#to sit in solemn silence in a dull dark dock

[woweeitsnekogal1]

I just went to tag something “#short shorts” but one of the autofill tags was “#short sharp shock” and I’m sorry are people posting about the mikado all that often that if I type in “#short sh” there’s a good chance I’m gonna write “#short sharp shock”??????

[ozimagines]

It’s four in the morning help💀

I was inspired by @wawamouse yet again by saying he wanted to write a fic where Miguel was just openly attracted to Chico. Like, plain and simple. Two bros. Chillin in a hottub. You get the gist. I’m here for it and a little high so…

Miguel Alvarez and Chico Guerra in…

Crime and Punishment

Fuck him. Sometimes Miguel forgot how much of a dick Chico could be. They’d been dating for a few years now. Mostly in private at first but they learned to roll with the punches. They just worked too well together to quit, even though they argued like an old married couple. Chico was in the bathroom now. Had been for the last half hour.

The blow up had been at dinner. An argument they had at least a dozen times but today was a monsoon. Every argument just came up all at once, until they were screaming at each other from across the table. Chico walked away first. He always did. And Miguel hated that he took that opportunity away from him every time. Made him angrier than the actual argument. He was seething on the couch as he waited on the bathroom. A one bedroom sounded like a great idea in the beginning; he and Guerra fucked like bunnies. But now? With Guerra hogging the only toilet in the house?

“You redecorating or some shit?” Miguel called heatedly. He heard a crash and some swearing but no screaming so he just rolled his eyes.

“Shaving. That okay with you, Princess?” Chico called back, like a taunting child. Miguel rolled his eyes yet again.

“I’d like to take a shit sometime this century.”

“Yeah? Maybe that lump of coal up your ass is finally a diamond.”

“Fuck off.”

Silence. He heard Chico fumbling with his shaving kit. He never used an electric razor on his face. Didn’t trust them. Shaved the way his brother taught him how. Miguel softened a little at the thought. He liked watching Chico shave and clean up his goatee. The man took so much pride in it. Plus it’s hot to watch your boyfriend shave. Miguel was man enough to admit that. But that’s why Chico was shaving now. He was purposely stopping Miguel from watching him. Alvarez understood how crazy that sounded, but he knew his insane boyfriend better than anyone. This is exactly the petty shit he pulls when he’s butthurt. Miguel found himself getting angry again at the thought. He knew Chico needed MUCH concentration when he shaved, so he decided to put down his book and walk to the bathroom door.

“Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.”

“You’re counting now? What’re you? My mom?” Guerra called through the door with a grimace.

“Baby shark doo doo doo doo doo doo!”

“Oh, real fucking mature, Miguel.”

Miguel grinned like the bitch he was and kept going. He could hear Guerra muttering Spanish obscenities through the door.

“To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock in a pestilential prison with a life long lock-“

“Miguel, I’m warning you.”

Miguel just started to bang different tunes on the door to throw him off. He hated the tongue-twisters Miguel learned at the theater.

“-awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock-“

“I’ll fucking leave you for this, you colossal bitch.”

“-from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!”

“FUCK!” Chico reacted in pain and then there was silence. Miguel listened, the smile slowly disappearing from his face when the silence persisted.

“Chico? Yo, you okay?”

More silence. Miguel started to worry.

“Hey, Chico. Just… tap on the door if you’re okay.”

More silence. No Spanish obscenities. Miguel’s heart dropped.

“Carmen, I’m gonna break the door-“

The door swung open quick and a furious Guerra was standing there in only his boxers, a little blood dripping from his clean shaven face. It was just a nick. Chico went toe to toe with him, eyes flashing in their fury.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, cabron. That shit hurts.”

Miguel didn’t say a word, just stared at Chico, who didn’t notice his boyfriend wasn’t responding and kept berating him.

“The fuck is up with you? First you need to take a shit that’s more important than me keeping the skin on my face and now you got nothing to say?” He stormed past Miguel and went to the kitchen to pour some Tequila. Miguel followed. Chico noticed. “What? Now you gotta take a shit in the kitchen, too?”

Miguel just stared at Chico as if he was looking at him for the first time. Chico, ever the empath, just then noticed Miguel hasn’t said anything, just staring at him wide eyed. He touches his face to see if the nick was more serious than he thought, but the blood was already gone. He searched behind him for the answer.

“What?”

“You shaved.”

“Told you I was.” He retorted, back to pouring his tequila. Miguel swallows thickly.

“I thought you meant you were trimming up the goatee.” Miguel clarified, still wide eyed. Chico shifted.

“Thought I’d try something new.” He took a shot of tequila and went to pour another. There weren’t any damn limes left in the house. Two Latinos. No limes. He shook his head at the travesty and looked up to see Miguel still staring. He suddenly got very self conscious.

“You don’t like it?” He asked quietly, eyes downward at first but then looking over Miguel.

“No… I mean yes… wait what was the question?” Miguel stammered out, eyes as big as the moon. Chico furrowed his brow, before a lightbulb lit in his head. He suddenly recognized that look. The glassy eyes. The moist lips. The starstruck attitude.

“Wait… wait you like it.” He narrated out loud, sly smirk starting to form as he pounds his last shot.

“Well… I mean….” Miguel’s speech patterns were giving him away. Chico knew this well. He’d seen Miguel horny but never like this.

“No, I know that look. You like it. More than that. You like like it.” He started chuckling to himself, mind already reeling at how he could use this, the argument from hours prior already forgotten.

Miguel tried to say something but he couldn’t. He really couldn’t. He was always attracted to Guerra, but clean shaven Guerra? Man never stood a chance.

His boyfriend was looking FIT. He’d always been muscular, but damn, did he look different there, hair a mess, only in his fucking blue boxers, clean shaven face grinning at him dickishly. And those eyes. He’d made his fair share of comments to Guerra regarding his eyes, but Miguel forgot how devastatingly deep and intense they were. Especially in the throes of passion. Chico took a cocksure step towards him, almost as if he were ‘showing off the goods’ as he once phrased it.

“Miguelito likes his handsome boyfriend.” He flexes dorkily, and Miguel starts to blush and deny, waving his hand in front of him dismissively.

“Man, shut up.” But his retorts were lacking. He was just too attracted to Guerra at the moment. The caramel skin and clean jaw. The long masculine fingers and hip bones sticking out. Chico kept sauntering over to him, teasing the air around him.

“Awww… Miguelito’s embarrassed. Don’t be, baby, I know I’m that gorgeous.”

Miguel felt his ears burning as he looked anywhere but in Guerra’s direction as he brushed past the man and straight to the tequila. He poured himself a shot and took it, mentally making a note to get limes tomorrow. He felt a hot breath on his neck, and Guerra’s arms sneaking around his waist. He started to pour another shot, when he heard Chico behind him. Only, Chico’s voice wasn’t playful anymore. It was deep and gravely as he tried to whisper into Miguel’s ear, licking the lobe lovingly before doing so.

“Just tell me you didn’t have the urge to call me Daddy just then and I’ll leave you alone.”

He husked one more hot breath and nipped at the lobe as he pulled away, the bite carrying a shiver down Miguel’s spine.

All he had to do was tell Chico no. Just one no, and he might get some peace and quiet for the first time that night. All he had to do was say no. Shake his head no. Punch Chico in the throat and then leave him. Anything, except what he actually did.

He moaned.

He heard a deep chuckle behind him, and Chico said;

“That’s what I thought, Miguelito.”

He kissed the side of Miguel’s head, before picking him up and throwing him onto the counter, pulling Miguel’s head forward to trap him in a kiss, spreading his legs so that either one was on their respective side of his hips. He forced his tongue deep into Miguel’s mouth, and the man made an animalistic sound Guerra had never heard from him. The glasses clattered to the floor, and as Alvarez instinctively looked to inspect the damage, Chico took the opportunity to bite his neck, making Miguel yell in pain and pleasure. Something about his freshly shaved face gliding on Miguel’s skin was too much to bear. They broke apart, panting and sweating, staring at the other and undressing them with their eyes. But neither one moved. There was a still silence for a second, before Guerra said;

“Say it.”

“Say what?” Miguel asked, confused. Chico smirked and raised his eyebrows.

“Say it.” He repeated, that same shit eating smile on his face. Miguel suddenly understood.

“I’m not saying it.”

“Miguel-“

“With your ego? Even this reaction was too much.”

Chico put both hands on either thigh, squeezing to get his attention, and moving his head so Miguel was forced to meet his gaze, smiling the whole way.

“Just say it, man, and I promise the night of your life.”

Miguel thought for a moment and sighed.

“Can I whisper it?” He said with a head shake, understanding that he was forgoing his dignity for the night. Chico nodded happily, and Chico guided him by a hand on the back of his neck, bringing Chico’s ear up to his lips. After kissing it for a second, he tries to muster the words Guerra wanted to hear.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

Chico growled loudly and helped Miguel off the counter, spanking his ass loudly as Alvarez made his way to the bedroom.

“Fuck you.”

Guerra responded with a loud laugh, and another smack on Miguel’s rear, letting the door slam behind him.

“Careful, Miguelito. Daddy’s home.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[rain-droplet]

I can't stop saying this out loud over and over even though it's 2 am

"To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock in a pestilential prison with a life-long lock, awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper with a big, black block."

[mi4019sayakagunasekara]

More Classwork...

Exercise- Accents

the task was to read out a poem in a British accent and come up with our scene and interpret it anyway possible

our group decided to assign one line to each other but we decided to read out the line with a different emotion

1st line: fear 2nd line: Sadness 3rd line: Anticipation 4th line: Anger

[letomimusic]

I was reminded today of how a few years ago I would drink very heavily on stream while playing video games. Since i had no where to go I would often drink to the point of slurring my words. And one of those nights, in an attempt to convince me that I was very drunk and should probably go to bed, one of my friends pointed out to me that I was slurring.

"No m not."

"Yes you are. Here, try to say Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers."

So I did. Perfectly.

You see as part of my 7 years of middle and high school choir at an arts magnet school, and subsequent 2 years of college choir, tongue twisters were used daily to practice diction. So when everyone was shocked that, despite fumbling my way through the sentences I was trying to say, I had no trouble falling back into my diction habits and immediately rattled off in rapid succession-

"She sells seashells by the seashore. Big black bugs bleed blue black blood but baby black bugs bleed blue. To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock in a pestilential prison with a life long lock awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block."

And shortly after that, I thanked everyone for coming to the stream and signed off for the night.

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

"The fourth and final attempt took a bit over twenty minutes. I was on the line with Kaveh. He's an architect." Cyno was comfortable between two pillows and laying on his stomach, his binder of collectible TCG cards open before him when Kami peeked through the 'gate'.

"While you were away, there was an insurrection amongst your vassals, and one of them has claimed your throne. He challenges you to a duel, and the chosen weapon is..." He paused dramatically, staring straight at the assistant librarian before pronouncing all in one breath. “To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock in a pestilential prison with a life-long lock, awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper with a big, black block.”

Tongue-twisters!

On his return from work, Kaminari will be surprised that the living room has been completely rearranged. The couch has been turned around, the large TCG-themed bedding tucked on top to form a canopy hung over every chair that could be found in the house. All pillows and more blankets have been moved underneath to create a cozy space around a couple lamps resting on top of stacked books.

Yes, that includes all of Kaminari's own bedding too.

"The King has returned. Men, lower the bridge." Comes Cyno's voice from inside, as a pillow flops forward on the carpet between two of the chairs placed at the front like a gate.

It's another boring day at work, aside from people gawking at him over the fresh tongue piercing. While speaking is slowly getting easier, Kami's still struggling with certain letters, and of course the pain is still enough he has to self sooth with ice.

Which, he's sucking on ice as he walks in through the front door. The shock over his living room being upturned is enough to have him accidentally swallowing, but what's a little frozen water that'll melt compared to the giant blanket fort he'd walked into?

"Th-no?" Kami chokes out, trying not to laugh. "What did you do?" He reaches out to feel the TCG bedding, taking a moment to appreciate how much Cyno actually likes it, before bapping at the chairs.

"How long did thi-th take you?"

[str4wb3rr1cr0w]

it’s soooo fucking hard for me to respect actors because they’re theatre kids

[bluestockingbaby]

dni if you picked a peck of pickled peppers, sell sea shells by the sea shore, own an irish wristwatch, live in unique New York, if you sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, bought a bit of bitter butter, or are the pleasantest mother pheasant plucker who ever plucked a mother pheasant

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

10. Friends and Family - Part 1

If you’re reading as a one-off, this part (1/2) is set at a small dinner party at Highgrove in early 1987 with Camilla and close friends attending.

If you’re reading as part of Tea Time - this is chapter 10 - part 1.

She’d been in fits of giggles all evening. The sort that, once amplified with a large glass of red wine, were not only infectious but a belly crunching and holding your sides in pain sort of hilarity. And they were feeding off each other. She’d start and he’d not be able to control himself and then they were off again. There were six of them sat at the dinner table and she’d been on cracking form all night. Until she got the giggles. At one point she was bent double in laughter, clutching onto his hand to try and control herself. He found her so funny, tears were streaming down his rosy cheeks and he absently stroked her back whilst she recovered. This didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the party but they were too busy enjoying themselves to comment. After eventually regaining control of their faculties, they sat properly again, their chairs a little closer together than before. He reached for the bottle in the middle of the table and started to top up glasses.

“Darling, if you pour me any more, I’ll be quite tipsy.”

“You’re already tipsy, my love. Stay over. Then it doesn’t matter.”

This did cause a few eyebrows to raise about the table but neither of them noticed.

“Well let’s see who needs a top up. We don’t want anyone falling behind.” They all looked towards Martin who lifted the other bottle of wine and filled up everyone’s glass to the brim, ignoring Camilla’s protests.

“To sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock…”

“In a pestilential prison with a life long lock.”

It was Charles’s turn and he joined in easily. “Awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock.”

“From a check and chicky chopper… oh, for fuck’s sake.” She fumbled the line and reached for her drink. “You pick the one that’s practically a tongue twister.”

“Drink up, Darling. Never mind. You can choose the next one.”

She took a swig of her drink and held it up. “The Mikardo!” The rest of the party laughed and toasted with her. “This one’s difficult… I am the very model of a modern Major-General…”

Everybody laughed, watching the next person eagerly.

“I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral.”

“I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical…”

“Hear, hear!”

“From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical…”

“I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters Mathematical…”

Charles smirked as he recited his line, “I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical…” then looked at her as her face fell.

“For absolute fuck’s sake. Who the fuck even knows that line?!” She drank from her drink without attempting it.

“It’s easy, Darling. ‘About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news, with many cheerful facts about the square of the…’”

“…Hypotenuse! Yes I know that bit! I’m not playing this. You’re all too good at it. I’ll be passed out paralytic in ten minutes. Charles, Darling, go and get us a pack of cards. I’ve got something we can play.”

“Strip poker?”

“Piss off, Phillip.”

“Seen as you’re the only female.”

“You too, James.”

“I have a feeling HRH wouldn’t like that.”

“Wouldn’t like what?”

“Us, being inappropriate with you, darling.”

But Charles returned before she could answer.

“Okay, everyone has to choose an animal.”

“What sort of animal?”

“It really doesn’t matter. Any animal. I’ll be a chicken, for example. Darling, Latin for chicken?”

“Gallus gallus. I’ll be a Chironomus.”

“A what?”

“A midge.”

“You’ve chosen a midge?”

“Mytilus edulis! I’ll be that!” Martin beamed across at her. “It’s a mussel, Camilla, darling. Your Latin is shoddy.”

“Wait! You need an action for your animal!”

“Drosophila! And I’ll flap my wings like this!!” James exclaimed.

“What on earth is a mussel going to do?”

Martin closed his hands and opened them up together, his fingers outstretched, making her giggle. “Mytilus edulis!”

“Spheniscidae!!” Phillip started flapping his arms to the side and squarking.

“Good god.” She looked across the table at the men, making ridiculous gestures, including Charles who was buzzing and using his fingers to pinch people, pretending to be a mosquito.

“Oryctolagus cuniculus.” Declared Peter.

“Absolutely not.” She watched him do a pretty good imitation of a bunny rabbit before breaking out into laughter. “Alright, fine. You public schoolboys have to use the Latin and I get to use the English. Then it’s fairer. Darling, deal out all the cards. The game is simple. We turn over our cards together. If your card matches someone else’s, then you call out their animal and do their animal’s action. The first one to do it, wins the cards. If there’s no match, the cards go in the middle. Now, if anyone’s card matches the one in the middle you have to call out a predetermined word to win the cards. What word shall we use?”

“Sex!”

“No.” She paused to control her laughter then cackled as a better idea came to her. “We’ll have an unspecified sexual act. A different one each time!”

The game almost broke the table. With all of them slamming their hands down and shrieking out various animal noises, forgetting the Latin, dancing around rather than miming the action and going to town with different sexual acts; they were in hysterics before the game could end. Charles did particularly poorly, loosing his entire hand due to false shouts and then sat in a state of anticipation to win the middle cards, his sexual suggestions getting more and more depraved. Eventually they came to a stop, jaws aching with laughter, and they moved into the sitting room, where she curled up next to him. That didn’t go unnoticed either but they were both too drunk by this point to think about it.

The conversation got steadily ruder and more raucous the later the evening got and Camilla was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the incessant pawing that Charles was doing, stroking her hands, rubbing her knee, tickling her, touching her, kissing her even, albeit her arm, her shoulder. Anywhere he could.

“Truth or dare?” Martin’s voice sounded above everyone else. There were general moans of disapproval. “Eton style!”

“Which means?” Camilla wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“We bully just the one person until they crack.”

There were general murmurs of approval for that.

“So do we pull straws?” Camilla asked.

The rest of them laughed. “No. Nothing democratic like that, Darling. The victim is just chosen.” Charles explained.

“Are we in agreement?” They all spat on their hands and put them in the middle to form a pact. Camilla looked on in disgust.

“Darling, we didn’t actually spit.”

“Oh.” She put her hand tentatively on top of his.

“No. You need to spit on it.”

“Oh.” Bemused, she pretended to spit on her hand and placed it back on Charles’s. “Boys are really weird. We never did anything like this at school.”

“Great!” Martin took charge. “So obviously Wales is the fag.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “No surprises there.”

“And I think we’ll start with a truth. To get the ball rolling.”

“Go on…”

“So are you in love with Camilla or just sleeping with her?”

“Darling, don’t answer that.”

“Shush, Camilla, you agreed.”

“Anyway, he has to.” Peter interrupted.

“Rules of the game,” Charles explained. She shrugged and took a large gulp of wine. “I’m in love with her.”

Murmurs went round the party. “Are you saying that because she’s here in front of you?”

“No. I love her. I love her more than anything.”

“I dare you to prove it.”

Charles reached for her hand and then kissed it. “Darling, could you please leave the room for a minute?”

In a state of shock, Camilla stood up. Peter took her arm and led her out of the room, accompanying her. He followed her out of the room and shut the door.

“Do you love him?” It was a very direct question but she sensed he wanted a real answer.

“Yes.”

“I mean…” he thought for a moment. “I guess I’m asking to what extent?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not about to do a Wallace Simpson.”

“Why not? You love him?”

“Because it would kill him. It’d make a mockery of everything he’s already sacrificed and every ounce of good he’s ever done will go out of the window. What would he do, you know, when everything he’s ever known is gone? Knowing that he’ll never be able to do anything important ever again? That’s his life, you know, even if he doesn’t like it. He’d lose his family, his friends. And we both have children. I can’t do that to them. It would destroy too much.”

“You’ve talked about this?”

“Well, yes, but we’re both of the agreement that…”

He interrupted her. “So we’re not talking about a desperate love affair, then?”

“Are we not? It feels very desperate to me. I won’t ever be the next Duchess of Windsor. But I need him, and I love him.”

“Why?”

“Because… because he’s funny and sweet and so passionate about everything. And I can’t stop thinking about him. Everything reminds me of him. I don’t know. I don’t know why I love him. I just do. There’s nothing really logical about it. He’s like my reflection, I guess. Inescapable. How long are we expected to shroud every shiny item? Because that’s all we’re doing. Covering it up, pretending it doesn’t exist. But it does. It’s there under everything.”

“So it’s an emotional affair.”

“Well, yes, I guess. Amongst other things.”

“I think that’s enough. Interview over.”

She looked at him in confusion but he drew her back to the sitting room where they were waiting for her and he nodded at the rest of them.

“She passed.”

“Passed what?”

“He passed too.”

“Wales, you’re completely fucked.”

“Final dare.” Martin’s voice sounded out and Camilla felt herself growing in trepidation. “Kiss her. Make us believe you love each other.”

Charles laughed. “You’re all a bunch of voyeurs. Not a chance. You’ll get this and nothing else.” He beckoned Camilla with his fingers then pulled her down to sit next to him, pushing his fingers between hers.

“Do they want a show?”

“Yes.”

“They won’t like it if we actually gave them one.”

“No.” But his face was closer to hers now and she felt herself slipping. He kissed her really softly, making all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up then went to bite her chin, making her laugh. She heard the cheers in the background, making her laugh more and shook her head in mock disapproval.

And then they didn’t need to worry and restrain themselves, not that their behaviour changed very much. She was naturally the more bubbly of the two but she sparked all the fun he had inside him and when they settled down around the fire to have one of those deep conversations only drunk people seem to have, he drew her in and she felt the passion behind what they were debating. She wouldn’t join in, not used to the expectation that she should participate and slightly worried that she didn’t know enough to contribute but when they stopped to ask her opinion, he would squeeze her hand, encouraging her, and she’d proffer her thoughts before listening to them getting considered and examined and in some cases, pulled apart. It wasn’t an activity she was usually invited to.

It was very late by the time they left and she found herself alone with him in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking at her in adoration before he slipped his fingers between hers and led her upstairs. He deposited her on the bed and kissed her neck.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Yes, but you get woken up in the morning.”

“I’ll get you something.”

There was something slightly awkward about getting undressed in his bedroom. This was different to usual, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and clothes fell where they dropped them. He was scrupulously tidy, hanging up his jacket, putting away his cuff links. He smiled at her, sitting on the bed, watching him.

“Here.” He handed her a stiffly ironed t-shirt and a little box. “Put your jewellery in the box. Then it won’t get lost.”

That was the easiest thing to start with. She removed her earrings, her necklace, unfastened her bracelets. Then, with a pang, pulled off her rings too. She didn’t want to wear them. He helped her out of her dress and made her smile as he hung it up in the wardrobe and she crawled into bed. The duvet was heavy and cold and she snuggled up to him gratefully, stealing his heat. He manoeuvred her until she was in his arms, her head on his chest and he clasped the hand next to her face, tracing his fingers over hers. She could feel him check her ring finger and then he brought her hand to his face and kissed her palm and the spot where her rings usually sat. It made her heart ache. He clasped her hand to his cheek, stroking it until she fell asleep.

[kazuma-asogi-blog]

All right, that's it. Just you wait, Ryunosuke Naruhodo. I will best you yet, and when I do, I will tell your guilty defendant:

To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock, In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock, Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock, From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!

Ryunosuke, I am very sorry to hear your trip did not go well. And I'm honestly shocked how anyone could think poorly of you. In particular your family, who should know better than anyone what sort of a person you are.

Who cares about a piece of paper? You went on a study tour to Great Britain! That alone is impressive, but what you accomplished while you were here went beyond what anyone could have expected.

Do they know that you won your first murder trial after never having set foot in a courtroom before? Ryunosuke, that is unheard of. You are a genius! They should be proud to have a son like you.

If graduating is important to you, there may still be a way. You studied law intensely for a year, so you may be able to test out of the required classes. The study tour should count as an independent study - that's how I have it worked out. Talk to Professor Mikotoba. He may have some advice or connections that could help. But only if that is important to you.

I know we've discussed before about respecting your mother and father and trying to make them happy, but if they can't see how incredible you are, that is on them, and not a reflection of you.

Never stop believing in yourself. You are worth far more than a stupid degree. You are Ryunosuke Naruhodo, the great ace attorney. Never forget that.

-Kazuma (@kazuma-asogi-blog)

I apologize for my late response, Kazuma, but thank you for your kind words. You always know what to say and when to say it.

I... I was going to not speak more of it, the visit I mean, but. Well, there was a reason why whenever we hung out, we would always be out in town or somewhere on campus.

They knew I ran away, Kazuma. To go off to London with you. I... I won't get further into that conversation than needed. I'm just upset for the first time in a long time. They somehow know how to effectively tear someone down even if they have done 'great' things.

I'm sorry for dumping this all onto you all of a sudden, but I want you to know that I'll take your kindness to heart.

[flipchild]

theatreheads be like: the meek minute mouse ran down the rickety dock on the clock [...]

♯♫♯ La LA lalalala~~~~~ ♯♫♯ (they are sharp by 2 steps)

mi-mi-mi-mi-mi~~~~

to sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock / in a pestilential prison with a life long lock / awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock / from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.

[rain-droplet]

I can't stop saying this out loud over and over even though it's 2 am

"To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock in a pestilential prison with a life-long lock, awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big, black block."

[imaginationstimulation]

The Mikado | W.S. Gilbert

To sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock in a pestilential prison with a life-long lock awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big, black block.

[mi4019cainmayadunne]

3. ACTING CHALLENGE

For our next exercise, we were asked to deliver the following poem as a group, with each teammate delivering a line each, keeping each character distinct from the other,

To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock, In a pestilential prison, with a lifelong lock, Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock, From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!

We delivered it with the context of a group of soldiers mourning their fallen comrade (the Spiderman plush).

IN-CLASS ACTIVITIES

Below are a few speech-based activities we did in class with the guidance of our lecturers.

TONGUE TWISTERS

For this exercise, we practiced a number of complicated tongue twisters, such as Peter Piper and Red Bubblegum, Blue Bubblegum. The aim of this exercise was to teach us the importance of correct enunciation, particularly when communicating through audio-only channels like a podcast.

As a group, we were asked to act out the following tongue twister:

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Did Peter Piper pick a peck of pickled peppers? If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

We acted this out in the roles of a group of people hearing the scandalous news of Peter's missing peppers. As a twist, we changed Peter Piper to Peter Parker, Spiderman's secret identity, and used a plush toy of Spiderman as a prop. This ia a theme that we kept consistent between these exercises and our final podcast for Semester 01.

[catsnraincoats-archive]

me when i sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block

[7thedisasterdyke]

How to warm up your voice -by a Theatre Gay™

In this post, I, a Theatre Gay™ will go through a whole bunch of vocal (and physical) warmups (that may or may not be helpful for trans folk, I don’t know) that I’ve done as an actrix.

1. Physical warmup

Shake an arm, each shake is one count. go to the count of 8. Repeat for each remaining arm and leg. When finished, repeat with the next power of 2 down (4, 2, 1)

do some basic stretches

2. BDG

Make the sound of each letter in B, D, and G, repeat for a little bit. Follow with P, T, and K, then M, N, and Ŋ (ng, pronounced like the proper prononciation of the start of the name Nguyen)

3. Tongue Twisters

“Sally Sells Seashells by the Seashore”

“Unique New York”

any others you can think of

4. Enunciation Check

With exaggerated enunciation, repeat the following:

“To sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock

In a pestilential prison with a life-long lock

Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock

On a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block”