trace_of_scarlet

When and if I land my dream job at the Beeb, I plan on getting the following quote from warren_ellis tattooed on my leg, probably just above my right ankle. (Yes, I know, that area will hurt like hell. I'VE GOT MY HEART SET ON IT OKAY.)

"Journalism is just a gun. It’s only got one bullet in it, but if you aim right, that’s all you need. Aim it right, and you can blow a kneecap off the world."
(Transmetropolitan Vol. 1: Back on the Street)

My other dream tattoo would be one of the watercolour-style ones apiphile linked on Twitter ages back, but of a nebula in space with a tiny, tiny TARDIS and the words 'Across time and space...'. Not so much because I'm an utter Whoniverse geek (although I am, that wouldn't be enough for me to get a tattoo) but because of the four insane, wonderful, geeky years I've spent in Cardiff and the friends I've made and the things I've learned here.

(The it-could-never-happen-but-I'd-have-it-if-it-could tattoo would be the same as Briar Moss's from Tamora Pierce's Circle books: vines of tiny flowers tattooed all the way across his hands, which bud and flower and bloom of their own accord. I would kill for my hands to look like that.)

What do you guys want tattoos of? If you already have some, what do you think you'll get tattoos of next? And if you could get anything at all tattooed, what would it be?

I cannot tell a lie, I am more than a little bit in love with Caitlin Moran right now. (She's a writer for The Times, if you're wondering - and more importantly, she's a fellow Sherlock and Cucumberpatch fangirl.) She is, it is quite clear, a fangirl entirely after my own heart.

The Seven Wonders of Sherlock

 

So what if the second episode lacked gags, says Caitlin Moran, whose Cumberbatch Love knows no bounds.  Bring on Sunday night! 

It’s been one of the more extraordinary television phenomena of the past few years: a show that came along and, in a single episode, engendered a technically improbable “instant loyalty”.  With an Appreciation Index of 88 per cent and ratings higher than the last series of Doctor Who, the BBC’s rebooted, 21^st-century Sherlock is setting a new standard for supersmart – and all this despite the fact that the second episode was, let’s face it, a bit rubbish.

With the third and concluding episode to run this Sunday and “Sherlock parties” planned up and down Britain to celebrate, here are seven reasons to love Sherlock.
( The Seven Wonders Of Sherlock - 5/8/10 )

Originally typed up by wastedtiara and posted here on sherlockbbc.

Happy Christmas, everyone!

Doctor Who was on the good crack. OMG WILFRED, THOUGH! LOVE THAT MAN. Cannot wait for the Dream Team next episode! Sometimes having access to spoilers is the best thing ever. *bounces*


And An Meme, as stolen from half my Cardiff flist:
- Pick up to 15 OTPs.
- Describe them in less than 15 words.
- Have your flist guess the OTP! (Try to guess without looking at anyone else's answers! I'll post the right answers in one week or once they've all been guessed right, whichever comes first, with a note saying who got them right.)
- A Note: Some of these are OT3s. Hey, threesomes solve everything, amiright?

1. Socially-awkward genius, highly individual geek and smart-ass tough guy flirt as they track psychos.
2. The Heart and the Brain go retro. Who doesn’t love to break the law?
3. Tea and smut – is there any better combination?
4. The everyman and the man out of time. Accents make for better sex.
5. Even in the Sixties Seventies you can still remember being young and in love.
6. Two ordinary humans in the midst of superpowers manage to be something special after all.
7. Superspeed and an iconic founding member set the sky alight.
8. A Union Jack, leather jacket, cons and dancing? Fantastic!
9. The gentleman’s gentleman and his gentleman.
10. She meant the crackers, but they’re the real thing.
11. A lion in disguise and a less-than-eagle-like dreamer. Odd earrings are the least of it.
12. Their school has two mummies. Brains, balls, and hockey sticks.
13. When she thought there was something funny about him, she meant the moustache.
14. One’s got a way with words, one knows he’s right. Opposites are very gay indeed.
15. Two doctors and two time-travellers make for one very long-lasting threesome.

I’ve been tossing around the idea of doing a picspam of John Barrowman as Albin/Zaza in La Cage Aux Folles for some time now – ever since the promotional images started surfacing on the net, in fact. His run in the show has combined my current twin fangirl obsessions perfectly, even if he doesn’t make as good an Albin as Roger Allam. He’s good, yes, but Roger Allam pretty much achieved perfection.

Anyway. Like I said, I’ve been meaning to do the John-as-Zaza picspam for a while, and have finally been spurred into it to cheer an upset person on Journalfen’s Unfunnybusiness comm up. And while I’m at it, I figured, gorgeous men dressed as gorgeous women in sparkly outfits and with fantastic legs... like you can ever get enough, right? Plus, more people should know the genius that was the Roger Allam and Philip Quast run in La Cage. So this is not just the Johnspam, it’s the La Cage Aux Folles picspam!

I’ve divided it up into sections separated by LJ cuts, but be warned: THIS THING IS HUGE. Between the joint efforts of me, plum177 and niblick_iii, we must have acquired if not all the photos of Quast and Allam’s run on the net, then at least the majority. I haven’t used them all here, but I have used a hell of a lot.

And so, messieurs-dames, I give you... La Cage Aux Folles!



( First up, a few random Zazas that I’ve acquired photos of. Includes Grahame Norton, Douglas Hodge, the Zaza (and Georges) in the current Parisian production, and at least one whose name I don’t know. )

( Next, some shots of the supporting cast, all from various 2008/2009 London productions. Smaller section this time. )

( The first La Cages cast I ever saw, and the original reason for my obsession: Philip Quast as Georges and Roger Allam as Zaza. )

And that’s all for this post, folks! Second instalment: John Barrowman and the Cagelles!

I HAVE PRETTY FLIPPY HAIR.

Lookit! Is all pretty and flippy and such.



:D

Oh, I have missed having nice hair. How I have missed it. *twirls*

(In a sidenote that should rejoice the heart of kali921 and others: Yes, that's a Wonder Woman t-shirt I'm wearing. Is pretty!)

...I got another hug from John Barrowman tonight.

It made running like hell all the way from work (stopping in the house first to pick up supplies - did I mention it was freezing?) and all the waiting around we've done this week totally worth it. I've just got to the Bay and am running like hell trying to find Michelle and Emma ---- and then suddenly there's a John Barrowman, in full costume and overcoat, walking past me. This time my brain DIDN'T go kaput, happily, and I said "Hi John!"

He turns and says hi, and I laugh and say that I was the daft girl who couldn't talk to him at the last filming, and could I please have another hug? And he ignores the security guard saying no (to him and to me) and his own "I really, really shouldn't... They'll all want one, etc." to hold out his arms.

He left not long after, so there's no way I would have had any other chance. He brought a couple of his dogs down in the car with him, and was playing with them just before he left. OMG SO CUTE. Eeeeeeee. Emma and I offered him pizza, but alas didn't get him to do the "Who the hell orders pizza in the name of Torchwood?" line. WOE.

Good God that man is beautiful. Seriously, seriously beautiful.

(AND SOMEONE GOT FILM OF HIM HUGGING ME. IT'S GOING TO BE UP ON YOUTUBE. :D!!!)

In conclusion: YAY ME. Fantastic, fantastic, fantastic city. <3333

I haven't written fanfic in ages - years, even - but I adored the new St Trinian's movie and was inspired. This is also my first piece of femmeslash.

So, fic!

Title: I Write, Therefore I am.
Rating: Hmm, not sure. Probably PG, PG-13 at the very most.
Pairing: Kelly/Polly (femmeslash).
Notes: Betaed by the very wonderful tahira_saki, who also made my icon. :D There's also a very tiny in-joke for plum177 and I. Crossposted to sttrinians.

( Polly Holmes has always liked writing. )

So, right. We got off the train at about 9pm in Cardiff, instead of the 2am that Lauren and I should have been getting in at. And since we could take about ten minutes off the journey time by walking through the city centre and getting a taxi from the theatre, we decide to do that and save money, since we weren't particularly tired. skitty_kat left because her place was in a different direction, and so did nevaendinstorey, so it was just me, plum177 and requiem2adream who were fussing over whether or not a minivan-sized taxi would be more expensive than an ordinary-sized one when there's a voice behind us: "'Scuse, are you getting this taxi?"

And we turn around.

And it's DAVID FUCKING TENNANT.

Who promptly got mobbed. I was shockingly coherent, all things considered, and he was very nice and very understanding of the three squeeing fangirls he was suddenly surrounded by. Amy squeaked "Gosh, you're awfully tall!" and he laughed and said something along the lines of "...Er, I suppose so. Sorry!" and I managed to gabble something about where we'd just been.

And, of course, he posed for photos, although the girlfriend was rather grumpy about it.

( PROOF, BABY! )

Then we let him get away, and Lauren and I clung together and squealed and, apparently, missed him turning around in the taxi to wave! Luckily Amy didn't, and waved back.

David Tennant, baby. *still grinning!*

Then this Monday Natasha and I were due to meet up in Cardiff for some shopping-and-gossip therapy. Only she was late, so at 3ish I'm waiting for her outside Howells in the middle of Cardiff, and then this tall bloke walks past me into the shop. And I double take.

And then, of course, I follow him in, to see if it really is who I think it is, and being Cardiff, indeed it is one Mr Russell T. Davies Esq., who when I went up to him to say hi and that I'm a huge fan of Doctor Who and Torchwood bounced at me gleefully and wrung my hand several times and asked my name, and was quite happy to have a chat and a photo. Even though, as he put it, "...Oh, damnit, I'm in the bloody make-up section!", and even though I told him off about the lack of Martha, and that I liked her better than Catherine Tate or Billie Piper. And he was a vair nice man, and I liked him muchly.

( So, of course, photo. )

I also got ordered to watch Torchwood tonight and Doctor Who tomorrow. Then I say thank you and trot off to met Natasha, and then a few shops later, upstairs in HMV, I turn around AND THERE HE IS AGAIN.

I got stalked by Russell T. Davies. God, I love Cardiff.

And at the time, having met him, I was going to agree with oz_the_bobble who said that after meeting him she'd forgiven him all his cock-ups.

And then I saw Torchwood, and my rough non-spoilery summary would be : DAMN YOU, DAVIES. D:

We have a house for next year, guys. :D :D :D :D

A house with a ballpit!

(Well, it's got a tiny spare room that we don't really need, so clearly the only possible use for it is to fill it with as many playpen balls as we can afford.)

I'm inclined to believe that we'll never get the members of cardiffgeekery out of our house again. Luckily, that's just fine with me.

Also, I passed English with 65%. Since apparently 70% is a first and I thought I'd done pretty crappily on that exam, I'm happy. Still waiting to hear from Journalism, but that won't be til the end of the month. D: Stupid Journalism.

Am loving Welsh rock, at the moment. Not sure why, but I've got into it enough that I bought a couple of new Stereophonics, Catatonia and Manic Street Preachers CDs. International Velvet is a really great album; I'm firmly convinced more people should use Catatonia songs to make Torchwood fanvids. I would, but I have no idea how. Suspect I lack the technology.

On a totally unrelated note, Wales Vs Italy was fun. And watching Wales Vs Scotland in a crowded bar in the middle of Cardiff with analogboyuk and seren_cymraeg's big brother and loads of Scottish and Welsh supporters (it was a home match) was even more fun. Fingers crossed for the Grand Slam!

(We have a house. *glee*)

So. I, er, have been intending to write this post for a while (i.e., since Thursday night), but never got around to. Because I suck.

Anyway- I CAN HAS ENTRY TO UNIVERSITEE NAO!

3 As AT A-LEVEL, BAYBEE. I WIN AT LIFE AND THE UNIVERSE AND STUFF. YES.

If people were wondering, I did English Language, History and French. And I'm going to do English Language Studies and French at Cardiff University, yes, yes I am. *updates her schools on her info page gleefully*

LOOKIT LOOKIT LOOKIT. UCAS SAID SO AND EVERYTHING. ->

	Welcome Bethan,
	The current status of your Application is:
	Congratulations! Your place at Cardiff University (C15) to study French/Language Studies (4 years) (QR11) has been confirmed.

*boogies* I'm moving out now, I'm moving out now, woo!

Thursday was, like, almost the best day ever. I got a grand total of, er, four hours' sleep Wednesday night, and was all sort of 'Bzuh'? at 9am Thursday morning. Pootled over to school (my old school now, bitches, hahahahaha) to get my results, squealed, said 'oh my God' a lot, got screamed at by both parents on the phone (separate phonecalls, thank God, or my eardrums might have spontaneously combusted). I, er, may have tormented them by starting the conversation a bit like this:
Me: Hi, Mum/Dad. I, er, didn't get what Cardiff wanted.
Nervous!Parent: ...What did you get?
Me: Better! THREE As BAYBEE!
Parent: *scream* DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!
Serve them right for spending the last week tormenting me by periodically calling out 'Hey, Bethan? Thursday!'. Ha ha ha, suckas. XD

So. Went home (walked part of the way, got picked up by a squealyhappy mother halfway home), and the parentals have decorated the place. Balloons, banners, those funny poppy things that go bang and spray streamers, the usual. Have bighuge cake with champagne-bottle candles, Thornton's bear with 'Congratulations' on it, card, £20, and new shiny SWATCH watch that I said I liked on holiday and Dad apparently ran a marathon (or something) to go back and grab without me seeing. Also, real actual champagne, which I was surprised to quite like, since I hate wine.

Then Grandad calls, and says he wants to take us out for lunch. Okay, says we, although we'd already had plans, because hey, nice thought and it keeps him happy, right? (He also decided to phone half the family and tell them my results, which, grr. My news, damnit. Oh well, never mind.) So, we went out, nice enough meal (Grandad's choice in restaurants tends to leave something to be desired, but still), then off to garden centre because it has a shop which sells gorgeous organic homemade foods. Including gorgeous chocolate, a bar of which my kid brother bought with his own money secretly and gave me later with a 'well done'. Bless his heart.

Then home for an hour or so, then out again, to my choice this time- our favourite (very expensive) Chinese restaurant in Cardiff Bay. Gorgeous meal (mmm, queen mussels and chilli), much fun, and then after a wander around Cardiff Bay. And guess who I saw standing outside a restaurant, just having had a smoke? (Bless you, smoking ban, bless you forever. Mmm, nonsmelly restaurants.)

Gareth David Lloyd, aka IANTO BLOODY JONES, THAT'S WHO. AGAIN.
(Guys, plz don't kill me.)

More accurately, I spotted him, doubletook, thought 'Huh, guess not. Looked like him, though.' (It was quite shadowy.) My parents and brother have stopped a little way ahead of me. Dad: ...Is that who I think it is?
Me: ...Ianto from Torchwood, right? It looks like him, but I didn't think so.
Mum: I've only seen him in the photo you took, but I'm sure it is!
Me: ...Ah, hell. I'ma go find out!
Since, uh. The last time I met him, I was in such an advanced state of glee, not helped by the fact that he is really bloody gorgeous, that I wasn't a hundred percent sure that I said thank you in the end. Which, rude, especially since I interrupted him and the girlfriend and they commenced to make my day.
So, they head on a bit and I go say hi, now he's put his cigarette out (which. Ew. Still, it's not like I'm going to get to date him, is it? And it's clearly not affected his pretty. Yet.)
Me: *sure I know the right order his real names go in this time* Hey, you're Gareth David Lloyd, aren't you?
Him: *blinkblinkblink* Er, yes, I am. (All surprised. God, he's adorable.)
Me: Hi! I'm a Torchwood fan, I met you with your girlfriend before in Cardiff? *grin* You signed my wage slip...
Him: *laughs* Yeah, I remember.
Me: I just wanted to say- er, I'm not totally sure I said thank you, before. So if I didn't: thanks, you made my day.
Him: Haha, you're welcome. *shakes my hand*
Me: :D!

He didn't seem to mind talking, so...
Me: When's Torchwood back on?
Him: Sometime in January, they're not sure exactly yet.
Me: And Martha's in it, isn't she? From Doctor Who?
Him: Yeah, just for three episodes though.
Me: Aww, I really like Martha!
Him: Sorry. But she'll be in it more in series 3... *covers mouth guiltily: see earlier comment re adorable* But I'm not really supposed to say that.
Me: :D! Okay, thanks! I'll let you get back now.
Him: *grin* You're welcome! Bye!
Me: *walk off* *glee long time*

Thank God for my parents, really. Rejoined fambly, geeked out gleefully, was tolerated indulgently, went home.

And then I logged onto t'internets, and things kinda went bad in several directions at once, and I wailed very slightly (mostly because overtired, I strongly suspect). But then Eric made me giggle again repeatedly, which I <3 him for being really good at, and all was much betterer.

AND THAT WAS (ALMOST) THE BEST DAY EVER.

*danceydancedance* DID I MENTION I'M GOING TO UNIVERSITY, YET?