#understudy spotlight

[letsraisealittlehell-trds]

Chumisa Dormford-May as Christine in Phantom of the Opera on the West End

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Other Understudy Spotlights here!

🎥 : @or-what-you-will

[lovelymindescape]

Fuller , 1955 : Chapter 12: The Light Finds You

Summary: Reader joins the school play crew as a backstage helper—content to stay behind the curtain where no one looks too closely. But when a cast member drops out last-minute, she’s unexpectedly thrust into a role onstage. With stage fright creeping in and the spotlight too bright, Thomas remains quietly in the wings—his presence a steady, wordless anchor in the storm.

Setting: Fuller High School auditorium & backstage | Midweek afternoon, October 1955

Characters: Thomas Hewitt (teen), fem!reader, Mr. Dolan (drama teacher), ensemble students, brief mentions of classmates

Content Warnings: performance anxiety, social pressure, indirect bullying, soft emotional tension, stage fright, emotional intimacy, slow-burn closeness

E’s Notes: Thomas is such a silent comfort here, and reader’s courage is the kind that sneaks up on her. Bonus points for paint-stained hands and backstage shadows. This is a shorter filler Chapter , I promise I will soon start to post more frequent again. Pinky Promise.

Chapter 11

You didn’t want to be part of the school play. It wasn’t really your thing.

Too loud.

Too many eyes.

Too much expectation.

But Mr. Dolan, the drama teacher, knew your writing skill and said the crew needed someone who could “rewrite a few scene with an authentic 19th-century feel.”

So you agreed—on the condition that you’d stay backstage.

Far away from lights.

Far away from attention.

The auditorium became your quiet hiding place after school—dim, dusty, filled with half-finished props and laughter echoing off the rafters. It was warm in a way that didn’t ask anything from you.

Then Thomas showed up.

You don’t know who sent him—maybe the art teacher, maybe no one. Maybe he just wandered in. At first, he stayed near the paint table, his hands hovering uncertainly over the brushes.

You didn’t say much.

Neither did he.

But he kept coming back.

Now, a week later, he paints without being asked. He sands down rough edges. He fixes broken things. He’s not part of the cast or the crew—but somehow, he belongs more than anyone.

And then everything changes.

It’s two days before opening night when one of the lead girls , Catherine Morse, who was supposed to play Emily in Our Town, sneezes so hard during rehearsal she almost faints. She’s down with a fever, and the understudy didn’t show.

Everyone starts shouting. Mr. Dolan pulls his glasses off his face with a dramatic sigh.

“We need someone to step in just for tonight so we can run this scene. Anyone. Please.”

People shuffle awkwardly. Then someone says your name.

Too fast.

Too loud.

You freeze.

“I—I just do writing and help with the costumes,” you stammer, clutching a frayed piece of fabric. “I don’t even know her line”

“They’re minimal in this scene,” Dolan insists.

“We just need someone to walk the stage, say a few lines to George, and cross left during the fade.”

Eyes turn to you.

Too many.

Your mouth goes dry.

You glance instinctively toward the wings.

And he’s there.

Thomas stands half-shrouded in shadow, near the hanging ropes and racks of paper trees. He’s watching you—head tilted slightly, brow furrowed.

Quiet, but there.

You look back at Mr. Dolan and nod stiffly.

It happens too fast.

Someone shoves a crumpled copy of the script into your hands. The stage lights click on. You’re told to walk through the motion twice, speak the lines, and then move offstage.

Easy.

Except it’s not.

Not when your hands won’t stop shaking. Not when the boy playing George smirks like this is funny. Not when whispers ripple through the seats where a few students linger after rehearsal. But before the cue, someone taps your arm.

You turn.

It’s Thomas.

His fingers are smudged with green and brown paint, his sleeves rolled up.He doesn’t say anything. Just pulls something from his satchelbone of his little notepadnand scribbles something.

Then he hands it to you.

“Pretend they’re not real. Just you and the story.”

Your throat tightens. You nod, blinking fast. As you step into the light, you keep that little note clutched in your palm like a lifeline. It’s not perfect. You mess up the second line, stutter a bit, forget where to walk.

But you get through it.

You don’t faint.

You don’t cry.

And when the lights fade, and the rest of the cast moves on, you slip back behind the curtain and nearly collapse on the wooden crate near the ropes.

Thomas is there.

Still watching.

His face is unreadable at first.

Then he reaches out—not to touch, but to offer his water bottle. You take it with a grateful smile, the shaking in your hands finally starting to slow. You hold out his note, ready to return it.But he gently pushes your hand back.

It’s yours now.

Later, as rehearsal winds down and people scatter home, you find him at the paint table. You sit beside him. Neither of you speaks. But he turns his sketchpad so it faces you.

And on the page, there’s a drawing of the stage. Just the moment before the lights came on. You’re standing in the wings—hands clenched, back straight, fear humming around you like a storm cloud.

But he drew you there anyway.

Like you were brave, even if you didn’t feel like it.

You look up at him.

And in that soft, dusty corner of the auditorium, you smile, genuine and quiet and a little bit proud.

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @dogrrrrr @thewolffairytaler @night-shadowblood-writes2 @richietoziers-world @oliposca @decojellyfish

[recordmemes]

༘⋆｡ theatre scenarios.

feel free to combine prompts! add ' reverse ' to switch roles!

[  REHEARSAL  ]  for  my  muse  to  ask  yours  to  run  lines  with  them

[  WINGS  ]  for  my  muse  to  catch  yours  watching  from  the  wings

[  SCRIPT  ]  for  my  muse  to  hand  your  muse  a  script  with  something  unexpected  in  it

[  CAST  ]  for  my  muse  to  be  cast  in  the  role  yours  wants

[  CALLBACK  ]  for  my  muse  to  run  into  yours  at  a  callback

[  SABOTAGE  ]  for  my  muse  to  catch  your  muse  doing  something  shady  backstage

[  COSTUME  ]  for  my  muse  to  help  your  muse  into  their  costume

[  LINE  ]  for  my  muse  to  forget  their  line  and  yours  to  cover  for  them

[  UNDERSTUDY  ]  for  my  muse  to  suddenly  take  over  the  role  of  your  muse's  character's  love  interest

[  CRITIC  ]  for  my  muse  to  be  a  very  harsh  critic  of  the  show  your  muse  is  in

[  IMPROV  ]  for  my  muse  to  go  incredibly  off-script  during  the  performance

[  DRESSING  ]  for  my  muse  to  walk  in  on  yours  in  the  dressing  room

[  MAKEUP  ]  for  my  muse  to  help  your  muse  do  their  makeup

[  SPOTLIGHT  ]  for  my  muse  to  steal  the  spotlight  from  your  muse

[  NOTES  ]  for  my  muse  to  give  your  muse  notes  on  their  performance

[  DIRECTION  ]  for  my  muse  to  argue  with  the  direction  your  muse  is  taking  their  performance

[  REDO  ]  for  my  muse  to  keep  having  to  redo  a  part  during  rehersals

[  CUE  ]  for  my  muse  to  miss  their  cue,  fucking  things  up

[acanthasdreams]

oh romeo, my romeo - neil perry ₊˚⊹♡

I finally graduated….a few months ago. Imagine dropping a one shot and dipping, couldnt be me😮‍💨.. lowkey dont like the end but its been gathering dust in my gdocs ya'll im so sorry I didnt have the brain juice for smth better. I do hope ya'll like the "Act" format, mostly for that ✨theater✨ script effect. muah, acantha

A now adult Neil Perry is an actor for a small NYC theater company. He’s had a wonderful time following his dreams without his father’s judgment, but for once in his life, he regrets getting cast in a lead role. He plays Romeo, and it seems he can’t stop tripping over his lines because of his Juliet, you.

He’s more surprised when you invite him to lunch after he messes up a run through.

🐇 . *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄ 

ACT 1

 Neil sits on the far right of the stage, holding his script book and running lines in his head over and over, occasionally repeating the ones he found himself forgetting a lot.

“O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night”

His palms felt slightly sweaty, and he couldn’t help but keep glancing over across the stage, where you were sitting. 

“As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear-

Beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear.”

You seemed to be diligently practising your own lines with his understudy. He wished you were practising with him instead, but the director had asked you to practise with both Romeos “just in case” But he knew the exact reason why.

His eyes admired you from afar, as he kept reciting his lines. He thought you smiled so beautifully, with your eyes glistening like stars in the night. 

“So shows a snow…so shows a snowy dove trooping with troves-! crows.” He groans under his breath, underlining his lines over again with the pencil tucked behind his ear.

He seemed to keep tripping over his lines when he looked at you for too long.

Neil was a confident actor, truly. He loved it so much. It was the reason he’d left his life in Vermont, the opportunity to attend an ivy league and become a doctor, to instead live in New York City and be an actor for an almost run down theater program for the last 4 years.

Since you joined last year, he couldn’t really pull himself together around you. You were so beautiful on stage and were practically made for the spotlight, so it was no surprise you got cast as Juliet this fall. He just couldn’t seem to stop his heart from racing when it was around you. You made him so nervous, more nervous than being on a stage in front of a crowd. 

Neil re-read the scene again: Act 1, Scene 5…the kiss scene.

By far the most difficult scene he’d have to do in his career. And lucky for him, he just had to be cast as Romeo, huh.

He found himself biting his nails as he re-read the scene over again in his head, a bad habit he had picked up since getting this role. I guess he had you to blame for it, if only you weren’t so sweet, kind, beautiful-

“Hey Neil, are you ready to run the scene? Director’s asking” He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of your chirpy voice.

He looked up to see you looming over him, the overhead lights seemed to cast a halo over your head, “Fitting”, he thought.

Nodding frantically he mustered up a response, “Yes, yes…I’m ready.”

He knew he was lying to himself, as he certainly didn’t feel ready. He sucked it in though, and you both assumed the positions for the beginning of the scene and waited for your cue to enter the stage. 

The beginning of the scene goes well, as multiple other actors take the stage to create the scene of the masquerade. He feels his heart thumping over and over in his chest as the cue to approach you is given.

He extends a shaky hand towards you as he speaks his lines, he’s nervous to meet your eyes, and he finds himself looking down at his own hand. Maybe by looking at it, it’d magically stop shaking.

“If I profane with my unworthiest h-hand

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips…two blushing pilgrims, ready stand.

To smooth that rough touch with a…a tender kiss.”

He mentally slapped himself for his pauses and stutters, he hoped the director wouldn’t get frustrated at him. Usually, he was the one with the least issues to run over again. He had to wonder if this was how his friend Todd Anderson used to feel in front of Mr. Keating’s class.

You, on the other hand, easily take his shaky hand in yours, giving him a small and almost reassuring smile. Palm to palm you press yours to his and he prays you can’t feel the sweat beginning to cover them. Your touch felt electric.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saint have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

He tried not to trip up as your eyes stared deeply into his. Your eyes seemed to glimmer in a particularly affectionate way.

You were good at playing Juliet, at making him believe you were falling for him.

“Have not saints' lips, and holy palmers too?” He continues.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” Your smile seemed to grow more as you spoke your lines, you too, thought his eyes glimmered in a particularly affectionate way. You weren’t blind to how you had Neil Perry stumbling over words, if anything, you found it rather endearing.

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do…They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” You couldn't help but improvise just a little, taking a step closer as he spoke, and intertwining your fingers with his. 

His heart almost stopped as you did this, his eyes darting yours in a suppressed surprise as he heard the next lines escape your lips.

“Saint do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

He gulped deeply, hoping it couldn’t be heard with you being so close.

“T-then, move not while my prayer’s effect I take.” 

It was his cue to kiss you. He leaned in and it all felt like slow motion, your lips looked perfectly kissable. You thought his did, too…

“CUT!” 

Neil found himself retracting a little too fast, his hand removing itself from yours to instead rub at his neck nervously. The director was staring right at him and really, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. 

Which would be normal, if he hadn’t felt like he messed up the last part of the scene.

You had to suppress a small laugh, but were unable to hide the blush on your face. Truthfully, you were all too excited to kiss your favorite co-worker.

“Neil, lemme talk to ya’ for a moment.” The director called him over, calling for lunch break. Everyone was scattering to take full advantage of their lunch break, knowing them, they’d be running lines with a mouth half-full. You however, already had different plans in mind.

“You did great Neil.” You say, patting his shoulder in reassurance, which only made him feel slightly worse as he hopped off stage to where the director was sitting in the audience chairs.

“Yes, director?” The short, middle-aged lady looked at him over her glasses with an eyebrow half-raised.

“Look sweetie, you know I love ya’. You’re my best actor but c’mon!” She placed a hand on his shoulder leaning him in a little close to say something as if it were a secret. “You can’t keep letting your little crush on Juliet get in the way of the scene.”

His heart almost seemed to spot for yet another time as he shook his head.

“I-I don’t have a crush. I just need to practise more, is all…I’ll do better, I promise.” He found himself twiddling his thumbs. And Ms. Director was not looking too convinced.

“Sure you don’t Perry, sure you don’t” She simply shakes her head, giving him a knowing smile as she pats him on shoulder. “Just remember you’re good. And try to not look so scared of her when you speak to her…okay?”

He nods with a small smile, “Sounds good, captain.” 

With that she lets him off the hook. He wasn’t fully off the hook just yet, however, as you stood at the front of the stage with your bag and seemingly waiting for him.

“Neil!” You call for him, pushing yourself from the edge of the stage to come up to him, watching him as he gathered his coat and bag.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go on lunch with me? Only if you want to.” You were asking him so nicely, the way you fiddled with the strap of your bag was making his heart stir again. He was surprised you wanted to go to lunch with him after he messed up his lines and kiss scene with you.

Truthfully, you felt nervous. You'd never gone to lunch just you and him, maybe he'd reject you. 

In his eyes however, he couldn’t possibly deny you lunch, not when you were looking at him with doe-like eyes and such a sweet smile.

“I’d love to.” He responds, smiling back at you as he puts his coat on. 

You looked at him with gleaming eyes as he agreed. The way his eyes turned to crescents as he smiled made butterflies go wild in your tummy,

“Great! Let’s go then.” Weaving your arm in his- an act that surprised him, you led him to a destination he did not know of just yet.

Act 2 

You had dragged him to a small diner you had discovered on your first day in NYC. It was small, with usually very few but equally loyal customers like you.

This was your comfort place in the big city, and you wanted to share it with the one boy who seemed to have caught your eye in the short amount of time you’d spent in your new home.

You had surprisingly held back from talking his ear off since you’d gotten to the diner and ordered lunch. Your heart was beating out of your chest and for once, you found yourself feeling as shy as he often was with you.

“Hey, Neil…can I ask you something?” You said, sipping on the milkshake the waitress had just put down on your table.

“A-anything.” He stuttered, taking a sip from his coffee mug. He could barely glance back at you before looking into it like it was the most interesting thing ever. 

Was the coffee more interesting than you? You wished he’d look you in the eyes more often, his own pair of eyes were like two warm coffee mugs. You wanted to savor them for much longer than he gave you the opportunity to. To sink deeper into their warmth.

“Are you nervous to kiss me?” You ask, twirling the straw in your cup around while still keeping your eyes to him. You were beginning to regret asking, the shameless question you’d just asked him after the small talk was starting to sound embarrassing as it echoed in your mind.

Yet…you found it hard to look away from him. In a room full of actors, or anyone really, he was the one that shined the most to you. He was the one you were most interested in, with all that passion shining in his eyes. Finding out you’d be playing lead roles together got you to be what was probably the most excited you’d ever been.

Even now, after asking such a blunt question, you were captivated by him, watching intently on how a rosy blush spread into the highs of his sharp cheekbones.

Neil felt embarrassed over the question. He was usually very professional when acting, truly. But it seemed he had become easy to read when he worked with you and he truly wished he wasn’t because now you knew he found it hard to kiss you.

He lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was even holding before sweeping a hand through his hair. It had gotten longer since his Welton days, he liked it like this much more.

“Honestly…you make me nervous. In general.” 

His response makes you chuckle. Like actually chuckle.

He had admitted to it much easier than you had expected, and it was rather adorable.

“But why? I’m not difficult to work with, am I?” You knew you made him nervous but, you honestly just wished to see his talent up close. You wanted a taste of what his passion was like, but this was probably the most he’d spoken to you that wasn’t lines from a scene.

 “You’ve been at the theatre longer than me and I’ve seen you, you’re an amazing actor Neil…there’s nothing to be nervous about with me.”

His heart seemed to burst from your unprecedented compliments and the fairy-like chuckle that followed. He found himself staring…like he usually does. His lips eventually curled into a smile, one he hid by taking another sip of his coffee.

“You’re an amazing actor as well…it’s just-” He traces the edge of the mug with his fingers, fighting hard to keep eye contact with you, “I don’t think you realize just how amazing, or beautiful, you are. That’s what makes me nervous, and yes, especially over kissing you.” 

You found your own cheeks feeling warm, maybe he wasn’t as shy as you’d thought him to be. 

Was he a romancer all along? There had to be a reason he got the role of Romeo…

“That’s really sweet Neil, thank you.” You diverted your gaze from his for just a moment before letting yourself be entranced by those eyes of his again, “I think it would help if we practised together more often, you know? Just you and me.”

There was an undertone of flirtation in that comment, just you and me.

It shocked him just a bit, but he reminded himself to stay calm.

“I’d like that. Practising, just you and me.” He smiled warmly yet again.

You sipped your milkshake as you tried to hold back from making him nervous again, when he seemed to have relaxed a bit. But an idea had popped into your head and you couldn’t help it. 

“Hey, Neil. I think I know what might help you feel less nervous with me…”

He tilted his head to the side, giving you a slightly confused smile. He had no idea what you could possibly suggest for his nerves, he’d hoped you wouldn’t suggest something along the lines of switching roles.

Oh no, he would never accept having you play anything but Juliet. His Juliet.

“What would that be?”

Neil watched as a mischievous smile made its way to your face. Your glossy lips seemed to reflect the diner’s lighting as a show of attention.

“...Maybe we should just kiss right now.”

He almost choked up at your suggestion. He had certainly not expected that of all things.

“You…” He ran his hand through his hair, chuckling, “I have a sneaking suspicion you like making me feel nervous.”

“Hey, this is a very serious suggestion, Perry….you could consider it the beginning of our one-on-one practices.” You scooted yourself out of your side of the booth and into his, pressing yourself into his side. 

From here, you could smell the scent of coffee on his lips and the light shining like speckled stars in his brown eyes. He was the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen.

You were hoping he’d say yes, if only to see if the black coffee he seemed to enjoy drinking so much would taste sweeter when it was from his lips.

Neil’s heart was thumping in his chest like a drum, yet he didn’t feel nervous, no. For once, he found it in him to hold his gaze in yours, shamelessly letting his gaze shift from your eyes to your lips. 

The fact you’d not only invited him to lunch, but also invited him to kiss you if he wanted to, told him everything he needed to know. 

That he most certainly did have a crush on you and that you might like him as well. 

He was not about to give up this opportunity. 

He smiled softly, reaching out to take your hand from atop the table. He held it tenderly in his, his thumb rubbing circles atop your hand. Romeo seemed to take hold of his soul.

“Then, move not while my prayer’s effect I take.” He speaks, before slowly leaning in to kiss your petal lips.

Soft, he thought as his mouth pressed into yours.

You seemed to also be feeling deeply into the moment, your other hand reaching to hold his chiseled cheek.

Your lips met for a prolonged period of time, more than was truly necessary for this “practise”. It was sweet nevertheless, sweet and tender.

Neil eventually found it in him to break it. Slowly, as he was savoring the taste of you.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged” He muttered.

The butterflies went wild in your stomach at his demeanor. It was a perfectly romantic act.

“Give me my sin again” you wanted to say, skip lines, just so you could kiss again. But you were too love struck to act clearly, to remember the line between you and Juliet.

“Neil…” You smile, “You did really good.” 

You both were smiling silly, side by side like love-struck puppies.

“Thank you…” He mumbled, his hand slowly letting go of yours to run through his hair. “Maybe it’ll be easier to do it during run-throughs.”

“Well…we can always practise one-on-one more. Whenever you want.” You suggest and a soft blush appears on your cheeks. You were certainly becoming shameless about liking him so much, huh?

He finds the suggestion endearing, though, especially when you had been so straight forward before. A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“I’ll be sure to take up the offer…thank you.” 

You both decide to take full advantage of your lunch break, finally eating as your food arrives. You spend half of it talking and learning about each other, where you were from, your family, friends, theater…you both were falling deeper without knowing.

Act 3

Bright lights shine down on a tragic scene.

Romeo lays in Juliet's arms, poisoned. But she finds something.

“What’s here? A cup closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.—O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop To help me after! I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative.” 

With no hesitation, she kisses his lips. Soft and warm.

“Thy lips are warm!” 

The scene continues to unravel as watchers enter, but her eyes are only on Romeo’s face, illuminated like an angel’s in the bright lights of the stage.

“Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief.” She lays Romeo beside her before taking his dagger, holding it dramatically “O, happy dagger, This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die.”

She lets out a pained cry as she stabs herself, the scene fades to black and the curtains close.

Under the darkness, you shuffle along, grabbing Neil’s hand as you go backstage to allow the stagehands to set up the end of the story.

You sit off stage, watching the final scenes. But you weren’t really watching.

Neil’s lips were on yours, and you continued to let him steal kisses between quiet giggles. Your hands were intertwined, and you both felt happy.

It was the last night of the show, afterall. A very successful show with confident on-stage and off-stage kisses. Your Romeo looked handsome in his full costume, and you looked like the perfect princess.

Eventually, everyone was called to stage for a bow.

“Come, princess.” Neil held your hand as he led you out to the stage, he felt more exhilarated than ever before. He felt no regret playing Romeo as your names were called out. Stepping forward among the cast, he held you by your waist and kissed you in front of everyone.

He was absolutely shameless about his love for you.

The crowd roared in applause and cheered over this. You just blushed over the public display of affection as you walked back into the group.

You joined hands with everyone for one final bow. Both you and Neil felt an exhilarated feeling, true happiness over the success of your show…but mostly from the love you’d found in eachother.

The curtains dropped as you held your bow. But now behind the curtain you grabbed him in yet another kiss.

“Oh Romeo, my Romeo” you muttered, holding him tight.

“My Juliet…” Neil’s long fingers ran through your hair, kissing your face over and over. 

He was happy you had invited him to lunch that day, and that he’d gotten to practice kissing you so many times.

[END]

[mudpuddlenl]

Hadestown Amsterdam details I love!

Before I do this, some info on when/who I saw. I saw the matinee on July 6th, from front row (seat 14, so around middle of the right front row section. Not close enough to the middle to have the lamps swinging over me, but a few seats away from it). This means I couldn’t see some big overview things, but could see quite some details!

Main cast had no covers/understudies. The Hermes I saw was Maarten Heijmans, and the workers I saw were Maxime Karsten, Mickey Vermeer, Tiago D’Hondt Bamberger, Winny Herbert, and Christopher Short.

Here we go!

Act 1

- Hermes does a little check-in with every chorus members/worker, Eurydice, and the band, before he starts singing

- when Eurydice asks for a match Orpheus immediately starts searching for one in his apron (and finds one, but Eurydice is closer to Hermes and takes his instead, and he’s kinda sad about it)

- Eurydice is absolutely demanding Orpheus sings his song during Wedding Song. Like she’s not asking. She’s demanding he sings it and is super angry he hasn’t tried to fix spring with it yet

- The fates are such taunting/mocking assholes in this one btw (said with so much love). Their every action screams “here to cause drama and happy about it”. Actively laughing about it and making the finger wave type handgestures types of taunting/mocking assholes

- Persephone throws the bouquet in her bag as if it’s a bridal bouquet at the beginning of living it up on top (one of the chorus/workers catches it)

- She interacts with front row a bit during LIUOT too. I think she winked at me (or at least in my direction)

- Eurydice has this almost scared and feral animal feel to her in her verse of All I’ve Ever Known. She grabs him by his shirt, pushing and shaking him, he reaches out to her and she shrinks away as if scared… it’s intense

- Hermes’ silly little leg kick when he comes to the front with the parasol :) (you can see it in the trailer actually. Tumblr won’t let me add a link for it but if you look up Hadestown Amsterdam you should be able to find it)

- The end of Way Down Hadestown is incredible but special shout-out to the awkward silence after “kinda makes you wonder how it feels” - Hades kinda stares at Eurydice and Orpheus literally jumps in front of her in a protective stance (Eurydice steps in front of him again at “all aboard” and you can tell Orpheus is worried about it)

- Orpheus is sitting to the right side at a table with his back to most of the stage for a big part of act 1. He’s writing his song (only standing up from it to perform his lines in the songs). He’s there until the start of Wait for Me, after which he stands up excited about something and goes to Hermes, and Wait for Me kicks off

- Wait for me was incredible as always but especially in front row, the smoke/fog would come into it. Still 100% visibility but just added a ton of immersion

- The workers also came in from the side and attached the lamps themselves

- A lot of fog on the ground in general for most of the underworld scenes

- They made the last “free” in Why We Build The Wall a very quiet calm one and it was incredible

Act 2

- Hermes leads out an already very drunk Persephone for OLOTU, and she’s trying to get him to drink more as well (he does end up getting another cup, but is very measured and slow with it, he stands to the left of the stage leaning against a bench or table for most of the song)

- OLOTU was just Persephone and the band (and Hermes watching). The fates came in halfway through during Persephone calling out the band

- She made a lot of cool choices but I couldn’t focus on any of them because she sang part of the second verse directly to me. Like, eye contact, very slightly bowed down, gesturing, the whole deal. I am in love I think! I won at life!

- There is so much to talk about here and I might have forgotten some of it sorry

- Persephone is on stage the whole time, though not always in the spotlight. She sat by the piano for Flowers and there was just. Such heartbreak on her face (and she also sometimes looked away)

- Orpheus comes running through the audience for come home with me II and they are instantly hugging

- Hugs that are simultaneously someone shielding the other! Hugs that are simultaneously someone shielding the other!!!!

- Going to give a flashing lights warning for Papers here for anyone who’s going to see it who might be sensitive to it. It’s only a small bit of it (5-10 seconds at most) but it’s intense

- The fates drag Eurydice off of Orpheus (dragging her out of a hug, in fact) but I’m pretty sure she’s actually upstage in the dark with the fates for most if not all of it. She saw all that

- absolutely no break between papers and nothing changes. Like right into the other one could think it was the same song. I’m talking not a single beat. Orpheus does not look at the fates during this he’s just lying there in pain at the very front of the stage (same place where Eurydice ends up at the end of When the Chips Are Down, actually)

- in the beginning of If It’s True, he sings at the very least part of the first verse directly to Eurydice (and she’s shaking her head to him but not saying anything)

- He also later sings “tell me what to do” directly to Eurydice

- Eurydice is also the last of the workers to stand up

- During the beginning of Chant II, Persephone is trying super hard to connect with Orpheus, like panicked chasing after him on the turntable kind of super hard, but is unsuccessful (they keep drifting past eachother)

- This Hades is also way more like, taunting/mocking and also kinda aggressive sometimes? Very dominant but a bit hotheaded

- The lights at “I conduct the electric city” went very bright then dark with a like, power outage ish feel to it (complete with sound). Only to then switch to immediate bright white spotlight on hades on the balcony

- The last verse of Epic III was altered. I don’t remember all of the new lyrics but man it HIT

- I didn’t mention it before because it was irrelevant back then but all the workers except Eurydice wear these head caps/head protection things/bandanas? They have the headlight and the goggles on them. During Epic III they take them off to reveal their actual hair and it makes them look like individuals again rather than all the same workers. (With the way they played it, I headcanon this is when they got their own memories back and remembered their name again)

- Hades is PISSED during Epic III. As soon as Orpheus starts comparing his relationship to Hades’, he attempts to step in and stop him. Persephone has to actively stop him and tell him to “let him finish, hades!”

- He gets even MORE pissed when more people join into Epic III. He starts actively yelling “SILENCE!” and trying to intimidate the workers, but is drowned out by the singing. He points accusingly at Hermes but isn’t able to get to him. He stands nose to nose with Orpheus in the center as the workers dance around them and he closes his eyes and bows his head down to not look at him and presses his hands to his ears.

- He struggles with the first “la la la” and almost gives up, but Persephone stands in front of him reaching out and he tries again, and succeeds this time. He and Persephone join hands and he opens his to reveal the red flower. Persephone puts it in his vest. :)

- The dancing was delightful. There was a kind of youth and childishness to it. He’d spin her around and she’d run around the stage like she sometimes would in her drunk dancing, but this time with joy behind it. They attempt a move, fail, look at eachother like “nevermind” and laugh. They do fakeouts and small teasing and silly dancing to make eachother laugh, and they laugh together. Hades lost his flower but they didn’t care (Hermes ended up giving it back to him for His Kiss, The Riot). It was just incredible. In the end, they hug. (They hold this hug through the entirety of promises)

- The line “I don’t know where this road will end, but I’ll walk it with you hand in hand” is partially sung to the workers (Eurydice runs up to them and quickly holds each of their hands as she sings)

- One of the fates has little bells on a string she like, manoeuvres between her hands (the other two are still violin and accordion) during His Kiss, The Riot

- Doubt Comes In was incredible. Incredible lighting and use of the turn tables, Eurydice would be there one moment and be gone the next. It really made you feel what Orpheus went through!

- At the end of doubt comes in, Orpheus moves up to the stairs to the right of the stage (there’s light shining from there). He turns on the stairs while nearly at the light.

(This image is the stage at the beginning of act 1 since I forgot to take one of beginning of act 2, but you can still see the stairs here (to the right of the instruments on the right side). During wait for me, the wall splits into 3 pieces (I think the seams are pretty visible in the picture). The drummer was placed in the booth behind the bar)

- You can FEEL the despair on Eurydice’s face as she falls back. She clutches her hands over her face and tries to cry out but can’t

- Orpheus lies fully flat face down looking at the hole she fell in, and keeps this pose for most of road to hell II

- When he does stand up, he just walks up those same stairs in despair and leaves the stage

- During Eurydice’s segment near the end of Road to Hell II, she finds the red flower in her jacket quickly after lighting the candle. She seemed like she vaguely recognized it (and was confused by recognizing it)

- Orpheus also steps forward again when she asks for a match :)

- During we raise our cups, they make sure to also have workers bring cups to the band!

Small edit: actually found a video of the bows and We Raise Our Cups from the show I was at! (If you look closely, you might be able to spot me)

The video doesn’t show it but the band played a little while longer even after Hermes went offstage and we were all clapping and still standing up and it was a lot of fun :D

[romatito]

teeny part 2 to the theatre troupe au...... feli 100% dropped out on purpose when he saw the understudy list 😬😬 youd think itd be bc he wanted lovi to have the spotlight for once, but. no. he just wants to meddle in his brothers love life and he thought this would be the funniest way to do it.

[stargurl8888]

The Feels

"Some people are photographs waiting to be taken, others are stories waiting to be told. You, my dear, are both."

Word Count: 1,2k

Content Warning: Mild suggestive themes, Light angst, Jealousy, Stalker Vibes

Genre: Romance, School Drama

Synopsis: When the school's star actress Sana Minatozaki needs promotional photos for the drama club's latest production, she specifically requests the coldest member of the photography club, Kaori Tanaka. What starts as a simple photography assignment becomes complicated when Kaori becomes an emergency understudy, forcing these two to confront the tension that's been building between them. Between Natty's scheming and their own inability to be honest, will they find their spotlight moment?

✨✨✨✨✨ ⎯⎯ ⏳🌌🔄🌠🔄🌌⏳ ⎯⎯ ✨✨✨✨✨

The thing about photography is that it reveals more than just images. Through her lens, Kaori Tanaka had documented countless truths that her subjects never meant to show. A trembling hand here, a genuine smile there – moments of authenticity caught between posed perfection.

But right now, staring through her viewfinder at Sana Minatozaki, she was seeing too much truth for comfort.

"The lighting isn't right," Kaori muttered, lowering her camera. The drama club's stage lights created harsh shadows, turning even Sana's perfect features into something too dramatic.

"Or maybe you're just trying to extend our time together," Sana teased, looking at her watch, 3:07 pm, shifting her position on stage. Her Romeo costume caught the light, making her look like some romantic hero stepped out of history. "How many shots do you really need for promotional materials?"

"As many as it takes to get it right." Kaori adjusted her settings, pretending her hands weren't shaking. "The drama club president deserves perfect photos, doesn't she?"

"Ah, so you do know I'm the president." Sana's smile turned playful. "Here I thought you never paid attention to anything but your camera."

If only she knew how much attention Kaori really paid. How many candid shots of Sana filled her private collection, moments captured between official assignments. The way she laughed during rehearsals, how she helped younger students with their lines, her quiet moments when she thought no one was watching.

"The whole school knows who you are," Kaori deflected, raising her camera again. "Now, look stage left…"

"EMERGENCY!" The doors burst open, revealing a panicked drama club member. "Juliet has mono! The understudy has food poisoning! The show's in two weeks!"

Sana's composed facade cracked slightly. "Both of them?"

"What about Natty?" someone suggested. "She knows the lines…"

"Natty's already playing Mercutio. We need someone new. Someone who can memorize quickly…"

All eyes slowly turned to Kaori, who was trying to pack up her camera and escape.

"Wait." Sana's voice stopped her. "Don't you have a perfect memory? I've seen you recite entire articles without notes."

"That's different. I'm not an actress."

"But you've been to every rehearsal," Natty pointed out, appearing suddenly. Her smile was too sweet to be genuine. "Taking photos, watching us practice… You must know the lines by now."

Kaori did know the lines. All of them. Including Sana's, which she'd memorized while pretending to focus on camera angles.

"I can't—"

"Please?" Sana stepped closer, and suddenly Kaori couldn't remember why she was protesting. "Just until we find someone else?"

That's how Kaori found herself at evening rehearsal, script in hand, trying not to combust as Sana played Romeo to her very reluctant Juliet.

"O Romeo, Romeo…" Kaori recited flatly, making Natty wince.

"More feeling!" the director called. "You're in love!"

"With all due respect," Kaori gritted out, "I'm a photographer."

"Not anymore." Sana climbed the prop balcony, ignoring the director's protests. She stopped inches from Kaori, close enough that her whisper wouldn't carry to their audience. "I've seen how you look at me through your camera. Show me that girl instead of this ice queen act."

Kaori's breath caught. "I don't—"

"You have a folder of candids. All of me. Momo told me."

Of course she did. Kaori was going to kill her friend later.

"That's not—"

"Isn't it?" Sana's hand found hers, hidden from view by the balcony rail. "The way you capture me when you think I'm not looking… No one else sees me like that."

"We should run the scene," Kaori managed.

"We are." Sana's thumb traced patterns on her palm. "This is the part where Juliet realizes she's fallen for someone she shouldn't want."

The script crumpled in Kaori's other hand. "Sana…"

"Say it like that for the scene." Sana's eyes sparkled. "Just like that."

The next run-through had the director in tears.

Rehearsals became a special kind of torture. Natty insisted on "helping" Kaori practice, her hands lingering too long during dramatic scenes. Sana started attending every session, her smile growing more strained each time Natty touched Kaori.

"You're enjoying this," Mina accused during lunch break, watching Kaori pretend not to watch Sana.

"I'm suffering."

"You're making her jealous on purpose."

"I'm being professional."

"Is that why you let Natty feed you during practice?"

Kaori flushed. "She insisted—"

"And Sana nearly broke her water bottle watching." Mina grinned. "For someone who claims not to care, you're playing this game very well."

"It's not a game."

But it felt like one, especially when Sana started finding excuses to demonstrate scenes personally. Her Romeo became more passionate, more possessive, until even the director had to call for breaks to "cool the tension."

Everything came to a head during their final dress rehearsal.

"The balcony scene isn't working," the director announced. "We need to stay late and fix it."

Natty immediately volunteered to help, but Sana cut her off. "Actually, I think Kaori and I should run it alone. To build chemistry."

The room emptied quickly after that, leaving them alone under the stage lights.

"You're doing this on purpose," Kaori accused once everyone was gone.

"Doing what?"

"This!" Kaori gestured between them. "The lingering touches, the loaded lines, making everyone leave…"

"Says the girl who lets Natty hang all over her while staring at me."

"I don't—"

"You do." Sana stepped closer, backing Kaori against the balcony prop. "You think I don't notice? The way you pretend not to care, but your breath catches when I get close? How you let her touch you but tense every time, while your photos of me…"

"Stop."

"Your photos show everything you try to hide." Sana's hands landed on either side of her head. "The angles, the lighting, the moments you choose to capture… They're love letters, Kaori."

"I'm just doing my job."

"Are you? Is that why you have shots of me sleeping during council meetings? Reading in the library? Laughing in the rain?"

Kaori's back hit the railing. "How did you—"

"I have my sources." Sana's smile softened. "Just like you have your perfect memory. Tell me, what's my line right now?"

"Thus with a kiss, I—" Kaori's words cut off as Sana closed the distance.

The kiss wasn't in the script. Neither was the way Kaori's hands fisted in Sana's costume, or how Sana pressed closer, turning the innocent stage kiss into something real.

"I knew it," came Natty's voice from the doorway.

They broke apart to find her standing there, phone raised. "Wait until everyone sees—"

"Sees what?" Mina appeared behind her, plucking the phone away. "The school's worst-kept secret? Please. We've had a betting pool for months."

"But she's—"

"About to star opposite Sana in the most anticipated show of the year?" Mina's smile was sharp. "Yes, she is. And you're going to be happy for them, aren't you?"

Natty stormed out, but neither Kaori nor Sana noticed. They were too busy looking at each other, realizing every pretense had finally fallen away.

"Your lines," the director's voice came from the shadows, making them jump. "Were perfect. That's exactly the passion this scene needs."

"How long have you—"

"Long enough to know tomorrow's show will be spectacular." They could hear the smile in his voice. "Take five, then we'll run it again. With the original blocking this time, please."

Later, as they walked home under cherry blossoms, Sana asked, "Was any of it acting?"

Kaori pulled out her camera, capturing Sana in the soft evening light. "What do you think?"

The photo showed everything her words couldn't say – love, in perfect focus.

PART OF A SERIES OF ALTERNATE UNIVERSES SOUTH PARALLEL: 37

[aarontveit]

moulinrougebway: Dylan Paul’s final Swing performances are here ❤️‍🔥

Here’s some of what he’s seen as an Original Broadway Cast Swing 📷

“Since Boston, I’ve covered Christian, The Duke, Zidler, F9, and F10. It has been incomparably chaotic and rewarding - The Rougual. I’ve stood by until minutiae numbed my brain and been thrown into the spotlight during the production’s most violent convulsions of mid-show callouts, COVID, cut tracks, injuries, administrative fiascos, and leaves. I’ve also played The Duke as a Broadway principal - my first. Being at the mercy of an event like this fuels my admiration for our company. They are generous humans and top-notch artists, performers, creatives, associates, stage managers, and crew. I want to especially recognize and thank our offstage company and understudies - I am endlessly impressed by your versatility and pluck. I will genuinely miss rehearsals. Thank you to all the staff at the Hirschfeld for making a second home that feels safe and welcoming. Thank you to our labor unions, which make a living wage possible. Thank you to the Baz Luhrmann film that made a kid from Kansas want to do musicals, and to the creative team, company managers, producers, and screaming audiences who made another Broadway dream come true. To every former and current cast member, please know that I deeply love the work we’ve done together. What an epic ride. I look forward to the show continuing to light up Broadway for many performances to come. Here are some things I’ve seen over the years: - My final dressing room as a Swing at the Hirschfeld. - Aaron Tveit looking up from the passarelle in rehearsal. - The OBC celebrates a “final” rehearsal. Open Jar, NYC. - Danny and Sonya in rehearsal. Emerson Colonial, Boston. - Setting *Toxic* in tech. Hirschfeld, NYC. - Lift call adventures - Aaron mid-air. - Broadway opening night. Baz exiting the mezz to join us. Possibly my favorite theatre photo ever. - The now-cut duo trapeze descent. Boston. - My first dressing room as a Swing. Boston, 2018. - On as The Duke. 📷 Avery Brunkus.”

@_dylanpaul | Original Broadway Cast Swing

[verdicloud]

i’ve been thinking a lot more about george (the cat who plays rumpus cat) lately, and there’s a really adorable shot during gus’s song where george looks up at old deuteronomy like this

like he’s saying “are you hearing this old deuteronomy?? he actually understudied whittington’s cat??!!”

i have thoughts about this

so george is normally a pretty shy kitten. he’s in the background a lot and hangs around older cats like old deuteronomy and jellylorum, he even flinches when gus looks at him.

but when he’s playing rumpus cat, all of a sudden he’s goofing around and enjoying the spotlight. i like to think acting helps him get out of his shell, and he loves being on stage and performing.

so obviously he admires gus a lot, but after hearing his story he realises that he wants to take acting more seriously, to create a persona that would be worthy of firefrorefiddle, and most of all, make gus proud.

“george the theatre cat”. has a nice ring to it!

p.s. george is literally one of the most underrated cats. like he’s so adorable!! and he has the biggest smile in the world!!

[letsraisealittlehell-trds]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ Understudy Spotlight ! ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Scott Hayward (He / Him) as Rusty in Starlight Express at the Troubadour Wembley Park Theatre

Feel free to reblog / use with credit! Got a request or idea for a future spotlight? Send it to my ask box!

SCOTT RUSTY AHAHAHAHAHSHISHIHH

i was meant to post this 10 days ago elehmayo

Other Understudy Spotlights!

[not-too-many-eyes]

I just find Wakaba really fascinating in the terms of how the narrative evolves around her. She stays the same while everything around her changes, she wants to become special and important to the story and then...never gets that. She gets into the car with Akio but we don't see Anything. She's not important enough to be given that spotlight, or to see how that could have affected her. She seems surface level happy and then that's it. We don't get to know because the narrative is completely uninterested in her emotional and personal development and character.

She gets the one episode, goes back to how it was before, and then doesn't appear much in that later half even though she was important in the Student Council Arc for Utena's personal development. And even that you can view that as her acting only in service to the main characters. After that and Black Rose she appears mainly to push Utena further into the sexist nightmare of Othori Academy.

And then she forgets everything.

The most change happening to her afterwards is her repeating Utena's role. She does not get a role of her own because she's the understudy to Utena's role. The narrative is a leering man that has no interest in her as a person but also doesn't want her to leave it's sight. Horrifying. 10/10. Wakaba I love you.

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

IT'S MY MOULIN ROUGE-IVERSARY!!!!!!

one year ago today, i posted my first ever mr! fic!!! in the past year i posted EIGHTY FICS with a total of 296,495 WORDS!!!! insane. unhinged. i need to be stopped. or perhaps i deserve to be celebrated!!! therefore i wanted to make a post celebrating MY favorite things i've written in the past year!! obviously there are the fan favorites and i love those endlessly, but setting those aside for the moment, i wanted to highlight my faves that i feel were underrated! this rouge-iversary day, it would mean a lot to me if you (re)read my fics and left a comment or three on your favorites!! enjoy my list, may it be a trip down memory lane for you as well!!

darling, dearest, dead: Reflections on loving and being loved, on losing and being lost, on words spoken and words left unspoken, on shared experiences and differing experiences.

without a doubt one of my fave things i have ever written. i love this fic so much. i am proud of how this turned out and that isn't going to change, but tbh i had expected it to get more attention than it did. that could be said about most of the fics on this list so i'm not gonna say it again haha

countdown: On December 31st, as the rest of the world prepares to ring in the New Year, Christian sits with his wife in her final moments.

wept openly while i wrote this one. another absolute fave. i love this universe FOREVER!!! give it a read if u feel like crying

understudy: Nini knows the part. Canon-divergent AU in which Satine succumbs to her illness backstage, before what was to be her last performance begins.

y'all. Y'ALL. read this one. i'm begging. i still think about it on a weekly basis. i upset myself with this one. cried as i wrote it. wtf. i know it's angsty unrequited satine/nini but there's background c/s if that is a requirement for u

out of the darkness, into the spotlight (everyone's waiting in the place where you belong): Baby Doll gets ready for her first performance at the Moulin Rouge. Months later, everyone gets ready for the second performance of Bohemian Rhapsody. Well, almost everyone. There's one notable absence.

i know platonic pairings may not be your thing but i love this one so much. we have baby doll x satine. we have nini x baby doll. we have baby doll getting to say "mama satine"!!! i am never forgiving broadway script for cutting that. i missed boston bd and satine so much I WROTE THEM MYSELF. pls enjoy

broken mirror: The Duke gives Satine a present. She uses it for a purpose other than the intended one.

self-harm satine. fucked up and angsty but i love how beautiful it turned out

rotten: Two best friends, a walk home from school, and an ever-growing chasm of secrets between them.

check the trigger warnings on this one. exploration of modern satine's childhood trauma. i love her forever, my tragic girl

trial triptych: An incidence of being assaulted by an ex, as told through excerpts of documents from the resulting trial.

one thing about me is i love trying new formats

entanglement: Christian wants more than what they have currently for both himself and Satine.

a glimpse into a high school cs affair

yet to be born you're already dead (follow it through to the obvious end): Christian's thoughts while in the Duke's apartment.

trans!christian ANGST

thank you for being a fan of mine (especially if you read all of these words haha) and i look forward to continuing to share this fandom with each of you!!!

[phasecornnuts]

I would love to power bottom Valentino from hazbin hotel ples 😏 also I LOVE angst so maybe a bit of that 😌 head cannons or a fic doesn’t matter I love words

Hello again whores! This is over 16k words…. I think I may have a problem, but I cooked so whatever

Tbh I may open writing commissions bc I love y’all but if I’m writing biblical epics I lowkey would appreciate being paid (college is expensive) 😭

CW: For general angst and Drug use

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated working nights, but working for Val always meant you worked nights. If someone were to ask you to write a list of everything you disliked about the club, you’d swear the exterminators would be here by the time you were done with it. But alas, it was what it was and there was nothing you could do to change it. That fucking contract made sure of that.

There were a few things that could make your shift bearable though. You liked Angel, even though he didn’t really come by anymore because of that stupid hotel, you liked the free drinks, even though Val made sure they were watered down after you vomited on a customer, and you liked the pills Val would give you, even though they made you feel loopy when you preformed. Those were the shit. Grade A. Top tier. Happiness in a tablet the size of your fingernail.

In your dressing room you watched the clock, five minutes. God, you were already sweating in the shitty outfit Val made you wear for tonight. A frilly maid outfit with black lingerie underneath, the man wanted a strip-tease and he was gonna have it one way or another. With Angel gone, you were the only other person he thought was worth headlining. That felt good to hear, even if you were only second choice. Maybe Angel being gone was a good thing, not for him but for you, maybe Val would see that you’re better than him, that you tried more. Maybe then you could be the star, and not just the understudy. Maybe, maybe, maybe; The word’s rhythm wavered in your head.

Hoping for Val to want you was fruitless though, you knew. Angel was the golden goose- or spider, you supposed - and it would take an act of god for someone to eclipse him. You took your eyes off the clock, knowing getting lost in your thoughts would just lead to a spiral of self-loathing. You closed your eyes and released a heavy sigh. On your table, beside your makeup and phone stood a fluorescent orange bottle. Unscrewing the cap you let loose three in your palm before capping the bottle. You ran the pad of your thumb over the tiny white buttons, smooth and chalky, before placing them in a row on your tongue, all washed down with watery gin. A twisted communion.

You lean back in your chair, wondering when the pills are gonna kick in. About two minutes pass before you hear the door to your dressing room open and a tired waitress with smudgy blue eyeliner and a crooked wig tilts her head towards the hallway to tell you it’s time for you to get on stage. Walking past her, you can smell a heavy peach scented perfume she used to try to cover the smell of sweat. Your heels clacked on the tile floor as you walked up to the entrance of the stage. You scratched your back from the itchy fabric of the costume, then adjusted the tops of your stockings. The song that’s currently playing ends and the performer before you walks to the back, they’re huffing and tired. They stretch and pop their back before looking at you, mouthing “Good luck.” The DJ of the club took a beat before announcing you to the crowd. Rolling your shoulders, you walked on stage feeling the hot spotlights shine on you.

That’s when it hits.

All of the tension you held in your body lifted, and your mind began to swim as you felt the Oxy kick in. Fuck, they really were the best. They made you feel warm and floaty, made the world seem bearable. You swung your hips seductively as you sauntered to the pole, ready to begin your act. Looking around, all the faces of the crowd blended together. It felt like the world was painted in watercolor, all of its harsh edges gone, replaced with washes that drifted out into nothing.

A chemical confidence kicked in then. Those languid movements of yours had everyone entranced, grinding your sex to the pole as you teased eager watchers with a peek up your skirt. Over the music you could hear their hoots and wolf-whistles, then frenzy when you began to shimmy off your top, exposing that black bra you had on under. You throw it out into the crowd, grateful not to have that polyester piece of shit on you anymore. The way they all clamor to catch it made you bite your bottom lip with a smirk. They were all so pathetic.

You spun on the ball of your foot, but the weightlessness of your opioid addled body worked against you, making you fall. Luckily you caught yourself on your hands, pretending it was some sultry move like a lady in a porno. The crawling was good though, you pretended to fuck the stage before you got to the center. You leaned back on your hands, stretching out a heeled foot that they all begged to touch. One almost did, before you snatched it away.

Slipping off that ugly skirt and kicking it off into the drunken crowd felt so good. They were transfixed, enthralled, however you wanted to put it. Your high made everything better, blanketing your body in comfort- That was always the peak. Savoring those small moments that made them scream. Looping and spinning and sliding and going upside down, stretching your legs out spread-eagle. When you felt the room start to spiral you stopped with your back to it for support. With a fake sexiness you slid your hand down your stomach, into those thin painties before taking it out.

God, it felt good to be desired even if it was like this. Sure, Val didn’t want you, but they did. All those sinners and hell-born who clamored to touch you and have you touch them. How they fought over an ugly, scratchy top because you wore it.

Turning your head you saw a wide-eyed patron ignoring a half-drank glass. You smirk and crawl towards them, and their eyes turn to the size of saucers. Reaching the edge of the stage you lean over, hanging over their small table. You opened your mouth wide enough to kiss- But you didn’t. You let your tongue hang out of your mouth, letting a fat drop of spit land in their drink. That was all they could have of you; You smile and go back to the stage to continue your act.

You don’t know how long he’d been standing there when you saw him. Valentino. He nips at his cigarette while he looks at you, not knowing what he’s thinking. Your moves become bigger, looser, hoping to impress him. A glob of phlegm sits at the back of your mouth and you swallow, feeling the tenseness grow inside your body. I can be good too, see! I’m as good as Angel! Even better! Please…please don’t fire me.

He walks closer to the stage as you keep grinding on the pole. Your eyes meet for a second before you look away, unsure. When he reaches the edge of the stage is when you slam yourself to the floor- the crowd hollered. Val adjusts his glasses and takes a long, long drag from his cigarette. Your body cranes towards him, head lowered in reverence while you studied his face. Val was always so hard to read, that’s the thing you hated most about him - well, at least one of them- was he displeased, impressed, disinterested? Fuck if you knew.

With one hand he pinched your face, between his pointer and thumb. He pressed his mouth to yours, filling it with all of that warm smoke. The roof of your mouth hurt so much, but the rest of your body trembled. He’d never been this open, kissing you, watching you dance, it felt so, so good to have his attention. Val pulled away, pink cloud leaving your parted lips.

Valentino leaned in, “Meet me in the back.”

“I still have five minutes left…”

“I’m your boss.” There was a vague sternness to his words, what were five minutes compared to his regard?

You breathed heavily. “Gimme a second.”

Quickly as you could you got off stage. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t tell why- was it the Oxy? The drink? The dancing? The cigarette? All of them combined. The backstage was full of cold air, making goosebumps prickle over your legs. You crossed your forearms and leaned them on the wall. Eyes closed, you counted backwards from 100; 100, 99, 98, 97- Val with his cigarette showed up in your mind, how he pulled your mouth to his, how you shivered, how you liked it. You tried again, but he kept lingering. Another restart, going a bit longer this time, but you gave up somewhere around 56.

Through the backstage hallway you walked to the back, The Velvet Rooms. Those fancy, gilded places hidden away that only those Val liked - or who could afford it- could enter. Valentino hid himself away in the biggest one, a room within the wall closed off with heavy dark blue curtains. The Velvet Rooms were where Overlords and certain Goetia came to be spat on, spanked, and other “peculiar wants” that Val catered to.

Opening the curtains you were struck with the heavy scent of his smoke. You closed them shut, the room illuminated by a faint pink light. Val sat on the couch, legs spread wide and arms slung over the top, his heavy coat thrown to some unknown corner. Seeing him reminded you of how little clothes you had on. Val’s second set of arms beckoned you over, you obeyed. He rested them on your waist, idly feeling the texture of your garter belt.

“Good of you to come carino,” He kissed your stomach, tittering at the way you quivered. “You did so good I had to meet with you privately.”

“How could I deny you Valcito?” You responded in a honeyed tone that made him chuckle.

“Valcito?” He smirked.

“Aren’t you?” You tilt his head up to see your smiling face, dressed with sultry bedroom eyes, “My little Valcito who liked my dancing.”

Val showed off that gold tooth of his; He kissed your stomach again, leaving a little red mark.

You dropped your hands to his arms, sliding up to his biceps. You bit your lip, so hard and toned. For so long you were curious about Val’s body, his sex, his libido. You wondered what he did to Angel to make him so sore and his voice so hoarse. It was embarrassing how many nights you spent thinking about what he tasted like- though now there was no point, you knew now, cigarettes and citrus vodka.

The tips of his fingers traced along your hips, fingering the thin strap of your panties. Your voice grew weak as he nipped again and again at the soft flesh of your stomach. Mind in a daze, words slipped out of your mouth.

“You know, I’m surprised you called me back here…” A kitten-lick across your navel that made you squirm.

“Why’s that Carino? Don’t think you’re pretty enough?” His voice teased.

“I thought you didn’t like women”

“Why would you think that?” He looped his finger around the hip strap again

“Angel.” He snickered.

“Oh Carino, don’t worry. Angel is just the soup D’Jour,” His finger dipped forward along your hip bone, “Men, women; Women, men; all of those sweet things in-between, how could you pick just one?”

“How poignant.” You said with a bit of a flat affect. His waxing-poetic seemed so unimpressive to you. Though, you felt a stab of guilt for thinking so.

“You, Sugar, I just can’t deny,” Val moved his hands up along your torso, stopping just underneath your breasts, “Good tits, nice stomach, pretty face,” his attention went back to your panties, “You coulda been on the cover of Hustler. Hhhnn, maybe I’ll make you the centerfold this month…”

You leaned over him, pressing your face to his. Fuck, his tongue felt so good in your mouth, making your stomach start to knot and squirm. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whine before you pulled away. Placing tiny nips on his neck, you felt the heat in your stomach grow hotter and hotter and turn to slick. You wanted to touch him, feel him, consume him, and be consumed.

Val pulled away for a second, but it felt like forever. He reached into a shallow pocket and produced a button of something. It was a tiny tablet, waxy and fat, and pinched between his two fingers. You wondered what it was, it didn’t look like Oxy. You hoped it was something stronger, desiring the out of body experience you’d been losing since you started to grow tolerant of the opiate.

“You ever play a game of rolling roulette Sugar?” Val asked, you shook your head no.

“You trade the X tongue to tongue, and whoever’s it dissolves on is the lucky winner.” Oh so it was Ecstasy, now that’s good shit.

Val pulled you onto his lap, cupping a breast, “C’mon Baby, let’s go on a trip together…”

That’s all it took.

The tiny pill teetered between both of your tongues as you kissed, growing smaller and smaller and smaller. Val’s spit was thick and sweet and wonderful, something about it making your body go alight with electricity. The X melted so easy, like blue cotton candy; You could feel the serotonin swell in your brain like a party balloon.

When the first roll happened you moaned into Val’s mouth. All of your nerves were standing on edge, shivering with anticipation. He removed your bra, placing a nipple in his mouth as you felt his cock grow harder. It felt so much better than your other highs. The Oxy only ever calmed things, washed them out. The X was so different, so so much better. Everything seemed to shimmer, like the whole world was wrapped in cellophane. How could you think the absence of feeling was so wonderful when this existed?

Your mind was in a twinkly daze when you started to undress him. He kissed and licked at your neck while you felt your way through unbuttoning his top. Fuck, his skin was so smooth and warm; He pressed you closer, teeth bit into your collar bone before dragging his tongue over the marks he left.

You kissed your way down Val’s body. At his chest you lingered, leaving tiny red marks on the trail to his V-line. Valentino’s head lolled back on the couch as you unzipped his cock with all of its dark hair. You put it in your hand, running your thumb over the leaking tip. He swore under his breath as you pumped him slowly, up and down up and down.

The warmth of your tongue dragged along his thick shaft. Your stomach gets a sharp squirm to it, same as your cunt. It’s hard to tell because of the drugs or how sexy Val looks with his legs wide open and his cock needy for your touch. Looking up at him, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

His breath hitched when you took him in your mouth. Your tongue twists and swirls around his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. To try to calm that darling pain between your legs you rubbed your thighs together, but that didn’t help. All it served to do was make your cunt needier. You push his member deeper and deeper into your mouth; You moan into his sex, making him squeeze the palmful of hair he had in his hand tighter.

“You’re so good, Carino.” He says, breathless. You start to suck him faster, blowing and kissing and licking. Val kept sprinkling compliments throughout. It felt so good to be praised by him; All of those sweet things he’d save for everyone else, but never you. You’re so good, you’re so sexy, you take me so well, you’re so pretty, you make me so hard.

“‘M close.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your face in. Feeling devious, you pulled away, savoring the flustered look on his face. Val is huffing, fucked out, and dazed out of his goddamn mind on X.

“You can stand to wait a little longer Valcito~” You nip at the inside of one of his thighs, making his voice hitch into a falsetto. You dragged the tips of your fingers up to his sensitive stomach, mouth leaving a hard bite outline near his ribs. Tracing him was so wonderful, feeling all of those hard edges give into softness. Nursing on his neck, your thumb and forefinger followed his neck muscle and collarbone, dipping into their crevices.

“Valcito~” Your breath was hot against his neck. He mumbled something under his breath and tried to slip his hand into your panties. You caught his wrist and pushed it away, biting hard on his collarbone. You can wait.

Again your mouth found its way south, the want in your cunt becoming more and more painful. You took him in your mouth again, your saliva getting thick and syrupy. Val seized the opportunity and shoved your head down on his cock, chasing the release you denied him. Your teeth grazed his member before pulling away again. Val whined, his eyes pleading. A dark smile grew on your face before you took him again.

He let out a sharp breath and pressed his hands onto your scalp. You went faster, letting the flat of your tongue trace the vein on the underside of his cock. It was fun playing with him like this, having a little control with him for once. Val’s hands tensed in your hair when he warned you he was going to cum.

When he came he wailed, filling your mouth with his salty taste. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth. Val’s thumb traced your bottom lip, admiring his work.

“You look so good like this, Carino.” He huffed.

Pushing yourself from your knees you kissed Val, his seed still in your mouth. That’s all that took to make him go feral. He pulled you to his lap and laid you down, wrapping your legs around him. Without taking his mouth off yours he took his top off, ramming into your needy sex.

Fuck, Val was bigger than you thought he was. His pace was hard and fast, making you scratch your nails into his back. Your kiss tasted like everything good in the world- cum and grapefruit and cigarettes and cotton candy and euphoria. Both of you swallowed, pulling your faces away to catch your breaths. God, you were so wet, Val’s cock slipped in and out of you so easily and it felt so goddamn good. Better than any finger or cock or toy and it made you squeeze him tighter.

You pressed your forehead to his neck, mumbling nonsense. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Val spat on his fingers and slipped his hands between the two of you. You didn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his wet fingers graze your clit. He got rougher with it once he found it, making you squeal and cum on him.

That didn’t stop Val though, and god did it feel good. He kept fucking you through your release, making you cum another two times. Your legs felt like jelly, body weak and weightless. The X was releasing its last wave of chemical joy as he fucked you, pleasure rippling inside of you. He came inside you, making you sob into his neck. Val pressed you closer to him, whispering in your ear as you felt your release drip out of your cunt.

“You’re so good baby, so good and pretty.” Pleasepleasepleaseplease, say the magic words.

“I love you, you’re my perfect girl, my pretty baby.” You came again.

His thrusts got sloppier and you could tell he was gonna cum again. “Please, please, please, let me be your favorite, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” You whimpered.

The anticipation of an orgasm built up, shivering and needy. Val grazed your face and kissed you, “Oh you’re my favorite, baby. My little sullen girl~” He held you closer, savoring the way you squirmed when you came together.

When he was done he stayed inside you. Val pressed his head on the couch beneath you. You traced the scratches you left on his back, feeling your high from the X begin to ebb. Your breath felt so heavy and your mind so fuzzy. That all didn’t matter though, Val wanted you now. He’d been inside you, kissed you, felt you, squeezed you, and couldn’t get enough. He wanted you. So what if it was only for the moment, so what if this meant you could disappoint him, so what if you’re only a place-holder until someone better comes. You’re the favorite.

[casp1an-sea]

I lost the drawing, so I never posted about him, but here’s one of my other Spider OCs

His name is Peter Parker, Originally Louis Parker

he comes from universe 1866, a universe where everything works like a theatrical production. People have dramatic hair and make-up and sometimes use masks to convey emotion. People often speak poetically, over dramatically, or break out into song. there’s a soundtrack that everyone can hear, and spotlight of unknown origin. Everything looks like it’s a prop but it still works because of the magic of theatre. For example Peter’s web shooters appear to be made of nothing more than cardboard and foam. But they still work. And fires made of paper still burn.

Louis was the actual Peter Parker’s forgotten identical twin brother. He was the understudy so to speak. Always backstage, metaphorically. No one really knew he was there. All he did was work for the daily bugle and take photos of Spider-man. But then things went south and his brother Peter ended up dying. Louis had been caught in the middle of a fight and he would have died if his brother had not saved him. But his brother sacrificed himself. Peter’s last words were “the show must go on” and he handed Louis a vile of the spider venom he had saved. Louis then assumed the identity of Peter Parker both as Spider-Man and as Peter. Taking over the role for his brother like nothing had happened. And he keeps the fact that he is not the original Peter Parker a secret so everyone thinks he is his brother, but it weighs on him.

His brother was Spider-Man for four years, but he has only been Spider-Man for eight months

Loosely nicknamed dude with a cape, Cape guy, or Romeo by various spiders that don’t want to call him, Peter or Spirer-Man because that would be confusing

He can cause damage without actually landing a hit. For example as long as he’s in close proximity to who he’s fighting a fake punch will do the same damage as a real one.

He could hear the soundtrack of any universe and any person when others can only hear the soundtrack of his, but sometimes it can get annoying because he hears a bunch of individual themes overlapping at once

He’s a master of practical tricks like quick changes, using smoke bombs to disappear even simple magic tricks

He has several different spider masks that convey different emotions, they don’t move with his face. They’re like stage masks.

@armiestice

@edith-is-a-cat

@elenauaurs

@fizzydreamz

@kira-mortham

@xryptik

[mosquito-queen]

“what’s your favorite season?”

“i thought you knew everything about me.”

yelena does know most of everything: kate hates the smell of mint, she broke her wrist and collarbone from horseback riding, the sun always shines brighter when she is around. yelena also knows that she will always be hungry to learn more.

it stings when kate snarks at her. because yelena is attempting to dismantle a fortress she has painstakingly built from her own bones, cemented with her blood. each question claws at the walls, unbinds memories she so carefully imprisoned. each question is a decision to bring the possibility of loss back into her life. so it stings when kate teases, even though yelena does the same.

yelena rolls her eyes. she’s shutting down quicker than kate anticipated. kate blurts: “it’s spring, when everything turns green again. what about you?”

she doesn’t expect a response. everything kate knows about yelena she has carefully observed and deduced. she knows: yelena is afraid of halloween even though she won’t admit it, that she’s probably allergic to peanut butter (not proven, but yelena avoids it like the plague), and that the scrunch of yelena’s nose will be kate’s ultimate downfall. she especially knows that yelena does not like to answer personal questions.

except, a fond, nostalgic smile smoothes yelena’s usual frown lines. her favorite season is ohio in winter. she can hear it now: natasha’s rumbling laughter as she drags yelena towards the ice.

“slow down! my shoes aren’t tied!”

“the sun will set before we even get there!”

the backside of natasha’s head is a blue beacon bobbing against the late afternoon’s pillowed sky. two pairs of bright white skates are slung over her shoulder, bouncing with each stride, sunlight glinting on the blades. the sisters race through the shin-high snow towards a small pond nestled just behind their neighborhood. the ice gleams, beckons them closer.

natasha missed yelena’s recital from the previous evening. so had mama. but papa was there, a bear stuffed between smiling grandmas. he had smelled like their perfume afterwards. he had thrown the biggest bouquet of roses on the rink when she was finished, a toothy smile and two thumbs up gleaming in the crowd. yelena could find her papa anywhere. he was always there for her skating. right next to her sister and mother. but they had missed it.

natasha settles on a stone bench near the pond bank. she turns her head to check on her younger sister (she’s still trudging through the last bit of snow) before chucking off her shoes and stuffing on the larger pair of skates. after a few moments, yelena drops onto the bench. she is much more tame in changing her shoes and making sure the ice skates are laced properly. she pauses, steals a glance at natasha.

the older girl is sporting a new welt just below her eye. it is the color of a summer thunderhead, a sinister purple blotting the sky. yelena knows her sister only flares like lightning, never bears rain. yelena is the crier. she could make a new ocean with the crocodile tears that so easily spring to her eyes. she wants to be like her sister. natasha is always so poised and decisive. a calculated perfection. yelena is her shadow, an understudy. except on the ice. on the ice, she is her own spotlight. she is always costumed in cobalt blue during competition and recitals, tiny sparkling beads sewn meticulously into snowflakes. her mother has spent so much time on this outfit. pricking her fingers raw.

yelena wins every competition in this dress made with love and hurt. she practices until she’s perfect, lands every trick, wins every competition. she says thank you to her mother with each carefully executed leap, and spin, and flourish. her mother says i love you by webbing back together the wear and tear, by gently hand washing the costume and keeping it hung on the outside of yelena’s closet door. she sews a new snowflake for each medal her daughter brings home.

natasha is growing impatient, gives yelena an encouraging smile, “ok snegurochka, show me what i missed.”

and yelena does. she wobbles towards the ice, and at first contact slips into her stage persona. on the ice, she closes her eyes, imagines the music reaching across time and space to curl around her, turning her clothes into her usual costume. she imagines the frosted face paint edging the corners of her face, the deep purple eye shadow and white lashes, she imagines herself as the snow maiden. it is her favorite routine. it is her best routine. it is about a girl made of snow and ice, who longs to be amongst the humans. she is lonely, but with a frozen heart she is unable to know love, until her mother takes pity. she grants her this ability, but as soon as she falls in love, she melts from the warmth of her newfound heart.

the routine ends with yelena curled on the ice, natasha clapping and cheering with the ferocity of their father. yelena lays on the ice for a moment longer, lets the cold seep into her bones. she thinks if she really was the snow maiden, she would only want to know what it felt like to love skating. she wouldn’t melt for a dumb boy.

natasha skates out to her, reaches out a hand and brings her back up. they spin and race until the sun dips down towards the rooftops. it’s a perfect day during an ohio winter.

the memory is a blanket that settles around yelena’s shoulders, makes her sleepy and vulnerable. she answers truthfully: “winter.”

a surprised smile crosses kate’s face, quirks the corner of her mouth. it’s yelena’s favorite smile. and it isn’t lost on her that she met kate during the same season. yelena’s gaze is caught too long on kate’s, her pulse thudding in the hallow of her throat. truthfully, her heart had been thawing since the first time they met. she was melting for a dumb girl.

it’s the snow mush in her brain that makes yelena ask, “do you want to go ice skate, kate bishop?”

[elitehanitje]

The wrestling world is known for its creative costumes and storylines – and now two female rivals are modelling themselves on the Bette Davis/Anne Baxter classic.

Inspired by a young fan, a veteran performer takes the woman under her wing to nurture her as an understudy. But the route to the spotlight inspires cut-throat behavior, and the protégé upstages her mentor to replace her entirely. For those familiar with cinematic history, this sounds like the plot of All About Eve – but in this case, it's actually the arc of a feud between two of the best women's wrestlers of the moment. 

A quick rewind to this time last year: London played host to one of the biggest, if not the biggest, wrestling events in the country's history with All Elite Wrestling's All In, which filled out Wembley Stadium, a pretty remarkable achievement for a wrestling company that's only five years old.

For those unfamiliar, All Elite Wrestling (AEW) owned by Tony Khan, is a relatively young entrant into the world of US professional wrestling. Matches are pre-determined, and rivalries between wrestlers are scripted using long-running fictional "storylines" over months or even years. The bouts are still legitimately physically fierce, but the result is an artistic dance between narrative planning and live improvisation.

Since being founded in 2019, AEW has rocketed to prominence thanks to the strong alternative programming it offered to the behemoth World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), which was at a creative low point at the time (they've since bounced back).

The standout story this year, one which has played out across months of weekly television, and will now climax at All In with a title match for the Women's World Championship, is the conflict between the wrestlers "Timeless" Toni Storm and "The Glamour" Mariah May – and in their rivalry, they have been drawing from classic Hollywood, a unique accent to their narrative.

Khan, who as well as being AEW owner is also responsible for the creative direction of many of the storylines, has directly cited Sunset Boulevard and All About Eve as inspiration, calling them "two of [his] favorites". Lyric Swinton, freelance wrestling writer/creative and host of the Maps & Graps Podcast thinks this storyline may go down as "All Elite Wrestling's best work so far". "The investment in this story from both an administrative and fan perspective has been unprecedented for a women's feud in AEW, and every risk has paid off" she continues.

For a while, Toni Storm quoted Sunset Boulevard directly, saying "Mr Khan, I'm ready for my close up!", before defeating her opponents

A lot of wrestlers use wider popular culture as a jumping-off point for their characters but usually, such direct homages are contained to ring gear and walkout looks for big matches (one of my favorite examples: Kenny Omega walking out dressed as Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII, accompanied by the character's theme). As a result, even through those little nods, the shows become a fun nexus point of the other interests of wrestlers and fans alike.

It's not standard, however, for wrestlers to make cracks about Turner Classic Movies or use the infamously salacious (and mostly made-up) Kenneth Anger book Hollywood Babylon as a sight gag.

"Wrestling takes from itself just as much as it does from its current cultural moment," says Katie Stebbins, a film zine creator and co-host of the Clean Finish podcast. "But harking back to the golden age of a different medium altogether feels like its own homage, acknowledging professional wrestling as its own constructed, heightened, and totally unique form of storytelling.

How the story has developed

The storyline, which has been playing out over the past year across AEW's thrice-weekly programming, really kicked off in the lead-up to the 2023 All In, when Storm lost her title. This sent her into a spiral, her character gradually changing in a series of backstage interviews. Previously her styling leaned rockier, but now she was turning up talking like a washed-up, Golden Age Hollywood actress in the twilight of her career à la Sunset Boulevard's Norma Desmond (made funnier by the fact that she's only 28). The live interviews typically ended with her rambling loudly and throwing a shoe at her unsuspecting coworkers.

This developed further, as Toni's every on-camera appearance would be presented in black and white, complete with fake film grain. Now, her entrance music sounds like a classic film overture, she's billed as being "from Stage 7 of Warner Brothers Studios", her outfits have changed to silk gowns, and her in-ring gear looks like something Ingrid Bergman might wear to the beach. She got a butler. For a while she even quoted Sunset Boulevard directly, saying "Mr Khan, I'm ready for my close-up!" and pausing for a quick camera zoom before defeating her opponents. And, despite being a millennial from New Zealand, Toni speaks of Jayne Mansfield and other Hollywood icons like she spent time in the trenches with them, all in the kind of transatlantic accent that actresses from the time might have.

Stebbins highlights how the "feud playfully remixes a general 'Old Hollywood glamour' with the specificity of two stone-cold classics", Sunset Boulevard and All About Eve, while also noting that these reference points aren't required reading for fans. "If you recognize them, it's great but if not, it doesn't impact the enjoyment at all". It may even encourage people to seek out the films for the first time.

Eventually, in November 2023, entered Mariah, the doe-eyed fan, who in backstage segments claimed that she came to AEW for Toni, and to follow in her footsteps – this is where the story got its All About Eve angle, with Toni starting to seem like Bette Davis's old-school star Margo being pursued by Anne Baxter's super-fan Eve. What followed was weeks of Toni shrugging Mariah off, as she fought for her attention. She finally won it by dressing up as Toni, walking to the ring with her idol's old theme music and wearing her old ring gear – and later, her own variations on it – and then, to complete the betrayal, vanquishing her.  

Their sparring even gained a romantic subtext, not least through another rivalry between Toni and Mariah's old tag teammate from the Japanese promotion Stardom, Mina Shirakawa. It was effectively a battle for Mariah's heart (Swinton also notes how the trio has invited comparisons to film of the moment, Challengers).

The storyline is a genuinely original meeting of cultural phenomena, which has won over a lot of wrestling fans, given Mariah May some absolutely star-making time in the spotlight (Stebbins calls her "fully worthy of being the 'Eve' to Toni's 'Margo/’Norma'"), and provided an incredible revitalisation for Storm's character. As Stebbins puts it, "in real time we experienced Toni go from a placeholder women's champ indifferently received by audiences to losing the belt and gradually re-emerging as 'Timeless' Toni Storm. In real time, we experienced Toni the performer come remarkably into her own within Toni the character. It's part of what makes pro wrestling so endlessly fascinating, that the role of character and performer is always a simultaneous parallel and fusion." The same is true of Mariah, her newness to AEW adding to this immersive blend of fiction and person.  

Why the fusion works so well

When it comes to Toni Storm, the initial (and delightful) absurdity of a wrestler acting as if they're from the 1950s has developed layers, with Toni slowly but surely developing seemingly real vulnerability as her rivalry with Mariah has progressed. Stebbins posits that being able to see these incremental changes in personality has added to the fun: "So much in wrestling is about timing, and the effect that the passage of time has on both performer and audience and Toni / Mariah have utilized both in a way that doesn't often happen. We're with these performers week in and week out, watching performers evolve (or not), develop (or not), get over things (or not)."  

The narrative drama has also been helped by the fact that Toni and Mariah are so fundamentally skilled as physical performers: as Swinton notes, beyond "the clever video packages and heated [live] segments, these are still two of the best in-ring workers in any women's division worldwide". Indeed, the introduction of Mariah exemplifies how great wrestling storytelling can be built in large part through physicality – where outside of the ring she's a fawning and excitable sycophant, once she steps through the ropes she reveals her capability to be a vicious bully towards an opponent who doesn't quite know what they're in for.   

As the storyline has developed further, it has pulled in yet another Golden Age Hollywood reference. Following her (rather brutal) betrayal by Mariah, Toni returned angrier and more erratic , now seemingly nodding to another Bette Davis-starring film, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, as she channelled Davis's appearance as bitter former child star Jane Hudson, both through her gown and severe makeup.

Toni and Mariah's storyline is pretty unique, and it's unlikely to spark a "classic cinema" trend in wrestling: Stebbins sees it as having a "lightning-in-a-bottle quality". But it nevertheless underlines the appeal of professional wrestling more generally. It's a showcase of its varied potential, fusing a heap of narrative elements – shared with theatre, comic books, soap operas, and in this case, classic cinema – with combat and extraordinary feats of athleticism. And it's fun to see how the wrestling world draws on specific bits of pop culture to forge connections with audiences and create its own unique art form in the process.