Sho-Gekijo

A few texts from Yao arrive -- [ i need help ], one reads. [ this is important! come to my apt! if you need the address, let me know!!!! ] [ also please bring pen & paper !! i'm all out ! ] [ also i made some dumplings! so don't eat anything on your way over ! ]

Kiku was apprehensive about the idea. He had the time, yes, and the excess stationery (his longest love affair has been with black gel pens and delicately printed patterns on paper), but he wasn’t quite sure if he could handle one of Yao’s little adventures.

Then Yao mentioned dumplings.

He still knew Kiku’s weaknesses after all these years. Curses.

Kiku dressed himself in something that didn’t make him look like a lazy idiot (in the house, that’s fine, but nothing less than the best for NYC) and shot a text to Yao.

[This had better not be something that will get us in trouble. I am on my way. (;*´Д`)ﾉ]

[ (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑ when have i ever led you astray ?? have faith in your sempie !!! ]

[ sempai ! these dumplings smell delicious. i’m hungry! ]

[ i might just eat them before you get here if you don’t hurry!! ]

[ ←～（o ｀▽´ )oΨ ]

Yao plopped down ungracefully onto the couch in his apartment, grinning at his own texts. Really, he was the funniest person he knew. (Next to that one comedian he’d seen videos of on the internet—now, that was comedy!) Still, he was a little taken aback that Kiku thought they were going to get up to anything questionable. Really, all he had in mind was some planning. And maybe some mischief making.

Yeah. Just a little, though.

[It's "pai" not "pie." I applaud your effort.]

[I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying! ε=ε=(っ*´□`)っ]

Kiku was walking a bit more briskly than usual. He figured that he could use the exercise, maybe it'd wake him up a bit. He desperately wanted to impress his new bosses, and worked on his projected background system the whole evening before. He'd forgotten what sleeping was until he woke up in the early afternoon with a small LED light stuck to his forehead and his screwdriver still in hand.

[I can see the building. I'm nearly there. At least leave one for me. =͟͟͞͞(๑•̀д•́))]

#perfect #((I WILL DO REPLIES TOMORROW IF I'M NOT IN HORRIFYINGLY DEEP SHIT))

theatercommandments

Submitted by anonymous.

I have said this before, and I probably will never stop saying it: Respect all people involved in a production. As an actor, you’re who the audience sees. They don’t see the set builders, the prop master, the techies, etc. That in no way means that you are the most important. Any production requires many people and a lot of moving parts. Techies aren’t less important, they just do a different job. If you are the person who thinks they are the most important solely because they’re an actor, you need to stop.

#please

camjamclassic

a haiku about being stage manager

bruises on my legs

where the hell did they come from

can i go to sleep

dramaturgytea-deactivated201707

A little corner of abstract freedom in the corner of the theatre.

"Theatre has begun to embrace a new type of designer. Their work is invisible, but, if done correctly, it can have a palpable impact on the performance. I interviewed David Bernstein about his work in the burgeoning field of scent design.”

#reference #how fascinating

A few texts from Yao arrive -- [ i need help ], one reads. [ this is important! come to my apt! if you need the address, let me know!!!! ] [ also please bring pen & paper !! i'm all out ! ] [ also i made some dumplings! so don't eat anything on your way over ! ]

Kiku was apprehensive about the idea. He had the time, yes, and the excess stationery (his longest love affair has been with black gel pens and delicately printed patterns on paper), but he wasn’t quite sure if he could handle one of Yao’s little adventures.

Then Yao mentioned dumplings.

He still knew Kiku’s weaknesses after all these years. Curses.

Kiku dressed himself in something that didn’t make him look like a lazy idiot (in the house, that’s fine, but nothing less than the best for NYC) and shot a text to Yao.

[This had better not be something that will get us in trouble. I am on my way. (;*´Д`)ﾉ]

@shogekijo || (Not much has changed, really.)

Kiku put down the cords that he was detangling, and went to see who’d called him. He knew that voice from somewhere, but… different. The closer he came, the more came together in his mind, and he grew more and more excited.

It looked just like an exchange student who’d stayed with his family quite some time ago. The memories of translating his “I don’t know this word!” charades and walking home from classes came back piece by piece. Of all the places to find an old classmate, it was here. Why not? If it drew one of them, it may as well have to handle them both.

"Wang Yao? Is that you?" Vision, don’t fail him now. He’s too young to lose his vision.

First, there was a string of rushed, incredibly excited sentences in Mandarin, and then there was a rush of movement. In a matter of seconds, Yao stood before his old friend, face pink from excitement and surprise and joy and all of those great emotions rolled into one.

"It is!" Another rush of his native language that, even to someone who was fluent in it, would make little to no sense. "I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been so long since I saw you last—aiyah, when did you get so tall? And so handsome, too! But you’re looking so skinny! You’ve been eating well, haven’t you? I still remember when you had those chubby cheeks, and—"

It was a surprise that he could still speak, what with how quickly the words were coming out. He couldn’t help himself, though: this was a spectacular event, and one that seemed to be too much even for him, because he quickly forgot what he was saying and moved on to the next thing.

"What are you doing here? You are working here now, right?"

It looked like Yao hadn't grown an inch since he left. (It's not like Kiku grew much either, but it was a small victory for him to be at just about the same height. Almost. He was still shorter, but not too much shorter.)

"How long has it been? I--" And there he went. Kiku caught two or three words, but not many more. "It really has been, and

I am so happy to see you, ah, I've been this height for about four years, I think, and-- handsome? That's, that is a bit bold of you to say, wouldn't you think?” There goes Yao about eating well again. “I've been eating well, and in moderation. It is the healthy thing to do. Hara hachi bun me, remember? ...Was I really all that chubby?” He was still excited, and Kiku was so happy to hear his old friend again.

“I am, yes. Audio, lighting, backdrops. Maybe acting, if the mismatch isn't too much for the audiences.” Kiku tried to keep himself from getting too excited. Too much too soon, pull that enthusiasm back a bit. “Are you going to be working here too?”

@shogekijo || (Not much has changed, really.)

Normally, Yao wasn’t the hesitant type. It took quite a lot for him to second guess himself, and even more for him to seriously consider something before he acted. But when it came to being presented with someone who looked shockingly similar to an old friend that he hadn’t seen in over a decade, he couldn’t see anything else to be but hesitant.

What were the chances of this young man being him? Slim to none, he supposed. But this person looked like him, and carried himself the same way that boy did, and even wore the same exact calm expression that Yao had known so well so long ago. It could be anyone, right? Just a new member of the theatre who just so happened to look exactly like an old friend. A stranger, someone he’d be introduced to later, so there was no use in potentially embarrassing himself and—

"Honda? Kiku Honda?" Well, he couldn’t help himself. Time for hesitance and what little shyness Yao could muster to be thrown to the wind.

Kiku put down the cords that he was detangling, and went to see who'd called him. He knew that voice from somewhere, but... different. The closer he came, the more came together in his mind, and he grew more and more excited.

It looked just like an exchange student who'd stayed with his family quite some time ago. The memories of translating his "I don't know this word!" charades and walking home from classes came back piece by piece. Of all the places to find an old classmate, it was here. Why not? If it drew one of them, it may as well have to handle them both.

"Wang Yao? Is that you?" Vision, don't fail him now. He's too young to lose his vision.