#and that shows on broadway are never going to be the same for a while

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I Saw the Phantom Proshot at the NYPL

Happy 36th birthday to Phantom's first preview on Broadway! I was going to save this post for the actual 36th, but I figure all of us need some more Phantom Broadway "original" content since the official Insta accounts are reminding us today that Phantom is no longer (though it should be) on Broadway. I'm going to post about what I saw, and I'll follow up on January 26 with all my answers!

Some time ago, @or-what-you-will and I went to the NYPL's Theater on Film and Tape Archive, and viewed the archival pro shot of the Original Broadway Cast of Phantom of the Opera, filmed live on May 25, 1988. There is only one copy, and its purpose is artistic preservation (not commercial distribution--the library owns it). It was kept under lock and key during the show's run. All information about how to access the archive is on the website. I can't really tell you anything more besides what's out there because it will become identifying. You get set up in a room with monitors and can pause and rewind, although you can't touch the media.

This was not my first TOFT proshot, but it was the best-filmed. Some, there's a single camera just parked, or there's some generation loss because of when the tape was transferred to digital. This had absolutely vivid colors, a multi-camera shot, and brilliant and clear soundboard audio. I heard lyrics I have never heard (especially during Notes when everyone is singing over one another), the sound balancing was so good. It was as transformative as seeing it live.

These are all the notes we took while there (apologize if they can seem disjointed) More below the cut.

ACT 1 NOTES: 

-Multicam shot

-amazing audio (soundboard), vivid colors

-Raoul/Barton is crying in his voice during the auction

-there’s a “voice” that sounds like a woman singing with the overture (maybe a theramin?) We jumped in shock at this. We've never heard this before, not even on soundboard.

-Sarah Brightman comes on stage during the Hannibal rehearsal, moving across the stage with Meg during “Rome not Roma”--so she dances in the front row during the Hannibal ballet

-Hannibal ballet then has 10 dancers and since Christine is in the whole thing, there is slightly different choreo

-there’s a synth under Meg’s “he’s there, the phantom of the opera” 

-Firmin lights a cigarette and Andre (Future Phantom Cris Groenendaal) stops him right before “Think of Me’ which makes the “Defense de Fumer” on the back of the curtain make even more sense

-Think of Me Gala skirt is not as full (but of note, Carlotta’s Elissa costume is much more ornate than we have now or even at the end of Broadway)

-Raoul sings slightly different notes in Think of Me. Steve Barton goes down a few notes on “young and innocent” (it’s not belted) and is clearly wistful. 

-The think of me cadenza is absolutely effortless

-The “Bravi, Bravi” is haunting and perfectly sound balanced!

-Meg can actually sing and the Angel of Music harmonies work

-Raoul (Steve Barton) is nervous before going into the dressing room. He taps his fingers on the banister and takes a deep breath before going in

-He’s also nervous inside the dressing room–you can see him going from seeing an old friend to suddenly having feelings, being attracted to her. When he’s standing behind her he has a slight moment when he nearly touches a lock of her hair. 

-Raoul is wearing a ring on his right hand (signet?)

-Steve Barton says MY Little Lotte

-Christine (Brightman) is excited about meeting the Angel of music and has a wanting and longing in “Enter at LAST master” (in a way that Lily Kerhoas does now and we haven’t had many Christines who do this) 

-The picture is VERY CLEAR and NO WASHOUT when we see Michael Crawford appear in the mirror for Phantom’s entrance. You see everything

-When the door opens for Raoul to the dressing room after they go through the mirror, it opens slowly (vs banging open). It’s the same tempo that Phantom moves to take Christine through the mirror

-1925 Phantom silhouette vibes at the first “sing for me” 

-Not a particularly aggressive cape twirl, but def a twirl. 

-They get VERY close on “turn your face away”, almost kiss (like, Russians, Panaro/Joseph close) 

- he has a nice portcullis sprawl but she does not press against him, there is visible space between them the entire time

-”Caress” and “hear it, feel it” are explicitly seductive, the former in how it’s sung, the latter because he self-caresses on “feel it”

-the “Touch me” in touch me/trust me is half sung/half spoken order, she strokes her hand over the mask and he does not pull away

-He does have a little panic when she faints and he covers her with the cloak. He’s holding her hair when he sings to her there

-At the unmasking, MC holds for a brief moment before covering his face with his hand so the audience gets a peek of the deformity (before “damn you”) 

-Vixen not viper

-Crawls on knees, not stomach. We get…lots of crying and whimpering 

-Christine sees his face a lot during this sequence. MC lowers his hand as soon as he’s on her side of the stage from “secretly dreams of beauty” to “Oh Christine”, when he turns away–but she is looking at him the entire time. MC is angled right by a mirror shard so we can see a bit of the deformity reflected back

-Right before “come we must return”, MC is about to cup her face with both his hands before changing his mind–she starts to reach for him as well. 

-His Mandarin robe is much longer than we have now (ankle length vs calf length) 

-This Giry has witch vibes

-Steve Barton is playing eager puppy Raoul and it shows even though he looks older (Barton was 35 at the time)

-The sound balancing is so good that you can hear lines you don’t normally hear during Notes 1 and Prima Donna–including the Managers thinking that Christine has just been off with Raoul all night. 

-Sarah Brightman does a different pose on the bed as the pageboy during Il Muto. She crosses her legs vs putting her hands on her hips. 

-Firmin yells “the role of Christine Daae” to the proscenium, clearly directed at Phantom

-Barton Raoul’s “There is no Phantom of the Opera” comes off more as “Christine this is just some dude” vs “he doesn’t exist at all.” 

-Raoul loves Christine so much. He strokes her hair gently to comfort her right before “No more talk of darkness”--his eyes are soft and he’s genuinely caring and concerned (vs trying to be a hero) 

-”All I ask is for one love one lifetime”--different lyrics, she does it twice (This is on soundboards from the time)

-Raoul puts his face to Christine’s hands at the proposal. 

-Christine is clearly kissing his cheek right next to his mouth during the kiss (the final lair kiss is a real kiss) 

-Christine’s “I must go” is not as playful as we often see it later. She really is trying to go. 

-Raoul is nervous at “Christine, I love you”--he lowers his head for a moment worried that he said something wrong. He’s excited when she replies “order your fine horses”

-AIAOY Reprise: Michael Crawford is partially slumped over the angel, he’s holding hands with it to the audience’s right, and arm is slumped over on the left. We get a lot of anguished weeping, and little distressed moans as Christine and Raoul sing, there is rocking and head shaking and then covering his ears. It’s a HUGE difference then when he stands up fully for “You will curse” (he does this again during final lair between “unfeeling scrap of clothing” and “pity comes too late) 

-He also roars before standing

-The Phantom laugh/cackle continues well into the chandelier drop into intermission at the light cut out for about 15 seconds. 

Act II

-Carlotta masquerade costume has no mesh in the skirt–it’s much more of a see-through skeleton crinoline, so the feature is the purple tights

-Not surprising since Sarah Brightman is a dancer, but Christine does the proper choreography during Masquerade--she's the center of attention. Barton also does quite a bit of dancing.

-There’s an organ (almost like a circus organ) underlying the finale during masquerade

-Red Death double doesn’t run down the stairs, he stays at the top

-Giry/Raoul exchange after masquerade–both holding the lantern and super closeup

-Reyer is clearly gay–coded. Some voice and hand gestures during Sitzprobe

-Wishing–only one “help me say goodbye” (when did the second one get added?)

-”Far-reaching” gaze, Wandering Child is a duet

-Piangi says “conquest” is assured (at some point, this became “congress”)

-Michael Crawford imitates Piangi until “past the point…”

-Sarah as Christine is listening intently to Phantom’s voice and immediately noticed something is off–she doesn’t figure it out right away but she notices something. She is suspicious the entire time. It's not clear when she knows for certain.

-Christine never flees from him, during the first caresses, he hovers over her body, she turns to kiss him, he turns away, her hand lingers on her back, before she gets up to sing her solo part away from the table

-Michael Crawford’s hands are in in his crotch when Christine’s singing on the other side of the stage (“you have come here”)--he’s moving his palms in his lap the whole time, his hands are shaking, we only get glimpses of him, most of this part it’s focused on her

-There is none of the arm waving circling while their hands are held, she takes his hands, he switches his grip to hold one of hers, and they keep them on him

-She figures it out when she reaches down–she’s holding his hands above him and she pushes her left (our right) hand down and he pulls and she notices something–we can only see to his upper waist but her hand disappears and her expression changes, it’s implied he has an erection

-she doesn’t ever feel the mask, either accidentally or on purpose

-She doesn’t actually ever try to escape. It’s not the current West End or the past blocking–but more accurate in that she is aware of the situation and plays along. She keeps going with the blocking

-they both get up and keep singing, neither drags the other to the centre, they move together and keep singing 

-The last “return”--he sings it at the unhooding, she doesn’t

-”Say you’ll share with me”--he is really pleading and almost crying on “say you want me” 

-The managers don’t come out to try to usher her offstage, she doesn’t signal to them to stay

-When Phantom gives her the ring, she takes it, but doesn’t put it on–she just holds it

-He doesn’t scream at the unmasking, he just looks shocked and sad

-Ratcatcher order is different–it’s after Raoul and Giry’s first lines, that’s the indication that Giry needs to turn around, Giry screams

-Phantom is crying at “flesh” and through “unfeeling scrap of clothing”, he’s also hunched over through this sequence, and then stands to his full height at “Pity comes too late.”

-Phantom makes a big show of raising the portcullis, hands fully raised

-Raoul swats at Erik with one hand (the other is still on the noose) when Phantom grabs Christine on “start a new life” 

-Phantom is probably the “minimum” amount of rough as we see Phantoms be with Christine in this sequence, as in, he’s definitely scary and menacing but he’s not harming her. He does grab her and spin her around on “start a new life with me.” There are a few wrist grabs (which is book accurate). He’s realizing more that his plan is absolutely crumbling. We get some shots of him on the organ looking panicked.

-Phantom makes a low growling noise before “you try my patience”, which is delivered quickly and almost casually. It is not menacing as some later Phantoms do. 

-”Pitiful creature”..MC’s hand is subtly shaking by his side

-The kiss: the 1st one MC stands with “claw hands” at his side, on the second one, the “claw hands” start shaking

-MC hunches over after he burns the noose

-He stands over the monkey, conducting it with one hand, he is mimicking the symbol clashes, he doesn’t touch it or cover its face

-When Christine returns the ring, his hand shakes as he takes it, he’s hunched over again. 

-She does seem conflicted about leaving, but she doesn’t press her hand back around his, she holds out the ring and his hand shakes as she takes it. She doesn’t linger very long. 

-He says a second “I love you” after she’s gone.

-He’s about to say it a third time, he says “I love…” and then see the veil, and grabs it and screams into it, and then turns and sees the boat leaving

-He sobs and keens a lot

-Raoul bends in the boat to caress Christine’s face on “say the word”)--this is halfway across the stage as opposed to during the stage right exit.

-Deliberately cracks voice on the "can" in “you alone can make” 

-MC Cradling the veil like a baby at the very end

SEND ME YOUR QUESTIONS! You can put it in comments, reblogs, AMA or DM's. I will answer all of them on January 26!

#phantom of the opera #poto #poto broadway #original poto #michael crawford #sarah brightman #steve barton #cris groenendaal #the phantom #christine daae #raoul de chagny #alw phantom #proshot #toft archive #YOU GUYS I SAW THE PHANTOM BROADWAY PROSHOT #POTO Broadway never should have closed

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🩷 Meet Cute Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🩷 You Make Lovin' Fun by @homosociallyyours {E, 109k}

Harry is a 28 year old travel writer at a gay magazine who gets the assignment to go a lesbian cruise. She figures it's a nice chance to have some fun in the sun, but she's not expecting much else-- even if her partner and best friend are both encouraging her to hook up with someone while she's there.

When she locks eyes with a gorgeous silver fox from across the room, she starts to think she could've been wrong. There are lots of things standing in the way of anything real happening with her and Louis, but that doesn't stop them from falling for one another. True love isn't always easy, but they do make lovin' fun.

🩷 Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 {M, 38k}

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

🩷  hymns for restless stars by @turnyourankle {E, 37k}

Every Holiday season Louis has his pupils write down their Christmas wishes for class. He's read almost every wish under the sun, but one girl's wish takes him by surprise. It's for her uncle not to be alone anymore. It's not a wild wish by any means, but Louis had no idea that former teen idol Harry Styles was lonely in the first place.

🩷 From the Start by @allwaswell16 {E, 32k}

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

🩷 On This Winter's Night by @reminiscingintherain {T, 27k}

When a random bloke offers his lap for a seat on a busy bus in December, Louis' Christmas ends up being much different, and far less lonely than he was expecting.

🩷 What Side Of Love Are You On? by @fallinglikethis {T, 25k}

Ever since Harry finally made the decision to come out to his mother as bisexual, she’s been foisting women on him left and right, determined it’s just a phase. But when she puts out a personal ad to find the perfect partner for her son, things really get complicated. Suddenly, Harry’s heart is being pulled in two very different directions. On one side is the sweet, caring woman he has fun with, but doesn’t know his mother chose for him. On the other is a man who seems to be his mother’s worst nightmare, but makes Harry’s heart flutter in ways he’s never felt before. When all is said and done, maybe they’ll all learn that when there is no clear path to go down, the best option is to follow your heart.

A Because I Said So Au with a bisexual twist.

🩷 A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb {E, 25k}

Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. But nothing is as he expects it to be in the very best way, especially not the handsome mayor of McAll, Idaho.

🩷 Naked & Proud by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou {E, 18k}

The town itself is tiny, as evidenced by the ten minutes it’s taken Louis to drive the entire thing. There’s not a single recognisable brand in sight—no Tesco or McDonald’s or even a bloody Starbucks. Lining the streets instead are mom and pop stores with names like ‘Jerry’s Burgers’ and ‘The Market Basket’ and…

“'Naked & Proud?'” Louis almost slams on the brakes at the outlandish sign, the name written in a seemingly innocent font, words curved around a large cartoon peach. He can’t help turning into the carpark, easing the car into a spot next to a beat up truck.

He isn’t sure what to make of it. Surely it isn’t a strip joint or sex shop, not with the families and little old ladies going in and out of the establishment. Some kind of nudist hangout, perhaps?

And, oh, God. Did Louis’ mother accidentally send him to live in a nudist colony?

In which Harry runs an organic store, not a nudist colony, and Louis doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

🩷 Single Bells Ring by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {M, 16k}

A holiday singles event is not where Louis wants to be tonight, but there he is, helping his best friend find love. Just as Louis is settling in, ready to have a terrible time, he meets the fittest alpha he’s ever come across.

🩷 love so soft, you ain’t had nothing softer (series) by @neondiamond {E, 15k}

Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

🩷 Breathe me in, breathe me out by @lunarheslwt {G, 14k}

Louis was just passing the autumn collection, when an unfamiliar but addicting scent tickled his nose. Cinnamon. He turned as he realised something. He felt calm. Relaxed. The permanent agitation that he carried was melting away the more he breathed in the scent, as faint as it was. Consumed by the crazed desire to seek out the specific candle, Louis began picking up candles and sniffing them madly, when a deep voice piped up, startling him. “Uh, sir, we don’t allow candle fetishists in here.” Louis froze mid sniff in mortification. Willing himself to not blush, he turned, a retort at the tip of his tongue. Except, it died in his throat as he took in the man before him. “I uh,” Louis blurted out accidentally, temporarily rendered speechless by the frankly unfairly beautiful man before him. Only at the man’s grin widening did he regain his wits. “You’re gonna kink shame me?”

Or, Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers

🩷 Far Afield by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {T, 11k}

Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

🩷 The Art of the Giants by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox {G, 10k}

Louis is dancing away from an old relationship when he meets Harry at a bookstore in the busy streets of Seattle. Harry is just a bookstore owner hoping his handsome weekly visitor could become something more.

🩷 All Shook Up by @littleroverlouis {T, 9k}

Memphis, Tennessee is looking to crown the Ultimate Elvis Tribute artist. A majority of the contestants are content to shake their hips on stage, but singer-songwriter Harry is taking it more seriously. He is confident his voice and charisma will send him straight through to the finals.

He is already polishing his crown before even setting foot on stage, until he meets a fellow competitor. Louis is talented, charming, and a natural born performer. He commands the stage— and Harry's attention.

Harry has his eye on the prize and the Ultimate title, but what happens when someone becomes the ultimate prize?

🩷 The Way to My Heart by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 {T, 6k}

Louis' having a bit of a dry spell, until he bumps into an attractive alpha in the supermarket and leaves with his number. It was a hard bump. Very... muscular.

The only problem is, said alpha asks Louis to cook for him - which is not exactly his skill set.

🩷 Only Reason by @letsjustsee {NR, 5k}

“We are so lucky to have with us one of the leading experts on beekeeping in the modern age, Dr. Louis Draper.” No. No, no, no… “I know I speak for many of us when I say that this man’s books have guided our practice, or helped us get started,” Harry continued, and Louis watched as the crowd nodded their heads in agreement. Oh shit. No. What? No. But then Harry was gesturing towards him, saying “Dr. Draper?” into the microphone, the crowd was applauding, and Louis found himself walking up the stairs to the stage.

Or, Louis is most definitely smitten with Harry from the second he sees him, but he is also most definitely not the world's foremost expert on beekeeping. He decides to roll with it anyway.

🩷 Unplant by @hellolovers13 {M, 4k}

Please do not disturb my plant She needs 2 hours of sunlight a day and I live in a sunless flat I’ll be back to collect her soon Thank you and stay well.

or Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

🩷 Validation by @lululawrence {NR, 3k}

“Hey, how are you?” Harry asked. He’d found that sometimes just a smile and a kind face was all that was needed to brighten someone’s day.

“Oh, uhm. I’m alright. Can you validate me?”

Harry chuckled inwardly, but decided to go ahead and take him literally.

Or the one where Harry worked in a parking garage and he totally didn’t mean for this, the whole validation of people as well as their parking tickets, to become a thing. It just kinda...did.

🩷 more than that by @nouies {NR, 3k}

Harry looks for the best bread in France. He finds Louis.

🩷 an honest mistake by @disgruntledkittenface {NR, 2k}

“You look different when you’re not covered in come,” he blurts out, immediately regretting each and every life choice that has led to this exact moment. Elevator Guy is going to hate him.

Louis has ridden the elevator with his neighbor all week. The first time they speak, there’s a misunderstanding.

#ficrec #meetcute #hljournal #hlcreators #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #trackinghome #hlsource #hltracks #disgruntledkittenface #nouies #allwaswell16 #lululawrence #hellolovers13 #letsjustsee #ladyaj13 #littleroverlouis #asphodelknox #quickedween #neondiamond #lunarheslwt #kiwikero #taggiecb #2tiedships2 #nonsensedarling #homosociallyyours #turnyourankle #fallinglikethis #reminsicingintherain

[greenorangevioletgrass]

given the circumstances (part 1) | b.r.b.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: your relationship with Bradley goes from 0 to 100 after a little happy accident. [Part of “The Actress & The Aviator” universe]

word count: 5.9k

Warnings: established relationship, language, pregnancy, mention of vomit/nausea, accidental pregnancy, fluff, smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, hint of mommy kink?, breeding kink, size kink, creampie]

notes: they’re back babeyyyy! This is set about 1.5 years after the events in “It’s Classified”, and it fills in the gap of the blurbs I did a while ago. But you don’t have to read it first, this can be read as a standalone. I have missed writing for them so much, and I hope you enjoy reading this! <3

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

PART ONE

You’ve been New York-bound for six whole months, doing two shows on Broadway back-to-back. Bradley came to visit you for your musical’s opening night about two months in (and again for your second show, a modern take of Romeo & Juliet), but with your shows and his sudden deployment to God knows where for three months, the time and space apart was killing you.

Which is why you’re determined to take some time off as soon as you’re done, just to be with your stupidly handsome fiance at home in the stupidly sunny California.

Your first month or so was a bliss. You would wake up to the smell of your coffee, and saunter into the kitchen where Bradley would kiss you good morning. There’s no rigid structure to your days, save for the occasional work meetings. Most of your time is spent playing house with your fiance, redecorating the house you both barely lived in before you were called off to work. Wandering around and jotting down inspirations for your new screenplay. Treating yourself to frozen yogurts and manicures. Adjusting to life in the San Clemente neighborhood of Orange County. 

(Bradley made a joke about you joining The Real Housewives soon, which earned him an elbow to the rib. Whatever. He was more Housewife material than you anyway.)

But halfway through your second month, you started feeling lethargic and just… off. You chalked it up to the weather and exhaustion, since you’ve been back to work, going to pre-production meetings for your upcoming movie. You tried to brush it off with vitamins and heartier meals, powering through for a couple of days.

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good…” Bradley looks at you in concern when you shuffle into the kitchen that morning.

You’re really not, but you blatantly refuse to acknowledge that. “I’m fine. Still tired, is all. I just need some…” the coffee scent wafts in the air—the same scent that always woke you up in a good mood these past six months—and you gag. “Oh fuck.”

Bradley’s voice calling out your name sounds distant as you dash towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before you puke your guts out. 

“Hey…” he holds your hair back with one hand while the other rubs your back patiently. Staying calm despite his head is running a mile a minute in panic. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Everything feels like hell from your mouth to your stomach, and you groan as you pull the flush. “I have no idea. I just… I could smell the coffee and suddenly…” you motion at the toilet. “I mean, what the fuck?”

He sighs, wiping off sweat from your forehead and brushing the strands of hair sticking on it. “Maybe it’s stress?” he guesses, although they both know it’s unlikely. You’ve been keeping it relatively chill since you got here. “Or a stomach bug? Or…”

You look up to find his brown eyes softly gazing at yours, in worry and concern and… “Or what?”

He grimaces almost apologetically, and you slowly catch what he means.

“No. No way. Nuh-uh.” you shake your head so quickly, you give yourself a headache. “I’m on birth control. I’ve never missed a day…” That’s not true. As the words leave your mouth, you remember the surprise trip Bradley took you to Big Sur one weekend where you forgot both your pills and condoms…

Fuck.

“Babe… What date is it?”

He stammers for a bit, “Um, the— it’s the 18th.”

You do the mental math, counting the time gap between today and the Big Sur trip, and your last period… and your eyes widen. Your head is swirling, and so is your stomach.

“Sweetheart, do you think you might be—”

Before he can say the damned word, you feel the bile rising again. Your pointer finger lifts up in wait, as you bury your face in the toilet and throw up once more.

His heart catches. You’ve talked about having a baby, and you’ve talked about wanting to have one… some time in the future. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Butterflies fill his stomach at the possibility of you carrying his baby right now at this very moment, but the sight of you looking so… defeated by your own body is enough to create a nasty pit in his gut.

“What can I get for you, baby?” he asks softly, caressing the back of your neck.

There’s absolutely nothing else to empty from your stomach at this point. It’s basically just water and dry heaving, and your eyes are tearing up from the terrible sensation.

“Ginger ale from the fridge…” you manage between heavy breaths, “...and some test packs from the pharmacy, please.”

“Okay, sure. Got it. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He offers both his hands and gently pulls you up. If he’s nervous or excited or both, he does a pretty good job of not showing it. He pulls up some tissues from the bathroom counter and wipes your mouth without batting an eye.

He lays you down on your side, getting you all nice and comfy, before disappearing into the kitchen, returning with a can of ginger ale and a puke bucket, just in case.

“Sweetheart?” his hand is soft and warm on your cheek, and his voice even more so. “Drink up. Hope it’ll settle your stomach a little bit.”

You sit up a little, and take small sips from the can. At least it helps alleviate the bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I put your phone on the bedside. Call me if you need me, alright? I’m just gonna run over to CVS. Be back before you know it.” He kisses your forehead, and you make a face in protest.

“I’m gross right now!”

“I don’t care,” he chuckles. “Just rest up. Love you.”

Of course he knows what to do. Picture perfect Bradley Bradshaw, who knows how to be caring without being overbearing. Who kisses your clammy forehead after you puke your guts out. Who is literally running to the nearest drugstore to get her pregnancy test packs right now, for fuck’s sake. He’s just… perfect.

You lie back down and smush your face into the pillow, faced with the fact that you’ll never be able to live up to that. And if you can’t… how the hell are you supposed to raise a child? How the hell are you supposed to pull your weight when your fiance can already do it so well?

“Babe?” He calls out upon entering the house a few short minutes later. “I’m back. I got the…” his words trail off as he walks into the bedroom and sees you in tears. His whole features soften up as he approaches you gingerly, sitting by your side. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

You shake your head as you sit up, sniffling a little. “What are those?” You nod at the paper bag he put down on the foot of the bed, hoping it’ll divert the conversation a little. It’s a little too big for just a bunch of pregnancy test sticks.

“The tests. And some snacks I thought might help with your stomach.”

And with that, the tears burn the corners of your eyes again and your lips quiver as they fail to hold back the cries.

“How are you so good at this?!”

He pauses in confusion, and then… it dawns on him. An amused glint appears in his eyes. “Are you… crying because I got a good bedside manner?” 

Your hands fly up to your face, hiding it from view. “I’m not! Shut up!” You really were, but he didn’t have to say it like that… and your reaction only confirmed his speculation. 

Bradley chuckles. God, he loves your silly little antics. “I mean, I had to take care of my mom all through high school, so…” he shrugs sheepishly.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. An uncomfortable awkwardness sets in as you remember his late mother’s terminal illness, right in the peak of his high school years. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just… glad I’m doing it right?” He smiles in reassurance, wiping what’s left of your tears and kissing your nose. He lifts up the ginger ale can to your hand again. “You lost a lot of fluids to make up for. Drink up some more, and we’ll do the tests, yeah?”

You glance at the paper bag again, watching him fishing around… “How many pregnancy test packs did you get?”

“I got three just to be safe.”

You want to laugh, but you probably would’ve ransacked the test kits too, if you were the one to buy it. So instead, you nod slowly, ponderously. “Three is… three is good.”

You know how these test kits work, they’re all the same, but you insist on reading the instructions pamphlet anyway. With two other test kits to spare, Bradley simply takes another copy from another box to read.

“Pee on a stick, wait for up to 5 minutes.” You put down the pamphlet on the counter. “Easy enough.” You sigh like it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

And it is. Every tick of the clock feels louder and farther from the one before, and you’re trying your damnedest not to look back onto the counter where the blue-tipped sticks are lined up. Inspecting it up close and see the lines that appear.

You sigh in exasperation, breaking the stilted silence. “I don’t even know what I’m hoping for, if I’m honest. Is that weird?”

He shakes his head a little. “Not at all. This is a weird situation to be in, I think it makes sense if we’re still not sure what we want.”

“Do you know what you’re hoping for?” You turn your head towards him. Maybe you’ll know it when you hear it. 

“Honestly? No.” Yes. He knows exactly what he wants. He just doesn’t want to admit it and freak you out even more. “I’m just thinking about you. About us…”

“What about us?”

“Just that… whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Bless him. It would be infuriating if you weren’t so comforted by it. Leave it to Bradley to always know just the right thing to say.

And he means every word of it too. Yes, he wants a baby with you now, but you don’t, or if it doesn’t turn out to be now, then… he can stand to wait a little more. For as long as you need.

“How long do we have left?”

Bradley joins your gaze towards the nautical clock on the wall. A silly little gag gift you gave him last Christmas, for your favorite flying seaman. 

“Three minutes and fifteen seconds…?”

“That’s about the average length of a pop song.”

He grins. “Exactly. One pop song, and we’ll find out.”

You nod. Listening to the tick, tick, tick of the clock. It drones on and on, and it seems to lull slower as it goes. Fuck Einstein and his theory of relativity. You pick the first random song that pops into your head and holds onto it for dear life. It’s your only way of keeping track of the time, at this point.

“I took my love, I took it down…” you sing under your breath, tentatively.

Bradley snorts. “It’s a good song.” That’s an understatement. He adores Fleetwood Mac, and this is the first song he learned on the guitar when he was 10.

“Climbed a mountain and I turned around…” you throw him a side-eye, a more than obvious invitation to join you.

Bradley has his eyes closed, though. But he nods along and sings along in his warm voice, “And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hill…”

“‘Til the landslide brought me down.” 

The two of you are singing with your whole chests now, belting out the chorus to drown out your nerves, forcing yourself to stay on tempo even when you feel like rushing it to the end. Right now, it’s more like Nick Miller’s nervous singing from New Girl than a beautiful bathroom jam session, but you don’t care. Bradley is vocalizing the guitar solo part like the back of his hand, playing the air guitar and everything, and you’re so, so happy that out of all the people in the world, you’re doing this with him. 

And at that moment, you realize that your worries earlier today were misguided. Yes, Bradley knows how to take care of you, and he probably knows a thing or two about babies. But he’s on your side. He’ll be pulling the weight with you. Being good parents is not a competition—you know he’ll cheer you on like he is doing right now. He knows you’ll do the same for him, too. 

Well I’ve been afraid of changes

‘cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder, even children get older

and I’m getting older too

You didn’t notice it at first, but Bradley also softens up on the final chorus, lost in his own thoughts. He has built his life on self-preservation, protecting himself from the lies of the people he loved, and depriving him of the love and family he’s always wanted. But maybe it’s age or the wounds healing (or you swooping into his life at just the right moment)… but he’s not gonna live forever. He knows in his heart of hearts that he wants this baby. He wants this life with you.

When you ask him to look and tell you the results, he doesn’t even flinch. He just nods, kissing your temple as he reaches for all three test kits behind you. His hand shakes a little as he picks them up, though, flipping to see the indicator side. One line for negative, two for positive.

And there it is.

“They’re…” his throat catches, his face unreadable. “They’re all positive…”

“What?”

He shows you the test kits, two blue lines all across the board. His voice wavers, with tears and smiles at the same time. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God…” you walk into his arms in a daze, still not sure what you’re feeling. Are you relieved because you simply know the answer, or relieved because it’s true? Are you terrified because you want it or you don’t?

Bradley cups your face with both hands, tucking unruly strands of hair behind your ear. His brown eyes brimming with tears, blurry as he admires your beauty. The mother of his child. Gosh, he can’t believe his luck.

“How do you feel, honey?”

It tugs at your heartstrings, just how soft he is. So brave, and so gentle at the same time. You have no idea what kind of parent you would be, but you know he would make a great one. “Shocked,” you admit. He nods. “Scared.” This time, you’re a bit embarrassed, but he completely empathizes. “But…” you put your hand over his, closing your eyes as you lean your cheek against his palm, so warm and soft and right, “…happy.”

***

And after two months of a relatively slow life, things are going from zero to 100 very quickly.

Bradley manages to duck out of work early and take you to the doctor that very afternoon. Everything seems to be in order. The baby is, indeed, there— a 7-week-old blob as big as a blueberry with a heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

Your heart all but stops beating when you first hear it, much stronger than you thought it would. But there it is. Strong. Alive.

There. 

“That’s… that’s our baby…” You choke up, staring at the ultrasound screen in awe. His hand brings yours to his lips for a loving kiss.

Gosh, you must’ve cried about six times that day. Bradley twice as much (He would deny it to his grave, but you kept count.)

And then, once the novelty wears off a little and the new situation sets in… the two of you get to work.

Bradley updates the entire kitchen inventory and goes into a research (or, as you like to call it, a rabbit hole) into what you can or cannot consume during your pregnancy. You’re constantly on the phone with your agent to rearrange your schedule for the next year (he sounds happy that you’re expecting, but a little inconvenienced that he has to move some things around and even cancel your involvement in a few projects). Conversation topics at mealtimes now include baby names, nursery ideas, and childcare plans.

Bradley comes home to you huddled over your laptop one evening, brows knitted in focus. The AC is cranked up to the max in the summer heat, and you’re all bundled up in the throw blanket. He wants to squee over how cute you look. He puts down the takeout bag of Pad Thai on the coffee table.

“Whatcha got there, my little cocoon?”

“Insurance, mostly.” You look up to kiss him briefly, before you continue typing on. “I’ve been talking to them all afternoon, going through the birth plans and sorting everything out. Very exciting stuff.”

“Hell yeah! Paperwork! The thrill of calling up an insurance company on a Tuesday!” Bradley counters your deadpan with an overexcited cheer, flopping himself on the spot next to you with another big kiss. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Well,” you take a thoughtful deep breath, going through your mental to-do list and realizing… you’re pretty much all set. “How about a back massage?” You give him the puppy eyes, as if you needed it in the first place.

“Copy that, Ma’am.” He throws her a lazy salute and tugs the throw blankets off of you. He starts on your shoulders, noticing the tension under your skin. “Jeez, babe. How long have you been hunched over here?”

Before you can answer him, he’s already working the knots on the base of your neck, you don’t even know you were so tense there, and you respond with a resounding moan.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ll… take that as a compliment, then.” He grins, ever so proud that he’s eliciting these sounds out of you.

It’s not like you were playing it up or anything. You really were tense, and his hands really do feel good. And while it does make you moan and sigh blissfully, it’s hardly your fault that it makes him think of something else, right?

“Baby…” his voice sounds like a gentle warning.

“Yes?”

His hands stop. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh, okay. Would you prefer this instead?” you grunt oafishly, a piss-poor impression of him in bed, “Fuck baby, that’s it. That’s it. Good girl…”

“Hey!” he pokes his fingers to your side and cage you in his arms so you have nowhere to go. Nowhere to avoid his ministrations.

You giggle uncontrollably, squirming as he gets on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face. A mere distraction to his real tickle attacks. “Stop! Stop! Roo-roo!”

He pins your arms over your head, his cheeks tinged pink with mischief now. “Yield?”

“I’m willing to negotiate.” You flash him a coy smirk.

He frowns. Go on. 

You raise an eyebrow. You know what I’m talking about.

He raises his, mirroring you. Interesting…

You tilt your head slightly. Well?

And just like that…

“Deal.” 

Your lips meet each other halfway in a searing kiss. The pregnancy hormones are kicking in in full gear, and you’re needier. Much needier than you already are. You want Bradley all the time, in whatever form he’s in, in whatever situation you are in. He knows this, and he finds this endlessly adorable. He would poke fun at you for that…

If only he wasn’t so god-fucking-damned enamored by you for it.

He tears off your dress, reveling in the sheer sight of you. Your curves growing softer, more pronounced in the past month alone. The very subtle but steadfast roundness of your belly. Your breasts, as they grow fuller and—

“Oh…” you whimper as he rolls your nipple between your fingers.

More sensitive to the touch.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this…” he leans down to kiss you again; on the mouth, and on the neck… his tongue gliding across your collarbones, forming the shape of your mounds, one after another…

“Roo, take me to bed…”

“Or what, lose me forever?”

He grazes the outer parts of your nipple with his teeth and teasingly licks at the hardened tops, and you cry out. Such a small little thing, but you feel the sensation in your fingertips.

Bradley smiles. A soft look despite how the situation is escalating. “C’mere, baby.”

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he lifts you up off of the couch. You think it’s just to get you up on your feet, but then he’s not letting go. “You’re not seriously thinking about carrying me all the way upstairs, right?” A teasing frown sets on your face as he hauls you out of the living room.

“Are you assuming that I can’t carry my beautifully pregnant wife to our room?”

“I’m not your wife yet, you know— oh shit!” He pins you against the wall right by the stairs, one hand cradling the back of your head, ever so caring.

He mouths your neck in teasing, his breath fanning against your bare skin. “No? So I don’t have to perform my husbandly duties now, since you’re not my wife?”

It’s kind of hot… but you can’t help but make a face at his choice of words. “You need to stop watching Downton Abbey. Just say ‘fuck.’ It’s not that hard.”

He pulls away, his comeback locked and loaded and ready to go. “You can’t tell me what to do. Who are you, my wife or something?”

“Ugh!” your jaw falls open in a mock offended expression, and you smack his ass playfully.

In turn, he squeezes yours back. Tight. Possessive. There’s a shift in his gaze, a tiny sliver, a darkening—the kind that makes you feel even more naked than you already are. You look at him with unbridled lust, and he kisses you like it’s the only way he can breathe. Like he’s been holding his breath until he can get his hands on you.

And by God, you would let him have all the air you have left to give.

He carries up to the bedroom slowly, carefully, and you hold onto him tight. Reveling in how strong he’s built, all muscles and abs and everything, and how gentle he handles you as he sets you down on the edge of the bed. The epitome of a gentleman, as he kneels down between your legs.

You can feel the heat emanating from him—or is it you?— and you try to unbutton his khaki uniform. “Baby, don’t you wanna take off your…” your words die out as his chest moves out of reach. There is only his hair between your thighs.

His tongue between your folds.

“Fuuuuck…” you bite through your teeth. And once his finger joins in, you’re done for. 

You make no effort to hold back your obscene moans, but the wet sounds coming from your pussy are still louder. Your face grows hot as the noise bounces through your bedroom walls.

Bradley pulls his mouth away for a moment, smirking devilishly at you from between his legs. “Well well well… What’s got you this soaking wet, honey?”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it together. But you’re teetering dangerously closer to your release, and you whine out, “You, Daddy…”

He chuckles darkly. “Daddy’s got you all worked up, huh?” The use of the moniker has significantly increased since the news of your pregnancy, but you’re hardly complaining. It does hit different now that he’s actually gonna be one. “I’ve been home for two minutes, and you’re already dripping down your legs…” he slaps the inside of your thigh and you’re keeling into it. “So fucking cute.”

He watches you fuck yourself on his fingers and it makes you dizzy. “Please…”

“Please what?” His mustache tickles your clit, and it drives you wild. “Please stop?”

You whimper in protest.

He adds another finger into you, and raises an expectant eyebrow. This fucking asshole. A snide remark sits right at the tip of your tongue, but the only thing that comes out is,

“Please fuck me.”

He stops, straightening up with an intrigued look about him. Then, being a little shit, he comes back up to you with a kiss. “Good girl. There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You taste yourself on his lips, his mustache wet from your arousal, too. In any other case, you would be more proactive, more feral in returning his sentiment—tearing off his clothes and stuffing your mouth full of his cock. But lately you’ve been feeling more… submissive. So easily drunk on climax that you just surrender your pleasure to your man, knowing he’ll take care of you. 

Bradley stands up to his full height, towering over you. He toes off his shoes, unbuttoning his uniform. It’s hardly a striptease routine, but there’s something insanely hot about him undressing when he’s about to fuck you.

His shirt drops to the floor, and the white undershirt soon joins. You perk up at the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants rustling down. And as his hard cock springs free from his boxers, you swallow thickly at the sight. 

“You ready?” He pumps his fist around his hard-on a few times, as he settles between your legs, still standing on the side of the bed.

A quiet little please escapes you, and then a gasp, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. Lining up his cock against your entrance. He’s big, and your pussy is still aching after he edged you moments ago. It’s gonna be a tight fit.

“Honey, go slow. Please. Slowslowslowslow… ahh!” His cock slides into you in one swift movement, sending a blinding wave of pain and pleasure as it stretches you out.

He doesn’t tear his eyes off of you. He watches your face fall under his undoing, and he moans. “You feel so good, baby…” he says between heavy breaths. You’re always so strong and bold and ballsy, and it gives him a fucking power trip to see you look so… small taking on his cock.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he starts to shallowly thrust in and out of you.

“What is it, baby?” He coos, caressing your hip gently.

“Y’too big…”

“Too big?” Bradley looks down to level your gaze, a seed of a shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face. “You want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

“No!” You buck up into him as soon as his hips halt, desperately trying to maintain the pace.

He chuckles, that cocky fuck, before he finally continues driving his dick up your inner walls again. “No? You want me to keep stretching you, then?”

You nod. Every thrust feels bigger, deeper, more than the rest, hitting that spot of pleasure just barely, and you’re willing to do anything to stay there.

“Been so needy since I got you pregnant…” he kisses your neck. “Want Daddy more now that I made you a mommy, huh?”

Fuck. The words—the exact order of the words he said sounds batshit insane. You never considered this kind of dirty talk to be hot, but Jesus…

“God, I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round… your tits too, fuck…” he groans as he squeezes your soft flesh, rubbing your nipples with his thumb. “Gonna be a mommy and show everyone who you belong to, huh?”

“Mmh…” You’ve seen Bradley being possessive, and you’ve seen him tap into his primal side, but not like this. This is a whole other beast, and it shocks you how much it turns you on.

“All mine, huh?”

“I’m all yours, Daddy. I’m—fuck. Fuck!” Your whole body is shaking. The band in your core is wound up so tight, and it’s threatening to snap. 

And through it all, he doesn’t let up. Bradley keeps that rhythm, pounding into you hard and deep. “Shit, that’s it… that’s it, baby. Come on my cock. God, you’re so fucking tight…”

There’s no stopping it now… your pussy gushes and clenches around him, as shocks of pleasure wave through your system. Your mind goes blank, and for a hot second, nothing is registering in your brain. Nothing but your man, as obscenely as he is fucking your brains out right now, 

“Need your cum inside me, Roo…”

“Don’t wanna come anywhere else. Just you, just your pussy…” he breathes out. He’s close, that much you can tell. His pace is erratic and his mouth runs wild. “Gonna keep pumping you full of my cum. Gonna keep fucking babies into you until you can’t anymore.”

You would laugh. You would tease him for being such a caveman about it. But as he comes deep inside you, his hips stuttering one, two, three more times as he rides out his orgasm… you don’t only surrender to the idea; you welcome it. 

Maybe you’re completely fucked out. Maybe you’re going soft and mellow, but nothing—and you mean nothing— is hotter than what he wants to do to you.

What he is doing to you now. 

The room falls into a pleasant silence as you come down from your high. Bradley pulls out of you, and you gush out with your own release and his. His mouth falls open in awe. “Fuck, that’s hot…”

“Huh?” You lift your head from the bed, trying to see what he’s looking at.

“Nah, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a grin. “Good thing we’re already pregnant, huh? If we weren’t, that might’ve just done the trick.”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a sweet peck on the cheek. “I think the dirty talk alone was enough to do it.”

He blushes, a deep shade of red. He absolutely can’t take it when you quote back the things he said to you during sex. “Nope! Not a single word. La-la-la-la…” he closes his ears with his fingers, waddling over to the bathroom comically.

The sound of water trickling into the toilet coincides with your laugh in the bedroom… and then it gets drowned out with the flush. It’s a mundane little snapshot of your intimate lives together.

He comes up to you and offers his hands. “Come on…” he helps you get up. “You go ahead and clean up. I’ll change the sheets.”

Leave it up to Bradley, to always take initiatives to do the small things, like changing the sheets and ushering your ass to the bathroom after sex.

As you clean up and put on some clothes in the bathroom, Bradley singing Take My Breath Away to himself in the other room, you wonder how all of this will turn out. Change is inevitable—your belly is getting bigger, this new stage of relationship is getting more real— and you’re desperate to get a grasp on these things. It’s strange to be so anxious after such a lovely evening. But it’s been so good so far… too good, maybe… and you can’t help but wonder if the other shoe might drop.

“Everything alright?” Bradley pops up by the bathroom door, already in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You must’ve been in there for a while.

You nod absently. “Yeah, just… changing.” And you’re not sure whether you’re talking about the clothes you just put on, or the body you inhabit.

“I think you look beautiful,” he says so simply. Wrapping his arms around you, feeling your small bump. He smiles into your hair and whispers, “My beautiful wife…”

“Not your wife yet…” you remind him pointedly, teasingly. It’s one of your favorite pastimes, keeping him on his toes.

He turns you around to face him, a tender look seemingly permanent on his face whenever he sees you these days. “I mean, you’re here, with me, in our house, carrying our baby…” he kisses your nose, “As far as I’m concerned, that makes you my wife, doesn’t it?”

Well, when he puts it like that… you take a deep sigh, not hating the idea. But not quite ready to concede to his argument yet. “Apart from a piece of paper.”

“Ah well. That can easily be arranged, hmm?”

Truth be told, he’s got a point. The only differentiating factor to your status right now is a little certificate, and both your signatures on the dotted lines. Not a big party or a horrendously expensive dress that everybody would have an opinion on. And to be more truthful, it was never what you wanted in the first place.

You only ever want to be together.

And you’re free to decide how you want to be together.

“Should we just do it?”

“What?”

You look up at him with a tentative smile.

His eyes light up, and his heart leaps. “I mean, sure.” He chuckles. “We can go down to the courthouse. Or, hell, I’ll drive us to Vegas right now.”

It gets a giggle out of you. Of course he would jump at the opportunity to marry you right away. “Or… we can just celebrate it with our closest friends and family? Rent a beach house somewhere, and just… make a fun weekend out of it?”

“And just… what, get a justice of the peace to marry us?”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Or we can make Mav cry and ask him to officiate.”

He chuckles, but trails off as it sinks in. It has never occurred to him that that was an option. He’s always imagined it the traditional way. A church ceremony followed by a reception in a hall somewhere. Walking under the arch of swords. Looking dapper in his dress uniform. But with his work obligations and yours, and all the nightmare logistics of guest numbers and venues and entertainment and the fucking publicity that comes with your fame, both of you are well aware that it’s a hassle. 

And it’s not even the most important part.

The most important part is you. You’d be the one meeting him at the altar. You’d be the one saying your vows and making him cry happy tears.

You would be the one. 

For him.

Forever.

“Let’s do it.” Bradley nods resolutely. “Just you, me, and our closest people. We can get married in our jammies, for all I care.”

“Maybe not jammies…” you roll your eyes in amusement. “I still wanna look nice for our wedding, you know.”

“You look nice in your jammies.” He glances down at your tank top.

“Roo.” You cover his line of sight indignantly.

But he tugs your hand away, eyes still glued to what is arguably one of his favorite sights in the world. Your cleavage. Plays it off really coolly as he teases you. “No, no. I’m serious. You look really nice in your jammies. I really wouldn’t object to—”

You swat his hand, only half-serious. “Bradley.”

“Alright, fine!” He raises his hands in surrender. “So long as I get to call you my wife.”

“Not your wife yet…” you saunter out of the bathroom, knowing full well he doesn’t care.

To be completely honest, you’re not even sure that you do, either.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster x reader #the actress & the aviator #ava writes #top gun maverick

[hawkins-losers]

Hey there 💞 do you mind if I ask for billy hargrove not knowing how to deal with a crying y/n -prompt 20- please don't cry?

Let’s be real, Billy wouldn’t know what to do with a crying girl

-

You and Billy had been playing cat and mouse since he arrived in town. You saw him get out of his car on the first day back to school and your eyes connected in the courtyard. You flirted with each other openly, and sometimes took a little escapade in the back of his prized Camaro - like that night at Tina's Halloween bash.

Although you were known as ‘Billy’s girl’, you weren’t exclusive. He didn't want the trouble of a girlfriend. He wasn’t good with emotions or feelings, or love. 

On Thursday night, Billy was in his room listening to loud music while lifting some weights when he heard someone banging at the door. 

‘’Max! Someone’s at the door,’’ he yelled, his loud voice making the redhead jump on her bed.

She sighed, putting her Wonder Woman comic down and went. ‘’I’m going! No need to yell like that…’’ 

He was the world’s worst babysitter. 

A few seconds later, Max stood in his doorway, a worried look on her face. ‘’Erm, Billy?’’

He groaned in profound annoyance, barking at his step-sister again. ‘’What do you want? I told you to get the damn door.’’ 

‘’I did. It’s…it’s for you.’’ 

Billy put down his dumbbell and sighed. Who the hell could be showing up at their door and asking for him? 

He walked out of his room and turned the corner of the living room, seeing a figure in a hoodie - a girl, according to the pink stripe on her sneakers - in their entrance. The hoodie was big on her and the hood was shielding a part of her face.

Billy approached slowly and you removed the hood, revealing your trembling lips, mascara tears and the worst of all, a developing bruise on your cheekbone. 

‘’The fuck is that on your face?’’ He stepping closer and took your chin between his thumb and index, tilting your face to get a better angle at the angry colors on your cheekbone. ‘’It wasn’t there when I dropped you off.’’ Billy’s jaw was clenched, anger boiling in his veins.

‘’I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn't know where else to go, I-’’

‘’I asked you a question. Who. Did. That.’’ 

‘’Same answer as you,’’ you mumbled, a tear falling from your eyes.

Anger crossed Billy’s. He could take his father’s abuse. He was tough enough to endure a hit or two, but a grown man touching a woman brought him back to when his old man would hit his mother. 

He was seething before you, anger having turned to rage, thinking about getting in his car and nail your father to his grave, but a sob escaped your lips. You tried to cover it, but Billy heard it.

‘’Please don’t cry.’’ His voice came out harsher than intended.

His raised voice made you flinch, reminding you of your father's. Because of his experience with abuse, you knew Billy wasn’t going to touch you. He might talk loudly and yell, but he never got physical with you. 

Billy cursed at your reaction, gently reaching out for you. He shook his head, trying to reformulate his words. ‘’I didn't mean it like that. It’s just, I don’t know what to do with a crying girl.’’ 

‘‘You could offer her some ice. That would be a good start.’‘ 

-

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Billy Hargrove taglist: @irlganyuy @mystic-moonpie @italk2god @hope1869  @boomhauer @originalsoulcollector @zosia3666 @bubsonnobx bonked-@beyond-belief @evanstanwhore

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things

[tommysversion]

What about a reader x joel fic where reader is insecure of her body but joel doesn't care what her body looks like cause he loves her, and shows her how much he loves her with loads of fluff and maybe smut?

CWs: body image issues / insecurity / mild hints of internalised fatphobia / fatphobic language & insinuation

Notes: I went down the fluff route for this one, Anon, I hope that's okay.

It's not that you don't like how you look. In fact, you've spent a lot of time over the years actively fighting the impulse not to.

You've always been bigger. Curvy. Hell, as an adult, you have no problem labelling yourself as fat, because it's not a dirty word. Sure, there are people who would use it as a slur, but you've long since come to the conclusion that that's their problem, not yours.

You've fought tooth and nail to be comfortable in your own skin, in a world that valued your complete opposite.

It seems like nowadays, most people are on the slim side. That, or they're walls of solid muscle from hard labour. Being stocky is an asset; it means you can survive.

Unfortunately, the tendency towards bitchiness that runs in some people didn't get the memo that the world ended almost twenty two years ago.

You're not blind to the looks some of the people in town give you. The sly suggestion that putting you on kitchen duty was a terrible idea, surely you must be sneaking extra.

You know it's bullshit, know that the words are just hateful remarks from people who have never once lived in your skin - either through luck of genetics, or simply from being young enough to have been born into a world on the constant precipice of hunger.

Still. Sometimes the words sting. Remind you of middle school. Of self imposed small portions and your mother's worried expression as you refused cakes, refused sweet teas, refused anything bigger than a fist sized helping, until your aunt had pointed out all of the happy, beautiful women with your body type on the internet, on TV, in magazines and on Broadway.

It had been the start of a long journey of self acceptance, of riotous body positivity, of wearing t-shirts with slogans proclaiming fat positivity, of punching a boy who called you a slur in the balls and getting suspended for a week. That same aunt had taken you to see a musical while you were suspended, had bought you a journal to write in.

You like to think you're a strong person. You've lived through that, lived through the literal fucking apocalypse. But you're only human, and sometimes words sting.

Leave you standing in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, poking and jiggling at yourself with a critical eye that you know is distinctly un-feminist, so unlike you.

Your gaze is critical as you inspect stretch marks. On a good day, those are your stripes. You make jokes about being a zebra whenever Joel touches them, never remotely critical himself.

Joel. He was... something else. He'd come into town with his adopted daughter, remained cold and closed off to almost everyone except her and his brother for months, until he'd seen you make Ellie laugh. Until he'd heard her ask you how to make cookies, heard you promise to show her.

Then he'd started, slowly, to come out of his shell. To spend more time with you. Brought you flowers. Now you lived together, with Ellie just down the hallway, because there was no way in hell a sixteen year old was going to live by herself, even in Jackson.

You're confident in yourself enough to know that you're well matched, but when you get like this? Sometimes it's easy to think differently. To worry that maybe he might prefer someone younger, with a more traditionally, socially accepted standard of beauty.

You're just getting lost in that spiral when Joel comes in from the shower, already dressed for the day in jeans, flannel shirt, and jacket over the top.

"What're you doing, darlin'? You'll catch a cold."

He snags a spare shirt from the edge of the bed, comes to wrap it around you. He's broad as hell, so you can wear his shirts without feeling self conscious. Not that you ever would, anyway, stealing his clothes is your favourite pastime.

"Honestly?" You've always prided yourself on being truthful with him. "I'm feeling kind of crappy."

You let him wrap the shirt around you, put your arms into the sleeves and exhale at the scent of him still lingering in the fabric.

"You think you're getting sick?" His hand moves to your forehead, and in spite of yourself, you smile.

"No, it's not that, it's just..." You sigh. "You don't mind how I look, right?"

Joel stares at you as if you've just spoken a foreign language, grown a second head, and told him you're giving up baking, all in one go.

"Of course I don't mind. What's that even s'posed to mean, do I mind?"

"Because I'm fat, Joel. Because there aren't exactly many women who look like me in town, and people talk, and -"

"Don't call yourself fat." Joel means well, and god he loves you, but he's still got that mindset that older people have where fat is a dirty word, even though you've explained the concept of reclaiming a slur to him.

"I mean. You can. But don't... say it to put yourself down."

The fact that he's listened to your rambles about body positivity makes you feel better.

"People still talk..."

"Fuck 'em. Let them talk. See if I give a shit." He says gruffly, wraps his arms around you then squeezes gently. "Don't care that there aren't many girls who look like you. Makes you special."

Another hug, before his hands rub over your stretch marks, over the softness of your tummy, of your thighs.

"You're perfect as you are. Absolutely perfect. I don't want you to change. I love how you're confident in yourself, and I wouldn't change a damn thing. Ellie needs that sort of role model."

You offer him a watery smile. How is it that someone so stoic can be so sweet when he wants to?

"C'mon. Push those bad thoughts away, lets get you dressed before you freeze. Didn't you promise Ellie a baking day?"

You smile again, lean in to kiss him lightly on the cheek before you glance once more at your reflection; the shadow of your earlier mood gone when you look at yourself, wrapped in Joel's arms, safe and loved and perfect, just as you are.

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #soft!joel

[insanityclause]

Tom Hiddleston Says Revisiting Loki Was ‘An Honor,’ Thanks Co-Stars for ‘Chemistry and Inspiration’

Ahead of accepting Variety’s Virtuoso Award at the Miami Film Festival, Hiddleston reflects on previous roles and impactful creative collaboration.

By Jenelle Riley

Tom Hiddleston knows “Miami.” That is, all the words to the Will Smith song titled after the famous city — a video of him reciting the lyrics once broke the Internet (not an unusual occurrence for the actor.) That was in 2012 when he was doing press for “The Avengers,” the movie that would change his life and career. It was also the same tour that last brought him to the city — but that was a whirlwind two days of press. “I do recall promoting ‘Avengers’ in Spanish and the city had a great, unique energy,” he says. “I’m really excited to be back as an explorer.”

The British actor will be returning on April 9 to the Miami Film Festival to accept Variety’s Virtuoso Award for his career achievements and will participate in a Q&A at the Adrienne Arsht Center – Knight Concert Hall. Tickets are available here.

And while Miami is known for its food and culture, the actor has one thing on his mind. “What will the weather be like?” he queries of the town’s famously balmy temperatures. “Because I’m coming from the wettest February on record in London’s history.”

Hiddleston admits it’s somewhat ironic to be receiving the Virtuoso Award there, because “when somebody says ‘virtuoso,’ I think of a dazzling soloist in an orchestra, and I feel about as far from that image as it’s possible to imagine.”

He continues: “I am the opposite of a soloist, actually. I always feel like I’m at my strongest in a team. What we do is a collective creative act and the joy of it is in the shared imagination.”

This might explain why his resume is filled with standout ensemble pieces in every genre. Hiddleston’s worked on stage — he earned a Tony nomination for his 2019 Broadway debut in “Betrayal” — the SAG Award-nominated ensemble of “Midnight in Paris,” up through his most current turn as the God of Mischief in Season 2 of the Disney+ series “Loki.”

The second season’s finale, “Glorious Purpose,” remains the highest-rated episode ever in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and brought a conclusion to an epic character arc that has spanned 14 years of Hiddleston’s life. The actor, who also served as producer on both seasons, says it would have been impossible without his “deep bench” of castmates, which includes Owen Wilson, Sophia Di Martino and Season 2 addition Ke Huy Quan, Oscar-winner for “Everything Everywhere All at Once.”

“I don’t know who said it, but there’s the phrase: ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together,’” he notes. “And it’s never been truer than for this show.”

Community and collaboration are perhaps his favorite aspects of the work. “I truly find the most interesting work I have discovered happens between people. You show up and ready and prepared, but you take that preparation onto the dance floor and see what there is between you. If I’ve done anything of value, it’s because of that chemistry and inspiration I receive from another actor.”

Hiddleston says that team spirit extends to his next project, “The Life of Chuck,” a big-screen adaptation of the Stephen King novella that also stars Karen Gillan, Mark Hamill and Chewitel Ejiofor. “I’m a lifelong tennis fan and I feel like being on set is like playing tennis,” Hiddleston notes. “It’s all about who you’re playing opposite and the energy back and forth between you. And I have some great partners on ‘The Life of Chuck.'”

As for continuing Loki’s story in a third season, it’s a question Hiddleston is asked pretty much every day — several times. “I truthfully don’t know,” he says. “I am so proud of where we landed in Season 2. To go from this lost, broken soul in Asgaard, and be given a second chance and learn so much about life that he actually gives himself to protect other people, has been such an honor.” For tickets to the conversation and Variety Virtuoso Award Presentation to Tom Hiddleston, visit here.

#tom hiddleston #miami film festival #virtuoso award

[woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh]

All BMC Hidden Song Motifs

These are all the little tunes I’ve noticed sneakily (or not so sneakily) appearing outside of their own songs in the show! 

I did leave out the ones that are obviously the same because they repeat the lyrics (e.g. c-c-c-come on, it’s from Japan, etc), but I can add those too if enough people want.

If you have more, tell me and I'll add them! And if you have thoughts on why any of these appear where they do, pls post about it so I can read more meta sdjlkfsdjflk

More Than Survive:

Smartphone Hour chorus on synth during Jenna, Brooke, Chloe’s conversation [credit: @zabala0z]

Michael in the Bathroom chorus on synth during Jeremy & Michael’s conversation 

The Pants Song: chorus melody on guitar when Michael talks about "survival of the fittest" [credit: @aqueous-aerolite - tysm for IDing it!]

(Broadway) MTS reprise

Jeremy’s Theme at the end

Two Player Game

In scene: Michael in the Bathroom chorus on synth during their first exchange (“He’s scamming you super weirdly.”)

The Squip Enters

The Squip Song melody on synth right before the SQUIP appears: Helps you to be cooooool…. It helps… youuuu… [“Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor! Your SQUIP.”] ~~Ruuuuuuuule!~~

(Two Rivers) More Than Survive Reprise

Michael in the Bathroom on synth while the Squip scolds Jeremy for thinking about sex. (Still mostly inexplicable, but it’s technically a reuse of the dialogue music from More Than Survive, of which the only synth options were Smartphone Hour and Michael in the Bathroom.)

Michael’s reggae motif from More Than Survive at “Still not gonna be the cool guy”

(Broadway) Sync Up

The Squip Song: intro guitar riff plays when Rich talks to Jeremy

More Than Survive: MTS background chorus sings (‘na na na na na na na na’) with “ah”s in the musical interlude, then with “na”s at the end.

Guy that I’d Kinda Be Into

I Love Play Rehearsal: “I don’t always relate to other people my age” section is the same as “Most people do one thing for all of their lives” - the following lines match lyrics too.

More Than Survive: Christine’s bassline rhythm from the recurring motif of “Christine Christine Christine” (i.e. dotted quarter, eighth, half), originally from MTS, reappears during GTIKBI in the chorus, as well as the “I don’t always relate…” and “I guess a part of me likes to” sections.

Loser Geek Whatever

Two Player Game: the intro (“I already know what it’s like to be the loser”) is sung to the same melody as the main synth loop you can hear at the beginning of 2PG [credit: someone on the Genius page]

Touching My Hand: Not technically a motif, but I want to point out that the pre-chorus of LGW comes from Touching My Hand, a demo song that never made it into the show.

Michael in the Bathroom

(?) Knocking section could kind of evoke the staccato quarters that happen all throughout Halloween (eg, crank! the! bass!, and dunh dunh dunh it's halloween)

The Pants Song

(Broadway) “Michael in the Bathroom” on guitar when Michael says “Look, I already tried to help him, and called me a loser…” (THIS is hands down my favorite one btw. It’s one of the most obvious but that doesn’t stop it from stabbing me in the heart every time…)

The Play

Be More Chill: bass & guitar riff play when the Squip’s revealing its plan to infect humanity.

Jake enters: Jeremy’s Theme, then Upgrade

Chloe & Brooke enter: Do You Wanna Ride

Michael makes an ennnntraaaaance! (Michael in the Bathroom)

Two Player Game: pre-chorus during Michael and Jeremy’s fight (“kung fu fists, activate!”)  - and of course again the verse during their fight for the Dew.

Jenna enters: Smartphone Hour (the opening brass thumps)

Christine enters: I Love Play Rehearsal on flute - then she sings an altered version of GTIKBI

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy” is the same tune as “Christine, Christine, Christine.” (This one makes me go nuts actually. Like, that’s his deepest desire??? He just wants someone to love him as powerfully as he loves Christine????? AUUGH!!!!)

Loser Geek Whatever: verse melody plays on brass when he gives the Dew to Christine

Voices in My Head

Loser Geek Whatever: verse melody on piano during Christine and Jeremy’s conversation.

Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into: When Christine gives her answer about going out with him, they sing to the GTIKBI chorus melody, and a flute plays the GTIKBI bridge melody  (“I guess a part of me likes to”). Then when Christine says yes, it plays that bridge melody on piano.

ALSO: Overall character instruments?

Christine: flute & mallet percussion (i.e. glockenspiel, xylophone)

SQUIP: plucked guitar with tremolo, tubular bells. Edit: also the theremin [credit: @highlighter-goblin!]

(?) Rich: strummed guitar with distortion (Squip Song, Sync Up)

(?) Chloe & Brooke: plucked guitar with a Wah-wah pedal (DYWR/H)

(?) Jenna: low brass on staccato quarter notes

Yeah that's all I know of so far, but like I said please add on if you can think of more!!

#be more chill #bmc #jeremy heere #michael mell #im just tagging those two bc main character and guy whose motif plays like EVERY OTHER SONG #posts #text #ref #meta #like the littlest amount of meta i guess #everyone #my meta

[jgroffdaily]

Excerpts:

For two seasons and a TV movie, creator Michael Lannan and director Andrew Haigh (who was just coming off his breakthrough film Weekend and was years away from the award-winning 45 Years and All of Us Strangers) led the show’s cast and crew in crafting a new kind of gay TV show—raw, relaxed, character-driven and intimate. It didn’t fully work—in the end, Looking was cancelled due to low ratings—but a decade away from the show’s premiere, it’s clear that the show’s legacy lives on.

Onscreen, the cast of Looking—including stars-to-be like Jonathan Groff and Murray Bartlett—played characters who were working to find themselves while creating a chosen family with each other. Offscreen, the actors were doing the same thing, reckoning with their own identities and finding family in each other.

For the lead role of Patrick, the production looked at Jonathan Groff, the Tony-nominated Broadway star of Spring Awakening, who’d recently made the jump to TV with a splashy role on Ryan Murphy’s hit musical series Glee.

Haigh: I actually quite liked Glee. I thought it was a good show, but I wasn't sure he was going to be right. Then he came in, and I'm like, “Yeah, you're great for this.”

Sarah Condon (executive producer): Jonathan just had all these qualities of vulnerability and also an amazing ability, which to me is very similar in some ways to Sarah Jessica Parker, of doing the comedy and drama together—not a lot of actors actually, can do both so well and flip back and forth between. He is one of those people.

Jonathan Groff (Patrick): I came out of the closet later—I came out publicly at 23, came out to my parents that same year too. I was out but I was, in a big way, not fully accepting myself. I came out of the closet because it felt more painful to be in than out at that point, but I didn't really feel myself own who I was until I had had the experience of Looking.

I remember auditioning for the show, and feeling heat on my skin during the audition. It was the scene with Patrick and Richie on the train, doing this flirtatious scene, and I remember my skin feeling hot, and it feeling scary and exciting at the same time. I felt raw and exposed in a way that I had never felt before. So there was a real vulnerability in that, that made me feel nervous and excited.

Carmen Cuba (casting director): Jonathan Groff was out, but he hadn't played a gay character before. And more than anyone, he was the most experienced on the show, even Andrew. So he definitely must have understood more than any of us, the fact that playing the role is one thing but he was then going to be in press talking about it. It's a different thing you're agreeing to, I assume.

Groff: I remember Murray, Frankie, and I showing up to San Francisco during pre-production in March of 2013—I mean, this is 10 years ago. I remember the month. I remember Murray making us dinner, and me and Frankie going over there, and smoking weed and smelling the jasmine in the backyard of Murray's sublet that he had gotten. I remember Frankie was freaking out, because he had graduated from Juilliard and is this brilliant actor, but had never done anything on screen before, and so we were talking about that. I mean, just immediately, we knew we had to have this believable friendship in order for the show to work. And so we just started hanging out and we never stopped.

Groff quickly developed chemistry with Castillo, one of his onscreen love interests. While Castillo’s Richie was initially meant to be a minor character, the team later made the decision to make him part of the main cast.

Castillo: I remember standing on the platform in between takes with Jonathan [for our first scene together]. I remember our chemistry was developing and we were hitting it off, and I didn't want to ruin that but I also wanted to open up to him and be honest with him. I decided to tell him the story about meeting my now-wife, who at the time was my girlfriend. When she and I had met, there was an undeniable chemistry between us, like the minute we laid eyes on each other, it was just like there was this attraction. We were the only two people in the room in a room full of people. I wanted to tell Jonathan that story because I was relating it to Patrick and Richie meeting.

I was revealing to him that I was straight and he didn't bat a lash. He took it in, he listened and yeah, it was funny, because it was almost like a coming out.

Groff: I knew that he was straight, because I had asked our director or costume designer. I had gotten the intel already. It wasn't a shock. “That guy's cute. Is he gay?” [Laughs]

Condon: I mean, it sounds silly, in a way, but they were brave decisions. I remember having to have that conversation with Jonathan. “Are you up for this?” There were a lot of those kind of conversations. And Jonathan was so game, as was the whole cast.

Groff: I remember the premiere was at The Castro, and I remember feeling like I was in a fairy tale. The Castro, the audience is lit as fuck, and it's a lot of gays. They are there to celebrate, which is just such a special, unique energy at a premiere of any sort.

Michael Lombardo and Richard Plepler were running HBO at that time. I remember being at that premiere and Michael was standing there, talking about, “This is the first exclusively gay show we've ever had on our network.” It felt like, “Oh my God— we're in this. We're a part of this moment in history.” It felt like more than a TV show. It felt like a big deal when he would say that.

Despite its mixed initial reception and its relative underperformance, the show made stars out of the main cast—especially Jonathan Groff.

Groff: Between the first and second season in New York, they had asked me to be the grand marshal of the Gay Pride Parade—because of the TV show, and because I'm a New Yorker and had done a lot of theater. I felt scared to do it. I said yes, because my head and my heart were telling me that I wanted to do it, but there was a huge part of me that felt incredibly fearful, incredibly insecure, and incredibly scared. I did it anyway, and that was also a ring of fire moment. Doing the Gay Pride parade, being on the front, waving at people, and being so visibly out—it was just a constant experience of being, in a great way, pushed outside of my comfort zone.

Alvarez: He was coming off of this breakup and he's meeting somebody new and he's encountering all these feelings of being out in public and what his image represents to other people. And so you're swirling with all these other things, and also you're like, just a man trying to love other men.

Groff: I remember, oh my God, talking about douching [in a scene on the show], and I had never really douched before, as myself. Frankie Alvarez came with me. What we did in the show, where we go to the Walgreens? We actually did [that] in the West Village in real life, where he walked with me to get a fucking anal douche, and also a dildo to experiment with. He was in the gay sex shop with me, doing that in real life.

Alvarez: It was a moment of vulnerability, where he wanted to go dildo shopping, but he didn't want to be alone. He could have called any number of his gay friends, but he called me. And it was a testament to our friendship that he trusted me, that even though I was straight, he understood that he had a supportive friend there through that time. I was Doris.

As the series continued, the team looked to their cast for inspiration, sometimes borrowing elements of their personal lives and using them in storylines.

Groff: I remember sitting in a diner in San Francisco with Andrew and talking him through my most recent breakup as he was writing the big, final episode of season two and the fight between Kevin and Patrick—literally, me recounting and him writing down things that I said, that we said to each other, to get that in there. Everybody was offering up their own stories the whole time. It was incredible.

Weedman: The one thing I remember was, before we did the scene where I go see my dad's dead body, the three of us were sitting in this real funeral home and we're just talking about different times in our lives we'd seen a dead body and what that's like. I had just seen my friend Christopher's body and Jonathan had been through Cory Monteith’s [death]. We were telling all these stories that were just very intense.

And then I remember after we shot the scene, that Murray came to my trailer and just walked in, and we both just cried and cried and cried. And that's pretty rare, that actors aren't just on the phone, working out their next job, figuring out how they're going to renovate their house, how they're going to spend their money—they're not jerking off their ego in some way or some kind of “building their empire.” That wasn't going on—these were just sensitive boys.

In the aftermath of Looking, the cast and crew found themselves permanently changed. The experience of making the series affected everything, from their career decisions to their everyday lives.

Groff: It brought me out of my own skin in a way that I don’t know if I would’ve otherwise. And every set I walked onto after that, every rehearsal room I walked onto after that, I didn't feel insecure about my sexuality. Looking and the experience of being on that set with all those people was so liberating, and really, truly life-changing.

Condon: We've done about a yearly reunion.

Bartlett: Raul got married last year and a bunch of us were able to go—it was sort of a Looking reunion really. It was like, “Oh my God, this is our 10-year reunion.” And it was about Raul's wedding, but it was also a bunch of old friends getting back together and a lot of us from Looking days.

Castillo: Jonathan married [my wife and I] this summer so it's like a full circle.

Groff: That girl that he was talking about [while shooting the pilot] ended up being his wife.

Ten years later, many of the actors who starred in Looking have become bonafide stars. Jonathan Groff has appeared in generational projects on stage and screen, from Hamilton to Mindhunter to Frozen. Russell Tovey has appeared in shows like Quantico, American Horror Story: NYC and the upcoming Feud: Capote Vs. the Swans. O.T. Fagbenle, who had a minor role in season one as Agustin’s boyfriend, has gone on to do shows like The Handmaid’s Tale and appeared in the blockbuster Black Widow. And of course Murray Bartlett continues to be a staple of prestige TV, starring in The Last of Us and The White Lotus, which he won an Emmy for.

Groff: Even if the show didn't hit the way that we all wish it would have, it still affected people, including us, and it looks like that is the art that stays. I mean, I'm on Merrily We Roll Along right now. Forty-two years ago, it was a Broadway flop, and it's such an extraordinary show. People are finally, including me, getting to experience it for the brilliant thing that it is. And so that's encouraging, moving forward, that even though it might not be celebrated in the moment [it might have a moment later on].

Groff: I mean, ultimately, not enough people watched it, and we went off the air—that's just the story of what happened with the show. But the fact that it only lasted for two seasons and a movie, and 10 years later, we're still talking about it, there's something about the staying power of the show, and the people that continue, a decade later, to talk about the impact that it has had on them. It sort of helps heal those wounds of feeling rejected.

#jonathan groff #murray bartlett #Raul Castillo #Frankie j Alvarez #looking hbo

[hischierdevils]

Best Years | J.M.

note: the fact that there is no marino content on this app should be a crime. this was inspired by Best Years by 5sos

summary: y/n has to leave john behind in order to follow her dreams. can they find their way back to each other?

warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol and throwing up

wc: 1.5K

You've got a million reasons to hesitate

But darlin', the future's better than yesterday

I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you

Gave you a million reasons to walk away

Meeting John at a bar in Pittsburgh on a rare night out seemed like fate but you knew it was a temporary situation. John’s focus was on hockey, playing for the Penguins, and yours was on finishing your degree at your parents orders and getting the hell out of town. 

Hooking up with him turned into late night facetimes and texts when he was out of town. John wore his heart on his sleeve and warned you early on that he was falling for you. You told him your relationship had an expiration date, once you graduated you were gone. 

He agreed, even though it hurt him to think of you as someone temporary in his life. The day of your college graduation, he showed up in a nice suit holding a large bouquet of flowers. He cheered you on as you walked across the stage and in return, you broke up with him. 

He was devastated but you reminded him that the two of you were always going to end that way. You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on how you were feeling, you just packed your bags and moved to New York City, determined to become a dancer and prove your parents wrong. 

Things were rough at first, grinding away at two different jobs in between auditions. You were always so busy that it took a while for you to realize how much you actually missed him. Once you did, you tried filling the void with other guys that seem to resemble John in one way or another. 

He was always your biggest supporter and when you book your first Broadway show, he’s the first person you want to call. You haven’t talked to him in months and you wouldn’t blame him if he never wants to hear from you again but you find yourself calling anyway. 

Not only does he pick up the phone, but the two of you talk for hours. He just got traded to the New Jersey Devils and now lives twenty-five minutes away from you. At the end of the conversation, you agree to meet up for dinner to catch up. 

I wanna hold your hair when you drink too much

Carry you home when you cannot stand up

You did all these things for me when I was half a man for you

I wanna hold your hand while we're growing up

For the last six weeks, the two of you have been talking non-stop. You’ve gone to a couple of his games, sitting down by the ice wearing his jersey. You’re both taking things slow, easing your way back into friendship. You know you hurt him and he’s a little more guarded with his heart this time around. 

John comes to opening night with Dawson and Jack in tow. When the show is over, he finds you backstage with a large bouquet of flowers in hand. You can tell he’s nervous when you greet him with a kiss on the cheek. He’s probably thinking about the last time he brought you flowers. 

“Hey, you were amazing.” He smiles at you before handing you the flowers. “These are for you.”

“You’re the sweetest, Johnny.” You can’t help but grin as you bring the flowers to your nose to smell them. “But I was only a member of the entourage.” 

“But you were the most beautiful one up there.” He blushes as he says it, immediately thinking he’s overstepped. 

“Y/n, is your boyfriend coming to the after party?” Lylah, one of the other dancers, asks you. 

You and John talk at the same time. “Oh, he’s not my-”

“I’m here with my friends-” 

“If they're half as cute as you honey, I'd love for them to come.” Lylah winks at John before walking away and you feel a little bubble of jealousy in your gut as you turn your head to look at him. 

“If you have plans that’s okay.” You tell him. 

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Do you want me there?” 

Your heart squeezes at the double meaning of his words. “Of course I do.” You’ve already messed this up once, you’re not going to push him away again. 

John, Jack, and Dawson head to the club with you and your friends to celebrate your opening night. Everyone notices that John doesn’t let go of your hand but no one mentions it since the two of you seem to be pointedly ignoring it. 

As the night progresses, the pull you feel for John gets stronger and stronger. You want him to hold you in his arms like he did before you ruined everything but you know you can’t ask that of him anymore so you drink instead. 

When you seem to be having trouble walking on your own, John calls it a night. He doesn’t want to overstep with you, but he also wants to make sure you get home safely. “Y/n, where are your keys?” He asks you as he helps you out of the bar. Jack left a little while ago with a girl so Dawson helps him hold you up. 

“Wanna go with you, Johnny.” You mumble as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

John bites his lip, debating on if he wants to go through your purse or not. He could easily take you with him to his apartment but it’ll kill him in the morning when you leave. “I’m gonna get you home, y/n.” 

You look over at Dawson with squinty eyes. “The tequila comin’ back.” Dawson barely has time to step out of the way before you’re puking on the sidewalk. John grabs your hair and uses his hand to hold it in a ponytail as your body heaves your stomach contents up. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers to you as you start to cry. “You’re okay.” He wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb as he decides to bring you to his place. He’s not sure if your roommates are home and he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the state you’re in. 

“Mmm so sorry Daw-son.” You mumble as you fully lean into John’s side. 

“It’s alright.” He smiles at you reassuringly. “I’ve watched hockey players do keg stands. You’re fine.”

John ends up giving you a piggyback ride to where Dawson’s car is parked and he sits in the backseat with you as the three of you go to New Jersey. He gives you some of his clothes to sleep in and you manage to change into them yourself before passing out in his bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable on your side before taking his pillow and going to sleep on the couch. 

But I'll build a house out of the mess

And all the broken pieces

I'll make up for all of your tears

I'll give you the best years

The first thing you do when you wake up in the morning in a strange room with men’s clothes on is panic. You have no memory of leaving the club or flirting with any guys. Your stomach rolls with nausea at the thought of you hooking up with someone-anyone that isn’t John. He was with you last night. Did he watch you leave with someone else? He’s never going to talk to you again. 

You hear footsteps in the hallway and quickly close your eyes, not yet ready to meet whatever stranger is going to be walking through the door. 

“Y/n?” A familiar voice says your name softly as you hear the door open. “Are you awake?” 

You open your eyes to see John standing beside the bed watching you with concern. “John? Oh, god. What did I do?” You sit up quickly which seems to be a bad idea, and John quickly picks up a garbage can from the floor so you can dry heave into it. 

“Nothing happened, y/n.” He explains as he holds your hair back for you. “You were drunk and I brought you here so I knew you were alright.” 

You start crying again from his kindness. “I’m so sorry I fucked everything up between us.” You tell him. “I never meant to hurt you. You were the best thing in my life. I just had to get away from my parents and prove I could do it-” 

You start sobbing so hard that he gets in bed beside you and pulls you to his chest. “It’s alright, y/n. You told me from day one that that’s how it was going to be. I fell in love with you anyway.”

“Do you-” You hiccup. “Do you think you could love me again?” 

He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I never stopped loving you.”

You pull your tear-stained face away from his body to look at him. “Can I be your girlfriend again?” 

He smirks because you never referred to yourself as his girlfriend before but now doesn’t seem like the right time to say that. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want to be, I'm yours.”

#john marino imagine #john marino fic #john marino reader insert #john marino x reader #john marino #my writing

[raysources]

𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒     —     a collection of one - liners taken from the soundtrack of the 2015 broadway musical, school of rock.   slightly edited for clarity.   change pronouns as necessary.  

just wait and see!

let 'em laugh.

i know my time is comin'.

no one'll call me a loser again!

try to walk as if you're going somewhere.

the pressure's on for you and me.

don't, and it will mean i go ballistic.

good luck, have fun!

just like the good old days!

you've always been a dreamer.

give up your dreams.

your dreams are lame and weak.

we ought to cut the bull and just get real.

give up your dreams, and get a freakin' job.

join the grown - up world like us.

quickly, don't let anybody see you!

how come you never told me you could play music?

you ever play electric guitar?

let's waste that time together, shall we?

you're in the band!

don't forget to emote!

i only play classical.

that's good. for my grandma. who's, uh, dead.

i still don't have a job.

is that something you could swing?

i'm putting you in charge of the whole damn thing!

i pledge allegiance to the band.

if you're in raise your hand!

you never let me get in a word.

no matter what it is that i do, it's like i just can't seem to get through.

i've got so much to say.

still, you never listen.

can't you see i'm hurting?

i promise, one day i'll make you hear.

i'm not the kid you want me to be.

you just don't wanna see the real me.

you just keep shutting me out.

i'm not gonna beg you — you'll never see a tear.

the legend of the rent was way past due.

how can you kick me out of what is mine?

you're not hardcore unless you live hardcore.

what it all can mean is quite confounding.

the children all like him more than us.

who knows what he does but god, it works!

maybe we too could do some good.

there's been one solution since the world began : don't just sit and take it, stick it to the man!

get all of your aggression out.

stick it to the man!

go off the script, do what you like.

they hate it, they can take a hike.

why live your life to someone else's plan?

crank the amps to 17!

don't just sit and take it, stick it to the man!

show 'em what rebellion means!

why march to someone else's caravan?

there's no way you can stop the school of rock!

i'm in charge!

go punk, or start packing.

it's time to play!

come on, this isn't hard!

make sure he remembers, or i'm breaking both your necks.

we don't have time to waste while you try to find some taste!

i can still remember how the music used to be.

where do last year's one - hit - wonders go to?

what happened to the girl i was?

guess the songs kept playing, but i didn't stop to hear.

where's the joy i used to know, way back when?

sorry for the outburst.

let's keep this our secret, who'd believe it anyway?

thanks for the reminder that there's music in me yet.

if you flip the record and start over, does it sound the way it did before?

he can barely read!

i promise you, i can read!

we're gonna sue!

his ass belongs in jail!

i'm a loser, okay?

i used you.

worst of all, i wasted your time.

i thought nobody could, but you, you understood.

you raised my voice up, taught me not to fear.

i've learned who i am because you're here.

school won't be the same without you here.

now that i've found you, you can't just disappear.

you've taught me so much since you've been here.

two and two make five!

rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme.

i've been biting my tongue too many times.

today's assignment : kick some ass!

#rp meme #rp prompts #sentence starters #lyric starters #school of rock rp #mine : prompts. #mine.

[theliterarywolf]

Hazbin Hotel

The little pilot that could, the runaway hit with the simple premise of 'What if Sinners Could Be Redeemed, What Kind of People Would Want That, and What Kind of People Would Oppose?', now turned into an Amazon Original Animated Series. Sharing the same platform as Invincible and...

Uh...

Hm.

Anyway, this series has been a long, long, LONG time coming. To the point that we had people theorizing that the whole thing was a scam or that it would never come out.

I feel like those people could use a lesson on how time-consuming animation is, but I digress.

The point is, the series is out at last: debuting with four episodes on Amazon Prime with the rest of the season scheduled to come out weekly.

And what is there to say? Was the premiere worth the wait? Are these sinners doomed to burn in obscurity? Was watching these first four episodes a Helluva chore?

While it would be easy for me, as someone who has followed the 'Hellaverse' since the premiere of the original Hazbin Hotel pilot all those years ago, to just gush over the fact that all of these beloved characters have transcended the online space to mainstream screens, such flippant praise would be a disservice to my fellow creators.

Thus, to go about things in a bit more of a refined approach:

Hazbin Hotel (the series) takes the conventions of what was established in the pilot and refines them down into a more serialized story. The core premise is still the same: Charlie Morningstar, the idealistic Princess of Hell, daughter to fallen angel Lucifer and Adam's original wife Lilith, is taking it upon herself to end the qualms of Hell being both overpopulated and a target of Heaven's yearly extermination bloodbath by establishing a sanctuary for sinners to redeem themselves. The titular 'Hazbin Hotel' (originally the 'Happy Hotel').

Of course, such a premise in a literal den of sin and inequity is easier said than done and, so far, the series is doing a good job of showing Charlie learning that redemption isn't as easy as singing songs and making nice.

Though, rest assured, there is plenty of singing to bear witness to. Of course, with a cast of Broadway's finest, it's to be expected that the musical accompaniments will be just as much as a feast for the eyes as the colorful, unique character-designs.

Though, sometimes, those character-designs aren't able to shine as much as they should, which leads into my first critique. Which, considering there are only two, stands as a testament to the work Spindlehorse and BentoBox have accomplished her.

In the first two episodes (this issue seemed to have been fixed in episodes 3 and 4), there are countless instances of characters having odd shadowing. It has the unfortunate consequence of the characters moving like they aren't a part of their environment. Of course, again, this seemed to have been fixed for later episodes, so hopefully it doesn't show up again.

Back to the music: standout pieces, thus far, are Adam's taunting "Hell is Forever (Whether You Like it Or Not)", "It Starts With Sorry", "You're a Loser, Baby"... I'd also point out the bombastic duet between young upstart overlord Velvette and arms-dealer overlord Carmilla Carmine, but I forgot the name of it.

However, this leads into my second critique. During "Happy Day in Hell", Charlie's 'I Want' song (because every princess needs one), her girlfriend and main confidante Vaggie is back at the hotel singing her own additions to it. And everytime she sang, I just wanted to scream 'Can someone PLEASE tell this bitch to emote?!' Let it be understood that I know what the direction was: Charlie is being bombastic and bright and happy singing out her dreams and goals while Vaggie is lower, more realistic, and deadpan.

However, its the way that they had her new VA execute that direction that could have been a bit better because it doesn't stand out in the best way. Which is a shame, because later on when we hear Vaggie in both her duets with Carmilla and her love ballad to Charlie, her voice does wonders. Though, I have seen some people say that it might not be the same VA, which would be weird: why would you hire a Broadway VA and then just swap them out?

Other elements of note: Episode 4 is definitely my favorite so far, I gushed about the direction and delivery of the "Poison" sequence here, Zestial is one of my new favorite Hellaverse characters, I need merch of him pronto, and...

Oh! One final note:

Back when the original HH (the series) trailer and promo material was coming out, I had a slew of anons in my inbox bemoaning how the series is yet another 'Heaven is actually evil' plot. Yet, after watching these four episodes (episodes 1-2 three times each, twice since I had early-access and once more when the series premiered proper), the series narrative is less 'Heaven is evil and Hell is just misunderstood' and more 'Angels are fallible, demons are fallible, the notion of a status-quo is as fickle as rice paper but you have to do more to change it than sing about good vibes'.

Final Rating: 8/10

#Wolf Watches #hazbin hotel

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 2

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 5,600

Summary: It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: violence, some ableism

Chapter Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Move to New York, they said. 

It'll be fine, they said.

Well, ten months into your change of scenery and things in New York are most definitely not fine.

You’d never really considered The Big Apple as a place you might end up in. Crime, overcrowding, and living expenses absolutely through the roof were all perfectly good reasons for someone to stay away. You'd visited once, just to say you'd been there, and honestly, you really hadn't expected to come back, much less to come back and stay.

But that visit had been almost ten years ago while you were still in college, and only to visit a friend who had wound up in a school upstate. You hadn't explored the city much, just two days at the end of the trip, before heading back home, wet and cold and thoroughly underwhelmed. You’d all but thrown your laundry in the washing machine and immediately started prepping for finals, throwing yourself into books and late night study sessions, your trip to the east coast easily forgotten. 

You hadn't expected your company to open a new division in New York, and you certainly hadn't expected to apply for the relocation, not fully aware of the changes you'd put in motion until you were submitting your application on a whim. It hadn't seemed real until the moving van was pulling up outside of your home back in Arizona, innocently waiting for you to shove your whole life into a few boxes and load them up.

You'd been practically desperate for a change, broken heart bleeding and ground into the concrete by a heavy boot, struggling to pull itself back together with nothing but pieces of scotch tape and paperclips. And while New York hadn’t been your top choice of places where you’d want to start over, it had been a relatively easy shift in the grand scheme of things. Your job pretty much stayed the same, your apartment was still something small and outdated, and your cat continued to prefer your bathroom sink for her naps instead of the numerous cat beds you’ve bought over the years.

And as for your social life? Well, nothing had changed there either, seeing as you’d not had much of one back in your hometown in the first place.

But New York, you have slowly come to find, is bold and beautiful and vibrant in a way you never thought your life might be, and in little less than a year, you've made it home. Broadway shows entertain visitors and city dwellers alike, offering breaks from lives that are repetitive and stale. Museums and historic buildings detail a history of almost forgotten stories. Hundreds of unique and authentic restaurants on every block, each one a little piece of home from countries and cultures all over the world. 

It just…fits you.

But at this very moment, standing in the middle of a goddamn alien invasion, you've never regretted your move more.

Matt is still extremely agitated as he stands ten feet away from you, head shifting from side to side, his brow furrowed and mouth parted as if there's a question threatening to spill from his lips but he hasn’t yet quite figured out what it’s supposed to be. In your terror, you haven't thought much about how disoriented he must be, sight gone and nothing but his ears to guide himself clumsily into the rapidly changing landscape of New York. You imagine he's just as scared as you, though he's certainly hiding it better, and you can't decide whether or not if he's the lucky one for not being able to see the horror raging around, the destruction and death that's bound to be left behind in a city that is beloved by the millions of people who call it home.

New York City has seen more than its fair share of terror and tears, and you can't help but wonder how it manages to get back to its feet every time another nightmare comes to life on its streets.

Hands twitching at your sides, you glance around the bookstore, eyeing the way it remains relatively untouched, unmarred by the chaos outside, a pristine reminder of the mundane Wednesday that had existed only twenty minutes ago. It's a tiny shop, not much larger than a small town diner, books lovingly placed along the walls and shelves that cut through the middle of the store. 

The large glass windows show a very different world outside, one that has been reduced to nothing less than a hellscape. Debris has found itself a home over the streets and sidewalks, cars irrevocably damaged by things that have fallen on to them, dust and ash floating slowly down, gravity helpless to do nothing but pull them to the ground. It's the middle of the work day, prime time for people walking to and from lunch, but not a single soul has walked by since you entered the bookstore.

You can only hope that it's because people are finding shelter and not because they're losing their lives around the block or down the street. 

It's a terrifying thought to have, really.

The sounds that are coming from outside are one you’d rather not think about. The crashes, the sounds of things exploding, the random blare of a police siren, each and every decibel that makes up the noise echoing on repeat in your head. You try not to think about city blocks that will be forever changed by this catastrophe, and you try even harder to not think about whether or not you’ll be alive to actually see the changes yourself.

Your hands are gross and trembling as you wipe the sweaty palms on your pants, willing them to slow down and at least offer the appearance of being composed. You guess it doesn’t really matter if you appear calm, not with a visually impaired man in the room, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to look more put together than you are. Maybe, if you could convince your hands to stop fidgeting so fiercely, you’d be able to convince yourself that bits and pieces of this are fine, that you are fine.

But you aren’t. And you’re not sure when you will be again.

Matt’s fingers are dancing over his phone now, growing more and more frustrated as his calls don't go through to whoever he’s trying to get in contact with. Like with September 11th, you assume the cell towers are struggling to keep up with the amount of calls going in and out and around New York, completely overwhelmed with the millions of people trying to get in touch with friends and family. You’d tried to call your dad a few times, but the phone network seemed unable to connect your phone to his, so you’d given up after the fifth attempt.

Your dad doesn’t live in New York. He lives states away, actually, safe and nestled into a home town no one would think twice about, so while you’re nervous and want nothing more than to speak with him, you don’t feel the frantic energy to make sure he’s okay. Matt, however, seems to be in a different situation, absolutely fixated on getting ahold of someone, but eventually even he gives up, shoving his phone into his pocket with an aggravated damn it under his breath.

Outside, a large shadow passes over the street, too dark and too fast for it to be a cloud passing over the sun. You shudder at the thought of what it could be, something about the temporary darkness implying that something massive is flying over the city, eager to destroy and maim as much as it can, and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you can. When your eyes flutter open reluctantly, the sun is back out, but the light offers no comfort. 

You shuffle your feet, wincing as the movement agitates the blisters on the back of your heels that have long since reopened when you’d been running in blind terror. There's no doubt that your shoes are wet and slowly being stained with blood as the scabs fall off and fail to keep the sensitive layer of damaged skin safe from harm. Bloody heels are a small price to pay for making it to shelter relatively unharmed.

Your eyes drift back to Matt, watching as he buries his head briefly in his hands, raising his face only a moment later, and your mouth decides to cut the silence before your brain can catch up. "What do you do for work?"

His head whips towards yours, lips parted in bewilderment as his hands fall back down to his hips. "What?"

You lean into the question instead of backtracking. "What, uh…what do you do for work?"

Matt’s face continues to look confused as he straightens his shoulders, frame jumping the tiniest bit with every harsh sound that comes from outside. He doesn’t seem to understand the question, or perhaps the motive behind it, if the frown is anything to go by. "Why?"

"Sorry," you say with a grimace, shrugging your shoulders helplessly, eyes drifting so that they slide past his face before you look down at your feet. "I'm trying to not have another panic attack by focusing on stupid shit. You don't need to answer."

He’s quiet for a moment, and you glance back up just in time to see the confusion slowly slide off of his face, mouth dropping slightly in a silent oh. He swallows. "I'm an intern. Or at least I just…interviewed to be an intern."

"An intern," you repeat slowly, briefly grateful that he’s answered the random inquiry. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your head, and you lift a shaky hand to wipe it off. "To do what? Where did you interview at?"

"Uh…Landman and Zack. It’s a law firm."

Your eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “You’re a lawyer?”

For the first time since the moment you saw him, his lips twitch slightly into what you can only assume would be a blinding smile if it were in full bloom, but the look doesn’t last. “Not quite. Graduation is in a few weeks.”

“Ah,” you say with a simple nod of your head. “Well congrats then. I’ve heard law school can be a bitch.”

“It is,” Matt says with a quiet huff of laughter, the sound light and welcome against the havoc still raging outside. You find yourself wondering what sorts of things would make him really laugh, images of his mouth parted open in glee as he tilts his head back and snickers at a joke. “And you? What do you do?”

“I’m in…I’m in advertising. It’s–it’s super boring. But I guess everything is boring compared to…this.”

His mouth twitches again, though you’re sure it’s in some sort of nervous energy rather than actual humor. “Not your dream job?”

Cringing, you shake your head, forgetting that he can’t see the movement and only verbally responding when you notice the way he seems to be waiting on an answer. “Uh, no. Definitely not. It is what it is, though.”

"I'm sure you're not alone in disliking your job."

You shrug non-committedly, and Matt doesn’t keep the conversation going, instead choosing to resume quietly pacing again, footsteps surprisingly light as they move across the carpet. You get the feeling that he’s not someone who likes to stay still, not someone who has it in him to easily contain his agitation, so you let him pace, keeping your mouth shut again for the time being. 

Hands bracing themselves against the wall, you slide down, giving your body a break and allowing it to rest, even as your mind races frantically. The sounds outside aren’t getting any quieter, any easier to digest, and even if your mind can’t stop its overdrive, at least your limbs and bones and muscles can have a slight reprieve. You bury your head in your hands, reluctant to look out the windows to the devastation that exists beyond the glass. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, nor can you help the way it mixes with a tiny, dry sob.

“No,” you say shakily, sound muffled from behind your hands. “Nothing much I can do about it though.”

The man sighs loudly, and you look up in shock when he suddenly slides down the wall next to you just two feet to your left. Matt runs a hand through his hair, unintentionally shaking some of the dust out of the dark strands. “We’re gonna make it. Things will be okay.”

You can’t help but snort this time, even as your eyes well up ever so slightly. The tears don’t drop, to which you are grateful. Crying with glasses on is a bitch, the steam of tears often fogging up the lenses, and you’ve done your fair share of it within the past twenty minutes. “You sound so...sure. I don’t know how you can say that. Things are so fucked right now.”

As if on cue, a loud bang echoes through the street, and your eye catches a quick ball of fire that shoots across the sky. Flinching, you hide your face back in your shaking hands, the frames of your glasses digging into your palms. A hand lands softly on your thigh, the touch coming out of nowhere, and where before you would have viciously shoved someone’s hand off of you should they touch you like that, you can’t find it within yourself to push him off. Instead, in a motion that even shocks you, your hand slowly leaves your face and slides down to your leg, fingers weaving in with his without a word. 

It only takes a split second before he’s fully grasping your hand in his, seeming to take as much comfort from you as he’s willing and able to provide in return.

“You’re right,” he says softly, thumb briefly brushing over the back of your hand. The touch grounds you, reminds you you’re not alone, and it’s suddenly hard to imagine anyone else’s hand in yours but his. He drops your hand after a split moment, pulling his back into his own lap. “I’m not sure. But I’m praying that things will be okay, and I have to trust that they will be.”

Your lips twist into a slight, wry grin, though it’s gone as soon as it appears. “Praying, huh?”

“Catholic,” he says in explanation with a brief shrug of his shoulders. “Praying just sort of…comes with the territory.”

“Ah, gotcha,” you respond as you turn your head back to look forward. The smell of smoke, grainy and gritty, seeps in from underneath the door, no doubt from whatever the hell is happening outside, and you wrinkle your nose before responding. “Well I hope it helps. Or…I hope it at least makes you feel better. About all of this.”

“Do you…pray?” He asks quietly. Out of the corner of your eye you see his face aimed your way, curious and resigned at the same time, the pair not seeming to be mutually exclusive. 

Your own face feels blank, your mind hitting against some sort of glass wall, a sense of grief you can see swirling on the other side while you remain carefully and purposely poised, unwilling to open yourself up to it. “I used to.”

“Why did you stop?”

“My mother died. Didn’t seem important after that.” It’s an old wound, one that continues to fester to this day, some days clawing at you until you can't breathe, other days a faint but present murmur in the back of your head. The tears and the prayers and the pleading hadn’t made one ounce of difference back then, so why would it now?

Matt doesn’t respond for a few moments, the bookstore silent with the exception of the chaos just beyond the windows, and you’re not exactly shocked. People don’t like talking about death. People don’t like talking about putting pets down, terminal illnesses, and dying parents. It makes them uncomfortable, makes them nervous about what to say to someone who is grieving the death of a loved one, dreading the possibility of upsetting or minimizing someone’s pain. 

You didn’t mean to bring it up, not here, not now, and definitely not to a stranger who probably wants nothing more than to focus on surviving and not someone else's heartache. You wait for some sort of apology, some sort of vague sympathetic comment he can give to the person who had grabbed his hand and ran. It would be a comment that doesn’t really mean anything and was only said to fill the empty space, but instead–

“I know that loss, too,” Matt says softly, so quietly that you almost don’t hear him, whispered words sliding over you like balm you hadn’t known you’d needed. “It should have turned me away from God, but I think...I think it brought me closer. Eventually, at least. But I can understand why people experience the opposite.��

Stunned, your mouth opens to speak as you once again twist your head to look at him, needing to see the look on his face that promises to be empathetic instead of sympathetic, feeling the urgency to connect with someone in this sort of shared, twisted intimacy. Death of a loved one is a level that no one wants to connect on, this ledge that you are teetering on so clumsily, but you crave it, especially knowing he just might be the last person you speak to in this life. 

His face has regained some of its color, though the red of his lips and the blood of the scratch on his forehead still stand out vividly, and even in your distress, you find yourself mourning the fact that you hadn’t met the man sooner.

It isn’t every day that a man promises not to leave your side, even with a war raging outside the walls of an unassuming building in Hell’s Kitchen.

But before you can articulate what you want to say, before your lips can form the words, Matt goes tense, his entire body snapping straight like a wire pulled from both sides, ready to snap at any moment. His head cocks to the side, and without warning, he’s scrambling and rushing to his feet, face puzzled and grim. His mouth drops a fraction of an inch, pulling in a deeper breath than necessarily warranted for the moment, and you watch in fascination as he moves even closer to a window he can’t see out of.

“What’s happ–”

Matt’s turning sharply on his heel before you can even finish your question, arms outstretched as he reaches for you and grabs your upper arms, hauling you to your feet and immediately forcing you to walk backwards. Shocked, your hands wrap around his upper arms in return, struggling to maintain your balance as he all but shoves you behind a large bookcase. You can’t help but trip on your feet at the speed with which he’s moving you, and he takes a large portion of your weight and pulls you back into a full upright position.

“What the hell are you–” His hand practically slams itself over your mouth, cutting off any sort of sound coming from you, and your eyes widen at the way his fingers tremble for a brief second. Warning bells go off in your head because whatever he thinks he’s discovered can’t possibly be good.

He may not be able to see, so how he knows there’s something going on outside completely escapes you, but you find yourself shuffling yourself closer to him, as if attempting to burrow yourself in the only sense of safety you can find in this completely fucked up situation. You continue to stare up at him in alarm, mouth moving to ask something even with his hand over your lips, but the look he sends you makes you shut up before a single syllable can ever leave.

“Shh!” It's only a whisper, only a fraction of sound, but it's desperate and harsh, and it leaves no room for arguing.

Matt cocks his head to the side, his face one of intense focus. His eyes are narrowed behind his glasses, mouth open as he breathes harshly in your ear. You reach out to grab at his suit jacket, and he doesn't pull away, instead pressing closer. The side of his face brushes your cheek as he leans further in.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully and not ask any questions, okay? Can you do that?”

“I, uh…what?”

“I need you to do something for me and not ask any questions,” he repeats himself urgently. 

“Okay? What–”

He cut you off immediately. “There is something that is about to turn the corner, maybe thirty yards away from us. I can’t…I can’t tell what it is. It’s moving, and it’s alive, but I don’t–”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Matt places a hand back over your mouth with a severe look on his face. It is a far cry from the man who, not moments before, had given a small piece of himself away, sharing something you're pretty sure he doesn't speak about often. In this moment, he is focused, almost coldly so, and something about it is both alarming and intriguing. 

“No questions right now,” he hisses in your ear. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, but keeps a finger on your lips. “If we survive this, I will tell you how I know. But for now, I need you to trust me.”

Your eyes are still wide in alarm. “Matt–”

“Can you trust me?”

Despite having only known him for such a short period of time, there's no hesitance in your answer. “Yes.”

The man takes a deep breath and nods before removing his hand from you entirely. “Right. There is something coming up the street. Five of them, I think. They have some sort of weaponry in their hands, but I can’t tell what it is. It’s–it's definitely not a gun. They’re speaking in a language that doesn’t sound remotely like anything from here. I think…I think they might be those things you saw coming from the sky, and what Iron Man was going up against.”

Shaking, you raise one hand to cover your eyes as you struggle to take a deep breath. “O-okay. What are we…what are we supposed to do?”

“I need you to go into the bathroom and not come out until I come and get you. It’s in the far right corner.” You take an automatic step back from him in shock at how quickly and self-assuredly he’s answered. His face is set in stone, and you know there's no room for reluctance, not here, not now.

“Just me? What about you?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. I need you to –.”

“No, I’m not going in there without you. Not when you can’t see what’s going on around you.”

The snort he lets out is confusing to you, but you have barely a second to process it before Matt reaches out for you and begins pushing you towards the back of the store. "There are other ways to see."

"What does that even mean?"

"Don't worry about–"

But Matt doesn't even finish his thought before he goes stiff, hands clenching your arms impossibly tighter. You're about to question it, but you're cut off by a monstrous roar that echoes through the bookstore. Matt is immediately yanking you further behind the bookshelf and down to the ground, knees rubbing harshly against the carpet with the force in which he pushes you. You barely have time to think about the fact that he doesn’t hesitate to cover a large chunk of your body with his as the glass windows explode and shatter, littering the store with shards that cut and slice your exposed skin.

Something had been thrown into the store, some sort of weapon fired, sailing past the place your head had been just a split second before.

A scream tears from your throat, but it's almost entirely consumed by another growl that erupts from somewhere up the block. The sound sends chills down your spine, purely because you've never heard anything like it. Your head, still covered by Matt's arms, is twisted just enough that you're able to see outside, and your eyes widen as something steps in front of the building, fully within sight. The glass windows had been open and large enough that you would have been able to see through them anyway, but this…

You wish you hadn't opened your eyes.

The glass had at least offered some sort of protection, though clear and transparent the windows had been, acting as some sort of thin and fragile barrier between you and the world outside. But now you are completely exposed, completely open and on full display, and the thing that stalks in front of the large gaping wound that had once been a window is actually one of several. 

Your eyes can’t help but count the five of them that are now completely in your field of view, and the dread coiling in your stomach sharpens exponentially when three more drop from out of the sky to join them on the destroyed pavement.

They're large and grotesque, slimy, molted skin wrapping around forms that are bipedal but nothing close to anything that's ever been found on the planet. These are the things that had entered the Earth's fragile and delicate atmosphere like they were a warm knife cutting through softened butter. A strange sort of body armor stretches across their forms, and your flesh has never felt more pathetic and inadequate before, the sensitive skin cells binding around a body that can be easily shredded and swept aside.

Your life has become a horror movie, and your mind jumps to the question of whether or not you’ll be among the first to die, or if you’ll be the forever traumatized survivor who's lucky enough to make it out alive.

As if Matt can sense the racing of your heart, he presses himself more closely into you, and a hand slowly moves to cover your eyes. You might have fought him before, morbidly curious and horrified to see what stands just thirty feet from your frozen frame, but you can't think of a single moment in your life where you've ever felt more grateful for the dark.

"Don't look," he whispers in your ear, sound low and mouth not half an inch from the side of your face. "Just focus on me and don't move."

It's not hard to follow his instructions, every atom of yours as immovable as the ice of a glacier, despite the warm temperature of spring. There's splintered wood from a bookshelf digging itself into your hip, piercing the skin and causing blood to trickle out, but even the pain isn't enough to make you drag yourself away.  You’re helpless to do anything but lay there, body molded underneath his and unwilling to move. 

The loud crunching of stone, glass and concrete resonates somewhere to your right, your body laying parallel with where the glass had been less than a minute before, and it occurs to you that the beings are still walking along the street, weapons poised and feet heavy. They're talking to each other, it seems, the sounds garbled and harsh, randomly drowned out by the other atrocities happening in the city. Each step seems to be coming closer and closer, and the sound of glass digging into the sidewalk startles you. The being is no doubt stalking around to find something or someone to further terrorize.

It takes everything in you to not open your mouth in another scream, and the only thing that holds you back is the near-silent "Shh!" that Matt all but hisses in your ear. Your first tightens into a fist at your side, the only indication of your fear outside the racing of your heart.

It's only two seconds, though it feels like it lasts eons, before something pulls the being's attention away, loud footsteps and screeches rapidly moving back into the street and away from the store. Your body loosens just a little, but Matt’s body does the exact opposite, tensing into an even firmer line above yours, and it's only a split moment before you find out why.

A roar, one with a power behind it that you've never heard before, echoes through the block, followed by a loud thump that sounds to be not ten feet from the entrance to the building. You can't help but jump at the noise, the same roar you've heard several times throughout the past twenty minutes. It had been thunderous before, each wave of sound seemingly aimed straight at your eardrums, but at this distance, it’s deafening.

Shots are fired, and the weaponry they've aimed and let loose sounds like some sort of mixture between a gun and goddamn laser going off. There's a strange energy that fills the block, and you can feel it whirling through the air, though you know it's not aimed at you, but rather the thing that's invaded and halted their search.

You don't know what it is, other than it's different from the other things that have been stalking through both the air and the ground, but it's no less fear-inducing, each rageful howl one that could leave someone with nightmares for weeks. Its feet are heavier than that of the other creatures, its breath coming in heavier pants, and you can't even begin to imagine what might make those sorts of noises.

However, even though you're not quite sure what it is, you don't think it's the same for Matt. For some reason, the way his body has become more and more rigid makes you think that maybe he knows what has suddenly made an appearance, and it doesn't seem to be anything pleasant.

“I’m going to count to three,” he suddenly says in your ear, voice rushed and lips somehow brushing over the ridge of your cheekbone because of how close his head is to yours. “I’m going to count to three and then we’re going to run into the bathroom back in the corner.”

“I–”

“Do you understand?” 

Voice too shaken to really answer, you nod slowly, flinching as another growl shatters throughout the building, followed by something crashing on the other side of the street. Your eyes follow the sound, flitting around the street that would be in your field of vision if Matt’s hand wasn’t still blocking your ability to see. 

“One.”

Your hands shift slightly, moving to brace themselves against the floor as best as you can, preparing yourself to push off of the ground at his word. Glass digs in, but you ignore the sting.

“Two.”

Air leaves and enters your body slowly, lungs savoring each breath as if it might be their last. Your face hardens, determination flooding through you even as your head tells you it may be a lost cause.

“Three.”

His calloused hand leaves your face as he heaves himself off of you, arms taking most of his weight for just a split second before his legs find purchase and help him push himself to his feet, splinters of wood and glass further breaking under the force. You’re slower, much slower, bloody hands scrambling against the carpet, knees further tearing and shredding at the movement. His hands thrust themselves under your arms, hauling you to your feet as if you weigh nothing, and there’s not a single second wasted between you being upright and him dragging you behind him as you make your way to the bathroom. 

Behind you, it’s an absolute mess as the thing roars again, the screams of the other creatures piercing through the air as they’re thrown violently into buildings like one might throw an ax at a target. The weird shots you'd heard earlier continue to go off, but with an increase in frequency as the savagery grows. The building next to you shakes, rattling the walls of the bookstore, and you’re not quite in a state of mind to process the thought of the building collapsing on you. Glass explodes across the street, bricks and concrete crash to the ground, but your mind does your best to focus on nothing but Matt’s hand in yours.

You don’t question the way he moves, you’re far past that, too grateful to the person who has seemingly taken your life in his hands as he dips and weaves around the mixture of toppled bookshelves and those still standing. He reaches the door to the men’s restroom and shoves it open, but for a split second the world seems to pause, and you turn your head back to the carnage that exists behind you.

Your eyes have no trouble finding the cause of the noise that’s been wreaking havoc on your ears. It stands in the middle of the street, mouth parted and preparing to let loose another shockwave of noise, one that will no doubt be loud enough to seemingly shake the foundation of buildings that exist in a large radius around it.

It's large, and the body is as bold and dangerous and paralyzing as its roar. Teeth are bared, knuckles clenched in front, thighs thick and bare feet digging into the damaged street. But despite the force that lies in its body, power and brute strength radiating through every muscle and bone and artery, the thing that strikes you the most is that…

It's green.

And it's not an it, it's a he.

Shredded jeans that are far too short and small encase his lower half, dark hair sweaty and plastered to the top of his head, odd cuts scattered across its body that ooze a deeper green. Your breath hitches on something resembling a sob, and its head whips towards yours, upper half twisting towards yours with a growl. Green eyes land on you and narrow, and your heart absolutely jumps in your throat.

But before you can open your mouth in a scream, he nods his head in some sort of acknowledgment, and jumps out of sight, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust and several dead aliens scattered around him.

You’re yanked into a dark bathroom a moment later, and you stumble unceremoniously into Matt, bone white hand still tightly held in his and a strong arm wrapping itself around your shaking shoulders.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #avengers #the hulk #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfic

[chaifootsteps]

So I just wanna start out this ask with: I hate Viv, and I hate what her shows have become. However, I was a fan of what her shows were for some time, and in that period I came up with a lot of neat ideas for what HH might end up like. I always figured Charlie would eventually have to oppose heaven in some form, if only to make herself heard and oppose an inherently flawed system.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that would happen in season 1.

I fully expected this would be a plot twist in season 2 at the very earliest, and that season 1's main conflict would be more focused around the hotel itself. I thought the early episodes would mostly be about the difficulties of trying to run the place, with Charlie's idealism clashing with the reality of being in hell while Angel's growing friendship with her and the others clashes with his situation with Val, who would obviously oppose him getting the help he needs. Eventually, he'd decide that he's the wrong candidate because of that abusive dynamic and leave the hotel for his friends' sake, to give Charlie a chance to redeem someone else and stop wasting her time on him. Charlie, in turn, would have to confront Val not only for Angel's sake, but for the sake of her dream, but at the same time be faced with the reality that hell's society is full of situations like this, where people who may genuinely want to change aren't able to. This way, the arc isn't just about Angel, but also Charlie's naive understanding of the redemption process coming to blows with an enforcer of the status quo, setting up the themes that would naturally lead to an eventual war with heaven.

Instead we're going straight into that bit with no setup, and Angel being freed from Val appears to have been relegated to a husker//dust duet. I fucking hate it here.

I hear you. It's not an easy thing to realize that you loved this story and were excited about it and had such hopes for it, and all the while, it was Vivzie's excuse to bring in a bunch of Broadway celebrities and act out her director fantasies while pretending she's friends with all of them. It was never about the story, the characters, or the people who made it happen for her.

It sucks.

#rakruined #hazbin hotel critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

What about a headcanon inspired by the tv show the nanny? Mike is a broadway producer and the reader is the nanny, and there is so much angst between them🥹

“The show was a hit tonight, Mike. Don’t beat yourself up over a couple of negative reviews.”

Michael silently shut the door to his five year old daughter’s bedroom, the glow from her night light disappearing. Michael brushed past you, frustration lining his features.

“Michael,” Y/N grabbed his hand, “Cheer up.”

Michael paused outside of his room. He looked over his shoulder at you, then his brown eyes descended to your hand in his. Tonight had a perfect start. He gifted you a diamond tennis bracelet from Tiffany’s and treated all three of you to a fancy dinner before the Broadway show. He’d been so caught up lately with work that he hadn’t expressed his appreciation for you being such a big help. He wouldn’t know what to do without you. Widower and single dad with a demanding job in New York City was a lot to carry on his own.

“I worked hard on this show, Y/N. Years. Maybe you’re right…maybe there will be more positive reviews…I took a chance at something different and I just want everyone to see the same vision as me.”

“They will. Those close to you know. I loved it. Everyone worked so hard. Sage was crying during the finale. She’s so proud of her daddy. I’m proud of you.”

Michael locked eyes with you before blinking away to fight tears. You’d never seen him like this. Usually he’s all put together but to see him so vulnerable made your heart swell. You stroke his hand with your thumb and pull him into a tight hug. Michael wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his cheek against your bare shoulder. His cologne burned your nose pleasantly. His strong arms felt secure and comforting.

“Thanks, Y/N. For real, without you…I would be lost. I was thinking…”

Michael sniffled and then used his thumb to wipe away a single tear from his left cheek. You were attentive, eyes searching his.

“…Maybe you should move in? Sage would love that…I’d love that.”

“A live-in nanny? Really?” You were shocked by him asking you. Usually, he’s throwing around orders and grating on your last nerve— part of your usual banter — you didn’t know what to say.

“Please? You can have the room you stay in right now. I’ll increase your salary, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. What do you say?”

“I–Michael, this is crazy,” you smile, “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” Michael returned the smile, his hand coming up to caress your arm, “Sage is gonna be so happy.”

“She can eat pancakes every morning now.”

“Not every morning, Y/N,” Michael gave you a stern look before a smile spread across his lips.

“I’m happy to see you smiling again.”

Michael stared at you for a while before dropping his gaze to his hands. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway.

“I just want to make my father proud. He doesn’t come to any of my shows but…to know that he’s proud of how far I’ve come? That warms my heart. My momma used to take me to Broadway shows on the weekends. I loved watching her dance ballet. She was so magical. After she passed, my dad didn’t want anything to do with theater. I felt like it was my destiny to keep the legacy going. It was either that or being a lawyer.”

“I bet he’s smiling right now knowing that his son is a successful Broadway producer. I bet your mom is looking down on you as proud as ever.”

Michael smirked at you, his eyes warm and glossy with tears that begged to fall. You lean in and kiss his cheek, lips slowly withdrawing from his skin. Michael met your eyes and without warning he’s pressing you against the wall opposite his room, hands on your waist and his fluffy lips against your red stained lips. His tongue dragged against yours hungrily. Your lips moved in sink like a sensual dance. Your hands were on his shoulders and then your fingers yanked his dress shirt aggressively. You’ve wanted this for so long.

Michael broke the kiss suddenly, staring at you with a mixture of lust and confusion. You press a hand against his cheek and reassure him with your touch that everything is okay.

“I’m sorry—we shouldn’t have done that—”

“It’s okay, Michael, it’s okay—”

“We have to keep thing’s professional between us, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you—I’m sorry.”

Michael turned his back on you and your hand slipped from his warm cheek. You watched him enter his room quickly and you rushed to follow him but his door shut in your face. You stood their staring at the door with hurt swimming in your eyes.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #michael b jordan #headcanon #ask nahimjustfeelingit

[earlgreytea68]

I went to go see "Merrily We Roll Along" with Daniel Radcliffe and Jonathan Groff.

SPOILERS FOR THE MUSICAL BELOW

First of all, I know it's an amazingly privileged thing to do but if you happen to be in the New York area and are looking for a play to see, it was fantastic. Radcliffe and Groff have amazing chemistry with each other and they were a delight to watch. Groff is always wonderful, of course, but Radcliffe was really strong and actually brought the house down with one of his songs at one point, he was SO good. And they both have excellent comedic timing so the show was funny.

But the show was also very moving and affecting and thought-provoking. I knew only the vaguest outlines of the plot before going in, just vaguely that it's about creative soulmates. But it's about creative soulmates and also why we create and the tension between the creative futures we imagine and the creative futures we get and the creative futures we think we want and all the while the creativity at the heart of us sits there throbbing in the middle of us, the same as it ever was, while we make all of these life choices all around us.

And of course it made me think of Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump seeing this play and just being like, "We made it through all that." Like, I think a friend thought I was going to find the show depressing because arguably from what we see it doesn't end well for these two creative soulmates, but I was like, "Well, they're just at their hiatus point. Frank's about to put up a blog post about how much he hates his life now and Charley will reach out and they'll make it through and come out the other side intact."

Anyway, I also wish Broadway shows were easily accessible to be streamed by everyone so everyone could witness them, but just to let you know that the New York Public Library does have an archive of Broadway shows that the public can access. There are a ton of restrictions and you have to go in person and currently running shows are never accessible, but at least we can rest assured that the shows aren't lost forever once the run ends.

#merrily we roll along

[raggedyannrevivaleffort]

I have two questions about the creativity behind the revival and redesigning characters!! :))))

1. Are you guys going to use any other Raggedy Ann media for Broadway? Like using the books (the original ones made by John Gruelle) as a sorta of creative inspiration? Or will you be using different media from the Raggedy Ann franchise as creative inspiration?

2. I'm curious about how do you redesign a character like Panda to Teddy, I've been trying my own redesigns on characters and I have been struggling with it, do you have any ideas to make my redesigns of characters be better then their original design/concept?

Thank you for the questions!!!

1. Yes! We all absolutely love early Raggedy Ann media, especially the books. Johnny Gruelle did create Raggedy Ann for the love of the real Marcella, after all, and we are trying to keep that intrinsic to the show, so that, even in fiction, the love between Marcella and her dad can be remembered. We are planning to have Raggedy Ann look more homemade and scrappy, like she would have in real life, and we have also snuck in a few very subtle references to the Gruelle books. Though no design concepts are official or concrete yet, we hope to take some inspiration from the original illustrations or the real life events surrounding the creation of Raggedy Ann.

2. Teddy isn't technically a "redesign" of Panda; they're a completely new character (who also happens to be a bear)! I say this because Panda's spot in the story was a bit of a blank slate; we had to keep the essential dialogue, in some regard, and the same dynamic in the group, but couldn't necessarily keep Panda as a character for obvious reasons. We tried out Babette from the 1977 film, but she didn't fit, both in terms of mood/tone and in terms of how she would move along the story. We ultimately created our own character, who became Teddy! The replacement wasn't just visual; so much thought and work was put into Teddy before their visual appearance was even considered. We had to change all of the dialogue to fit their tone and personality, while still writing with the style and intention that William Gibson had originally wanted for Panda and for the show as a whole. Teddy's personality was developed as we wrote based on the needs of the story, which actually gave us some wonderful opportunities for character development that Panda never received, and, accidentally, an opportunity to fill a long unfilled plot hole in the show. Teddy serves the story in the departments where Panda was lacking, while also supporting the story in the same way Panda did well, and that's their most important aspect in my opinion. They were created for the Raggedy Ann musical, not because of it. (If that makes sense?) Also, they're just super cute, quirky, and loveable.

Thank you so much for the asks, I always love answering these types of questions. :)

#raggedy ann #rag dolly #raggedy ann musical #rag dolly musical #raggedy ann broadway #rag dolly broadway #raggedy ann revival effort #raggedy ann and andy #raggedy ann and andy a musical adventure #raggedy andy #teddy rag dolly #teddy raggedy ann