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i’m just. really gay

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🥰🥰🥰

We can all put this business to rest. She has apologised and taken accountability for her words and understood that things need to change. This is growth and this is why we love her and respect her.

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Yup over 500 people condemning her behavior... but you're still gonna stan aren't you

Yes.

Listen I don't want to defend her, I don't need to and I don't agree with how she said what she said, but goddammit the sound problem with the theater was a real issue that people who went to see the show talked about as well, and you want me to believe that no other artist in broadway has faced that/ talked about that? No one on her side because suddenly it's racist to complain about technical issues?

And by that I don't mean that this should've happened now that the article is out, but back when she was performing.

I don't excuse how she talked about the actress involved, but let's be fucking honest over the years she has said worse things about mad0nna and some others but that was okay, and perhaps even funny.

Not even bringing up the not friend thing.

But those 500+ people have decided to be quiet about an ABUSER working in the industry and yet had the time to write a letter about Patti's behavior. So once again double standards, so if Patti was a man none of that would've happened I suppose.

With this letter they all made it ridiculous and once again proving her point that she gets a different treatment because it's her.

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This🙌

I’m bored so I’m gonna yap. No one’s stopping me.

This whole Patti LuPone situation has gotten way out of hand. Yes, calling Kecia Lewis a “bitch” was rude, no one’s denying that. But that’s how Patti has always spoken. She’s blunt and doesn’t hold back. She’s said similar things about people of all races, genders, and backgrounds. It wasn’t about race. She just doesn’t like certain people and says so, for better or worse. That doesn’t excuse her tone but it does make it clear this wasn’t some calculated, racial attack.

She was wrong about Kecia’s career, no question. Kecia is a veteran. But arguing over that shouldn’t be treated like some huge, unforgivable offense. It was a petty comment, not an act of deep harm.

The open letter that followed feels overblown. Comparing Patti’s outburst to the behavior of people like Scott Rudin, who was accused of long term abusive behavior is a huge leap. There’s a difference between being harsh or even offensive and being genuinely harmful or dangerous. If we treat those things the same we blur the line between rudeness and abuse and that’s not helpful for anyone.

Patti is 76. She’s had a long, bold, complicated career, and she’s always said exactly what she thinks. unapologetically. That’s why some people admire her and others can’t stand her. She’s not going to suddenly start playing nice now. Expecting her to change into a model of diplomacy at this point is just unrealistic. You don’t have to agree with her but turning this into a full blown scandal with people calling for her to be banned from the Tonys and public events feels like we’re missing the forest for the trees.

We can support Kecia and Audra and also say this situation didn’t need to become a moral panic. The real issues in theater (inequality, underrepresentation, abuse of power) deserve serious attention but turning every offhand comment into a cancellation campaign doesn’t help anyone. If anything it distracts from the bigger picture.

Everyone needs to take a breath and step back.

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ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME AN OPEN LETTER OF OVER 500 PEOPLE

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This Patti thing is affecting me so much I’m gonna throw up

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It's so funny to me because I love Audra and Patti respectively. Each woman with their unique talent and star power. But those who hype up Audra are belittling Patti in the process saying all these mean things and basically doing what they accuse Patti of...

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I’ve said it on twitter so I might as well say it here.

People love to call what they’re doing “critique,” but most of it isn’t that deep. It’s just noise. I’ve seen people say Patti was a terrible Norma, Joanne, Mama Rose, Evita, Mrs. Lovett, and the list goes on. At some point it stops being thoughtful opinion and turns into a tired routine.

They’re not offering anything new. They’re recycling the same lukewarm takes hoping for attention. And that’s really what a lot of this is: engagement bait. It’s not about the performance. It’s about going viral for a few hours chasing likes from people who already hate her.

Patti’s voice is bold. It’s specific. It’s not for everyone and that’s fine. But to say she’s not talented? Come on. She trained at Juilliard. She’s got Tonys. She’s built a career with range, power, and skill. She’s done the work. She’s delivered the performances.

You don’t have to love every role. You don’t even have to like her. But pretending she doesn’t have the training, the technique, or the talent? That’s not critique. That’s just dishonesty dressed up as discourse. Don’t rewrite reality just because you want retweets.

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I think I'll cry 😢

I can’t go on TikTok anymore because it’s all Patti hate and it just makes me sad and stressed

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“oh i watched them for the plot!”

the plot:

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About the recent Patti Lupone New Yorker (unnecessary in my opinion) controversy...

I need to go on social media without the fear of stumbling into another offensive post about how Patti is racist and how she deserves to die (yes I saw that too) or other things. Thank you.

Here is some Grace Cavendish for you all ❤️❤️

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💯💯💯

Thought this was a very eloquent and important post someone made. There is a difference between ‘I don’t like how she said certain things/she needs media training’ and ‘I don’t like how she said certain things and therefore this means she’s a racist’.

And I do believe that attitude does damage to the actual cause; there’s already been right wing people on the posts saying ‘see; you always want to be the victim’ and less right wing people agreeing. It’s counter-productive when there is actual racism to tackle

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Patti LuPone & Kevin Anderson "The Perfect Year" | Sunset Boulevard | 19...

OK let's talk a little...I want to confess for I have sinned

1) This video existing is a crime against my poor heart and other places

2)Joe Gillis is God's strongest soldier cause if Patti Lupone as Norma was singing, looking and touching me like that I would have folded. No shame whatsoever.

3) if you haven't searched "Patti Lupone The perfect year" what are you doing with your lives? Because in another video of the same SB moment, Patti decides that all the tension and glances are not enough and proceeds to peck his lips 2 TIMES mid song...

4)I am too gay for this...

5) Also Patti and red curls is a yes from me

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"Air that I breath"

Lilia Calderu x reader

Hurt/comfort songfic

It was in the dead of night when Lilia Calderu felt it: the deep, gut-wrenching sensation of something wrong. She had just started to drift into a peaceful sleep beside you, her soulmate, the woman who made her heart whole again after centuries of solitude. Yet, the moment she closed her eyes, she sensed something within the bond between you two shatter like glass.

In that split second, memories of the trial on the Witch's Road—the trial that nearly took her life—flooded her mind. The fear. The pain. The moment you thought you had lost her forever. It was that same feeling that tore through your heart every time you relived the nightmare of that day, the agony of thinking Lilia had fallen, that she was gone, and that your bond was broken.

Lilia opened her eyes, instantly aware of your distress, her heart pounding. She reached over to your side of the bed and found you tangled in the sheets, your body trembling and tears streaking down your face.

“Y/N,” she whispered urgently, her voice thick with concern. But you didn’t stir. You were lost in the nightmare, the horrors of that moment still clawing at your consciousness.

"Please... don't leave me..." you whimpered, your voice raw, your body writhing as if you were reliving that devastating moment.

Lilia’s heart clenched in her chest. It was always the same: the day you thought she was lost to you. The moment her fall on the Witch's Road had shattered both of you, the connection between your souls broken by the terror of losing each other. She had returned, but the damage of that fear still lingered in the quiet hours of the night.

Desperate to calm you, Lilia leaned forward and gently brushed the hair from your damp forehead. Her hand softly traced your cheek, the touch tender, loving, grounding.

"Y/N, love, it’s me," she whispered, her voice steady but filled with the deepest affection. "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Please wake up for me, love."

But still, you tossed and turned, trapped in the endless cycle of your nightmare. Lilia's heart shattered at the sight of you suffering, your pain echoing in her chest like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Without thinking, Lilia pulled you into her arms, cradling your shaking form against her. She whispered to you, but the words didn’t seem to reach you. Her touch, though soft, wasn’t enough to break the hold of the nightmare. That’s when Lilia knew what she had to do.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, summoning the song that had always calmed both of you, the lullaby that had healed the broken pieces of your hearts during darker times.

She softly began to hum the first few notes, the melody flowing effortlessly from her lips.

"If I could make a wish I think I'd pass

Can't think of anything I need

No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound

Nothing to eat, no books to read

Making love with you

Has left me peaceful warm and tired

What more could I ask

There's nothing left to be desired

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

Sleep, silent angel go to sleep"

The song had always held a special place between the two of you. Every time Lilia sang it, it was like a bridge between your souls, reconnecting the pieces of your hearts that life and time had pulled apart. The softness of her voice, the power in the simple words, had a way of calming your spirit, reminding you that you were never truly alone.

Slowly, as she continued to sing, you began to settle. The tremors in your body lessened, the nightmare’s grip weakening with every note she sang. Lilia held you close, her voice soothing as she continued with the next lines.

"Sometimes all I need

Is the air that I breathe

And to love you

all I need is the air that I breathe is to love you

all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Making love with you

Has left me peaceful warm and tired

What more could I ask

There's nothing left to be desired

Sometimes all I need

Is the air that I breathe

And to love you

all I need is the air that I breathe is to love you

all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you"

Her voice was low, the sound of it vibrating through your chest, filling your ears with the warmth of her love. Each word she sang was a promise, a vow that you would never have to face the darkness alone again. She was here. She was with you. And nothing, not even the terrifying memories of the past, could take that away.

"Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

Sleep, silent angel go to sleep"

Your breathing slowed as the nightmare finally loosened its grip on you. You slowly came back to the present, your eyes fluttering open. The first thing you saw was Lilia, her face illuminated by the soft light of the moon, her warm arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

You looked up at her, your voice barely a whisper. "Lilia...?"

"I’m here, love," she said softly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "I’ll always be here. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’re connected, always. Nothing can break us."

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time they weren’t tears of fear. They were tears of relief, of the weight lifting off your chest. You pulled her closer, burying your face in her neck as you clung to her. The nightmare was gone, and all that remained was the warmth of her presence.

"You’re my everything, Lilia," you whispered.

Lilia kissed the top of your head, her hand gently stroking your back. "And you’re mine. Always. You’re the air I breathe, Y/N."

With that, you both lay there in the stillness of the night, her lullaby still lingering in the air, a reminder that no matter how much darkness had once separated you, love always found a way to bring you back to each other.

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Let's take a moment...or many moments to admire that smile and the cute little ponytail 🥹🥰

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Avis Amberg x Female reader

(Tiny little comfort fic where Reader calls Avis mama)

Hollywood was never as dazzling as it felt when you were with Avis. The city’s nightlife glittered, the neon lights shimmering against the dark sky, but there was no sparkle that compared to her. Avis Amberg was a force of nature — confident, powerful, and utterly captivating. She was your sugar mommy, yes, but she was so much more than that. She was your world. The one who always made you feel cherished, adored, and utterly irresistible.

Tonight, you were in the back of her luxurious car, the velvet seats soft beneath you, as she leaned back beside you. Her presence was magnetic, a quiet authority that made everyone around her fall in line. Her eyes were on you, as always, that subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips.

You let out a soft sigh as you reached for her hand, your fingers brushing lightly against her perfectly manicured ones. "Mama," you murmured, your voice low and sweet, the nickname slipping off your tongue like it was second nature.

Avis tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm?" she responded, her voice smooth and sultry.

You couldn't help the smile that crept up on your lips. You loved how much that word seemed to affect her. "I’ve missed you today," you whispered, the words not needing to be louder to hold all the weight of what you felt.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she leaned in closer, brushing a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, her breath warm against your skin, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

The connection between you two had grown stronger each day, and the nickname had become a symbol of that intimacy, that soft yet intense bond. To everyone else, you were just a beautiful face on her arm, but for Avis, you were something different. Something real.

The car came to a stop, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. Tonight was another one of those nights—glittering events, flashing cameras, and endless eyes following your every move. But all that faded when Avis was near. When you called her “mama,” when she held you close, when her lips brushed over your ear and whispered promises only you could hear.

She turned toward you, her eyes dark with an unspoken challenge. "Ready to show them who’s really in charge?" she asked, her tone playful but demanding.

You nodded, your fingers curling around hers tighter. "Always, mama."

Avis smirked, her hand gently cupping your cheek as she brought your face closer to hers. “Good,” she said, voice low and sultry. “Let’s go make them wish they were us.”

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"The Weight of Loving You"

Fosca x Giorgio (Sondheim's Passion)

Not me being fascinated with the intense and tragic dynamic between Fosca and Giorgio, particularly drawing from the songs "I Wish I Could Forget You" and "Loving You". I recently watched "Passion" with Patti on YouTube and I was enamored. Tried to find some fanfics with Fosca and the ones I did find where incomplete so here is a little sth❤️🥺

The oppressive heat of the Italian countryside seemed to press down on everything—the soldiers, the villagers, the trees. And on Giorgio, who stood by the small balcony of his room, staring out into the haze of a life that had never seemed so complicated. His uniform was stiff, his boots heavy, his heart heavier still.

He had never wanted to be here. He had never asked for any of this.

But there she was, standing behind him in the doorway—the woman who had changed everything. The woman whose presence filled the air, suffocating him with the weight of her love, her pain, her obsession. Fosca. Her name was like a storm, unpredictable and all-consuming, yet impossibly beautiful.

"You came back," she said softly, her voice carrying the familiar ache he had grown to dread, and yet… part of him had come to crave.

He turned to face her, his chest tightening. She stood in the dim light, fragile yet powerful, with that same look in her eyes—the one that haunted him, that made his heart twist with guilt and confusion.

“Fosca…” His voice was a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his own racing heartbeat.

Fosca took a hesitant step forward, her frail form trembling as she crossed the room. There was something so heartbreaking about her—the way she looked at him with such need, with such longing. It was the kind of love that made him feel both adored and suffocated, cherished and trapped all at once.

“Do you still feel it?” she asked, her words trembling with an unspoken desperation. “Do you still feel what I feel when you look at me?”

He didn’t respond immediately, unable to find the words. His gaze dropped to the floor, conflicted—because yes, part of him did feel it. He had tried to deny it, tried to ignore it, but it was there, deep in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing truth he couldn’t erase.

He felt her before he saw her, the way she moved through the room like a shadow, her eyes following him, waiting for a response. He could hear her soft breath, the ache in her voice as she spoke again.

"I wish I could forget you," she said, her words low, almost too soft for him to catch. "But I can't. I can't stop thinking of you, Giorgio. Every second of every day, I ache for you. You haunt me in ways that no one else ever could."

Her confession hit him like a wave, and he felt himself faltering. It wasn't the first time she had spoken those words, but this time, they carried a weight he couldn't shake off. Fosca's love was a curse, one that tore at him from the inside out. She was the flame that he couldn't touch, the wound he couldn’t heal, and yet… despite everything, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

Fosca stepped closer, her eyes searching his, pleading for something—anything—to show that he felt even a fraction of the love she had for him.

"I know you don’t love me the way I love you," she continued, her voice trembling. "But don’t you see? I can’t escape this. I can’t escape you."

Giorgio closed his eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. “Fosca…” He stepped toward her, his hand reaching out instinctively, but he stopped himself before touching her. His fingers hovered just above her skin, unsure. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted you to feel this way.”

She looked at him, her face a portrait of sorrow and longing, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability in her that he never dared to acknowledge before. It was the same vulnerability that made him feel guilty for ever allowing her to believe he could love her in the way she wanted. It was the same vulnerability that kept him awake at night, torn between his desire for freedom and his undeniable connection to her.

"Why do you stay with me, then?" Fosca asked, her voice quivering as she wiped away a tear. "If you can't love me, why stay?"

He swallowed, his throat dry. The truth was too complicated to put into words, too raw. He wanted to run—he wanted to escape—but the pull of her was too strong, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't turn away.

Her question lingered in the air, and Giorgio found himself speaking the truth for the first time. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. Even when I want to. Even when I try. You’re... a part of me now. And it’s breaking me, Fosca."

Her breath hitched, and she reached out to him, her hand trembling. Without a word, he stepped closer, closing the gap between them. Their faces were only inches apart, and he could feel the heat of her breath on his skin.

And then, without warning, Fosca spoke again, her voice barely a whisper, but it was enough to make his heart ache.

“Loving you… it’s like drowning, Giorgio. I love you so much, I can't breathe. I love you so much, it hurts."

Her words were the same ones she had sung to him in the past—the ones that had torn him apart the first time he heard them. She didn’t want to love him. She didn’t want to be in this prison of emotion. And yet, there was no escape for her. There was no way out.

Giorgio reached out then, his fingers brushing against her cheek. The touch was tender, a fleeting moment of connection. He didn’t know how to make her feel better, how to make the pain stop. But in that instant, he understood her—understood the depth of what she had become for him, and what he had become for her.

“I wish I could forget you too,” he whispered, his voice strained with the weight of his own feelings. “I wish I could let you go, Fosca. But I can't. I can't forget you either.”

Fosca closed her eyes, and the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over. She reached for him, her hands trembling as they grasped at his shirt. “Then why do you leave me? Why do you pull away from me when I love you so much?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice cracking with the emotion he had tried to bury for so long. “Because I don’t know how to love you. I don’t know how to be what you want me to be.”

“But you are what I want, Giorgio,” she said, her voice filled with the quiet desperation that he could never escape. “You are everything to me. You are my love. My everything.”

Giorgio’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he simply stared at her, lost in the rawness of her confession. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her that he loved her, that he understood. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t give her what she wanted.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the pain of things left unsaid, of desires that could never be fulfilled. And yet, as he stood there, in the warmth of her arms, Giorgio knew one thing for certain:

He could never escape her.

And she could never escape him.