#first spring out west! whoo

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

ft. the perpetual sunburn of an outdoorsy butch in New Mexico

@very-offkey-kazoo @mistressofprestidigitation @nyxshadowhawk

@castrotophic @tansyuduri @captorations

Starting new picrew bc I find this one super cute and pretty so lets go! LINK

No pressure tag @wyvernslovecake @bby-deerling @nina-ya @ringdabel @im-stuck-in-fandom-hell and everyone who wants to join! 💛

[etraytin]

First Lines of Fic Game

First-lines-of-fic meme! Tagged by @beingatoaster!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Whoo, it's been awhile since I did ten fic, but let me dip into the archives here. Most of what I've been writing lately is Minecraft stuff because it is kind of fun to play in a universe where all the physics are made up and the biology doesn't matter. Here we go! (I have decided to take the concept of "first lines" very liberally and go with sort of "first idea of the fic.")

Number 1: We Could Be Sleeping in the Flowers (Hermitcraft) It could be worse, Grian thought to himself as he grimly scaled the wall of his base to attach another few strands of glow lichen. He could have come down with much worse diseases.

Number 2: This Heart of Mine That's Guilty, Not Remorseful (Hermitcraft) “I’m sorry, Grumbot,” Father whispered, and Grumbot didn’t understand. In the darkness of predawn, his sensors could barely detect the small Player crouching under the screen that made up Grumbot’s “face.” Other Father did most of the maintenance on Grumbot, but he could sense the faint discomfort that was someone meddling with his interior components.

Number 3: After One or Two False Starts, I Believe We've Found Our Stride (Double Life) “So do you and Scott still have something going?” Tango asked one night.

Number 4: Do You Know How To Go To The Heaviside Layer? (Double Life) Pearl should’ve just ignored the noise from the forest. She had so much to do! Her precious doggies were well-fed for now, thanks to the meat rotting in Ren and BigB’s abandoned home, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still time for hunting!

Number 5: Set You Sailing From My Harbor (Double Life) Grian went to Scar in the first quiet moment he could find that first day, the first moment he was sure that the implacable attention of their audience was turned elsewhere.

Number 6: Put Out All Your Strength of Arm and Heart and Brain (Double Life) Pearl woke to the sound of Tilly barking. That was odd in itself, since Tilly rarely barked, but what could be bothering her inside their own base?

Number 7: I Hope You Blink Before I Do (Double Life) Pearl told herself that being alone wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t as though she needed a partner for a simple survival world anyway. She’d done this dance a thousand times on her own.

Number 8: Brick By Brick and Heart By Heart (Hermitcraft, Third Life) The swamp was peaceful at night, Grian thought. Maybe not all swamps but this one certainly was, just a little wedge of nature left tucked between Larry the Snail and the magical village.

Number 9: Isolated Cases (The West Wing) “Does my face look flushed to you?” Josh demanded.  “Well, you’ve been yelling for the past ten minutes, so...” Donna pointed out.  Josh frowned, leaning closer to his laptop. “No, I’m being serious. Do I look flushed to you? I feel hot.” 

Number 10: Cause Problems on Purpose (The Good Place, Untitled Goose Game) It was another perfect day in the Good Place, seventy degrees and sunny, no clouds, no bugs, and no pollution. Around a thousand years ago Janet had changed the neighborhood algorithm to allow for occasional rainy days and a month here and there of perfect summer, autumn or winter, but for the most part the Good Place was a world of beautiful late spring weather.

There's a real big jump in time there between numbers 8 and 9, because I basically didn't write at all after the start of the pandemic (except that one particular fic) until spring of 2022 when the writing bug bit again. Number 1 is a WIP that has been lingering for months now since my mom had her stroke and life got real weird again for awhile, but I'm planning on finishing it up very soon. There is more writing to be done!

Let's see, I'm gonna tag @smallblueandloud and @tanoraqui and @stars-inthe-sky and anybody else who wants to take a little walk down Fic Memory lane. It's fun!

[lokimostly]

Home from War (Ch.5/8)

James Conrad x Reader Word Count: 3,015 Warnings: character death, injury, depictions of violence and gore Fic Summary: One year after you lost the love of your life, a last-minute decision changes everything you thought you knew. Now only one question remains: how to make it out alive, and return home from war?

A/N: Whoo. I could have posted a day ago, but y’all know me, I’m a perfectionist to a fault and I had to make sure everything was *chef’s kiss.* Also, I split the chapter AGAIN cause it was way too long (and I like where it ends better, anyway). I’m looking forward to your comments on this one. <3 

Prequel Series | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight (Epilogue)

As you and the group travelled west across the island, the feeling of dread in your stomach began to tie itself into knots. 

Everyone but Colonel Packard and a few of the soldiers were visibly on edge. No one would meet your eyes, focused instead on the forest around them, and what could possibly be in it. Particularly what wanted to eat you alive.

You took solace in walking with Conrad. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like, stuck on this island without him. But he too looked tense, every tone muscle in his body taut like a coiled spring. If Conrad was nervous, how could you not be?

The trees thinned. The air was thicker, and sick-smelling somehow. You began to pass huge, moss-covered pillars that jutted from the ground: giant bones. Thousands of them. They were overgrown by vines and trees, the only remnants of ancient creatures long-dead – and whatever had killed them.

You came over the crest of a grassy hill and your breath caught when you saw the valley below. 

Filled with putrid smoke, polluted with gaseous vents and littered with the monolith bones of two former giants, the smell alone was enough to make you gag. The bones of the giants were still bloodstained. It may have been years since they’d died, but not so long ago that whatever killed them hadn’t stopped gnawing on their bones.

“You smell that?” Marlow said in disgust. “That’s death.” 

“What the hell is this place?” Slivko asked weakly, pushing up his bandana and looking like he might throw up. 

“This is what’s left of Kong’s parents,” Marlow said, clenching his jaw.

“I’ve taken enough photos of mass graves to recognize one,” Weaver deadpanned. She stared ahead with a sour expression. The mood of the group dropped even further and settled into heady discontent.

Colonel Packard, on the other hand, was unfazed. “The crash site’s just on the other side of this valley,” He nodded, gesturing to the terrain below you with his rifle. “We’ll cross through and make it to the highest point west.” 

You looked down into the crater of bones, which was so polluted by fumes that you could hardly see into it, much less across to the other side.

Yeah, this was not a good idea.

Marlow gaped at the Colonel, astounded that he was still set in his course. “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head, vocalizing your thoughts. “This place is a real no-no, sir.”

“We need to be going to the north side right now!” One of the LandSat scientists piped up quickly, riding the wave of insubordination.

The Colonel turned to look at him sharply. “And you’re welcome to do that, my man,” he snapped. “By yourself!” 

He turned back to the rest of you, looking from face to face obstinately. “Now who’s with me?”

The soldiers looked between each other with uncertainty. You and Mills glanced shared a glance and he gave you a severely disgruntled look behind the Colonel’s back.

“We can make it,” Conrad said. His eyes were fixed on the valley. Your mouth opened in shock and you stared at him, screaming in silent disbelief.

Are you kidding me? You thought.

Conrad glanced at you and tightened his jaw.

“Mighty right, we can make it,” Packard nodded. “Now, stay sharp, keep an eye out.” And with that, he began walking down the hill. 

Most of the soldiers fell into line automatically, some more reluctantly than others. You stood on the ridge for a moment, looking at the path ahead. Marlow adjusted his cap with a stony expression.

“I’ve only been here twenty-eight years, what do I know?” he muttered, shaking his head and following them downhill.

You sighed, rubbing your face and shaking your head into your palm. Everyone else began the descent. You felt the ghosting touch of a hand on the small of your back as Conrad passed you, glancing up to make sure you would follow.

“Stay close?” He said, raising his eyebrows. A promise.

The two of you had already made so many promises. 

You nodded. “I will.” 

~

The air was thick with smoke. Your vision was dangerously cloudy– you could see only a few yards ahead. The ground itself was treacherous. There were random outcroppings of rock and half-buried bones, and giant, gaseous vents that seemed to go on to the center of the earth.

The group kept a loose single-file behind Packard, treading softly along the floor of the valley. Everyone with a weapon in their hands held it raised, attentive and on edge.

Gradually, you spread out. Your breathing became a little less quiet as you grew more familiar with your surroundings. For the moment, there were no monsters around. It gave you time to scope out your surroundings. You were quietly stunned at the amount of dinosaur bones and other geological marvels littering the ground like discarded baubles. This place was an archeologists’ dream -- if their dream included meeting monsters face-to-face.

Soon, the only sound wasn’t your own measured breathing. A few of the soldiers were brave enough to talk in low murmurs as they walked in groups. Randa’s flash camera made a high-pitched whine every time he took a photo.

Your backpack was much heavier than before your groups had joined up together– you and Slivko had taken on some of the weight of Griffin Co’s cargo. Bullets and gas cans, mostly. Not for the first time, your thoughts drifted to the medical bag stored in the Sea Stallion with Chapman. 

If you made it that far, at least you’d have something to look forward to. The constant discomfort of being parted from your tools was not a feeling you wanted to get used to.

Conrad stood alone, kneeling on the ground and pressing his hand into the dirt. You made your way over to him, watching as he pondered over an enormous, three-clawed footprint pressed into the earth.

Like I needed a reminder that Skull Crawlers are here, you thought, and shivered.

You looked away to distract yourself and saw Mills nearby, walking slowly alongside Cole as the older of the two lit a cigarette.

Mills turned and saw the stick dangling from Cole’s mouth, and his expression turned to indignation. “Cole, we don’t got time for that, man,” he chastised quietly. “Put the cigarette out.”

Cole paused in lighting the cig and stared at him for a moment before reaching up, taking a drag, blowing a puff of smoke, and then discarding it with an absentminded flick of his hand. 

There was a boom as the cigarette’s ember flame ignited the gas coming from the vents. A fiery cloud blasted against your front and you turned away, ducking down to avoid the flames.

You coughed as the smoke cleared and looked up at Conrad, who held his shirt over his mouth, looking watery-eyed.

“Watch those fumes!” Randa shouted from across the field, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. The camera in his hands fizzed and sputtered as the lightbulb flickered.

“Let’s go!” Packard called through the smoke, rallying the group to him. “We gotta move!”

Conrad coughed and dropped his shirt, standing up. The two of you jogged back to the group, falling into line and catching your breath. Everyone else did the same. 

Just as your boots found their rhythm, you heard a familiar sound: hollow screeching in the distance.

Your blood ran cold.

There was a split-second of silence where nobody breathed. Conrad had already moved towards you in one step, shoulders squared and gun raised protectively.

Then Marlow shouted, “RUN!”

You and Conrad sprinted through the smoke, dodging giant pillars of bone as they appeared through the fog.

“Here! Hide!” He said, pulling you down with him against a fragment of skull. It was curved inward, just big enough to shield the two of you when crouched down and pressed together.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you struggled to catch your breath. The Skull Crawler screeched again: closer, this time.

“Shhh,” he soothed, reaching a hand out to squeeze your leg before he shifted his grip on his rifle and tightened his jaw, leaning his head back against the bone. 

It was silent as a tomb. You forced yourself to calm down as the monster came closer, its heavy footsteps reverberating through the ground. Every pounding step drove fear into your mind like a hammer to a nail, until it was right on top of you. 

The monster’s throat warbled in a howl loud enough to burst your eardrums. Your own terrified shout was lost in the noise as you buried your face against Conrad’s shoulder. You felt his hand squeeze your thigh.

The roar changed into a disgusting, retching sound. Its muscled throat convulsed and, in a spray of bones and stomach acid, it disposed of what it couldn’t digest.

You pulled away from Conrad’s shoulder and stared at the bones tumbling across the ground, rolling to a stop in front of you.

Among them, a skull.

Around it, a dog tag. 

Dripping with acid, the punched letters read: Jack Chapman, Lieutenant.

You put your hand to your mouth to stifle a whimper of horror.

“Breathe,” Conrad whispered. His grip tightened when the Skull Crawler retched a final time. Its muscled throat warbled, and with a swing of its tail, it thundered off.

It felt like eternity before the rumbling of the monster’s footsteps subsided. Then, silence.

Conrad let out a breath he’d been holding and pulled you against his chest. Your bottom lip trembled and you fought down a wave of tears, nearly overcome by the feeling of near-death. He reached up to cradle your head, hand tangled in the loose strands of your hair.

“Shh. It’s all right,” He comforted, pressing a kiss to your forehead and exhaling heavily. 

“Rally up! Rally up!” Came Colonel Packard’s voice. 

You forced yourself to pull away from Conrad and stand, fighting the taste of bile that came whenever you thought about Chapman. Conrad snatched up the tangled dog tags and shoved them into his pocket, following behind you.

“Somebody cover the civilian’s six, let’s move!” The Colonel ordered. You beckoned to Weaver and the others to follow you.

They came quickly -- all except Randa, who lagged behind. He lingered in front of one of the dinosaur skulls while trying to take a picture. The flash bulb of his camera popped again, and began to malfunction, flashing at random. He turned it around. The bulb flashed. There was a low warbling behind him.

You turned around just in time to see the Skull Crawler’s giant mouth snatch Randa from thin air, throwing him from side to side before engulfing him whole. As he travelled down the monster’s throat, the camera’s lightbulb flashed erratically, glowing underneath the reptile’s skin. 

Everyone opened fire. The Skull Crawler screeched, swinging its heavy tail towards you. You ducked, feeling the wind as it passed inches above you, before the gunfire drove it way and into the smoke.

“Set up the 50!” Packard ordered. A few soldiers jumped to the task of anchoring a 50-caliber machine gun to a half-buried skull, but everyone else stood still. 

The silence was deafening. Your sweaty hands gripped the cold metal of your gun, finger floating above the trigger. In the distance, the camera flashed. Again. And again. The monster was moving quietly now– the only way to know where it was hiding in the smoke was the telltale whiz and pop of the lightbulb.

Beside you, Mills was sniffing as he tried to keep his composure. Slivko was on the verge of the same mental breakdown. You would have offered words of comfort, but you were feeling just as terrified.

Suddenly the Skull Crawler screamed and charged out of the smoke.

“Run!” You shouted, sprinting away immediately while the other soldiers opened fire. Mills followed you, catching up when you took cover behind a curved rib. The two of you gasped for breath, watching as the Skull Crawler rammed into the dinosaur skull where the 50-cal had been firing away and doing no damage. 

It caught one of the soldiers with its teeth as he flew through the air. He disappeared with a sickening crunch. The Skull Crawler snarled, and set its eyes on another target: Mason Weaver, who was armed with nothing but a camera.

Your eyes widened and you jumped to action. “Stay here!” You told Mills. You ran out from your cover and followed the Skull Crawler as it chased her. She wasn’t stupid: she ran from cover to cover, dodging the monster’s snapping jaws until there was nowhere left to run.

Mason slid underneath the curved ribcage of one of the skeletons, buying herself a fraction of time. The Skull Crawler smashed into the bones with terrifying force and began digging at her with its claws. She screamed, covering her face while its powerful jaws snapped and frothed angrily.

You skidded to a stop next to one of the soldiers, who stood dumbfounded.

“Torch!” You screamed, snapping him from his trance and pointing to the chemical backpack he was wearing. “Now!”

He let fly a sea of flames, dousing the Skull Crawler in fire.

It worked– to distract it, at least. The Skull Crawler shrieked angrily, digging its claws into the ground before swinging its monstrous tail and sending the flamethrower flying. You watched, mouth dry, as he fell into one of the vents.

An explosion rocked the ground and blasted you several feet backwards. Slivko went flying, landing on an unforgiving outcropping of bones and rock. 

Slivko didn’t get up. The contents of his backpack spilled onto the dirt: punctured cans of toxic gas. They whistled dangerously, like a kettle sitting on the stove for too long.

You groaned and pushed yourself off the ground, trying to ignore the high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your head throbbed as you came unsteadily to your feet. 

This is too much, you thought weakly, leaning against a bone pillar and trying to snap out of your dazed state.

You heard Conrad’s voice cut through the air. “Slivko!” he shouted, but his voice fell on unconscious ears. “Gas!”

You watched the cans burst in an explosion of green. 

Clouds of poisonous smoke filled the air and you pulled up the fabric of your shirt to cover your mouth. A whirlwind of yellow birds appeared out of nowhere– the very same terrors who had devoured LandSat director Nieves only hours earlier. They dive-bombed at you and the soldiers, and a fresh wave of terrified screams filled the valley. 

Meanwhile, the Skull Crawler was fully enjoying the hunt: chasing down man after man, devouring them in a single bite. The screams would haunt your nightmares.

As soon as your vision cleared, you took your own gun and aimed – not at the Skull Crawler, that was a lost cause – but at the birds. Mills and Cole did the same. They fell out of the sky one-by-one. You were no excellent marksman, but you could hold your own. That is, until something distracted you.

You saw Conrad out of the corner of your eye as he sprinted past, picked up a gas mask mid-run, and pulled it onto his face before charging into the smoke. You watched him in horror. Saving Slivko or not, it was reckless and unspeakably dangerous.

You weren’t about to let him go alone.

Pulling on a mask of your own and shooting at the birds as you ran, you sprinted through the gas. He had Marlow’s sword in his hands, using it deftly the cut down the low-flying monsters.

When did he learn to use a sword? You wondered vaguely.

As Conrad plowed ahead, you raised your gun and shot the birds that he missed, keeping them off of his back. 

The two of you came out of the gas at the same time. You pulled off your gas mask, and sucked in the fresh air, coughing. 

“Slivko!” Conrad shouted, spotting his unconscious body lying in the dirt. You dropped your mask and ran to him, landing on your knees. 

“C’mon, Sliv,” you urged, pulling him onto his back. He stirred and mumbled something incoherent. You gasped in relief, shifting him into a sitting position as he regained consciousness. “That’s it. Easy,” you soothed. His head was bleeding profusely.

“Help me get him up,” you instructed. Conrad obeyed. You both looped Slivko’s arms around your shoulders and pulled him up.

“Hang on, Sliv,” you stalled, reaching frantically into your pockets for something to wrap his head-- gauze, cloth, anything. 

Somewhere in the distance, Colonel Packard’s voice rang through the valley. “This thing’s moving!”

You barely had time to feel dread before you saw the silhouette of the Skull Crawler coming towards you, jaws gaping. Rows and rows of teeth flashed in its bloodstained mouth. Its forked tongue lashed out and it screeched, churning up the earth beneath its feet. 

Your hand felt something cold and familiar in your pocket.

Without any warning, you dropped Slivko’s arm and pulled the lighter from your pocket, running towards the Skull Crawler.

“Y/N!” Conrad shouted, his voice cracking in terror, as he watched you run to you doom.

You skidded to a stop as the Skull Crawler appeared in the gas and pitched the open lighter as hard as you could.

One little flame, but it was enough.

The lighter arced through the air and flew into one of the vents. An explosion, bigger than any of the others before, rocked the ground below you and caught the Skull Crawler in its wake.

You, Conrad, and Slivko flew back through the air. They landed on their backs against the softer ground, coughing and groaning as they came to their senses.

You weren’t so lucky.

Your back slammed against one of the giant, half-buried ribs and there was a sickening crack. Pain shot up your left leg like a bolt of lightning.

You hit the ground and everything went black.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks for all the kind messages lately. Tag list is still open! <3 

Tag List: @tarynkauai​, @jessiejunebug​, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi​, @fire-in-her-veinz​, @daylight-swiftie​, @un-consider-it​, @torntaltos​, @majahu​, @et-puto​, @kinghiddlestonanddixon​, @awesomefandomsunited​, @damalseer​, @uinen-ulmiel​, @fire-in-her-veinz​, @naspter1129, @fandomdarlings​, @embracingtom​, @alina-margaret​, @bthtallmadge2​, @larryspantaloons​, @lady-loki-ren​, @captainsherlockwinchester110283​, @holacherrycola90, @indelwen-of-mirkwood, @marveloushiddleston, @ladybugsfanfics

[newyorktheater]

Adam Driver, from trooper to trouper

On Veterans Day, a reminder from Adam Driver, Broadway veteran  and military veteran, and the founder of Arts in the Armed Forces, a nonprofit that brings theater to the military: “The birth of theater was from a military environment. The Greeks — Aeschylus, Euripides, all these elected generals — wrote plays for a culture that was at war.”

Other non-profit groups that help veterans pursue  the arts either as a vocation or an avocation:

United States Veterans’ Artists Alliance (USVAA)

Veteran Artist Program (VAP)

Society of Artistic Veterans (SocArtVets)

Also:

TDF’s Veterans Theatergoing Program

TDF partners with veteran groups in the city to provide free tickets to veterans to Broadway shows on select days. Next up: Tootsie on November 12, Come From Away on November 13, Beetlejuice on November 19.

The Week in New York Theater Reviews

Broadbend, Arkansas

“Broadbend, Arkansas” is billed as a musical about three generations of an African-American family in the South grappling with injustice.  While technically accurate, that’s a misleading description of a show that falls so short of what it could be, that I prefer to view it as a work in progress.

The Black History Museum

“Whoo, that was some heavy shit,” our guide says after leading us through 400 years of African-American history. It was hard to disagree. Every inch of HERE Arts Center has been transformed into an immersive “theatrical museum” – part theater, part museum — an impressively ambitious collaborative effort by a veritable army of African-American artists. “The Black History Museum, According to the United States of America” is illuminating, depressing, enraging, amusing, inspiring. It is overwhelming, in both good ways and bad.

The 2020 Book Report

David Lawson made a personal sacrifice as a public service: He read 10 campaign books, all but one by current candidates for President of the United States. From his reading, he has fashioned an hour-long show that should get wider exposure than the one-shot performance last night as part of the 2019 Gotham Storytelling Festival at the Kraine Theater

The Michaels

If Richard Nelson, the writer and director of “The Michaels,” were hired to direct the next Marvel movie, would Iron Man, Thor and the Hulk sit around the kitchen table in Rhinebeck, New York for two hours talking in barely audible voices about art, death, politics, and their old fights with Loki, while Spider-man bakes a loaf of bread, and the Black Panther takes Wolverine for a walk? That’s been the formula for Nelson’s four Apple Family plays and then his three plays in The Gabrielsseries, and it’s back once again with “The Michaels,” subtitled “Conversations During Difficult Times,” a play about a family of dancers gathering around a kitchen table in Rhinebeck, New York, which I’m hoping will be a one-off, rather than the first of yet another series.

Cyrano

Peter Dinklage’s singing voice would not normally qualify him for a role in a musical, unless in a Disney animated movie as a singing rhinoceros. But Rex Harrison couldn’t really sing either, and he was just right for My Fair Lady. In several ways, the star of Game of Thrones is an inspired hire for a musical adaptation of Cyrano de Bergerac…Dinklage wears no fake nose. He doesn’t need to. He also proves once again to be a terrific actor… But ‘Cyrano’ is missing…panache.

Bella Bella

Bella Abzug spoke at my junior high school graduation, until Donna Florio’s mother told her to shut up. “This is my daughter’s graduation, not a political rally.”  Abzug paused, apologized….and kept on talking for ten more minutes, caught up in the vehemence of her argument against the latest political outrage.

That’s my most vivid memory of this fiery member of Congress, anti-war activist, influential feminist, and fearless advocate that Harry Fierstein is portraying Off-Broadway at MTC in his new solo play about her life.  Fierstein’s affection for his subject is abundantly evident in Bella Bella – so much so that he seems to have turned her into himself.

Dr. Ride’s American Beach House

The two ladies hanging out on the roof are lesbians; they just don’t know it yet. The title of Liza Birkenmeier’s play, which marks her Off-Broadway playwriting debut, may seem to promise something rollicking, but what unfolds is actually small, slow and seemingly random, existing almost entirely as subtext.  “Dr. Ride’s American Beach House” is largely about repressed desire.

The Week in New York Theater News

Bob Martin

Luke Kirby plays a movie star trying on “Hamlet” and Rachel McAdams a young member of the company in the first season of “Slings & Arrows.”

The first and biggest (and ok, only) scoop I’ve had on NewYorkTheater.me was when Bob Martin told me on Twitter that he and his two co-creators were contemplating a fourth season for “Slings and Arrows,” the cult Canadian TV series about a fictional theater suspiciously similar to the Stratford Festival.  The show is so wildly beloved that his Twitter remarks became international news, which I milked in a couple of subsequent posts, here and here.

That was seven years ago! Now, the TV critic of the L.A.Times casually  mentions in an interview with Martin’s two co-creators Susan Coyne and Mark McKinney the Slings and Arros “prequel they are currently shopping,”:

“Now you’ve written a prequel, “Amateurs.”

Mark McKinney: Yes. I’ve always loved that word, because of the Latin root, “to love.” There was kind of a lot of “Could you do a Season 4?” and we noodled around…We were driving down [to Stratford] and started talking about Cyril and Frank [gay, older members of the New Burbage company, played by Graham Harley and Michael Polley], because you were explaining to me how nice it was to drive down in the spring, and we thought, “Oh, my God, Cyril and Frank, what would it have been like in 1953 if they had been part of the original festival, not knowing that they were about to walk into the first society that would embrace who they were?”

The interview explains just what’s so terrific about the original three seasons of “Slings and Arrows

The Minutes will open at the Cort Theater on March 15, 2020 with Tracy Letts himself in the cast, along with  Ian Barford (currently in Letts’ “Linda Vista”), Blair Brown, Cliff Chamberlain, K. Todd Freeman, Armie Hammer, Danny Mccarthy, Jessie Mueller, Sally Murphy, Austin Pendleton, Jeff Still

Ivo Van Hove’s  West Side Story, which begins previews in December but doesn’t open until February, will be just one act (no intermission) — “I want to make a juggernaut,” Van Hove tells Adam Green in Vogue. To that end, he’s omitting the song “I Feel Pretty” and the Somewhere ballet — and adding videos!

Broadway’s Dirty Secret :Ivo Van Hove’s success shows how much American commercial theater relies on European state funding, as Helen Lewis details in The Atlantic.

The Trojan Women Project Festival at La MaMa ETC will feature a newly re-imagined version of La MaMa’s groundbreaking 1973 “The Trojan Women,” directed by Andrei Serban, with some original members of the cast and artists from  Guatemala, Cambodia and Kosovo. The two-week festival includes workshops, panel discussions, and performances. December 6-15th.

    Jagged Musical’s lottery at JaggedLottery.com and rush at the Broadhurst box office are both $40.

Whoa. Performances of Death of a Salesman in London starring @WendellPierce had to be stopped when the ceiling fell in. Five theatergoers hospitalized with minor injuries.https://t.co/snGAEaCi0U pic.twitter.com/k5EYUsYKxq

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) November 9, 2019

She Persisted, the musical adaptation of Chelsea Clinton and Alexandra Boiger’s illustrated feminist picture book, “She Persisted: 13 American Women Who Changed the World, will play at Atlantic Theater in 2020.

   Composer Marc Shaiman (Hairspray, Catch Me If You can, Smash, etc.) will write original music for the revival of Plaza Suite, starring Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker, directed by John Benjamin Hickey, which opens on Broadway’s Hudson Theater on April 13, 2020.

Yes, you CAN make a living as a playwright: Playwright Lauren Yee has won over $400,000 in literary prizes in 2019

Critics Corner

Michael Billington is retiring as theater critic for The Guardian after 48 years. He will be succeeded by Arifa Akbar.  Billington began at the British newspaper in 1971 and has written roughly 10,000 reviews,.“I shall shortly be 80 and, with the years, the stress of writing to a deadline doesn’t get any easier”

  The Power of the Critic: A Discussion

with Manohla Dargis (co-chief film critic for The New York Times), Antwaun Sargent (independent writer and critic and author of The New Black Vanguard: Photography between Art and Fashion), Jillian Steinhauer (art critic for The New York Times), and Daniel Mendelsohn (editor-at-large of The New York Review), moderated by Lucas Zwirner (head of content of David Zwirner).

On “thumbs up” criticism:

Manohla Dargis: Do you ever feel like a seller? Because there was an editor who used to always ask me to make sure I put a little word in the first sentence so everyone knew if I liked the movie or didn’t. But I just wanted them to read me. Maybe they’ll figure it out from my enthusiasm around writing, but I want them to know in my own sweet time.

Daniel Mendelsohn: What always gets eroded is any possibility of complexity. Thumbs up, thumbs down, five stars, one star—this is idiotic, right? Because most things are mixed. Don’t tell them everything in the first paragraph—because you liked certain things but not others, and that’s how most things are. If the whole discourse becomes “like/not like,” that’s not conducive to anything interesting.

  Rest In Peace

Laurel Griggs, 13, Broadway veteran of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and Once.

  Veterans and Theater. Slings and Arrows returns for real!? Van Hove’s West Side Story Not Feeling Pretty. #Stageworthy News of the Week On Veterans Day, a reminder from Adam Driver, Broadway veteran  and military veteran, and the founder of…

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Finding The Answers On Effective Game Fishing Equipment Products

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Great game fishing equipment Emerging options for fast secrets in game fishing outriggers

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Game Fishing Lures

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A Useful A-z On Fundamental Details In Resorts

The Basic Fishing Equipment, Also Known As Tackle, Includes A Rod, A Line, A Reel, A Hook, And Live Or Artificial Lures Or Bait.

Some Practical Guidance On Selecting Central Factors For Fly Fishing Equipment

Some Helpful Guidelines For Elegant Fly Fishing Rigs Methods