#sing street broadway

[dwsavideos]

Congratulations to TWO Sing Street alums Jakeim Hart (Larry, OBC) and Elijah Lyons (Larry, Boston Cast) for their Tony Nominations as part of the companies of Hell’s Kitchen and Illinoise!(respectively)

Love seeing former Sing Street cast members thriving!!

[robbinggoodfellows]

i would sell my soul for a copy of sing street with gus halper

[dwsavideos]

I very much enjoy this fact as well. I mean it’s perfect.

The Ann/Nancy friendship is so important to me. That would go so hard. They would study together and complain about their brothers. Occasionally solve a paranormal murder or something. It’d be great.

Conor joining Hellfire Club just to spite Brother Baxter or his parents.

Darren and Dustin? Instant best friends.

Barry and Steve parallels as well- both going from antagonists to actually cool guys.

Also each member of the band being so mesmerized by El’s powers. Tell me that Kevin wouldn’t go feral after seeing El flip a van with her mind.

And Gary vibing with Will because they’re both the quiet/cautious friends in their respective friend groups. Also tell me that Gary wouldn’t be an AV club nerd. He’d eat that shit up. So would Eamon.

Brendan and Eddie would be good buds for sure too. Older brother figures with a taste for good music.

Sandra could even spark a friendship with Joyce. Both single moms with douchey ex-husbands.

I’m specifically picturing this with Sing Street NYTW cast and it’s making me so happy. The possibilities are endless. I would so read a fic like this.

i'll always celebrate the fact that sing street and stranger things s4 are both in 1980s like if i want, i could write a crossover fic where sing street and corroded coffin meets in a live show or something. i could make my ships interact if i want to. eamon and conor meeting steve and eddie? hell yeah! raphina getting to know robin? a dream come true. ann being genius with nancy? sign me up!

damn, look at the power i have with fanfiction on my hand <3 i could make myself happy like that :')

[little-lovett]

now then my friend

now to your

[lovewilltellamillionstories]

Listening to Gaten's Not While I'm Around from the cast recording.. I'm still trying to wrap my head around Joe Locke doing this.. on Broadway... with Aaron Tveit and Sutton Foster.. together.. on stage 🤯

[overlycritical]

Sweeney Todd: It's called DEMON barber for a reason Josh Groban!

An overly critical review of the 2023 Broadway revival of Sweeney Todd.

Once that renowned factory whistle blows, audience members will notice this production deviates from the established common performance practice. Oftentimes, Sweeney Todd is performed in more of a “park and bark” style, in which the ensemble simply comes on stage, sings their number, and walks off. In this production, however, the ensemble members have more purpose. They exhibit the effect the events of the show have on the people of London. As they warn the audience of the tale to come, they cower and jerk to the rhythm of the songs, occasionally scattering and reforming into a group like a hive mind. They seem deathly afraid that Todd could target them next. This places the audience there with them, living in perpetual fear of Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street who could come for anyone, at any time.

The aforementioned Todd, played by Josh Groban, is a broken man driven to violence by the injustice he has suffered. Accomplished singer Groban certainly possesses the vocal prowess necessary for his character. He is commanding. His voice is smooth and flawless, fitting so seamlessly into the orchestration you would think he is a part of the pit. Vocally, he is the perfect Sweeney Todd. His acting, however, differs from the Todd Broadway audiences have come to know. Groban’s Todd is oddly timid, seeming more a man defeated than one driven to bloody revenge. His behavior, more weepy than enraged, makes him seem like just some guy, like Sweeney Todd, The Normal Barber of an Average Street. He processes his emotions in a way similar to the stereotypical male. He shuts up and stews, making his decision to commit mass murder less believable.

Perhaps that is the point. The ensemble says in the epilogue, “perhaps today you gave a nod to Sweeney Todd” implying anyone could be capable of such acts if driven to it. So, this may be what Groban’s more muted Todd is meant to convey. Still, I found it a bit lackluster and kept waiting for the rage associated with the character. Although, his voice more than made up for any acting shortcomings, or at least the crowd seemed to think so, as they hollered at the end of every scene.

The rest of the cast did their jobs very well. Annaleigh Ashford was effortlessly charming as deranged baker Mrs. Lovett, a role she seems almost born to play. The stars of the show, however, were undeniably Jordan Fisher and Gaten Matarazzo as Antony and Tobias, respectively. Fisher brings humility to Anthony, and his songs and dialogue are instantly believable. Unlike Groban’s Todd, Fisher’s “everyman” act is highly effective. You cannot help but root for him as he seems like any young man you might know. Matarazzo’s Tobias is much the same. Mazzerato executes Tobias’s high, childish songs with ease and heart, humanizing a character that is often made to look a fool.

Maria Bilbao as Johanna is a lovely contradiction, pairing a voice like a Disney princess with the actions of someone who has given up on magic. Her twitching and picking at herself reflect the caged bird metaphor, as well as a trauma response. These offputting, involuntary motions make the audience wonder what horrors she faced from Judge Turpin before the story began, adding further depth to an often shallow character. Jamie Jackson’s Judge Turpin is creepy and despicable, as a Judge Turpin must be, and his sidekick Beadle Bamford (entertainingly portrayed by John Rapson) fills the role of pompous stooge perfectly.

Nicholas Christoper (Pirelli) and Ruthie Ann Miles (Beggar Woman) perform well but struggle slightly to make their unremarkable characters stand out.

All in all, it was a deeply entertaining show, with a creative set and attention to detail. Despite my qualms, the show is a faithful revival of a Broadway classic, that any musical theatre fan is sure to enjoy.

[dwsavideos]

Me with Sing Street 😭😭

I can’t talk I’m too busy liking posts from 2 years ago about musicals with a fan base of about 20 people.

[evilminji]

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[voxslays]

Warnings: Persephone! Reader and Hades! Satan, songfic, will make more sense if you’ve listened to the song or seen the play.

You had just arrived back in the wrath ring, at your husband’s side, after six months of being on earth. You weren’t happy to be back. The smell of sulfur and coal infected your nose, and the red landscape was an eyesore as usual. The souls under Satan’s control were chanting something about keeping their heads low, something you didn’t understand. “In the coldest time of year, why is it so hot down here?” You complained, looking up at your dragon-like husband. “Hotter than a crucible.” You huffed looking down, crossing your arms. “It ain’t right, and it ain’t natural.”

Satan looks down at you with a smirk, his dragon-like wings rustling behind him "Lover, you were gone so long~” You roll your eyes at him. “Lover, I was lonesome.” He strokes your cheek with his large red, calloused hands. “So I built a foundry, in the ground beneath your feet." You stare at him in disbelief, your arms still crossed as you look up at the large dragon man. "Here, I fashioned things of steel, oil drums and automobiles.” Satan lets go of your hands, his orange eyes burning with desire. “Then I kept that furnace fed with the fossils of the dead.” He summons his powers and lights a flame in the palm of his scaly red hand.

He throws the flame into a nearby pit, causing the ground to rumble and shake. He laughs, a deep rumbling sound that echoes through the ring. "Lover, when you feel that fire, think of it as my desire~” He sings lowly. “Think of it as my desire for you!” Satan growls. You quickly storm out of the courtroom and into the streets, only to be met with the bright reds and oranges of the metropolis your ‘husband’ created. In the far distance, you can hear someone singing a sweet melody ‘la, la, la, la, la, la~’ they sang. You stomp on the ground angrily. “In the darkest time of year, why is it so bright down here?” You can feel Satan walk out after you, his giant footsteps shaking the earth beneath his feet. “Brighter than a carnival~” You turn around to face the man. “It ain't right, and it ain't natural!”

Satan steps closer, towering over you with a knowing grin. "Lover, you were gone so long.” He gently grabs your hand. “Lover, I was lonesome." Satan gestures around with a clawed hand "So I laid a power grid, in the ground on which you stand. And wasn't it electrifying when I made the neon shine?" His muscular arms wrap around your waist possessively. He pulls you flush against his hard chest, his hot breath fanning over your face. "Silver screen, cathode ray, brighter than the light of day~" His orange eyes bore into yours intensely. "Lover, when you see that glare, think of it as my despair.” You glare at him angrily. Really? Was he really doing this!? “Think of it as my despair for you!"

All you can hear is the sound of machinery and screams…and your husband's deep voice. But you refused to give into his antics. “Every year, it's getting worse! Wrath Ring, hell on Earth!” You shout, trying to talk some sense into your delusional husband. “Did you think I'd be impressed with this neon necropolis?” He laughs, a deep rumbling sound that makes the ground tremble slightly. “Lover, what have you become?” You cry. “Coal cars and oil drums, warehouse walls and factory floors~” You gesture to the industrial factories and dirty smoke clouding the air of the used-to-be western country. “I don’t know you anymore…”

Satan’s expression turns cold, letting out a menacing growl. “And in the meantime up above,” You look up at the bright orange-red sky, and slowly raise your hands. “The harvest dies and people starve.” You turn back to face your husband. “Oceans rise and overflow. It ain't right and it ain't natural.” You point your finger into his chest. He takes a menacing step forward, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced. "Lover, everything I do…I do it for the love of you. If you don't even want my love, I'll give it to someone who does." His voice drips with venomous sarcasm. 

He snarls, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the factory. "Someone grateful for her fate, someone who appreciates the comforts of a gilded cage and doesn't try to fly away the moment Mother Nature calls.” He roughly grabs your arm, tugging you into his toned red chest. He looks down at you, his orange eyes glinting with an unnatural light. “Someone who could love these walls that hold her close and keep her safe, and think of them as my embrace.”

“Think of them as my embrace to you.”

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part four

one | two | three

masterlist

this is their song sorry i don't make the rules (yes i do) summary: eight years have passed since you walked out of joel miller's kitchen, now you have your own restaurant in new york city. you're a household name, respected within your own right - but some ghosts are harder to shake than others. pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader content/warnings (spoilers): no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, mention of food, pure angst, arguing, swearing, unspecified age gap, cheating if you squint, joel is a prick who can't regulate his emotions, character death.

Fuckin' useless.

You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too?

You're useless.

Dawn hadn't quite broken yet.

The rattle of the subway shook you loose from the claws of that familiar memory; the one you had to fight during any moment of stillness.

Ladies swallowed by wool scarves and labourers with chins tucked into the necks of their coats littered the seats of the carriage.

You'd hoped the years would ease the drowning; that distance and time would singe away the nerve endings that pricked up at any hint of a Texan accent.

No such luck. The best you could do was filter out any articles including the words chef and Joel Miller on your social media and news apps.

Your apartment was a cosy one-bed in Williamsburg. Most nights you woke reaching for a phantom warmth that your fingers could never find; nails clawing at your fitted sheet in frustration when all you could grasp was cotton. You were grateful for the omnipresent city traffic that lulled you back to sleep.

The first year was the hardest.

He had become a ghost story, haunting you in each sip of coffee or raised voice in the street. You hated yourself for craving his temper; you would've killed to feel the heat pricking at your skin as he barked orders at you.

You missed the games you had played to stay his little secret. Swallowing his poison, letting it decay your self-worth, just so you could be his.

But it was never enough. You were never enough.

"This is an M-line service. The next station is Broadway-Lafayette."

Rising from your seat, you gently shook your head from side to side.

Enough, you thought, inhaling slowly as the doors parted.

Enough.

Only January in New York could rouse gratitude for the stuffy microclimate of the subway. You'd never get used to that first gust of winter air; the one that reddens the tips of your ears before you even have the chance to acclimatise to street level.

It was different here.

Temperature aside, your days were no longer spent walking on a raised edge, willing yourself to remain balanced. For too long, you'd laid blankets over thorn bushes and convinced yourself it was a good enough place to rest your head.

There was pressure; no kitchen worth its Himalayan salt could function without it. But at every blind corner hands were reaching out to steady you, and you them.

It was nice. You were happy - or content, at the very least.

And even if you weren't happy, you only ever had enough hours in the day to clamour your way through service. You hadn't dealt in anything as trivial as love - if you could even call it that - since you'd turned your back on Texas.

It was a short walk from the subway to the restaurant. The streets were mostly empty this early but rushing had become second nature since moving to the city.

A food critic from the New York Times was due to be dining sometime this week, but last night an "unofficial source" you'd fooled around with in college had texted you a heads-up to be on top form this afternoon.

You'd heeded the warning with a smirk; you were always on top form.

Morning beat on with the usual trepidation of pre-service; menus drafted and re-drafted until you were satisfied; table settings scrutinised under three different levels of lighting; reservations checked, then double-checked, for any notable guests. There was nothing left to perfect by the time you opened your doors for lunch.

Your kitchen was a sanctuary of praise and encouragement; only the best went out to the pass, but you did so without raising your voice at even the most tedious mistakes.

"Sauce has congealed, chef. You need to start again, please." You smiled tightly at your sous-chef who repeated your request with a nod.

Allergy notices and orders merged with the sizzling of fish on the griddle pan in a swift symphony. You bit back a smile at the chaos, content with submerging yourself in the music of the kitchen for the rest of your days.

"Chef, one of the guests would like to speak with you." Tom, your newest front-of-house hire, called from the pass.

"Me? Now?" You replied dumbfounded.

"Yeah, he's just had the prosciutto and spinach scallops. Kind of old, Southern, I think."

A familiar feeling pooled in your gut.

"Thanks, Tom. I'll go see what he wants." Untying your apron, you took a deep breath in.

All eyes were fixed on you. Sabrina, your sous-chef, took your apron from your damp palms and rested a hand between your shoulder blades. Sweat beaded at the base of your neck.

"Give him hell. Who even reads the New York Times, anyway?"

A few low hoots echoed around the kitchen as you pushed your shoulders back and made your way toward the dining room.

Your facade melted as soon as you saw him. It infuriated you that he hadn't changed a bit. Only, grey framed his face more prominently now.

Everything else was perfectly the same.

"Joel." You breathed, hovering over the empty chair opposite him.

His face relaxed - not quite into a smile, it was something you'd never been able to put your finger on.

That's what infuriated you about him the most, you thought, you could never quite get him underneath your thumb. He would never give you the privilege.

"New menu each day, huh? Sounds like something I'd do."

"Is that it?" You choked, fighting to keep your voice low and expression neutral. It was so easy for him to get a rise out of you, he didn't even need to try.

"You think I'd come all this way t'just tell you that?"

Before a retort could form around your tongue, you noticed the band on his left ring finger.

You could've been sick there and then.

His gaze met yours, realisation setting into the creases in his forehead.

"I have a kitchen to run. Congratulations, Joel." You managed to murmur before tripping into the still kitchen, hot tears burning in the corner of your eyes.

"So?" Sabrina pressed, evidently expecting what should've been a run-in with the critic.

"Wasn't him." Was the only explanation you could muster.

You excused yourself, leaving the slow mechanics of service to resume in your absence. Clutching your stomach, you pushed your way out into the bite of the afternoon chill.

Had he come all this way to flash that thing in your face? To show you how much better his life had turned out in your absence? Even after all these years, was he still punishing you for daring to love him?

You laughed aloud at nothing, breath forming in puffs of condensation before your face. Of course you'd loved him; you still did.

Eight years of keeping yourself busy enough to forget the smell of his chest, the pressure of his lips against your temple in the middle of the night.

You had searched for the giddy intoxication of his presence in everything you did; working yourself to the bone in some sick, futile desire to replicate the knots in your stomach only he could tie.

All the while he'd moved on and settled down with someone he didn't have to hide.

You were useless, after all.

For the remainder of the day, you'd done your best to subside the embarrassment burning through your bloodstream.

The New York Times critic had arrived shortly after you'd attempted some form of composure; Sabrina had stalled her by talking about the weather while you perfected your illusion of a sane, tempered woman in the reflection of a saucepan.

Compared to your encounter with Joel, the magazine meeting was a breeze. Joel Miller may have crushed your self-worth, but over your dead body would you let him ruin this too.

Once all surfaces were wiped down and stoves cooled off for the night, you finally pulled on your coat and made for the exit. It took a few polite declines to join the others at a bar nearby to celebrate surviving the review, but you finally managed to wriggle out of the social obligation.

You saw the staff off, encouraging them to have a drink for you, before finally locking up.

"S'dangerous walking home alone this time of night." You froze, your back to him still.

Using all willpower, you kept your movements steady and unfazed as you twisted the key in the lock.

Fuck, you silently cursed yourself. Don't cry. Don't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm not walking. I get the subway."

Joel leaned against the low wall opposite the restaurant, his hands idly resting in the pockets of his thick corduroy jacket.

"Your wife not wondering where you've gotten to?" You'd spoken before you could stop yourself.

He cleared his throat, breaking his gaze on you.

"She's back in Austin. M'here on business, she, uh - she couldn't travel with the little one."

"Jesus." You laughed in despair. There was nothing left inside of you now. All those nights spent trying to remember the feel of his chest beneath your head, he had been making a real life for himself.

"What do you want, Joel? You getting a kick out of seeing me like this?" There was no holding back the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks. He looked like he was debating moving closer to you, brows knitted together, shaking his head softly.

"Hey," he whispered lowly. "Don't waste any tears on me, baby."

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest and tipping your chin toward the night sky. Joel pushed himself from the wall, closing the distance between you both.

"I loved you."

"I was never good enough for you, sweetheart." Joel smiled sadly, his hand finding a stray piece of hair to tuck behind your ear.

A sob escaped your body as you let yourself lean into his touch.

"I thought the world of you."

"You had a much bigger world to find. Look at you."

"I wanted to find it with you. Why wasn't I enough?" You hated the words tainting the cold air around you. You'd never been the type to beg a man to love you, but eight years of repressed emotion and unanswered questions had finally broken free from your bones.

"You got it all wrong, baby. I'm an old man. You deserved more than to be reduced to some housewife. Could've never had the career you do now with me holding you back."

"Don't pretend you did this for me, Joel."

Suddenly, your heart broke for the woman he had left back in Austin. His wife, the mother of his child. Is that all he saw in her?

"There was a time that I thought you were wonderful. I would hang off your every word, seek your approval in everything I fucking did. And it broke me. The day you told me I was useless - I hear it in the back of my mind every fucking day."

He was shaking his head, muttering it ain't like that softly under his breath.

"Then you come all the way to New York, to my restaurant in the middle of service, acting like you're the reason I am where I am now?"

"I was in town, thought it was the right thing to do. I wanted to see you. I-"

"It's always what you want, Joel. The doting wife. The accolade. You're pathetic. I hope your wife comes to her senses and leaves you, and for the sake of your kid, I pray they grow up to be nothing like you."

Weeks passed in flashes of numbness since Joel's fleeting visit.

For the first time in years, you slept soundly through the night. When the other chefs invited you for drinks, you accepted.

Soon, you laughed and drank too much wine without the aftermath of soaking your pillow in tears.

In moments of stillness, your voice was the only one you could hear, and it was kind. You treated yourself as you treated those around you, taking the time to care for yourself again.

The New York Times published their article on the first week of February. You arrived at the kitchen just as dawn peaked over the skyline, only to be greeted by the entirety of the kitchen staff.

That morning, expensive French champagne flowed freely and the article, written by Helen Anderson, was framed and hung above the door to the kitchen. The headline read:

A New Precedent Is Set In Greenwich Village.

The day fluttered by in flurries of pride, each other ringing through the kitchen with a joyful urgency. Phones buzzed frantically from pockets, messages of congratulations you would pick up after service.

At around 12pm, the UPS delivery man arrived at the back of the kitchen, holding out a tablet for a signature for a bouquet of flowers resting against the doorway.

"Chef of the hour, these are for you!" Sabrina skipped through the kitchen, blue hydrangeas and gypsophila outstretched toward you.

You cradled the bouquet before setting them down in your cupboard of an office. A small, cream card poked out of the side of the arrangement. Messy handwriting scrawled across both inner sides of the folded card.

Sweetheart,

I'm sorry I never found the words to tell you how I feel. I'm a miserable old man who's smoked too many cigarettes and never known a good thing in front of me.

You never needed me, but I needed you. I'll never forget the first time you walked into my kitchen. I'm a coward, and I should've told you I loved you all those years ago.

I'm sorry for treating you the way I did. I know I'm in no position to ask any favours, but please don't make the mistakes I did. Hell, you're too intelligent to live as foolishly as I did, anyway.

Hope you don't mind, Helen is a friend of mine. Told me a couple of days ago how your place is the best she's eaten in New York since Bourdain. Wanted to make sure these arrived on time; God knows I never could've.

Yours,

Joel

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, desperately rummaging around in your pocket for your phone.

Amidst the excitement of the morning, you had entirely neglected the copious buzzing of messages and alerts. Unlocking your phone, your eyes glazed over the most recent notification on your home screen:

Time Magazine Michelin chef, Joel Miller, dies at Austin home aged 57.

[dwsavideos]

This. I’m crying.

Ok #the girls were fighting (irl) so I am not doing what I planned to do tonight but instead listening to sing street to compose myself.

And I’m thinking TOO MUCH about these songs and the movie that the musical is based on. Specificslly Go Now and how that’s Brendan’s only song.

Drive it Like You Stole it *could* be considered his song. But Conor is the one who sings it. And I’m thinking like. He gave him that song and in Go Now he hid the sorrow and only showed the joy in getting his brother out of there.

Conor never hears go now.

Something something the moon will sing a song for you but ten times worse to me because. He has so much joy that his brother is free despite him still being trapped. He doesn’t sit in hurt, he celebrates being left for something more.

And also Go Now is only in the musical but you still get that joy at Connor escaping in the movie. But it’s so different in the musical because of how it’s shaped. It’s not Brendan giving Conor all his cash and driving him and Raphina out to their grandads boat in silence and then a wild joyful yell as they escape, disappearing to find their dreams. It’s his thoughts.

So here you are

You've got another chance for life

It's what you want

I can see it in your eyes

You see so clear

It's coming into light

Go on, be wrong

'Cause tomorrow you'll be right

Just, the certainty in that. You will be right. Your risks are beautiful. Now go, before mom and dad notice.

Don't sit around and talk it over

You're running out of time

Just face ahead, no going back now

It’s not just the quiet of the car. It’s all of his well wishes that he doesn’t let out and the thoughts that played out in that quiet drive to the port.

Then the joy that builds because Conor chased his dreams instead of drowning in their impossibility like Brendan did. That joy-

You’re never gonna go if you don’t go now

You’re never gonna know if you don’t find out

You’re never turning back, never turning around

How that last line is a thing that Brendan needs to be true, because Conor’s dream can’t crash. He can’t come home because his dream fell apart. It’s too damn bright.

Go on, be wrong. Cause tomorrow, you’ll be right.

I’ve just gotta say. I’m Very Normal about how the musical emphasizes points of the movie that hit me like a thousand bricks in this song.

[dwsavideos]

Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone! In honor of the holiday, I have a ton of Sing Street (NYTW/Broadway) memes! I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. Man do I miss this show. Here’s part 1!

[lesbiandarvey]

i dont know if this is gonna make sense to anyone but something about the entirety of bruces catalogue after 1975 has been a response to born to run (the song)(but also the album re:thunder rd/10th ave etc) born to run is about this optimism yknow were gonna get in the car and go i wanna know if love is real even theres a naivete you get out your life is gonna work if you just go and yet everything since—darkness, the river, nebraska born in the usa—is the reality of what happens next . what happens when things dont work out. the car is a prison youre racing the street youre born in a dead mans town there is no getting out. like think of independence day hes leaving his father hes leaving this town but theres still no getting out from the circumstances of his birth. AND YET. STILL. he ends the broadway setlist with born to run. the last thing his audience hears in this enormous broadway jukebox musical performance of his 50 years of songwriting is him giving them the benediction and singing born to run. meaning BORN TO RUN STILL GOES UNCHALLENGED!!! THE PROMISE IS STILL THERE!!! THE OPTIMISM AND THE HOPE OF BORN TO RUN IS THE LAST THING HE WANTS YOU TO HEAR

[panda-writes-kpop]

you're mine, and i'm yours ~ h. yj.

a/n: another request within a few days woo go katie!!! anyways happy july (best month EVER because it's katie's b-day month 🫶) and here's the request for any curious parties:

tw: slightly angsty because reader/yunjin are in a mostly long-distance relationship, but it's really fluffy at the end :)

summary: Since you and yunjin have an afternoon to spend together, you take the time to enjoy NYC with your lover. a few months later, you reminisce on this date with some extra weight in your hand.

related fics: international love

♡ Masterlist ♡

“I can’t believe your manager let you spend part of your day with me.” You say as you gently place your hands on Yunjin’s waist.

“I can’t believe my manager let me out of their sight.” She jokes before grabbing her jacket. “Do you want to head out, or are you just going to keep feeling me up?”

You pull your hands back before a sheepish smile appears on your face.

“Guilty as charged. Lead the way, babe.”

~

Yunjin’s hand feels comfortable in yours as you walk through the streets of New York City together. You didn’t know if it was the sunglasses hiding your faces, or the carelessness of the people who passed you by, but no one recognized either of you.

You didn’t mind when people recognized you - it was a part of your job, as an actor - but sometimes you just wanted to be a normal person who went on dates with their girlfriend. You could tell Yunjin felt the same, as she became more relaxed as you continued to walk together.

“What’s the plan?” You ask as Yunjin checks her phone.

“I was thinking that we could see a Broadway show, then head to a nearby store and grab some supplies for a picnic.” Yunjin looks up to give you a warm smile. “How does that sound, dear?”

“Can we go back to the hotel and cuddle for a bit? I know you have rehearsals tonight, but I thought it would be nice to spend a bit more time together.”

Yunjin presses a soft kiss to your cheek before dragging you forward.

“It sounds perfect, my love.”

~

“You could totally sing that.” You quietly remark as you shuffle through the crowd towards the exit of the theater.

“You just like to hear my voice, even if I’m singing way out of my comfort zone.” Yunjin says as you lead her out of the crowd.

“You sound beautiful when you’re singing opera, pop, or Broadway show tunes – so yes, I do love your voice as it is.”

She playfully slaps your shoulder as a light blush appears on her face.

“Thanks.” She mumbles as you laugh.

“No cute quips or funny remarks?”

“Wait until we eat, and then I’ll have plenty. I’m too hungry to think.” Yunjin says as your stomach grumbles in agreement.

~

“Let me pay for it-” You hand your card to the cashier before Yunjin bats your hand away.

“I can get it, I promise-”

“I can’t make my girlfriend pay for my food, that’d be ridiculous!” You laugh before the cashier rings out your order. “Spend your money on something you want. I know you have plenty of it-”

“So do you!” A soft whine leaves Yunjin as she grabs the bags from the cashier. “You paid for the hotel too. When do I get to spoil you?”

You turn around and lightly grab her cheek before leaning in to kiss her.

“Your love and affection is more than enough for me.” You press your lips to hers for a moment. “Besides, I don’t get much of a chance to shop anymore, and I like spending money on my loved ones.”

When you pull away, Yunjin grabs the collar of your shirt and kisses you again.

“It looks like I have a lot of kisses to repay, then.”

~

“This is nice.” Yunjin looks up at the midday sky as you take a bite of the food in front of you. “I wish we could spend more time together like this.”

She bites her lip as a wave of sadness crashes over her. You grab her hand and squeeze it as a way to comfort her.

“You’re busy chasing your dreams, as I am. One day, we’ll settle down together, and we’ll spend every day like this.” You wistfully say as she softly looks at you.

“You promise?”

“I do.” You nod before handing her a napkin. “You have a little bit of something-” 

You flick away the food crumb on her face before flashing her a smile.

“There, got it.”

“Thanks, babe.” She wipes her lips before a smirk appears on your face. “Do you remember when you asked me if I had a cute quip or funny remark to your teasing?”

“Yes, I do.” You fold your arms. “Let’s hear it.”

“Well, I was just thinking about how you’re just as attractive and charismatic as the characters you play in your movies. Do you remember the one where you saved the girl by kissing her?”

It’s your turn to become flustered as you cough into your hands.

“I didn’t know that you watched the… romantic ones.” You scratch the back of your head as she continues on.

“Of course I do. It makes me feel closer to you, even when we’re an ocean apart.”

A sweet response like that is nearly enough to send you into cardiac arrest, but you’re able to calm your fast-beating heart with a few deep breaths.

“I think we have a bed calling our names back in the hotel room, babe.”

“Lead the way.” She offers you her hand, and you grab it before heading back to the hotel.

“Come here.” You lightly pull Yunjin into bed with your interlocked hands.

~

She laughs as she crashes into you.

“Smooth.” Yunjin continues to laugh as she snuggles into your chest.

“I do my best.” You take your free hand and run it through her hair as your other hand leaves hers and wraps around her body. “Comfortable?”

“Very much so.” 

You’re both quiet - a rarity for both of you. There’s something tranquil about the way you’re cuddled together - domestic, if you dare to call it that.

It makes you wish that you could wake up next to Yunjin every day of your life.

~

“Actors on set in three minutes!” The director announces over the PA system as you scroll through your gallery on your phone.

Your trailer is comfortable, sure, but it’s nothing compared to a warm bed and a nice shower. You can’t wait to go back to your hotel room and relax for the day.

You pause when your eyes spot the pictures that you and Yunjin took on your most recent date in NYC. Sure, it was months ago, but you found yourself wanting to go back to that moment again and again.

The first picture was from the Broadway show - she was pressed against your side as a stranger took a picture of you two. You were both proudly showing off your Broadway playbills - speaking of which, yours is tucked into your luggage as a reminder of Yunjin, wherever you go.

The next picture you spot is from your picnic - Yunjin’s mid-laughter as someone’s dog has curled up on her lap. Despite not being a video, you can still hear her laughter echo around the trailer.

The last picture from that day is, by far, your favorite - she’s peacefully sleeping on your lap, with no idea in the world that you’re taking a picture of her. It was still your lock screen, all of this time later.

“Actors on set in one minute!” 

You quickly tuck your phone into your bag as you lightly fix your hair in a nearby mirror. That’s when you notice something else that needs to go in your bag.

Something you got for Yunjin recently, but you wouldn’t give it to her for a while. Something that says you’re mine, and I’m yours.

The ring feels heavy in your hands, like the weight of two futures that will be forever intertwined, but it easily finds a small pocket in your bag. You had a call with Yunjin tonight - maybe you’d talk about your future, just as a fanciful idea, for now.

Someday, Yunjin, someday.

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

boyfriend material

so to keep my formula one girlies satisfied and fueled, i put this together until i can get my non formula one requests finished, i was hoping to have them done by now but i keep getting called into work, i'm sorry my lovely's <3 i'm also working on another one of these for sir lewis hamilton titled husband material, it is based on my other smau series billion dollar baby.

pairing; charles leclerc x marceline bennett [original character]

blurb; this is a list of cute things boyfriend charles leclerc and his girlfriend marceline bennett do in my smau series that i'm working on called the broadway bug, this story features a original character but for your reading pleasure, i've used 'you' and 'y/n' in this little snippet <3

currently playing; monaco by mkto "i'll go wherever you go, chase you through the streets of monaco, i'll run wherever you are"

when it comes to your jobs;

you are a broadway actress and charles often finds himself just watching you hum the lyrics to a song you have to sing in a show or tap a beat on your thigh as you walk through the paddock together.

speaking of broadway, charles makes sure to go to every single show that he can, just like you try to make it to every single race that you can.

when at charles's races, you stay in the ferrari garage, your often caught on camera jumping up and down excitedly and screaming "that's my boy!" or "go baby!"

when charles got p1 in monaco and monza, you completely ignored the barriers and ran for him as soon as he was out of the car, he'd luckily gotten his helmet and balaclava off in time to catch you, pick you up and kiss you right there on the track.

charles gave you a necklace with his race number on it saying "i'm giving you my number until i can give you my last name".

charles didn't release his music too often but when he did you always made sure to listen to it on repeat.

you could spend hours just sitting and listening to charles play the piano, it was your safe place, just you and charles together in your own little world.

charles loved catching you humming a tune he'd played on the piano earlier in the day while you were brushing your teeth or making coffee, he loved the simple things you did.

no matter where you are in the world, you always make sure to support charles.

and one time when you were in rehearsals for a show and charles was off racing somewhere in the world, there was a moment with one of your co-stars that led to you posting a video on your instagram story that would soon go viral - it went something like this

"hey my little broadway bugs" you couldn't keep a straight face while talking to the camera "so i'm currently in rehearsals right now" you flipped the camera to show the theater stage and most of your co-stars just chilling before flipping it back to face you "but this one right here" one of your co-stars pops into the frame "this one just came sprinting across the stage screaming 'y/n! y/n!' and keep in mind i thought she was dying" you hold up a magazine for the camera to see "but she just wanted to show me this and god do i love her for it" you giggled.

just cute couple stuff;

when you two first started dating you loved to listen to charles talk, he could talk about anything and you'd listen, he eventually noticed and teased you by saying "the accent got to you, didn't it".

charles mum; pascale basically insisted that you call her maman when she saw how happy you made her boy.

when your out to dinner or at an event together, your feet eventually get sore from standing around in heels all night and so you eventually go barefoot and charles just wanders around carrying you heels.

you and charles call each other all kinds of nicknames with his favorites for you being; ma cherie [my darling], mon ange [my angel], mon coeur [my heart], ma meilleure moitie [my better half] and of course mon amor [my love].

your favorite nicknames for him are; mon joli garcon [my pretty boy] and mon nounours [my teddy bear].

in fact the very first time you ever called him mon joli garcon, he looked at you surprised and muttered "did you just call me pretty boy" and you merely corrected him before going about your day "correction.. your MY pretty boy".

charles also calls you baby but only ever when he's sleepy and you try to get out of bed early, he just reaches out to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer muttering "baby.. no.. you stay put" in his sleepy voice that drives you insane cause it's so cute and raspy.

and you guys are the kind of couple that after being intimate you pillow talk in french with charles mumbling "si jolie comme ça" [so pretty like this] as he tucks a strand of your messy hair behind your ear as you giggle against his chest.

charles calls you the best thing that's ever happened to him.

and this man blushes and has the biggest goofy smile on his face whenever someone says your name or an interviewer asks about you.

charles takes photo's galore of you and even some of the two of you together and shamelessly posts them on his instagram / instagram stories - like this.

you are the kind of girl that could eat pasta for every meal for the rest of your life, you love pasta so much that you and charles now have a saying where you say "your the pesto to my pasta" or he'll say "your the pasta to my pesto".

charles tried introducing you to new foods including foods from both french and monegasque cuisine like stuffed peppers which you were a fan of but when he tried to fed you escargot you freaked out, which led to arthur now having a video of you running away from charles who held a snail on the end of his fork while yelling "never! keep that nasty ass snail away from me!"

charles is also the kind of boyfriend that would memorize your coffee order.

he sends you this text or something similar to it whenever your in the same place as one another.

charles doesn't hide how badly he needs you, he'll just straight up tell you, he doesn't care if anyone sees the texts he sends you while he's horny, your texts to each other basically look like this all the time.

cute couple stuff involving your pets;

leo loves you more than he loves charles but he doesn't complain because coming home to see you snuggled up in his bed with leo curled up against your side just makes him melt.

your cat however absolutely hates charles with a passion and charles tries so hard to get your cat to like him but it never happens, all of your photo's with your cat; clementine look like this

all the photos you have of charles with clementine picture her practically begging you with her eyes to get him the hell away from her.

two of the most iconic moments of the charles and clementine feud was when they first met.

it was charles first time in your apartment and while he knew you had a cat, she was no where to be seen at the moment, you and charles were standing in your kitchen leaning against the marble island, hands linked and resting on the bench as you talked, charles had leaned in to kiss you which you gladly excepted, lips locking with his in a soft kiss.. you loved kissing him and he loved kissing you even more but unfortunately he had to pull away with a hiss, seeing your cat on the counter having appeared out of thin air "she just bit me" he complained and while you kissed his hand better she simply hissed at him before running off.

and the other was when in the you two were in the heat of the moment, clementine just had to cock block him.

the temperature in your room was hot with your body pressed against charles's with your lips locked in a sloppy kiss, your kisses began moving down his neck, you loved to hear the whimpers that escaped him whenever you kissed at the soft spot behind his ear but that didn't happen instead you heard him mumble "i can't do this.. not with her watching" you didn't understand what he was talking about until you followed his gaze and what you saw had you laughing until there were tears in your eyes and you held your sides in pain "ouchy.. stitch" you complained to which charles simply responded "serves you right" the memory of clementines face and the side eye she gave charles still makes you laugh today.

cuddles, kisses and hand holding;

charles's love language is 100% physical touch at least i think so, this boy loves cuddles and there is only really one form of cuddle this boy will ever settle for and it's the one where he can lay in your arms, head pressed to your chest listening to your heartbeat as you run your fingers through his hair.

cuddles like those are his favorite especially when he's had a long day racing or has been away from you for weeks.

he's also notorious for falling asleep in your arms when you cuddle like this.

but he's also one for simplistic intimacy like when your together in the paddock, in line at the supermarket or just stationary while talking to friends, his arms are wrapped around your waist and his head is tucked into your neck.

and when it comes to falling asleep or even just napping, he is the little spoon mostly cause he just likes having you hold him and partly because he just feels safe whenever you fall asleep together like this.

and don't even get me started on the kisses that this man would give you; forehead, cheek, neck, belly, thighs or lips, if you name it he'll kiss it, charles loves kissing you and you love kissing him.

there was moment when you were doing an interview for with the cast of hamilton over zoom and this boy while you were in the middle of answering a question found that he couldn't stop staring at your lips so he just walked up to you, grabbed your face in his hand and kissed you, it lasted about 10 seconds before he pulled back and walked off, leaving you dumbstruck and just staring at your laptop screen unsure of what to say.

there was another moment when you said goodbye to him about ten minutes before a race and gave him his good luck kiss but when you went to walk away, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him mumbling "where you going, we're not done yet" before kissing you again.

charles would smile against your lips while you kiss

your favorite way to wake charles up is by kissing him, you start peppering kisses up his and across his shoulders, moving up his neck, across his cheek and then finally connecting your lip to his and while it may take a few minutes, he'd eventually wake and roll over so your trapped beneath him unable to escape his kisses.

being trapped like that often leads to his hands wandering up your sides and despite knowing that you were ticklish, he loves hearing you giggle.

your giggle is one of charles favorite sounds in the world and so he often just attacks you with tickles "give me a minute, i need to tickle the shit out of you".

whenever you two walk together, he's always holding your hand and leading you safely through the paddock or big crowds of people, especially paparazzi.

or if your just out and about you'll walk with your ring fingers wrapped around eachothers.

you'd somehow convinced charles to get matching tattoo's, just small ones on your ring fingers and that's pretty much why they are always linked when you walk.

eventually when he proposes you add to those tattoo's by getting another set of matching ones.

they are in his color too.

you two don't fight often but when you do, it's normally over something small and insignificant.

but when it does happen you get banished to the backseat of the car while carlos sits in your seat as passenger princess.

but within five minutes charles had forgotten all about it and reaches back to hold your hand, it's his way of saying i'm sorry.

time to get down and dirty;

a turn on for you is when charles stretches his arms above his head causing his shirt to raise and it gives you the most beautiful peek at his chest and v-line, he also lets out a little moan every time he does it. [can you imagine it... like my god!]

this boy doesn't believe in quickies unless he gets to eat you out, this boy just lives for it, he'll drop to his knees just about anywhere; your apartment kitchen, his drivers room, a club bathroom... literally anywhere.

both you and charles have praise kinks, he loves hearing you whisper "un si bon garçon" [such a good boy] in his ear and you live to hear him whisper "c'est ma gentille fille" [that's my good girl] while he thrusts in and out of you like a rabbit in heat.

this boy whimpers when the pleasure gets to much.

and when you decide to be naughty and not listen to his instructions, those whimpers turn to growling demands.

you and charles had decided that kids were something you both wanted and so when he gets you pregnant after like two tries, he's fucking proud, walking around wearing a cocky little smirk on his pretty face.

and to finish it off; instagram stories

just a few instagram stories you've posted of your beautiful boyfriend and his responses to them.

charlesleclerc; do you enjoy embarrassing me y/n.on.stage; fuck yeah i do, it's my job charlesleclerc; since when? y/n.on.stage; since the day you asked me to be your girl, you did this to yourself joli garcon charlesleclerc; god dammit

charlesleclerc; your not going to get one amor y/n.on.stage; and your not getting head tonight, win or no win charlesleclerc; baby i'm sorry let me explain *read* charlesleclerc; baby please y/n.on.stage; too late leclerc charlesleclerc; not the last name.. baby i'm sorry! y/n.on.stage; the number your trying to reach is currently unavailable

charlesleclerc; always mon ange <3 y/n.on.stage; you say that but there's still no ring on this finger charlie

charlesleclerc; baby you can't post shit like this, my mother follows you! charlesleclerc; but yes, you can have them y/n.on.stage; correct answer leclerc

leclerc_pascale; grandchildren? y/n.on.stage; working on it leclerc_pascale; that's my girl

charlesleclerc; BABY! where are you.. y/n.on.stage; you'll never find me.. hehe charlesleclerc; *view attached photo* charlesleclerc; you were saying y/n.on.stage; FUCK!.. i wanted to scare you.. once i was finished with lunch charlesleclerc; can i have a bite? y/n.on.stage; no

charlesleclerc; my eyes will always find you mon ange for you are the most beautiful thing they have ever seen y/n.on.stage; you want head? your drivers room in ten charlesleclerc; i'll be there in five y/n.on.stage; god i love you <3

a/n; so..... it was a bit more than a snippet but i was having to much fun to stop, can't wait to start officially writing this series <3

[sherbertilluminated]

Last night I was talking with my friends @teefigotem and @calypsopond about the pacing of the musical Les Miserables. I think Les Mis' libretto is one of the best foundations for a musical out there, but the first act has so much more plot and more iconic songs than the second, and I worry that top-heavy structure diminishes the ultimate impact of the uprising in the second act.

Caly and Maddy agreed that the 2012 film adaption had the right idea when it swapped the positions of "Do you Hear the People Sing" and "One day More." Transplanting the former to the beginning of Act 2 maintains the balance of revolutionary fervor (and iconic songs) between the two acts, and a serves as a payoff to the tension at the end of Act 1. While "Upon these Stones/Building the Barricade" begins Act 2 in the current libretto, it's high on exposition and low on enthusiasm. Since "Do You Hear the People Sing" has become an international revolutionary anthem, making it the opening of the uprising, rather than the prelude to it, builds on *ahem* that connection.

Just picture it: the audience returns to their seats, the orchestra hums with tension, and the lights go up on a somber street with a single voice—Enjolras, probably—singing. Students emerge from the set, workers join in, the turntable starts turning and it becomes clear that soon a barricade will be built in the street. The subsequent Marius/Eponine conversation that transitions into "On my Own" would still probably work here. In the span of fifteen minutes, the thesis statement of the revolting students turns into the reveal of the final barricade. It'd be pretty damn rousing, right?

The potential problem with this change is the lacuna it would leave behind. In the current structure of Les Miserables, "Do you Hear the People Sing" is an elaboration on Enjolras' claim that "they will come when we call!" and going directly from that rallying cry to a quiet romantic interlude flattens the rhetorical tension between romantic love and revolution "Red and Black" and makes Mairus seem a little silly (which, to be fair, he is. But Enjolras is not.) Although "Do You Hear the People Sing" is a little too bombastic for Act 1, before the uprising actually begins, there's still got to be some kind of transition. Something needs to foreshadow the violence to come. But what?

I proposed that the best transition would be a reprise of Stars. And that Eponine should get to sing it.

Since the Broadway premiere of the musical Les Miserables in 1987 and especially following the 2012 film adaptation, Eponine's character has been a locus for fandom attention and discourse. Because she's really compelling: despite being the daughter of the selfish, abusive Thenardier, she devotes her life to protecting Marius and ultimately sacrifices it for him. But the closest she ever gets to being understood is by the audience; even Marius, one of two people in the show to be kind to her (the other being Valjean), doesn't really understand the full extent of her devotion to him. And that devotion is powerful, whether as a proxy for audience members' own experiences with unrequited love or a representation of the bourgeousie's reliance on unacknowleged suffering. There's a lot going on with her in the musical. But there's even more to her in the Brick.

Unlike my esteemed Les Mis mutuals I'm definitely not informed enough to do original analysis, but I'm a big fan of the Javert/Eponine wolfdog theory. My introduction to it was with this post by @pilferingapples, although I don't know whether it originated somewhere else. The theory posits that Javert and Eponine, who are both compared to wolfish dogs for their ferocity and devotion to their idiosyncratic systems of morality, are character foils who represent the limited choices offered to people excluded from. I definitely don't know the op who suggested they trade methods of death (if anyone does, please let me know!) but that's also in the Brick. And while the musical adaptation doesn't preserve Hugo's canine/lupine symbolism, it keeps Eponine's one-sided committment to guarding Marius. And it keeps Javert's devotion to the institution of Law.

"Stars" is the hymn of that devotion. It's more sinister than Eponine's love for Marius, but in the grand scheme of things it's just as pathetic. Giving a short reprise of that song to Eponine not only explicates that parallel and gives new life to relatively-unused musical motif, it has the potential to tie together the action of the first act and add a new dimension to subsequent scenes.

Imagine if, instead of beginning "Do You Hear the People Sing" immediately after "Red and Black" or transitioning directly to the Rue Plumet, the scene changes to the outside of the ABC cafe. On the other side of the turntable/wall, Eponine is waiting. And worrying. She knows her father's going to rob a house tonight and that the girl Marius asked her to find lives there*. She can't let her father hurt him. She's smarter than him. She'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, she swears—not to God or the stars, as Javert does, but to herself. The promise is shocking, because the audience heard that melody two songs ago and are just now discovering there is another way to be. There is another vow that can be made.

While she's singing, the ABC society files out the door. Maybe some hand out pamphlets or chat with people on the street. If the production wants to emphasize Eponine and Gavroche secret sibling bond, maybe they interact a little. But no one pays her too much mind. No one ever does.

The last person to emerge is Marius, looking a bit shaken. The timeline of the students' plans has been unexpectedly accelerated, he says. In case it's his last chance—nevermind why, 'Ponine, don't worry about me—he needs to see her once. You've found her, haven't you? Could you show me? Please? For my sake?

Consumed by shame and dread and the sense that he'll probably do something really stupid if she doesn't tag along, she agrees. And the stage begins to turn into the Rue Plumet, where "In my Life" begins. The whole interaction would take maybe two minutes.

There are of course thematic objections to this plan. There's the argument that "Stars" ought to be a unique, distinct song like "Bring Him Home." But those motifs are reused in instrumental form after Javert's and the students' respective deaths, so I don't necessarily think they're scene- or character-specific. There's also the argument that the melody of "Stars" is altogether too rigid for Eponine's character. I think there are a couple moments that would work quite well with the emotion("and if they fall as Lucifer fell," for example) but if you really don't want Javert's and Eponine's motif to cross, the melody of "A Little Fall of Rain" ("and you/I will keep me/you safe") could work for this moment too.

There's also the argument that Eponine already gets "too much" attention in the musical adaptation and doesn't need. But I don't know if that's true either. She interacts with Marius in several short scenes, she's present for "A Heart Full of Love" and "One Day More," she goes on her errand to Valjean, sings "On my Own," goes back to the barricade and dies shortly after. She gets about as much stagetime as Cosette does, and a little less than Marius.

It's true that she stands out as a character, but that's because she's got such interesting writing and is so isolated in the narrative. And while it's important to keep her "on [her] own," for the plot, using shared motifs to emphasize her symbolic similarities with other characters might make her character fit more cohesively into Les Miserables' grander thematic narrative. It could even make "On my Own" that much more powerful if she has a little hope that saving Marius from her father might get him to like her, and subsequently understands that this is not happening. But there's a lot more to her than being Marius' rejected best friend** and this choice has the potential to make that clear onstage.

In conclusion: moving "Do You Hear the People Sing" to the start of Act 2 letting Eponine do a wolfdog reprise of "Stars" between "Red and Black" and "In my Life" would be sick as fuck and maybe resolve some pacing issues in the libretto.

*There is a moment in the show where she realizes that she and Cosette grew up together. I like it in concept but it's a little awkwardly-placed and integrating it into the unnamed Red and Black/In my Life transition song would be great. Overall, her interactions with Marius seem like afterthoughts in between the larger numbers, which isn't fair to either of them.

**And for the record: this not a post pitting her against Cosette! They are both good characters and I wish the best for both of them!