#tony dress rehearsal

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

My gifs from video shared by Brianansanchez on IG of clCabaret Tony's rehearsal.

This is another video from Brianansanchez about Cabaret Tony's dress rehearsal

And a new photo of cast waiting for the rehearsal

[necromancy-savant]

Skip to 27:30 for the hardest, highest song I have ever sung in my life. I practiced every day for months because I was so scared I couldn't do it

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

The Lark Ascending: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: The working relationship between a conductor and their soloist was supposed to be seamless. But what happens when you're dealing with the notoriously fickle (and your ex to boot) Agatha Harkness?

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Hello! Here's chapter four of my conductor!Agatha sequel. Updates unfortunately depend on my schedule, but I always try to write when I can :) I've updated my tag list for Lark, so if you'd like to be added feel free to let me know! This is my favorite chapter yet, and I've linked the main piece I listened to while writing, Rachmaninov's 14 Romances: Op. 34: No 14 (Vocalise) . As always I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Tag List: @fanficreadinglistandarchieve @chiar4anna @marisacoulterswife @getlostsquidward @rigglemethat @aquvr1us @dazzlinghahn

Previous Chapter

The relationship between a conductor and a soloist was special, as you had learned throughout your various performances. There was a certain level of trust that was required on the soloist’s end; to have no doubt that the conductor would follow their lead and guide the rest of the ensemble along with them. 

The conductor needed to hold the same belief, only that the soloist was confident enough in their music to make it through the selected concerto without faltering. One missed entrance or unsteady tempo change could send the entire orchestra falling off the cliff with them.

It was a push and pull dynamic, with the temperament of the conductor and potential ego of the soloist threatening to throw everything off balance. You had never experienced any issues with past conductors you had worked with, but none of them were Agatha.

You had scarcely seen the conductor since your intimate conversation at the gala the week prior. While her words of encouragement had been giving you the boost of confidence you had been lacking, it was hard to focus on any of that when your brain had been so fixated on what happened right after. Or rather, what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. 

It didn’t help that you failed to catch Agatha alone in the days after. She was usually with Tony going over (rejecting) his new marketing ideas, or being trailed by a frazzled looking Scott frantically writing down whatever instructions Agatha would bark at him from over her shoulder. 

The more you thought about it, you really didn’t understand how that particular arrangement was working out.

You had been trying to work up the nerve to approach Agatha all week, which was why you decided to come in earlier than was needed. There wasn’t a rehearsal you needed to attend and no meetings until the afternoon, so you were hoping to catch the conductor when she came in.

It was strange, feeling this conflicted. To not really know where you stood with her after all this time. You believed her when she said you were friends, and maybe that was all you were supposed to be. 

You didn’t want to linger on why that thought made you as upset as it did.

However, it appeared luck was on your side this morning, as Agatha was rounding a corner, engrossed in reading something on her phone. Her dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, and your eyes focused on her white dress shirt that was tucked into her purple dress slacks. You couldn’t help but notice her bare skin, as she had left a few of the buttons undone. 

She noticed you after a moment, and her face lit up.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asked curiously, pocketing her phone and removing her glasses. “I don’t have you scheduled for rehearsal until Friday.”

“I know,” you said suddenly, craning your neck to look over at her. “I was hoping we could talk about the other night.”

“Hm?” Agatha responded as she glanced at you, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. “Whatever do you mean?”

You averted your gaze at the sight of her toned arms and her lithe fingers securing the sleeves stayed in place. If Agatha noticed the faint blush on her cheeks she didn’t comment on it.

Clearing your throat, you gave her a pointed look. “After the gala?”

The conductor had a blank expression on her face, before she nodded. “Oh, you mean my assistant? It’s so hard to find good help nowadays.”

“No, I don’t mean Scott,” you dismissed her, frowning as you tried to get her attention. “Agatha, come on, are we really not going to talk about what almost happened?”

Agatha feigned innocence, giving your arm a quick gentle squeeze . “You’ve been under so much stress these past few weeks, dear. Consider it all forgotten.”

“What?”

As the conductor went to open her mouth, she shook her head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an assistant to reprimand.”

Whipping your head around, you found Scott struggling to carry three huge cardboard boxes down the hallway. 

“Lang! I know I asked to have those delivered to my hotel. What are they doing here?” Agatha seethed as she stormed off.

As Scott started to explain, he dropped one of the boxes in the process and you watched as it comically fell to the ground. Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, not assisting him in picking it up, merely instructing him to take them one by one to her office. 

“Believe me, none of us get it either,” Monica said as she came to stand next to you, observing Scott and Agatha. 

“How long has Scott been working for her?” You asked, as you couldn’t help but wonder if he had just started.

Agatha wasn’t known for her patience, or for giving second chances. The multiple assistants she had apparently fired before you, and dozens of interns after, serving as proof to the high standards she tended to live by. 

“I think he’s been her assistant for over a year now,” Monica explained, looking puzzled as Scott tried pushing all three boxes stacked up on top of each other. “It’s funny, it’s the longest she’s kept someone around since…”

It took you a moment to realize she trailed off, and you forced yourself to look away as Agatha told Scott to stop, insisting that she would take care of it herself.

“Since what?” You prompted, and Monica uncomfortably looked to the ground.

“Well, since you,” Monica said, keeping her voice low enough so none of the other musicians could hear her. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. She had to have kept someone around for a while, right?” You asked, thinking back on if your former stand partner ever mentioned any of your replacements, until you came short. 

Out of all the things you and Monica would discuss whenever you both had time to catch up you realized she never once brought up Agatha.

Monica grimaced, shooting another quick glance in Agatha’s direction as she was shooing Scott away from trying to help her. “Not really, no. It was pretty bad after you left.”

“Bad how?” 

Monica sighed, and it seemed like to you she was torn between telling you or not. She tugged on your arm, leading you away from the concert hall to a deserted corner.

“None of us thought anything of it at first. You know how she can be,” Monica said quietly, and you nodded because you did know how difficult Agatha could be to work with. “A few people thought she was trying to annoy Hayward by firing them so quickly, but then he was arrested.”

“Yeah, you could have mentioned that before,” you said, remembering Agatha dropping that bomb on you last week.

Monica shifted then, an uneasy expression on her face. 

“What?” You questioned, not liking the way she was looking at you.

“Nothing,” Monica insisted, but she refused to meet your eyes. “Hayward was gone, and she seemed to get along better with the new guy, but she was still going through a new assistant every few weeks.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” you commented, but Monica looked at you then and shook her head. “So what changed?”

“No one knows,” Monica admitted. “She hired Scott on and it’s been that way for around a year, maybe a little longer. To be fair she’s been gone a lot of the time, but still.”

Right, you thought to yourself, Agatha had been traveling a lot. Not that you knew where she was going.

Unfortunately that was the moment the conductor in question came traipsing back around the corner, more agitated than before, and you could just barely hear her telling Scott to go feed Scratchy after rehearsal. 

“Orchestra,” Agatha called out, roughly running her fingers through her hair as she strolled past you. “As much as I’d love to sit around a campfire with all of you and join hands as we go around sharing stories on our past traumas and various metaphorical battle scars, I believe it would benefit all of us to be on stage for rehearsal, yes?”

“I’ll see you later,” Monica said reassuringly, before taking off in the same direction as the rest of the orchestra. 

Later that afternoon, you were getting ready to go home for the day. You had a rather productive meeting with Pepper over any changes you wanted for promotional materials going into opening night.

Unfortunately, you spent most of the time stewing over Agatha’s typical elusiveness. You were used to it by now, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated over her hot and cold behavior. It was just how she was with everyone, and if Agatha hated anything it was being inconsistent.

As you prepared to leave, you noticed someone entering the building. It was a woman you had never seen before.

She was beautiful, you noted, and wore an expensive looking pale pink pantsuit. Holding a matching clutch in her hand, she took off her designer sunglasses and she appeared to be lost. When she noticed you, her face lit up, heels click-clacking on the floor as she walked over to you. 

“Excuse me,” the woman said, lowering her clutch to her side as she looked at you. “Do you know where Tony Stark’s office is?”

“Oh, yeah it’s right down that hallway. First door on your left,” you answered, pointing in the correct direction. 

“Thank you,” the woman replied politely, sticking out her hand to shake yours. “I’m Jennifer Kale, but I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

The name sounded relatively familiar, but you failed to place how you knew of her. Giving her an apologetic smile, you shook your head.

Jennifer raised her eyebrows, surprise coloring her features. “Well, I’m the founder of Kale Kare. We focus on providing musicians with holistic health and wellness.”

Kale Kare…you had heard of that once or twice, but you still couldn’t remember how. Maybe a social media ad?

“Oh cool,” you said sincerely, blushing slightly at the small smile Jennifer gave you in return. “I’m-”

“I already know who you are,” Jennifer said, and laughed at the dumbfounded look on your face. “I mean, how could I not? Half the city is plastered with posters of your face.”

Oh right, the LA Symphony promotional posters, you had actually passed a few on your way into rehearsal earlier.

“I keep forgetting about those,” you quietly admitted, and Jennifer laughed again.

“Besides, even if I hadn’t seen those, you certainly look like her type,” Jennifer added conversationally, and you froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“Agatha is a lot of things, but she’s always been predictable,” Jennifer sighed, looking you up and down. “You’re not the first soloist she’s been with.”

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you looked down at the ground. “I’m not with Agatha. You must have confused me with someone else.”

“Oh?” Jennifer asked, tilting her head to the side as she regarded you. “Are you not the assistant she was sleeping with back in New York? The one who left for Vienna?”

Oh.

“That’s not…” you trailed off, wondering if maybe you somehow hit your head earlier and were actually dreaming this entire interaction from a concussed state. “That’s not how I’d describe it.”

“I must have it wrong then,” Jennifer shrugged, but gave you a look that suggested she didn’t believe you. “That’s just what I had heard.”

“Heard from who?” You hesitantly questioned, as you had been under the impression you and Agatha had been rather discreet during the time you spent together.

“You know how musicians are, always gossiping,” Jennifer offered, giving you a wink. “But I guess they were mistaken.” 

There had been a few instances in which you had wondered if you and Agatha weren’t as careful as you once thought. But, replaying the conversation you just shared with Monica, you wondered if there was truth to what Jennifer was suggesting. Both that you were less discrete than you thought, and more troubling- that Agatha actually cared when you left. 

No, that can’t be it. You were sure Agatha’s attitude after you left didn’t have anything to do with you, she didn’t strike you as the type to pine. 

If only you had been as lucky in that department.

“Yeah, they must have been,” you insisted, trying to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind.

Maybe you should talk to Monica later, get some peace of mind.

“I thought I smelled the faint stench of desperation and fraud,” Agatha’s voice cut through the awkward silence that had filled the hallway, and you jumped at the sound. 

The conductor approached you and Jennifer, hands in her purple dress slacks as she sauntered over, a hesitant Scott closely following her. “What pray tell have we lowly peasants done to deserve such a pleasant surprise, Jen?”

“I’d say it’s nice to see you again Agatha, but lying is more your specialty than mine,” Jennifer greeted the conductor, a smile tugging on her lips. “I’ve heard you’ve been keeping busy.”

Agatha sniffed, tossing her bag at Scott, nearly taking him down to the ground. “No more than usual. What are you doing here?”

“I’m expanding my business to the LA Symphony,” Jennifer announced, her eyes locked on Agatha’s. “I have a meeting with Tony to go over our upcoming partnership.”

“Oh good, another potential lawsuit to add to your ever growing collection,” Agatha quipped, raising her left hand as her index finger tapped against her cheek, a contemplative expression on her face. “By the way, how are your legal woes faring?”

It was then you remembered how you knew of Kale Kare…Agatha. The conductor had once briefly ranted about the company and its founder, Jennifer. It was unsurprising that Agatha wasn’t sold on the holistic remedies that the company swore by, but you never asked what had happened between the two of them that made the conductor as sour as she appeared to be.

“Funny, Agatha, but almost all of those were thrown out by the judge,” Jennifer fired back, and you wondered what ‘almost all of those’ meant. “Besides, based on what I’ve been told, you could actually benefit from some of our treatments.”

Agatha pursed her lips, the frown lines on her forehead becoming more prominent as she arched an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, I’d be surprised if any of that goop you sell is actually organic.” Turning to Scott, she tossed her keys at him, shaking her head as he fumbled attempting to catch them. “Lang, why don’t you make yourself useful and go lock up my office.”

Scott looked thankful to be excused from the conversation, as he scurried away. You had to admit, you were slightly jealous he was able to leave, as you were currently stuck between Agatha and Jennifer.

“Well Stephen certainly seems to think differently,” Jennifer continued, taking a step closer to the conductor, folding her arms across her chest.

“Of course he’s one of your clients. That man has been living in LA for far too long,” Agatha deadpanned, shooting Jennifer a nasty glare. 

“Typical Agatha, hiding behind some biting insults,” Jennifer observed, giving you a quick once over. “Besides, there’s no need to be so humble. I’m sure your…soloist was flattered by it.”

“Flattered by what?” You questioned, looking back and forth between the conductor and Jennifer, confusion growing.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Jennifer guessed, poorly attempting to stifle a laugh whilst Agatha balled her hands into fists at her side. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Agatha.”

“Didn’t tell me what?” You asked, focusing on Agatha who shrugged in response.

“That’s my cue,” Jennifer said, brushing her hand against your arm as she started to walk away. “It was nice to meet you, good luck with your concerts.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, waiting until the woman was out of earshot before narrowing your eyes at Agatha. “Agatha, what was she talking about?”

“Ignore her, all of those wellness treatments and supplements have made her more delusional than normal,” Agatha insisted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to turn you around in the opposite direction.

Your breath hitched at the physical contact, but attempted to remain your composure. “I thought we were done with the games. What aren’t you telling me?”

Agatha froze for a moment, eyes shifting around before refocusing, not removing her arm from where it was wrapped around your shoulders. “It’s nothing to worry about, dear. Jen just enjoys getting under my skin.”

Only, the more you thought about it the more you realized you didn’t believe her. There were far too many inconsistencies in the conductor’s stories, but what you were failing to grasp was why she wasn’t just telling you the truth. 

What she was doing in LA. What happened to Stephen, because that particular question had more bad possibilities than good. Where she had been traveling to so secretly for the past year. 

Why she refused to talk about your almost kiss.

Shaking her arm off, you shook your head. “No. This isn’t like before, Agatha. I’m not just some assistant you can boss around and belittle.”

“I don’t think I ever belittled you,” Agatha lightly corrected you, and you let out a deep sigh. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh? Is there a point to this little temper tantrum?” Agatha questioned as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I was worried you were breaking barriers and rising above the diva allegations most soloists succumb to. It’s nice to see that isn’t the case.”

“That’s really nice,” you said sarcastically, attempting to keep your temper in check. “What did Jennifer mean when she brought up Stephen?”

There was a flash of displeasure on the conductor’s face before she masked it. 

Giving you a sly grin, she winked. “Are you interrogating me, dear? Should we take this somewhere more private?”

“Stop it,” you said dismissively, growing more irritated with every word she spoke. “Why can’t you just give me a straight answer.” 

“Well I think we both know the answer to that,” Agatha teased, leaning in closer until her breath was warm against your face. “But if you need a reminder, I’d be more than happy to provide one.”

“Stop it,” you repeated, patience wearing thin. 

Agatha always enjoyed having the upper hand, and as easy as it felt to slip back into a role you were once very comfortable with, things had changed. You changed. Deciding to switch up your line of questioning, you thought back to what Monica had just shared with you.

“Why did you go through so many assistants after I left?”

Agatha noticeably tensed at that, her eyebrows furrowing and she took a step back, putting her hands in her pockets. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Of course you don’t,” you said, letting out a bitter laugh as Agatha’s expression hardened. 

“Whatever it is you’re implying, I suggest you stop. Maybe spend more time focusing on your upcoming performance,” Agatha suggested, lips curling upwards to form a smirk. “After all, we wouldn’t want a repeat of last week’s…incident, would we?”

The memory of your anxiety attack and conversation that had followed with Agatha came rushing back to you. You bowed your head, feeling your cheeks warm at the humiliating reminder. 

“I should have known better,” you mumbled, each second you chose to stay in this conversation proving to be a mistake. “I thought maybe you missed me, but you aren’t capable of feeling that way towards anyone, are you?”

Agatha’s eyes flashed menacingly, and she recoiled as if you struck her. Turning on her heel she stormed off without another word, leaving you alone once again.

The regret hit as soon as she was out of sight, you knew you shouldn’t have said that to her. But then again, maybe if she was more forthcoming and honest with you, then you wouldn’t have snapped. 

Agatha had a special talent to make you lose your mind, in more ways than one. She was unlike anyone you had ever met, and as many positives as that held there was the occasional reminder of her darker side. 

You sometimes questioned if any of her feelings for you back then were real, or if she just got off on the power trip. 

It was hard, being this torn, and as much as you still cared for her you were starting to get the feeling that it wasn’t reciprocated. At least, not in the way you wanted it to be. You didn’t just want to go back to how things were before. You weren’t just an assistant anymore, you had made a name for yourself.

It was foolish to think you’d ever be as well-known or talented as Agatha, but you liked to believe that you were on a more equal footing this time around.

But it appeared Agatha didn’t feel the same way.

As you finally left for the day, one of the interns came running up with a bag addressed to you. Apparently Jennifer Kale had left some of her products for you to try, along with a note suggesting the two of you talk about a possible PR partnership for the brand.

You spent the rest of your afternoon and evening the way you typically did when you needed to unwind and not spend too much time practicing. Setting your violin in the sitting room, you spent a few hours curled up on the couch reading a book. You would periodically check your phone, some part of you secretly waiting for a text or message from Agatha, but there was nothing.

It did cross your mind that maybe you should apologize, but knew it was moot. You both needed time to cool off.

Deciding to look at the products Jennifer gifted you, it wasn’t a surprise that everything looked and smelled nice enough. Her company certainly seemed to spend enough time with the presentation, as the bottles were all beautiful and almost looked like potion vials. You decided to try out one of the face masks, and you briefly read a few of the ingredients. 

A small voice did question how 100% natural it was, but it smelled nice and it was free so you weren’t going to complain.

You were so wrapped up in applying the face mask you barely heard your doorbell ring. It took you a moment to register the noise, and you checked the time on your phone to reveal it was half past ten. You weren’t expecting company, so you ignored it, spreading the mask evenly over your face. 

The buzzing of your phone caused you to pause, rinsing your hands in the sink before grabbing the device to reveal you had a new text message.

Agatha: Knock knock

After your last conversation with the conductor she was the last person you wanted to see right now, but if there was one thing Agatha was, it was persistent. The doorbell rang again and you huffed, she really had some nerve. 

Storming out of the bathroom, you whipped the front door open, revealing Agatha with her finger pressed against the doorbell. The conductor’s dark brown hair was pulled back with a hair tie, loose strands flying everywhere. You did a double take at her casual attire, the baggy black sweatpants and tight fitting t-shirt that read ‘What’s The Difference Between A Conductor And God? God Doesn’t Think He’s A Conductor’. 

“Took you long enough,” Agatha mused, nose scrunching in disgust when she saw what you had on your face. “Didn’t realize you were interested in having hives break out across your face.”

“What do you want, Agatha?” You questioned, ignoring her jab.

The conductor paused, appearing to realize how irritated you were. Her bright blue eyes were locked on your own, and she took a small step forward, placing her hands against yours. “Can I come in?”

“You’re joking,” you retorted, the earlier argument still ringing in your ears. “You have to be joking. No, you cannot come in. Goodnight, Agatha.”

As you went to slam the door in her face, she stuck her foot in, blocking it. She gave you a rare pleading glance. “Please?”

You could count on one hand the number of times she had ever said that word to you, or to anyone for that matter. Feeling your annoyance fade slightly, you relented. Moving to the side to allow her to come in, trying to restrain the shiver of feeling her body brush against yours. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, folding your arms across your chest after you shut the door, locking it.

The conductor was looking at you with an unreadable expression, as her tongue slowly licked her lips. Your eyes were fixated on the gesture, unable to look away until you finally cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look at her with a newfound sense of confidence.

“If you don’t have anything to say I think you should be going,” you asserted, something that surprised both you and the conductor as she raised her eyebrows. 

“You’re wrong,” the conductor said, so quietly you could barely hear her.

“What?” 

“You’re wrong,” Agatha repeated, louder this time.

“If you came here to insult me, you can leave,” you stated, going to open the door.

It was hard to say how it happened, really. Agatha was a lot faster than she looked, and she had your back pressed against the wall, hands pinned at your sides before you could blink. She towered over you, chest heaving as you felt her breath hot against your neck. 

“Agatha…” 

“I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you,” Agatha breathed out, releasing one hand to gently cup your chin, forcing you to look up at her. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

You blinked, feeling your head spin as you wondered if this was really happening. Agatha had made countless appearances in your dreams over the years, each feeling more real than the last. It felt like she was haunting you, a cruel shadow you could never escape from. 

But this was real, you noted as you breathed in the subtle but rich scent of her floral shampoo. After all this time, she was really here.

“Agatha,” you whispered again, heart pounding against your chest as blood rushed in your ears. 

The conductor released your other hand, raising her own to tangle in your hair as she pulled you impossibly closer to her, lips ghosting over your own. 

Before you could form a coherent thought, Agatha finally did the one thing you had been yearning for since you left her all those years ago, closing the distance as she smashed her lips against yours. 

All of the times you had reminisced on this, the random bodies you had used as replacements over the years, nothing could ever come close to the real thing. The very real feeling of Agatha’s mouth moving fervently against your own, as she hungrily drank from you like a woman dying of thirst. Her tongue darted out, seeking entrance to your mouth and you could only let out a small whimper as she deepened the kiss.

Agatha let out a muffled groan at that, growing more desperate in her attempts to unravel you, which is why you let out a disappointed whine as she broke away, fingers still woven in your hair.

Panting, the conductor closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath, and you were thankful she had you pressed against the wall because you doubt you’d be able to stand on your own. When she reopened them, her pupils were fully blown out. Her hand caressed your cheek, and you leaned into the tender gesture. 

“I missed you,” Agatha murmured, and she was holding you so delicately, like she was afraid you would break if she pushed too far. 

“I missed you too,” you echoed, feeling tears begin to swell in your eyes.

You thought getting your big break as a soloist would fix the giant hole leaving Agatha had created. But despite all you had accomplished, it still felt like something was missing. You had tried everything, but it wasn’t until this very moment, feeling Agatha’s body flush against your own, with her bright blue eyes searing into your soul, did you come to the startling revelation of what you had been missing. 

Agatha. 

It was always Agatha.

[d-criss-news]

From Hedwig to Helperbot: Darren Criss Looks Back on His Stage Journey

It’s nap time for Darren Criss’s newborn son, Brother, when the Glee star hops on our video chat. The camera’s off, but he quickly turns it on to say hello face-to-face dressed in workout clothes — a green sleeveless top and a ball cap — as he tries to do some chores at the same time.

Criss has a limited window at home as he prepares to star in the new musical Maybe Happy Ending, now playing at Broadway’s Belasco Theatre. The story, with book, music, and lyrics by Will Aronson and Hue Park, takes place 100 years in the future in Seoul, South Korea. Criss plays Oliver, an obsolete Belperbot along the lines of Siri or Google, “except more human-like, who is definitely past his prime and has been just waiting [in a Helperbot retirement facility] for his owner to pick him up,” Criss describes to Broadway Direct of the role. He stars opposite rising star Helen J Shen, who plays Oliver’s retired Helperbot neighbor. “It almost feels like two people in an old-folks’ home trying to connect with a family member.”

The plot sounds dramatic, but “make no mistake: This is a musical. It’s a musical comedy,” says Criss. “It has a lot of heart and a lot of joy and a lot of humor and amazing music, and it’s a hell of a spectacle.”

His friend Michael Arden, who won a Tony Award for his direction of Parade, was a big reason for Criss to sign on to the project — and serve as an executive producer as well. Arden brought the show to Criss’s attention many years ago, and again recently when Criss was starring in Little Shop of Horrors Off-Broadway.

“This had been kind of percolating for a while, and between the pandemic and strikes and just a lot of other things, that really comes down to timing. So the stars just kind of aligned,” Criss says.

Criss, a figure on Broadway for well over a decade, started to gather a following while at University of Michigan as a founding member of Team StarKid, the student-run theater company behind the viral Harry Potter musical parody A Very Potter Musical. His big break came on the hit Fox TV show Glee back in 2010. The show had already aired for a full season before he was cast as Warbler Blaine Anderson and future love interest to Chris Colfer’s Kurt Hummel. If not for Glee, he believes his career would not have had the same trajectory.

“I felt like this was my master’s in performance of music on camera,” Criss says, admitting that, until Glee, he didn’t consider himself a singer — rather, a musician who acted. “I have that show to thank for giving me any headway in the musical-theater space.”

In the middle of filming Glee in 2012, his Broadway debut called. Criss was asked to succeed Daniel Radcliffe in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying for three weeks during a winter break from filming Glee. “I left on, like, a Friday night from my last day of shooting. I started rehearsal on a Saturday. Within 10 days, I was on a Broadway stage. I left my Sunday matinee, got on the plane, and went to work [at Glee] Monday morning as if nothing had happened. So it was a bit of a fever dream. It goes by as quickly as it came, like all other moments in life.”

Three years later, Criss stepped into his next Broadway role. This time, he played Hedwig in Hedwig and the Angry Inch for about two and half months, succeeding John Cameron Mitchell. “People always ask me, ‘What’s your dream role?’ I’m like, ‘I kind of did it,’” he says of the opportunity. “Hedwig was a role I always loved so much when I was a teenager, and getting to jump into it was so special to me and my wife. We both love Hedwig so much. It’s a big part of our relationship.”

More recently on Broadway, Criss starred in the play American Buffalo with Laurence Fishburne and Sam Rockwell in 2022 for a three-month limited run. “I completely idolized them,” he says of his scene partners. “I mean, if you see a pattern here, I recommend this to everybody, to just chase their heroes. I’ve just been chasing my heroes my whole life, and I’m not being bashful about it at all.”

Getting Rachel Evan Wood to play Audrey opposite Criss’s Seymour in Little Shop of Horrors at the Westside Theatre earlier this year was something that he says was his idea.

“I pitched her pretty hard,” he said of getting casting directors to choose the Westworld actress as his costar. “When they heard her sing, I think it was very clear that this wasn’t like a favor to anybody. She was doing us a favor. The fact that she said yes just blew my mind.” The role of the nerdy floral shop worker wasn’t something Criss thought he’d get the opportunity to add to his résumé “because it just was never something that I thought anybody would let me do. … I wasn’t sprinting to that in the way that I was the other things in my life.”

Criss welcomed Brother, his second baby, this past June with his wife Mia. The timing couldn’t be more coincidental, since their first, Bluesy, was born during his run of American Buffalo.

As our conversation comes to a close, Criss says he kind of got all of his chores done and haphazardly put things away and folded laundry. The next project he wants to pursue is his writing, something he hasn’t tackled much in five years. Until then, he’s reveling in Maybe Happy Ending.

“I do find myself at a loss for words, trying to truly put into words how special this experience has been,” he adds. “I think it really is a thing of beauty that can really add quite a bit of ornamentation in perhaps a grim world.”

[jgroffdaily]

@mendezzzz Tony Awards dress rehearsal!!!!

Post by Lindsay's brother, Michael Mendez, who is also performing at the Tonys as part of the cast of Water For Elephants.

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen: Prince Andrew, Port Talbot and why I quit Hollywood

When Michael Sheen had an idea for a dystopian TV series based in his home town of Port Talbot, in which riots erupt when the steel works close, he had no idea said works would actually close — a month before the show came to air. “Devastating,” he says, simply, of last month’s decision by Tata Steel to shut the plant’s two blast furnaces and put 2,800 jobs at risk.

“Those furnaces are part of our psyche,” he says. “When the Queen died we talked about how psychologically massive it was for the country because people couldn’t imagine life without her. The steel works are like that for Port Talbot.”

Sheen’s show — The Way — was never meant to be this serious. The BBC1 three-parter is directed by Sheen, was written by James Graham and has the montage king Adam Curtis on board as an executive producer. The plot revolves around a family who, when the steel works are closed by foreign investors, galvanise the town into a revolt that leads to the Welsh border being shut. Polemical, yes, but it has a lightness of touch. “A mix of sitcom and war film,” Sheen says, beaming.

But that was then. Now it has become the most febrile TV show since, well, Mr Bates vs the Post Office. “We wanted to get this out quickly,” Sheen says. With heavy surveillance, police clamping down on protesters and nods to Westminster abandoning parts of the country, the series could be thought of as a tad political. “The concern was if it was too close to an election the BBC would get nervous.”

I meet Sheen in London, where he is ensconced in the National Theatre rehearsing for his forthcoming starring role in Nye, a “fantasia” play based on the life of the NHS founder, Labour’s Aneurin “Nye” Bevan. He is dressed down, with stubble and messy hair, and is a terrific raconteur, with a lot to discuss. As well as The Way and Nye, this year the actor will also transform himself into Prince Andrew for a BBC adaptation of the Emily Maitlis Newsnight interview.

Sheen has played a rum bunch, from David Frost to Tony Blair and Chris Tarrant. And we will get to Bevan and Andrew, but first Wales, where Sheen, 55, was born in 1969 and, after a stint in Los Angeles, returned to a few years ago. He has settled outside Port Talbot with his partner, Anna Lundberg, a 30-year-old actress, and their two children. Sheen’s parents still live in the area, so the move was partly for family, but mostly to be a figurehead. The actor has been investing in local arts, charities and more, putting his money where his mouth is to such an extent that there is a mural of his face up on Forge Road.

“It’s home,” Sheen says, shrugging, when I ask why he abandoned his A-list life for southwest Wales. “I feel a deep connection to it.” The seed was sown in 2011 when he played Jesus in Port Talbot in an epic three-day staging of the Passion, starring many locals who were struggling with job cuts and the rising cost of living in their town. “Once you become aware of difficulties in the area you come from you don’t have to do anything,” he says, with a wry smile. “You can live somewhere else, visit family at Christmas and turn a blind eye to injustice. It doesn’t make you a bad person, but I’d seen something I couldn’t unsee. I had to apply myself, and I might not have the impact I’d like, but the one thing that I can say is that I’m doing stuff. I know I am — I’m paying for it!”

The Way is his latest idea to boost the area. The show, which was shot in Port Talbot last year, employed residents in front of and behind the camera. The extras in a scene in which fictional steel workers discuss possible strike action came from the works themselves. How strange they will feel watching it now. The director shakes his head. “It felt very present and crackling.”

One line in the show feels especially crucial: “The British don’t revolt, they grumble.” How revolutionary does Sheen think Britain is? “It happens in flare-ups,” he reasons. “You could say Brexit was a form of it and there is something in us that is frustrated and wants to vent. But these flare-ups get cracked down, so the idea of properly organised revolution is hard to imagine. Yet the more anger there is, the more fear about the cost of living crisis. Well, something’s got to give.”

I mention the Brecon Beacons. “Ah, yes, Bannau Brycheiniog,” Sheen says with a flourish. Last year he spearheaded the celebration of the renaming of the national park to Welsh, which led some to ponder whether Sheen might go further in the name of Welsh nationalism. Owen Williams, a member of the independence campaigners YesCymru, described him to me as “Nye Bevan via Che Guevara” and added that the actor might one day be head of state in an independent Wales.

Sheen bursts out laughing. “Right!” he booms. “Well, for a long time [the head of state] was either me or Huw Edwards, so I suppose that’s changed.” He laughs again. “Gosh. I don’t know what to say.” Has he, though, become a sort of icon for an independent Wales? “I’ve never actually spoken about independence,” he says. “The only thing I’ve said is that it’s worth a conversation. Talking about independence is a catalyst for other issues that need to be talked about. Shutting that conversation down is of no value at all. People say Wales couldn’t survive economically. Well, why not? And is that good? Is that a good reason to stay in the union?”

On a roll, he talks about how you can’t travel from north to south Wales by train without going into England because the rail network was set up to move stuff out of Wales, not round it. He mentions the collapse of local journalism and funding cuts to National Theatre Wales, and says these are the conversations he wants to have — but where in Wales are they taking place?

So, for Sheen, the discussion is about thinking of Wales as independent in identity, not necessarily as an independent state? “As a living entity,” he says, is how he wants people to think about his country. “It’s much more, for me, about exploring what that cultural identity of now is, rather than it being all about the past,” he says. “We had a great rugby team in the 1970s, but it’s not the 1970s anymore and, yes, male-voice choirs make us cry, but there are few left. Mines aren’t there either. All the things that are part of the cultural identity of Wales are to do with the past and, for me, it’s much more about exploring what is alive about Welsh identity now.”

You could easily forget that Sheen is an actor. He calls himself a “not for profit” thesp, meaning he funds social projects, from addiction to disability sports. “I juggle things more,” he says. “Also I have young kids again and I don’t want to be away much.”

Sheen has an empathetic face, a knack of making the difficult feel personable. And there are two big roles incoming — a relief to fans.

Which leads us to Prince Andrew. “Of course it does.” This year he plays the troubled duke in A Very Royal Scandal — a retelling of the Emily Maitlis fiasco with Ruth Wilson as the interviewer. Does the show go to Pizza Express in Woking? “No,” Sheen says, grinning. Why play the prince? He thinks about this a lot. “Inevitably you bring humanity to a character — that’s certainly what I try to do.” He pauses. “I don’t want people to say, ‘It was Sheen who got everybody behind Andrew again.’ But I also don’t want to do a hatchet job.”

So what is he trying to do? “Well, it is a story about privilege really,” he says. “And how easy it is for privilege to exploit. We’ve found a way of keeping the ambiguity, because, legally, you can’t show stuff that you cannot prove, but whether guilty or not, his privilege is a major factor in whatever exploitation was going on. Beyond the specifics of Andrew and Epstein, no matter who you are, privilege has the potential to exploit someone. For Andrew, it’s: ‘This girl is being brought to me and I don’t really care where she comes from, or how old she is, this is just what happens for people like me.’”

It must have been odd having the prince and Bevan — the worst and best of our ruling classes — in his head at the same time. What, if anything, links the men? “What is power and what can you do with it?” Sheen muses, which seems to speak to his position in Port Talbot too. Nye at the National portrays the Welsh politician on his deathbed, in an NHS hospital, moving through his memories while doped up on meds. Sheen wants the audience to think: “Is there a Bevan in politics now and, if not, why not?”

Which takes us back to The Way. At the start one rioter yells about wanting to “change everything” — he means politically, sociologically. However, assuming that changing everything is not possible, what is the one thing Sheen would change? “Something practical? Not ‘I want world peace’. I would create a people’s chamber as another branch of government — like the Lords, there’d be a House of People, representing their community. Our political system has become restrictive and nonrepresentational, so something to open that up would be good.”

The actor is a thousand miles from his old Hollywood life. “It’d take a lot for me to work in America again — my life is elsewhere.” It is in Port Talbot instead. “The last man on the battlefield” is how one MP describes the steel works in The Way, and Sheen is unsure what happens when that last man goes. “Some people say it’s to do with net zero aims,” he says about the closure. “Others blame Brexit. But, ultimately, the people of Port Talbot have been let down — and there is no easy answer about what comes next.”

[mosylufanfic]

Ooo Rebelcaptain 11 superstitions and 31 prowl please 💜

Sequel to this story because I love me some dumb babies. I didn't manage to include "prowl" but I did have lots of fun with "superstition."

It really is a rebelcap story even though neither of them are in the first few paragraphs. It'll allllllll make sense by the end.

Break a Leg

The dress rehearsal had started at six, but it was well after ten at night when they got out. The directors, Baze and Chirrut, dismissed them with a few last instructions - rest your voices, get to sleep early, get here on time tomorrow. 

The cluster of high-schoolers on the stage broke up reluctantly. The stage crew started cleaning up the set, resetting it from the tumultuous last scene of the murder mystery they were doing to the serenity of the first one. The actors started heading off to get out of costume and clean off the stage makeup. 

"Remember," Han Solo called out. "Bad dress rehearsal means a great opening night!"

"Then we're going to win a goddamn Tony," Leia Organa snarled, stomping past him. 

Keep reading on AO3

[lagunned]

PROLOGUE

w.c 1.2k

tags. original female character, mentions of smoking, busy work environment, i don't think theres any more warnings. this chapter is pretty tame but duff is smitten.

a/n. once again thank you all for the support and encouragement on my works! i put in a lot of time and effort and i hope you all enjoy them as much as i do writing them. feedback is always appreciated!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge. if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, send me an ask!

pinned so fine masterlist next chapter

Los Angeles smelled different.

Back in Seattle, the air was damp with rain, laced with the sharp bite of gasoline and coffee. Here, everything was drier, hotter—like a sunbaked concrete jungle mixed with car exhaust, grilled meat, and something vaguely metallic from the kitchen vents.

Duff McKagan had only been in LA for a few weeks, and the reality of it was setting in fast: dreams didn't pay rent. He needed money, and fast, which was why he was standing in front of a steakhouse instead of playing bass in some dingy club.

Black Angus wasn't exactly where he pictured himself when he decided to move here, but his brother, Bruce McKagan, had a job lined up for him—but not on the dining room floor. Oh no, his day-glo blue hair was too distracting. Duff's new job: dishwasher. It wasn't glamorous, but neither was being homeless.

With a long, deep breath, Duff pushed open the heavy wooden double doors and stepped inside.

The noise hit him first—forks clinking against plates, the low murmur of conversation, waitresses calling out orders. The kitchen, partially visible from where he stood, was alive with movement: flames flaring up from the grill, line cooks moving in a well-rehearsed dance, the clatter of pans slamming onto burners.

And then—

"Look who finally showed up," a familiar voice called.

Duff turned as Bruce emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. His older brother was dressed in the standard manager get-up: button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled, hair slightly disheveled, expression hovering between amused and vaguely exasperated.

"You look a bit lost," Bruce smirked.

"Just taking it all in," Duff said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

Bruce clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the glamorous world of dishwashing, little brother."

Duff snorted. "Yeah, can't fuckin' wait."

Bruce grinned and jerked his head toward the back. "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."

The kitchen was hotter than the front of the restaurant, thick with the smell of butter, charred meat, and something greasy sizzling in the fryer. Steam curled from the dish pit where another worker was elbow-deep in sudsy water, stacking plates onto a drying rack.

"Alright," Bruce said, steering Duff past the prep station where a guy with a cigarette hanging from his lips was aggressively chopping onions. "That's Tony—he preps in the afternoons and works the line at night. Don't piss him off."

Tony didn't even glance up from his cutting board, but he grunted in acknowledgment.

Bruce continued walking. "That's Manny on grill, Paula on fryers—"

The introductions blurred together, a mix of names, faces, and brief nods. The kitchen was a well-oiled machine, and Duff was pretty sure he was about to be the next wrench thrown into it.

And then—

"This is Cynthia."

Duff turned, and for a second, the noise of the kitchen faded into the background.

She was leaning against the counter near the order window, flipping through a notepad, her pen tapping absently against the stainless steel. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She had a sharpness to her—something about the way she carried herself, like she had everything handled and didn't need anyone's help.

When Bruce said her name, she glanced up, her brown eyes flicking toward Duff for the briefest moment before dropping back to her notepad.

"Cynthia," Bruce said, "this is my brother, Duff. He's the new dishwasher."

She gave a small, barely interested nod. "Cool."

Duff felt like he should say something—anything. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." She didn't look up.

Bruce smirked. "If you have any questions, ask me or Cynthia."

At that, Cynthia finally looked at Duff properly. Her gaze wasn't unkind, just assessing—like she was trying to determine if he was worth acknowledging.

"Just don't get in my way, and we'll get on fine," she retorted.

Then she was gone, striding toward the dining area, already focused on something else.

Duff exhaled. "She's... efficient."

Bruce snorted. "Don't take it personal. She's been here a while—knows this place inside and out. You? You're just another new guy."

"Right. Another dishwasher she won't remember by next week."

Bruce clapped him on the back. "That's up to you, kid."

Dishwashing was exactly as awful as Duff expected.

The sink water was too hot, the plates were crusted with food that had no business existing, and the steam from the dish machine made everything feel soggy. His fingers were already bright red and pruny, his arms sore from scrubbing.

Still, it wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was Cynthia.

Not in a bad way—just in a distracting way.

Duff caught himself watching her more than once, though he tried to be subtle about it. She was quick on her feet, moving between tables and the kitchen with practiced ease. Her voice cut through the noise whenever she called out an order or shot back a sarcastic remark at the cooks.

Cynthia was confident. Unshakable. Completely at home in the chaos.

Duff, on the other hand, was struggling to keep up with the never-ending pile of dishes.

At one point, Cynthia came back to the kitchen to grab a refill. On impulse, Duff decided to try and talk to her.

"So, uh... Cynthia, do you like working here?" Duff liked the way her name felt in his mouth—soft but steady, like a melody that stuck even after the song was over.

She barely glanced at him as she filled a glass with Coke. "It's a job."

"Right." He scrubbed at a stubborn stain on a plate. "Seems kinda crazy."

She let out a dry laugh. "You should see weekends."

Duff smiled, encouraged. "Guessing it's not your dream job either?"

"Dreams don't pay rent."

He hesitated. "Yeah, but if you could do anything else, what would it be?"

For a second, Cynthia looked at him like she might actually answer.

Instead, she grabbed the drink and walked off.

Duff sighed. Strike one.

By closing time, Duff was exhausted. His back ached, his arms were sore, and his shirt was damp from the heat of the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Cynthia, looked as composed as ever. She was leaning against the counter, talking to another waitress, her laughter carrying over the low hum of the closing shift.

Duff didn't realize he was staring until Bruce walked up beside him.

"You survived," Bruce said.

"Barely."

Bruce halfheartedly chuckled. "You'll get the hang of it."

Duff rubbed the back of his neck. "Place is busier than I expected."

"You should see Saturdays." Bruce glanced over at Cynthia, then back at Duff. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

Bruce raised a confused eyebrow. "The job."

"Oh. Uh—yeah. It's fine." Duff paused. "It's work."

Bruce studied him for a second, then shook his head, amused. "Right."

Duff wasn't sure what Bruce was implying, but he didn't ask. Instead, he stretched, rolling out his sore shoulders.

Across the room, Cynthia grabbed her denim jacket, slinging it over one shoulder effortlessly. As she turned, the dim dining room light shined a few pins fastened to the fabric—one of them the unmistakable winged logo of Aerosmith. The red and white design was a little faded, edges worn like it had been there for years.

Duff's lips quirked slightly. Aerosmith. He wouldn't have pegged her as a fan, but then again, he didn't know much about her—not yet.

She disappeared through the door without a second glance.

But he had a feeling he'd be learning soon enough.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Afterglow

"Just wanna lift you up and not let you go, this ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight..."

Part of Inspired by Taylor Swift Series 'You're Losing Me' Chapter List

"I just can't believe they're going to be married in two days," you wistfully sigh, tossing your jacket onto the couch.

There was nothing quite like a wedding rehearsal dinner to put you in a particularly wistful, romantic mood. It also didn’t hurt that you and Bucky had fallen back together so perfectly over the last few months. It all seemed to fall into place. "They're perfect for each other."

"They seem really happy," Bucky agrees, smiling at the lightness in your face. 

You warmly smile back at him, "Yeah, they do."

"It was a beautiful night," Bucky continues. He ambles into the living room, following in your footsteps. “Makes you wonder, you know?”

Bucky’s not quite sure that you heard him. You’re sort of lost in your own bubble of romanticism. He hasn’t seen this side of you in quite some time, so he’s content to just watch you twirl around the room. He smiles at the way your dress swishes around you. He’s not quite sure if the flush on your cheeks is the alcohol in your system or just the thrill of the night. 

There's something about this night. Something that he can't quite put his finger on. He just doesn't want to end. It's like he wants to stay in these twenty seconds or live out the next twenty years with you in this very moment. He'll take either. Twenty seconds or twenty years. He doesn't just want this night, he wants them all.

His heart flutters, he can't remember the last time that happened. He walks over to his bookshelf, the that you almost burned down on one of your first dates together. He drops the needle and plays one of his records. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the sound of music suddenly filling the room, gasping when Bucky’s arms suddenly wraps around your waist, "What are you doing?"

"I just wanted to dance with you. Is that okay?"

You chortle at him, looking up at him. It's in that moment that Bucky sees it. It's back, that glimmer of hope, of love. It's back. You nod, resting your head on his chest, "I always want to dance with you."

His heart flutters again. He keens at the feeling of you back in his arms. It’s been six months of you back in his arms, but he never lets himself forget how lucky he is. In that moment, he knows he'll truly never get enough of you. "I really liked what Vision said, you know? About letting life surprise you with what it gives you."

"He is oddly poignant," you agree.

"Made me think of us."

You lift your head off his chest, looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow, "Really?"

"He said something like that when we were..." he trails off. It wasn't one of his finest moments in life, and he tried not to relive it as much as possible. To this day, he couldn't believe he almost burned down everything you had out of his own fear. It almost makes him feel sick thinking about the night he asked you to stay, to give him one more chance. He very well knows that it could’ve gone either way. "Well, you know."

Your head tilts to the side with an amused smirk, "You talked to Vision about us?"

"Yeah," Bucky anxiously chuckles. "I didn’t really have a choice, everyone just about slapped me upside my head. Well, Steve actually did. But anyway, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was being an idiot, which wasn't that uncommon of a sentiment."

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth, "Vision called you an idiot?" 

"Vision, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Tony, Clint, even Peter. And honestly, I don't disagree."

Almost six months had passed since your brief separation. Six months had passed since he asked you to stay.

And stay, you did.

You talked that entire night, talked about how you could fix what was clearly broken.

You talked about everything, the future you wanted, the future he wanted. You agreed that Bucky would go back to therapy. You talked about the team and Bucky’s work. There was so much left uncertain at the end of the night, but you had one very solid conclusion: that you would both try. And in the months since then, things were settling fairly well. Bucky didn’t wake up screaming in the middle of the night. He could envision a future that was brighter than the past. Your house felt like a home again. Light poured in once more. The silence was replaced with music. You finally danced with Bucky again. 

Things were looking up. It all seemed brighter now. 

Bucky finally stepped into the daylight. 

"You don't?" you question.

"Well, I was being an idiot, and it almost cost me the best thing that has ever happened to me." You remain silent, a blush creeping up your face as Bucky continues talking, "You know that, right? You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, I love you, more than I ever thought possible."

"I love you too." You rest your head back against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. It adds something to the moment. In this moment, it is you and him. He is all you see, all you care to hear. He is the only touch that has ever ignited hope within you. In this moment, everything is right. Everything is perfect. "And I'm glad we found our way back to each other."

"Me too." Just over your head, he looks at that bookcase. The one from your second date. What you didn't know was on a shelf just out of your reach, tucked in the corner, sat his mother's ring. He smiles to himself. He's sure in that moment that his heart will never be as full as it is in this moment. "I'm happy here. I want to be happy, to make you happy. I want us to be happy together."

What he didn't tell you was the he could see it all in his head. He could envision it like he'd live through it time and time again. He could see the home you'd build together. He could see the family you'd one day have. He could see you walking down the aisle to him.

He'd have the next twenty years, but until then, he'd have these twenty seconds to tide him over. 

--

Author's note: So... um... I've got a surprise for you guys. I couldn't actually decide what ending to go with. Sad? How unpredictable for me (That was sarcasm.) Happy? (I've always loved a happy ending, but I can acknowledge that they are not always the most realistic. So why not write both?

So here we are, dear readers, if you want to keep this image of a perfect, fluffy, happy ending, stop here. If not, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Alternate Ending! AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310

[jules-has-notes]

collaboration spotlight — Don't Make Me by Malinda

In all of the fluffy animated fairy tale adaptations that have been made over the past century, it's often been glossed over that the original stories were cautionary tales. Girls were warned and prepared for dealing with potentially abusive husbands. The best case scenario would be reaching a respectful understanding, but sometimes more drastic measures might become necessary. When a girl's patience and forbearance hit their limits, she has every right to fight back in any way she can. Even if it makes others judge her for it.

Details:

title: Don't Make Me

performers: Malinda, feat. Thomas Sanders; Anna Ricks & Valerie Torres-Rosario (ladies-in-waiting); Leo Anderson & Adam Paul (guards)

written & arranged by: Malinda Reese, Hannah Tobias, & Johnny Deltoro

video by: PattyCake Productions

release date: 11 October 2019

My favorite bits:

the cheerful, lilting intro narration

Malinda's sultry humming leading into the first verse

all the visual parallels between the happy wedding flashbacks and the dark aftermath — the goblets, the dip, removing her tiara

♫ "Can I offer you a little salt for that wound?" ♫ sung with such condescension

her delicate, plaintive tone on the first instance of ♫ "Don't make me be the bad guy" ♫

the contrast of the sinister tone of the men plotting over a stick figure drawing

♫ "Your offering's empty, godless, and cold" ♫, oof

the ladies' superhero-style costume change sequence

the muffled filter on the start of the third chorus to allow more focus on the fight scene

matching the timing of the sword strikes with the beat 🤺

Malinda's fabulous descending belted run

the ladies facing down the armed guards with their bare fists

the crunchy counterpoint ♫ "Don't make me be the bad guy" ♫ as the guard is flipped onto the bed

Thomas's scream when he's tossed from the parapet

that final mirror shot showing the bride in white with her innocence stripped away opposite the unrepentant widow in black

Trivia:

This video was filmed at The Howey Mansion, a location PattyCake had used several times for their "Unexpected Musicals" series.

It was co-directed by Malinda and Tony, while Layne served as both cinematographer and editor.

The shoot day spanned about 13 hours, all of which had been carefully storyboarded in advance by Tony and Layne to ensure they got everything they needed as efficiently as possible.

Fight choreographer Danny Cackley had provided plenty of rehearsal for the combatants, as well as pre-visualization footage for the production team.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by MALINDA (@missmalindakat)

The video racked up 200,000 views in just a few days, and Malinda posted a fun behind the scenes video on her Instagram to celebrate.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by MALINDA (@missmalindakat)

The white gown was Malinda's mother's wedding dress, and she was a little surprised that her mom actually trusted her to bring it to Florida and run around a mansion in it.

PattyCake fans might recognize the blonde lady-in-waiting as Anna Ricks, who plays Aurora in their "Princess Academy" series.

Malinda, Hannah, and Johnny also released an acoustic version of the song, which gives it a more introspective feel.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by MALINDA (@missmalindakat)

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"AND WHAT DO THEY SAY, ANGEL?"

So, I fell in love with Rupert while watching Rivals (as I expected) so here it is the fist fic of many i'm going to write with him

I hope you like it!

Emily didn't like to socialize.

That's why, when her mother told her that they had been invited to a party at Tony Baddingham's house, she wanted to scream in frustration.

Instead, she nodded, faking one of her best smiles, and went to her room to find something to wear.

When she had dressed and minimally groomed herself for the event, she went downstairs. Her mother was already prepared in a very tight blue dress.

Hearing her footsteps, she looked up from her perfectly painted nails to look at her. Her eyes widened.

"What are you wearing?" –he questioned looking at his red two-piece suit and his white shirt- go change right away, you look like a waiter

-Better that than looking like a slut desperate to get it on –he growled looking at her firmly- I'm not going to wear a tight dress like the rest of the girls mom, so you can complain all you want, because I'm not changing –he opened the door and sketched a false smile, while gesturing with his arm outwards- Shall we?

Her mother let out a couple of curses under her breath that Emily ignored. After driving for about ten minutes, they arrived at the party venue.

Lord Baddingham's mansion was impressive, with several gardens, tennis courts, swimming pools and all the tacky stuff that rich people bought to show off to their even richer friends.

Emily got out of the car and after her mother left the keys to the vehicle with the valet, they entered the place.

The decor was exquisite, with fine, delicate colours, contrasting with other stronger tones, such as maroon and fuchsia pink.

The young woman noticed the paintings that adorned the walls: works by Rembrandt, Monet and Velázquez were displayed there as if it were a museum gallery instead of a private residence.

They saw how a man dressed in a dark blue suit and a red tie approached them with a smile on his lips. He held a glass of what looked like champagne in his right hand.

“Lizzie, you've come!” he exclaimed when he reached her. “I'm so glad you accepted my invitation, so I won't have to be constantly looking after my wife, you know what I mean,” he whispered, making his mother laugh.

“Don't be a braggart, Tony. Everyone knows you love her,” she laughed, playing along.

“Until she find someone else that would want to stick their cock in,” Emily thought to herself.

The Lord's gaze then shifted to her, and she forced herself to force another smile. She didn't like to smile, but at these kinds of events it was apparently essential to do so. They had just arrived and her jaw was already aching from doing so.

"I don't think we've met," the Lord said, glancing at Lizzie.

"Tony, this is Emily, my daughter," he introduced them.

He held out his hand and she reluctantly shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Emily," his answer seemed sincere. "There's no doubt that you're Lizzie's daughter," he said, smiling kindly as he looked at his mother.

He was silent for a moment, before nodding his head towards the interior of the mansion. "Please follow me, I want to introduce you to some people."

"Great," Emily thought. "More delicious ass-kissers to offer my rehearsed fake smile to."

They entered a room decorated with a stately theme. A large round table occupied the center of the room. Emily looked at each and every one of them there. She felt a gaze on her. A man dressed entirely in white followed her movements as they approached.

She pretended not to see him, and followed the lord until he stopped in front of the table.

"Friends," he said, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I would like to introduce you to Lizzie and her daughter Emily." She smiled, the man in the suit looked at her with interest and something else reflected in his dark eyes. "They have just moved into the castle on the other side of my gardens," he announced. "I hope you will be kind to them and give them the welcome they deserve."

"Of course, Tony," said a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. "We are not monsters!"

A wave of fake laughter spread through the room, Tony shook his head before turning to them again.

-That's Alfred - she whispered - don't pay attention to him, he only comes to my parties to drink all the good alcohol - she said, and this time Emily's smile was genuine -

Meanwhile, from the other end of the table. The unknown observer was unable to take his eyes off the young woman in the red suit.

It seemed very strange to him that she was not wearing a dress like all the women. Still, he was not going to complain, since that blood-red suit suited her like a glove.

She took another sip of her drink without looking away, and when her mother walked away with the lord to talk business, leaving her alone, she saw her opportunity. She instantly realized that she had never attended a party, and even less one surrounded by pretentious rich people like that one, so he decided to keep her company.

Under normal circumstances he would have pulled down her pants and fucked her in some corner of the house, like the pantry. But as soon as he saw her, he knew she wasn't one of those, so he decided to keep his cock in his pants, and walked over to where she was.

He grabbed a glass from one of the waiters who passed in front of him, before standing in front of her. The young woman's gaze focused on him immediately, her dark eyes resting on his for a moment, before quickly looking away.

He smiled, noticing the nerves running through her. He gently handed her the glass, she raised her gaze and looked between the drink and him.

-It's champagne - she said - it will help with your nerves

-I'm not nervous - she answered more quickly than she would have liked, he smiled -

-That's just what someone who's nervous would say - he gestured with the glass towards her - take it, trust me

Mistrustfully, Emily reached out to take the glass. Her fingers brushed his for a moment, making his hand tingle momentarily. He felt it too.

The young woman took a generous gulp of the liquid, which made her face twitch due to its acidity.

-My God - he murmured - Do you really like this? -she said coughing slightly-

-Tony doesn't want to take out the alcohol that we all know he hides- he smiled- he doesn't want to feel responsible if someone gets too drunk than they should

-Of course- she answered leaving the glass on one of the trays that the waiters were carrying- thanks for bringing it to me anyway- she said- although between you and me, I don't think I'll ever try champagne again in my life

-I imagined it- he laughed observing the small wrinkles that formed next to her eyes when she did the same- we haven't been introduced- she said extending his hand politely- I'm Rupert Campbell-Black- he announced- I live in the mansion in front of yours

-Really? -she asked- we are very far apart by Lord Baddingham's gardens- he observed- even so we are almost neighbors

-We are

-Emily

-Emily - he repeated, savoring the name on his tongue- it is a beautiful name - he whispered, giving it a thorough review from top to bottom- you have to tell me who your tailor is - he took a sip of his glass- if his suits fit me as well as they do you, then it will be worth the money I will invest in them

A blush appeared on Emily's cheeks due to the flattery. She was not used to words of affection, given that her father had left when he found out that her mother was pregnant, and her mother almost never offered her kind words.

She had never said it out loud, but Emily knew that her mother blamed her because her father had abandoned them. It was not her fault, she was nothing more than an embryo when he left. She shook her head and sketched a shy smile.

-Thank you - she replied - but I don't have a tailor - she said, he frowned - I bought the suit in a shop in the village - she explained - a very kind lady took my measurements and after choosing the colour of the fabric, she made it herself

-I know her - said Rupert - Mrs. Moore, right? - he asked, she nodded

- I haven't seen her for a long time - she smiled - maybe I should go pay her a visit

-You should - Emily murmured -

Their gazes connected again strongly, losing themselves momentarily in each other's eyes, until he saw how his mother gestured for him to come closer. He followed the direction of her gaze, before looking at her again.

-I must go - she apologized - I liked talking to you, Rupert - she confessed - you are not how the rumours say

A half-smile appeared on her lips before whispering:

-And what do they say about me, angel? -he murmured in a low voice-

-Well… you know… -he said, lowering his head timidly, his cheeks turning red again- that you go to bed with a different woman every night- he blurted out- that you are alone, and that, if you continue down that path, you will be alone for the rest of your life

-You shouldn't pay attention to that gossip, Emily- he said as he began to walk away- sometimes the people we least expect to surprise us are the ones who do it the most

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hello To All!

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend! I read on my phone and I’m not able to find stories. If there’s a way, please tell me how.

Please suggest adult stories for me with a great/happy ending. I prefer chapter stories of adult Klaine. Any suggestions are welcome. Need something to read tonight. Thank you for all you do!

Hello, when I search from my phone, I go onto our libary blog and into the "magnifying glass/search" at the top. I type in a particular word like "adult" or "enemies to lovers" and then a whole lot of previously recommended fics appear. Alternatively download A03 app, and you can search and filter on it.

Also on AO3 check out our 2023 Klainebingo which has 191 tagged stories written 2016-23 that fandom have recommended - not all adult klaine, but definitely worth looking at.

What I've done is made a list of recommendations here of some of Klaine fics I've enjoyed, where they are adults, or mostly post college age. Some newer, some older. ~ Jen

Seven by @scatterthestars

How far would you go for someone you love? For Kurt, that means doing the unimaginable. But if it means saving his dad, he's willing to take that risk. A risk that has him leaving his home to go states away to spend a week with the last person he ever expected to meet. Over the course of the next seven days, things don't go as planned, or thought.

Can seven days change everything?

~~~~~

Feel my heart's intention by @kurtsascot

Blaine started to hate Kurt on his first day. And it was a shame, really, because they could have been cute together. 

~~~~~

Falling for You By @caramelcoffeeaddict Coffeeaddict80

A fic written based off a mash-up of these two prompts from the @gleepotluckbigbang prompt page -- Prompt1: During rehearsal I tripped and fell into the orchestra pit and landed on you Prompt2: I have to share a dressing room with the most obnoxious, self-centered jerk; and when you sent flowers to our dressing room, they took them assuming they were for them but they were really for me Featuring: Broadway!Kurt, PianoPlayer!Blaine, Obnoxious!Broadway!Sebastian

~~~~~

Rock, paper, scissors by @gleefulpoppet

Kurt and his seven-year-old daughter are moving from the hustle and bustle of New York to the Rocky Mountains for a fresh start. On a connecting flight from Atlanta, they meet a warmhearted man who captures their attention with his enthusiasm. Will they ever see him again? And even if they do, how will he fit into their new life?

~~~~~

Nashville! by @hkvoyage

Kurt lands the lead role in a new musical, but it flops during the previews. However, his performance captivates Nashville’s newest country music sensation. They share an instant connection and it grows deeper as they get to know each other. Will Kurt be able to save the musical and keep the man of his dreams? An AU meeting featuring country singer!Blaine and Broadway!Kurt.

~~~~~

Made to keep your body warm by @quizasvivamos

Blaine is a meteorologist who works as a weatherman for a local New York news station where he's especially well-known for predicting storms. But, when a huge nor'easter blows in and the news crew is trapped at the station for three days by snow, can he predict what happens when he meets a young new intern?

~~~~~

If music be by @blurglesmurfklaine

Kurt’s just trying to survive his last semester of college, which means making it through student teaching in one piece.

~~~~~

In my place by @heartsmadeofbooks

Blaine has always been shy and introverted, so after his father dies, he looks for comfort into his childhood dream - owning a bookstore. But then Kurt Hummel walks into his life, turning his dream into a complicated affair.

~~~~~

These inconvenient fireworks by @redheadgleek

After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

~~~~~

Scenes from December by @spaceorphan18

An exploration of Kurt's life throughout various Decembers. The story of family and how the definition of family changes over time.

~~~~~

Home away from home by @lilyvandersteen

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

~~~~~

Living Haphazard by anna_timberlake @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

Have you ever thought of getting cheated by a house broker and getting to know that you had to stay with another stranger who was also cheated? What if you are getting stuck up with the stranger in the apartment due to unavoidable circumstances? What if you hate him as well as have a crush on him? What if you had to fight your inner self and the stranger? What if he agreed on helping you which can only happen in dreams? This is a real living haphazard, isn't it?

~~~~ Someone like you by @iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of "When Harry Met Sally" for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is... they're both in committed relationships.

Note: This story is AU after "Sexy" and assumes Kurt and Blaine graduate from Dalton in the same year. In this future fic, set in 2025, Blaine is based off of Season 2 Blaine. Originally posted on LJ and S&C.

~~~~~

The Journeying By @flowerfan2

Freshly graduated from music school, Blaine is thrilled when he is chosen to stay in the cast when the production of Into the Woods he was lucky enough to be part of in Boston moves to Broadway. He knows it’s going to be hard returning to New York City – the scene of his epic breakup with his fiancé and the emotional meltdown which cost him his place at NYADA. But he’s determined that this time, everything will be different. Little does Blaine know that out of thousands of potential castmates, his director has chosen none other than Kurt Hummel to play the part of Jack. Blaine has worked hard to recover from their breakup three years ago, and struggles to find a new way to relate to Kurt and simultaneously protect himself, especially when tragedy strikes.

This story looks at what would have happened if Kurt and Blaine had reacted differently to the break up in 6x01 than they did in canon; if events hadn’t brought them back together as soon, and if forgiveness hadn’t come so easily.

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

The Untold History of Cabaret: Revived and Kicking

As Broadway welcomes the ever-evolving musical, its star, Eddie Redmayne—along with Liza Minnelli, Joel Grey, and Sam Mendes—assess its enduring power.

As director Rebecca Frecknall was rehearsing a new cast for her hit London revival of Cabaret, the actor playing Clifford Bradshaw, an American writer living in Berlin during the final days of the Weimar Republic, came onstage carrying that day’s newspaper as a prop. It happened to be Metro, the free London tabloid commuters read on their way to work. The date was February 25, 2022. When the actor said his line—“We’ve got to leave Berlin—as soon as possible. Tomorrow!”—Frecknall was caught short. She noticed the paper’s headline: “Russia Invades Ukraine.”

Cabaret, the groundbreaking 1966 Broadway musical that tackles fascism, antisemitism, abortion, World War II, and the events leading up to the Holocaust, had certainly captured the times once again.

Back in rehearsals four months later, Frecknall and the cast got word that the Supreme Court had overturned Roe v. Wade. Every time she checks up on Cabaret, “it feels like something else has happened in the world,” she told me over coffee in London in September.

A month later, as Frecknall was preparing her production of Cabaret for its Broadway premiere, something else did happen: On October 7, Hamas terrorists infiltrated Israel, killing at least 1,200 people and taking more than 240 hostages.

The revival of Cabaret—starring Eddie Redmayne as the creepy yet seductive Emcee; Gayle Rankin as the gin-swilling nightclub singer Sally Bowles; and Bebe Neuwirth as Fraulein Schneider, a landlady struggling to scrape by—opens April 21 at Manhattan’s August Wilson Theatre. It will do so in the shadow of a pogrom not seen since the Einsatzgruppen slaughtered thousands of Jews in Eastern Europe and in the shadow of a war between Israel and Hamas that continues into its fifth month, with the killing of thousands of civilians in Gaza.

Nearly 60 years after its debut, Cabaret still stings. That is its brilliance. And its tragedy.

Redmayne has been haunted by Cabaret ever since he played the Emcee in prep school. “I was staggered by the character,” he says. “The lack of definition of it, the enigma of it.” He played the part again during his first year at Cambridge at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where nearly 3,500 shoestring productions jostle for attention each summer. Cabaret, performed in a tiny venue that “stank,” Redmayne recalls, did well enough that the producers added an extra show. He was leering at the Kit Kat Club girls from 8 p.m. till 10 p.m. and then from 11 p.m. till two in the morning. “You’d wake up at midday. You barely see sunshine. I just became this gaunt, skeletal figure.” His parents came to see him and said, “You need vitamin D!”

In 2021, Redmayne, by then an Oscar winner for The Theory of Everything and a Tony winner for Red, was playing the Emcee again, this time in Frecknall’s West End production. His dressing room on opening night was full of flowers. There was one bouquet with a card he did not have a chance to open until intermission. It was from Joel Grey, who originated the role on Broadway and won an Oscar for his performance alongside Liza Minnelli in the 1972 movie. He welcomed the young actor “to the family,” Redmayne says. “It was an extraordinary moment for me.”

Cabaret is based on Goodbye to Berlin, the British writer Christopher Isherwood’s collection of stories and character studies set in Weimar Germany as the Nazis are clawing their way to power. Isherwood, who went to Berlin for one reason—“boys,” he wrote in his memoir Christopher and His Kind—lived in a dingy boarding house amid an array of sleazy lodgers who inspired his characters. But aside from a fleeting mention of a host at a seedy nightclub, there is no emcee in his vignettes. Nor is there an emcee in I Am a Camera, John Van Druten’s hit 1951 Broadway play adapted from Isherwood’s story “Sally Bowles” from Goodbye to Berlin.

The character, one of the most famous in Broadway history, was created by Harold Prince​​, who produced and directed the original Cabaret. “People write about Cabaret all the time,” says John Kander, who composed the show’s music and is, at 96, the last living member of that creative team. “They write about Liza. They write about Joel, and sometimes about us [Kander and lyricist Fred Ebb]. None of that really matters. It’s all Hal. Everything about this piece, even the variations that happen in different versions of it, is all because of Hal.”

In 1964, Prince produced his biggest hit: Fiddler on the Roof. In the final scene, Tevye and his family, having survived a pogrom, leave for America. There is sadness but also hope. And what of the Jews who did not leave? Cabaret would provide the tragic answer.

But Prince was after something else. Without hitting the audience over the head, he wanted to create a musical that echoed what was happening in America: young men being sent to their deaths in Vietnam; racists such as Alabama politician “Bull” Connor siccing attack dogs on civil rights marchers. In rehearsals, Prince put up Will Counts’s iconic photograph of a white student screaming at a Black student during the Little Rock crisis of 1957. “That’s our show,” he told the cast.

A bold idea he had early on was to juxtapose the lives of Isherwood’s lodgers with one of the tawdry nightclubs Isherwood had frequented. In 1951, while stationed as a soldier in Stuttgart, Germany, Prince himself had hung around such a place. Presiding over the third-rate acts was a master of ceremonies in white makeup and of indeterminate sexuality. He “unnerved me,” Prince once told me. “But I never forgot him.”

Kander had seen the same kind of character at the opening of a Marlene Dietrich concert in Europe. “An overpainted little man waddled out and said, ‘Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,’ ” Kander recalls.

The first song Kander and Ebb wrote for the show was called “Willkommen.” They wrote 60 more songs. “Some of them were outrageous,” Kander says. “We wrote some antisemitic songs”—of which there were many in Weimar cabarets—“ ‘Good neighbor Cohen, loaned you a loan.’ We didn’t get very far with that one.”

They did write one song about antisemitism: “If You Could See Her (The Gorilla Song),” in which the Emcee dances with his lover, a gorilla in a pink tutu. At the end of the number, he turns to the audience and whispers: “If you could see her through my eyes, she wouldn’t look Jewishhh at all.” It was, they thought, the most powerful song in the score.

The working title of their musical was Welcome to Berlin. But then a woman who sold blocks of tickets to theater parties told Prince that her Jewish clients would not buy a show with “Berlin” in the title. Strolling along the beach one day, Joe Masteroff, who was writing the musical’s book, thought of two recent hits, Carnival and Camelot. Both started with a C and had three syllables. Why not call the show Cabaret?

To play the Emcee, Prince tapped his friend Joel Grey. A nightclub headliner, Grey could not break into Broadway. “The theater was very high-minded,” he once said. When Prince called him, he was playing a pirate in a third-rate musical in New York’s Jones Beach. “Hal knew I was dying,” Grey recounts over lunch in the West Village, where he lives. “I wanted to quit the business.”

At first, he struggled to create the Emcee, who did not interact with the other characters. He had numbers but “no words, no lines, no role,” Grey wrote in his memoir, Master of Ceremonies. A polished performer, he had no trouble with the songs, the dances, the antics. “But something was missing,” he says. Then he remembered a cheap comedian he’d once seen in St. Louis. The comic had told lecherous jokes, gay jokes, sexist jokes—anything to get a laugh. One day in rehearsal, Grey did everything the comedian had done “to get the audience crazy. I was all over the girls, squeezing their breasts, touching their bottoms. They were furious. I was horrible. When it was over I thought, This is the end of my career.” He disappeared backstage and cried. “And then from out of the darkness came Mr. Prince,” Grey says. “He put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Joely, that’s it.’ ”

Cabaret played its first performance at the Shubert Theatre in Boston in the fall of 1966. Grey stopped the show with the opening number, “Willkommen.” “The audience wouldn’t stop applauding,” Grey recalls. “I turned to the stage manager and said, ‘Should I get changed for the next scene?’ ”

The musical ran long—it was in three acts—but it got a prolonged standing ovation. As the curtain came down, Richard Seff, an agent who represented Kander and Ebb, ran into Ebb in the aisle. “It’s wonderful,” Seff said. “You’ll fix the obvious flaws.” In the middle of the night, Seff’s phone rang. It was Ebb. “You hated it!” the songwriter screamed. “You are of no help at all!”

Ebb was reeling because he’d learned Prince was going to cut the show down to two acts. Ebb collapsed in his hotel bed, Kander holding one hand, Grey the other. “You’re not dying, Fred,” Kander told him. “Hal has not wrecked our show.”

Cabaret came roaring into New York, fueled by tremendous word of mouth. But there was a problem. Some Jewish groups were furious about “If You Could See Her.” How could you equate a gorilla with a Jew? they wanted to know, missing the point entirely. They threatened to boycott the show. Prince, his eye on ticket sales, told Ebb to change the line “She wouldn’t look Jewish at all” to something less offensive: “She isn’t a meeskite at all,” using the Yiddish word for a homely person.

It is difficult to imagine the impact Cabaret had on audiences in 1966. World War II had ended only 21 years before. Many New York theatergoers had fled Europe or fought the Nazis. There were Holocaust survivors in the audience; there were people whose relatives had died in the gas chambers. Grey knew the show’s power. Some nights, dancing with the gorilla, he’d whisper “Jewish” instead of “meeskite.” The audience gasped.

Cabaret won eight Tony Awards in 1967, catapulted Grey to Broadway stardom, and ran for three years. Seff sold the movie rights for $1.5 million, a record at the time. Prince, about to begin rehearsals for Stephen Sondheim’s Company, was unavailable to direct the movie, scheduled for a 1972 release. So the producers hired the director and choreographer Bob Fosse, who needed the job because his previous movie, Sweet Charity, had been a bust.

Fosse, who saw Prince as a rival, stamped out much of what Prince had done, including Joel Grey. He wanted Ruth Gordon to play the Emcee. But Grey was a sensation, and the studio wanted him. “It’s either me or Joel,” Fosse said. When the studio opted for Grey, Fosse backed down. But he resented Grey, and relations between them were icy.

A 26-year-old Liza Minnelli, on the way to stardom herself, was cast as Sally Bowles. The handsome Michael York would play the Cliff character, whose name in the movie was changed to Brian Roberts. And supermodel Marisa Berenson (who at the time seemed to be on the cover of Vogue every other month) got the role of a Jewish department store heiress, a character Fosse took from Isherwood’s short story “The Landauers.”

Cabaret was shot on location in Munich and Berlin. “The atmosphere was extremely heavy,” Berenson recalls. “There was the whole Nazi period, and I felt very much the Berlin Wall, that darkness, that fear, all that repression.” She adored Fosse, but he kept her off balance (she was playing a young woman traumatized by what was happening around her) by whispering “obscene things in my ear. He was shaking me up.”

Minnelli, costumed by Halston for the film, found Fosse “brilliant” and “incredibly intense,” she tells Vanity Fair in a rare interview. “He used every part of me, including my scoliosis. One of my great lessons in working with Fosse was never to think that whatever he was asking couldn’t be done. If he said do it, you had to figure out how to do it. You didn’t think about how much it hurt. You just made it happen.”

Back in New York, Fosse arranged a private screening of Cabaret for Kander and Ebb. When it was over, they said nothing. “We really hated it,” Kander admits. Then they went to the opening at the Ziegfeld Theatre in New York. The audience loved it. “We realized it was a masterpiece,” Kander says, laughing. “It just wasn’t our show.”

“PAPA WAS EVEN MORE EXCITED ABOUT THE OSCAR THAN I WAS,” SAYS LIZA MINNELLI. “AND, BABY, I WAS—NO, I AM STILL—EXCITED.”

The success of the movie—with its eight Academy Awards—soon overshadowed the musical. When people thought of Cabaret, they thought of finger snaps and bowler hats. They thought of Fosse and, of course, Minnelli, who would adopt the lyric “Life is a cabaret” as her signature. Her best-actress Oscar became part of a dynasty: Her mother, Judy Garland, and father, director Vincente Minnelli, each had one of their own. “Papa was even more excited about the Oscar than I was,” she says. “And, baby, I was—no, I am still—excited.”

By 1987—in part to burnish Cabaret’s theatrical legacy—Prince decided to recreate his original production on Broadway, with Grey once again serving as the Emcee. But it had the odor of mothballs. The New York Times drama critic Frank Rich wrote that it was not, as Sally Bowles sings, “perfectly marvelous,” but “it does approach the perfectly mediocre.” Much of the show, he added, was “old-fashioned and plodding.”

In the early 1990s, Sam Mendes, then a young director running a pocket-size theater in London called the Donmar Warehouse, heard the novelist Martin Amis give a talk. Amis was writing Time’s Arrow, about a German doctor who works in a concentration camp. “I’ve already written about the Nazis and people say to me, ‘Why are you doing it again?’ ” Amis said. “And I say, what else is there?”

At the end of the day,” Mendes tells me, “the biggest question of the 20th century is, ‘How could this have happened?’ ” Mendes decided to stage Cabaret at the Donmar in 1993. Another horror was unfolding at the time: Serb paramilitaries were slaughtering Bosnian Muslims, “ethnic cleansing” on an unimaginable scale.

Mendes hit on a terrific concept for his production: He transformed his theater into a nightclub. The audience sat at little tables with red lamps. And the performers were truly seedy. He told the actors playing the Kit Kat Club girls not to shave their armpits or their legs. “Unshaved armpits—it sent shock waves around the theater,” he recalls. Since there was no room—or money—for an orchestra, the actors played the instruments. Some of them could hit the right notes.

To play the Emcee, Mendes cast Alan Cumming, a young Scottish actor whose comedy act Mendes had enjoyed. “Can you sing?” Mendes asked him. “Yeah,” Cumming said. Mendes threw ideas at him and “he was open to everything.” Just before the first preview, Mendes suggested he come out during the intermission and chat up the audience, maybe dance with a woman. Mendes, frantic before the preview, never got around to giving Cumming any more direction than that. No matter. Cumming sauntered onstage as people were settling back at their tables, picked a man out of the crowd, and started dancing with him. “Watch your hands,” he said. “I lead.”

Cumming’s Emcee was impish, fun, gleefully licentious. The audience loved him. “I have never had less to do with a great performance in one of my shows than I had to do with Alan,” Mendes says.

When Joe Masteroff came to see the show in London, Mendes was nervous. He’d taken plenty of liberties with the script. Cliff, the narrator, was now openly gay. (One night, when Cliff kissed a male lover, a man in the audience shouted, “Rubbish!”) And he made the Emcee a victim of the Nazis. In the final scene, Cumming, in a concentration camp uniform affixed with a yellow Star of David and a pink triangle, is jolted, as if he’s thrown himself onto the electrified fence at Birkenau.

“I should be really pissed with you,” Masteroff told Mendes after the show. “But it works.” Kander liked it too, though he was not happy that the actors didn’t play his score all that well. Ebb hated it. “He wanted more professionalism,” Mendes says. “And he was not wrong. There was a dangerous edge of amateurishness about it.”

The Roundabout Theatre Company brought Cabaret to New York in 1998. Rob Marshall, who would go on to direct the movie Chicago, helped Mendes give the show some Broadway gloss while retaining its grittiness. The two young directors were “challenging each other, pushing each other,” Marshall remembers, “to create something unique.”

Cumming reprised his role as the Emcee. He was on fire. Natasha Richardson, the daughter of Vanessa Redgrave and director Tony Richardson, played Sally Bowles. She was not on fire. She’d never been in a musical before, and when she sang, “There was absolutely no sound coming out,” Kander says.

“She beat herself up about her singing all the time,” Mendes adds. “There was a deep, self-critical aspect of Tash that was instilled by her dad, a brilliant man but extremely cutting.” He once said to her out of nowhere: “We’re going to have to do something about your chin, dear.” As Mendes saw it, she always felt that she could never measure up to her parents.

Kander went to work with her, and slowly a voice emerged. It was not a “polished sound,” Marshall says, but it was haunting, vulnerable. Still, Cumming was walking away with the show. At the first preview, when he took his bow, the audience roared. When Richardson took hers, they were polite. Mendes remembers going backstage and finding her “in tears.” But she persevered and through sheer force of will created a Sally Bowles that “will break your heart,” Masteroff told me the day before I saw that production in the spring of 1998. She did indeed. (Eleven years later, while learning how to ski on a bunny hill on Mont Tremblant, she fell down. She died of a head injury two days later.)

The revival of Cabaret won four Tony Awards, including one for Richardson as best actress in a musical. It ran nearly 2,400 performances at the Roundabout’s Studio 54 and was revived again in 2014. And the money, money, money, as the song goes, poured in. Once Masteroff, having already filed his taxes at the end of a lucrative Cabaret year, went to the mailbox and opened a royalty check for $60,000. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he snapped.

Rebecca Frecknall grew up on Mendes’s Donmar Warehouse production of Cabaret. The BBC filmed it, and when it aired, her father videotaped it. She watched it “religiously.” But when she came to direct her production, she had to put Mendes’s version out of her mind.

Mendes turned his little theater into a nightclub. Frecknall, working with the brilliant set and costume designer Tom Scutt, has upped the game. They have transformed the entire theater into a Weimar cabaret. You stand in line at the stage door, waiting, you hope, to be let in. Once inside, you’re served drinks while the Kit Kat Club girls dance and flirt with you. The show’s logo is a geometric eye. Scutt sprinkles the motif throughout his sets and costumes. “It’s all part of the voyeurism,” Scutt explains. “The sense of always being watched, always watching—responsibility, culpability, implication, blame.”

REDMAYNE’S EMCEE IS STILL SEXY AND SEDUCTIVE, BUT AS THE SHOW GOES ON HE BECOMES A PUPPET MASTER MANIPULATING THE OTHER CHARACTERS, SOMETIMES TO THEIR DOOM.

Mendes’s Cabaret, like Fosse’s, had a black-and-white aesthetic—black fishnet stockings, black leather coats, a white face for the Emcee. Frecknall and Scutt begin their show with bright colors, which slowly fade to gray as the walls close in on the characters. “Color and individuality—to grayness and homogeneity,” Frecknall says.

As the first woman to direct a major production of Cabaret, Frecknall has focused attention on the Kit Kat Club girls—Rosie, Fritzie, Frenchie, Lulu, and Texas. “Often what I’ve seen in other productions is this homogenized group of pretty, white, skinny girls in their underwear,” she insists. Her Kit Kat Club girls are multiethnic. Some are transgender. Through performances and costumes, they are no longer appendages of the Emcee but vivid characters in their own right.

Her boldest stroke has been to reinvent the Emcee. She and Redmayne have turned him into a force of malevolence. He is still sexy and seductive, but as the show goes on, he becomes a skeletal puppet master manipulating the other characters to, in many cases, their doom. If Cumming’s Emcee was, in the end, a Holocaust victim, Redmayne’s is, in Frecknall’s words, “a perpetrator.”

Unwrapping a grilled cheese sandwich in his enormous Upper West Side townhouse, Kander says that his husband had recently asked him a pointed question: “Did it ever occur to you that all of you guys who created Cabaret were Jewish?”

“Not really,” Kander replied. “We were just trying to put on a show.” Or, as Masteroff once said: “It was a job.”

It’s a “job” that has endured. The producers of the Broadway revival certainly have faith in the show’s staying power. They’ve spent $25 million on the production, a big chunk of it going to reconfigure the August Wilson Theatre into the Kit Kat Club. Audience members will enter through an alleyway, be given a glass of schnapps, and can then enjoy a preshow drink at a variety of lounges designed by Scutt: The Pineapple Room, Red Bar, Green Bar, and Vault Bar. The show will be performed in the round, tables and chairs ringing the stage. And they’ll be able to enjoy a bottle (or two) of top-flight Champagne throughout the performance.

This revival is certainly the most lavish Cabaret in a long time. But there have been hundreds of other, less heralded productions over the years, with more on the way. A few months before Russia invaded Ukraine, Cabaret was running in Moscow. Last December, Concord Theatricals, which licenses the show, authorized a production at the Molodyy Theatre in Kyiv. And a request is in for a production in Israel, the first since the show was produced in Tel Aviv in 2014.

“The interesting thing about the piece is that it seems to change with the times,” Kander says. “Nothing about it seems to be written in stone except its narrative and its implications.”

And whenever someone tells him the show is more relevant than ever, Kander shakes his head and says, “I know. And isn’t that awful?”′

You can also listen the entire article here !!

https://www.vanityfair.com/style/cabaret-revival

I know it's a very long article , but very interesting!!

[differenteagletragedy]

oh. my. god. hear me out, bc ur baxter-phantom-fan got me thinking. MC who is musical theatre actor/actress. baxter is their partner and comes to EVERY show MC is in. please hear me out.

Haha, that's so weird, I've never thought about this before! I suddenly just know a lot of things about how this would go even though I've never imagined this scenario at all, isn't that crazy?

-- He would catch a show whenever he could, and he would enjoy it so so much every single time. Just seeing you up there, being so amazing, it makes his heart swell with pride.

-- Would not miss opening night for the world. Has a dozen red roses, very classic.

-- He's come to pick you up from rehearsals, that sort of thing, so he's familiar with the cast and crew. They'll let him backstage if he pops in before or after a performance, and I just think that's cute.

-- Him in his little suit sitting in your dressing room while you change out of your costume, take your makeup off, etc.

-- If you're like bigtime Broadway star, he'd like to walk you out the stage door whenever possible. He is protective!

-- Will help you with your lines, of course. If you go through your songs at home, he is in heaven, just watching and listening so intently and so lovingly. He'll never ever get tired of it. And if you have choreography you're learning? He can't help but want to run it with you. If it's a dance with a partner he can easily learn your partner's part, you know, just to help out (it's because he loves it).

-- No but if you are on Broadway and you/your show gets nominated for a Tony, he's going to be THRILLED to go. He gets to wear a tux AND he gets to see you in formalwear too. If you need help styling yourself, he's totally down for that. He is going to be absolutely preening the entire night.

-- If he's seen the show a number of times, he also likes to watch the audience watch you. Subtly, he's not going to gawk obviously, but he likes seeing other people appreciate your talent and knowing that you are his and he is yours.

[jgroffdaily]

In the late 1950s, a wave of handsome, heavily Brylcreemed white men named Bobby became teen idols: Bobby Denton, Bobby Vee, Bobby Vinton. The most talented, by far, was Bobby Darin. Darin first burst onto the scene with “Splish Splash,” a teen-pop ode to bathtime, but soon, with his wryly smooth crooning style, he was rivaling Sinatra as the swingingest of swingin’ lovers. Later he reinvented himself as a folk singer, renaming himself Bob Darin in homage to Dylan.

It was a career marked by an overwhelming creative restlessness and success in diverse fields. He "could move with magical agility, he could do great impressions, he could rock, he was a swift and brilliant comedian, he could play seven instruments, he could write songs—167 of them," wrote biographer David Evanier. “He wanted to be a songwriter, actor, singer, and musician, and he became all of these.”

Tony winner Jonathan Groff first fell for Darin’s artistry while preparing to play him in the Lyrics & Lyricists series at the 92nd Street Y in 2018. “[Those performances were] so thrilling and so exciting,” he told Broadway.com Editor-in-Chief Paul Wontorek. An obsession was sparked. “I'm so grateful for YouTube. I started watching clips of him, and it's a hole I just keep going deeper and deeper into.”

Groff was speaking in a well-appointed ninth-floor room in the Brill Building—Darin’s former office—during a break from rehearsals for Just in Time, the Bobby Darin Broadway biomusical that evolved from the Lyrics & Lyricists show. From March 31 at the Circle in the Square Theatre, Groff will be channeling Darin in a show that’s part concert, part theater, setting out to capture Darin’s genre-spanning, shape-shifting brilliance

“I really connected with his ambition—pushing himself into different genres and styles, finding a connection to all of them musically,” Groff continued. “But most of all, I connect with his passion, his love for the audience, and his need to perform.”

Determined to push himself in his preparations for the role, Groff is taking drum and piano lessons and being put through his paces for what he says will be the most dance-heavy role of his career. All this less than a year after winning a Tony Award for his lead performance in Merrily We Roll Along: the very definition of not resting on laurels. "To feel those pathways in the brain grow and to feel that kind of expansion is so thrilling."

In fact, Groff will be in tech rehearsals for Just in Time during the week of his 40th birthday. “I'm such a specific person in that, if I could have anything for my 40th birthday, it would be teching a Broadway musical," he said. "I remember during Merrily, when we were doing the holiday Thanksgiving schedule—multiple shows, the whole schedule packed—I remember coming off stage, getting water from Hayley, who was dressing me, and saying, ‘I would so much rather be in the theater all day today than sitting on the couch.’ And she was like, ‘You're f**king crazy.’ But that's just who I am. I think I connect with Bobby Darin in that way. There’s a real, primal need to perform.”

Darin’s own momentum was fueled by a sense of urgency that likely stemmed from a weak heart, the result of a childhood illness. After a bout of rheumatic fever at eight, he overheard a doctor telling his mother he wouldn’t live past 16. “He was living on borrowed time,” Groff said. “And so he had this ambition to make it as fast as he possibly could and do as much as he possibly could before the clock ran out. It was constantly at the front of his brain.”

The show will cover the major beats of Darin’s life—his marriage to Sandra Dee, his relationship with Connie Francis, and a major family revelation (which won’t be spoiled here) that triggered a nervous breakdown and, later, what Groff calls a “truly spiritual awakening.”

That arc is reflected in the show’s musical journey—including Darin’s electrifying rendition of the Brecht-Weill classic “Mack the Knife”—all performed with a live band on stage. “It feels kind of like the Copacabana, but another essential purpose for having the band there is you feel the thrust of his life expressed through his musical journey. You really get the breadth of who he was as a person and an artist. Even just from listening to the music alone, that arc and that story are there.”

During the conversation, Groff also opened up about the late Gavin Creel, who passed away in 2024. “He changed my life,” said Groff. It was Creel, Groff shared, who inspired him to come out publicly. “We were dating, and he was so out. It was 2009. Coming out… it was sort of an unspoken or sometimes spoken thing that you were sacrificing something in your career if you did it. And I remember looking at him and thinking, I would rather feel this feeling than ever be on a TV show or in a movie. This is so much more meaningful to me. And so I owe him that.”

Ultimately, Groff said, there’s inspiration to be found in a life like Darin’s—or Creel’s—fully lived. “We're all here on borrowed time. This body is ours while we're here. And then it's not when we're gone. And so what I hope, and what I feel when I am inside of the material, is this deep, profound passion for life,” he said. “It makes me feel alive and makes me feel grateful to be alive.”

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

Beautiful interview with Cabaret cast member Marcia/Marty Lauter (Victor/The Emcee) for Out Magazine, published on July 31, 2024.

"Drag Race's Marcia talks Cabaret, Eddie Redmayne & viral Tonys performance (exclusive)"

Excerpts:

"In 2024, Lauter is not only playing Victor in the current Broadway revival of Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club, but they're also the understudy for Academy Award-winning actor Eddie Redmayne in his role as the Emcee. This is a big opportunity, as well as a huge responsibility, for an emerging theater performer — and Lauter is very aware of these high stakes. "The show itself has been an incredible gift. It's such a momentous revival, and it's been very talked about". Lauter tells Out in an exclusive interview. "It's been quite divisive among certain people, but it's been so incredible. More than anything, it's taught me how to use any kind of nerves and anxiety, and to channel them into something useful. Never in a million years would I have thought that I'd be doing this with Eddie Redmayne and playing [the Emcee] every once in a while."Victor is still Lauter's primary role in Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club, but the actor was scheduled to play the Emcee on three different dates throughout July and remains understudy for that character in Redmayne's absence. "It's just such a giant, very famous role," they add. "Getting to put my perspective on it and seeing people respond so positively has been very fulfilling and very affirming."

"Exciting as it is to play the Emcee as an understudy, Lauter explains that Redmayne has been very present for this production. "I think because this is the Broadway, New York City premiere of this version of Cabaret, he has so much passion and dedication for this project," Lauter says. "He's truly there all the time and never left the theater for more than a day. It's so impressive, frankly, because this role is very difficult." They continue, "There are so many drastic makeup changes, and the show is three hours long. You're singing a lot, you're yelling a lot, you're talking a lot… it's just a lot of energy. Because of the nature of the show, you're constantly engaging with people. It requires you to be very present and very energetic. I don't think he's actually ever really called out once, which is unbelievable to me, because doing the Emcee is very, very hard". YouTube essayist Kayla Says explains in a video about Cabaret that "as you're following the relationships and the journeys of these characters, you're slowly seeing aspects of the Nazi government creeping into the plot." For a while, the Kit Kat Club's patrons are able to "turn a blind eye" to the evil doings happening outside the venue. But as the show unfolds, the Emcee's outfits and overall disposition lead to a nuanced understanding of how the story progresses".

Lauter was also present at the 77th Tony Awards, which aired live on CBS on June 16. The ceremony featured a special performance of "Willkommen," the opening number of Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club, with Lauter playing Victor in the ensemble. "Luckily, the version of the number that we did at the Tony Awards was very close to what we do on stage every night, so I wasn't super nervous about messing anything up. That was good," Lauter explains. "But the rehearsal process for the Tonys can be quite strenuous. You're still doing all eight shows in the week leading up to the ceremony, and you're also getting to [the David H. Koch Theater] at 8 a.m. for camera-blocking rehearsal. You're also going to a recording studio to record the ensemble vocals, and you go back for another dress rehearsal." "The day of the Tonys is very exhausting," the actor recalls. "Broadway shows usually do a matinee that Sunday, but we didn't, so we were lucky. We just had to get up, do our dress rehearsal, go home, and come back that night. The night of your performance, the way it works, you literally get on a bus, get off the bus, do the number, leave the building immediately, and get back on the bus." Wait, so the ensemble of a Tony-nominated hit musical can't stay for the ceremony?! "We're all in our costumes and wigs and everything, which is all incredibly expensive, and we have to keep in theater," Lauter says. "We have to get dressed and get undressed in the theater. All the nominees get to sit and watch, of course. But yeah, it's kind of an unknown thing about the Tony Awards. Unless you've purchased a ticket or you're nominated, you're not in the building except for your number. But it's also kind of nice, because you get to celebrate right when you're done."

"That number, 'Willkommen,' is supposed to be the show itself," Lauter explains when asked about that performance going viral. "It can be fun at the beginning, but it has this underbelly that you can kind of sense that something isn't quite right. I mean, I think it's unfair to judge anything without seeing it in its entirety, especially in a musical, which has a narrative. You wouldn't watch the first two minutes of a movie and say, 'This is bad' or, 'This is not what it should be.'" Lauter continues, "The point of a revival is to show you something different and highlight different elements of a piece of work so you can view it from a different perspective. I think our production absolutely does that. So yeah, if people have issues with it, come see the show! Don't just watch a three-minute number. You can't really make that call unless you see the whole thing."

"When it comes to working with Redmayne, Lauter confesses to feeling some initial trepidation. "It's a very daunting thing to understudy him. You're kind of like, 'Oh, people wanted to see Eddie Redmayne, and now it's me,'" they explain. "But he's truly so generous and welcoming. After my first show, I knocked on his door because I had left my water bottle in his room. He was like, 'Oh my god, how did it go? How are you feeling? Tell me everything!'" Lauter adds, "He's so invested in all of us. The people that understudy him are myself and another actor, David Merino, who plays Lulu usually in the show. Whenever the three of us are together, he always refers to it as 'our part,' which is very sweet and very selfless of him. He's been unbelievably kind, and he wrote me the sweetest debut letter. He makes these cards and paints them. He's just the best. Eddie is so sweet."

"I'm trying to not give anything away, but our Cabaret is told from the perspective of people who are othered or marginalized. Our cast has a wide range of people with different ages, genders, races, body types, and sexualities. We kind of run the gamut of the human experience," Lauter says. "There's a song at the end of the show that Bebe Neuwirth sings, 'What Would You Do?' that is really the heart of it. When things get really bad and really scary, what are you going to do?"

The actor adds, "Our production hits on a very nuanced topic. Sometimes, even marginalized people will marginalize other people for survival. When I play Victor, for example, I'm white in real life as well. In the show, I'm also very blonde and have a beautiful bowl cut. So, amongst the cast, Victor will probably have the easiest time assimilating into [those circumstances]. The journey of the show is very different for all of us.""This show is so evocative of what's happening in the world right now," Lauter notes. "It's like a reminder to be extra conscious in your life, aware of what the people around you need, and understand that you may not be in the most dangerous position at this particular moment. But you should raise your voice and stand for the people who need help."