dailyoddcompliment:

"Irrational Excitement"

strangeparticles:

'This is our Yorick. He was a Polish composer and pianist called André Tchaikowsky. And when he died, in the early eighties, he bequeathed his head to be used in a production of Hamlet with the Royal Shakepeare Company. He wanted to play Yorick. So here he is. This is André. He was introduced to us by our director Greg on the first day of rehearsals, as the final member of the company. There was a variety of reactions to having a real human head in the production. Some people find it quite difficult. I must say, personally, I was rather excited by it. It's one of the clichés of the play now, an actor holding a skull. And I suppose the trouble with the cliché is that it loses meaning. But if you are presented with an actual person's skull, a real bit of human, then Hamlet's speech about Yorick and about staring at the skull of a man he knew well… it becomes all the more potent when you are aware that you are holding somebody's head quite literally in your hands. There he is. André was there. I feel very pleased to have helped him fulfil his ambition.'

—David Tennant, Shakespeare Uncovered

Fic Tennis: Round 21 (AU, redux, 3/3, complete.)

allrightfine:

allrightfine:

Here’s the third entry for this particular round of fic tennis. That’ll be the tag you’ll want to savior if you’re looking to take a pass on these shenanigans. 

The prompt for this round is below, to catch up, there’s: Part One and Part Two.

ETA: There’s a bit of action-y violence in gallifreyburning’s last section, be ye warned.

image

When Rose wakes, it’s to the feel of something hard beneath her head, and something soft and hairy beneath her hand. 

Her fingers curl on reflex, looking for purchase, and the soft, hairy thing under her palm sucks in a breath. She snaps her eyes open, and she’s greeted by the sight of green velvet. 

Oh, right, the Doctor. The rain. The wardrobe change. The mental, up-ended state of her life.

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