#do i need to spoiler tag for a 400 year old play?

[slowlystupendousdelusion]

Some thoughts on Macbeth:

(Spoilers for the 2023 Donmar Warehouse production I guess)

So first of all if you haven't been to the Donmar before, it's a cute little theatre - emphasis on little. Conveniently, it is right next to the Seven Dials Market which does street food (and has toilets you don't have to be a customer to use). Not horrendously priced given its location, but I think drinks-wise it might be slightly cheaper in the theatre itself?

So the theatre staff were friendly and admittance to both the venue and the seating was easy and hassle-free. The headsets have test audio playing prior to the performance so you can check they're fully working ahead of time. Bear in mind there's no interval and they do not let you back in if you need a toilet break. Run time is just under 2 hours.

I enjoyed that the theatre bar had a cocktail special on called 'Out Damn Spot' (It's just a Bloody Mary, but I'm a sucker for stupid things like this.)

Also shout out to the girl with the Macbeth tote bag like the retro penguin books. (Is this like the nerdy equivalent of wearing a band's shirt to their gig?)

So onto the play itself:

The audio was interesting; for the most part I liked it. Every time the directional sound came on for a bird flying past or whatever I turned my head like an idiot so it did work. And it did allow for more intimate delivery. There was occasionally a bit of microphone crackle when the actors were moving but not enough to take you out of the play completely. Also I suppose you get essentially two hours of David Tennant murmuring/breathing into your ear if you're into that sort of thing. You can hear (at least) the louder performances without them but you lose the ambient background noise, and I didn't try in the quieter parts to see how well I could hear.

I really enjoyed the music - I'm not quite sure what I was expecting but it was Scottish trad vibes which was a nice contrast with the rest of the play being more modern.

When I first went in I was a bit worried about the distance because it's hard to gauge the scale of the stage but actually even in the cheap (not-) seats you are not very far away. As a fairly short person in standing I had pretty good visibility throughout.

The whole stage set up is simple but they do a lot with minimal scenery and props. Also the lighting! The lighting is really impactful. The visuals are so striking in spite (or probably because of) the minimal staging and clever use of a two way mirror. They use warm vs cool light to indicate the switch to the supernatural/delusion and the white stage floor makes the silhouettes of the props that are used really pop. I think the final view at the end of the play is basically seared on my brain.

(Full disclosure: I do not have enough knowledge about acting to give nuanced performance reviews) But I thought they were all so good! I liked that they went a more psychological route with the absence of physical witches. The porter segment in the middle gave some comic relief and I'm not sure how much was ad libbed, so quite effective in that respect. Cush Jumbo was great as Lady Macbeth; more sympathetic than some other productions I've seen. Tennant was compelling; basically I was drawn to him whenever he was on stage. It was lucky everyone had headphones on cause embarrassingly I did literally gasp at the child-murder.

My attention didn't wane at all, which given that there was no interval and I was standing, gives an indication of how gripping it was. Would definitely go again if given the opportunity.

[konigbabe]

steal the thunder - I -

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x fem!sorcerer!reader Word count: 5.8k Tags/warnings: no y/n; unhinged reader; manga spoilers (Culling Games + Perfect Preparation arcs); fight description; canon-typical violence; there will be eventual smut in the later parts fyi Summary: There's murder in the air – with the Culling Games underway, a simple task of finding an angel turns to a fight for life when you meet a certain, static and 400 years old sorcerer with cyan hair and wicked intentions.

Artwork by poro (poro06625649) on Twittter [source]; divider by @skylightlantern [source] For a better understanding of the reader's CE and CT, visit this Tumblr post.

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There's murder in the air – an unsettling undertone that pollutes the atmosphere. Gentle breeze carrying the metallic fragrance of blood within its currents.

The dockside keeps quiet. Sky clear, devoid of seagull calls. Walking by colossal steel shipping containers, stacked high, the scent persists. Clings to the air like a persistent specter. Each step accompanied by the gentle lap of waves against the pilings, their rhythmic cadence a stark contrast to the horrors you've seen.A soothing lullaby in the midst of chaos.

The maze-like layout of the quayside comes to an end when your muscles strain, lifting off the ground and landing atop the steel structure.

A giant panda comes into view. Its relaxed posture, perched on hindlimbs, contrasts with its impassive countenance as it gazes your way.

"Panda," you address what some might believe to be an actual animal; innocent, cute and completely harmless. Except for this Cursed Corpse – your subordinate – is none of those things.

He fixes you with your very name; a disturbing familiarity in his eyes, then the words escape his lips.

"The smell of blood's so thick," he voices as you draw near, words cutting through the tension. "There must be about three people dismembered here–"

You hold up two fingers, the other hand nestled in your pocket.

"Two actually," you intervene, voice a measured interruption, "walked past a man with a hole the size of a soccer ball in his chest."

The memory resurfaces – the sight of the man, head drooping, neck bent at an unnatural angle. Eerie web-like burns sprawled across his bare flesh. The smell of singed skin and ozone hangs in the air, a pungent reminder. Yet, it's not just that which jolts your senses. It's the residual static of someone's cursed energy, an unsettling presence that lingers.

"But that's not what troubles me," continuing, you stand next to Panda, arms now crossed as both of you watch the lifeless skies, "something bad's here. I tried following the remnants of the cursed energy of the perpetrator but it was very faint."

"Could be an expert who can turn their cursed energy on and off at will…" Panda thinks out loud.

You let the idea sit for a second. Could it be the case? Could someone in this colony be capable of doing it? Known, registered sorcerers are absent here. The majority are newly awakened, scarcely equipped to comprehend a sophisticated notion like this. And why would they feel the need to hide their cursed energy?

No.

Dismissing your doubts, you shake your head and stride toward the edge of the shipping container.

"Don't think so. Nevertheless, we're here to find that angel girl and negotiate with her." Stepping onto the container's edge, unfazed by the high drop; balancing skillfully, you extend one leg over the edge, about to step into empty space. In a seamless motion, you touch down on the solid concrete ground below.

Panda follows suit, rolling off the shipping container with agility, landing right beside you. Then he stands, an odd combination of human-like stance and panda appearance, more akin to a person in a panda costume than an actual animal.

"Our safest bet is to leave the docks. Fast. Just play pretend, avoid any unnecessary conflicts and make it out of this colony in one piec–"

The sentence's left hanging as a sudden shift in the atmosphere catches your attention. Panda falls on all fours, frozen still.

"Ah," a deeper, resonant voice rumbles from your right, the words echoing as the familiar sensation washes over you. A sudden buzz inside your mind, an abrupt surge of awareness regarding another sorcerer's presence. Heart mirroring the rapid flutter of a startled bird's wings.

Their cursed energy, concealed and latent, manages to evoke an almost primal response within you. A sense of fight or flight.

You pivot to face the uninvited presence before you.

A cascade of hair, vivid as a robin's egg and kissed by the hues of a clear summer sky, is gathered into twin buns atop his head while tendrils of untamed locks dance freely in the breeze, resembling a stormy sea. Longer bangs frame the contours of his face, softening his visage.

He stops when his eyes – the same uncanny shade as his hair – bore into yours. Carrying what you'd guess is a Nyoi staff slung over his shoulder, he stands at a slight angle. Excludes casual confidence, a sense of poised readiness.

"Another one," he breaks the silence. You stand your ground in response to his observation.

"Not interested in a fight," you remark, hands risen in a defensive gesture. Yet you don't dare take your eyes off the sorcerer. Ready and composed.

Panda, ostensibly cautious, inches closer to you, fur bristling in sync with his unease towards the newcomer's presence. The air tightens, charged with the unspoken potential for violence.

"Kogane," he calls out to the shikigami, summoning it like a wisp from the aether; the small creature materializes, its hue the shade of a serene lake, light and amicable as it floats near his head, "is the panda a player too?"

The shikigami screeches its answer, its words setting everything in motion.

"Indeed!! A player! Yep!!"

"That's a function," your pondering voice meets a forced silence. The state of perturbed ambiance vanishing as your thoughts are cut off.

A flesh of white. Empty space occupies the spot where the sorcerer was standing less than a second ago.

You sense his presence before your eyes even settle on his countenance; his eyes, framed with short zig-zag lines reminiscent of lightning bolts underneath them, a furious cauldron of murderous excitement as they lock onto yours. They widen with a manic intensity. An undertone of madness lurking deep within their depths.

A predator's gaze fixated on its prey.

In a heart-stopping moment, time stands still. The world around you fades into a blur as a primal instinct takes over. Your body reacts; a precision born of pure reflex – muscles coiled like springs, you counter his attack with a swift and calculated movement.

His volatile energy crackles in the air. Your hands snap up. Fingers attempting to curl around his bandaged forearm. Channeling your cursed energy to your clavicles, the place where his palm lays flat against you –

But your reactions prove inadequate. You're too slow. A shocking speed and heavy push; a surge of force is sent through your body, catching you off-guard. The ground beneath you becomes a temporary adversary. Your balance disrupted as you're sent flying backward.

Back colliding with the hard, metal steel of a shipping container – you watch in horror as the sorcerer mercilessly attacks Panda. Using his staff as a weapon. With unnatural speed and agility, Panda struggles against him; his valiant resistance a testament to his determination, his form a blur of motion as he evades the sorcerer's attacks and manages a few good blows of his own.

Your body feels light. A tingling sensation surging through your veins. Electric current's rushing beneath your skin, setting your pulse racing and your focus to a razor's edge. The metallic taste of blood floods your mouth. Mingles with the adrenaline in your body. Every nerve firing in response to the raw energy pulsing through your body.

It hits you then–

"Heh, electricity," you mumble, the word slipping from your lips as you raise your palms, clenching your fists. Feeling the tingling in the tips of your fingers. The slight buzzing in your ears.

–his cursed energy has a special trait. One certainly hard to defend against.

Barely seconds have passed since your body was forced to rest against the ground. It still feels too long with Panda barely matching the man's speed and force.

Gritting your teeth, the urgency of the situation anchors you, overriding any pain or disorientation as you fight to regain your footing. A sense of pride fills you when you watch Panda use his technique, striking the sorcerer with enough force that'll easily knock him out cold. One of Panda's winning moves.

Except it doesn't.

"Nice one," the man's voice rings out. A taut smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Your teeth clench, disbelief intertwining with unease as you watch. With a predominated precision, the sorcerer maneuvers his staff, entwining it with Panda's arm in a smooth motion that catches you off guard.

Exerting a forceful pull, he forces a grimace from Panda. Right arm caught in the vice-like grip, a sickening crack underscores the moment. Followed by the nauseating sensation of Panda's arm being torn from his body. Violently. And mercilessly.

Panda stumbles. Pain and agony escaping in a cry. The sorcerer doesn't waste a second. Hurls the arm back at Panda, using the momentum to charge forward. Palm aiming flat against his chest, he sends Panda flying backward – the same way he did to you. Causing your junior to experience a similar sensation to yours.

The cyan-haired man straightens, seemingly relaxing, already content with winning the fight.

"But I'm not impressed," he taunts, words an ominous echo of the violence just unleashed, "It's too ordinary."

Feeling the concrete beneath your feet, you take deliberate steps forward. With an inkling of Panda's potential strategy, you expel the pooled blood from your mouth, spitting it onto the ground.

"...Sukuna, you know where he is?" The man's words flow, attention diverted, ignorant of your presence.

A fortunate circumstance.

"No clue," Panda responds. His reply burdened with weariness and defeat; yet his gaze remained fixed on you, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as you position yourself, tension radiating from his weary form.

The sorcerer scoffs; a contemptuous tilt of his head, a gesture laden with superiority. "Sounds like you know something, then," he snarls, his grip on the staff constricting as his fist clenches, "Spit it out. I'll be merciful."

With the sorcerer's back turned you raise your arm. Your gaze remains fixed upon the convergence point of the two delicate lines, their path crossing at the very heart of the expanse that's the upper part of his broad back.

"I won't be," you declare; voice carrying a firm tone. A deft flick of your wrist – the current of cursed energy takes the desired shape before it's hurled toward your target. Slashing the air in front of you, aimed right at him.

His gaze veers to the side. And in a fraction of a heartbeat, he moves; executing a skillful sidestep. Body positioned to face you from the side, both hands now gripping his staff, aiming it at you; a glint of fervor ignites his eyes as they widen, locked onto the shipping container stationed behind Panda. The unforgiving force of your attack rends the shipping container apart, leaving two gaping slashes that could bisect a man.

You don't give him time to react properly.

The moment blood begins to stain his white robe crimson red from the nick on his shoulder, you lunge forward. Like a bull being waved a red flag. Feet imbued with your cursed energy, reinforced to ensure protection.

As you close the distance at a breakneck pace, you sense the distinct composition of his cursed energy. With your fingers curled around the staff, your eyes meet his, a faint grin playing at the corners of your mouth as you tug on his weapon with your full body weight. Lifting your legs off the ground, you use the staff as a fulcrum. His body feels resilient, akin to forged steel, against the soles of your shoes.

With the potency of your cursed technique coursing through your strike, the man is propelled backward, his body hurtling through the air. The Nyoi staff clings to the concrete. Left untouched upon the impact.

Flying through a shipping container, he quickly finds his footing. Stance shifting in response to your aerial maneuver. Legs splayed to establish a firm foundation, you focus your intent on targeting his jaw. Fists charged with cursed energy, you hit once; knowing how troublesome the push-and-pull effect of your technique feels once your flesh makes contact–

"Not bad," he manages to spit out, the corner of his lip stained red. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip as you sprint toward him.

The surroundings blur into a muddled backdrop, irrelevant in your unwavering concentration. The sorcerer becomes the sole axis, a focal point in a world that seems to slow to a crawl, even though only a fraction of a second has passed.

The tip of your foot touches his; a mere whisper of contact between two opposing forces.

"Not bad at all."

–he counterattacks. Hand darts forward. Grabs your wrist. With an economy of motion, he employs your own momentum against you. His grip becomes a pivot, briefly throwing you off-balance, diverting your forward surge into an unexpected spiral.

Fluidity. That's how you'd characterize his movements. A seamless transition from being a passive target to an active agent.

His chest brushes against your back as his right hand remains locked around your right wrist. Single-handedly swinging your body like a marionette, you exploit the vulnerability of your position. Using his grip as leverage to move backward, simultaneously grabbing hold of his bandaged left forearm and pulling. Crashing your body into his, redirecting the movement into a collision.

With a potent surge of intention, you force the prepared rejection and attraction effect within your clenched fist, propelling it like a bolt toward the rear of your skull. Teeth gritted, you throw your head back.

Crack.

He stifles a groan, a step taken back but footing resolute. A red trail paints his nose as you swivel to confront him. Pausing briefly to charge your energy again, you grant him a moment to speak. His expression freezes as he locks eyes with you

"You," he speaks up, his voice textured with the tang of iron as his tongue grazes his lips, "Have we met before?"

With your hand still tingling, the ripples of sensation spread up your arm, an electric current tracing a pattern beneath your skin. Your head sways subtly, dispelling the notion of a previous encounter. "Unlikely. You'd be history."

A chuckle dances from his lips, a response to your retort. "What's your name then?"

You share it deliberately, each syllable a measured beat in your dance around one another. He nods, his head tilting with self-assured grace. It's then that he takes his stance – feet planted firmly, palms outstretched, a grin playing on his lips.

"The name's Hajime Kashimo."

The words hang, a telltale echo–

Hajime Kashimo.

–recognition snaps into place when you repeat his name in your mind.

The Hajime Kashimo, the sorcerer whose score reaches a hundred points; a mark that sets him apart from any other Culling game player (except for the intricate Hiromi Higuruma). Hakari's elusive target.

And here, right before you, stands the man himself.

"Hey," you call out, a new determination blossoming, your stance embracing the challenge; retreat is no longer a consideration, "if I beat you, can I get your points?"

The corners of Kashimo's lips twitch, smile fading like a wisp of smoke carried away by the wind. Expression blank, with only his brows furrowed as he responds, "Sure, but you tell me everything y'know about Sukuna," his voice lowered to a dangerous undertone, a velvet threat veiled in words, "that is–if you're still alive."

He charges then. Doesn't spare a single consideration. The air crackles with tension as his presence engulfs you. His hands make contact – not with fists or strikes – but with the calculated pressure of his open palms. You feel the weight of his touch on your skin. Pressure on your left, then on your right ribcage.

"Don't disappoint me now," breath tickles your ear, voice a tantalizing, dangerous melody. His fingers anchor firmly onto your right shoulder, an assertive grip that both commands and unsettles, while his other hand exerts a calculated force on your left shoulder guard, propelling you into a spin.

Your training surges forth, a symphony of muscle memory and instinct harmonizing within you. With the resilience born of countless battles, you swiftly adapt your stance, shifting your weight to face him.

An annoyed huff leaves your now-bruised lips. You channel your own cursed energy, a torrent of power surging through your veins.

Detain an attack when it comes,–

Knees bending, body swaying to evade the incoming fist; your left hand grips his left wrist, fingers tightening with determination, followed by your right driving into its intended mark.

–and send it away when it retreats.

Your palm meets the solid plane of his chest with a resonant thud; pushes and then pulls him back to you before sending him away again; successfully pushing back against Kashimo's pressure. It's a momentary reprieve. One that sends the sorcerer tumbling back, makes him roll on the ground, lending on one knee.

"Here I thought we were just getting started," you quip with a hint of playfulness amidst the dance of combat. Moving swiftly towards the target. As Kashimo's force ebbs, you seize the opportunity, your muscles coiling like springs.

"You're getting me–" he barely makes it back to his feet before you're at him again. With enough cursed energy imbued into your foot, utilizing the momentum of your motion, leg rising up in a calculated kick – only for Kashimo to shift; a fraction of movement that proves decisive. His arm weaves beneath the arc of your thigh, a sinuous and serpentine maneuver that seeks to entwine and subdue. As his grasp tightens, his fingers snake around your throat, lifting you from the ground, suspending you momentarily.

"–quite excited," he concludes, his voice tinged with an eerie excitement.

Once the hand is freed from contact,–

A heartbeat's pause feels like an eternity. With your legs rendered weightless and no stable ground beneath you. Despite the vulnerable position, your mind remains steadfast, honing in on Kashimo's Achilles heel. His hands are preoccupied, his grasp unwavering but his neck and face exposed.

–carry out a strike with it.

Seizing the opportunity, you make the most of the opening. Your palms press against the sharp contours of his cheeks, each hand finding its place on one side of his face. In one swift and deliberate motion, you channel the wellspring of cursed energy that resides within you into your technique. The currents of your energy converge between your palms, weaving a tapestry of arcane force that manifests as a palpable vacuum, centered precisely where his head rests.

It's an intentional manipulation. One – if done right, that is – could even lead to a cataclysmic implosion. A violent severing of life from the body. But you don't want to kill him; not yet at least. You need the points. And so, you temper your approach, exerting only the necessary amount of energy to induce a sensation of compression.

As the feeling envelops him, Kashimo's expression shifts, a flicker of realization that dances within his eyes. He instinctively withdraws. Bandaged forearms push at your body, sending you hurtling backward; a testament to his strength and strategic finesse.

"You cheeky little thing," a bead of blood traces a path from the corner of his eye. At the same time, another droplet emerges from his nose.

This time it's him who doesn't let you regain enough control as he charges at you. His approach swift and unrelenting. The tables are constantly turning – now being his time to dictate the tempo.

Another dance of offense and defense plays out as the two of you clash once again. Each move a deliberate response to the other's actions.

Chase the movement of the opponent–

As the flurry of his strikes slices through the air, you find yourself navigating the ebb and flow with a synchronicity that borders on the sublime. With a hawk-like focus, you track the trajectory of his hand, your senses attuned to his every motion.

While his hits continue to swing through both empty space and meeting your body, a fleeting opportunity presents itself. With the precision of a seasoned sorcerer, you follow the path of his hand with your own, fingers closing around his forearm as it narrowly misses your cheekbone, the other digging into the open slash wound on his shoulder.

–to continue the attack.

It earns you a hiss. A "Tsk," coming from his damaged lips.

One fluid motion; one that belies your strength. You capitalize on the momentum of his own swing, utilizing your grip to exert control. Your foot surges forward with unbridled force, the sole of your shoe connecting with the vulnerable juncture of his knee.

Kashimo's reflexes kick in as he instinctively leaps back the moment your foot makes contact with his leg. His visage bears the marks of battle, a canvas adorned with streaks of red, the vestiges of blood from the prior exchange. A mirror to his appearance, your own face likely reflects a similar narrative. Marked by the intensity of the confrontation. By his pure, physical prowess. One that, even if you use all your cursed energy, you're certain you couldn't match.

The shadows of weariness begin to cast their subtle touch on you. A weight that tempers your movements and shadows the clarity of your thoughts. Each calculated step, each strategic strike, seems to bear an additional burden now.

Still, resolute, your unwavering determination fixated on Kashimo, persevering in the face of creeping exhaustion.

Then you take off.

With a surge of action, you propel yourself into motion. Pivoting on your heel, you sprint toward the towering container crane a mere few meters behind. Kashimo's quick thinking registers in the corner of your vision—a flash of white on your right, drawing nearer.

"Running so soon?"

His taunting words reach you.

"Just limbering up," you reply. Muscles tensing, you feel his energy almost brushing against your own. So, with a leap, you vault into the air. Fingers curling around your ankle.

Time seems to slow as Kashimo's grip tightens around your ankle, his fingers like a vice attempting to anchor you to the ground. The world spins around you, the crane's towering structure becoming a blur as your body is abruptly yanked back, denied the freedom of flight.

Instinct kicks in, your mind racing to find a solution. With a swift twist of your body, you channel the energy within, your cursed power surging to your fingertips. A burst of force courses through your arm, the concentrated energy propelling your free leg forward in a powerful kick. Your heel connects with Kashimo's face, the impact forcing his grip to release.

In the split second of regained freedom, your body soars toward the container crane.

Muscles strained, you manage to grab hold of a protruding metal edge, fingers gripping with an iron determination. The harsh clang of metal meeting metal reverberates through the air as your body comes to a halt, swinging slightly from the momentum before you propel yourself higher onto the structure.

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. The distance between you and Kashimo now a tangible reminder of your evasion. His frustrated gaze meets yours, the tension between you electric and palpable.

"Nice try," you retort, voice laced with a mixture of weariness and defiance. There's an undeniable satisfaction in defying his grasp, in proving your prowess even amid exhaustion. Without wasting a moment longer, you hoist yourself up more, using the crane's structure to propel your body upward. Your form melds with the steel as you ascend, a maneuver to gain the vantage point.

Gotta limit his movement to the minimum.

Kashimo's expression shifts, a glint of admiration piercing through his irritation. "Impressive," he concedes, the words carrying an unexpected note of respect, "but you can't run from me."

He follows your lead. The two of you ascending the crane in a synchronized rhythm

"I told you, Kashimo–," you declare, your voice echoing between the steel beams as you reach the crane's zenith, standing face to face on the narrowest edge.

Now standing face to face on the crane's uppermost beam, the narrow back reach providing only small support. Your breath heaves, each inhalation a reminder of the intense exertion. Across from you, Kashimo's gaze remains fixed upon you, his expression deceptively relaxed.

"–that I'm only stretching."

His eyes, however, tell a different story – a depth of focus that cuts through your form. Anchoring onto you with an unwavering intensity.

A mournful melody weaves through the metal lattice, the wind's haunting whistle creating an eerie harmony with the tension in the air. The gusts playfully tousle both your hair in the process. You steady yourself into a stance, your body a testament to both resilience and purpose.

"Plus I want those points," you remark, a hint of determination coloring your words.

It's then that you charge — cursed energy flowing through your body like currents of compressed emptiness. A void. Unyielding. Relentless. And pneumatic.

With a flick of your wrist, you send it slicing through the air. A blade of nothing. A thin line etches across his chest, traversing from ribcage to his already wounded shoulder — a mark of your earlier endeavor. Nowhere to dodge now that he's standing between two metal beams.

Or so you thought.

Kashimo charges. The white of his robe tainted with scarlet. The cut isn't deep.

He must've reinforced his cursed energy.

"Tsk," you utter. A flicker of irritation crosses your features. Agitated. With waning stamina, the dwindling reservoir of cursed energy depleted by your previous usage; this could've been your last-ditch effort.

The final move.

And it failed.

It makes him smile. A sinister twist of lips that morphs into a grin. Moving fast, his expression resembles one of a predator closing in on its prey. The ruby stain on his robe seems to accentuate his aura of danger, a stark contrast to the pristine white it once was.

As your body contorts and arches backward, you skillfully evade the incoming fist aimed at your face. Your unwavering gaze remains locked onto his intense stare. With your palm pressed flat against the ground of the crane, you swiftly raise your leg, delivering a targeted strike to the meat of his thigh.

But before your maneuver can fully unfold, his hand seizes your ankle, pulling you towards him and locking your leg in place as he maneuvers over your body. Kashimo's grin widens, a predatory glint in his eyes that triggers a ripple of unease down your spine.

As his fist whizzes past your face, you seize the opportune moment to mount a counterattack. His fingers, still harshly locked around your right ankle, you push and pull against his grasp. Leg successfully moving to close over his thigh, the other hooking around his hip.

Legs now firmly encircling his waist, you use every ounce of your strength to push. Destabilize the sorcerer. Break his foundation. Disrupt his equilibrium.

The outcome? Both of you soaring through the air and down the crane. Kashimo's form aligns perfectly with the approaching solidity of the dockside concrete.

A rapid free fall, gravity's pull unrelenting.

If you're not getting the points, he's not getting his answers either.

His eyes momentarily flit to the ground below. Unspoken recognition of the shared peril that binds you both. The realization dawns in his eyes, widening them momentarily, before his gaze settles onto your face once more – unimpressed. Jaded.

"Oops," you jest under your breath, fingers finding purchase on the fabric of his torn clothes. An unhinged smile on your lips, eyebrows lifting in a mix of audacity and exhilaration. The wind sweeps through, rustling your hair with a cool caress that contrasts starkly with the warm stickiness of blood on your skin.

"It's accumulated enough."

That's the only forewarning you get. In an instant, the atmosphere shifts; an electrifying tension that dances along your skin. You sense the already familiar tingling as the static charges from the man beneath you. Kashimo's cursed energy now gaining intensity.

His open hand thrusts towards your face, a surge of energy gathering at his fingertips. Only to get countered by your own palm. Flat against each other. Forcing a focal point of energy converges and resistance to form. As the push effect comes into play just in time with waves of electricity.

The crackling intensity escalates, its tendrils reaching out with an insatiable hunger. Only to be pushed back by your own manipulation acting as a steadfast wall. It's a symphony of sensations — the tingling of your skin, the hum of power in the air, the gradual crescendo of pressure between your palms. The vortex throbs and pulses, a living embodiment of the forces you both wield.

The thing is – The conductivity of the vacuum…depending on how you look at it, it behaves in two different ways:

Firstly, when you examine the motion of charged particles with a constant velocity within a vacuum, you encounter an interesting phenomenon. Unlike in other mediums, there is no opposing force acting against these particles. Consequently, maintaining a steady current across any surface within a vacuum demands no additional effort.

However, a contrasting phenomenon manifests when we consider the existence of free charges within conductors. When an electric field, denoted as E, is imposed upon a conductor, it triggers a flow of electric current. This internal charge movement gives rise to a current density described by the equation: J = σE, where σ symbolizes the conductivity of the material. Notably, within a vacuum, σ assumes a value of 0; hence, electric fields lack the capacity to spontaneously induce current flow.

In this context, the vacuum departs from the role of a conductor. Even materials known as insulators, which typically restrict the flow of current, possess conductivity values that are low but not completely absent.

As a result, the resistance exhibited by a vacuum effectively amounts to infinity—particularly when you define resistance through the lens of how charge carriers in a substance respond. Viewed from this perspective, you could liken the vacuum to an insulator, given the absence of charge carriers that are essential for the propagation of electric current.

So in the end, your innate ability functions like an antistatic force.

It should be enough to counter his attack. Neutralizing his endeavor and ricocheting it back to him. Only if his other hand, clenched into a fist, suddenly hasn't entered your line of sight, aiming for your jaw.

The controlled push-only effect falters. Then crumbles. The void's pull reclaims all that Kashimo had imparted, drawing it back with an insatiable greed.

"Damn you." It now comes down to the last aspect of your technique.

Implosion.

The energies within your vacuum field converge, collapsing inwards with a blinding intensity. A jarring impact against the back of your head – or it might be the ending of your fall. Everything's just confusing. Everything blurs into a disorienting haze of continuous events.

The unforgiving touch of concrete grates against your scraped back. Each breath, now shallow and ragged, causes pain.

Above, the sky stretches wide and boundless. Until the sight is blocked by a mop of cerulean blue hair. Two buns somehow still in place. Same-colored eyes staring at your form. Arms folded and a countenance marred by bloodstains and scrapes. Each leg positioned on either side of your hips before one presses against the flat of your clavicles.

"You're quite durable," Kashimo retorts, pushing his weight down on you, "that should've killed you right there."

"Heh," you manage a wry chuckle, your voice strained but defiant, "guess I'm full of surprises."

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of almost-amusement dancing in his eyes. The world around you seems to blur at the edges, the strain of the plummet combined with the failed attempt of your innate technique taking a heavy toll on your senses.

"It's been a while since I've encountered someone who can keep me on my toes this long. Now tell me," your name rolls off his tongue in a taunting lilt, "where's Sukuna?"

The distant sounds of the dockside begin to fade, replaced by an eerie emptiness. Despite your unwavering determination, a tide of dizziness threatens to engulf you, and you struggle to maintain your focus on Kashimo's face.

"On vaca–"

The weight on your chest vanishes abruptly. Kashimo's foot makes fleeting contact with your cheek before returning to its original place.

"Don't play with me. Spit it out."

"Oi," a voice calls to your right. A voice you know; Hakari's, "It's not very chivalrous to strike a lady like that."

From here, everything dissolves into darkness.

The world sways, a disorienting dance of shadows and sensations. Light pressure settles on your stomach with sounds echoing faintly in the distance. A gentle, steady rhythm envelops you as if you're being cradled in a cocoon of safety. Your limbs feel weightless, as though the ground beneath you has transformed into a soft cloud that carries your burdens away.

Your mind struggles to tether itself to the present, grappling with the fragments of consciousness that slip through your grasp. Colors blur, merging into a hazy kaleidoscope of fleeting images. The arms that encircle you exude warmth thought. One that lulls you back to sleep.

Yet you manage to summon the strength to part your heavy eyelids. Through the haze, you see a blur of black and white on top of you. Head resting upon something firm and solid – a breastplate, you realize. The rhythmic cadence that envelops you is accompanied by the subtle rise and fall of breath, a heartbeat that resonates beneath your cheek.

"Panda," you murmur, voice a tentative whisper as you attempt to comprehend whether or not you're dreaming, considering the creature on you is now a size of an actual teddy bear.

The toy-sized Panda remains seated on you but looks your way, emitting a surprised yelp at the sound of your voice, before swiftly turning his gaze forward again, "Hakari, she's awake!"

Your vision – still blurred – manages to trace a figure walking at the edge of your peripheral sight – left arm missing, shirt gone (he's shirtless, you discern), and crowned with purple hair. Hakari. But if Hakari's walking in front of you. Then…

Lifting your eyes, you suddenly lock onto a fleeting sight of vibrant cyan hair. The once-pristine white attire now soaked and marred with splotches of vivid red, creating an unsettling contrast. Your heart skips a beat as the realization dawns upon you.

It's Kashimo who bears the weight of your limp form.

"She's gonna pass out soon again," his voice carries vibrations that travel from his chest to your cheek with his gaze fixed upon you.

And he's right as your body, weary and battered, succumbs once more to the embrace of slumber.

[james-winston]

omfg I am so behind on this (and yes I’ve only become aware of it because Nicholas Galitzine offof rwarb is in it) but they’re making a fucking Duke of Buckingham series!!!

And you’re all sitting there like “who??” well let me tell you about this absolute fuck.

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham was the favourite of King James VI&I and by favourite I do mean it in the gayest of ways. (He started life as Sir George, the shittest of titles, and fucked his way to a Dukedom.)

Long story short, here’s a list of things I need to see in this series or I will SUE:

George slut dropping his way into James’s bed. (I mean, he danced for him, but whatever the 17th century equivalent to slut dropping was you can bet George was doing it.)

The exasperation of James’s advisors when he picks yet another beautiful young man to fuck and give totally unreasonable amounts of money and power to.

Even funnier if they show them actively helping George overthrow James’s old favourite before realising “oh shit this one’s worse.”

George failing consistently at every job he was given. (Yes I know he didn’t actually but where’s the comedy in competency? Give me himbo George or give me death.)

Parliament calling James to task on George being a fucking useless nuisance and James standing up in front of parliament and literally saying, “You may be sure that I love the Earl of Buckingham more than anyone else, and more than you who are here assembled. I wish to speak in my own behalf, and not to have it thought to be a defect, for Jesus Christ did the same, and therefore I cannot be blamed. Christ had his John, and I have my George.” (Huge points for throwing Jesus under the gay bus too.)

James practically arranging George’s marriage for him and then riding his horse around the park crying because George, shock, got married.

What better be the dirtiest sex scenes ever broadcast on British television that lead to the “master and dog” letter.

The consistent drama queenery from James, e.g:

I refuse to tag this as a spoiler because it happened 400 years ago: George smothering James and then playing the heartbroken widow to his son. (Historically debated, if anyone wants details shoot me an ask.)

George getting stabbed to death in what was probably the justified climax of him being the most irritating man alive.

George’s assassin getting the warmest send off ever given by any crowd at a public execution cause the people hated George so fucking much.

[corishadowfang]

WIP Prep Tag Game

Tagged by @siarven--thanks for the tag!

Rules: Answer the questions, then tag as many people as there are questions (or as many as you can).

I debated back and forth about which WIP I’d do, but since I’m going to be entering the rewriting/editing phase soon, I thought I’d do it for On my Heart!

FIRST LOOK

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

A boy named Aiden is temporarily turned into a dragon by his Familiar, Kiru, in order to save his life--something that’s both incredibly illegal and incredibly dangerous.  Now on the run, he enlists the help of a former police officer and a hermit with an unusual amount of knowledge about dragons to help prove he’s not the monster everyone thinks he is.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

I’ve planned the story so that it’ll fit into a single book!  Right now it’s approximately 250 pages, but after rewrites I think it’s going to be closer to 400 pages.  (I ended up rushing through a lot of things to finish this draft, so...lots of additions are needed.)

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

It’s very...blue.  This is probably because Kiru’s--and by extension, Aiden’s--primary color theme is blue.  Most of the time when I imagine scenery there’s a mix of monochrome and blue-tinted colors with a couple muted colors thrown in.

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

The two most notable are the Fate series and Brave Story.  Fate was actually one of the things that initially inspired the story (more accurately, it was a question that came up while I was playing Fate/Stay Night), and Brave Story has a nice mix of fantastical grounded by more relatable problems that I’d really like to emulate.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

They’re not neatly organized or anything, but there they are.

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

The primary character the story follows is Aiden Cooley.  He’s a sarcastic, adorkable child who really isn’t cut out for the nonsense he’s being put through.

7. Who is their closest ally?

Technically speaking, that would be these three:

Kiru, Aiden’s Familiar, who is something of a trouble-maker but cares deeply for Aiden

Gertrude, a very morally gray woman who would probably be really helpful if anyone could figure out what her motives are

And Jackie, an amputee who helps Aiden out of a combination of pity and worry that turning him in could actually cause bigger problems than helping him out.

8. Who is their enemy?

I joke that it’s himself, but that’s actually not entirely wrong.  One of the biggest problems for Aiden is that he tends to sabotage himself, whether by accident or on purpose.

As far as outside problems go, though, the most immediate ‘enemy’ would be the police.  They’re not really ‘bad guys,’ but they’re the major antagonists considering the position Aiden’s been put in.  The wider-scope antagonist would probably be society at large, though it takes a while for this to dawn on Aiden.

9. What do they want more than anything?

He’d really, really like to just go back home and, you know…not be arrested.  (He had other worries before the story’s start, and they get to be addressed throughout the course of the story, but this has quickly become his immediate concern.)

10. Why can’t they have it?

To give a really brief explanation about how some of the workings of the world: Familiars a readily-available for purchase, and, while all of them have the ability to turn their owners into dragons (should the owners so choose), the act has been outlawed both due to the fact that this would normally kill a user, and because dragons running rampant in the streets would generally cause a lot of panic. Aiden not only transforms into a dragon (albeit against his will), but is completely unharmed by the transformation. Basically, this means that even if he somehow manages to not be arrested, nothing’s going to be the same for him ever again.

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

He tends to have very low self-esteem.  To explain a little, he talks to his Familiar a lot because Kiru has higher artificial intelligence than most Familiars.  However, most kids outgrow this habit by, like…ten, and since Kiru can’t actually talk to anyone but Aiden, the rest of his peers all think he’s pretty weird. This has kind of seeped into his psyche over the years, to the point where he agrees and assumes that no one would actually be interested in being around him and Kiru.  He’s mostly convinced himself that he might be able to live a quiet, uneventful life where no one has to be disturbed by his ‘oddities,’ even though he wouldn’t be entirely happy doing so.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

OH GOSH.  Okay, so, this picture is pretty old, but here’s a rough idea of what Aiden looks like:

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

I’ve obviously already explained some of it for Aiden; there’s a lot about him learning how to move forward after an event that has drastically changed his life and how to find a ‘new normal,’ and also kind of learning to accept himself.  

For Kiru, a lot of the conflict relates to his own sense of self.  How much of him was created by Aiden as coping mechanism, and how much is himself?  What kind of role does he really play in a world ruled by humans?

For Gertrude, a lot has to do with her own past failings…though I won’t say too much on that.

Jackie’s arc actually parallels and ties with Aiden’s.  They complement each other, since Jackie has already started to learn how to find a ‘new normal’ after a life-changing event (the loss of her leg), and slowly helps Aiden come to terms with the situation through her own experiences.  On a more personal note, her views on Familiars and the people who use them are challenged constantly through working with someone who’s so close to them.

14. What is the external conflict?

The biggest conflict revolves around both evading the police and figuring out a way to get Aiden out of a situation where there are no real easy answers.  On a less important note, trying to understand why Aiden wasn’t affected by his transformation is a constant current in the background, and factors into some key areas of the story.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?  

The only remaining support system he has turning their backs on him would probably be pretty bad.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

That’s spoilers.

17. Do you know how it ends?

That’s…actually a good question.  I’ve finished the draft, so I know how that ends, and originally that was the ending I’d always envisioned for the story. However, I know this draft’s going to need a lot of edits and rewriting, so there’s a very strong possibility that a new ending will appear that works better.  So, we’ll see if it stays the same or not!

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?  

A pretty major over-arching theme is what you do when you’re in a situation where there are no good answers—where there is no clear-cut right and wrong, and you just have to try your best to pick the right option.  This isn’t just present with the main characters, either; the police officers—especially Chief Harris, who hates this whole situation—and Aiden’s parents have plenty of their own struggles trying to figure out the right thing to do.

A smaller theme, though, is the subject of humanity—what makes us human, and, to use a trope name, “What measure is a non-human?”

19. What is a recurring symbol?  

…Dragons, I guess?  Or water, maybe, because it plays such a heavy metaphorical role in the story.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

On a large scale, it’s set in an alternate version of Earth where dragons and humans once coincided. The two races ended up fighting, and humans eventually drove dragons to extinction.  A couple decades later, humans decided to try and make the power of dragons their own.  This eventually led to them creating Familiars, which would bestow the power of dragons on humans (with the idea that they’d be less likely to turn on their own kind).  Unfortunately, the dragon transformation was pretty fault due to the fact that it forces a person’s body to change and grow in unnatural ways.  Familiars are still used in every-day life, though—and they’ve been given extra abilities to compensate for the fact that they can’t really be used for their original purpose.

On a smaller scale, the story takes place in the city of Provenance, aka “The Birthplace of Familiars.” It’s a medium-sized city that sits along the bank of a river and used to be the fishing village of White Water. Since the creation of Familiars and Familiar Co. (the primary Familiar manufacturing company), it’s started relying more and more on tourism and Familiar-based exports.  Provenance is kind of this weird mix of historical, tourist trap, and modern city with a lot of weird legends and out-of-the-way places.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already? 

Originally there were several scenes I had in mind, but as for this upcoming draft…I actually don’t? I might once I get through with editing, but right now there’s nothing major.

22. What excited you about this story?  

So you can probably guess from the theme question, but I really like exploring difficult topics and morally-ambiguous situations in fiction.  A lot of times it’s how I personally work out solutions to those problems (at least on a personal level), and exploring those themes can actually be pretty fun!

But I also really love the characters and their interactions.  They’re basically one big messed up family and I love them.

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!  

Honestly, it’s nothing very exciting.  I usually pick out a song to listen to on repeat—most of the time it has some relation to the story, but other times it’s just one that I like a lot.  Then I’ll set it going and start writing.  I usually have a goal in mind.  So, for example, “Get to the end of this part,” “finish this chapter,” or “write this many pages.”  Basically this just makes sure that I actually make a decent amount of progress on it.  And that’s…basically it?  Sometimes to get myself inspired I’ll read world-building or analysis posts, but that’s not every time; it just kind of depends on my mood.

This was a lot of fun!  Now to tag people...

I’ll tag @paladin-andric, @touchingmadness, @moonbow-ink, @diwrites, @sleepy-and-anxious, @fatal-blow, @focusdumbass, @thatsmybluefondue, @junglefae, @feathersandfortunes, @roselinproductions, @forlornraven, @aureliobooks, @maple-writes, @jess---writes, @aleshirewrites, @ad-drew, @nepeinthe, @novelier, @spacebrick3, @infinitelyblankpage, @insertpenname-here, @theta-lee, and anyone else who wants to do this!  (No pressure if you don’t, of course; this one’s pretty long.)

[nintendroid]

Nintendroid and Retro Cat Adventures vs Wrestling #4 - WWF RAW (Super Nintendo)

WWF RAW Holds a special place in my heart. It was the first wrestling game I ever played, just as I was getting into the world of Pro wrestling. While bigger and better wrestling games came into my life the older I got, I never forgot WWF RAW.

Putting my nostalgia aside, I feel that WWF RAW is a good wrestling game. The gameplay is accessible, it captures the early 90’s WWF feel, and they're a variety of match options for single and multiplayer. Many hours were spent playing it on my own, as well as having 5-star bouts with my cousins and little brother. When I wasn't able to wrestle my brother due to parental interference or I got tired of beating my action figure collection, WWF RAW gave me a whole new outlet for my wrestling fandom.

WWF RAW is the third in a handful of WWF games developed by Sculptured Software and published by LJN and later Acclaim. Gameplay stays consistent in the series with minor tweaks added.

In-ring gameplay is consistent with its predecessors. You can punch, kick, shoulder tackle opponents. The core mechanic is the “lockup”. As you lock up, you'll notice a meter above the wrestlers. You consistently tap buttons in hopes of letting your meter fill up to perform moves like suplexes, body slams, finishing moves, hip tosses, whatever else.

Each wrestler has a life bar or “stamina” meter. It depletes the more you whip on your opponents. Once their life bar is empty, you can cover them for a pinfall. However in the “brawl” option, the match is over when a player loses his life bar, no pinfall needed.

My personal favorite things about this game is the freedom. You can brawl on the outside, hit your opponent with a nearby chair and bucket, jump from the top rope onto your opponent outside the ring and beat up the referee with no real consequence. WWF RAW live up to the old phrase “anything can happen in the World Wrestling Federation” well.

I mentioned you can beat up the referee and it's hilarious. It's not an important part of RAW but it's one of those little details that makes this game so fun to play. If the referee is counting you out, your tag opponent can walk over, punch him in the head and break the count. If you're running the ropes, you can knock the referee out for a period of time. Knock him out three times, he gets up, waves his arms like “to hell with it” and leaves the ring for the rest of the match. Don't you wish you could do that in other sports games?

The roster is stacked. The Hart bros, Diesel, The Undertaker, Razor Ramon, Shawn Michael and more. I would go as far as saying the best roster of any of the WWF Super Nintendo titles. All have the same moveset outside of their finishers and “super moves”. They all have their own individual stats but outside of the 123 Kid’s running speed. They’re not noticeable.

The music is good. While the matches themselves have no BGM, the select screen and opening all contain 16 renditions of RAW’s opening theme and the wrestler’s entrance themes. They're all well done. It's weird however hearing Shawn Michaels “sexy boy” theme sans lyrics.

They're a nice variety in match options. You have one-on-one for exhibitions, brawl exhibitions, tag team and survivor series (with up to four players) royal rumble, where you try and throw everyone out of the ring and your tournament modes, where you beat everyone for the single or tag team championship. Good list of options and a far cry from the bare bones Super Wrestlemania from a couple years before.

Nitpicks? I have a few but they're really minor. Although the wrestlers have different stats like height and weight, they all look the same in-ring. Even the 400+ pound Yokozuna doesn't look his weight. While the character sprites all look good and they look like who they're representing, they all have the same face. Squashy, squinty eyes and straight mouths. It looks more like a caveman league.

My second nitpick is the super moves. Each superstar has a unique “super move” they can pull off with a button combination e.g. Owen Hart spins around the ring like a top, 123 Kid jumps 20 feet in the air for a splash. He super moves are ok, but they're out of place here. They're complicated to pull off and they’re better suited for an arcade game.

My last nitpick is the ending *SPOILER*. I tried so hard to beat this game when I was a kid and can still remember the day me and my cousin beat it as a tag team. The camera pans above the crowd, fireworks go off and…white text congratulating you on the win. Where is my championship belt!? As awful as Wrestlemania for NES was, you at least got the heavyweight belt at the end of the game! I'm ready for the strap brother!

With my nitpicks out of the way, WWF RAW is a fun and entertaining wrestling title. I recommend it to anyone that's a fan of that era. It's a party game, so have some buddies over before a big PPV and go nuts.

I award WWF RAW with the “King of the Ring” rating. While too good to be a midcard champ but not quite a world champ, it’s definitely a top contender to be around for years to come. I’d easily put WWF RAW over Billy Gunn no question.

[spooksmooselives]

I done got tagged

Sticking it under the cut haha. This is for you @pomnoichu

1. How old? I’d say I’m about a third of the way there (to death) if I’m lucky. //24

2. Current Job? I teach English to kids in Japan. It’s pretty okay!

3. Dream Job? Illustrating for TV shows or comics or picture books or whatever. It’s called a dream for a reason though eyyyyy.

4. What are you talented at? I’m pretty good at complaining and being a sore loser!

5. What is a big goal you are working towards/ have achieved already? Well, I managed to keep ZT going for a year already (130+ pages hot dang) so that’s kind of cool? Want to do something original next. 6. What’s your aesthetic? 1990s/early 2000s video games with the 3D character sprites on the pre-rendered backgrounds. A lost art.

7. Do you collect anything? The amount of video games that I don’t have time to play and comics that I don’t have time to read but keep buying anyway keeps increasing.

8.  What’s a topic you always bring up in conversations? Going off cliffs.

9.  What’s a pet peeve of yours? Video game theory videos and spoilers.

10. Good advice to give? Don’t stop doing what you love because it’s hard. Giving up is easy. Being happy with yourself is not. Don’t let your dreams be memes.

11. Recommend 3 songs or more 1. Two Trucks - Lemon Demon (currently one of my most played songs) 2. Breakdance Peach - BotanicSage (this is what I listen to whenever I’m upset) 3. Good Day - IU (oh man there dance with the little shoulder thing oh man they’re so cute so good just wish there was more dancing)

Music Shuffle Thing

1. Follow my Ruin - Röyksopp (I really like this band. They make me happy.)

2. At Least We Tried - Moby (I really also like Moby’s old stuff, like 18 and Hotel. Back when it was upbeat and not all downers.)

3. Blue Wind - YUI (Yes I learned of YUI from anime. Next.)

4. W - R carousel - Seiko Kobuchi (from the Demento/Haunting Ground soundtrack. I’m really bad at this game, but I like it. Can’t really recommend the music, though.)

5. Value of the Man - Outsider (K-rap of course.)

6. Exogenesis: Symphony Part 2 - Muse (Ah, high school. When people bought physical CDs and I could just rip my friends’ disks.)

7. Ballade #1 in G Minor, Op. 23 CT 2 - Chopin (I like classical sometimes.)

8. Incontrôlable - Louane (French pop, of course. It’s pretty.)

9. Kom Håll Om Mig (Speedy Remix) - Caramell (remember when this Swedish band was a meme?)

10. To Binge - Gorillaz (Why do I have their new stuff but not the old stuff? What is this, iTunes?)

And 11 Facts About Me

1. Last year was the first time I made online friends.

2. Sometimes I pretend I’m sleeping if I don’t want to talk to people.

3. I don’t wear my glasses at home, partially because I don’t want to see how dirty it actually is.

4. My eyesight is 20/400~20/500ish. I can clearly see about a foot away from my face. Two feet is manageable. With glasses I’m 20/20.

5. I saw a ghost once with my sister at a creepy rundown Ramada Inn in Kentucky. Male, holding a weed wacker. No joke.

6. My favorite flavor of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. Close second is pralines and cream. Third is vanilla shakes.

7. I’m really bad at pacing myself on projects. I could never do the hour a day for two weeks thing, it always had to be 14 hours straight for one day, or 7 hours straight for two days.

8. I understand romance and attraction in my head, but I’ve never experienced either for myself, so I can’t empathize at all with people who feel them.

9. I didn’t have a nickname as a child. Actually, I was given a name that was specifically difficult to shorten or turn into a nickname.

10. I need to mentally prepare myself for about half an hour before making a 30 second phone call.

11. I live alone and a 26 hour travel day away from the entire rest of my family. I want to see my family again soon. I miss them.

[slowlystupendousdelusion]

Going to London on a whim definitely paid off cause I managed to wrangle my way into Macbeth twice

Some further thoughts:

1. Okay so I think it might have been the arts interview where Tennant says not to worry about understanding Shakespeare because if the actors are doing their job right you will be fine. He's right and this cast utterly succeeds at that.

2. I'm generally terrible for my mind wandering when I'm watching things (the rewind button on my remote is much abused) but I was enthralled from start to finish. Even with having seen it multiple times. Not a hint of my mental shopping list.

3. My potentially controversial opinion is that I might like the cheap seats better? When I was in the stalls I was off to the side, whereas the standing tickets obviously you're looking at the stage head on. I think some of the visuals were far more striking from the back - you get full impact from the lighting and the blood seeping out at the death scene and the people behind the screen at the back. I don't think the warm to cool light changes are as noticeable from the front. However, you obviously have a much better view of the actors and the nuances of their performances (although because of the set up of the theatre from the side you are blocked from seeing everyone on stage at some points). It's a bit more intense up close, and it does feel like the actors are looking directly at you (Not me quailing in my seat during prolonged eye contact 😅)

4. I think I went through the overall choices made before but some more things I enjoyed: how much humour is imbued throughout, Lady Macbeth being warm and likeable, Macbeth lying prone multiple times through the play mirroring his final send off, Macduff "all my pretty ones?", Macbeth's little face when he gets both swords, him questioning the manhood of the cutthroats, the absolute softness of Macbeth's embrace before completely pulling the rug out from under you and murdering a child in the same gesture.

4. Minor miracle how Cush Jumbo managed not to get her bloodied hands on her very white dress? Very impressed with this.

5. I think the one thing I would say is that they should have made Fleance/Macduff's son/Young Siward have more obvious costume changes between them

6. I still love how pared back the stage and costumes are. It's incredible how rich the experience is with actually not a lot.

7. I think I'm sold on the binaural audio; the play opens in darkness and you hear a bird move from one side to the other in your headset. Not only do I look from one side to the other like a fool, but my brain reckons it can see the wings in the gloom. There are multiple moments that the delivery is far more intimate than would be allowed without use of the audio. I think this could be really beneficial for larger theatres for those in the cheaper seats too. Also, maybe better for inclusivity for those with visual or aural impairments if everyone has a headset? The drawbacks for me are the occasional crackle you get from the mic pack, and I guess maybe it feels like you're further removed from the actors themselves. Also I guess if I'm sitting at the side my left and right sounds don't quite match up with where the actors are looking based on where the left to right sounds are for those sitting centrally? It didn't really affect my enjoyment any, but would perhaps need to be considered if this was used in different performances/larger theatres etc.

8. What the binaural audio did not stop was me hearing the woman sitting next to me gasping and jumping about ten foot into the air multiple times during the performance. She absolutely had not noticed anything going on behind the screen at the back until they started hammering, and of course I then jumped myself cause I was not expecting noise/motion from that side. This was incredibly funny but awkwardly coincided with some of the most intense parts of the play. (Although I imagine if I hadn't already seen it I might have been less entertained)

9. Have I said how good it was? It bears repeating

10. Standing Ovation discourse: Friday night I was surprised by how few stood? As the painfully British person I am, I was hoping that someone else would stand up first but they didn't in my block. Also I almost garotted myself on the headphone wire when I stood up so maybe this was a consideration others were having. I was sort of shocked that others didn't stand after we did (not because I think I'm some kind of influencer but IME British standing ovations are motivated by social pressure in a "oh gosh all these other people are standing up, I guess I better had too" sort of way. There has to be enough people doing it to overcome the innate "you must not make a scene" directive that burns within our souls.) No one stood in the front row of my bit at all. Sat Mat had noticeably more people standing, including in the front row.

11. The person sat next to me said to her husband as it ended "I certainly wasn't wowed by it" and I was utterly shook. I don't think I heard any one else being particularly critical (but also I would never say anything so damning about a show I'd seen in the theatre itself so maybe it's not a fair sample)

12. Honestly I needed a full on hour or so to decompress after seeing this, I was fizzing under the surface.

[slowlystupendousdelusion]

So apparently at some point I vomited an essay about my Macbeth feelings and left it lingering in my drafts for months?

So I guess here are my 3am Donmar Macbeth thoughts from a few months back now that I'm going to see it again (!)

(Err spoilers)

Not to be back on my Macbeth bullshit again

And as I said before I know nothing about acting to have a nuanced take on performances but I want to talk about the set. (I also have no credentials to talk about this, but I do have a lot of feelings about it?)

I just love so many of the choices made to the extent that I'm still thinking about it a lot. Macbeth was the first Shakespeare we did at school and a large part of what appealed to me aged 10 would be the supernatural aspects, mediaeval castles and battles, and so going in this production would have been almost the opposite of what I would have thought I'd want from a Macbeth set. Or at least what 10 year old me would want. (Also i will acknowledge that it would be hard to go full throttle historical epic in such an intimate theatre anyway)

But being pared back worked so well. The costumes! Nod to the Scottishness with the kilts but still modern. The monochromes pop against the white stage, so it is the movement of the actors that you focus on. Lady Macbeth's all white costume tying in with appearance Vs reality themes (Innocent flower / serpent under't) by subverting your expectations also maybe hinting at the general less Evil slant this production has for her. I read the interview with the set designer that said her difference in clothing was supposed to reflect her being an outsider as well - Lady Macbeth being the only non-Scottish cast member in this production and the thought process being that perhaps it was this that lead her to be less wed to the idea of the social hierarchy as it was. I'm not sure I picked that up when watching, but it was really interesting to hear about this thought process.

I also loved how the music in this production was traditional, tying the play back to Scotland, which could be harder to create a sense of in such a pared back set design.

The stage itself is so simple but the white works so well esp when viewed from higher up in the theatre. It means that the silhouettes of the actors are striking, particularly with the monochrome costumes, and the kilts creating a shape. The few props that are used also end up silhouetted across the stage which is just chef's kiss. (And to think you don't even see this from the expensive seats!)

Also a good proportion of the performance the actors are in the space around the stage block rather than on it - it's used in a very versatile way - you have the porter doing his stand up routine walking around it, you have it used as a table with the characters seated around it at a feast, you have it used as a balance beam for Fleance as he walks along a wall.

Soundproof panel at the back. The way the actors can be lit up or hidden and ugh. Again this is harder to see from the side seats but gives a haunting vibe when viewed head on. This is such a clever way of getting the feeling of unease into the stage production when the supernatural aspects aren't physical.

The lighting. It feels weird to gush about the lighting. But I will continue to gush about the lighting. Just switching from warm to cool with the supernatural/psychological component works so well. It just plays such a big part in the story telling and like you're not even that conscious that it's happening? And the red light for the witches final bit where we get buffeted around Macbeth's mind with him. Gah. Such a big part of the production and yet so understated

Lady Macbeth and her candle - with so few props it makes it so much more striking when they are used! Weird thing to say: but also how great are candles as things? The way the candle light reflects off Lady Macbeth is just ugh and I know this is just how candles work but I don't think we appreciate this enough. I guess a candle stick is a different vibe from like a Yankee candle in my living room but you know.

The beautiful light pouring through Dunsinane Wood at the end onto the stage.

The blood pack and the way it flows out onto the white stage and obviously it's different each night and isn't that beautiful that each closing scene is unique because of fluid dynamics

(My only thing with this is lying supine where the blood only ends up on Macbeth's back looks really inorganic somehow even though it's obv not. But like let the man get covered in blood on his front as well. Imagine the aesthetic)

Honestly I am so curious to see how they will adapt this for a bigger theatre. The Donmar is set up pretty uniquely (it's fairly vertical in terms of seating if thats the right word? Which is quite different from all the other theatres that I can think of in London) and some of the things that worked really well for me was aided by having that height. The stage itself was used variously as a table, a stepping stone etc in this production, so the compactness of that central block is sort of necessary for example in the feast scene. If the theatre has a more trad seating plan, viewing mainly from the front with a shallower vertical height, a lot of the intimacy will be lost. I'm excited to see what solutions they will put in place to try and keep the vibes in a different setting.