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This is the middle portion of a Spones enemies to lovers haha

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well I def know the audio but what is this video from?!?! the face, the hair, the neck, the light, THE EYES AAAHHH

Patti, you are always welcome to sit on mine

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a rare intersection of two interests

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🤏

She’s just a baby

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PATTI LUPONE as JOAN CLAYTON in Penny Dreadful S2

feel free to use these—no credit needed but appreciated :)

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This is one of my favorite moments from any Star Trek convention panel. Brent Spiner and LeVar Burton absolutely dying at the thought of Patrick Stewart hosting an Easter egg hunt for them. (Video source)

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personally I think it’s a shame how fandoms “died” too soon these days. I’m not talking in literal sense and I know there are people who stay passionate about their fandoms long after the hype is gone. I’m talking about the “popularity” and how people in general engage with a piece of media they like and how fast they let the hype die down? I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but what I’m trying to say is a fanfic or a fan art of a show that is recently released will get tons of likes, comments, reblogs which is great. but the engagement for fan made content about that same show usually drops drastically — and I mean drastically — once the show is no longer “recent”. and I’m not even talking about when the show is several years old. because you can see the significant drop of engagement a fanfic or fan art about that show receives once the show is like a month old or two. it’s discouraging how most people tend to lose interest and stop engaging with fanfic / fan art once its source material is no longer “new and shiny”.

especially when writing fanfics and creating fan art take time. writers and artists often receive less engagement / appreciation for their works if they take “too long” to create and the source material is no longer “new and shiny” and so people move on to something else that’s new and shiny. it’s heartbreaking to see.

obviously this is in no way to manipulate or guilt trip people into engaging with anything. because yeah you can do whatever you want. this isn’t to force, manipulate or guilt trip anyone into liking or reblogging a fan work or anything. this is just me hoping people will one day take things slower and enjoy things they’re passionate about longer like how we used to in the past.

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Next One!

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So I had something commissioned by the lovely @im-a-carnivorous-plant. It's based off of Patti's "I Never Do Anything Twice" (from her live at 54 below show), but it's LILIA. I'm so in love with it. Well worth the money paid and she got it done so fast!! I will definitely be back for more commissions!! Thank you again artist!!!!

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"House MD is unrealistic" you're right here's my script for a realistic medical show

Patient: I threw up 4 gallons of blood

House: sounds like you need to lose weight

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She Blossoms in the Night

Patti!Fosca x Fem!Reader

Happy Valentines Day everyone, have a little sweet treat 🖤 Requested by @kittenpielove , mostly fluff, with a HINT of angst if you squint

She’d captured my attention from the moment I first saw her.

A pale, fragile thing, with dark hair that hung in long strands down her back. Her walk was hunched and hobbled, like the pain in her joints was almost too much for her to bear. Clothed in layers, despite the lingering summer heat, her swaying skirts could be heard down the long halls, warning of her impending arrival. Older than I, perhaps exaggerated by illness, with such sullen eyes they drew instant pity. 

I’d heard of the Colonel’s sickly cousin from my brother’s letters; “a ghost” is how he described her. Gaunt and haunting, her wails of pain were often heard long into the night. The men avoided her as best they could, on constant alert for the sway and howls; they’d even go so far as to completely ignore her at dinner, hooting and hollering around her as she sat in her own melancholy. 

Upon finally meeting Senora Fosca, I could not fathom what he’d been writing about; in all my years, I’d never found someone quite so alluring.

Our first real exchange was in the greenhouse, which I would later learn Fosca tended to herself. I’d only meant to take a short walk, something to clear my thoughts lest I be left tossing and turning. As I ambled between rows of gardenias and petunias, their scent wafting pleasantly in the air, her sudden presence in the doorway startled me. Loud as she could be in her throes, silence came just as easily to her. 

A ghost, wicked and cursed, the men would have whispered, the way she was half-hidden by shadow.

Yet I’d never seen her so beautiful.

“I did not mean to frighten you.”

I asked her to sit with me, mostly for my own selfish reasons. I could not stop admiring the way the moonlight reflected those dark strands of hair, once so dull and bland now seeming vibrant. Her skin shone, eyes sparkled; she so often hid from the sun, its rays flushing her unpleasantly, but here, in the cool glow of the moon, she flourished. I wanted to keep her here forever, if only so that I might look upon her wistful beauty as often as I pleased.

Our conversation flowed easily, lengthening well into the night. She remained firmly rooted in reality, her reality, refusing to spin pretty tales of love and fantasy. I encouraged her to speak of the small pleasantries she had, such as her piano that she often played, or the novels that lined the walls of the quarters. When she finally bestowed me with a small smile, it felt as though the sun had finally burst through the clouds on a cold, rainy day. I knew, from that very briefest of moments, that she’d captured something within me.

__

I began to ask after her, to her cousin and the Doctor, sometimes even being so bold as to knock on her door when the light barely clung to the corners of her shadowy bedroom. I longed to see her lit by the moon time and time again, so deeply it was like an ache welling in my chest. Much to my initial surprise, she never objected to my visiting, and soon began to ask after me as well. We now spent our days together, reading, gardening, or she teaching me the notes of her piano. Sometimes we would speak, other times simply be near one another. Her cousin was so pleased to see that Fosca had finally found a friend, and the doctor attributed the color she had gained in her hollow cheeks to our closeness.

As time went on, I became more and more infatuated. I took it upon myself to care for her when the doctor could not, even going so far as to share her bed when her mental state did not allow my departure. We clung to each other, more than would normally be found appropriate, but as the men were busy with their own tasks and truthfully, they were simply glad to have Fosca out of their hair, no one said a word against it.

I couldn't be more pleased with their lack of attention. I adored having her all to myself, my sweet, sad little mourning dove. Her cold hand in mine brought me a sense of belonging I hadn’t experienced in years, and one evening as we lay curled into one another, she told me much the same.

We snuck away to the ruined castle for our first kiss. Ever conscious of her declined physical state, I waited for a day she seemed brighter, lighter, more sure of herself on her feet. When the light fell and darkness rose, I gathered her and an oil lamp up, then headed down the rocky path. She held tightly to me, her boned fingers digging into the cotton of my sleeve. Her gentle voice guided me through the winding vines and crumbled stone, leading us to the overgrown courtyard gardens. She’d spoken of this place often, with such reverence. Her entire body filled with it now, her spine straightening and shoulders relaxing. When her lips tipped upwards, I could bear it no longer. I pulled her flush to me, we sharing a small moment of longing between us before her mouth melded to mine. We fit perfectly together, as though we were always meant to be connected in this way. With the moon as our witness, we claimed each other for our own, swearing our love and our lives to one another for as long as hers would allow.

–-

Ten years we shared, filled with more love and joy than either of us had ever hoped for. Though the true extent of our affections remained behind closed doors and hidden corners, we often found peace in the greenhouse while the world slept. Even when her legs weakened to needing a cane, she held my arm for support as I sat her amongst the flowers, she curling into me as we wiled away the hours discussing life and our menial day-to-day.

I lay those same flowers on her grave, as she requested of me, and took care in their upkeep every week. I would sit with her in the evenings, that block of marble shining as she did under the moon, and tell her of my life without her, how I missed her, and couldn’t wait to see her again.

My ghost. My mourning dove. My Moonflower.

My sweet Fosca.

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Patti Lupone as Stella Coffa (OZ series) part 2

scp: avfxscenepacks

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Lilia during the coven's performance of The Ballad of the Witches' Road (Lorna Wu version).

+ bonus Lilia using her tambourine as an umbrella against the ash

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PATTI LUPONE, behind the scenes of Candide (2005)

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Happy Valentine's Day, to sapphics and queerplatonic partnerships in particular. <3