#children of tendu

[elegantballetalk]

I believe that in the future, we will witness a revolution in how ballet is taught in academies. The reality now is that children and teens spend more hours on independent cross-training than they do in actual ballet class. Perhaps it’s time for ballet classes to be longer, with exercises performed more slowly to truly engage and strengthen the muscles. Maria Taglioni, for instance, would hold positions for 100 counts and practice simple yet highly repetitive exercises for hours. This kind of deliberate, disciplined training built not only strength but also control and artistry.

Cross-training: I understand its appeal, but I’ve always associated it as more of an “American” thing. We used to do barre exercises at home, repeating them endlessly, while the American dancers turned to weight training and other forms of cross-training. Now, it seems everyone does it. I get why—it’s a response to the increasing demands of ballet today, and I would also say that it is necessary today. But it saddens me to see dancers feel compelled to “cheat” their way to meeting those demands through supplemental training, I think it damages them in the long run, therein lies the problem.

Take the plié, for example. A plié in first position isn’t just about bending the knees; it’s fundamental for developing stability, turnout, and stretching the Achilles tendon. It also forms the foundation for most jumps and other movements. Cross-training might offer faster results on paper, but it can never replicate the depth of strength, control, and artistry built through countless hours of pliés.

Consider pliés in second position. At first glance, they may seem “too easy.” Yet, they are essential for opening the hips. If students practiced enough pliés in second, they wouldn’t need to spend hours sitting in splits. The same principle applies to tendus. When performed correctly, closing into a tight fifth position naturally strengthens the adductors. Endless abductor exercises outside of class become unnecessary because the ballet class itself should build that strength.

In addition, if students are not getting stronger in ballet class, and have to rely on cross training to fill the gaps, it's a red flag signalling a mistake in their training and technique. Perhaps they are sitting in their plies, or perhaps they are not keeping their heels perfectly down for as long as possible, or perhaps they are not going down and then up for the same amount of counts.

Why are my students spending countless hours on exercises to strengthen their backs and raise their legs higher, instead of simply doing millions of arabesques? If they focused on arabesques, not only would they develop stronger backs and higher legs, but—surprise, surprise—their arabesques would also become aesthetically stunning on stage.

The same logic applies to port de bras. A dancer who builds strength by doing countless port de bras will always have more beautiful and natural arm movements than a student who does port de bras in class and then relies on separate “ballet exercises for stronger arms” at home. Do you see what I mean?

What many students today overlook is the discipline and patience required by classical methods like Vaganova. This method spans at least eight years and is meticulously designed to ensure dancers develop both strength and flexibility by its conclusion. Yet so many dismiss this slow, methodical approach in favor of quick fixes and shortcuts.

But Vaganova academy herself is part of the problem: look at the 9 year old children they admit into the academy: they are already almost fully formed ballet dancers. There is no way they have reached those standards through the Vaganova method. No, those children have been overworked, hurt and taught improperly to get them to look like that at 9 years of age. It's deplorable.

But it’s not only the students’ fault. In fact, it’s never the students’ fault, especially the younger ones who are still in academies. Their schedules are overwhelming. It’s no surprise—though regrettable—that many students opt for 45 minutes of cross-training targeting specific muscles rather than spending four hours "just" on pliés. Given their circumstances, it’s a natural choice.

However, for professional artists already in the theater, there should be more time and opportunity to engage in ballet training the proper way. Their schedules should prioritize deliberate, focused practice that allows them to refine their craft, rather than relying on shortcuts to maintain physical readiness.

I mostly agree with you. cross training is like cortisol shots: very effective in the short run, destroys your ability to perform beautiful lines in the long run. It can be good to catch up with your peers if you're starting late, or maybe as a last resort during injury?? but it can't keep you in the running forever.

I think the best type of cross training a dancer can do is literally another sport, perhaps swimming or karate. Because other sports will work on muscle connections and coordination, while static cross training exercises do not increase coordination and muscle memory, only strength.

In addition,

Épaulement and aplomb cannot be learned through cross-training. Imagine the absurdity! It’s like committing to train exclusively en face, never venturing into the realm of croisé or effacé. A world without écartés—can you even fathom it? Forget the nuanced interplay of shoulder, neck, head, and the expressive use of the torso. Cross-training may build strength and stamina, but it strips away the richness, the artistry, the essence of form that is born from the depth and discipline of true classical technique.

Speaking of épaulement, The ability to rotate the neck smoothly from the early stages of training should be an educational goal in any style of dance, not just classical ballet. Sometimes on stage, it is noticeable when an artist's neck is tense, and with it, the head. Their performance, now stiff, has lost the fluidity and expressiveness of the line. In this case, the muscles of the face do not engage, freezing in a position where they neither show the emotional state nor convey the dancing expression.. and it's always a pity when that happens.

Take the croisèè poses: By keeping the arms in the basic position, you can instead turn the head to the left and look under the left arm, or raise the eyes towards the left arm, in which case the head should slightly tilt backward. With this variation of the gaze, the expression of the face will also change, albeit involuntarily: while in the previous poses, the lowered head gathers the facial features, in those with the gaze lifted, the facial features smooth out and soften, giving the expression a more spiritual quality. It is desirable to introduce this kind of change in facial expression into dance as soon as possible, to avoid later on having a permanently petrified expression with a fixed, frozen smile, which is not an uncommon sight on stage.

How many times in competitions or ballets do you see dancers with no expression on their faces or with stagnant, forced smiles? It’s because the dancers are not working on their poses.

I would also slightly disagree with the idea that relying solely on cross-training saves time. I feel bad when I see dancers warming up endlessly before class, when all they need to warm up the whole body, gain aplomb, stability, the perfect discipline, and 'get on their legs' is through battement tendus.

Also, the endless foot exercises with elastics—I hate them. I find them useless. If your feet require that, it means you're not articulating properly during ballet class. It means you're not closing your tendus well enough; it means you have incorrect technique. No theraband will save you from bad technique. That said, it is also true that cross-training can help an already great dancer become even better.

I would also like to exclude floor barre from this narrative. Not only is it part of Vaganova's pre-ballet syllabus, but it is also extremely helpful for finding some of the sensations you speak about, or to gain that edge that can get then worked upon in ballet class. For example, with finding your aplomb, the back is very important, and those particular sensations can be found through good floor barre. But I mean real floor barre, not random conditioning exercises done on the floor and calling them 'floor barre.'

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

“Take a fucking sip babe.” Spot set his and Race’s drinks down on the table. “Here’s your gay-ass iced caramel latte with extra drizzle.” They had found a place near the window, so they could watch the bitch-ass birds and all the cuntalicious people passing by.

“The fuck did you just call me?” Race picked up his cup, definitely discreetly putting his middle finger out in Spot’s general direction.

“I’m just saying, with that drink you’re definitely not beating the gay allegations. Not in here. Not on this day.”

Race took a sip of his coffee. “Mmm. Tastes like homosexuality. So,” he did something gay w his body, “were you just in an Elton John mood this morning? Or are those the only songs you know how to play?”

Spot cachinnated. “Hey, I only played Elton John for like, three combos. They’re catchy, ya know? And they’re easy to play, since the guy literally wrote them for the piano.”

“Woah, defensive,” Race blew his whole load right there. “Wonderwall for tendus was a bold choice.”

“I wanted to see if you’d murder me within the first fifteen minutes of class,” Spot said flatly, looking Race directly in the eye.

“I was close. But that wouldn't be professional, not in front of the children.”

“Oh no, not the children!”

“Also, they would probably have a hard time getting the bloodstains out of the marley.”

@shes-the-king raise a glass for the funniest thing we've ever written and will ever write

[fans4wga]

To any newcomer joining the industry after they graduated college or just getting into the field, what is your advice on what they should do? Like if they are in LA/NYC or not in LA/NYC, what can they do?

Sorry if this is left field!

That's a huge question with a lot of variables, but fortunately our mods are also newcomers in the industry and have been through this ourselves so hopefully this is helpful :)

A couple things you can do to prepare yourself:

Unpaid internships, though clearly and obviously exploitative of vulnerable populations, are sometimes (UGH) the only or best way to get in the door and have something legit on your resume. (The paid internships are unfortunately so much more competitive, but definitely apply if you can!) A lot of internships and jobs are posted regularly on LinkedIn. This is a good Linkedin group to see job postings for young people working in entertainment.

How do you even make a resume for Hollywood internship/entry-level positions? Great question. Highlight any media experience (yearbook, newspaper, journalism, graphic design) and leadership experience. (Unless it's like, from middle school. That's too far back.) If you have the chance to submit a cover letter, focus less on trying desperately to prove yourself and more on who you are as a person: someone who is determined, yes, but would also be a good, solid coworker; any stories that reveal your talent for narrative and showcase your skills.

If unpaid internships aren't possible for you, consider checking out adjacent jobs in podcasts or journalism or other media, which would still be good on your resume before you make the switch to film/TV.

Get a nice, recent headshot (doesn't have to be a professional shoot, you just want to look professional in your social media and email profile pics.)

Join the picket lines in LA/NY if possible (WGA has the locations here). Everyone out on the picket line is supporting the future of the entire industry. It's not only the current workers on strike, but you and your peers too, who depend on the outcome of these negotiations. Also, if you consider yourself "pre-WGA" (interested in being a writer/WGA member in the future), there are a handful of groups organizing strike support for pre-WGA folks! Get plugged in with them.

Read the trade publications daily, or at least a couple times a week, to stay on top of what's going on in Hollywood. The typical places are Deadline Hollywood, Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, and I also like IndieWire and the NYT movies section personally for their profiles and reviews. Basically you just want to be someone who knows what's going on in your own industry and can talk intelligently about the state of things.

Likewise, podcasts. If you're going into TV writing, I can't recommend Children of Tendu enough. If that's not your specific field, search around for what other people in your field are listening to!

I hate having to say this, but... Twitter. Lots of WGA members, directors, actors, and industry people are active on Twitter, despite the, er, problems with the platform. Look for both pre-WGA and WGA people, connect with them, start building a community, maybe join a writing feedback group. (Again, since I'm a writer, that kinda applies to just writers, but I'm sure you can find other departments there too!)

On a similar note: You've probably heard a lot about the importance of networking—getting to know people in the industry who might be your coworkers in the future. That's important advice, but even better advice than that is to network horizontally, not vertically. Translation: Don't always seek out people who are in more advanced stages of their career than you: they're probably very busy and their lack of interest in lower-level people could be discouraging, even if it's just a reflection on their lack of time and not on you. Instead, network with people at the same stage as you—people who are new in LA/NY/the industry, people who are coming up and have similar passions and goals as you, people who are your coworkers and peers. I'm coming up with a lot of really cool people and it's very likely we'll all be in a position to help or hire each other 10, 20 years from now.

That said, you could also try to find a mentor who knows more than you do, but that's tricky territory because again... Hollywood. People are busy. But if you do get the chance to apply for a formal mentorship program, or if someone you know shows interest, having a mentor to go to for questions/advice is super valuable!

Acquire skills. Microsoft Excel skills. Standard screenplay formatting skills. Final Draft skills. Graphic design skills. Website building skills. A lot of people start in the industry at the assistant level, and these things are invaluable on your resume.

For writers specifically, I've heard the advice that you need to get 5+ shitty scripts out of your system before writing something decent. And from personal experience, that adage holds true. You need to write a significant amount of crap before you find your voice and get a handle on script formatting. Online classes and writing groups can help a lot with this.

Also for writers: You should not be trying to start your career as a professional writer without 3+ SOLID, GOOD SCRIPTS in your portfolio that match your voice as a writer, fit your (ugh) writer "brand", and have been revised based on feedback from writers you trust. If you have any doubt about the state of your sample scripts, go back to the drawing board and write a new pilot script.

If you want to be a creator, watch stuff extensively! Old stuff, new stuff, award-winning stuff, stuff that you'd want to write/direct/act in someday. Pick a director and watch everything they've made (or the same for writer/actor/costume designer/cinematographer.) You need to be decently fluent in what has come before you. This industry is only 100 years old, so it's very possible with time to become someone who knows the art form inside and out. Don't watch shallowly, either; watch deeply for analysis and critical thought.

Some final words from someone who cares deeply about the overall wellness of young people in the industry. This industry terrorizes people, and there are a lot of stories of abuse and breakdowns. (Oh, another recommendation, though pace yourself because it's a difficult book with a lot of potential triggers: Burn it Down by Maureen Ryan talks about industry abuse, written by a journalist who's tackled a lot of breaking news about abuse in Hollywood. Essential reading for people going into the industry.)

So prioritize taking care of yourself, and not just in the uwu self-care way, but the bone-deep "know thyself", "if you don't take care of yourself, you will literally cease to function" way. Love yourself enough to know when to step back and take time off. Love yourself to gain good time management skills so you can live a less stressful life. Love yourself enough to build a community of people who will look out for each other.

Wishing you the best of luck. If any pre-WGA/early career folks in the industry want to continue this conversation, this mod's main is @captaincrais.

[thefirsthogokage]

(link in post didn't seem to work for me, but here)

(link to 11 Laws Nice Version)

(link in the post)

(link in the post)

(link to the book)

(link to audible)

(link to Children of Tendu)

(link to OKBJGM.com)

As someone who would love to make some of their show ideas a reality, this might be helpful for me and people like me. And I trust John Rogers with things like this.

[allstarstudiosnyc]

Introducing The Magic Of Ballet Dance For Toddlers

Ballet dance isn't just reserved for adults in tutus; it's also a delightful and enriching activity for toddlers. With its graceful movements, enchanting music, and focus on coordination and balance, ballet offers a magical introduction to the world of dance for young children. Let's explore why ballet dance for toddlers is not only adorable but also beneficial for their development.

The Joy of Ballet for Toddlers

Magical Exploration: For toddlers, every movement is an adventure. Ballet dance captivates their imaginations as they twirl, leap, and flutter their tiny hands like butterflies. With gentle guidance from experienced instructors, toddlers embark on a whimsical journey through the enchanting world of ballet.

Developmental Benefits: Beyond the charm and elegance, ballet offers numerous developmental benefits for toddlers. From improving coordination and balance to enhancing cognitive skills and spatial awareness, each plié and tendu lays the foundation for physical and cognitive growth.

Creative Expression: Toddlers are natural-born artists, and ballet provides a canvas for creative expression. Through imaginative storytelling and playful exercises, toddlers learn to express themselves through movement, fostering a sense of confidence and self-discovery.

Social Interaction: Ballet classes for toddlers often include group activities and partner exercises, encouraging social interaction and cooperation. As toddlers dance alongside their peers, they learn valuable lessons in teamwork, communication, and friendship.

Why Choose Ballet Dance for Toddlers?

Gentle Introduction to Dance: Ballet is a gentle and accessible introduction to the world of dance for toddlers. With its focus on poise, posture, and grace, ballet cultivates a sense of discipline and elegance from a young age.

Physical Development: Toddlers are constantly on the move, and ballet dance enhances their physical development in a fun and engaging way. From improving motor skills to increasing flexibility and strength, ballet provides a comprehensive workout for growing bodies.

Emotional Expression: Dance is a powerful form of emotional expression, and ballet empowers toddlers to express themselves in a safe and supportive environment. Through movement and music, toddlers learn to communicate their feelings and emotions with grace and confidence.

Lifelong Love of Dance: By introducing toddlers to ballet at a young age, parents lay the groundwork for a lifelong love of dance. Whether they pursue ballet professionally or simply enjoy it as a hobby, the lessons learned in toddler ballet classes pave the way for a lifetime of joy and appreciation for the art form.

How to Get Started with Ballet Dance for Toddlers

Find a Reputable Studio: Look for dance studios or community centers that offer ballet classes specifically designed for toddlers. Choose a studio with experienced instructors who specialize in teaching young children.

Attend a Trial Class: Many studios offer trial classes or open houses where parents and toddlers can experience a sample ballet class. Take advantage of these opportunities to see if the studio's teaching style and atmosphere are a good fit for your child.

Create a Positive Environment: Encourage your toddler to embrace ballet dance with enthusiasm and positivity. Provide them with a comfortable outfit, including ballet shoes or soft slippers, and celebrate their progress and achievements along the way.

Encourage Practice at Home: Extend the magic of ballet beyond the studio by incorporating simple ballet exercises and movements into your daily routine at home. Turn on some classical music and encourage your toddler to dance and twirl to their heart's content.

Conclusion

Ballet dance for toddlers isn't just about learning pliés and pirouettes; it's about nurturing creativity, confidence, and joy in young children. With its gentle approach and developmental benefits, ballet provides toddlers with a magical introduction to the world of dance, setting the stage for a lifetime of artistic expression and appreciation. So, lace up those tiny ballet shoes and watch as your toddler's imagination takes flight on the dance floor.

[beanewgirl]

Samer Abu Hawwash, poète palestinien, 25 octobre 2023.

C'est la fin du poème. Je mets en dessous les versions arabe, anglaise et francaise de l'intégralité trouvees chez Khalil Alhaj Saleh, merci à lui.

"Peu nous importe désormais que quiconque nous aime

Nous sommes fatigués des paroles dites et du non-dit

Des mains tendues qui ne parviennent pas

Et des yeux ouverts qui ne voient pas

Nous sommes fatigués de nous-mêmes

En cette nuit interminable

Et de l’attachement obstiné de nos mères

À ce qui reste de nous

D’un rocher que nous continuons de porter

Éternelle malédiction

De précipice en précipice

De trépas en trépas

Et nous n’arrivons toujours pas

Qu’importe, désormais, que quiconque nous aime

Que quiconque nous accompagne

Dans la procession de notre enterrement

Voilà que nous marchons en silence vers une dernière errance

Nous nous tenons tous par la main

Et nous avançons solitaires dans le désert du monde

À un moment

L’un de nos enfants se retourne

jette un dernier regard sur les décombres

Et dit en versant une larme unique :

Peu nous importe désormais que quiconque nous aime".

لم يعد مهمّاً أن يحبّنا أحد

الشاعر الفلسطيني سامر أبو هواش

(يتبع الترجمة الأنكليزية والفرنسية)

English below.

Français en dessous.

لم يعد مهمّاً

بعد اليوم

أن يحبّنا أحد

يكفي أن يحبّنا الملاك العظيم

في سمائه الناصعة

يراه أطفالنا واقفا في البعيد

ضامّا يديه في رسم قلب

فيبتسمون

تراه نساؤنا ملوحا بياسمينة بيضاء

فيغمضن عيونهن مرّة

وإلى الأبد

يرى رجالنا أجنحته الزرقاء

الصافية كسماء

فتنخطف قلوبهم

ويشدّون الرحال إليه

لم يعد مهما أن يحبّنا أحد

القذائف حرّرتنا من آذاننا

التي كنا نسمع بها كلمات الحبّ

والصواريخ حرّرتنا من عيوننا

التي كنا نرى بها نظرات الحبّ

والكلمات السود حرّرتنا من قلوبنا

التي كنا نرعى فيها تعاويذ الحبّ

لم يعد مهما أن يحبّنا أحد

في هذا العالم

“يبدو، على أية حال، أنه كان حبّا من ط��ف واحد”

يق��ل شيوخنا المتعبون من فكرة الأرض

ويقف شاعرنا في الأفق البعيد

،ويصرخ: “أنقذونا من هذا الحبّ القاسي”

ثم يهمس معتذرا

:عن تفاؤل صبيانيّ عابر

ليس على هذه الأرض

ما يستحق الحياة

لم يعد مهما أن يحبّنا أحد

تعبنا من كلمات تقال ولا تقال

ومن أيد تمتدّ ولا تمتدّ

ومن عيون ترى ولا ترى،

تعبنا من أنفسنا

في هذا الليل الطويل

وتعبنا من تشبّث أمهاتنا

بما بقي منّا

ومن صخرة نحملها على ظهورنا

لعنة أبدية

ونمضي بها من هاوية إلى هاوية

ومن موت إلى موت

ولا نصل

ليس مهما، بعد اليوم، أن يحبّنا أحد

ولا أن يرافقنا أحد في جنازة أنفسنا

ها نحن نمضي بصمت إلى تيه أخير

نمسك أيدي بعضنا بعضا

،ونتقدّم وحيدين في صحراء العالم

في لحظة ما

يلتفت طفل واحد منا إلى الوراء

يلقي نظرة أخيرة على الركام

:يقول وهو يذرف دمعة وحيدة

.لم يعد مهمّاً أن يحبّنا أحد

(نشرته صحيفة النهار في 25 أكتوبر / تشرين الأول 2023)

It No Longer Matters If Anyone Loves Us

By Samer Abu Hawwash

Translated by Huda Fakhreddine

It no longer matters

if anyone loves us.

The love of the great angel

in his bright white sky

is enough.

Our children see him standing in the distance,

holding his hands in the shape of a heart

and they smile.

Our women see him waving a sprig of white jasmine

and close their eyes once

and forever.

Our men see his blue wings

as clear as a sky.

Their hearts are seized,

and they set out toward him.

It no longer matters

if anyone loves us.

Bombs have liberated us from our ears,

with which we used to hear words of love.

Rockets have liberated us from our eyes,

with which we used to see loving glances.

Hate-filled words have liberated us from our hearts,

in which we used to cherish the enchantments of love.

It no longer matters

if anyone, in this world, loves us.

“It seems to have been an unreciprocated love, anyway,”

say our elders, now exhausted by the idea of land.

Our poet stands on the distant horizon and proclaims:

“Save us from your cruel love!”

He then whispers, apologizing for an earlier, childish optimism:

“On this Earth,

nothing deserves life.”

It no longer matters

if anyone loves us.

We are tired of words, the said and the unsaid,

tired of hands that reach out but do not touch,

of eyes that see but do not see.

We are tired of ourselves in this endless night,

and tired of our mothers clinging to what’s left of us,

tired of this rock we carry on our backs,

this eternal curse.

From abyss to abyss, we carry it,

from death to death,

and we never arrive.

It no longer matters, after this, if anyone loves us,

or if anyone walks in our funerals.

Here we go in silence, toward the final abyss.

We hold each other’s hands,

go forth alone in this desert of a world.

At some moment, one of us, a child, will look back,

will cast one last glance at the ruins, and

shedding a single tear, will say:

“It no longer matters that anyone love us.”

*********************************************

Peu nous importe désormais que quiconque nous aime

Samer Abu Hawwash

Traduction de l’arabe par Nada Yafi.

Peu nous importe

Désormais

Que quiconque nous aime

Il nous suffit d’être aimés

par l’archange sublime

Dans son ciel immaculé

Nos enfants le voient au loin

Il fait un signe des deux mains

En forme de cœur

Alors ils lui sourient

Nos femmes le voient

Agiter un brin de jasmin blanc

Alors elles ferment les yeux

Une fois

Pour toutes

Nos hommes voient ses ailes bleues

Pures comme un ciel bleu

Il leur ravit le cœur

Alors ils plient bagage

Et partent vers lui

Peu nous importe à présent que quiconque nous aime

Les obus nous ont libérés de nos oreilles

Par lesquelles nous entendions les mots d’amour

Les missiles nous ont délivrés de nos yeux

Qui pouvaient voir les regards de l’amour

Et les ténébreuses paroles nous ont libérés de nos cœurs

Où nous avions choyé l’incantation d’amour

Peu nous importe désormais

Que quiconque nous aime

Dans cet univers

« Il semble bien, de toute façon, que c’était un amour à sens unique »

Disent nos vieux, lassés de l’idée de la terre

Notre poète se tient à l’horizon lointain

Et crie : « délivrez-nous de cet amour cruel ! »

Puis il murmure, pour s’excuser

d’un juvénile optimisme passager :

« Rien sur cette terre

En réalité

Ne mérite de vivre »1

Peu nous importe désormais que quiconque nous aime

Nous sommes fatigués des paroles dites et du non-dit

Des mains tendues qui ne parviennent pas

Et des yeux ouverts qui ne voient pas

Nous sommes fatigués de nous-mêmes

En cette nuit interminable

Et de l’attachement obstiné de nos mères

À ce qui reste de nous

D’un rocher que nous continuons de porter

Éternelle malédiction

De précipice en précipice

De trépas en trépas

Et nous n’arrivons toujours pas

Qu’importe, désormais, que quiconque nous aime

Que quiconque nous accompagne

Dans la procession de notre enterrement

Voilà que nous marchons en silence vers une dernière errance

Nous nous tenons tous par la main

Et nous avançons solitaires dans le désert du monde

À un moment

L’un de nos enfants se retourne

jette un dernier regard sur les décombres

Et dit en versant une larme unique :

Peu nous importe désormais que quiconque nous aime

[paulidin]

The Children of Tendu podcast is back with the Writer's Strike and I LOVE IT. if you want insight to the hollywood experience from a couple cool guys who have written and run productions, it's a must listen.

[lecameleontv]

Les scénaristes-producteurs-créateurs Javier Grillo-Marxuach et Juan Carlos Coto (qui est dans l’équipe technique de la série 911 et de From Dusk Till Us), le co-créateur Craig Van Sickle et l'acteur Leland Orser de la série Le Caméléon (V.O. : The Pretender) ont supporté la grève WGA 2023.

Cette grève est le résultat de négociations incomplètes entre la grande organisation professionnelle des scénaristes, la WGA (Writers Guild of America), et le groupement des grands studios et des plateformes de streaming (Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Apple, Warner Bros/Discovery et NBC Universal) : l’AMPTP (Alliance des producteurs de cinéma et de télévision). 

La WGA a milité pour davantage d’équité dans la répartition plus juste de la valeur ajoutée (donc des salaires/rémunérations) entre les personnels créatifs de contenus audiovisuels et les diffuseurs de ces mêmes contenus... au premier rang desquels se trouvent les scénaristes encore trop souvent sous-considérés, voire non rémunérés (pas de droits d’auteurs) selon les conditions contractuelles de diffusion/rediffusion.

La pratique de ne même pas les créditer officiellement à l’écriture d’un scénario (épisode, intrigues série, film etc.) étant banalisée, au profit d’un ou deux noms, voire seulement du Directeur de série (= auteur-producteur artistique = showrunner). 

Cette situation s’est aggravée avec la diminution du nombre des épisodes présentés pour les contenus diffusés sur les plateformes de diffusions (mini-série ou mini-saisons), qui en réduit d’autant la rémunération... sachant que ceux qui sont crédités officiellement sont eux-mêmes réduits de part la tradition du secteur du divertissement...

Le scénariste Javier Grillo-Marxuach en a même fait une émission sur son balado The Children of Tendu : Things we lost in the stream et a expliqué les raisons de la grève.

Le 14 juillet 2023, la grève des scénaristes s’étend au syndicat des acteurs (SAG-AFTRA : Screen Actors Guild American Federation of Television and Radio Artists). Cela ne s’était plus produit depuis 1960...

Les deux problématiques étaient : - l’arrêt des rémunérations/droits d’auteurs sur les rediffusions, puisque les plateformes de diffusion n’achetaient les contenus qu’au forfait, quelles que soient l’audience qui en résultait;  A savoir : aux USA, un acteur doit atteindre un revenu annuel minimum de 23 000 $ pour bénéficier de la couverture maladie. - le périmètre non défini de l’Intelligence Artificielle dans les créations de contenu (générer des scripts ou cloner voix et images/visages sans l’accord des auteurs/interprètes originaux), et qui font passer la voix/le visage pour de simples données qui peuvent se marchander et devenir ainsi source de profit. Le vol des visages et des voix, augmenté par le développement de l’IA, fait par ailleurs passer les escroqueries en ligne (chantage à la fausse sextape, manipulations bancaires...) à un niveau inédit en cybercriminalité, au point qu’un trafic de ‘visage volé’ de l’IA se met durablement en place.

A noter également que Netflix, Amazon et Disney (propriétaire de Hulu et NBC, et maison-mère de Marvel Studios) refusent à ce jour de rendre publique les audiences de leurs programmes, données indispensables dans l’établissement des rémunérations, qui plus est dans les accords d’intéressement aux recettes d’exploitation. 

Quant à Warner Bros, propriétaire de la plateforme HBO Max, et qui a fusionné avec le groupe Discovery, il lui est déjà arrivé de décider unilatéralement de ne pas diffuser une création en post-production avancée, ni au cinéma ni sur sa plateforme, sans prévenir et la distribution et le personnel créatif qui y a travaillé, en raison de calculs commerciaux et comptables non convaincants pour le studio... alors même que la participation à un projet créatif peut empêcher des réalisateurs/scénaristes/etc./acteurs de participer à d’autres projets proposés en parallèle, qui eux seront diffusés comme prévu par le contrat initial... et met fin aux accords d’intéressement aux recettes d’exploitation puisqu’il n’y a pas d’exploitation en salle/sur plateforme...

Les studios peuvent en revanche, dans ces situations d’annulation au dernier moment, bénéficier de déductions fiscales...

Ainsi poste l’acteur Haley Joel Osment :

... et l’acteur Leland Orser qui tient les comptes :

... et a retrouvé le 14 août 2023, à Hollywood (Californie) son partenaire Noah Wyle de la série Urgences !

L’acteur Jon Gries y a quant à lui retrouvé à plusieurs reprises un partenaire du film Napoleon Dynamite :

... ou bien encore des films The Last Survivor (2014), d’Elsewhere (2009) et Bill Moseley de la série La Caravane de l’Etrange (2003) ...

... ou encore a été pris en photo avec un tee-shirt sans confusion par et avec ses acteurs qu’il a fait tourner dans le film Picketin & Grinnin’...

... et même l’acteur John Griffin qui s’est rappelé avoir commencé sa carrière dans l’Ep. 1.14 de la série Le Caméléon !

En août 2023, l’actrice Marisa Petroro a rejoint les piquets de grève : 

Le 26 septembre 2023, après 148 jours de grève, un pré-accord de principe trisannuel est trouvé par les représentants des scénaristes, qui ré-autorisent leurs membres à reprendre le travail.... tout en demandant de soutenir activement les piquets de la grève des acteurs, qui s’est poursuivit en l’absence de négociations les concernant.

Le pré-accord concernant les scénaristes a été soumis au vote de ses 11 500 membres du 02 au 09 octobre 2023. Deux jours plus tard, les renégociations au point mort avec les représentants des acteurs trouvent une date de rencontre... le 02 octobre 2023 ... mais de nouveau sans succès... La grève des acteurs SAG-AFTRA s’est donc poursuivit alors que des changements structurels s’opèrent dans les studios (rumeurs de rachats, modifications dans la production...) et qu’une pétition circulent pour que le P de Producteurs dans les représentants AMPTP soit supprimée... à leur demande ...

Dans la foulée, face au refus du studio Disney de trouver un compromis sur les salaires des acteurs du film The Bikeriders, avec l’acteur Paul Dillon, la date initialement prévue pour sa sortie est ‘indéfiniment’ reportée... Le choix de l’adjectif disant beaucoup sur le rapport de force imposé par les studios envers les interprètes...

La fin de la grève SAG-AFTRA est finalement annoncée, après 118 jours de manifestation, le 09 novembre 2023. Un accord-cadre de principe a été négocié, qui devra être soumis au vote du bureau des dirigeants de SAG-AFTRA, le 10 novembre, puis des adhérents du syndcat. Il s’agit du “ plus long mouvement social des acteurs contre les studios de cinéma et de télévision de l’histoire d’Hollywood “ et, s’il est voté, devra en renégocié dans 3 ans, en 2026.

Il est par ailleurs à noter que certains nouveaux métiers, tels que les influenceurs ‘professionnels’ sur les réseaux sociaux, promouvant pour Hollywood, étant encore peu réglementés (droit du travail, contrats, syndications), ont continué ‘à exercer’ ne sachant se positionner sans règles clairement établies concernant leurs professions pendant la grève, jouant ainsi la division au profit de l’AMPTP ...

... Comme prévu, la grève a donc duré faute de négociations constructives, ce qui fait dire avec humour au scénariste Javier Grillo-Marxuach :

Les soutenir : sagaftrastrike.shop

A Los Angeles, cette grève en a inspiré d’autres, concernant des négociations contractuelles et l’iniquité de conditions de travail dans des secteurs aussi variés que ceux de la ville, de l’hôtellerie et de l’enseignement. De même qu’un groupe médical.

D’après une étude parue dans Le Los Angeles Times, la grève de la WGA-SAG-AFTRA a (eu) un coût d’environ 6.5 milliards de dollars pour l’économie californienne, dont la dynamique est fortement liée à l’activité hollywoodienne.

Cette grève a également trouvé un écho en Grande-Bretagne, dont un grand nombre d’interprètes/de personnel créatif travaillent pour les contenus américains. Le journal londonien The Daily Telegraph a notamment publié des témoignages de salariés spécialisés dans les effets spéciaux pour la TV/cinéma, qui dépeignent un secteur en burn-out : 22h de travail en continu sans pause pour tenir les délais des studios (en particulier Marvel), précarités des contrats pour améliorer les budgets a minima, conditions toxiques de travail ....

sources : @LeeGoldberg, parismatch.com, courrierinternational.com, variety.com et gettyimages.fr Photos : Albert L. Ortega

Alias Argyle, Broots, Emily et Davey Simpkins dans Le Caméléon.

[eggplant-avenger]

Strikes are a slay, 10000% but, and I have no idea how relevant this would actually be for anyone that might see thus, heads up--don’t work as a writer for a WGA signatory company while the WGA is on strike--even if you aren’t a card-carrying member of the WGA. This counts as being a scab and will prevent you from joining the WGA forever. Don’t do it! You will ruin your career before it starts! Don’t even do it out of ~solidarity~ do it because you want to have a career.

Every working writer in Hollywood is in the WGA. You cannot work in Hollywood as a writer without joining the Writers’ Guild. The requirements for entry are, to simplify it, sell a script or a get hired on a show. Almost every company that participates in the film and tv industry is a WGA signatory beholden to the deals made between the WGA and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers aka the entity that represents the studios.]

With regards to moving to LA and getting a job in the industry:

Productions have slowed down in anticipation of a strike (which may still be averted just like the potential IATSE strike last year) so there’s not much work for ANYONE in Hollywood right now. Even if a strike is averted, because things have been on pause for a few months, it would likely take a couple months for things to kick back and get in full swing or whatever. 

One thing anyone can do before moving to LA is work on their scripts, apply to writing fellowships (the deadlines are actually all coming up--Nicholls (The Academy), Paramount, Nick, Disney, and WB are some of the studios that have fellowships, go google them and check out the requirements), potentially enter the more reputable contests like Austin and Final Draft, work on any local productions to get some experience, and save a fuckton of money. If you have the means to make a fiction podcast or webseries that’s also a good idea. 

The first thing you wanna do when you get to LA (you know after you have a place to live) is get a survival job--anything that is gonna help you pay the rent. The second thing you do is try to land a job as a production assistant or an assistant at studio/management company/agency. You do the survival job first unless you have connections because it might take you a while to get the industry job. Most writers that don’t already have careers as like novel writers that have sold their books or are friends with writers come up through the assistant ranks. There are other ways to break in that aren’t the assistant track or the already a successful writer track, but I don’t know anything about your situation so you get the “i’m gonna assume you don’t have kids to support and can take the low paying assistant jobs” advice.

Check out the Scriptnotes Podcast from John August and Craig Mazin, Children of Tendu, Writers’ Panel with Ben Blacker, Scripted from the Bottom, and Act Two for more info on how Hollywood works and the steps one can take to break into the industry. Each of these podcasts are hosted by actual working writers. Scripted from the Bottom is by two people who are at the beginnings of their careers--one of whom was recently an assistant and one of whom is trying to break in not via the assistant route. Scriptnotes is probably the most comprehensive resource for the industry focused on a screenwriter perspective. The most recent 20ish episodes are always avail for free and it costs like $5/month to get the backlog of over 500 episodes spanning the last decade. It’s worth it. If you don’t like listening to podcasts, they have a book coming out soonish.

P.S. If you’re wondering “How do I know if this company offering money for my script is a WGA signatory and thus liable to comply with any contract made between the WGA and AMPTP and working with them as a writer during a WGA strike would ruin my career forever?” here: https://www.wga.org/employers/signatories/signatory-lookup

In terms of the upcoming strike would u say moving to LA rn to pursue a writing career is a slay or nay

with the caveat that i don’t know anything about getting a writing job in LA i’ll talk out of my ass anyways sjdjdjdj strikes are a way for unions to push for better working conditions and better quality work!! they’re not striking to make things worse or to punish people looking to get into the industry! automatic slay! and each negotiation is contentious even if it goes through without a strike, that will always be part of your life if you break through, so if anything i think it would be a super incredible learning experience. and like. it’s not going to stop you from getting jobs - they’ll want to hire people who are non-WGA and willing to do work during the strike….. i think it’ll be a nonissue truly fjdjjsjd worst-case it’s protracted and lasts through the summer but your future contracts will be much better than they would otherwise, best case it’s resolved before you even think about getting a job in LA, most likely case it will not impact you in any way. triple slay!

[beginningspod]

Javier Grillo-Marxuach is a wonderful writer and showrunner - he wrote on Lost, created the fantastic show The Middleman, and is co-host of a podcast I love The Children of Tendu, which is all about tv writing (the episode The Ten Commandments of Showrunning is a must listen for anyone that wants to eventually head their own show). Tomorrow on Beginnings, we talk about about growing up in Puerto Rico, moving to the midwest as a pre-teen, his early days in the TV industry and lots more. It’s a great talk, and you can hear it all tomorrow!

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

I am currently working on writing a Wayward Sisterhood Spinoff script and series. I am researching for the backstory, character development and my scripts I have been working on. Any information and help you could offer would be amazing. I have been a 16 yr fan following the show from the beginning. I watched the show on it's Pilot release original air date, September 13, 2005 in Saskatchewan.

Hi! I'm not entirely sure what you are looking for? We are a group that is trying to build a collection of Supernatural scripts and our collection is hosted by SupernaturalWiki, which would be the first place to go for anything show related.

I'd start with these pages:

[pattytempleton]

Podcast discovery: Children of Tendu. Totally love it. If you are interested in TV writing it's a must-subscribe.

[ub-sessed]

The trick of becoming a chessmaster is: You see the endgame coming but you fool your opponent into not realizing that it's coming, and it's the same thing about being a writer. There's only so many places a story can go. The experienced writer is better at hiding the predictability of storytelling, because ultimately, there's not that many variations in stories.

Children of Tendu, January 27, 2016: The Eleven Laws of Showrunning

[okaywa]

*Kiss Me Sweetly

Tendou x f!reader 

Angst with a happy ending, excessive fluff, friends to lovers, smut, dry humping 

4.4k words

The demon of Shiratorizawa had crimson hair and eyes to match. He was tall, composed of long limbs and sharp angles. His eyes were perpetually half-lidded and droopy with dark bags. He had a crooked smile made up of pointed teeth and a silver tongue that frequently got him in trouble with the school staff and students alike. 

He wasn’t actually a demon, a nickname branded to him by cruel children in elementary school. He wasn’t a monster either, despite popular belief. Although he had learned to embraced his title as the Guess Monster, even learned to love the respect that came with it from his opponents. In the end, however, Tendou Satori was just tired. Tired of the people at this school, tired of the nicknames that stalked him though the halls, and tired of you.

You, who never stooped to your peers level with half-brained insults and nicknames. You, who had smiled and said hello every time you saw him since elementary. You, who encouraged him to pursue volleyball, the only thing he felt powerful doing. You, who sat through his seemingly endless chatter with an interested smile. You, you, you and your kind smiles, soft words, and gentle curves. 

It wasn’t until high school that you started sitting with him at lunch. Eventually lunch transitioned into getting coffee every Monday after school. Then the coffee hangouts progressed to going to your house and reading the latest manga he was interested in every Friday. 

Each moment with you was a breath held in anticipation for the other shoe to finally drop. When were you just going to get it all over with and stop acting like you cared about him? Enough of the pity, please. No more shared lunches. Stop giving him your notes when he fell asleep in class. He was exhausted for you. 

Sometimes he let himself believe you. That you actually cared for him and enjoyed being around him. He convinced himself that your laughter was genuine when he teased you and made sardonic jokes about the world. He could go months relishing in your friendship before remembering it wasn’t real. 

Being around him certainly didn’t benefit you. He had heard plenty of the rumors and he know you did as well. 

I heard that he’s so controlling she’s too scared to actually leave him. 

We aren’t even together, he thought viciously.

Well, I heard that she only puts up with him because she feels bad. Seriously, who actually wants to hang around that freak . 

He wanted to scream that he knew. He knew you pitied him. He wanted you to leave but you never got the goddamn hint. You stuck by his side all through high school and now it was the last day and you were still here. Sitting next to him, sharing his earbuds. You could’ve walked home ages ago, but you were adamant about waiting at the train station until he got picked up.

“You can stop now,” he said, setting you free. 

“Hm?” You looked up from your phone. “Oh, do you want to play your music?”

“No, you can leave,” he snapped. “No one is looking at you anymore; no one cares. You don’t have to be here with me.”

“Tendu-chan, I don’t understand,” your pretty lips were turned down in a frown. 

“I don’t need you,” he lied. “You don’t have to be here to make me feel better. It’s over, we move on now and we forget about it.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was soft, confused. 

“I don’t need your pity,” he said, finally getting the words off his chest after all these years. “I know you only stuck around because you felt bad for me. But I don’t need it anymore, high school is over. I don’t need you to hang out with me because you feel bad.”

His eyes were closed, and he relished in the peace of finally, finally spitting it out. 

“Is that what you think?” 

His eyes snapped open. You were angry? You should be happy. Happy you finally have an excuse to get away. A clear exit.

“Fuck you, Tendou,” you stood up, throwing his headphones at his chest. “That’s what you really think of me? That I just pity you? You think I’m so shallow that I hung around you to make myself feel better? Is that what you think?”

You stopped, sucking in a steadying breath while he stared up at you in shock. Yes, that’s exactly what he had thought. 

“I-” 

“No,” you cut him off swiftly. “You’ve said enough. I’m leaving. You can talk to me when you get your head out of your ass.” 

Tendou watched you walk away until you disappeared around a corner. He had been wrong? But he almost always guessed right… right?

Had he really been so consumed by his self-loathing that he had misread the intentions of the one person who cared the most for him? 

“Oh,” he let his head fall back against the bench and stared at the bright sky until his eyes watered. 

Not many had witnessed it, but the demon of Shiratorizawa was indeed just a person. A person with emotions, as disguised as they may be. He hid behind this personality he’d crafted. The carefree, loud, perpetually cheerful demeanor that protected him from his peers and their wicked words. It had never protected him from you though. You saw through it as if it were glass, just a window to his misery. 

“Oh,” he said again, standing up slowly. “I see now.” 

He boarded the train and rested his forehead against the window, watching dark storm clouds creep over the city with the silence of a cat stalking its prey. 

How fitting, for it to rain, he thought as the first drops splattered against the window. 

—-

After three sharp knocks on your door, Tendou stepped back and held his peace offering close to his chest. He knew you were home because your rust bucket of a Toyota was parked in the driveway. His fingers tapped the plastic bag impatiently and it was nearly impossible to ignore the way his heart jumped when the door cracked open slowly.

“Ah, I see you’ve managed to pull your head free. Was it difficult?” You asked flatly, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

“Immensely, took Wakatoshi three bottles of lube,” he said earnestly. 

You cracked a small smile, eyes flitting to the plastic bag in his arms. You raised an eyebrow as a silent question. 

“Can I come in?” He asked. “It’s awfully cold out here, you don’t want me to catch a cold now, eh Y/n-chan?”

“Maybe I do,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. 

“How cruel of you!” Tendou gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in feigned offense. 

He stepped into your entrance way and you were quickly reminded just how tall he was. His lankiness only made him look taller as he loomed over you, eyebrows drawn together in determination. You stared back, suddenly nervous in the presence of your friend.

“I’m sorry for misjudging you,” he said, intense red eyes still locked on yours. “It was wrong and unfair of me to make such harsh assumptions.” 

You weren’t used to him being this serious. He was always intense but the two combined were overwhelming. 

“Let’s sit down and eat whatever you’ve brought,” you said, stepping around him to walk to the kitchen. “Then we can talk, yeah?”

He followed so close he accidentally kicked your heels a few times and you could still feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck. He set the bag on the table and unpacked the to-go containers. 

“It’s from that place you really like,” he said. “By the school.”

“Oh, thank you, Tendou.” You accepted the chopsticks he held out. 

Tendou gasped dramatically. “Such formalities, Y/n-chan!”

“Tendu-chan, then,” you corrected yourself.

“Much better,” he said praisingly.

He sat down across from you, eating only a few pieces of chicken before setting his utensils aside. He didn’t say anything, even as you ate your fill. It was clear he was antsy, fingers tapping a staccato beat against the table. 

When you finally slid your plate to the side he scooted forward, resting his face in his palms expectantly. 

“I forgive you,” you said simply. 

Tendou’s signature manic grin took over his entire face and his long fingers tapped a rapid beat on the table in his excitement. Oh, how he had missed you during the two weeks he spent giving you space. He had never realized how much he enjoyed your presence until it abruptly disappeared. Tendou’d also had a few other revelations during the separation.

He said your name softly, so at odds with his typically loud demeanor. He was his most authentic self in your presence, he had come to realize. You looked up from packing up the remaining food and tilted your head. 

“We are still friends, right?” He asked with a tinge of nervousness. 

“Were we ever?” You countered, not angrily. 

“Yes,” Tendou answered quickly, reaching out to grab your hand. “Of course, it was my mistake to ever think otherwise.”

You looked down at his hand on yours and ran a finger over the wrappings he kept on his two fingers. He watched you keenly, fingers twitching at your delicate touch. 

“My, my,” he said with a sly grin. “What is little Y/n thinking about?”

You shot him a bland look, dropping his hand pointedly. “You’re disgusting.”

Just like that any tension between the two of you vanished with his boisterous laugh. He wiggled his wrapped fingers in your face enticingly until you smacked them away.

“I brought the latest chapter Shonen Jump,” he said animatedly, reaching into his bag. “I thought we could read it together.” 

It was a Friday, after all.

“Sure, let me put this food up,” you said. 

Tendou grinned eagerly, bouncing to his feet while you brought the food to the fridge; already talking a mile a minute about a different manga he had just finished. You couldn’t stop the smile that worked its way onto your face, you loved his aimless rambling. Where you more reserved, Tendou was outgoing and could fill any gaps in the conversation you left behind. It worked well for the two of you. 

While watching Tendou chatter away you wondered if you had been too harsh at the train station. Clearly there was an underlying insecurity that convinced him you didn’t care about him. Was it his history of bullying? Before you had really gotten to know Tendou, it was hard to imagine him as anything but carefree and untouchable. You knew he would tell you eventually. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. Over the past few years you had found the best way to get Tendou to open up was to say nothing at all, his rambling always ended up on touchy topics anyways.

Tendou held out an earbud for you once you sat down on the couch beside him. You placed it in your ear and smiled when you recognized the playlist the two of you had put together. The only time Tendou could stay quiet longer than five minutes was when he was reading. You settled into the familiar routine, sitting close to him while he angled the pages towards you so you could both read. Tendou was such a fast reader you were forced to learn to speed read as well in order to keep up with him. Now, you were perfectly synchronized.

 Today, however, he couldn’t stop glancing over at you. Ugh, he suddenly so acutely aware of everything you did. Every time you shifted to see a panel or readjusted the earbud he felt his heart pickup and he was too aware of every movement he made. His limbs felt too long and awkward, his face felt too warm, and oh my god did he brush his teeth this morning? 

Tendou swallowed nervously, for once relieved for the chapter to finally end so he could put some space between your bodies. He stood up abruptly, wincing when the earbud was ripped out of his ear. 

“Ow,” you held your ear. “Is something wrong, Tendu-chan?”

“Of course not, dearest Y/N,” he put on his widest grin, bowing down and extending his hand. Fuck, your nickname for him was not helping his nerves. “I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me to the bathroom.”

“Ew, what is wrong with you?” You smacked his hand away. 

“Well, you did ask,” he chirped cheerfully before prancing down the hall. 

You sighed, replacing the earbud while settling into a more comfortable position. After several minutes you realized Tendou had yet to return. Frowning, you stood up and went to the bathroom to find the door still closed. 

“Tendu-chan?” You knocked softly. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Tendou popped his head out from your bedroom. “I was looking at your photo wall.”

You raised your eyebrows, following him inside. “Yeah? I have quite a few.”

It had been a hobby of yours to have at least three pictures of each of yours friends on your wall since elementary school. Since you started hanging out with Tendou at the beginning of high school, his section had amassed a great deal of photos. 

“I forget you’ve never been in here,” you smiled, watching Tendou closely.

You had never seen such an open expression on his face before. His eyes flicked over the photos of him taped to your wall quickly, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on. 

“I didn’t realize,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

He tilted his head back, sliding his eyes to look at you. “I didn’t realize I still had a safe place, a paradise.” 

“You’ll always be welcome here, Satori,” you reached out and squeezed his bicep. “I promise.” 

“I feel so blind, Y/N,” he closed his eyes, head still tipped back as he took in a slow, study breath. “I thought I had lost everything when volleyball ended. My friends, my passion…” 

Crimson eyes locked on your own, the intensity of them so startling you sucked in a sharp breath. 

“But I still have you,” Tendou said, slowly turning his body to face yours. “Right?”

“Of course,” you answered.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good.” 

His head turned back towards your wall of photos, fingers reaching out to snag at the bottom of one. You looked closer and saw it was a picture of the two of you at one of his games. You had jumped onto his back to hug him and your friend had barely managed to get the shot. The blurry grins on your faces were bright and excited.

“Can I?” He asked, tugging lightly on the corner. 

“Take it, I can print a new one.” You said. 

He peeled it off carefully and flashed a grin at you. 

“Thank you,” he reached out, placing his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair messily. 

You knocked his hand away and brushed your hair back into place with a huff. Tendou laughed loudly, sprawling backwards onto your bed with a thump. He looked at the picture once more before sliding it into his pocket. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at you with his signature sleepy smirk. 

“Make yourself comfortable, I guess,” you said. 

“Aw, you’re so considerate,” Tendou crooned, stretching his arms out until his shirt road up to reveal his toned stomach. 

You glanced down at the exposed skin and blushed, looking away quickly. Tendou noticed, of course, and couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk on his face as he reached out and grabbed your hand. 

“Tendou-“

“Oh, hush,” he chastised lightly. “I’m just getting you to sit. This is your bed, after all.”

You sat down on the edge, watching as he pulled your hand to his chest. He examined your fingers faintly before weaving his fingers with yours. When your fingers spasmed nervously he gripped them tighter. 

“I had a lot of time to think,” he sighed, eyes still fixated on your joined hands, before elaborating. “While we were apart.”

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue with bated breath. 

“I like you, Y/N,” his eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul. 

“Tendu-chan-“ You started to pull your fingers away.

One second you were sitting at the edge of the bed and the next you were pinned beneath Tendou’s body. His breath tickled your lips and his hands kept your arms above your head by the wrists. 

“Please, let me say this,” he pleaded, eyes switching between yours and your lips. 

“You made high school bearable for me,” he said, pushing up until he was knelt between your legs instead of having you pinned. His hands rested on either side of your ribs. “I didn’t appreciate you enough at the time but-“

His fingers clenched in the sheets. “I do now, I appreciate you so much. Everyone else thought I was a monster, demon, whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore but when it did you were the only one who made it all easier. Does that make sense?”

“What about Ushijima? Your teammates?”

Tendou chuckled, letting his head droop between his shoulders. “Of course them, silly Y/N. They didn’t really have a choice, hm? I was on the team, you don’t really get to pick who’s there. You went out of your way to befriend me, to make sure I was okay before you even knew me.” 

You looked up at him, ignoring his little sniffle and the way he rubbed his nose against his sleeve subtly. You sat up slowly while Tendou watched you closely with his head tilted. 

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” You asked softly. 

He nodded. 

“You will always be welcome in my home and I promise I will always want you around. You’re right, whatever those people used to say about you doesn’t matter. They were needlessly cruel and I wish I could’ve stopped them from hurting you,” you reached up, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re important, Tendu-chan. You’re caring, funny, and genuine. I love hearing about your favorite anime and your coolest blocks. I really do.” 

“Ohhh, is little Y/N crying for me?” He cooed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears gathering on your lashes. “Sweet thing.” 

“I’m serious,” you said, letting him wipe your cheeks. 

“I know,” he squinted at you. “Will you let me try something?”

From the way his crimson eyes kept flickering down to your lips, you could easily guess what he wanted to try. You nodded mutely, breath catching excitedly as his face drew closer. 

The first touch of his lips felt like a static shock. Your eyes fluttered close as he pushed a little closer, experimentally moving his lips against yours. He let out a low groan into your mouth, pushing forward until you were laying down again. The hands that had been by your sides now moved to tangle in your hair and cup your face while his hips settled comfortably between your thighs. 

The first brush of his tongue across your bottom lip sent fire licking up your spine which eventually settled as a fluttering warmth in your stomach. Your hands came up to grab his arms, nails leaving shallow crescents on the pale skin of his biceps through his shirt. Parting with a nip to your bottom lip, Tendou licked his lips as he looked down at you. 

The sight of your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips sent a thrill of exhilaration through his chest. 

“Well?” He asked, a cocky grin smeared across his lips. 

It was like you were seeing Tendou in a brand new light. Before he was just your friend. You always knew he was good-looking but now, you were supremely aware of his shapely lips, cut jaw, and broad shoulders. His hips between yours was as intoxicating as the elated look on his face. 

“Stop looking so smug,” you huffed, pulling him down to your lips again. 

Laughing softly, Tendou happily obliged you in another sensuous kiss that left you dizzy and breathless. He swallowed your gasp when he experimentally rolled his hips into yours.

He pulled back, eyes lidded with a dazed smile, and tilted his head. “Is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly, leaning up to capture him in another kiss. With a sly smirk he pulled out of your reach, head tilted expectantly. 

“Yes, Tendou, now please get back to it,” you snapped, secretly appreciative of his need for clear consent. 

“There we go,” he murmured, stooping back down with a thorough roll of his hips. 

A groan was shared between both of your open mouths as his hips fell into a steady rhythm, slowly undulating against you. Sighing out his name, you let your head fall back while Tendou trailed kisses across your jaw and down to your throat. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” he murmured breathlessly, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat. “Feel so good, hah-“

 His clothed erection lined up perfectly with your core, sending searing electricity flickering through your stomach. Your hands went from gripping his arms to tangling in his hair, tugging lightly at the crimson strands. 

“Haah-ah,” you moaned at a particularly accurate thrust that had his entire length dragging along your clit. “Satori, please.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Tendou sighed into your ear, pushing aside your hair so he could hide his face in the warmth of your neck. “You’re so hot, gonna make me cum in my pants. Keep making those pretty noises for me, sweet thing.”

You nodded along eagerly, pulling his head away from your neck so your could attach your lips again. Steady thrusts began to lose their rhythm as both of you got closer to completion. Tendou let out a throaty groan, wrapping his lean arms around you tightly so he could rub his hard-on against your core with more force. 

“Satori, ah!” You cried out at the stimulation. 

He clashed his mouth against yours messily, teeth clicking while he gasped against your lips. 

“M’ close,” he clenched his eyes shut. 

“Me too, me too,” you whined, hips writhing up against his desperately. “Satori!” Tendou practically growled at that, mouth claiming yours assertively. You shouted his name again while your orgasm wracked through your body, leaving you sensitive and tingly as Tendou chased his own release. He came with a low moan into your mouth, hips rolling gently through the aftershocks. 

When he finally slowed to a stop he went completely slack on top you. Tendou mouthed gently at your neck, fingers petting your hair as you both caught your breath. You released his hair and unclenched your stiff fingers a few times before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

Curious hands slowly pushed beneath your shirt, tenderly exploring your body while Tendou continued to leave lazy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. His handsiness didn’t bother you since you were also busy tracing the muscles of his back. 

You whined when he landed another quick kiss before pushing off of you. 

“I gotta clean up,” he said, darting down to kiss you again. 

That reminded you of the uncomfortable dampness in your own pants so you got up as well. You found a pair of sweatpants that he could fit into from your brother and set them by the bathroom door for him. By the time you came back from changing he was already lounging in your bed again, your brother’s sweatpants an inch or two too short  above his ankles. 

Tendou’s expression brightened when you walked in, his eyes wide to match his grin as you climbed in to lay next to him. He was quick to wrap his arms around you again. 

“Well?” He asked. 

“Hmm?” You responded, face pressed against his shoulder. 

“What are we now?” He leaned back so he could see your face. 

You stretched languidly, tossing a leg over his hips and an arm over his chest before responding. 

“What do you want this to be?” 

“I want you to be mine,” he answered honestly. 

“Then I’m yours,” you said simply, kissing the hinge of his jaw. 

“My girlfriend,” he said adoringly, twisting to his side so you were facing each other.

You laughed softly, letting him cup your cheeks so he could pull you into an unhurried kiss. His tongue pressed past your lips to sweep along your teeth and slide hotly against yours. 

“I’m pretty great at apologies, huh?” He boasted. 

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, pushing him away by his forehead. 

Tendou let you shove his face away with a quiet giggle before brushing your hand away so he could attack your neck with more kisses. 

“You better not be leaving marks,” you threatened halfheartedly, too caught up in the addicting sensation of his lips on your body to be serious. 

Tendou eyed a particularly red spot, pressing a light kiss to it. “Of course not, baby.” 

“That didn’t sound too convincing.”

“Well… it might fade,” Tendou circled the spot with his finger. “I kinda like it.”

“Satori!”

“Whaaat?” He crooned. “It lets everyone know you’re mine.” 

“Ugh, you creep,” you murmured, accepting a soft kiss. 

Tendou giggled cheerfully, squeezing you closer to him affectionately. He left a flurry of kisses across your cheeks and nose, sighing happily. 

“I love this,” his hands roved over your body. “Getting to touch and kiss you as much as I want.” 

“Mm, me too.”

Tendou’s lean body was beautiful, so was his blush when you informed him of this. He groaned and hid his face in the crook your neck. 

“I’m serious!” You insisted, pulling his face from your neck so you could look at him.

“I know you are, thank you,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. 

“Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Tendou scoffed. “Tch, of course not. I’m a catch, a total babe.”

Laughing, you let him bite playfully at the hinge of your jaw for a moment before shoving him away so he couldn’t leave another mark. Tendou settled down and was happy to let you brush your fingers through his hair until it lost it’s shape and started to fall over his forehead. 

“Mmm, sleepy,” he sighed, practically purring as you massaged his scalp. 

“Go to sleep then.” 

He hummed, twisting his body until he was on his stomach with half of his body draped over yours. You smiled warmly, of course Tendou was a clingy sleeper. 

[allstarstudiosnyc]

Enchanting Steps: Nurturing Young Talent With Children's Ballet Classes

Ballet, with its timeless grace and poise, has the power to captivate hearts and inspire dreams from an early age. Children's ballet classes serve as a magical gateway for young ones to explore the world of dance, fostering not only physical skills but also creativity and self-expression. In this blog post, we'll delve into the enchanting realm of children's ballet classes and the numerous benefits they offer to budding young dancers.

The Delightful World of Children's Ballet Classes:- Children's ballet classes provide a gentle introduction to the beauty and discipline of classical dance. Tailored to meet the unique needs and developmental stages of young dancers, these classes are designed to make learning ballet an enjoyable and enriching experience.

Benefits of Children's Ballet Classes:

Physical Development: Ballet contributes to the holistic physical development of children. Through movements like pliés and tendus, children enhance their flexibility, coordination, and strength in a manner that is age-appropriate and enjoyable.

Discipline and Focus: Ballet classes instill a sense of discipline and focus in children. Learning and practicing ballet positions and routines encourage concentration and attention to detail, valuable skills that extend beyond the dance studio.

Creativity and Expression: While ballet has a structured form, it also allows for creativity and individual expression. Children's ballet classes often incorporate imaginative elements and storytelling to make the learning experience engaging and fun.

Social Interaction: Participating in ballet classes introduces children to a social setting where they can interact with peers. Building friendships in a positive and supportive environment contributes to their social development.

How to Choose the Right Children's Ballet Classes:

Qualified Instructors:- Look for classes taught by experienced and qualified ballet instructors with a background in teaching children. A knowledgeable instructor ensures that classes are both educational and enjoyable.

Age-Appropriate Curriculum:- Ensure that the ballet classes are designed with age-appropriate curriculum and activities. This ensures that the learning experience is engaging and suitable for the developmental stage of the children.

Positive Learning Environment:- A positive and nurturing learning environment is crucial for children's ballet classes. Check for a studio that prioritizes encouragement, positive reinforcement, and celebrates the individual progress of each child.

Performance Opportunities:- Some children's ballet classes may offer performance opportunities, allowing young dancers to showcase their skills and build confidence in a supportive setting.

Embarking on the Ballet Journey:- If you're considering enrolling your child in children's ballet classes, start by researching local dance studios offering programs for young dancers. Attend open houses, speak with instructors, and observe class dynamics to ensure it aligns with your child's personality and interests.

Children's ballet classes open the door to a world of grace, creativity, and joy. As young dancers pirouette and plié, they not only develop physical skills but also lay the foundation for a lifelong appreciation of the arts. So, let your child's dance journey begin, and watch as they twirl and leap into a realm where every step is a magical expression of their unique spirit.

[namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou]

Pas de Chat

As part of my “Catsiversary”, here’s some Tumboffelees for @fluffytuffles​​! I hope you like it. Just as a warning, there is a lot of Ballet lingo in here, so if you want to cross-check what the hell I am talking about, here’s a list of ballet steps that should include all of them. Enjoy, and all my love to those who read/like/reblog! ♥

The street lamps were alight and fresh night air blew through Tumblebrutus’ whiskers as he made his way over the rooftops of London.

Night walks like this had become a habit of his, if only to search for a nice spot to caterwaul in peace and quiet, without disgruntled neighbours throwing boots or oven mitts at him. The junkyard offered an almost overwhelming amount of space to do just that, mind, but sometimes it was nice to, as Bustopher Jones would put it, take his business elsewhere. Here on the roofs he remained undisturbed, with only the odd chimney sweeper stopping to listen to him sing and maybe shake his paw.

(Who brought whom more luck was hard to say, but Etcetera said that it had to be shared, and she was usually right when it came to philosophical dilemmas like this.)

Tumblebrutus took a run-up and cartwheeled across a rain gutter, walked down the roof tiles on his hands and came to a standstill at the very edge of the roof, balancing on one arm. Munkustrap would certainly suffer a heart attack if he could see him now, and he was once more glad to be on a roof instead of a shoe carton or car boot.

Coming to stand on two legs again, Tumblebrutus held his nose into the cool wind and widened his pupils, ears turning this way and that, searching.

There.

With a mew of satisfaction, he jumped from the roof on the balcony just below, gingerly balancing on the clothes line to the balcony across and climbing up the rose trellis to the cornice, which he mounted with a vigorous jump. A flock of doves cooed angrily and scattered when he entered the flat roof, leaving feathers and an empty dovecote behind. He let them; he wasn’t here to hunt tonight. And besides, these doves had a job, hunting them would be indecorous. That’s what Jennyanydots said, at least.

A noise from a nearby roof made him jump, quickly falling back to all fours. He looked up to see a sweeper dance around a chimney, swinging his broom like a dance partner in a waltz. When he noticed Tumblebrutus, he saluted and doffed his cap, making his broom perform a silly little bow in kind. Tumblebrutus reciprocated with a slow blink and a lift of his tail.

He recognized this human, even though he couldn’t remember his name, which was a shameful thing to admit by itself. But the sweeper surely did not take any offence, and his kind were admiringly quiet about what they saw up on the roofs, so Tumblebrutus blinked at him once more and then turned his back on him, rising onto his back legs.

He hooked his claws into the mesh of the dovecote, using it as a makeshift barre, and began his warm-up training.

Demi-pliés to start, descending into a few grand-pliés, rélévés to balance it out and find his centre. (This was considerably harder than yesterday, since one of the guards’ children had brought them a truly massive plate of wet food from the can this morning, and Tumble had eaten quite a lot. He was a growing tomcat, after all.)

He jogged in place for a few minutes, continued with jumping jacks and switched between pulling his knees up and trying to kick his own butt (this exercise always made Sillabub giggle), then he closed his warm-up with active stretches of every muscle he could remember, which were quite a lot, so it took a considerable amount of time, but warming up was the most important part of training – this he had been told time and time again, so he followed this advice dutifully.

Tumble leapt on top of the dovecote and back down again a few times to gauge if he was sufficiently warmed up, then he stood at one side of the flat roof and took up a starting position, arms in a petite pose, left leg in a tendu. He took a deep breath, aligned his pelvis and hips, tightened his core muscles, and lifted his chin, tail out straight behind him, mirroring the movement of his right arm.

With the decision in mind to start with piqué turns, Tumblebrutus let muscle memory take over, eager for his body to take him where-ever it wanted.

It didn’t take long for him to go from traditional ballet to more of a free style, as usual, the world tumbling around him as he tumbled in kind, alternating between daring flips and almost allegro-like poses and movements.

Standing still for too long bored him, but allegros were hard and a good workout after all, so he didn’t mind enduring them ever so often. It also looked nice to have some change of pace from time to time, or so he had been told.

After a flawless handspring-somersault combo he slowed down into balancés across the roof to catch his breath. His tail swished like a pendulum, going slightly lax whenever he turned and jutting out straight when he stopped, keeping him from losing his equilibrium when balancé-ing to the side.

The sweeper from the other roof had continued his work, humming a jolly little tune that worked well as background music for Tumble to time his steps to. The wind picked up a bit, carrying the sound of closing bedroom windows, snoring pollicles and lovesick tomcats caterwauling at the moon to Tumble’s roof.

Tumble’s ear pricked at the love song of one of these tomcats, the lyrics ones that he knew well. With a grin he came up with a playful little choreography on the spot, performing his best moves to impress his imaginary lover.

Never mind that said imaginary lover wouldn’t be particularly impressed, Tumblebrutus thought disgruntledly, his soubresaut merging into an entrechat quatre. Considering that he was – “Such a show-off.”

Tumble did a comical little bounce that had definitely been part of his choreography, and turned to the disrupting voice, back arched and fur puffed up threateningly. He relaxed quickly when he recognized the voice’s owner.

Mister Mistoffelees trotted across the roof, batting at Tumble’s ears as a playful greeting. Tumble stuck his tongue out at him.

“You’re one to talk,” he answered, mildly offended. “I’m not the one who leaves everyone in awe on the daily by dancing on our most-used clearing.”

Mistoffelees chirped, leaned to the side and performed the slowest cartwheel Tumblebrutus had ever seen. “That’s true. Have I left you in awe, as well?”

“Well, does it count if I leave so you can awe others?”

Mistoffelees cackled in response, and Tumble couldn’t help but join in.

“If you admit that you’re impressed by my fouettés, then I will admit that I’m impressed by your entrechats,” Mistoffelees proposed, wrapping his tail around Tumble’s with a cheeky little wiggle of his brows.

Tumble flicked his ears, his competitive streak making itself known in the quickening of his heartbeat. “Persuade me, then.”

“Hmpf,” said Mistoffelees, but his grin didn’t falter. He bounced a little on the spot, obviously warmed up already, as the fluid movements of his legs revealed (Tumble wasn’t staring, honestly), then he launched into a flurry of grand jetés and pirouettes, turning so quickly that the excited lashing of his tail was but a blur to Tumble’s eyes.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Tumble dove into backwards handsprings, interspersing a few complicated steps here and there. He caught Mistoffelees jealously eyeing his sissones. Pride made his chest swell a little, and he did a few more, legs burning from the strain. He would be pleasantly exhausted later.

Coincidentally, they both performed a tour en l’air at the same time, and from there on it was the most natural thing to submerge into a joint choreography, alternating between steps they had learned for the Jellicle Ball and improvisation, whirling around each other like the little planets on the mobile in Tantomile’s and Coricopat’s den.

“Show me the new steps,” Mistoffelees panted after a few minutes that felt like hours to them, fully lost in their own little world.

“The new…? Oh, yeah, sure.”

Mistoffelees had missed the last session of their dancing lessons, because he had been visiting Bustopher Jones at one of his clubs.

Tumblebrutus positioned himself, demonstrating the short sequence of steps they had learned that afternoon, and Mistoffelees did his best to copy him.

Dancing was in his blood, but Tumble was still somewhat envious when he watched Mistoffelees dance the sequence without help after only two repetitions, displaying seemingly boundless flair and charisma that he himself could only dream of.

However, there was one little thing that was not quite right; Mistoffelees launched into the last chaînés, stopped his forward movement with a double pirouette, jumped – and missed the landing, coming to a halt in a lopsided fourth position.

Tumble giggled, and Mistoffelees stuck his tongue out at him. Then he tried again. And again. And again.

When the uneven “ba-thump” of his paws rang out for the seventh time, Tumble had to lean on the dovecote, writhing with laughter.

A huff. “You do it better, then.”

Wiping tears from his eyes, Tumble came face to face with Mistoffelees’ miffed expression, and he scooched to the side so Misto could sit down and sulk.

“Watch and learn,” Tumble proclaimed smugly, starting with a teasingly drawn-out and high développé, just to make a point. Mistoffelees rolled his eyes.

Well, he had asked for it. Tumble let his leg fall back down and began the chaînés, trying and failing to will his face to look a little more graceful, ended up with enough momentum for a triple pirouette, arms at his side and not dramatically over his head as Mistoffelees did it, jumped and pulled his feet up for a pas de chat – and landed in a flawless fifth position.

Mistoffelees’ expression had definitely turned a little sour now. Tumble did his best to suppress a cackle, but he couldn’t keep himself from throwing his arms up in the air, mocking Misto’s habit of making the most of every arm movement that a step allowed.

“Do it again,” Misto demanded, and Tumble did so without argument. The small black tomcat jumped up when Tumble had reached the pirouette part and mirrored his steps, a deep frown of concentration on his face.

Instead of stopping after the last jump, Tumble kept jumping, repeating the last step over and over and over, Mistoffelees copying him, movements getting more sure by the second, and at the sight of his frown all of Tumble’s competitiveness suddenly fell away, face lighting up in a giddy smile without his notice. At some point they were almost nose to nose, holding paws because it was the easiest way to avoid colliding with each other face first, crossing the roof in short leaps, over and over; pas de chat, pas de chat, pas de chat, pas de chat.

A voice startled them from their intense focus. “Have a nice evenin’, gents!” the sweeper called from across the roof, doffed his cap again and vanished in the labyrinth of chimneys.

Tumble and Misto came to a stop, breathing heavily, their fur bristling in the cool breeze.

For a while they stayed silent, catching their breath as the last caterwauling tom was shooed away by irritated humans and the moon finally emerged from behind a dark cloud.

Tumble broke the silence, batting at one of Misto’s ears. “Are you impressed now?”

Misto grinned at him, ducking away from his paw, reaching up to scratch at his ear himself, a tell-tale sign that he was embarrassed. “Yes. Exceptionally.”

If cats could blush, Tumble would have done so. Instead, he cleared his throat. And then he cleared it again, for good measure. “I’m… uh. I’m glad.”

“Of course you are.” Mistoffelees rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look annoyed at all. “Show-off.”

It was meant to be, Tumblebrutus wanted to say, but what came out instead was: “We were meant for each other, then.”

Instead of laughing at him, Mistoffelees twitched his whiskers, front paw strategically brushing against Tumble’s own, almost begging to be held. (Tumble complied.)

“Maybe so,” he said, and the look he sent Tumble was almost competitive.

Tumblebrutus gripped Mistoffelees’ paw tightly and impressed both of them by leaning forward and kissing him.

“Pas de chat” is a ballet leap that translates to “step of the cat”, which I thought fit very well. :) As it may be obvious, this is mostly based on Jacob Brent’s Misto and Fergus Logan’s Tumble, with Jacob having a little more charisma and Fergus having a slightly better technique. (As I normally hc Tumble to be a kitten and Misto to be a young adult, this is also a stand-alone.) I hope all the ballet talk wasn’t too overwhelming! Thank you for reading! ♥