#add shout outs if you want

[samsayswhatever]

Shout out to the people who wake up a woman and go to bed a man. The the people who wear lipstick and have a beard. To the people whose gender is complicated. To the people who need a minute to think about it. To the people who don't really care. To the people who never stop thinking about it. To the people whose gender and sexuality are the same thing. To the people who like people in a way they can't explain. To the people who don't like anything. To the people with a thousand crushes. To the people who never had one.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Flashback, warm nights.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[x-letsbreaksomerules-x]

“He ordered me to kill them. So I did. I killed them all.”

[shattteredvisage]

You are Connor Roy, and you are the only child of one of the most powerful men in the country. Your father eclipses everything in your life, and you are rarely denied anything. Anything that is, but his time. There are nannies for that after all. You are raised to believe that the business he is building before your very eyes is your birthright. You're a little fidgety, true - a little bit soft. Your mother will sometimes rest her forehead on yours and call you a dreamer. You think she means it as a good thing, so you aren't sure why she says it so sadly.

You are Connor Roy and when you're 10 years old, your mother decides that she's had enough of everything you've ever known. She takes you with her to find "something different, something real." She calls it the adventure of a lifetime, but the faraway look in her eyes when she grasps your shoulders like a lifeline makes your stomach turn. So what does your old man do to get you back? What does he do with all that power his friends are always reminding you of? Absolutely nothing. With every day you spend without him, the reality of who your father is seeps into your bones and you feel real fear for the first time in your life. The reality is that being soft will not be tolerated and that family is only what Logan Roy says it is. The reality is that you are weak, and your father would never fight for a weak boy.

You are Connor Roy and when you're 13 your mother is carted away to a place upstate. No one asks if you'd like to visit her, but your father scoops you up and tries to sit you on his knee the way he did when you were younger. You're much too big for that now though, awkwardly sliding off and sitting next to him instead. She's a psycho he says. She put you in danger he says. Part of you is furious. Part of you is seething at him for saying that, for abandoning you, but mostly you feel relief. For the first time in three years you have more than enough food to eat and are not constantly worried that the alimony check will be spent on booze and pills. Your father, for all his faults, is sturdy and secure. He's your old man and he came back and this time he'll be all the strength you need.

You are a twenty year-old Connor Roy and you are peering into the eyes of your replacement. They're dark, not like yours, but the tufts of hair peaking out from the blanket that swaddles him remind you of your own. You hold him in your arms and he peers up at you, a soulful gaze that sucks you in until you're completely lost. Spellbound, you pull him a little tighter and sink into the nearest chair. You should hate him, you know, but the idea of hating someone so small makes you sick. In those eyes you can see the same promise your father probably sees; This one doesn't have a crazy mother in the middle of nowhere, this one is a clean slate, this one can be strong when all you can be is weak. Holding that newborn in your arms you resolve not to fight as your birthright is snatched by a tiny thief - to instead cling to this new, better family your father is building and to build them up in return. After all, family is what Logan Roy says it is.

You are Connor Roy and you do what you can. You stay present, stick around when you could be off making something of yourself. You give yourself to them in little ways, in ways you wish Logan had given himself to you. You take your little brothers on fishing trips, you let your baby sister climb on top of your back and dig her heels into your kidneys as you crawl on the hardwood. But part of you will always want to be as far from your father and his overbearing presence as you can. The houses you have built are always rural, always quiet and lonely, everything that Logan Roy isn't. You don't want to think about why that is. When you aren't there you know he pits them against each other, you know that they're starting to claw the weakness out of each other. The love you offer them is met with derisive snorts and rolled eyes - they become more like your father than you could ever dream to be. You're left behind, abandoned again, deluded and desperate in thinking that someone - anyone - could love you the way you need.

[gmaybe666]

🎃 the party's halloween costumes after season 3!!! 🎃 

a little character concept design

[thepetesimp]

I saw ur post about wanting writing prompts so I thought why not lol. (This is my first time doing this 😅) but I have a few of AUs on my art blog that I would love to see expanded on like my Tall Pete/Short Vegas au, A band au with Vegas being a lead singer and Pete falling in love at first sight, or Pete being Vegas’ personal bodyguard instead of Tankhun’s. So yea if u find any of these interesting I’d love to see ur spin on it

OMG hi! Thank you so much for sending me this, I'm so flattered you thought of asking me to write sth surrounding your AUs ❤️ It kind of feels like the secret Santa event all over again, I love it haha. The timing is actually a little too perfect, because a few weeks ago, I randomly stumbled upon a YouTube short about the side couple in Laws of Attraction and I proceeded to 1. lose my shit, so much so that I decided to start watching the show and 2. write a whole page full of notes about an AU in which Pete is Vegas' bodyguard, based on the pool scene of said short. So, to give a little context: In this alternative universe, Vegas and Gun visit the main family compound for a meeting. At some point, Korn wants to talk to Gun alone, so Vegas goes to the pool area to find Porsche, along with Pete who follows him. Vegas proceeds to flirt with Porsche, as Vegas does, up until Gun suddenly appears and starts yelling at him for unclear reasons. He escalates it when Vegas asks, baffled, why he's being yelled at, by slapping him and putting his head into the pool. Pete normally doesn't intervene when Gun gets violent with Vegas, but his protective instincts here kick in and he stops Gun from literally attempting to kill his own son. As a result, Gun's anger gets redirected at Pete, who gets beaten up in Vegas' stead. The snippet I wrote for you is the aftermath of everything I described above. I hope you like it ❤️ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Silence, occasionally broken by a faint sound that resembled sniffing. Pete couldn’t tell what it was, but in his state he couldn’t really tell where he was either, so he stopped worrying about it. He tried, instead, to remember what had happened that brought him here, wherever “here” was. The last thing he recalled was the feeling of Khun Gun’s shoes digging into his forearms, which he used in his attempt to protect his head from his boss’ repeated, brutal kicks. Khun Gun wasn’t the strongest man Pete had ever met, but there were reasons he always tried to stay on his good side, and his cruelty was one of them. The cruelty that had so many times been directed at his own son. The kind he was eerily familiar with.

Khun Vegas’ face materialized in Pete’s mind. Droplets of water running down his nose, his sharp cheekbones, reaching his neck. His hair wet and disheveled, his chest heaving from the difficulty to breathe after having had his head shoved into the pool. His expression crumbling with worry, something Pete had no logical way of explaining. Fuck, where was he? Pete could only hope Porsche had protected him from his father’s fury afterwards. Khun Gun was unpredictable; he couldn't be trusted to only be satisfied by lashing out at Pete. Pete needed to go find him as soon as possible. Opening his eyes proved to be a challenge. A heavy fog was clouding his vision, and the pain that was engulfing his whole body was preventing him from doing the simplest of movements. He groaned as he shifted his torso in a futile attempt to get up, resulting in a gasp that startled him into opening his eyes to check where it came from. His mouth was hanging open as he took in the image of Khun Vegas staring at him, fidgeting nervously in the chair he was sitting on. His eyes were red around the corners and he looked ghostly pale. Pete’s breath hitched. “Pete… ?” he said, dropping his gaze to the floor. He always did that when he was feeling guilty about something. “Are you... ?” “I’m fine, Khun Vegas,” Pete replied, despite the numbness in his limbs and the headache that was starting to form. “What about you? Are you hurt? Should I take you to the doct-” “We’re at the infirmary, you idiot,” Vegas shouted, interrupting him, but his voice lacked the usual heat. “Stop acting like my bodyguard right now, it pisses me off.” That’s all I know how to be, Pete wanted to tell him, but remained silent. That’s all I’m allowed. He didn’t really mind Khun Vegas’ words. He’d heard worse things over the years, things that should have probably hurt him. Somehow, Pete had the ability to forgive him anything. The atmosphere grew tense between them. Pete had grown used to that, too, but he had never seen Khun Vegas be so self conscious before. He wondered why the sudden change. “I’m not thanking you,” Pete heard him murmur after a few seconds; he uttered the words under his breath, while staring at his feet. If Pete had a better view of his face, he’d argue Khun Vegas was pouting. Pete could only reassure him. “You don’t have to, Khun Vegas. I was simply doing my job.” It had the opposite effect. The creases between his eyebrows deepened as he lifted his head and stared at Pete. Astonished as his mouth was open agape, likely for a retort that never came. Alternatively, he turned his attention to the small table next to Pete’s bed. He stood up and approached it hastily, grabbing something that was resting on top of it, before Pete could take a closer look. “The nurse said you have to take this,” he said and extended his arm at Pete, revealing a small pill. It was probably a standard type of painkiller. Bodyguards never got any special medical treatment, especially those working for the minor family. It wasn’t worth the trouble. Pete tried to lift his hand to take it, but he bitterly realized it was impossible. He winced as he took a look at both of his arms and found them bandaged, smears of purple popping at places his skin was uncovered. He cursed under his breath. “Ah, I’m sorry, Khun Vegas, I’ll just call the-” Cold fingertips pressed on Pete’s chin. They felt even colder on his lips, the pressure just enough to make him open his mouth. The pill slipped between his teeth easily, with the help of a wet tongue he'd never thought he'd get to taste. Hot air hit Pete’s cheeks. His heart was beating rapidly. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Water traveled down his throat, taking the pill with it. Pete blinked. His head felt light, his body even lighter. He didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but he didn’t think it was bad. He focused, instead, on Vegas, who was standing above him with an unusual sense of confidence.  “Get well soon. That’s an order.” It was enough to ground Pete back into reality. He was thankful for it.

“Yes, Khun Vegas.” It was only then that Pete noticed how the color returned on Vegas’ face and how his slight trembling seized. “Has Pete woken up yet?” Both of them jumped at the sound of Porsche’s voice. He poked his head into the room, completely oblivious to what had transpired before he showed up. “Oh, he has. How are you feeling?” “Good,” he replied sincerely. The pain didn’t bother him anymore.  A smile spread on his lips as he added, “Khun Vegas just gave me my medicine.” Porsche returned it, though his was more mischievous than playful. “Pete, you should have seen Vegas while he waited for you to wake up. I’ve never seen him crying so hard-” Vegas punched Porsche hard on the shoulder to stop him from talking, which made loud laughter escape Pete’s mouth. It earned him a glare, one of Vegas' serious ones. It'd bring him hell later, but Pete realized he was fine with that.

[idkaguyorsomething]

Doctor Who Fic Recs

¡The specials are nigh upon us (or maybe the first one will already be out by the time I finish writing this, who knows)! Over the course of 60 years, there’s been quite a few absolute gems that some anonymous, talented souls have put out for our enjoyment. So here’s some of the highlights, scraped together from various corners of the internet:

This one is centered around Nine, after his regeneration. He has to confront his trauma as he goes on a journey through his past, traveling through his memories and meeting his past selves. It goes really deep into a lot of lore surrounding the daleks and Classic Who, so if you don’t know a lot about that this probably isn’t for you. It also came out before the 50th anniversary special, so there’s no War Doctor, and it has its own interpretation of the last moments of the Time War. But if that’s not a dealbreaker, definitely check this one out, because it’s got a fantastic story about regret and identity.

This story is a prequel to both series set on Gallifrey, with some rare Doctor/Master/Rani shipping, a very eldritch approach to Time Lord society, and a really interesting fusion of TARDISes with daemons. If you’re not familiar with the concept of daemons, this story really isn’t a good starting point, plus there are some references to the Big Finish audio stories that are rather important. It’s not exactly a story as much as it is a bunch of fragments set in the same universe exploring a lot of the ideas it introduces. A must-read if you enjoy Doctor Nyarlathotep.

A personal favorite of mine, centering around the unexpected pairing of Martha Jones and Lucy Saxon. It deals with the fallout of a certain couple of Time Lord’s actions during The Year That Never Was and is very short, but manages to squeeze in a lot of emotions. It will make you understand how this pairing could work while doing justice to Martha’s character.

Drop whatever it is you’re doing. Go read this. Now. It is one of the most well-written fics you will ever find, period, and probably the best Academy Era fanfic out there. The author has an excellent grasp on how an unlikely friendship would develop into something more and then break down, making it one of the most compelling and believable explorations of the Doctor and the Master’s relationship before they were the Doctor and the Master. It can get pretty dark (we’re talking self-inflicted regeneration) but if you can stomach those topics then you’ll find something amazingly well-written.

¿Do you wish that we could’ve seen tiny Amelia as a child companion on the TARDIS instead of her adult self? ¿Are you a fan of platonic fluff? ¿Are you in the mood to have your heart explode from a cuteness overload? ¡Then check this one out! The only possible complaint is that it’s too short.

Wherein Rose decides to haul around the dalek from Van Statten’s bunker instead of Adam. ¡Very funny and enjoyable and underrated! It has a dalek named Pedro and Nine being enjoyably grumpy until he decides he can make an exception against hating all daleks just this once. ¿What more could you possibly want?

This one is a short piece about Martha and Ten going to watch a supernova, but what makes it extra special is that it’s a real supernova and the fic was written by an irl astronomer. Their passion for their work really bleeds through into their writing, and it helps to emphasize the sense of wonder and exploration that Doctor Who at its best can bring.

¿Remember Jethro from Midnight? ¿The guy who looked like Merlin? ¿No? You will after reading this.

Mostly crack that doesn’t take itself too seriously and isn’t afraid to poke fun at some of the classic sci-fi setting fanfic cliches. ¡¡Number one shipper TARDIS, sex pollen, and Martha Jones having a good time abound (¿have you figured out which companion is my favorite yet?)!!

https://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=53318 Set during the Day of the Doctor, this little oneshot is just a slight au where we get to see every Doctor (up to that point) play their part in saving Gallifrey. Obviously they couldn’t have done anything like that in the show itself without resorting to dubious CGI necromancy bullshit, but man does it make you wish they could’ve had something similar.

And last but not least, ¡some classic Donna and the Doctor friendship! This is pretty much the distilled essence of everything everyone loved about their dynamic, being sweet, silly, and sad. It leans more on emotions than action or humor, but with the upcoming specials it is well worth a read just to remind yourself of everything they went through.

[im-still-watching-anime]

man does anyone else just constantly forget neji died?? i was rewatching the war arc and got to it like HUH OH YEAH like i remember shikaku and inoichi more than him because i just didn’t like the writing for his and repressed it too much so now whenever i see any reference to it my brain blue screens for like 20 seconds straight

[silverstarfics]

Today’s @thunder-pride prompt is ‘can we talk?’ and I’ve had this partly written for a while but didn’t get around to finishing it until this morning, so hopefully it reads okay and doesn’t feel weirdly disjointed in the middle! 

AO3 link

It was approaching eleven-thirty. The pale light of dusk had long since been replaced by the depths of night, yet John had made no move to switch on a lamp. He was still sat at the same tiny table in an equally small kitchen in his apartment and had not moved since his hasty retreat from a restaurant downtown.

His skin was still crawling with discomfort. He couldn’t shake the sight of disappointment in his date’s eyes. If he had to make a list of the top five worst feelings in the world, disappointing people would be in third place. And it hadn’t even been his fault. He hadn’t intentionally led her on. He hadn’t realised that it was a date in the first place, notably because there was supposed to have been four of them, only Kenny had got sick at the last minute and Scott had conveniently had ‘something come up’.

Yeah, right. The flat Earth theory was more believable, not to mention the fact that his brother had then texted him good luck. Also, this was the third night out on which Scott had abandoned him with some random stranger in an excruciatingly romantic setting. Restaurants with friends were fine, but not when it was just you and a person who you only knew vaguely but whom Scott had seemingly befriended despite only having been on campus to visit John for an extended weekend.

The spare key scratched in the lock, then the door squeaked open. Scott fumbled for the light switch and promptly let out an undignified yelp.

“Jeezus, Johnny.” He kicked the door shut and dumped his jacket on the kitchen counter. “What the hell, man? Why are you sitting in the dark?” He winced. “I take it the date didn’t go so well?”

“You set me up.”

John had been aiming for a neutral accusation, but his voice sounded a little more betrayed and upset than he cared to let on. He settled for scowling at Scott, but quickly grew tired of this. Frankly, he was just exhausted full stop. He was half-tempted to forget the whole experience and go to bed early. But he’d learnt that problems didn’t miraculously vanish if you ignored them, which was a shame given that was his preferred strategy. So, if he didn’t discuss this with Scott then it would be a recurring issue and he was so done with unwanted, spontaneous blind dates.

So.

Scott pried open the fridge on the hunt for the beers he’d stashed there earlier. “You make it sound like I framed you for murder.”

Logically, John knew Scott meant well. But his teasing tone was just irritating. He was unintentionally making light of a subject that was actually pretty serious and John sort of wanted to strangle him.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” Scott cracked open the bottle with his key. “Was it that bad? She seemed like a nice girl. You said Adam wasn’t your type, so I figured… Anyway. It’s chill. We’ll find you someone eventually. And hey, I’m here for a few more days. I’m an excellent wingman. Ha, literally.”

“Scott, this isn’t-” John cut himself off and took a deep breath to calm down. He tried again once he was certain that his voice was steadier. “Can we talk?”

“Oh, boy,” Scott joked, slightly muffled as he bent down to unlace his shoes. “Sounds serious.” He glanced up when there was no reply and caught John’s unimpressed stare. “Oh, shit. Okay. Sorry. Give me a minute.”

He kicked his sneakers onto the mat and sank into a chair opposite, cradling his drink between his hands. There was a glint of humour in his eyes, presumably aided by whatever he’d drunk at the bar he’d vanished to for the evening, but to give him credit he did seem to be earnest about listening.

John dropped his gaze to the whorls in the table. There was a faint blue stain from spilled ink when he’d been working formulae out on paper earlier in the semester and he focussed on that to keep himself from overthinking and letting the matter drop again.

“You’ve got to stop trying to set me up with people.”

He was speaking too fast so that the words seemed to blur together, unable to shake the nerves that came with explaining this aspect of his self to people because more often than not they didn’t understand and told him that he just hadn’t found the right person. It was bad enough hearing that from anyone but not from family. He wasn’t sure what to say if Scott didn’t get it.

He continued in a rush before Scott could get a word in edgeways, “I know you mean well, but it makes me really uncomfortable. I don’t want to date anyone. Adam wasn’t my type, but Becca isn’t either, because I don’t have a type. I’m not interested in people like that. I have friends and family and that’s all I want. So, please stop tricking me into dates because it will never lead anywhere.”

There was a brief pause. The silence was broken only by the distant wail of sirens across the city, the hum of the refrigerator and indistinct voices from the apartment across the hallway. John finally risked a glance up to glimpse Scott’s guilty expression.

“Can you say something?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I- Shit, John. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise…” Scott sat back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m an idiot. Sorry. Oh, God, I’m the worst. I spent this whole weekend trying to- I am so sorry, Johnny.”

“That had the potential to be a great apology, but then you had to ruin it by calling me Johnny.”

Scott stared at him for a long moment, evidently trying to repress laughter. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” John stole the bottle and took a cautious sip. “What the hell is this? Are you drinking battery acid? This is disgusting.” He twisted it to spy the label. “I’ve never even heard of this brand. Where did you get it?”

Scott made a vague gesture which translated to you don’t want to know. Which was correct, because John really, really didn’t want to know. He slid the bottle – which most definitely wasn’t beer – back to his brother and got up to find something to rid the taste from his mouth.

“So,” Scott called, still lounging at the table. “How long have you known?”

John shrugged, then realised he was hidden behind the fridge door. “Uh, a while. Since high school, anyway.”

It was slowly dawning on him that he hadn’t actually eaten anything except free bread in the restaurant, shortly before he’d made his excuses and fled. He shoved a box of leftover takeout into the microwave and leant back against the counter to wait.

Scott was staring down at the table where light from the street was spilling through the curtains. There was a certain tension in his shoulders which betrayed the fact he was secretly upset. He didn’t look up as he asked, quietly and uneasily, “Were you afraid to tell me? Because if so, I’m sorry. I never intended to make you feel that way.”

John hesitated, then glimpsed the flash of pure panic in Scott’s eyes.

“No,” he confessed. “I wasn’t afraid of telling you. I’m just tired, I guess. College is… I’m here to learn. A lot of people seem to be here for casual hook ups and parties. So, I’m constantly having to explain that I’m not interested in any of that and after a while it becomes tiring. It’s not a one-time experience. Every time I meet someone new and the topic turns to relationships, I have to… well, come out, I suppose. So, I’m tired of it. But that’s not your fault.”

“I just feel like I should have realised.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I bet Virgil realised.” Scott drummed a hand against the bottle with a sigh. “I thought you were just shy. But now- Yeah, it makes a lot of sense. I still feel like an idiot, though.”

“Oh, you are an idiot,” John informed him. “But not for this reason.”

“Thanks,” Scott deadpanned. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking a little less guilty and more genuinely curious as John carried the takeout over to the table and sat back down. “So, is there a specific label you use?”

John raised a brow. “Do I have to use a label?”

“No,” Scott replied quickly. “I was just wondering. Because if there is, then I want to be able to look it up and do some research. I mean, this is who you are, John. Of course I want to understand that better.”

Sometimes – this weekend being a prime example – Scott could be an absolute idiot. But he was an idiot with good intentions. And, right now, John was reminded that he was actually pretty fond of this idiot for a reason.

“Are you going to remember this?” he asked.

Scott flipped his phone out of his pocket and opened a new note. “Yep.”

“Look up the terms aromantic and asexual. Then come back to me if you have further questions.”

“Cool, cool, cool.”

John offered him a spare fork and slid the takeout into the centre of the table. For a few moments, they ate in silence. He was surprised by just how much lighter he felt, unaware that the issue had been worrying him.

“Hey, John?” Scott had that soft, proud smile again, the same one that he’d worn when watching one of Virgil’s concerts or Gordon’s swim races. “Thanks for telling me.”

John fought back a smile of his own. “No more dates, okay?”

Scott held up his hands. “I promise.”

[bitchfitch]

i figured the bear trap out. His name's Armel and the only set Vibe I have for him and his 'boo' is this snippet:

B: You're Dead.

A: No shit? I hadn't fucking noticed.

[agentravensong]

post-hamlet thoughts

tl;dr my college did hamlet and i was in it and it was cool

first of all, in case i hadn't made this clear already, this was entirely student-produced. i mean, we got some money from the theater department, but people-wise, it was all students.

i've told the rest of the cast this time and time again, but they're so good. insanely dedicated and humbling in their talent.

our hamlet, horatio, ophelia, and laertes were all freshman, and they were all stellar. ophelia and laertes broke my heart every night in the second half with their anger and their sadness. horatio always brings top energy to scenes and had lots of funny moments (espec counting his doubling as the second gravedigger) but also made me feel things (we staged act 4 scene 6 as him alone on stage reading hamlet's letter to the audience and he killed it every time). and our hamlet was just incredible; a pleasure to act against as guildenstern and a pleasure to watch / listen to in their more emotional scenes.

and everyone else was great too! our polonius was always funny but also had genuine moments of connection with his kids; our cladius brought some great depth to the role (his take on the monologue in act 3 scene 3 was great) while still being despicable, especially in his manipulation of laertes; our gertrude brought our director's take on her to life impeccably; and, of course, i had a wonderful and hilarious partner in our rosencrantz :)

not to mention our quartet of players (who also filled out the other miscellaneous roles) who had a ton of great moments. shout-outs in particular to the guy who doubled as the first gravedigger and sang his sung lines as a sea shanty (honestly, i think he could have been a great guildenstern or rosencrantz in another universe).

the crew, of course, was also amazing. there were like 150 cues? my friend (the writer i mentioned in this post) did a fantastic job with the lights. the people behind the staging and makeup did just as well. and the costumes were so fun! everyone looked great; we had a consistent black-white-red-brown color palette that tied it all together. special shout-out to the player king wearing a white shirt with a black cape while cladius wore a zipped-up leather jacket and a white cape.

oh, and me and ros? we got fedoras :) i may share a photo later. maybe.

we did our show in the college black box theater (inside the fine arts building), which i do not currently have the brain cells to try and explain the layout of. it's a kind of weird space, but i think we made the most of it. for the majority of the show i was off stage left, meaning i was hanging out at the top of the stairs which serve as the main entrance and exit to the theater (sitting/standing where i couldn't be seen by the audience obv). you can't really see the stage at all from there but you sure can hear the actors, and by the time of the show that was (mostly) enough for me.

as far as how the actual shows went?

friday was our most engaged audience. their laughter was greatly appreciated in the early scenes ...slightly less so when everyone was dying in the final scene. i mean, i get it, people start dropping like flies and actually foaming at the mouth and spitting out (fake) blood; it's a lot. i applaud hamlet and horatio for staying in character through it. everyone did a great job that night; it was probably better than all our dress rehearsals as a whole.

saturday, at least from my pov, had kind of weird vibes at the start? i don't know how much of it was people getting to bed late the previous night, how much of it was overconfidence, and how much of it was people getting in their own heads, but it was our lowest energy show. the audience wasn't as audibly engaged either, but they did give us a big applause. i felt more good than bad about it by the end, for sure.

especially in retrospect, because, despite us having a smaller crowd at today's matinee, everyone was back on the ball. the ending in particular i think was the best we've ever done it. it was probably my best performance as well.

to be clear, i wouldn't rate any of our three shows below an 8 out of 10, for what that's worth. everyone gave so much to their performances; the funny bits were funny even when the audience didn't seem to think so, and i was always getting caught up in my feelings in the second act. you can't ask for much more than that.

now, here's a compilation of things from the production in no real order:

i already posted about this, but having the blood stains on stage where people die from the beginning of every show? *chef's kiss*

i'll also restate the thing i mentioned in the tags of that post: characters who were murderers had symbolic blood makeup after they killed someone. cladius had a bloody ear from the start of the show, the meaning of which becomes clear once you see the player king get poison poured in his ears; hamlet got blood on their face during intermission that's meant to be polonius's blood; and, arguably most significantly, gertrude had bloody handprints around her neck when she entered at the end of act 4, which, in addition to her hair and arms being dripping wet, is meant to suggest that the story she tells about ophelia's death is, in fact, a cover for something less accidental.

as mentioned above, our director's take on gertrude in general was, from my understanding, pretty different from the standard. to quote from his character spines, "you fundamentally want to prepare your son hamlet to be king; you are playing essentially a game of chess to do so." it was really compelling to see in action. the way she performed act 4 scene 7? chilling.

speaking of those character spines, the first line of horatio's is literally just, "You are in love with Hamlet." and boy howdy did that come through

prime example of that (other than just, all of his and hamlet's interactions, which were wonderful): when horatio finished reading the letter from hamlet, he sniffed it, in a very sweet and very not-platonic way

it was an unintentional running gag throughout the whole process that other cast members would forget between ros and me which character we were playing - to the point that every performance, when hamlet first greeted us, even though i would get to them first, they addressed me first, and it's written that they say my name first, they would call me rosencrantz and our ros guildenstern. ...someone should write a play about that.

i might have posted about this already, but in ros and i's first scene with hamlet, when the two of them start talking about child actors, hamlet made us sit in the thrones, and we would make moves to leave of varying boldness that they, of course, never let us follow through on. this then got basically repeated in act 3 scene 2 except that horatio got to join in on the fun of relentlessly mocking us

(the thing where hamlet handed me their copy of william shakespeare's complete works while they dud the "what is a man" mimi monologue got dropped at some point in the dress rehearsals, unfortunately. they did flip through it with the players though)

during the play within a play, polonius would keep falling asleep and ros and i would keep waking him up

(we also got to do some fun silent banter back in act 2 scene 2 while hamlet and the players were doing their thing)

then the bit after that with the recorders, aka guildenstern's defining moment, was just so fun. hamlet and horatio basically sandwiched ros and me between the two of them, and hamlet and i played off each other very well (at least imo), and though i couldn't see what horatio and ros were doing behind me i know that it got some good laughs. and i could tell every night that the scene landed despite the shakespearean language barrier, so i can't help but be satisfied.

my other best moment was when the king told me to go get polonius's body from the stairs and i got to slump and make a "do i have to?" face before my (final) exit. i managed to actually get some chuckles from that tonight, from the crowd that, again, laughed the least in general, and i can't put into words how euphoric i was to have that be my last moment playing guildenstern.

from the rest of the second half of the show, which i am not in, i will highlight a) the gravedigger eventually realizing after shoveling for minutes on end that he's been shoveling literally nothing (love me a good little fourth wall break) and b) when hamlet and laertes come to physical blows over ophelia, horatio, on his line, steps between them, draws laertes's sword, and takes a stance pointing it at laertes to hold him off, all in basically one glorious motion.

oh, and the ending, of course.

as i alluded to way earlier, we had fake blood and alka-seltzer tablets that the people who died in act 5 scene 2 used to great effect (particularly the people who died via poison)

speaking of that scene, the sword fight was very neat! well-choreographed and well-enacted. real foils btw

and the way hamlet and horatio performed the ending? more than anything, the way hamlet said "give me the cup; let go!" - that shit hurt, in the best way, every night. (and though hamlet died in the king's throne (with the king's crown on), horatio held / clung to them the whole damn time)

for a lighter final note: our polonius doubled as fortinbras and came on at the ending in this huge, heavy, vampire-ass cloak, accompanied by our director as the messenger from england who announces my and ros's death :)

thankfully, we did record our last dress rehearsal, so we do have a version of it that we'll get to watch back in the future. i won't be able to share it with any of y'all (we will apparently be in BIG trouble if we post it anywhere online) but it'll be nice to have for me.

funny thing that happened while i was typing this long-ass post out: i kept using present tense and then realizing i had to change it to past tense. and by "funny" here, i mean, uh... oof.

we never got a perfect run-through where no lines were skipped over, but, i mean, it's fucking hamlet. we did this shit in like a month and a half (with a week lost to spring break); it's more than impressive that the show turned out how it did. it was a group labor of love, and one of the best things i've ever gotten to be a part of.

and i miss it already.

...at least there's movie night on tuesday :)

[scleracentipede]

How does having a carer work and how would it work for the Scarecrow system in particular? Thank you!!

in general in case anyone doesn’t know a carer (don’t know if the terms different in the US) is someone whose paid either by an individual or a local authority (or a loved one sometimes who) to provide support to (typically) disabled or elderly people with things from house hold tasks (eg chores, making food) to personal care (eg. Physically helping someone take a bath) and other stuff (like taking you to appointments or shopping when u use a wheelchair)!

We actually have a carer (though it’s one of our partners who used to work as one) but with the Scarecrow system I’m referring to a paid professional helping (rather then the government pawning off its duty of care to disabled people on their loved ones 👀)

Here’s how it could for the Scarecrow System:

- The carer could help keep track of switches and tasks with deadlines for them.

- Help prepare and remind them to take any medications they need

- Help them prepare food and prompt them to eat (especially for Keeny who can’t cook or Jonathan who forgets to cook)

- Prompt any personal care (e.g brushing hair, brushing teeth etc) and assist them on getting in and out the tub or shower on days their legs are bad.

- Help keep their space clean and safe for them

- if they weren’t sectioned anymore (meaning in Arkham) take them to appointments and to social or fun activities

- Provide some limited reporting to people like Occupational Therapist to help them get access to adaptive equipment to prolong their health (eg a raising desk so they don’t have to bend as far).

- And so much more !

Basically carers can assist with any part of their life they may find difficult due to their health (both physical and mental) and improve they’re quality of life! Many disabled people across the world have carers and it makes so much difference to people’s lives!

[sweatyflytrap]

Got tagged by @sacha-fenestraz for the four comfort characters tag game 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽

Outing myself as the major weeb i am. In no particular order of preference the bimbo that doesn't get seen as one because her preferred company is just astoundingly dumb, a 5yr old green haired kid with the excitement and love for life we all collectively lost ages ago, a hyper competitive asshole who gave an entirely new dimension to perception of the self through the other and the character that single handedly punched me in the gut and made me accept alot of personal nonsense

Tagging @sunlights-archive, @geneticcatalyst, @vegaseatsass (girl are you alive 😭) and @ceasarslegion

No pressure to actually do it 🩷

[hella1975]

i know it's The Thing to be upset and existential on this site but honestly? there's something so comforting about being 19. i was terrified of entering my last year of teenagehood. i have spent every year since 16 hating the passage of time and feeling like my youth was slipping away from me, and something about 19 was huge to me. it felt like the last rung on a ladder, the last step, the final show, like it was all coming to an end and i'd have to figure my life out now.

but really if turning 19 was anything then it was anticlimactic. i spent so long dreading this year that now im here it's sort of like 'oh, yeah actually people still very much see me as a child and none of my peers have their shit together either'. because newsflash, in the grand scheme of things, anything younger than 30 is still considered very young. and now that dread is gone from my life, i've found myself really looking forward to my twenties. i cant wait to have a life for myself, to surround myself with people i choose, to have my own place that i can decorate and make homely and invite friends around whenever i want, to be able to finally say and think the things i want without being crippled by the teenage terror of being seen as too weird, too cringey. i can't wait to let myself be myself. i think it's really exciting

[izzy-b-hands]

tonight is a four hour shift

last one for this poll

i can do this

(narrator: he both did not want to nor was he mentally in a place to be doing this.)

[iwrotemrtambourineman]

My team got third place at trivia tonight which since there were only three of us was super unexpected and also reminded me that I LOVE TRIVIA SO MUCH