#barbershop quartet day

[daily-lego-sets]

LEGO Ideas:

Jazz Quartet

Set: 21334

2022

Pieces: 1606

[alliterative-endlessknot]

It’s #BarbershopQuartetDay! The history of this musical form is closely connected to the history of Rock & Roll, in spite of its seeming distance from those roots today. Learn more in our video about the history of Rock!

[tmt-sketch-a-day]

Sketch a Day 2752-A Barbershop Quartet - 8/16/23

[bromcommie]

THEY SENT ME BECAUSE I DON'T EXIST a bucky barnes playlist, ft. coming home the long way around

Listen on YouTube (click on images for full resolution) Sam | Steve | Nat

[an-honest-puck]

a collection of highlights and viewing notes from 'The Wizard of Paddington Station' because I don't have the time to liveblog while watching but I do have thoughts

(also: holy heck this got long XD)

I'm sorry to start this way but: the protagonist having a dead mother? yeah, that's a D1sney movie alright

in a more positive reflection of this movie: mate this was WHOLESOME AF OMG

so many good Hen quotes!!!!!! the man's a genius!!!!!

"Power! End of song." - Hen

"I do love an exaggerated scroll" - Hen

"And yet! A doubt circles me. Represented by this hoop. *holds up the headband/circlet from props* I reach through the hoop and pull out the doubt. Do you see what the doubt is?" - Hen, lowkey turning everything into a magic show XD

so many hat bits pfffff lololol

Bry's little "Oh! My hat!" when her hat gets taken away!!! D:

Hen: You are demoted to a hatless position.

Bry: I will walk a hatless existence 😔

give her character back her hat she's so sadddd DX

Bry: Could I have a hat with a pom pom on it, sire?

Hen *trying to pause dramatically but really checking the props hat rack*: ... Yes, we have one of those.

I don't think I've heard of a spell that terrifies me more than the tax-based spells from this movie /jk

any time Hen just declares "End of song" is gold lmaooo

Nancy and Josh as bins XD

"Hello, love! How are ya, darling?" - Nancy, as a bin lolol

Petunia (Ellie): What would I do without you two [bins]?

Bin #2 (Josh): Probably litter.

^ award for best unnoticed line goes to (which wasn't even the award of the night lmao)

I did not realise how much this highlights reel was just quotes but boy howdy there are just so many good ones XD

"You've only gone and put the hat in a portal, you mug" - Nancy, rather affectionately lol

the tickets!!!! don't put them in the bin!!!!! D:

Bry: I could delay people's taxes with this hat!

Hen: Certainly. You can cause massive inconvenience in a whole new other branch of public service.

Josh miming all the instruments in that one musical number lololol

Nancy: I missed the birth of my child child child

Nancy: I missed my child's 7th birthday birthday birthday

Josh: I missed my birth birth birth

hello can someone please tell me why 'Half Wizard' is one of the most audibly pleasing songs I've ever listened to?????????

Josh Elliot strikes again with his lovely baritone (?) good lord-

also, who does that "wi-i-i-zard!" line?! because it's either Bry or Niall and I know who I want it to be I like to think Niall's got the range lol

not Bry and Niall giving their ticket characters the most heartwrenching/heartwarming character backstories and arcs!!!!! 😭

everyone: THERE'S NOT ONLY ONEEEEEE / WIZARD OF PADDINGTONNNNN / THE WIZARD OF PADDINGTONNNN / IS IN FACT / IS IN FACT / IS IN FACT / EVERY-

Nancy: O- *no one else is singing*

Hen: *deliberately making everyone pause*

everyone: *trying not to break too badly*

everyone: ... ONEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Bryony: to the moon!

[musical-theatre-encyclopedia]

Watch "Lemon Squeezy - Too Darn Hot [from Kiss Me, Kate]" on YouTube

❤💛💚💙💜😍😘😻💖💕Valentine's Day Playlist😽💝🌹😙💋💌💓💞💘😚

[pcguelife]

tag drop part four .

[hannie-dul-set]

YOU’RE MY BUCKET LIST.

p — SHEN QUANRUI x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, lovestruck! ricky trying his darnest to be cool. w — swearing, secondhand embarrassment what did you expect from me. 2.8k words.

note — rewriting the backstory of his leopard print shirt. my loser idolverse is expanding. no one is safe. who should i throw into the depths of patheticness next.

ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists.

what need is there for a list of things he wants and wants to do before he dies when he can get and do everything he wants in an instant? if he wants to go bungee jumping, he can go to gangwon-do this afternoon. if he wants to date, he’s got a couple dozen numbers he can pick and choose to call. if he’s craving for authentic italian wine right out of the cellar, he can book a flight and visit all of europe with his phone as his only luggage. 

he lacks nothing, and therefore he wants nothing. ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists— he didn’t believe in bucket lists. at least not until that damned day of reckoning, when the nonexistence of his list suddenly came to existence, harboring one thing and one thing only. 

there’s only one thing he’d like to tick off before he dies. one thing he wants as soon as possible. something that isn’t instantaneously achievable. something that unfamiliarly feels out of his grasp.

ricky, more than anything in the world, wants you to take him fucking seriously.

“you’re so pretty today.” 

is what he says, the moment you enter the office. well, two moments after you enter the office because he had to take the first moment to admire how pretty you are before verbalizing it. he’s down horrendous, he knows— totally outside of the image he’s perfectly curated for the past six months since entering university. you’re the chair of his department’s council, a third year, and by some mystical force or another (read: being stupidly whipped) he volunteered to help prepare for a department event and managed to drag the rest of his friends into it.

said friends being gyuvin and gunwook, who are looking at him in judgment and disgust after completing his daily routine of complimenting your face.

“aw, how cute,” is your reply. ricky wracks his brain for another word for pretty, but you’re quick to move one and leave him in the dust. “thank you, ricky! you’re so sweet. anyway, matthew, how’s the—”

gyuvin snorts. “hey, at least she thinks you’re cute.” ricky throws him a punch but it falls weak from the mental damage. 

cute. he hates it. he’s grown to hate it after it became the symbol of you thinking of him as nothing but your cute junior. are his daily compliments not enough of a giveaway that’s he’s lowkey fucking in love with you? what else do you want? a truckload of roses? a barbershop quartet illustrating through song how stupidly down bad ricky shen is for his unbothered senior?

knowing you, even if he gets on stage in front of the whole university and perform a three-act play of how he fell, head first with scraped knees, into the tunnel of torture that is you and your pretty smile, you’d probably just ruffle his hair and coo, “good job! you’re so talented, angel!” because he’s so cute, so lovely, so never going to be boyfriend-able in your eyes and it eats his despairing soul.

maybe if he rips his heart out of his chest and you see the gaping, you-shaped hole it’ll leave behind, you might finally get the idea.

“quit being a drama queen,” gunwook says, throwing a ball at ricky’s bedroom door that’s been locked shut for a good hour now. it bounces right back into his palm and gyuvin is laying flat on the floor next to him. “it could be that she knows you’re into her, but she’s just trying to reject your advances gently because she doesn’t want to hurt you.”

gunwook and gyuvin hear a crash from inside ricky’s room. 

“that’s— that’s, no. i don’t even want to think about that!”

they’re waiting for him to finish changing (if he is just changing. the crashes in his room are becoming sources of concern). you invited them for a nice buffet dinner to celebrate the success of the event. however, the three of them are already thirty minutes late for the restaurant appointment, and hanbin had to come over and pick them up with taerae in tow after hearing the news that ricky shen— cool guy extraordinaire— is having a breakdown over a girl. 

there are now four men waiting in front of ricky’s locked bedroom. gyuvin gets sick and tired and starts banging on the door. “hurry up! do you want to keep the love of your life waiting?”

“damn, you guys were serious,” taerae posits. “is he actually in love with her?”

“i’m afraid so,” gunwook solemnly shakes his head. 

hanbin hits another concerned knock on his door, and lo and behold, ricky finally cracks open his bedroom door and walks out—

walks out in an ensemble that they can only unanimously describe as jarring. 

leopard print. leather pants. gold chain necklace. a pair of shades are hanging on the way too low cut shirt and they wonder if he’s gonna wear them indoors. he’s got a leather jacket folded over his arm and it’s twenty four fucking degrees.

“what do you think?” ricky asks, eyes proud, expectant, and sparkly. hanbin doesn’t have the heart to break it to him. “i read somewhere that the pattern symbolizes, uh, confidence and sexiness, i think. this will make her stop thinking that i’m cute, right?”

“yeah,” gyuvin replies. “she’ll think you’re hideous instead.”

“google tells me that the leopard print is a symbol of, and i quote, absolute femininity.” gunwook has his eyes trained on his phone. he looks up and gives ricky a once-over. “if you’re trying to go for the femme fatale look, then you’re doing a good job.”

it takes a moment for ricky to react.

when he does, his reaction consists of grabbing onto the hem of his allegedly ugly shirt and starts pulling it over his head.

“whoa, whoa, whoa— what are you doing?!”

gunwook quickly tries to stop him from stripping. gyuvin is laughing his ass off. taerae has a hand covering his mouth. hanbin is stressed. “quit picking on him! ricky, you look fine!” ricky is not fine. his styled hair is not disheveled and he’s visibly upset and sulking. gyuvin is losing his mind. he’s on the floor and hitting the ground.

“are you trying to be cute right now?” taerae asks. this just scrunches up ricky’s brows even more and makes his bottom lip jut forward.

“n...no…?”

“well, shit,” taerae laments. “it’s a genetic disease. she’s never gonna take you seriously.”

the only emotion ricky knows is despair.

he’s supposed to be hot and sexy and handsome, why can’t you see that? do you have a pink filter when you look at him, or something? is that it? that’s gotta be it, right? because why else would you be so unaffected when he feigns nonchalance, brushing through his hair at a precise timing when he notices you starting to turn to his direction. it’s your heart that should be beating like crazy when he greets you with a half-smile and a nod— not his, not his, not his when you return it with a full-smile, so bright and beaming, of your own.

“oh, you’re finally here!”

ricky doesn’t believe in bucket lists. he lives in the moment. he doesn’t want things so desperately to the point where he writes them down on a checklist taped to his desk. the list definitely doesn’t have the words “get miss department chair to fall in love with me” written on it with scrawled letters. and he doesn’t didn’t give himself a deadline to date you by the end of the year.

he’s given himself until the day he dies because the moment he met you was the first time he imagined watching someone walking down the aisle. 

yes, he’s down bad. yes, he sings hopelessly devoted to you in the shower five times a week and replaced the word you with your name. yes, gyuvin has a recording. 

“ah, we’ve been waiting for you, kids,“ you say once they’ve all settled on their seats. kids. he scoffs. insult to injury. he’s pouting and picking on a plate of galbi. he feels like shit even though you’re sitting right across him all pretty and sweet like the strawberry shortcake you ordered— which he’s trying his damn best to not steal a slice from because he’s pretty sure you’re just gonna go, “oh! you really like strawberries, don’t you? so cute,” and he’d much rather choose physical over emotional torment, thank you very much.

“they were caught up in something,” taerae responds to your initial statement. your eyes gloss over them with curiosity.

“why? what took you guys so long?”

four sets of eyes are on ricky and his patterned shirt. the bossam wrap in his mouth won’t swallow down his throat. it was too late for him to change out of the symbol of femininity. mid-strip, hanbin got a text from you so he got dragged out, guilty in leopard prints and gold, out of his apartment.

don’t you fucking dare, ricky glares at the suspicious look gyuvin is wearing as he brings a glass of water to his lips. gyuvin clears his throat, “we had to wait for ricky who was dressing to impress y—” and is subsequently elbowed and chokes on his water.

hot. ricky feels hot. not the sexy kind, but the icky embarrassing kind because he wants to cover his burning face and stab gyuvin with a fork in the process.

“oh?” you voice out from across the table. you’re plucking out wads of tissue paper for a dying gyubin but your eyes are trained on him. oh my god. he wants to rip this shirt off and die, but he can’t do that. he can’t. he hasn’t been working out enough lately due to stress. “not everyone can pull off animal prints. it looks really good on you.”

huh.

“and you’re not wearing your usual silver! you look cool today, ricky.”

oh.

what.

“you really think so?” gyuvin, who has now recovered, eggs you on further in behalf of his malfunctioning friend. there’s steam rising to the ceiling and it’s not from the open grill. he exchanges glances with gunwook and taerae. they catch the signal and press on. “doesn’t he look—”

“—would you dare say—”

“—handsome?”

“hot?”

“sexy?”

you let out something in between a cough and a laugh. 

they don’t miss the flustered jitter filtering the sound coming out of your throat.

mission success.

“ahaha, what are you kids saying?” ricky doesn’t miss it either. the initial shock of you not calling him cute has worn off and now it’s up to him to finish what his friends have started. he doesn’t miss the way you try to brush them off while fanning your face with your free hand, the way you reach out for a glass of water with the other and there’s a nervous bob in your throat when you swallow. “a—anyway, let’s make a toast for the success of our event!”

when he clinks his glass with yours, ricky  maintains eye contact amidst the noise of the cheers. his gaze is deep and you’re caught off guard— escaping with a laugh and turning away as you down half of your beer glass in one go. holy crap. holy shit, it’s working.

ricky can see it. there’s hope for his bucket list. he’s gonna swear by leopard shirts and gold chain necklaces if he continues to get this kind of reaction from you.

“it’s not because of the ugly shirt.”

gyuvin snaps him back to sanity once dinner concluded and they start leaving the restaurant. “it’s because we manipulated her brain waves into finally noticing that you’re hot,” gunwook inserts. they’re all outside now. you’re bidding the other members goodbye and gunwook nudges him forward. “you’re welcome. you owe us a meal.”

now, even with the newfound confidence and hope, ricky’s knees still buckle when he approaches you from behind. why is the back of your head still pretty? why?

at the moment, it’s taerae’s turn to receive your goodbyes, wedged between two cars, one of them his. he notices ricky’s looming nervous wreck of a presence from over your shoulder. “ah, and this is my cue to leave,” he says. “thanks for the meal, miss chair. get home safe.”

“you too, taerae! thanks!”

when you turn around, you bump into him. maybe he intended it, maybe not, but god damn the uncharacteristic flutter of your surprised eyes is destroying his plans to act cool, act nonchalant, act totally unaffected with how prettily you’re looking at him under the dim parking lot lights and the night sky. “oh!” you exclaim after reformatting, after putting on your doting senior voice again and it kills him because that’s a night of progress down the drain. “are you kids heading out now? oh, sorry, this is your car, right? i’ll get out of the way.”

he frowns. totally uncool, perfectly non-nonchalant, and completely affected but he doesn’t care anymore. 

“what do you think of me?”

the words jump out before he knows it. screw his bucket list. he’s gonna proclaim his undying love for you even if it kills him.

you blink. “what?” a laugh bubbles from your throat— a mix of trying-to-brush-him-off but nervous at the same time. “ricky, what do you mean?”

his face is knotting up. he’s totally pouting right now which he’d rather be caught dead than doing, but he’s now twice the dead man. ricky takes a step forward. you take a step back until no more steps can be taken because your back hits against his car, and he’s grasping at the straws desperate to get even an ounce of a hint of a sign that you’re finally taking him seriously. “what do you think of me?” he repeats, voice a little lower this time. your expression is completely taken over by peaches of fluster, this time. no sign of the composure you’ve usually perfectly maintained.

“oh, uhm.” your hands are unsure and held hostage in the air because his arms serve as a barricade around you, palms pressed tightly against the cold glass of the front seat window. you’re nipping at your bottom lip. ricky just died thrice. “what—what i think of you? well, uh, you’re a very good, very cute, very hardworking junior that i adore, and i—i appreciate all the help you’ve offered to the counci— oh!”

ricky lets out a noise and buries his nose into the crook of your neck, arms that were once caging you are now completely wrapped around your waist. he’s putting all of his weight onto you. he is a corpse. he mumbles something unintelligible into you skin and you ask him to repeat it. “i don’t like it,” he says more clearly, still muffled, whiney all the same. “i’m not cute. i’m cool and handsome and totally in love with you but you just don’t get it.”

it’s quiet. ricky is anticipating the worst, which would be you calling him lame and a loser, but you don’t do that. you don’t push him off either.

“how can i not think you’re cute when you act like this?”

instead you pull him in closer. his eyes widen, and he feels your fingers digging into his hair, a tender touch on his nape, and he feels himself melting and turning into stone at the same time. 

“i never thought you were being serious every time you greeted me by calling me pretty. i thought you were just being playful and trying to earn extra points from me,” you hum. he sinks further. the only thing propping him up is you. “but calling someone pretty every day is barely a confession, ricky. how was i supposed to get anything from that? gosh, you’re so cute.”

“it usually works,” he mumbles. he doesn’t want to show you his face. he probably looks stupid right now. “i thought my new shirt worked too. gyuvin and gunwook don’t agree.”

“i think it’s cool.”

you finally pry him off, hands on his shoulders and he feels himself buckling. he’s pretty sure he looks stupid right now— pink and flushed and dizzy, but your face harbors no judgment. “i think i prefer the shirt owner over the shirt though.” only a familiar gaze of fondness and god, he’s so in love and you finally understand that. “now, why the hell are gyuvin and gunwook still loitering out here?”

ricky didn’t believe in bucket lists. at least not until that damned day of reckoning, when the nonexistence of his list suddenly came to existence, harboring one thing and one thing only. 

now, he’s got that one thing crossed out. he’s thinking of adding more.

YOU’RE MY BUCKET LIST. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[wrengrif]

So here's another quirky GO take for you.

Just in time for Valentine's Day!

When do you think in Season 3 that our beloved Ineffable Idiots are going to realize that neither one of them actually said no to one another, but to the situation? They're probably going to be fighting about something, who knows, how to hide Jesus? The Book of Life? What schools Warlock should consider for Uni?

Anyways, imagine it. We're about half-way through, and they're bickering (yah talking!) and someone states, "Are you two sure you're not married?"

And they both growl that no, they are not, and then Crowley will say, "He left me."

And Aziraphale will look affronted and say, "I asked you to go with me!" And Crowley will be like, "As an angel!" Aziraphale will sigh and state, "I wouldn't care if you were there as the last member standing of barbershop quartet - I just wanted you to come with me and you said no!" "Yeah - to Being an Angel and trapping ourselves in Heaven - place of angels! I didn't say no to you!" "Well I didn't say no to being an Us either!" And then they both sort of just stop and stare at one another and go, "Oh."

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 16 - Struggling

Summary: Corroded Coffin gets an unconventional gig that might make them some good cash.

Word Count: 901

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Modern!Corroded Coffin, Older!Corrded Coffin, memes, friendship, bickering and banter, pop culture/social media reference (link at the end of the fic)

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request. And @dr-aculaaa and @br0ck-eddie because I'm sorry yall are gonna get a kick out of this one.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"I hate this."

"My shoes are too tight."

"We look ridiculous."

"I think," Eddie raised his voice so he could stop his friends bitching. "I think we look like a band that's about to be $500 richer."

"So we're just gonna be a band with $500?" Gareth asked, sneakily giving Jeff a high-five as Eddie grumbled at the joke.

Success was hard. Fame was hard. Even harder still when you needed money for things like rent and gas and food.

Not like those things were free when they were still in Hawkins, it was just harder now.

And they were a bunch of 20-somethings up against the whole world, and not just a handful of mediocre bands in their neck of the woods in middle-of-nowhere Indiana.

They were too young to have made it big on Youtube--not that they hadn't tried when they were still in high school--and too old to really understand how to make it big on tiktok.

They'd tried the flossing and the dances...it was just not them.

So random gigs it was; struggling to make ends meet, struggling to make it big.

Until they found something that was an unexpected money maker.

Who knew a comment on a video of them harmonizing with some vocal warm ups would lead to this.

Polished shoes, matching pants that they all had thanks to serving jobs, matching vests they got at some department store closing sale, and the piece de resistance that they actually paid a pretty penny for..straw hats.

Yes, their badass metal band moonlit as a barbershop quartet.

Weddings, anniversary parties, and birthday parties for half-awake octogenarians were their bread and butter. Cash in hand, maybe a little cake, it was great.

They got the loudest applause when they did songs like Let Me Call You Sweetheart and Down By The Old Mill Stream, ones they'd all thankfully learned in 8th grade choir. But sometimes happy couples requested something special, and so they began to spend just as much time practicing their a cappella covers as they did their original songs.

They all knew that they needed to put their pride behind them if they wanted to keep the lights on.

"It'll happen for us one day," they all agreed. "Just gotta wait for that first big opportunity and then we take it."

And of course, that opportunity presented itself as a Battle of the Bands at the Illinois State Fair.

It would be great for them. Big crowd, lots of cameras, and great exposure even if they didn't win.

They just needed the entry fee.

Which is why they were currently standing amidst a veritable sea of people backstage at yet another competition...ready to prove their place as the best barbershop quartet in the county.

So they could prove they were the best band in the state.

"What if we picked the wrong song?" Gareth stopped biting at his fingernails to ask. "I'm sure everyone else is going with something more traditional."

"Which means the judges will have heard those songs a million times before," Eddie argued.

"Originality is not a big part of the score Ed," Jeff reminded him. He thought it over for a second. "I don't think anyone's even gonna recognize our song."

"Then you don't have to sing and we'll just be a trio Jeffrey."

"Listen, I think it's gonna work," Dave interjected in a moment of uncharacteristic positivity. "And we're gonna win."

"That's the spirit," Eddie grinned and clapped his friend on the back.

"Or else we're gonna have to fake our deaths and change our names because we'll be the laughing stock of the metal community."

So much for a vote of confidence.

"The Four Horseman?" one of the event coordinators called to the groups backstage. "You guys are up."

The four of them tensed up.

"Alright, it's now or never," Eddie nodded, swallowing down a sudden bout of nerves.

They all popped their straw hats onto their heads and followed the coordinator out onto the stage. The four of them hummed together to harmonize and then Eddie stepped forward to introduce them.

He stammered through their introduction, almost as if he'd never been on stage before, and he kicked himself.

He was a performer, goddamn it. This was his destiny, their destiny.

And destiny was riding on this moment.

"We're the Four Horseman...and we're guys, so we--"

"Keep a little dirt under the pillow for the dirtman."

Jeff and Gareth fell into song with him, with Dave providing the bass.

"Dim-ba-dim-dim, dim-ba-dim dim."

"In case he comes to town."

The judges all looked a little shocked, but then they glanced around and smiled at each other.

"Keep a little dirt under my pillow for the dirtman."

"Dim-ba-dim-dim, bang bang dim."

"So he won't take me down."

By this verse the four of them had really gotten into the groove of their performance, singing and skatting and harmonizing beautifully. They even threw a little sway into their bodies, knowing that it wouldn't do to stand as still as statues for such a lively tune.

And by the end all four of them ended in sync--

"That's where he keeps his dirt bop-bah-dah-bop."

--and they earned themselves a standing ovation. Not just from the judges but also thunderous applause from the other quartets in the wings of the stage as well.

And $500.

Who knew that tiktok thing would work out after all...

[the-voldsoy]

TMA headcanons

(the majority is about jon im sorry) (at least a couple of these are probably canon, but ive seen so many fanworks that i genuinely couldnt tell you)

Tim wore heelies

and owned too many worm on a string that he hid around the office

Michael (distortion) is also fond of worm on a string

Jon has had heterochromia since he “died”— one eye to see and one eye to See

Martin listens to hozier

Jon has punched a cop (rebellious uni years)

Daisy has a mullet

Jon wears socks with sandals

One of the reasons Jon was so stuck up in s1 is because he felt ashamed(?) of his uni days and wanted to get as far from that as possible

he felt that he was ‘better’ than that punk he had been, and wanted to show it

If they could’ve (Scottish safe house period or Somewhere Else), Martin would’ve gotten a small flock of chickens and Jon would’ve fondly named them all

S1 Jon tried to grow a moustache once and it was so pathetic that he had to shave it off

Sasha was a black women with soft, round features, who wore comfy jumpers. Not!Sasha was a tall, white, blonde woman with sharp, angular features who wore pencil skirts — like someone out of a stock photo.

Jon is capable of making decent tea, he just doesn’t give enough of a shit to do it

instead he usually just puts everything in the mug, microwaves it, and leaves (then comes back a couple hours later to microwave it again)

S1 Jon had stupid half-moon glasses with gold chains like a librarian

There isnt a single cis/het person in the archives

Simon Fairchild dresses like he's missing the rest of his barbershop quartet

Jon says things like good lord because it was a habit he got when he grew up with his grandma, and picked it back up to "seem more distinguished"

Tim used to read the Beano

Martin had loads of those little ceramic or felt animals that you find at garden centres

Tim used to have a bunch of googly eyes stuck at his desk/around the archives, but scraped them all off when the things about the Eye was revealed

The grey in Jon’s hair was a visible mark from the Web, and turned light and sticky like spiderweb after ep160

he also had his hair Reallyyy long pre-archives, cut it short when he was promoted but then almost immediately started growing it out again

Tim was a dramatic little ass about getting sick/minorly injured (head colds, paper cuts, etc)

[alliterative-endlessknot]

It’s #BarbershopQuartetDay! The history of this musical form is closely connected to the history of Rock & Roll, in spite of its seeming distance from those roots today. Learn more in our video about the history of Rock!

[fraiserabbit]

hiii i made a barbershop quartet family; Ace in the Hole!

during the great escape, the triplets (10 years old) found Tilt when she was 3. they'd all been separated from their own families, so the brothers took in a new little sister!

Tilt is jazz/rock, while the brothers are pop/jazz and one day singing together while doing chores they learnt they made a damn good quartet and created a group (around when the triplets were 17, sister 10)

they travel around performing for different troll towns

the quartet has a soothing effect on wildlife, so hostile animals too close to town get sung to sleep to be relocated safely

since she'd lost her family so young, the brothers are very doting and protective of her

while out hanging up laundry alone Boston got attacked and lost a leg; as a result Chip and Snap gained grey hairs when they saw him (some colour came back when Boston recovered, but it'll never fully revert)

Chip is the most talkative, once he starts it's hard to stop him

Snap is the quickest to act upon hug time with his siblings, he's very physically affectionate

Tilt's tail is skinnier n less powerful than pure rock trolls and can only hold lightweight objects (female rock trolls can hang upside down by their tails on branches, she can't) (i specify bio females bc their tails are actually long and can do that)

ermm i think that's all for now i love barbershop quartets and i love this family an awful lot

[silverfoxstole]

Recording Shada in 2002.

From DWM 330, May 2003:

PAUL MCGANN

INTERVIEW BY GARY GILLATT

We first spoke in Vancouver in 1996…

[sings] Ah yes, I remember it well…

…And here we are in Bristol, years later, with James Fox and Andrew Sachs. Would you ever have thought it?

Well, when my agent was telling me about it, I thought we had a bad line. She said, ‘James Fox is in it, and Andrew Sachs, and so-and-so and such-and-such’ and I assumed I was mishearing. I mean, how could it be?

Were you familiar with the work of Douglas Adams?

Not really, only Hitchhiker’s Guide. I’m not a sci-fi reader at all, that’s not my thing. I didn’t really know a great deal about Adams – I certainly didn’t realise he was this amazing polymath. But Lalla speaks so eloquently and passionately about him, and I’ve come to understand why he was so well-loved and respected, and, of course, the quality of the script speaks for itself.

Are you enjoying playing the script?

Well, compared to last year’s plays, and the year before, you can definitely tell it’s from a different source. It has a different tack, and a whole different kind of wit. If you were at a blind tasting, and shown just a page or two of every script we’ve done, you’d easily spot that this one came from somewhere else, from a very fertile mind. It’s great stuff.

Everyone seems to have treated the script with great respect. Almost every line seems to be debated as you all try to get the best of out it.

Comedy is a very serious business. If it was a so-called straight drama, you probably wouldn’t find that much discussion.

So it’s exacting work?

Oh yes, very much so. If a thing is meant to be funny, you’ve got to make sure it’s funny, so you’ve got to get it right. In drama, your main directions are ‘quicker’, ‘slower’, ‘louder’, ‘quieter’. But on something like this you have to watch how you spin every word. It’s not something you can be lazy about.

I hear you’re missing India Fisher…

I sure am. Every time the studio door opens, I think she’s going to walk through. It’s the association with this place, where we do all these plays, and this is the first one we’ve done without her, so it seems very strange. She’ll be back next year, though, won’t she?

I certainly hope so. Will you?

Well, yes, that’s in the planning stages. Apparently, as was revealed to me yesterday, 2003 is the 40th anniversary of Doctor Who, and they’re planning something of a special with me and Davison and Sylv and Colin Baker. I think they’re going to have us as some sort of barbershop quartet or something.

So you’re still finding it fun, being the Doctor?

You sound very sure of yourself when you ask that… You’ve phrased the question to get the answer you want, I think!

Well, I guess as a fan, I’d like to think that Doctor Who likes being Doctor Who…

Well, I’ll put your mind at rest, then, because I am still enjoying it. I like working on audios more than on screen. Day in, day out, it’s just more of a laugh. Doing the visual work, on TV or in pictures, you never get to hang around with the rest of the cast. Here we can swap stories in the green room, or go off in a gang to the pub for lunch. When you’re working on pictures it’s not like that. You go in, do your little bit, and then you’re shunted off to a trailer out of the way. This is much more fun. It’s what being an actor is all about, and I have Doctor Who to thank for that opportunity.

Extracts from the recording of Shada:

The Doctor decides it’s time to get to the point. “What have you done with the Professor’s mind?” he asks.

“It will be put to a more useful purpose,” replies Skagra, haughtily.

“I would argue that it was serving a very useful purpose where it was.” ”Not to me.”

“You realise he died?” says the Doctor.

“Only his mind was of use to me,” says Skagra. “Not his life.”

“You take a very proprietorial attitude to people’s brains,” responds the Doctor, calmly.

“It seems to me,” says Skagra, his voice rising slightly, “that the Time Lords take a very proprietorial view of the Universe.”

There is a pause.

“Hold on,” says Lalla Ward, looking across the room to Nick, the director. “Surely the Doctor would be more accurate about his reference there. Skagra hasn’t stolen the Professor’s brain, only his mind.”

“That’s right,” agrees Andrew Sachs, dropping his thin, high Skagra voice. “The actual brains stay in their heads, don’t they?”

“It’s a good point,” replies Nick. “I imagine that Douglas was trying to avoid repetition of the word ‘mind’.”

“Well Douglas should have known better,” says Lalla, firmly. “And it’s a bit silly to worry about repetition of the word ‘mind’ now. It’s all ‘I want your mind, I want his mind’ for the next 60 pages.”

“So would you like me to change ‘brain’ to ‘mind’ on that line?” queries Paul McGann. “Because, y’know, I think the Doctor would be far more accurate about his reference there.”

—-

The Krag commander growls its greeting to Skagra. “What are your orders, my Lord?”

Andrew Sachs peers over his script. “Cod and chips twice, please. And a carton of mushy peas.”

—-

Paul McGann is recording assorted screams and moans to signify the Doctor’s mistreatment by Skagra’s mind-sucking sphere. “Argh!” he groans, “Aargh…ugh…aaargh!”

“Thanks, Paul,” says Nick. “That’s just brilliant.”

“Three years at RADA for that!” laughs Paul gleefully. “Would you like me to do some more?”

Nick smiles and turns to Andrew Sachs. “Now could we just do your lines as the sphere attacks the Doctor again?” Andrew nods and clears his throat. “This time, Doctor,” sneers the icy voice of Skagra, “This time no one will come to your rescue. I shall have your mind.” It’s chilling stuff.

“Y’know,” says Paul, “I believe you!”

“Poor Skagra,” says Andrew. “I have the feeling he’s a very lonely man. I think he needs a wife and kids. A talking spaceship’s no real substitute for the love of a good woman, is it?”

—-

Skagra has some seriously sexy transport, and the Doctor is stealing it.

“Ship!” shouts the Doctor. “Activate all re-aligned drive circuits.”

“Something very strange is happening,” says the ship, all sultry sibilance.

“Ta-daa!” cheers the Doctor.

Hannah Gordon is in a separate sound booth. “Should I be getting more roused there?” she asks over the loudspeaker.

“I don’t think so,” says Nick. “Just keep it honey-voiced and seductive.”

In the gallery, artist Lee Sullivan crosses his legs. “I don’t think I can take much more,” he says. “I may have to leave the room. I never found myself attracted to a spaceship before!”

In the studio, Sean Biggerstaff is fidgeting with his headphones. “It’s very strange working with a sexy, disembodied voice in your ear,” he says.

“I can’t see any downside to that,” muses Paul.

“Hey, that’s me you’re talking about,” replies Hannah in a sexy, disembodied way.

—-

An invisible spaceship,” smiles Lalla. “Such a brilliant idea from Douglas.”

“And now we have an invisible spaceship on audio,” adds Paul.

“Douglas would have laughed at that. It’s just so marvellously perverse.”

“Shall we go and explore it?”

“Oh, yes, let’s explore…”

[arcsystemworksofficial]

Plz talk about leo whitefang guilty gear

He doesn’t talk about it much these days but Leo Whitefang used to be in an amateur barbershop quartet. Of course, he was the baritone. None of the other members of the quartet are important to the world of Guilty Gear but they're all living pretty comfortable lives and they meet together once a year on principle.

Leo Whitefang isn’t the only Guilty Gear character with a musical history.

After the outlawing of electronics, there was a shift in musical culture - it took a while for magical instruments (see I-No's guitar) or the public magic radio to be created, so for a period after the dawn of the 21st century, there was a rise in the popularity of both acoustic music and “music that can be performed anywhere”. Acapella and barbershop groups started forming to perform in public places in place of radios and radio stations (which had yet to be replaced at this point). This also led to the rise in popularity of vocal-heavy genres (think Gospel or Doo-Wop).

It didn’t take long for the radio to be replaced however, along with magical versions of electronic instruments, so by the time Guilty Gear takes place, musical genres have shifted back to what you would expect (with just a little more Rock than before). But acapella and barbershop groups occasionally go through a cultural revival, especially for festivals and celebrations - so you wouldn’t be hard pressed to find a couple more Guilty Gear characters who at least dabbled in it.

Ky Kiske was in a choir group for a short period (although he's not a very good singer by his own admission). Johnny briefly tried out an indie music career, trying to do “An Elvis thing”, which didn’t last very long. And to this day Kum Haehyun can be found putting on impromptu performances in music shops when she finds an instrument she likes.

But back to Leo. While most of his former barbershop buddies don't really matter, he did meet his best friend through them. Singing lead in their group was a wannabe superstar with a passion for mixology. Though they’re not important to the story of Guilty Gear, they are still to this day Leo Whitefang's best friend - and help him work on definitions for his dictionary. This man is known as Gem. Short for “Guilty Gear Eminem”, which is his full name.