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lenbryant · 8 months

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(Long Post, Sorry) Hitting Theater Hard: The Loss of Subscribers Who Went to Everything

The subscription model, in which theatergoers buy a season’s worth of shows at a time, had long been waning, but it fell off a cliff during the pandemic.

As a group of stagehands assembled train cars for the set of “Murder on the Orient Express,” Ken Martin looked grimly at his email. His first year as artistic director at the Clarence Brown Theater in Knoxville, Tenn., was coming to an end, and the theater had missed its income goals by several hundred thousand dollars, largely because it had lost about half its subscribers since the start of the pandemic.

“I’ve already had to tear up one show, because of a combination of cost and I don’t think it’s going to sell,” he said. “I’m in the same boat as a lot of theater companies: How do I get the audience back, and once I get them in the door, how do I keep them for the next show?”

The nonprofit theater world’s industrywide crisis, which has led to closings, layoffs and a reduction in the number of shows being staged, is being exacerbated by a steep drop in the number of people who buy theater subscriptions, in which they pay upfront to see most or all of a season’s shows. The once-lucrative subscription model had been waning for years, but it has fallen off a cliff since the pandemic struck.

It is happening across the nation. Seattle’s 5th Avenue Theater had 13,566 subscribers last season, down from 19,770 before the pandemic. In Atlanta, the Alliance Theater ended last season with 3,208, down from a prepandemic 5,086, while Northlight Theater, in Skokie, Ill., is at about 3,200, down from 5,700.

Theaters are losing people like Joanne Guerriero, 61, who dropped her subscription to Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, N.J., after realizing she only liked some of the productions there, and would rather be more selective about when and where she saw shows.

“We haven’t missed it,” she said, “which is unfortunate, I suppose, for them.”

Many artistic leaders believe the change is permanent.

“The strategic conversation is no longer ‘What version of a membership brochure is going to bring in more members,’ but how do we replace that revenue, and replenish the relationship with audiences,” said Jeremy Blocker, the executive director of New York Theater Workshop, an Off Broadway nonprofit that has seen its average number of members (its term for subscribers) drop by 50 percent since before the pandemic.

Why do subscribers matter?

“No. 1, it reduces your cost of marketing hugely — you’re selling three or five tickets for the cost of one,” said Michael M. Kaiser, the chairman of the DeVos Institute of Arts Management at the University of Maryland. “No. 2, you get the cash up front, which helps fund the rehearsal period and the producing period. And No. 3, subscriptions give you artistic flexibility — if people are willing to buy all the shows, some subset of the total can be less familiar and more challenging, but if you don’t have subscribers, every production is sold on its own merits, and that makes taking artistic risk much more difficult.”

There’s also a strong connection between subscriptions and contributions. “Most donors are subscribers,” said Maggie Mancinelli-Cahill, the producing artistic director of Capital Repertory Theater in Albany, N.Y., “so there’s a cycle here.”

Theaters are simultaneously trying to retain — or reclaim — subscribers, and also reduce their dependence on them. Many are experimenting with ways to make subscriptions more flexible, or more attractive, but also seeing an upside in the need to find new patrons.

Programming is clearly on the mind of lapsed subscribers around the country. Even as subscriptions have fallen sharply at regional nonprofits whose mission is to develop new voices and present noncommercial work, they have remained steadier at venues that present touring Broadway shows with highly recognizable titles.

“There’s so much going on with the ‘ought-to-see-this-because-you’re-going-to-be-taught-a-lesson’ stuff, and I’m OK with that, but part of me thinks we’re going a little overboard, and I need to have some fun,” said Melissa Ortuno, 61, of Queens. She describes herself as a frequent theatergoer — she has already seen 17 shows this year — but finds herself now preferring to purchase tickets for individual shows, rather than subscriptions. “I want to take a shot, but I don’t want to be dictated to. And this way I can buy what I want.”

But there are other reasons subscribers have stepped away, including age. “We’re all old, that’s the problem,” said Happy Shipley, 77, of Erwinna, Pa., who decided to renew her subscription at the Bucks County Playhouse, but sees others making a different choice. “Many of them don’t stay up late anymore; they’re anxious about parking, walking, crime, public transportation, increased need of restrooms, you name it.”

Arts administrators say that many people who were previously frequent theatergoers remain fans of the art form, but now attend less frequently, a phenomenon confirmed in interviews with supersubscribers — culture vultures who had multiple subscriptions — who say they are scaling back.

Lisa-Karyn Davidoff, 63, of Manhattan, subscribed to 10 theaters before the pandemic; now she is far more choosy, citing a combination of health concerns and reassessed priorities. “If there’s a great cast or something I can’t miss,” she said, “I will go.” Rena Tobey, a 64-year-old New Yorker, had at least 12 theater subscriptions before the pandemic, and now has none, citing an ongoing concern about catching Covid in crowds, a new appreciation for television and streaming, and a sense that theaters are programming shows for people other than her. “For many years, I’ve pushed my boundaries, and I’m just at a point where I don’t want to do it anymore.”

And Jeanne Ryan Wolfson, a 67-year-old from Rockville, Md., who had four performing arts subscriptions prepandemic, is just finding she likes an à la carte approach to ticket purchasing; she kept two of her previous subscriptions, dropped two, and added a new one. “I was paying a lot of money for the subscriptions, and some of the productions within those packages were a bit disappointing or might not have the wow factor I was looking for,” she said. “I think what I want to do is pick and choose.”

Martin said the Knoxville theater’s staff has spent much of the summer discussing the drop in subscriber numbers — the theater had about 3,000 before the pandemic, but 1,500 last season — and hired a marketing firm to study the situation.

Then comes “Kinky Boots,” the kind of uplifting musical comedy many of today’s audiences seem to want. (“Kinky Boots,” with a plot that involves drag queens, also makes a statement for a theater in Tennessee, where lawmakers have attempted to restrict drag shows.) There will be more adventurous productions, but in a smaller theater: “The Moors” by Jen Silverman, and “Anon(ymous)” by Naomi Iizuka.

But selling tickets show by show, instead of as a package, is challenging and expensive.

“It takes three times as much money, time and effort to bring in someone new,” said Tom Cervone, the theater’s managing director. He said the theater is trying everything it can — print advertising, public radio sponsorships, social media posts, plus appearances at local street fairs and festivals where the theater’s staff will hand out brochures and swag (branded train whistles to promote “Murder on the Orient Express,” for example) while trying to persuade passers-by to come see a show.

The theater, which is on the flagship campus of the University of Tennessee, is less dependent than some on ticket revenue, because, like a number of other regional nonprofits, it is affiliated with a university that subsidizes its operations. Still, the money it earns from ticket sales is essential to balancing the budget.

“It’s been scary some days,” Cervone said, “like, where is everybody?”

Michael Paulson is the theater reporter. He previously covered religion, and was part of the Boston Globe team whose coverage of clergy sexual abuse in the Catholic Church won the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service. More about Michael Paulson

#refrigerator magnet #for educational purposes only #theater #theatre #subscription model #stage #drama #demise of the american theater

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH14

Things are changing ;) The next 10 chapters look a lot different than the original, and most of them are brand new.

Previous First Next AO3

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Chapter 14: Death by a Thousand Cuts

The crowd waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir outside the Louvre grew thicker as another van pulled up, and a crew of reporters hopped out. Alya drummed her fingers on her phone, shifting when the new additions forced their way into the throng. She just wanted answers. Being selected to be Rena Rouge meant she had some sort of bond with Ladybug, right? So why did Ladybug replace her without warning? Was it out of necessity? Or did the fox Miraculous have a permanent new owner?

Camera bulbs flashed as the heroes exited the museum, and several microphones competed for their attention, swallowing Alya in a sea of limbs. Lila promised a private interview, and if her stories were to be believed, she’d better come through. This was the moment that would define their friendship, and more importantly, Alya would finally learn if Marinette and Adrien were telling the truth.

“Ladybug!”

“What’s the story on this akuma?”

“Can you confirm that you and Chat Noir are dating?”

“Do you have any leads on tracking down Hawkmoth?”

“A student got punished for wandering off on a field trip. No, we’re not dating—stop asking! And as of right now, we have no leads, but Chat Noir and I are doing everything in our power to keep you all safe,” she said smoothly. She never once looked at Alya in the crowd.

“Ladybug,” Alya spoke up.

Ladybug shifted to face her, though her face bore no sense of recognition or familiarity. Her expression was blank, cold, business-like, distant—a steely mask hiding her emotions.

Alya bit her lip and continued. “Um, I was hoping to get an answer to a question many of my followers have. Do you have time for an interview?”

Ladybug’s earrings beeped frantically—a reminder that the heroes were on literal timers.

“I’ve only got a couple minutes,” she replied. “Make it quick.”

Strike one.

“My viewers want to know what happened to Rena Rouge. Will Malin be a permanent replacement, or was he a temporary stand-in?” she asked.

Several reporters rolled their eyes. As far as they were concerned, these questions were yesterday’s news. No one else seemed to care that Rena Rouge was replaced. They clung to whoever wore the suit in the moment, but it was the most important question in the world to Alya.

Something flashed in Ladybug’s eyes, an uneasy expression Alya saw in the mirror a lot as of late. Those big blue eyes were filled with pain, hurt, and regret, but Alya couldn’t figure out why. What had she done to receive such tortured expressions from someone who once trusted her?

“Malin will wield the Fox Miraculous in all battles moving forward.” She grabbed her yoyo. “No more questions. Bug out.”

Reporters glared daggers at Alya for wasting their opportunity to get the latest scoop. Alya could see it in their eyes. As far as they were concerned, Rena Rouge was old news. Her heart dropped to her feet, shattering like glass on concrete.

Strike two.

“I’ll be happy to take a few more questions.” Chat Noir stepped to the center of the crowd. His eyes skipped over Alya too, lengthening the chasm growing between them.

Strike three.

All the microphones pointed at him, pushing Alya aside just as Ladybug had done to Rena Rouge. Her heart hammered in her chest, a painful lump blocking her throat as tears welled in her eyes. Did Ladybug not trust her anymore? What did it all mean? Lila was supposed to talk to her and set up a private interview, but Ladybug treated her so coldly. Why?

Because she’s a liar.

The thought flashed in her mind, Marinette’s familiar voice ringing in her ears. Alya had to wonder if knowing the truth was any better than living in ignorance. One thing was certain: if Lila really was a liar, then Alya had a lot of apologizing to do.

♪♫♪ Sanctuary ♪♫♪

“Hey, you made it!” Macy took Marinette’s hands and planted kisses on her cheeks. “Is Adrien coming?”

“He said he was.” Marinette retrieved her phone from her purse to check her messages.

“You two should sit together.” Macy insisted, and when Marinette’s eyebrows raised, she added, “I’m a huge fan of his, but you two seem really close, and I’d never want to start anything over a boy. It’s not worth ruining our friendship.”

“Macy…” Marinette pulled her in for a hug. “You’re the best.”

“No, you are, and if Adrien can’t see that then he has poor taste,” Macy said. “If you ever need a wingwoman, I’ve got your back, and I’m sure Eliott can teach you all kinds of ways to flirt.”

“I might take him up on that. I’m hopeless.” Marinette admitted. “Sometimes when I talk to him my words come out wrong.”

“Why don’t I set up the perfect scene for you two tonight?” Macy offered. “Afterall, the play is packed with romance. He won’t know what hit him.”

“Who won’t know what?” Adrien asked as he and Martin approached.

“Oh, nothing,” Macy said with a coy lilt. “Just girl stuff, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I get it. Keep your secrets.” Adrien smirked.

“Come on, Eliott reserved us box seats!” Macy took Marinette’s wrist and led the way.

As promised, Macy sat Marinette next to Adrien and toted Martin off with her to “get a drink.” Adrien seemed oblivious to her plans but unbothered by the extra alone time with Marinette.

“So, your dad let you come, huh?” Marinette said conversationally.

“He’s more amicable toward other rich people, and he thinks theatre is a more…enriching activity.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess he figures I’ll behave.”

“Either way, I’m glad. It means we can spend more time together.” Marinette offered him a shy smile.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a downer. I’m really glad he’s letting me out. Ever since you changed schools, I don’t get to see you as often, so I always look forward to spending time together,” he said.

Marinette’s heart skipped three beats. “Yeah, it’s great! N-Not that he doesn’t trust you, but that we can hang out, I mean. It stinks that he doesn’t trust all of your friends and keeps you at home, and I’m sure it must be hard for you, and… I’m gonna stop talking.”

She turned to face forward, slapping her palm to her forehead. Maybe she should have hit up Eliott for flirting advice before she let Macy push them together.

“No, no! It’s fine. It is hard, but I’ve got really great friends like you who understand, so that makes it better,” he said.

“You know I’m always here for you if you want to talk about it. Any time.” She reached out, hesitantly at first, to place her hand over his. “You’re…really important to me, Adrien.”

Adrien searched her soft expression before a smile curled on his lips. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze as Macy and Martin returned.

Macy nudged Marinette with a giggle, and she bit back a smile. Maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. Adrien kept hold of her hand until the lights dimmed, and the theatre hall broke into applause. It was a small gesture, but Marinette would take it.

Eliott played an amazing Chat Noir, and even Margot didn’t do too bad as Ladybug, despite being a total brat behind the scenes. The play was fun, and a reminder of how much Paris trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to defend them. Though, she did find fault with their kiss at the end seeing as she and Chat were so not like that, but Paris wanted what it wanted even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You. Were. Awesome!” Macy tackled Eliott the moment they met up afterward.

“Thanks,” Eliott chuckled. “I think that was my best performance.”

“You play Chat Noir so well, Eliott. Are you sure you’re not really him?” Marinette teased.

“I’d believe it,” Adrien said. “I’m impressed by the quality of your playwright’s puns.”

“They’re almost as cheesy as the real Chat Noir’s,” Marinette added with a grunt.

“Not feline the cat puns, Marinette?” Adrien folded his arms over his chest and cocked a brow.

“Purrhaps she just doesn’t find them funny,” Eliott said with a wink.

“Then she has a very purr sense of humor.” Adrien smirked.

Marinette rolled her eyes, shooting him a playful grin of her own. “I just think his comedic timing needs work. They’re saving Paris; shouldn’t he take his job a little more seriously?”

“Meowch. No appreciation for good comedy with this one,” Adrien said.

“I may have to reconsider purrmitting you to attend the after party on my yacht,” Eliott said. “You have to make one cat pun to be admitted.”

“Do I have to?” Marinette groaned.

“We can chat about it on the way.” Macy giggled as Adrien and Eliott praised her contribution.

“Yeah, we’ve gato go.” Martin pointed to the door, only adding fuel to the fire.

Marinette sighed. “Betrayed by all of my friends at once. That’s cold.” When they all gave her expectant looks, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Please leave meowt of this.”

She rolled her eyes as they all applauded, curtsying and blowing sarcastic kisses. If anyone knew more cat puns than they ever wanted to, it was her. Chat Noir certainly kept them coming.

“Alright, I guess you can come.” Eliott draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked.

“You guys are insufferable,” Marinette said.

“You love us though.” Adrien wrapped an arm around her waist on the other side, and her cheeks warmed.

Across the lobby, Lisette was chatting with other stagehands, and Eliott stiffened. He might be good at flirting, but when it came to Lisette, he always clammed up. It didn’t help that she was shier than Marinette either.

“Go invite her.” Marinette urged, elbowing his side.

“What? Who? I wasn’t- you’re…”

“Hey, Lisette!” Marinette called, breaking out of his grip and beelining for her.

“Marinette!” Eliott chased after her.

Lisette tilted her head to one side. “Hey, you’re…”

“Marinette.” She held out a hand. “Eliott’s friend.”

“Yeah, you were at our dress rehearsal last night.” Lisette nodded, cheeks flushing when Eliott latched onto Marinette. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s up.” Eliott clamped a hand over Marinette’s mouth, and she gave him a prompting look. “Um, just I’m having a party on my yacht if you wanna come. Just a few friends and family, super casual. Margot won’t be there.”

Lisette clutched the hem of her shirt and bit her lip. “Sounds fun.” She rocked back on her heels. “Let me go home and change, then I’ll come over.”

“Okay, great!” Eliott said a little too loudly. “I’ll- We’ll see you there.”

“Great.”

“Cool.” He turned abruptly, dragging Marinette away by the wrist. “Okay, I deserved that revenge.”

“She likes you!” Marinette said.

Eliott couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up.”

“She’s coming to your party.”

“Yeah, I got that. Thanks.” He let a breath pass his lips. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never liked someone before, and I’m scared that everything could go wrong.”

“Talk to her tonight. Let her get to know you, and I’m sure she’ll like you no matter what,” Marinette urged. “Have confidence.”

Eliott searched her expression, pursing his lips. “Okay.”

The rest of the group was waiting in the limo, and Marinette crawled in beside Adrien. Macy was prattling on about the play, particularly the big kiss at the end, teasing Eliott for having to kiss Margot.

“Do you think her snobbishness can infect you like getting bit by a zombie?” She poked his cheek.

“Shut up, we’ve rehearsed that kiss a 100 times over the past few weeks, and I’m fine.” He swatted her hand away.

“You really are a good actor if you can pretend to be in love with Margot for an hour and a half,” Macy said. She fanned her cheeks. “Even still, that kiss was so romantic! I would love to have seen the real thing on heroes day.”

“Oh, come on. That kiss so didn’t happen in real life. The playwright just added it in for dramatic effect,” Marinette said.

“How do you know?” Adrien quirked a brow.

“I- just Ladybug is always saying in interviews that they’re not a couple, so of course they didn’t kiss.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh, that’s just a cover story. They are totally in love. Chat Noir is head-over-heels for Ladybug, and she just hides her feelings so Hawkmoth can’t use it against them,” Macy said, not bothering to mask the ‘duh’ in her voice.

Marinette rolled her eyes. If only they knew.

When they arrived at Eliott’s yacht, her friends continued their chatter, and a small smile curled on Marinette’s lips. She really was lucky to have them, even if they all believed Ladybug was in love with Chat Noir—she’d convince them eventually. After everything that happened with Lila, Marinette was spiraling, feeling unappreciated, abandoned, and angry. Martin and Eliott said she helped them, but truthfully, their friendship saved her first. They showed her that real friends did exist, and that they don’t abandon one another.

Finally, her gaze rested on Adrien, the one thing she still had left from her old school. He’d grown quiet after their conversation. He flashed smiles and laughed when appropriate, but something hid behind those green eyes, an intensity Marinette had never seen from him before. After a while, he disappeared from the party, and Marinette wondered if he’d gone home until she found him on the upper deck looking out over the Seine.

“I’ve always thought the Seine was prettier at night,” he remarked as she approached. “The reflection of the lights on the water calms me down.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet ever since the limo ride,” Marinette said. She leaned against the railing next to him. His eyes were fixed ahead, barring her from the emotions brewing inside. Another gray wall with a locked door between them.

Finally, he flicked his gaze over to her, searching her face as if she were a puzzle that needed solving. He looked at her like that a lot nowadays. Several times when they spent time together, she’d catch him staring. A month ago, she would have done anything to get Adrien to look at her, but now as they stood only centimeters apart, eyes locked, she didn’t know what to say. Her heart fluttered.

The last time they hung out, Adrien almost kissed her—a fact that haunted her every day since. What did it mean? Was Adrien in love with her? Was he going to kiss her now? Oh god, she shouldn’t have eaten the Camembert from that cheese platter.

His eyes bore into her so intensely, she thought she was going to pass out, but instead of kissing her, he bit his lip and asked, “How are you holding up with everything?”

Blinking in surprise, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m doing better now,” she said. “Some days are still rough, but I’m grateful for my friends. They’ve really helped me overcome everything.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately. I’m just glad you and I are still friends,” Adrien said softly. “You’re someone I don’t ever want to lose.”

Her cheeks warmed as he tucked a loose strand of hair into place. Taking a leap, she took a step toward him, curling her arms around his waist. He held her close, resting his head against hers.

“I’m really glad I still have you,” she whispered.

“You’ll always have me. I’ll always be watching out for you,” he said in her ear. “Always. I promise.”

♪♫♪ Careful ♪♫♪

“Hey, bestie.” Lila smiled as Alya approached their usual table at their favorite café. Her face fell when Alya flashed her a pensive frown. “Why the long face?”

“I talked to Ladybug yesterday,” she said. “She totally blew me off. I thought you said you were going to get me a private interview.”

“Oh no, I am so sorry, Alya!” Lila’s face fell into her hands. “I should have warned you, but I just don’t know what happened. I tried texting the private number Ladybug gave me, but she totally ghosted me. I don’t know what’s going on with her lately. She hasn’t been replying to me at all.”

How convenient.

Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m having trouble believing you.”

“I’m not lying to you, Alya! Ladybug has been pulling away from me lately, and I don’t know why.” Lila’s lips curled into the perfect pout. “I find it really hurtful that you don’t trust me. I thought we were friends, but you’re starting to sound like Marinette.”

“We are, I just… I don’t know what to think anymore. I-” Alya averted her gaze with a sigh. “I need some time to clear my head, okay?”

“Of course. I know you have trust issues after what Marinette did to you, so I completely understand,” Lila said. “But please, don’t call me a liar like she used to. If you leave me, then everyone else will too.”

Alya chewed her cheek, searching Lila’s expression. Her eyes seemed so genuine that Alya almost apologized on the spot, but she knew that not everything in life was as it seemed. Be a journalist. Investigate.

“I gotta go,” she said. “My sisters want to see a movie this afternoon, and my parents are at work.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lila offered, but Alya held up a hand to stop her.

“That’s alright. I can handle it,” she said. “Thanks, though.”

Lila sank back into her chair with a pout. As Alya turned to leave, Lila’s face shriveled into a glare that sent a chill down her spine, but she kept walking. Maybe she imagined it. Her mind played all kinds of tricks on her lately. She only hoped the truth would reveal itself soon and free her from all of this doubt.

♪♫♪ happiness ♪♫♪

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ladybug sat on the edge of a roof, staring out over the city. She heard Chat Noir touch down behind her, but she didn’t turn around as he approached. Her head was drained, empty, lifeless as she stared ahead.

He didn’t question as he sat beside her. They knew each other well enough by now that she didn’t need to explain when she was upset. He just knew. The silence stretched on, but Chat Noir waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

“I knew it would happen,” she said finally. “I knew she would wonder.”

“Alya?”

Ladybug nodded. “I never told you, but she was Rena Rouge.”

Chat Noir’s mask raised, and Ladybug lowered her gaze to her lap.

“She must hate me now,” she murmured, lip quivering.

“You did replace her without an explanation,” he said pointedly.

“I had my reasons.” She swung her legs over the edge. “I need people that I trust by my side.”

“I wasn’t questioning your decision,” he said. “You know I trust you 100% no matter what.”

“I guess it’s not that I don’t trust her.” Ladybug sighed, chewing her lip. “I mean, I don’t doubt that she would still work with us, but she’s hanging out with Lila, and after everything…I can’t work with her.”

“I understand.” When Ladybug gave him a disbelieving look, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Really. I do, Bug.”

“I know it sounds selfish, but I can’t put my feelings aside,” she said. “I know we have a duty to protect the city, but if I can do that with someone else, then why go through the trouble?”

“No one’s asking you to.” When her face fell, Chat Noir reached out to cup her cheek. “Bug, you did the right thing. No one is doubting you. We need people we can work with and count on, and if Rena Rouge isn’t it, then it’s time for Malin to step in.”

She leaned against his shoulder, watching cars crawl up and down the street with sad eyes—a city full of people counting on her. They seemed so small from up here.

“It’s hard sometimes,” she said. “Having the whole city looking at you to fix all of their problems… The weight of the world gets so heavy.”

“Don’t worry about stepping on toes. We have to do what we can to save everyone, and we can’t do that if we’re working with people we can’t trust,” Chat Noir said. “It’s not selfish. It’s our job.”

Ladybug smiled, Chat Noir’s familiar warmth flooding her chest. Chat Noir could be sweet when he wanted. He could give Adrien a run for his money if he acted like this all the time. Nah, that was a stretch, but she’d always love Chat in her own way.

Ladybug stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, kitty.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirked, then added, “I just hope you’re not thinking of replacing me.”

“Of course not,” she giggled. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He leaned his head against hers, and they sat for several minutes, watching the city lights twinkle on the skyline.

She spent a lot of time leaning on blond boys lately, but in her defense, she had two of the best. Chat Noir trusted her even when she didn’t trust herself. Sure, he was goofy, full-of-himself, and his puns were terrible, but… Somedays she needed someone like that. Someone to make her laugh and roll her eyes. He was her best friend, and she hoped that even after they defeated Hawkmoth that they would always stay this close.

“Until next time, m’lady.” He bowed theatrically when they stood to leave. “I’m always here for you if you need me.”

“I know.” She pulled him in for a tight hug. “Thank you for being someone I can lean on. It means the world to me.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

Ladybug swooped down to the street, ducking behind an ad stand and letting her transformation drop. Clara’s presentation was in a week, and she was going to pull an all-nighter. Coffee was a must. She was getting close to finalizing a few of her designs, and now that she’d gotten everything off her chest about Alya, her mind was a lot clearer.

Rounding the corner, she crossed the street to a quaint little café before a waterfall of silky, red hair wiping a table in a dingy green apron caught her eye. Was that…

“Gabrielle?”

#mdcsp #mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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fakecrfan · 3 years

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Do you think if one of them started successfully seducing Martin the others would get jealous or would everyone just stop since beholding has what it wants

None of them would get jealous because of Beholding, at least. Because the once they have all sufficiently succumbed to Beholding inflicted brain rot, they start to... collaborate. Seducing Martin isn’t a competition, it’s a group project! Like Cyrano de Bergerac, but with 3 people behind the scenes and also evil.

Sasha and Jon are research powerhouses: they analyze every single person Martin ever swiped right on Tinder for, every single celebrity crush Martin has had and romance novel he rated 5 stars on Goodreads. Elias, who is in charge of all of their schedule, can send Martin on Work Trips to suspiciously romantic locations with any other member of the Archives crew.

And of course, any time they need new information, tapes appear with helpful Martin recordings.

Tim is immediately chosen as the front man for the operation during their first group meeting. Attractive, charming Tim, who Martin kept hanging out with and chatting to the longest as this whole thing has been escalating.

(“I think the others are possessed,” has been the topic of most of Martin’s chats with Tim, along with side topics like “I think I saw Jon outside my house” and “Sasha seems to have gotten a copy of my incognito search history for the past 5 years somehow.”

“Oh shoot,” Tim said, the absolute picture of a sympathetic friend who is not going to report all of this during the next Seduce Martin Initiative Meeting. “You can tell me everything.”)

The thing the Evil Eye Polycule discovers is that if Martin interacts with/shows affection to one of them, the sense of... weird, alien giddiness from it is shared between all of them. If Martin hugs Tim, for example, Sasha and Jon find they can feel the same satisfaction from it from miles away. Just as the obsession is psychically shared, so is the joy.

Sasha: see? It’s best if we collaborate, because one of us winning means all of us winning! 😀

And so if someone feels a trickle of jealousy, if someone in the group Knows that Martin is hugging someone else in the group and part of them feels miserable about it... if say, Jon, wrapped his arms around himself and felt a little bit colder inside, thinking that’s he’s been relegated to stagehand in this romantic farce, well. That feeling doesn’t originate from Beholding.

#martin + tapes #s1 evil eye polycule #Martin trusted Tim the longest because Tim had enough social skills to maintain more Normal boundaries as the brainrot took over #This is probably because Tim is the least Beholding of them all #especially compared to jon sasha and elias #huh maybe I need to put cws on these #cw: stalking #cw: boundary violation #Anonymous

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

Text

Though It's Called Dancing (to me it's romancing)

A Steggy Secret Santa gift for @plumandfinch! Here’s some WWII Steggy for you - hope you enjoy, and have a very happy holiday and a great year ahead. 😁✨🎁

Summary: Five times Steve and Peggy almost danced, and one time they did.

AO3 link here.

The girls trust Steve to hold them up for the finale and he hasn’t let them down yet, but after three shows where he either almost gives a showstopping topple tripping on his own feet or steps on one of theirs, they tell Martin the show manager that they’re quitting unless Steve gets some help.

“You have anything to say about this?” Martin grumbles incredulously to Steve, who just shrugs and replies, “Hey, if they listened to me, you’d already be dealing with a union.”

He’s actually glad that someone’s mentioned his clumsiness, his lack of coordination, and come up with a suggestion for how to help him: he came to the theater today with his shoes flopping on his feet because he tore out another pair of laces while trying to tie them. The serum might have fixed a lot of things for him, but it’s changed them as well, and in some alarming ways. It isn’t too likely that he could have been involved in the dance number even before his body got expanded to its new awkward, confusing size, but at least then he knew how much space he was taking up, how much force to exert for simple tasks. He should have just asked the girls for help sooner, but he’s still shy with them.

They don’t let that stop them from putting together a curriculum to help him ease into the new body. Soon he’s stopped having to sew the buttons back onto his shirts, and he doesn’t keep stabbing his fingers with the needle if he does. He can help with the hair before shows if the dressing room doesn’t have a mirror and the others are rushing around worrying about their own costumes (well, he doesn’t expect to be the first choice, at least not yet).

One night after they’ve just arrived in Chicago, Steve and a group of the dancers go out to a late dinner in Chinatown. Steve shows off his use of chopsticks, something that he didn’t even know how to do before the serum.

Sheila, who’s been working on her education degree by correspondence, says thoughtfully, “I just worry that we’ve focused too much on your fine motor skills—”

“I’m happy to focus on any of Steve’s fine skills,” Erin cracks, and Steve, immune to such remarks at this point, just rolls his eyes at her.

“—and we’ve neglected the gross motor skills,” Sheila finishes, glaring at Erin across the table.

“So what does that mean, She?” asks Jackie, leaning her head against Sheila’s shoulder.

Sheila rests her head atop Jackie’s for a moment then sits up straight and grins. “I think it means dance lessons.”

Steve turns down the suggestion that they find a nightclub (he doesn’t particularly feel like showing off his lack of skill in public) and they all turn down Erin’s suggestion that Steve prove he’s truly mastered his fine motor skills by picking the lock on the theater. But the next night, they simply don’t leave after their evening performance, sitting around smoking cigarettes and chatting as the stagehands take down the trappings of the Star Spangled Show. Martin sticks around to confirm that the props and costumes are boxed up for tomorrow’s drive to Cincinnati (or is it Columbus? Or maybe Cleveland). As soon as the last crate is checked off of his list, he gets his hat and coat and heads back to their hotel with an admonishment that they’ll be leaving at 8 AM sharp, which he seems not to care to really enforce.

Susie has already snuck into the theater manager’s office and brought back a portable record player. Steve isn’t sure what they would have done if the man hadn’t had one around; danced to a faraway radio, or someone humming probably.

Jackie takes Steve’s hands in hers and leads him out of the wings toward the stage. Susan puts on a Benny Goodman record at full volume, shimmying her hips a little as the drums and horns start up. Steve suddenly feels nervous, a little wrong, and he isn’t sure that it’s only because the song is faster than he expected, or because the others have started dancing and even without choreography they’re much better than he could ever hope to be. He just...these are his friends, but this isn’t how he imagined going dancing for the first time.

“I don’t know that I—” he starts, but then he hears a throat clear behind him.

“Well, this isn’t precisely what I expected to find, Private Rogers.”

He turns. “Agent Carter,” he says stupidly. He forgets to salute or even stand particularly straight; it’s as if his brief stint of doing something actually military had never even happened. She smiles at him anyway.

“I was taking meetings at Camp Atterbury,” she says, as if he’s done the normal, conversational thing and actually remembered to ask what she’s doing around here. “And I heard that there was quite the entertainment to be had in town. Unfortunately, we were delayed, so I wasn’t quite able to catch the show.”

“Good thing you’re catching us now,” Erin cracks as she dances past. “I think this is actually our best side.” She’s kicked off her shoes, and spins away barefoot, skirt ballooning wide, with what Steve can only describe as joy.

“We’re trying to teach Steve some rhythm,” Jackie explains quietly. “And how to move those big feet of his.”

Steve adds sheepishly, “I’ve told them I’m perfectly happy just tapping my toes on the sidelines. Even I can manage that.”

Agent Carter tilts her head. “I think you can aspire to a little more than that.” Steve suddenly remembers her standing with Erskine on the field at Camp Lehigh, the two of them walking to the mess beside each other. He’s felt a lot of different things since he was declared a failure and sent here, anger and regret and shame at once again not being fit to serve, able to help, but now he feels guilt: Erskine gave his life for Steve to be what he is, and he’s wasting it.

The relentless beat of the song dies off, and Martha trades out the record because she’s the closest. Despite the brassy blare of the opening, the music is slower this time. Steve thinks he recognizes the melody vaguely from some picture show years back.

He clears his throat. “I can probably manage this one,” he tells Jackie, but even as he says it, he notices the way she’s glancing over at Sheila, who’s still twirling by herself in a more sedate solo dance rather than pairing up like some of the others. “Unless you’d rather—”

“I could step in if you—” Agent Carter says at the same time, clearly having noticed as well.

Jackie flashes a smile at the two of them. “Thank awfully,” she says quickly before she twists between the dancers and slides her arms around Sheila.

Steve watches them for a moment before he turns back. “We don’t have to,” he says. “I mean, I think this was more about letting everyone blow off some steam, maybe have a bit of fun. Being on the road all together can be sort of rough - working all the time, and under each other’s feet. Not that there aren’t good parts, and of course we don’t have it as bad as some, obviously, not nearly, but this is just—” Agent Carter is staring at him with a bit of a smile, but Steve assumes that it must just be a politely automatic sort of thing at this point; for all he knows she’s wishing she’d missed not just the show but all of this too. He takes in a breath. “Anyway, we don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.”

“And if I did?”

The simple question stuns him. He almost doesn’t know what to say. Then: “Would you join me, Agent Carter?” It’s a little startled, not particularly suave, but he knows that it’s sincere. He holds out a hand.

When she smiles at him, it is like a secret. “It’s certainly been some time since I had a little fun, so I thank you for the invitation, Private Rogers.” She places her fingers in his.

“You can...You can call me Steve,” he says as they walk over to join the others swaying dreamily. “If you want.”

“Hmm. I well might.” She places a hand on his shoulder. He knows he’s meant to wrap his arm around her waist - he’s watched enough dancing for that - but it takes him a moment to decide exactly where to slide his hand, a moment to gauge the correct angle and force, a moment to actually begin what he came here tonight to do...and in that moment, there’s a familiar whistle followed by the inevitable shout.

“Alright, break it up, there.” The police sergeant here looks nearly the same as his Brooklyn counterparts with whom Steve is familiar: not just the uniform, really, but that bit of smug power to his face. “We’ve had a call from the church about noise coming from in here far too late at night, so break it up, ladies—oh, sorry, didn’t see you there, sir.” There’s a bit of a mocking edge to the tone; Steve is wearing civilian clothes instead of the getup he’s usually forced into onstage, but these days a seemingly able-bodied man still hanging around is something to comment on, especially one who doesn’t seem to be doing much good.

Steve would stand up to him (probably more easily now that they can actually stand nose to nose) but the part about them being here when they aren’t meant to be isn’t wrong. Still, he can’t help but feel the sting of disappointment. Agent Carter is still planted firm and warm beside him. What if things had been allowed to continue, at least a few moments longer?

“Alright, we’re going, keep your socks on,” Erin yells back as Agnes takes the needle off the record. Susan runs it back to the office it came from while the rest of them scramble around, finding shoes and jackets and hair ribbons. The officer seems content to keep an eye until they’re all safely gone.

Steve stands on the side with Peggy. Her uniform is still perfectly put together; there’s nothing for her to gather. The two of them don’t speak until the whole group is ready to go. They allow themselves to be swept out of the building, watching as the cop locks up the theater and stands in front of the doors as if they might try something with him. Instead, they all turn and begin walking in the crisp midnight air.

Steve puts his hands in his pockets. The others around them are walking arm in arm or twirling gently through the streets, taking one night where they aren’t worried about whether the touring company will decide to close up shop or if they’ll hear something terrible from their brothers and beaux overseas. They hum their way along, still lit up from an evening of dancing not for work but only for themselves, and it gives sanctuary for Steve to speak. He doesn’t quite look up at the woman walking next to him, more over to the side of her, when he offers, “We’re on to Ohio next. If you want to see the show there.”

She laughs gently. “I’m afraid that my engagement here isn’t much longer either. I’m expected elsewhere tomorrow evening.”

“Of course.” That’s honest - he isn’t surprised, of course she has bigger, better things to be doing. He does his best not to sound disappointed, though. Then he remembers that he fumbled two of his lines in yesterday’s matinee (when they’re written right there in front of him, for Pete’s sake) and - despite the best efforts of his teachers and his own improvements - nearly pulled the curtain down early when he overbalanced coming in on his cue, and is a bit glad that she won’t be sticking around.

The streetlight where she’s stopped throws her face partway into shadow. “I do have to thank you for the opportunity to dance. It’s been quite a long time for me, and even if it was interrupted, it was—Thank you, Steve.”

“Of course,” he says again, and that’s honest too.

“Next time, I do hope that there won’t be any members of law enforcement to interrupt,” she says, and disappears around a corner before he can ask, with hope or astonishment or both, “Next time?”

ii.

They’ve moved most of the paintings from the National Gallery, but Steve doesn’t know when he’ll have another free day in London so he goes to see what he can see.

When he’d manage to scrape together entry fare (or sneak in) to one of the museums in New York, he’d always get disapproving stares from docents and other visitors for his fraying clothing and aching cough, the generally held knowledge that he did not belong here. And he would manage to put it out of his mind by focusing on the vivid detail on a Japanese drum or how Monet made blurriness into beauty.

Today, people stare at him for a different reason and he ignores them all the same, eyes focused forward to the canvases displayed. So much of it is about the war, ruined buildings and bomb shelters, and Steve concentrates on the brush strokes or crosshatching instead, the clever use of shadow.

He has managed this so successfully that he doesn’t even notice the line forming nearby until it is a dozen or so people deep. When he asks one of them what they’re waiting for, they look at him not with pity for his not knowing but with delight that he will now learn: “It is nearly time for today’s concert.”

Luckily, he has British coins in his pocket, so he pays his shilling and walks in with the rest. The program advertises some Chopin piece. He doesn’t recognize what it is or the player - according to the others around him, Dame Myra Hess, who began organizing these lunchtime concerts at the outset of the war, has herself played here over one hundred times but not today - and he’s never considered himself a musical expert of any means. But he finds that he is drawn in by the tired ripple of excitement that hovers over the crowd as they file in.

And then Peggy Carter seats herself at the end of his row.

He tries to focus on the playing as the concert itself begins, on the slow, spare beginning and all its promises, but he can’t keep himself from glancing toward the last seat on the row.

Ten minutes in, she starts to cry.

Since he arrived, he’s seen other Londoners shedding occasional tears on the buses and street corners (and no wonder, with their city destroyed, so many loved ones dead and the country still soldiering wearily on) and he doubts anyone would judge her for it. But she stands from her aisle seat and sees herself out anyway, quietly, her tears silent and even the click of her heels barely audible over the music

He follows her. (It is much more noticeable.)

Outside, she is leaning against a wall, her hands covering her face. He waits for a moment before actually approaching: though he followed her, had to follow her, he isn’t sure whether she will be exasperated that he has done so, embarrassed that she was even seen by anyone more than strangers. But he can’t just stay frozen watching her forever (surely that must be worse?) so he takes a step forward.

“Agent Carter,” he says softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

She sobs aloud, once, uncovering her face to wipe at her tears with her fingertips. It’s a bit beyond that. He digs around in his pocket to find a thankfully clean handkerchief (you were right, Ma). She accepts it and dabs at her eyes again, glancing up at him only briefly.

“If you’re going to see me in this state,” she says, “you should probably call me Peggy.” She takes in one last decisive sniff, crumpling the handkerchief in her hand.

“Peggy, then.” He tries to say it like any other name instead of with the softness that is his instinct. “Can I help?”

“It isn’t anything—” She smiles but it breaks in a moment. “It isn’t anything that can really be helped.” A sigh. She looks down at her hands. “I had a brother. His name was Michael.”

“I’m sorry,” says Steve, because he doesn’t know what else to tell her. “I’m sorry that you lost him.”

I understand, he could add, or I know it’s hard, it always is but he thinks about whether he would have liked to hear someone say such things to him, and he keeps his mouth shut. She looks at him with care, and he can’t help but admire the way she can evaluate him even through the remains of her tears.

Apparently she makes a decision, because she says, “It happened several years ago now. And it isn’t any sort of anniversary, I was just listening to the piano and...He played. Michael did. Just a bit, when he was young. And he never played that particular piece, but just listening to it, I had the most sudden memory of his picking out carols on our aunt Hester’s piano, making faces at me all the time. Now I know that he was mostly mucking about with it all - he certainly never could have pulled off Chopin - but back then he was the most talented player in the world. I was always following him about and for years he acted as older brothers tend to toward younger sisters. But when it counted, I was able to depend on him. There was a time when he saw me clearly when no one else did, myself included.”

“And now he’s gone.” Steve tries to say it gently, a fact laid before them, but he knows she might hear the words as cruel, regardless of his intentions.

She does, in fact, begin crying again, but more quietly. “Now he’s gone,” she agrees, once again attempting to mop up her tears. “But I know myself again, and I have him to thank for it.”

“Then I’d like to thank him too.”

She regards him with something bordering on caution, not because she is a fearful person but because she is a sharp one and because she recognizes, as clearly as he does, that whatever tender thing is growing unspoken in the silence between them, it will be ill-regarded in the middle of war, in the middle of the work they are meant to be doing together.

“Is he bothering you, dear?” The woman’s voice - pointed and piercing - startles him. He turns to find a glaring, gray-haired lady behind his shoulder. Her stout form is wrapped in a plum wool suit and she grasps a black umbrella with which it seems she would happily stab him. Instead, when he brings his eyes to meet hers, she asks, “Are you bothering her, young man?” drawing herself up as much as she can and glaring imperiously.

“No, ma’am,” he manages. “We were just—” He flounders there: talking about her dead brother, or having another one of these moments that we try to pretend away won’t work very well.

“Going to dance,” Peggy inserts smartly.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes.” Peggy speaks as if this is the most natural response in the world, as if she isn’t even now tucking a damp handkerchief into her pocket. “Captain Rogers saw how lovely I found the music, and as we aren’t able to see the concert ourselves, he wondered if we might take advantage another way.”

“Really.” The woman watches Steve suspiciously, as if he might be controlling Peggy through marionette strings or a gun pressed to her back. If only you knew, he thinks wryly as Peggy brushes her hair behind her ear and subtly elbows him in the process.

“May I?” he says in hasty reaction, holding out a hand. She puts hers into it graciously.

“I do wish the piece were a bit better for dancing,” Peggy says as they step away to a free space farther from the wall, though they are still being observed. More quietly she adds, “And I do wish we’d perhaps had time at least to practice before we were put under the microscope, as it were.”

He certainly wishes for that practice too, or even that they didn’t have to be in this situation at all. But there is also...if he’s going to be forced to dance, he would like it to be with Peggy.

And then with a few last flourishes, the music draws to a close. There are applause from within the hall. Steve doesn’t quite let go of Peggy’s hand.

“Well,” says their overseer, giving a couple firm taps of her umbrella against the floor, “it seems that you will have to return for tomorrow’s concert. Or perhaps find a more appropriate venue for dancing than a national museum.”

Peggy says magisterially, “Of course. Thank you for that advice. For next time.”

Next time. Steve knows that she’s just making the next move in the charade, but as she gestures for Steve to join her for the walk back to headquarters, the words play over in his head: next time.

iii.

“Non!”

This is why, Steve reflects, shaking his head, they had not allowed Dernier to have a baton to use while directing his lessons: he would have certainly used it to literally smack Dugan into shape by now.

“Never mind about all this,” Dugan growls, picking up the hat that had fallen on the ground when he had been too ambitious with a turn in his last attempt. “The ladies will just have to accept that not every man can waltz and satisfy themselves with all my other talents.”

Morita holds out his hands again, palms up. “Come on, you haven’t even really tried.” He wiggles his fingers enticingly. “Dance with me, Dugan.”

“I’d do it,” advises Gabe. “No lady should have to...satisfy herself with a badly brewed cup of coffee or the same six Irish songs performed off-key. Good to have at least one usable skill in the pocket.”

“I’ll have you know,” Dugan says, drawing himself up, “that those are ancient family ballads.”

“I’d have brought up a few positive reviews of past performance rather than defending the Irish songs,” Monty says mildly. “But that could perhaps be just me.”

Bucky, chewing on a blade of grass, eyes closed as he lies on his back facing the sky, says with drowsy vehemence, “Well, you are an English bastard.”

Steve, sitting with his back against a tree, laughs at them all. They’ll be moving out soon - they know that there are enemy troops in the area and Peggy had arrived just after dawn with more precise new target coordinates for them - but they can’t go until she’s had at least a couple of hours rest, so in the meantime: dance lessons.

Morita attempts a bit of a tap pattern in the grass and says, “How’m I going to learn now if my partner’s decided to retire?”

“Don’t look at me,” says Gabe. “My dancing talents would only embarrass you in comparison.”

“And while Jones here might take the prize in more modern dances, I was taught to waltz before I could grow chin hairs,” Monty adds.

But Dernier is already charging forward in a spew of delighted rapid-fire French, of which Steve understands perhaps one word in ten, though there’s only one that’s important anyway: “Capitaine!”

“I don’t—” Steve starts, except Dernier’s already hauling Steve to his feet, continuing his flurry of instructions? advice? as he positions Steve’s hands around Morita. Bucky must actually have truly nodded off after his night on watch, or else his radar for teasing Steve would be on alert. (Steve can't help but be grateful, both that he isn't watching, and that he's apparently finally been able to sleep.)

“Well,” Jim says, snickering, “I guess you’re leading.” Steve shakes his head, trying to puzzle out any of what Dernier’s telling him; if he’s going to do this, he doesn’t want to look like a complete fool.

“He says that you should loosen up your hips. You’re holding yourself too stiffly.”

Steve wants to cover his eyes. He’s managed to have several months of entirely normal conversations with Peggy, and now he’s back to embarrassing himself in front of her.

He looks over to where she’s standing to the side, her uniform and hair only slightly mussed (an accomplishment considering she’s had three hours’ rest on the bare ground, and a pup tent isn’t exactly anyone’s idea of luxurious accommodations). “I guess we might be making a habit of this,” he says ruefully and she smiles at him. “And somehow I still haven’t turned into a dancer.”

“Listen to Dernier and perhaps he’ll succeed with you yet.”

“Maybe,” Morita says, teasingly dubious. “So far, no offense, Cap, it’s like holding hands with a concrete pillar.”

“Perhaps I could take a turn trying,” she says, holding out her own hands in offer. She meets Steve’s eyes, but only briefly, turning her gaze over to Monty and saying archly, “Some of us who were taught early are generous enough to want to help others.”

Falsworth waves a hand toward her - go on - and she steps forward to take Morita’s place.

“You really do need to relax a bit,” she says. Even if it's the same sentiment as earlier, now that she’s close to him, it is different. One of her hands rests, ever so lightly, on his shoulder, and he feels as if he can recall the echo of it from months ago and months before that.

“It’s a little hard,” he says. “To relax.”

“Oh?” Those red lips, upturned at the very corners.

“Well, it’s—”

“Shit!”

In the moment of the first gunshot, a million things happen at once: Dugan dives to the side, cursing alternately at the hole in his hat and the fact that they’re being shot at in the first place; Bucky wakes and jumps immediately into a crouch, icy calm instead of frantic; Monty scrambles for his rifle, Morita for Steve’s shield; Gabe scopes out cover; Dernier, bent low, moves toward his explosives.

“Over there,” Peggy says. Her hands are out of Steve’s, pointing, finding her own pistol. He is beside her, focusing on the spot she’s indicated, nodding firmly once.

“Guess we’ll have to write off the lessons,” he says.

“Perhaps,” she offers, “just a postponement.”

“Alright,” Steve says to his own surprise, and he catches the shield Morita tosses him, and puts dancing out of his mind, for now.

iv.

Steve really only shows up at Rainbow Corner looking for a haircut and, if he’s being honest, a doughnut. He gets the first and is headed to the basement cafe for the second, an ASE novel in his pocket, when a hand shoots out of the dance hall and pulls him in.

“Dance with me,” Peggy says, a hiss that he somehow hears over the booming music, the rhythmic stomping of feet, the chatter of the other dancers .

He takes her hands automatically, but before moving further onto the floor he focuses on her face. She’s flushed and looks...perhaps not panicked, but aggravated.

“Can I get you something to drink first?” he asks. “It’s hot in here.”

Something flashes across her face and he thinks for a moment that she will snap a no at him and find someone else who will just dance with her like she asked with no questions asked, but instead she nods. “Only briefly.”

He starts leading her over to the corner where the bar is. It’s slow going through the crowd, and he stays close so they don’t lose each other. She isn’t wearing her uniform tonight, instead in a green dress with a swinging, silky skirt for dancing; the fabric brushes his legs as they walk. “Am I allowed to ask what you’re doing here? Or at least why it was so important that we finally have that dance?”

“Two questions with one answer, actually.” They join the back of the line. Peggy turns her back to the bar, scanning the dancers instead. He bends toward her, both for privacy and so he can even hear her over the band. “We’ve received reports of a GI who might be a spy," she says against his ear, "reporting to the Germans and perhaps even to Schmidt himself. According to our information, he’s come here tonight, and I’ve been trying for the better part of an hour to spot him and cut into his dancing. I’d like to apprehend him quietly before anyone tips him off or he’s able to do the same for anyone he might be in touch with.”

Steve nods. “And you stick out less when you actually have someone to dance with.”

“I haven’t had much luck thus far, trying to crane my neck around everyone without seeming too suspicious. It is helpful to find a partner who won’t storm off when he doesn’t receive my undivided attention.”

For a moment he wonders if he should be insulted, but then he hears the real sentiment, the trust in him, something more than a partner for a single dance would ever get. He ducks his head against a smile.

They have reached the front of the line and she orders a mineral water despite the lengthy menu.

“I’m absolutely longing for something with a little more flavor, but I am still working after all,” she says once she has drained half her glass. “Though it was kind of you to remind me to refresh myself a little, considering how beastly hot it is in here.”

“Why I don’t usually find myself in this part of the building,” he nods.

“Is that the only reason?” She tilts her head. In the dimmed lights, he watches a tiny trickle of sweat makes its way down to her collarbone.

He clears his throat as she takes another sip of water. “The kind of partner that I’m looking for isn’t usually around here.”

“Oh? I see a variety of lovely ladies here tonight, and I’m sure that any number of them would be interested in dancing with you.” She gestures around, drawing his eye for just a moment to all of the beautiful women in their careful hairstyles and pretty dresses, their smiles bright and delighted. Then he turns back to her.

“I think I need a particular teacher,” he says. “You’d know that better than most.”

But she hasn’t turned back to face him, caught instead with her eyes gleaming predatorily on a man laughing as he twirls a tall brunette into the song’s finale. Steve thinks he might recognize him from the hallways of SSR headquarters, but really he looks as if he could be one of a thousand soldiers.

Peggy turns quickly to Steve. “I apologize for dragging you in here and leaving you standing, but—”

“Go. Do what you do.”

She leaves him with a fleeting smile and her empty glass. He watches as she cuts in with a neat gesture, a nod, a flourish of skirts, then sets the glass onto the bar and, sliding his hands into his pockets, goes to finally track down his doughnut.

She’ll be busy for the rest of the night, no need for him to hang around bothering her. And they’ll have other opportunities to actually get that dance, he’s sure of it.

Peggy can so clearly picture how it would all have gone. There would have been preparation first, powder and cream, holding dress options up before herself in the mirror to choose between the red or the blue, no, perhaps the green, and then landing back on the red. Tracing her lipstick on last, just before she went out the door, sliding the tube into her clutch for touch-ups, just in case.

She would likely have arrived before he did. Imagine the debrief he would have had to go through - it would be a wonder if he had a chance for a shower and shave. But somehow he would have made time, his hair still a little damp, the scent of soap on his skin. He would arrive wearing his dress uniform, and it would have made her realize that he hadn’t been home since the serum and likely didn’t own much else that would fit his changed form. She might have even had the urge to offer her services in a shopping expedition (the uniform fit him quite well indeed, but couldn’t be worn at all times, and certainly not once the war was truly over).

He would have taken her hand with care, and she would have held fast to him. It would have been new, the two of them touching like that without worry of being seen or commented upon, no one teasing around them, and there hadn’t been years of official courtship to accustom them to it besides. But that time had instead been for them to learn each other, time for things to flower quietly between them, and it would have given some familiarity. She wouldn’t have felt apprehensive about allowing herself that flashing vulnerability.

Supper first, most likely. They both enjoyed good food - he especially - and the military didn’t quite match up to a professional kitchen, but the meal itself wouldn’t have been of real importance. This would have instead been a chance for sharing stories without the threat of gunfire or Colonel Phillips interrupting, for finding new shades in her hair revealed by the candlelight, for learning what his laughter sounded like pitched soft and close above a white tablecloth.

One of them would suggest dessert, but the other would say to wait. The band would be playing something slow, and he would nod toward the dance floor. (“Sounds like our song,” he would say, or maybe, “I’ll try not to step on your toes,” or maybe nothing at all.)

They would stand among the other couples, and it probably wouldn’t be dancing as much as swaying, but that wouldn’t matter. Fancy maneuvers or fast footwork, showing off, that wouldn’t be the point at all. The dancing itself wasn’t what was important; it was about the chance for renewal and discovery, a moment to reflect on all the pain and lessons on the path here and the possibilities for the future, a time to ask all the questions and have them answered yes and yes and yes, always yes.

But no matter how clearly she can picture it, none of that happened, hadn’t and can’t and won’t. And so Peggy sighs and straightens her shoulders and walks herself onward.

It’s not every night, or even every other. They are busy people, she especially, and don’t always have the time or the energy. Sometimes they have had an argument, or one of them wants to finish a book, or it's been a long day, or they aren’t quite in the mood. Those are all gifts too, in their way, the opportunity not to have to grasp every moment, to have a life sprawling out before them, to appreciate even the mundane bits of it all.

But once a week, or maybe more, they find themselves like this. In the sitting room just after she’s come home from work, or after supper, or before bed, on a Saturday morning in the kitchen surrounded by the scene of bacon and pancakes from the stove, in the midnight dark of their bedroom with the baby cradled whimpering between them. The radio, or a record, or no music at all. The specifics don’t matter and matter so entirely that they will be remembered for the rest of their lives.

Palm against palm, fingers interlocked, an easy rhythm to their steps.

“I should probably go take in the laundry. I think it’s dry enough, and it might rain tonight,” he says, and she replies, “Hmm,” but neither of them break apart.

“We have a surveillance team in the field and I should check in soon,” she remarks, knowing that he recognizes and respects the importance of her work, but they just continue to make their slow rotations.

They take these moments just for themselves, a reminder of where they’ve been and what they’ve lost, where they are and all they’ve managed to find. A moment to think of the dances that they didn’t quite get, the ones that brought them here, and to be grateful for the ones they have: this dance and all the others, a lifetime of the two of them wrapped up in each other, dancing all the while.

#Steggy fic #steggysecretsanta #plumandfinch #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Steggy #I tried to infuse it with WWII specific stuff - historical notes on AO3 #open-ended last segment - is it post-Endgame? is it found Steve? you decide

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emerald-studies · 4 years

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The charming Harry Belafonte

Who Is Harry Belafonte?

Harry Belafonte struggled with poverty and turbulent family life as a child. His professional career took off with the musical Carmen Jones, and soon he was burning up the charts with hits like "The Banana Boat Song (Day-O)" and "Jump in the Line." Belafonte has also championed many social and political causes, and earned such prestigious accolades as the National Medal of Arts.

Early Life

Harold George Belafonte Jr. was born on March 1, 1927, in New York City, to Caribbean immigrants. His mother worked as a dressmaker and a house cleaner, and his father served as a cook on merchant ships, before leaving the family when Belafonte was a young boy.

Belafonte also spent much of his early years in Jamaica, his mother's native country. There, he saw firsthand the oppression of blacks by the English authorities, which left a lasting impression on him.

Belafonte returned to New York City's Harlem neighborhood in 1940 to live with his mother. They struggled in poverty, and Belafonte was often cared for by others while his mother worked. "The most difficult time in my life was when I was a kid," he later told People magazine. "My mother gave me affection, but, because I was left on my own, also a lot of anguish."

Early Career

Dropping out of high school, Belafonte enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1944. He returned to New York City after his discharge and was working as a janitor's assistant when he first attended a production at the American Negro Theater (AMT). Mesmerized by the performance, the young Navy vet volunteered to work for the AMT as a stagehand, eventually deciding to become an actor.

Belafonte studied drama at the Dramatic Workshop run by Erwin Piscator, where his classmates included Marlon Brando, Walter Matthau and Bea Arthur. Along with appearing in AMT productions, he caught the eye of music agent Monte Kay, who offered Belafonte the opportunity to perform at a jazz club called the Royal Roost. Backed by such talented musicians as Charlie Parker and Miles Davis, Belafonte became a popular act at the club. In 1949 he landed his first recording deal.

By the early 1950s, Belafonte had dropped popular music from his repertoire in favor of folk. He became an avid student of traditional folk songs from around the world and performed in such New York City clubs as the Village Vanguard.

Movies

During this time, Belafonte was finding success as an actor: Debuting on Broadway in 1953, he won a Tony Award the following year for his work in John Murray Anderson's Almanac, in which he performed several of his own songs. Belafonte also appeared in another well-received musical revue, 3 for Tonight, in 1955.

Around this time, Belafonte launched his film career. He played a school principal opposite Dorothy Dandridge in his first movie, Bright Road (1953). The pair reunited the following year for Otto Preminger's Carmen Jones, a film adaptation of the Broadway musical (itself an adaptation of the Georges Bizet opera Carmen), with Belafonte starring as Joe alongside the Oscar-nominated Dandridge.

Belafonte enjoyed some success through his collaborations with longtime friend Sidney Poitier, including 1972's Buck and the Preacher and 1974's Uptown Saturday Night. He also made numerous television appearances in the 1970s and 1980s, including a guest spot on The Muppet Show, on which he sang some of his most popular songs. Belafonte also worked with Marlo Thomas on the 1974 children's special Free To Be... You and Me.

Belafonte returned to the big screen in the 1990s, first playing himself in the Hollywood-insider flick The Player (1992). White Man's Burden (1995), which co-starred John Travolta, was a commercial and critical disappointment, but Belafonte fared better in Robert Altman's Kansas City (1996), playing against type as a heartless gangster. He later starred in the 1999 political drama Swing Vote, and appeared in 2006's Bobby, about the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.

Music

The success of Carmen Jones in 1954 made Belafonte a star, and soon he became a music sensation. With RCA Victor Records, he released Calypso (1956), an album featuring his take on traditional Caribbean folk music. "The Banana Boat Song (Day-O)" proved to be a huge hit. More than just a popular tune, it also held special meaning for Belafonte: "That song is a way of life," Belafonte later told The New York Times. "It's a song about my father, my mother, my uncles, the men and women who toil in the banana fields, the cane fields of Jamaica."

Introducing America to a new genre of music, Calypso became the first full-length album to sell 1 million copies, and led to Belafonte being nicknamed the "King of Calypso." The singer also worked with other folk artists, including Bob Dylan and Odetta, with whom he recorded a version of the traditional children's song "There's a Hole in My Bucket." In 1961, Belafonte had another big hit with "Jump in the Line."

Belafonte was the first African American to win an Emmy, for Revlon Revue: Tonight with Belafonte (1959), and the first African American television producer. In 1970, he teamed up with singer Lena Horne for a one-hour TV special that showcased their talents. Belafonte continued to release albums into the 1970s, though his output slowed by the middle of the decade.

Social and Political Activism

Always outspoken, Belafonte found inspiration for his activism from such figures as singer Paul Robeson and writer and activist W.E.B. Du Bois. After meeting civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. in the 1950s, the two became good friends, and Belafonte emerged as a strong voice for the movement. He provided financial backing for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and participated in numerous rallies and protests. Belafonte helped organize the 1963 March on Washington, in which King delivered his famous "I Have a Dream" speech and met with the civil rights leader shortly before he was assassinated in 1968.

During the mid-1960s, Belafonte also began supporting new African artists. He first met exiled South African artist Miriam Makeba, known as “Mama Africa,” in London in 1958, and together they won a Grammy for Best Folk Recording for their 1965 album, An Evening with Belafonte/Makeba. He helped introduce her to international audiences and called attention to life under apartheid in South Africa.

In the 1980s, Belafonte led an effort to help people in Africa. He came up with the idea of recording a song with other celebrities, which would be sold to raise funds to provide famine relief in Ethiopia. Written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, "We Are the World" featured vocals by such music greats as Ray Charles, Diana Ross and Bruce Springsteen. The song was released in 1985, raising millions of dollars and becoming an international hit.

Over the years, Belafonte has supported many other causes as well. In addition to his role as a goodwill ambassador for UNICEF, he has campaigned to end the practice of apartheid in South Africa and has spoken out against U.S. military actions in Iraq.

Belafonte has sometimes landed in hot water for his candidly expressed opinions. In 2006 he made headlines when he referred to President George W. Bush as "the greatest terrorist in the world" for launching the war in Iraq. He also insulted two prominent African American members of the Bush administration, General Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice, referring to them as "house slaves." Despite media pressure, he steadfastly refused to apologize for his remarks. In regards to Powell and Rice, Belafonte said they were "serving those who continue to design our oppression."

Awards

Belafonte has achieved some of the highest honors possible over more than a half-century in the public eye. He was a recipient of Kennedy Center Honors in 1989, the National Medal of Arts in 1994 and a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2000. Additionally, in 2014 he received the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award at the Governors Awards.

Personal Life

Belafonte lives in New York City with his third wife, photographer Pamela Frank. The couple wed in 2008. Belafonte had two children with second wife, dancer Julie Robinson, as well as two other children from his first marriage, to Marguerite Byrd. (source)

#harry belafonte #blm #black activists #black artists

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royalreef · 4 years

Text

@sacred-songbird || Closed starter

The slow creak of hinges more than a few days past needing to be greased would’ve been innocent, in any other situation. After all, it was the lunch hour, and no one was supposed to be in the auditorium. Even Martin was on his given lunch break, meaning it was largely empty, and even if someone was there, they would have no reason to be in the backstage storage area. Sure, maybe someone had lost something, or they too had to find some lost supply in the mess or drop off some extra costumes, but that was on an off-occasion.

The smell of blood and gore wasn’t supposed to roll out from that open door like a suffocating wave, and there wasn’t supposed to be the creaking and splintering of wood beneath some animal. There wasn’t supposed to be a sharp, chittering hiss like the rattle of dry bones, and there most certainly wasn’t supposed to be a twisting, serpentine motion in that darkness beyond.

By no account was the backstage storage a small room. It was large enough to house multiple sets and all the props and costumes that could ever be required for a year of plays, miscellaneous technical items that helped the stagehands run the whole thing, and more than enough room to navigate between.

But as the light from the doorway illuminated the creature, showing vast expanses of slick skin, a red so dark and deep that it might as well be a sister to the void, membranous wings that folded up like crinkled rose petals, sinuous muscle pulling that body along - it seemed almost too big for the room. Its back bent, hanging low to the ground, leaving it longer than it was tall, but even then it towered above Eden, hunched spine bringing its face just above his own head. Flowerpetal nose twitched - short feelers ringed around it, like a mole, smelling him there, feeling his heat, feeling the electric pulse of his nerves. Below it, almost-draconian feet shuffled, perched atop a crushed trunk, claws digging into a golden-yellow princess costume, pinned over the shrapnel and hem dipped in blood, and curling chiropteran wings scratched across the floor, knocking aside a phone in a glittering case.

And finally, with a wave of the cloying stench of a body torn apart, Eden could see the source of the smell - a piscine guard, eyes gone empty, with a thick, writhing tongue impaled through their middle, sliding through the bag of shattered bones and torn flesh that was their corpse.

The creature watched him -- not with eyes, for there was none on that hagfish-like face, skin stretched smooth over the skull -- as he stood in that halo of light, ringed around golden wings. A warning hiss rattled again, out of spiracles along that serpentine neck with her mouth busy with her extended tongue, and she stepped back, bringing the caught prey closer.

Thievery would not be tolerated, but she was not so foolish as to abandon her already-obtained meal for the sake of another. She wanted to be fed, not killed, and already this another felt... familiar. His smell felt like she knew it, the heat of his body in the shape of someone that she was close to.

But all the same... The creature that had become of Miranda wasn’t about to take any chances.

#Glory and Gore || IC #sacred songbird #My red string of fate is a noose || Eden x Miranda ( sacred songbird )#No search party came so my nails grew and sharpened || Vampire Verse #blood #gore #body horror #horror #death #violence #long post

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amrmies78 · 4 years

Text

Never in my Wildest Dreams

Pairing: Taehyung x female reader

Genre: he’s famous, you’re a regular girl, chance meeting, cute interest, right place right time, surprise, tour, road crew, unexpected love, backstage, job loss, new opportunities

Warnings: Not much to warn against! Possibly a kissing scene, but haven’t written it in yet

Parts so far: 3

Synopsis: Life has dragged along until this moment. You finally have your dream job working backstage for a big time stadium! The day has finally come to begin your dream career and you’re over the moon. But. What happens when you loose your cool on the first day of work when you find out your favorite K-Pop band is performing? Sadly, not all dreams last. But remember, when one door closes another opens. And it may bring love along with it.

**While I’ve read fanfic before, this is my first time writing one myself! This idea has been playing around in my head for a while and I finally sat down to put it together. Hope it’s enjoyable 😊

Never in my Wildest Dreams Part 1:

**tick..tock..tick..took..tick..tock**

You glance at the clock for the millionth time only to realize that a meager minute has passed by. It’s been a slow day, as most are, in Martin & Martini- the small and rustic coffee shop along Mainstreet that employs you. While your coworkers are kind and the pay is steady, it’s not what wakes you up in the morning excited for a new day. But it does pay the bills and keep you off the street, so it’s serving it’s purpose for the time being.

Today is the first day of a new job. After years of volunteering backstage for non profit theaters and struggling to make ends meet, you’ve finally found a spot as a stagehand at a major stadium in downtown Dallas. The past few weeks have only made you more excited as you completed basic lighting, rigging, and stage setup training. Now you’re on the schedule as a regular employee and even get to help with pre-show checks!

The excitement is palpable to your roomate Jaclyn as you rush into your two bedroom apartment to get ready for your shift.

“Hey y/n! How’s it goi-“

“Hey Jaclyn!! Sorry, in a rush! It’s my first day at the stadium and I want to be extra early!”

“Awh, you’re going to love it so much and do so well.” She encourages as she follows you to your bedroom.

“I hope so J! I’m nervous but so excited! This is all I could have imagined.” You respond to her. The weight of your words make you stop for a second and think. This is truly all you’ve ever wanted. You can’t believe you finally made it.

“So whose performing tonight, anyway?” J says, bringing you back to the present moment.

“Oh, I haven’t even looked! It must be a major concert since most of the staff is scheduled. Probably a rock concert, I’ve heard those are really common at the stadium.”

You reflect for a split second on not knowing who is performing. ‘Find out who it is next time y/n. A good employee would know that.’ You whisper in your head, tough on yourself as ever. This isn’t a job that you can let slip through the cracks.

J leaves you with one last congrats and word of encouragement before letting you finish getting ready. You change into the black crew shirt and your favorite skinny jeans. Finishing off the look with converse and some perfume, you head into the kitchen for a quick snack. One glance at the clock says you need to be on the road ASAP if you want to get there early. Opting for a granola bar and a bag of grapes, you yell “bye!” to J before zooming out the door.

The drive to the stadium takes less time than you expected because your foot is slammed on the gas. You head inside early, take a quick stop at the bathroom, and then clock in at 5pm as instructed in orientation. By 5:15 you’ve met with the stage manager and found out your tasks for the night. You’ll be helping with instrument setup and chord rigging for the majority of the evening. Although it’s not the funnest thing to do backstage, it is a great opportunity to learn.

You head up to stage level to get started on your part of stage setup. You find some chords that need to be tapped down and get to work on those, making a mental list of different things to check after finishing with the tapping.

You stick your last piece down to the floor when you hear someone holler “hey, you!” in a slightly Korean accent.

“Um, hi?” You reply to the man staring your way. “Can I help you find something?”

“I need some help with the microphones!” He explains while gesturing for you to follow.

“Ahh, okay. I can definitely help with that.” You reply, relieved that you aren’t in trouble. You follow the man deeper into back stage where the band is supposed to be warming up. You’re a little nervous being back here, it feels like this might be a higher ups job. But you push the feeling away and trust your skills with mic setup. ‘You know how to do this, it’s fine.’ you repeat in your head, trying to calm yourself.

Too bad that calm is the last thing you feel when you realize the situation you’ve put yourself in.

The man stops you in front of seven very familiar looking boys. They are all turned your way but pay no attention to your arrival. They instead are pulling their earpieces in weird twists trying to position them correctly. You know you need to move forward to help but can’t convince yourself to do so. You know these boys. You’ve listened to their top hit song DNA millions of times. You saw them when the were on Ellen and then with James Gordon in carpool karaoke. You downloaded V-Live for crying out loud just to watch their chats.

This is BTS.

End of Part 1

Part 2:

“Um, hi, are you here to help?” the boy on the right asks you kindly, disrupting your thoughts. ‘That’s RM. Wow, he’s very tall’ you think to yourself.

“Um.... I think so” You reply dazed

One of the boys on the left chuckles and says in his best English “Well, can do me first?” You’re eyes flash to him and see a mess of chord around his neck.

“Yes, yes I can.” You reply, not completely sure if you’re up for the challenge but walking forward anyway. ‘This is V’ you think to yourself. You like V a lot. His fun and sweet personality from videos you’d watched was always attractive to you. He was easily your favorite member. That didn’t make the current situation any easier.

You approached V, keeping your eyes pinned on the mess of chord around his neck. You could do this, just remain calm and stay focused. You weren’t sure how to instruct him considering the language barrier, but luckily, it seemed all the boys had improved on their English speaking and V could generally hold the conversation with you. He explained that the chord was snagged on the back of his shirt and got strained when he tried to take it off. You walked around to his back and untangled the chord from the tag where it was caught. You then walked around and detached the mic from the cable to loosen it easier. He gave you a funny but exasperated face that read ‘was it really that easy!’ And you couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

“I’m happy to help, don’t worry” you breathed in the midst of laughter. You lifted your face to his and immediately stopped breathing. He is staring intently into your eyes with the slightest lift of the left corner of his lip upward revealing a shy smile. The moment must have passed within a few seconds but seemed much longer. It was broken with the approach of the youngest member, JK, who also was is desperate need of detangling. You went from him to Jin, then to JM, and finally RM. Suga and J-Hope hadn’t ended up in the same catastrophes as the other members so you passed over them with just a smile. You looked back over everyone once finished to make sure all connections were perfect. Everyone gave you a thumbs up and a quick “thank you” before scurrying off to the stage for sound check. V was the last to leave the room and took a moment to glance back at you with a small smile playing on his face. You smiled back and lifted a hand to wave before he shifted attention back to his work.

As soon as he was out of sight, you took a deep breath and pulled yourself back together. ‘Work y/n, it’s time to work. Process later.’ You said sternly in your head. You had a whole checklist of things to finish before showtime. So you went on to side stage to complete your tasks. The image of V was playing in your mind but you tried your best to push it back so you could stay focused. After checking lighting, making sure sound board connections were secure, and searching all the rooms for the stage managers clipboard, it was time for the show to start. This was the easy part of the night. You were assigned to side stage for technical difficulties and assisting the sound board. You got comfortable in your chair parked next to the sound director and fixed your eyes on the small stage opening in your view. You weren’t in main sound panel located in the crowd, so this view of the show would have to do.

Within 30 minutes the show was on countdown to start. The stage lift finally reached the top and a pop of fireworks announced the opening song. You couldn’t place which boy was which from your line of sight, but you were enjoying yourself none the less. The first half of the show passed quickly and without problems. Other than helping sound with a replacement mic, you were soaking in the greatness of your new job from your chair.

The second half of the show begins and you settle in for another 2 hours of music and fun. You’re just about to ask for a restroom break when you hear screaming abrupt from the crowd. This sound is different from the constant shouts of joy you’ve heard up until this point. You jump out of your seat and walk to the stage curtain to get a better view. All you can see is a huddle formed in center stage consisting of BTS members and stage crew. The crew members are struggling with something in the center of the circle, but it’s out of your line of vision.

A few moments pass when the crew finally has a strong grip on the item in the center. Finally You get a clear image on what the staff is carrying. It’s not an item, but one of the boys. The others rush off stage with him and you catch the reflection of V’s hat in the group. You breath a sigh of relief you didn’t realize was building, but still feel worry for the member who was carried off. The show is put on hold and tour called back to your seat at the sound board so you’re not in the way. 20 minutes of worrying and stress pass when finally the boys walk back on stage. One boy is missing but you can’t put my finger on who. RM steps up, mic in hand, and takes a deep breath. He then explains says to the crowd

“Thank you for being patient, Army! We love you all and appreciate your patience. Sadly, our sweet Jim had a small accident on stage and it looks like he may have sprained an ankle. He is being checked by doctors now and will hopefully join us back on stage later. We are going to continue the show now and appreciate your understanding.”

He finished off with a heart and kiss to the audience then signals all the other boys to get in formation for the next song. You’re immediately at the soundboard waiting for the next instruction, ready to do your part to help the show continue. The show picks up again and passes very quickly. Jin doesn’t return back to the stage but the boys update the audience that it was a slight sprain and that he would be fine. By the end of the concert you feel more drained than ecstatic, your enthusiasm worn off. You’re stressed for the boys and weary of the stage cleanup to come now that the show is over.

As if on cue, your name is called over the walkie talkies everyone carries. The stage manager has requested you to meet him at left stage, so you head that direction to receive instruction. As soon as you make eye contact, you immediately feel uneasy. His posture, facial expression, and stance all indicate that something is wrong.

“Hi Mr. Montey, what would you like me to do?” You ask quickly.

“Y/n, I have to ask you a question” he states

“Yes sir?”

“Were you in charge of tapping on stage?”

“Um, yes sir.”

He takes a moment to sigh and then continues with “Y/n, the member who was injured today fell because of a loose chord. A chord you were supposed to tape down.”

Your stomach drops and you immediately feel tears well up in your eyes. “Mr. Montey, I’m so sorry.” you reply. “I was asked to help with microphones and didn’t think about it, I...”

He waves his hand up in the air signaling for you to stop speaking. You do and he glances at the ground for a moment. When he makes eye contact with you again he looks defeated. “y/n I’m sorry, but this is unacceptable. This was a major performance for us and you had a simple checklist to complete. Even with the distraction you faced, these things should have been done. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go.”

You felt this coming from the moment you locked eyes with Mr. Montey. But the sting of his last words in the air burned through you entirely. Your dream had been found and lost in one night over a simple mistake. You needed to cry and you knew it would happen soon. So you offered another meager apology and said you understood his decision.

After that you turned around and sought out the nearest exit. The tears were starting to flow and you had to rush out the side door in order to keep your embarrassment at bay. The second you were outside breathing air, you fell to the ground in sobs. You felt too exposed in open light so you crawled to some shade under an awning by the door. Not a full minute had passed when the door opened again. Of all the people in the world who would have come out of it, of course it would happen to be V.

He had changed from his costume to some shorts and an oversized black t-shirt. He had some water in his hand and seemed to be enjoying the fresh air. You tried to calm your breathing, wanting to go unnoticed, but he quickly spotted you as he checked his surroundings.

“Oh, it’s you” He said in surprise

“Yeah, me.” You responded. You couldn’t hide the disappointment you had for yourself from your voice

“Everything okay?” He responded, realizing that you had tears in your eyes

“I’m good. Sorry to interrupt you, I should go” you say in between wiping your nose with the back of your hand

“You can stay, you should” he offered, coming to sit beside me “I’ll stay too, we will sit”

And so you both did. You cried and he sat peacefully with you for at least 20 minutes. At the end of the 20 minutes, he asked why you were crying. Knowing you wouldn’t see him ever again, you decided to be honest.

“Yeah, I just lost my job. My dream job. I was the reason your member got injured, I didn’t tape the chord down enough. I got sidetracked helping with your mics and didn’t even think about it. I’m so sorry.” You plead, wiping tears from your face.

He takes a minute to process and think through what you said. He then replies “Jimin is okay, you know? It’s not your fault. He walked too far back in the song, that is not because of your tape.”

You appreciate his comfort and allow it to help a little. But it still hurts to be out of your job. You respond “thank you, that’s kind of you to say. I just.. worked so hard for this job and I can’t believe I messed it up. All I’ve ever wanted is to help back stage...” The tears had stopped flowing at this point and were more like droplets. You had begun to bring your hand up to your cheek to wipe one when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Tae. He has his right arm extended to your cheek, attempting to wipe the tear himself.

He explains to you “I’m sad to see you cry. Sorry you have to hurt. I wish I could help more.”

In which you slightly smile and respond “sitting with me and helping me breath again was the best thing you could’ve done.”

“The bus will be packing up now, I must go.” He says sadly

“Of course” you respond standing up with him. “Your show was wonderful and thank you again for being here with me” you say as a farewell.

He nods, and with a small smile on his lips, says “yeah, maybe I’ll have the opportunity to sit with you again sometime soon.”

He heads through the door with one last wave goodbye in your direction. You wave back and then head in the opposite direction toward the front of the stadium. His last words left you confused but you’re too drained to think about them. All you want is your bed and a new day.

After collecting your personal items from the front desk, you leave the stadium for the first and last time. ‘Such a shame.’ You repeat to yourself over and over. You feel defeated and completely distraught.

“Maybe it’s time to give up my stage crew dreams” you whisper to yourself as you shuffle to the car.

And maybe with another few weeks or months you would have. But that wasn’t your story.

End of Part 2

Part 3

A slight knock on your bedroom door draws you back to reality. You glance at the small alarm clock on your wooden bedside table which reads 6:00 PM. You’ve spent the entire day laying in bed after calling the coffee shop this morning and saying you wouldn’t make it to work today. The hollow feeling in your chest was just too strong for you carry out into the world.

Jaclyn peaks her head in the door without receiving a response from you. You had mentioned losing the job last night when you passed her in the kitchen after coming home. A kind “I’m here when you need me..” was all you heard before closing the door to your room and lying down completely dressed to sleep.

She pushes her way through the door after seeing that you’re awake. She’s carrying a dinner tray which holds a white bowl and a glass of water. She walks to the bed and sits beside you, setting the tray on the floor.

“Y/n... I brought you some soup okay? It’s your favorite, from the bakery on Hopkins Street..”

You nod as an acknowledgement to her words, but make no attempt to reach for it.

“I know you’re hurting, I’m so sorry.” she explains, simultaneously rubbing your leg in a comforting manner. “But let me tell you something. It will be okay. You will be okay. Maybe not right now, but more opportunity is out there.” She says sternly.

Jaclyn had always encouraged your dreams and stood by you as you struggled to make it. She knew your journey more than anyone. Hearing her encouragement didn’t take the pain away, but it did help you understand. You may have given up on your dream, but you couldn’t let this be your life. Sulking would get you nowhere.

Struggling to release your feet from the blanket, you finally get into a sitting position against the headboard of your bed.

“I guess I’ll have some soup” you mumble to your roomate.

She smiles sweetly at you and reaches for the tray to lay in your lap. Although you aren’t hungry at all, you take a few bites and finish with a few gulps of water. Jaclyn takes the tray from you as soon as you push it away.

“I can watch a movie with you if you want? Maybe something scary??” she enthusiastically asks.

“Thanks J, but I want to get some more sleep.”

“Are you sure?” She comments. Concern clearly marking her voice.

“It’s okay, really. I’m gonna go in for my shift at the coffee shop tomorrow, don’t worry.”

You’re interest in work seems to put her at ease, if only a little bit. She nods her head and whispers a quick “I’m right outside” before leaving your bedroom with the tray in her hands.

You decide it’s time to get out of bed and head for the bathroom to wash up. An hour later you’ve taken your bath, put on fresh pajamas, and pulled out your clothes for work. You grab some water from the kitchen, passing a smiling Jaclyn on your way back to your room. You lay back down and surprisingly fall into a deep sleep very quickly.

The coffee shop is busy when you arrive in the morning at 7 AM. You quickly tie your apron and jump into the chaos. Before you realize it’s already 12:00 in the afternoon and time for your break. You put your apron on the hook and grab your bag, headed for the sandwich shop down the street. After placing your order and finding a seat you reach for you phone only to realize you have two missed calls from an unknown number. ‘Hmm, that’s odd’ you think you yourself. Since they called twice, you decide to try calling back, hoping it’s not a telemarketer. Someone picks up on the third ring.

“Hello” they say blandly

“Um, hi. I received a call from this number” you say timidly

“Is this y/n?” they respond

“Yes it is, may I ask who this is?” You say in confusion

“Oh, yes. We’ve been waiting for you to call back. My name is Chung-Ho, I am one of the stage managers for the BTS world tour. We recently had a position open up in our stage crew and you were recommended for the job.”

“Wait, what.” Is all you think to say after he finishes. “What are you talking about?” You ask.

“BTS’ world tour..” he explains. “We’d like to offer you a stagehand position with us for the next few months.”

Your phone slips out of your hand as you contemplate what you just heard. ‘That can’t be right y/n. You must be dreaming, no way. Get it together.’ you think to yourself. The familiar sound of your ringtone surprises you and you quickly reach for the phone off the floor.

“Hello?” you ask heavily

“Um y/n? I believe we were disconnected, this is Chung-Ho again about the stage crew position.”

“...I’m sorry Mr. Chung-Ho” you say “but I don’t understand. I didn’t ever apply for this position, I think there is a mix up.”

“No, you didn’t apply, but you came highly recommended by someone on the team. He had said that you were recently looking for work and would be a great candidate for this position. So here I am reaching out.”

Mr. Chung-Ho proceeded to explain details about the position. You truly meant to listen, but your mind was filled with Tae’s last words about “sitting with you again.” ‘He couldn’t have done this.. could he? But why? Surely he must have-‘

“So what do you think?” Mr. Chung-Ho asks

“I... I.. I would love this opportunity.” You respond, trying to keep tears from falling down your face.

“Then it’s all settled!” he replies. “You will start with us on Thursday, if that’s fine with you. We will send you an email with tour info and guidelines. More will be explained once you arrive. Reach out to me with any questions.” He states with a quick goodbye and then hangs up the phone.

You sit dazed with the phone still pushed against your ear unable to process your thoughts. Your mind drifts to your first meeting with Tae and his adorable but subtle smile. It can’t be denied at this point..

The sweetest boy with the sweetest smile just gave you your dream back.

End of Part 3

#bts #btsfanfic #btsarmy #btsfanfiction #btsv #btstaehyung #taehyung #bangtan #bangtanboys #btstour

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sportsrelationships123 · 5 years

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Meet the Players

Hi my name is CJ Mason. I am a blogger on this website. I am from Hilton NY. Hilton NY is about 15 minutes from Brockport. I have had plenty of friendships that have came and gone so I know a lot about meeting new people. I work as a stagehand at Blue Cross Arena and CMAC so I meet new people everyday and have met a bunch of people with completely different personalities. I played football and hockey for my high school. I now attend SUNY Brockport and study Sports Management.

Hi my name is Derek Perrotto and I will also be posting on this blog. I am from Hilton, NY, which is about 15 minutes from Brockport. I played varsity tennis primarily in doubles, so I know how to communicate well in a partnership. I work at Carbones Pizzeria where I work well with customers and coworkers. I attend SUNY Brockport majoring in Business Administration.

Hi my name is Josh Rubin I’m a 19 year old sophomore majoring in Marketing. I live in Plainview, New York with my parents and brother and sister. I comes from a very close supportive family. Growing up Josh played football, soccer, and wrestled. In addition to participating in sports I enjoyed cheering on my favorite teams with his family.

Hi my name is Jacob Cogswell, I am 18 years old and a business administration major and will be one of the bloggers is this group. I am from Constantia, NY and went to Central Square highschool. Growing up I had a strong passion for football. I played from the time I was 4 until my senior year of highschool. I played as an inside linebacker and fullback. Every summer off from school I would work in my grandfathers wire mill where they worked for companies like Boeing, Martin Guitar, and SpaceX. I have an older brother, Joshua, and an older sister, Ashley. They both have 2 kids which makes me an uncle of 4 children. My main goal for this blog is to try and give you a better understanding of relationships by relating topics through sports and how they correlate.

Hi my name is James Altenburger and I am one of the people who will be posting on this blog to help you with your relationships. Here’s some information about myself. I am from Clifton Park, NY, which is about 3 and a half hours away from Brockport. It is a suburb about 30 minutes north of Albany. I have 3 older sisters and 15 cousins so I know how to deal with people and the relationships that come with it. I went to Shenendehowa High School which is one of the largest high schools in NY. I had a graduating class of 760 people. I played Varsity football and basketball for 3 years. I played tight end and defensive end in football and center in basketball. I hope to use the time I’ve spent playing sports into helpful analogies and metaphors for your relationships.

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hbhoe · 7 years

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Band of Brothers Homecoming AU

-homecoming week is here! - this means lots of pranks, so of course the terrible trio of malarkey, muck and penkala are wreaking havoc - they filled vice principal sobel’s office with cups of water and put his stapler in jell-o - they got detention but claim it was totally worth it - Winters and Nixon are those seniors who’ve been dating since week one freshman year and never once had a fight - nix asked dick to prom by having the marching band spell out the question on the field while playing “can’t take my eyes off of you” and it was pretty iconic. they say dick cried - perconte is in the band and he plays a mean trumpet solo - you can always tell where he is during shows because he’s the smallest guy on the field with the most energy - Lipton plays the tuba and he’s also a drum major - Speirs is a walking bad boy trope - he wears a leather jacket and rides a motorcycle and they say he once went to juvi for stealing cigarettes?? - So it’s weird that he’s always at the football games, waiting for the halftime show so he can stare at Lip as he’s conducting - And it’s all very intense and confusing until Speirs finally admits he’s been working up the courage to ask lip out since they were sophomores - Lip promises to meet Speirs behind the bleachers after the homecoming halftime show ;) - Webster is a Nerd™ - but he looks like a movie star and has lots of friends and punk skater boy Liebgott is so annoyed?? - Lieb always tries to get Web’s notes from class, to which he vehemently refuses - cMON WEB WHY YOU HOLDING OUT ON ME!?“ - literally no one is surprised when they’re caught furiously making out behind a bookshelf in the library - George Luz is the class clown - but when he’s not being The Most™ with his countless friends, he can always be found in the theater working on the next show - He’s president of the theater department and this year the fall musical is In the Heights - he plays the lead, of course - Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye are stagehands - they both thought theater was lame until Luz dragged them into it - (that is, Joe dragged Bill into it, because Joe may or may not have a MAJOR crush on a certain George Luz) - but shut up about it or he’ll break ur jaw - Eugene Roe is very quiet and just a little emo, but he’s studying sports medicine and he’s on the sidelines at every game in case someone gets hurt - bright eyed freshman Babe Heffron brings smiles everywhere he goes - He and Gene have been making eyes at each other for months - but gene is shy, and the homecoming dance is fast approaching and he still hasn’t gathered the courage to ask babe out - Gene’s best friend, Renee, is done with watching the incessant pining - She befriends Babe and subtly drops a hint that Gene may never get over his social anxiety enough to express his feelings - a delighted Babe walks right up to gene in the cafeteria, gets down on one knee, and asks Gene to the dance in front of all their friends - All Gene can manage is a breathless "y-yeah, babe, i’ll go with you” - everyone cheers and it’s super embarrassing but babe is sitting next to gene and holding his hand and the world is so colorful now?? - Game night is here and the team is READY - Buck Compton is the star quarterback and all the ladies love him - he’s already got a full ride to university for football - Bull Randleman and Johnny Martin are the best defensive lineman on the team - They’re both super intimidating, but you won’t find two people more protective of their friends - If you mess with his freshmen, you’re gonna catch Bull’s hands - Harry Welsh and his girlfriend, head cheerleader Kitty Grogan, win homecoming king and queen - no one disagrees. they’re the perfect couple - Harry spends the rest of the night grinning like a dope while he dances with Kitty - Liebgott shows up to the dance with his sk8er squad, which consists of Hoobler, Tipper, and Shifty Powers - Web is just a little shook - Lieb actually put on clothing that isn’t ripped, his tux is well fitted and his hair is gelled and Webster can’t believe how GAY he is for this punk - he can’t even be mad when he notices Liebgott is wearing vans with his tux - Web compliments Lieb and the kid just blushes and says something like, “yeah well you’re a geek, let’s dance” - This is nixon and winters’ fourth homecoming dance - They spend most of their time talking with teachers, doling out advice to underclassmen and slow dancing - that is, until it’s halfway through the night and Nix is just a little tipsy from the contents of the flask he snuck in - the two of them clock out early because the School Dads are too old for this shit - Lipton and Spiers, also graduating seniors, show up right when Winters and Nix are leaving - Lipton has a fresh hickey on his neck - Spiers looks just a little bit proud - They slow dance and start kissing tenderly and Principal Sink tries reminding them to leave room for the holy spirit - but only before getting a barrel of gatorade dumped on his head by the Terrible Trio - they run away in triumph and once more Sink wonders why he ever chose to be an educator - Chuck Grant has a band that plays almost every school dance - They’re called “Airborne” and they’re really good - George Luz decides to ask them a favor - During the band’s second set, George gets onstage and announces he’s going to perform a song for “someone very special out there tonight ;)” - he literally wrote a song called “Boy Toye” - its an epic love ballad with iconic lines such as “you only have one leg but 12/10 would bang” and “your eyes are brown like beautiful, wet dirt” - who could forget the refrain, “my life would be joy if you were my boy toye” ? - it’s all so ridiculous and theatrical and so completely LUZ that joe doesn’t even think to be embarrassed - “c'mere, asshole” joe mutters as he pulls a grinning Luz off the stage - everyone cheers when George stands on his toes to kiss Joe on the cheek - babe and gene are clumsy and unpracticed but they keep on dancing because they like being close together - it’s all just pureness, blushing and smiles with those two - Of COURSE they won the game and Buck Compton spends the whole dance triumphantly grinning at people and talking to his admirers - Muck, Malarkey and Penkala are the last to leave because they have to clean up as punishment for their shenanigans

#gosh this ended up being p long #but i really enjoyed getting it all out and written #i love these boys so much and i want their happiness #winnix #speirton #baberoe #webgott #luztoye #band of brothers headcanon #bob headcanons #bob high school au #writing

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celebritylive · 4 years

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Beetlejuice has closed its doors on Broadway, at least for now.

The show’s final bow at the Winter Garden Theatre took place two months early as the theatre closed its doors amid the coronavirus pandemic.

However, a rep for the show, which was nominated for eight Tony Awards, tells PEOPLE, “Obviously, with the suspension of Broadway through June 7th, this means that Beetlejuice won’t be returning to the Winter Garden Theater, but the musical still has plans to launch a national tour in the fall of 2021 (announced in January).”

“The producers are still considering if there is an opportunity for Beetlejuice to return to Broadway in another theater, but a decision won’t be made until there is more information including a date for Broadway to reopen,” the rep adds. “That is all we know as of today.”

The musical adaptation takes its roots in Tim Burton’s 1980 film of the same name which starred Geena Davis, Alec Baldwin, Winona Ryder, Michael Keaton, Catherine O’Hara, Jeffrey Jones and Glenn Shadix.

The final Broadway cast included Tony nominee Alex Brightman as Beetlejuice, Presley Ryan, David Josefsberg, Kerry Butler, Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer and Adam Damnheisser.

RELATED: Broadway Shutdown Extends to June 7 as Coronavirus Cases Surge in New York City

Beetlejuice‘s close comes as Broadway’s shutdown extends to June 7 as coronavirus cases surge in New York City.

“Our top priority continues to be the health and well-being of Broadway theatergoers and the thousands of people who work in the theatre industry every day, including actors, musicians, stagehands, ushers, and many other dedicated professionals,” said Charlotte St. Martin, president of the Broadway League, in a statement. “Broadway will always be at the very heart of the Big Apple, and we join with artists, theatre professionals, and fans in looking forward to the time when we can once again experience live theatre together.”

Previously, the League had set the week of April 13 as the date when performances would resume. Tickets for many Broadway shows — including hits like Hamilton, To Kill a Mockingbird, Dear Evan Hansen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, The Book of Mormon, The Lion King, Frozen, Aladdin, Come From Away, Hadestown, and The Phantom of the Opera — have remained on sale for this month.

RELATED: Hamilton Cast Reunites on John Krasinski’s Show to Surprise Young Fan

Any tickets purchased before the new start date will now need to be refunded or exchanged. Ticketholders should expect an email from their point of purchase with further instructions.

Broadway has been dark since March 12, with New York Governor Andrew Cuomo and the Broadway League shutting the theaters to help stop the spread of the global pandemic.

The shutdown is the longest in Broadway history, surpassing pauses in performances made after the events of Sept. 11, 2001, as well as the strikes in 1919, 1960, 1964, 1975, and 2003.

The 74th annual Tony Awards, which celebrates the best of Broadway, was also postponed. The annual awards show was scheduled to air live on CBS on June 7 from Radio City Music Hall.

from PEOPLE.com https://ift.tt/2wqSSXR

#Celebrity

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violetsystems · 4 years

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UPDATE, with specific show details Broadway will remain closed through June 7, a two-month extension of the current coronavirus shutdown that could mean the retroactive end of the 2019-2020 Broadway season to the March 12 shutdown.

No mention was made in the Broadway League’s announcement today of officially closing the Broadway season – theoretically, at least, the 2019-2020 season could be extended into the summer but the logistics would make that a difficult option. And if, as sources tell Deadline, additional incremental extensions of the shutdown are possible, even likely, through the summer, the 2019-2020 season will have ended on March 11.

The extension announcement was made today by the Broadway League, the trade group representing theater owners and producers, which had been in discussions with theatrical unions this week.

Earlier today, New York’s Drama Desk Awards – always an important event in the lead-up to the Tonys – announced that it would announce its winners online on May 31, skipping the annual get-together of critics and the city’s Broadway and Off Broadway communities, and only shows that opened prior to the March 12 shutdown would be eligible for nominations. That decision shortens the 2019-2020 theater season by nearly two months and, obviously, leaving the 16 planned Broadway productions and various Off Broadway shows out of contention.

“Our top priority continues to be the health and well-being of Broadway theatregoers and the thousands of people who work in the theatre industry every day, including actors, musicians, stagehands, ushers, and many other dedicated professionals.” said Charlotte St. Martin, President of the Broadway League. “Broadway will always be at the very heart of the Big Apple, and we join with artists, theatre professionals, and fans in looking forward to the time when we can once again experience live theatre together.”

Thirty-one productions went dark on March 12, some having just begun previews. In all, 16 productions had been set to open this spring – including the musical Six, which was to open on the evening of March 12 – a schedule that was scuttled by the shutdown.

Those holding tickets for performances through June 7, 2020 will receive an e-mail from their point of purchase with information regarding exchanges or refunds. Any customers holding tickets through June 7, 2020 that have not received an e-mail by April 12 should reach out to their point of purchase for information regarding exchanges or refunds.

Within an hour of the League’s announcement, some shows were confirming that tickets remained on sale for performances after June 7, including Mean Girls, Moulin Rouge! The Musical, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, the upcoming return David Bryne’s American Utopia, Chicago, Six and Mrs. Doubtfire.

The June 7 date carries a special meaning for Broadway: That date had been marked for the now indefinitely postponed 74th Annual Tony Awards. Though the official end of any Broadway season arrives with the Tony Awards eligibility cutoff date (originally April 23 this year), the actual Tonys ceremony is the symbolic capstone to Broadway’s year.

Broadway’s busy spring season was to have seen the openings of some of the year’s most anticipated productions, some of which have already announced postponements until next season or outright cancellations. Since the March 12 shutdown, Martin McDonagh’s Hangmen, starring Downton Abbey‘s Dan Stevens and Game of Thrones‘ Mark Addy, has been canceled, as has been director Joe Mantello’s staging of Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? starring Laurie Metcalf and Rupert Everett.

Productions that had previously announced postponements until next season are How I Learned To Drive, Caroline, or Change, Birthday Candles and Flying Over Sunset.

Other shows that had been scheduled to open this spring are Six, the hit pop musical from London and Chicago about the wives of Henry VIII; Tracy Letts’ The Minutes; the Jerry Zaks-directed musical adaptation of Mrs. Doubtfire; director Sam Mendes’ The Lehman Trilogy; the Princess Di musical Diana; Company, the gender-switched revival of the classic Sondheim musical starring Katrina Lenk and Patti LuPone; Plaza Suite starring Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker; David Mamet’s American Buffalo starring Laurence Fishburne, Sam Rockwell and Darren Criss; the Off Broadway transfer of New York Theatre Workshop’s musical Sing Street; and the revival of Richard Greenberg’s Take Me Out starring Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Jesse Williams and Patrick J. Adams.

Exactly what will happen to those productions – as well as shows that were up and running prior to the pandemic – is uncertain. Broadway insiders say most shows, for now anyway, are sticking with the June 7 target, with tickets being sold for that date and after.

But the extension will no doubt have ripple effects. For example, the popular Beetlejuice Broadway run is over, with a planned, if brief, return to the Winter Garden Theater now scotched (the sleeper hit was set to vacate the venue on June 6 to make way for this fall’s The Music Man starring Hugh Jackman). Beetlejuice could feasibly find another venue when Broadway re-opens, but the scramble for theaters – always a take-no-prisoners competition – should be even more chaotic than ever. (A Beetlejuice national tour will launch in fall 2021).

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funtubeweb · 5 years

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How We Selected 80 NFB Productions to Commemorate Our 80th Anniversary

As part of our commemoration of the National Film Board’s 80th anniversary, we decided to choose a symbolic 80 powerful productions to highlight 80 years of exceptional storytelling by our great institution. But how do you select 80 titles out of a collection that numbers more than 13,000?

As the NFB’s English collection curator, this was my challenge. Obviously, this list is entirely subjective, so some of the titles you might consider to be the most impactful may not be here. I tried to choose titles that had an impact on audiences—but also ones that had an impact on me. These are my choices, and I stand by them.

It was obvious that certain classic films would have to be part of this list. It will not surprise anyone that films like Norman McLaren’s Neighbours and Roman Kroitor and Colin Low’s Universe are on my list. How could they not be?

Neighbours won the NFB’s second Oscar ever and, at one time, was our film with the most theatrical bookings worldwide (77,000 as of 1987). It was named a Masterwork by the Canadian Audio-Visual Heritage trust in 2000 and was added to UNESCO’s Memory of the World Register nine years later.

Universe was nominated for an Oscar and went on to win 25 awards, including one at Cannes. It also heavily influenced Stanley Kubrick in the making of 2001: A Space Odyssey (for one thing, Universe’s narrator, Douglas Rain, is the voice of HAL!).

These films and other classics are certainly on the list, but I had a great deal of fun choosing other important films from our collection that might not make anyone else’s list. Here are some of them, and why I chose them:

Waterwalker

OK, every one of my colleagues will not be surprised to see that I’ve selected this Bill Mason film. It is, after all, my absolute favourite NFB film of all time, but it’s also a very significant environmental film. It can best be described as poetry in motion. A visual poem accompanied by the haunting music of Bruce Cockburn and Hugh Marsh. It’s an ode to the majesty of nature. Need I say more?

oehttps://http://bit.ly/2brVIRb

Black Soul

This animated masterpiece will certainly make the list for most people. What strikes me when I watch it is that in a scant nine minutes, it beautifully encapsulates Black culture and Black history so eloquently. Animator Martine Chartrand painstakingly painted every single image on glass to create this stunning film. The winner of many awards, including a Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival.

oehttps://http://bit.ly/2TE9bqH

High Grass Circus

A one-hour Oscar-nominated gem that follows the Royal Brothers Circus throughout small-town Ontario. Now this isn’t a sophisticated Cirque du Soleil-type show, but a grass-roots, low-budget troupe that includes two elephants, a hippo and a revolving door of stagehands and fire breathers. Funny, touching and a beautiful slice of life. Be prepared to smile when you see it.

oehttps://http://bit.ly/2J59vMC

Totem: The Return of The G’psgolox Pole

Gil Cardinal’s 2003 documentary follows the Haisla people from British Columbia in their efforts to reclaim the G’psgolox pole, which was taken from them and displayed in a Stockholm museum for over 60 years. A powerful documentary that shows that when the cause is just, nothing can stop people from succeeding.

oehttps://http://bit.ly/2IUwv1x

Threads

If you’re a parent, you will be deeply touched by this wistful animated film by Oscar winner Torill Kove. What are the threads that bind a mother and daughter, and when is it time to let our children go out on their own? A magnificent film told without words.

oehttps://http://bit.ly/2QHW8aa

Nahanni

This gem from 1962 is a visually stunning film, but what makes it so great is the terrific storytelling. As much about man versus nature as it is about man versus himself, this is the story of Albert Faille, who, at 73, is trying—once again—to find a mythical lost gold mine located somewhere on the Nahanni river. This isn’t fiction, it’s real life—raw, unscripted and with danger around every corner. A gripping, intense study of a frail old man persevering against an inhospitable landscape. Will he succeed? A must-see.

oehttps://http://bit.ly/2IX5wm3

My entire list of 80 productions is available here. Have a look and let me know what you think in the comments.

Do you want to see which titles my colleague Marc St-Pierre, the French collection curator, put on his list of 80 productions? Click here.

Want to find out more about the founding of the NFB? Click here to read Marc’s blog post on the creation and early years of this unique place.

Happy 80th anniversary to the NFB, and may it continue its great history of insightful storytelling.

The post How We Selected 80 NFB Productions to Commemorate Our 80th Anniversary appeared first on NFB Blog.

How We Selected 80 NFB Productions to Commemorate Our 80th Anniversary posted first on http://film-streamingsweb.blogspot.com

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH12

It’s ya boooooy! Malin is here!! Super huge shout out to @salty-french-fry for bringing him to life. I commissioned her to draw all of my OC hero babies, so you can see Malin in all of his anime boy glory here! We stan a trans bicon. And for those who are unaware, Malin is another name for fox in French, but like with the connotation of calling someone sly or tricky. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I tweaked it quite a bit from the original. ;)

Previous First Next AO3

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Chapter 12: WTF Do I Know

“I know our duty is to the city, but I can’t help these feelings stirring my heart. Every time I see her brilliant blue eyes shining in the moonlight, I am overcome with passion and admiration. She truly is Miraculous.” Eliott looked to Marinette sitting cross-legged on the floor for approval. “How was that?”

“Incredible! You really have Chat Noir down,” she said.

Eliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, but I still feel like I could do better. Opening night is only a week away, and I’m playing one of the leads. Everything has to be perfect.” He paced the length of the stage, adjusting his black mask.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You make a wonderfully convincing Chat Noir.” She assured him—and she should know.

“Wonderfully convincing isn’t perfect. This play is a tribute to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s triumph on Heroes’ Day. If I screw up then I’ll be dishonoring them.” He turned and gestured to the impressive backdrop of the Eiffel Tower.

“No, you won’t.” Marinette stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an amazing actor, and I know you’re gonna kill it.”

“Places in five everyone!” The director swept through the stage.

Stagehands rushed around the set. Costume designers made last-minute alterations, and each prop was meticulously tested and placed for ease of access during scene changes. Marinette never realized how chaotic theater was behind the scenes.

Eliott let a deep breath past his lips, and Marinette offered him a smile. “I’ll be watching in the audience. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for coming to watch our dress rehearsal.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sorry I’m so crazy about everything, I just want to be the best.” He fiddled with his gloves. “I’ve been studying English since I was little because my dream is to perform on Broadway. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s what I’ve wanted ever since my grandma and I watched a play together when I was a kid.”

“You’ll get there, and I’ll be sitting in the front row with Macy, Martin, and Adrien.”

Eliott smiled at that, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I actually owe you, Marinette. You’ve helped me a lot as an actor since we met.”

“Me? How?”

“You taught me to take risks. Before I met you, I was just coasting through life, staying out of the way, playing it safe, but now I can stand up for other people and speak out,” he explained. “You helped me find the courage to step outside my comfort zone.”

Her cheeks burned, but she smiled at the sentiment. All of her new friends gave praise so easily—something Marinette wasn’t used to. Helping others wasn’t about getting rewarded, and in most cases, the attention just made her squirm. She helped her friends because she cared. Although, even if their compliments embarrassed her, it was nice to know she was appreciated.

“Watch where you’re going!” A nasally voice grabbed their attention.

“Sorry!” A tiny stagehand shrank under the icy glare of her aggressor.

Eliott sprang into action to diffuse the situation. “Margot, is there a problem?”

“She bumped into me! Can you imagine if I had fallen and broken my wrist a week before opening night? How can I play Ladybug with a broken wrist?” Margot shouted.

Eliott stepped between her and the stagehand, holding up defensive hands. “I’m sure it was just an accident. No one got hurt, so why don’t you go cool off? We’re almost ready to start.”

“Ugh, whatever. Just stay out of my way!”

As she stalked off, Eliott turned to the small girl. “Are you okay, Lisette?”

“You know my name?” Her eyes widened.

“Of course. You hand me my props before I go on stage,” he said. “Don’t let Margot get to you. She’s just nervous because the show is in a week, and it’s her first time playing a lead.”

“It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Lisette said.

Eliott tucked a strand of her blonde hair back into place, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re all a little high strung right now.”

“You’re not.”

Eliott flashed her a playful grin. “I’m a good actor.”

“I know,” she said, and when Eliott quirked a brow she fumbled to add, “I-I’ve kind of had to watch you for the past several months. You’re really good.”

“Wow, thanks, Lisette. I’m flattered that a pretty girl like you is a fan of mine,” Eliott said.

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave a small nod before scurrying off to her position at the director’s order.

Marinette couldn’t help the smile on her lips as Eliott found his mark and took a few deep breaths to center himself. He’d grown a lot since they met, and if someone had to play Chat Noir, she was glad it was him. She’d been uncertain at first, but Eliott really was worthy of being a hero, even if his costar was the worst. How could they cast such a brat to play Ladybug?

Taking her seat in the audience, Marinette thought back to her encounter with Gabrielle several nights prior. True to her word, Gabrielle hadn’t bothered them since, but what she was doing out on her own like that? And what was up with the apron in her bag? Something fishy was going on with her, but at least she was keeping her word. It was about time Marinette got some peace and quiet.

♪♫♪ I’m Not Calling You a Liar ♪♫♪

When the school bell rang, Alya remained seated, lips pursed. Her other classmates gathered their backpacks, eager to enjoy their weekend plans. Adrien paid her no mind as he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed everyone else out. They hadn’t spoken since their last encounter, and Alya still wasn’t sure what to think. He sounded so sure of himself. After being friends with Marinette, she knew far more about Adrien Agreste than she ever cared to, and truthfully, Alya didn’t think he was capable of being malicious.

Don’t believe everything Lila tells you. Be a journalist. Investigate.

But how? It’s not like Alya could just call up a bunch of celebrities and foreign princes to ask them to corroborate all of Lila’s stories, and even if she could, what would Lila think if they proved Adrien wrong? Or worse, what would Alya think if they proved him right? If they proved Marinette right…

It had been two weeks since she left. Two weeks since they… Alya had been hurt at first, and her heart still ached thinking about it now. In the grand scheme of things, she hadn’t known Marinette that long—only a few months—so it was possible that there were things Alya didn’t know about her. Dark secrets she kept hidden. But if that were possible for Marinette, couldn’t the same be true for Lila? And why was Alya so afraid to go looking?

“Alya? Did you hear me?”

She blinked out of her trance. “Sorry, what?”

“You’ve been awfully spacey lately,” Lila remarked. “I was just saying that I have an important meeting today with my youth ambassadors committee. Clara Nightingale has promised to sponsor our clean water initiative, and today’s the only day we can meet with her. Is there any way you can take care of that thing Mlle. Bustier needed for me?”

Don’t believe her.

“Actually, Lila, I have to go pick up my little sisters because Nora has practice this afternoon, and Mlle. Bustier did ask you to do it,” Alya said.

Lila’s eyebrows raised, but just as quickly, she puckered her lips into a pout. “Is there any way you could have Nino pick up your sisters? This meeting is really important.”

“Nino promised Juleka he’d help Kitty Section with their sound system today so they can practice before their gig this weekend.” Her heart pounded as Lila’s lip twitched.

“I mean, I guess I can put off my meeting. Those kids in India will just have to go a little while longer without clean drinking water…” Lila eyed her.

“Ya know, if you’re too busy to keep up with your class rep stuff, you can always tell Mlle. Bustier to let us elect someone else. I’m sure everyone would understand,” Alya said pointedly.

“And let Chloe become the class rep again? I couldn’t do that to you guys.” Lila shook her head.

“True, but I can’t cover for you all the time. I have my own stuff going on. Maybe I’m not saving third world countries, but sometimes I have a life to live too,” Alya said. “You were elected to do all of this, you know.”

“No, I understand,” Lila sighed. “I’ve been putting too much pressure on you to do my job. It’s just so hard to juggle going to school and saving the world. I’ll figure out a way to do it for all of you because you’re my friends, and my friends are just as important to me as any starving, third-world country.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that you’ll be putting in more effort.” Alya stood up. “Have a good weekend.”

“Oh, I’m sure my weekend will be better than those thirsty children in Iran.”

Alya stopped in the doorway. “Don’t you mean in India?”

“What?”

“Earlier you said the meeting was for children in India. Now you just said Iran,” Alya said.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant,” Lila said. “I have a different thing for Iran next week. It’s hard to keep everything straight when you’re so busy.”

“Right.” Alya’s eyes narrowed. “Well, good luck.”

“Give your sisters a hug for me!”

Alya’s hands shook as she headed up the hall. It was probably nothing, just a simple mix up like she said, but… Given the circumstances, it was a little suspicious. One thing was certain: Alya would be keeping an eye on her.

♪♫♪ Thnks fr th Mmrs ♪♫♪

“Your rehearsal was amazing,” Marinette said afterward over tea. “Well, except for Margot’s prop mishap. I thought she was going to have a meltdown.”

Eliott stirred his drink with a smirk. “She’s a great actress until something goes wrong,” he chuckled. “I just feel bad for Lisette. She looked like she wanted to kill her.”

“Speaking of Lisette…” Marinette gave him a knowing look. “I think she might have a crush on you.”

“Lisette? Nah.” Eliott averted his gaze, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not anyone important. There’s no way she’d be into me.”

“That’s not true. You’re an amazing actor,” Marinette said. “I mean that, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks, I guess the thought of someone liking me just makes me nervous.” He bit his lip.

“Come on. You flirt with everyone all the time,” Marinette said. “You flirted with me on my first day of school.”

“Flirting is different. Just because I flirt with people doesn’t mean they have to like me back,” he said, then biting his lip, added, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“As someone who struggles to get two coherent sentences out around the boy she likes, I think she likes you more than you know,” Marinette said.

“Speaking of… You and Adrien sure seem to get along.” He sipped his tea with a satisfied smirk as Marinette’s cheeks burned. He didn’t waste any time flipping the script, but it was her fault for opening that door.

“Oh, do we? I mean, of course we do. We’re just friends, I don’t have feelings for him at all,” she said with a nervous titter.

“I never said you did,” Eliott said.

“Oh, um, yeah, well then I- don’t tell Macy.” She hung her head in defeat.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He shrugged. “But you don’t have to worry about Macy’s crush. It’s superficial. She fixates on some famous guy for a while, then moves on when something new catches her eye.”

Marinette relaxed. “Good. I’ve just liked Adrien for a long time, and ever since I left my old school, he’s been paying more attention to me, so…I don’t want it to come between us.”

“Nah, I’m sure if she knew she’d back off,” Eliott assured her. “She’s extremely loyal to her friends and would never try to take away something you wanted even if she wants it too. One time she and I argued for twenty minutes because she convinced herself I wanted the last cookie on the plate. We ended up breaking it in half.”

“That’s a relief.” Marinette let out a breath.

“Though I do have to wonder which sounds better, Marinette Agreste or Adrien Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette nearly choked on her tea. “Eliott!”

“I’m kinda partial to Adrien Dupain-Cheng myself.”

“Stop!” She covered her face, cheeks burning, and Eliott threw his head back with a laugh.

A herd of people stampeded up the sidewalk right before a loud crash sounded a few blocks over. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Eliott tackled Marinette to the ground, cradling her head.

“That sounded close, we should run.” He pulled her to her feet. “My yacht isn’t far from here, we can hide there.”

As much as she hated to do it, Marinette needed to get away. Gradually, she let herself slip from his grasp in the crowd. Eliott turned over his shoulder in an attempt to reach her again, but too many people stood between them.

“Marinette!”

“Go! I’ll catch up,” she called.

His eyebrows furrowed worriedly, but he pressed on without question.

Marinette ducked into a nearby alley and opened her purse. “Ready, Tikki? Transform me!”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo across the street, tugging the slack and launching herself into the rooftops. Racing down the row of buildings, she followed the civilian trail to the scene of the attack. Overturned cars and broken windows signaled that she was on the right track, and she arrived at the same time as Chat Noir.

“Well, well we meet again, m’lady.” His flirtatious lilt echoed between the buildings as he staff-coptered down to join her.

“I would hope so since saving the city is our job.” She flicked his bell. “I think it’s about time we clocked in, don’t you?”

“Ladies first.” Chat Noir bowed as Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot into action. “Don’t mean to interrupt your tirade, but I’m gonna need to see some license and registration for that car,” he said as they landed. “What’s the matter? Rough break up?”

The akuma turned to them with a growl, tossing the car aside, and Ladybug spotted a small blonde girl cowering underneath.

“Civilian alert!”

“On it.” Chat Noir charged forward, brandishing his staff.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir! I am Showstopper, and I’m about to give Paris the performance of a lifetime after I get rid of her.”

The small girl on the ground cowered under Showstopper’s glare, her blonde buns oddly familiar…

Ladybug gasped. “That’s Lisette which means Showstopper must be Margot! She really was upset by that mistake.”

Lisette attempted to run, but Showstopper served a ball of light at her with the tennis racket—the lucky charm prop from the play and likely where the akuma was hiding. The attack froze Lisette in place, but before Showstopper could make her next move, she blocked a blow from Chat Noir’s staff. A few seconds passed, and the magic faded, sending Lisette toppling forward.

“So that’s it,” Ladybug said, then to Chat Noir called, “Don’t let her hit you, or she’ll freeze you for a few seconds!”

“Got it!” He dodged an orb.

Once Showstopper drove him back several paces, she dashed after Lisette, launching a bus to the end of the street to block the exit.

“Going somewhere?”

“No, but you are.” Ladybug hooked her yoyo around Showstopper’s ankle. Showstopper lobbed several orbs at her before she could pull the slack, and Ladybug backflipped out of the way, diving for cover with Chat Noir behind two flipped cars.

“We need a plan to get that girl out of here.” He peeked over the side.

Ladybug palmed her yoyo. “Lucky Charm!” Her eyebrows raised as a paper lantern landed in her hands.

“Oh great, you can light the way for her to wreck that girl,” Chat Noir said.

Ladybug pursed her lips contemplatively. “I need to go to Master Fu,” she said. “Can you handle things until I get back?”

“Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” Chat Noir nodded before they broke off.

Leaving in the middle of a battle was always risky, but this wasn’t a fight they could win alone. She just hoped that she could find an ally in time.

“Master Fu?” Marinette knocked, peeking her head inside.

“What is it, Marinette?” He glanced up from his book.

“I need to borrow a Miraculous to win this battle.”

Master Fu retrieved the Miracle Box from the phonograph and placed it on the mat in front of her. “Have you found someone you trust to wield it?”

Marinette contemplated her choices carefully, running strategies in her head. After she and Alya split up, she wasn’t sure she’d ever trust someone enough to replace Rena Rouge, but her new friends proved her wrong. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and reached for the fox. “I know exactly who to pick, and I won’t let you down this time.”

Master Fu offered her one of his proud, grandfatherly smiles. “You never have. I have always had faith in you, Marinette.”

Her chest swirled with pride as she stood up. “Transform me.”

Eliott’s yacht was empty when Ladybug touched down on the deck. He told Marinette to hide there, so she’d been certain it was where he’d be. Then again, Eliott wasn’t the same cowardly boy he’d been when they met, and he didn’t turn his back on a friend. She knew where to find him.

“Marinette?” His voice echoed between the buildings of the abandoned street, and he flinched when Ladybug landed behind him. “Ladybug! Thank goodness, have you seen my friend Marinette? We got separated, and I told her to meet at my yacht, but-”

“Don’t worry. She’s safe,” Ladybug said. “Actually, I need your help.”

“My help?” He arched a brow. “I mean, sure, I'll do anything.”

“Eliott Chasse, this is the Miraculous of the fox which grants the power of illusion. You will use it to fight for the greater good.” She extended the box to him.

“Whoa, you're giving me a Miraculous?” he gasped. “But wait, why me? What happened to Rena Rouge?”

“She's...not around.” Ladybug averted her gaze. “Will you help me?”

“I-I dunno. I think my friend Marinette would be way better at this than me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eliott…” Ladybug smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are the right person for this job. Have courage and believe in yourself. That's all you need to be a superhero.”

Eliott pressed his lips together, then accepted the box with a nod. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, he gaped in disbelief as Trixx materialized. “Whoa!”

“My name’s Trixx. I’m a kwami, and if you want to transform all you have to say is ‘Trixx, transform me!’” she explained as Eliott fastened the clasp of the necklace.

“Alright then. Trixx, transform me!” When the orange light faded, Eliott examined his orange and white suit with wide eyes. “Wait, is this really happening?”

“Do you know how your powers work?” Ladybug asked. There was no time to waste.

“Of course. I studied news footage in preparation for my role as Chat Noir in an upcoming play. I wanted to accurately portray the team's dynamic,” he said.

“Good, then follow me.”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot off. Eliott hesitated only briefly, taking a few steps before leaping over the building after her. He touched down lightly beside her before they shot off again.

“I know it's a lot to take in, but we don't have a lot of time,” Ladybug said. She pulled up the news coverage of the akuma. Showstopper had taken the battle all the way to the Eiffel Tower. She skidded to a stop behind a chimney and closed her yoyo. “Hmm…Lucky Charm!”

“A bottle of soap? At least the villain will be squeaky clean?” Eliott shrugged.

Ladybug turned it over in her hands, a plan forming in her mind. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.”

- - -

Showstopper held a frozen Lisette over the edge, and Chat Noir held up defensive hands as he attempted to negotiate.

“Hand over your Miraculous, or I'll drop her!”

“Maybe we can come to a compromise,” he reasoned, but Showstopper was in no mood.

“You have five seconds. One!”

“There has to be something else you want.”

“Two.”

“After all this is murder we're talking about.”

“Three!”

“I'm sure she didn't mean any harm.”

“Four!”

“Ladybug, hurry up!”

“Five!”

Before Chat could react, Showstopper released her grip, sending Lisette plunging toward her doom. Chat Noir attempted to dive after her, but Showstopper pitched another orb at him. To his relief, Ladybug swung in to deflect it just in time, but there was no time for gratitude.

“Ladybug! The girl!”

“Already taken care of,” she assured him.

- - -

Lisette unfroze midway down, eyes widening in fear as the ground grew closer. Just as a scream reached her throat, Eliott caught her, carrying her safely back to the Eiffel Tower. Her screams echoed across the bars as she clung to him for dear life, but they quieted the moment she looked into his eyes.

“Falling from heaven, angel?” He set her down gently. “Stay hidden. Showstopper can't see you if we want our plan to work.”

She blinked in shock, cheeks flushing. “Wait!” She caught his wrist as he turned to leave. “W-Who are you?”

“Uh… Call me Malin.” He winked, giving a two-finger salute before leaping up to the rafters.

Malin summoned his Mirage on the way up, cheeks still hot. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what Lisette thought of him. First, he needed to save her.

“You're too late!” Showstopper proclaimed, and Malin cleared his throat.

“Are we?” He clocked a brow.

Showstopper spun around where Malin held his fake damsel. “No!” she growled.

“New friend?” Chat Noir sized him up.

“I'll tell you later,” Ladybug said.

Malin set his illusion free with instructions to run, and as expected, Showstopper gave chase. Ladybug really was a wizard at coming up with plans. When Chat Noir moved to follow, Malin stepped in front of him with a wink.

“Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Name's Malin, and you are one foxy feline in person, Chat Noir.” He looked him up and down.

“Less flirting, more running. Phase two,” Ladybug ordered. “Kitty, follow me and get ready to use your Cataclysm. Malin, you know what to do.”

“On it.” Malin nodded, leaping back over the edge with a whoop.

Showstopper pursued the fake Lisette to the second-floor restaurants, falling right into their trap. She skidded against the soapy floor as Malin's illusion faded before her eyes. A broom perched between two chairs clotheslined her, sending her tennis racket flying from her grasp right into Chat Noir's waiting Cataclysm.

Malin helped Margot up as Ladybug captured the akuma and returned everything to normal. “Seriously, losing your cool over a prop malfunction is so lame.” He chided. “You're playing Ladybug, so my suggestion is: take a lesson from the real thing and let go of that bad energy.”

Lisette peeked up from the stairs timidly, pacing over to join them. “I'm sorry your yoyo string was tangled. I should have checked it,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever.” Margot rolled her eyes. “Sorry I tried to throw you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“Technically, you did throw her off the Eiffel Tower,” Chat Noir said pointedly.

“You were awesome, Malin.” Ladybug nudged him with her elbow.

“It was your plan, all I did was help.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Ladybug shook her head. “You saved this girl, and we couldn't have done it without you. Be proud. You're a true superhero.”

Malin bit back a smile, surveying his suit and squaring his shoulders with a new sense of purpose. Ladybug was right. He had his doubts when she asked him because he still had a long way to go before he would consider himself an actual hero. If anyone deserved the title without a Miraculous, it was Marinette, and he owed this opportunity to her. He never would have had the courage to accept Ladybug’s offer without her. It was a shame she’d never know how much she truly changed his life. Maybe one day he could tell her this secret, but for now, he’d wear his secret identity like an invisible badge of honor.

“Pound it!” The three heroes said in unison.

Malin turned to Lisette and bowed formally. “Perhaps I will save you again someday,” he said.

Lisette bit her lip before stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ladybug took his wrist and toted him off as a dopey grin spread across his lips. They retreated to a private corner at the base of the tower, and Malin returned the necklace to Ladybug. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Eliott shifted his gaze to his shoes with a sigh.

“What's wrong?” Ladybug asked.

“Nothing, just… Lisette kissed Malin, not Eliott.” He kicked at the ground.

“You really like her, don't you?” Ladybug asked.

Eliott flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. That morning the thought of falling in love with someone terrified him, but now… Maybe he hadn’t come down from his heroic high, but with Lisette’s kiss still burning on his cheek, he smiled.

“Yeah, I do,” he said.

“Well, Malin is very charming, but I think she might need someone to walk her home. Think Eliott can handle that?” Ladybug pointed to where Lisette was stepping off the elevator.

Have courage and believe in yourself.

On any other day, the fear of rejection would have convinced him to walk away, and maybe tomorrow it would. But today, today he wasn’t afraid.

“Lisette! Wait up.”

#marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #mdcsp #mdcspr #my writing #cats ocs

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