#number three. everything tom’s doing in this scene. he looks like a cat who’s been left outside in the rain overnight

[shivroysboytoy]

Yeah, that's for later on down... down the road. Whenever. Just, whenever. Wow.

Succession (02x02) – Vaulter

[jesslockwood]

Photo Opportunities

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF with a slightly (barely) suggestive sentence towards the end 

A/n: damn I can't write anything except actress reader? smh but this is for @londonspidey ‘s sit-com Writing challenge (ik I'm early lol) but I was so excited I wrote the whole thing in one go lmao the prompt is bolded!

Calling yourself a fan was an understatement. You were obsessed with anything and everything marvel. And oddly enough, you could after today say you were in the club. It wasn’t a public fact yet, until later that day actually, at the Marvel panel at comic con that you were being announced as the actress for the character, Felica Hardy and no one else knew except for the people who cast you and your best friend who signed an NDA. You were technically still a known actress for your roles on television mainly as Thalia on the PJO Disney + series and a couple of still decently sized films. 

You were currently wrapping up signing autographs for fans of yours for today. Your team had planned it out so it wasn’t suspicious that you were at the con with a few of your castmates scattered doing other junkets and press so people wouldn’t guess who they were acting as the cast for new marvel projects. 

You had been planning to go meet your best friend, who wasn’t in the industry before getting a text that she bought you both a photo-op with someone and she wouldn’t tell you who. You couldn’t only assume it was a marvel actor that you would indeed, freak out. 

Y/b/n: btw I brought you a mask. I get the wig lol.

You: please tell me it doesn’t cover my full face. Also, how are we posing?

Y/b/n: I bought as many photo ops as I could so a lot of different ones, And if I tell you the poses it’ll spoil it.

You: is this with the money I pay you to be my assistant with? Lol fine I’m omw with security

Y/b/n: maybe… 

Y/b/n: and they’ll need more backup security for who we’re getting a photo op with than you do for your hellfire.

You roll your eyes before taking your stuff and exiting the booth, before heading out the backways with staff security and your detailed security for the day. You only had security because you wanted to explore the con when you weren’t needed.

Your best friend had also been your assistant for the con weekend, but you didn’t want her to be confined to you the whole three days so when she could, you would let her explore it, at least she could experience it as a fan, right?

When you made it to that part of the building, you wanted to wait in line with her, which your security didn’t agree to so she texted you when there were about five people ahead of her. She was one of the last in line, with you asking her to be kind, so others would get their chance to be first with whomever it was. 

When she texted you and your detailed exit, getting a few stares and others taking their phones out to either take photos or tweet, you wave at them before joining your best friend in line.

“Here,” she says before handing you none other than a black cat mask before she puts on a red wig. 

You glare at her slightly trying to not make a scene, before putting it on. 

“I’m assuming you're Mary Jane?” you laugh figuring out that it had to be someone from Spider-Man.

“How’d you- never mind.” She laughs with you.

She then explains how she’s going to pose for your five photo ops, joking in between how she should “get a raise for this”.

You catch sight of him before sucking in your breath. This was either going to go down amazingly or terribly, there was no in-between with you. 

“Excuse Me, are you Y/n Y/l/n?”

You turn around and are met by some fans who were standing in line behind you.

“I am! How’s your con going?” you ask politely to the two of them.

“It's going amazing! We love you as Thalia! Could we maybe get a picture? Only if it’s okay?”

“Of course! Thank you for supporting me!” your best friend grabs their phone to take the photo, before you take off the mask, and stand between the two fans, and your best friend snaps a few photos. 

“Thank you so much! And Are you fans of Tom?”

You start slowly walking back to catch up to the line. 

“Yeah, I love him as Spiderman, but I also enjoy his other roles. He's very talented, I'd love to work with him one day!” 

“Have you seen him in Uncharted?  We love Him as Nathan drake!”

“I have, he was amazing per usual! How are you two posing with him?”

They show you their innovative pose. You laugh and tell them it's great before you have to wish them goodbye before heading up for your turn for the photo op. 

“How do we want to pose- hang on, I recognize you!”

You freeze slightly before your friend mouths for you to flirt. You look down at the mask in your hand before getting into character and saying “Of course you do Spidey, I'm always causing you trouble.” you put on the mask and wink. 

He seems slightly stunned, laughing, feeling like he’s seen you somewhere, not only because he found you extremely gorgeous, while in his peripheral vision he sees his brother/ assistant, Harry waving like a madman on the side. 

Your friend directs you both through the poses, first, one both him putting “webs” onto you as she looks over his shoulder, the second one, both of you kissing his cheeks, the third, all jumping in the air in your best superhero poses, the fourth one she gets a photo op alone and the last one she gives to you,

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Your Wildest dreams, baby,” you say, taking off the mask. 

Your best friend yells “freestyle” from the sidelines before Tom dips you, gently, with you shocked, holding the mask out with your free arm and the photo captures that moment. 

 He gently helps you stand back up fully, not before you drop the mask.

“Nice moves Spider-Man.”

“Not so bad yourself, Black Cat.”

You laugh before, taking off with your best friend, well more her dragging you to the printing station leaving the mask behind. Tom picks it up before shoving it in his back pocket to hopefully give back if he could find you. 

-

`You were sitting in the green room, trending on Twitter before you were actually supposed to be trending on Twitter, and god knows where else.  

Someone had snuck a video of you and Tom, up till him dipping you, and a video of you interacting with the fans in the line.

Your Y/b/n was currently reading off some tweets out loud

“‘A kind queen we stan.’  I agree, I also agree with ‘Date her if you can't date me tom!!!’.

‘THALIA AND PETER PARKER??? My two fandoms have collided.’ same, same. Oo this one says, ‘if she ain’t playing black cat I will sue marvel.’ I'm dying at the reply ‘She needs to post the photos or I'll sue her!’. This one’s funny, ‘she could squash him like a bug in heels but he liked his queen like that.’.”

She pauses watching you texting.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“What? Sorry I was only half listening. I was texting my publicist. She said to stay on the DL until tonight. 

“Well we should get food, you haven't eaten since this morning.”

“By the way, your show has shot to number one on Disney +. Also, you have like three times the followers you had before, probably cause you're trending on every platform, even Tumblr!”

“Wow you should just become my social media manager now.” you joke trying to ease the joy yet weirded out feeling in your stomach.

“Does that come with a raise? Because after today I've spent way too much of what I'm paid.” she jokes back.

-

After finishing his photo ops Tom asked Harry who she was and to find out. By the time he finished autographs for the day, Tom and Harry walked to the panel room in the back for announcements, one that included him for the new Avengers movie, while Harry gave him the rundown.

“So she’s an actress, she plays Thalia on Disney plus’ Percy Jackson series, and that's her most known project. The other girl with her is her assistant best friend, and now she's trending everywhere. People dug up some old photos of her being a marvel/Spider-Man fan, so there's that. And she's here at the con for the rest of the weekend. She's doing photo ops tomorrow at one, and yes she's single from what I gather since you were looking at her like this.” he makes a weird face before tom smacks him.

“And plus you have time in your schedule to get a photo op with her, that is if you eat lunch quickly.”

That gave Tom an idea. 

“Harry I’m going to need you to book me one, oh and help me find a Spider-Man costume!” He says, before leaving harry to do ‘assistant’ work. entering the green room for the announcements, watching them announce a new movie.

“We are so excited to announce to the Marvel Universe, and spider-verse-” that perked tom’s ears, “-directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, and today we are announcing our amazing Miss Felicia Hardy, please give a warm welcome to the stage, Your Black Cat!”

You suddenly emerged in an aisle way, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, black ankle boots, and of course black sunglasses indoors.

The music is marvel music until it suddenly changes after a recorded laugh from you into “I can’t be tamed by Miley Cyrus”.

You start owning the music while saying hi and touching fans’ hands. You decide to take off your sunglasses and throwing them to a fan, for them to keep, before getting on stage.

“What a Performance from the one the only Y/n Y/l/n!”

You laugh, being met with the loudest applause you had heard all con before being handed a Mic. 

“Thank you but I'm a terrible dancer.” You Joke.

Tom was staring at the screen stunned. You had been the black cat all along. You were in the marvel universe and spidey one,  so he'd definitely be seeing more of you. The hard part is that you seemed so genuine when you talked, interacted with fans and was no doubt, stunning. 

“Better close your mouth or the flies will get in.” Tom turns around to find the voice of none other than his friend slash bully, Sebastian Stan, along with Anthony Mackie.

“Looks like the kid has a crush!” Anthony laughs, pointing to the screen you were on.

“I-I don’t! I don’t even know her!” Tom tries to come to his own defense, hopelessly.

“She’s got you whipped already don’t even deny it.” Harry comes in, joining the teasing of one, Tom Holland.

“Maybe we can invite her out for drinks tonight, then fanboy over here can meet her, and then probably scare her off!” Anthony mentions.

“You haven’t looked on the internet? They’ve already met.” Seb says, before showing Anthony twitter. 

Anthony stands there slightly shocked before bursting into laughter.

“Well, she’s damn well a keeper for Tom since she obviously likes him.”

A staff member peaks their head in the green room to tell Tom he’s up next.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave you two!”

On the other hand, you were on an adrenaline high from being on stage, and seeing all the fans. You knew tomorrow was going to be crazy, as you expected people to book your photo op left and right since the announcement. 

You had decided to decline an offer from your fellow marvel universe castmates, Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, which they so graciously told you that whenever you’re free, the offer still stood. 

You had gotten to your hotel room seeing your phone blowing up on the social media apps for the second time that day. 

You responded to the important stuff, before heading to bed, knowing it was going to be hectic.

-

You had been right, it was absolutely insane, the number of people who showed up. You had fully booked all your time slots for photo ops. You had seen so many people dressed up in marvel cosplay, ranging from Loki to Ironman, even some people dressed up as your character, which was wildly insane to see.

You had been nearing the end of the line and had enjoyed every moment with the fans, and you couldn’t wait for your autographing session later that day, to truly get a chance to talk to the fans and connect with them and how they felt about you being their beloved Black Cat. 

After a few more photos, posing how they wanted, you see a fully dressed, head to toe, mask and all, Spider-Man. You had seen some spider-mans but most took off their masks to snap a picture. The person was the last in line. 

“Hey Black Cat.” The southern American accented voice tells you, seeming very familiar. 

“Hey, Spider, what poses do you have up your sleeve?” you ask kindly.

“I bought a few, Cat.” they laugh.

“Okay, You can do whatever a spider can right?” you pull out a line out of the comics jokingly.

“I can do flips if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that some kind of nerd pick-up line? Because it’s only kind of working.” you laugh. 

“I really can, but this is one.”

He gets down on one knee, holding a black cat mask instead of a ring. The photographer captures the shocked expression on your face.

“I- Don’t- What- Spider I-” 

“Ow My feelings…” Suddenly their voice changes into a British accent before they pull off the mask to reveal-

“Tom?”

“I guess you don’t have a spidey sense darling?” The photographer captures the moment without warning eating the moment up. 

You laugh at that. 

“I guess you found out my true identity Spider. And it’s nice to officially meet you, Tom.”

He laughs, just as nervous as you, he notices he has gotten closer to you and a strand of hair loosely is blowing in your face, so naturally, he pushes it behind your ear. Another snap of the camera can be heard. 

“NOW KISS!” a voice belonging to your best friend yells from the side, mid-eating a churro.

You both laugh really hard at that.

The both of you calm down, slowly leaning lost in the moment. The camera snaps again. You both look at the photographer weirded out, and they just shrug.

“Wait can you actually do a flip?” you ask, pulling away, not wanting prying eyes aka the photographer, to pry in your business. 

“I can, though I’d show you later, maybe in the greenroom?”

“That sounds naughty, but, sure.” you joke around. 

He laughs before, you both take off from the area going to grab the photos.

-

After spending most of the day together when you could, you get Tom’s number, before heading back to your hotel room. He texts you as soon as you get back. 

Spider: I had fun today, minus finding our assistants making out.

You: we should ‘snog’ too, it’ll gross them out ;)

You: I had fun too btw. Are you leaving tomorrow?

Spider: lol we should. And yeah an early flight, 6 am to be exact. Hbu?

You: Yeah me too... another day another dollar lol

Spider: ill miss you, Cat.

You: stop talking like we’ll never see each other again lol. As a matter of fact, come to my room, we’re watching a movie!

Spider: alright, I’ll order snacks. 

  You sigh smiling at your phone. You haven’t felt this giddy in a long time.

Your phone pings with a few Instagram notifications.

Tomholland2013 has started following you.

Tomholland2013 has tagged you in a photo.

You open Instagram to find the photo of him “proposing” to you posted.

“Ow, my leg, my- feelings...Welcome to the Universe, Cat.” the photo is captioned. You decide to post, the photo of him dipping you.

“So what do you say, Spider? Wanna help me pull off the Heist of the Heist of the Century?” you caption it, Before getting comfortable to watch a movie. 

What an opportunity ;)

Tags:

@lolooo22 @webmeupspiderdaddy @harryhollandsgirlfriend @spideyspeaches @greenorangevioletgrass @queenofthepouges @sheranatic111 @keithseabrook27

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

Cats 1986 (and Others) vs. 2016

A post I made a few months ago comparing information gathered from interviews with different Cats casts has come up again recently and I’ve heard even more interviews since, so I want to add on to that a little and elaborate on the things I’ve already said.

CW: Some of the language regarding Demeter’s backstory is a bit darker than I’ve previously mentioned

So, I’ve now heard interviews from US Tours III, IV, and V, spanning from 1986 to 2012. They’re all Broadway-based, and the Broadway Revival went in a very different direction, but the three tours were all very similar to each other.

In both the tours and in 2016, the cast was sat down before rehearsals to hear the “story of Cats”. However, this meant two completely different things. The Tour casts were told the plot of the show, who their characters were and what they were meant to be doing. The 2016 was told the story of how the show Cats was created, how ALW had the idea and made a show out of it. No mention of the story and characters. This means that the Tour casts were given useful information for building their characters, while the 2016 cast got something that was interesting but did nothing to help them do their jobs in the present. More emphasis was put on the show’s legacy than on how to actually perform it. Trevor Nunn did the 2016 explaining, I believe, and it sounds like he was on an ego trip, talking about what he did instead of what the cast was supposed to do. Trevor Nunn is one of the few people who knows how the show works, so this is quite frustrating.

Though the Tour cast was given a whole story, most of them only remembered the perspectives of their own characters. The point of learning the plot was so that they knew what they were doing. It wasn’t supposed to matter to the audience. So, everyone mainly focused on their own jobs. But, everyone knew Demeter’s backstory, because it was the first thing they were told and it caught their attention. It almost became a meme that the first sentence of the plot was “Demeter was raped by Macavity”.

The story begins with Demeter having just escaped from Macavity. He kidnapped and raped her. Though she didn’t want it, she kind of enjoyed the sex, which messed with her head quite a bit. Bomba went through the exact same thing, but because she enjoyed it, she acts like the whole thing was nothing more than an annoyance. The two react to the same situation in different ways.

Jacob Brent was either given a toned down version of the story (he mentions kidnapping, but not rape), or he chose to give a toned down version to avoid the uncomfortable subject. 

The 2016 knew that Macavity and Demeter had some sort of backstory, but they weren’t very clear on exactly what happened. They decided that they’d had an abusive relationship, but that the whole thing was consensual and there was no kidnapping, because the only element of this story that the audience can pick up without context is that there was some sort of sexual relationship between Macavity and Demeter, but she’s now afraid of him.

At least one cast member said that Macavity was a rapist, but she didn’t elaborate.

This messed with Demeter’s character far more than anyone expected. The rape element honestly isn’t necessary. Demeter and Macavity had some sort of sex, but it could’ve been consensual, with Demeter enjoying the sex but hating the man. That’s actually what Gillian Lynne seemed to have implied in interviews. However, the kidnapping part of the backstory is important, because it establishes the connection between Demeter and Grizabella. While hiding from Macavity, right before the story begins, Demeter sees Grizabella on the Bad Side of Town. Due to not being a Jellicle before this night, she doesn’t know who she is, and therefore has no bias against her. She just sees this woman living on the streets, humans wondering aloud why she isn’t dead, and felt sympathy for her. 

So, when Grizabella appears at the ball and everyone hates her, Demeter wants to intervene, but she doesn’t want to upset her new friends. She came to the Jellicles for protection and is afraid of them rejecting her for siding with their enemy. Still, she tells the tribe what she knows about Griz, possibly trying to convince them to be nicer to her, but it doesn’t work and Demeter just starts following the crowd.

The lyrics Demeter sings, by themselves, are musical exposition that doesn’t imply sympathy. A line like “You’d really have thought she’d ought to be dead” sounds like it could be played as an insult. The words can either mean “I’m surprising the poor thing’s still alive in her condition” or “Why can’t the bitch fuck off and die already?”. Without the context of Demeter’s backstory, Kim Faure picked the latter, when with the context, it’s clearly meant to be the former. So, Demeter’s delivery of her lines in Glamour Cat in 2016 is venomous, almost sadistic.

Later on, towards the end of act one, 2016 Demeter reaches out to Grizabella like she does in most other versions, despite the earlier delivery. What made her change gears? I have no idea.

So, there was a lot of insight on Demeter. She’s the character with the most detailed backstory, making her the closest thing the show has to a protagonist. 

Another character that gets a lot of attention, as he demands, is Tugger. Many Tugger actors were interviewed. I think he’s the favorite character of the host of the podcast. Different Tuggers from different eras responded to certain topics differently. Tuggers from the 1980s were unaware that Tugger was commonly interpreted as Not Straight and that Tuggoffelees is a thing. But, the more recent the show their from, the more they’re aware of and interested in the topic. The Tour V Tugger joined very late, during the last few years of the tour. He had access to the internet and could see what the fandom was up to. He played Tugger as ambiguously bi and, though he hadn’t thought of it at the time, liked the idea of the Tuggoffelees pairing. Tyler Hanes, 2016 Tugger, was the only one interviewed who played Tuggoffelees on purpose.

Tyler Hanes was very interesting. He watched the 1998 film while preparing for the role and didn’t seem to like it very much. He wanted his version of Tugger to be his own and avoided taking inspiration from any other version. John Partridge’s Tugger and Hanes’ Tugger being so different from each other might’ve been deliberate.

But, the choreography is what really messed with Tugger’s character. The host of the podcast mentioned Tugger’s pelvic thrusts and Hanes said that he wanted to do that sort of thing, but the new choreography removed all of it. He couldn’t make Tugger as horny or sexy as he wanted to. It was a key part of the character, but the choreography just wouldn’t let it happen. The result is that a bunch of queens fangirl over Tugger, but because Tugger’s defining trait in his number is being vain and obnoxious, the reason why he, of all toms, is considering the sexiest is completely lost. He’s just a dick to everyone (except Misto) and they love him anyway. 

Other Tuggers do act like assholes during the number, but it’s not the focus. The lyrics are about Tugger being difficult, but the choreography, often to a comedic degree, isn’t about that. The message of Lynne’s choreography is that DESPITE Tugger being obnoxious, he’s a sex god and that’s what matters to his fans. Blankenbuehlers’s choreography mainly focuses on Tugger being obnoxious, which is a better match to the lyrics, but it makes the character less likable.

Also, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: The two most sexualized numbers are Tugger’s and Macavity’s. Tugger’s number is about a man being sexy. Macavity’s number has two women being sexy. Blankenbuehler redid Tugger’s number, toning down the sexuality, but he left Macavity alone completely, so it’s as sexual as it always is. Male sexuality needs to be toned down, but female sexuality is fine. This is what happens when a woman is replaced with a straight dude. I doubt it was done on purpose, but there was definitely some subconscious bias going on there.

The way the casts talk about the two choreographers is also different. Both of them are treated as the experts on the show, more like how a director is normally treated. But, how well they filled that role varied. Lynne could explain what every single move meant. Those who worked with her knew exactly what they were doing. Nobody has ever described any of Blankenbuehler’s choreography with the same detail. In numbers in 2016 that Blankenbuehler left alone, even without Lynne present at all, everything was clearly explained. Skimble actors, since Skimble’s number wasn’t altered much, describe people who’d worked with Lynne talking them through the choreography. No one talked about Blankenbuehler’s work like that. Every move of Lynne’s Jellicle Ball apparently represented something. Blankenbuehler’s Jellicle Ball looks fine, but there isn’t that level of detail.

The rehearsals of the the choreography were paced differently as well. 2016 was apparently put together in something of a hurry. Most Cats rehearsals begin with several days of the cast studying cats and learning how to move like them. 2016 devoted only a few hours to this. Gillian Lynne reportedly visited a rehearsal and was upset the none of the dancers knew how to move like cats. Cats has unique choreography in a unique cat-like style, but the 2016 team had no time to practice it, so they often come across as a bit too human. They’re talented human dancers, but they’re not very cat-like. Blankenbuehler’s choreography is often in a different, more modern urban style, that doesn’t seem like it was done with cat-like movement in mind.

I don’t hate Blankenbuehler. In behind the scenes stuff, he seems like a nice guy that the team liked working with. But, I don’t think he really understood what his role was. He was a choreographer and he did choreography. This would’ve been fine, even great for any other show, but not Cats.

Most modern musical theatre is based on opera. Characters sing about their feelings and that tells the story. The added element of dance takes the feelings of the song and amplifies them. The actors are emoting with their entire bodies in a larger-than-life way that creates an emotional intensity that audiences can empathize with. The music makes the audience feel what the characters are feeling in a way nothing else really can. Music is kind of magical. You hear a certain melody with certain instruments, and suddenly you’re happy, or sad, or angry.

This, by the way, is why going for realism in musicals is a terrible idea. Musicals don’t exist in physical reality. They exist on an emotional level that realism takes away from.

Cats rarely works like opera. The lyrics are mainly just adaptations of whimsical poems, so they don’t tell you much of anything. Memory, which features original lyrics and no dancing is an exception to this rule. In general, because they’re not dance roles, Grizabella and Old Deuteronomy have to use music and song lyrics to play their parts in the story. Jemima also does this whenever she does something connected to either one of them.

But, Cats is normally more of a ballet than an opera. Ballet tells a story purely through dance. Because the lyrics in Cats matter so rarely, it ends up working like a ballet, because the dance, unrelated to the poems, means something. It’s still a heightened reality where music invokes emotions and actors emote with their whole bodies, like in other musicals, but instead of the dance being an amplifier, it’s the storyteller.

ALW really liked a bunch of poems and wanted to put them to music. The result was a bunch of songs with a similar them but no real connection to each other. That works as a concept album, but Webber wanted a musical, an actual show where people danced to his concept album. He didn’t care about the story and didn’t expect anyone else to.

But, other people cared about the story. No one knew how to make a musical that’s not about something. Trevor Nunn added Memory and the storyline with Grizabella as an emotional centerpiece. There wasn’t a clear plot, but, on an emotional level, it now felt like something was actually happening. Gillian Lynne had no idea how to choreograph a musical about nothing, so she didn’t. She came up with her own interpretations of things and made the show about something. Several somethings, in fact. Victoria is going through puberty and discovering her sexuality. Demeter is recovering from an abusive sexual experience, with Bomba having a different attitude towards being in the same situation. The women in the story were given detailed story arcs that often revolved around their sexuality.

How sexuality is portrayed in Cats could be its own essay. 

Anyway, Cats tells its story with a unique style of choreography. Because the choreographer is the story teller, Lynne had a lot of influence over the show. She was the one who knew all the details. Blankenbuehler was brought in to choreograph a show, like a normal job for him, not knowing what that would actually mean. He came in to have dance amplify the emotions in the song lyrics like in any other musical, not knowing that that’s impossible to do with Cats. The role of choreographer meant a level of knowledge and control that would normally belong to the director, composer, and lyricist. He didn’t realize that the show having any story at all depended on him.

So, he did stuff that looked cool, but didn’t tell the story, or that took the story in a direction that it wasn’t supposed to go. Tugger dancing in front of a giant mirror is funny in the moment, but that sort of narcissism, though funny, isn’t likable, and Tugger needs to be likable. He’s a major character and he helps save the day at the end by hyping up Misto. But, 2016 Tugger hypes up Misto because if feels like Misto is the only cat he truly respects. He has the same respect for Old Deuteronomy that the others have, but he doesn’t sound quite as sincere when he sings about him. He spends so much of his number antagonizing Munkustrap in particular that it’s hard to believe that he has any respect for him.

What can be learned from these interviews is that Blankenbuehler didn’t know what his job truly was and was there because someone important thought Cats would be more popular in 2016 if it was more like Hamilton and got the Hamilton guy to give it a make-over. Nunn was so proud of the show’s success that he neglected what made it successful in the first place, and the 2016 cast was rushed through rehearsals without proper instructions. Everyone tried their best, but they were all stuck.

For the most part, I blame whoever decided to have Blankenbuehler rechoreograph the show. Blankenbuehler did what he thought his job was and the cast did their jobs to the best of their ability. What really ruined Cats 2016 was an executive decision to fix something that wasn’t broken, believing if they made the Old Big Show more like the New Big Show, that would make people love it again. But Hamilton is no more like Cats than a cat is like a dog.

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Back to the Future – Glass talks to Swedish actor Rebecca Ferguson about her roles in Dune, Mission: Impossible and the lessons we can learn from spaghetti

Rebecca Ferguson is on location in Budapest, possibly dressed up as a sci-fi high priestess with glowing blue eyes and a three-pronged bouffant. Dune, Denis Villeneuve’s 2020 reinterpretation of David Lynch’s 1984 Frank Herbert adaptation, needs reshoots of its own, so Ferguson is talking to me over the phone in between takes from what sounds like a galaxy far, far away …

In accordance with “soon-to-be-released-Sci-Fi-epic” law, Dune is shrouded in secrecy. As yet there are no behind the scenes featurettes, and no leaked stills to give an insight into Villeneuve’s vision for Ferguson’s character, Lady Jessica, the age-agnostic mother of Timothée Chalamet’s cosmic hero, Paul Atreides.

So, I do the only thing you can do when imagining the new cast of a reboot and attach Ferguson’s disembodied head to the beheaded body of her Lady Jessica predecessor. Et voilà, Rebecca Ferguson: live from Budapest, possibly looking like a futuristic, blue eyed, heavily bouffanted, Lynchian high priestess.

She’s called back from a location with better phone coverage and we’re discussing cities, from the “incredible” (Budapest), to the inhabitable (London, Ferguson’s second home), via LA, which, putting it mildly, fits neither criteria in the 37-year-old’s glowing blue eyes. “The idea of moving to LA has never, ever, ever been on my agenda,” she declares.

The first thing that strikes you about Ferguson is that she’s passionate talking about practically everything. “Look, there are people I love, who love it there … and I get it. When people there look at you and smile, there is a joy,” she pauses, reliving early encounters with LA, and smiles … “And a happiness which is so lovely and endearing and light – but I can’t take it too long. I just want to smoke a cigarette and kind of blow it in someone’s face.” An apology seems on the tip of her tongue, but she decides it would ruin the joke, and merely says, “I don’t actually smoke, by the way.”

She spends much of the year in a Swedish fishing village – “a different world”, she says, possessing all the things she loves: row boats, the ocean, her friends, grilling fish and just the right amount of smiling and joy. Ferguson’s open and only slightly sardonic disdain for the folly of wanton joy suggests, to me, two things. One: that while she clearly loves Sweden, the place of her birth and homeland of her father, the English side of her mother is potent.

And two: the ability to “get in and get out”, as she puts it, remains a priority. As a teen, Ferguson was unknown to the world but famous in Sweden as the star of soap opera Nya Tider. When the show ended and she was 15, she got out. “I studied, had a beautiful child, worked in restaurants, shops, God … in hotels – I did everything.” Everything but act, other than a couple of minor, un-recurring TV roles and student films in exchange for free lunch.

“I never wanted to go to drama school, mainly because I didn’t want to be like every other Swede in film. Not to criticise Lars Norén or … Ingrid Bergman, but all I could think was ‘I don’t want to be a drama student with a fucking purple beret on my head, I don’t want to be like them’. I think, now, looking back, I was just terrified I wasn’t going to get in.”

Eleven years after Nya Tider, Ferguson starred in Swedish language film, A One-Way Trip to Antibes. “And that was the gateway for me.” Soon after she was cast as Queen Elizabeth in BBC period drama The White Queen, which was less a conveyer belt towards ‘the big time’ as it was a treadmill cranked to 11. But playing Queen Elizabeth on the BBC isn’t without its drawbacks – play the role well enough and the whole world will think you’re English.

Being called Rebecca Ferguson probably doesn’t help, and her English is too perfect to be considered a second language. Most of all, though, it’s to do with the version of Englishness that lives so prominently in Ferguson: her mother’s version. “My mother is quintessentially English,” she says. “When she came over to Sweden, words and expressions like ‘whoops-a-daisy, ‘holy moly’ and ‘kerfuffle’ still existed – it’s how she spoke and it became the natural way of speaking for me, too.”

It made Ferguson a convincing Brit, laying the groundwork for the most seamless England/Sweden switcheroo since Ferguson’s own mother integrated so adeptly into her adopted home that, in 1975, she was awarded the ultimate endorsement: appearing on the sleeve of an Abba album. And yet, beyond the whimsical lingo, Ferguson is neither stiff, stoical nor repressed – three fundamentals of Britishness.

On chat-shows, she’s gregarious and tactile and warm, and this confuses people who go by the “if it looks like a Brit and sounds like a Brit …” metric. It’s a little like painting a cat with black and white stripes and saying, “what’s wrong with that zebra and why is it such an outrageous flirt?” “I’ve seen those bloody comments! It’s so weird. It makes me think I should stop touching people altogether, which is sad because, you know … we’re here, we’re together, we’re human beings.”

The problem is, when your wagon’s hitched to a vehicle like Mission: Impossible, where each instalment is an event, and every instalment ends with the promise of another instalment (Episodes 7 and 8 are in the works), chat show appearances are unending. Rumour is that number seven will be filmed in space, which is a worthwhile trade for the talk-show couch merry-go-round, depending on where you stand on heights. “In space? That’s news to me, but with TC nothing surprises me.”

TC is, of course, Mr Mission Impossible: Tom Cruise. “So,” I ask her, would she do it? “I would probably say ‘fuck off’ to that. Heights are my greatest fear and I’m not doing cognitive therapy acting … then again, I never thought I would jump 40 metres off that house in Vienna (Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation). That was bloody terrifying. But I did it … and got to do something that I never thought I would do, so maybe it is all just therapy?”

He’s a force of nature,” Ferguson says. “I’ve never met anyone like him.” There’s a unique fascination around Cruise, due to his personal life and the idea that the line separating him from his Mission Impossible character, Ethan Hunt, has become almost non-existent; that the actor has permanently morphed into the character, who now spends his days playing the role of the actor he once was. Which is a crazy suggestion, obviously, but Cruise is so intensely fascinating that I can’t help such ideas whirl through my head whenever I see him interviewed “out of character”.

I ask Ferguson what it’s like to have a relationship with someone so divisive, who invokes such strong opinions, and whether she feels strangely protective of Cruise. “I don’t think I can. I feel there’s no need to be protective of him. He’s powerful …  just the way he is. I feel like I’m supported by him all the time.” Nor does she tire of being asked about him. “He’s an interesting person to talk about, and a very interesting person to get to know.

The boyish charm, the need to always be doing fun things for everyone while making sure everyone feels safe … Sometimes we’ll start laughing and unbuckling our seatbelts just to fuck with him,” which weirdly is the only Tom Cruise anecdote I think I’ll ever need. “We’ve had some beautiful moments filming together.”

On which note, with our allotted 30 minutes long expired, I ask Ferguson what ‘together’ means to her, but she seems to have re-entered whatever foreign galaxy she started the interview in, and the question gets chewed up on its way over. She responds, “spaghetti?” which, after some clarification and deliberation, we decide to stick with, despite the kerfuffle. “Because togetherness is the opposite of isolation and segregation,” and nothing represents the importance of togetherness like than the profoundly sad sight of a lone strand of spaghetti.

by Charlie Navin-Holder

[hateswifi]

No More Second Chances: Chapter Three

So not even all hell breaking loose (cough adrichat) will stop me from posting. (Just ignore that I haven’t posted in like a week). Without further ado.

No More Second Chances 

The Master: Master List

———————————-

After collecting the little she has from her locker, they meet Jon outside. “Did you call your parents to let them know?”

“Yep! Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Damian grumbles, following the energetic boy.

“So how are you two even friends? Damian you’re super grumpy and Jon is just like a ball of energy and sunshine,” Marinette asks, walking in between the boys. (Yes, somehow the sidewalk fit three people, idk just imagine it ok?)

“Our fathers’ are friends.”

“But! He’s grown to love me,” Jon taunts in a sing-song voice.

“You’re bearable,” Damian corrects. The train ride back to Metropolis was quiet, or as quiet as a ride can be with Jon. She blocked out the world and just let her thoughts fly on the page. She was brought back to reality by Jon tugging her arm.

“Woah! That’s awesome!” Jon says, looking at the drawing. It was her, well Ladybug, and Chat Noir first bumping in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Who are they?” 

She slammed the sketchbook closed and looked at her phone, March 21st. “Umm not important, I have to call someone,” Marinette says, rushing in front of the boys a bit. She dials a number, one neither boys can see, before speaking in rapid French. “Adrien did you realize it’s been a year since we finished the war?”

“Um yeah earlier today Aunt Emelie took me to visit him,” Adrien responds.

“How’d that go?”

“It was rough, but in other news I convinced Aunt Emelie to let me go to college in America.”

“That’s fantastic! I was thinking about staying here as well, cause well ya know Sabine and Tom,” Marinette shrugs, opening the lobby door.

“Makes sense, by the way, watch out Aunt Emelie adores you and she heard about your parents, she may or may not be trying to get adoption papers,” Adrien chuckles.

“I’ll decline the nicest way possible,” Marinette giggles, pressing the elevator button. “Well I’m almost home, and I have a project to work on, so I’ll talk to you sometime soon, bye love you!”

“Sooooooo, who was that?” Jon asks, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

“That was Adrien,” Marinette said, stepping out of the elevator.

“Your boyfriend?” Jon asks, drawing out the words, teasingly.

“Nope, my best friend,” Marinette clarifies. Before turning to Damian to say, “I’m going to get changed, I’ll be out in a minute.” When she came back out her hair was pulled into a messy bun, she was wearing her favorite fuzzy cropped cat sweatshirt that had cat ears on the hood and the string had pom poms on the end. She was also wearing light skinny ripped jeans.

“Mari, why didn’t you just get dressed into something comfortable?” Jon asks, pulling out the juice from the fridge.

“Because, I haven’t seen a lot of the city yet so whenever we finish making progress for today, I’m going to go out for a walk,” Marinette explained, opening her backpack.

“You should be careful, this may not be Gotham, but it’s still dangerous,” Damian says, finally looking up from his phone. He would never admit it, but his face tinted a light color of pink.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve learned self defense when I was living in Paris,” Marinette said, brushing off their worries. “Ok for this project…” (i don’t take business as an elective, so imma just gonna skip it).

It was two hours when Clark and Lois walked in, they were surprised to see Damian get along with someone so well. Marinette isn’t just anyone though, she was a sunshine.

“Hey, Damian it’s nice to see you again,” Clark said, placing a hand on his back.

“Likewise, Clark,” he responded, not looking up from their work.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“No I should be getting home, father is strict about curfew,” Damian said, picking up his stuff.

“We have to talk about plans for tomorrow, so I’ll walk you outside,” Marinette said, standing. They walk in a tense silence for a moment before she starts speaking again. “So I think tomorrow we should work on question five through eight.”

“Where do you want to work?”

“It doesn’t really matter, but if you want, because we worked here today, we can work at your place,” Marinette suggests.

“That would be adequate,” Damian sighs, pressing the elevator button. “Good night, Marinette.”

“Good night, Damian,” she responds as the elevator’s doors close. She pads back to the apartament  and is about to open the door when he hears Jon scream. “He blushed!”

“I literally step out for a minute, and you are all talking about my nonexistent love life,” Marinette said, crossing her arms across her chest, she was leaning up against the door frame, watching the scene unfold in front of her.

“He blushed though! Trust me that’s the closest he’s ever been to having a crush,” Jon defends.

“Doubt it, it was warm in here and he was still wearing his uniform, which may I remind you is long sleeves and pants,” Marinette said, pushing herself off the doorway. “So on a different topic, what’s for dinner?”

“We were just going to order pizza,” Lois answered. (Totally forgot that Superman is vegetarian, so like ignore that.)

“Cool, I’m going to go out for a walk before dinner if that’s fine with you,” Marinette asked, moving towards her room to grab a windbreaker.

“Yes, just take your phone with you, dinner will probably be here in twenty-ish minutes,” Clark said towards her room. She grabbed what she needed, put on her shoes, and ran out the door. She had a peaceful walk, the cool air calming her down, leaving her with her thoughts. As much as her parents’ hurt her, she couldn’t help but miss them, even if it was just a bit. She missed how everything use to be before the drama that Lila brought, but it helped her realize who actually care about her for her. Time flies when lost in her thought, apparently, because the ten minute timer, she set to make sure she would be back in time, went off. She sighs before walking back the way she came. 

Dinner was filled with light chatter about the day, more getting to know you things, and an explanation about how their weekly schedule is. After dinner, Jon and Marinette work on homework with Lois watching T.V. Superman had just stopped a train from crashing. Both Lois and Jon clapped and smiled right before Superman flew off the scene. Not too long after that, Clark ran back into the apartment holding a bag of groceries. Marinette shrugged and chalked it up to them being Americans

When she finished her homework, she said goodnight, did her nightly routine before falling asleep, oblivious the chaos happening in Paris that was unleashed by Sabine and Tom.

-----------------------------

CLIFFHANGEEEER! but like foreshadowing for salt! and getting what they deserve

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[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: St. Anger/Some Kind of Monster

St. Anger

Metallica‘s eighth studio album was released in 2003 produced for the last time by Bob Rock. The record has largely been seen as the worst one ever released by the band. Some very troublesome issues led up to the making of this release beginning in January 2001 when Jason Newsted quit the group. He had come to the other band members as they began talks about a new album with the request to wait a year, so he could work on his side project band Echobrain . James Hetfield flatly refused in not allowing this to occur. He was rumored to say this at the time of Newsted’s request. “When someone does a side project, it takes away from the strength of Metallica", and that a side project is "like cheating on your wife in a way.” The bassist argued that Hetfield had contributed to the South Park film’s soundtrack, as well as to Corrosion of Conformity albums. The singer responded by saying that he never included his name to those titles and absolutely did not try to sell it. On January 17, Jason Newsted released a statement resigning from Metallica. He was quitting for “private and personal reasons, and the physical damage I have done to myself over the years while playing the music that I love.” Years later, Lars Ulrich would say in an interview that unfortunately Newsted had to be sacrificed in order to save the band. There existed deeper issues between himself and James Hetfield that still needed to be addressed. He further said that the band as it exists now is how they should have existed when Newsted was a member of the group.

Metallica still decided to proceed with a new album anyway as they hired Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofski to document via film the entire recording process. Three months later James Hetfield put the entire project on hold as he entered rehab for alcoholism and other addictions. He would get out of rehab in December 2001, but the band would not enter the studio until April 2002. Upon his return, he was only allowed to work four hours a day because the rest of his time was to be spent with his family. Due to Metallica‘s internal issues along with Hetfield’s return from rehab, the band hired a personal enhancement coach by the name of Phil Towle to work through their issues. For his part, Newsted would make the comment that the decision to hire a therapist was "really fucking lame and weak.” The day that he actually quit came after a 9.5 hour band meeting that would be the first one with Towle. All of this would be documented in the film Some Kind of Monster, which depicts Metallica almost breaking up in the most honest music film probably ever portraying an actual train wreck happening in front of your eyes.

In May 2002, the band actually sat down and started recording the actual album at what is called HQ, their own studio in San Rafael, California. The decision was made to have Bob Rock play bass on the album instead of hiring a new person immediately. They would record the record, then look for someone after the fact. James Hetfield would say this about the record. “There's two years of condensed emotion in this. We've gone through a lot of personal changes, struggles, epiphanies, it's deep. It's so deep lyrically and musically. [St. Anger] is just the best that it can be from us right now." From the outset, the group wanted to create a very raw type of sound to symbolize the state of their emotions over the previous couple of years. The album also represented another major departure for the band as they embraced aspects of nu metal, speed metal, and alternative metal. They worked with Rock to make an album that embraced an unpolished sound, which meant he barely mixed the recording at all. He would elaborate on the entire thought process of St. Anger’s production. “We wanted to do something to shake up radio and the way everything else sounds. To me, this album sounds like four guys in a garage getting together and writing rock songs. There was really no time to get amazing performances out of James. We liked the raw performances. And we didn't do what everyone does and what I've been guilty of for a long time, which is tuning vocals. We just did it, boom, and that was it." Another fateful decision came in the fact that Kirk Hammett did not play any guitar solos on the album. He would later say in an interview that they tried to use some, but it kept sounding like an afterthought rather than an organic part of the song. The biggest criticism of St. Anger represented the drumming of Lars Ulrich, who made the decision not to use a snare on his snare drum. Ulrich said, "One day I forgot to turn the snare on because I wasn't thinking about this stuff. At the playbacks, I decided I was really liking what I was hearing—it had a different ambience. It sang back to me in a beautiful way." This makes the drumming sound include a giant ringing noise throughout the 75 minute LP.

Metallica would release the new album in June 2003, but they did so five days ahead of schedule due to their ongoing battle with Napster. They did not want any songs to be illegally downloaded and leaked ahead of time. The release debuted at number one on the Billboard chart selling 417,000 copies in its first week. The lead single “St. Anger” would go on to win a Grammy for Best Metal Song. Three other singles were released with the second track “Frantic” going all the way to number two on the mainstream rock charts. Reviews by critics were mixed over the band’s new sound. They liked the raw passion found on the album, but they continually commented that it sounded terrible. Adrien Begran of Pop Matters had this observation. “While it's an ungodly mess at times, what you hear on this album is a band playing with passion for the first time in years." Other reviews remained positive like Rolling Stone praised the band for stripping down metal to its bare essentials without the need for solos, choruses, and any kind of structure whatsoever. Other critics were not so complimentary of the record. Pitchfork had this to say about it. Ulrich was “playing a drum set consisting of steel drums, aluminum toms, programmed double kicks, and a broken church bell. The kit's high-end clamor ignored the basic principles of drumming: timekeeping. Hetfield and Hammett's guitars underwent more processing than cat food. When they both speedstrummed through St. Anger, and most other movements, [Hetfield and Hammett] seemed to overwhelm each other with different, terrible noise. Also the duration of most songs made it boring to hear them." Ouch. Years later, Lars would still stand behind his decision about the snare drum on the album. James Hetfield also agreed that he would not change it, but did note that production mistakes may have been made. “St. Anger could use a little less tin snare drum, but those things are what make those records part of our history."

Some Kind of Monster

The minute the filmmakers came in around April 2001, Metallica seemed to be slowly imploding. There existed a definite tension between all the band members as they were struggling to come up with new ideas for music, while at the same time wanting drastically to get away from one another. One issue became an even greater snag when Hetfield left for rehab, but they continued to film Hammett and Ulrich’s therapy sessions. Berlinger would say this about filming those meetings. “Lars felt the therapy sessions were actually enabled by the presence of the cameras. He felt the cameras forced them to be honest." Upon Hetfield’s return from rehab, the singer wondered whether they should even continue filming the sessions, but changed his mind once he saw the raw footage. Elektra Records now began to become concerned over the rising cost of the filming and wondered whether they should turn it into a reality show. Metallica told them that they had envisioned a documentary film, so they bought the rights to it for $4.3 million. Hetfield continued to have some misgivings about various scenes included in the film. For example, Lars and his wife sell an art piece for $13.4 million at an auction, which he thought was “downright embarrassing.” The drummer would not relent on this saying that his passion for art is a vital piece of his personality. “If you're going to paint a portrait of the people in Metallica, that has to play a role, because that is who I am."

The documentary’s plot also included some very strange and surreal scenes. For one, Lars interviews Dave Mustaine of Megadeth asking him about the past. Another scene shows all three band members attending a live concert by Newsted’s band Echobrain, where you can see Lars complain about not being able to keep his own band together. As recording begins, Hetfield and Ulrich go to war with one another. The singer demands the conditions that any recorded material can only be discussed in his presence. The drummer comes back at him saying that he is too controlling which led to a major confrontation. Hetfield then says to the camera that his need to control everything probably stems from his fear of abandonment in childhood. For his part, Kirk Hammett always remained calm no matter what does to a lesser extent complain about the complete absence of guitar solos. Gradually, their chemistry begins to improve as they work toward the finished product. They begin to work a lot of their problems out by writing lyrics to individual songs. Ulrich is able to release some feelings about the Napster lawsuit by writing the lyrics to “Shoot Me Again.” As the band begins to get along much better, they stop listening to any advice from Towle. The group thinks that he has become too much a part of their inner circle, so the need arose to distance themselves from him. The therapist becomes very defensive when they approach him about restricting access. Towards the end of the film, they hire Robert Trujillo as their new bassist because they were scheduled to perform on MTV Icon. A bone of contention over the years was the fact that Trujillo’s $1 million signing bonus was included in the film. Upon the movie’s release, Some Kind of Monster received mostly positive reviews by critics earning an 89 on Rotten Tomatoes. Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly said this, “One of the most revelatory rock portraits ever made."

Lars Ulrich would say upon reflection that it was one of the first times that the band had actually communicated with each other without the assistance of alcohol. Dave Mustaine caused a little bit of drama as he denied the band from using any footage of his interview with Lars in 2001. They still included the footage because he had previously signed a release giving them access and the right to use it. The Megadeth singer would call this the “final betrayal” until six years later when they reconciled during a concert. At the time, Ulrich responded by saying this about Mustaine. “So put these three facts down, he was in our band for a year. He never played on a Metallica record [official release], and it was 22 years ago. It's pretty absurd that it still can be that big a deal."

[theimpossiblescheme]

Of Worried Kittens and Wee Bairns

(I couldn’t not do the Lady and the Tramp scene with Skimble and Asparagus now that the idea was in my head, and @the-cat-at-the-theatre-door has been her usual wonderfully inspirational self, so... here it is!)

Jemima hadn’t been acting like herself all day.  While she and Etcetera were usually the first kittens up every morning, even before Munkustrap and his patrols, today all of them had taken off without her, and she was left sunning herself all alone on the roof of her den.  At first, Skimble didn’t think much of it—the lass had her days when she wanted to be alone for one reason or another, and he’d like to think that he, Jenny, and Jelly had raised the other kittens well enough to respect that. And when he saw Demeter climbing up to keep her company, he assumed all would be well.  But even after everyone came home for the afternoon and Jemima would have plenty of cats to play with, she still kept to herself.  When Plato’s junior hunting party came back with the day’s catch, Electra immediately pounced for the fattest mouse and generously carried it over to her friend… only for Jemima to murmur a no and flop glumly onto her other side.

That was enough to really worry Skimble.  He clambered down from the car boot just in time to hear Electra frantically telling Asparagus, “She hasn’t eaten anything today—I don’t want her to starve!”

Asparagus gently chucked her under the chin before looking up and making eye contact with his mate. “We’ll look after her, dear, don’t you worry.”  Taking the offered mouse from her, he crept closer to Jemima and quietly settled down a few feet away, dropping the fresh kill in front of her.

The soft noise made her jump slightly, and she raised her chin from her front paws.  “Oh… hi, Uncle Gus… you keep it, I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, come on now, Jem, you need to eat.”  He cocked his head down slightly to meet her eyes as Skimble settled down on her other side. “Is something the matter?”

Jemima shrugged, a very small movement of her shoulders.  “I don’t know… it’s… it’s Emily.”

Skimble’s eyes widened a bit at the name of hers and Munkustrap’s owner.  “She hasn’ae been mistreating you, has she?”

“Not… really?  I guess it’s… I guess it’s my fault honestly.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, lassie,” Skimble replied, offended on the kitten’s behalf, but trying not to show it too much in his voice.  “Why, all the times you’ve been travelling with me, I’ve never heard a bad word about you from any human.  What could you have done to bother Emily so much?”

“I don’t know, but I must have done something.  She’s been acting so weird lately… I don’t think she likes me anymore.”  She swiped a paw over her eyes, and Asparagus let out a soft moue of concern, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his hip.

“It’ll help talking about it, I promise.  That’s what I tell your dad when he’s being a stubborn ass,” he added, prompting a tiny wet laugh out of the kitten in spite of herself.

“I’m gonna tell him you called him that.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be the first time.  Now tell us what’s going on, Jem.”

Jemima hesitated for a moment before swiping another paw over her face and straightening up a bit, tucking herself more snugly against Asparagus’s side as she sat upright.  “Well… you know she’s a writer, right?  She doesn’t write so much anymore—she’s got all these little books that she’s always in the kitchen reading, and sometimes she gets up in the middle of the night to cook or read, and she always comes back smelling… different.  She doesn’t smell like herself anymore.”  She crinkled her nose like she’d just had a pile of dung shoved in her face.

Skimble nodded—that could mean any number of things, in his experience.  “Go on.”

“And she… she doesn’t play with me so much anymore.  Or clean the dirt or give us water… Daddy keeps trying to get her attention, but it never works.  Then the other day Jacob—her mate—came home to see her, and he said… he said ‘Those cats made a mess again.’”  Her eyes brimmed with tears at the memory.  “He called us those cats… he never calls us that.”

“Well, it sounds like Jacob still has some manners to learn,” Asparagus said primly.  “Still… I suppose I wouldn’t hold it against him too much. They’re only humans, after all.”

“Aye.  Remember, it’s yours and your da’s house truly—Jacob and Emily are just keeping it while you’re away.”

Jemima shook her head, still not looking convinced.  “That’s not even the worst part.  Yesterday, Emily had a bunch of her friends over, and they all brought her a bunch of gifts, but none of them said a word to us!  Daddy told me to just leave it be, but… I probably did something bad.” Her ears pinned back and a muscle jumped in her jaw, as if she were afraid of saying what happened out loud.

But Asparagus merely bumped his shoulder gently against hers.  “Better get it off your chest now, dear.”

“I… she was holding some kind of little blanket, and… well, we usually play peek-a-boo with her bedspread in the mornings, so I jumped up and tried to play… and she… she smacked me on the nose and made me get down.  I mean, it… I guess it didn’t really hurt, but she’s never done that before… is that normal… Uncle Gus?  Uncle Skimble?”

So that was it. Skimble caught his mate’s eye over her head, and the two shared a conspiratorial grin.  If they only had a shilling for every time they’d heard this particular song and dance before… and at least it was that and not something much more dire.

“Well now, lassie,” Skimble replied, unable to stifle a chuckle, “I wouldn’ae take it too seriously. After all, it’s… well, it’s a rather delicate time for your Emily.”

“Oh, yes… what is it they call it?  The, ah—the birds and the bees?  Or… the stork?  Has she mentioned anything to you about a stork, Jem?”

“No.”  Jemima looked at him blankly.  “What do bees have to do with it?”

Asparagus gave Skimble a quietly helpless look, and Skimble tried not to sigh, remembering what a difficult time he had giving this talk to Plato when he was Jemima’s age.  “What he’s trying to say is, Emily’s expecting a wee bairn.”

Jemima’s face was even more blank.  “Bairn?”

“He means a baby, Jem,” Asparagus replied quickly, happily relieved to be back on familiar ground.

“Oh… that’s… like a small human, right?”

“Well, yes,” Skimble said after some hesitation, “but it’s a wee bit more complicated than that.”

“They’re much smaller than humans at first,” Asparagus explained.  “When they first come home, they’ll be no bigger than you are now, and they’ll walk on all four feet just like we do.”

“And they make such a fuss,” Skimble tutted, shaking his head.  “They won’t know how to talk like humans do, so they’ll scream and yell at the top of their wee voices every chance they get.  And they grab at your fur and drink up all the milk in the house—I remember when our Abigail was small, she could never get enough to drink.”

“But that sounds horrible!” Jemima, exclaimed, pulling out of Asparagus’s grip and backing away a few inches.  “Why would Emily want a baby if they’re gonna be that much trouble?”

“Well, it’s like Skimble said—it’s only because they don’t know how to talk yet.  And when you can’t talk, everything’s so much more terrifying. You remember when you were small, how big the world was and how scary?”

“Kittens are the same way, lassie, believe me—you should hear the horror stories about your Auntie Bomba.”

“Oh, don’t you remind me.”  Asparagus glared at him with an exaggerated shudder, earning only a laugh from Skimble in return.

The stormclouds had cleared somewhat from Jemima’s expression as she tried to follow what the older toms were saying.  “But… so they’ll grow, right?  They won’t just… do nothing but scream and eat forever?”

“Oh, definitely not. And when they grow up a bit, Emily might finally let you play with them.  It’ll be worth the wait, trust me.”  Asparagus gave her a reassuring smile.  “They’re very sweet.”

“And very very soft,” Skimble added, giving the lass a gentle tap on the nose, finally prompting another smile from her.

“That doesn’t sound so bad… I guess it’ll be all righ—”

“Are you guys talking about babies?”  A loud voice suddenly sounded from above, and all three of them looked up to see…

“Tumblebrutus, what have I told you about eavesdropping?” Asparagus thundered up at him, jabbing an accusing claw in that direction.

But the young tom wasn’t the least bit bothered.  “Pouncival’s humans brought a baby home a few months ago—her name’s Farida, and she’s really fun.”  And with that contribution to the conversation, Tumblebrutus ambled off and disappeared again into the higher rubbish heaps.

Asparagus was shaking his head, but Skimble couldn’t help another laugh.  “Well… there you have it, lassie—the Tumblebrutus Seal of Approval, whatever that might be worth.”

That actually got a giggle out of the kitten, and it was the happiest sound Skimble had heard all day. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jemima said at last, her eyes bright and her face content at last.  “I’m just glad it means Emily doesn’t hate me.”

“Oh, who could ever hate you?”  Bringing a paw down on her shoulder again, Asparagus playfully jostled her until her smile grew even wider.  “Between you and your dad, your baby’s going to be in the best possible paws.”

“Just remember—give them a few months before playing,” Skimble put in, raising a claw for emphasis. “They’re rather expensive, you know.”

“I know.”  And Jemima butted the side of her head against his paw, nuzzling him and earning an affectionate scratch over her ear in return. “Thank you, you two… we’ll be okay.”

[ducktracy]

164. uncle tom’s bungalow (1937)

disclaimer: this is the fourth entry in the censored 11. there are dozens of cartoons not on the list that are just as vile and tasteless, if not moreso, yet this provides good insight into what we’re dealing with. with that said, this review entails racist content, imagery, stereotypes, and ideals. i do not in any way endorse these. i find them dehumanizing, gross, and wrong. and to act like they never existed in the first place would be just as insensitive. this needs to be talked about. PLEASE let me know if i say anything wrong. it’s never my intention to harm anyone, and i want my mistakes to be identified so i can own up to them. thank you for your patience and understanding.

release date: june 5th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: tedd pierce (narrator), billy bletcher (simon simon legree, excited little eva), lillian randolph (topsy, eliza), berneice hansell (little eva), mel blanc (dog)

this is a rather momentous occasion in tex avery’s career, a cartoon that would dictate the direction that the majority of his remaining cartoons at warner bros would take. uncle tom’s bungalow could be considered the first “travelogue” of avery’s. especially prevalent throughout 1939 and 1940, avery did a number of travelogue parodies—a narrator examines a setting as we interact with the characters, narrating what they’re up to, and learning about the area we’re exploring. this has more of a concrete storyline than many of the other travelogues, thus contributing to its quality, so to speak. tex would take another spin on uncle tom’s cabin with uncle tom’s cabana in 1947 over at MGM.

and, of course, the elephant in the room—this is tex’s first entry out of 3 in the censored 11, the other two being the isle of pingo pongo (1938) and all this and rabbit stew (1941). i don’t mean to sound like i’m making light of the impact these cartoons cast—that’s not at all my intention, but there are, undeniably, entries that are better than others. this cartoon is probably the best out of the remaining avery censored 11 entries, as well as one of the better entries in the censored 11 as a whole. that’s not in my power to decide, of course, but in terms of quality, technicalities, and polishing, this is one of the “better” ones.

a parody on the infamous novel by harriet beecher stowe, uncle tom’s bungalow illustrates the story of how little eva and topsy save uncle tom, but his refuge is threatened once the girls fall behind on their payments to the treacherous simon simon legree.

the cartoon opens with a long, beautiful pan of the rural countryside, complete with a beautiful, jaunty chorus of “swanee river/the old folks at home”. we truck in on a grandiose property, where we meet our narrator courtesy of tedd pierce as he asserts “that’s real swing, boys.”

next starts the first introduction of many, a highlight in the cartoon, if not THE highlight. we’re met with the stereotypical cute little avery blonde, vocals by the great berneice hansell as always. the narrator asks for her name, and, in a moment of greatness, she rambles on in that terminally amusing cutesy voice, giving everything BUT her name. she provides her age, her address, shows off how she can spell “cat” (”i can spell cat! uh, c-a... uh, cat. uh...c-a... uh, cat! c-a... well, anyway, i can spell dog! d-o-g, dog...”) and so forth. as both she and avery test our patience, she suddenly shows off the lace underneath her dress, getting both the narrator and audience in trouble as the narrator protests, insisting she cover herself back up. “now, all we want to know is your name!” a looney tunes staple, the girl’s outburst is surprisingly provided by billy bletcher as opposed to mel blanc when she barks “LITTLE EVA, YA DOPE!”

the narrator moves on to patronize his next subject, topsy. her introductory gag is seldom spared from being cringeworthy, but is undeniably clever. "hey, girly. step out of that shadow and introduce yourself to the folks here.” topsy makes her way out of the shadows and introduces herself, the narrator once more providing a patronizing chuckle and a “that’s cute.”

next is uncle tom himself, who, surprisingly, isn’t featured very much in this cartoon at all. the narrator comments on how feeble uncle tom is getting, remarking on the way his knees shake. uncle tom retorts how his knees aren’t shaking--he’s trucking. narrator has no response.

eliza is the next one to be introduced (obligatory comment about how we share the same name and how totally WEIRD it is to hear your name over and over and over again. how do you folks with common names survive??). as grotesque as these caricatures and stereotypes are, eliza’s banter with the narrator is very amusing. they’re both from the south, and go back and forth in jovial banter about the other being from the south. eliza’s animation is very loose, rubbery, and fun, all things considered. i know it seems i always pin him as the perpetrator for certain scenes, but i wonder if this is bob clampett animation? it seems very unlikely--he would have been working on porky’s badtime story at this time as a director. yet, chuck jones, who also moved to iwerks’ unit with clampett before clampett took over, also does animation in this cartoon, so it’s not completely out of the question. it is unlikely that this is clampett, though. just a guess. her movements are very reminiscent of daffy’s exit provided by clampett in porky’s duck hunt.

and, of course, every cartoon must have a villain. chuck jones animates simon simon legree, who you’ll recognize as the villain from milk and money. the name simon simon is a take on popular french actress at the time simone simone. very clever indeed. chuck jones’ animation is top notch as always--in fact, the introductory pieces for every character, gross and cringeworthy as some of the designs are, are very well animated and full of great character acting. 

even the narrator is not immune from puns: “and last but not leashed is the hounds.” a skillful ear will note that the underscore is “my little buckaroo”, the name of a 1938 friz freleng merrie melody. daffy also sings it in the opening of the daffy duckaroo in 1942 (not to be confused with the 1954 chuck jones cartoon my little duckaroo). the dogs hardly display any signs of enthusiasm as they snooze on the porch--the gray dog troubles himself enough to lift his head up and give a gravelly “hello.” courtesy of mel blanc. that’s that.

the introductory portion, taking up half the cartoon, comes to a close as the narrator asks if all of the characters are ready. they all give the affirmative (perhaps most notably little eva responding “you said it, dark, tall, and bow-legged!”, as well as the apathetic dog grunting that there ain’t nothin’ else ta do). this whole entire scene is far from perfect--stereotypes are abound and caricatures are grotesque, yet this serves as a landmark in tex’s warner bros career. there isn’t even a fourth wall to break--there is no fourth wall. we are completely immersed with the characters, and the characters are completely immersed with us. they feel real, alive, and with us, all the while holding onto the notion that there is an underlying sense of performance. the most immersive of characters act like they’re putting on a show, coming from an actress herself (i use that loosely and coyly, i was the lead in my senior musical and was in quite a handful of other plays). broad movements, exaggerated dialogue. the more unbelievable, the more believable. cartoon acting is a strange world!

“here we go, camera!” the narrator announces as a warning. and a warning is right. it’s important to remember that this is a parody of the stage adaptations from harriet beecher stowe’s book, not the book itself. not that a parody makes it okay--it doesn’t. and that’s what we need to remember. 

we are greeted with simon simon legree’s slave company, as well as billy bletcher’s haunting laugh and avery’s favorite theme for the villain. legree cracks his whip, and we are reminded just how treacherous and despicable this man is as we see the whip physically snapping its “fingers”. the next scene is a grotesque and racist (well, that’s a given) display of social commentary as we see slaves lined up against the fence, advertised with signs that liken them to a used car sale. absolutely brutal, commentary or not. but, again, it must be noted.

uncle tom is one of the slaves for sale, who the narrator desperately attempts to warn to escape. terrible as this sequence is, uncle tom provides a great one-liner as legree threatens him with his whip. “my body might belong to you, but my soul belongs to warner brothers!” 

meanwhile, little eva and topsy hold hands, frolicking and skipping with deliberately annoying singing as they stumble across legree’s site (as the satirical signs help us remember). they hear the whip cracks, and both girls dart in front of uncle tom in an attempt to stop legree’s abuse. eva protests “stop! stop! we’ll buy the nice old man!”

very amusing is the next scene as we watch legree negotiate business deals with two 6 year old children. more wonderful chuck jones animation, of course. “here’s your contract! but remember, if you fall behind in your payments, i take him back!”

thus, the girls take uncle tom home, and all is well. for now, anyway. time marches on as we watch snowdrifts pile on the grandiose property from the beginning, even prompting the narrator to remark “my, my, how time does fly.” 

“looks like bad news, folks,” the narrator ever so helpfully quips as we spot legree’s business. a wonderfully grotesque hand helps to further the entire sickening feeling that is inherent with legree as he peruses topsy and eva’s checking account: they’re three months behind on their payments. legree saunters through the snow with that delightfully absurd villain walk as the narrator frets, wishing to warn the kids.

“jiggers, kids! ditch uncle tom--here comes legree!” with some quick thinking, the girls throw uncle tom through the portrait displayed so ornately on the wall.uncle tom places his face in the position of the face that was there just seconds before. 

i didn’t mention this, but this is irv spence’s first scene in a tex avery cartoon. spence is a WONDERFUL animator and one of my favorites. the way his characters move is nothing less than tantalizing. legree bursts in and berates the kids on uncle tom’s whereabouts. eva protests “we don’t know, so THERE!” followed by a “so there!” from topsy. the way the girls push their bodies, how strong the line of action is, how defined the silhouettes are... absolutely beautiful animation, all things considered. they even make chuck jones’ next scene seem inferior, and that’s quite a feat. legree spits that he’ll find uncle tom, no matter what, as we see animation of him slithering across the ground, reused from milk and money.

he slithers across the floor to where the couch is, per the narrator’s guidance. “getting warm... warmer... warmer... warmer...” he’s getting warmer, alright--thanks to the narrator’s quick thinking, legree feels around underneath the couch, his fingers dangerously close to an electrical socket. all according to plan as legree is electrocuted, spasming and flailing around in a bright array of colors. as legree recovers, he does not at all fancy the narrator’s joke of “boy, you’re burning up!”

more irv spence animation as legree threatens to whip the girls within an inch of their lives, until another animator takes over and gives us this take that... speaks for itself how tasteless it is.

nevertheless, irv spence provides animation once more as the narrator recruits eliza into action. eliza scoops up the girls and runs out of the mansion, the narrator commentating on the chase like it’s a horse race. legree whistles, and we are reminded of the lazy dogs from the beginning, who are still snoozing on the porch, covered in snowdrifts. legree resorts to sniffing out eliza’s tracks like a dog himself, and in a twist of tex avery greatness, one of the footprints kicks legree right in the ass.

the chase persists as legree now has his hounds, the hounds chasing after eliza. eliza halts when she approaches a lake: it hasn’t frozen over, no way to cross. another frequent favorite used by tashlin, iwerks, and now avery as eliza panics, trying to think of a way to cross. the narrator croons “relax, eliza, now don’t get excited, don’t get excited...” eliza retaliates with the famous “EXCITED?? WHO’S EXCITED?? I’M NOT EXCITED!!!” 

as legree gets closer, the narrator indicates a slot machine--an avery favorite used since his debut with gold diggers of ‘49--where eliza can get some ice. eliza slips a coin in, and hits the jackpot. giant bricks of ice tumble out of the machine, forming stepping stones across the lake. a long shot of eliza and the girls trying to escape from legree, who has also approached the ice blocks.

eliza lands on the shore, as does legree and the hounds. as the hounds bark at the victims, legree readying his whip, the narrator giving a dramatic “and the winner...!”, the suspense is broken by the sound of a car horn.

“...is uncle tom. looks like the old boy has collected on his social security!” an avery staple as we see the victorious old man triumphantly holding up his winnings in his grandiose car. a cut gag from daffy duck and egghead also has daffy crying about how he shouldn’t be killed, he still has to collect on his social security. definitely a trend in the avery-verse! 

uncle tom forks over a bundle of cash to legree, who accepts it begrudgingly and stalks off. the girls are thrilled. eva asks “why, uncle tom! where did you get all that money?”

what better way to end a racist cartoon by perpetuating more stereotypes? uncle tom throws two dice on the ground, who land snake eyes. yet, lo and behold, the dice roll over to reveal a 7. another avery iris out gag as the iris closes, leaving the dice on the black screen. the iris opens to allow uncle tom to fish the dice back into the cartoon, ending the cartoon as the narrator sardonically croons “and there you have the story of uncle tom’s bungalow! ...or have you?”

i will give this cartoon credit: this is the best entry from the censored 11 we’ve seen yet. i don’t like to put it like that, because it’s not, and should not be a popularity contest, but the quality of work in this cartoon is undeniably superior in comparison to the other works we’ve seen. i will say that i personally like this better than the previous entry, clean pastures, despite its jolly music score. this cartoon has some wonderful animation by irv spence and chuck jones, and the entire first introductory half is pretty extraordinary, all things considered. in fact, the rest of the cartoon, in my opinion, doesn’t quite match the momentum brought on by the first half. the first half is slow, yes, but it’s filled with wonderful character acting and animation. the chase scene between eliza and legree doesn’t quite have the same avery snappiness as other previous chase scenes. it becomes rather droll, despite the narrator’s amusing, if not redundant at times commentary. frank tashlin would rival tex avery in terms of speed and quality, and that would serve as a great thing--those two would always play off each other as a result, and cartoons got better.

but, with all that said, this is still an abhorrent cartoon in many ways. stereotypes and caricatures are abound, and scenes are uncomfortable, if not plain cruel at times. of course historical context is important--one must always keep that in mind--but this still remains as an inexcusable display of racism, even if this is a parody. racism is racism. and, because of that, i still can’t recommend this cartoon, or really any of the cartoons on this list. this cartoon is more lighthearted than the previous entries, and i would never call it entirely innocent, but it doesn’t feel as nasty as previous entries like, say, sunday go to meetin’ time. this cartoon has quality, but it has many, many problems. 

so, as always, i will provide a link--obviously view at your own discretion.

[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: Cats

For anyone who was aching to see James Corden dive head first into a trash can full of garbage or Judi Dench inform you about how to talk to cats, all while singing and dancing in humanoid feline outfits, boy, do I have the movie for you. Some of the songs work, and the top-notch cast is trying their damndest, but when person-shaped cats shake their asses at the camera while hissing and baring claws, it’s the kind of movie that makes you want to protect your genitals.

I’ve been known to criticize the plots of films by claiming they don’t actually have one, and that’s rarely been more true than it is here. A cat named Victoria, played by Royal Ballet dancer Francesca Heyward in her major film debut, is dumped in a back alley by her owners, where she meets a bevy of other cats who begin to sing about the fact they are Jellica cats. I don’t know what that means, I’m pretty sure the movie doesn’t explain it, and if it does I didn’t catch it, because whenever more than one person sings and/or dances at the same time it’s a garbled mess. Among the cats who adopt Victoria, most don’t stand out in the slightest. The ones that do are a flamboyant show-off named Rum Tum Tugger (Jason Derulo), who seems like a cross between a playboy and a cabaret dancer, and Mr. Mistoffelees (Laurie Davidson), a self-professed magician who can never get a trick right.

The villain, who abducts cats through magic or trickery, is Macavity, played in his handful of scenes with reasonable relish by Idris Elba. He is backed up in a single number by his gun moll-like girlfriend; Taylor Swift plays the role and is onscreen for all of five minutes, which based on her name’s prominence in the trailer has got to be some kind of false advertising. He’s also got a thuggish assistant played by Ray Winstone, and together the three of them give it their all. In the grand Disney tradition, the villain even gets one of the better songs---or at least one of the few ensemble numbers that isn’t completely broken. Judi Dench gets the role of Old Deuteronomy, the very ancient leader of the cats, and Ian McKellan, who could play a rock and make it interesting, is a feline Lawrence Olivier. 

The alleged plot is that all these cats are competing to determine which one Old Deuteronomy will elevate to the cat heaven---or maybe it’s the next life, or reincarnation, or just a ride in a balloon. To say the film isn’t clear about this is like saying ice is a tad cold. The obvious candidate is faded singing star Grizabella, who lives on the fringes and is in need of redemption. Jennifer Hudson imbues this character with a gravitas that the film doesn’t come anywhere close to earning. This alleged story doesn’t really even come into play until halfway through the movie or so, which would be fine on the face of it, as musicals are allowed and expected to take their time on songs that exist for their own sake. You have to do it right, though. This is not that.

The first major problem lies in the fact that the premise is inherently flawed, and that nothing in the film works to mediate that fact. Director Tom Hooper, working from a script by himself and Rocketman scribe Lee Hall, has, I am told, transplanted the Andrew Lloyd Webber original almost exactly, in the process overlooking an important fact. On the stage, we’re watching people in real time, and the fact we know they are just acting---we can see them in front of us, after all---is part of the draw. Films, because we do not see the bones of the sets and because no curtains ever fall to break up scenes, are taken by the human eye to be more literal. In this regard, Cats admittedly might have been doomed from the beginning, as no matter how good the CG fur is, a person’s face on a cat’s body is never going to look right to our minds. Yet the film not only wants us to believe in and emphasize with these characters, it wants us to do so at the same time that they are doing profoundly creepy things. You could be forgiven for thinking the opening scenes are setting up a horror movie. Let’s break it down, shall we? You have a dark alley at night. A bag is abandoned with something wriggling and unidentified inside. Out of the bag bursts a human-shaped cat, which prompts other human-shaped cats to advance toward the camera (and thus the audience) baring claws and fangs and singing something we can’t begin to make out. I don’t know about you, but if that happened to me, a jolly song-and-dance number would not be my immediate reaction.

By far the most cringe-worthy scenes in the film are given to Rebel Wilson and James Corden. The casting calls for these parts may as well have read “We need larger people to do some songs about being lazy, fat and greedy.” Wilson and Corden are, usually, funny people in their own right. Here, Wilson’s weight is used in a grotesque way to derive a laugh out of the very idea of her doing acrobatics, while Corden is given a supposed-to-be-funny-definitely-not-funny spoken aside that is all about how big his character is. Fat jokes, people? Really? We start with unintelligible music and uncomfortably sexualized animals, and then we bust out the fat jokes? Get someone to sit on a whoopie cushion while you’re at it.

Does the music at least work? Occasionally. “Sometimes the music is okay” isn’t a great blurb to slap on ads for a musical. As mentioned previously, if so much as a single person joins an existing song or dance, everything goes straight to hell. The cast sings over, around and sometimes against each other, and the only way you can understand a word they’re saying is if you already know the lyrics. Even the handful of good solo performances---Hudson’s rendition of the iconic “Memory”, Heyward’s performance of the only new song, the excellent “Beautiful Ghosts”---are marred by Hooper’s inability to sit goddamn still for 30 consecutive seconds. He sends Christopher Ross’s cameras onto close-ups, cutaways and jump shots so frequently that we’re denied the one pleasure any musical should have nailed: the ability to just watch dancers dance and singers sing. When you have people this talented at doing what they do, you put the camera on them and take your hands off it. Even the sets, which were huge so that the human actors appeared cat-size, don’t work---they’re so stuffed with puns about cats, on every marquee and billboard, that it gives the movie the final push it needs into full-on parody.

There’s one good thing that came out of me going to this dud, and that is that I learned that T.S. Elliot once wrote a book of poems about cats. It is, apparently, what the original 1981 musical is based on, and reading it is what I should have done instead of seeing this movie.

Verdict: Not Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

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[the-delta-42]

War Circle 2

Michael followed Caline into her apartment.

“Thanks for letting me stay until I’ve found a place of my own.” Said Michael, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“It’s fine.” Said Caline, going to her computer, her eyes elsewhere.

Michael looked at her and frowned.

“Is everything alright?” Michael asked, walking over to Caline.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Said Caline, unconvincingly.

Michael gave her a look that made her groan and turn to face him, “You know that Principle Damocles gave you a list of students that can’t be punished?”

“Yeah, some kid whose parents are bankers, the mayor’s daughter and the child of a diplomat, why?” Michael cocked his head.

“Two of them are in my class,” Said Caline, “and in order to punish them, I have to punish the whole class, it doesn’t help that Boaa and I have a mental link and he’s telling me to kill them every time I start to get angry at them.”

“So, you remain passive to prevent yourself from killing them.” Said Michael, Wynnter resting on his shoulder.

Wynnter looked at the Snake Kwami, “Boaa, you know that our main objective is to remain hidden, no matter what.”

The snake only said, “Meh.” Before he shoves three whole grapes into his tiny mouth.

“That will always scare me, no matter what.” Said Michael, watching Boaa’s jaw unhinge.

“It’s not the worst thing he eaten.” Said Caline, turning to face Michael, “I have some spare blankets in the closet, you can have the couch.”

Michael nodded, quietly walking over to the closet. Caline had the sinking feeling that Michael wasn’t telling her something.

WC

Marinette quietly growled in frustration. Her dad and Michael did not last part on the best terms five years ago, Marinette didn’t remember what the argument was but she knew that it had caused the relationship between her father and brother to become very strained, to the point where Michael had ceased all contact with them until he reappeared a couple of days ago and even then, he avoided actually stepping foot into the bakery.

Marinette considered contact Toby and Skye, but Toby was on tour and Skye was in the middle of a case. Marinette huffed, thinking back to when she found out that Michael was now working at her school.

Marinette went stiff, Michael was close to Ms. Bustier, he was fond of her, Marinette had seen the type fondness once before and that was between her parents.

Marinette swallowed as she started to pull up a plan on getting her dad and brother on good terms again.

A floor below, Tom was quietly cleaning the kitchen of the bakery. Ever since that nasty girl from Marinette’s class returned, Marinette had started to become more stressed, from school, from being the class president, from her designs, from her duties as Ladybug. Tom frowned, he and Sabine had known Marinette was Ladybug for a while now, having caught Tikki as she was raiding the cookie jar in the kitchen. The little God had tried to pass herself off as a cat, that could float and was bright red covered in spots.

Tom was vaguely aware of the television reporting the day’s Akuma attack.

“An attempt to gain Ladybug’s Miraculous was foiled by two unseen before heroes who departed the scene shortly after the Akuma was dealt with.”

“Remove your hands from my kin.” Came a recording of the incident, Tom poked his head out from the Bakery and looked at the TV screen. The owner of the voice looked around Michael’s age and wore what looked like a casual suit under his trench coat, Tom squinted, noting that the amount of weaponry gave him a rather heavy-set appearance.

Chat Noir then appeared on the screen.

“At first, we all thought they were more Akumas,” Said Chat, “Given how they appeared out of nowhere.”

“What did he mean when he said kin?” Nadja asked.

“He said he was Ladybug’s older brother,” Said Chat, “from what he said, he and his friend have been in this for a while and came out of retirement.”

“Did they give a name?”

“He said his name was Timber Wolf and his friend was called Constrictor.”

Sabine turned the television off, before looking at Tom, “Michael’s come home.”

Tom nodded quietly.

WC

Michael glared down at the computer on his desk, quietly grumbling as he looked at the data cache and the number of viruses he’d found.

“You’d think the guy before me would’ve taken precautions, but nooo, they just opened everything and didn’t bother to do updates, virus checks or even turn the bloody thing off.” Michael muttered, before his door opened, “If you have a problem with a computer, please mark the room and computer number on the board and I’ll get back to you.”

When Michael received no response, he raised his head, coming face to face with an Italian Brunette.

“Can I help you?” Michael asked, shortly.

“Hi, I’m having trouble logging onto the computer in the library.” Said the girl, making Michael frown.

“The only computer is the one the librarian uses.” Said Michael, leaning back in his chair.

“She said I could use it.” The girl quickly said, “I need it so I can print off my homework.” The girl had her hand over her heart.

Michael folded his arms and looked at the girl.

“What’s your name?” Michael asked, getting the girls eyes to light up, ‘Great, one of those.’

“I’m Lila Rossi.” Said the girl, making Michael close his eyes.

“Lila, do you know what a tell is?” Michael asked, opening his eyes and glaring at the girl.

Lila looked worried, making Michael think that she did know and was thinking she was screwed or that she didn’t know and thinking she was screwed.

“It’s a poker term, it’s often used to tell when someone is bluffing.” Said Michael, slowly getting to his feet, “It’s also used to tell when someone is lying. Now, I’m only going to ask once, what is the real reason you want to get onto a Staff member’s computer?”

Lila looked to the side, making Michael glance over at the list of students.

“You want to lock someone out of their account.” Said Michael, matter-of-factly.

“N-no, why would you say that?” Lila demanded, trying to act offended.

“You lied by saying that Librarian gave you permission to use her computer, you have a terrible poker face, coupled with an obvious tell, you then looked at the student roster, which has the students names as well as their learner IDs, so you could easily locate the account, you need a Staff members PC to access the files and, this is the best part, you tried to get sympathy because you couldn’t print off you ‘homework’ from someone used to yell at cadets for lying to them.”

Lila gave him a blank look.

“I was a soldier and besides, you wouldn’t’ve been able to change any passwords anyway, only members of staff can do that, which is why you came here, probably hoping that I’d just hand you control of my computer.” Michael stopped and looked down at the screen, “Why, in the name of fuck, have you not even started up yet?!”

Michael punched the computer, sending it off the desk and onto the floor.

“Well fuck.” Said Michael, as he looked down at the shattered screen, “Another thing, Ms. Rossi-”

Michael looked up at Lila, only to find that she’d vanished.

“Well, I should expect a visit from the Principle later.” Michael muttered, going back to his, now destroyed, computer.

True to form, Damocles came storming into the IT office.

“YOU’RE FIRED!” Yelled Damocles, making several students stop by the door.

“May I ask why?” Michael asked, casually leaning back in his chair, using his broken computer as a foot stool.

“Attacking a student.” Said Damocles, making Michael raise his eyebrows.

“Do you have proof of such an occurrence?” Michael asked, a small smirk falling onto his face.

“The student’s word is all I require.” Said Damocles, stiffly.

“Well, I have visual and audio recordings that will say the student is lying and that you fired me under false pretences and that you are inept at your job.” Michael responded, making Damocles fume.

“What recordings?” Damocles asked, a small crowed of student now hanging around the IT office, including Caline and her class.

“The security camera up in the corner and the tape recorders over by the cabinet.” Said Michael, “And before you say the camera’s broken, it was, I fixed it and the recorders needed testing and I know that at least seven of them work.” Michael’s expression then went cold, “And before you decide to ‘fire me’, I should probably remind you that no one wants to work at this school due to the Akumas running around and, that I can literally knock the school off the network for a good month, give or take.”

Damocles silently fumed, before turning on his heel and stomping out.

“Dickhead.” Michael muttered, turning back to the computer he was setting up.

The crowed slowly dispersed, leaving Caline and her class.

“Who’s that?” Alix asked, looking at Michael.

“That is the new IT specialist.” Said Caline, looking at the class, “Any questions?”

“Yeah, but who is he?” Kim asked.

“That’s my older brother.” Said Marinette, getting a double take from the class.

“You have a brother?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

“How fast is he?”

“He’s kinda cute.”

Everyone looked at Juleka, who turned red.

“He can hear you.” Said Michael, not looking away from his computer, “Unless you have a question, I’d like to be left in peace before I lose it and destroy the computer.”

Caline quickly ushered her students back to their classroom, completely forgetting about the calming exercises that she had her class do. Michael quietly grumbled, as he continued to set up the new computer.

A couple of hours later, Michael heard a quiet knock on his office door. Looking up, Michael spotted his sister and a couple of her friends.

“Little one,” Said Michael, getting to his feet, “I’m going to assume that this isn’t a social call.”

“We need you to pull up Lila’s records.” Said Marinette’s friend, Alya, if Michael wasn’t mistaken.

“I’m not allowed to do that.” Said Michael, “Besides, what do you need them for?”

“Lila said that, um,” Alya stammered, struggling coming up with an excuse.

“Lila claimed to be Rena Rouge and Alya had the wake-up call that made her realise that Lila is lying.” Said Marinette, making Alya gape at her.

“Ah, so you want to debunk all her lies.” Said Michael, looking at them, “Unfortunately, her school records won’t be of much use, but I hear Google is a good alternative.”

A look of realisation dawned on Alya’s face, before she said “Oh.”

“Due to a line in my employment contract, I can’t punish her, even if I was a teacher.” Said Michael, leaning back, “So, I can’t help you directly.”

Marinette grinned, before dragging Alya and her other friend away from the office.

Michael could’ve sworn he heard Alya ask Marinette why she didn’t use a cover story. Michael smiled and shook his head, before turning a look at the computer, which had finally booted up. Michael’s face fell and immediately got on the phone.

“Barbra,” Said Michael, his tone grave, “could you send Damocles down here, please?”

A/N: Slow chapter, but the story will expand, but it will mainly follow Michael, Bustier and Marinette, other Characters will be part of the narrative but I’m just putting it out there, I have no idea what I’m planning with this.

[quicksilversquared]

How to Announce a Pregnancy: Chapter 6

Several years after the event of How to Fake a Marriage, Adrien and Marinette are ready to expand their family. When it comes to breaking the news, though…

Well, some people are harder to tell than others.

One year and some-odd months later...

"Masha, if you're going to be right next to Emma, of course she's going to try to use you for support, you silly cat!"

"She can't understand you, Marinette," Tikki said with a laugh. "But yes, Masha should have figured that out by now. It's not like this is Emma's first attempt at walking. Or her first time using Masha for support, even."

"Sasha is looking much smarter right now," Adrien said, pointing to where their younger cat was curled up and watching the scene down below from the safety of a stack of boxes. Or maybe she was just taking a nap, it was hard to tell. "Out of reach of the grabby hands."

"Eventually Masha is going to be there too, I bet." Marinette kneeled down on the carpet, watching Emma trying to balance herself on the furniture (and their older cat) before taking a shaky step forward. "Masha, you're just getting in the way now."

"A cat getting underfoot? You don't say." Adrien grinned, then hopped to his feet at the knock on the door, making sure to give the trio on the floor a wide berth. "Your parents are here!"

"Oh, good." Marinette glanced up as Adrien answered the door, letting Tom and Sabine in. "Emma! Look who's here!"

Emma looked up and lit up at once, falling to her hands and knees so that she could crawl over faster. "Nana! Papi!"

Sabine grinned, handing a large pot to Adrien so that she could bend down and scoop Emma up. "Hi, Emma! How's my little granddaughter doing today?"

"She's working on walking again," Marinette told her mom, pushing herself up. "She's almost got it, I think."

"She'll pick it up soon enough, and then you'll never be able to contain her." Sabine beamed down at Emma as she held her tight. "And then comes the climbing, and then nothing is safe."

Adrien laughed. "Yeah, you've told us before. We're trying to baby-proof as we unpack, but it's hard."

"Yes, well, that's why we came over today, isn't it?" Tom grinned down at Emma, then returned his attention to Adrien and Marinette. "I see that you've gotten some stuff unpacked already."

"Just the furniture, really. And a couple pots and pans." Adrien headed into the kitchen to set the pot down, then returned to the front room to take the bag that Tom was carrying. "I'm glad we got a company to help us with the move. We would have been spinning in circles if we had tried to move everything ourselves. Do you want a tour first?"

Tom and Sabine agreed eagerly, and so they started with the living room/dining room area. It was larger in their three-bedroom apartment than it had been in the two-bedroom, which was nice. It gave Emma more space to tumble around, and once she was joined by another sibling (whenever that happened), then there would be space for them to play together without taking up the entire floor. The kitchen was larger, too, which Tom and Sabine heartily approved of.

"It's larger than ours, which will be nice for you," Sabine said, looking around. "And it's open to the living room, so you can watch Emma while you cook. I love all of the counter space."

"I can't wait to start cooking in it," Marinette admitted. "I'll be able to have things cooling on the counter and still be able to cook without bumping into them. Or Adrien and I can cook together and have plenty of space. It's probably one of the best things about this apartment."

"It's lovely," Sabine told her. "It's so nice that your landlady had these apartments as well, so that you didn't need to do a lot of searching."

Adrien could only nod in agreement. There had been hardly any work involved in getting the new apartment, really. They had told their landlady that they would be interested in a three-bedroom apartment once it opened, she had put them down on a list, and she had let them know as soon as she knew that one would be opening up. They had popped over to the next building over to tour the place and confirm that they wanted it, and then they had moved.

Well, the move itself had been a lot of work. Getting all of their things plus Emma's stuff plus the stuff for Masha and Sasha all packed up had been difficult. Luckily his father had helped with the move- well, Nathalie had, at least- by sending over a check for them to use to hire a moving company. It wasn't terribly expensive since they were just shifting one building over, but it was still appreciated. Adrien and Marinette had been able to drop Emma off with Nino and Alya for the couple hours it took for the workers to clear their old apartment and get things into the new one, and then for the time it took for them to finish their cleaning and do a final walk-through with the landlady before turning over the old keys and getting their new ones.

"How is Emma taking the move?" Sabine asked as they headed out of the kitchen and towards the bedrooms. "I know sometimes little kids get upset when they get uprooted and moved elsewhere."

Marinette grinned. "She's doing well. It helps that we did a bunch of unpacking in her room before she came in for the first time, so it looked really familiar. And she got to pick which of the two kid's bedrooms that she wanted to be hers before we moved, though, uh, I doubt that she knew that that was what she was doing."

"I'm sure there's plenty yet to unpack in there, though." Sabine followed Marinette into Emma's new room, and Tom and Adrien followed her. "Ah- yes, plenty of things."

Adrien winced. There was a pretty big pile of boxes, mostly full of toys and clothes and diapers and all of the extra supplies. They had packed a box with enough for a couple days to unpack right away, but everything else still had to get put away. "Yeah, we were working on it a bit earlier, but then Emma decided to try to walk and we didn't want to miss that. "

"You had to leave some stuff for us to do, and I doubt that you want us unpacking all of your clothes." Sabine was already over at the box pile, glancing over all of the boxes. She set Emma down and then started pulling the topmost one open. "I think I know where all of this goes. Tom and I can get this room while you start on yours."

Marinette giggled. "So much for the rest of the apartment tour, then?"

"Oh! Right!"

It didn't take long for them to finish up. There were two smaller bedrooms- Emma's and Marinette's sewing room- plus a bathroom, then the master bedroom with its own bathroom and the large walk-in closet. It was large enough that Marinette would be able to easily store a lot of her sewing things in it once they needed the third bedroom for a second kid.

Not that Marinette had been sewing a ton at home now, between mainly doing commissions for graphic designs for t-shirts and caring for Emma. But she would need the storage space, at least, and it would be better if the sewing machine was easily accessible when she needed it and not packed away in a box or anything.

"Your bedroom is a nice size," Tom commented, glancing around. The room was really bare so far, with only one blanket on the bed and nothing on the dresser. "It's incredible that anyone would leave once they got this place, but I suppose if they were moving out of the city or outgrew the apartment, it would make sense."

Adrien nodded in agreement. No matter how nice the apartment was, he knew that it wasn't their forever home, not yet. He and Marinette had discussed moving to a townhouse in anticipation of having more kids- they wanted three, after all, and trying to make a move with two or three young kids would no doubt be a nightmare- but they hadn't seen any that they liked open just yet. Besides, townhouses in Paris weren't exactly cheap, and while he and Marinette were pretty well off- between his income as a model for over a decade of his life, her job at the boutique, his job at the Physics lab, and her commissions on the side, they certainly weren't struggling- they had agreed that they wanted to build up a little more savings before going out and buying a house.

"The timing of this place opening up ended up being pretty good, if you think about it," Sabine commented. She bounced Emma on her hip when she started to fuss, making a silly face at her. Emma settled down right away. "Think about trying to move within her first year- it would have been pretty hard, right?"

Neither Adrien nor Marinette could hide their winces at that. Pretty hard was a bit of an understatement there. Their first few months with Emma had been hectic at best as they dealt with diapers and feedings and laundry- so much laundry- and trying to stay on top of their normal household chores. Things had settled down as they got used to balancing it all, and as Emma's feedings grew less frequent (and she started eating baby food and then, later, soft foods, so Adrien could help out more) and the number of diaper changes she went through lessened, they actually got some of their time back. They spent most of it playing with Emma and reading to her, but if they had been trying to move then or before things settled down?

They would have been a mess.

"At least now Emma is old enough for daycare, so if we need more time to unpack we could always take a few days off to pack without her being underfoot," Adrien pointed out after a few seconds. "She loves it, so it's not like she would mind. Or notice that anything was different, really, considering that she goes pretty much every day."

Tom grinned. "You like her daycare, then?"

"Yeah! I don't think we ever thanked you enough for finding that one for us."

Sabine laughed. "It was no problem at all, really. We just asked people who came into the bakery with kids where they had their children go for daycare and if they had been happy with it. No real work required on our parts."

"Still. My father's idea of 'helping' was to tell us that we shouldn't be sending Emma to daycare and that we should get a nanny instead." Adrien rolled his eyes. "I already know that Emma would hate that. She likes seeing the other kids at daycare. And it would be expensive to have a nanny." And Mr. Agreste knew that- he had to, since Adrien had had a nanny for years even though both of his parents had worked from home- but he just didn't think it was fitting for his granddaughter to be going to a common daycare (never mind that the one they had found was definitely on the slightly more upscale side).

Tom made a face. "I'm sure he'll settle down eventually. Or he'll keep doing it and you'll just tune it out," he added, chuckling. "I suppose it's more likely to be the latter."

Adrien sighed. "Yeah, probably."

It didn't take long for them to dive into the unpacking. Tom and Sabine headed into Emma's room to finish unpacking and putting stuff away there, and Adrien and Marinette stayed in their own bedroom, hanging up some clothes and folding others to put away. Emma was put in her crib, where she could watch her grandparents while staying well out of the way.

"After this, I think the kitchen is the next priority for us," Adrien said as he pulled out another blanket and draped it across the bed. "We need to be able to cook. Your parents should be able to do the bathrooms."

"They could do the towels and soaps and cleaners, at least," Marinette corrected, and Adrien winced. Right. If they were having her parents set up the bathrooms, they should pull one of the boxes that was there right now. Her parents didn't need to know about everything that they kept in the bathroom. "And we have to remember that we have two bathrooms now, too. We're going to have to buy more stuff for one of them."

Adrien nodded, thinking about it. "I vote that the stuff we have- the shower curtain and the rugs, mostly- goes in our bathroom, and then we can find some stuff that's maybe a bit more fun for Emma's bathroom. Maybe we could do, like, a tropical fish theme or something?"

"Ooh, I like that!" Marinette had paused, shirt half-folded in her hands as she went into planning mode. "And the mirror and the walls on the tub could have those little sticky gel fish on them as decoration! It would be super cute."

Laughing, Adrien leaned over to kiss her. "Oh no, I've awakened the decorating beast."

"It's fun, and you know it is."

The two of them had only just finished working on clothes when Sabine stuck her head in. "We've finished working on Emma's room for the most part. All you have left are the wall decorations, and I know you like putting those up."

Adrien grinned. "You didn't want to deny Marinette the joy of decorating Emma's room?"

"Not when she enjoys it so much."

"We were just talking about what kinds of decorations we might want to buy for our second bathroom, now that we have two," Marinette told her mom. "We thought we might have a tropical fish theme in Emma's bathroom. It would be fun, and those colors are really pretty."

Sabine grinned. "Oh, she'll love that, I'm sure. It's fun, but not so childish that guests would think anything of it. Tom and I once went to a friend's apartment where they had decorated their kid's bathroom in unicorns and sparkly pink, and it was like here, where the kid's bathroom is the one that any guests use. It was cute, I guess, but..."

"Are you talking about the unicorn bathroom? It was absolutely overwhelming." Tom appeared behind Sabine, a slight grimace on his face at the memory. "I don't think I've ever felt so out of place. It was clear that it was a little girl's bathroom, and I felt like I was intruding."

"So be careful with the level of decoration is what I'm hearing," Marinette said, exchanging a look with Adrien. "Or maybe we could include a few pieces that are less strictly kid-ish."

"I don't think there are many unicorn things that scream adult."

Sabine laughed. "They were talking about doing a tropical fish theme, Tom. No unicorns involved."

Tom looked relieved, and they all laughed.

Emma went down for a nap while Tom and Sabine started setting up the master bathroom, and they worked for another hour before stopping for a quick snack break. Adrien grinned as he surveyed their work.

The apartment was starting to look like home again. It wasn't quite there yet- there were several rooms left to unpack, and of course the books and knick-nacks and pictures wouldn't be put up until later- but stuff was out and getting put away, and more and more boxes were getting flattened and piled up by the door to be taken out. The floor was slowly appearing as boxes were removed, and Adrien could actually see more of their furniture again.

"Was the cat tree a first priority to get up again, or did you just never take it apart?" Tom asked with a laugh when they had managed to uncover it. "And- aha! I see Sasha! I had wondered where she went."

"We never took it apart," Marinette admitted. "Since Mr. Agreste was paying for the move, we figured that we might as well save ourselves a little work and leave it together. And can I just say that I'm glad that we did?"

By the time Emma woke up again, hungry and in need of a diaper change, the bathroom boxes were unpacked, her bedroom was ready (with the sole exception of the wall decorations), the master bedroom was largely unpacked, and a good deal of progress had been made on the kitchen.

"I think I'm unpacked-out," Marinette admitted once she returned with Emma in her arms. "I never thought we had so much stuff."

"Well, we can come again next weekend and spend another day helping out," Sabine offered. "Or we can have an early dinner and see if we have enough energy to finish the kitchen, at least."

Adrien nodded in agreement. That sounded good. If they got the kitchen done, that only left the living room and Marinette's sewing room with serious unpacking left to do. Marinette would probably want to do her sewing room herself with Adrien acting as an extra pair of hands to move things around, and most of the stuff for the living room was just knickknacks, things that they didn't really need but added some personality to the apartment. Those could wait for a little longer, maybe for an evening or two where they had some time on their hands.

They would have to find the cat toys, at least. Otherwise, Masha and Sasha would start getting into things that they shouldn't.

It didn't take long for them to put the pot that Tom and Sabine had brought over on the stove, and stick the bread that they had brought with it in the oven to warm. Adrien kept an eye on the food while Marinette and her parents played with Emma. When he came back out, Masha had made herself at home on Tom's shoulder while Emma sat in his lap, giggling as Sabine acted out a story with some of Emma's stuffed animals.

It was adorable, and Adrien was glad that Emma had one set of grandparents who loved kids so much. Whenever his father saw Emma, he simply acknowledged her with a short nod before addressing Adrien and Marinette.

There was a reason that Emma didn't like him very much. Whenever she saw Mr. Agreste she hid and fussed. Whenever her other grandparents entered a room, though, she lit up and babbled for them. It was an interesting difference, and Adrien wondered how much it would continue once Emma was older.

It wasn't long before Sabine was done with her story and dinner was ready, and Adrien scooped up Emma to put her in her high chair. She squealed happily as he spun her around on the way to the table. "Da!"

"I'll put the cats back in the bedroom," Marinette said, reaching up to scoop Sasha off of the cat tree. Masha meowed and followed Marinette back to the bedroom, used to the routine by now. They couldn't keep the cats out during meals anymore, not with Emma in full Messy Eater mode. They would both get used to stealing table scraps, and that was not something that Adrien and Marinette wanted to deal with.

"You know, a baby gate would be good for that," Sabine pointed out as Sasha tried to escape. "Then you could just dump Sasha over that and not have to wrestle with getting the door closed before she escapes."

"You assume that Sasha wouldn't just climb right over," Marinette called back. "Because she would. We're hoping that she mellows out with age."

Adrien tried not to laugh at that. It would probably be years before that happened.

"Okay, but if you hung a piece of metal or something on it, would that keep her from climbing?" Tom asked. "If I gave you a couple industrial sheet trays, that would cover the holes on the baby gate. Unless Sasha is the world's best jumper, she's probably be stuck."

"It's worth a try," Adrien admitted. "It would be nice for mealtimes to not be such a ordeal."

"I'll bring the trays over during the week, then," Tom decided. "I have a few that probably should get retired, so you can have those."

"Fantastic."

Dinners took longer now that they had to account for Emma, though at least she wasn't a fussy eater. She was feeding herself now, too, and once she stopped eating it was a surefire sign that she was actually full. Adrien appreciated it, especially because Alya and Nino hadn't gotten so lucky and it was a lot harder to feed Elodie. Still, even though she fed herself it didn't mean that she did it quickly. There was a lot of pauses as she babbled to her grandparents, something almost resembling an actual word occasionally slipping out as she pointed to her parents and grandparents and her food.

"She's a little chatterbox," Tom chuckled as Emma smashed a handful of food into her mouth. "She's going to start picking up words really soon now, I'll bet. And once she starts, she'll learn a lot."

Adrien grinned over at Marinette. "I get feeling that we're in for another Marinette story."

Sabine laughed. "You are! Marinette went to daycare most of the time when she was young, but there were a few days where I just brought her down into the bakery- mostly because there was a cold getting passed around the daycare or when Marinette got fussy and wanted mommy time. And once she started learning words, she picked up all of the names for the different pastries in the bakery and would name them as people put them down. Or she would tell people what colors their clothes were. Most people really thought it was cute-"

"As they should, because Baby Mari was adorable," Tom added in.

"But not everyone was great at watching their language around babies," Sabine continued, and Marinette buried her face in her hands with a groan. "These poor boys- they had popped in to get some rolls for their mom, I think, and they dropped their money after they had paid and one of the coins went under the counter. They swore just out of habit, and then Marinette repeated them. I don't think I had ever seen anyone look so mortified before."

"They hadn't realized that there was a toddler behind the counter, listening to everything that was going on," Tom told them. "And they apologized, of course, and then hightailed it out of there. Thankfully Marinette didn't make it a permanent addition to her vocabulary."

Adrien grinned at his blushing wife. "At least not at that stage. I know I've heard some colorful vocabulary when she stabs herself with a needle."

"Oh, hush you."

"So, you said that your father helped pay for the move," Tom said, grinning at their exchange even as he changed the subject. "Have you been seeing more of him now?"

Adrien snorted. "Once every month or two. Thankfully he doesn't make it a long visit, since Emma gets fussy and he doesn't like hanging around then. She's our new get-out-of-jail-free card."

Sabine raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "That sounds like you had an old get-out-of-jail-free card."

"Father is allergic to cat hair," Adrien reminded her, gesturing towards the bedroom. "He used to cut dinners a bit short because his nose would start running. Then he started taking stuff for his allergies before we came over, so he could monologue at us for as long as he wanted."

"Or sit across from us in silent disapproval," Marinette added in. "Though he's mostly stopped that, at least. I think he's finally given up hope that Adrien will give up on Physics and come back to Gabriel and that I'll quit my job and work for him instead."

Sabine rolled her eyes. "It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you love your job where you are. So he's still working, then?"

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. Nathalie is doing her best to get him to take a step back, though. She thinks that he would be a lot less stressed if she was just designing and not doing absolutely everything involved in actually running the company."

"But he's not listening?"

"He's not listening," Adrien confirmed with a sigh. "Even though his doctor agrees. Being head of the company just keeps him stressed all the time." The stress was going to land his father in an early grave, Adrien was sure of it. At the rate Gabriel was going, Adrien was starting to worry that his father wouldn't still be around to tell when they got pregnant with their second child.

Even if his father had never been that engaged with him- and had been a distant, controlling parent ever since Adrien's mom vanished- Adrien still couldn't imagine not having his father around. It was a foreign concept, and not exactly a welcome one.

"And he's older than us, too." Tom was frowning. "By nearly a decade, right? Even so, he shouldn't be having that many health issues. My mother certainly isn't, and she's older than him."

"And he wouldn't, without all of the stress." Adrien wondered how much of a difference it would make if his mom were still around. She might have been able to get through to his father better than he or Nathalie could, and she and his father could have split the workload of running the company. But she was gone- none of the leads that they had had ever panned out- and what-ifs wouldn't help now. "And if he weren't just ignoring everything, thinking that stuff will go away."

Tom and Sabine both winced at that.

"At this point, I think it's going to take a major health scare to get through to him," Adrien admitted. "Which certainly isn't ideal."

"Not at all," Sabine agreed. "And I'm happy to report that both Tom and I go in for check-ups and screenings every year and we haven't had any problems. And if we did, we would certainly take the doctor's advice about how to fix it."

"And thank goodness for that."

  Tom and Sabine insisted on doing the washing-up, and then they helped finish unpacking and setting up the kitchen under Adrien's supervision while Marinette decorated Emma's room. By the time they left, everyone was yawning and Emma was nodding off in Tom's arms.

"Off to bed for us, I think," Tom said cheerfully as he and Sabine gathered up their things, handing Emma back to Adrien. "Let us know if we can be any help this week. We have enough staff now that we don't have to work such long hours and can easily spend the evenings over here. Or if you ever need someone to take care of Emma for a couple of hours..."

"We know, you tell us every week," Marinette said with a laugh. "We'll keep it in mind, just like always. And I'll send you a video if Emma starts walking on her own. She's getting so close."

"They grow up so fast," Sabine bemoaned briefly, but she was smiling. "Good-night, you three. Stop by any time."

"Good night!"

The door closed, and both Adrien and Marinette almost immediately made a beeline for the couch, flopping down on it and letting out identical long breaths.

"So, we've moved," Adrien told the ceiling. "I don't think I can handle another move for at least a couple more years."

Marinette nodded fervently. "Yeah. Not until we're ready for Kid Three and need the extra space." She sighed, then glanced around. "I think we'll be happy here, though, once we settle in. There's plenty of space for Emma, and for us, and for expanding our family again once we're ready for that."

"Two adults, two kwamis, two cats, one toddler..." Adrien laughed. "We're a bit of an odd bunch here, really."

"Well, it might be a little weird, but it's our weird," Marinette said fondly, leaning over to kiss Adrien. He returned it happily, smiling into the kiss. "And I wouldn't change it for the world."

Fin.

[brothermarc7theatre]

Cats: The Movie 2019 Deserves, or the Review You Don’t Want to Read about Cats

For the record, I did not enjoy the most recent, seriously detested, almost-offensive (it would seem) film adaptation of Cats. However, was I supposed to? From the moment the initial trailer pounced on to the scene, audiences already hated the fact that this juggernaut of a musical was being put on film. The CGI was criticized, the musical criticized (but what else is new?), the A-list cast praised as martyrs for agreeing to do this. The following is why Cats never had a life, let alone nine, to begin with.

Here you have an Oscar-winning director in Tom Hooper (The King’s Speech) who has previous movie-musical cred (Les Miserables, oof though). He’s partnered with three-time Tony award winning choreographer, Andy Blankenbuehler (In The Heights, Hamilton, Bandstand (don’t get me started on the last one though)) and (Sir) Andrew Lloyd Webber (EGOT, multi Tony-winning composer, including the original musical of Cats). However, Cats, as a musical, is already a shoe-horned plot into a collection of poems by T.S.Eliot, who posthumously won the Tony Award for Best Book of a Musical (for a near-plotless musical, it would seem). Mr. Hooper’s shoe-horning plot into an already-shoe-horned plot just makes for double shoe-hornage, when the average shoe can only fit one horn.

Next, what’s the best way to turn off thespian audiences to a dance show? How? Let me tell ya: take away the integrity of the dance. Now, don’t get me wrong, the dancing in Cats the film contains choreography that any trained dancer can do. However, there is sooooooooo much CGI present that we as the audience can’t decipher if the releve is fully extended, if the foot is truly turned out, or if the fuerte had a spot. When audiences can’t trust an Oscar-winning director and a three-time Tony Award winning choreographer, you’ve just become the three-legged cat in a dog fight (but don’t you dare address a cat as a dog!).

Next, you have the cast. The cast of names that any party in Hollywood would die to have in a single room. Except they’re cats! When you have such committed pros like Dame Judi Dench; Sir Ian McKellen; Platinum-artist Jason Derulo; multi-Grammy-winning, Artist of the Decade Taylor Swift; one of America’s favorite hosts and a Tony-winner himself James Corden; 2018 People’s Sexiest Man Alive and beloved actor Idris Elba; Grammy and Oscar-winning Jennifer Hudson, among many others, audiences want to see these people do their thing. But you have committed professionals committing to being Jellicle cats  (which are what, exactly?) and CGI artists and producers who are like, “Yo, Tom! We need to make sure audiences can tell who Taylor Swift is, otherwise they’re gonna hiss at us!” At no point in the film do the CGI and realistic-looking parts match up in a fluid way. Ever. Not even once.

Lastly, and this is what really grinds my gears, is how awesome everyone was at making sure none of the established artists sounded great in their time to shine. It’s very clear who had one day of availability for filming, and who maybe had three or four. But when Rebel Wilson (playing Jennyanydots) sounds like she’s giving birth and going through puberty at same time, especially after she’s been on the scene as a powerhouse vocalist and comedienne through the Pitch Perfect series, then cringe is all one can do. And cringe I did. When Mr. Derulo’s enunciation is non-existent in his one big number (yes, they took the song “Mr. Mistofolees” away from him but gave him a falsetto-tenor run that is ridden with vibrato) then nobody wants to talk dirty to him, which is a problem since Rum Tum Tugger is supposed to drip with sex. When Dame Judi Dench delivers the finale in a direct address to the camera (for the whole number!!!), I lose my mind, and you better believe the next time I see a dog I will thank God that that dog is a dog and not a cat. At no point would anyone who is a Taylor, Derulo, Rebel fan want to hear any of their Cats covers on an album, no matter how much cat nip or spoiled milk you’re drunk on.

All this is to say that I believe, as I watched the ending credits of Cats, I knew that this is the exact movie Mr. Hooper and the Producers wanted (sans Dame Dench’s human hand complete with wedding ring; yes, I saw the original version); it’s the performance that Ms. Hudson (Grizabella), Francesca Hayward (introduced as Victoria, the White Cat, and she is phenomenal, might I add!), and Laurie Davidson (Mr. Mistofolees, who is fabulous in his final song/scene, let me just say) wanted; it’s the movie that 2019 audiences wanted to hate, and they got exactly what they wanted. We live in a generation where it’s safer, almost encouraged to hate everything, and a risk to like something. 2019 was ready to hate Cats, and those who made the movie just wanted to make a movie. So, here you go, 2019, get ready to end the decade with the movie you wanted to hate. But the movie still exists. It was still made, it exists. Perhaps in 2020, we as a country of consumers can choose to not judge a cat by its tail from the moment it’s released from the kennel. Perhaps, we can support and go into art with a notion that it might just be…good? It might just be a door that opens a new theatre lover or film connoisseur to the art of storytelling. Is that too much to ask? Or do we just want to continue the hate-watching mantra so we don���t ever have to justify why we may actually like something that others don’t? Cats, the movie 2019 absolutely deserves. Meow.

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

The Broadway Revival Doesn’t Get Comedy

Here’s another long essay hating on the Broadway Revival. I promise that this will be the last one of these, because I think I’ve summed up all the problems I have with it by this point.

The title of this essay isn’t universally true. There is good comedy in the Broadway Revival. But, most of it comes from the actors improvising. When it comes to the comic relief numbers of the show, the changes in choreography and staging, and even in plot in one case, generally fail to understand how the jokes in the numbers work.

Now, I know that explaining the joke makes it less funny, but in order to explain why the 2016 comedy doesn’t work, I’ll have to explain why older versions do. Why is the 1998 film funny, and why are bootlegs/pro-shots of earlier productions funny, in places where 2016 falls flat?

To begin with, you might be wondering, “in a show full of strange nonsense and little concrete plot, what would you call a comic relief number?”. There are plenty of numbers in the show that have a comedic tone to them that I don’t consider comic relief numbers. The Rum Tum Tugger is usually full of comedic bits, for example, but it’s not a comic relief number. Why? Because it does something other than be funny and lighten the mood. It’s a song all about a major character who’s just appeared. Apart form Chorus Tugger in the opening, who usually doesn’t stand out much, we haven’t seen Tugger yet. After the cats leave after The Naming of Cats, we don’t see him again until his own number, where he interrupts the party to tell us what he’s all about. Tugger, as a character, is introduced as high-energy and a troublemaker, which leads to comedy, so the song has comedic moments, but it’s not purely a comic relief number.

Most songs in Cats are like this. They’re songs about what makes a character tick, and because these characters are onstage for most of the show, it’s good to let the audience get to know them. But, there are a few numbers in the show that don’t introduce characters and don’t advance the plot. They’re just entertaining little skits that don’t fit anywhere else. These are the comic relief numbers.

In a full production of Cats, in which no songs are cut, there are three comic relief numbers: Bustopher Jones, The Pekes and the Pollicles, and Growltiger’s Last Stand. The first one might be confusing. Bustopher Jones introduces a character. Shouldn’t it count as one of the character songs like The Rum Tum Tugger? The difference is that, while Tugger sticks around and plays a role in other events of the show, Bustopher is only present for his number. He shows up, there’s a song, and then he leaves and is never seen again. This makes the number into something of a non-sequiter.

Gus the Theatre Cat also revolves around a character who’s really only there for his own song. In productions that cut Growltiger, this is all you see of him. But, Gus the Theatre Cat isn’t a comic relief number because it’s one of the few songs that doesn’t have a comedic tone. There are jokes here and there, and in most stage productions the character of Gus is more comedic than he is in the 1998 film, but the song has a softer tone, no dancing, and Gus eventually leaves in tears. Though the 1998 film stands out in this regard, even in other productions, this is not a comic relief number.

Another thing you’ll notice is that Bustopher Jones, The Pekes and the Pollicles, and Growltiger all come after more serious, less energetic numbers. Grizabella the Glamor Cat and Gus the Theatre Cat are both quite sad, and the play basically changes the subject to lighten the mood. Old Deuteronomy isn’t sad, but it’s slow and more serious. When the tone of the show starts to get serious, a comic relief number is added to lighten the mood. The pattern breaks with Macavity, with the song followed by a fight, to show that the stakes have been raised and things are getting serious. Mister Mistoffelees comes along as a more upbeat number, but the change in tone here is pretty much a plot point. Everything seems bleak and then Tugger starts this number to give everyone hope. Mistoffelees restores power after the light goes out as part of this shift. We were at our literal darkest moment and now there’s a spark of hope.

So, now that we know what numbers are comic relief numbers, it’s time to go into how and why they work, or how and why they don’t when things go wrong. Since the Broadway Revival cuts Growltiger, I’ll focus more on the other two, but the new version of The Pekes and the Pollicles borrows from Growltiger, so the stuff that was borrowed will also have to be discussed. But, before we get into all that messy business, let’s take a look at Bustopher Jones:

Bustopher Jones:

Most of the comedy in Bustopher Jones, though there are a few simple fat jokes in there, comes from how other characters react to Bustopher. Bustopher keeps an air of dignity about him as he formally greets everyone and discusses his clubs. He’s not the joke here. This is a song of Amusing Background Events. With the queens, you have Jenny’s crush on Bustopher and Bombalurina clearly not getting it but trying to be polite about it and not kinkshame Jenny over it. With the toms, you have the kittens getting over-excited and the older cats, desperate to impress Bustopher, rushing to stop them from making a scene, making a scene themselves in the process.

In particular, there are three characters to watch in this number who provide the best comedy: Mistoffelees, Skimbleshanks, and Munkustrap. Two out of the three of them, which two depends on the production, will go into fanboy mode, often competing for Bustopher’s attention. Broadway-based productions tend to have Misto and Skimble compete for Bustopher’s attention, while London-based productions, such as the 1998 film, tend to put more focus on Munkustrap. He barely contains his excitement and is shown to be Not So Above It All, though he’s usually more level-headed than whichever cat, Misto or Skimble, he’s being contrasted with.

Basically, the joke is that Bustopher is considered super-important, despite not having a clear place in the tribe’s hierarchy, and everyone goes nuts trying to impress him, get his attention, and make sure that everything is perfect and nothing goes wrong. This joke works best when Bustopher is actually pretty laid-back and everyone’s freaking out over nothing.

The 2016 version doesn’t get this. You do see characters scrambling around, trying to make sure everything’s perfect, and get Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer as far away from Bustopher as possible, but, at the moment when it’s the most important to get this right, it fails.

The biggest problem with the number is Bustopher’s solo. It’s performed well enough, like most of this production. That’s not the problem. There are two main problems: a staging problem and a writing problem. The staging problem is where the above explanation comes in: When Bustopher sings his solo, no one gathers near him. In other productions, a group of toms gather around Bustopher where they hang on his every word, try to get his attention, and try to look important in front of the others. There’s always one, Misto, Skimble, or, more rarely, Munkustrap, who tries to stand way too close. But, 2016 Bustopher is given plenty of room to just stand there and face the audience. No one seems to be paying that much attention to what he’s saying.

There’s also a problem with how the solo is edited and the break that follows it. The problem isn’t that Bustopher’s solo is shortened. Lots of productions do that. The problem is in what’s cut.

The full solo consists of four quatrains: sets of four lines. The second and fourth lines rhyme with each other, so each quatrain ends on a rhyme: rules and Schools, Blimp’s and shrimps, bones and Drones, Glutton and mutton.

The original Broadway run of the show, and many other productions copying it, the second and third quatrains are cut. You go from Joint Superior Schools to “If I’m seen in a hurry”. The 2016 version cuts the first and second quatrains, only including the second half of the solo. The problem with this is that it cuts the first quatrain.

Cutting directly to the third quatrain is musically awkward, because there’s no build-up to this point in the song that’s song loudly with a choir backing it up. But, when it comes to the joke that’s being told in the solo, cutting the first quatrain removes the set-up and changes what the joke is. With the first quatrain, the solo is about the various clubs Bustopher goes to. Starting at the third quatrain, the joke is mainly a list of foods that Bustopher likes, even though the clubs are mentioned.

The first quatrain is the only portion of the solo to not mention food at all. It’s all about the social etiquette of gentlemens clubs. A gentleman in the early 20th century wasn’t supposed to belong to more than one club. So, in order to go to eight or nine, as Bustopher does, one would have to make sure that the clubs didn’t meet too close together, so that someone from one club might see them at another. It’s part of his strategy in going from club to club: he imitates the etiquette of the humans on the surface, while actually breaking all the rules behind their backs.

But, the point is, Bustopher is listing the various clubs he’s managed to get food from. He’s sort of cheating them all, though I doubt they’d care that a cat was frequenting more than one club. Going to different clubs that are located far enough apart that people from club A are unlikely to walk past the meeting place of club B is quite a feat and it takes a lot of skill to pull off. Bustopher knows what clubs he can do this with and what food he can get from them. If he wants seafood, he goes to the Stage and Screen. If he wants curry, he can go to the Siamese or the Glutton. Foxes is too close to one of his other clubs for him to go there, but he can get fresh meat of the same quality at Blimp’s.

The first quatrain sets up and explains the joke. Without this set-up, the joke becomes one about gluttony, making it more of a fat joke than it is when the first quatrain is included. To make matters even worse, the 2016 choreography adds this instrumental break where the cats put together a restaurant for Bustopher and give him various foods, doubling down on the joke being purely about Bustopher’s gluttony, not how he messes with high society. It’s still a joke and people might still find it funny, but it’s not the same joke and comes very close to being “it’s funny cuz he fat”.

The entire point of the number is that Bustopher’s weight is part of why he’s celebrated. He’s fat because he’s clever, managing to trick a bunch of rich humans into giving him fancy food off of their own plates. Because he looks like he’s wearing a tuxedo and spats at all times, the gentlemen at the clubs see him as fitting in, even though he’s most likely a stray. If he had an owner who was feeding him, he wouldn’t have developed this whole routine for getting food. The people who probably wouldn’t give food to a homeless human, seeing it as “feeding strays”, will literally feed a stray just for looking like he belongs. It combines two things that cats tend to love: food and messing with stupid humans.

So, the lack of emphasis on how other characters react to Bustopher and the reason why they react that way weakens the joke. But, to give credit where credit is due, I do like how they double down on Bustopher being Tugger for older women but have Jellylorum seem to be just as into him as Jenny is.

The Pekes and the Pollicles:

Here’s where the Broadway Revival goes completely off the rails. Both The Pekes and the Pollicles and Growltiger are often cut from productions to save time. They’re both “play within a play” scenes, which can be a bit confusing in a show that rarely ever uses dialogue to introduce the numbers. The Pekes and the Pollicles in particular seems to come out of nowhere. “Yay! Old Deuteronomy is here! Now let’s make fun of dogs!”

So, the Broadway Revival, like every production, had to decide what to do with these numbers. Would it keep them? Cut one of them? Cut both of them? But, for some reason, they invented a new option: Combine the two.

2016 Pekes and Pollicles isn’t The Pekes and the Pollicles. It’s a combination of The Pekes and the Pollicles and Growltiger’s Last Stand. The song is moved to where Growltiger is normally done and parts of the melody are mixed in. The Rumpus Cat, as a character, is equated to Growltiger as a character Gus played back in the day. This is where the trouble starts.

Now, I’ll once again stop to give credit where credit is due: The 2016 opening to The Pekes and the Pollicles is really sweet, with Old Deuteronomy encouraging Gus to play the Rumpus Cat one more time. Growltiger is basically a dream sequence of Gus flashing back to when he played Growltiger. Getting to see him actually relive his glory days one last time is nice. If they used this opening for Growltiger instead of The Pekes and the Pollicles, it would’ve been a good addition to the number.

So, Growltiger and The Pekes and the Pollicles are both plays within a play. Why not combine them? Well, the main problem is that The Rumpus Cat is not Growltiger.

Now, a lot of people hate Growltiger’s Last Stand and I’m not going to act like it’s some kind of masterpiece. I personally find the number to be sort of middle-of-the-road. If you see it more than once, the shock value of the cringey Asian stereotypes starts to wear off and, with a few exceptions, the number feels kind of dull. Andrew Lloyd Webber himself said that he was never really pleased with how Growltiger turned out and the London Revival rewrite might be worse than the original, at least musically. But, I’ve seen a few productions of Growltiger that I thought were kind of funny, usually by taking the racial stuff and sort of saying, “We know it’s bad and we can’t make it better, so we’ll just make it worse” and playing it up to the point of absurdity, like a parody of the sort of Yellow Peril stereotypes the song includes. I’ll also give credit to the Tecklenburg non-replica keeping the Siamese in silhouette behind a sheet.

When I say “The Rumpus Cat is not Growltiger”, I mean that how the two characters work comedically is completely different. You can’t just swap one for the other without rewriting the comedy of the entire number to match.

You’ll notice that Growltiger is in the title of Growltiger’s Last Stand. The song centers around Growltiger as the main character. The Pekes and the Pollicles includes the Rumpus Cat in the full title, but said title is so long that you rarely ever hear the song called that. The Rumpus Cat plays a key role in the story, but he shows up later on. The song isn’t about him. He’s not onstage for most of it.

This means that the comedy surrounding Growltiger and the comedy surrounding the Rumpus Cat work completely differently. The comedy of Growltiger is the comedy of Growltiger’s Last Stand. It all revolves around him. This is a joke based on a wacky character. The joke in The Pekes and the Pollicles isn’t about a single wacky character. It’s about a play where everything that could go wrong does with Munkustrap acting as the straight man. He’s the only one taking this seriously, perhaps a bit too seriously. The Rumpus Cat is just another thing that goes wrong. He’s funny, but so is everyone else who calls attention to themselves throughout the number.

Putting Gus as the Rumpus Cat into the Pekes and Pollicles is performing the number but with the joke from Growltiger. The Rumpus Cat enters the story too late for this to work, so Gus spends most of the number onstage, sharing the narrator role with Munkustrap. Furthermore, in order to include Rumpus Catified versions of Growltiger’s jokes, pretty much every memorable joke from The Pekes and the Pollicles is cut. Nothing goes wrong with the rest of the cast. The first Peke and Pollicle say their lines correctly. The March of the Pollicles and the Scottish Pollicles are cut, removing all the gags there, including Tugger playing the bagpipes at such a fitting moment that only Munkustrap is upset at first.

The fact that nobody messes up is especially weird in this version, because it’s spontaneous. Old Deuteronomy decides that Gus should get to play the Rumpus Cat again and everyone just automatically knows their role in the play. The Pekes and the Pollicles is a show Munkustrap put together for Old Deuteronomy. He had everything planned out. There were rehearsals. But, nobody showed up to rehearsals and nothing goes according to plan. If the play were spontaneous and everyone messed up, it wouldn’t be as funny, because that’s what you’d expect. Nobody had time to learn what to do, so they don’t do it right.

Instead of having the comedy come from the cast of the play messing up, the comedy is about how over-the-top Gus is. He’s narrating now, so why is Munkustrap even there? He does sort of play the straight man to Gus’ antics, but, because Munkustrap isn’t in charge here, he can’t show as much frustration. He can only awkwardly question things and be ignored. The worst case of this is with the “heathen Chinese” line. Most modern productions replace “heathen” with a less offensive word. It almost always feels a bit forced, but it works well enough. Some productions just leave the line as is, which makes it seem like they don’t care, but it doesn’t make the problem any worse. 2016 instead decides to call attention to how bad the line is by having Munkustrap question it, with the line being the older Gus’ fault. Not only does this make Gus less likable, it doesn’t actually solve the problem. The song can’t stop to acknowledge it, so, even though Munkustrap questions it, he still says the line anyway, making the whole thing a waste of time. They should’ve either changed the line or left it alone. But, they basically tried to have it both ways.

Trying to have it both ways is the fatal flaw of the number. They could’ve cut Growltiger like the 1998 film did. If you hadn’t seen any production of the show before seeing the 1998 film, you’d never guess that there was supposed to be a song between Gus and Skimbleshanks. It can be easily edited out. They also could’ve kept Growltiger and used redesigned, less stereotypical costumes for the Siamese, like the Vienna Revival did. It wouldn’t solve everything, but an effort would’ve been made. But, by combining Growltiger with another number, they both did and didn’t cut the number. Instead, the messed with and weakened The Pekes and the Pollicles so they could reference Growltiger without actually performing it.

The places were Growltiger’s melody is used for lines in The Pekes and the Pollicles feel forced, because those words weren’t written for that tune. That basically sums up the whole problem. One song was combined with another in a way that felt forced and awkward, because the elements of the two numbers weren’t meant to go together.

In conclusion, I think the Broadway Revival’s comedic downfall came from a sort of indecisiveness. They wanted to keep things the same but also change them, possibly not even knowing what they wanted to change them into, only that they wanted to change them. They wanted to shorten Bustopher’s solo, but not the way it’d been done before. They wanted to cut Growltiger, but not in the way it’d been done before. They wanted to do Cats, but not in the way it’d been done before. 

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to try new things. This could’ve been the template for an interesting non-replica if they really committed to doing things in a different way. But, they got stuck in between, wanting to be different, but not wanting to be too different. So, they tried to fix what wasn’t broken and sell it as New and Improved. This paved the way for the 2019 film to do the same, but with even worse comedy and without the advantage of the numbers being performed well by a devoted cast who knew what they were doing.

TLDR: 2016 messes with comedic numbers in ways that weaken them. It makes Bustopher Jones more completely about gluttony and tries to combine The Pekes and the Pollicles with Growltiger, failing both.

[dangerwatson]

            SO, MS. WATSON. YOU WANNA MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

It’s ya girl Lin back on my ‘ let’s cry about a beautiful woman together ’ bs. Here’s MJ ! It’s long, but that’s to have all her relevant information in one place should you ( or me more than likely ) need to hit it up for future reference. I’m excited to have her here ya’ll.

BASICS.

Given / Birth Name : Mary Jane Watson Nickname / Preferred Name : MJ, Red Alias(es) : N/A Birthdate / Age : June 19th 1991 / Twenty - Seven Place of Birth : Montoursville, Pennsylvania Current Location : Little Italy, NYC Gender Identity : Cis Female Sexual / Romantic Orientation : Disaster Bisexual Ethnicity / Race / Cultural Heritage: African - American && German Marital Status : Single Occupation : Field Reporter && Political commentator for Weekly Review Religious Beliefs : Agnostic. Raised Christian.

CHARACTERISTICS.

Height : 5′8″ Weight : 135 Body Type / Build : Entirely Average. Could stand to go to the gym, but honestly who has that kind of time. Don’t compare her to fruit she hates that. Eye Color : Green  Hair Color / Texture : Auburn. Worn natural, 4b curls and all. Sometimes braided, sometimes weaved, sometimes in bantu knots or covered by headscarves. She’s very particular with her hair - touching it can and will lead to physical harm against the perpetrator if unwelcome. Recognizable Features / Scars : Big ol’ dimples and a slight cleft chin. Dusting of dark freckles across nose and chest. Speech Patterns / Accent : Has a deeper voice, boarding whisky worn. Because she’s moved around the majority of her childhood MJ has no discernible accent, giving her a modulated tone that’s perfect for clear annunciation across media platforms. Languages Spoken : English, French, ASL Powers / Skills / Abilities : No powers, however MJ has a nose for good stories, and tends to follow wherever they take her.  Overall Health : Good.

RELATIONSHIPS.

Order of Birth : Youngest Number of Siblings : 1 Father’s Status + Relationship : Phillip Watson, alive. An abusive alcoholic, former High School English teacher. No relationship amends have been made. Mother’s Status + Relationship : Madeline Watson nee Rains, deceased. A starry eyed dreamer, former actress turned stay at home mother. Left Phillip after he struck Gayle, bounced both children through various family members. Passed away shortly after from congenital heart failure exacerbated by stress and lack of access to treatment. Sibling Status + Relationship : Gayle Watson, older sister by almost five years. Unlike MJ, continued to have a relationship with their father. Married her schoolyard sweetheart and had two children. He divorced her around the same time MJ graduated high school, leaving both sisters ( and her nephews ) living under Aunt Anne’s roof. They’re nearly estranged. When she visits her aunt and nephews, both sisters make a point of keeping their conversations short -- if they happen at all. Loyalty / Affiliation : Outwardly neutral, though subject to change behind closed doors.

PERSONALITY.

MBTI : ESFJ Hobbies : Dancing. Doesn’t matter where, when, why or how. Catch her pulling an n*sync routine in her living room at 4 PM on a Tuesday. MJ also has a knack for exploration. There are a lot of ( read : free ) things to do around the city and magically finds them all. Who cares if you have no interest in the Fungi Festival, there are booths everywhere for a quick way to kill an afternoon. Tried needlework one afternoon, didn’t stick and now there’s an abomination of mutant looking cats hanging above her bathroom door. Bad Habits : Smoking. Fixing / hyper - focusing on her hair when uncomfortable or stressed. Jumping head first into the dating scene only to find out it’s the shallow end. Providing 20 second long fart sounds whenever someone asks “how are you?” Taking care of others before taking care of herself. Three Positive Traits : The silent Mom Friend. Allow me to explain : MJ is traditionally that bitch^tm making sure you get home okay after hanging out, she ensures your soul is as well nourished as your body. For all of her outward party-girl aesthetics and a forced mean girl perception on her by others, she makes sure her friends are in good headspaces. That they feel encouraged to follow their ambitions and ultimately celebrate every success no matter the size. It’s the type of selflessness that she’d wanted for herself growing up, so I’ve labeled it as her BEST trait. She’s incredibly outgoing. An extrovert through and through, getting her battery charged by being around people. It’s what makes her an attractive personality. When in a battle of small talk, MJ not only listens and remembers those small shared details but she knows how to keep the conversation going without making it seem like a chore. I love how in tune she is like that, girl vibes hard with new and old friends alike. Finally, MJ would make a professional bargain hunter blush. She grew up poor and as a direct result is extremely careful about what she’s doing with money. And yes, being financially responsible during these trying times as a Millennial trying to earn that bread is pretty much a given good quality. We all wish it wasn’t, but here we are. Three Negative Traits : MJ is stubborn to a fault. When she digs her heels into something it’s hard to get her to stop until a desired outcome is achieved ( or undesired, event depending ). While this is usually reworded as a positive asset —- being so DRIVEN and MOTIVATED —– that’s simply not the case with her. She’s lived through all consequences resulting from this inability to budge and none of the supposed rewards. Been fired from more jobs than she’d care to admit for telling former bosses where to shove unrealistic worker expectations, or coworkers where they can file passive aggressive bullpucky. She’s also incredibly stunted emotionally. As mentioned, she’s a silent Mom Friend, but reciprocation of her actions isn’t met with as much of an openness as one might expect. MJ keeps her feelings to herself, and it usually builds up until she suffers a full scale breakdown triggered by something mundane like … dropping a fry or seeing a lady bug stepped on. Decompressing is a word in her vocabulary, for sure, but it was easier to partake in as a 20 year old than as a near 30 year old with responsibilities and bills to pay. Picky puts it in palatable terms, but MJ knows what she likes and how she likes it. When she doesn’t, then she’ll quickly find a preference. In the meantime we’ll say she’s very particular about what styles she likes to wear, how her make up is, how her hair looks, and over all what image she’s presenting to a general public. It’s a habit she hasn’t been able to shake. Moral Alignment : Neutral Good

ASSOCIATIONS.

One Song : Dead and Lovely - Tom Waits One Quote / Piece of Art : “Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.” One Fear : Following the Watson Women path of horrible no good very bad mistakes and poor life decisions. One Strength : Persistence One Object : Breathe Right Nasal Strips One Place : May’s kitchen One Food : Garlic One Scent : Cinnamon. One Lucky Charm : Old tattered friendship bracelet

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Pretty typical “American Dream !” 50′s family dynamic. Everyone looking great in their Sunday best photos, father with a steady job, stay at home mom to save on daycare, two daughters and a stray cat named Sir Stinkybottom.

Father started facing emotional breaking points brought about by lack of what he considered satisfactory income and inbound midlife crisis. Turned to drinking, ( turned into a right train wreck. )

Mary-Jane, Gayle and Maddie hopped from various family member’s couches to crash for a couple of weeks at a time during the separation process from Phillip.  This lasted a year.

Maddie passed away when MJ was around 10 and Gayle 15, Gayle instantly taking up the role of Mother Figure to MJ’s wild child foil. MJ maintains she doesn’t remember all that much about her mother while Gayle remembers everything and that becomes a point of contention. 

Father returns into their life. It’s messy, he eats away at their still developing ego’s like the cancerous human blob he’s chosen to become. Their Aunt Anna, who they live with, intervenes when she can.

Gayle gets the fuck outta there by marrying her high school sweetheart, moving to the midwest and popping out two adorable munchkins named Kevin and Thommy.

MJ has the pleasure of dealing with their dad alone for the next five years. Which she does by a little thing called home avoidance. Garners the reputation quickly as a party girl at Midtown, someone ready to go anywhere and everywhere at any time. 

Began solidly working around fifteen to help Anna out, sometimes in Diners, sometimes in retail. Her ability to sell her brand began early and honed with surgical precision during these years. All currently reflected across media platforms where she became a 2010 influencer ( and paid for little more than modeling ).

Started college at seventeen, typical move. Took 6 years for her to finish as she paid her way through without loans. The last thing MJ wanted when finally breaking out of Queens was a student dept choker. Graduated at 23 with a dual bachelors in journalism and political science.

Bounced between larger broadcasting industries for a few years as an underpaid intern before growing concerned by their lacking criteria. The burnout was real.

Tirelessly sought employment at her favorite ( but SMALL ) news agency. By luck of the draw she was screen tested and hired on for a slot as field reporter.  

She’s been with Weekly Review since. Now having two years under her belt ( still extremely Green in her industry ), she’s pushing for higher scope investigative journalist pieces. And for once, they’re not telling her no.

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

TWENTY-THREE

The rest of the week passed quickly as you finalized plans for the southern California convention taking place the first weekend of December. When you'd asked what would happen once the convention circuit finished for the year, Misha had reminded you that he was in the middle of filming season thirteen, and that it was likely the two of you would be spending a substantial part of the next several months in Vancouver. Although since he lived so close he often came home on the weekends, so he assured you would have some down time. Not that you minded, spending a bunch of time with your prohibitively sexy boss who you also happened to be sleeping with? It was a no-brainer.

Thursday morning dawned chilly, a cold wind and drizzling rain pelted the worn shingles of your roof. Drawing the Venetian blinds open filled the living room with a grey light and you smiled as your cats appointed themselves door guardians, keeping a wary eye on the crows who enjoyed taunting them from the deck.

Padding into the kitchen you set to work gathering the materials to make cheesecake. It was your favorite dessert, and you saved the lengthy process for the holidays. Reaching up to the top shelf of your cupboards required a step stool, as even on tiptoes the mixing bowls eluded you. Whoever had designed the kitchen failed to realize that putting cupboards above the dishwasher made them out of reach for all but the tallest people.

Straining for the stack of glass bowls occupied your attention. Just as you got a good grip on the lip of one your phone rang. Looking around you in search of the source quickly revealed that you'd left the device on the couch. By the sounds of the muffled tone, it had slid between the cushions. Setting the bowls on the counter you ran into the adjacent room, just catching the call before it went to voicemail.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Collins.” Groaning, Misha sighed on the other end of the call. “You're lucky I need you Ms. [Y/L/N], otherwise you'd be in serious need of an attitude adjustment.” 

The gravelly admonishment made you flush, a crimson heat pooling through your belly. Clearing his throat, your boss quickly changed the subject. 

“So, ahh, I hate to do this but..do you think you could come help us in the kitchen? I may have bitten off more than I could chew with this menu.” 

You were about to tell him you'd be happy to, but he continued, hastily adding that you could bring your sister if you wanted to and that he'd give you a bonus if you'd save his ass. Laughing through the line, you agreed - on the condition that you could bring dessert. “Thanks [Y/F/N], you really are a lifesaver.”

You weren't about to turn down more time with Misha, the salary boost was just an added bonus. He need never know that you had planned on spending the day stuffing your face with cheesecake; deciding to forego the big spread when you realized you'd be spending the holiday alone had saved you a lot of time and money.

Gathering all of the ingredients into a grocery tote along with several mixing bowls, your biggest springform pan and the fresh fruit used for garnish, you moved into your room to change. The bright blue fleece pajama pants littered with sheep that you currently wore didn't exactly feel right.

Not wanting to overdo things, you decided on a pair of soft, plum colored leggings and a form-fitting black tunic top, the hem falling just a few inches past the curve of your thighs. Pulling knee-high, oatmeal colored wool socks on before lacing up your pair of soft leather boots completed the outfit. Spreading a thick layer of dark eyeliner on to accompany the purple and black smokey-eye was just enough to tie everything together, your [Y/E/C] irises framed by the heavier makeup.

Pulling a brush through your long [Y/H/C] hair was enough, you knew if you were cooking that a fancier hairstyle wouldn't last long anyhow.

The highway held few cars, making the drive pass quickly. Pulling into Misha’s neighborhood, you were surprised by the number of cars parked both in his driveway and lining the street. Knocking on the heavy front door left you standing on the porch for a few minutes. After several tries,  you squeezed the handle, and finding it unlocked, let yourself in.

The maelstrom that greeted you was intense. West chased Tom and Shep through the house while JJ sat on the plush rug of the living room and stacked blocks with Maison. Gen and Daneel reclined together on the overstuffed sofa, glasses of red wine clutched in their hands, chatting as they kept a watchful eye on the girls. Rather than being overwhelmed, you felt like part of the family, a smile passing over your face as you took in your surroundings and made your way to the kitchen.

Vicki stood behind the cool marble covered island that dominated the center of the room. The sharp knife in her hand sliced through vegetables with ease. Seeing you walk in, she lowered the blade, and, wiping her hands on the half apron tied around her waist; enveloped you in a bone crushing hug. 

“[Y/F/N]! Thank you so much for coming to help with dinner...you know how Misha can be.” Thinking back to the first night you’d met the Collins’, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “So, what scheme has he thought of this time?” 

Lifting your bags up onto the counter, your [Y/E/C] eyes widened in shock at the thick piece of cardstock Vicki handed across her work station. 

“He..he actually made a menu?” “Where is our host anyhow?” Vicki snorted under her breath in mild amusement, motioning vaguely over her shoulder with the knife she’d taken up to finish her task.

Turning your attention to the set of double french doors behind her, you wandered across the cool wooden floor and looked through the glass. Misha, Jared and Jensen were all huddled around a large grill, where two twenty-pound turkeys were trussed and stuffed with herbs; slowly turning over the open flame. Jared noticed you first as you leaned against the oak door frame, impressed at their dedication. 

“Why am I not surprised that you are actually roasting turkeys over an open fire?” Jensen held up his hands and backed away from the heat, shaking his head while he tilted an amber bottle to his lips.

“Not me, Jared and I are giving him shit. There’s no way Misha can do this and have them finish before next year. We’re taking bets on how long it’ll take until we get to eat.” 

“Supervising, you might say..” Jared quipped as he moved to wrap his arms around you in greeting.

Misha’s attention finally rose from the spit and his eyes met [Y/F/N], a slow smile twisting over his face at the woman standing in his doorway. She looked amazing; a glass of wine in her hand as she smiled back at him, an amused expression on her face. 

“Well boys, have fun out here in the cold. I’m going back inside to surround myself with beautiful women...and cheesecake.” A torrent of wind off of the bay swirled around you as you stepped back into the warmth of the house.

There was a great deal of work to be done for the two desserts you had promised. Melting white chocolate over a double boiler while simultaneously reducing fresh raspberries into a puree forced you to abandon the glass of merlot Vicki had poured you. With those tasks complete you began assembling the base recipe for the cheesecakes themselves, the onyx monster of a stand mixer working overtime to whip the ingredients together. Crossing the kitchen to pour freshly ground coffee beans into the espresso machine for the tiramisu cheesecake took only a moment, the compelling smell warming you from the inside out.

Two hours later, you pulled the hot desserts from the double ovens set into the wall. Lowering the cakes to cooling racks well out of reach of small hands, you sighed; content. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the open door when you poked your head outside to check how things were going. Rosemary, thyme and orange married together beautifully, a hint of sage rounding out the bouquet. The smug look on Misha’s face at his success caught your eye, his piercing blue eyes lit with satisfaction, that damning smile of his adding to the heat that burned through you.

Setting the expansive table distracted you well enough. A smaller, square oak table had been set aside just for the kids and you found your mind wandering to how it would feel to have your own child joining the others as they clambered up into their chairs. Shaking your head, you huffed at the thought. You didn’t like children. Mentally berating the biological clock that occasionally screamed at you to procreate, you shoved the idea away from your conscience. You could barely take care of yourself, adding a two-legged little gremlin to the mix wasn’t even a somewhat good idea. Pouring yourself a second glass of wine, you settled into one of the twelve heavy chairs that flocked the stretch of dark wood quickly filling with a myriad of dishes.

Dinner played out as if it were the scene in a hallmark movie. The  food was delicious, Misha spending twenty minutes carving up both turkeys before setting large, oval platters of meat at each end of the table. Tureens filled with mashed potatoes, both sweet and gold sat nestled amongst casseroles of stuffing, whole cranberries lending their beautiful color to the tablescape. Massive biscuits rested in napkin lined baskets; an old recipe handed down to Gen from her grandparents. Misha’s homemade wine flowing freely while the kids enjoyed fresh squeezed lemonade, West excitedly telling anyone who would listen that he’d help make it.

“[Y/F/N], where’s your sister? Did she not want to join us?” Jared’s hazel eyes were warm as they turned to you, his fingers laced with Gen’s. 

“She’s decided to stay in Hawaii for another week, actually.” Vicki’s eyes widened as she realized that you’d planned to be home alone today and she grimaced.

“If Misha hadn’t called you to help, what exactly would you be doing right now?” Shrugging, you swallowed another drink of the fruity liquid in your glass before answering. 

“Probably stuffing myself full of cheesecake and watching movies in my pajamas.” 

“What?! There are at least three food groups in cheesecake, it’s a nice, balanced meal.” 

“I’m not complaining though, this turkey is a-maaaazing Misha.”

After hours spent shopping, prepping and cooking the veritable feast laid out before you, everyone was overfull within thirty minutes. Jared and Jensen herded the children upstairs to change into pajamas and get cleaned up while Daneel, Gen and Vicki cleared the table. Back in the kitchen you pulled the fresh raspberry puree and heavy whipping cream from the refrigerator, spreading the fruit topping evenly across the surface of one of the cheesecakes. White chocolate curls and whole berries decorated the outer ring and sides of the confection. 

Adding the heavy cream to a stainless steel charger produced beautifully fresh cream for the tiramisu cake and, carrying them out to the table gleaned the interest of everyone in the house. A concerned look fell over Jensen’s face as he warred with the idea of whether or not he could fit additional food in his stomach. Laughing, you assured him there was plenty and that he could eat it later. With a curt nod of his head, he and Jared followed Misha back outside and you turned questioning glances to the women sitting around you. 

“It’s become a bit of a tradition when we’re all together to light up the fire pit and disconnect for awhile. C’mon [Y/F/N], you’ll see what we mean.” Vicki’s fingers stretched out to envelope your own as she moved to lift several large blankets from a basket by the door. Tilting her head in invitation, you followed her and the others outside where the boys already sat, the small children clambering up into their father’s laps. As you moved to sit in one of the adirondack chairs huddled near the iron pit of dancing flames, Vicki glared at you. 

“Don’t even think about running off by yourself, you come sit with us. You’re family now, whether you like it or not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 20

read on ao3

Alec slips the cufflinks through his jacket, giving his sleeves a brief tug. Looking in the mirror, he likes what he sees.

It’s not an unusual sight-- fuck knows that Alec has an entire section dedicated to formal wear. Everything from tuxedos and more adventurous suits to slacks, blazers, and a dozen classic suits in black and similarly neutral colors.

His look today wouldn’t be amiss on Wall Street. His modern fit suit is hand tailored to perfection. His silk button down is in a snowy white, offering a beautiful contrast between the pitch black of the jacket and pants. His Tom Ford belt gleams subtly and his oxfords shine.

As Alec goes back into his walk in closet, he flips his collar up. He has a business meeting with one of his sponsors today, hence the extra effort, and truth be told he doesn’t really mind. There’s something to be said for his sweaters and jeans but Alec enjoys dressing up on occasion.

How fortunate for him that he picked a career where there’s always a gala or awards show or party.

His tie rack is teeming with bow ties and ties in a hundred different colors and patterns. Alec forgoes the more adventurous options-- there’s a light blue one with penguins on it that he usually wears at least once during the winter-- choosing instead a dark maroon tie.

He starts tying a Half Windsor Knot on autopilot as he moves out of his closet and back into his bedroom. His meeting is slated to start at nine and it’s half seven now.

With one last look in the mirror and a half-assed effort to tame his already messy hair, he grabs his phone, wallet, and keys and heads out into the penthouse. He takes the leather portfolio that has some reports and information his lawyer had put together with him.

He has the place to himself-- Jace is at work and Izzy wanted to spend the morning at Uptown Java, something about wanting to read one of her medical books.

As he walks to the elevator, he checks his phone. He sees a text message from Magnus and unconsciously starts to smile. It’s Wednesday morning and this will be the third day that Magnus is out of the country. While Alec had thought that things might fizzle out a little this week as the physical distance between them grew, he was pleasantly surprised to see that they talk just as much, if not more, than when they’re both in the same city.

While there are long periods between texts, they’ve kept up the same thread since yesterday afternoon. It’s something about the merits and pitfalls of public transportation and Alec chuckles in the elevator as he reads Magnus’s tale about accidentally shutting his jacket in a taxi door as he was being dropped off from a night out-- and not realizing until the driver started leaving.

Dave isn’t due to arrive for another half an hour and with that in mind, Alec walks a few blocks over to the closest Starbucks. The line is almost to the door and he messes around on his phone while he waits, unobtrusive.

It never fails to surprise him. Alec’s been in secluded boutiques and been mobbed but New York barely bats an eye most of the time. Oh, he still meets fans regularly wherever he goes, but he can also do normal things. He can stand in line at Starbucks and not worry that he’ll cause a scene.

As he thinks about how lucky he is to live in the city, he guiltily thinks about the internet snafu with Magnus a couple of days ago.

He didn’t have an excuse. While it was early as shit-- not even six in the morning yet-- Alec had been awake, training with Jace. They’d just finished their five mile race, Alec winning, when he’d walked over to his bag. Taking a few gulps of water, he’d heard his phone start vibrating. It’d been far too early for anyone to be calling him and as he’d seen Magnus’s name come up on the screen, he’d been curious. He knew that Magnus was flying out today but he hadn’t thought it was so early.

Jace had sent him a quizzical look as he’d picked up the phone, swiping to accept the call. Alec had mouthed Magnus and Jace had raised his brows, smirking.

Rolling his eyes, he’d turned away and talked to Magnus as he waited to board his flight. They'd talked for almost forty minutes and it had been chill. There’d been a few silent stretches where neither one had anything to say and hadn’t thought of a new topic yet and it hadn’t felt awkward.

Really, it made Alec content. They were both just happy to relax on the line with each other. Halfway through the phone call, though, Alec had been a little stunned to realize that he wasn’t following Magnus on anything. Especially since Magnus followed him, apparently.

He’d thrown the phone on speaker and Jace had been all ears at being the first to know what Alec’s new friend sounded like. Thankfully, Magnus had realized he was on speaker pretty quick and there hadn’t been any potential blackmail on the phone call for Jace to commit to memory.

Alec had went to Twitter first, following and liking a few tweets. His profile picture looked like it was taken in an office, dark wood walls serving as the background. He had a few thousand followers and Alec liked the mix of trivia, mundane observations, and photos.

Instagram was the same, though Alec couldn’t resist commenting on a few posts. When Magnus had told him that he regularly practiced yoga and was actually a certified instructor, Alec had almost swallowed his tongue. It was one thing just to be told that, however, and quite something else to see Magnus doing a One Handed Tree Pose (he looked it up) in nothing but form fitting black boxer briefs.

It was obvious that Magnus kept in shape but seeing him post a few workout videos not only got Alec a little hot under the collar, but genuinely made him interested in working out together. While he liked to work out alone, he also enjoyed having a partner. Alec thinks that there could be a little friendly competition going on between them and it’d be fun to see just how evenly matched they were.

Alec orders and pays with little fanfare, still marveling at how stupid he’d been. Or, not even stupid-- he’d just been oblivious for the first time in years.

Alec knows that his life is under a microscope, that the daily minutiae that is deeply uninteresting about everyone else is fascinating when it’s about him. He should’ve foreseen that his fans-- smart as hell and twice as tenacious-- would immediately noticed that he followed someone on not only one, but two platforms.

Alec might dedicate a lot of time to his fans but he’s also intensely private when it counts. He follows less than a thousand people and rarely adds to the number. His fans hadn’t wasted a minute.

After hanging up with Magnus, Alec had gone right back to working out with Jace who had mock scowled at him for taking so long. He’d just shrugged, a little helpless, and Jace had just shaken his head, clapping him on the back as they took their positions to spar a little.

When Jace had finally finished with him, he’d flopped down next to the mats and asked Jace to toss his phone over to him. Jace had gone over to their shit and in true brother fashion had unlocked his phone, scrolling through his notifications. He always acted like a kid, as if Alec wasn’t perfectly aware of what he signed up for when he asked Jace the favor but he just laid on the floor, catching his breath while Jace invaded his privacy.

After a minute or two Jace had handed the phone over, merely saying, “I never get used to how many notifications you have.”

Alec wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, so he’d just opened his messages, confirming lunch plans with Izzy and getting caught up on a few emails and calls.

He’d finally checked his phone in the early afternoon after lunch and had been surprised at the number of engagements. Even for him, it was high. When he’d tapped into the apps and seen the root of the damage, though, he’d wanted to kick himself.

He should’ve known.

He’d texted Magnus as soon as he put the pieces together, hoping that his few moments messing around on social media wouldn’t be the end of things between them. Alec’s very cognizant of the fact that his life isn’t for anyone and he’d promised Magnus discretion two weeks ago. This was the very definition of indiscreet.

He’d sweated it out, knowing that Magnus was still flying. He’d spent a couple of hours preoccupied, distracting himself with fine tuning the song he and Catarina had worked on. Thankfully, Magnus had understood and he’d ended up abandoning his song for almost an hour as he texted Magnus in a flurry.

Alec had taken the rest of the afternoon afterwards, messing around on his piano until the sun started fading and he was playing more by feel than sight. He’d finished the day cooking dinner for the three of them and Clary, retiring back to his bedroom by eight and falling asleep reading.

Alec’s pleased to realize that his writer’s block is officially over. All of those months of trying to string two sentences together, not finding the right chords or note runs and it seems to be a thing of the past. He’s not churning them out but he’s making steady progress. In addition to the collab with Cat and his song tentatively titled Angel, he has two or three others that are brewing in the back of his mind.

He’d really just been fucking around on his piano, a Steinway & Sons K-132. It had been one of his first large purchases and it’d been ages since he’d had time to play for fun, trying out chords and arrangements or playing some of his favorite pieces for pure, simple enjoyment.

The past few days had been quiet, especially without Magnus to potentially see. He’s spent that time writing half a dozen songs. While he wasn’t concentrating too much on the content-- really he was just writing whatever came to mind-- the tone was undeniable.

His last album had racked up the awards for being gritty, dark. He’d written about the price of fame, about one night stands and one city lovers and jaded ennui. There’d been one or two softer songs-- one he’d collaborated with another artist for, another that he’d written with Jace and Clary in mind-- but overall, An Arrow in the Dark had been cynical and cutting with an overlay of sensuality that the public had loved.

So far, this album looked to be forming as the total opposite. The songs were softer, sweeter, and Alec couldn’t help but notice that he was drawing on these burgeoning feelings inside him for source material. He thought of how easy things were with Magnus, how much he was enjoying making a new friend and learning about an incredibly interesting man. Then there were those fucking butterflies that wouldn’t leave him alone when they touched accidentally or he learned something else entirely endearing about Magnus.

He’d say Magnus was his muse but their arrangement was too platonic for that. You couldn’t write an entire album about a friend, after all. He refuses to look too closely at the fact that the only real thing that's changed to break his block is meeting Magnus. He doesn't think he could handle it-- not with everything else the man brings out in him.

As Alec walks back to the front of his building, he sees Dave pull up right on time. Dave gets out and heads to the rear door of the Lincoln town car, nodding as Alec approaches.

“Right on time, Alec. That’s what I like to see.”

Mock affronted, Alec holds out one of his coffee cups as he asks, “When am I ever not on time?”

Dave doesn’t respond, just hums as he accepts the drink and takes an appreciative sniff.

“Vanilla latte, my favorite.”

“You’ve been my driver for almost eight years. I would hope I’d have your order memorized by now,” he says, grinning.

Alec climbs into the back seat and spends a few minutes relaxing. The upcoming meeting wasn’t anything intense but his lawyer, Underhill, wanted to pin some numbers down and Alec wanted to brush up on the details before they walked into the boardroom.

He opens the portfolio, taking out a few handouts and skimming them as a refresher. He’d gone over everything when it was first sent but it never hurts to review things one more time.

Alec had a healthy relationship with sponsors. There were those for his tours but also a handful of companies that wanted his name and his face on their products. This morning’s meeting was to discuss a renewal of his Nike contract and Alec was looking forward to it. While the company might be sweating a little, Alec and Underhill had already talked things through and knew that they’d be walking out of the room partners for another two years regardless of Nike's offer today.

Traffic is brutal as ever in the early morning rush hour and Alec almost spills his coffee twelve times, taking ill-timed sips just when traffic slows to a stop. Still, Dave knows what he’s doing and they make it to the corporate offices with ten minutes to spare.

He gets out, without assistance, and waves Dave off with a mutual confirmation to return at two.

As he walks towards the glass and steel doors, he sees a familiar figure walking towards him.

“Hey, Alec,” Underhill says as he nears. His five thousand dollar suit looks impeccable and he look ready to do business.

“Morning, man. How’s Adrian,” Alec asks as the two move in for a handshake.

Underhill turns towards the doors, smiling and opening the one closest to him, gesturing for Alec to go through first as he answers.

“Adrian’s great. We have a vacation planned for next month in Aspen. He’s already got a dozen trails mapped out for us to try.”

“Yeah? Are you still going through with it?”

The two of them share a knowing look as the secretary calls for her boss.

Looking both giddy and unnerved, Underhill smiles. “Of course. I’ve had the ring for six damn months. I think it’s time that I actually used it.”

Alec claps him on the back just as one of Nike’s lawyers meets them in the reception area. There are a round of handshakes before they’re being guided to one of the conference rooms.

The room is utilitarian. Four walls of glass show a large conference table where six people are already sitting.

Underhill has shed his easy going demeanor. Instead, he looks serious, ready to do business and get Alec the best deal possible.

There are no pleasantries and as the three of them take their seats, Alec opens his notes up, face impassive.

He may not have gone to college, but he’s no slouch. He knows that Underhill has his best interests at heart-- has for four years now-- but you don’t get to be in Alec’s position without being screwed over a time or two, in both his personal and professional life. Alec spends not an inconsiderable time reading up on a variety of topics on a routine basis. Among those are music, business, and law. He may not be ready for his LSATS but he’s read through every piece of business that crosses him. The terms they’ve offered are a fair counterpoint to what Nike had initially given them and the next few hours promise to be lively if nothing else.

Underhill remains cool under pressure, no less intimidating for being one against six. While Underhill had his own firm with a range of junior partners, interns, and paralegals, he was always Alec's representative.

The room breaks after a few hours, reaching a bit of a stalemate. The opposing team offers it as an excuse for a quick bite to eat but when Alec’s and Underhill’s eyes meet, they know the truth.

They're going to the other partners to see if they can accept the new deal.

The two of them go to a close cafe where they each get a smoothie, drinking them as they walk around a park across the street. They return to the room when the thirty minutes are up.

Everyone sits down and it’s quiet for a minute before the partner in charge of this deal stands, buttoning his suit jacket, before reaching a hand out first to Alec and then Underhill.

“I’m pleased to say that the other partners agreed that the proffered terms are acceptable. We’ve reached an agreement and are pleased to announce that you’ll be partnered with our company for the next two years, continuing our contract without issue."

As he hears the words, Alec stands and there’s a few minutes as he and Underhill shake everyone’s hands. Alec is given a Montblanc pen and scrawls his signature a dozen times on a contract as thick as a book.

Just a few minutes later, they’re leaving. They wait until they reach the sidewalk before looking at each other and laughing, half relief and half pure amusement.

“Our terms were hard and I have to say that I’m a little surprised that Nike accepted them. You’re getting eighteen percent more up front with a two percent rise in your kickbacks. They must really like you.”

Alec shrugs, playing coy. Though really, he’s surprised at their luck, too.

“You know how much buzz they got for signing an openly gay man to represent their company. Those commercials went viral as soon as they were released. I am proud of you, though! They definitely thought we were going to back down first.”

Underhill shakes his head. “If only they knew that we would have accepted what they offered last week.”

Laughing, Alec says, “Another win for us.”

He takes a step back and looks at his watch, sees Underhill do the same.

Underhill waves his briefcase a little, saying, “I’ve got to head back to the office and file these. Plus, I think I’m going to try to meet Adrian for a late lunch. I’ll talk to you later but you should be good for the next few weeks on everything from my end.”

Alec nods, taking out his phone. “Sounds great man. Thanks for today-- you crushed it.”

The two of them smile at each other before heading off in opposite directions. Looking down at his phone, Alec sees that they let out about forty minutes early and he calls Dave to let him know that he’s not needed.

Alec takes the opportunity to do a little shopping. He’s not the most avid shopper but once in a while when he has some free time, he likes to kill some by poking into stores. He usually just ends up buying stuff for everyone else but it’s a nice way to spend an afternoon every six months.

He ends up buying a necklace for Izzy and phone case for Jace who insists on never using one despite the fact that he’s had to replace his iphone at least twice this year alone.

It’s calming, really. Alec spends most of his time with people, though he gets his fair share of time solo. There’s just something about walking around a city alone-- even his hometown-- that makes him feel like just Alec, anonymous. A free agent.

He’s walking down the street, heading towards the subway station, when he sees a cameraman headed his way. Sighing internally, he resolutely keeps walking.

“Hey man, it’s TMZ. How are you doing today?"

Alec smiles but it’s his public smile. Which isn’t to say that he doesn’t genuinely enjoy some interviews and promo. But sometimes there are certain reporters, or companies, that he’s not a fan of and so he has to use his public persona a bit more.

“I’m good, man. What about you,” he responds easily.

“Can’t complain. What do you have there?” He aims his camera at the few bags in Alec’s hand. There’s one from a jeweler’s, another from a small boutique, and a last bag from an independent bookstore around the corner.

Shrugging, Alec says, “Nothing much, just doing a little shopping.”

“Who are you shopping for, Lightwood? Do you have a special someone that you’re buying gifts for?”

Alec looks at him drolly. “My sister.”

TMZ guy nods along, still looking like he’s going to get the scoop. “We heard you followed someone on Instagram this week. What about him?”

Inside, Alec seethes but he keeps the bland expression pasted on his face as he continues walking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think his name is Magnus? He’s a professor?”

Hoping the camera doesn’t pick up on his clenching jaw, Alec returns, “He’s a friend I met a few weeks ago.”

“Oh? Is that all there is or should we be worried that the music scene’s most eligible bachelor is finally taken?”

Alec smiles, though it feels more like a grimace. “No, I’m still single and unattached. There’s nothing going on there except friendship.” No matter how much I might want that to change.

The reporter looks at him like he’s digging for more information before turning to another topic. “What about your music? With your tour wrapping up, do you already have plans for your next album?”

Here, Alec can relax. The tension eases out of him at the familiar question. This, he knows. He grins a little but still remains facing forward as he approaches a crosswalk.

“I’m just in the studio seeing what we have. Every album has a different vibe and I’m having fun coming up with the concept for number seven.”

“Can you tease anything?”

Alec thinks for a minute. The words are on the tip of his tongue but he bites them back as he thinks about possible repercussions. In the end though, he decides to go for it. Even if he ends up completely scrapping what he has so far, this is where he’s at right now. Plus, it’s never too early to start building buzz.

“I think this album will be the best I’ve ever written.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I’m experiencing something new for the first time in ages and I can’t help but write about what I’m going through. I think this album will explore a source bank I’ve never tapped into before.”

“What’s new with you?”

Alec declines to answer as the reporter asks a few more leading questions. After a minute, the TMZ guy backs off, throwing out a goodbye.

Alec returns it and continues on his way home.

He makes it back to his apartment twenty minutes later. The sun is starting to dip in the sky and the penthouse is washed in golden light. He sees Izzy on her phone in the living room. She looks up as he enters.

“Hey, hermano.”

“Hey, Iz.”

He tosses one of the bags at her and she stills for a moment before sitting up and opening it. When she takes out the necklace, she studies it for a few minutes. It’s a double tiered piece. The top is a choker but the second layer falls down, several inches longer. It’s gold with different colored stones every few centimeters. It’s colorful and unique and perfectly his sister.

Izzy must agree because she’s grinning. As Alec nears her, she leans over and hugs his middle.

“Thanks, Alec. I love it and can’t wait to show it off. You didn’t have to, though, you know that right?”

Alec just looks at her. “That’s half the fun of shopping for me. You know that. I saw this in the storefront and felt like spending money. It works out for both of us.”

Alec sits on the other end of the couch and the two of them relax in the quiet for a little while, both on their phones. It’s a companionable silence and one that Alec misses when he’s on the road.

After a while, though, Izzy looks up, excited. “You know what we should do?”

Alec doesn’t answer, remaining engrossed on a game on his phone.

Izzy kicks him and he groans before asking, “What.”

“We should go out tonight!”

lec must not look enthused with the idea because she glares at him. “What? It’s been a month since you last went out-- when’s the last time that happened?”

Alec opens his mouth to argue but abruptly closes it, realizing that she’s right. Alec might like to stay home with his book or piano but he also likes having a good time and usually goes out at least once a week. There are periods when he’s parties for days on end, passing out just to go out again a few hours later. Huh. This is different.

As he thinks, Alec just pictures Magnus. They’d only hung out a few times but any time spent with him was valuable and there was no contest between talking to Magnus or going out to the latest club.

A friend shouldn’t affect him like this. A friend shouldn’t change his patterns so thoroughly and so gently that Alec doesn’t even notice-- doesn’t even care.

Decision made, Alec looks over at Izzy and nods. “Alright, then. We’ll go out. Is everyone going?”

Rolling her eyes, Izzy stands up. “What do you think I was doing on my phone? Clary has an art class that runs late tonight but Jace can go.” She smiles as she starts walking toward her bedroom. “It’ll just be the three of us, like old times. Now I have to go get ready. We’ll head out at ten?”

She doesn’t wait for confirmation, just goes to her room, shutting the door with a resounding click.

Alec finishes the text he was writing to Magnus, relaxing against the couch as he presses send.

It had been ages since just the three of them went out. There was always a date or Clary or friends or it was for a special occasion. While Alec hadn’t planned on going out tonight, the idea doesn’t sound hideous. He’ll go, have a few drinks, dance with a few people.

Maybe this is what he needs. He needs to shake Magnus. Maybe if he meets someone else, he won’t be so hung up on Magnus’s eyes and his intelligence and his everything. He needs a distraction.

Maybe if he gets laid Magnus won’t get under his skin so damn much.

Alec stands up, stretching his back.

If Magnus is just his friend then by God Alec will get this thing out of his system one way or another. Something's gotta give and Alec is a master at distraction when he needs to be.

That thought in mind, he heads to his room.

He needs to get ready.