming out of his lips, and stared at him, dumbfounded, like he had suddenly grown a second head. You were about to reply, when Subaru shivered intensely despite the warmth of the kitchen, and you came back to your senses, walking briskly towards your room, in order to fetch the towels, leaving his words unanswered.

Subaru sipped on the tea, suddenly every insecurity bubbling up to the surface while he waited for you to return. What if he totally misunderstood your memories? What if you just loved him as a friend and nothing else, what if Haku and Zenji were totally wrong, what if what if what if-

The sound of your hurried footsteps interrupted the avalanche of thoughts that were most definitely about to bury him under a panic attack. He focused on your silhouette approaching him with a handful of towels and what appeared to be a big nightgown.

“Okay, let's get you near the stove.” You said, beckoning him to sit where you were standing.

As soon as he sat down again, you covered his head with a towel and began drying him up as best as you could. Subaru focused on the feeling of the soft fabric rubbing against his head, and then his neck and his arms.

“I'm gonna turn around and close my eyes. Meanwhile, please try to dry yourself properly and then put on this nightgown I found, okay?” you said, quickly turning around on your feet, not waiting for his input.

Subaru stared at your back for a moment, and began doing as he was told – the thoughts that were plaguing him calming down and silencing on your presence, as if you were a protective charm. His protective charm.

“I'm done” he muttered, hair still dripping, but mostly dry when it came to his whole body.

You sighed, looking at his wet mop of hair and began drying him again, in silence.

“I’m sorry for touching you” Subaru was the one who first broke the comfortable stillness between you two. 

“You know I’m not mad at you because of that, right?” you replied.

“You disappeared” he stares at you, the hurt in his eyes clear as spring water.

“I know, and I'm…” a beat passes by, longer than it actually was “I apologize. I know running away isn't the best approach, but that was all I came up with.”

Subaru stayed silent, as if he was waiting for you to complete your answer.

“It's just… I can imagine what you saw and I wasn't ready to discuss it yet.” you finished, shoulders slumping after you finish drying his hair.

Subaru moved a few strands of his brown hair away from his eyes.

“What do you think I saw?”

You glared at him, cocking an eyebrow at the question that sounded way too much like a tease.

“I don't think you’re in a position to ask questions like that, are you?” you replied, unintentionally snappy.

“Oh, I'm sorry… it truly wasn't my intention”

But it was Subaru that was standing before you, not anyone else. Truthfully, you knew he would never in a million lifetimes think of teasing you on purpose. It was one of the reasons why you ended up so lost in your feelings for him.

You sighed, more in frustration with yourself than anything else.

“I know, I’m just… Look, Subaru… I'm sorry too.”

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows, but in confusion.

“For what?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes even though you were standing so close to his sitting form that his whole presence overwhelmed you. 

“For putting this burden on you. I know you saw my… like…”

He waited yet again for you to finish.

“I know you saw my feelings for you.”

Subaru could immediately feel a warmth spread through his chest, cheeks and ears at your words. So he wasn't mistaken? So you liked him back? Truly?

“But I didn't want to burden you with them.”

The smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips suddenly dissolved into nothing.

“B-burden me?”

You pursed your lips, transferring your weight between your legs, back and forth, back and forth, anxiety clear on your face as you thought of how you could tell him what was on your mind.

“I didn't want to ruin what we have, I think? But there's no point in hiding now, right?” You chuckled nervously “I mean, you already know, but I really like you, Subaru. If I ruined our friendship because I got too greedy, I think I wouldn't be able to handle it.”

You looked at him, eyes swirling with emotion and, for a second, Subaru thought this could all be a dream – the only thing that confirmed otherwise being the uncomfortable chill of his body, a sign of a fever approaching.

“Everything you do… every interaction we have, I just get more and more in love” you cringed at how emotional your own words sounded “But I am so scared of your rejection. I think in part I was hoping you'd forget about that incident during my time away from you. I didn’t imagine you’d come after me.”

Subaru's heart beat drummed loudly and fast inside his chest, although he tried to keep it hidden (his face betrayed him, however).

“Did you think of me while you were away?” He managed to mutter.

“Are you kidding me?” you laughed, breathlessly “You were all I thought about this whole week.”

His ears burned red.

“I… thought about you all the time too.” he mumbled, gaze fixed on his own hands.

“What?”

He took a sharp breath and steadied himself, training his eyes on you as he spoke his next words.

“I'm so… I'm so sorry I'm not good with emotions and I'm sorry that it took me a whole week to understand things when I could have relieved you of this earlier but… I figured it out. I finally did.”

“Figured out what?” you tilted your head to the side and his chest warmed once again at the effortlessly cute gesture, giving him even more certainty to keep saying what he had to say.

“I like… no… I love you too.” he watched the way your eyes widened and darted all over his face, as if to search for a sign of truth behind his words.

“I am so blind and afraid of other people that it took me that long” he proceeded “But I know now. I.. I really do love you and I don't want to be away from you any longer. You don't have to stay away anymore. So please.” He got up from his seat and took a small step towards you “Please don't leave me behind like that anymore.”

You shook your head, tears welling up on your eyes, his intensity squeezing your lungs until you thought you could die, breathless, his eyes stealing every ounce of air from you.

“Subaru… Please… please don't tell me you're doing this to appease me.”

He paused.

The thought of you not believing in his words tugged a little at his heartstrings, but he also couldn't blame you. Not when he was so unsure of all of his feelings on a daily basis, towards everyone and everything, and you were the main witness of the way he clumsily stumbled his way into understanding himself.

He was absolutely sure of this, though.

“I'm not.” he said, voice steady as he looked at you.

“Because if you're saying this just because you want to keep me close, I would never be able to forgive you.” You looked away from him, pain over this imaginary scenario clouding your face. It was the time for him to extinguish your anxieties and insecurities for once.

“I'm not.” He took a step closer towards you.

“Please… don’t try to please me if you don't truly feel the same way.” You shut your eyes tightly, throat clenching as you felt the tears threaten to fall.

“Look at me.” He pleaded, and you hesitantly complied, breath hitching on your throat when you noticed how close he was standing to you “I promise you. I'm not.”

Subaru leaned forward, capturing your lips into a quick, chaste kiss, a fire burning on his cheeks at his own boldness.

He was still afraid of his stigma and how it would work with the other parts of his body besides his hands, but once he noticed he was still grounded in reality and not locked in another memory of yours, he got a bit bolder once again, and kissed you for just a little longer, lips melding together just a little more. The softness of your kiss made him sigh and his heartbeat deafened his ears. 

He tentatively rested his forehead on yours once the innocent kiss was broken.

The first thing he noticed was the warmth you radiated while he stood near you. Both of you had beet red faces and your minds were hazy, as if they were made of clouds.

You were the first to come back to reality and giggle at how overwhelmed both of you were with just a little kiss.

Slowly, hesitantly, your hand came up to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your touch like a cat.

“The stigma?” you whispered

“Not activated”

“Good.”

Your other hand came up to run your fingers through his hair, on his nose, on his chin. 

“Do you believe me now?” Subaru asked, wholeheartedly.

“Maybe, I think I'm going to need a few more kisses to fully believe you.” you smiled, teasing him a little bit.

“Really?” He leaned away to look at your eyes, still a bit worried he hadn’t convinced you yet.

“No” you snorted “I'm just joking.”

“Oh I see… sorry I didn't get it right away” he furrowed his brows, apologetically.

“I don't mind getting more kisses though!” you squeezed his shoulders, reassuring.

Subaru chuckled, still a bit flustered at your proximity. Suddenly, however, he scrunched his nose and stepped backwards.

“Subaru?”

“Oh. Oh, I think I'm gonna–” Subaru quickly turned around and sneezed into the towel that still hung on his shoulders “Oh-oh. I think I'm getting a bit sick.” he said, nasally, nose dripping a little bit as he sniffed loudly, back still turned towards you.

You fretted, hovering all around him as you scolded the poor boy.

“See! What did I tell you!” You quickly placed your hand on his forehead and gasped “Let's get you to bed right now, Subaru. You're already feverish!”

You pulled him quickly towards your room, hearing his wheezes as both of you climbed the stairs that led to your quarters.

“But I don't regret what I did” he stifled another sneeze “I needed to talk to you.”

You blushed, opening the door to your room, and glared at him.

“And now you're sick…”

You two climbed the stairs to your lofted bed and you pulled the covers, motioning for him to lay down.

He sat on your bed and looked at you, puppy eyes blinking his allergy tears away.

“But… it kinda looked like a movie thing, didn't it…?” he said, sheepishly.

You pushed him towards your pillows and covered him thoroughly, pouting a bit.

“I think it did…” you stared at the giddy smile that tugged on his lips and sighed, shaking your head.

“I'm going to be down there” you pointed to the bottom of your room “So if you need anything, I'll be here. I'll just grab you some water and medicine and come back quickly, okay?”

You got up, but as you began to leave, Subaru held your hand. His eyes were already droopy, the events of the day getting to him, along with the cold that was quickly racking his body.

“Are you going to start visiting me again?” he asked quietly.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you looked at his sleepy face, the question making you fall even deeper in love with the adorable boy in front of you, if that could be even possible.

You nodded.

“Everyday, for as long as you want me near you.” you said quietly as well.

He shifted on the bed, snuggling closer to the blankets, and closed his eyes, letting sleep wash over him.

“Forever, then.” he mumbled, and, soon afterwards, began snoring softly.

[mothmans-side-ho]

Armand called Lestat a clown in the most round about way

s2e3 hot wired the two passions in my brain into this info dump, however seeing as a central theme of this episode (and the season) is power, status, and their subversions, it seems relevant. for context, I have 2 degrees in theatre, specifically theatre history and how trends effect form. (I am in no way an expert though, and this is very simplified). long story short, I'm relishing in being a big ol nerd about this entire season

FINALLY, we got to see Lestat (a version of) strutting his stuff on stage in a scene with peak commedia dell'arte shenanigans. Commedia dell'arte is/was an originally Italian form of theatre which was defined by lazzi (comedic bits), improv, and stock characters. these stock characters have been around from Roman times and are still super familiar to us today - the young lovers, the pervy old rich man, the soldier with bravado, etc. It's been seen as a somewhat formulaic form of theatre which relied on quickly identifiable characters and situations so audiences can sit back and enjoy the butt jokes and servant beatings.

In the book - specifically The Vampire Lestat - our beloved Lestat RELISHES in playing a character called Lelio, one of the young lovers. It is in playing Lelio that he "found a tongue for verses and wit [he]'d never had in life" (TVL pg 31). It is in playing Lelio that Lestat first gets a taste of the person he can become, and it is in Lelio that we see the first glimpses of the Lestat which so fully seduces Louis. In short, Lestat casts himself as the suave and handsome romantic protagonist, here to sweep people off their feet. The young lovers are also notably some of the only roles portrayed without masks, to emphasize their youth and natural beauty.

SO IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN LESTAT SHOWS UP IN S2E3 DRESSED LIKE THIS:

He has a half mask! He's wearing all sorts of colors! He's clearly acting as a go between between two other characters who seem to be of a higher status than him! As I said before, commedia dell'arte can be very formulaic (especially by the late 1700s when it is being codified away from being improv focused to being cemented into scripts). From all of these visual and characterization clues, Lestat is not playing Lelio the young lover, he's playing a Harlequin! And his costume seems to be heavily based off of this Harlequin (Arlecchino, Arlecino, etc.) which is literally the wikipedia image of a Harlequin.

(note, if you give a fuck, this image is depicting an Arlechino from 1671, roughly 125 years before Lestat on stage. in my mind, this accounts for the changes in silhouette, styling, why Lestat doesn't wear the mask for the entirety of the performance, etc. Also, just while we're talking about costuming, I believe the late 18th Century was still a time in which actors would have been expected to provide their own costumes, which would explain why Lestat's version is made with expensive fabrics and includes cunty little details like the bow in his hair. At the very least, I can see him making looking good a priority as the owner of the theater and as...well...Lestat.)

Okay, okay, okay. Why does this matter?

Harlequins are not characters of any social status. They're servants who are quick witted enough to get into antics but stupid enough to be commanded by animalistic instincts (lust, food, you name it). The Harlequin being beaten by their master was ENORMOUSLY funny, and is the origin of the term "slapstick comedy". They a memorable iteration of clown.

In this scene, which I'm willing to bet was inspired by (if not outright) Carlo Goldoni's A Servant of Two Masters, Lestat plays a servant who interacts with two characters. One appears to be a young woman in a breeches part - another common trope of commedia performance. The other appears to be the young male lover! We see Lestat prancing between the two, seemingly facilitating some romance plot, being paid for his compliance, and doing a good ol fashioned butt lazzi. (Could he be presenting his ass for beating? Maybe.)

So why is Lestat not the young valiant lover, but instead A LITERAL CLOWN? Three potential, not conflicting, reasons. By the time Lestat is performing (mid to late 1790s, based off Armand's earlier comment about Robespierre's 1794 execution), the Harlequin characters were the most sought after roles! At this time, we are seeing the emergence of "Celebrity Culture" where audiences sought out actors for their off-stage personalities as much as their on-stage ones. This is an extremely fitting position for Lestat to fall into. Yay a semblance of historical accuracy!

Secondly, Lestat's ENTIRE ROLE in season two is to come between this season's new pair of young(ish) lovers: Louis & Armand. Lestat's function is to repeatedly detract and distract from their relationship through Dreamstat's antics (appearing at the piano calling Louis a whore, having Louis re-kill him, etc.). Additionally, simply put, Lestat (and Sam Reid as Lestat) is a lot of fun to watch. He is absolutely a stand out (if not THE stand out) of the show! His constant ability to serve cunt is often what your eye is drawn to, he pulls focus to himself, and often undercuts the more subdued, philosophical, and morose nature of others. Both on-stage and on-screen, Lestat continuously upstages his screen partners. He does kinda function as a Harlequin. But in the end, the Harlequin's antics are also what ultimately drive the young lovers together. If not for Lestat's actions, Louis and Armand would have never met nor bonded over knowing this fucked up brat prince.

But we also have to remember! This portion of the episode is presented by Armand the mind fuckery master. It is absolutely in his best interests to paint Lestat as some sort of ridiculous, lesser being driven by animalistic nature. Especially if - by extension of the metaphor - this frames he and Louis as the virtuous and optimistic young lovers, striving to cling to each other in a world of chaos. I would be EXTREMELY interested to see if, when recollected by someone else, Lestat appears in a different role or characterized differently.

Again, given the celebrity culture of the time and Lestat being himself, it is entirely believable that he would appear in the Harlequin role (Truffaldino, if this is Goldoni's Servant). However, I think it's extremely telling that in Armand's iteration of the story Lestat is not the dignified, refined, and sympathetic young romantic. He is instead a literal fucking clown.

[ohmerricat]

an essay about Rogue, The Chimes of Midnight, and how i believe all this ties in to the overarching themes of the series EVEN IF the inside-a-tv-show theory proves untrue

“Rogue” named himself after a stock character. he is the archetypal Handsome Rogue because there has to be a Handsome Rogue role in a period drama story set in Austenesque Regency England.

it’s all theatre — smoke and mirrors. just like the war waged against imaginary foes in boom (because there needs to be an Enemy in a wartime story) was theatre; the creation of the Bogeyman in space babies (because there needs to be a Scary Monster in a children’s bedtime story) was theatre; The Woman following Ruby in 73 yards (because there needs to be a Ghost in a folk horror story) was theatre. dot and bubble less so, but it’s wise to note — the dots created the slugs after all. they invented the slugs so that there would be a tangible Creature for the finetimers (and the Doctor) to fear, rather than simply being betrayed by their own technology. because that’s exactly what the false, harmful narratives colonialists tell themselves — stories of taming and conquering a wild Mother Nature and her ferocious beasts — have trained them to expect from the world. the dots were telling a story too, or rather putting on a play.

the penultimate episode of any doctor who series, if not always leading directly into the two-parter finale, will typically begin to tie up loose narrative strands that have stretched across the entire season. at a first impression rogue doesn’t seem to be doing that. but then you take a closer look at the antagonists: creatures that play a role for fun without the slightest regard for those around them. lethal LARPers. cosplayers out to kill. to put it pretentiously, a hyper-realistic theatre of cruelty.

to nobody’s surprise, i’m bringing up my favourite eighth doctor audio drama — the chimes of midnight. edward grove gives every person trapped in the time loop a designated role: the chauffeur, the doctor-detective, the plucky young lady of the house, the lady’s maid, the scullery girl, the housekeeper. they keep playing these roles, over and over, until they begin to forget their original identity, until the part they’re playing takes over their entire sense of self. the servants keep dying over and over because they cannot transcend their roles, because they believe themselves to be “nothing but a scullery maid”. they are reduced to the parts they play in the narrative until they become nothing outside of it, until they become confined to a single location.

the chimes of midnight is set in Edwardian-era England, a time of restrictive, prescriptive class, status and social roles which defined a person’s life and career trajectory — this strict delineation is driven to its logical conclusion and deconstructed under the unnatural conditions of Edward Grove. similarly, rogue is set in a Regency-era mansion — another historical period defined in the popular imagination by its complicated social rules, elegant courtship dynamics, strict class barriers, gossip and elitism. these two doctor who stories don’t have any intentional watsonian connection, but they are deeply linked on a thematic level.

high society is forced theatre. a 24/7 LARP. play your part, put on your costume, don’t interrupt the performance. the audience is waiting. they’re oh so hungry for tragedy.

the biggest part of them all, the most sought-after role, of course, is The Doctor. a standard to live up to. a name to wear like a banner, a pledge, a promise. he has to be like this because this is what he’s like.

the Scullery Maid scrubs the kitchen floor. The Detective searches for clues. the Chauffeur starts up his car. the Duchess hosts a glittering soirée. the Rake hides a secret fling with the Wallflower. the Rogue breaks hearts and broods on the balcony.

and the Doctor? the Doctor dances. “onwards and upwards”. forever in perpetual motion, spinning and spinning and spinning across the stars. never pausing to breathe. never stopping.

p.s.: so, pray tell, what is Ruby Sunday in all this? “The Companion”, of course. smart, funny, sassy, quick-witted, brave, cheeky, curious, self-sacrificial. she almost feels generic because she’s meant to be. she wasn’t born. she was written. an essential part of the story too. circling the Doctor like a satellite forever.

[greeneyed-thestral]

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙸𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚊 - 𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

Ft On a Park Bench + kinda a little bit sub(-ish??) Iida, handjob, Dom Iida at the end

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 1,230

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes 1(One) use of Y/n, 2nd Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: don’t worry, no innocent young eyes will be exposed to this debauchery, also slightly more dominant reader in this, but like,,, soft dom,, more like guiding/instructing role kinda thing???

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

You cling to Tenya’s side as you press kisses to his neck, up to his jaw.

“Are you feeling good, baby?” You whisper in his ear, nibbling on his lobe.

“Y-yes, angel.. I- I am…” He grunts, his left hand tightening over your waist as he swipes his right thumb over his slit. He pumps his hand faster now, letting out shuttering breaths at the pleasure he’s giving his cock. You bite your lip at the scene before you and communicate as such with a wet kiss right on his pulse point. The sight has you already drenching the bench under you and the edge of your skirt. You shift your hips to get some friction while you resist the urge to touch yourself. ‘Not just yet…’

Finally, once you see someone, you slide your hand from resting over his ribs to rub over his muscle tee-clad chest. You caress his rippling pectorals and glance over to make eye contact with the man who seemed to freeze for a moment. Looking around to make sure no one saw him, he slinked back to sit on the bench across the park and failed to hide his intense gaze.

You had planned to add yourself to the show once you had an audience but seeing the man’s intense gaze with just your boyfriend spurred you on more to just accentuate your man’s lovely show. You smirk at him then return your full attention to your lovely lovely loverboy who was being so good for you.

“You’re doing so good for me, Tenya. Keep it up and put on a good show for our audience.” You smile against his neck where you place a kiss an inch or two beside his jugular. He sends a small nervous glance at you but his expression immediately softens when he sees your comforting, reassuring, albeit sultry look and he leans into you a bit as he continued his rhythm of strokes over his thick 7 inch cock.

You smile and shift to lay your cheek on his shoulder to look at the man. His eyes are glued to you both, the way Tenya works his shaft and the gorgeous expressions he’s making and the way you’re attached to his side, stroking your hands up and down his chest and leaving kisses on his shoulder and neck. The intense gaze on your boyfriend makes you swell with pride. You already knew that Tenya is beyond attractive and that many, many people will stare at him with yearning and desire, but you’re the one that can call him yours. And you’re the one that he calls his.

“I know how much you like it when I run my tongue up the underside of your amazing cock, Tenya. Why don’t you give your favorite spots the attention they deserve?” You murmur into his ear while you run your hand up his chest to lightly dance your fingers over his collarbone. That’s his favorite spot for you to leave your marks, for you to kiss and suck and mark.

“Y-yes… My Star.” He pants. He still isn’t used to you being in the reins just yet, but he’s trying to let himself fall into the role of obedience. When you had said you wanted to try something more.. risqué, he wasn’t entirely sure. But when you showed him videos of people being so… lewd like that in such a risky place, he couldn’t help the tightness of his pants in reaction.

You’d both agreed to ease into it. You would suck him off in a supply closet at his agency, the door unlocked. Then, he ate you out on top of his desk, the door unlocked again and the blinds only mostly drawn. After that, when he felt more confident, he had you riding him in the back of the theatre. Sure it was the third time they showed the movie, but there was still a fair amount of people there. Then, finally, Tenya fucked you against the wall in the locker room, practically in plain sight with your one leg hoisted up over his shoulder and the other hooked around his waist.

The memories have your pussy growing wetter and leaking out more onto the park bench. Tenya shifts his hips again to adjust his seat, spreading his legs wider while you slide your hand down his chest onto his thigh and grip at the muscled meat of it.

“That’s it, Racer,” you breathe the nickname that never died from before he asked you out, “you’re putting on such a pretty show. Your pretty cock looks absolutely delicious.” You circle your hips to get some friction on your clit against the bench but keep your focus only split between Tenya and his little fan.

“Feels good, Star…” Tenya hums and tilts his head back and to the side to capture your lips as he speeds his hand up. Your lips mingle wetly and the sound is paired with the lewd sounds of his pre-cum slicking over his cock. A hum of appreciation leaves you as your hand slides further up his thigh to grip the inside just below where his fist meets his pelvis.

Shorter whines are muffled into the kiss as Tenya gets closer to his finish. Every few strokes he lets his hand rub over his tip and slick more pre-cum down his shaft as his thighs clench and spasm.

“My Star… My Darling… Y/n..!” Tenya calls against your lips as his hips buck up messily into his fist when he reaches the edge.

“Go ahead, Tenya. Cum for me. Show that little pervert how sexy you are when you cum.” You softly command him as you flex your hand to gently scrape your nails over the sensitive inside of his thigh. He tosses his head back against your shoulder as his face screws up in pleasure. His hand shoots to the base of his cock and squeezed just slightly as his balls tighten and his cock twitches as ropes of his cum shoot out. Strings of pearly white spurt over him and land on his tightened stomach and forearm.

“Fuuuck, baby..!” He calls out and almost instinctively slides his left hand up to grip your breast. His fingers easily find your nipple and pinch it between his fore and middle fingers. It pulls a pleasured gasp out of you as you watch his cumshot in amazement.

“So.. So sexy, Ten,” You gratefully mutter to him as you press an appreciative kiss to his lips as you side glance at the man across the park. He’s visibly huffing and spent with his hand still weakly moving over his crotch, his lighter pants now a bit darker there, as well. You smirk against Tenya’s lips and separate to look into his eyes.

“You did so well, Ten,” he coos at the praise and gives your breast a playful appreciative squeeze, earning a breathy giggle. “Well, now… It looks like you might need someone to clean you up.” You smirk at him and get one right back with a bite of his lip.

“That sounds perfect, angel. So be a good girl and get to work, yea?” Tenya easily falls back into his dominant persona as he flicks his wrist and brings your attention back to his still-slick cock in his fist.

“Yes, sir,” you slide off the bench.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog

[opencommunion]

The producer, artistic director, and an educator at The Freedom Theatre in Jenin were kidnapped alongside over 100 other Palestinians today (13 Dec 23). The Freedom Theatre is a hub of cultural resistance and artistic community in the occupied West Bank.

Join me in calling on theatre institutions to demand the immediate release of these kidnapped artists. Here's the email I'm sending; feel free to copy but please adjust the phrasing to avoid spam filters: "Today in Jenin refugee camp, The Freedom Theatre's artistic director Ahmed Tobasi, producer Mustafa Sheta, and acting teacher Jamal Abu Joas were taken hostage by the Israeli army alongside over one hundred other Palestinian civilians. This follows the murder of three Freedom Theatre artists in the last few weeks: Yamen Jarrar (17), Jehad Naghniyeh (26), and Mohammed Matahen (30). The global theatre community must stand up in support of artists persecuted by the occupation regime. There is extensive documentation of torture in Israeli occupation detention centers. I urge [name of organization] to issue a public statement demanding the immediate release of these hostages. Here's a recent article about The Freedom Theatre's work with traumatized children: [AJ link above]" I'm also adding a brief statement from my perspective as a theatre artist, expressing my disappointment in my local and national theatre scene for its silence. If you're a theatre artist or theatre-goer I encourage you to do the same! The international and US institutions I'm emailing: International Society for the Performing Arts - dbaile@ispa.org, mdriscoll@ispa.org, rjohnson@ispa.org, zcheng@ispa.org International Theatre Institute - info@iti-worldwide.org, hessa@cpo.fujairah.ae International Amateur Theatre Association - secretariat@aitaiata.net Theatre Without Borders - info@theatrewithoutborders.com ASSITEJ - president@assitej-international.org, sg@assitej-international.org, chris@assitej-international.org International Federation for Theatre Research - marcus.tan@nie.edu.sg IDEA- info@idea-austria.org International Schools Theatre Association - office@ista.co.uk, tom@ista.co.uk, helen@ista.co.uk, keriann@ista.co.uk Theatre for Young Audiences USA - info@tyausa.org, sbfala@gmail.com, saramorgulis@gmail.com American Association of Community Theatre - quiana@aact.org, david@aact.org, dvancleave@aact.org American Theatre Wing - mailbox@americantheatrewing.org, rachel@americantheatrewing.org American Theatre Magazine - rwkendt@tcg.org, ksmith@tcg.org, apierson@tcg.org, jpierce@tcg.org American Alliance for Theatre and Education - heidischo@gmail.com American Society for Theatre Research - president@astr.org, info@astr.org Theater of War - marjolaine@theaterofwar.com, bryan@theaterofwar.com Actors' Equity - jrice@actorsequity.org, kshindle@actorsequity.org, wcarter@actorsequity.org, abundonis@actorsequity.org The Broadway League - league@broadway.org PEN America - info@pen.org, education@pen.org Please also email organizations where you live, and any personal contacts in the performing arts. You can also tag organizations in the comments of The Freedom Theatre's posts on ig @.thefreedomtheatre