#i need to go to penzance in general

[eggmeralda]

I need to go to my great grandparents' old house in penzance even though I haven't been there in about 20 years

[introverting-rn]

hey hey guys heyo

if you haven’t listened to g&s’ the Pirates of Penzance you NEED to it’s genuinely one of the funniest musicals in the world it’s just batshit insane. it reads like a crackfic and i desperately crave aus set in this world because g u y s

the pirates are so chivalrous that they never invade small ships, only ones bigger and better than them. they’re all orphans and when they manage to capture people everyone claims they’re also an orphan so the pirates let them go. the main character frederic works with the pirates because his nursemaid has bad hearing and was ordered to apprentice him to a pilot. frederic jumps out of his hiding place to tell these beautiful girls he was watching their conversation because they were about to take off their stockings how sCA nd aLoU s. frederic sings a whole dramatic betrayal ballad w his forty-year-old nursemaid because she told him she was beautiful so he��d marry her but he thinks she’s hella ugly. this kicks off her villain arc. he asks a whole, entirely unrelated group of ladies if they’re rly ugly and nobody wants to date them, they say no, so he goes ‘😬 u sure?’ twice in a row. THE very model of a modern major general sings his song upon entry, only afterwards asking what’s going on, implying that he sings it every time he sees people. the song is about how good he is at being a general but all he brags about are skills that are entirely irrelevant, eg, integral and differential calculus. frederic plans to exterminate the pirates because he’s turned 21 and left his indenture (they are very respectful about this) but realises he’s apprenticed to them until his 21st birthday and he was born on the 29th of february. there’s these policemen who are just absolute cowards and hide the moment the pirates arrive, then the pirates hear the general arriving and also hide - picture a pirate and a policeman standing obviously behind poles and completely failing to see each other. the policemen echo the ends of lyrics even if it makes no sense, eg “pied in crime” “culty smother”. the pirates sing a song about how stealthy they are, which could be interpreted as just how musicals are, but i’d like to think they’re belting the whole thing. the entire plot is resolved by the sergeant bidding the pirates to yield in Queen Victoria’s name, to which they immediately yield and become noblemen again. oh also it’s a full opera

[alfiely-art]

What is/was your top 7 favorite musicals? And why?

Ohh this is hard. I don't listen to musicals very often (unless you count movie musicals which I will for this list) also they're not exaaaactly set in stone. This isn't an exact ranking just my top 7

1. The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals. Idk it was my first Musical Musical I ever saw and I really enjoyed it, I remember watching it on the moldy computer... thought all the meta jokes about being a stage play were hilarious

2. Pirates of Penzance. Modern Major General... very fun to perform. I was the Pirate King :3 songs are super catchy and I just like how lighthearted it is

3. The Muppets (2011). Listen. Listen okay. It's very good. I love it. Maniacal laugh... maniacal laugh....

4. The Phantom of the Opera. Hoooooly shit. Very good. Watched it after my first performance ever and I was floored. I enjoy it a lot it's iconic

5. Bandstand: The New American musical. Super good!! I need to rewatch it actually. I really like the set changes which is an odd thing to focus on but yk. They're super cool

6. Fiddler on the Roof, idk! I just enjoyed it when I watched it. I should rewatch it also. I remember thinking it was done very well

7. This spot can go to all of my favorite Disney movies. I should rank Disney movies...

Okay looking at this list I've seen more musicals than I initially thought. Yippee!! Some honorable mentions are musicals I've listened to the soundtrack of and liked at least a couple of the songs, yet haven't seen:

Beetlejuice, Heathers, Mean Girls, Be More Chill, Hamilton (I like Hamilton more because of who showed me the songs but yeah)

[monika-396]

Stories that should be turned into full muppet movies (feel free to add more)

Sherlock Holmes (can be adaptation of the original books or the muppet comic released back in 2010)

Literally any of Shakespeare's story.

Romeo and Juliet? Make Gonzo and Camilla play them.

Hamlet? Can be either Robin the frog going to avenge his dad uncle Kermit or maybe make it Miss Piggy the protagonist to make a pun out of the tittle.

Dracula (Uncle Deadly here's your call)

The Three Muskeeters (staring Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo and either Robin, Scooter or Rowlf as D'artagnan)

Don Quixote

The Little Prince (with Robin playing the prince and Kermit playing the Pilot, obviously)

The Pirates of Penzance (I just wanna see a full muppet version of I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General)

Moby-Dick (find the right writers and they'll have a field day sneaking adult jokes into the script)

The Phantom of the Opera

The Nutcracker (we had the disney one, we had the barbie one, we need to have a muppet one! Maybe make an exception and make Elmo play the nutcracker and Zoe play Clara)

The Wizard of Oz (the og books not the MGM movie)

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (the chance to bring Constantine back)

Frankenstein (the chance to make Dr Bunsen the main character for once)

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Incorrect Quote Generator meets The Shuttle, pt 1

Selden: If history repeats itself, I’m so getting a dinosaur!

~

Nigel: I was arrested for being too cool.

Rosalie: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

~

Bettina: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong.

Dunstan: *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

~

Ughtred: *on the phone with Bettina* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl stuff.

Bettina: You’re pulling Oreos apart and saving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you.

Ughtred: Maybe.

~

Bettina: This can’t get any worse. Can it?

Dunstan: Sure it can - just give me a minute.

~

Rosalie: I can't believe there's a cat somewhere in my house. Amazing feeling. Love cats. And he's here, in my house! Somewhere! And I may encounter him! What a treat.

~

Nigel: I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally.

~

Penzance : Oh shoot!

Penzance : Excuse my vulgarity.

Ughtred: I’ll let it slide.

~

Rosalie: I've got a weapon, and I'm... admittedly VERY afraid to use it!

~

Ughtred: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

~

Rosalie: I met this person on tinder and asked for their last name. They sent it to me and went “Doing a little background check? You might find out I’m a murderer, just ignore that” with a kissy wink emoji. Alright so I good sense of humour.

Rosalie: I looked them up, they were a murderer.

~

Ughtred: You have Crayons?

Dunstan: Yes, I have—

Ughtred: You're— how old are you?

Dunstan: YES I AM AN ADULT AND I HAVE CRAYONS, I HAVE A BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN THE CABINET UNDER THE TV BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS SOMETIMES, OKAY? EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS.

~

Dunstan: You read my diary?

Reuben: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

~

Ughtred: Can we get a birthday cake?

Dunstan: It’s not your birthday.

Ughtred: The cake won’t know!

~

Nigel: When surrendering, Bettina is to hand the sword over HILT first.

~

Rosalie: Why are we friends?

Nigel: Poor decisions on your part.

~

Rosalie: My expectations are low, but they can always go lower.

~

Nigel: You treat an outside wound with rubbing alcohol. You treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol.

~

Dunstan, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go.

Penzance : But how-

Dunstan, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

[adhdtectives]

Jimmy loves to go to the theatre whenever he can manage it, but Isabel generally abstains for the most part, except for the odd stage drama.

However.

She knows by heart all the patter for "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General".

It's all Jimmy's fault, really. As children, they had seen Pirates of Penzance on multiple occasions, and Jimmy had gotten hold of some music for a couple of songs somehow. He tried to learn the song himself, but the fast-paced, complicated lyrics proved to be more than he could manage.

"No, no, no, no!" cried Isabel every time he fluffed a line. "That's not the right rhythm at all. It isn't 'animal, vegetable, or mineral'; it's 'vege-table, animal, or mineral'! Can't you hear it?"

"Why the hell would it be pronounced 'vege-table' with four syllables?"

"I don't know, do I? It fits the metre, that's all."

And Jimmy might then remember that line, but it wasn't long before he needed to be set to rights again. And so, by complete accident, Isabel learned all of the correct lines to the song. Over the years, Jimmy's already fuzzy memory of the words faded, but not so for Isabel, oh no!

Even now, a decade and more later, Jimmy knows that if he catches Isabel at a familiar gathering with a couple of sherries in her and plays his cards right, he can cajole her into giving a recitation—no singing, mind, she doesn't sing, she just recites at pace—of "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General". Jimmy makes up for his sister's reluctance by leading the rest of the onlookers in a rousing chorus of the bits in between the patter.

Isabel would never admit it, but she enjoys being talked into it.

[thelenazavaroniarchive]

20th July 2024.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. In America, Cash Box had Ma!… at No 113 in the Charts.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. In America, Billboard had a short article about Lena, plus a half page advert for her single. In their charts, she was at No 100.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒. Writing in Sounds magazine, John Peel replied to ‘Gareth of Bristol’, who had railed against John’s snide remarks about Lena and members of the Osmond family on his radio show. The article was reprinted in ‘The Olivetti Chronicles’ published after John’s death.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓. Lena starred in Sunday Night at the Blackpool Opera House, rehearsal was at 2.30pm, with the shows at 6.10pm and 8.20pm. she was paid £1500.

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗. It isn't recorded how The Lena Zavaroni Show went at The Spa Theatre, Bridlington, as next door in The Royal Hall Ian Dury's fans rioted.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎. Lena starred in Sunday Night at the Blackpool Opera House. Rehearsal was at 2.30pm and the shows were at 6.10pm and 8.20pm. Her fee was £2000.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎. She was photographed at The Imperial Hotel, Blackpool, where she generally stayed when she was in town.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓. The Dutch press TV pages featured “It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish”, which was going to be broadcast on Nederlands 1 the following evening.

𝐃𝐞 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭;

“The Cream of Fame, many children sang on stage in the period that the eponymous television program had a large viewing density. Famous, they all wanted to be. If that was possible through such a fun, swinging American Academy of Fine Arts, then there was little in the way between dream and reality. Later, when Fame had long since disappeared from the screen, aspirations of the young jump-in-the-field melted as quickly as the fame of the American television stars who populated the “school.” Becoming famous had to be done in a different way, through the choir of Children for Children, the Play Back show, Stuif-es-in or something similar. Wasters, not go-getters. And you need perseverance to be famous for at least part of your life as a dancer, singer, actor, star. This is again evident from Between dream and reality, (It’s not where you start…. lts where you finish), a television documentary by Tony Kysh about some former students of the famous English Italia Conti Stage School, which the VPRO broadcasts on Sunday 21 July at 7.20 pm.Kysh visits this London training institute for musical stars, dancers and singers five years after his award-winning film Stars in their eyes, dealing with the real or non-real future expectations of young students. He met pupils of that time, who felt like the cream of Britain, because they worked at the renowned drama school. He has to conclude that Peter Butler — ‘I never dreamed that I would become a soloist there’ — has now become a solo dancer at the Moulin Rouge in Paris; that Jackie Mark celebrated triumphs in the musical Oliver, that Bonnie Langford has the best chance of breaking through completely, after her successes in the musicals Cats and Pirates of Penzance, but that two of the most promising former pupils, Rudi Davies and Lena Zavaroni, have completely missed out.Rudi, daughter of the writer Beryl Bainbridge, regularly speaks with her mother about her development in the last five years. She says that at one point she lost all enthusiasm for the education, that she became a punk and that her mother was ashamed of her when she walked down the street with her. Her mother says it was a terrible period. But Rudi is doing well again. The film shows extensively that she, not without success, auditions at the London Central School of Speech and Drama. It is someone who, after being snapped off, picks up the thread again. Whether she is much happier is doubtful after seeing the final images, when she is listening to a street musician. Lena Zavaroni is certainly not happy. She can’t afford it anymore. She only comes into the picture as the enthusiastic thirteen-year-old she was during the previous documentary. She is now completely turned off and suffers from anorexia, 'an inside cry for help’, as the successful Bonnie Langford calls it. The interviews show again and again how many drops of sweat, enthusiasm, hard work, uncertainty, discipline and commitment are needed to achieve something at school, and certainly also afterwards. Furthermore, you hear that some had the idea that the close-knit club that was the school community would stay together forever and. of course, fell apart. And the viewer sees how much children who entered the school young and full of enthusiasm changed over the years, not only outwardly, but especially internally. , Beryl Bainbridge can not yet say: “When she started she was so incredibly enthusiastic” and seems to miraculously ignore the fact that girls of sixteen, fortunately, can sometimes get interested in other facets of life than just a shiny career in showbiz. The young people who have entered the path to success have soberly talked about their profession full of brilliance and appearances, managers and theatre agents. That makes the film valuable for parents who want to send their children into the theater world and for those who still hope that dreams can effortlessly become reality”. Ruud Gortzak

Photograph; Bonnie Langford: success in Cats and Pirates of Penzance.

𝐀𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐠𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝;

From our radio and TV editors. HILVERSUM —

“ Five years ago, director Tony Kysh made the award-winning documentary 'Stars ii their Eyes’ about the Londoi Conti Stage School. Hi then filmed the very young pupils (average* age: thirteen years) of this kleinkunstacademit and talked to them about our future expectations. Last year, Kysl visited a number of students. What was justified in their ambitions? The answer is given in the documentai re 'lt’s not where you start it’s where you finish’, which will be broadcast on Sunday by the VPRO under the title 'Between dream and reality’. The stories Kysh was told varied quite a bit. A number of the interviewees had clearly made it in the harsh theatre world. One of them is, for example, Bonnie Langford, who has already been on stage at musicals such as Cats and The Pirates of Penzance. But there is also another side of the coin. This is evident from the experiences of, for example, Rudi Davies, a daughter of the writer Beryl Bainbrigde, who is the first to q_woord the j 1 in detail. After her training at the wor t Conti Stage School, the red-haired Rudi has no step, more in the direction of the . theatre. It all had to do with a “kind of identity crisis where she landed after her education. ven hed TALENTED gj "At school, I myself was not cattle”, Rudi explains five years later. She was considered one of the most talented students and some of them predicted her a career as Shirley MacLaine. me( But Rudi had no appetite for building a career in the theater. She did not appear at eel auditions, xia she preferred to stay at home. She cut her red hair to the horror of her mother she got a punk hairstyle with the intention to ihocker her surroundings. Her behavior is dictated by her mother to become an adult. A clear connection with the Conti school is not made. At the end, Rudi appears again in the picture, -laar period of self-examination is over and she lives plans conceived to follow ;and other theater training 'e. That will be s Ie London Central School of d Speech and Drama, where she will be admitted after a tough audition. STAR ; For Bonnie Langford, I Ie status as a star has already reached. In England she is considered one of the most important theatre personalities despite her age of nineteen. As a child star, Bonnie already attracted a lot of interest and that has not changed since then. The same was expected of Lena Zavaroni, who as a thirteen-year-old was also predicted a ko- r measurement-like career . But she could not cope with the pressure of publicity. She now suffers from anorexia nervosa. For that reason, she does not appear in the film. Bonnie iin of Lena, describes her illness as an emergency cry. “She wanted to show that she was a normal person, who could also be hurt S.” nr Bonnie, a cheerful ir jump-in-the-field, confesses that she sometimes cannot withstand the tensions . “On the outside side you can still look so fresh and cheerful, but , some things can hurt a lot. Most o people don’t realize that gi. Occasionally I cry li sometimes.” With that statement, Bonnie refers to the image that the she has of her outside the guard and that has been forced on her by the roles she has played so far. They are i would love to play a mean character, in iats of the sugar sweets that she is now being iitiated with. Tony Kish’s film indicates that the road to fame for few is laid away and usually hard The students of Conti School all say that they take this into account. This the images of his documentary turns out the training rather pitis and that the extreme n the students is rlangd. The way in which a singing teacher at a jeven moment a leerg afbekaks, because that tide yawns the lesson, makes it idly that the stars-in; are strong in their shoes to be able to grieve. And after their training it really becomes me”

-TOMORROW: Between dream and reality VPRO 19.20 HOURS NETHERLANDS 1

[el-pollo-gigantes]

The Day of a Busy Diary by Dom Haughton Last Thursday was one of the busier days in my new and not very hectic lifestyle. If there had been a diary, it would have looked something like this - 1pm, lunch with Lucy in Penzance; 3pm (or thereabouts) set up tripod at some yet to be decided lonely coastal location; 6:30 tune into free webinar courtesy of one Mr N Danson, YouTube leviathan of this parish. Lots of things to occupy the afternoon and evening, but all of them fun and none of them destined to cause the rush of panic that five out of every seven days used to bring for most of the year. Receiving an invitation to dine with one of the leading lights from the place where I used to work is about as close as getting the VIP treatment as I ever will to be honest. I’ve watched Lucy rise through the ranks towards the stratosphere over the last eight years in fascination at how a person can have such an enormous capacity for hard work and tireless enthusiasm. Quite how she keeps going year after year with such energy levels is a mystery to me, but then I always did have my eye on the exit door that I’d be running through as soon as the finances allowed. So bearing in mind her admirable work ethic, I felt doubly honoured to take up so much of her time over a three course early Christmas lunch after which I could barely move from my chair. By the time I forced down the last wedge from the generously filled cheeseboard it was clear that I wasn’t going to need any tea that evening. I can’t ever let food go to waste, so leaving things untouched on the plate isn’t in my lexicon – I think it’s something to do with the Irish blood and the potato famine. Lunch over, and Lucy was preparing to deal with half a dozen new and urgent items that had cropped up during the almost two hours we’d spent catching up. I quickly decided that I wasn’t going to be of any further assistance and so I made for the car park, carefully concealing that still novel sense of jubilation that I could simply head for home while everyone else was dealing with the slings and arrows that would take them to five o clock and well beyond. I’d had half an idea to return to nearby Trevaylor Wood, but the combination of the cold north wind and the ever decreasing levels of foliage left on branches quickly snapped me out of what would have certainly been my final dismal attempt to capture autumn. I’d also considered continuing west towards Land’s End, but time would be against me and I’d be racing home through rush hour traffic later if I wanted to watch Nigel’s webinar. And then I remembered this place I used to go to all the time – the place I’ve inexplicably overlooked in recent outings. Perfectly located along the way home, it seemed obvious that I should finally return to Godrevy and the place that never stops giving. Behind me the sun was lighting its way through washed out clouds, softly diffused and promising a memorable sunset beyond the bluff above Carbis Bay. Twenty minutes later, I marched along the familiar duckboards towards the commanding view over the long sands of Gwithian Beach and the west. As I chose my position on the clifftop the inevitable began to happen, the sun finding a thick bank of dark grey cloud to hide behind, taking my plans along with it after one single and poorly composed test shot. Around here such disappointments tend to happen more often than not, and so Plan B would have to be rolled into action, or at least it would once I’d decided exactly what Plan B was. After a brief wander down to the mostly empty beach I ended up here, perched in the shelter of a crag beside one of the benches where we sit and watch the ocean on calmer and warmer days. From my lofty perch I could keep the tripod protected from the wind that was racing across the petrol blue sea towards the land. Despite the conditions, the sea was relatively calm so once more I went for my ND filters to smooth the sea and the sky and eliminate the distractions, and in the fading light I made a series of long exposures. One of the spin off benefits of taking six or seven minutes on each shot is that you can’t possibly end up with 582 of them to sift through like I did during Storm Arwen a couple of days later. It makes things a lot easier when it comes to the shortlisting and editing, and suits a lazy Thursday evening when you’re full of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Later on I sat quietly nursing a mug of spiced ginger and lemon tea watching Nigel talking about all the other things he constantly reminds me are important. I winced a bit when he expressed his current opinion on the Orton effect (even though I’m sure I lifted my version of the process from one of his videos), but apart from that I hoped I was on the right tracks. Now remind me again, subject, composition, timing, light, unicorns………… https://flic.kr/p/2mNuyEz

[sassypantsjaxon]

Planning stages

help, I’m stuck in a community theater au of my own creation My entry for day one of @aphfrukweek day 1: Pirates

“What about the Pirates of Penzance?” Francis suggested.

“Oh, that seems like an awful lot of work...” Arthur mused as he handed his husband a cup of tea.

“Peter Pan, then!” Francis countered, adding milk to his cup.

“That’s no less work. And I’m not sure we would have enough children involved. Then there’s the whole matter of flying. We’d have to be certified. Or get better at special effects.”

Francis wrinkled his nose. Only he could make a gesture like that look attractive. “That is true. Sweeney Todd?”

“Yes, that would go over well in this community.” Arthur said sarcastically.

“Well, then, you think of something!” Francis sat back, helping himself to one of the cookies he had contributed to their tea and waited for Arthur’s answer.

The community theater’s production board had a meeting that night to discuss what they do for their next musical, and everyone had been asked to bring ideas. Arthur’s face scrunched up in displeasure. It was bad enough having to do this on his own, let alone with the Frog’s interference. “All I can think of is how much trouble anything will be to direct.”

“You know, you don’t have to be the one to direct every show, right?” Francis reminded him, “You could just let someone else do it.”

“Like who? Ludwig? I have enough trouble getting him to take over once we’re on stage.”

“Maybe Elizaveta? She would be good at it.”

“She would...” Arthur agreed as he took a cookie for himself. “These are good. Is it a new recipe?”

“It is, I wanted to try some new things for the cafe.”

“The problem is, then we would need someone to take her place. Nobody else wants to be liaison.”

“I could do that and costuming, it wouldn’t be difficult.” Francis shrugged.

“But then I would still need an excuse not to direct. What would I be doing instead? Sitting at home and twiddling my thumbs, worrying about what’s happening with the production? That doesn’t seem like anything I could get any with.”

“That’s why we suggest Pirates of Penzance. You can’t direct if you’re being the very model of a modern major general.” Francis winked at his husband.

Arthur nodded, “...That’s smart. I would make an excellent major general. Sometimes you have not terrible ideas.”

“I try my best.” Francis deadpanned. “Are we in agreement? We stand a better chance if there are already two of us in favor of the same show.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, I think we are in agreement. That alone might shock everyone into agreement with us. Or perhaps just stun them into not objecting.”

“Then it’s settled, or it will be once we convince everyone else.” Francis gather their cups, dropping a kiss into Arthur’s hair as he passed him.

“Oh yes,” Arthur smiled, “I’m going to have a lot of fun staring in a show and watching you run about trying to dress us all as pirates.”

Francis’ face fell as he realized what he had just doomed himself to.

[jewishrizahawkeye]

well time to complete 180 my account for a bit since i’m watching house of dragon right now and it keeps making me think of dany and that makes me mad about game of thrones again as a writer.

like i’m so pissed with how they did dany because DnD should’ve either hinted at her madness much sooner or changed her ending. like i haven’t read the books myself (though i plan on reading it one day) but i was talking with my professor who has and she told me dany’s madness wasn’t odd to her because in the books GRRM actually hinted at it much sooner and had it tie into the theme of “just because your a good conquer doesn’t mean your a good ruler” and since i remember someone saying GRRM told the creators how he planned on ending the books im assuming that’s roughly what might happen.

BUT HERES THE THING, the show wasn’t portraying dany in that way. the show was very much so showing a woman overcoming her past and regaining power. and like i didn’t think this needed to be said but ITS OKAY TO HAVE A DIFFERENT ENDING. if GRRM was planning on that ending but you’ve done danys character differently then fucking go against what he said and do your own thing. don’t just awkwardly shoe in a madness arc when you’ve spent several seasons saying she won’t go mad and instead have her learn to be a good ruler! dany deserved so much better because she was built up as something else only to have her fucking character be fucking destroyed and ruined.

anyway i think DnD should be locked away for the crimes committed against their characters, specifically all of their female characters, because they don’t know how to treat them.

also i’m still so pissed at that pirate they threw in season 8 that was the cousin of the greyjoys because i swear to fucking god he was so not based in reality i swore he’d break out into song and dance at any fucking moment.

this dude. this dude right here. he was so outlandish for game of thrones that i thought he was going to sing modern major general from fucking pirates of penzance

[horsegirlneigh]

I've been reading your comments and now I need to ask what is going on at Les Mis. I knew the new production is meh but I want to know how much.

Okay so I don't even want to think about it too much because its so upsetting but....I thought it was going to be bad but I had no idea HOW BAD.

(Just read this back and it is an UNHINGED RANT but I've gotta say it somewhere....)

This was the first time I had seen the 25th Anniversary production since the original UK touring version back in like 2010(?) so i didn't remember that much about it other than how small it looked and the flying Javert. I was hoping that they would have made some changes to the staging to make it more suited to a large (and very expensive) West End production...but no. No, its pretty much exactly the touring production but on the west end...not adapted one iota.

The lighting is appalling, nothing really has any impact at all...there was maybe one bit in Stars that felt like i was at a professional production but that was it. The sets are...mostly pointless. There are large set pieces which take up most of the stage but are not used for anything really...those windows are just pointless!!!

The blocking is like something your high school would come up with...actually no your high school might try harder. So many scenes are just flipped for no reason except to be different like...lets have valjean and javert on different sides of the stage for the sewers confrontation just so its clear its not the SAME as the old production.

The makeup is non existent. The wigs are either terrible or non existent. The costumes are an insult. The original costumes may have looked simple but they were meticulously well thought out and researched. Colours were carefully chosen to represent aspects of characters and the red white and blue theme was there in a beautifully subtle way. The new production looks like they went to a costume warehouse and rented "generic 18th-19th century" costumes that would be more suited to the pirates of penzance. All semblance of symbolism in any visual aspect of the show is gone.

People talked about the original looking "tired" but this production looks like it's on life support and its only just opened. The projections are INCREDIBLY dated already especially when you compare them to the projections in other west end shows at the moment.

Basically this is not a west end calibre production and the fact that a piece of art was replaced with this cash-grab of a production that people will see and think is the same thing is beyond upsetting to me.

I will not be going back.

[hotchley]

mortch having a girl, specifically hotch coming home after a bad case to see derek-with glasses ofc- holding their babygirl while reading hotch’s high school play script

Grace I am in love with your brain and I need you to write this properly, but for now, enjoy this little drabble... thing whatever, we’re going with it (and I hope you liked the other mortch headcanons!!) 

the best thing they ever did

I don’t know what else to call it and all of the songs I’ve been listening to are sad and look... either of them with a daughter is just the best thing and yeah so please be gentle

Also where in canon is this? Fuck if I know, Tara and Luke are on the team but Derek left and Jack is a teen and Hotch is retiring in a few months and like Mr Scratch the episode did happen but not the shit after?? but that’s not that important just go with it 

read on ao3! (I cannot believe I am doing this)

tw: vague crimes against children, the slightest implication of child abuse

Cases with children were always hard. But cases with children, when he had two at home and Derek wasn’t there to ground him or make everything better by simply holding his hand and drawing circles were awful.

So awful that he just wanted to bury his head in the lumpy pillow at the hotel and scream. He missed feeling Derek’s arms around him as he slept, and he missed falling asleep on his shoulder, and he missed the scent of his shower gel.

He just missed Derek. And Jack. And their little girl. He couldn’t believe he had a daughter. He had always wanted to give Jack a little sibling, but his own failures had meant that never happened.

Until it did. Just in a completely different way to what he was expecting. He lost Haley to George Foyet, yes, but he gained a new family that he thought he would never find. And he knew Haley, wherever she was, was at peace, watching over him and the loves of his life with pride and happiness.

In the end, they saved the children. Their lives would never be the same and this would stay with them forever, but they would, with the right support, recover and flourish.

He used to tell the team that saving a victim was the best thing they could do because he needed them to carry on having faith in what they did and not start doubting whether or not they made a difference because they did.

But he too had wondered whether or not it was worth it. When he thought of everything Foyet had put him through, had his life really been worth saving?

And then he saw Jack. Jack who would always miss his mother and the person she had been to him, the woman he remembered, but Jack that looked at Derek and called him Papa without feeling guilty. Jack that sometimes got angry and threw tantrums but was every bit the boy Haley had raised.

And he knew that it was all worth it. As he thought of Derek- good and kind and beautiful Derek that had stuck with him through everything and held him after Mr Scratch had forced him to see his family die- he smiled. 

Derek Morgan was the best man he knew. And every single day, every single moment, he considered himself lucky to call him his husband. He knew how difficult it was for Derek to wave goodbye each morning, knowing first-hand the horrors of the job. But Aaron only had to do a few more months before the Bureau would give him his pension.

And when that day came, he was going to retire and join Derek at the local community college, where they would teach the next generation of lawyers. Together. Like they were meant to. Because even before they had fallen in love- unwillingly and resentfully realised that actually, they did care about each other a lot- they had been partners.

But before then, he would carry on with the BAU, writing reports until his eyes started to hurt and he has to fight back tears every time he looks at the photos. This time though, his desk was suspiciously void of paperwork that wasn’t absolutely essential to the case.

When he looked into the bullpen, Emily and Luke’s piles seemed significantly bigger. Tara and Spencer also had larger piles, but those were decreasing at an incredibly fast rate. 

He smiled to himself and pulled his phone out to text Derek that he would be home sooner than expected. But as he gazed at his lock screen- subconsciously counting down the days till he could change it to the family photo- he decided he would surprise them instead.

With the knowledge that he would soon be home and in the arms of his loved one, the paperwork was slightly more bearable. It was still brutal and heartbreaking and he kept needing to pause to stop himself from sobbing, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Derek’s presence had always been more than a light, but still.

He finished before anyone else of the team, but he didn’t feel guilty leaving. They didn’t need him to hold their hands anymore. They hadn’t for a while, but Derek’s departure after the birth of their daughter- their beautiful daughter- had driven the point home.

It was why he was going to be able to leave without any regrets.

It was dark when he unlocked the front door to their home. Home. He thought he had lost that after Haley left. He never thought he would find it in Derek, but he would never stop feeling grateful that he got a second chance at a family. A second chance at being happy.

All the lights downstairs were off, so he assumed they had all gone to sleep. He checked Jack’s room and saw that he was peacefully asleep. Maybe it was the case, or the nostalgia that came with leaving, or maybe he was just a better man than his father was, but the sight of him sleeping without stirring or being haunted by nightmares bought on a wave of emotion so overwhelming he had to hold the door handle.

With every passing day, Jack looked more and more like his mother. Once upon a time, it would’ve been like a dagger to Aaron’s heart, but now it just made him smile with a fondness he hadn’t realised he was capable of.

Even though Jack wasn’t a child anymore- he was almost as tall as Hotch- he still found himself quietly entering to press a soft kiss to his forehead. He closed the door properly as he left, knowing his son would appreciate the thought in the morning.

The door to the nursery was also closed. Either she was sleeping, or Derek was still awake with her. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the second. Derek loved their daughter the way he did everything in his life: with passion, the utmost care and his entire soul.

He hesitated in the doorway of their bedroom, wanting to enjoy the sight for just a moment.

Derek, in nothing but a thin t-shirt and pair of shorts, clearly ready for bed, and glasses that he somewhat resented wearing because it reminded him that he was getting older, holding their daughter in his arms. He held her like she was the world.

And in some ways, she was.

Aaron smiled at the two of them. And then he heard what Derek was saying.

The book in front of him was not the storybook Haley had bought Jack when he was a baby. Nor was it one of the many gifts they’d received from the team.

It was the script for the Pirates of Penzance. The same one Hotch had scribbled his notes all over, so he would know exactly where he was meant to stand and when he was meant to enter and leave. He wanted to be offended, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Theatre had been the start of his and Haley’s love story. He loved that Derek was so willing to celebrate it.

“I hope you’re doing the voices right,” he quipped, as Derek started to recite the first of Pirate Number Four’s two lines.

Derek turned and Aaron was still so taken aback by how stunning he was that whatever he was going to say died on his lips. He smiled slightly, trying to not give away how much the case had affected him.

“I thought you could use something good today. Em told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

Not today. Tomorrow he would, but tonight he was going to love his daughter and fall asleep in Derek’s arms. So he shook his head and went over to the two of them.

His daughter babbled and smiled at him, wrapping her little hand around his finger.

“Hello darling,” he cooed. “Did Papa make you stay up for me? Or did you do that yourself?”

Derek laughed, a joyous and warming sound. “She did that herself. In fact, she almost woke Jack up with her screaming. I think she knew her daddy would be home today. Didn’t you?”

Aaron smiled as she carried on smiling at the two of them. “Thank you for staying up. I know I’m back earlier than usual, but it’s still late.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Derek said, still rocking the baby in his arms. She was a beautiful baby. And one day, she would be an amazing, strong and vulnerable woman. But for now, she was his little girl.

“I know. But I want to,” Aaron said in response. “Did she really almost wake up Jack?”

“Yep. She wanted to be held, and then I thought I would read to her, and I remember getting this out for Jack earlier. It just felt right. Haley had so many lines, how she remembered all of them is beyond me.”

“She was ethereal on that stage,” he said. But thinking of Haley didn’t hurt now. It hadn’t for a while. JJ had been right. He was happy.

“I’m going to change out of this suit,” he said, after a few moments of silence passed. Derek nodded, not even moving to put her back in her crib. When Aaron returned wearing Derek’s old pyjamas, he was still rocking her gently.

“You’ve never looked quite so beautiful as you do when you hold her,” he confessed quietly.

Derek smiled, passing her over. “And you never look as relaxed as you do when she’s in your arms.”

He laughed, then responded with: “Gas.”

Derek rolled his eyes in that fond way he always did, but he laughed along nonetheless. And when Aaron’s eyes started to droop, he took the now sleeping baby from his arms and went to the nursey.

As he set her down, he brushed his lips across her forehead, wishing her a peaceful sleep. 

“Goodnight, Penelope Haley Hotchner-Morgan. Have the sweetest dreams,” he said, leaving the door slightly open so some of the light could get in.

Aaron had fallen asleep in the few minutes he had been gone for, on top of the duvet and with his feet dangling off the end of the bed. Derek smiled at his sleeping figure from the door, wondering how anyone could look so sweet as they slept.

Derek moved him to be under the covers, having done it enough times to know how to do it without waking him up. When Aaron’s breathing remained even, he breathed a sigh of relief and climbed in on the other side.

As if he just knew, Aaron rolled over, burying his head in Derek’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his husband, feeling like home was perfect once more.

[theimpossiblescheme]

Oooo, interesting! Can we do 2 and 10 for Bombacass, and then 1. and 6. for Gus/his first mate (I can't quite remember what the name you gave her was because I am having a brain block XD) - please and thank you!

Oooooohhh, this is gonna be fun!  Honestly, all of the subheadings start over at 1, so I could be confused... or I could just do all of them under each and share the love!  

Let me tackle Bombacass first...

What was their first impression of each other?

Cassandra thought Bomba was pretty cool... not immediately remarkable, but pretty cool.  Tugger never had a bad word to say about her, so she took his word for it.  Meanwhile, Bomba was dead gone the first time she laid eyes on Cass--she was both the most beautiful and the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.  Of course, she never let it on and continued on her merry way, playing it cool and trying to lowkey contrive a situation where they might happen to bump into each other and strike up a conversation.  Eventually it worked, and for a while they were just very good friends... until they weren’t.  And that was that.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Technically, theirs was the first Jellicle Ball they attended together.  They took every opportunity they could to dance, snuggled together during the Mating Dance for the new young couple of the night, and then snuck off to a remote corner of the Junkyard after the Ball for their own private dance.

What are their primary love languages?

Both of them thrive on physical touch--they could spend a long time just curled up with each other not having to say a word, and there are lots of little touches between them throughout the day.  A little paw brush there, someone laying across the other’s lap or legs there...

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

That said, between the two of them, Bomba is a little more fond of verbal affection.  She’ll shower Cass with compliments every chance she gets.  Cass uses words of affirmation a little more sparingly--she prefers to affectionately tease her mate--but when she does, it means the absolute world.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

For a Human AU, their wedding would be The Event of the Year.  They would both go all out--lavish decorations, gorgeous venue, wedding gowns so beautiful you could weep (and of course they spread the love to the bridesmaids, too, because Bomba is a generous bride).  Everyone in the Tribe would attend (or Cass will hunt them down and demand to know why they aren’t coming), and a grand time would be had by all.

Who’s the better cook?

Cass.  Don’t ever let Bomba into a kitchen--she would find a way to burn water.  Of course she loves her mate’s cooking, and Cass will sometimes tease her that “I would teach you, but I’m not sure how well it would go over.”

And now for Gus and Andromeda!

How did they first meet?

Andromeda was brought into Gus’s little company as a last-minute understudy--their Mabel for The Pirates of Penzance came down with the most terrible cold, and they needed a queen who could learn all her songs withing a few days.  Luckily, Andromeda struck up a surprisingly good rapport with the cast, including Gus, who would be playing Frederick opposite her.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Andromeda would agree wholeheartedly.  Before Gus, she had never met anyone who felt so passionately about... well, everything, but especially performing, and even if they never became mates, it would be enough to sit and talk with him and know he understood her so well.  As for Gus... he would hesitate.  Not because he didn’t love her--of course he did, he loved her more than he could ever say.  But “soulmate”, singular, implies that a cat can only have one their entire life.  He did find love again a while after Andromeda’s death with a queen named Lila, and they were just as happy in the time they had together.  If anyone asked him to choose between them, he would flatly refuse.  They were both his soulmates, both wanted him to be happy, and he would never sacrifice either of them.

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Gus more or less initiated it, and he probably thought he was being sneakier about it than he was.  After Pirates closed, he was afraid Andromeda was just going to leave, so he talked her into staying with the troupe.  “Great leading ladies are hard to come by, you know...”

(She was never planning on leaving--she loved this cast too much.  But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want Gus to beg a little bit.)

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Since Andromeda had been kicked out of her human home after the couple had a new baby, she had no one to introduce Gus to.  He more than made up for it, though--not only did his fellow actors adore her, but his mother Seraphina thought she was charming.  “You are keeping this one, lad,” was what she said after Andromeda’s first visit.

Who said “I love you” first?

Andromeda did--it just slipped out of her during one of their conversations.  It didn’t sink in what she’d really said until a few seconds later.  And Gus, who hadn’t wanted to assume anything, could have burst into song right then and there.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

Gus was always the big spoon, especially when Andromeda was sick.

If they get married, who proposes?

Gus asked her to be his mate at the end of a rehearsal.  He wasn’t even aware that not all of the other cast members had gone home yet--all he could hear was her “yes.”

Who worries the most?

They both worried in equal amounts about different things.  When it came to the theater, Gus always worked himself up into a lather about dropped lines, missing props, rehearsals falling behind schedule, dead crowds... all the while Andromeda blithely insisted that everything would turn out fine.  After they had Asparagus and Jellylorum, Andromeda was constantly fussing after them while Gus always said they were fine, they’re just little things, how much trouble could they get into?

(He changed his tune a bit after he was left to raise them himself--at times he could still Andromeda’s many “I told you so”s ringing in his ears.)

[post-itpenny]

❝ A tale befitting any opera. ❞

One Being Ruth.

Decided to do some DBD with our Survivor and Killer OCs. I apologize if this seemed like to ran too long. Irene likes to talk.

Ten trials.

That’s how many it took for Irene to come to her senses on just what had become of her.

She would later learn at the Killer’s Campfire that there were some that had taken much longer. Perhaps The Entity no longer saw the need to keep a ruse with her, or perhaps it never tried to begin with. Perhaps Irene had created the delusion that this was meerly a series of shows all on her own.

But she had to admit it was far easier to process the trials as merely a performance. None of the supporting cast really stayed dead and was not their director/ producer also their audience?

Before, the times between trials felt like a strange dreaming state. Sleepwalking through the theater as her mind tumbled through jumbled bits of memory and feeling. All of it was painful, she suspected that part was her new director’s doing. Her hurts and frustrations from a lifetime of being so close but never close enough, of never being good enough for too long.

And then there was her costume… it had to be Ruth didn’t it?

Irene found even after coming to her senses she did not care much for the Killer’s Campfire. Visiting when needed then going off to whatever performance she was slated for in one trial ground or another. There was no script, though like many an actor Irene appreciated the chance at improv. After she would spend her time in the theater. Acting out scenes from old scripts, reorganizing the prop room, or like today she was singing to the empty rafters. Anyone who heard her may or may not have been surprised to find the diva actually had a very lovely singing voice.

Irene was working her way through the aria of Puccini’s Madame Butterfly when the rushing sigh of her director’s presence filled the hall. It seemed, much to her delight, this trial would be coming to her.

There was a slight pull, the tiniest tug as someone else entered the theater. Ah, so her sound technician was here today? Well good, what's a performer without a decent set of stage hands? Though she supposed he was more of a fellow actor these days.

Irene smirked and skulked off to her dressing room where her rapier sat waiting and... perhaps something else a bit of a treat for today maybe? Around her the place shifted, generators, pallets, and hooks appearing.

A deadly game of cat and mouse. Such drama, such suspense. A tale befitting any opera…

Irene adored it.

Accept of course a few members of her supporting cast-

“Hey you hag!”

Irene growled as she turned to spy a grin and mass of curly hair.

Mary shot Irene the middle finger “come and get it bitch!”

Irene sighed, it was so hard to find good talent these days.

This one enjoyed a good chase and much to Irene’s dismay, lead her around the map. The sharp clicks of her boots interrupted as a pallet came crashing down on her head. Irene let out a shriek as stars flashed before her eyes.

The impertinent girl let out a trill of laughter as she zoomed off. Irene had already learned that the girl would only grow faster if she could not follow, and it drove her mad. The others called this kind of survivor and Obsession. Another of their director’s tricks, you needed to kill this one, the thrill of the chase too powerful. Irene hated it.

Which was why she left the little imp alone.

The adrenaline of a trial felt akin to the one she would feel in auditions in her younger years. A desperate but thrilling pursuit. Her first role in New York had been one of the sisters in The Pirates of Penzance, a comedic opera. A somewhat smaller role in the production but she still had to fight tooth and nail for it. She remembered how lovely the leading lady Maryanne had been, but it was Ruth that fascinated her.

Ruth was a multifaceted role, comedic in being an older lady who was hard of hearing yet roped into a band of pirates. However, act two showed how calculating and manipulative she was. Arguably one of the actual main antagonists of the opera. A very young Irene had been fascinated with the duality and of course, an older woman dressed as a pirate. It reminded her of all the times she and her siblings played pirates as children. The middle of eight siblings normally left Irene with little chance as captain and almost always being sent to walk the plank for insubordination or mutiny. The sea being a particularly deep puddle outside her family's home after it rained.

A young Irene had mused that Ruth would be an enjoyable role to play one day, teaming up with the Pirate King and dressed in such a fun costume. Then, it was just two seasons ago that she was casted as Ruth and Irene could not help but think about how this meant she had the appearance to match a foolish old woman.

She was wearing the Ruth costume now, of course The Entity picked it.

Irene rubbed the back of her head as her feet left the ground and she floated down the hall opposite of where the girl had ran, but it seemed the little imp wasn’t ready to let Irene go just yet.

“Where ya going huh?” Mary teased as she ran past Irene and ducked behind the rubble of a row of theater seats. “Is it time for your afternoon nap?”

“It seems to me you just can’t keep away darling. Not that I blame you.” Irene sneered, a wicked glint in her eye as the fingers of her left hand twitched.

Foolish.

The girl popped up to dash off when Irene lashed out. The strings tied to her fingers tightening as they wrapped around the joints of Mary’s arms and legs. The survivor gave a yelp as all feeling left her body save for the burning sensation where the strings connected.

Irene chucked, “I’m not one for heavy lifting. How about instead we take a walk?”

Survivors had dubbed her The Muse since she had once been an actress, they also all agreed her “special” ability was terrible.

Mary stuck her tongue out at Irene as her arms reached up to haul her own body onto the hook.

“My now don’t you look just picture perfect right where you are.” Irene sneered, “but this is what separates someone like you from me. You’re only fitted to be a piece of the background, a small part of a trial in which I have the starring role. Why else would there be four of you? Why else so many chances to keep the show running but for my benefit? Why else-“

“Lady! Do you ever shut up?” Mary groaned as she wiggled on the hook. “If you’re gonna just stand there and drone one like that I’m going to let the damn spider god-thing to come and get me before I die of boredom.”

Irene rolled her eyes and stalked off, trying her hardest to keep her composure. She could be patient just a little longer.

She became aware not long after that someone had rescued her but Irene could only laugh, she had decided to treat herself today after all. Something special she had brought to the trial.

In the basement she had at last found Thomas fishing a rather fancy looking med kit from a chest.

He wasn’t one for taunting, instead locking eyes with Irene for a moment and dodging the slash of her rapier. Up the stairs and backstage they went. Irene grinning like mad as she chased him room to room. Irene reached out with her puppet strings only to snag the ankle of someone else.

Thomas looked over his shoulder to see Mary tangled up in the attack. He spun on his toes, grabbing her arm and in the process felt the sting of something fusing into his elbow.

Irene seemed to almost glitch for a moment, as if overwhelmed by having two people on her strings at the same time. She doubled over, hands clamped over her head as she cried out in pain. Thomas wasting no time in pulling Mary free and shoving the med kit he had found into her arms. She gave him a quick salute of thanks as they ran in opposite directions.

When Irene recovered she was seething with fury, tearing across the stage and through the halls, downing anyone she could find.

Soon a young man wearing broken glasses found himself on his last hook. Irene noted the sounds of only three generators completed. Such strange things, loud and reminding her just slightly of the engine in her father’s Model T.

Irene found a redhead sprinting across the mezzanine when again the imp was back and jumping in the way to take the slash of Irene’s rapier.

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to run with sharp objects?” Mary taunted as she dogged another attack and looped Irene around a row of seats.  

Mary leaped over the railing only to be caught again by the swipe of the thin sword. She gave a yelp before crashing down on the stage below. Irene wasting no time in following suit.

She stood over the girl with a mad grin, listening to the whispers of the entity who had been watching the performance so far. The Muse hummed in delight as Mary’s eyes wided for just a moment, they both knew what was coming.

But then she smirked, “eh… still worth it.”

The strings lashed out again. Suspending the survivor in the air. The Muse stood before her, so much fury built up over the trial, over a lot of things. She shrieked as she slashed at her victim over and over before driving the weapon through Mary’s chest. Her dead body collapsing to the floor in a heap as The Muse turned towards the empty audience seats and took a bow.

[danny-darkness]

Sadly I'm stuck quarantined in a house full of highly conservative christians so a bonfire wasn't an option. I just focused on repoting some of our plants and stayed a looong time in our garden just walking around barefoot, talking to our plants, knitted a bit... Made some great lavender lemonade too. It definitely wasn't the best celebration but no quarantine can stop us from welcoming summer 😊 I hope you have a great time in your celebration. All the love to you, your sister and pets ~💜

Oh, I feel for you. That must be horribly restricting. Maybe get something that’s easy to learn like fire poi? That way if you’re ever in this situation again -I don’t mean quarantine (I seriously hope it’s lifted before the next time this is relevant!) I just mean stuck somewhere during a fire festival where you can’t actually have a bonfire- you can still have pretty fire things? And if you’re not stuck (which I hope is the case), then the pretty fire things always go down well, anyway. And they don’t burn the grass or need a special pit.  But your day sounded peaceful and beautiful, and lavender lemonade sounds delicious! I think that doing SOMETHING to mark the day or night, no matter what it is, is the important thing. I’m lucky. I live in a very pagan area. Usually we’d be celebrating in the streets of Penzance. The Beltane celebration is called ‘May-horns’ and it’s an integration of May Day and Beltane. We have public celebrations of the Equinoxes and Solstices as well as Lughnasadh, Samhain and Imbolc, too. The tourists generally look kind of puzzled, the christians keep the churches lit up and the priests stand outside praying for our souls as we dance past, and we have a really good time. I love Cornwall for that; it’s about 100 years behind the rest of the UK and there’s a real pagan community here. And I’m sure the lockdown didn’t stop anyone. I was only connected by phone to a small group but I didn’t really think to look at the phone because I felt connected to the planet, to Nature herself, and to everyone else who was celebrating, no matter what form their celebrations took. So, to you too. (Belated) Beltane love to you, Danny :) x 

[toast-the-unknowing]

Lmaoooooo “when I grow up I’m going to have so much amnesia” pls just post whatever you’ve written over the last ten years I am so INTRIGUED

Well, the subject line is a Futurama quote, I can’t take credit for that, alas.

I am fond of several of the jokes in that story, but at the end of the day, it’s a mystery and I wrote 20k words of it without ever deciding what the answer to the mystery is. The odds I’ll ever bother figuring it out now are slim, especially since I look back and realize...you know...I’ve become a much better writer than I was 10 years ago and most of those 20k words aren’t great.

But some of them I like! So what the hell, why not, here’s some of my favorite bits from a Star Trek 2009 fic that will probably never otherwise see the light of day:

The whole thing with Kirk and Spock losing their memories on the same away trip is funny for a total of three seconds before it becomes utterly terrifying.

Okay, maybe there's about five minutes of Hikaru making himself sick trying to hold in laughter at the stunned stupid look on Kirk's face as he steps onto the bridge, the way that Spock mutters "what an ingenious invention" after they're beamed back to the Enterprise, but hey, Hikaru's only human. And now so is Kirk, stripped of that cockiness that comes from knowing he's survived all kinds of crazy shit that he shouldn't have, and so is Spock in a way, since he seems to have forgotten all his Vulcan mind-master training along with everything else.

And that thought is what wipes the smirk off Hikaru's face and has him exchanging sideways glances with Chekov, because they're right on the edge of Klingon space, Kang had sworn eternal vengeance against the entire crew the last time they'd seen him, and without Kirk's impossible ability to get them out of everything he gets them into, Hikaru doesn't like their odds of escaping a skirmish unharmed.

McCoy skips right over the part where anything about the situation is amusing and even skips over the "utterly terrifying" part and opts straight for angry yelling before the doors of the turbolift have finished opening to allow him onto the bridge.

"What the devil are you playing at now, Jim?" McCoy demands, striding up to Kirk and waving a tricorder at him that he can't possibly be reading, since he's too busy venting at Kirk's face to look at the machine.

The effect of this is apparently lost on the amnesiac Kirk, who looks over his shoulder trying to figure out who McCoy is talking to.

Right. No one told the Captain his name was Jim.

"We're doomed," Chekov whispers to Hikaru, who wholeheartedly agrees.

-

"More tests?" Hikaru asks Chapel. Hikaru hopes he sounds world-weary but in all likelihood he just sounds like a kid whining about not wanting to go to the dentist's. At least when he was a kid his parents would give him some candy to make the whole experience more bearable.

"You've failed them all so far," Chapel tells him.

"Doesn't being healthy count as passing?"

"Not in his Sickbay." She gestures over her shoulder at McCoy, who is ranting to the nurses that he washes his hands of Hikaru, complete with actually physically washing his hands, because McCoy has no concept of subtlety.

-

Maybe it was just the terrible psychological burden of working too long under McCoy that had made her a sadist. Hikaru had helped the med staff repair and restock Sickbay after a disastrous encounter with Romulans, and after two days of McCoy's crazy-eyes drilling into the back of his skull, he hadn't felt terribly generous toward his fellow sentient beings. Kirk, who always had to be perverse and do the opposite of what a normal person would do, had been invigorated by the experience and set some kind of mountain-climbing record on the next planet they stopped at.

-

McCoy must be having a field day, wherever he is; nothing makes him happier than a legitimate reason to be unhappy.

-

He winces and walks over to answer the door, to find Chekov's curly head bouncing around with an upbeat energy that makes Hikaru feel a thousand years old.

"What?" he asks. "Communicator doesn't work?"

"You didn't answer," Chekov points out, which is probably correct. Hikaru hadn't been aware of anything, much less the chirp of a communicator.

"You know," he tells Chekov, stepping back into his room so he can change into a fresh uniform, "when someone is annoyed with you, telling them how it's their fault doesn't make them like you any better. It just makes them more annoyed."

Chekov blinks big, hurt eyes at him. "You are annoyed with me?"

Hikaru just sighs and lets it go. "So what do I need to be told so badly?" he asks, slipping on a new pair of pants and pulling his shirt off. "I'm guessing that if it were good news, it could wait."

"We have Klingons," Chekov tells him, completely matter-of-fact, and Hikaru is never going to share with anyone, least of all Chekov, the fact that his immediate response to this was to think Russians really are that stoic.

His next thought is that he has to get to the bridge, now, so he sets off at a run with Chekov following along behind.

His third thought, that he never did finish getting dressed, takes its own sweet time occurring to him, specifically waiting until the doors to the Bridge open and Uhura looks at him, blinks her eyes at a momentary loss for words, and then smirks.

In retrospect, it will feel pretty good to have made Uhura happy about something in the middle of this whole clusterfuck. At the time, Hikaru just wonders how bad it could really be to eject himself out the nearest airlock.

"Had a disagreement with your uniform, Mr. Sulu?" Uhura asks. "Or have your just decided that today is a good day for swashbuckling?"

Hikaru plays it cool, because there are only so many options available for you when you show up to battle without a shirt on, and because there's an appreciative look in the eyes of more than one person on the Bridge that reminds him that his shirtlessness is not, in and of itself, anything to be ashamed about. "I wanted to be on hand as soon as possible to help with the situation, sir," he tells her, voice completely smooth. He falls into a formal at-ease position that draws the muscles in his chest tight, causing someone to whistle lowly.

The Acting Captain is actively fighting back laughter at this point; Uhura is going to give him shit about this for the rest of his natural life, but then again, Klingons, so Hikaru can't begrudge her trying to make the most of it now in case the rest of his natural life is only another ten minutes. "Mr. Chekov, please restrain your dramatics in the future," she tells him, and the ensign takes on a look of righteous outrage that is decades older than his face. "Perhaps you could have communicated to Mr. Sulu that another second or two's delay would not have been fatal."

"I thought it obvious, sir," Chekov says, primly. "No Russian would charge into battle in such a state of unpreparedness."

"Because they'd freeze to death on a summer's day," Hikaru mutters.

-

"How?" Uhura asks, with that same fake innocent tone she uses when she's trying to convince everyone at the table that she's got a shit hand, and dammit, Hikaru has fallen for that bluff too many times. After which he was often divested of an article of clothing, oddly enough, so the whole thing is starting to feel really familiar.

-

Kang is even willing to deal with someone who isn't Kirk, as long as Kirk is there to have accusations and insults hurled at him, which is some kind of horrible metaphor for command but Hikaru is still trying to force his jaws together and doesn't quite appreciate the many, many cosmic jokes that are unfurling in front of him.

-

Every single person on the bridge of the Enterprise who still has a brain freezes and darts their eyes to the view screen at the exact same second. Later that simultaneity would make Hikaru wonder why the hell the dancing had been so uncoordinated in the crew's performance of Pirates of Penzance, since clearly they are all psychically linked to each other. Or perhaps psychic connections require substantial motivational force. Few things are more substantial or more motivating than enraged Klingons, and – as every eyeball except two immediately takes in – they have one hell of an enraged Klingon on their hands.

"WHAT CHARADE IS THIS," Kang demands, spitting out 'charade' like it's the dirtiest word he knows. Apparently Klingon honor doesn't have much time for theater. Hikaru wonders what Klingons do for embarrassing social bonding in lieu of Pirates of Penzance.

-

"Oh, good, so we can tell them that we aren't responsible, they'll listen to that and act reasonable," McCoy mutters, before jabbing Kirk with something on the pretense of getting more brainwave readings. McCoy has been dragging Kirk around the ship with him all morning for reasons as yet unexplained. Hikaru's torn on thinking it's to cause more havoc, since every little thing that happens inspires a thousand pointless questions from the deposed captain, and thinking it's so he can stab at Kirk like some stress relief toy. It doesn't seem to be working, but modern science has not yet found a conduit big enough to channel McCoy's stress, so that would be asking a bit much to ask from a guy who needed help going to the bathroom earlier. (Hikaru made Chekov do it. That's what ensigns are for, right?)

-

Chapel had proclaimed the whole thing hogwash and said she would get around to it when she had a minute, and implied that that minute was going to be a long time coming, because apparently that attitude was handed down with command of Sickbay like the crown of a hereditary monarch.

-

Besides, there's the Klingons to consider, and even Scotty can't make hooch so strong it wipes out the memories of people on other ships. Probably. Hikaru will ask him about it when his memory is back, and they will write a paper together, "A Transwarp Theory of Moonshine", and it will ruin both of their chances of ever advancing up the command chain, which would probably suit Scotty just fine and would be the best thing to ever happen to Hikaru if it means he never has to deal with a mess like this again.

-

"When we get to the point where we're recruiting untested specialists from alternate dimensions to solve the problem, just leave me brainless," Chapel scoffs. "I don't want to know."

Hikaru scribbles a note to himself. Evil clones running the Enterprise becomes Plan Y; stealing versions of themselves from other dimensions becomes Plan Z. He thinks they have a better chance of un-fixing the teleporter to make clones again than of making it pull people from other dimensions.

-

Chekov bounds down the hall at him – speaking of teenagers – and apparently the gloom is rolling off Hikaru thick enough to strike down an enthusiastic ensign at fifty paces, because the spring goes right out of Chekov's step when Hikaru looks at him. His faces turns somber and he tugs on his uniform shirt like he's worried about wrinkles. Or maybe he just remembered that this is a catastrophe in the making and a little gravity is called for.

He nearly takes it too far, though, going for a salute and Hikaru thinks that if Chekov salutes him right now he will actually go insane. He intercepts Chekov's arm on the way up and drops it back down like its covered in nettles. Chekov looks a little confused about how to proceed from here, but hell, the kid's always telling them he's a genius, let him figure something out.

-

He picks up Chapel like a leech; when he refuses to stop in Sickbay she just attaches herself to him and starts talking every bit as rapidly as Hikaru is walking. He can't tell how she's breathing. Maybe she isn't. Hikaru feels a little bit like he isn't breathing, either, or that might just be his flair for the dramatic.

He gets distracted, too, by the nurse who is accompanying Chapel, holding several PADDS and a medical tricorder and struggling to hold it all and drop nothing and keep up on her rather short legs. Maybe they could slow down for her, but hell, Chapel's her boss and isn't worried.

Hikaru can't remember the nurse's name. That's a panicky moment, but no, it's just that she's new. Should he ask her name, he wonders, or would that be rude? As the captain, however temporary or inglorious the title may be, he should know everyone on the crew already.

At least the crew is making that easier on him by shrinking.

-

"Stress is every bit a real, medical problem, particularly among young men in high-pressure situations who think they're immortal." This comes with a side order of meaningful look.

"I assure you, Nurse, I am well-aware of my failings."

"And I'm seeing drastically heightened stress all over the ship. Heart rate, blood pressure, shaking, forgetfulness -- not amnesia -- emotional outbursts -- "

"Maybe the crew doesn't like having medical personnel hovering all around them." Hikaru jumps as the short nurse waves her tricorder over him, presumably getting a reading of his own heart rate, blood pressure, and emotional outbursts. "I'm open to any suggestions about how to lower the crew's stress levels, up to and including Ensign Chekov going door to door singing Russian lullabies."

"I'll put that down as Plan Z," Chapel says, and holy shit, can she read his mind? He makes himself think profusely repentant thoughts for his attitude the last two days and also for that time he sneaked a look at her hand at poker, just in case. Also, he probably shouldn't play poker with Chapel anymore, honest or otherwise, if she can read his mind.

-

That, that right there, is apparently what Chapel looks like when she is truly outraged and not just annoyed or sarcastic or feeling superior, which is a valuable piece of information and Hikaru files it away in the very sincere and fervent hope that he never sees it again.

"You know, just, some people," the Acting Captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise mumbles into his shoulder.

-

"How did we get here?" Hikaru mutters. He's barely even realized he's spoken, so it's doubly alarming when Chekov jumps up and grabs his shoulders, shakes them violently.

"Sulu, no, you cannot have amnesia, too," the kid starts babbling. Why is it that his accent gets easier to understand when he's worked up? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Unless, hang on, has the kid been faking his accent this whole time? "Then I will have to take command of the Enterprise and while that is a thing I have dreamed of doing, it is no good to me if no one is around to admire."