#jillian getting tf out of there lmfao

[possibilistfanfiction]

argument pt 2?

[here's argument pt 1 (i guess lol); u don't need to read it for this to make sense fully but if u are so inclined & haven't read it yet it might be helpful context.]

//

you don't know what else you expected. upon a very quick reflection — once your brain reorients itself from beatrice is so hot — you realize you were foolish to think anything else, especially not without a discussion. but, still —

'what are you doing?'

it's clear what beatrice is doing, standing with jillian in one of her fancy labs. she's dressed in all black, a t-shirt delightfully tight on her biceps (focus, ava) tucked into loose pants reinforced at the knees, boots that are tougher than normal but lighter than those you would typically wear in combat — ones she prefers when fighting because it allows her quiet, stealth, full range of motion. 'trying on new armor,' she says, and if it was years ago, the spike of anger that starts in your gut and shoots up your spine — anger, and sheer panic — would have set the halo off.

jillian looks between the two of you — your fists clenched; beatrice's arms crossed over her chest — and says, 'well, i'll be looking over some specs in... another room,' and excuses herself.

wisely.

it hits you, all at once, when you look at beatrice — your fiance, your life partner — that, right now, maybe more than ever, she looks like a soldier. it's not been lost on you over the years, not with her nightmares and the quiet, chronic pain she bears with little more than a tender wince some mornings, the way she loses herself after loud noises or too many people in a crowd, her usually steady hands trembling — it's not been lost on your that beatrice has been fighting for a long time.

'you can't seriously be telling me you're not going to stop.'

'i'm fine, ava. i was cleared by my surgeon and my physical therapist to return to all normal activities.'

you're so used to gentleness, now, even with demons to fight on occasion and the lingering affects of a holy war too great to fully comprehend. you're used to beatrice's loose cotton crewnecks you like to steal; the rust-colored linen pants she loves, light in the breeze off the water. you're used to her whining for posterity about couples halloween costumes, her afternoon naps with her kitten purring on her chest softly. you're used to dates she plans meticulously that you don't even try to mess up because she's so intentional with how she loves you, full of thought and care. you're used to your big house on the beach and her laugh in the afternoon, the freckles on her shoulders, her hand in yours.

'i don't understand.' you release your fists with the progressive muscle relaxation you've worked on in therapy, then take a deep breath. 'you — you want to keep fighting?'

you're the one who changed her dressings after surgery, who took her to months and months of painful and slow-going, steady physical therapy. you're the one who washed her short hair with the gentlest hands you could, even that hurting the bone bruise along the back of her skull. you're the one who filled the prescriptions for her pain meds, who held her hand when she woke up. you're the one who loves her the most. you're the one who thought she was going to die.

'i —' she seems at a loss, for a moment, and then, 'it's my duty.'

'your duty?' it comes out shrill; so much for your muscle relaxation. 'beatrice.'

she clenches her jaw.

'you're telling me that you're, what, just fine getting fitted for new armor because your last vest got punctured by shrapnel and almost killed you?'

'ava.' it's a warning, and a tired one — exhausted from over a decade. 'you're still fighting.'

'i don't have a choice.' you hate yelling but you're overwhelmed by the idea of having to go through what you did again and again. 'don't you want — don't you want to choose?'

she swallows and leans back against the counter. 'if i —' she shakes her head.

'bea.'

'i — i can't.'

'i want to live,' you tell her, an echo of one of the first things you knew years and years ago, and her lower lip trembles. 'for so long i have wanted to live so badly, bea.'

'i know.' her voice is laced with unshed tears.

'i — do you want to?'

she sniffles and tilts her head back to look at the ceiling; it's a sure tell she's trying to compose herself but you can see her shaking, holding it in. 'i never thought i would.'

you step toward her, wait until she offers her hand. you lace your fingers together and wait. 'did you want to?'

'i didn't think — i didn't think i deserved to. i didn't think that me living a good life would be nearly as valuable as, well —'

'dying young in a blaze of glory for god?'

it takes her a moment, because it's the hardest thing in the world to hold, this grief, but then she laughs a watery little sound. 'something like that.'

'okay, but — do you want to now?'

it hangs heavy in the air. you know that she goes to therapy faithfully and you've seen her cry multiple times watching the sunset; she touches you like a benediction. but the answer is impossible to come by, sometimes — worthiness, and belief. 'who am i, ava, if not... this?'

you remember a book you'd read a few months ago, one of mary's favorites, that had made you cry often — where does it all lead? what will become of us? these were our young questions, and young answers were revealed. it leads to each other. we become ourselves. it's easy, to kiss the faithful gold band on her ring finger and then take her in your arms, put a protective hand to the back of her head. 'you're a fucking miracle,' you pray into her skin. 'you're the love of my life. you're a genius, and a black belt, and someone who avidly watches reality tv and tennis, only one of which is worthy of that kind of devotion.' you feel her laugh, snotty, into your shoulder. 'you're so pretty, and so handsome, and really funny when you want to be and sometimes even when you don't. you're remarkably forgiving; an incredible friend, a wonderful sister. you're someone who surfs because the ocean is beautiful and you want to see the sunrise. you're a very hot lesbian, and you're my fiance, and you're going to be my wife. you're my life partner. you give the world so much more than it has ever, ever deserved.' you both back up, just so you can look into her eyes. you hold her face in your hands, as gently as you can, run your thumb along a cheekbone, the constellation of freckles there that have bloomed in the sun by the sea. 'you will always serve the world, i know that about you. you're a child of god,' you say. 'you're beatrice.'

it doesn't surprise you when she kisses you gently and then tucks her face into your neck and lets out a full body sob. you rub her back through it, hold her up when her legs grow weak. eventually, as she always does, she calms and composes herself, steps back and dries her tears, runs a hand along her hair. her eyes are red but she takes a deep, steadying breath.

'thank you.'

you kiss her cheek. 'you're also my favorite.'

'now that i do know.'

you grin. 'don't get me wrong, like, fuck the military industrial complex obviously, but this is kind of a look.'

she rolls her eyes but her shoulders settle and then she looks at you seriously. 'i want to live a long life.'

'yeah?'

'so badly.'

'it's a little scary, right?'

she lets out a shaky, honest breath. 'yeah.'

'well, we'll figure it out.' you kiss her, the first of a kind stretching out ahead of you, infinite. 'i have an idea?'

she sighs, and you can't help but laugh.

(you watch her slice a plum on the shore of the lake in the alps you used to train at all those years ago, the lake you knelt down in front of her and she agreed to be your wife. the fruit is juicy and a color you can't quite bring yourself to comprehend: blood, your favorite sangria at the beach, natal dahlias. the house you stay at now — a few quiet days before you head home — is small and gorgeous, with a giant bed and a wall of windows that overlook the mountains. i love you here, you tell her — i love you like this; i love you however you are meant to be — i love you in peacetime, and you watch her slice a plum, the juice red and sticky on her fingers. she puts it to your mouth gently and the taste explodes like a kiss. she smiles and you feed her too; she sucks your finger into her mouth and you close your eyes — there will be time enough to touch her later. the water is calm, and the flowers are in bloom, and the sun shines bright.)

[vermontparnasse]

les miserables review - u.s. tour (hartford) 10/7/17

ok, here we go.  sorry this took so long but i have never been less enthused to write a les mis review..... i hate to say it guys but this was probably the worst collective cast i have ever seen.  half of them were playing the wrong role and almost none of them had any chemistry with one another... i realize it's still very early on in the tour and they didn't have a very long rehearsal period but that's no excuse for the national tour to come across as amateur community theatre, which is tragically what i felt like i was watching  for most of those two and a half hours.  i do have a couple of positive things to say and there were a few standout performances, but mostly..... yikes.

nick cartell as valjean: i guess he did the best he could given that he was very, very, very, very badly miscast.  when your valjean would probably be a better fit for marius, you know you've got a problem.  he was too young by at least fifteen years, and the way he sang the score was an insufferable series of riffs - he was basically ramin without the ego and without the shirt ripping.  he was just very badly out of his depth.  i was prepared to be kinder to him in the second act - his bring him home was quite good and he aged better than i'd thought he was going to - but then at the moment of valjean's death when he sang 'forgive me all my trespasses' he literally SPRANG out of the chair, like dying had rejuvenated him.  it was bad guys.

josh davis as javert: does hayden tee have a brother........... anyway, the way he was singing the score i think he was trying to emulate earl by making his notes precise and crisp, but everything just came out really staccato and it was not pleasant to listen to.  he also jutted out his jaw every time he wanted to look menacing which achieved a comedic disney villain effect, a la hayden.  stars was definitely the highlight - he sang and acted it much better than anything else... otherwise, it was just a mess.  he literally came across as drunk during his suicide - like he wasn't killing himself because of his inability to reconcile valjean's mercy with his personal view of the world, he was killing himself because he'd stayed at the bar too late and had one too many.  i have no idea what sort of journey he thought his character was on, but it just wasn't javert.

melissa mitchell as fantine: i'm sorry but this woman cannot act to save her life...... the way she carried herself was so modern, i don't know how to explain it but the way she moved was just so off and it was really distracting?  and her whole performance was just going through the motions, like "and still i dream he'll come to me... time to run to the left of the stage!" "life has killed the dream i dreamed.... time to glance over my shoulder dramatically!"  it was just all so artificial and inauthentic, you could practically see the stage directions in front of her eyes.  and don't get me started on the dying moment where she reaches her arm out and then collapses......... lord.  bad.

jillian butler as cosette: she was good!!  i mean... idk, i don't have a whole lot to say about her.  after seeing sam hill and alex finke in the role repeatedly, both of whom are absolutely superb, it's kinda hard to live up to that... jillian didn't take it to the next level or expand on their performances in any way - it was a very basic, pared down, 'hi i'm sweet and lonely' cosette, but there's nothing wrong with that?  she was solid and i have no complaints with her, but it wasn't a particularly memorable performance.

joshua grosso as marius: the best performance of the night, thank fuckin god!!!!!!!!  it has been so long since i have seen an adequate marius!!!!!!!!  i didn't agree with 100% of his choices (e.g., in AHFOL rather than singing "dear mademoiselle" he sort of squeaks it in a high pitched voice which is cute and appropriately awkward but i didn't totally connect w/ that decision because i love hearing that line sung) BUT he really understood the character and he didn't have too many moments like that of derailing the score.  i loved how awkward and genuine he was with cosette, and i loved how serious his reaction was to valjean's confession.  it was an all-around solid performance that was filled with the appropriate level of sincerity.  my biggest complaint is the mientus-esque crocodile tears after eponine's death, but i'm tentatively blaming that on direction.

phoenix best as eponine: she was terrible.  maybe she hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, because the whole time she looked like she'd rather be in bed.  dead eyes, no expression, dead on her feet, fake punches looking incredibly weak and stagey, having to be dragged around the stage by the other actors.  there was no fight to her, she was just resigned and dull.  her voice is tinny and not terribly pleasant to listen to, but i'd have forgiven that for a solid performance... which unfortunately we did not get.  though i WILL give her credit for on my own - there was some weird hammering or some shit going on backstage throughout that song but she pushed through admirably.  but otherwise, she was a pretty big disappointment.

matt shingledecker as enjolras: chelsea said after the show "enjolras was a literal frat boy, was he leading them to a revolution or to the club?" and i can't really beat that.  his enjolras basically was a rich young boy playing a game.

j. anthony crane as thenardier: he was rly fantastic!!!!  god after cliff saunders and whoever tf else we had to suffer through on bway, i would have welcomed just about anyone.... i mean, i have long ago reconciled myself to the fact that i will never see this character played the way i'd like to in an ideal world, because he's just become OTT comic relief, and j. anthony crane certainly has those OTT moments (notably in dog eats dog) BUT compared to the sort of nonsense that we are used to, it is such a toned down performance and there's actually a hint of something sinister lurking beneath the comedy.  i only hope he doesn't try to play up the laughs too much as the tour goes on.

allison guinn as mme. thenardier: meanwhile............ the most hammy performance i have EVER seen in this role.  it's a rare day that i just try to ignore mme. t and focus on thenardier when they're on stage together, but here we are.  god, she was insufferable, and she gave that kind of 'i'm so clever and above all of you' performance on top of the OTT humor that i absolutely loathe.

let's see, what else is there to say.

- 'give way, javert' is back after the sewers.  not sure why but i'm into it.

- SO MANY actors were singing on the beat...... i think the foreman was the worst offender ('YOU. PLAY. A. VIR. GIN. IN. THE. LIGHT. BUT. NEED. NO. UR. GING. IN. THE. NIGHT.') but it was honestly so many cast members and it was distracting af???

- but otherwise, a rly promising ensemble!!!!  i liked almost everyone who didn't have a main role lmao.  

- though they RLY need to work on their blocking....... again, i know it's early in the tour so i'm rly hoping this improves, but this production was just messy.  stage punches look fake, characters who are meant to interact at certain moments barely look at each other, just a lot of inauthentic movement that can only improve with more rehearsals.

- omg this is such a minor thing that i liked....... ok so you know how in the bway production they had fantine's first customer be the foreman?  i never saw any particular reason for that, but in this production when fantine is being offered to the foreman she has her back turned, and when she's handed to him she turns around and he sees her face and he laughs when he recognizes her, and the irony of the moment is so sad that i found myself rly moved by it.

- andrew love is a fuckin gift.  will someone make him principal javert already.

bottom line: what can i say....... i was mostly just rly let down.  of the nine main roles i mentioned here, i really enjoyed two (one of which was thenardier lmfao like who even cares about thenardier???), i didn’t mind one, and the rest were just bad.  that’s 2/3 of the main cast i thought were either playing the wrong role or had no business playing any role in les mis at all.  i can only hope they get stronger as a group as the tour goes on, because maybe if i’d felt more camaraderie between them the whole thing wouldn’t have left me so cold?  that was one of les mis bway’s strengths imo - the entire cast just worked so well together.  the tour cast did not.  unless i hear that they get better in upcoming months, i will not be making any more pilgrimages to see this cast.